Chapter 61 Lyssa
Lyssa
“Swamp lizards.”
“What?” I don’t dare look back when Alexios’s words reach me.
In fact, I don’t look back as he describes anything that happens over the next ten minutes, instead keeping my eyes fixed on the glowing stag ahead of me. If I lose him, we’ve lost.
I do feel a slightly petty stab of satisfaction, though, when he tells me that Antaeus’s boat got overwhelmed by the terrifying-sounding creatures. The point is to stop Hercules, I remind myself. And the giants being out of the race doesn’t help that.
I’m sure we’re gaining on him. I’ve found a good rhythm, a trickle of my power flowing through me and into the boat, enough to keep us level at the front but not enough to drain me.
I don’t actually know for sure that I can be drained of my power, but I’m not taking any risks just yet.
The Rage has burned within me for most of my life, and it’s only grown, but I’ve never channeled my power gently for a long time.
Short, explosive bursts are more my style.
“Are those flowers?” Alexios asks.
I just stop myself flicking my eyes away from the stag. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“They are. It’s a meadow.”
In my peripheral vision I see long, low hills appear on either side of us, a bright, inviting green.
The boggy ground gives way to luscious grass, peppered with large white flowers.
As we speed along, trees sprout from the ground, thick with foliage.
Red and yellow flowers spring up to join the white ones, shining and glowing.
“It’s pretty,” Alexios says.
I tighten my grip on the mast. “Then something ugly is about to happen.”
My attention catches on a large plant growing up from the ground far ahead. It winds its way up and up, taller than any of the others. In fact, it isn’t stopping. It will be as high as we are by the time we pass it.
“Lyssa!” Alexios shouts. A huge green shoot bursts in front of the boat. I swerve sharply, heading straight at another one.
They’re growing so fast that in seconds they’re everywhere. I narrow my eyes, adrenaline pumping through my body as I bank again, avoiding another winding vine. I won’t be able to get higher than these, I realize. That tactic is now redundant.
“Hercules is cutting them down,” Alexios shouts.
My eyes flick inadvertently to the flashing red on my right.
He’s whirling his glowing sword again, slicing through the emerald vines as they fly by his boat.
Evadne’s young face is screwed up in concentration, and something occurs to me. She doesn’t normally navigate.
I’ve taken my eye off the vines too long.
There’s a thud as we bump along the side of one, and I stumble sideways, my hand coming off the mast. The boat slows immediately, the red draining from the sail.
A loud crunch comes from behind me, followed by a curse from Alexios.
I spin around, seeing a vine curling around the peaked end of the boat as Alexios throws himself out of the way. We lurch to a stop.
“Fuck!” I launch myself toward the vine. “Shoot Evadne,” I yell at Alexios as I grab hold of the vine and try to force it off the wood. It’s as thick as an arm and strangely warm. It’s also completely unyielding.
“They’re out of range.”
“Then help me!” He’s at my side in a second, pulling his jeweled dagger from his hip then hacking at the vine. I look back toward the stag. It’s only a small glow in the distance, barely visible through a maze of tall, undulating vines.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter. A second vine appears over the edge of the front of the boat. “Shit!” I say again, loudly.
It’s time for brute strength.
I run back to the middle of the boat, lay my hands on the mast, and concentrate. I fix Hercules, speeding ahead of me, in my sight, and the sail snaps taut. The boat lurches beneath me as I will it forward, pulling against the vines.
“Got it!” Alexios shouts, and I feel the release. The longboat rockets forward, but spins, anchored to the vine around the front of the boat. “I’m on it,” he yells, vaulting past me.
I take a breath and open my mind, letting ugly memories spill into me. There’s a creaking sound, then a tearing noise as we rip free of the vine. Alexios stumbles as we pivot, and then we’re shooting toward the golden stag, our sail shining crimson red.