Beyond Hades (The Prometheus Wars) by Romyn Luke

Author:Romyn, Luke [Romyn, Luke]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Luke Romyn
Published: 2012-04-12T04:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

The river Styx. The river of Hate.

Such an appropriate name. The black ooze lapping at the banks of the Styx appeared hostile, seeming to reach out for them as they stood upon the bank. The river came nothing close to resembling water. Talbot likened the liquid to oil, but even that was a pale comparison. Whatever it was gave him the impression of concentrated malice, like some sort of liquid evil.

Once they had disembarked from the chariot, the bronze bulls had immediately raced away, and Talbot wondered if it had something to do with the nasty feeling oozing from the black river.

“So where’s this fucking boat guy?” growled Wes.

“I am not sure,” replied Heracles, gazing out across the black sludge.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure? Do you know what the hell you’re doing or not?”

“I need no direction from an ant like you,” snarled Heracles, his eyes narrowing, and his hands tightening into fists as he spun around to glare down at Wes.

Talbot moved to intervene against the brewing argument, but wasn’t fast enough. Wes darted forward like lightning, his right foot stepping up on Heracles’s left hip, launching himself high. His left knee came up, smashing into Heracles’s chin, before Wes hammered his right elbow directly down onto the top of the gigantic warrior’s skull.

Landing lightly, Wes snapped into a defensive stance, glaring at Heracles. The massive Olympian slowly raised one hand to the top of his head. It came away damp with blood, and Heracles stared at it incredulously before releasing a roar of rage. Talbot wondered how long it had been since he had glimpsed his own blood.

The huge warrior charged directly at Wes, who leaped nimbly out of the way, whipping his left leg around to lash his shin into the back of Heracles’s thigh as he passed. The resulting thud sounded just like a baseball bat connecting with a round of ham, and Heracles roared with pain before swinging blindly backward with his right fist, connecting solidly with Wes’s cheek, flinging him through the air like a discarded rag doll.

Heracles turned, murder glinting within his eyes. But before the enormous man could reach the stunned Wes, Talbot stepped in front of him, barring his path.

“Stop!” commanded Talbot with an authority he didn’t feel. “Heracles, this is exactly what you warned us of. You’re not acting rationally.”

Some semblance of sanity attempted to reassert itself, but Heracles’s gaze shifted beyond Talbot, and he spied Wes once more. “He mocks me at every turn,” spat the giant warrior. “I will tolerate it no longer!”

“Then you’ll have to go through me,” said Talbot softly.

The warrior looked down on Talbot curiously. “You would die for him?” he asked, gesturing toward Wes.

“Yes,” Talbot replied with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Now the question is; are you willing to kill me to get to him? Are you prepared to snuff out the only hope of closing this damn Syrpeas Gate in order to avenge some perceived insult? Think about it

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