by Zachary Howe
“My first task?” he asked, confused again. “What do you mean?” Hades gave him a startled look, the first time Gordie had seen him surprised—he was starting to think it wasn’t possible.
“What do I mean?” Hades parroted. “I mean your tasks! Like your ancestor Heracles, you must perform twelve tasks—twelve labors—but I am afraid the implications of these are far greater than his ever were. Did Hermes not tell you about the tasks?”
Feeling stupid, Gordie tried to backtrack. “Well, he did say something about the number twelve, but he didn’t tell me I had to complete any tasks. Do I have to do twelve?” he asked, like a kid trying to get out of chores. “Can’t I just do a couple?”
“Twelve is the most magically powerful number. It is why there are twelve Olympic gods—thirteen if you count myself, but I am often discounted for my residence is here. But it is why you have great power in one day of every twelve,” he explained. “When you were born, Hermes came to me and told me of the prophecy concerning your family. My brother had already begun to descend into evil by this time and I recognized the necessity for a hero. I cannot travel to Earth, and I can only go to Olympus but once a year, so I needed help to protect and groom you. Therefore, I delegated this responsibility to Hermes.
“Hermes is young and rash, and as such, he gave you some of his power right from birth without requiring you to complete a task. I was angry with him for this, but it now seems it may have been necessary, given my brother’s attack on your home. Each task you complete will be associated with a god and, upon completion of said task, you will attain a portion of their power. These powers may manifest themselves in different ways, but I have performed the magic so that you will gain one more day of power with the completion of each task.”
“Wait. So my power is a result of your . . . magic?” Gordie felt embarrassed talking about magic as if it was real, but then again, he was surrounded by it. “What if the other gods don’t want to give me their power?”
“They do not have that choice. Being one of the patriarchs of Olympus, I am blessed with great power—as are my two brothers, Poseidon and the king—superior to those powers of the remaining Olympians. In fact, Poseidon and I have combined our powers so that each god will have no choice but to relinquish a fraction of their power to you, and we have given Hermes the ability to control this magic. The other Olympians are not yet aware of your existence, but they soon will be, and your path will become very taxing.
“You will find that some are less willing to relinquish any of their magic to you, but if you complete their task, the magic is beyond them to resist. Think of each interaction as a contract—if you perform the task to which they set you, they are required, by Olympian law, to hold up their end of the bargain.”
Gordie tried to soak up all this information, thinking about the potential tasks that he would have to complete with a growing sense of pressure over the impossibility of his road.
Hades pressed on. “You will not be able to defeat the King of Olympus until you have the power of all the other gods. Your defeat of him will be your final task. You will have only completed eleven before facing him, in part because Hermes did not require you to do one. You must complete all of your trials before reaching him, or you will not prevail. Defeating him will be your twelfth and final task.”
“So, what happens if I somehow complete all of these tasks and kill him?” Gordie finished cautiously, pointing upward.
“I cannot be sure,” Hades’s looked across the fields of Asphodel, “but I believe it will be the end of Olympus.”
Gordie took a minute to let the heaviness of this notion sink in. He found that it was hard to appreciate on a conceptual level. He had not believed in Mount Olympus, yet here he was confronted with its existence. What would it mean if such a place passed into extinction?
“Are you just doing this to spite them?” Gordie asked, not thinking about the implications of this question, but then holding his breath once he realized what he had said.
“That would have been true once,” Hades sounded sad again, “but now I fight the evil that once consumed my heart to make up for the atrocities I have committed in the past. And because it is right,” he added. “As I said, I do not know what will happen. This realm may even be destroyed along with Olympus, taking me with it.” Gordie was again awed into silence by the weight of this statement. A stony-faced Hades looked out over his domain.
“Before you said you were mad at Hermes for giving me his power without a task,” Gordie began again, ready to resume this game of twenty questions. “Why would that matter? If Poseidon is in on this, shouldn’t he do the same?”
