by Amy Wolf
“Jealous much?”
“She presides over the Hunt,” said Helen. “And the Moon, and uh . . . Virgins. Her twin brother is Apollo.”
“And the hind we’re looking for is hers?”
Helen nodded.
“That is why you must not kill it—your shield shows the Hero holding it in his arms.”
“Bambi,” Nick said with nostalgia. “Well, this Labor doesn’t sound bad.”
“The hind,” said Helen, “is able to outrun an arrow. Did I mention its horns are gold and its hooves bronze? Also, it is enormous.”
“No, but thanks for the heads-up.” Nick stood between trees and thought. “If you were a big-ass deer, where would you hang out?”
Helen scrunched her brow.
“The forest?”
“Good thing that’s where we are. Look,” said Nick, “why don’t we split up, then meet back here at noon? One of us might spot it.”
“Very well,” said Helen, putting a hand on his arm. “Nikólaos, be careful. That hind is sacred to Artemis. If you harm it, well . . . she has a silver bow and arrows. And is said never to miss.”
“Great,” said Nick, making sure his helmet was tight. “Plus, we don’t know whose side she’s on: Athena’s or Poseidon’s.”
He turned and crunched over needles in a thicket of pines. This was nice, he thought, after all those seaside towns. Nick almost forgot his Labor as he heard the birds chirp and an occasional scramble when some small animal passed.
“Here, Deer,” he called, “come to Nick. I promise that I won’t hurt you.”
Still, as he trudged on, he didn’t spot one deer—not even one with plain antlers.
Based on the sun’s position as Helios dragged it by, Nick thought it must be eleven. Just as he’d decided to sit down for a little rest, he heard the murmur of voices. He ducked behind a tree, listening to the low tones of a man and a woman.
“Orion, you mustn’t,” said the woman.
Nick peered around his tree trunk. Whoa! What was this? A woman in a white robe resisting the moves of a tall, hunky guy.
“My love,” said the hunk, “I can’t wait any longer. Who cares what your brother says? Let him stick to his music and oracles.”
“Shhh,” said the woman, trying to push him away. Nick saw that they both had huge bows—and hers was made of silver!
What should he do? Approach the goddess and ask where her deer hung out? If she was on Team Athena, cool; if not, he was hosed.
Impulsively, he acted.
“Uh, excuse me,” he said, emerging from behind wood.
The two lovers looked guilty, stepping apart.
“O Artemis,” Nick started, wishing that Helen were here. “I am Nikólaos, son of Chiron. The gods have ordered me to follow the footsteps of Hercules.”
Artemis, a total hottie, actually gave him a smile.
“Yes, my father Zeus spoke of you. I take it you’re here to trap the Ceryneian Hind.”
Nick could only nod.
“I know of your Labors. Yet, why the Hind? For she is not born of Typhon.”
Nick wanted to say: Lady, I don’t make the rules, but caught a flash of silver in her supersized quiver.
“I don’t know,” said Nick. “To make up for the Hydra?” The goddess and the hunk just stared. “I-I had help, so that one was DQ’d.”
“I see,” said the goddess. “Well, to honor my father, I will give you counsel. Go back to your camp and sleep. When you awaken, the Hind will show herself.”
“Thank you,” said Nick, bowing.
“But I must warn you,” said Artemis. “My Hind is so fleet of foot that Heracles chased her for over a year.”
Nick wanted to say, “I don’t have that kind of time,” but, instead, bowed and retreated.
Great, he thought, tramping between trees. How was this going to work? Yeah, he was fast, but not compared to a deer: especially a huge one. He was no Usain Bolt and the Hind wasn’t Bambi . . .
When the sun rose to its height, Nick stumbled his way back to camp. Thankfully, he saw Helen coming in from the other side.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to sleep.”
“What?”
“Long story short: I saw Artemis.”
Nick took off his armor. He figured that was smart if he had to schlep after a deer. It didn’t take long to doze off. When he opened his eyes, the sun was at three o’clock.
“Nikólaos,” Helen whispered, her arm steady as she pointed. “Look.”
