by Eliza Raine
‘I’ll pay,’ Theseus bellowed. Hedone jumped, and everyone’s attention snapped to her captain. The red-haired girl stopped moving.
Theseus began to walk slowly towards the group. ‘How much does the satyr owe you?’
‘Six drachma,’ the griffin growled.
‘I’ll buy the debt. He turned to the girl. ‘Captain Lyssa. You will owe me the drachma instead.’ She hesitated a moment, looking at the satyr, then nodded. Hedone was surprised by the fire in the girl’s hard eyes. She was so young to be so angry; surely no older than her own eighteen years. But Lyssa was Hercules’s daughter. A shiver rippled though Hedone as she wondered what that fire would be like turned to passion, instead of anger.
‘Show me,’ barked the griffin, his lion legs stamping the ground impatiently. The satyr wasn’t moving. Theseus dug in the leather bag slung across his chest and pulled out a coin pouch. He waved it at the griffin.
‘Bring him in.’ Authority rang though his voice and Hedone felt a small surge of admiration, but it melted away quickly, replaced by a surge of hope that all this was giving Hercules a chance to get ahead of them.
‘This is not just a game, Hedone,’ Psyche said beside her as they watched the griffin reluctantly dump the satyr on the ground. Captain Lyssa rushed towards the little creature and the griffin stalked towards Theseus.
‘Immortality!’ Psyche continued. ‘We’ll never have a second chance at this, and you are not helping. Stay on the ship next time.’ She hissed and strode after Theseus.
Hedone sighed. As long as Psyche didn’t suspect her real reason for being so unhelpful she would be fine. Psyche thought she was weak, and why wouldn’t she? Hedone was the demi-goddess of pleasure. Not a quality associated with strength. Only Theseus knew what she was really capable of, who she had nearly become when they released her from the temple she was raised in. He had patiently shown her the value of a moral way of life. What if he hadn’t, she wondered, staring at her captain counting out silver coins for the impatient beaked creature. Was she weak? Or was she strong, for controlling herself? For the first time in years, a desire to prove herself crept over her.
‘Hedone,’ rumbled a deep voice behind her, and all her thoughts fled in an instant.
14
Hercules knew he was taking a risk talking to the girl but he couldn’t help it. He had watched patiently, waiting for an ideal time to make it past the gathered crowd without being noticed, and then the older woman had walked away, leaving the beautiful Hedone alone.
He had arrived on Libra after Theseus and seen them a few islands in, surrounded by people. He had immediately bought a big dark cloak to wear over his distinctive lion skin one, and followed the crew at a distance. Let them do the hard work of finding the Hydra for him. It meant he could watch Hedone.
‘I know we are supposed to be enemies in this, but I wanted you to know I mean you well,’ he said as she turned to him. Her eyes widened and longing shot through him. She was breath-taking.
‘I…’ she said, staring at him. He smiled.
‘I must go now,’ he said, and put his hand on her shoulder. He felt her shudder and frowned. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said as gently as he could.
‘No, you didn’t,’ she said quickly. ‘I mean, you did, but it’s OK.’ She smiled and his chest expanded. Her smile… It wasn’t the sultry, sexy smile he had seen when he first met her. It was real and warm and beautiful. And it was for him. Confidence poured through him and he touched his other hand to her cheek. Her skin felt like silk and she drew a quick breath.
‘We should meet. After I have won this Trial.’ She nodded. ‘Expect me, Hedone,’ he said, unable to keep his hunger from his voice. Her eyes darkened and a thrill ran through him. She wanted him.
‘Good luck,’ she said as he withdrew his hand and turned back to the crowd. He knew he didn’t need luck. But by Zeus, he did need her. He had never met anybody like her. She belonged with him. He ducked against the wall as the griffin pushed past a small crowd of humans trying to get back into the gambling hall. Hercules looked over at Theseus and Lyssa shaking hands and snorted. They had no idea what was at stake. Helping one another when they were supposed to be rivals. It was weak and idiotic. Lyssa gestured at the glass bridge and Theseus set off towards it, Hedone and the other woman behind him. It looked like Lyssa was giving him the head start. Hercules pulled his hood further down his face and waited, ready to follow.
