Age of Heroes

by James Lovegrove

  What a bitch she turned out to be.

  For perhaps three weeks their life together was bliss. They made love at least three times a day, sometimes twice as often as that, and Theseus had never known such ecstasy. The feel of her was like silk. The scent of her was like perfume. The taste of her was like ambrosia.

  Then she became demanding. The sex tailed off; she shrank from his touch. She wanted more slaves, more jewellery, more clothing. Better food. Better wine.

  Theseus complied, of course. Anything to keep his Helen happy. The bliss lingered, still just tangible, within sight, recapturable. There were moments when he could kid himself that nothing was wrong and that she was as passionate about him as he was about her. He believed that the squalls she brought to the household would pass, and balmy sunshine would return.

  But then she started casually beating servants. She had a slave flogged within an inch of his life for the crime of dropping a dish of olives. A cook was branded with his own iron tongs for making her a cup of goat’s milk too hot to sip. A gardener was dismissed for pruning a shrub back too far for her liking.

  Theseus could not let her get away with this. He prided himself on the unusual decency with which he treated his domestic staff, and Helen had offended his sense of fair play.

  He was unable to bring himself to hit her. Most other men in his position, in that day and age, would have, but he did not even scold her. Instead he tried to reason with her. He implored her to stop abusing and upsetting the servants.

  The result? A blistering hour-long diatribe from Helen, full of insults and swearing, followed by a sulk of epic proportions that lasted well over a week. No amount of blandishment could jolly her out of it; all the begging in the world could not pry her from her bedchamber.

  The affair – because Theseus now saw that that was all this was, an affair, not the glorious eternal union he had thought it would be – limped on for another couple of months. There were brief reconciliations between longer and longer bouts of bitter, stony estrangement. He became increasingly disenchanted with Helen and resigned to the idea that she would have to go. Seldom did she have a kind word to say to him. Mostly she called his masculinity into question and complained that he was not the person he had made himself out to be back in Laconia.

  Then her brothers Castor and Pollux came from Sparta to retrieve her, and they did not arrive a moment too soon. They thundered into Athens with a retinue of hoplites and cavalry, threatening war and retribution. It was widely believed in Laconia that Helen had been taken by Theseus against her will, much as had been the case with Melanippe and the Amazons. Theseus, however, was able to convince the twins otherwise, and that he was only too willing for them to take Helen back home. To sweeten the deal, he gave them fifty head of cattle, a hundred amphorae of wine, and sackloads of gold and ivory. He did not consider this too high a price to pay for getting rid of her.

  “LOOK AT THAT damn face,” said Salvador, breaking in on Theo’s reverie of reminiscence. “So sour. There’s a man who knows how it feels to be screwed over by a woman.”

  “It was not,” Theo admitted, “my finest hour. In my defence I will say that at least I didn’t start a ten-year war over her that cost thousands of lives. The only one who really suffered on my account was yours truly. And now Evander Arlington has her in his life?” He gave a hollow laugh. “I almost feel sorry for the old bastard.”

  “She is difficult still,” said Sasha. “I can’t say Hélène Arlington – she pronounces her name the French way nowadays – is my favourite client. Some of my Wonder Women work for her once and refuse to do so ever again. The more robust ones can handle her, though, and are compensated accordingly. No one could accuse her husband of being ungenerous. But it all begs the question, why would Evander Arlington be killing other demigods? What leads you to that conclusion, Theo?”

  Theo explained about the record of artefact locations Odysseus had left with King Minos. “That’s all I’ve got to go on so far. If I could just find Arlington to speak to him, then I might be able to eliminate him as a suspect, or otherwise. That’s generally what we’ve been hoping to do. This trip to Russia has just been a detour. And...” He looked at Sasha levelly. “Now that we’ve met you, it looks like we have an ‘in’ with him. Which is fortunate.” He almost said fortuitous.

  “You’d like me to set up a meeting with Arlington, via his wife?”

  “You’re in contact with her, aren’t you?”

  “I have ways to get in touch with her.”

  “Bingo. Then you’re the man for the job.”

