The Poison In The Blood Read Online Free Page B

became more shallow. Iolus could see the monster’s body rising from the swamp. It was vast. Its scales glittered like garnets. Its heart was a loathsome, pounding, quivering thing. It heaved itself through the mud. Its necks coiled in pursuit of Heracles and Iolus. Its heads could smell blood. They were hungry for human flesh, driven mad by the craving for it.
    The boat came to a halt among the reeds and mud flats. Heracles dropped his bow and reached for his sword. Two of the hydra’s heads came slavering down towards him. Heracles’s sword sliced twice, cutting through scales, flesh and bone. The two heads dropped like stones into the mud. Heracles jumped out of the boat and yelled at Iolus to row to safety. Iolus pulled on the oars and the boat drifted away from the island. Meanwhile, Heracles was stepping through the reeds. Another pair of jaws snapped at him. He turned. His sword cut through the air. A flash of bronze, then a spray of black blood. It spattered Heracles, but the poison could not burn through the lion’s skin. A third head dropped into the mud.
    Heracles reached dry land and stood with his sword at the ready. The hydra attacked him again, necks coiling, jaws snapping. Heracles sliced at them. His arm moved so fast that Iolus could not see the sword as it did its work. Heads thudded to the ground all around Heracles as he fought. But the hydra did not withdraw. It pressed on with its attack. There seemed no limit to its number of heads. Iolus watched the battle from the boat and began to worry that Heracles would grow tired.
    He rowed around to the far side of the island. The boat’s prow rested on a mud bank and Iolus lowered his oars. He caught his breath and looked again at the fight. This time he felt a surge of relief. Heracles was fighting as well as ever while the hydra was slowing. Heads were still spitting and snapping, but they were outnumbered now by stumps. Slice, slice, slice. More heads dropped among the reeds. Iolus counted those that were left: no more than twenty. Still Heracles fought. Fifteen heads left. Then ten.
    Suddenly Iolus frowned. Something strange was happening. He rubbed his eyes. There seemed to be more heads than there had been a moment before. He counted them again.
    Fifteen. Twenty. Iolus rose to his feet and stared at the hydra’s bleeding stumps. They were all twitching and growing before his eyes. The bleeding flesh of the stumps was healing. From one, a pair of eyes appeared. Then a set of jaws. The mouth opened. A hissing. A scarlet frill opened out behind the head. A slice of Heracles’s sword and it was sent flying, but in the meantime, more heads were reappearing. No matter how fast Heracles beheaded them, more grew back to take their place.
    Iolus shouted out what he had seen. He heard Heracles swear loudly. The heads were growing back faster and faster. Heracles began to retreat. Iolus picked up the oars. As Heracles withdrew across the island, the hydra heaved itself on to the dry land. This slowed it down and Heracles took his chance. He turned and ran across the island. He jumped into the boat. “Pull away,” he yelled. “Get us out of this swamp!” He reached for his bow and shot arrows at the hydra, which cried out in pain. But it still kept following them. As Iolus rowed, he despaired. The hydra could not be beaten. Heracles had failed.
     
     
SEVEN
     
    Or had he?
    Jumping out of the boat as it reached dry land, Heracles did not seem like a beaten man. “Quick,” he ordered. “Find dry wood. Anything that will burn. Make a fire.”
    Iolus wanted to ask why, but he knew there was no time. He did as Heracles had instructed. Minutes passed. From the swamp, Iolus heard the hissing of the hydra’s heads. He looked round. The monster was getting nearer. Iolus grabbed branches, pulled up bushes and gathered grass. He made a pile of the wood. Behind him, he heard the twang of Heracles’s bow. The hydra shrieked. Iolus looked round again. Heracles