Pitchfork

by Nicole Scarano

  “I will kill you for your treachery,” Minotaur snarled, his tone so low and deep it rumbled through her chest, “and feast upon the abomination within you.”

  “You will never have my son,” Hades spoke, her voice a calm terror, and twirling the pitchfork in her deft hands, she attacked.

  An excruciating stillness fell over the temple, the Olympians’ shock denying them their movement. For a weighted breath, all was quiet, and then with painful slowness, Zeus turned to the powerful intruder.

  “I killed your kind,” Zeus growled, low and menacing. “Wiped every one from existence. So how is it a Titan yet draws breath?” All eyes fell upon the trespasser as his hulking form pushed through the frozen crowd, the only sound his soft footfalls and the rage beyond the door.

  “You destroyed all but one,” Charon answered, weaving through the bodies. “It was the Styx who claimed me, and therefore, I belong to Hades.”

  “Then I will remedy that!” Zeus gripped his thunderbolt as he lunged.

  “No!” Alkaios bellowed, vaulting between them, arms outstretched. His palms slammed into both Charon’s and Zeus’ chests, forcing them to remain separated. “You will not touch him!”

  “How long have you been harboring a Titan?” Zeus’ anger reverberated through his chest. “The sins of the Titans demand his death. I cannot allow him to live, not when the evil of the first gods is still upon us. His kind wants nothing save our downfall,” and at his words, Zeus forced his body forward. Alkaios stumbled, gritting his teeth, and with equally powerful resistance, slammed Zeus across the room.

  “How dare you stand in my way,” Zeus said, regaining his footing.

  “You will not touch him.” Alkaios settled his frame before Charon’s in defiance, his heels grinding into the stone.

  “Now is not the time for this!” Poseidon said as both he and Ares hurtled themselves against the lurching door, the weary efforts of the gods waning as fatigue chewed through their muscles.

  “Get out of my way,” Zeus growled, ignoring the pleas of his brother.

  “Stop,” Charon’s deep voice commanded as he sidestepped Alkaios’ protective stance. “Do with me what you will, but only once this is over, for I have come to help.” Zeus’ eyebrows pinched in confusion, but when he failed to move, Charon continued, “I am Charon, ferryman of the Underworld and the last living Titan. I owe my life and my family to Hades, and I am here to repay that debt. Zeus, if you, Hades, and I band together to create this blood seal, then only one born of all three generations of gods can break it. Alkaios and I have already sworn a blood oath to ensure that should any of our descendants wed, no children will be birthed from their union, assuring the door forever remains welded shut.”

  “Listen to him,” Alkaios pleaded. “This will save Hades and my son. Even if the madness consumes her again, both she and our child will be helpless against this seal.”

  “Will this work?” Zeus asked, looking to Medusa who had shifted back into her disheveled human form.

  “It might,” she breathed as Kerberos lifted his pressure from her chest. “But you need to confine Minotaur before we can bind them.”

  “Go.” Charon clapped Alkaios on the shoulder as he strode to the door and heaved his weight against it. “We will hold them for as long as possible,” and as if to prove the urgency, the Old Ones crashed against the stone at his touch. Charon braced himself, and both he and Poseidon forced it back, the Olympians’ gathering to lend their power.

  “Dispatch me to where you sent her,” Alkaios asked Zeus, and his eyes flicked to the Titan with hesitation.

  “I swear to you, I will not harm a hair on his head while this door remains unsealed,” Zeus promised.

  “We will hold you to that,” Keres’ voice drifted from a dim hallway, and Keres, Hydra, and Chimera padded through the darkness to join the gods in their resistance. As he passed the King of Olympus, the lion loosed a soft menace, his protruding fangs bared, fur stained with the blood of his battle victims.

  “We will remain as long as we can,” Zeus said as Kerberos settled beside Alkaios. He wrapped his spiked tail around the god’s waist, making it clear he intended to aid in the retrieval of his mother. “But I beg you to make haste, we cannot withstand them forever,” and with that Zeus reached out his palm and placed it against Alkaios’ chest. With a flash of light, the room surged with static power, and Alkaios and the god-killer disappeared.

