Hero of Olympus

by Hero of Olympus (retail) (epub)

  A sudden roar was followed by the clank of iron. The shadow launched itself at him from the mist, its teeth flashing in its open jaws. Heracles leaped aside and dived into a roll, narrowly saving himself from certain destruction. Springing back to his feet, he reached for his club, forgetting Hades’s order that he was not to use his weapons. But the wall of mist had rolled back into place, and the monster had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, though he could still hear low growling and the rattle of a heavy chain from behind the fog.

  He tried to steady his breathing, at the same time gathering together the fragments of his startled memory. He remembered a black dog – much bigger than the Nemean Lion – with three heads and blood-red eyes. A writhing mass of black snakes surrounded each head, and it had a serpent for a tail, hissing and baring its long fangs as it lashed the air. Cerberus’s attack had come from the right, bursting through the fog with terrifying speed. Only Heracles’s instincts had saved him, but he would not easily forget the sight of three sets of powerful jaws leaping out of the white pall, an instant away from destroying him forever.

  He shuddered at the thought, wondering how he might be able to defeat such a beast. From the moment Charis had revealed the labour to him, he had despaired over how to accomplish it. The gods had been with him up to now, providing him with a way to enter the Underworld and then enabling him to gain Hades’s permission to capture Cerberus. But defeating the beast was up to him, and he had to do it without his weapons or his father’s gift of immortal strength. Reluctantly, he let his club fall to the ground, then dropped his bow and quiver beside it. Lastly, he unsheathed his dagger and set it down.

  He was not entirely without means to defeat Cerberus, though. Unfastening his leather satchel, he reached inside and felt the smooth, fluid mass of golden links that formed the net of Hephaistos. He had used it successfully in other labours, and he prayed that it would not let him down now. Clutching it in his fist, he pulled it out and walked into the fog.

  The attack had come from the right of the gate, where he assumed Cerberus was chained. Conscious of Persephone’s advice that the monster was front-heavy and slow to turn, he decided to attack it from the side. Moving in a wide arc to the right – hoping to remain beyond the reach of the hound’s chain – he saw the cliff looming out of the mist and made towards it. Then he heard the slow slither of iron from the shadows and heard the rush of padded feet. The fog parted and Cerberus leaped out at him, its forepaws spread wide and its jaws open.

  Instinctively, Heracles threw his golden net. There was no time for the mesh to open and spread. It caught over the hound’s right head, doing little to break the momentum of its attack. As its crushing weight soared towards him, he threw a desperate punch that smashed into the middle jaw, driving it upwards and snapping the teeth shut. But there was too little power in the blow. His former strength would have knocked the monster aside, breaking the bones in its skull or snapping its neck. Now, the hound’s mass swallowed him up, crushing him against the parched mud and squeezing the air from his lungs.

  The left head snapped its jaws closed over his shoulder. Though the teeth could not penetrate the lion’s pelt, the pain was excruciating, causing him to shout out into the eddying mist above. A combination of fear and fury quickened his muscles and he grabbed two of the iron collars around its necks and tried to thrust the monster’s weight from him, but was unable. In desperation, he kicked hard at its stomach, catching it in the genitals. It roared with pain and rolled off him, the net still tangled over one of its heads.

  Twisting away from it, Heracles scrambled to his feet and ran as quickly as his battered frame would allow. The cliff rose up before him, blocking his path and forcing him to the left. A rattle of iron was his only warning of the next attack. Sensing the hound closing rapidly behind him, he veered aside. His foot caught on something and he fell, just as Cerberus launched itself at his back. It leaped over him and crashed into the rock face, roaring with pain as it landed in a writhing heap at the foot of the cliff. There was a loud crack and a slab of stone slid free, breaking into pieces as it fell on the monster.

  Heracles looked back at what had tripped him and saw a length of the iron chain that kept Cerberus fettered to the Immortal Gate. Finding his feet again, he dashed forward, following the chain through the fog. Without his strength and Hephaistos’s net, only one hope now remained to him. The chain led him back to the gate, where its final link was buried deep into the base of the cliff. Lifting the heavy iron with both hands, he placed one foot against the rock and strained to pull it free. With his father’s gift, he would have torn it from its foundation with little effort. But limited to his own mortal strength – great though it was by human standards – he was doomed to failure. He let the chain fall, exhausted.

  Hearing a low growl, he looked over his shoulder into the churning fog. The hound had recovered and was seeking him out, though by the uncoiling of the chain it seemed to be moving away from him. Looking up at the macabre gates, and nauseated by the stench of putrefying flesh, he realized that Cerberus had tracked him through the fog by his scent – even though he only possessed a spiritual form – and that the odour from the gates was masking him.

  Controlling his revulsion, he knelt beside the gate and studied the chain, noticing a hole in the link that secured it to the cliff. Remembering the key Hades had given him, he slotted it into the opening and twisted it. There was a metallic clunk and the link sprang apart halfway along, releasing the chain. He picked it up. In the same instant, he felt a cold hand seize hold of his upper arm.

  ‘Help me,’ said a voice.