  “Woman for the job.”

  “That’s what I said. Would you? Pretty please?”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Airspace above the eastern Mediterranean

  THE EMBRAER LEGACY 650 tipped its wings and banked to starboard, veering away from the setting sun in a smooth arc. Holger Badenhorst, closing the cockpit door behind him, turned to face the cabin. With three of them dead and Corbett and Mayson invalided out, eleven Myrmidons remained. He cleared his throat and waited until he had their attention. The last of them to look his way was Roy Young, and there was death in the Englishman’s stare. If looks could kill...

  Well, tough shit, my friend. Feel about me how you like, I have you by the balls and you know it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “You’ll have noticed we have just made a significant course correction. We aren’t heading for the States any more. I’ve received new instructions from our employer. The American mission has been postponed. We’re going for someone different.”

  “Where?” said Gunnvor Blomgren.

  “Russia.”

  “Shee-it,” said Travis Laffoon. “Russia?”

  “You sound aggrieved, Laffoon,” said Hans Schutkeker, from three rows behind. “Have you ever been to Russia?”

  “No, but I ain’t heard one damn good thing about the place. I was looking forward to stepping foot on US soil again, getting some decent down-home grub inside me. Russia? They got nothing there. No food, no money, no cars.”

  “I think you will find it’s not as bad as that,” said Schutkeker.

  “I think you’ll find I don’t give a rat’s ass about your opinion, Shitkicker.”

  The German sprang from his. “All right, that’s it. I have had all I can stomach from you, you mouth-breathing moron.”

  “Mouth-breathing moron? Oh, snap! I need some lotion for this burn.”

  Schutkeker lumbered down the aisle, hands outstretched, and the Louisianan reared up to meet him.

  Roy rose between them.

  “Sit down,” he said, his voice soft. “Both of you. Sit back down right now.”

  Both Laffoon and Schutkeker tried to shove past him to get at each other.

  All at once Roy had both of them by the throat, his fingertips digging hard into their windpipes.

  “Do as I say, or so help me I will throttle the life out of you.”

  He looked left and right, holding each man’s gaze for several seconds.

  He was not kidding. There was a dark and hideous glint in his eyes. The Myrmidons were all killers, but Roy Young, at that moment, was a stone-cold murderer.

  “Hey, hey, we’re all tired,” Badenhorst said, moving down the aisle. “Crossing all these time zones. Don’t know whether it’s blerrie night or day.” He laid a hand on Laffoon’s shoulder, but his focus was on Roy. He had to keep the tone light; the standoff had the potential to go very wrong. “Tempers start to fray. There’s friction, especially with all the forceful personalities we have here. Only to be expected. Let’s just back down, nè? All of us. Got a long flight ahead, seven hours plus. Probably this is the time to get some shuteye so we’re nice and rested for work tomorrow. How about it?”

  “Yes, how about it?” said Roy to Laffoon and Schutkeker. “I’m going to let you both go, on the understanding that if there is any more of this bollocks between you, I will take it personally, and you will not like that.”

  Laff
oon and Schutkeker nodded.

  Roy released them.

  They retired to their seats, sullen as scolded schoolchildren.

  Badenhorst leaned in and said in Roy’s ear, “Good job. Asserting your authority. I told you you’re the leader.”

  “Glad to be of service,” Roy replied coolly.

  Badenhorst mentally translated that as fuck you, and fixed the Englishman with a huge smile.

  As he strode back to his seat, the Afrikaner felt pleased. If Roy could channel into the Myrmidons’ remaining missions the same deadly energy he had just brought to defusing the row between Laffoon and Schutkeker, then success was assured. Badenhorst had had his qualms about kidnapping Josie Young, but now he was certain it had been the right move. His employer had taken some persuading; but Roy was becoming a loose cannon, and Badenhorst had managed to re-secure him, and all was cool. All was hundreds.

  The jet hurtled eastward, into the gathering dusk.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Krasnoyarsk

  ONCE AGAIN, CHASE wanted to go on a monster hunt.

