by Paul Neuhaus
But he wasn’t tired of her yet. He needed her.
Keri went over to her mother and ripped the dagger from her hand. She turned to Pegasus and walked toward him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a frantic Elijah try and scramble over the fence and get pulled back by Petey, Chad and Ty. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help, but he was hellbent on trying.
There probably wasn’t a damn thing I could do for Keri either, but I wasn’t going to let her go out that way. Not without offering some kind of resistance. With no one there to stop me, I went over the fence too, holding onto the pithos as best I could. As soon as my feet touched mud again, I said, “Hey! Ugly!”
Big mistake. You wouldn’t think such an innocuous insult would piss off a Kraken so badly, but it did. Keri shifted the dagger to her left hand and raised her right at me in a sweeping gesture. A wave of invisible force slammed into me like an angry rhino and my back hit fence post. The wind shot right out of me and I slid down onto my butt. Again, you’d think the attack might’ve burned off the Kraken’s anger, but, again, you’d be wrong. Keri then raised her right hand above her head and I was yanked off the ground and thrown into the air. There I hung for a good ten seconds, dazedly watching the scene below me, and then the girl dropped her hand again. I hit the ground so hard, I thought my bones’d been powdered.
Through it all, Addie looked on, amused.
I heard a shout coming from the direction of the farmhouse. As my wobbly head pivoted toward the sound, I noticed that Keri (AKA the Kraken) had been walking toward me, knife raised. Fortunately, she was distracted by the shout too. The shouter said, “No!”
The shouter was Hermes. He’d limped outside to see the mayhem he’d helped contribute to. His eyes flicked to Keri and then to his daughter. Adrestia had her arms crossed and was thoroughly enjoying the show. She took a few steps forward until she was next to her daughter.
When the Olympian spoke again, his voice was quiet. “This has gone too far,” he said. “There’s no way I’ll sacrifice my own blood for a cause turned so evil. Leave the girl’s body, foul creature.” Then the messenger god raised his right hand and, from it, came a blinding beam of light. When it struck Keri, she was knocked to the ground. As she fell, the Kraken left her and returned to being incorporeal. Almost immediately, Keri—frightened and shocky—began to whimper like an infant. I crawled to her and took her in my arms, never once taking my eyes off the scene unfolding around the corral.
It had come down to a standoff between god and godling. I couldn’t help thinking Hermes looked small and frail. Whatever he and his daughter had planned, the price had become too dear. That realization and his thousands of years of life weighed on him in that instant. It showed in his posture. In every line on his face.
Addie turned toward her father, an eerie calm descending over her. She’d just made a decision. “What did you say?” she said. “What did you say to me?”
Hermes stood a little straighter. “I said I’ll not sacrifice my own blood for a cause turned so evil.”
Adrestia nodded, picked the dagger up off the ground and threw it the incredible distance between her father and herself. The long knife imbedded in Hermes’ chest and a gout of blood shot out of him.
Now it was my turn to scream. “No!” I said. Seeing Hermes violated like that unleashed a riot of emotions inside of me. One of them was vengeance. Fortunately, it was not the strongest. I could’ve very easily rushed Addie and lost my life. Fortunately, my compassionate side won out and I ran to Hermes instead.
But I wasn’t the only one.
I felt a rush of wind go past me. Even as I ran, I saw the gray cloud that was the Kraken descend upon the Olympian. He got there long before I could, and I watched him affix himself to the god’s chest wound and go red as blood flowed into him. Even as he drank, he took on physical form. The same physical form from the Convention Center but tremendously larger. He was stealing the essence of an Olympian and, even though Hermes was not at all what he once was, it was a heady, powerful drink.
I remember the Kraken being thirty feet tall when I put him in the pithos. He was diminished and weak at that time, so my task had been easier than Perseus’. But this was a new Kraken. Double his original size and fairly pulsing with vitality. As he grew, he dominated most of the space he was in. In fact, he knocked over the fence near the farmhouse and sent my friends scrambling. Pegasus was forced out of the way.
