by Mur Lafferty
“I guess you’re right.”
We took some water from a canteen and passed it between us, pouring about half into a bowl for Jet. She lapped it up, spraying more water around than actually getting any in her mouth.
“So I never found out,” Daniel said. “What really made you go to the homeless shelter that night? Why does your grandma of all people think you’re a coward? I thought she was pretty cool.”
I wiped water from my lips. “Why do you ask?”
He looked down at the flattened grass and pulled at a stalk. It stood up, looking alone and out of place. “I’ve been feeling sort of guilty. If I hadn’t bullied you into going, you wouldn’t be dead.”
I lay back on my elbows and looked at the sky. “I just figured it was time to actually do something. I took the easy way out too often. That’s why Grandma called me a coward.”
He stared at me. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? I’m not.”
He looked at the lonely stalk of grass. “Are you ready to go?”
I nodded.
We stood up and started walking up the next hill. As soon as we crested it, the scenery finally changed. The tall grass remained, but a forest of dark trees dotted the horizon to our left, while fruit trees had appeared at the tops of the hills. Springs bubbled into stone fountains; some fresh water, some a bloody-looking liquid. A shallow clear stream cut through one of the hills and stretched to our right towards a glittering expanse that looked to be a sea.
But the best part was the people. Finally, we got a glimpse of someone else who wasn’t fabricated to populate our heaven. I looked at Daniel and grinned, convinced that this journey had been a good idea.
People milled around, dressed in togas and robes, sitting under trees, reading books, or napping. Ahead, the road bisected a grand market and ended at what looked like a coliseum.
“Where are we?” Daniel whispered.
Before I could answer, a voice spoke up from behind me, “Elysium.”
We hadn’t heard her approach us, but I gasped audibly when I saw the speaker. I am petite and thus always envied women with height and strength. The woman behind us stood six feet tall at least, with a slender but well-muscled frame. She grinned at us, a lock of red-gold hair falling into her face. She wore a short toga and a belt from which hung three golden apples.
When I was a little kid, I had loved reading about the Greek myths. One of my favorites had been a kid-friendly book that used the word “married” instead of “raped,” taking a lot of the horrific parts out of the stories and just making them about a lot of powerful gods running around and having fun. When I was a senior, I felt rather naive when I read the myths the way they were meant to be told, but I still loved the ones that were less personally violating and more heroic.
“Elysium, that’s Greek, right?” Daniel said, watching three laughing women dip goblets into a fountain of red wine.
“Elysium is where the heroes go after death,” the woman said. She gave our twenty-first-century clothes an appraising look. “Are you Travelers?”
We nodded and brought out our necklaces, which were now in the shape of lightning bolts.
“You’ll want to see the games, then. But first, try the market; it’s glorious. Enjoy, friends. I hope to see you again.” She shifted a bow strung across her back and dashed down the road.
“Wow,” Daniel said, swallowing hard. I suppressed my annoyance. What was I supposed to feel? Shit, if it were a choice between that warrior woman and myself, I know whom I would choose.
“Yeah. That was Atalanta, I think.”
“Who?”
“Hero. Abandoned because she wasn’t a boy, brought up by wolves, grew up to be a mighty huntress. Helped kill the Calydonian Boar and won nearly every footrace she ran in. The only one she lost was the one where her opponent kept throwing golden apples off the course so she’d run after them.”
“Huh. She must have wanted to lose,” he said.
“That’s one theory,” I answered. Atalanta’s red-gold braid bounced as she neared the market and she soon disappeared into the crowd.
“Sounds like you know a lot about this place,” Daniel said, handing me a white robe from his backpack.
“Where’d you get this?” I asked.
Daniel pulled out a second robe. “The backpack. I felt it get heavier when we got to the top of the hill.”
I slipped the robe over my head. “Nice! So, the Cliff Notes version of Elysium: most of the regular dead people go to the Underworld, ruled by Hades and Persephone, but the heroes come here. It’s their paradise.”