Nick raised his head. There, between low branches, was the gleam of a golden antler. Nick rose as fast as he could, even untying his sandals so they wouldn’t make noise. Still, the Hind must have heard since it leapt with a shaking of leaves, all four bronze hooves flying!
“Good luck,” Helen yelled as Nick took off, using his runner’s tricks to try to keep pace with the deer.
Of course, that was impossible: on foot, he couldn’t catch a fawn, much less this huge magic beast. Nick tore through the trees, snagging thorns on his tunic, his bare feet smacking painfully against a hard dirt path. Sometimes, around a curve, he’d see a flash of gold, or even a hint of bronze. But how crazy was this? He’d have a better chance of catching Bolt himself!
Even though Nick was no quitter, he knew after an hour that he could never win. That Hind had antlers to clear its path, and knew every tree and shrub. Why, Nick wondered, had the gods assigned him this Labor? Was this their way of mocking him?
“This is wack,” he panted, just as he heard a great crackling somewhere to his right. Okay, he thought, here goes. He used up all of his winds to sprint madly after that Hind. Granted, his form wasn’t perfect, since he dropped his arms. And his strides were too long, his feet almost bouncing off needles. He let out the same loud cry he used to give in the middle of a tough 800. Then, his legs became even thinner, and he seemed to have too many . . . Nick made the sound again, and, for the first time, knew it for what it was: a stallion’s challenging trumpet! Nick felt he had a new body, at least from his chest down, and it seemed to be big. He pounded over the path, lifting two feet at once in what had become a natural gait. He actually felt he was flying, seeing tree trunks blur past. Man, this was awesome. To be entirely free, not hobbled by being a biped, running as he’d been born to . . .
Now, Nick made some time, and spotted those golden antlers which must have been twenty points each. And he was as big as the Hind, his brown coat a few shades darker than the woodland creature before him. He felt something odd at his rear—a tail—swishing in rhythm as he gained ground on his prey.
“C’mon, Hind,” he yelled. “Let me catch you. I swear, I’ll let you go.”
The deer must not have trusted catch-and-release since it only increased its pace.
Oh boy, Nick thought, his legs loping as fast as the Hind’s in their now equal race.
“Sorry!” he shouted, using his two human arms to grab hold of those antlers. His back half gave him ballast since the hind toppled on contact.
The horse had run down the deer. It sounded like some kind of fable.
Nick threw his full weight on the Hind, making sure not to hurt it.
“It’s okay,” he told her.
The poor thing lay there panting, and, as Nick stroked her antlers, wondered how much they were worth. No, he resisted, shaking away the thought. Not only was it wrong, but Artemis never missed.
Nick waited to catch his breath since even horses got winded. Patting the Hind on the flank, he felt her smooth, short hair—the same as his own! Resting against that sweaty hide, he lifted his head and called: “Artemis, goddess of . . . stuff. Could you please come by? I want to give you your deer back.”
She popped in—along with that hunky guy.
“You have done well,” she said. “You may release her.”
Nick was only too glad to comply. The Golden Hind gave him a nuzzle before springing back to the woods.
“Your Labor is done
,” said Artemis. “This is number—?”
Nick counted on his fingers.
“Uh . . . four, well, I mean, three.”
Nick raised to his feet by doing this cool move where he tucked in his back legs first.
“Hey, you’re a horse,” said the hunk.
Nick felt annoyed.
“Centaur,” he said. “Notice the human front?”
“Same difference,” shrugged Orion. “Do you eat bread or oats?”
“I’m not really sure,” said Nick. “I’ve never been one before.”
“Oh.” Orion shuddered, his giant muscles rippling. “All you mythical beasts kind of give me the creeps.”
“And I’m not fond of giants. One threw me off of Olympus.”
“I’m not a giant,” said Orion. “I’m just tall and handsome. All sons of Poseidon are.”
“Oh no,” Nick breathed.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He turned to the white-robed goddess. “Um, may I be excused? I need to find my friend.”
“Of course,” said Artemis. “May your future Labors be as blessed as my aim.”
