by Alyson Belle
But I couldn’t back down now. Not if I wanted to be one of those stories. I had to at least try, or else all would say that I was a drunken, empty boaster. Rubbing my palms together, I headed towards a supportive-looking ledge and began to climb.
I climbed for what felt like hours. My muscles strained, and my breath came in controlled sets as I rose. Sweat started to bead on my broad back and rolled down my spine into my loincloth. And yet, as uncomfortable as I was, I was also exhilarated. The physical exertion made me feel so alive, powerful, and unstoppable.
I loved it, so I didn’t slow. It was as though I was driven by a supernatural force, aided by something deep inside myself that pushed me beyond what a mortal should be able to do. I kept on, rising higher and higher, never stopping until finally, my fingers clasped around a smooth, alabaster edge. I was so surprised I nearly let go, but my instincts kicked in just in time to save me from plummeting to my doom, and I hauled myself up onto a cold, polished marble floor and rolled onto my back.
I laid there a moment, breathing hard, and finally allowed myself to rest. The sweat cooled on my skin as the starry night sky yawned above me, so much closer than when I had been back on the ground. It was breathtaking—both the vista, and the fact that I was actually here. I could hardly believe that my drunken, prideful stunt had actually pushed me to ascend to the home of the gods. Had I really made it all this way in just a few hours? That was impossible, right? If it was so easy to get into Olympus, then why weren’t more mortals doing it?
Perhaps it was mostly just the fear of the gods, who most assumed to be so powerful. But I knew better, and I was going to prove it. I couldn’t wait to go home and tell the whole town that they were all just pitiful, drunken slobs. To do that, I would have to get the crown first.
I forced myself up and onto my feet, gathering myself. Taking a look around, I drank in all the details of Olympus.
It was a beautiful place, with the starlight being that much brighter up in the clouds. Everything was gold, green and shining marble or alabaster. There was so much wealth and grandeur inscribed into everything. I imagined that I could steal one of the golden sconces attached to the gate looming in front of me; it would probably feed the entire town for a month. But it was best to focus on what I had come here for and not get distracted. There were many things I could steal, but only one I wanted to at the moment.
I headed up to the golden bars and managed to squeeze through. Whatever the barrier was there for, I didn’t think it was meant to block humans. I remembered somewhere in the back of my head that the gods had once been at war with the Titans and several other species, so I wondered if this was a remembrance to their heyday.
I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t care. All I knew was it was a laughable line of defense, and it wasn’t going to stop me. I had a job to do.
I crept among massive, sprawling houses of the grand golden city that were each something between a temple and a palace, with their sweeping arches and ornate, fluted columns. Even in the starlit darkness, the homes of the Olympians dripped with opulence. The gods certainly did live in the lap of luxury. If I had the same life, maybe I would have been just as complacent as they.
But instead, I had been born as an orphan, my mother struggling to raise me until she succumbed to a fever when I was somewhere around three summers. I struggled for a half year on my own, ducking those would hurt me, digging for scraps. I knew hunger more than I knew myself. My belly always rumbled with dissatisfaction as it ate itself.
I was lucky that I had run into Mal slightly after, whose family was more well-off, and he took pity on the poor, starving boy with a twinkle in his eye and took me home with him. If we hadn’t met, I probably would not have survived through the next winter.
But the gods didn’t know what any of that was like. They didn’t know about suffering or hunger or pain like I did, and that was why I would best them.
Finally, I reached the most magnificent structure I had ever seen. It had to be the hall of the gods, where Zeus’s home and Hera’s garden lay.
I crept even more slowly, willing my heart not to beat so hard in my chest. Even though I was confident in my success, that didn’t mean I needed to be foolish and rush it. I needed to be careful if I wanted to win my boon.
I found an open window in one of the walls, darker than the ones closer to the main entrance. I headed for it, hauling my considerable size in through the space.
If I thought the outside of Olympus was fine, it had nothing on the inside of Zeus’s palace. Everywhere I looked was an awe-inspiring tapestry or artesian vase or brilliant sculpture. Gold and gems covered everything, dazzling me with their opulence.