“So, like, we could run into Hercules?”
“Heracles,” I corrected. “Hercules was his Roman name.”
“Heracles. Sure. Any other faux pas I should watch out for?”
I snorted. “Yeah. Be very alarmed if someone wants to ‘marry’ you.”
#
The market roared with activity; well-dressed people buying live geese, squid, olive oil, jars of spices, butchered lamb, bottles of wine, and escorts of both sexes, to name a few. Merchants called out their wares, birds flapped their wings in a panic when men on horses rode by, and everyone wore a smile.
Daniel and I had pulled our necklaces to the outside of our robes to show everyone the symbol of Zeus. Merchants greeted us with loud voices, showing us jewelry, food, rugs and pets. I purchased a length of silk to tie around Jet’s neck just in case she ran off; I think I horrified the merchant, but he knew better than to speak up. In his eyes I was a wealthy dead hero – who was he to tell me what I should do with his fine silk?
The mysterious backpacks we carried seemed to have everything we needed, including money pouches.
“God told me that there is little use for money in any heaven, but people enjoy exchanges, so it’s limitless,” Daniel said.
The merchants seemed grateful for the gold and silver coins, and Daniel and I had fun shopping. I put some bottles of wine in the backpack and Jet cheerfully carried the large lamb bone I purchased for her. Daniel munched on a spiced sausage speared on a skewer. I had always wanted to travel, and this was better than any place I could have dreamed of visiting.
Although the merchants’ stalls still buzzed with activity, traffic moved always down the street toward the coliseum. Daniel stopped a young boy with impossibly golden curls and blue eyes.
“Excuse me, when do the games start?”
The boy stared at him for a moment, then his eyes dropped to the necklace. He nodded once and said, “One hour, but you should go get a seat now. They only happen once every seven years.”
“Wow, we’re in luck,” Daniel said to me.
The boy scampered off before Daniel could ask anything else. The crowd had begun to drift toward the coliseum, so we followed the other merrymakers, many of them drunk, into the gargantuan stone building. I shivered as we entered the marble staircase and thought of my grandfather’s tomb in a marble mausoleum, complete with dank air and UV bug zapper. People seemed to be sitting where they liked, so we scouted a spot on some velvet-covered stone benches at the front.
I tried to see where people would be entering the sandy field to compete, but just as I was looking around, a lightning bolt cracked down and hit the center of the field, blinding me. Daniel and I were the only ones to flinch and cover our ears as a response to the flash and thunder; everyone else applauded. When my eyes had re-adjusted to the light of the day, I grabbed Daniel’s arm and pointed.
The massive gods – they could have been no one else – sat upon thrones of gold across the coliseum from us, looking down at the field and around at the audience.
“Jesus, even I know who those people are,” Daniel whispered. We applauded along with the rest. Zeus and Hera occupied the center two thrones, Zeus openly grinning through his beard and Hera’s cold eyes searching the stands. Dragging my eyes from the king and queen of the gods, I searched for my favorite heroes of my childhood.
Athena was not dressed in her warrio
r’s garb, but I knew immediately it was her; she whispered to an owl that sat on her shoulders, and her face was serene and intelligent.
Artemis, Hermes, and Hephaestus were all there, Hermes grinning wryly at something the bulky, heavy lidded Ares was saying, and Hephaestus glaring at the same. Artemis sat beside her twin, Apollo, both of them wearing bows strung across their backs. All of the others were there as well: Poseidon with his trident, Demeter, Dionysus, and Aphrodite, whose beauty tended to drag my eyes to her, even though she was not my favorite by a long shot.
I pointed out who was who to Daniel, who seemed to only want to know about Aphrodite. I tried to tell him that anyone who tried to sleep with her would piss off not only her husband, Hephaestus, but her lover, Ares, the god of war. He shrugged off my concern and said there was no crime against looking. I thought of the myth about the poor bastard who accidentally stumbled across Artemis bathing in the woods and was turned into a stag for his transgression, which really was only that of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been torn apart by his own hounds. I gulped.
