Slowly the burden on my shoulders begins to darken over me. I worry I'll be left under it all night being slowly crushed into the ground. After the sun has traded places with the moon, and the stars have started their evening dance, I finally detect the thudding steps of Atlas as he whistles an unfamiliar tune.
“I'm back. I went across that river and then—”
“No,” I cut him off. I have no desire to know the location of the garden. I do not wish to be the human who knows this secret. A scowl creases Atlas’s face. Although he’s as daft as Prometheus said, Atlas like all titans is quick to anger. If I don’t want him storming off in a rage, I have to appease him. “I know how much you want to get back to your work and wouldn’t want you wasting your time on traveler’s tales.”
He looks at me, tilting his head like a curious dog. “Nah, I think I can take this to Portaceae.” He holds up the burlap sack. “You're good at that,” he says gesturing with the bag to my shoulders. “You can do it from now on.”
I want him to be joking but he’s much too dimwitted for humor. My shoulders take on a new dimension of pain as I imagine holding this weight until I collapse under it. I will be crushed under the sky as Eury takes his vengeance out on Iole. And after he is done with her, it won’t be long before he discovers Iolalus. I have to place my hope and their lives in the hands of Atlas’s slow wits.
“That's a great idea,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
“I know. Okay, bye.” He turns to leave.
“No, wait,” I call him back. “If I'm to be left here, could you bring me my cloak to pad my shoulders? It's there on my horse.”
“Sounds good.” He sets down the burlap sack. The horse, dwarfed by the titan, shies a little when Atlas approaches, but then allows the hulking being to remove the lion’s pelt from the saddlebag. He returns, holding the cloak out for me to take. “Here you go.”
“There's a slight problem. I'll need you to hold this while I put my cloak on. We can’t let the sky fall, can we?”
“No, no, it’s very bad when that happens. Very bad.” He places the lion’s pelt on the ground and shifts the sky from my back. The sensation of lightness shrieks through my upper body as blood rushes back into the smothered flesh. I grab the lion skin, scoop up the sack, and step backward to the horses. With a move taught to vigiles in case they need to get their horses moving in a heartbeat while serving on patrol, I whisk both hobbles off in two hasty tugs.
“Hey, that wasn't the deal,” he protests.
“Yes, actually it was.” I swing up onto the chestnut, tie the sack to the saddle, and urge the horses into a run.
I ride non-stop, driving the horses as fast as I can, convinced I’ll never get to Portaceae before Iolalus is discovered or Iole forced to submit to Eury’s punishment. The entire time I ride, a fear screams at me that I am already too late. That Iole and Iolalus are dead and I am to blame. I spur the horses faster every time this thought grasps hold of my mind. The need to stay balanced in the speeding horse’s saddle blots out all other worries.
Not wanting to pass again through Bendria, I ride north then west through the polis of Demos and into Cedonia where I have little trouble making it through the border crossings. In Cedonia, I drive the horses even further north, crossing the Great Col and then riding west to the outskirts of the polis of Helena to avoid the districts of Portaceae that are now held by the Areans. While I want to be part of the fight against them, this is not the time. The diversion puts me into the foothills of the Low Mountains, prime bandit territory. In my haste, I outpace each of the three groups of thieves that try to chase me down.
On the fourth night of riding I finally rein the horses to a hard stop in front of Portaceae City’s gates. I call out for Odysseus, but instead of the vigile, I’m greeted by the craggy face of one of the Solonian Guards. My heart sinks. I’ve already spent more time gone than I had planned. I do not want another delay.
“Gates are closed,” he grumbles.
“I’m on Solonian business,” I say. “Let me through.”
“Gates are closed,” he repeats sending a wave of irritation through me.
“They will be opened. I am working on His Excellency’s orders.”
“The gates will open at dawn. Sleep in the field until then.” With that, he shutters himself back into the gatehouse.