  He turned and saw a face in the gate behind him, its grey skin drawn tightly across the bones beneath, and its pale eyes staring out from sunken sockets. An arm had raised itself from the intermeshed bones and gore and was gripping him above the elbow.

  ‘Help me! Please help me!’

  The voice rang out, waking the other faces from their stupor so that they groaned loudly. Heracles swung the end of the chain against the scrawny limb, which released him as the voice screamed out in agony. Sensing a presence, Heracles turned quickly. Cerberus was standing behind him, its red eyes glowing fiercely in the smoky gloom. It had shaken off the golden net and now all three heads were hung low, lips rucked back over slavering fangs as it pawed the ground, ready to attack.

  Heracles gathered in several links of the chain, each one twice the size of his fist. His muscles strained under the weight of the iron.

  ‘Come on, then,’ he growled.

  He ran forward, yelling at the top of his voice. Cerberus came to meet him, but at the last moment, Heracles veered to one side. The hound tried to turn, its jaws snapping at him as he passed, but the weight of its three heads pulled it forward, just as Persephone had said it would. It lost its balance and fell. With a shout, Heracles leaped onto its back. The mane of snakes hissed and snapped at him, forcing him to keep his distance as he threw the chain in a wide loop around all three heads and pulled it taut. The monster howled and pushed itself back onto its feet, twisting violently as it tried to sink its fangs into its attacker’s flesh. But Heracles threw a second loop around the heads, pulling as hard as his mortal strength would allow. Cerberus gave a strangled bark and collapsed onto its front again.

  Suddenly, a powerful blow between the shoulders threw Heracles forward onto the mass of snakes that covered the hound’s necks. They sank their fangs into his face and arms, breaking the skin in several places. He tore himself away, roaring with pain as blood flowed from his forehead and cheeks. At the same time, Cerberus thrust itself to its feet and tried to throw him off. Holding fast to the chain, he drove his knees into the monster’s flanks and used the strength in his thighs to cling on.

  A second blow to the middle of his spine almost sent him tumbling from the hound’s back. Clinging onto the chain, he turned to see the serpent tail, its green eyes staring at him balefully as it prepared to deal a third blow. The lion skin had prevented its lo
ng, curving fangs from tearing into his flesh the first two times, but this time it struck at his face. He reached out and caught it by the neck, twisting its head violently to one side. He felt the bones snap as the serpent gave a last, rattling hiss.

  Heracles let the lifeless tail drop from his fingers and turned to pull harder on the chain, intent on choking Cerberus into submission. The fact he felt no drowsiness or ill effects, beyond his own exhaustion, confirmed the snake bites were not venomous. But blood from the wounds on his forehead was mingling with the sweat and running down into his eyes, half blinding him. He could also smell blood in his nostrils and mouth from a strike by one of the snakes, which he guessed had broken his nose. Through the fog of his fatigue and the confusion of the fight, he wondered at the fact that his phantom body could still suffer injury and feel pain. Then he remembered Hades’s warning that Cerberus existed in both the physical and spiritual realms, and had the power to destroy his soul.

  The hound twisted beneath him again, the teeth of one of its heads almost reaching round to his thigh. He pulled back on the chain, jerking the head backwards, but the move only served to anger the beast further. It strained against the double loop of the chain, forcing Heracles to draw on his remaining strength to keep hold of it. But the monster showed no signs of weakening, whereas his own muscles were tiring rapidly. The longer the struggle went on, the more likely it was he would be thrown to the ground and torn to pieces.

  But Cerberus, too, was growing more desperate. For a moment, it stopped fighting against him and simply stood, trying to gather its strength as Heracles pulled the chain tighter round its necks. Then it was running, running so fast that Heracles struggled to keep his thighs around its ribs. He clung onto the chain and saw the cliff face racing towards him out of the fog. At the last moment, he understood the hound’s desperate tactics. He threw his arms around its chest, holding on tightly as he buried his face between its mane of snakes.

  The monster leaped through the air, twisting aside at the last instant so that its flank smashed into the cliff. Heracles was crushed between the hound’s body and the wall of rock. The air was driven from his lungs and he felt his ribs crack, followed by a stabbing pain shooting up through his body. The cloak and his thick layers of muscle saved him from worse injury, though the skin on his right arm and leg was torn open by the rough stone. As he slumped to the ground, Cerberus fell on top of him, trapping his right leg and causing him to cry out.

  He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to conquer the pain. Then something struck him hard in the face, just above the eye. Another snake sank its fangs into his wrist as he instinctively clung to the chain around Cerberus’s neck. Incensed, he reached down with his other hand and seized the snake by the body, ripping it out of the hound’s neck and dashing its head against the cliff beside him. Cerberus howled with pain and struggled to its feet. Summoning what remained of his strength, Heracles used the chain to haul himself up onto the monster’s back, though his injured right leg was now too weak to grip onto its flanks.

  He looked down at the monstrous hound and noticed its right head hung limp and bloody, while the others were dazed and disorientated as they twisted round to snap at him. He smacked the chain over the nearest head, causing it to draw back with a snarl.