15
‘I’m sorry, Captain,’ said Len for the twentieth time as they made their way across the bridge ten minutes after Theseus had departed.
‘Len, stop. Not another word.’
‘I’ll pay Theseus as soon as we—’ started Phyleus.
‘I said stop!’ Lyssa whirled to face him. ‘Both of you. I am not having this conversation now. We need to focus.’
‘Yes, Captain,’ Phyleus said quietly. She noted with some small satisfaction the lack of sarcasm in the way he said Captain. She couldn’t berate them, though. They had followed the call of a siren. She had been about to let her Rage outstrip her sense. If she had attacked that griffin and he had let go of Len… Nausea burned in her stomach. Epizon, and Phyleus, had been right. She should have waited for Phyleus to get the drachma. She had to control the Rage better. She would control it better, she resolved.
They carried on further and further, much deeper into Libra than Lyssa had ever been before. Even less of the light from the pale grey skies filtered through the mist and the islands they travelled across grew darker. Len looked around nervously as he trotted ahead of her, at the metal lean-tos, discarded rubbish and people hunched around small fires. Epizon’s languid strides had become stiffer. The trickle of adrenaline though her body quickened. Phyleus seemed unaware of any danger. He was looking around in the dark, frowning at the heaps of rags and the pitiful clusters of belongings people were defending. He looked genuinely troubled. She felt a pang of guilt as she remembered how she had lived before she came to Libra. She thought about how she had felt when she’d seen how Epizon lived and her involuntary distaste when she realised she would have to do the same. She hadn’t been aware of poverty in Olympus until she had seen it herself. She swallowed hard. If she was being honest, there was a lot she hadn’t been aware of until she sailed the skies on the Alastor. She’d be damned if she would admit that to Phyleus, though.
‘Captain, there are no more bridges,’ said Epizon. He had stopped at the end of the island and was staring into the empty blackness ahead. The darkness had even seemed to swallow the mist.
‘There must be,’ she said.
‘Nope. Just dark,’ said Len.
‘Well, how the hell do we get into the middle, then?’ she put her hands on her hips, anger simmering. She hadn’t thought Athena would make things complicated.
‘Longboat?’ said Phyleus. She spun around to face him.
‘Do you see a longboat here?’ She flung out her arm, the movement feeling good. ‘And you know bloody well that our longboat is unusable.’
‘Wait, Cap, there is a bridge here,’ called Len. They all turned to him. He was crouched by the edge of the island. ‘It’s got no rail, and it’s not very big, but it is there.’ He stood up and hesitantly put one foot over the edge of the island. Epizon moved quickly, his hand hovering above the satyr. Lyssa heard Len’s hoof make contact with glass. He smiled. ‘Yep, it’s here.’ He stepped out with his other leg. It looked like he was suspended over nothingness.
‘I can’t see it,’ said Phyleus, peering hard at Len’s feet. Lyssa walked to the edge and kneeled. She put her hands out, feeling for the glass where Len was now standing. Her hands ran over the cool surface.
‘You must have different eyesight to humans,’ she said.
‘Course I do,’ he replied. ‘Humans can hardly see anything.’
‘Hey,’ Phyleus protested.
‘Don’t take it personally,’ Epizon advised.
‘How do we know we won’t walk off the side?�
� asked Lyssa standing back up.
‘I’ll go first.’ Len shrugged and began walking into the abyss. Epizon stepped onto the invisible bridge without hesitation and followed him. Phyleus looked at Lyssa.
‘Well. He’s brave for three feet tall. Captains first.’ He gestured at the bridge.
‘Huh,’ she said. It was one thing not to be scared of heights. It was quite another to step onto an invisible bridge leagues high, leading into pitch blackness, in pursuit of a giant three-headed monster. Her skin fizzed with adrenaline. She flexed her hands. I am no longer the girl who ran. The thought buoyed her.
