“All I need is my body, a weapon and armor greater than anything a Hephaestus could forge.” If myth now walked true, then I would answer myth for myth.
“Are you greater than Aeneas? Would you not take the fire god’s shield and armor if offered?”
I crossed my arms and let my head fall askew. “What is it you offer? I don’t care to hear about the god of the forge, wherever he may be.”
“Surely you want a sword made by the master?”
“I only want to find Hesiod and get out of here.”
“There is something you must do first.”
Hyperion pointed his finger at the expanse of smoke above, and made a continuous circular motion until the smoky heavens swirled like water down a drain. The smoke gathered into a funnel and started pressing downwards in the form of a tornado. As it lowered, a bright light began to shine from above as the coverage of smoke enfolded into itself. A chariot of golden fire appeared in the opened heavens, burning down towards us and landing with impossible grace beside Hyperion. As the chariot landed, the sky once more was filled with the ocean of smoke, drowning out the light above.
The chariot was crossed with white flames and a golden sun was emblazoned boldly on its side. Six white glowing horses stood in front, their eyes burning with orange flame and their impressive stature dwarfing the magnificent chariot behind. Their heads turned in every direction, their pink nostrils flaring at the taint of Tartarus. A man with a crown of fire and polished gold skin as bright as Hyperion’s stepped out of his chariot and stood there patiently with grace and a meek, controlled power.
“My son, god of sun, Helios,” Hyperion said, holding an arm out towards him.
Helios wore a wrap of fine white cloth. A bronze red sun was pinned on his breast. His solar crown spread forth rays into the sky and encircled his head like the sun. His form was as if carved of stone, delicate lines and muscle flawlessly etched into his lean and sinewy body.
Helios stepped forward and smiled at us both. “Have you told him yet, Father?”
“Not yet.” Hyperion smiled and turned to me, looking into my eyes. “You are one of us, Rangabes. A powerful blood boils inside you. You belong to the people of light. Do you realize who your father was, and I mean really was? In the higher sense? Do you not wonder how it is that you are as you are right now?”
“My father was a worthy warrior and my mother a good and simple woman of faith.”
“Mortally, of course. But is that all? How can you be so forgetful of your ancestors?” Helios said, a flaming orange-red spear bursting out of the air and into his hands as if he meant to use it against me.
“How could he know, son? If those once great do not pass on this greatness in truth and purity, how could he know? Be patient with the man. It wasn’t too long ago that he believed all of us to be made up myths to keep a population sedated. We are gods—less than his, but gods.” Hyperion sighed and stepped closer to me. “The light you gained from Moros was yours by birthright. Moros was the offspring of Nyx, the goddess of night. That light you now possess was stolen from our kind. The night sought to be the day, as if in hopes to become like holy Hyperborea where the sun always shined. In a desperate attempt to survive the modern upheaval, Moros tried to flee with this light and bring it to a new people. Yet he searched in vain, for no such people exist like they had in Troy, or first in Hyperborea. He was incapable of recognizing that no civilizations in the now quite possess that same worthiness and greatness of perfect power and faith. Rome had it once, but she lost it in abandoning your city to its ruin. Rome was meant to be East and West. Your Theotokos was of her own light, but she did not quite abandon your city. She wept at your fate and prays for a renewal. It was decreed.”
“That is all fine and well, but what does that have to do with my lot now? Do not speak so familiarly of my own people and faith. We were betrayed by many, and if you hadn’t merely watched from this prison, perhaps we might yet have lived on. I’m not here to make guesswork of your strange posturing.”
“Do you know of your royalty?” Helios asked.
“Not yet! He must demonstrate his worth before being handed the sacred truths of our light,” Hyperion said.
“I simply want to leave this place. Where has Hesiod gone?”
A scepter of brilliant white flame flashed into Hyperion’s outstretched hand. He banged the ground with his rod and chanted out a throaty melody, haunting in its minimalistic and savage style. The black sand swirled into a funnel in front of my feet, and hissing arose from the sinking ground. A white snake with sapphire eyes slid out from the black. Its forked tongue flicked out, pale like the pallid winter sky. It patiently slithered closer and moved in a perfect circle to surrounded me with its body. The snake grew as it encircled me, its body coiling around itself as it continued stretching out. Its head was the size of my torso and its two clear, icicle-like fangs shined threateningly in the glare of Helios and Hyperion’s golden light.
