Pitchfork

by Nicole Scarano

  “I have never heard of her,” Alkaios said.

  “Legend has it,” Hades started, “that Medusa was the most beautiful woman to walk the earth. Men were enamored with her, and it was said her hair was her crowning glory. Medusa, growing accustomed to men falling at her feet to grant her every wish, began to use her beauty for her own gain. She turned first to the most handsome, and once she had them eating out of her palm, she progressed upward to rich merchants. They were helpless against Medusa’ spells and gave all she desired, but her appetite was insatiable. She next fixed the leaders of her city in her sights, and when she grew bored with the limited authority they held, Medusa aimed higher. Her charm used and then discarded men, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts and emptied coin purses. Royal courts and the desires of princes’ were conquered, but it was still not enough, and so her desire lusted after the king. The unfortunate man was powerless to resist her seduction, his status bringing her joy. The most powerful figure in the land bowed to Medusa’s whim. She had risen to the heights of honor, but one fateful day the king prayed to the gods for aid. When Medusa saw the Olympians, her heart hardened toward the king. His mortal reign no longer satisfied her voracious hunger, and Olympus was to be her newest conquest. Her allure ensured all the gods clamored over themselves, turning on each other to capture her affection. Poseidon’s obsession ignited into a consuming flame. He fell deeply in love, pursuing her with ardent vigor, and for a time she was content to have him. But alas, Medusa’s greed would not allow her to settle for second best, and she harshly turned her back on him. Zeus became the object of her ambition, the ultimate prize. So cruel was her dismissal of Poseidon that his broken heart prohibited him to release her. He refused to be a pawn in this selfish rise to power, and so he hunted Medusa. Terrified for her life, she fled, but not a soul offered her sanctuary. She had jilted many men, caused too many to pass over their loved ones in favor of the great beauty for any woman to offer aid. Utterly abandoned in her desperation, Medusa sought refuge in a temple of Athena. She begged the goddess for salvation, but Athena was no fool. She had witnessed the games Medusa played, how her callous beauty served to fulfill her hunger, and Athena refused to help. Poseidon found her alone and unprotected in the sanctuary and unleashed his rage. He took her on the altar. When finished, Poseidon was so repulsed he discarded her without a backward glance. The desecration of her shrine sickened the god of warfare, driving Athena to unleash a horrid punishment on Medusa. Disgusted by how she drove men to insanity with beauty, Athena cursed her pride and joy, and Medusa’s glorious head of hair transformed into a mass of tiny snakes. Yet Athena’s torture was not complete, and she condemned the mortal woman with the sight of stone. No longer could Medusa gaze upon men and have them yearn to do her bidding, for now a single glimpse of her eyes would turn the viewer to stone. Unable to look at the once holy shrine, Athena sealed the temple. It had been desecrated, no longer a house of worship but an eternal prison damned to darkness and bitter solitude. Athena hid it from the world, allowing only men inside, never women, for she considered them to be the only innocents in this travesty. All who ventured within turned to statues, punishment for their foolish lust of a shallow and selfish woman, and those who venture to seek Medusa out have never returned.”

  “That is a story for children?” Alkaios asked incredulously when Hades finished speaking.

  “It serves to teach men not to shallowly love only beauty and women not to become vain.”

  “And the gods allow the spreading of this myth? It paints Poseidon in a cruel and foolish light.”

  “Both Athena and he deny its truth, but it spreads, never dying. Perhaps they permit it for its message, but one would think Poseidon would put an end to it. Yet here we are, telling it.”

  “This tale has been told for longer than you realize.” Charon interrupted the couple and pushed off from the wall.

  “How do you mean?” Hades shifted her weight to look at the ferryman.

  “The Titans, too, had a story about Medusa.”