Phyleus raised his eyebrows as she took a step onto the bridge. Her breath caught as she lowered her boot, sure it would just keep moving through the empty sky. But it didn’t. There was a reassuring tap as she made contact with the bridge. She looked up to where Epizon’s bulk was just visible ahead and stepped forward with her other leg. Once she was moving, she didn’t dare stop. And she didn’t look down. Nor backwards to see if Phyleus had followed. She kept her eyes on Epizon and kept walking steadily forward, breathing slowly.
‘Captain, it’s getting lighter,’ called Epizon after a few minutes.
‘Good,’ she yelled back. Ahead of her a swirling grey fog was starting to take shape, framing Epizon’s figure.
‘There’s a new island,’ he called. Relief washed through her and she squashed the urge to thank the gods.
‘Good,’ she called again instead. A few seconds later she could see the edges of a new island forming through the fog, and the inky darkness didn’t feel so crushing. As she reached the island she risked a look down and sagged when she saw soil beneath her feet. She sped up, spurred by the hard, safe ground.
‘Epizon, Len, wait for us there,’ she shouted, only just able to see the big black man ahead of her now through the thickening fog. She waved her arm through the gently swirling haze and something crashed into her. She cried out in surprise and stumbled to her knees.
‘Shit, what have I hit?’ came Phyleus’s panicked voice. She pushed herself to her feet quickly and grabbed him as he stumbled about.
‘You’re a bloody idiot,’ she hissed, spinning him around to face her.
‘Oh, thank the gods it’s just you,’ he replied with a relieved grin. She glared at him, then looked back to where she had last seen Epizon. She could just make out his large form next to Len’s much smaller one and she pulled Phyleus along with her to catch him up.
‘I think we’re in some sort of canyon,’ whispered Len when she reached them. She looked around and realised he was right. If she watched for long enough she could see high rock faces through the gaps in the swirling fog a few feet away on either side.
‘How high do you think they go?’ She was whispering too. Speaking normally didn’t seem appropriate in the eerily silent fog.
‘No idea, Cap,’ he shrugged. ‘I can’t see through the fog any better than you.’
‘Then we carry on though the canyon, I guess.’
The rocky banks stretched up endlessly as they walked cautiously between them. Sparse trees dotted their path, coming into view only as they were right beside them, until the path opened out suddenly. Lyssa looked from side to side, squinting to see the banks but they were gone. They had come out of the other side of the canyon.
‘There’s movement ahead of us,’ Len whispered. Epizon silently pulled his knife from its sheath. They crept forward.
Lyssa could make out a red light, dancing high in the mist. As she approached, more lights appeared, six in total, all floating high ahead. Fireflies perhaps? The fog was lifting from the ground as they got further from the canyon and she realised they were approaching the edge of a swamp. Something huge and dark moved and she stopped abruptly. In her peripheral vision she saw the others do the same. A long low rumble began and the hair on her arms stood up.
‘Captain?’ said Len. The low rumble grew and grew, and in seconds it had become a screeching roar.
‘Get back,’ she ordered, as the dark object approached them. The smell of sulphur wafted towards her. ‘Everyone, get back from the swamp.’ She’d barely finished speaking when the screeching cut off and a serpent head the size of Epizon shot through the mist towards them.
Lyssa dropped to the ground before rolling to one side and springing back to her feet. She looked around wildly, registering Phyleus and Epizon sprinting away from the swamp, Len clinging to Epizon’s back. The serpent thing swung towards her, its long neck disappearing into the swamp behind it, and she froze. It hissed and moved its head slowly from side to side. Lyssa stayed still, praying to Athena that it couldn’t see her if she didn’t move. It opened gigantic jaws, exactly like a snake would, and a massive black tongue flicked between rows of lethally sharp teeth almost as tall as she was. She took a deep breath and held it.
A mane of black, spiky horns framed the back of the creature’s head, and long writhing tendrils hung under its jaw, skimming the ground, tickling the earth. Lyssa eased back a step, her skin crackling with energy. The creature froze, then in a flash it turned to face her, scarlet eyes aflame. Those red lights hadn’t been fireflies, she realised with a shock. They were eyes. Six eyes. The monster screeched and lunged for her.