The number and variety of curses that spew from my mouth would have greatly impressed Iolalus who insists I never speak like a proper, or rather, improper vigile. Too restless to stop, I ride around the city walls looking for a place where the earthquakes may have loosened the stones enough for me to crawl through. As I pass one of the old gatehouses—one that had fallen into such disrepair that a couple years ago it collapsed in on a traveler passing through and has remained boarded up ever since—a voice calls to me.
“Couldn’t outsmart a Solonian Guard, eh? That might just make you stupider than a pony’s fart.”
“Odysseus?” I whisper looking around.
“In the flesh. Come through.”
“The gate’s boarded.”
“Normally we expect a password, but if you couldn’t outthink one of the Guards, you’d probably just forget it anyway. In you go.” As he speaks, the boards blocking what I assume to be rubble, roll back as if they’re on wheels guided by a track. Once open, they reveal the archway of the gate has been rebuilt. “We like to keep our little secrets,” Odysseus says with a shrug.
“Who did this?” I ask as the thick boards are rolled back into place.
“The brothel paid a hefty portion of it. They get more business if customers can visit under the cover of darkness. The rest was mostly volunteer work.”
“You’re a genius.”
“It was Iolalus’s idea. He’s a clever one that cousin of yours even if he does look like the inside of a centaur’s ass.” I agree with him, about the cleverness, not the centaur’s ass part. “We wanted a way out if Eury ever blocked the main gate, which he did several days ago. He declared the guarding of the gates was no longer part of vigile duty and put his own guards on the watch. He says it’s to defend against the Areans, but no one believes that pile of horse crap.”
After offering my thanks and saying my goodbyes, I hurry to Eury's veranda. In complete defiance of Eury’s curfew, a crowd of people from the city have followed me to the premises. As they cheer my name from a distance that is just far enough to make it difficult to clearly identify any one of the group, I pound on the villa’s main door. The manservant Baruch answers.
“Tell your master to come out. His treasure awaits.” As he turns I shout, “And tell him to bring the priestess or he won't receive a thing.”
He gives a brief nod before shutting the door behind him. I untie the sack from my horse and place it in front of me. In little time, Eury yanks open the door. The excitement bursting over his face is quickly replaced with aggravation as he looks about.
“Where is it? You didn't get it did you? Why even return?”
“Where is Iole? You’ll get nothing until I see she is safe.”
As if on cue, a Solonian Guard opens the door and orders someone to step outside but to make no attempts to run. Iole, looking defiant, takes her time walking over the threshold. When she sees me, a warm and welcoming smile makes her face glow. My heart swells and then picks up speed at the sight of her. Although her hands are wrapped in cloth bandages, she appears unharmed. And beautiful.
“Here is your Herene,” Eury says. “Now where is the tree?”
“It's here,” I reach into the sack and pull out one golden apple from the dozen that Atlas collected for me. The fruit’s metallic skin glints in the light coming from the lantern held by Baruch.
“That's not what I said,” Eury complains like a spoiled child who hasn’t received the gift he wanted for his birthday. “I said an apple tree.”
“Inside the apple are seeds which can grow into several trees. You said to take as long as I needed. I think five years should produce at lea
st two or three healthy saplings.”
“You son of a whore. This is not what I meant.” Eury slams his fist onto the veranda railing then yells like a beast in pain.
“Well, if you aren't interested,” I hold the apple in the flat of my palm. My chestnut reaches his neck forward and takes the treat in two bites.
Eury clutches a thumbless hand to his chest. I hope whatever accident has happened to him was agonizing. “Tell me where you got it. I'll go myself.”
“From the Garden of the Hesperides, like you said. But, since I haven’t been there, I have no idea where it is. You’ll just have to find it yourself, Excellency.”
“Guards, arrest him. Arrest him and bury him this night.”
Four bulky men appear from the darkness. Exhausted from the mad pace the horses maintained and my lack of sleep, I don't have the speed or strength to escape them or fend them off. Two guards latch onto my arms and two others flank them. I shout Iole’s name as her guard ushers her back into the villa and mine drag me away with my feet scraping and kicking against the ground. The horses follow after me, whinnying as if wondering what this new game is. Although from their distance they can’t possibly understand all that is happening, the crowd lingering at the property’s edge shouts my name, cries for Iole, and hurls insults at Eury.
