The Vengeance of Hera

by John Gregory Betancourt

Overview

Hercules

Half man, half god, Hercules is the most famous hero of ancient Greece. Possessed of enormous strength, the son of Zeus roams the world in search of adventure, sharing the glories of a bygone age with such legendary comrades as Jason of the Argonauts and the proud warrior woman, Atalanta. Prepare yourself for the wonders, O mortal, as the Quest for the Golden Fleece sets sail one more....

The Vengeance of Hera

The Isle of Thorna is plagued by a man-eating cyclops who demands a terrible tribute from the terrorized citizens: six of their sons and six of their daughters must be sacrificed each year to appease the giant's hunger. Hercules dares to challenge the cyclops, but their epic battle is only the beginning of his troubles, for Hera, the vengeful Queen of the Gods, has her own plot to destroy Hercules!


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Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781466853867
Publisher:	Tor Publishing Group
Publication date:	10/08/2013
Series:	Hercules , #2
Sold by:	Macmillan
Format:	eBook
Pages:	224
File size:	279 KB

About the Author

John Gregory Betancourt has published more than twenty books, including several best-selling Star Trek novels and game books for TSR, Inc.

John Gregory Betancourt has published more than twenty books, including Hercules, several best-selling Star Trek novels, and game books for TSR, Inc.

Read an Excerpt

Hercules: The Vengeance of Hera

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By John Gregory Betancourt

Tom Doherty Associates

Copyright © 1997 John Gregory Betancourt
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-5386-7

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CHAPTER 1

Rain pounded, thunder roared, and flashes of lightning cut crooked paths across the night sky. In the stern of the great sailing ship Argo, Hercules clung to the rudder's steering bar as rivers of water poured from his hair and beard. He squinted up into the darkness just as a new sheet of rain half blinded him. He brushed it from his eyes with the back of one hand. By the gods, he had never seen such a storm as this.

It had come upon them two days out from Troy. The speed and ferocity of its wind, driving them out to sea and far off course, made him suspect magic ... the foulest sorcery of Hera, Queen of the Gods, or perhaps of Poseidon, who ruled the seas. Hera had always persecuted him. Thinking back, he remembered how rudely he had entered her temple in Troy when he and his friends had ventured into the catacombs beneath that city to slay a huge serpent there. She might easily have taken offense, he realized. Or Poseidon might be punishing them for killing the sea-monster he had sent to tear down Troy's walls. Either way, it offered no help. Hercules sighed and gave a little shrug; lately the gods seemed to take offense at whatever he did, whether he meant insult or not.

Hunching his shoulders against the rain and driving wind, he held the rudder more strongly. The rolling waves threatened to wrench control of the ship from him, but he used every ounce of his strength to keep the Argo headed bow-first into the waves. Jason, captain of the ship and leader of their quest for the Golden Fleece, had told him the Argo might capsize if he didn't.

It would be just like Hera to kill all the Argonauts simply to get to him, he thought. What did she care if their quest succeeded or failed, as long as she got her way? He raised his head defiantly, glaring up at the heavens.

"It won't work!" he shouted. The wind seemed to suck his words away. "This is just a storm, and we can sail through it!"

A huge wave broke over the bow, sending a sudden flood rushing toward him. The few men still working on deck clung desperately to the mast and railings until the water began to subside. Then, with its deck clear for the moment, the Argo began a long, slow slide into the trough between waves, starting the process over again.

Feeling like a half-drowned rat as the water drained from the deck around him, Hercules tightened his grip on the rudder. Had he ever been this wet before? He didn't think so, not even when he had shifted the course of the Alpheus and Peneus rivers to clean the Augean Stables. The lionskin he always wore felt like a lead weight from all the water it had soaked up.

"I won't give in!" he shouted again. Glaring defiantly at the sky, he pulled himself up straight. He would not give the god or goddess responsible the satisfaction of knowing he or she had made him uncomfortable.

