Storms of Olympus

by Eliza Raine

  ‘Phyleus, help me down,’ she said. He frowned and opened his mouth and she narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth at him. He closed his mouth again and put the bone down. ‘It’ll take forever going back and forth from the picture; this thing will be huge. I’ll stand by the drawing and direct you two.’

  ‘Fine.’ Phyleus shrugged as he reached her. She put her good hand in his outstretched one and winced as she shifted her weight, swinging her leg over the centaur’s back and facing him. Her backside was numb.

  ‘Don’t jump down or your feet will hurt like hell when they hit the ground,’ Phyleus said.

  ‘Huh. Experience riding horses?’ Lyssa asked. Nestor flicked her tail and Lyssa immediately felt guilty for comparing her to a horse. ‘Sorry, Nestor,’ she said. The centaur didn’t reply.

  ‘Just roll off, I’ll catch you,’ Phyleus said. Lyssa frowned at him, not wanting to feel any more of an invalid than she already did, but the truth was that she didn’t want to jump off. If her legs were as numb as her rear she would likely fall flat on her face.

  ‘Fine,’ she muttered. Phyleus stepped up close to Nestor’s side and gripped her waist with his other hand as she rolled herself slowly towards him. She couldn’t use her injured arm at all and her breath hitched as she left Nestor’s back, but Phyleus’s strong arms caught her quickly. Their faces were close and as her eyes connected with his, desire flashed inside her, so strong that it triggered her power. Strength pulsed through her muscles suddenly, delicious relief from the aches and pain. Phyleus drew a sharp breath in and she wondered if he felt it too. His eyes darkened, his lips parted and power surged from her core through her whole body.

  Nestor coughed and Phyleus almost dropped Lyssa. Heat flushed her face and she struggled to pull herself out of his grip. Her feet throbbed as she stood, and she busied herself stretching her legs, avoiding looking at him.

  ‘The spindly bones are probably the arch of the wings,’ said Nestor, bending over.

  ‘Yes,’ said Phyleus, too quickly. ‘Let’s gather similar-looking bones together. The creature will probably be quite symmetrical; when one side is done we just need to repeat it on the other.’

  Lyssa walked over to the drawing as they began gathering bones, flexing her fists and trying to shake out the energy that was pounding through her body.

  12

  Hedone felt exhausted as she poured the liquid into the phoenix statue’s beak. She couldn’t do many more trips across the bridge. Every crossing wracked her with nerves, relief rushing through her each time her feet were on solid stone again.

  At least she was holding her crew up and giving Hercules a better chance, she thought, arm aching as she tipped the heavy jug up to get the last drops into the statue.

  A loud click made her jump back in surprise. The beak was moving. It was opening. She stared as the stone parted, revealing a shining red orb the size of her palm.

  It was the key.

  She dropped the jug on the floor, hearing a shout of concern from Theseus behind her, and reached in for the orb. Holding it aloft, she turned and waved it at the others.

  ‘The key!’ The sense of achievement was so great as she turned and held it aloft, waving it at the others, that she couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice, or her face. She felt a pang of guilt, remembering that just a moment ago she had been happy about their lack of progress, but as she looked at it the little ball pride overpowered any other emotion. She had done it! Alone, and with no help. She pushed the orb into the pouch on her belt and carefully stepped back onto the bridge, bracing herself for the final crossing, adrenaline humming through her.

  As soon as she set foot on the other side, Psyche clapped her hard on the shoulder and pulled her into an embrace. Hedone was so surprised she gave a small squeak as she bumped against the woman’s solid armour.

  ‘Well done,’ Psyche said, and pride welled in her again. Theseus grinned at her over Psyche’s shoulder.

  ‘You did great, Hedone,’ he said as Psyche stepped back. Hedone nodded at him, then noticed the wide open doorway.

  ‘I guess we can leave now?’ she said. Theseus looked at the doorway too.

  ‘I guess so.’

