Hades rolled away and covered himself with his shield as each of the hydra’s heads rammed against the metal. Soon, the shield was covered with a mix of black venom and saliva that dripped thickly off the edges and onto the ground at his feet. Hades gritted his teeth against the might of the monster. He knew that eventually he would have to move, but he needed a plan, a way to ensure the heads could not grow back. His eyes caught on one of the lit torches around the stadium.
Fire.
He could use fire.
But first, he had to get out from under this attack.
He bent his knees and hurled the shield into the air with all his might. It flipped as if it were light as a coin, distracting the hydra’s heads as he bolted for the first torch, his bare feet burning as he stepped in the hydra’s venom.
The monster was not deceived long, his heavy footfalls giving his retreat away, and soon the heads slithered after him. Some nipped at his feet while others went for his head. It was a constant game of jumping and dodging, and by the time he reached the edge of the stadium, his body was fatigued, the soles of his feet on fire.
Overhead, the torches burned, a beacon that signaled an escape. Hades turned, back against the wall, and as the venomous heads raced toward him, he jumped. The heads struck, one right after the other, and he used them almost like stepping stones, diving for the torch when it was within reach.
But as he grabbed it, it snapped in half, burdened by his momentum, and he continued falling to the ground, the hydra’s heads chasing after him, open-mouthed, a rain of venom pouring down around him, touching his body like drops of drizzle, burning his skin.
He couldn’t let the hydra catch him on the ground. So he hurled the torch at one of the open mouths, and as it hit, it burst into flames.
The creature bellowed and all its heads flailed. The crowd screamed, and Hades knew that those who had remained after the hydra’s first attack were probably wishing they had left.
With the hydra distracted, Hades rushed for his shield, which lay discarded across the arena. Scooping it up, he then ran for another torch.
This time, he managed to top the wall, which was wide enough for him to run atop. He snapped the torch from its place and ran for the next, tossing them to the ground below.
When he came to the final one, the hydra had recovered, and as it charged for him, he waited until the last second to jump from the wall. As its heads collided with the wall, Hades bore down on one of the necks with his shield. The impact was jarring, but the shield cut into the creature’s flesh enough for Hades to shove a lit torch inside. A second head was on fire, but this time as the monster reacted, it jerked, sending Hades flying across the arena.
He hit the wall, but he landed on his sore feet, legs shaking from the pain.
He watched as the hydra worked to put out the fire burning through one of its necks. A few of the heads screamed at it, but the venom only seemed to make it worse while others tried to beat at the flames with their heads. His gaze turned toward the box where Hera sat with Theseus. Neither was paying attention, each consumed in conversation with the other, and there was something about that sight that made Hades rage.
He was finished with this.
He turned toward the hydra, took up his shield, but instead of using it to defend, he used it like a disc, heaving it through the air. It tore through the hydra, and as it did, the head that had been on fire dropped into the puddle of blood and venom left behind. The entire carcass erupted in fire, filling the arena with the smell of burning flesh. The remaining heads whipped back and forth, and as each one fell to the ground, it shook, their screams growing hoarse until, eventually, all was quiet save for the sound of crackling fire.
The hydra was now a resident of the Underworld.
Chapter XVI
The Battle with Heracles
No one cheered, though he had not expected celebration, not to mention most of the people who had occupied the seats of the stadium had fled during the horror that was the hydra.
Indeed, the aftermath was much like the end of a battle when a strange and dreadful silence settled heavily in the air. It was the silence of death, the sound of life stolen from all living things, not just human.
And it was over.
A ringing settled deep in Hades’s ears, and before it could grow worse, he offered Hera a vulgar gesture, then turned to leave the stadium.
Except that as soon as he reached the tunnel, a door slammed down, barring his exit, and a horrible screeching filled the air.
Hades whirled to find that a second gate had opened and released a herd of giant birds. There were easily twenty, all with bronze beaks and deadly metal feathers that gleamed beneath the greenish light, and while they looked like something Hephaestus had created, Hades knew better.