  Hades screamed a bloodcurdling battle cry and collided with Minotaur’s back. With terrifying grace, she curled her thighs around his neck, latching on tight as she lifted the pitchfork. Hand gripping his bloody horn for leverage, Hades drove the weapon’s twin points down toward his skull, but at her moment of triumph, Minotaur seized her ankle and yanked. Her frame jerked sideways as she clung to his horn with all her strength, her torso hanging halfway down his body, but before Hades could regain her seat, he pulled again. With a violent pop of her ankle, Hades careened to the dirt and landed in a heap with pain on her lips. She groaned in agony, desperate to rest, to lie in the grass and cradle her bleeding body, but she felt Minotaur settle his mass over her. With a roar, Hades dragged herself forward, struggling to recover her footing, yet the horned god was hard on her heels.

  The air shifted as Minotaur’s fist hurtled toward her spine, but before he connected, Hades twisted on the grass and swung the pitchfork. The ancient metal cracked Minotaur’s wrist with such force, the monstrous god howled and withdrew his arm to cradle the bent bones. Hades smirked. Her tongue flicked out to lick the blood from her split lip, and she leapt, refusing him time to recover. The tips of her bident drove deep into his thigh. Sacred blood burst from Minotaur’s flesh, and with a bellow, he seized Hades by the throat and wrenched her off the ground. His hand closed around her windpipes as he drew her up to his eyes and squeezed. Hades gagged, her skin paling to blue as her body was deprived of oxygen. Her fingers clawed at his fist, frantic to free herself from his iron grip. She kicked with ruthless accuracy, but Minotaur simply held her away from his frame, her legs thrashing the empty air far from their target. Her vision began to blur, and Hades recoiled her leg and aimed for the weapon protruding from his muscles.

  With a forceful kick, Hades drove the pitchfork further into his leg. A grunt of pain escaped Minotaur’s normally stoic lips, and he hurled her across the field. Hades hit the dirt with an agonizing thud. Her lungs burned as oxygen rushed past her bruised throat. Coughs wracked her chest, and as her vision cleared, she watched Minotaur wrench the pitchfork from his thigh and take aim. Hades realized, with terrifying clarity, that its trajectory was intended for her skull, and the dark tentacles of smoke engulfed her as quickly as she could conjure them. She vanished only to reappear seconds later beside the flying bident. Her fist plucked it from the air, and using its momentum to swing her body around to face her uncle, Hades brandished the weapon. Vicious hatred painted his features at her effortless escape. She was not so easily killed.

  Urgency renewed, Minotaur broke into a thundering run, and Hades launched herself forward in retaliation. As he neared, she threw herself to the ground. The force propelled her over the grass and through Minotaur’s racing legs. As she hurtled beneath him, Hades swung the pitchfork and gouged the bloody points through his leg. The flesh severed with a wet tear, the metal slicing a jagged wound until its prongs struck solid bone, but instead of faltering as Hades hoped, Minotaur’s foot lashed out and pummeled her head as her momentum slowed. Hades tumbled across the field with bruising speed. Her mind fogged at the impact, and when she rolled to a stop, her muscles begged for relief. Her spine ignited. Her ribs threatened to shatter with every shuddering breath she gulped. As she struggled to her knees, Minotaur turned, his detached calf causing his gait to hobble an uneven limp. He was upon her in a heartbeat, and capturing her scalp, he hoisted Hades’ battered face to meet his gaze.

  “You cannot win against me, Omega,” Minotaur snarled as he crushed pressure against her skull. Hades loosed a vici
ous scream from her bloodied lips and shifted to attack when a dark movement behind the horned god caught her eye. She froze as the force on her brain built and lifted her eyes to greet the Alpha’s. Hades smirked, a haughty expression flashing through her features, a secret only she could see. For a moment, her uncle faltered, confused by the look on her face, and that was all the pause Kerberos needed as his hulking body careened through the air and collided with Minotaur.

  XXXV

  Minotaur plummeted to the ground with such force the plates of the earth shifted, but before he registered the attack, Kerberos was atop him, crazed fangs gnashing at his throat. Minotaur’s muscular arms heaved and shoved against the hound, yet the dog did not give way, his aggression intensifying in viciousness. His claws gouged the soft flesh of the god under him, blood bursting forth to bathe his paws as his three heads assaulted Minotaur from every direction.

  “Get up,” a deep voice commanded as rough hands seized Hades’ arms and hauled her to her feet - calloused palms she would know anywhere.

