by Eliza Raine
‘No problem, Cap.’
Lyssa never knew if Abderos was really happy staying on board all the time, or if he longed to be off the ship. The practicalities of his being chair-bound meant that it would be nearly impossible on a challenge like this though, so she was relieved when, as usual, he didn’t argue. She had asked him once if he had considered mechanical legs, and he had told her that one day his own would work just fine again and he wasn’t about to ‘lop them off, thank you very much’. She didn’t ask how he planned to go about this. Maybe, one day, she should.
‘Land ahoy, Captain,’ said Epizon, and all four crew members looked past the sails in front of them.
Directly ahead, rising from the deep blue ocean they were soaring over, lay Cancer. It was mostly flat, and its surface was covered in rich green forests broken up by sprawling turquoise lakes. They looked to her like hundreds of green and blue interlocked fingers. As the Alastor sped closer, Lyssa could make out settlements in clusters all along the banks of the lakes. The buildings were all made from white stone, and the roads were white too. The forest was densest around the outer edge of the whole island, so that it was much harder to approach from the ocean. The ports that the ships were allowed to dock in could only be approached from above, and they fringed a massive lake in the centre of Cancer.
Abderos set a course for Port Galatas, and half an hour later, they sailed into the docks. The docks were a replica of the wooden piers that jutted out from the banks of the lake into the water, except that they were fifty feet higher up. Haulers ran between the pier platforms and the ground.
Lyssa, Epizon and Phyleus were stood on the deck at the bow of the ship, watching the white stone buildings get larger as they glided to a stop next to an empty raised pier. They were not the only large ship in the docks, but there was no sign of the Hybris, Orion or Virtus. Either they had beaten them all there, or their competition had docked elsewhere.
As soon as the ship was totally still, Epizon stepped easily from the edge of the deck onto the pier and began to walk towards the hauler at the end. Phyleus followed, his footsteps sounding lighter on the wood than Epizon’s heavy boots. Lyssa half stepped onto the pier and faltered. She was trying hard to ignore the fact that she was terrified. Epizon clearly expected her to fight this beast, and in normal circumstances, she would agree. When the Rage was flowing though her, she had a god’s strength. But last time her Rage should have been boiling beneath her skin, she had felt nothing but fear and revulsion. If she had to face Hercules, she didn’t know if she could depend on her power, and without it she had nothing. Lyssa took a long look up at the shimmering sails, picturing them flooded with red as her power flowed through them. The Rage would come. She had to believe it would. She took a deep breath, stepped fully off her ship and set off up the pier after her crew mates.
‘I doubt we’ve got much time before the others get here,’ said Epizon as she stepped into the hauler with them. ‘If they’re not here already. So we need to move quickly.’
She nodded.
‘Even if we find the lion first, how are you going to kill it?’ asked Phyleus.
‘That’s not your problem. You’re only here because I don’t want to leave you on the ship.’ That was only partly true. Lyssa wanted to test his cocky defiance, to see if he was able to back up his smooth talking with half-decent actions.
‘Gods, you talk to me like a child,’ he said, glowering at her.
She ignored him. ‘We need to find the lion first. Epizon, you take the tavernas nearest the docks, as you have the advantage of looking imposing,’ she said. He looked offended and she laughed aloud, despite her nerves. He was wearing his favourite floor-length black coat, which in theory hid his weapons but in reality made it look like he had an arsenal stored about himself. ‘Well, you really didn’t need the coat,’ she said, smiling. ‘The weather doesn’t change on Cancer.’
He looked sceptically at her and pulled open one side of the offending garment. ‘How else would I hide this?’ he asked. He had a huge knife strapped to his right thigh.
‘There you go; you’ve proven my point,’ she answered. ‘You are the most intimidating. Let me know if you find anything out. Phyleus, you stay with me.’
They stepped out of the hauler into the bright light. The huge bulk of the Alastor’s hull loomed over them, hovering a foot above the crystal-clear water of the lake.