When the monster reached its full height, I heard another shout. This time it was Adrestia. She kicked off her shoes and broke into a run. At full speed, she stooped and pulled the dagger out of Hermes’ chest then she scaled the Kraken’s back and the Kraken shot to the edge of the cliff (taking another huge chunk of the fence with him). The monster slid down the cliff face and, with his mistress along for the ride, disappeared into the sea.
With the sea monster no longer blocking my path, I continued my run toward Hermes. He was lying in a pool of his own blood. Red ran out of his mouth. He was choking. Everyone who remained standing rushed in and formed a circle around us. Tears streamed down my face as I knelt and picked up the god’s hand. Keri was right at my shoulder. She was crying too. Here was the grandfather she didn’t know she had bleeding out on the ground in front of her. I laid my free hand on his wound, unsure of what to do.
Hermes was shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. I doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I’ve only got a short time... And there’s work still to do. The horse... He must be healed. He must be healed now.” He looked around me at Keri and a silent communication passed between them. The girl nodded. The fallen Olympian turned back to me. “Will... Will you come with me?” he said.
I had no idea what he meant. Did he want me to go with him into the Underworld? If he did, I would go. I brushed away tears. “Of course. Of course, I’ll go with you.”
And, in an instant, we were gone.
6
Tools of the Trade
We reappeared in a portico made of white marble. All around us were clouds dyed orange by a sun that was always setting. Flower petals drifted lazily through the air from trees I did not see. Though I’d never been, I knew exactly where we were. We were on Mount Olympus. Former home of the gods. Zeus and the others had vacated it when they’d fucked off to wherever to was they’d fucked off to.
Hermes laid to my left on a settee. He was still bleeding profusely and was in intense discomfort. He moved almost constantly, attempting to find the position that best suited his dying body. “This is Olympus,” I said. “You’ve brought me here, so I can save you. There’s a medicine here or an artifact I can use to heal your body. Just tell me where it is.”
His eyes grew wider, and then he smiled. I tried to ignore the fact his teeth were red. “No, no, no,” his voice was quiet; every syllable was a strain. “I brought you here because you needed to come. And because this seems like a fitting place for me to die.”
I shook my head. “Hermes. Don’t say that. Just... help me. Tell me how I can fix you.”
His smile diminished slightly, but the twinkle in his eye remained. “Can you bring the gods back? Can you have them stand vigil over me? Can you have Zeus lay his healing hands upon my wound?”
I didn’t know how to do any of those things, and he knew it. He was telling me all hope was lost for him. I welled up again and he gripped my hand tighter.
“Listen very closely. Behind you is a winding stone path leading away from the portico. Take it and you’ll enter a grand courtyard with a view of the whole city. It’s a sight not many mortal eyes have seen, and you will be—if you’ll pardon the phrase—thunderstruck. You mustn’t tarry. Take in the sight and go to your right. You’ll be near the stables. You will see them. Go into the stables—they’ll be empty—and search for a golden bridle. Take it. It’s the bridle Perseus used to tame the winged horse. You’ll need it.”
“Yes,” I replied. “Pegasus is skittish around me.”
“He won’t
be after you’ve obtained the bridle. There will also be a gilt box between two of the stalls. Open it and take what you find inside then, as fast as you can, return to me.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to leave him. He squeezed my hand harder and began to squirm again. “Go,” he said. “Please.”
I let go of his hand and turned to find the winding path he described. I was halfway down it before I realized I still had the pithos under my right arm. “Hurry,” Hope said. “Hermes does us a great honor.”
I picked up the pace and the path went under an arch. Beyond the arch was the courtyard the messenger god had mentioned. He was right: I was thunderstruck. Rising up and around me was Olympus, burnished by a persistent Golden Hour. Birds—great cranes—flew in a line in front of the vista. The top of the mountain spire was crowned with Zeus’ palace, a Grecian masterwork with a touch of art nouveau. I was flabbergasted. The city was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Fortunately, Hope was there to break the spell. “Dora...”
