Chapter 23
Hercules
The Hybris makes no noise as it sails into the busy port of Nemea.
My Whirlwind-class ship is the best that drachmas can buy, and I’ve filled the towering pillars along the deck with rows and rows of storm ballistae.
They have more range than any of my rivals’ weapons, and Zeus has ensured I have limitless shot.
I smile as I think about testing them out on that girl’s miserable Crosswind.
Asterion and Evadne are waiting for me, close to the tall dock I’ve moored perfectly next to.
Asterion wears the black tabard he only wears when going ashore.
When on ship, the bull creature hates to wear the awkward clothes that have been made for him, so he usually goes without.
I couldn’t care less what he does or doesn’t wear, as long as he can fight.
Evadne looks young and pretty, in black leather trousers and boots, and a blood-red shirt that clings to her body. Her blue hair is tied up in a high tail, and she has serious look on her face.
Last night I made her aware that Theseus is not to be admired, and she has regrettably lost some of her youthful enthusiasm this morning.
“Let’s go kill a lion.”
They both nod to me as I march past, then fall in behind me as I step off the Hybris.
I know Cancer well. I visit often to flaunt the fact that I have Zeus’s protection. Hera has hated me since my fateful clash with her all those years ago. She denies it, but I know it was her who sent me the madness that led me to kill my wife, Megara, and my son.
I feel no ill will toward her, though. In fact, I feel indebted to her.
I may never have taken my temper that far, may never have felt the incredible power that comes with taking a life. The day she sent that madness to me was the day I unlocked my true strength. I look up into the bright blue sky and smile my thanks.
We’re in Port Nemea because it’s one of the busiest of the port towns. If any of the locals know where this lion’s lair is, then they will have passed through here at some point.
There are at least twenty more docks on either side of ours, and almost all have ships moored up. Many are longboats, with two or three to a pier, and none are as impressive as the Hybris, but there are a couple of Typhoons and one pleasure Zephyr.
I take a moment to find the names of the Typhoons, stenciled across the tops of their hulls at the bow. Neither are Theseus’s Virtus. I’m not surprised. The Virtus is nowhere near as fast as my ship.
As I reach the end of the dock, a small, harried-looking woman in what might once have been a white toga stops in front of us.
I pause.
“Good day, sir,” she squeaks, looking up at me. Her thin, wispy hair is pinned to her head, and I guess she’s middle-aged. Her eyes dart to Asterion, standing stock-still behind me, and widen.
“It will be, yes,” I reply.
“Yes, yes.” She looks nervously at the sheets of parchment she’s holding. “I just need to collect your docking fee, and I’ll be out of your way.”
I grunt and gesture at Evadne. She steps forward and hands the woman a few drachmas.
“Thank you, dear,” says the woman, making a note on her ledger. “Enjoy Port Nemea,” she adds, starting off toward the next dock.
“Wait,” I call, and she freezes.
“I’m really very busy,” she says as she turns back toward us.
“I assume you know who I am and why I’m here?”
She looks down at her leather sandals. “Yes, of course,” she mumbles.
“Good. Have any of the other ships in the Trials docked yet?” I ask.
“I really shouldn’t—” she starts, and I take a step toward her. My chest expands as I stand straighter, and when I speak, my voice is soft but deeper.
“Just answer the question, and you can go about your business.”
She only hesitates a second longer. “You are the first I know of,” she says, looking down at her feet to avoid meeting my eyes.
Satisfied, I sweep past her and into the hauler at the end of the pier.
My two crew members stay a few feet behind me as I make my way toward the long white promenade that runs along scores of bright white stone buildings.
Many have tarpaulin covers jutting out from the building fronts, shielding fruit and vegetables in crates from the bright light. Others have large, arching doorways and enticing smells wafting from inside.
I know that the farther away from the dock I get, the more residential the buildings become. Tall white columns containing homes stacked one on top of the other for the treasured Cancerian families to live in line the streets beyond the bustling port area.
Only the wealthy families on the edges of the settlements have houses that are detached from other buildings. They also have gardens bordering the dense forest surrounding the towns.
