by Luke Romyn
Talbot noticed now how drained Zeus looked. When first confronted with the being he knew as a god, Talbot had been blinded. Now he saw a man. Zeus was descended from an incredibly developed race, but he was a man nonetheless. He had surely witnessed horrors beyond imagining, and Talbot could tell much remained of his tale, but for now he simply tried to grasp what Zeus had already imparted. This was how the legends had been created.
“What can we do?” asked Talbot.
“There is very little aid I can offer besides our knowledge. Our weaponry will help you somewhat, but the only way is to go beyond Hades, into Tartarus and close the gate.”
“Well that’s real fucking helpful,” interrupted a familiar voice from behind Talbot.
Zeus looked up calmly, but Talbot spun around excitedly to see Wes, his familiar cocksure expression in place, his M4A5 aimed directly at Zeus. “Can you at least give us a lift back down that fucking mountain?” asked the commando, his aim never wavering. “I think I pulled a hamstring on my way up.”
Talbot forgot himself and before he knew it he’d rushed over, grabbing Wes in a mighty bear hug before being pushed roughly aside by the Australian, who still aimed his gun directly at Zeus. “Get off me, ya poof!” he barked. “Who’s this dickhead?” He indicated Zeus.
“I am not your enemy,” said Zeus calmly. “You may lower your weapon.”
“Yeah, well excuse me if that don’t make me all warm and fuzzy inside, buddy, but I don’t answer to you.”
“Your name is Wesley Hammond Smith. You were born in Queensland, Australia in the not-too-distant future. You joined the Australian Special Air Service in an attempt to silence the demons from your past –”
“ENOUGH!!!” roared Wes, storming forward until the barrel of his gun was pressed against Zeus’s cheek. “How do you know that stuff?”
“I am known among my people as a conduit of knowledge. When I am within range of others I can pick up surface thoughts. This is why I was chosen to lead my people.”
“You better stay out of my fucking head, or I’ll empty yours,” grunted Wes, the end of his barrel still pressed tightly to Zeus’s cheek.
“I merely wanted to make a point,” replied Zeus calmly. “If I wanted to, I could make you put that weapon in your mouth and pull the trigger, but I haven’t. I am your friend, Wes. You need to believe me in this. There are enough enemies out there for you to battle; you don’t need to fight your friends as well.”
Wes gazed into Zeus’s eyes a moment longer before dropping his gun. “Fair enough!” he said chirpily with a grin, and Talbot shook his head in wonder. What was it he’d thought about the SAS before? At least a little insane?
“So what’s going on?” Wes asked Talbot.
“Zeus here –” began Talbot.
“You mean like Greek-god Zeus?” interrupted Wes.
“Yeah.”
“Hmm. Cool,” said Wes, appraising Zeus once more.
Talbot grinned despite himself. “Well Zeus was just saying that we’re practically on our own for the fight ahead. They’re still recovering from the last war and need to protect their own borders from the creatures of Tartarus.”
“What’s a Tartarus? Isn’t that what Doctor Who travelled around in; you know the telephone box with the flashing blue light on top of it?”
Talbot suppressed a sigh and swiftly explained everything to Wes, though he suspected the SAS commando already understood more than he let on. Talbot got the impression that behind Wes’s nonplussed expressions and smartass statements hid a man with a very high intellect – how else could he have piloted that damn ship?
At the end of the tale, Wes merely nodded. “So,” he said, locking Zeus with a steely gaze, “you guys are gonna be no help then? Fine. Can you at least get us into Tartarus? Our doorway got fucked up when that fucking Minotaur cut loose in Atlantis and the second gate kinda... well... a pyramid fell on it.”
Talbot cringed, but glancing over at Zeus he was surprised to see the man of legend grinning. “We can indeed get you there, Wes,” said Zeus. “And we can offer some assistance. I see you already carry a sword of Olympia; Chiron’s if I recognize the inscriptions.” Wes drew out the blade so Zeus could see it more clearly. The older man – Talbot no longer fooled himself with the notion he was a god – peered at the blade and nodded. “Yes, that is Chiron’s blade. It’s a rather unique weapon, even among those of Olympia. It has almost twice as much power as an ordinary Olympian sword. You were fortunate to acquire it – it has no equal in this world.”