  “Did it work?” The words tumbled from Hades’ lips as she twisted to face Alkaios, fists clutching his skin.

  “All save him.” He swung his eyes to Minotaur before shifting them back with concern to the shredded fabric of Hades’ dress that exposed her stomach.

  “Our son is fine,” Hades said before Alkaios could ask. “We have to get…” but the whistle of rushing wind silenced her words. Both gods stumbled apart just in time to avoid Kerberos’s soaring figure. The dog flew past, limbs and tail flailing in the air as he collapsed to the ground and scored the dirt with his spiked spine.

  Earth rumbling beneath their feet, Hades shot her eyes to her husband, who gave her a slight nod as he shoved his legs into a run. Hades swung the pitchfork and caught the barreling Minotaur in the stomach with a stunning blow. The monstrous god roared as a red welt swelled his flesh. He turned his murderous intent upon Hades, all thoughts of Kerberos forgotten, but as he reached for her, the pitchfork evaporated in black tentacles.

  Alkaios careened through the air. Smoke became metal as he soared, the pitchfork re-solidifying in his waiting grasp. Weapon clenched firmly in hand, he drove it into Minotaur’s back. The beast howled. His arms desperately clawed behind him to wrench Alkaios from his back, but Alkaios held firm, driving the prongs deeper.

  “Kerberos!” Alkaios called as his body pitched violently, but the dog was already moving. Powerful legs propelled him forward, and the god-killer plowed into Minotaur’s exposed chest and sunk his middle fangs deep into the soft flesh of Minotaur’s throat, his side heads latching onto his broad shoulders. Both god and beast careened backward, and Alkaios barely had time to tug the pitchfork clear before the falling monster crushed him. But free it he did, and as he rolled from harm’s way, Alkaios hurled it through the air.

  Hades deftly captured the weapon as it soared and bolted into a run. Her exhausted legs protested as she bent her knees and hurdled over the grass, her aim for his skull true, but Minotaur’s speed was unmatchable. With the ease of one flicking away a fly, the horned god flung the hellhound from his chest with a sickening tear of his own flesh that was caught in the dog’s teeth and lifted a thunderous thigh. Hades’ eyes widened with fear as she hurtled down upon him. Minotaur’s foot aimed for her womb, a blow meant not for her but her son. Contorting midair, Hades twisted barely in time for impact. Her voice ripped from her throat as his heel impacted her spine and sent her slamming to the earth.

  Hades thought she heard Alkaios screaming behind her, but the world felt muted as her brain fought for control. Her limbs shook beneath her. Her breath sliced her chest like knives to her lungs, and Hades barely registered the movement above her as Alkaios skidded to a halt. His figure cast a shadow about her heaving body as he snatched the pitchfork from her weak grasp, and with not a moment to spare, he anchored the weapon’s base in the dirt.

  The impact jarred the air around them as Minotaur’s chest slammed into the uneven prongs. Minotaur’s mouth loosed no scream of pain as his flesh poured fresh crimson. Minotaur’s only mission was to shred the traitorous Omega before him, and not even the weak King of the Underworld she called husband would stand in his way. Minotaur leaned forward, forcing the metal both further into his rib cage and into the ground where it was imbedded, and watched for the moment Alkaios realized he was trapped. The Olympian heaved against the pitchfork, but it was no use. The metal was locked in place, and with a satisfied snarl, Minotaur plucked the lesser god from the dirt and hurled Alkaios across the field. The crunch his bones made against the far-off stone was sickly satisfying to the horned king, and as Alkaios’ body crumbled, Minotaur turned his attention to his true prey.

  Suddenly he was on his stomach, prostrate before Hades in a cloud of dust. Bewildered, Minotaur struggled. His fingers clawed the trodden soil, but Kerberos had both of his ankles in his mouth and was hauling him from his mother. Hades ripped the pitchfork from the dirt with unsteady limbs and whipped a blow across his horned skull. The crack of metal striking god was deafening, and a small fracture fissured through one of his horns as Kerberos hauled Minotaur bleeding through the grass.