‘Good day to you, travellers,’ came a cheery voice. They all turned to see an older man in a traditional toga coming across the sandy shore to them.
Hera was the most traditional of the gods, and the goddess of family and marriage. In theory Cancer should have been a world full of happy families. But Hera was also the goddess of revenge. Lyssa had not spent much time in Cancer’s pristine towns, but she knew enough not to trust the smiling front the folk all put on.
‘Good day,’ she replied, walking to meet him. ‘You’re the dockmaster?’
‘I certainly am,’ he beamed.
‘Great. How much do we owe?’
‘Oh, but for you, my dear girl, it will be nothing. You are here to slay this evil creature!’
Lyssa shifted uncomfortably. It had been naive to believe for a moment that the people here wouldn’t know who they were.
‘Have you heard of any of the other crews arriving on Cancer yet?’ Phyleus asked.
‘No, no, and news travels fast here. You are the first.’ He clapped his wrinkled hands together excitedly. ‘Just wait until I tell my wife I met you all! You’re her favourite, you see. You’re everyone’s favourite here!’
‘Us? Why?’ exclaimed Lyssa, genuinely surprised.
‘Dear girl! The very name of your ship epitomises what we Cancerians stand for. You seek revenge on the man who destroyed your family.’ He continued to grin cheerfully, and a flicker of anger shot through her. These people knew what she had been through and how dangerous Hercules was, but they saw it as a game. ‘We’ll be sure to do everything we can to help you, and we’ll make things as difficult for that father of yours as we can!’
She felt sick when she heard the word father, and opened her mouth to tell this man he was deluded, but Phyleus and Epizon stepped forward at the same time.
‘You’re very kind, thank you,’ said Epizon.
The dockmaster’s grin slipped momentarily and was replaced by a look of alarm at being addressed by the huge black man, and Lyssa got some satisfaction from imagining him greeting the giants when they got here.
‘Do you know where we can find this lion Hera speaks of?’
‘Oh, yes, of course. The Nemean Lion. She lives in the forest just north-west of Port Nemea, south of the nymph settlement.’
Epizon and Lyssa looked at each other.
‘She? The lion is female?’ asked Phyleus.
‘When she wants to be,’ answered the man with a scowl.
‘Right,’ said Lyssa. ‘Well, we won’t use up any more of your time. We’ll take the Alastor to Port Nemea right away. Thank you.’
‘No, no, no!’ he exclaimed. ‘The lion’s lair is not much further from Port Galatas than it is from Port Nemea, and we can give you directions from here.’ He beamed at them all in turn, though still slightly nervously at Epizon.
‘That would be very helpful,’ said Epizon. ‘We just need a minute to talk through our plan?’ Though he worded it as a polite question, it was clear there was only one answer.
‘Of course, of course. I’ll just be over there.’ The old man gestured at a small white stone hut further up the shore, where white roads began to run up the gentle slope towards the town of Port Galatas. Lyssa nodded at him, and with one last smile, he turned and made his way up the beach, leather sandals crunching across the stony sand.
When she was sure he was out of earshot, she turned to the others. ‘Well?’ she asked.
‘I like him,’ said Epizon.
‘You like everyone,’ retorted Lyssa. ‘He’s either telling the truth and he wants to help, or he’s in
the pay of one of our competitors and it’s a trap.’
‘I think it’s very likely that we’re the first here. Isn’t the Alastor the fastest ship in the Trials?’ Phyleus said.
The compliment to her ship made the retort die on Lyssa’s lips. She eyed Phyleus.
‘Len, did you learn anything last night about who the Cancerians are supporting in the Trials?’ she said, picturing the satyr and projecting the question to him.
‘Who do you think, Cap?’ came the reply. ‘Blood feud and all that? Hera hates Hercules. They’re probably the most likely to back us out of all the realms.’
‘Thanks, Len. Talk soon.’ She looked at Epizon and Phyleus. ‘It seems he’s telling the truth. Let’s go.’ She pulled the red scarf keeping her hair out of her face tighter and set off up the beach.