  “It’s like an addiction with you,” Theo said, after his cousin announced at breakfast that he fancied another expedition into the wild to track down a local semi-mythical beast. “You can’t leave it alone.”

  “What can I say? I’m a creature of habit, and my habit is creatures.”

  Salvador chuckled, sipping ferociously strong black tea. “See what he did there? Wordplay. Clever.”

  “Maybe,” said Theo, “but wandering the countryside is less clever.”

  “Why not?” said Chase. “We’ve got time to kill, and let’s face it, Krasnoyarsk isn’t exactly party city. Half an hour by hire car and we can be out in the back of beyond. You know the Stolby Nature Reserve? The place the helicopter pilots mentioned, with the rock formations? It’s got several rivers running through it, including the Bazhaika. Up there last year there was a sighting of a vodyanoy.”

  “A what?” said Salvador.

  “Water elemental. Looks like an old man but with webbed fingers, long green hair and a frog’s face. You don’t want to piss one off. They’ve been known to sink dinghies and rowing boats and drag people into the water to drown. This guy claims he encountered one while fishing on the banks of the Bazhaika. It grabbed his line and tried to reel him in, and he let go of the rod and ran like a son of a bitch to his pickup. Only just got away, he said, and he was so terrified that he drove the truck into a tree on the way home.”

  “What’s the betting he’d been drinking?” said Theo.

  “That’s what the cops who arrested him thought. And I’ll be honest, he did fail the breathalyser.”

  “Of course he did.”

  “But the police report said he seemed genuinely shit-scared. He stuck to his story and wouldn’t be shaken from it. He’d had a run-in with an amphibious monster.”

  “Okay,” said Theo. “Maybe there is a vodyanoy out there. But there’s also someone out there who appears determined to wipe us out. We’re being hunted too.”

  “Weren’t they supposed to have got us yesterday, these demigod slayers, in Novy Tolkatui? Wasn’t that their golden opportunity?”

  “I just feel we shouldn’t push our luck.”

  “Oh, come on. What harm can it do? It’ll only be a few hours. I’m bored, and I could do with letting off some steam. Plus, I’ve got the you-know-what.” He pointed to his backpack, by his side as ever, with the Helm snug within. “How can they find me if they can’t see me?”

  “I want to go too,” said Salvador. “Sounds like fun. I haven’t confronted a monster in I can’t remember how long. It’s as much in my nature as it is in Chase’s. Defeating chthonic creatures, that’s my specialty, and this one sounds like one.”

  Sasha had arrived in the hotel dining room in time to catch the tail end of the conversation. “Why not let them, Theo?” she said, helping herself to scrambled eggs, kolbasa sausage and blinis from the buffet. “If they’re so keen.”

  “Because I don’t think it’s a good idea, that’s why. We shouldn’t make life easy for our enemies.”

  “Can you be sure our enemies are even here in Russia?”

  “I can’t. But if Gottlieb knows where we are, it’s a possibility we shouldn’t discount. Did you get hold of Evander Arlington, by the way?”

  “Not yet. I’ve left a message on Hélène Arlington’s voicemail, and emailed her for good measure. She isn’t always terribly quick responding, if it doesn’t suit her. Conversely, she hates it if you don’t answer a request from her immediately. She is imperious in her ways.”

  Takes one to know one, Theo thought.

  “I’ll try a follow-up call if I don’t hear back from her by lunchtime,” Sasha added. “Best I can do.”

  “Appreciated.”

  “So?” said Chase. “Not that I have to have your permission, cuz, but can me and Salvador go on a vodyanoy hunt? Is it okay with you, ‘Dad’?”

  “Why not accompany them, Theo?” Sasha suggested. “If you’re worried they might run into trouble, wouldn’t it be better if you’re there too? Safety in numbers, and so on.”

  “Yeah, awesome idea,” said Chase. He clasped his hands together like a child begging for a treat. “C’mon, Theo. Please? Pleeease? I’ll do my chores and make my bed and, and...”

  Theo had misgivings.

  But then, he always did. These days, it seemed he couldn’t be certain about anything.