Around the ship, wind howled like a pack of wolves, and lightning flickered again. The rain battered down stronger than ever, but he no longer tried to shield himself from it; he couldn't be any wetter. Instead, he threw back his head and roared his defiance.

"You can't beat me, Hera!" he cried, and then he laughed. "It is you, isn't it?"

As if in reply, a mountain of water rose before the Argo. The ship creaked alarmingly as this wave — the largest yet — crashed across the bow, completely submerging the deck. Hercules felt a deep shudder run through the ship as she sought to turn. Not today, he thought grimly. Muscles straining, with water up to his chest, he held the rudder steady and kept the ship's bow pointed into the storm.

Slowly the water began to recede: waist deep, then knee deep, then ankle deep, then gone. Fortunately, none of the crew had been swept overboard, he saw with relief.

"Hercules!" a distant voice shouted. "I saw —"

A sudden gale swept the rest of the words away.

Raising his head, Hercules peered forward into the driving rain. Who had called his name? Jason? He could barely see ten paces ahead in the gloom. Keeping one hand on the rudder, he raised his other to shield his eyes. Lightning flickered, revealing a few dark forms huddled near the mast; they seemed to be trying to do something with the rigging.

"Hercules!" the voice called again. "Lights ahead! I saw lights —"

This time, Hercules recognized the deep-timbred voice of his friend and captain, Jason. Jason was pulling himself along the ship's railing toward him. Hercules frowned; that definitely meant trouble. Jason was supposed to be lashed in the bow watching for rocks — a storm such as this could run them aground with only a few seconds' warning, splintering the ship's hull like kindling. What kind of lights could Jason have seen? Were they approaching land ... or another ship?

"Turn us!" Jason shouted. "Hercules — we're going to run aground!"

Hercules leaned on the rudder with all his strength. Slowly the ship began to veer to the right — starboard, he had to remind himself. He was not a sailor and was only now getting used to the ways of the sea. They couldn't afford to hit anything out here. In this storm, the crew wouldn't stand a chance of swimming ashore.

Jason reached him. He looked even wetter than Hercules felt, if that was possible.

"What is it?" Hercules shouted over the storm. "The mainland?"

"I think it's an island!" Jason shouted back. "We'll have to go around it!"

"How big? Can we make it into a harbor?"

"It's too risky in this weather! We don't know if there are rocks or shoals!"

Hercules gave a nod. Jason was right, of course. They couldn't afford the chance. He continued to lean on the rudder, and the great ship came around on her new course.

Jason began to make his way forward again, holding on to the railing and ducking his head into the slashing rain. In another burst of lightning, Hercules saw a huge wave rising up to their port side. Now that the Argo had turned, this one would break across the middle of the ship, he saw with rising panic.

"Jason!" he screamed. "Watch out — !"

The wave smashed over the deck, burying everyone and everything. Hercules saw Jason clutch the railing with both hands, but then water covered him. A second later, when the wave began to recede, he was gone. The railing stood empty.

Hercules blinked, and the reality of the situation hit him. Jason had been washed overboard.

CHAPTER 2

"Jason!" Hercules shouted, quickly lashing the rudder down with the ropes they tied there earlier in the storm, in case anything like this happened. He ran to where he had last seen his friend.

Several other crewmen had seen Jason vanish, too. They joined Hercules at the railing, staring down into the dark, churning water below. It was impossible to see anything. Where had he gone?

"Help!" a faint voice called from the waves. "I'm over here! Hercules!"

A new tongue of lightning flickered overhead, and Hercules spotted Jason's head bobbing in the water about fifty feet out from the ship. The waves seemed to be carrying him away rapidly. In this storm, the men wouldn't have much time to rescue Jason, Hercules knew. By the time they brought the ship around, he would be long gone.

"Find a rope," he told the man next to him — Orpheus, he saw.

"I already have one." Orpheus hefted the coil he held. Hercules estimated it at a hundred feet. "Do you think you can throw it far enough to reach him?" Orpheus asked.

"No," Hercules said. He threw off his lionskin. "I'll have to swim out to him. It's the only way." He knew none of the others would have a chance.

