The Ceryneian hind: one robber had been impaled on its imposing spiked iron antlers, but his companions had remembered how Hercules had hobbled the animal by shooting it in the leg. One of the statue’s legs was indeed hinged to act as the escape trigger-though the robbers’ tactic of pelting it with rocks until one scored a hit was not quite as impressive as the single arrow of legend.

The Augean stables: according to myth, Hercules had diverted a river to clean out the stables, and the ancient map on the backs of the parchments had shown a small river running by the hill. This trial was one of intelligence rather than of physical prowess, requiring floodgates to be opened in a certain order to direct water down particular channels. Make a mistake, and those opening the gates would be swept away by the deluge-a pair of broken bodies crushed against a grill at the end of one channel showed the penalty for failure. But with the river long dried up, the expedition was able to traverse the room with no difficulty.

The Stymphalian birds: a narrow passage sloped steeply upwards, tracks in the ceiling sending brass statues of giant hawks hurtling down to the bottom, talons and sharp beaks extended to gore anyone in their path. Two birds had reached the foot of the slope, hitting with such force that their beaks were embedded in the wall-one having first punched straight through the chest of an unlucky robber. Another hawk lay a third of the way up the corridor, its supporting hook shot out by an arrow. Even Komosa was impressed by the marksmanship.

The Cretan bull: a giant with the crudest method of attack so far, having simply advanced down a tight passage to crush anyone in its path. It had been defeated by lassoing its horns and pulling down its head, a few bone-dry strands of rope still hanging from them.

Two more had fallen victim to this last trap, having slipped and fallen under the huge rollers acting as the bull’s “feet” as they tried to pull down the head. Nina paused to examine them more closely. “These are more recent,” she realized. “The clothing, what’s left of it, I’d say was fifteenth- or sixteenth-century European. Even a failed attempt to get through the traps clears the way for the next set of robbers.”

“So the next task should have been triggered as well?” Corvus asked as he clambered onto the bull to reach the exit passage behind its head.

“Not necessarily,” Sophia said as she followed him. “We know the way through the maze. They didn’t. Even if they got past each challenge, there might still have been other traps that killed them.” As she emerged on the other side of the statue, she looked calculatingly at Chase. “Maybe we should find out.”

“There isn’t time,” said Corvus, brushing dust from his clothes. Sophia seemed disappointed, but still gave Chase a look that suggested her idea wasn’t going to go away. “What is the next trial?” he asked Nina as she caught up.

She checked her notes. “The mares of Diomedes.”

“Horses, eh?” said Chase. “I bet in the legend they weren’t exactly My Little Ponies.”

“Not really. There are different versions of the story, but in all of them the horses are man-eaters.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Chase muttered, glaring at Sophia.

“We should stop here for a while,” Nina told Corvus. “I need to keep working on the translation-I haven’t got very far past the next challenge.”

“No,” he replied. “Work on the move. We are so close now, I will not wait. Concentrate on guiding us through the maze-even if any of the trials are still working, my men have weapons and explosives. We can take care of them.”

Nina made a disbelieving face, then shrugged. “Whatever,” she said, concealing her concern-and also her hope. If any of the remaining trials actually were still functional, they could pose a genuine threat to Corvus’s men-and give herself and Chase chance to escape.

Once the entire party had gathered, they set off again, Nina directing them through the darkened twists of the labyrinth. Before long they reached the entrance to another chamber.

Bertillon, leading the way, shone his light inside. “I see no bodies,” he reported. “I don’t think this one has been sprung.” He switched the flashlight to his other hand as he unshouldered his gun, a sleek and futuristic Fabrique Nationale F2000 assault rifle with a 40mm grenade launcher fitted beneath the barrel. Two of his companions did the same.

Komosa joined them, flashlight glinting from his piercings as he looked into the long chamber. Nina peered past him to see what lay inside. At the far end were four oversized statues of horses, even more forcefully stylized than the previous creatures they had encountered. Their long, sharp teeth were bared, legs raised as if frozen midgallop… and ready to resume at any moment. The hooves were elongated, narrowed, more like blades than feet-making Nina think uncomfortably of some kind of agricultural threshing machine. The animals’ legs ran the full width of the passage.

“Christ,” said Chase, standing beside her to see for himself. “Teeth on those things look like the bloody Alien Queen.”

“We must go through,” said Corvus. He turned to Nina. “How did Hercules defeat them?”

Nina paused, thinking-and gave Chase the briefest of knowing glances. “His task was to steal the horses from Diomedes, who kept them chained to a bronze manger,” she recounted after a moment. Corvus looked at the statues, which had bronze chains hanging from their necks, and nodded. “Once he freed them, he drove them onto a peninsula and dug a trench to make it into an island so they couldn’t escape.”

Bertillon aimed his light at the floor of the chamber. “Perhaps we are supposed to dig up the floor so the horses cannot get across, hey?” He switched off the flashlight and pocketed it, then raised his gun and activated its spotlight before loading the grenade launcher. “I know a quick way to do that.”

Another man, an American, examined the chamber’s entrance. “There’s a slot in the top of the arch here,” he announced. “I guess a gate drops down when the trap goes off so you can’t get out. We’ve got some titanium jacks-we can wedge them in so that it can’t fall.”

“Do it,” ordered Corvus.

The jacks were quickly set in place, an inverted V blocking the slot above the entrance while still allowing room to pass underneath. Bertillon, Komosa and the two other men who had unshouldered their F2000s entered the chamber and cautiously advanced on the statues. The others watched from the entrance, Corvus using a radio so the team could communicate via headsets without shouting.

“Is there any sign of a spot where you might be supposed to dig up the floor?” he asked.

“Nothing so far,” Bertillon replied, carefully stepping forward. “Perhaps we should use grenades to destroy the statues before they-”

Crunch.

A dull grind of shifting stone came from beneath his foot, clearly audible even to those waiting outside the entrance.

And then the entrance slammed shut, a metal portcullis dropping down-not from the slot that had been blocked by the jacks, but beyond it, on the far side of the arch. The slot was just a decoy, the real trap suspended a foot away.

With a screech of metal and rasp of stone the statues burst into life, moving for the first time in thousands of years. Their jaws snapped and their legs churned up and down, sharp hooves slicing the air and clanging cacophonously against the stone floor as they advanced.

Corvus’s men outside the chamber ran to the gate and tried to lift it, but it refused to move, locked down.

Nina cringed and put her hands over her ears as Bertillon fired his grenade launcher. The echoing shotgun-like thud was nothing compared to the explosive crack that shook the chamber a moment later as the grenade hit one of the statues. Lumps of stone showered the room as a chunk was blown from the horse’s chest, but the relentless advance continued.