Storming Paradise Read online

  A moment later, Hercules had climbed over the open door, careful not to stab himself on the sharp points that characterized the tops of the wooden bars, and dropped down inside Iolaus’ cell. Iolaus was still curled in a ball, arms held above his head by the manacles, eyes squeezed shut in pain, droplets of sweat pouring down his face and body as if he had a fever.

  “Iolaus, wake up,” Hercules hissed, leaning down close to his chum.

  Again Iolaus did not react, which confirmed Hercules’ suspicion that his friend was either unconscious or entirely in the clutches of a hallucination similar to his own concerning Hera.

  Hercules reached for the chain that linked the manacles to the wall, grabbing a link in each hand. Then, squeezing the links so hard that they began to bend in his hands, he wrenched them apart, ripping the manacles from the wall. Without the manacles holding him up, Iolaus slumped to the floor of the cage.

  “Well,” Hercules remarked to himself, “I guess my strength is returning at least.” He had not really thought about it until that moment, but it was suddenly becoming clear how much being wrapped in those supernatural chains had affected not just his mind but his strength as well.

  Hercules bent down and brushed the hair from Iolaus’ face. “Come on, Iolaus,” he said softly, “snap out of it.”

  Iolaus writhed on the barred floor of the cage for a few moments, shaking away the hallucinations he had been wracked by. His eyes fluttered open and he saw Hercules smiling down into his face.

  “Whoa, hey,” Iolaus said with a start.

  “Iolaus, are you okay?” Hercules asked.

  “Yeah, I think,” Iolaus said without hesitation. “What just . . . where are we?”

  “The Tartarus Pits,” Hercules said. “You were knocked out by one of the guards when we tried to raise the street—you remember?”

  Iolaus pulled a face, wiping sweat from his brow. “Kinda,” he said, shaking his head. “How long was I out? And where . . . ? Wait, yeah, I remember this now. They put me in this cell. You too, I guess?”

  “Yes,” Hercules confirmed.

  Iolaus winced and began rubbing at his tummy. “My guts are . . . did we eat spicy food?”

  Hunched over in the cell, Hercules shook his head. “Campe and her people were doing something to us,” Hercules said. “To everyone, I think,” and he indicated the other cells. “I don’t know what.”

  “Feels like my insides have been trying to make a break for it,” Iolaus said.

  “Mine too,” Hercules agreed. “Now come on, there isn’t a moment to lose.”

  Iolaus winced as he tried to stand, clonked his head on the low ceiling of the cage, and then sat down hard on his backside.

  Crouched over, Hercules offered his friend some words of advice. “Watch yourself. Low ceiling.”

  “Yeah,” Iolaus said, wriggling out of the cage after Hercules.

  Hercules leapt down to the ground, landing in a crouch. He checked right and left for danger while Iolaus climbed more carefully down the front of the towering cages, peering sorrowfully at the people locked within.

  “So, we gonna let these people out?” Iolaus asked once he had reached the floor of the cavern. “I mean, we can’t just leave them here.”

  Hercules nodded in agreement. “My strength’s come back,” he explained to a confused Iolaus—who didn’t know it had ever waned. “I estimate that there are approximately two hundred and forty people in this cavern, plus many others elsewhere. Freeing them all will take time—unless you have any ideas.”

  Iolaus looked at the metal bracelets that were still clamped around his and Hercules’ wrists from the manacles. “There’s a lock on these,” he pointed out, “which means that there’s a set of keys somewhere. Chances are that the manacles all use the same key, or maybe a couple of keys. If we could get the keys . . .”

  Hercules was trotting towards the far end of the cavern, a sly grin on his face. “I’m with you,” he said.

  Iolaus frowned. “Then where are you going?” he asked, jogging down the warren of cages until he had caught up with his friend at the cavern mouth.

  “I’m going to find our jailers,” Hercules said, stepping out into a larger cavern full of wailing souls, “and see if we can’t negotiate like reasonable gentlemen. With our fists.”