Why did they need all of this finery? What was it for, and what was the point? They didn’t pay taxes or worry about wealth. It was selfish, point blank. I couldn’t wait to take that crown from them to teach them a lesson.
I started to move through the room and then the hall, trying not to be distracted by all the wealth and finery. But it was hard. My hands itched to nick something that would help out the local orphanage or one of the stable girls who I knew was struggling to take care of her ailing parents or to repay Mal’s family for a lifetime of generosity. But I kept my hands at my sides and kept going.
Finally, I saw a large entrance opening up in the dimness up ahead, and I smelled the sweetness of hyacinth wafting on the air. I had found the garden.
My footsteps picked up in speed, and I moved through the greenery. The place was supposed to be a massive maze, with plants fusing together to make beautiful, breathtaking walls, but I wasn’t worried. I knew how to beat something like this.
Marking the floor where I stood, I touched my hand to the closest wall and started walking. It certainly wasn’t the fastest route, but it would assure that I didn’t get lost.
Every so often I would mark the ground, an emergency measure just in case I happened to be touching an island wall. But as the minutes passed, I didn’t cross any of my previous marks.
It became easier and easier to see as the sun rose, and I glanced up to see that the ceiling was comprised entirely of glass or some other transparent substance. Whatever it was, it sparkled like a gemstone and sent fractals of rainbow light gently splaying out over the enchanting gardens.
I was running out of time.
Still, I kept at it, unwilling to turn tail and run considering how far I had come. My blood was rushing through my body, and I could hardly hear anything over the thumping of my own heart. I was so close, I could feel it. I just needed to—
The walls around me faded, and I found myself in the most beautiful collection of flowers I had ever seen. Some were bright and wide, some were more subtle in their joyous arrangement, but all of them spoke of tender care and beauty. It was utterly peaceful, a place of true beauty, and for a brief moment, I wasn’t so angry about the gods if this was the kind of wonder they could inspire with their works.
But then my eyes landed on the pedestal in the center where the fabled crown of oak leaves sat—the very thing I had been sent to steal. It was every bit as magnificent as people said it was, and if I was truly going to take it, it was now or never. My wonder faded away in the face of my grim determination to complete my mission, and I glanced around, looking for any traps or guards that might stop me. But the gods were careless in their arrogance, and I couldn’t see anything that might impede me. I took a deep breath and rushed forward.
One moment I had been standing there, without anything, the next I was holding one of the crowns of the very king of the gods. My head spun with visions of the accolades the bards and poets would lay upon me. People across the world would know my name. Great men would fear me as the trickster who outwitted the gods themselves. I allowed myself a triumphant shout, like an idiot, before realizing that I needed to get out of there fast.
I clutched the crown tightly in my fist and sped back the way I had come, using my marks on the ground to guide me through the maze. Bits of morning noise drifted over the ga
rden as I raced, signs that Olympus was coming to life to greet the sun. I knew I needed to hurry and urged myself along even faster. The last thing I wanted to do was run into a god while I had the very crown of Zeus in my hands. It would be quite hard to explain that one away with some fast talking.
I raced through the streets as quietly as I could, sticking to what few shadows there were left as well as I could. I had been anxious on the way in, but that was nothing compared to how I felt as I tried to sneak out. I thought my heart might leap right out of my chest and off the edge of Olympus before the rest of my body could.
Somehow, I made it to the edge with none of the Olympians any the wiser, and I quickly started clambering down with the crown looped around my arm like an oversized bracelet. I could hardly believe my wild luck. I was going to make it! I had actually done it! I had snuck into Olympus like it was nothing and showed the gods just how stupi—
I saw the distant flash from the corner of my eye before I heard the peal of thunder, and then my nose flooded with the smell of something burning, as if someone had poured old eggs into a fire. I was suddenly engulfed in pain.
I tried to scream, but my entire body tensed like a too-tight harp string and nothing but a whimper escaped my lips. My mind scrambled to understand what happened, but it could only interpret needles and pokers. The pain was overwhelming.