After coming to Nemea and tracking the lion, Hercules tried shooting him with an arrow. When he realised the skin was impenetrable, he took his club and chased him. The lion hid in a cave with two openings, and Hercules blocked one off and entered through the other. When he caught the beast, he tightened his arms around its neck until he had strangled it.
EXCERPT FROM
The Library by Apollodorus
Written 300–100 BC
Paraphrased by Eliza Raine
16
The Hybris made no noise as it sailed into the busy port of Nemea. Hercules always landed and took off himself where possible, in order to remind his crew that they were there by his good graces and not because they could do anything he couldn’t.
His Whirlwind-class ship was the best that drachmas could buy, and Hercules had filled the towering pillars along the deck with rows and rows of storm ballistas. They had more range than any of his rivals’ weapons, and Zeus had made sure that he had limitless shot. He smiled as he thought about testing them out on that girl’s miserable Crosswind.
Asterion and Evadne were waiting for him, close to the tall dock he had moored perfectly next to. Asterion wore the black tabard he only wore when going ashore. When on ship the bull creature hated to wear the awkward clothes that had been made for him, so he usually went without. Hercules couldn’t care less what he did or didn’t wear, as long as he could fight. Evadne looked young and pretty, in black leather trousers and boots, and a blood-red shirt that clung to her body. Her blue hair was tied up in a high tail, and she looked serious. He had made sure that she knew Theseus was not to be admired, and she had regrettably lost some of her youthful enthusiasm since. They both nodded to him as he marched past, then fell in behind him as he stepped off the Hybris.
‘Let’s go kill a lion,’ he smirked.
Hercules knew Cancer well. He visited often to flaunt the fact that he had Zeus’s protection. Hera had hated him since his fateful clash with her six years ago. She denied it, but he knew it was her who had sent the madness to him. The madness that led him to kill his wife, Megara, and his son. He felt no ill will towards her though. In fact, he felt indebted to her. He may never have taken his temper that far, never have felt the incredible power that came with taking a life. The day she sent that madness to him was the day he unlocked his true strength. He looked up into the bright blue sky and smiled his thanks.
He had chosen Port Nemea because it was the busiest of the port towns. If any of the locals knew where this lion laired, then they would have passed through Port Nemea at some point. There were at least twenty more docks jutting out from the beach, on either side of theirs, and almost all had ships moored up. Many were longboats, with two or three to a pier, and none were as impressive as the Hybris, but there were a couple of Typhoons and one pleasure Zephyr. Hercules took a moment to find the names of the Typhoons, stencilled across the top of their hulls at the bow. Neither were Theseus’s Virtus and he was unsurprised. The Virtus was nowhere near as fast as his ship was.
As he reached the end of the dock, a small, harried-looking human woman in what might once have been a white toga stopped in front of them. He paused.
‘Good day, sir,’ she squeaked, looking up at him. Her thin, wispy hair was pinned to her head, and he guessed she was middle-aged. Her eyes darted to Asterion, stood stock-still behind him, and widened.
‘It will be, yes,’ he replied.
‘Yes, yes.’ She looked nervously at the sheets of parchment she was holding. ‘I just need to collect your docking fee, and I’ll be out of your way.’
Hercules grunted and gestured at Evadne. She stepped forward and handed the woman a few drachmas.
‘Thank you, dear,’ said the woman, making a note on her ledger. ‘I’ll be off then. Enjoy Port Nemea,’ she said, starting off towards the next dock.
‘Wait,’ called Hercules, and she froze.
‘I’m really very busy,’ she said as she turned back towards them.
‘I won’t keep you long. I assume you know who I am and why I’m here.’
She looked down at her leather sandals. ‘Yes, of course,’ she mumbled.
‘Good. Have any of the other ships in the Trials docked yet?’ he asked.
‘I really shouldn’t—’ she started to reply, and Hercules took a step towards her. His chest expanded as he stood straighter, and when he spoke, his voice was soft but deeper.
‘Just answer the question, and you can go about your business,’ he said.