  “Oh boy!” Iolaus sighed.

  Chapter 18

  It was not easy to sneak up on a Hecatonchire giant. They had faces on both sides of their bodies, allowing them to look in all directions at once. Harder still was sneaking up on one while two others were also in the room. Iolaus figured that Hercules was either insane or absolutely insane to try. But he couldn’t help but admire his friend’s nerve in trying.

  Hercules found the Hecatonchires in the huge cavern where the circle of stone platforms was located, the central one now missing since Campe had used it to ascend to Elysium. The cave was close to the one where Hercules and Iolaus had been held captive, although another cavern budded between them with yet more souls trapped in torment, more of the people who had been captured by the supernatural street.

  The cavern with the platforms also played host to numerous figures in cages, and yet more bowed down in supplication in its center where they gave their souls freely to help power Campe’s platform. That platform was gone by the time Hercules and Iolaus snuck into the cavern, leaving behind an acrid cordite-like smell in the air in its wake. The chains were still glowing with webs of arcane energy, phosphorescent greens and oranges running up and down their lengths as the souls wailed in agony. The Hecatonchire guards were all standing staring at the ceiling, where Campe had disappeared.

  “Hercules, look!” Iolaus whispered, pointing up to the roof of the cavern. “No ceiling.”

  Hercules saw the gap in the roof where Iolaus pointed. It was circular and wide enough to accommodate almost the whole floor of the cavern, like looking up from inside a dormant volcano. Above was a tunnel of rough-hewn rock, and rogue energy sparked across its surface, dancing along the walls far beyond where they were lost to darkness.

  “Something went up,” Hercules said.

  “Another street?” Iolaus wondered.

  Hercules shook his head. “Campe was talking about an assault on Olympus. She decided to step up her plans when we showed, so I’m guessing . . .”

  Iolaus looked at the hole in the ceiling again. “She stepped up her plans,” he finished for Hercules. “So, what do we do now?”

  “You—hide,” Hercules told Iolaus.

  “I have no problem with that whatsoever,” Iolaus assured him, edging back farther into the shadows surrounding the doorway. “What about you?”

  “I’m going to get those keys,” Hercules said before sneaking farther into the cavern, along the spiral path.

  Iolaus felt every muscle clench as he watched his partner disappear among the genuflecting dead.

  It took six minutes.

  Hercules used the shadows to cross the cavern before snagging one of the connecting chains that ran from floor to ceiling, channeling soul power into the arcane mechanism. The chain sparked in his hands, each link as long as his hand, as he looped it around itself in a lasso.

  Still unseen, Hercules began to swoop the lasso over his head, steadily building momentum. A moment later he released his grip and let the chain lasso hurtle out towards the nearest of the Hecatonchire guards, the one known as Cottus the Striker. The noise of the chains was drowned out by the wailing of tormented souls. Cottus turned at the last possible instant, warned by one of the hideous faces on the back of his neck, but he was too late to avoid the lasso. The chain looped over him, snagging his shoulders and arms, even as Hercules snatched the other end once more and cinched it tight.

  “Just like playing hoops,” Hercules laughed as he pulled the other end of the chain, hoisting Cottus up off his feet and high into the air.

 
An instant later, Cottus was hanging upside down from the cavern roof, clots of energy buzzing across the chain as it held him fast.

  The other two giants hurried to respond, surprised by this turn of events. They had been marveling at their mistress’ audacity, at the success of her plan, and so were wrong-footed to find an interloper—the same interloper that they had dealt with just a few hours before—creeping about in their midst. For a moment the giants were unsure what to do—should they go help their comrade or should they deal with this irritant that had appeared among them. They settled on the irritant.