My thoughts run not to fear, not to the horror I will face in the blood crime vault, but to Iole and Iolalus. I have failed them to protect Portaceae from an undefeatable, all-powerful Eury and to protect Hera, the goddess who hates me. I hope my cousin and my love can forgive me. And I hope their deaths are swifter than mine will be.
37
HERA
“He did it,” I mutter as my view from Olympus fogs with a vision of the bastard outside of Eury’s villa.
Demeter looks up from a pile of seeds she has been sorting. Truly, I do love her, but I wish she would leave her grains and such out of our common area on Olympus. Besides, such tasks are for mortals, not for the gods. But when she sees my expression, she quickly leaves it to come to my side.
“What is it? Has something happened?”
“The bastard risked everything to keep my power out of Eury's hands.” I explain to her what I’ve seen. It pains me to see him risk Iole, but it is truly proof of his worthiness.
“You can’t let him die,” she insists. “The other, the one who betrayed you deserves to die.”
She’s right. If ever a man deserves the title of bastard, it’s Eury, not Herc. How dare that pestilent little mortal try to steal a god’s power?
“Trust me, Eury will not get away with this execution. Herc—” I grit my teeth to say the name “—deserves a chance at life even if he doesn't deserve my daughter. Please, excuse me.”
In a flash, I leave Demeter to her seeds and appear in the lawn outside of Eury’s gaudy villa. I stand dead center blocking the path of the guards who are hauling Herc behind them.
“Release him.” The idiots pause, their mouths gaping with awe. “Are you deaf as well as stupid? Let him go.”
Eury runs up shouting at the guards.
“Why have you—” He pauses when he sees me. Shame and then a scowl cross his face. “Don't you have anything better to do than meddle in my business?”
I don't want to let him know I've seen what was in his heart, what he had intended to do, the plans Herc has thwarted.
“The people were so adamantly calling Herc's name, I wondered if you had died. I came to show my concern. But it appears you have matters in your own hands.”
“Yes, and without your help.”
“But look at him.” Herc, now on his feet but still with two guards clutching his upper arms, stands proud, strong, and defiant. “You can't drag him off and kill him.”
“Why not?”
“As you told me, he still has an oath to fulfill, another task to complete. And you know if you kill him the people will revolt. So, surely your little mind can think of a task. Preferably one from which he won’t return.”
Eury’s lips curl into a knowing smirk. I know he has something in mind. Something no human can survive. But I can assure Herc does.
“Go to the depths of Hades’s realm and bring back Cerberus,” Eury says to his cousin. “Adneta's always wanted a dog.”
“You can't be serious,” Herc blurts. “No one returns from there.”
“That’s the point.”
“I have no reason to do this. Kill me now.”
“Please don’t tempt me cousin. Despite Hera’s protection this time,” Eury fires me a condescending look, “I will kill you and then I will send guards to the House of Hera where you think you have Iolalus hidden and kill him as well. Following that, I will ensure Iole dies, of shame if nothing else. Return with the dog and they will both be spared.”
My fists clench digging my fingers into my palms. How dare he threaten my daughter? My true power still resides in the Garden of the Hesperides, but I have never felt so powerless. I want Eury dead, but the gods do not have the right to take mortal lives. I force myself to remain calm. Let him be angry, let him devise his worst for his cousin because however bad he thinks it will be, I will ensure it comes back tenfold onto him. But for now, I can only wait and hope he digs his own grave with his treachery and greed.
Herc tilts his head in a barely perceptible nod. “I’ll go.”
“Don’t worry, cousin,” Eury says in a mocking tone. “I'll be certain you have a rail permit. Round trip. Wouldn't want to seem pessimistic, would we? You'll leave in the morning. Guards.”
The guards shove Herc out of their grip and follow Eury as he marches back into his home. Herc glares at me making no effort to hide his hatred.
