by Zachary Howe
It felt stiff and sore like an old ache, not a fresh injury. He smiled, allowing the physical relief to translate into mental and emotional relief. He waved his arms in a circle around his body, backward then forward, and then again. In a moment of inspiration he plucked a eucalyptus leaf and stuck it in his mouth, but the intensity of the flavor made his eyes cross and he spat it out.
“Strong, isn’t it?” He started as Chiron’s voice reached him from behind. The sudden tensing of all his muscles sent a stab of pain through his shoulder.
“Yeah, not so good,” Gordie agreed, as his heart slowed.
The water lapped and splashed as Chiron entered the pool. Gordie scooted aside to put as much distance between them as possible, but Chiron just walked right past him until only his head floated above the water. It looked very strange in the mist as it was twice the size of a normal man’s. Gordie watched the water move as Chiron’s head rotated around to face him.
“So, Gordon, do you have any more questions that need answering? There is no greater tool than knowledge.” Gordie couldn’t tell if this was sage wisdom or condescension, but somehow Chiron’s kindness made it seem genuine.
“I do actually.” Gordie thought for a moment. “This Dasos guy, I thought Pan was like, the main satyr?”
“Pan is the God of Nature. He is the original satyr. Dasos answers to him and only him, but Dasos is a more . . .” Chiron paused to chew on his words, “aggressive defender of his domain.”
“I picked up on that.” Gordie shuddered as he remembered the giant goat-man hovering over him with anger burning in his eyes.
“Do not misunderstand—he is not evil, but he is passionate, and he will defend his people valiantly. Satyrs in general cannot be so easily categorized as they have been in tales—they are not all bacchanals as the stereotype goes. Dasos’s subjects are a very spiritual group who care deeply for the forest and all its beings. This is true of Pan as well, but Pan still believes he can save your natural world, and so does not reside in Dasos.”
“You mean Pan lives in the human world?”
“He does, but not near civilization. He has made his home in the Amazon and he tries to spread his love of nature from that safe haven to protect the world’s wildlife, but he is failing.” Chiron surveyed Gordie, who put his head down in shame.
“So Dasos, the place,” Gordie clarified, “it’s not in the human world, right?”
“Correct. It is another plane of existence. It is home to many creatures of my epoch.”
“But how do you get there? I mean, is that river the only way?”
“That is one portal, but there are many. In fact, you can reach Dasos from any forest, but you cannot simply walk through. One must have a willing guide or must be of both worlds, or there could be great consequences, given the present makeup. Pompeia was your guide and you could enter Dasos because you are of mortal and Olympic descent. It may even be that Hermes passed that ability onto you. Interestingly enough, it seems you are also able to act as a guide, as you did by leading me out of Hades.”
“But Pompeia had to hold my hand. You and I weren’t, ya know, touching.” Gordie blushed.
“True, but I believe that Hades placed some sort of tether between us, as he did between himself and you, which afforded you the ability to lead me out of his realm,” Chiron said. Gordie looked down at his hands as if there was some sort of power there he could almost sense. “The planes of the mortal world and of my world are all interconnected at nearly infinite points, but it requires a unique makeup to traverse them as you have so easily. What is more, the planes of my world are stratified, layered. Not all beings can cross every border. Only the gods of Olympus can travel between planes at will, but even their ability to do so is subject to our laws. Hades can only leave his realm once a year to travel to Mount Olympus, while none of the other gods are allowed into his realm ever. And it seems even this system has broken down because their ability to traverse these boundaries has been hampered of late.”
“Hampered, but not stopped. Hermes came to my farm. Zeus destroyed my home.” Gordie clenched his fists beneath the water.
“I cannot claim to understand the scope of Zeus’s power, but I believe he is capable of attacking your realm from his seat as he did, though I would imagine it required a great deal of his power. Hermes may be the only one who can truly cross the borders. Being the messenger of the gods affords him such abilities, but I do not believe the others can now.” Chiron scratched his chin.