She only hesitated a second longer. ‘You are the first I know of,’ she said, looking down at her feet to avoid meeting his eyes.
Satisfied, Hercules swept past her and into the hauler at the end of the pier.
His two crew members stayed a few feet behind him as he made his way up the beach. A long white promenade ran between the beach and scores of bright white stone buildings. Many had white tarpaulin covers jutting out from the building fronts, shielding fruit and vegetables in crates from the bright light. Many others had large arching doorways and enticing smells wafting from inside. Hercules knew that the further away from the beach he got, the more residential the buildings became. Tall white columns contained homes stacked one on top of the other for the treasured Cancerian families to live in. They lined the streets beyond the bustling port area he was currently in. Only the wealthy families on the edges of the settlements had houses that were detached from other buildings. They also had gardens bordering the dense forest surrounding the town.
Hercules made for one of the larger tavernas on the busy promenade, facing the beach. Some only served food, but most served wine too, and he decided these would be where he would find the loosest tongues. He stopped outside an establishment called Orexi, which was flanked by an open-fronted shop selling purple vegetables on the right and a leather beater on the left. An old man was sitting outside on a stool, lazily stroking a soft-looking piece of brown hide. He squinted at Hercules as he strode through the stone arch of the taverna.
Hercules looked around, eyes sharp, and sat at an empty table near the centre of the room. The inside of the building was white like the outside, except the ceiling, which had been painted ocean blue. The taverna was about half full, with clusters of people around blue tables painted to match the ceiling. There had been a dip in the buzz of conversation as Hercules had entered, followed by his crew, but as he had sat down, the chat resumed restlessly.
A boy of about eleven came to the table and asked what they would like.
‘Wine,’ answered Hercules without looking at him. He was scanning the room, assessing the clientele.
‘Which wine, sir?’ asked the boy, and Hercules looked at him with a flash of annoyance.
‘Red,’ said Evadne quickly, and gave the child a look. He hurried off.
Hercules looked at her and then noticed the absence of his Minotaur. ‘Where’s Asterion?’
‘He can’t use these,’ she answered, gesturing at the small wooden chair that was creaking under Hercules’s own considerable weight.
He thought for a moment. ‘Go and tell him to scout the harpy settlement west of here. They might know something.’
‘You can tel
l him,’ she protested.
He clenched his teeth and fixed her with a stare. Her pout vanished. ‘How many times must I tell you to do something,’ he said, so low and quiet that only she could hear him. It was not a question.
She dropped her eyes and stood, her chair scraping on the tiled floor. Hercules let out a slow breath, trying not to get angry with the girl in public. He needed the locals to warm to him. It had never taken him this long to instil obedience into his admirers though. If she didn’t fall into line soon, he would have to get rid of her. He supposed he would take her punishments a little further. He relaxed and his anger ebbed away as he thought about that. A small smile played on his lips, and the boy returned with the wine in a glass decanter.
‘That’s a lot of wine for one,’ said a distinctly feminine voice.
He looked up and his smile broadened. He had always loved women with red hair. His traitorous wife had been a redhead. A scowl flickered across his face at the thought.
‘Oh, am I bothering you?’ the girl said, misreading his frown.
‘Not at all,’ said Hercules, sitting back in the too-small chair. ‘Take a seat.’
She beamed and sat down opposite him, where Evadne had been sitting. She was petite and slim, with a strong square jaw, freckles and bright, lively green eyes. Her red hair fell about her shoulders in long waves.
‘You’re Hercules,’ she said excitedly.
He nodded and took a sip of wine. It was sharp and fresh.
‘You’re here to kill the Nemean Lion!’ She clapped her hands together, and it made her look younger than she had before.
A cough behind her made the girl turn quickly. Evadne was stepping up to her now-occupied chair. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Evadne.’
As the girl started to speak, Hercules cut her off. ‘Leave. Now.’ He was looking at his gunner.
Evadne opened her mouth, and Hercules drew breath sharply. She closed it again. He caught a glimpse of the fury on her face as she wheeled around and stormed back through the taverna arch.