“It matters because it bypasses the magic, negating it in a way. I do not know if there will be ramifications for Hermes’s actions, but it is too late to rectify. Your power does not appear to be unstable, and that is very good. In fact, by what Hermes tells me, it seems you may have even acquired some portion of his speed.”
Gordie replayed the fight he had with Hermes in his head, recalling the agility he had displayed that day, and he began to understand.
“Well, that’s pretty cool,” he said, pleased with himself.
“But Poseidon should not, and will not, do the same,” Hades continued, ignoring his interruption. “Do not be surprised if his task is the greatest of all. To earn great power, one must prove their worth.”
“So what happens? I just walk up to each god and ask them their to-do list?” Sarcasm was the defense mechanism Gordie had decided to go with because he was skeptical of (and completely overwhelmed by) these new developments.
“An oath activates the magic. It may sound simple—even silly—but all you must do is approach the god, address them by name, and say these words: I, Gordon Leonhart, demand the opportunity to prove my worth!” The fields echoed with the strength of Hades’s voice. The fact that he was impersonating Gordie made him feel vastly important. Unfortunately, Hades noticed Gordie’s smugness.
“Gordon, you are destined for greatness, but one of the greatest weaknesses of any hero is arrogance. It is my brother’s greatest flaw and I implore you not to allow it into your heart.” Gordie hung his head in another display of contrition, although its sincerity was in question as he was becoming wary of this same admonishment.
“I’m sorry. I won’t.”
“Good. Now, unless you have further questions, the time is here for you to undertake your first task.” Hades gave him a very meaningful look . . . and Gordie did nothing.
“Gordon?” he asked. “How do we begin a task?” Hades prompted, like he was asking a child which hole the square-shaped block goes in.
“Oh, right,” Gordie said, color rising to his face because he did feel silly saying the words. “Um, Hades,” the addressee nodded approvingly, “I, Gordon Leonhart . . . what was it again?” Gordie was now completely tomato-faced in his embarrassment.
“I, Gordon Leonhart, demand the opportunity to prove my worth,” Hades repeated again, patiently.
“Right,” Gordie continued. “Demand the oppor—”
“No,” Hades cut him off, “from the beginning.”
“Right,” Gordie said through nervous giggles. “Hades, I, Gordon Leonhart, demand the opportunity to prove my worth!”
His childish amusement was replaced by amazement as a web of silvery gossamer strands shot out of Hades’s chest, swirled around each of their bodies, then weaved together between them, before disappearing as suddenly as they had exploded into existence.
“What the hell was that?!” he asked, but Hades did not respond.
Gordie looked at him with concern as Hades stood, rigid, his arms glued to his sides, trembling, as if he were trying to escape from invisible bindings. Veins pulsed in his arms, neck, and forehead. His jaw was clenched so tightly Gordie thought his teeth would shatter. Most alarming of all were his eyes: the once pitch-black irises were gone, clouded over with a lively purple reminiscent of the radioactive ooze in the aquarium on Hades’s
shelf. Gordie thought Hades might start foaming at the mouth from his convulsions, but when his mouth finally opened his voice rang clear as an earthquake.
“Gordon Leonhart!” Hades’s voice came from everywhere at once, even more tremendous than Zeus’s. The souls in the field all stopped and turned to look in their direction. “I, Hades of Olympus and Erebus, set to you the task of leaving my realm with Chiron the centaur in tow. If you but once look back at him, you will fail your task, and Chiron may never leave this realm!” The resonant voice continued to reverberate through the Underworld as if it rained down from the stars above.
Hades doubled over, panting with his hands on his knees as his reverberating command died away. Gordie watched in silence for a few moments.
And then started to laugh.
That’s original! he thought to himself, and he slapped his knees despite the seriousness of the situation, leaving Hades looking abashed.
“What is so funny?” he breathed, his voice returning to its usual sonorous echo, with a definite hint of annoyance.
“I’m sorry, but really? You’re gonna Orpheus me? That’s kinda lame, don’t you think?”