“Chiron threw it to us with the last of his strength.” Wes gazed down at the blade reverently.
“You are indeed lucky; doubly so because it is one of only three weapons strong enough to be capable of destroying a rift gate. The other two were lost during the war.”
Zeus’s face momentarily took on a troubled, introspective expression, but quickly dismissed it. “But I spoke to you of other aid.” He paused. “While we cannot go to war with the realm of Tartarus, we are able to provide you with some assistance.” The doors were roughly opened and a legend entered the room.
Standing some seven feet tall, the width of the man’s shoulders was huge, as were the muscles bulging beneath his tent-like sleeveless shirt. His dark hair was cut short, and Talbot noticed several scars across his exposed arms, and a couple marking his face, though none so deep as to take away from the dark swarthiness of his features. Every inch of the colossal man radiated the command of a warrior; from the narrow gaze which seemed to take in every single aspect of the room, to the balanced stance he held.
Even before Zeus spoke, Talbot had his suspicions of who this man was.
“This is my son,” said Zeus. “His name is Heracles.”
The name shot through Talbot, and he felt something akin to hero-worship leap up within him. More commonly known as Hercules, Talbot felt incredibly honored to be meeting the demigod....
But he wasn’t a demigod.
Looking at him, Talbot understood how the stories of his might had emerged from the tales of ancient Greece. He looked every inch the fighting machine indicated in the myths, but now standing beside him, Talbot realized the truth: Heracles was merely a man; an incredibly powerful man from an advanced race of people, but still, just a man. Like Zeus, his father, their reputations had been blown to superhuman proportions by a people who had laid witness to the Olympians fighting off creatures from some hellish plane of existence. Of course they had become gods in the eyes of the ancient Greeks.
Talbot glanced at Wes, noting the gaze the commando fixed Heracles with. It was, thought Talbot, like two fighting dogs coming face to face outside of the arena. Both sensed the skills and threat hidden within the other, but neither had yet been given a reason to attack.
“Nice to meet you,” said Talbot, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. He needed to break the tension between the two warriors before one snapped and did something foolish.
Heracles looked over Talbot’s head, and Talbot glanced around just in time to see Zeus give him a small nod. The huge man gripped Talbot’s hand in a palm the size of a shovel, and Talbot felt a strange sense of detachment as he gazed into the eyes of the man.
Talbot heard Wes chuckling and turned. “Fucking Hercules,” said Wes. “You’re Hercules?”
The enormous man frowned. “My name is Heracles, I know not who this one named Hercules is.”
Something suddenly thundered within Talbot’s mind. “How does Wes understand you?” he asked Zeus.
Zeus smiled slightly. “When he first entered the room, I entered his mind and allowed his brain to distinguish our words. It is not Elder-tongue such as what you possess, but it helps in situations such as this. We speak a version of what I’m assuming is the language you think of as Greek – in fact we were the ones who taught it to the ancestors of the people now living there.”
Talbot was astonished at the revelation. Could this be why the Greek alphabet seemed so alien? He discarded the though
t. It didn’t matter right now. Turning to Heracles he asked, “How can you help us, Heracles?”
The enormous man wrenched his frowning countenance away from a grinning Wes, toward Talbot. “I have travelled the land of Hades before. I will act as your guide and protector up to the gates of Tartarus. My sword is much like that of Chiron’s, though less powerful, and should provide some protection from the creatures now inhabiting the wasteland of Hades. Mortal weapons are unable to touch them, unless they penetrate the eyes.”
Talbot turned toward Wes. “Can you handle that? He’ll be a big help?”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then we go on alone, and hope for the best,” said Talbot.
Wes’s expression immediately shifted, and his grin became much friendlier. “Sounds good!” he said, extending his hand to Heracles. “Any help you can give us would be shit hot.”
Talbot glanced back at the warrior from legend, and saw his look of hostility slowly fade. He reached over and shook Wes’s hand quickly, accompanying the gesture with a nod of his head.