  Sasha’s argument had merit, at least. The three of them together were a formidable proposition. Theseus, Perseus and Heracles. You’d have to be crazy to tackle that trio all at once. Even an Olympian god, were any still active, might think twice about taking them on.

  “In no way enthusiastically,” Theo said, “all right.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Stolby Nature Reserve, Krai region, near Krasnoyarsk

  THE ROCK PILLARS – stolby, in Russian – which gave the national park its name were soaring projections of mottled-grey volcanic syenite. They thrust up above the treetops, some stepped and pyramidal like ziggurats, others sheer and columnar and arranged in ranks like skyscrapers. They were stone islands amid a sea of dark green taiga.

  The great majority of the nature reserve’s 47,000 hectares was closed to the public, restricted to park rangers only. That did not deter Chase. For a time he led Theo and Salvador along the marked paths, like good little tourists. Once they were well away from the car park and the crowds, however, he struck off into the forest, setting up a jogging pace which his two companions dutifully matched.

  They covered several miles at speed, forging across undulating terrain. They skirted areas of swamp, leapt streams and waded through shallow rivulets. The dense fir canopy provided shade from the broiling sun. Startled ground squirrels fled from their approach. Musk deer bucked into the undergrowth. A saker falcon shadowed them from above for a while, before losing interest and wheeling away.

  As they paused to rehydrate, Chase consulted his phone’s GPS map. “Bazhaika river’s about three more miles thataway,” he said. “We walk from here on. I’m the pro, so pay attention to me. If I say stop, stop. If I say shut up, shut up. Tread softly at all times. I don’t know how skittish vodyanoys are, but I’m not taking any chances. If ours hears us come crashing through the woods, it might just scare him off before we can get within range.”

  Drenched in sweat from running, they resumed their journey, ambling now but alert.

  Soon the noise of a great smooth river was audible and there was the smell of fresh water in the air. Chase slowed further, his head swivelling left and right. Theo noted how serious his cousin had become. Gone was the habitual facetiousness, the perennial easygoing smile. Chase was listening intently, watching like a hawk, his nose raised to catch the breeze. His movements were fluid and economical, his footsteps light and graceful. This was him in his element. This was Perseus in pursuit of quarry. It was riveting to behold.

  All at once Chase’s hand shot up. Theo and Sal
vador went stock still. Chase prowled forward a few paces in a half crouch. They were very near the river now; Theo could see its tawny glint ahead through the trees, like a road paved with topaz.

  Chase motioned for Theo and Salvador to stay put. Then, slowly, painstakingly, he unshouldered his backpack and extracted a combat knife, which he snugged into his belt. Delving into the backpack again, he brought out the Helm of Darkness.

  The moment the helmet appeared, Theo became conscious of the vibration it gave off, a sombre thrum that you felt rather than heard, like a subsonic note.

  The three Uranian Cyclopes – Brontes, Steropes and Arges – had forged the Helm for Hades as a thank-you gift for his part in freeing them from captivity during the Titanomachy, the war between the gods and the rebel Titans. Hades had then infused it with his own dark numen, to create the invisibility-bestowing item of apparel it was now. He had lent it to Perseus to aid him on his quest to kill the Gorgon Medusa and thus fulfil a somewhat rash promise to the brother of his adoptive father, King Polydectes, who had believed it would be a suicide mission and would leave the way clear for him to seduce Perseus’s mother Danaë. In addition Perseus had been bequeathed various other handy items: a polished shield from Athena, which he used as a mirror to guide him to Medusa and avoid direct line of sight with her literally petrifying gaze; a kibisis, a magic carrying-bag, from some nymphs, in which he stowed the Gorgon’s decapitated head; and a sickle and a pair of winged sandals from Hermes. Shield, kibisis and sandals had all been handed back after the quest was completed, but the Helm and the sickle Perseus had retained, until the day Odysseus had proposed his divine weapons amnesty.

  Chase lodged the helmet on his head and almost instantly shimmered out of sight. He padded off. Theo was able to track his progress only by the slight disturbances in the layer of pine needles on the forest floor, and soon he could no longer even see them. Chase was gone.