Hades scrutinized him for a minute, which felt like an hour. Gordie began to shrink away, afraid that he had made a grave mistake, but then the Lord of the Underworld broke into a fit of raucous laughter.
“Maybe so!” Hades boomed, barking out a few more chuckles before catching his breath and reverting to his serious tone. “It is true that I have used this lesson before, but I would be remiss if I did not try to impart any knowledge onto you. Humor me. Realize that Chiron is the linchpin to your success. Without him you will unquestionably fail. Patience is a virtue, as is trust, and knowing whom to trust. Most importantly, your strength of will is required to complete this task. You will soon learn that physical strength can only accomplish so much. I suggest you prepare yourself. This will not be as easy as you think, but I believe you can do it.”
Gordie started to fear the gravity of the trial awaiting him, but he felt bolstered by the vote of confidence.
“What was all that silvery silly-string stuff?”
“That was our fates being bound together,” Hades explained. “Now before you go, I imagine you are hungry.”
Gordie hadn’t thought about it with all the remarkable goings-on of the day, but now that Hades mentioned it, he realized he was famished. As if it had ears, his stomach rumbled, almost audibly saying, “Foooooooooddddddd.”
“Take this.” Hades pulled a little morsel out of his pocket, wrapped in a miniature quilt of the same gray flowers on which they stood.
“What is it?” Gordie asked as he took it and studied it.
“Ambrosia—the sustenance of the gods. Eat it now, for I fear you will not be able to consume it in your normal state.”
Gordie raised an eyebrow at Hades before he shrugged and brought it to his mouth, preparing to bite into it.
“Unwrap it first.” Hades grabbed his wrist, making Gordie feel like an idiot.
As he unwound the floral packaging, a bright light spilled out of it. A little golden ball dropped onto his hand, blazing like a miniature sun. He looked up at Hades again for reassurance, who nodded.
“Here goes nothing.” Gordie popped the nugget into his mouth.
His senses exploded in confused ecstasy. He could taste the light of the morsel rapidly melting on his tongue. He wouldn’t have been able to describe how he knew it, but the smell it produced was the smell of molten gold. All sound was blocked from his ears, and he closed his eyes, listening to the sound of pure bliss. He could feel the immediate effects of this nectar coursing through his body as warmth filled him, eradicating the lingering soreness that he didn’t realize he still carried after his fall.
“That was amazing!” he said, greedy for more.
“It truly is, but you must never consume that in your mortal state. In fact, I am relieved that it had no adverse effects on you now. I was not precisely sure that your body could handle it.” Gordie was a little miffed about being used as a guinea pig, but no harm no foul, he supposed. Besides, it was hard to be in a bad mood after eating that stuff. “That should hold you for quite some time, so do not fret over lack of food on your upcoming journey. Now it is truly time to depart.” Once again, Hades gripped Gordie’s shoulder with a massive hand, looking down on him with his tremendous, dark eyes.
“It has been an honor to meet you, Gordon Leonhart, and I believe we will see each other again, in time. Take care of yourself and remain vigilant. You are destined for greatness—realize that potential. Farewell.” With that final word he hoisted Gordie up under the shoulders and placed him on Cerberus’s enormous, muscled back. “To the Greek gate!” he yelled as he smacked Gordie’s steed on the rump. And they were off.
“Ahhh!” Gordie clung to Cerberus as they flew past trees, flowers, and souls all blurring into a colorless kaleidoscope at their breakneck speed. Gordie was pressed flat to their massive, shared back, feeling the powerful shoulder muscles beneath him expanding and contracting with every great stride. He closed his eyes and dug in his knees, praying for this roller-coaster-ride-from-Hell to end soon.
The next thing he knew, they came skidding to a halt. The force of the deceleration was too much for Gordie to compensate for and he went flying up and over all three heads. As he flipped over in the air, he made eye contact with all three dogs, upside down. Crazy Eyes was looking at him ecstatically as if he wanted to snatch him out of the air like a Frisbee, Violet was looking at him with concern, and Bion was watching him with cool indifference—although it looked like the ghost of a smirk broke his hardened features. Gordie went tumbling and rolled to a stop before picking himself up and dusting off.