“But you just said Pan did!” Gordie thought he had won the battle of logic with this argument.
“Pan is different. He predates the Olympians. He created your natural world and I believe that he transcends these laws. Moreover, I believe there is a reason for the barriers being impenetrable, though I do not know what.” He looked up to the ceiling and remained silent until Gordie remembered something important.
“Hades said that Hermes somehow changed the boundaries between the realms. He said that Hermes made it so the gods couldn’t go through!”
“Interesting.” Chiron stroked his beard as he continued to gaze at the ceiling. “I cannot imagine how he managed that, but it certainly does help our cause.”
Gordie agreed, but was disappointed that Chiron could not shed more light on such an unimaginable feat.
“How were you able to go to Dasos, then?”
“I can only speculate, but I believe I have been granted the ability to traverse the spaces between realms simply because you passed that ability on to me. Furthermore, I think the simple matter that I was not living when the realms were isolated from one another could potentially mean that I am exempt from the restrictions. Or maybe Hades’s magic afforded me the ability? It is hard to say. But I think we can safely assume that the restrictions are still in place. If I were to have forced myself through somehow, I am guessing that such an act would nullify those restrictions, possibly eradicating the boundaries altogether, but I cannot see how that would be possible.”
“But what about the Fates? One of them was on my plane! I mean airplane,” Gordie said, starting to get worked up.
“They too are unique. The Fates can travel in space, but they can also travel in the fourth dimension.” Gordie looked at Chiron blankly. “Time,” he explained.
“Right.” Gordie pretended that this was an adequate explanation because he couldn’t even formulate the questions that arose from it. He changed the subject. “So could I, theoretically, use Dasos as like a . . . central hub? A way-station to get from, like, here to, I don’t know, the Amazon?”
Chiron smiled widely. “Very good, Gordon. When I sent Achilles to Dasos to retrieve fruit he returned hauling the body of a petrakeros he had killed.” Chiron scowled and shook his head. Gordie was taken aback to see such emotion out of him and also confused about the ‘petrakeros’ to which he referred. “He was a fool. He could not see the value of that place—only the sport it offered.”
“What’s a petra-thingy?” Gordie asked.
“Petrakeri are animals much like your rhinoceroses, yet their hide is made of pure granite,” Chiron said.
Gordie was amazed and intrigued by the existence of such creatures as petrakeri in the world. He was also disgusted with a vague picture of legendary heroism in the form of Achilles for killing such a creature out of sport. He scowled.
“What troubles you?” Chiron asked.
“I just, I don’t know, I mean, Achilles is supposed to be this great hero and I can’t believe he would just kill an animal like that for no reason. It’s disgusting. I mean, those have to be pretty amazing creatures,” he said, shaking his head.
Chiron watched him in unblinking silence until Gordie turned his head away. A thousand bubbles popped around them.
“They are truly magnificent beings.” Chiron nodded.
“Was Hercules like Achilles?” Gordie asked, thinking of his ancestor.
“Very much so.” Chiron nodded again. Gordie looked down at the floating euc
alyptus leaves, disappointed to hear about this other legend.
“Well, maybe I’ll get to see a petrakeros, since I have to go back for the dates.” Gordie glanced at Chiron out of the corner of his eye.
“And figs,” added Chiron. Gordie slumped in a huff when his hopes of getting out of this exercise were dashed. “Perhaps you will.”
“Since I have to go back,” Gordie tried to make this pointed, but Chiron did not react, “can I at least wait until my strong day, or whatever, comes back?”
“Very wise, Gordon—that would be the most pragmatic approach, would it not? But I think you will go back earlier than that. I would be remiss if I failed to provide a sufficient challenge for you.” Chiron smiled, while Gordie tried not to sneer. He considered splashing the centaur’s floating head, but thought that could be construed as playfulness when he actually wanted to convey irritation.
“Your shoulder is healing already. You will be back to health in no time. Why don’t you try swimming?”