I didn’t even answer. I turned to my right and saw the stables—so rich and ornate. With my goal in sight, I picked up my pace and dashed toward the quiet structure. Like the rest of the city, the stables were abandoned; preternaturally quiet. I ran through one of many entrances and drank it all in. The space was both enormous and rectangular. I’d entered in the middle and stalls went on as far as the eye could see in both directions. I didn’t see either of the things I was looking for and I panicked. “I need a bridle and a... gilt box. I don’t know where to look.”
“Calm down. Take a deep breath. If Hermes says they’re here, they’re here. We need to do this as efficiently as possible.”
“I wish you’d stayed a little girl. You could’ve helped me look.”
“Settle down. It’s going to be fine.”
Her tone was soothing. And she was right. Nothing else mattered. I would look until I found what the god had asked for and then I would run back to him. I turned to the left and walked a steady pace between the stalls, scanning for any signs of what I was looking for. The stalls were both immaculate and completely uniform. Their sameness helped me focus. Amongst all that consistency, any variation would stand out. That was my theory anyway. When I finally reached a gap between the stalls on the left side, I almost walked past it since I’d trained myself to look without seeing. In the gap, there was a box affixed to the floor. It was gilt and had a latch but no lock. I ran to it and stooped down, laying the pithos on the ground. I raised the latch and lifted the lid. Inside the box, on a velvet pillow, was a head. The mummified head of a siren. It was the head Perseus had used in his confrontation with the Kraken thousands and thousands of years before. I looked around in the immediate vicinity and saw a bag hanging from a nail. I grabbed the bag, picked the head up by its long hair and dropped it in. “Okay, okay,” I said. “One down.”
With the siren’s head claimed, I went back into search mode. Calmly and methodically, I finished the left side of the stables, turned and ran back to the middle. Taking a deep breath, I settled down again and settled in for what could be a lengthy look.
I saw the bridle and the man in front and off to one side of it almost at the same time. The bridle was hanging from a nail next to the most elaborate stall by far. It was Pegasus’ stall of old. The stall of a sacred animal.
The man, on the other hand, didn’t look particularly sacred. In fact, he looked like he’d been to hell and back. Twice.
“Uh oh,” Hope muttered.
I squinted at the man. His toga was in tatters and he wore no sandals. His face was practically covered by his unkempt mane of hair and his bushy mustache and beard. He was covered by black dirt from head to foot. None of that stopped me from recognizing him.
“Calesius?” I said, leaning in.
He didn’t react. He looked at the bridle on the nail to his left and then back at me. He spread his feet and balled his fists at his sides. He gritted his teeth and they were black and atrophied. The stable boy—the object of Adrestia’s long-ago desire—had been abandoned somehow and left to turn feral in Olympus’ empty environs. I put down the bag with the siren’s head and raised my free hand. I took two steps forward and the wasted man issued a low growl. I stopped.
“Calesius?” I said again. “It’s me. Pandora. Do you remember me from the birthday party? All those years ago... We spoke. You joked about Adrestia’s bratty behavior. Do you remember?”
He cocked his head twice during my questioning—once after I said my name and once after I said, “Adrestia”. His movements were quick. Dog-like. It looked as though years of solitude and a hardscrabble existence had dulled his humanity.
I kept my left hand high and my tone as soothing as I could. “Calesius... Let me help you. There’s no reason you should stay here. I can help you... get back to the world.”
That finally got him to talking. “The world?” he said, his voice harsh, and his lips dry and chapped. “There is no world. This is the world. There is nothing but this place and the charge I’ve been given.”
That stopped me again. “The charge? Look around you, Cal. Your job is over. The gods have gone; the stables are empty. Come with me. Let me bring you back. Among people. Let me help you.”
He looked over at the bridle again then back up at me. “This is my domain. I can’t violate the trust placed in me. Have you come for the bridle?”
I nodded. “Yes. I need it, Cal. There’s been... Something terrible is happening. Many lives are at risk. I need the bridle to... to do right.”
