Echoes of Olympus (The Atheniad Book 1)

by Darrin Drader

  Whatever the case, she would do this for the goddess, and then the curse would be broken at long last. It was just a matter of time now. The only question that remained was how to make herself transform into the Medusa. The one time she had done it before hadn’t been intentional. Perhaps the goddess would interfere directly and force the transformation. If not that, then perhaps she would become aware of some way to cause the change herself. In either case, she was where she was meant to be. That matter at least was settled.

  Heliodas was making no headway in finding his way out of the labyrinth. An hour before, he had passed the fully decayed bones of what looked like they might have once belonged to a puma. He now stood above those same bones again. He sighed in frustration, then looked up at the walls. Perhaps he could go over the top…

  Finding the handholds on the walls was easy. What was not easy was keeping his grip while finding more suitable hand and footholds. Rock climbing was not a skill he had ever attempted to learn. He managed to climb a couple feet up the wall, but he soon slipped and landed back on the ground. He tried several more times and even decided to remove his cuirass, but to no avail. He realized that going over the walls was not an option for him, and he was beginning to doubt that he’d be able to navigate his way through the maze either.

  He continued walking, but panic was starting to set in. The deaths of all of the Athenians would fall squarely on his shoulders since he was the one who had escorted Thermiandra here. If the people of the polis ever learned the truth about his role in the tragedy, they wouldn’t be satisfied until they had his blood. But his life would be the least of the tragedies. The real loss would be that of his uncle, Demosthenes, as well as all of the priestesses of Athena and noteworthy orators who would be seated outside the temple during the procession.

  Heliodas wandered for another half an hour and passed the animal bones again. He was getting no closer to an escape, and lives hung in the balance. Never had he felt more powerless. There remained only one thing left to do.

  Throughout his entire life, Heliodas had been told that he was the son of Zeus. He had been treated differently because of the mark on his shoulder and the story his mother told about his parentage. While he had loved his mother as much as any son could, he never truly believed that there was any truth to it. Given the tragic consequences his mother had met after trying to make her life meaningful following her encounter with Zeus, he had become bitter, leading him to reject his father, a parentage many others accepted without question.

  He hadn’t wanted the special attention given to him, nor did he want to try to live up to everybody’s expectations. If he was the son of Zeus, he would surely accomplish great things, they had told him. But aside from healing from minor scrapes and bruises faster than others, he’d always felt completely normal. And on the topic of healing, he had known other people who healed just as fast. Surely they weren’t all the sons of Zeus.

  And then there was the mark of the bull on his shoulder. Most who saw that accepted it as proof of his divine conception. As a child, it had reminded him of the expectations people placed on him. After his mother’s suicide, it had reminded him of her, and the fact that he would never be with her again. If it was true that the mark was caused by Zeus, then it was also true that the god had been at least partially responsible for bringing about her death.

  And yet, regardless of this, he knew that the reality of the situation was that his rejection was meaningless and that the father of the gods had also fathered him. He knew that he had always accepted it on some level, even if he had tried to deny it. Regardless of how he felt about it, he could no more change the fact than he could will a change in his hair color, or make himself taller, or more successful with the women. It was who he was.

  The prayer did not come easy to his lips.

  “Zeus… Father,” he started. He couldn’t think of the next words to say.

  “I know that I’ve never been the best son. I know, I’ve never even acknowledged you as my father. I’m sorry. This is hard for me. I’ve never turned to you for help.

  “Father, people are going to die… good people, and all because of a curse that should have never occurred. It was unjust then, and the injustice is about to become tenfold. I can’t allow this tragedy to occur, and I have a hard time believing that you’re so uncaring that you would either.”

  The words were beginning to come easier to him now, though he wondered whether Zeus was listening. “Father, I am here and the polis is in peril because of me. I played a role in bringing us to this point because of my love for Thermiandra. I can’t explain the vision she had, nor can I explain how she found me on that battlefield. What I do know is that I wanted to believe what she told me. I wanted to go where she led. I was in love.

  “Zeus, I’ve never accepted you as my father. I held you responsible for my mother’s death. Despite this, the one thing I do believe in is love. If you truly loved my mother, then I can understand what you did.

  “The truth is that though Thermiandra is descended from one of the most hideous monsters, she is also a woman, and she deserves better than the circumstances she was born into.

  “Father, I need to prevent what is to happen. I need to find my way out of here. I’ve tried to do it on my own, but I’m hopelessly lost. I lack the time to find my way out and stop this from happening, and I lack the ability to climb the walls. All that’s left is guidance… from you. Please help.”

  Heliodas decided that he’d said enough. His fate, Thermiandra’s, and many of the citizens of Athens were now in Zeus’ hands. He leaned back against the wall and waited. Would Zeus appear to him? Would he speak? Was it reasonable for him to expect the father of the gods to do anything at all to help him? He wasn’t certain. What he did know was that if there was ever a time for Zeus to make his presence known to him, this was it.