  Hercules stood firm as the two giants came rushing across the cavern towards him, their heavy steps pounding against the ground like rolling thunder. Then, as they came ever closer, he took off in a sprint, angling between them as fast as his legs would take him. The Hecatonchire giants were fast, and they reacted swiftly to their quarry’s move, turning to snatch or hit him. What neither of them reckoned on was the proximity of the other, and in a bone jarring instant, two dense Hecatonchire skulls clacked together like a pair of colossal castanets, the crash reverberating through the whole cavern.

  Hercules continued to run, peering back over his shoulder as the two giants staggered in place, struggling to recover from the clash. Their untouched heads shrieked in urgent encouragement—“Come on!” “Get moving!” “He’s getting away!”

  Hercules moved swiftly then, leaping for another of the dangling chains that had been used to hold Campe’s platform in place. Clutching the chain, Hercules swung away from the confused giants in a graceful arc, building his momentum before kicking against the far wall and swinging back at his foes at some considerable speed. The two giants watched, astonished, as Hercules came rushing through the air towards them, his legs together and angled for the nearest of the Hecatonchire guardians.

  Wham!

  The Hecatonchire called Gyes toppled as Hercules struck him feet-first, knocking the big-limbed giant sideways and back so that he went caroming into his companion.

  Crunch!

  Briareos felt the full force of Gyes’ weight as his body struck him, heads meeting, several elbows slamming hard into his gut.

  Gyes and Briareos toppled like skittles, slamming against the rocky ground with a noise like an avalanche.

  Hercules continued his swing, shifting his body so that he arced back towards the fallen giants where they lay sprawled on the ground. Above him, Cottus was shouting in annoyance, fifty voices raised in irritation as they tried to entice Hercules to release them. Hercules ignored them all, swinging back around until he landed just a few feet from the fallen giants. One was woozy while the other was flat out unconscious. Neither was in a state to put up much of a fight when Hercules removed the cell keys from their belts and tied them up in loops of the same chain that he had swung across the room on. Then, Hercules hoisted the giants up into the air and left them to dangle there beside the complaining form of Cottus.

  All the while, the helpless souls remained prostrate on the ground and the rocky outcroppings, unable to comprehend what was happening all around them as they were beset by vivid hallucinations.

  When Hercules returned to Iolaus he held two sets of keys, proportioned for giant hands.

  “You made that look easy,” Iolaus commented as Hercules handed him a set of keys.

  Hercules nodded. “Let’s go set some people free and see if we can’t find some way to get them back to the surface.”

  It took the best part of four hours to release everyone from their manacles and cells with only the two keys. All of the prisoners were exhausted—having your living soul drained will do that to a person—and many of them were dehydrated and undernourished, which suggested that they had been here for weeks. The latter was hard to confirm as there was no sense of time down here in Tartarus beyond an ill-defined notion that a long eternity remained, time’s motion like water circling a drain but never passing through.

  The time it took to free the prisoners proved advantageous to the temperament of the Hecatonchire Giants, who were left hanging from the roof of the main cavern. While Hercules and Iolaus worked through the cells, the giants complained, made threats and finally begged for freedom. Hercules and Iolaus ignored them, and eventually all three giants fell silent.

  Eventually, having removed his own manacles and passed the key to one of the prisoners to assist Iolaus in freeing the last few captives, Hercules returned to the now empty chamber where the giants hung.

  “How do I get the people back to the surface?” Hercules demanded, standing upon one of the platforms so that he was close to the hanging figures.

  “Go to Hades!” one of the giants, Briareos, spat.

  “That would certainly be a step in the right direction,” Hercules joked, “but I was hoping to get them a little higher than that.”

  “You can’t return them,” the giant called Cottus insisted. “They’re ours!”

  “No, they’re not,” Hercules told him, before addressing all three giants. “Your mistress Campe has sway over the dominion of the Tartarus Pits, where the souls of the dead may remain for eternity if that is their fate. No one may interfere in that process—it is a sacred covenant between gods and man. However, there is no such accord with the souls of the living. Should the gods learn of what you’ve done they would be—” he shrugged, “well, you know gods.”