Not that the gods weren’t distracting me from my concern (all right, it was jealousy) over Daniel’s divinely-inspired crush. Throughout my childhood I’d always loved Hermes, the runt, the manipulator, who had tricked Apollo out of an entire herd of cattle when he was only a day old. The god’s dark curls fell into his eyes as he looked my way and I felt my insides clench and my face get hot. Oh, great.
No one announced anything, but a trumpet sounded and doors opened at either end of the coliseum. From one end, two tigers ran onto the sand, snarling with their ears back. They bled from wounds on their backs; someone had wanted them quite angry upon entering the arena.
From the other entrance came a man and woman, confident and proud. He carried a sword; she, a bow and spear.
“Hey, it’s Atlanta!” yelled Daniel amidst the cheers.
“Atalanta,” I corrected. I looked at the grand cats and then at the warriors and bile clogged my throat. I don’t like blood. I cursed myself; what the hell had I been expecting, a chess game? But still, this was amazing.
A goddess, Artemis, stood up from the dais. She raised her hand and the crowd fell silent. I could not believe I was sitting here watching Greek gods and heroes. The afterlife was so cool.
“Welcome, friends. Our traditional seven-year games begin with a traditional hunt. Our heroes are Heracles…” The crowd screamed its approval. “…and Atalanta.” More cheers as the woman waved to her supporters.
I tore my eyes from the glorious woman to the man. Impossibly muscled, Heracles wore nothing but his lion skin cape. Dark streaks covered his body, and I realized it was centaur blood. Heracles had smeared the blood of his wife’s kidnapper on himself, thinking it would make him stronger, but instead it caused him such pain that it nearly killed him. Zeus had brought him bodily to Elysium to end his suffering.
Daniel whistled at Heracles’s nakedness. “Dude, one of the first things I would do if I were facing tigers is protect my junk.” I laughed. “Hey, you know how cats like to play with dangly things!”
Atalanta hadn’t been as bold (or as stupid). Fully clothed in a leather breastplate which covered her toga, she hefted her spear, testing its weight and firming her grip. She bowed to her goddess, Artemis, who remained unsmiling. Heracles also bowed.
“The first to bring a tiger down is the winner. If one manages to bring them both down, then he or she will be crowned champion.” The crowd roared again and the heroes moved forward. The hunt was on.
“Isn’t this like shooting fish in a barrel?” Daniel asked. “I mean, two legendary heroes and two cats in an enclosed space without trees? Oh. Wait.”
Heracles had had the same thought as Daniel and was taking the direct route. He charged the tigers, roaring louder than his prey. As he raised his sword, the tiger suddenly winked out of sight and reappeared, looking slightly alarmed, in the middle of the arena.
Heracles was no fool. He looked up at the gods balefully. Athena hid a smile in her owl’s feathers. Ares scowled at her.
Atalanta watched all of this carefully. As she lifted her spear and heaved it across the sand, I gasped at her strength. Before the spear reached her target, however, this tiger also disappeared and reappeared in the middle. She nodded slowly and unstrung her bow. She didn’t look up at the gods, but I did, and caught Ares grinning triumphantly at Athena, who rolled her eyes.
Heracles dashed to the other end of the arena, swiping at one disappearing tiger and then the other. “Not too bright, is he?” I said. Daniel laughed. The tigers ended up at the original end of the area again, where Atalanta had been aiming. She immediately let fly her arrows-two from the bow at once!-and skewered both before Ares could interfere. Both tigers fell, arrows through their right eyes, and Atalanta grinned in triumph.
The crowd screamed their approval and the gods clapped politely, for the most part. Ares snarled and Hermes looked bored, his blue eyes skimming the crowd, seeming to rest on Daniel and me, and then moving on.
Atalanta waved at the crowd, blowing kisses and walking the perimeter of the arena. As she passed us, I cheered and clapped till my hands hurt.
