Tides of Olympus

by Eliza Raine

  Apollo appeared in the centre of the pit. He was wearing a white toga and his golden hair flopped onto his forehead as he gave a little bow. He was stunning, she thought, taking an involuntary step towards him. Hercules growled beside her.

  ‘Heroes! What a controversial ending! Oh, but wait, we are missing some competitors.’ Apollo waved his hand and Antaeus appeared on the floor of the pit, apparently unconscious and being held up by one of the black-skinned giants and Eryx. They were both so startled they immediately dropped their captain. ‘You needn’t worry, sons of Poseidon,’ Apollo told them. ‘The crews of the Alastor and the Virtus saved your crew-mate from my ravenous pet.’ They both dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. ‘I’ll have to think about whether or not I’ll allow that. In the meantime, Theseus! Your crew rescued you first – you are the winner!’ Theseus bowed low to the god. ‘I think that makes it one win to all four of you. Excellent,’ Apollo beamed, exuding youthful energy. ‘Couldn’t have asked for better. Your next Trial is in two days, and you need to get to Taurus. I’m looking forward to it!’ he exclaimed, and vanished.

  Two days? A grateful feeling washed over Evadne. Two days to rest. Two days to read and plan.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Hercules spat, and the tone of his voice made her shiver. Two days to avoid her captain.

  25

  ‘It was the right thing to do, Cap. I mean, he was pretty grumpy but apparently he’s a king. And nobody should get eaten by a boar,’ Abderos said as he wheeled himself across the deck of the Alastor.

  ‘Yeah, well. I just hope Apollo decides to let us carry on.’

  ‘He will,’ said Epizon.

  ‘Ever the optimist,’ muttered Lyssa, rolling her eyes. She turned to Phyleus. ‘You’re quiet,’ she said. Epizon had been right about giving him a chance. So far he had proved extremely useful and she knew she should acknowledge it.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, not meeting her eyes. She frowned.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I, er…’ He looked up at her. His face was pale and his usually cocky expression was nowhere to be seen. Lyssa stopped walking. He took a deep breath. ‘I knew this was coming. I need to tell you something.’

  Lyssa’s stomach muscles clenched. It was clearly nothing good.

  ‘Go on…’ she said, through slightly gritted teeth.

  ‘I haven’t been completely honest about who I am,’ he said.

  Epizon and Abderos had stopped too.

  ‘Nobody on this ship is defined by their past, Phyleus,’ Lyssa said, trying to squash her building apprehension. ‘I haven’t pushed you about where you come from or who you are because I don’t care.’

  ‘Well, you might soon.’

  Understanding dawned slowly on Lyssa. ‘You’re from Taurus,’ she said slowly. ‘And we’re going there next.’ He fixed his eyes on hers and nodded. ‘You told me you didn’t know what a bloody maenad was! They’re native to Taurus,’ she snapped.

  ‘I know, I’m sorry for lying to you. I just… I just wanted to prove myself without you having any idea who I am.’

  ‘Why? Who are you?’

  The ship suddenly pitched forward violently and Lyssa gasped as she was thrown to the deck. She pushed herself back up fast, muscles burning as her power sprang to life. Nestor was galloping across the deck towards her.

  ‘Captain, we’re under attack!’

  Dionysus

  The Immortality Trials

  Book Five

  1

  Lyssa whirled around as she found her footing, looking for the source of the attack. Beyond the gleaming sails of the Alastor she could see the huge, looming form of Lady Lamia’s Zephyr drifting towards them, ballistas aimed. The Alastor rocked again but although she stumbled Lyssa stayed on her feet as she raced towards the mast, ready to pour her power into the ship.

  ‘They’re coming alongside, Captain,’ shouted Epizon. As he said it Lyssa saw huge metal claws on the end of thick cord ropes slam into the wood of the Alastor’s deck. She winced as though she could feel the pain of those claws in her own flesh.

  ‘We can still outrun them,’ she called back to her first mate.

  ‘The Zephyr’s twice our size, Captain, and those are decent ropes.’ He had already run to one of the claws and was pulling hard at it, his face straining as he tried to remove the metal from the wood. Nestor was at another claw trying to do the same, bashing the metal repeatedly with a small hammer she’d pulled from her belt. Lyssa wheeled towards the farthest claw even as more sank into the deck. She roared with frustration as she pulled against it, the metal bending beneath her strong hands. Energy and power rushed around her body, feeding her muscles and fuelling her strength.