Talbot turned back to Zeus. “What about Briareus? He’d be handy. He practically tore Typhoeus apart without even breaking a sweat.” Wes looked at him quizzically, but Talbot ignored him.
Zeus shook his head sadly. “In order to release Briareus from Tartarus I had to seal off part of his more primitive instincts. They are now locked within his own mind. If Briareus were to return to that place – or even step foot outside of Olympia – it would risk destroying the part of him which can differentiate between right and wrong, and he would become a mindless beast once more.”
“Fair enough,” said Wes. “How about you give us some of the shit that made Hercules –”
“Heracles,” corrected the warrior.
“Uh huh,” Wes nodded. “Anyway, how about you give us some of the juice that made Hercules –” Heracles shook his head in frustration, but said nothing. “– so fucking buff?”
Zeus stared at him blankly. Even with the language adaptation he had unlocked within Wes, it seemed Zeus still had no idea what the commando was talking about. Finally he just nodded. “Maybe later.”
This seemed to placate Wes, and he grinned, no doubt imagining some ancient otherworldly version of steroids.
“We must go,” said Heracles abruptly. “While the difference between our worlds keeps time separate, the rift on your side is still expanding.”
“But wouldn’t time be faster there?” asked Talbot. “I mean, it’s only been a few years for you since these rifts were originally opened, but it’s been thousands of years for us.”
“Not necessarily,” said Zeus. “Our times are completely separate. The way we know that the Syrpeas Gate hasn’t expanded too much is because Olympia still exists and hasn’t been consumed by its growth... yet. Once it begins to accelerate it will devour all dimensions.”
“What happens then?” asked Talbot.
Zeus looked at Talbot, his eyes seeming to weigh his strength. “The universe will collapse. Nothing will exist. Time itself will implode as all dimensions become one.”
“Shit eh? So Gigantor here is right,” said Wes, indicating Heracles. “We’d better go before the whole fucking roof comes down.”
Zeus shook his head bemusedly. Talbot merely grinned at the Australian’s simplistic way of putting things into perspective.
With a brief nod of farewell to Zeus, Heracles led Talbot and Wes to the back of the temple-like structure, placing his hand on a panel scrawled with script that Talbot recognized as Elder-tongue. The entire white wall slid aside soundlessly, revealing something akin to a massive control room.
Talbot’s eyes were dragged towards the stone circle which bore a striking resemblance to the structure at Stonehenge. Great, gray monoliths of rock stood in a circular formation, approximately thirty yards across. Upon these stones others were placed horizontally, creating a crossbeam-like effect and thus completing the circular pattern.
Heracles moved to a flat stone panel, and Talbot watched him pressing symbols in seemingly random combinations. With each touch the stone seemed to glow slightly under his hand. After a moment of watching, the pattern became blatantly clear to Talbot. Each broke down to equations, just like the binary symbols in the cave at Ayers Rock; it was so simple! Heracles moved to another panel and began following a similar pattern on it.
“Do you want me to prepare this one?” asked Talbot, moving to a third panel.
Heracles looked up, shock evident upon his features, almost losing the pattern on his own panel. He frowned slightly before nodding to Talbot. “If you think you can. Do not make any mistakes, or we may end up somewhere we do not wish to go.”
Heracles’s tone left no doubt in Talbot’s mind that such a place would probably involve a hideous death, and doubt momentarily flooded him. Staring at the panel before him, however, he realized it wasn’t very difficult at all, and raised his hand to press the first symbol.
Within moments, Talbot’s hand was blurring between the symbols as he struggled to keep up with his brain’s instructions. He felt like a man possessed! Knowledge flowed through him, and he fought to keep up as the symbols began to glow beneath his touch. He hit the last one....
The stones of the Stonehenge-like erection began to spin, slowly turning faster and faster until, with a loud crack like thunder, they disappeared completely to be replaced with –
A rift!
It wasn’t as large as the Syrpeas Gate in Atlantis had been, but Talbot assumed it was otherwise identical. This brought an unpleasant thought to mind.
“Will this affect us the same way as the one we took to get here did?” he asked Heracles.