She was focusing on the crowd and therefore didn’t see Heracles’s rage as he simmered, red-faced, in the center of the arena. I thought he must be screaming, but the noise of the crowd drowned everything out. The failed hero set off toward Atalanta with his sword raised. She didn’t turn; she was busy still waving at her admirers.
“Atalanta!” I screamed, but I could barely hear myself - there was no way she was going to hear me. The crowd’s tone had changed, but they still screamed and Atalanta didn’t notice the change. The gods watched with detached interest.
I looked around. Wasn’t anyone going to do something?
There are times in your life where shock paralyzes you. When you look up and see the softball coming toward your face and you know you can either put out your glove and catch it or move out of the way and let it whoosh past; but you don’t. You just let it smack you in the face.
There are other times in your life where shock moves you as if you were controlled by an outside remote; you move, act, and speak without thinking. When it’s all over with, you wonder how the hell you did it.
Shock is the easy way out. Waiting for someone else to act was the easy way out. Daniel and I stood together; he had a determined look on his face that I’ll never forget. Then we vaulted over the railing to drop the eight-or-so feet into the arena’s sand and took off for Atalanta ourselves, shouting her name, with one of the greatest heroes of legend bearing down on us.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The funny thing is that as we ran, Heracles covering about three yards for every one of ours, I found myself praying. I wasn’t sure to whom, as we were already surrounded by gods. Would they listen?
Please, I thought. Nothing else; just, please.. I forgot that I was here because of direct intercession from God, or that deities surrounded me. I just hoped, because I sure as hell didn’t have a plan. It looked as if Daniel and I would soon find out whether we could die in heaven or not.
Heracles, luckily, had much more ground to cover than we did. Only seconds had passed since Daniel and I had decided to turn into heroes. The crowd continued to scream, and the gods watched us impassively. I saw Hermes reach out to Athena, but had to return my focus to the issue at hand. Atalanta took notice of us at last, frowning, and I pointed behind her.
She turned; Daniel reached her right before I did and stepped in front of her. Heracles was only ten feet away, now pounding down upon them. Atalanta’s spear was still stuck in the sand at the other end of the arena and she had just strung her bow across her shoulder. We had nothing to attack or defend ourselves with.
So my thoughts went for the next best thing: dirty tricks.
I dove in front of Daniel and rolled, my momentum taking me toward Heracles’s feet, straight on. His foot caught my belly and he tripped, and the air left my lun
gs in a great whoosh. A rib cracked and I curled up on my side, not focused on anything except the attempt to coax air back in. Heracles’s fall caused a great wave of sand to spray over me, blinding me. Deafened as well by the crowd, I had no idea what was going on.
My diaphragm finally stopped spasming and I breathed deeply, wiped my eyes, and sat up. Expecting to see Atalanta’s and Daniel’s bodies soaking the sand with their blood, I braced myself, but what was before me made me gasp. Heracles was still prone on the sand with the goddess Athena standing with one sandaled foot on his sword wrist. Atalanta held Athena’s mighty shield - acquired how and when I didn’t know – in front of her and Daniel. Hermes stood beside his sister and bound Heracles’s feet with a wave of his hand. The crowd finally stopped cheering, and a confused silence surrounded us.
Ares appeared next to his kin. “You had no right to interfere!” he barked at Athena. His voice surprised me; it was small and high and reminded me of Mike Tyson.
“He had lost, Ares,” Athena said. “And he was unsportsmanlike. That is not the spirit of the games.”
“The rules are no interference!” he said.
“More rules than that were broken,” she snapped.
Artemis appeared and everyone appealed to her. Obviously the sponsor of these games, she turned and made a gesture to her father, Zeus. He raised his arm and my world filled with light. I must have passed out before the thunderclap came.
#
Cold seeped through my clothes, and as Daniel shook me gently awake, I realized we were on a marble floor somewhere damp. Loud voices argued from the next room. I shivered.
“What happened?”
“It sounds like the gods are arguing about the winner. They’re trying to figure out if Athena and Hermes interfered and made the match forfeit.”