  The blow brought Cerberus back to its senses. With a shake of its heads, it retreated into the fog and turned to face the towering cliff face once more. To Heracles’s horror, he realized it was going to hurl itself against the rock in another attempt to throw him from its back. With his head faint and his strength failing, he knew he would not be able to hold on a second time. But as the hound began to run towards the cliff again, an idea flashed into his mind.

  The wall of rock loomed up before them. As Cerberus lowered its heads and prepared to throw itself sideways at the cliff, Heracles pulled hard on the chain, lifting the beast’s necks upwards and preventing it from turning aside at the last moment. Unable to stop itself in time, Cerberus slammed into the rock with the full force of its momentum behind it. The collision threw Heracles from its back, hurling him shoulder first against the cliff. He hit the ground and blacked out.

  When he came to again, he found himself staring into the muzzle of the great beast. Startled, he jerked himself back, scrambling away from the monster on his elbows, only to realize that its eyes were closed and it was not moving. It lay pressed up against the wall, its grotesque features covered in blood. For a moment, he feared it was dead. Then he saw the slight rise and fall of its chest and the feeble twitching of the snakes around its necks. It was unconscious.

  He had but a few moments to spare. He tried to push himself to his feet, only to stumble and fall again. He staggered up a second time, the cuts to his limbs and face burning like fire and his bruised and exhausted body barely strong enough to stand. Laying a hand against the rock wall, he used it to haul himself upright. Slowly he became aware of the hot air again and the stink from the Acheron, and, over everything, the distant groaning of the ghosts beyond the layers of mist. Pushing them from his mind, he stumbled across the cracked mud, searching the ground with weary eyes. Then he saw what he was looking for. A glint of gold a few paces away, almost lost in the churning fog.

  He moved towards it, losing sight of it in his dizzied state, then spotting it again. A deep groan behind him gave urgency to his efforts. He snatched up the golden net of Hephaistos and lurched drunkenly back to the cliff face. The fog parted to reveal the huge black form of Cerberus. The snakes on its neck were stirring back to life, and one of the dog’s eyes was open a crack to reveal a malicious glint of red beneath. Hurriedly, he tossed the net over it.

  The mesh spread itself wide and fell perfectly over the prostrate body – not by any skill of Heracles’s, but by whatever magic its maker had put into it. Feeling the threads of gold settle over it, Cerberus stirred back to consciousness. It raised a head to stare at Heracles, then dragged a giant paw along the ground. But as it struggled to regain its feet, the net reacted to the movement and contracted around it. The monster fought against it, its heads and limbs thrashing about beneath the god-made bonds, which tightened more closely in response. Eventually, Cerberus fell back onto the mud and lay still. The fight was over.

  ‘Well done, brother. You have proved yourself worthy of immortality.’

  Heracles turned to see Persephone standing in the fog. Her pale skin and green dress held their own luminescence, which drove the shadows back from around her.

  ‘I didn’t take on the labours for immortality,’ he replied. ‘I did it to be free of my guilt.’

  ‘Of course you did. But do not disdain the prize you were promised, Heracles. Zeus chose you to be his champion – to be a hero of Olympus, bringing order where there was chaos. If you have earned immortality, it is as much a sign of your father’s victory as yours.’

  ‘I haven’t earned it yet,’ Heracles said. ‘I still have to take the hound to the banks of the Styx before the sun rises.’

  ‘Your time is almost up,’ the goddess said. ‘Already the skies above Taenarum are beginning to pale.’

  ‘No, not yet,’ Heracles said, shaking his head. ‘I need more time.’

  He ran to Cerberus and took hold of its hind paws, lifting them over his shoulder as he tried to drag the monster towards the bridge. He roared his anger as he pulled, the sound booming through the warm air and temporarily silencing the moans of the dead. But in his human frailty, he was not able to drag the beast more than a few paces before he fell to his knees. Realizing he had failed in the labour and that his soul would be condemned to dwell in the Underworld, he put his face in his hands and lowered his forehead to the mud.

  Then he felt a warmth in his shoulder, where Cerberus’s jaws had crushed and bruised his flesh. The pain lifted and the tiredness left him. The warmth continued to spread, removing the aches and the weakness, healing the wounds and restoring his strength. Looking up, he saw Persephone kneeling beside him, her hand resting on his lion skin.<
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  ‘You haven’t lost yet, Heracles,’ she said. ‘Come with me. I have something to show you.’

  ‘But it’s almost dawn and—’

  ‘The sun will wait. Here, take my hand.’

  He slipped his hand into hers, feeling the life in her slender fingers and drawing new vigour and hope from it. Standing, he let her guide him into the fog. They crossed the bridge over the Acheron, leaving Cerberus behind them, and walked without hurry towards the shoulder of rock where he had found Hades’s palace. Persephone gave him a reassuring smile and continued on into the thinning vapours, until they found themselves back among the lost souls of the dead. Then she stopped and raised her hand.

  ‘Silence!’ she called.

  The wailing and muttering faded to nothing, and the morose phantoms drifted away, leaving them alone in a clearing in the mist.