“Why not just kill me now?”
“Gods can meddle in human lives but we cannot take them. You humans seem to do that well enough on your own. Now, go bring back the three-headed dog, Cerberus.”
“It's impossible. I might as well try to build a home on Mount Olympus. Or,” he adds with a chilly bitterness, “make my children live.”
I lean forward to him. He flinches and eyes me warily, but does not step away.
“I thank you for what you’ve done. I owe you a great debt,” I say feeling my face clench at the words. He truly is the hero as Iole has always insisted, but it does not make it any easier to humble myself to him. “You will return. I guarantee,” I whisper as I press a coin into his hand.
I leave him standing bewildered at my words. Within a heartbeat I arrive at the mouth of the Chasm. The black outer pool stinks of wet rot while the heat coming off the stones soaks through my sandals.
From behind me I hear the familiar flutter of Hermes’s twin pair of wings.
“Hera, come to pay your brother a visit?”
“Not really. I need a favor from him.”
“This way then, but he really doesn’t like granting favors. Still, you are his only sister—”
Hermes chatters on as he guides me through an opening at the back of the cave. Within the Chasm, the air is different but not better—a charred tang of putrescence rather than a moist one—but at least the stones are cooler.
In his cavern—modeled on the gods’ temples and our dwellings on Olympus—Hades runs about throwing something that Cerberus bounds after.
“Hades,” Hermes calls. “You’ve got a guest.”
Hades pulls in the long leash he keeps tethered to his three-headed dog. In the jaws of the center head is a hand that still has shreds of flesh hanging from it. The other two heads snap playfully at the prize as the center head jerks up, then ducks down to keep the treasure from them. With his pet by his side, Hades stomps over to us. As he nears, I see his hair is in its usual wild red and black spikes. His black eyes scowl in anger until he realizes it’s me.
“Sister, paying a visit?” He says as he wraps me into a hug.
“Perhaps another time.” The smell of sulfur emanates from my brother’s pores. I gently back out of the embrace, forcing myself not to stifle my nose. “I
need a favor.”
“You? Are you suddenly feeling soft? Two lovers who can't bear to be parted from one another, perhaps?”
Cerberus thumps down to the floor and begins gnawing on the hand. The bones crunch as the center head breaks off the thumb leaving the rest of the hand free. Both the side heads dive for the treat and end up crashing their snouts together. Their simultaneous yelps echo through the cavern.
“Nothing of the sort. A man will come here. A living man who will have paid Charon with one of my coins. He will want your Cerberus. I'm asking you to let him have her.”
“Not my Cerby,” Hades says. He clutches the leash tighter as he looks down with admiration at his strange pet.
“I promise she will be returned if you let the man back out of your realm.”
“That's not how things work here. Besides, it's impossible. First, he’ll wake the dead and you know they have certain cravings when they wake. Second, if he makes it out, Cerby has very particular needs.”
“Kept on leash, fed twice a day, it's not a challenge to maintain a dog even if it does have three heads. And I have reason to believe he can outrun your dead no matter how strong their hunger.”
“Cerby doesn't travel well.”
“Please, Hades, it's to help your nephew.”
“Which one? Gods know how many there are.”
“I don't need reminded of that,” I say narrowing my eyes at him. “It's Herc.”
“Oh ho ho!” Cerby looks up at her master’s chortle and gives her heads a questioning tilt. “So the jealous Hera is finally taking pity on the great Herc Dion. What brought this about?”
Little brothers can be so annoying, but slapping him won’t get me what I want.
“I realized I made a mistake. A bad lapse of judgment. Now stop gloating. Will you do it?”
“Yes, fine, but only if he treats her well and only if my Cerby is brought back quickly. It's lonely here. The dead are so boring and my wife—”
Oh gods, not Persephone again. Does he really expect the girl to love him when he kidnapped her from her true love? I cut him off as gently as possible swearing to him the dog will be well treated and well fed before making my excuses to leave.
The Trials of Hercules: Book One of The Osteria Chronicles Page 35
