Athena, Odysseus, Ares, and the wolves leapt up and out in different directions, scattering before the Judges with no plan and no steadying “on three” count. Both Athena and Odysseus went for Minos. She grabbed hold of one of his horns and wrenched it upward; Odysseus slid through the gap between his feet and trailed his sword. One judge on one knee. A solid job of hamstringing.

Something in Athena’s gut told her to duck, and she hit the floor just in time to feel Rhadamanthys’ massive arm pass over her head. A wolf yipped and Panic went sailing through the air. She glanced back: Oblivion was still on its paws, feinting and charging Minos where he knelt, bleeding.

“Up, wolf!” Odysseus scooped up Panic and made for the stairs but Rhadamanthys was there first, his leg stomping down like a tree trunk in their path. Athena didn’t think, she just leapt as the judge aimed a blow at Odysseus and the wolf. She caught his wrist in her stomach and doubled over his arm as it swung, watching the floor and walls fly by until she struck one and all the wind left her body. She slid straight down and landed on buckled legs and her ass, sucking as much air into her deflated lungs as she could. Ares bellowed to her left, engaged with Aeacus and his razor scepter. Every inch of Ares’ exposed skin was painted red. He didn’t know how to dodge. Aeacus swung and Ares took it, a blunt instrument, digging in and pushing back and losing pints. He’d never shake loose enough to get to the door.

And maybe he doesn’t want to. Maybe he wants to stay until the Judges lie still on the floor.

Idiot. Pick up a spear at least, you dope.

Athena rolled right in time to avoid Rhadamanthys’ elephantine stomp and leapt back toward the center of the arena. She ducked another of his grabs. The bastard was fast, despite his size.

“Oblivion! Panic! Hands!” she shouted to the wolves and they jumped to it, each sinking teeth into one of the giant’s hands and clinging there. They wouldn’t be able to hold long, but at least the walls were far enough away that he couldn’t crush them against the marble. Athena ran to the stairs and used them to kick off, launching onto the judge’s back and scrambling for his neck. It would take one whole arm to choke him out and maybe part of the other.

If Heracles could manage with the three heads of Cerberus, I can manage just this one.

Her arms wrapped around Rhadamanthys’ massive neck and squeezed.

The judge could hold his breath, she’d give him that. Whether it would be his throat that gave or her arms came down to the wire, but just when her muscles began to shake, he dropped to his knees and then onto his face.

“Nice,” Odysseus shouted as the wolves let go. He jogged to her from a prone Minos. While she’d been choking Rhadamanthys, Odysseus had apparently hamstringed Minos’ other leg for good measure.

On the other side of the room, Ares stood over Aeacus, bludgeoning him with his own scepter. Odysseus winced when the scepter made contact with the judge’s skull. They’d had to take them all down after all.

“Come on,” Athena called to Ares from the base of the stairs. “Before they pop back up like jack-in-the-boxes.”

Ares smiled, covered in cuts, and brandished the stolen scepter. She had to give him credit. She’d thought she was going to have to run to his rescue.

Odysseus slipped his hand onto the small of her back as they headed up the stairs. How he loved trouble. He’d never want a quiet life, or a safe one. Looking into his exhilarated face, Athena could almost believe that they suited each other, and that it would last forever.

She paused at the door. It was the end. Behind it was the way out. She jerked it open and looked out at the damp rocks and dirt of the tunnel leading up. Wind hit her cheeks. Real wind.

“Amazing.” Odysseus grinned and stared into the flame of a torch. “Light. And the smell of regular water. It’s been so long.”

Athena smiled. She looked at the scepter in Ares’ hand. “Minos’ scepter. You should toss it back inside.”

“But I like it,” Ares said, and held it up to the torchlight. With a closer look, Athena saw that the lines of razor didn’t stop at the handle. They twisted and worked all the way down the grip. To wield the scepter turned the fighter’s hand into hamburger.

“You would like it. It’s monstrous. But it isn’t yours.”

Ares squeezed the handle one last time, and blood ran down his wrist. Then he tossed it back into the arena before pulling the door shut behind them. One glance at his hand turned Athena’s stomach; it didn’t resemble fingers and palm so much as a pile of julienned tomatoes. They’d have to wrap it. She reached for Odysseus’ sword and cut a strip off the back of his shirt.