Lyssa ran straight towards it, ducking under its jaw and racing though the slimy tentacles, guessing that the serpent would expect her to go in the opposite direction. The smell of sulphur was so strong it almost knocked her off balance as she skimmed near the edge of the swamp. She swerved, heading inland as she burst out of the mass of tendrils. She could see the Hydra’s massive body now and her heart raced. Rising from its bulk were two more winding necks, their flashing red eyes visible in the mist above.
The Hydra’s body was huge and it had numerous heads, most mortal but one immortal. Hercules found the Hydra on a hill near the springs of the Amymone. He forced it to show itself and grabbed it but the Hydra was able to wind itself around him. Hercules tried to smash its heads with his club but every head he killed was replaced by two more. A huge crab came up from the swamp to aid the Hydra and bit Hercules’s foot.
EXCERPT FROM
The Library By Apollodorus
Written 300–100 B.C.
Paraphrased by Eliza Raine
16
Hercules breathed out slowly as he approached the swamp. The Hydra was a magnificent beast. Its huge body was mostly submerged in the inky black pool, but three necks the size of tree trunks wound up out of the water. They were covered in interlocking scales that shone like metal when they moved. One snakelike head, with a ring of fierce horns projecting from behind the skull, was low to ground at the edge of the swamp. Hercules guessed the Hydra had found his daughter.
He wondered briefly what his father would think of him following Lyssa and her crew to the Hydra. It had been tactical, not a necessity. If that pathetic little satyr had found the bridge, he would have too, he was sure. And being behind them meant that he had all the distractions he needed for the monster, with the added bonus that it might finish off his interfering daughter for him. He ran for the opposite side of the swamp, keeping low to the ground, watching the two unoccupied heads. They were only discernible in the thicker mist above him by their shining red eyes.
He slowed as he reached the bank, excitement rolling through him. He needed no time to get his breath back; he was used to exerting himself. Without taking his eyes off the red eyes he moved his hands to the scabbard at his belt. A crystal clear ring sounded as he pulled the shining silver sword from its sheath. Instantly the two heads moving slowly in the mist above him froze.
Hercules smiled and held the mighty weapon in front of him in both hands. He flexed his wrists to the right, then left, testing the weight of the sword. It was perfect. The heads were descending from the mist. Two gaping maws lowered themselves one on each side of him, brutal teeth gnashing the air above writhing tentacles. Hercules’s god-given strength surged through him and he gripped the sword harder, channelling his power. Keravnos
began to glow red and a bark of laughter escaped Hercules’s mouth. The Hydra heads hissed, and he felt he could feel the sound in his bones.
This was going to be fun.
17
Hedone was transfixed. Even the acrid smell of sulphur barely registered with her as she watched Hercules. He looked like a god, holding the colossal glowing red sword in front of him as the monsters approached. His perfect frame was clad in black, making the glowing sword and fierce eyes of the Hydra stand out all the more. Her breath caught as the beast hissed and Hercules raised the sword. The head on the right darted down, as the one on the left moved higher over him. He swung the sword in an arc high over his head, warding off the tongue that shot out from above him and coming down on the other neck hard. There was a loud clank as the weapon made contact. Hercules faltered and Theseus drew in breath next to her.
‘Was that…?’ he murmured.
‘Metal?’ finished Psyche, who was standing on his other side. They were far enough out of the canyon that the mist had lifted, but still well away from the swamp. Theseus was not the type to rush into a situation without a plan. ‘He’s doing well,’ observed Psyche. Pride welled in Hedone, though she knew she had no right to it.
‘Yes,’ answered Theseus, still quiet. ‘That’s quite a weapon. It’s called Keravnos and Aphrodite was worried that Zeus had handed it over.’
Hedone watched the glowing sword as it moved with Hercules, rolling and swiping and clashing as the two serpentine heads drew back and snapped forward again and again. He was magnificent. Suddenly, he was still, crouched low to the ground. Cold clutched at Hedone. Was he injured? She craned her neck forward, trying to see more. One of the horn-rimmed heads lowered fast, the strange tendrils hanging from its jaw writhing around as they neared the ground.