It felt like I had been chucked into the heart of a roaring fire and my whole body was burning up. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t blink. I was vaguely aware that I was falling, cascading through the open air as the mountain winds rushed around me, but the sensation barely registered.
Then, just as quickly as the pain had arrived, it started to fade away, leaving only cold emptiness behind it. What was happening to me? It was all occurring so quickly. Had I hit the earth? What had burned me so badly?
I didn’t have time to think about it, and I felt like I was losing touch with my own body as my scrambled senses leaked away from me like ale from an overturned mug. My vision was the last thing to fade, scattering into darkness, and I sank further into myself as I floated in the void. Only belatedly, I realized I was dying. So much for the legend of Lukas the Great.
It seemed that Zeus had caught me after all.
***
I awoke slowly, like my body was trying to keep me under longer so it wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of being struck down by Zeus’s lightning. If I had somehow survived that and a free-fall from Mount Olympus, my broken body would be in a world of hurt as soon as the shock wore off. I braced myself for the searing pain that was sure to arrive any moment. But as my eyes cracked open and more bodily sensation began to return to me, I realized that I wasn’t in pain at all anymore.
…that certainly wasn’t right.
I found myself lying inside of a dark cave that seemed larger than our entire town. I craned my neck to see that I was on an umber expanse of craggy ground, with a massive, green river that spanned and looped as far as the eye could see in either direction.
Inwardly, I groaned. There was only one possibility. That had to be the fabled river Styx, which meant that my story really had come to an end.
“Please, Charon,” a seductive, melodic voice said. “We both know that you don’t want to argue with me on this.”
I rolled over to see who had spoken. The first thing that I noticed was a line of people. All of them looked somewhat haggard, but in other ways they differed. Some wore finery; others wore rags. Some were crying; some seemed quite pleased. There were old and young, men and women, and people of all races. That was when I knew I was watching the dead waiting to give their coin to Charon to pass across the River Styx.
A sour feeling of dread rose up in my stomach. How was I to pay him? I had no coin, and I knew the unpleasant fate awaiting the poor, soon-to-be-drowned souls who tried to cross into the underworld without his help.
Beyond the crowd, at the river’s edge, was a tall, robed figure standing in a boat with a push-pole casually held in the crook of his arm. This could be no other but Charon himself, and the line of people stood waiting and watching as he argued with a breathtakingly gorgeous woman in a diaphanous gossamer gown—evidently the one who had spoken a moment before.
“It is done,” Charon replied with a note of grim finality. “This is not your domain, child of Zeus, and it is not for you to twist fate.”
Child of Zeus? What in Hades is he talking about? I wondered.
“Oh, don’t go on about tradition and all that. He’s far too pretty just to be thrown down here. Besides, he made it into Olympus, stole the blasted crown, and almost made it back down to the ground. Surely that’s worth something!”
My breath left my body as I suddenly realized just who the lovely speaker was.
She stood at an average height for a woman, but that was the only thing that could be considered average about her. She had long, beautiful auburn hair that flowed gently as though rustled by a nonexistent wind, and fierce eyes that were deep and blue like the open, inviting sea. Her hips were wide and rounded, the perfect picture of fertility. Her middle was taut and firm, with a small waist. Even her breasts, barely covered with the sheer gossamer of her gown, were full and smooth with pert nipples tenting from under the cloth ever so slightly. I the felt the fire of arousal stir in my loins, and I knew exactly why.
Aphrodite, the goddess of fertility, beauty incarnate, and Daughter of Zeus. She was the one goddess who was truly honest about her love of parties, love and pretty things, so I had never resented her like I did the other gods that demanded to be worshiped.
