Chapter 62 Hedone
Hedone
“Do either of you have knives?” Theseus speaks calmly, but his eyes dart between us and the vines curling around our suspended longboat.
“No, captain,” barks Psyche. “I didn’t think we’d be in close combat.”
“Start pulling, then,” he says, and grabs at the closest plant to him. I turn, trying to do the same, my fingers closing around the nearest vine. The creepers are thick and are coiling themselves around everything they can reach.
All around the boat, more grow, blocking the light, causing a claustrophobic gloom to engulf us. The temperature drops, and I suppress a shiver.
I pull uselessly at the warm vines as they stretch over more of the wood.
They pulse under my grip, almost like a heartbeat.
My fingers slip on the smooth surface and I adjust my hold, pulling harder.
Nothing. The vine doesn’t budge even a fraction.
I grit my teeth and try again, bracing my feet against the side of the boat for leverage. Still nothing.
Around me, I can hear Psyche and Theseus having the same lack of success.
“Captain, what about your arrows?” Psyche says, her voice tight with frustration.
He looks at her, frowning. “The boat’s made of wood. If we burn the vines, we risk burning the boat.”
“I’d say the risk is worth taking,” she answers, scratching futilely at the plants.
“Hedone.” Theseus looks at me. His deep, warm eyes burn into mine, concern for me clear in every line of his face. “If the boat burns, there’s a chance we may need to jump. Can you do that?”
My stomach flips, but then annoyance pricks my conscience, sharp and clarifying.
I’m not a child. I’m not some delicate flower that needs protecting.
What would Hercules think of my having to be coddled by his rivals?
The thought of him seeing me as weak and helpless sends a spike of determination through me.
“Jump where?” I look over the edge of the boat, forcing myself to assess the situation rationally, the way Psyche told me to last night.
The ground is thirty feet down, maybe more.
The vines are thick enough to hold weight, but they’re also covered in the smaller tendrils that seem to grab at anything that comes near them.
“Onto a vine. Then climb down.” His eyes haven’t left my face, searching for any sign that I can’t handle this.
I think of Hercules. Of his strength, his fearlessness in the face of the Hydra. Of the way he looked at me in my chambers, like I was powerful, like I was capable of anything. Of the way his hands felt on my skin, making me feel invincible.
I push out my chin, meeting Theseus’s gaze squarely. “Of course I can,” I say, and mean it.
Theseus nods, pulls his bow from his back, and nocks an arrow. He leans out slightly and murmurs, “Pira.” The arrow tip bursts into flame, casting dancing orange light across his face.
He aims for half a second then looses the arrow, straight at the base of the vines.
All three of us lean over the edge of the boat, watching expectantly.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then I see an orange flicker.
It grows, slowly at first, then small tongues of fire lick upward, eating at the green flesh of the vine.
Theseus nocks another arrow, aims at the next vine, and fires. The second arrow finds its mark, and another small fire begins to grow.
The creeping ends of the plant aren’t spreading anymore. In fact, the vines that have been holding us seem to be loosening their grip, recoiling from the heat and flames below.
“Look!” I exclaim, pointing. Psyche pulls at the vine I’m indicating, and it comes away from the wood in her hands. Her face lights up with fierce satisfaction. She pulls harder, ripping the whole shoot away from the boat and throwing it back over the edge.
I hurry to do the same, working my way along the edge of the boat. My hands find purchase on a thick vine and I pull, feeling it resist. I plant my feet more firmly and use my whole body. The vine tears free with a satisfying rip, and I throw it away, immediately reaching for another.
I’m doing this. I’m actually helping.
The plants are getting warmer, I notice. Almost hot. I grab another vine, pulling hard, and—
I yell as flames suddenly lick up the creeper I’ve just pulled from the wood. The fire races up the length of it with shocking speed, and I throw it away from me just in time to save my hands. My heart is pounding now, adrenaline surging through me.
“Theseus!” Psyche yells, panic in her voice.
I spin, my own panic threatening to engulf me.
The flames have climbed the plants faster than we can rip them from the boat.
Much faster. What were small, controlled fires moments ago are now roaring up the vines like they’re soaked in oil.
Theseus is kicking at the flaming vines, but the fire has already taken to the wood, crackling, growing, spreading across the hull.
I close my eyes for just a heartbeat and summon Hercules’s image.
His strong, powerful body, moving in time with mine, making me feel invincible.
His hands on my skin, his lips on mine, his voice telling me everything I’ve longed to hear.
The way he looks at me like I’m a goddess, not just the daughter of one.
I cling to the thought, letting it fuel me.
I bare my teeth and tear at more creepers, ripping them from the boat before the flames can take them.
My hands are moving faster now, driven by something primal.
The more I rip at the plants, the stronger I feel, my fear melting away.
My breathing is harsh and fast, my muscles burning with effort, but I don’t stop.
Hercules’s face swims before mine, filling me with power. His strength is flowing into me. His courage is becoming mine. If he can face monsters and trials and impossible odds, then so can I. I am more than I was. I am—
The image shimmers, and I feel a strange pulling sensation. Then the world goes black as I hear Theseus’s voice, clear as day.
“We give up!”