  As she ripped the claw free from the Alastor she drew her arm back, ready to launch it at the Lady Lamia’s ship, and was shocked to see the Zephyr only a few feet from their own deck. There, with her hood up and her face hidden, was the lady herself, standing under the enormous central mast surrounded by cyclopes. Lyssa’s stomach muscles constricted as she aimed the claw directly at the woman and hurled it.

  As it sailed across the gap towards its target she heard a roar behind her. She turned and watched, her mouth falling open as Nestor held her hammer high above her head, reared up on her back legs, then began to gallop across the deck of the Alastor towards the Zephyr. Lyssa stepped forward, about to shout, when the centaur’s feet left the wood. Her white-blond hair blew out behind her, her circlet headband catching the light as she sailed through the air and landed hard on her hooves on the Lady Lamia’s deck. Two cyclopes stayed with the lady, one batting away the sharp metal claw Lyssa had thrown, the rest swarming towards the centaur. Before Lyssa could even reach the railings of her own ship Nestor had swung her hammer straight through the heads of three of them. She roared repeatedly as she fought, arms flashing, hair swinging and legs kicking. Lyssa could only gape at the whirlwind of destruction in front of her.

  ‘What the…?’ Len breathed beside her, his mouth hanging equally wide open.

  ‘Shouldn’t we go and rescue her?’ asked Phyleus from Lyssa’s other side. She shrugged.

  ‘Doesn’t look like she needs rescuing.’

  Lady Lamia barked something, then more cyclopes thudded onto the deck from each end of the huge ship. Nestor roared as they closed in on her, disappearing underneath the mob of one-eyed brutes.

  Lyssa grabbed the railing, one leg already up and ready to jump when the huddle of cyclopes parted. Nestor was kneeling on her front legs, her back legs bowed, with ropes wrapped tightly around her arms and chest. Two cyclopes were pushing their weight down on her shoulders, forcing her front half to stay low to the ground. Lady Lamia floated past the bleeding and broken guards scattered on the deck towards the Alastor, stopping just a few feet from the railings.

  ‘Captain Lyssa,’ she said.

  ‘Lady Lamia,’ answered Lyssa, stepping back down. She didn’t bow her head in respect.

  ‘I believe you have something that belongs to me.’

  ‘She belongs to nobody,’ said Epizon, his words ringing clearly across the gap. The Lady Lamia shifted, the movement barely perceptible under the layers of flowing silk.

  ‘She?’

  ‘He or she doesn’t matter; it is sentient and therefore cannot be bought or sold.’

  ‘I’ll make this very simple for you,’ said the lady, her voice silky smooth and her red lips shining through the veil. ‘You give me the tank and I’ll give you back your centaur.’ Lyssa snarled as a guard shoved Nestor’s head down further.

  ‘Leave me, Captain,’ called Nestor gravely. ‘It is my own fault I am here.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Nestor,’ Lyssa shouted. She closed her eyes and took a long breath. ‘We’ll need some time to get the tank up here,’ she said to the lady. There was a pause.

  ‘Fine,’ came the measured response.

  ‘Epizon, Phyleus, you’re with me.’ Lyssa marched across the deck towards the hauler without looking at eith
er man.

  ‘Captain, are you sure this is a good idea?’ Phyleus muttered as he hurried to keep up with her.

  ‘Shut up,’ she hissed back. They rode the hauler down to the cargo deck in silence, each of them taut and alert. When Lyssa stepped out of the hauler her focus immediately fell on Tenebrae, hovering in the centre of the tank, her tail swishing gently and her vivid eyes fixing on the three of them as they started towards her. Lyssa’s coiled, tense Rage made moving the tank into the hauler easy; she barely needed the help of the two men. On the way back up to the top deck she could feel her muscles vibrating with unspent power. How dare this woman attack her ship, take her crew hostage, demand ownership of a living, breathing being? Lyssa clenched and unclenched her fists by her sides, trying not to make her deep breaths too obvious. The hauler doors slid open.

  ‘Captain, what if—’ Epizon began but Lyssa cut him off.