  “How?” Alkaios asked. “Poseidon and Athena…”

  “... were not in our version,” Charon answered before Alkaios could finish. “We had a myth about a woman named Medusa long before Cronus and Rhea gave birth to their sons. It began similarly to Hades’ tale. Medusa, an unearthly beauty with hair of pure seduction, was vain and greedy, always searching for ways to remain young and beautiful. She used men’s lust to her advantage, spitting them out when they had served their purpose. This is where our tales differ, though,” Charon continued as one of his daughters loosed a small fuss from tiny lips. He strode to her cradle and lifted the blonde infant into his muscular arms. “Our legend tells that in Medusa’s search for infinite beauty she met a witch who promised to turn her into a sight to behold. She assured that one look from Medusa would freeze men where they stood. Too arrogant to question it, Medusa offered all she had for the magic, but the witch’s words were a curse, not a blessing; a punishment for her vanity and cruelty to those who had loved her blindly. True to her word, the witch turned Medusa into a great sight, one that froze men in their tracks. Her glorious hair transformed into snakes. A single glance from her eyes transformed flesh into stone. Horrified by the transformation, Medusa fled to the mountains never to be seen again, for all who sought her out never returned.”

  “How is it possible that two different generations of gods have two contrasting stories about the same woman?” Alkaios asked, looking from Charon to Hades.

  “I am not sure,” Charon answered as he returned his daughter to her cradle. “It seems unlikely that she would be merely a fantasy. The similarities are too coincidental. It is possible a real woman once existed that served as a muse for the legends.”

  “That still does not account for Poseidon,” Alkaios said. “Whether it is a simple fable or an exaggerated truth, I doubt the king of the seas would allow tales of his monstrosity to spread so salaciously.”

  “The only other possibility I can fathom, however unlikely and alarming, is that Medusa is not a legend but a truth,” Charon said, “a being of such cunning and power that even the gods have been fooled.”

  “What kind of person or creature would have the power to do that?” Keres asked, speaking for the first time since they had entered the boathouse. “Hades’ version of the story directly involves the gods. What god would allow the spread of that tale if it was not true?”

  “None I know,” Alkaios answered, his hand snatching Hades’ as she passed before him. Slipping a solid arm around her waist, he folded her into his side to calm her rapid pacing.

  “That is my point,” Keres said. “Both versions cannot be true, either one is and not the other, but then how did there come to be two interpretations? Are they both lies? But no god, especially Poseidon, would let those falsehoods spread.” There was urgency in her voice. “If Medusa is real and her stories true, then she has been changing the legend to fit her needs… who has the power to do that?”

  “Someone who wishes to remain hidden,” Charon answered, “and likely someone I would not wish to cross paths with. Whoever possesses the skill to fool generations of gods is a dangerous person.”

  “Could such an individual exist?” Alkaios asked incredulously.

  “This morning I would have said no, but what other woman of snakes is there besides Hydra?” Charon asked gesturing to Hydra. “What kind of woman requires two myths to hid behind? If Medusa is real, why does my tale differ from yours? Why the need for a new lie to protect herself?”

  “Is it possible that when the Olympians took power from the Titans she needed a different identity?” Hades asked.

  “That is a valid argument,” Charon said. “The Titans were dead, killed by their own children. Do you think these new gods would fear a creature cursed by a witch?”

  “No,” Hades said, pausing to consider, “but they would fear one cursed by the god of war.”

  “How do we find her?” Keres asked.

&n
bsp; “I do not know if we should,” answered Charon as he sat down beside Ioanna, who slipped her fingers into his large hand. Absentmindedly, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles as if it was second nature, an automatic reaction to her loving touch.

  “I may not have a choice,” Hades said, separating herself from Alkaios. “You know something has changed within me, and I have no answers. This is my only clue. My nightmares grow more vivid, and sometimes my mind cannot distinguish between what is real and what is madness. I cannot keep waking up lost in this fortress with no memory of how I got there or how to get back.”

  “If you must find her, we will help you,” Keres said. “But how?”

  Hades opened her mouth to answer, but only air and hope rushed out of her lungs. She had no answers. How does one find a myth?