The massively-muscled warrior shook his head. “There were protective measures placed on that gateway to prevent anything entering Olympia. It was differently designed, and as such we were unable to close it as we can this one and the Syrpeas Gate. Which brings up the question: why did you not close the Syrpeas Gate using the controls in the place called Atlantis?”
Talbot stopped, staring from the ancient hero to the rift and back. He’d been told the rift couldn’t be closed on their side, but had not questioned it. Perhaps they’d merely not known, or maybe the machinery on that side had been so ancient as to render it inoperable after they had opened the rift.
Or maybe he was merely an idiot who didn’t question things....
Talbot shook the problem aside. He had no answers and looked at Wes who merely shrugged.
“I don’t know” said Talbot. “They told us it wouldn’t work from our side.”
Heracles looked at him, confusion etched upon his features. “Due to the differing times between our realms, the gate controls were designed to last for a thousand millennia. If they worked to open the gate, they should have been able to close it as well. Father said it was your brother who opened the Syrpeas Gate. What happened to him?”
“He died when they went through. Cerberus attacked them.”
Heracles nodded sagely. “Cerberus was one of the first to break through into Hades once the gateway to Tartarus was opened, and was swiftly expelled once our forces arrived there. He is a mighty beast and will create a perilous obstacle once we arrive in Tartarus, but we’ll worry about that when we reach there. How did your people escape from him?”
“They told me my brother spoke to Cerberus, allowing them to escape.”
Heracles seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then shrugged. “I suppose it is of no matter,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.
“Are we gonna go through this fucker or what?” asked Wes.
Heracles actually grinned. “After you,” he said amiably.
Wes didn’t need to be asked twice. He readied his M4A5, Chiron’s sword still securely tied to his back and held in place by his pack, and dove straight into the rift. Heracles appeared astonished for a moment, as though he hadn’t expected Wes to be so audacious, but then turned to Talbot.
“We must follow him swiftly. Once
we are through, the rift will close automatically behind us. There will be no return this way. We must complete our mission or else never return to our home realms.” Talbot had no time to answer as Heracles grabbed him and leaped into the rift.
A kaleidoscope of color hit Talbot as they passed through the center of a rainbow, the effect slowly petering out into a smeared version of reality. It felt almost like swimming through water, but in place of water was nothing – a vacuum. It wasn’t a vacuum as experienced in space walking; it was more like the total absence of life, rather than the absence of atmosphere. Talbot imagined space couldn’t have this soul-sucking effect.
And then they were through.
Talbot stumbled as gravity hit him once more. He attempted to focus, and the first thing he saw was Wes at the bottom of the hill they stood on – a lifeless mound of slate rock beneath a gray, cloudless sky – and the commando was battling two tree-thick snakes.
No! It wasn’t two snakes; it was one enormous serpent with a head at either end of its body. As he watched, Talbot saw Wes firing furiously with his M4A5 at one of the creature’s heads. The second head snapped forward, snatching his weapon, crushing it like a twig.
“The Amphisbaena!” hissed Heracles. “I must help him.” So saying, Heracles drew his huge golden sword, crackling with inhuman power, and charged down the hill. But Talbot knew he would be too late. The beast, as long as a bus, had now encircled Wes, shielding him from Talbot’s view. Without a weapon, even Wes’s skills would be useless.
Suddenly the Amphisbaena screeched, both in pain as well as what sounded like surprise. Heracles was only halfway down the hill, and Talbot saw the beast’s thick, serpentine body suddenly part in the middle – sliced through. The two halves of the creature flipped, each head letting forth a hideous death rattle before both dropped to the slate, shuddered, and died.
And then Talbot saw him, like a still point in the midst of a maelstrom. Within the carnage of the two-headed beast stood Wes, his pack lying on the ground beside him. In his hands was the sword of Chiron, humming with power and unstained by the green blood of the beast it had just slain. For a moment, Talbot’s breath caught in his throat, and he wondered once more at the power of the SAS commando. Not merely physical power, more like the power over life and death. Some people were skilled musicians; Talbot suspected Wes had a talent for death.
