Chapter 44
Hercules
Ican’t keep this up. Even with unfailing strength, the impervious hide, and a magic sword, I know I’m not going to win like this.
I roll again, barely stopping myself from burying the sword into yet another shiny metallic neck. It’s so instinctual. I know I have to be careful of the swamp—there’s a reason it smells of sulfur. My boot tip sizzled and melted when I last got too close.
Gritting my teeth as huge jaws snap at me, I desperately try to think of a way to kill the monster.
The teeth get closer, forcing me to back up farther along the shore. As I move slowly, my eyes fall on the arrow that prick Theseus fired at me earlier, tiny flames still flickering gently at the end.
Fire.
Fire kills almost everything. I lunge forward, making sure I get under the head looming over me.
I’m fast, but so is the Hydra. As my fingers close around the arrow, a black tongue, as thick as my arm, shoots out at me.
The force of it knocks me sideways and the massive sword catches in the ground.
I let go of it as I spin across the soil toward another open set of lethal jaws.
Inhuman strength surges through me, and I push hard against the ground mid-roll.
My strength launches me to my feet, and I throw the arrow toward the swamp.
It whistles as it flies past the now-countless heads and disappears into the darkness below.
A few heads follow its motion, but most stay focused on me.
I crouch, ready to lunge for my sword, when there’s a ground-shaking bang.
Huge orange flames shoot up from the swamp, leaping up between the columns of scaly necks.
They grow as I watch, all of the Hydra heads shrieking and hissing, but doesn’t move from the fiery pit.
Maybe it’s unable to leave the swamp? The flames flicker higher, burning red, and triumph seeps through me as I scoop up Keravnos.
Let the monster burn.
A scuttling sound breaks through the sound of the monster wailing, and I raise my sword, wary. I can hear hundreds of tapping sounds, like an army of huge ants. I look around, confused.
Spinning, checking the canyon path, I’m vaguely surprised to see none of the other crews in sight.
They haven’t even got the courage to try to take on the monster?
I laugh. The second Trial is mine, and once again, nobody else has come close.
Immortality is going to be easier to win than I thought.
Pain sears through my foot, and a cry of surprise escapes me. A crab, as metal as the Hydra and the size of a small dog, has a sharp pincer clamped on to my melted leather boot.
I lift my leg and try to shake it off, but it won’t let go.
I bring Keravnos down, easily severing the pincer from the crab’s body, but my triumph is short-lived.
Crabs are pouring from the black swamp, moving through the flames like they’re nothing.
I look up at the Hydra heads, now lined up and quiet.
As one, they bellow. It’s a mechanical screeching sound that makes me drop Keravnos and fling my hands over my ears. After a moment, the noise abruptly cuts off. Before I can remove my hands, though, the crabs are swarming over me.
I can hear nothing but the clacking of metal pincers as they tear at my lion skin, seeking the vulnerable flesh beneath. I thrash, trying to throw them off, but for every one I dislodge, three more take its place.
They’re coordinated and relentless.
One finds a gap where my cloak doesn’t quite cover my neck. I feel the pincer pierce skin and I roar, grabbing the creature and crushing it in my fist. The metal crumples like paper, but the damage is done. Blood runs warm down my collarbone.
More find the opening. More pincers dig in. The weight of them is crushing me down into the mud at the swamp’s edge. The acidic liquid seeps into my clothes, burning where it touches bare skin.
This isn’t right, though. I’m Hercules. I’m invincible.
I reach deep inside, finding the well of strength Zeus gave me, the strength that’s never failed me before. I channel it through my limbs, feeling the familiar surge of power.
With a roar, I explode upward.
Crabs fly in every direction. I’m on my feet, Keravnos somehow back in my hand—I don’t remember grabbing it—and I’m swinging. The blade cuts through metal bodies like they’re made of air, the red glow intensifying with each strike.
But they keep coming.
My arms are beginning to tire. My movements are getting slower.
I can’t win this.
The thought is poison, but it’s true.
I need to retreat. Regroup. The Trial isn’t over yet—the Hydra still stands. I just need to get out of here, find another way.
I start backing toward the canyon, still swinging my sword in deadly arcs. The crabs follow, relentless. My boot catches on something and I stumble. I catch my footing fast, but it’s too late. The crabs surge forward and I’m on my back again, drowning in metal.