Gordie scooted out toward the deeper water, but in the direction of one of the side walls so as to keep as much distance between Chiron and himself as possible. The smooth stone beneath him fell away, and soon he was on his knees with only his head above water, then crouched, then finally standing on his tiptoes. He waved his arms around to test his shoulder strength, and then pushed off towards the back wall with a gentle breast stroke.
“Very good, now try a different stroke.” Chiron turned to watch his charge circle him. Gordie shifted to freestyle and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He stopped and treaded water. “The joint needs to be exercised,” Chiron said.
“The joint was injured less than a day ago.” Gordie spat hot water out of his mouth as he bobbed up and down. “The joint needs rest.”
“This pool has already done the work of two weeks healing. Trust me.” Chiron nodded.
Gordie rolled his eyes before resuming his freestyle. The pain was sharp at first, but he winced and motored on. Soon each stroke resulted in a twinge, and after a few short minutes, there was no pain. Gordie made his way back to the shallows and breathed in the minty steam in slow, deep breaths.
“I guess it does feel better,” he muttered under his breath, hoping the centaur wouldn’t hear.
“Indeed,” said Chiron. “Shall we adjourn back to the Great Hall? I am sure your mother would like to see more of you.”
“Um, sure.” Gordie hesitated. “Do you think you could go first and leave me here for a minute?”
“Very well.”
Chiron’s head began to float towards the shallows until his shoulders breached the surface, followed shortly thereafter by his powerful body and flank. His hooves clapped on the stone floor, not quite drowned out by the cascade of water droplets rushing off his hide. He exited the chamber without a backward glance.
Gordie waited until the sound of clopping died out, then rose out of the water, scurried to the robe Chiron had brought, and threw it over his shoulders. This material was not like the sling. It was warm and fluffy. He would have thought it was wool, but it wasn’t itchy. He cinched the belt in front, which he did recognize as the same silk from his sling.
With one last inhalation of the blissful aroma, Gordie left his clothes on the floor and walked back into the corridor. The air was cooler and it felt crisp on his moist skin. His feet slapped the stone as he walked until he reached the fork they had passed earlier. He was about to follow the correct path to the Great Hall, but he stopped. He looked down the other path, then back towards the Great Hall with an eyebrow raised and ears perked. He sat in silence for a few seconds before he turned and headed down the hall where Chiron’s room was situated.
The blue flames flickered in the torches on the wall, but the only sound he heard was the soft pitter-patter of his feet. He was sneaking along for fear of being detected, even though he suspected he was completely alone. Unlike the path to the pool which bore down into the earth, this path climbed as it wound. He kept one hand on the wall as he followed it up and up. After a minute or so, he saw an opening ahead and slowed his pace. Listened as he approached a tall archway, he stuck his head inside after making sure he heard nothing in the vicinity.
The room was almost barren. A long javelin was propped against the back wall next to a large pile of straw bunched up in the corner. Gordie stared—confused about what this place was—until he realized that it must be Chiron’s room. Suddenly, he felt sad.
Back home, Gordie had a television in his room—not a nice one, but certainly adequate for a sixteen-year-old’s bedroom; his videogames were scattered on the shelf beneath. He had posters of all sorts: movies, athletes, bands. He had a calendar with swimsuit models, which lay open on the wrong month because Miss October was his favorite. He had a desk full of knick-knacks and clothes (he never once did homework there). He kept his bat-bag in his closet with the family heirloom tucked inside next to his black aluminum bat that he actually used on the field, inscribed with a fiery red font reading “Black Magic.” His closet contained some clothes he wore and many he hadn’t worn in years stuffed in the corners, topped with old toys and baseball cards that he had outgrown. But, here in Chiron’s room, there was nothing.