The already frigid Tartarus mingled with the snake’s frost and tinged my skin blue. The strange snow serpent’s hissing increased and its encirclement came ever closer to my body. I stood there calmly, staring at the creature’s jeweled eyes. My blood slowed and my breath fell heavy. Puffs of air swirled out from my mouth as if the force of my spirit were evaporating. I slowly raised my gaze to Helios and Hyperion. Hyperion stood there transfixed, his golden lit eyes following the serpent’s movement. Helios stood there regally, his sunbeamed head unable to provide warmth in my polar vicinity.
I tensed my body, preparing to at last strike out at the serpent, but I noticed that at my tensing, its pace increased until it circled me in a whir—three times in mere seconds. Its icy scales brushed the skin of my feet, turning my toes black with frostbite. With my feet useless, I crumpled to my knees. I foolishly and fearfully struck the serpent with both fists, rendering both my hands numb and black. The snake wrapped the lower half of my body, and my heart beat slowed, my blood thickened, and my eyelids dragged. With blurred vision, it donned on me what I was supposed to do. This was not a foe to be vanquished, but a testing of my worth—a glory to be earned. With a tired smile, my lips barely twitching, I offered my forearm to the snake’s head.
It stopped its binding and, with its head eye to eye with mine, it blinked, its sapphire eyes glowing with power. It waited there, its head tilting back and forth as if weighing my worth. My head lolled to the side, and through darkening vision I watched as the serpent’s tongue licked my forearm, turning it not black but marble white with a golden light radiating from within. With sudden force, it bit down on my offered forearm and a wave of warmth washed over me as I screamed at the ecstatic power of light and life coursing through me. My body was yanked airborne and it hovered as my spine curled and my arms and legs dangled. I was held up rigidly in waves of pleasure and power, a cloud of bright light holding me aloft as I screamed. When I thudded to the ground, the serpent was gone. The only sign it had come and done anything were two white bite marks on the inner side of my forearm right above my wrist. A slight pale blue icy light shined from the marks. My blackened skin had returned to normal as well.
Stretching, I stood to my feet and stared at the two solar gods who stood there with unchanged expressions. “Well,” I said. They didn’t even blink. “I passed whatever this test was.”
“No. No you did not, for if you had, you would not speak so brazenly about it.” Helios narrowed his eyes and kneaded his hands.
“One more ritual. Do not disrespect these modes of being, these paths of power, again. You will not be given a second chance,” Hyperion said, clutching his scepter tight.
I rubbed my bite marks which tingled like fresh mint on the tongue. I nodded and stood straight-backed and prepared. Helios held out his burning red spear and struck the ground. A thousand howls filled the air and I pressed my hands against my ears in agony at the terrible shrieking tear of such sound. Hesiod and Hyperion seemed unphased, as if I’d imagined it. But the howling only gre
w louder and it rained down from on high as if thousands of wolves ran above the smoke. Unfortunately, that was exactly the case, as wolves bathed in fire poured down through the smoke, which billowed and coursed as countless numbers of the creatures tore burning holes through its reformed cover. Trails of orange embers and black ashes sprayed out behind the wolves’ scorching approach. The packs of fire wolves landed in an erupting avalanche of red smoke, and they spread out to encircle me.
Their howling ceased and silence pressed itself upon me. In a perfect circle, like the snake from before, wolves as far as I could see surrounded me on all sides with nothing but a small circle of black sand separating us. Saliva glowing like lava dripped from their mouths, hissing as it fell upon the ground. It was obvious that surrendering myself to these beasts was not an option.