  A few minutes passed and nothing happened. “I suppose that it was worth a try,” he muttered. There was only one way out for him, and that was to keep trying to find the way out.

  He walked down past the second intersection and took a right. He followed that until he came to another intersection. He took a left and followed the next corridor. He continued onward, taking one turn after another, following the curved route, changing course at various intersections along the way.

  After a while, Heliodas realized that he had not come to a dead end since he’d resumed his efforts. He rounded a few more corners, and then he saw something on the ground a few feet ahead. He recognized it immediately as one of Thermiandra’s sandals. She had been through here!

  He picked up the sandal, then continued forward, went around a corner, and found her other sandal. It was on the opposite side of the same wall where he had found her first one. He picked that up as well, and continued forward. He was beginning to hold out some hope that he would find an escape from this place.

  Thermiandra looked up amid the people lost in prayer and saw that she was finally nearing the temple. Anxiety was eating away at her stomach as she realized that there were some parts of this task that she had not considered, such as her escape. If she actually transformed into the Medusa as she was supposed to, how would the Athenians react to her after her appearance returned to normal? How would they feel about the senseless deaths of so many people who were their friends, neighbors, and family? Just because a god willed the deaths of so many people, did that make this the correct thing to do?

  It no longer mattered. She had traveled a great distance to be here. Whatever the outcome, her curse would end here, today.

  In the distance she could see the priestesses of Athena lined up before the pillars at the great temple. She’d heard so much about this place throughout her life, and from what she could see, it was all true. The Parthenon was only the largest temple amidst a cluster of them atop the Acropolis. The great building was supported by numerous massive marble pillars. The triangular pediment at the front of the structure was adorned with a relief sculpture that she couldn
’t quite make out from her position. She saw that some of the pillars along the structure’s sides were statues. The size and magnificence of the Parthenon were breathtaking, and she was overcome with its beauty.

  Near the entrance was the statue of Athena Nike. The sculpture was known throughout Greece for its beauty. Athena’s likeness had been carved from marble. Her peplos was crafted of gold. She wore an ornamental helmet, and in her left hand, she held a golden shield and spear, both of which were also crafted from gold. In her right outstretched hand was a tiny statuette of a winged Nike.

  Suddenly Thermiandra could feel the same sense of power building in her head and behind her eyes. This was a much more subtle feeling than what she’d felt that day atop the temple of Apollo. The buildup was slower. It was not the sudden rush of power that she’d felt before, but she could tell that her transformation was imminent.

  Heliodas saw the end of the walkway and the open landscape beyond. He broke into a run. It had to be mid-morning, which meant that the Procession would be well underway by now, assuming that Thermiandra had not brought tragedy already.

  In little time he arrived at the main gates of the polis, which were closed. He squinted against the sunlight and saw a pair of guards that he’d once served with. “Damasos, Eselus, open the gates!”

  “Who are you?” came a voice from the wall above.

  “It’s Heliodas! I need in at once. It’s an emergency!”

  “Ah, Heliodas,” came Eselus’ voice. “Right away!”

  He heard the sound of the chain lifting the main gate, and the way in was suddenly open. “Thank you!” he called as he sprinted through.

  In the distance he could see the Acropolis and the Parthenon. The procession appeared to be moving as normal. Perhaps it was not yet too late. Though he had been running for several minutes and his breath was coming in gasps as he sprinted, he continued onward. Thermiandra would be at the front of the line soon.

  The pressure within her head was building, and the line ahead was becoming short indeed. The attendants were clear to see now. The priestesses were all garbed in brilliant white peploi, and behind them sat rows of the polis orators. Most of the latter group was older, with stooped postures and graying hair. Most of them appeared to be bored by the proceedings.

  As she watched, the people lined up in front of her made their offerings, and the priestesses accepted them with grace and brought the items into the temple. They did this one at a time, which, Thermiandra mused, was probably why this line was taking so long. Her head buzzed with the buildup of power now, and she wanted nothing more than to release it. But she found a way to hold the energy within her a little longer. It would be soon now.

  The line was growing shorter, and the woman directly in front of her offered a plate full of berries. The priestess, a rather plain looking woman with long dark hair shot with silver, accepted the offering and drew a mark on her hand with charcoal. The woman kissed the mark, and then circled around to leave the Acropolis.

  “Athena bless you,” said the priestess as she took the plate from Thermiandra. At that moment, she could no longer contain the power within herself.

  Heliodas pushed his way through the line, trying his best to maintain forward momentum despite the press of people. Thankfully, most people at this event were well mannered, and were not taking offense to his disruption.

  He could see Thermiandra up ahead, and she was about to give her offering to Athena. This was no time to delay! He pushed the people ahead out of the way, relying on his size and weight to muscle past them. A few of the people he ran into fell to the ground and turned to look at him with angry expressions. “Sorry!” he yelled as he continued forward.

  Heliodas looked, and he could see his uncle sitting with the others behind the pillars. He also saw that the priestess accepting the offering was his mother’s childhood friend, Ophene.