As he rose up from the ground, Gordie froze. The entrance of an earthen tunnel yawned to admit him. Glittering, black stalactites pierced down from the ceiling of the cave. They looked like they were made of frozen tar. The tunnel slanted up with a modest grade ending in a pinprick of light. Gordie squinted at this white dot at the center of complete blackness, trying to determine if it was real or imagined. He turned back to his beefy chauffeur.
The three canine faces watched him with their individually quintessential personalities readable on their features. Gordie approached Lysson first who watched him with glee. “Be good, Crazy Eyes. Try not to hurt anybody.” As Gordie patted him on the nose, the mad pooch released an ear-splitting bark, inches from his face. While Gordie’s ears were ringing, Lysson licked his face frantically, as if attempting to heal his temporary deafness. “Thanks, pal.”
Gordie slid over to Bion and took a step back as he did so. “Well, uh, thanks for not killing me?” he shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Bion studied him with his stoic eyes, but before Gordie turned away, he was bestowed with the slightest nod of begrudging approval. Gordie smiled as he approached Eleoa.
“I know we haven’t spent a whole lot of time together,” he started awkwardly, as if he were proposing to a girl he had met a month ago, “but I feel like I really know you, ya know?” He stroked her face as she leaned down to give him two gentle licks, one on each cheek. “Take care of yourself, Violet. Don’t let these clowns get you down.” Gordie gestured towards the other two. Lysson spouted another inane bark. With one last pat on Violet’s massive neck, and one last lick on the forehead, Gordie turned to head towards the surface.
He began to walk towards the tunnel, then stopped and turned again. “Where’s Chiron?” he asked the three-headed guardian of Hades. Violet just shook her head and lifted her nose in a shooing motion, which Gordie understood. With one final, sad smile, he turned away from his new friend beneath the ever-glow of the underground constellations and began his ascent.
8
The Trials Begin
When Gordie stepped into the mouth of the cave, he felt a strange sense of immersion, like he had walked through an invisible waterfall, or more accurately, a static wall of water. He started to turn to look back and see
what it was, but caught himself.
“Two seconds in and I almost screw it up,” he said, shaking his head, feeling far less confident in his ability to complete this task that he had thought would be a walk in the park. He started to walk again. The path he strode was smooth, a constant and unchanging slope upward, made of the same sparkly black rock as the walls and ceiling. He was surprised and intrigued to see that the walls around him also had spires jutting outward, like horizontal stalactites. The stillness of the cave was disquieting.
Gordie looked forward to the tiny white dot in the distance and broke into a run. He was conscious of his speed now, not as fast as Cerberus, but definitely beyond natural. His endurance, too, was great; he sprinted at full speed with ease. He ran. And he ran. And he ran.
At least an hour had come and gone since his outset, and the light at the end of the tunnel did not appear to be any closer. His pace was starting to slow. Beginning to feel discouraged, he continued on, hoping that the tunnel did indeed have an end.
An hour later Gordie was still running. Nothingness fell behind him as his strides persisted, with the same nothingness looming ahead. His pace slowed more still. He continued on like this for what felt like hours, until he noticed that the light at the end of the tunnel was beginning to fade. Fear trickled into him and he pushed himself back to his full speed.
As the opening at the end changed to a light purple hue, Gordie realized with a little glimmer of hope that the circle had definitely grown since he had started: he was making progress. But his hope dissolved again as the light purple turned to a deep indigo, and he started to wonder if these walls also popped the torches on when it became dark. Something told him they did not.
He slowed down to a jog as everything around him blurred into a dusky stew of oneness. Although the path was straight, he was wary of running in the dark with those spikes protruding from the walls. Before Gordie had thought they were beautiful—now he thought they were terrifying.