  ‘What if something like last time happens when we bring her out into the light? I’m banking on it,’ she said and pushed the tank out of the hauler.

  2

  Lyssa watched Tenebrae in the tank as she pushed it out of the hauler, forcing her own expression to remain neutral as she saw the creature’s scales start to glow. When the tank was fully out on deck, the gleaming light from the solar sails reflecting off the water, Lyssa stepped backwards, slowly at first, then faster as Tenebrae closed her eyes. Epizon and Phyleus followed suit.

  ‘Well, Lady Lamia?’ Lyssa shouted. ‘Is this what you want?’ She looked towards the Zephyr, now rail to rail with the Alastor. Her eyes widened as the lady rose four feet in the air and began to float across the railings. Her gown hung well past where her feet must have been, making her look abnormally tall. Her guards clambered over the railings, trying to keep up with their mistress. Lady Lamia dropped gracefully to the deck of the Alastor without a sound, just a few feet in front of the tank. She cocked to her head to one side, the silk veil moving with her.

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘Yes, this is exactly what I want.’ She turned to Lyssa. ‘Bring the centaur,’ she said loudly. A guard trotted back towards the Zephyr, grunting in a language Lyssa did not know.

  Epizon coughed behind her and Lyssa’s focus snapped to Tenebrae. Her eyes were opening. Every muscle in Lyssa’s body tightened, apprehension filling her, doubt in her plan taking over. That room full of columns… She didn’t want to go back there. Would closing her own eyes help?

  A strangled sound ripped across the deck of the Alastor and all eyes fell on Lady Lamia as she crumpled to the floor. She shrieked again, a noise of a kind Lyssa had never heard anybody make before. It sounded like she couldn’t breathe, like the scream was being ripped forcibly from her body. Lyssa’s eyes darted back to Tenebrae, who was stock still and staring at the lady, her green eyes flashing. Lyssa turned around, needing to check Epizon was OK. He was standing behind her, upright and alert as he always was, his eyes wide. He saw her looking at him.

  ‘Should we help?’ he asked quietly.

  Lyssa paused, the groans and cries coming from the woman making her skin crawl. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. Movement caught her eye and she looked over as Nestor’s hooves landed on the deck. The cyclopes guards clearly didn’t know what to do, looking at one another with confusion on their faces. Nestor bared her teeth at one guard who came close to her and he backed off quickly.

  ‘Nestor, you OK?’ Lyssa called, looking again at the Lady Lamia’s crumpled form.

  ‘Yes, Captain,’ came the centaur’s reply. Lyssa moved fast, giving the guards little time to compose themselves. She hurtled towards them, roaring as she approached. Two of the six turned and fled, vaulting over the railings back to the Zephyr. Nestor’s hammer flew through another’s head and before Lyssa reached them a third guard grunted and dropped to the floor as if by magic. She threw a surprised look sideways to see Phyleus aiming a slingshot. As Nestor made short work of the remaining two guards, Lyssa blocked out the wails of the Lady Lamia.

  ‘Get these claws out of my deck!’ she yelled. Her skin throbbed as her Rage thrummed through her, the claws offering her little resistance as she ran from one to another, ripping them from the deck. Each new hole, each new patch of splintered wood in her beloved ship, fuelled her anger. The sounds of Lady Lamia’s pain became less disturbing. She deserved it. Whatever was happening in her mind, whatever Tenebrae was doing to her, she deserved it.

  ‘That’s all of them, Captain,’ called Epizon.

  ‘Then get her off my bloody ship!’ shouted Lyssa, leaning over the railings and giving the massive Zephyr a shove, making sure it was no longer tethered to the Alastor.

  ‘Captain…’ Epizon sounded unsure and Lyssa turned to him. He pointed at the Lady Lamia, twitching and convulsing on the wood. Her flowing gown had moved with her thrashing and a solitary limb could be seen among the folds of blue fabric. Lyssa felt her own face distort as she took in the decayed flesh, the charred-looking skin only partially covering rotten muscle and bone.

  ‘I’ll do it, Captain,’ Nestor said, and without hesitation galloped to the quivering wreck, bent down and scooped her up around the middle, then cantered to the railings and bodily threw her onto her own deck. Lyssa felt the Alastor move and at the same time heard Abderos’s voice in her head.