  There were no trees overhead any more so she guessed they were now further from the perimeter of the maze. Theseus was in the lead, choosing the directions they took, which corridors they went down and which ones remained unexplored.

  It was boring, walking through the endless passages, dull stone on either side of them. Adrenaline still pulsed through Hedone, her hands shaking ever so slightly. She needed to do something. Something other than walking aimlessly around. She thought of Hercules, wondering where he was in the labyrinth right now. Perhaps he was near her. Perhaps just the other side of one of the stone walls. She reached up as they walked, running her fingers over the rough surface. Then the familiar whir started and she snatched her hand back.

  ‘Another door.’ Psyche pointed. It was appearing in the opposite wall to the one she had touched, Hedone saw, knowing it was irrational to think she had triggered it.

  ‘Another chance at getting a key,’ said Theseus, stepping through the growing doorway.

  Praying it would be something Theseus couldn’t solve quickly, Hedone stepped into the room after him. A circular pool filled most of the floor, the water moving gently. There was space to walk around the edge of the water and she leaned over carefully, looking in. Flashes of bright colours zipped about, too fast to make out clearly.

  ‘Are they fish?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ muttered Theseus.

  ‘Here,’ said Bellerephon, and they both turned to him. He was holding two nets, attached to the end of long poles. ‘These were against the wall here.’

  ‘So we have to catch them?’

  Bellerephon shrugged and passed a net to Theseus. He crouched over the pool, net poised, and watched for a moment, completely still. Then, lightning quick, he darted his net into the water. He pulled it out again just as fast and Hedone’s eyes widened in surprise. A bright red fish was thrashing around in the net.

  ‘It’s pretty,’ she started to say, when there was bang and the net exploded. She screamed and threw herself against the wall at the same time as Theseus yelled and launched the net away from him, towards the pool.

  ‘What happened?’ she gasped.

  ‘I don’t know, it just…’

  ‘Exploded,’ finished Psyche. ‘Don’t catch the red ones?’ she offered.

  ‘Which ones should we catch?’

  The woman shrugged and scanned the room.

  ‘There are only four more nets. So we don’t have many chances to find out.’

  13

  They had lost too much time on the first test, thought Hercules as he stamped down another stone corridor. Evadne would pay. He wasn’t sure how yet, but he would think of something suitable.

  He ground his teeth, his fists clenched. This cursed labyrinth wasn’t helping. He was following his instincts, choosing the paths they took, but he knew enough about Hermes to be sure that it wouldn’t be simple. The god of trickery would make this hard for all of them. As if on cue, a solid stone wall began rising from the ground in front of him and he stopped abruptly. It was obviously time for another test.

  Hercules ducked through the doorway before it had fully opened, taking in a very long, narrow room. Metal rods ran across the top of the walls, from one side to the other, and hanging from them at staggered intervals were canvas sacks on ropes. The closest was probably ten feet away, the furthest maybe a hundred. Under each sack, on the sandy floor, was a shining metal dish. He took another step into the room and held his arms out to the sides. He could almost touch both walls, it was that narrow.

  ‘There’s a bow, Captain.’ He turned around at Evadne’s voice. She was crouched against the wall with the slowly closing doorway, picking up a bow and a tube of arrows that was propped against the stone. ‘I assume you have to hit the sacks,’ she said, straightening
up and handing him the weapon.

  Hercules said nothing as he took it from her. He notched the first arrow, aimed at the closest sack, and fired. The metal arrowhead tore through the canvas and sparkling silver sand streamed from the tear into the dish below. Nodding, satisfied, he grabbed a second arrow. The second he loosed his shot, the room tilted violently and he swore as he landed hard on his knees. He could feel heat on his face as he struggled back to his feet, the room still rocking from side to side.

  ‘The walls are hot!’ called Evadne.

  Hercules looked towards the sacks. He had missed. A long snarl escaped him and he snatched a new arrow from the quiver by his feet. Widening his stance, he tried to ignore the jerking floor and aimed at the bag for the second time. On a long breath out, he fired. The room stilled as soon as the arrow thudded into the sack, and the silver sand began flowing into the dish.

