With each shallow breath, his lungs ached. The air around him felt heavy, as though he was suspended in tar. He tried to move, but his limbs were bound, his eyes smothered, his mouth gagged by what tasted like a filthy rag. Something cold and hard circled his neck.
Fragments of memory returned to him. He’d been hovering over the battle outside Troy when he’d been impaled by an arrow. He’d healed himself and killed a swathe of mortal soldiers, their feeble swords no match for his power. A woman in silver armour had been fighting Aeneas, just as the stone had foretold. Hermes had saved him.
Thenshecame.
Panic reached for him across the darkness. Fighting its smothering grasp, he delved within himself, searching for his life-threads.
He could not feel them.
Where are you?he screamed inside his mind.Where are you!?
But the voice did not answer.
As he squirmed, he realized that his armour had been removed and he’d been stripped down to the white tunic he always wore beneath it. He was defenceless, powerless and alone in the dark.
‘He’s awake.’
‘Take the blindfold off.’
Not alone after all.
Searing light burned his eyes as the cloth covering his facewas yanked free. Blinking, the inside of what appeared to be a shabby tent came into focus.
Two people stood in front of him: the fierce woman in battered silver armour who had fought Aeneas and a tall man with flame-red hair.
‘I’m going to take off your gag,’ said the man. ‘You will not scream if you value your life.’
‘Or your teeth,’ added the woman.
Hermes nodded swiftly, then retched as the rag was loosened, the foul material raking over his tongue.
‘You will regret this,’ he spat.
The woman smiled. Somehow it was more fearsome than her scowl.
‘Why did your family not come to the battle?’ asked the man.
‘It is over?’
The man snorted. ‘It ended in a bloody stalemate hours ago. You’ve been out for almost a day. Answer my question.’
Hermes blinked the moisture from his eyes. How had this mortal known that his siblings intended to be at the battle, only changing their plans at the last moment when their father ordered them to search for the Titan girl? He would reveal nothing more to this man.
‘I am a god. I am Hermes, son of the King of Heaven, and I will rain retribution down on you and all you love for daring to –’
‘You will do no such thing,’ said a third voice.
The woman and the man parted as another person walked into Hermes’ frame of vision. Her slight body was draped in a long black robe, her dark hair clipped short around a strong-jawed face from which blazed a pair of oak-brown eyes.
He thought his heart might explode it was beating so fast. Hades’ remains, charred and smouldering in the depthsof Tartarus, stole unbidden into his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately scouring his body for a hint of his power. Still nothing. Wet warmth spread across his thighs.
‘Answer his question. Why did the other Olympians not come to witness the battle?’ The Titan’s face was marred by a tangle of emotions he could not divine.
Finally, Hermes regained his voice. ‘W-what have you done to me?’
Her lip curled. ‘You can thank Hades for that collar. Feels like drowning, doesn’t it?’
A sob lodged in Hermes’ throat as he thought again of his dead uncle, then Poseidon. The Lord of the Sea would never willingly part with his most prized weapon.