  ‘I got it, Cap,’ he said and she looked up to see him at the navigation wheel. She nodded at him and they rose. They didn’t need speed now. Lady Lamia would not be following them.

  3

  ‘Well? Is the deck clean?’ Hercules stood over Evadne, who was on all fours on the top deck. She sat back on her heels and dragged her forearm across her brow, then looked up at him.

  ‘Yes, Captain. The whole deck is clean.’ She said it through slightly gritted teeth and Hercules knew she’d still not learned her lesson. Not only had the girl suggested that they help their enemies in the last Trial, she had evaded punishment for giving up before the end of the race for the golden stag. At this rate she would never learn to respect him. She dropped the rag she was holding into the bucket at her side and pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’m going to wash,’ she said and turned towards the hauler. He shot his hand out, gripping her shoulder, and she cried out in surprise or pain, he wasn’t sure which. He spun her around to face him, a thrill running through his body as he saw her expression change from defiance to apprehension.

  ‘Evadne, I think we need to have a little talk.’ He took a step towards her and she took a step backwards. He smiled. Energy thrummed through him. ‘Do I make you nervous?’ She kept her eyes on his and it struck him how unlike Hedone she looked, her lashes nowhere near as thick, her hair not as silken, her skin not as soft, her lips not as full. Why had he been wasting his time with this girl? Why had he even needed her on board in the first place?

  His father’s words rang through his mind. Listen to the girl, she can help you. He knew she was bright, and though he was reluctant to admit it she probably knew more about Olympus than he did due to her habit of reading so much. He realised she still hadn’t answered his question. He cocked his head to one side. ‘Well?’

  She dropped her eyes to the freshly scrubbed deck. ‘Yes, Captain. Sometimes.’

  ‘Good. You should be nervous. I keep reminding you how patient I am with you, but you don’t seem to be listening. I don’t want to hurt you, Evadne, but if you keep defying me you’ll leave me with no choice.’

  She looked up at him, her eyes earnest. ‘But, Hercules—’

  He stepped towards her, his hand raised.

  ‘Captain! You will call me Captain!’ he shouted. She took two steps back this time, her slight frame seeming even smaller as she cowered. He stood straighter, power swelling him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Captain. It’s just that I didn’t mean to be taken by Apollo. And I thought that Busiris was weak and cowardly when I spoke to him, and the thought of immortality might make him betray his own crew and join us. I thought that might help us win.’ She spoke quickly, desperately.

 
; ‘So you still do not believe that I am strong enough to win this alone?’ A deadly calm had crept into Hercules’s voice. Evadne shook her head quickly.

  ‘No, no, that’s not what I mean at all. I was just looking for a way to give us an edge, that’s all.’

  ‘An edge?’ Hercules looked at her, considering. If Zeus said he needed her, then he needed her. But he had to disabuse her of this notion that he was not capable of winning the Trials without help. He gripped her throat in a flash, not giving her time to move or react, or even draw breath. He lifted her clean off her feet and took a few long strides, then pinned her to the metal clad fore-mast of the Hybris. She grabbed at his hand with both of her tiny ones, pulling at his fingers, eyes wide and fearful.

  ‘Please, Captain, please,’ she spluttered. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know you don’t need any help, I’m sorry.’ The sight of her there, so tiny and fragile in his fist, the knowledge that he could squeeze and end her life… It was enough today. It was enough to know that he could do it. He let go and she dropped the two feet to the ground, taking a huge gulp of air.

  ‘You are lucky, Evadne. You are lucky that I am in control of my temper today.’ She didn’t look up at him. ‘Go and wash. Then I’ll see you in my chambers in two hours.’ This time she did look up at him, and the look in her eyes was different. Submission, he saw with satisfaction.

  4

  Hedone had to see Hercules. She wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted anything so badly in her entire life. She needed to see him. She needed to make sure that he was OK, he hadn’t been hurt in the last Trial. There was also a part of her that needed to hear from him, in his own words, why he chose not to help rescue Busiris from the boar. She didn’t believe Hercules was a cruel man or that he’d want to see anybody eaten alive by a wild animal and though she thought she understood why he hadn’t got involved it would help to hear him say it.