  He had not yet caught up, but he was close enough to be heard. He inhaled deeply and then screamed as loud as he could, “Shut your eyes! She’s a Medusa! Do not look at her!”

  Heliodas saw instant unrest amidst the people, and he suddenly saw snakes emerge from Thermiandra’s head. She had been telling the truth. “Close your eyes! Do not look at her,” he called out as loud as he could. “If you look into her eyes, you’ll die!”

  Thermiandra turned her head to look at him, and Heliodas closed his eyes. “Don’t look at her!” he called again.

  Suddenly there was a new voice that drowned out the crowd, as well as his own voice. It sounded almost musical and beautiful, and yet it was also angry and accusing.

  “How is it that you dare to interfere with the plans of the gods, mortal?”

  Heliodas knew without looking that it was the voice of Athena. He opened his eyes and was pleased to see that Thermiandra again looked like herself. However, the statue of Athena that he had seen so many times at the temple had moved and was suddenly staring directly at him. “Speak!” she demanded.

  Chapter 21

  Athena

  Why do you not speak and explain yourself?” Heliodas asked as he boldly stepped toward the suddenly animated statue. The crowd grew silent and even the priestesses of Athena took several steps back from their goddess. “Why don’t you explain why the wise Athena would transform her most devout priestess into a monster that turns people to stone - her only transgression being raped? How could you allow this curse to continue for generations, and then send her distant descendent against the people of Athens?”

  “Petulant mortal…” Athena started to say, fury in her voice.

  “No, I’m not merely a mortal. I’m the son of Zeus, no different than you. Now explain to us why the gods need to use mortals as pawns. Do you not possess any power of your own?” Heliodas knew that he was pushing his luck, but he also knew that he wasn’t going to achieve the resolution he sought without being bold.

  “Heliodas, even you should realize the folly of offending a god,” Athena retorted, her marble features forming a frown.

  “Why would that bother me?” he asked. “I’ve been doing the same thing to Zeus my entire life. And then you decided to include me in your plan to punish Athens. Does anybody even know why you want to punish Athens, or why you and the other gods grew silent? Maybe you need to explain yourself!” Heliodas shouted.

  “Blasphemy!” came a voice from one of the noteworthy orators seated at the Parthenon. Heliodas looked back to see that it was the gaunt Diophrastus who had spoken. Thankfully the rest of the people of Athens were still too shocked at seeing their god made manifest before them.

  Heliodas walked to Athena, standing a mere foot from her marble form. “I’ll repeat myself. Explain what this is about!”

  “You are a brave mortal,” Athena said. “I punish Athens because of its failure to live up to its own potential. It has been a bitter disappointment for over a hundred years. It has become weak and in its current state, it will never survive the onslaught from the sons of Romulus and Remus.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Heliodas said, raising his voice so that everyone in attendance could hear. Heliodas looked to Thermiandra and saw that tears spilled from her eyes; she was overcome with emotion, or perhaps disappointed in her failure... “Are you saying that Athens should be at war?”

  “No,” Athena replied. “I instructed Athens to go to war with Sparta just over a hundred years ago. It was to be a difficult war, but ultimately Athens would have united Greece under its rule. Only then would they have been powerful enough to stand up to the many challenges that threaten to end this beautiful place.”

  “So this goes back to Pericles?” Heliodas asked. “You’re still angry because the General of Athens decided not to start a war with Sparta - before anybody here was born? Have you no sense of time on a mortal scale? Do you not understand that Pericles debated that war and the polis chose not to do it because they knew it would be too costly and could result in the ruin of Athens?”

  “It was folly,” Athena said sim
ply.

  “We all know that the gods don’t like it when mortals don’t do what you want them to do,” Heliodas said. “You become upset and throw tantrums, and get masses of people killed.”

  Athena was silent for a moment and Heliodas could see her eyes shift to a simmering ember. “Our behavior is above reproach. I will not debate this. Now tell me what it is you seek, Heliodas!”

  “Rather than punish us for something we did not do, give us a way forward. Tell us how to keep from falling to our enemies, as you claim will happen.”

  “You ask much!” Athena replied. “Even now, the powers to the north are growing more powerful, thanks in part to your efforts, as are the upstart empire builders to the west. One day my beloved Greece will need to stand against them. You must become strong again!”

  “Then give us a goal… something to work toward,” Heliodas said.

  Athena said nothing. The embers faded from her eyes and she once again assumed a more serene disposition. “There is a way forward, and you must play a role, Heliodas. Athens needs a champion. It needs a transformative figure who will unite it in a singular sense of purpose. It must be a warrior of some accomplishment, who will help it do more than build beautiful statues in my honor, someone who will be there to help it resist the coming calamities.”

  “What would you have me do?” he asked.

  “I would have you find the adamantine sword given to your half brother, Perseus, by Father Zeus, the very one used to slay the Medusa. If you can achieve this, you will return to Athens in victory, and you will become the champion that Athens needs. This I decree.”