I make for one of the larger tavernas on the busy promenade, facing the dock. Some only serve food, but most serve wine too, and these will be where I find the loosest tongues.
I stop outside an establishment called Orexi, which is flanked by an open-fronted shop selling purple vegetables on the right and a leather beater on the left.
An old man is sitting outside on a stool, lazily stroking a soft-looking piece of brown hide.
He squints at me as I stride through the stone arch of the taverna.
The inside of the taverna is white except for the ceiling, which has been painted ocean blue. The room is about half full, with clusters of people around tables painted to match the ceiling.
There is a dip in the buzz of conversation as I enter, then the chat resumes restlessly as I sit at an empty table in the middle of the room.
A boy comes to the table and asks what we would like to order.
“Wine,” I answer without looking at him. I’m scanning the room, assessing the clientele.
“Which wine, sir?” asks the boy, and I look at him with a flash of annoyance.
“Red,” says Evadne quickly, and gives the child a look.
He hurries off, and I notice the absence of my Minotaur. “Where’s Asterion?”
“He can’t use these,” she answers, gesturing at the small wooden chair that’s creaking under my own considerable weight.
I think for a moment. “Go and scout the harpy settlement west of here. They might know something,” I tell him mentally.
“Of course, captain.”
The boy returns with wine in a glass decanter, and I hear a distinctly feminine voice.
“That’s the nicest wine you’ll drink on Cancer.”
I look up and smile.
I’ve always loved women with red hair. My wife was a redhead. A scowl flickers across my face at the thought.
“Oh, am I bothering you?” the girl says, misreading my frown.
“Not at all,” I say, sitting back in the too-small chair. “Take a seat.”
She beams and sits down opposite me, next to Evadne. She’s petite and slim, with a strong, square jaw, freckles, and bright, lively green eyes. Her red hair falls about her shoulders in long waves.
“You’re Hercules,” she says excitedly.
I nod and take a sip of wine. It’s sharp and fresh.
“You’re here to kill the Nemean Lion!” She claps her hands together, and the gesture is delightfully youthful.
Evadne coughs next to her. “Captain—” she starts.
I cut her off. “Leave. Now.” Evadne opens her mouth again, and I draw breath sharply through my teeth and fix her with a stare.
She closes her mouth. “How many times must I tell you to do something before you do it,” I say, so low and quiet that only she can hear me. It’s not a question. It’s a command.
I catch a glimpse of the fury on her face before she drops her gaze and stands, chair scraping on the tiled floor. I let out a slow breath, trying not to get angry in front of the redhead.
It has never taken me this long to instill obedience into my admirers, though. If Evadne doesn’t fall into line soon, I will have to get rid of her. I suppose I could take her punishments a little further—that should help.
I relax, and my anger ebbs away as I think about that. Evadne wheels around and leaves through the stone archway.
“Oh dear,” says the pretty girl coyly. “Have I caused an issue with your girlfriend?”
“She’s my gunner. I don’t have girlfriends,” I reply.
“Do you like girls, though?” she asks.
I smile. “Yes. Very much.”
She beams again, her eyes raking over my face.
“Did you say Nemean Lion a moment ago?” I ask her.
“Yes. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To kill the lion?”
“It is. Is its lair in Nemea?”
“Just outside Nemea, to the north. May I?” She points at the wine.
I can’t help admiring her boldness. The casual naivety of youth. I nod. “Does everyone in Nemea know where its lair is?”
“Yes, of course. Everyone on Cancer. Or how would we know to avoid it?” She laughs as she pours herself wine into what would have been Evadne’s glass.
“What’s your name?”
“Gata.” She sits back with the glass and flutters her eyelashes at me.
I’ve known hundreds of girls like Gata, on every realm in Olympus. I know I should be moving on, using the information she has given me. But her childish adoration is just what I need after Evadne’s impertinence.
I have hours before any of the other ships will arrive on Cancer, I’m certain. And even when they do arrive, I can’t see how any of them will be able to kill a monster with impervious skin.
I’m the only one who can do it.
“Gata, do you think you can help me?” I lean toward her and smile my most charming smile. Not that I need it. I already know the girl will throw herself at me.
I see her arms tremble and her lips part slightly, and know she’s mine.