  ‘It was like the room was trying to knock us into the burning walls,’ Evadne panted. ‘How many arrows are there?’

  Hercules looked down at the quiver.

  ‘Ten,’ he said, then looked up at the sacks. He could see eight more to hit.

  14

  Eryx would have expected having a giant the size of Antaeus in the Trials to be a huge advantage, but that wasn’t how it was working out. So far his size had either been more of a hindrance than a help, as in the longboat on Sagittarius or the ice on Capricorn; or it had just been completely irrelevant, like now.

  They had found their second test, and Eryx had never felt so useless. It was a word puzzle.

  fi oyu inw het mots rlista yuo illw veli fevrero

  The nonsense was laid out on a stone table across the middle of the room and each of the letters was on its own little tile. He and Antaeus had looked at each other and shrugged when they’d entered the room, but Busiris had started towards the puzzle excitedly. Now he was rearranging the letters, muttering away to himself. Much as Eryx was loath to admit it, Busiris had proved himself the right man for the job in Hermes’s Trial. Not that it was surprising, Eryx thought, as he folded his arms across his chest. Hermes was the god of trickery and deceit. Of course the slimy Busiris would have kinship with him.

  Eryx screwed up his face and leaned back against the cool wall. He looked up at the sky, at the purples and reds folding through the deep orange glow.

  ‘Have you been to Gemini before?’ he asked Antaeus. His captain looked sideways at him, from where he leaned against the same wall.

  ‘Only the north island. I visited the academy.’

  ‘That’s the famous school here?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s one of three. The other two are on Libra and Aquarius.’

  Eryx turned to him. ‘Did you go to school?’

  Antaeus barked a laugh.

  ‘No. But Poseidon made an effort to educate me where it was needed.’

  Jealousy stung Eryx and he looked away. Gods chose their favourites, he reminded himself. There was no point getting upset about it.

  ‘Where did Busiris learn all this stuff?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m royalty. I went to the academy,’ Busiris said loudly.

  Eryx thought about Busiris as a child, with his shining skin and jet black eyes.

  ‘Is it mostly humans in the academies?’

  ‘Yes. But don’t worry, I wasn’t bullied,’ he said sarcastically, without turning away from the puzzle. ‘There were far stranger creatures than me there.’

  They fell silent for a moment, then Busiris exclaimed loudly, ‘Aha! Of course!’

  Antaeus stepped towards him. Eryx pushed himself off the wall to follow and looked down at the letters on the table.

  if you win the most trials you will live forever

  A section of the table began to lift from the stone, revealing another small cage. Busiris leaned towards it, and pulled out a second shining sphere.

  ‘Another key! That’s both of them,’ said Eryx excitedly.

  ‘Let’s find that gem.’ Antaeus nodded, turning to the now-whirring doorway.

  15

  ‘That has got to go there,’ argued Phyleus, pulling the bone from Lyssa’s hand.

  ‘Are you an idiot? There’s no way it goes there,’ she answered, throwing her hand in the air in exasperation. ‘You can see on the drawing…’ She trailed off as he pointedly turned the bone the other way up and held it out next to the picture. He was right, she realised. She scowled and put her good hand on her hip.

  ‘Just finish the damn puzzle,’ she snapped. Phyleus gave her a sarcastic smile and headed over to the left wing of the dragon skeleton. Nestor was on the right-hand side, her front horse legs tucked beneath her and her human body bent over, recreating everything they had done on the left.

  Lyssa watched as they placed the remaining bones in the spaces, crossing the fingers of her good hand. They’d thought the puzzle was complete twice already, but when nothing had happened and no doorway appeared, they assumed they had got it wrong, and started rearranging. This time, though, the whirring started, and the doorway began to slowly grow in the wall.

  ‘Yes!’ said Phyleus, clenching his fist in victory.