He shook his head like a petulant child. Tears welled up and ran down his cheeks. “Zeus himself told me to protect the stables and everything inside. I can’t let you have the bridle.”
“Zeus is gone, Cal. He left you here without releasing you from your duties. It’s time to move on. It’s time to return to the land of the living.”
The stable boy of the gods was fully crying by then. A lost and wounded animal. He said, “I’ve done terrible things. Terrible things to survive. I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have.”
I pushed closer to him. “That doesn’t matter now, Cal. What matters is—” He rushed at me, trailing spittle, his dirty, jagged nails raised. I panicked and did something I immediately regretted. I unstoppered the pithos and sucked in the poor man’s essence. He screamed as his core being was ripped from his body and into the jug. Hope and I stood in silence for a moment, both of us startled by what I’d done. When my voice came out of my body, it surprised even me. “I didn’t mean to...”
Hope’s tone was one of authority. “Dora. Stop. It doesn’t matter. Take the bridle back to Hermes. Do it quickly.”
I needed her to speak to me that way. I needed her to pick up the slack. I put the lid back on the pithos and grabbed the golden bridle off its nail. I picked up the bag from the stable floor.
Tracing our path back to the portico was easy since I kept my eyes down the whole time. I refused to drink in the vision of Olympus a second time. I refused to fixate on the murder I’d just done.
Hermes was where we’d left him, but he looked drastically different. From several feet away, I could see he was holding onto life solely, so he’d be there for my return. He was as white as alabaster. I knelt down beside his settee and said, “Hermes, I’m back. I’ve got the bridle and the siren’s head. Tell me what to do next.”
His eyes opened slowly. He smiled, and it radiated kindness. “What to do next? Dora, you know what to do next. Go back and do what you always do.”
“Okay, okay. You’re coming with me?”
He shook his head gently. “No, I’m not coming with you. My time is done, and you have all you need.”
I started bawling again. I couldn’t help it. “I’ll look after Keri,” I said to him.
His smile grew wider. “I know you will. It was never in question. You’ve faltered in your resolve many times over the centuries, but your heart has always been true. Give me your hand...”
I took his hand. It wa
s cold to the touch and sticky with his blood.
“Return and make things right, daughter.”
Light flared up around me.
I expected to reappear in Pegasus’ paddock, but that didn’t happen right away. Instead, I hovered in a foggy vacuum with balls of illumination all around me.
From the balls of light, I heard snatches of conversation. I saw fragmentary images inside of them. Somehow, I knew they were little nodes of memory and I was inside Hermes’ library of experiences. One node approached me, the voices within it becoming louder and the images more distinct. When it enveloped me, and I ingested its contents into myself, I was struck by how unlike a movie it was. It wasn’t a linear a to z of happenings, it was more like being in a bath of commingled thoughts and emotions. I absorbed it rather than witnessed it.
But I can’t relate it to you in the same way I took it in, so here’s the gist...
Nursing a deep grudge against Zeus for her banishment, Adrestia hatched a plan to release the Titans and form a new pantheon with herself as Queen. I wasn’t the least bit surprised by her sense of entitlement or her delusions of grandeur. I was, however, surprised at her coconspirators—Hermes and Medea. The three of them worked on the plan for decades, gathering the resources they would need. Thanks to it being Hermes’ memory, I immediately understood his motivations, and they were complex. At the forefront was his melancholy at having a daughter he could never satisfy. She was like a ravenous baby bird and, no matter how much he fed her, she always wanted more. Underneath that layer was a side the messenger god never showed. It was sadness at the eclipsing of Olympus. He felt abandoned by his friends and was nostalgic for the glory days. He was also damaged. His leg had been crushed and had never properly healed. Hermes longed to be made whole again. He saw the rise of a new pantheon of deities as a solution to his problems—although he gave little thought to how such a rise would affect mankind, the pantheon’s likely none-too-willing subjects. No thought was given to the Titans’ far-reaching reputation for cruelty and ruthlessness. I guess Hermes was more focused on the ends than he was the means.