  “Get your husband,” a sudden voice urged in Hades’ ear. She jerked in terrified surprise and swung her weapon for the throat of the interrupter but froze when she saw Hephaestus stride past her. The limping god carried a bloodied stone in one fist. Blood she recognized the scent of. It was hers. In the other, he gripped a vial, and Hades noticed angry, pus-filled blisters about his hands and wrists. With a horrifying realization, her eyes focused in on the glass. It contained water from her River Styx. Water Hephaestus had paid dearly to possess.

  “Go to the door,” the mason of the gods ordered as he bent, lowering himself to the ground, and with arms honed powerful by the pounding of metal, he shoved his fists into the dirt. Immediately, the earth began to quake. The soil rippled out over the vast field, and slowly as a plant pushes up toward the sun, stone grew. Haphazard at first, its pale visage forced higher, spreading from Hephaestus’ clenched fist.

  “The cage I built for you, altered for such a time as this when all hope of sealing Minotaur in his ancient realm was lost,” Hephaestus called over the thundering of rising stone. “An ever-shifting maze designed for a god, it boasts an entrance yet no exit; all ensnared within its changing walls will be trapped for eternity, never able to find an escape while its prisoner survives. The stone is a blend of the Titan fortress and the Olympian mountain; rocks blessed by two generations of gods, cursed by the blood of the true god of death, and forged by a hammer washed in your blood, our end of all ends. The water is from your poison river, the Omega’s greatest defense against the Alpha. Imbued with the waters of the Styx and the power of his brother’s heir, Minotaur will never break free from its bonds, lest he wish his skin to be burned and flayed from his bones.”

  Hades gripped the pitchfork and watched the stone grow and evolve, a massive circular maze beginning to take shape. At the center stood Kerberos and Minotaur locked in combat, and a sickening fear rose in her throat.

  “Kerberos…”

  “I will pull him from the trap if I can.” Hephaestus groaned and strained against the earth, “but I need him here to contain the god. The labyrinth needs time to grow. Minotaur must not leave this spot. If he escapes, we lose our last chance of containing him.”

  “Then I will stay.”

  “No.” Hephaestus’ command halted her in her tracks. “The Olympians cannot hold that door much longer. They need you to seal it. Please, Hades, go before it is too late.”

  “Do not let him die.”

  “I swear it by all that is holy, I will do all I can to save your god-killer.”

  Hades stood frozen for a moment staring as Kerberos attacked Minotaur with vicious assaults only to be beaten back by the Alpha’s brute strength. She knew she had to move her feet, yet she lingered, rooted to the ground, watching her beloved companion struggle until the walls of the maze grew too tall
for her to see past. Her eyes moistened with tears, and with a silent plea to whoever might be listening that her dog would survive, she turned and bolted for Alkaios. Hades had him in her arms in seconds, and together they vanished from the grass in a twisting upheaval of smoke.

  XXXVI

  Hades landed on the temple stone with a graceful thud and lowered Alkaios to his feet. The sight before her jolted urgency through her veins. The Olympians and the beasts of the Underworld strained against the pitching door, their waning strength faltering as her ancestors clawed for release, but it was her ferryman wedged between Zeus and Poseidon that caused Hades to bolt into a run.

  “Charon!” Hades elbowed her way through the crowd. Charon’s sweat-stained face turned at her voice, and with a welcoming arm, he seized her smaller frame and drew her to his side.

  “What are you doing here?” Hades’ eyes flew wildly between him and Zeus.

  “Helping bind the gate,” Charon answered, guiding her between himself and the King of Olympus. Poseidon slipped back to allow Hades room, and all three generations of gods held palms against the stone.

  “If we seal the door,” Zeus explained over the thundering beyond, “only he whose veins flow with the blood of all three generations can break it. Not you, not your son.”

  “Where is Minotaur?” Medusa interrupted, her voice a frayed nerve.

  “A trial for another day,” Alkaios answered as he settled behind Hades. Medusa opened her mouth in protest, but something about the look in his eyes silenced her, and Medusa drifted back to be swallowed by the crowding Olympians.

  “Are you ready?” Zeus asked, extending his hand to Hades. Blood still flowed from the slice he had carved with his brothers, and Hades studied it curiously for a moment before lifting her sight to his haggard face. With a solemn nod, Hades lifted her hand to the tip of the pitchfork and sliced the soft flesh of her palm with its broken prong. Charon followed her lead, and with a deep breath, Hades, Zeus, and Charon placed their bloodied skin against the ancient door.