Nick bowed, prepared to leave, until he saw a guy—so attractive that he put Orion to shame—pop into the grove. He was clearly a god, and, from his expression, more than a little P.O.’d.
“Sister,” he yelled, floating over to Artemis. “Did I not command you to stay away from this Demi?”
His perfect arm pointed—right to Orion.
“But, Apollo—”Artemis protested.
“Virgins pray to you, which means you must be chaste. I will not have you despoiled by this lowly . . . half-caste.”
“Hey,” said Orion, reaching for his huge bow.
“No,” Artemis warned, stepping between the Demi and the god.
“My love,” Orion begged, taking a step toward her.
“Go,” she whispered, “or my brother will send you to Tartarus.”
This seemed to do the trick since Orion lowered his weapon. He strode over to Nick and proceeded to get on his back.
“Come on, Horsey,” he urged.
He grabbed hold of Nick’s now long hair and kicked him in the sides.
“Ow!” Nick yelled. “Take it easy.”
“Centaur,” said Orion, “if we do not flee, Apollo will punish us both. And his anger flares as fierce as the sun above.”
“I get it,” said Nick. “Now stop pulling my hair.”
Orion let go as Nick—strange as it was—galloped away from the gods. The siblings continued to quarrel as Nick headed back to camp.
“I have a name,” he told his huge rider. “It’s Nick.”
“Orion.”
“I know.” Nick flicked his tail. “Bro, how much do you weigh?”
“I do not have an ounce of fat.”
“But your muscles weigh a ton.” Nick tried to get used to the feel of having a rider. Now he knew why horses bucked when you first put a saddle on them.
“Hey,” he asked to distract himself from his back. “Why in the name of Zeus do you want to hook up with a goddess?”
Orion sighed.
“I can’t help myself. Did you not note her creamy skin? Her flawless curves? And when we hunt . . .” He practically swooned, “. . . I am nearly her equal. We are a perfect match.”
“Okay,” said Nick, “but can you go out with a god?”
“Of course,” Orion cried. “We could marry and be happy. It is only Apollo who insists that she remain pure.”
“Chill, bro,” Nick told him. “Look, I know what it is to love a . . . an unusual woman. Sometimes, it’s harsh, like when she turns stuff to stone. I guess we both have to deal.”
Orion sighed again.
“Yes. I would deal with anything just to hold my beloved Artemis.”
Guy, Nick thought, you just left her. Still, he didn’t want to add to his rider’s grief.
“Helen,” Nick called, slowing to a walk and surveying the forest. He could easily see the path where he’d raced the Golden Hind: there were eight sets of prints. But where had Helen gone?
“Nikólaos?” she called from behind a tree.
He switched to a brisk trot.
“Easy,” said Orion. “I feel like I’m at sea.”
“You should be used to that.”
Nick turned to Helen, who stared at him with wonder.
“I knew it!” she said, flinging her arms around him.
“Wish I had,” Nick said. He looked up at Orion. “Uh, horsey ride’s over. Please feel free to tip.”
Orion slid off, his legs nearly ground level anyway. He looked over Helen, his eyes taking in all of her.
“Hi,” he said sulkily.
“Hello,” she answered, and Nick thought he saw a blush. He fast-walked between them.
“Helen,” said Nick, “this is Orion, son of Poseidon. He was trying to get with Artemis, and Apollo didn’t like it. That’s why I was his Lyft.” He turned to Orion. “So,” he said, crossing his bare arms. “You’ll be going now?”
“Nick,” Helen said sharply. “Show some Greek courtesy. We must ask our guest to dine.”
“This guy’s gonna need more than a couple of birds.”
Orion threw back his head and laughed. The way the sun caught his dark hair almost made Nick swoon.
“I am the world’s greatest hunter,” he said, raising his bow. “You have only to wait and kindle a fire.”
With that, he stomped off.
“Great guy,” Nick told Helen. “Almost as humble as Herc.”
“I pity him,” she said.
“Why?”
“He cannot have the woman he wants.”