  ‘Behind you, Captain,’ said Nestor, and Lyssa turned around quickly. The wings on the drawing of the dragon were rippling and its head seemed to be coming to life. She stepped back as it suddenly roared from the stone wall, launching a shining orb from its gaping mouth before solidifying into the wall again. Lyssa reached out to catch the ball but missed, and it hit the sandy floor with a quiet thud. Phyleus scrabbled to pick it up.

  ‘Second key! Let’s go find this gem!’ he said with a grin.

  It took them five full minutes to get Lyssa back up on Nestor’s back. She ignored the protestations of her body, and did her best to ignore her proximity to Phyleus as she stepped into his cradled hands.

  Her lack of control over her reaction to him was both alarming and sort of exciting. Nobody had made her feel that way, ever. Not that she was in the habit of flirting, but they did come across plenty of young men on their cargo jobs, and other than the man she had spent the night with in Pisces, she’d never felt any interest in any of them. Even that night, fuelled as it was by being in the realm of the goddess of love, hadn’t felt so intense, hadn’t triggered her power like this. And that was just from being close to him. What would it be like if they—

  ‘Just the bull to find now, Captain,’ said Nestor, as she stepped from the room back into the corridor. Lyssa shook her head slightly, banishing the thoughts of Phyleus swimming through her head.

  ‘Yes. Just the bull to find,’ she repeated, gripping Nestor’s belt.

  16

  Evadne gasped as the room rocked hard to the left and she was flung towards the wall. She instinctively threw her hands out to steady herself and cried out when her fingertips brushed the burning hot stone. She stumbled into a crouch, then further down, hoping she would be steadier with her hands and knees on the ground. Hercules roared and she looked at him, also on his knees, trying to hold the bow steady as the room bucked and rolled. They still had three bags to go and only one spare arrow now. Curiously, the silver sand stayed perfectly still in the bowls, as if it was glued or magnetised.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘Unless you can make this infernal room stay still, no!’ Hercules bellowed back. She winced at the fury in his voice. He was normally an excellent marksman; he would be finding this humiliating. She needed to do something.

  She crawled around on the stone floor, looking for anything helpful, but there was nothing but sand and the dishes. Hercules had hit the sacks in order of distance so far, so the furthest of them were still intact. The room had lurched around more violently with each sack he had hit. A thought struck her.

  ‘Try hitting the one that’s furthest away,’ she said.

  He lowered the bow and looked at her, an angry frown on his face. ‘What?’

  ‘The room starts moving when you hit a bag, then stops when you hit the ne
xt one. Hitting the last one might stop the whole thing.’

  He continued to frown at her.

  ‘It can’t hurt. You’ll have to hit it anyway.’ She tried to speak meekly but it came out as matter-as-fact as it was. Hercules screwed up his handsome face for a moment, then turned back to the sacks, holding the bow alongside his face as he aimed. He loosed the arrow and Evadne watched as it sailed towards the furthest sack. It hit with a thud and the room rolled to a stop.

  ‘Thank the gods,’ she muttered, but there were two sacks left. And there was still every chance that hitting the next one would start the room moving again. Hercules pulled one of the last three arrows from the quiver and aimed at one of the two remaining sacks. As he drew back the string the room tipped forward hard. Evadne tumbled over, yelling as she smashed into Hercules. He snarled as he dropped the bow, which began sliding down the tilting floor, away from him. Evadne slid past him as he reached for it, then he bellowed as the room began to tip in the other direction. Evadne scrabbled for purchase as she rolled back towards him, grasping for the bow as it passed her but missing. Hercules tried to get to his feet, but stumbled, throwing his arms out for balance.

  ‘Don’t touch the walls!’ she yelled, trying to spin in the other direction as the floor got steeper. Hercules yanked his lion skin tight around himself and lurched for the bow.

  Hercules’s seventh labour was to capture the Cretan bull. Acusilaus claims it was the same bull that Zeus made carry Europa off, but others say that it was the bull Poseidon sent King Minos from the sea, to act as sacrifice. When Minos saw the beauty of the bull he kept it and sacrificed a different animal to Poseidon, which made him angry so he made the bull become savage.