Their burning red-orange bodies, smelled like a funeral pyre, and the only sound now was the hiss and sputtering crackle of flickering flames. Under the surface of the sound, like the beginning rumble of an earthquake, a low growling began. First it was soft enough to be drowned out by the fire’s burning, but then it increased until I once more was forced to cover my ears. The sound grew to such an intensity that a painful thud and sharp pop in my ears went off and warm blood trickled out from my ear canals, sticking my hands with red. The wolves began to come closer, slowly and as one. Their black tongues licked at their ashen jaws as their fangs of white and blue flame jetted out from their burning maws.
I lowered my hands now that my hearing was gone. Only a dull ringing sound remained. I slowly turned my body around to gaze at the nearing packs of endless wolves. What was I supposed to do, if not surrender? Their slow progression seemed unrelated to the tensing of my body or any movement I made, whether I stepped closer or remained frozen. I narrowed my eyes and looked at the serpent’s bite mark. I rubbed it, which brightened the wound to an even colder pale blue. The ringing in my ears subsided and I could just barely hear the crackle of the wolves’ flames once more. If ice takes life away, bringing the natural slow surrender of death, then fire was what gave the world life and power. The heat of the sun. The flaming torch. The burning stove.
The serpent’s bite flashed in a frigid blaze of blue on my forearm. Frozen flame burst out from my body, and the wolves backed away as my light spread out and spiraled close to them. My body erupted in a brighter burst of blue, and icy flame torrented in a circle that roared outwards, turning the nearest wolves to ice and putting out the flames of the others close by. The wolves whimpered and stepped further back. Ice was powerful, but it was only one half of a whole. I needed to take the fire of the wolves. I stepped forward to the frozen wolves, holding my left, snake-bitten arm in front of me as it still glowed blue. The wolves bowed their heads in silence.
I crouched down in front of the largest wolf, which had ventured farthest forward and suffered the full effect of my frost light. The noble beast was now reduced to a frozen sculpture. I motioned for the other wolves to come near. One brave wolf with its head lowered came close as the rest of the packs whined. I held out my right hand and its flaming nuzzle singed my palm and burnt my flesh. I bit down on my lip as I pet the beast, ignoring the burning pain of my smoldering skin. The wolf pressed its head against my forearm and I embraced it, pulling the animal close to my crouched body. I nearly fainted from the shock of such searing pain, but I persisted. With rapidly blistering skin, I released the flaming wolf and pressed my burnt right arm on the frozen one. The ice intensified the pain but, just as suddenly, it soothed the burn, and a comforting warmth cascaded over my being.
My sight was lit aflame with golden light. I felt myself lift like rising fire and the wolves howled with me and we became as one. I thundered with the packs, leading them back to the heavens. When we burst through the smoky sky, my human eyes opened and I was alone with nothing but the imprint of the fiery wolf’s head branded onto my right forearm. The skin was raised into a supernatural tattoo that crackled with a subtle red flare.
I stood to my feet, the power of ice and fire surging through my blood as a unified force. Hyperion and Helios stood there expectantly, each of them holding their weapons out as if prepared to use them against me—or to hurl out another form of ritual. I stepped closer to them and stood tall. I held out my powerfully scarred arms with my palms upwards and open. Helios and Hyperion both nodded solemnly as each of them clasped my hands.
“A Hyperborean. Your birthright,” Helios and Hyperion murmured, speaking as if they were one.
Hyperion looked at my arms while still holding my left hand as he said, “Our time in the light is meeting an end. We are living in an age that has forgotten us and forgotten the power of pure light. You must carry our flame to a new land, a new people, and become a light for the future. I waited and watched for too long. My power is finished in this ritual. A new order has arisen and the world is better for it. But that will only remain true if you act with the light of your forebearers. There are many jealous of your fate, but Wyrd plays a higher tune. Those who see what must be done, will sacrifice. Do not trust those unwilling to pass the flame on.” He released my hand and his golden light dimmed. His body seemed smaller as if he were a candle running out of wax.