“Whomp, whomp,” said Nick, making the cartoon sound. “Maybe he should lower his aim. To someone who isn’t a goddess.”
“True,” said Helen, bending to gather some twigs. “But he cannot help his heart.”
“By the way,” Nick said, “I should tell you I did the Labor.”
“Ah,” said Helen, unsheathing his sword. “Look.”
A new red letter smoked, this one reading: “τ.”
“‘T-e-t,’” Nick recited. “Wasn’t he some kind of pharaoh?”
Helen shook her head.
“We won’t know the full meaning until you’re done with your Labors.”
“Yippee,” said Nick.
Then, he tried to sit, but that wasn’t working—not when your back half was horse. Nick lifted a foreleg.
“So,” he said. “You okay with this?”
“Of course,” she answered. “I find it rather . . . cool.”
“Really?”
“Yes. After all, you are Chiron’s son.”
“I’m also the son of Penelope, and she doesn’t have hooves.”
Helen laughed.
“Now we’re even,” she said. “You have four feet, and I have snakes for hair.”
“Hmm,” said Nick. “In some warped way, that makes sense.” He watched the fire rise. “What about Orion?” he asked. “You know who his father is.”
“”Can we blame him for that?”
“Of course not,” said Nick, swatting his tail to drive off flies. “But even if he’s a good guy, what if he’s on a mission? What if Poseidon sent him?”
“That could be,” said Helen, waving a hand to Orion, who came crashing back toward them, a deer slung over his shoulders. “But I think we should give him a chance.”
“I’ll be watching,” said Nick.
“Dinner!” Orion announced, dropping the deer and taking out a knife.
Nick turned, unable to watch.
“That was so easy,” said Orion, “it should be against the law. One shot from a stadium’s distance.” He patted his long wood bow. “If only there were a contest.”
“I’m sure you’d win,” said Nick. Orion was making him grumpy. “What else can you do? Turn water to wine?”
“Ha,” said Orion, “good one. But, as Poseidon’s son, I am able to walk on water.”
“Figures,” Nick mumbled.
“Let’s start with this,” said Orion, throwing Helen a steak. “Woman, time to prepare food!”
“How charming,” said Nick, his tail angrily slapping. Then, he no longer had a tail. His four legs collapsed, and, as he fell on the ground, he felt the absence of hooves. His hair became shorter, and, when it was over, he lay on the dirt full-length: totally human . . . and naked!
“There’s a lady here, friend,” growled Orion, throwing Nick his giant cloak.
“Thanks.”
Nick took the light linen and wrapped it around his body. His poor tunic must have ripped off when he’d changed.
“I can’t control this,” he said to Helen, helping her turn the spit. “Right now, it’s pretty cringey.”
“I can manage my snakes,” she said, “but I’ve been around forever. Give it time. You’ll get used to being mythical.”
“I hope so,” Nick sighed, breathing in the smell of venison. Even he had to admit that Orion was good for something.
After they’d all had their fill, Nick handed his shield to Helen.
“You know I hate to ask,” he said, “but what’s up next?”
Helen bent over the metal.
“Hmm . . . the Fourth Labor is slaying the Erymanthian Boar.”
“YES,” Orion crowed, raising a massive fist. “That is so perfect for me.”
“You can’t help,” Nick told him, “or it doesn’t count.”
“Nooo,” the Demi groaned, giving Helen a wink. “I could bag that boar with one shot.”
“So we’ve heard,” said Nick. “Can you do it while walking on water?”
A Triangle Squared
“So, when do we start?” Orion asked Nick the next morning.
Nick had just opened his eyes to find the hunter staring down at him. Great, Nick thought, on top of everything else, he’s a morning person.
“Well,” Nick yawned, “I guess now.”
There was plenty of leftover meat, so they all had a quick breakfast. Nick turned to Helen.
“Do you know,” he asked, “how we get to Ery-whatevs?”
Before she could respond, Orion did it for her.
“I happen to have a map,” he said, reaching into his robes to unfurl it.
“Of course,” Nick answered.