Was… was she talking about me? I puffed my chest out a bit knowing that very goddess of beauty considered me to be attractive. I’d always known I was, but it was nice to get a little extra recognition for it, and from such a trustworthy source to boot. I wouldn’t have said pretty—more like roguishly handsome, but I knew how to take a compliment. Not only that, but she’d seen and been impressed by the deed I’d pulled off! Or nearly pulled off, anyway…
“I cannot—”
“Come, Charon,” she pleaded sweetly. “Do it for me? I’m the only one who visits you down here in this dreary place. I’ll bring you more flowers the next time I come down. We can go for a ride out on your boat.”
I could sense a deep hesitance from the dark ferryman. While he was fearsome with his black, tattered robes that shifted like smoke, it seemed that he was not cruel or evil. He simply had a job, and the beautiful goddess was interfering with it.
“Zeus will not be happy about it. He will strike him down again. Then, you and I will be in trouble.”
Aphrodite's voice was smooth as silk as she said, “Don’t worry about my father. I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with him.”
“…I suppose you must have.” He let out a deep sigh, evidently defeated. “Very well. You know I can’t say no to you, child.”
“Ah! Thank you!” She let out a squeal that was most unbecoming of a goddess and threw her arms around the much bigger being. He visibly stiffened, before relaxing slightly. “Hurry. The longer he stays, the harder it will be for him to leave.”
“Of course, Charon. You’re a real gem, as usual.”
And then she was padding over to me. I watched her, stock still, as she bent down and offered me her hand. “Hello there, brave little mortal. Let’s get you back home, shall we?”
I reached up, a bit in shock from everything that had happened, and she gently pulled me to my feet. We took a few steps over the dark, barren ground before the world of the dead winked out, and I suddenly found that we were walking in a familiar forest near my home.
I blinked several times at the sudden change of scenery, quite confused and still in shock at all that had transpired in the last few moments. “Are we back?” I whispered. “Am I… back?”
“Yes, back to your lovely little town. I’ve always liked this place; your people are quite respectful. Except for you yourself that is.” Her blue eyes sparkled at me like she was
amused rather than insulted. “Fortunately for you, I admire someone with a bit of daring irreverence. And as I told Charon, you’re such a pretty boy… I do hate to let that go to waste.”
My cheeks grew hot at the compliment, and again I felt like pretty was perhaps not the right word to apply to the brave hero who had scaled Olympus and stolen Zeus’s crown, but I wasn’t about to argue with a goddess who had just rescued me from certain doom.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to hide you if we don’t want all my efforts to go to waste,” she continued. “Charon is a stubborn one, so I’m surprised he gave with so little nattering. But he’s not wrong about my father punishing us both if he discovers my little intervention. Zeus doesn’t share my same sense of humor when it comes to insults.”
“Hide me?” I repeated slowly. I could barely keep up with all of this. I was still reeling from the chain of completely improbable events that had begun just hours before. I had snuck into Olympus, almost escaped, was struck by lightning, killed, sent to the River Styx at the entrance of the underworld, had been saved by Aphrodite, and whisked back home by the goddess herself. That was an awful lot to process.
“Yes, hold on. It’ll only take a minute.” She closed her eyes as if deep in thought and waved a hand in my direction.
Before I could ask what she was doing, a bright, warmly pink light enveloped me, and once more my body was awash with all sorts of sensations that didn’t make sense. It felt like I had become a sort of clay, malleable and moldable as invisible forces pushed me this way and that. Parts of me weakened while others strengthened, and a willowy disconnectedness filled me.
I couldn’t say how long it lasted, with my breath fluttering, my body in flux, and my eyes utterly blinded. But when the light diminished, I suddenly found myself on my hands and knees on the ground, gasping for air after my tumultuous experience.
I blinked away my daze, waiting as my vision came back to me in bits. The first thing I noticed was that my hands looked quite strange. Maybe it was the bleariness of my eyes, but my skin looked paler, and I grimaced to see that all of my hard-earned scars were now missing. I had burned myself against a rock at a fire when I was a child, and once I had stopped myself from being stabbed by taking a knife through the palm. But those were both gone, along with my many other nicks and scrapes from battles that had dotted my strong, masculine hands, leaving me now with flawless, tapered fingers and delicate nails in their place.