There was a pile of brush that purported to be a bed and a weapon for defense against intruders. Chiron had no material things for the sake of having material things. He had no keepsakes or mementos. He had all he needed to survive. Gordie didn’t know what he felt—a mixture of emotions. There was the sadness, but was it nostalgia for his old room? Or was it for Chiron who had nothing, or no one, in this world? He also felt a little embarrassed having come to this place with a complete wardrobe and his cell phone in pocket, replete with numerous games (although it was now dead back in his new room).
He turned and walked out of the chamber. He was about to turn left to head back to the Great Hall, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a distant green light dancing with the blue of the torches. His curiosity piqued, he resumed his stealthy walk towards the new phenomenon. As he neared the source of the light, he saw it was spilling out of another portal, and he stiffened as he heard voices. Crouching lower, he snuck forward until he was right outside the archway, and he listened.
“Chiron, it would be unwise of you to hide this from me.” The voice Gordie heard was that of a young man, but one that sounded very tired. To Gordie’s mind, the threat, whatever it was referring to, did not sound sincere.
“I hide nothing from you, Apollo,” Chiron answered, as Gordie slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from gasping. Somehow in that room, Chiron was in communication with Apollo, God of Music and Healing, but mostly known for his role as the driver of the sun—the being responsible for making the sun circumnavigate the globe, according to myth.
“I know Hermes is up to something, but I implore you to tell me what it is. These are very troubled times. I know of the boy and I know his weakness. Do not force me to take matters into my own hands,” Apollo said.
Gordie was struck by this last statement: I know his weakness. Whatever that meant, he did not like the sound of it.
“I know not of what you speak,” Chiron’s voice was calm and heady, “but I would have thought, after all I have done for you, that you would not be so hostile towards me.”
As Apollo sighed, the intrigue became too much for Gordie. He inched his face beyond the frame of the portal until just one eye peeked into the chamber.
Chiron stood facing the back of the room. Floating in midair in front of him was a vertical ellipse of brilliant green light, which cast everything else into darkness by contrast so that Gordie couldn’t see anything but the silhouette of the centaur and this glowing portal. It looked like a portrait as it framed the curly headed Olympian with a laurel wreath crowning his bouncy hair. He probably would have seen Gordie if he hadn’t been pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut and chin tucked, his head swaying back and forth. If he hadn’t just been threatening both Chiron and himself, Gordie would ha
ve felt bad for the god; he just looked so worn.
Gordie pulled his head back, not wanting to press his luck anymore, but he sat and listened with bated breath.
“Chiron, please, do not be a fool. I can help you.”
“Strange way to offer help: threatening and insulting. What I do, I do for the good of the world. You need not concern yourself with it. We are done here.”
The green light extinguished and Gordie heard Chiron’s hooves on the stone as he began to turn towards the door.
Gordie shot to his feet and sprinted down the hall, running on the balls of his feet to keep as quiet as possible. He worried that he was going to face-plant, moving so unstably, but he kept up the race with his heart pounding, fearing Chiron’s reaction if he caught him above all else. The robe flapped in his haste and he lamented not changing back into his clothes as they would have been much more comfortable to maneuver in. Following the winding hallway, he raced past the fork that led to the eucalyptus pool and continued running until he could hear his mom and grandpa chatting in the Great Hall.
He stopped just before the corridor turned to open upon the large common area. He doubled over, sucking in air because he didn’t want any questions about why he was so out of breath. After he caught his breath, he walked around the bend and out into the light of the Great Hall.
“Hey Gordo! Nice robe, buddy. Just another day at the spa, eh?” Atalo elbowed his grandson as he took a seat next to him.
“How are you feeling? I see the sling is gone,” Ellie said.
“Pretty good actually.” Gordie rotated his arm and winced as pain shot through his shoulder again. It wasn’t as severe as the pain had been that morning, but it was not as comfortable as it had been in the pool.
“It doesn’t look better,” Ellie noted.
“It was in the pool. Chiron’s got this awesome natural hot tub with eucalyptus leaves and stuff. You guys gotta check it out.” Gordie set his chin on the table.