Faintly, Jason's voice reached them again: "Help — Hercules — help!"

"Hold on!" Hercules shouted. Quickly he knotted one end of the rope around his chest while Orpheus tied the other end to the railing. Then, naked except for the rope, he dove over the side of the Argo.

The sea rushed up and covered him, so cold it felt like a slap in the face. Kicking, pulling himself through the water in the direction he'd last seen Jason, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. At last his lungs began to burn. He knew he couldn't go any farther without air.

Breaking the surface, he gulped in deep breaths and tried to get his bearings. Rain splashed everywhere, half blinding him. Waves broke around him. Wind roared in his ears.

Treading water, he turned until he had the dark, looming shape of the Argo behind him. That meant Jason had to lie straight ahead.

Tucking his head down, he began to swim strongly toward where he thought he'd seen his friend. Luckily, the current seemed to be pulling him forward, and he thought he was making good speed. Hopefully, he could reach Jason before he ran out of rope.

Every so often he glanced back at the Argo to maintain his bearings. The ship seemed to be drawing away with alarming speed. If he didn't find Jason soon, he knew he never would. He had only a hundred feet of rope. Would it be enough?

"Where are you?" he shouted. "Jason! Answer me! Jason? Jason?"

"Here —" came a weak reply to his left. "Over here —"

Hercules struck out in that direction. Waves surged around him. As he began to tire, he felt the rope start to drag him down. Rain filled his mouth and nose whenever he turned his head to draw a breath. Even so, he did not hesitate. He knew he was Jason's only hope.

Then, when he reached the crest of a wave, he suddenly saw a dark shape a few feet ahead. Jason — it had to be Jason.

He reached for his friend, and abruptly the rope stopped him. He pulled, but it didn't move at inch farther. He'd reached its end, he realized with frustration: it was too short. Quickly he pulled it down and looped it around his right ankle. Then, stretching out as far as he could, he reached for Jason — and found himself a few inches too short.

"Behind you, Jason!" he called, but the wind howled like a wild beast, catching his words and taking them away. He didn't think his friend had heard him, and the waves began to carry him away again. Curse his luck — would he get so close only to lose Jason now? For a second he thought of letting go of the rope and swimming after Jason, but he knew that would be suicide. He'd never make it back to the Argo with Jason.

"Jason!" he screamed. "Turn around! Jason!" Slowly Jason splashed around. Hercules saw his friend's eyes widen in surprise and recognition.

"Swim to me!" Hercules called, reaching out as far as he could. "I can't go any farther — I'm tied to the ship!"

Feebly, Jason swam toward him. The second Hercules felt fingers touch his own, he seized Jason and pulled him close. Jason's head vanished under the water for a second, but Hercules had him and wasn't about to let go. Using all his strength, he managed to lift Jason's head above the waves.

The rope around his ankle suddenly went tight. Hercules felt himself being pulled through the water toward the Argo as Orpheus and the others hauled the rope in. He rolled onto his back, careful to keep his grip on Jason. He hadn't come this far to lose him now.

The trip back seemed to take an eternity. Hercules' arms and back began to ache from the strain, and his vision blurred from the rain. Even so, he managed to flip around and help pull himself up the last few feet, holding a now-limp Jason over one shoulder.

The men on deck eased them both over the railing. Hercules collapsed onto his back, gasping. He'd never felt so wet in all his life, he thought, forcing a laugh. He'd done it. He'd saved Jason.

"Is he —?" Orpheus asked.

"Quite alive, thanks to Hercules!" Theseus cried after a quick check. "We'll get him to his cabin and —"

Water sluiced over them as another huge wave broke across the deck. Hercules felt the sea pulling at him, dragging him across the deck. He tried to grab hold of something to keep from being swept overboard, but his hands came up empty — and then he felt wood slam against his back as the water shoved him against the railing. That was better than being swept overboard, he realized. Not that he could have gone far with the rope still around his ankle. But what about Jason and the others?