  Dangling from a chain, Gyes looked at Hercules with as many eyes as he could bring to bear. “What are you proposing, little one?”

  “Help me return them and I shall free you,” Hercules said, “and, furthermore, I shall not have cause to interfere in the procedures that have been in place for millennia.”

  Cottus the Striker hissed in fury, as was his nature. “He cannot interfere anyway! He’s bluffing for—”

  “How can he bluff?” Briareos snarled. “He has nothing to offer.” And two more of his faces agreed.

  “But perhaps—” Gyes began.

  “We don’t make deals with mortals!” Cottus snapped, cutting him off.

  “Ahem,” Hercules coughed for attention. “Might I remind you that I’m down here while you’re . . . up there.”

  “What is your point, bug?” “Worm?” “Dirt-walker?” Cottus asked, his other heads joining in with their own insults.

  “Given time, my friend and I will find a way to operate your street trap,” Hercules said, “and let’s not forget we’ll have eternity down here to figure that out. While you three, well—you’ll have eternity to dangle from those chains with no hope of release.”

  “Says you!” Briareos snapped.

  Hercules made a show of looking around the empty cavern. “Just who do you think is going to help you down? Ixion, perhaps, or Sisyphus, or one of these other wretched souls whom you’ve vowed to punish for eternity?”

  “Our mistress Campe shall return for us,” Cottus insisted, “and when she does you will regret your arrogance.”

  Hercules crossed his arms and smiled. “Yes, I’m sure that your mistress cannot wait to return to this place from—where was it she went?—paradise, wasn’t it? Yes, I can see how you’d expect her to be back any moment now.”

  Cottus, Briareos and Gyes talked amongst themselves for a few seconds, with multiple voices adding their two gold coins worth.

  “What makes you so certain that Campe will not return?” Gyes asked reasonably. “We have been loyal to her and she promised us a place in her new regime.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she won’t forget you or this place,” Hercules said. “Why would anyone want to forget a place like this?” and he gestured around the rocky cavern like a player on the stage.

  The dangling giants contemplated Hercules’ words a few moments longer. Then, finally, Briareos spoke for all of them. “Let us down and we shall help you with the mechanism to return the living to the Earth,” he said.

  Hercules nodded. “Go
od.” Then he stepped over to where he had cinched the chains that held the three giants aloft and took one in his hands. It was the chain that held Gyes with Briareos, whom Hercules identified as the most mellow of the Hecatonchires. Hercules released the tension on the chain and let Gyes down from his helpless position hanging over the stone platforms, leaving Briareos dangling just above the ground—as close as the apple that tempted Tantalus.

  “What about us?” Cottus asked.

  “You’ll get your release,” Hercules assured them. “However, for now I only need one pair of hands—” he looked at Gyes’ many sets of arms and shrugged, “—figuratively.”

  Freed from the chains, Gyes looked shamefaced as he strode with Hercules through the caverns back to the place where the sorcerous street waited. Hercules questioned him as they walked, confirming his suspicion about the figures who had populated the street. They were dead souls, down here to be punished for all eternity, and they had welcomed the chance for release to the outside world, if just for a single night. Sorcery had allowed them to function as people for that brief period, but their new forms were unstable and would not survive in daylight.

  “Campe promised them their freedom if they brought one-hundred souls each,” Gyes stated with a grim smile. “Living souls hold far more power than dead ones, you see? Of course, any soul who got close to that total was taken off street duty. Wouldn’t do to really start releasing the souls of the most-wicked—the gods would soon take notice and it would raise too many questions.”

  “Sounds like your mistress has thought through all the angles,” Hercules said in mock-admiration. He suspected that these tortured souls would do just about anything for a shot at release, and so Campe had dangled that carrot before them, all the while using them to forward her own sneaky plans. “And what did she promise you?” he asked as he and the giant strode past the waiting lines of living people who had been abducted and brought down here.