Helios nodded gravely, let go of my right hand and said, “I have given the last of my light in this as well. I may have acted much in the past, but the people ceased to follow the powerful path of light, and so I began to dim. All that remains for me is material now. Nature. My purpose has been passed to you. I’ll watch and shine with warmth. But Helios the god will be no more. Rangabes, it is your power to wield. Your right to conqueror. Use it well. Do not forget your Lord. We are truth and He is Truth.” Helios’s strong body flashed and the burning of his crown intensified until the god was nothing but a ball of light. And he ascended as but a star, his deity no more, only living on through the ritual passing he’d given to me.
Hyperion’s form flickered, and as his body dimmed and his light dissipated, he whispered one last direction. “You are ready to enter into the pillar of flame. There you will find Hesiod. Hyperborea is for you. Hyperborea is and always will be for Hyperboreans and nobody else. Go forth, brethren.”
I bowed my head and uttered my thanks. The two gods were no more, their only signs of existence shining in each of my arms. I nodded and turned to the pillar of flame. There was more for me to do. Much more. Lord willing.
I stepped over towards the flaming pillar of light with head raised and eyes open. Without hesitation, I walked right into it. The pillar of fire scorched my spirit, at first stripping away my self, and then, just as suddenly, soothing my being with a feeling of eternal peace, captured in a single scalding moment. My vision was drowned in a golden red light, and it was all I could see, as if I’d been thrown into the midst of a sunrise. It seemed as though my whole body flew upwards as my stomach floated with a nauseating weightlessness. Suddenly, I felt myself solidify, and a new area appeared before me, unfolding like a scroll of fire.
The same smoke-covered canopy hung sinister in the sky. That could only mean I was still trapped in Tartarus. I angrily peered at my still sulfurous surroundings. I stood on some kind of precipice—a black granite cliff, smooth and crystalline. The cliff spiked out dangerously towards the horizon. I slowly walked to its edge and peered down, seeing nothing but darkness. Was that where I had just been? Had the darkness returned now that I’d left it behind?
This strange dark mountain I now stood on had no flame pillars to step back into, so it appeared as though I’d be trapped here, at least for the moment. I turned away from the edge of the cliff to look behind me. There was nothing but more mountain in jagged stretches and peaks, sloped downwards and disappearing into the black fog of the abyss.
“Hesiod!” I called out.
No response. The sickening air was dead with nothingness. Not even the bursts of lava broke through the silence now. It was just me, the mountain, and the stench of Tartarus. I heard a low murmur come from the black fog below th
e precipice. I scrambled back to the top and stared into the dark pit.
“Answer me,” I commanded.
A roaring laugh shook the mountain, and I only just managed to catch myself from falling as I staggered backwards.
“Who dares to demand something from me?” The deep voice rumbled, rattling my teeth even as I tensed my jaw.
I glared with violent impatience into the abyss, scowling at the disembodied voice. “Show yourself, dark one! Hiding in the fog? Do you think one such as I am afraid? Tartarus has bowed to me. This hellscape is mine. How many immortals must I best?” I cracked my neck and held up my arms, the left bathed in blue light and the right in red. The abyss didn’t answer, but a low and long growl rolled underneath the black below. The abyssal mist vortexed into a swirling tornado and twirled upwards, gathering the darkness into itself while the abyss below remained whole, with an even darker darkness somehow on top of it all.
The tornado of black mist began to take form as the surrounding black billowed like a bilious sea. In a sudden pulse of darkness, the mist enfolded on itself, exposing the valley with the pillars of fire below. So, Tartarus was still there below. Had I ascended past the first level of smoke? I quickly glanced up at the lingering smoke above, and noticed its different color now, however subtle the darker hue. While Tartarus had been shielded in a stormy gray, the clouds here were a meaner hue that bordered on black, with swirls of dark gray intermixed. No, this wasn’t quite Tartarus. And that black mist wasn’t simply an abyss. It spun right out of the air below and twisted around me. I held my ground with my arms still raised and ready for battle.
The abyss continued its pirouetting around me, and with a whip it formed into the shape of a giant figure like that of a shadowy man. The mist shimmered like a flock of synchronized insects, and the shadow giant loomed over me.
“Who are you?” I said, lowering my arms and stepping away from the cliff’s edge.
Cerberus Slept Page 3