A moment later the water began to recede. Pulling himself to his feet, Hercules found everyone still on deck, clinging to ropes and each other. At least they had been spared this time. As he watched, Theseus and Orpheus threw Jason's arms over their shoulders and started aft for his cabin. Hercules gave them an approving nod. They would see to Jason better than he could. Orpheus had some knowledge of the healing arts; he would see to whatever injuries Jason might have suffered.

He glanced around for his lionskin. He had worn it so many years, he felt odd without it now. Had it washed overboard? No — Hylas had lashed it securely around the mast. Hercules untied it and shrugged it on. It was full of water and weighted him down like a stone, but it was almost a part of him. It would dry soon enough, given half a chance.

Then Hercules looked back toward the rudder. It had broken free of its lashings, leaving the Argo drifting at the mercy of wind and waves. Panic surged through him as he remembered the lights that Jason had seen ahead. Their course! If it took them toward that island again —

Turning, he scrambled for the rudder. Before he made it ten feet, though, the deck underfoot jolted to a shuddering stop and a horrible scraping sound filled the air. Everything started to slide toward the prow of the Argo.

Caught off balance, Hercules pitched forward and went skidding up the deck, eyes wide with sudden terror.

CHAPTER 3

Witta smoothed her simple gray robes, then knelt before the altar in the Temple of Athena. Outside, storm winds howled as thunder cracked and rumbled. The driving rain hissed as it fell. It had to be midnight, she thought; the time had come to make her offering to the goddess Athena.

As if sensing her decision, the young white goat tied on the offering stone began to bleat in rising panic.

"Easy." Witta stroked the animal's head with one gnarled old hand. With her other hand, she picked up the bronze sacrificial dagger lying at her side. "Easy."

Trembling, the goat grew still. Its eyes, wide and black, stared into her own. Witta felt a pang of sympathy, but she knew this had to be done, and done properly, for the good of her people. She sacrificed a goat every time Gryx spoke from the mountain. He would be coming tomorrow, and he always demanded a terrible tribute.

"I offer this beast to Pallas Athena, who watches over this land and these people," she cried in a singsong voice. "May she look after us and bless us in our time of need."

In one quick motion she slit the goat's throat, and as dark blood gushed forth, she caught it in a broad red bowl painted with black line drawings of owls and olive trees. The goat's dying eyes shone yellow in the lamplight. Then they turned gray.

"Witta," the goat said with a woman's voice.

Witta jumped, startled and alarmed. Magic — it had to be! She threw herself to the floor, prostrating herself before the altar. The goddess had never spoken to her before. She didn't know what else to do.

"Witta," the goat said again. "You have long been a good and faithful servant. As your reward, I will bring a ship to Thorna. Sail on it. Thus will your people be saved."

"Great goddess," Witta said hesitantly. "How will they be saved? What must I do?"

"You will know when the time comes."

"But how?"

There came no answer. Slowly, Witta raised her head. She found only the goat, now quite dead, its lifeless eyes fixed on distant fields she could not see. The goddess had gone.

Shivering, Witta rose and covered the goat with a white cloth. She could scarcely believe what had happened. The goddess had spoken to her. To her. She felt like laughing and dancing and singing in joy. The goddess would save them. It was the answer to all her prayers.

She set the bowl of blood on the altar stone and picked up the goat's body. Normally she would have given the goat to those in the village who needed its meat, but it had been touched by the goddess herself. She would skin it and make an offering basket from its hide. Its carcass would be buried beneath the altar, to keep the temple holy.

Outside, the rain continued to pound as thunder rumbled. Strong winds shook the walls of the temple, and dust sifted down from the rafters, where small white owls perched and watched with wide-open eyes.

What sort of ship would it be? Once a year, always in the early spring, traders from Syria visited the island. They had come and gone three months before. Did that mean the Syrians would return ... or would strangers be on the ship?

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Hercules: The Vengeance of Hera by John Gregory Betancourt. Copyright © 1997 John Gregory Betancourt. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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