  She dwelled in the darkness once again, the dim light casting only shadows on the carnage. Hades ran through the hallways, bare heels slick with warm blood. Her feet slid, but she had no time to falter. Her shoulder crashed into the wall, and using it as leverage, Hades propelled herself around the corner despite the shattering pain. The dark shadow loomed behind her growing ever closer, and Hades’ heart pounded in fear so intense, she was sure it would fail at any moment. Her chest ached, and lungs burned hot as she rounded the next corner, and Hades careened into a solid figure barring her way with a jarring impact. Her body ricocheted off the mass and slammed to the floor, and her skin convulsed in pain as the stone tore at her soft flesh.

  “Alkaios!” Hades screamed bolting up in bed, her arm flinging out to smack her husband’s face. Alkaios grunted and leapt up, weapon in hand, ready to protect his family. Kerberos, whose heads had been hanging off the mattress in slumber, jerked so violently he crashed to the floor, jaws cracking on the stone. His roar shook the walls, and Kerberos was on his feet in a flash, the growl in his throats strangled by a mass barreling into his ribs. The dog faltered, claws gouging the ground to steady himself as Chimera’s shoulder cracked his ribcage as he bolted into the room. Kerberos snarled at the lion, sinking his teeth into the monstrous cat’s fur, but Chimera’s retaliation was swift, a massive paw swiped across the god-killer’s snout. Three gouges blossomed crimson. Blood drops rained to the tiles, and rage simmered in Kerberos’ eyes as he prepared his vengeance.

  “Stop!” Hades bellowed, throwing herself between the beasts and shoving them violently apart, yet Kerberos snarled at her and lunged for Chimera. “I said stop!” Hades slammed a palm into his broad chest to force him to a halt. “Get back on the bed!” Kerberos obeyed with fangs bared, but Hades ignored his defiance and shoved his snout aside to angle the claw marks to her gaze. With a sigh, Hades released her dark power, and the tentacles of black smoke drifted from her fingers to delve beneath his hide. When the skin had knit together, she seized Chimera’s mane, healing the bite the dog had inflicted.

  “By the gods, Hades,” Alkaios breathed, leaning the pitchfork back against the wall. He sank to the mattress, hair mussed and tangled by sleep. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “I am sorry. Her hand reached and rested with comforting weight against his chiseled chest before her fingers lifted to calm his wayward curls.

  “Was it one of those dreams?” Alkaios took her palm from his hair and returned it to his chest. His heart beat strong beneath his skin, and Alkaios cradled her fist to the organ that thundered only for her. Hades nodded in response, and Alkaios pulled her into his arms. “It is not real,” he whispered soothingly into her dark locks. “I am though, so wake to me, for I love you.”

  “That’s just it,” Hades said, craning her neck to gaze into her husband’s eyes. “I think they might be real, and they are telling me where we can find her.”

  VI

  Keres’ back dropped hard to the earth, only to have Hydra plummet onto her stomach seconds later. The force choked the air from her lungs as the oppressive weight of another’s body bore crushingly on her internal organs. Hydra groaned and rolled off Keres’ chest, only for both of them to almost be crushed as Chimera collapsed on his side, a hair’s breadth from their heads. A cloud of dust catapulted about the lion’s heaving body, the dirt imprinted where he lay, and both women scrambled backward just as Kerberos landed with a vicious roar exactly where they had been lying. His massive claws dug gouges in the soil as he shook himself with angered disorientation.

  The air cracked, and Hades and Alkaios slammed into the ground with an echoing thud. They landed on their feet, but the impact of the crash jarred the bones in their spines together with grinding shock.

  “Alkaios?” Keres groaned as she stood, lungs struggling to recover their breath. “What was that?”

  “I did not do this,” Alkaios answered with confusion, the inky tentacles of smoke still writhing about his frame. “Something is blocking our movement further up the mountain.”

  Hades tentatively reached her hand out in front of her and brushed her fingers through the empty air, and when nothing resisted her, she stepped forward. She paused for a moment and waited for ill will to befall her, but whatever had barred their way, no longer resisted her.

  “But it seems we can walk,” Hades said as she took another step. “The mountain blocks our movement as gods. We cannot travel directly to the top like we planned, but we can continue on foot.” She carefully placed one toe in front of the other.

  “If we cannot use our power to pass this point, that explains why the gods have never accidentally stumbled upon her temple,” Alkaios said, following his wife.

