“Forward! Break it! Drive them back!” Menelaus cried.
The Spartans roared in answer, shields colliding as they surged, the gate groaning under the strain and splinters tearing free as another wave of bodies drove through Sidon’s defenses.
A horn sounded, its note crawling down the cliffs and through the marrow of my bones. Heads snapped toward the walls.
Along the cliff’s edge, white-bearded priests emerged draped in silvered robes, their lips moving. The chant rose thin and eerie, carried on the wind, and the Spartan soldiers braced at the sound, their formation tightening as if the words themselves bound them.
Achilles felt it too and he paused, scanning the walls as his sword lowered.
The beach began to tremble, the ground shifting under the Spartans’ feet. Grains of sand lifted, whisked across the shore as a gaping crack split the cliff face, and an opening stretched wide.
From it slithered a shape that made my blood run cold.
The Hydra.
Its scaled necks writhed as it pulled itself into the daylight, five heads snapping and weaving with eyes that glowed like coals sunk in tar. Its bodies were not massive towers of legend but leaner, shorter—smaller than I had imagined from the old tales. Each head opened in a hiss, revealing teeth long enough to gut a man in one bite.
Soldiers faltered, their formations bending as shields drew back.
Menelaus laughed, the sound booming above the melee. He thrust out a hand, pointing straight at the monster. “Is this what they summon against us? A youngling! Nothing more than a whelp!” His rings flashed in the sun as he turned, grinning as he fixed his gaze on Theron expectantly.
Theron leaned against the mast as though the chaos below were a dull spectacle. One hand toyed with the edge of his sleeve, the other tracing idle shapes against the wood, faint sparks flickering where his fingertip passed. His expression was unreadable.
Menelaus’s grin widened. “Enough lounging. It is time you proved yourself. Show Sidon what power Sparta commands—destroy their creature.”
But before Theron stirred from the mast, movement flashed across the beach.
Achilles vaulted over the broken bodies strewn across the sand, his shield raised and his sword streaked with spray. The Hydra shrieked, five heads weaving like whips as it lunged to meet him.
One set of jaws snapped shut where he had stood a breath earlier, teeth shearing into the earth with a violent impact that shook the ground. Another head swept sideways, aiming to smash him against the cliff, but Achilles rolled beneath it, sand kicking up in his wake.
He came up on one knee with his shield braced, his blade flashing out to cut across a scaled throat. Black ichor sprayed and sizzled where it struck the ground. The wounded head recoiled, but the others struck harder, faster, as if enraged by its pain.
Theron pushed himself off the mast, brushing a fleck of something from his sleeve disdainfully. “Of course,” he sighed, “the golden boy charges in first. He can’t stand to let anyone else have any fun.”
I shot him a glare. “If you’re so desperate for fun, perhaps you should stop leaning on wood like a drowsing cat.”
His lips slanted, ready with some retort, but a Sidon soldier chose that moment to vault the railing, landing hard on the deck in front of me. His pale face gleamed with silver dust, his spear already raised.
I didn’t think. I lunged.
The small knife I kept hidden in my sash drove forward, sinking into his neck. His scream split the air as he stumbled backward, crashing over the railing and vanishing into the sea below.
I stared unblinkingly at the railing where he’d disappeared, a strange, jittering feeling shooting through my veins.
Theron’s brows arched high, his smirk turning wicked. “Remind me not to surprise you at dinner.”
Menelaus barked out a savage laugh. “At last! A taste of Sparta in her blood!” He spread his arms wide.
The deck suddenly groaned under weight and motion as more Sidonian assailants leapt onto the boat.
I backed away, my knife feeling like a pin against such menace … until Theron lifted his arms and sketched shapes across the air. Sigils flared bright against his skin, each line burning with blue light as words slipped from his lips in a curling chant.
The air split and the Sidonian assailants screamed as an unseen force ripped them from the planks and hurled them back into the sea.
Theron wasn’t done though. Beneath our keel, the water rippled, then convulsed. A deep vibration ran through the hull, rattling my insides as a terrifying growl came from somewhere beneath. Scarlet froth boiled up around us, seething higher, higher, as though the sea itself had been stirred awake.
I gripped the railing, staring down at the writhing water.