  “Why is our entrance blocked when we travel as gods, but we are allowed passage if we walk?” Keres asked, hesitantly stepping forward.

  “I believe whatever protects this mountain wants us to ascend on foot as mortals,” Hades called over her shoulder as she pulled herself up a jagged rock. “A secret this well-kept would be virtually impossible to find.”

  “Why does it want us to travel on foot?” Hydra asked as she began her climb after Keres, the massive beasts following on their heels.

  “Because it is a trap,” Hades said, “forcing all who come in search to walk into it on equal ground, and I guarantee you, whoever is lying in wait for us already knows we are here.”

  The group followed Hades up the mountain which offered no resistance other than the treacherous and grueling climb. Sweat dripped down Hades’ skin as her fingers clung to sharp and serrated rocks. Her arms shook with fatigue, yet she continued to haul herself with agonizing effort up the perilous cliff face, eyes ever searching for both handholds within the stone’s crevasses and traps bent on ill will. Kerberos and Chimera shadowed their mother’s heels, their brute force shoving Hades’ body over the jagged edges when her limbs faltered. Keres and Hydra climbed behind the beasts using their tails as ropes, while Alkaios brought up the rear, wielding the pitchfork as a climbing axe, burrowing it deep into the rock’s fissures for leverage. Every pebble their feet dislodged, each whisper of the wind, spiked panic in Alkaios’ thundering heart. With every inch gained, he expected an assault to rain down on their heads, yet the eerie stillness held.

  The sun rose high into the sky, beating down on them as they climbed, but the farther they ascended the cooler the air blew. Hades, dirt streaked through her sweat, thanked the heavens for the breeze, for the sun refused to relent. It strode across the sky with punishing cruelty, offering the travelers no aid save to tell them that time had swiftly passed. It was not until the sun was at its zenith, the pilgrims having struggled for hours, that Hades finally hauled herself over the final ledge. She crawled over the level ground with weak limbs as they fought to bear her exhausted weight. Her lungs screamed with grueling fire as they sucked in the cool mountain air, and the earth rumbled beside her with the impact of the collapsing god-killers. Hades shifted and watched Kerberos hoard breath with three snouts while Chimera’s ribs shook in relief. With dirt-crusted fingers, she reached out and smoothed the lion’s mane, and Kerberos offered her one of his heads to heave her to her fee
t.

  A woman’s hand flung over the edge, clawing at the grass for purchase, and Hydra heaved herself to safety. Her body rolled across the ground where she lay panting, refusing to stand. She closed her eyelids to shield her irises from the sun and was oblivious to the fact that Hades stood frozen above her, eyes transfixed on the distance. The queen’s gaze was not lost on Keres, though, as she struggled to conquer the mountain. Her eyes traveled to where Hades looked but saw nothing, for the moment Keres glanced up, her foot slipped from its precarious hold. Her fingers tore from their grip, and her chest scraped over razor-sharp rocks. Her heart halted its beating in panic. Keres frantically clawed for any crevasse to save herself upon, but her nails only ripped from their anchored beds. The image of her shattered body dashed against the boulders below flickered through her thoughts. Keres plummeted earthward, destined for an anguished end, except Alkaios’ unearthly speed launched himself forward.

  “Keres!” he grunted as her back slammed into his chest. He gritted his teeth, holding the pitchfork with sweating palms, and heaved forward. “I got you.” A steadying arm wrapped around her waist. Alkaios could feel her shaking beneath his touch, and for a moment Keres did not move, only leaned against his broad mass in panic. “Are you all right?” he asked, straining his already fatigued body to hold her up.

  “Thank you,” Keres exhaled and slowly extended her arms back toward the ledge above. Alkaios shoved her with all his strength, and together they vaulted over the edge and landed with a thud on the grass. Keres sputtered on the ground, but Alkaios forwent rest and dragged himself up to stand beside his rigid wife.

  “What is it?” Alkaios asked, sensing Hades’ wariness, but her silence was his only answer.

  “By the gods,” Keres gasped. Her mouth fell open as she pushed herself to a seat. “She is real.”