by Gann, Myles
Stephen felt a second and third jolt, and could see everything with a little sharper clarity. “I drank until I was an idiopathic Cardiomyopathy patient. I worked out a deal with the first military doctor. Luckily they make crap nowadays. He injects me with steroids a few times a week to keep it in check,” a fourth jolt buckled his knees, “he was as desperate as I was. The damn nurse sent off the file by accident. General Fink picked me out before making me an official injury cast-off. Such a shame. I had my revolver polished. Even carved my name into the single bullet in the chamber.” A fifth jolt sent him to his knees. “I sold the General off with my word in cooperation. The last doctor took me for everything I had. I’ve got nothing but this.” The last jolt collapsed his hands against the sides of his head. There went minutes off the clock with the internal pressure of his brain and heart not giving time an easy pass. He didn’t scream or moan or fall, but he did bow his head to the matted ground, his mouth surrounding an imagined voice as it blew intolerance in a hot breath until his mental faculties were hoarse and battered. By then, the pain reduced.
“And you’re left here with the shirt on your back and pain. A tearing, scolding heap of it in your spine that will never leave you and that you will never see coming. That was half of them at once. Was it worth it?”
Stephen took several deep breaths before rising to one knee and opening his eyes, seeing every color in newly separated shades. “Not yet it isn’t.”
---
“I’m angry that’s why. I’m livid.”
“I can tell. You’re burning bright this morning Prince.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You really are.”
“I really am….”
Chapter 17
“Sing to me, oh Muses of soft voice,
and speak of a story
with life and lift.
Bring out the man that digs within us all,
that has touched the world from beneath,
and above.
Sing to us of Kaneis.
Sing to us of a true hero.
“The Trojan beach:
littered with wooden vessel and barnacled bellies
lay the sand of moving time,
and above the deck,
upon the mast,
did Kaneis, son of a mortal, cling with mighty arms.
His face was clean and his chin square,
a noble face without a noble birthright.
With one hand, he blotted the sun from his eyes.
From below, a warrior stood tiny and shouted:
“‘Dear Kaneis, whose feet dangle beneath the clouds,
can our advance be seen?’
“The high ill-keeper responded:
“‘Our army, led by the harbinger Achilles,
will find victory soon. Hektor’s
slaying is no longer our mortal fear.
Stagnant warrior,
find a soft bed before your leg ails again.’
“Belittled and forlorn against the crashing waves,
the hobbled warrior spoke:
“‘Though my leg would have the battle racing off without me,
my heart does long for the chase!’
“Kaneis lowered swiftly from the high perch,
his powerful legs and bare feet finding the sandy beach,
and spoke against a soft wind:
“‘The bloody victory against late Hektor and ignoble Paris
will come without the need of your strong heart.
Cast away your valor until health fills your blood with fire
and strength.’
“Though his words were soft with truth, the injured warrior,
whose leg was held with more wood than flesh,
looked to the shoreline.
Upon a rolling wave that did not curl,
a small vessel rode.
Without waver,
the froth of the landing drove the parcel between port and starboard,
and stayed, with small tendrils of smoke flying against the breeze.
“Kaneis stood strong against a sudden wind and asked:
“‘Should we retrieve such an enchanted voyager?’
“The injured soldier did hop forward with exuberance
and spoke loudly:
“‘Hail Poseidon yes!
Would we risk the Earthmover,
whose blue vein will run with our salted ships,
laying waste to our return quest?’
“Kaneis, with quick steps and watchful, blue eyes,
walked to the smoldering vessel,
retrieving the parchment while saying aloud:
“‘The smell of a ceremonial fire surrounds the parchment
within a dense black ash along the borders.
Words written with a red ink jump at me,
as if their bloody color entreats to my own.’
“The man above the shore spoke with impatience:
“‘Fill the air with the content, so we may know
the bidding of Poseidon.’
“Kaneis of the unknown did speak the contents:
“‘Among the soldiers there
is an imposter, whose steel and shield have more salt than blood.
To the name of soldier he gives no honor,
only cowardice.
This man, a husk of man, will bring to me his soul,
for my name does command it done,
or the deceived wife of his home,
will find the Styx her boundary,
and my chamber her dwelling.’
“The man with a wooden leg wailed against the sky:
“‘Curses to the deceptive host of Poseidon!
A deliverance of such a cursed letter deserves curse in return!
It is Hades, whose bed would be souls if he slept,
who slips this promise unto our beach. My wife is owed my soul,
but do I fly to make a sacrifice? Does my life save her?’
“Kaneis held up the letter with retort:
“‘That is the business of the letter.’
“Sand caught the wailing man as he fell and spoke with battle-suited defense:
“‘He knows the soul of a coward better than any.
He knows such a soul and body will never detach
until the cowardly skin has dusted the wind,
and his bones have made green the grass.
The Lord of the Underworld, I fear,
will not find cause for such patience.’
“The Keeper of the Ill pondered aloud:
“‘Perhaps it is better for a coward to be the coward,
and for the protectors of the cowardly to be left to protect.
To Mount Olympus will I go in search of Hades’ doorway,
and to the wife which you cannot prove worthy to.
Upon my return, she will know of the fool she has married.’
“The wind finally overtook the wails as the hurting man,
through heart and body,
stood again and whispered:
“‘You would traverse such a path?
I have not even given you her name.’
“Kaneis took the sword from the man’s waist,
a loaf of bread from the stocks,
and weathered, brown armor that nearly wrapped his broad shoulders.
He returned to the beating sun and spoke again:
“Hades will not wait for your strength to emerge,
and all others brave enough have found war a higher calling.
She will not rot away in the dark depths
as I am still able to trek.’
“The wounded man hobbled with his hand against the wide ship
and spoke with force as Kaneis walked away:
“‘Let us hope your legs take strength from a heart that is not mine!’
“Far above, the golden sun was no match for the shine of the King of Gods,
his approach refracting the rays with his golden armor
as all of
Olympus was made known to his presence.
His anger sounded like thundering claps from his voice:
“‘All Olympians were forewarned to leave the Great War,
where man will decide their conquering fate,
and yet the black stench of Hades,
burnt flesh and sorrow,
fills my nostrils from atop Ida.
He did betray my orders.
Point towards his portal
so I may close it forever.’
“Within the echo of Zeus’ booming words,
the Great Messenger of the Gods,
with wings upon each heel,
and Hera of Fortune
appeared before the angered God in humbled poses.
The Queen of Gods did try to calm her husband:
“‘To what flame,
though high and fiery it must be to tempt your temper,
should we Gods point our dousing words?’
“The Golden King bellowed:
“‘To the same flame that bore me a troublesome brother!
No word of Hades’ release has reached me?’
“Hermes of the Golden-winged shoes did defend:
“‘Your inflamed brother, swiftly and rightly imprisoned after the Titan fall,
reached no ocean or land of Earth,
but my deliveries between the three great realms
may have brought wind of some brotherly-bond
to fulfill some pact from the underworld.’
“The Golden-armored God stood straight
and stepped forward with his voice rising:
“‘To another troublesome brother do you speak?
The Earth-mover? Tell me straight, messenger,
or the clouds of Olympus will clash upon you.’
“The meager messenger cowered, but remained true in voice:
“‘It is only what my ears have heard.’
“So the infuriated King struck;
a mighty bolt of yellow lightning bent from his hand
and pierced the clouds above the plains of land.
Where the mighty Poseidon sat,
his throne made of the salt and coral of the sea,
the furious lightning struck, frightening the Water King from his seat.
To Olympus did he fly
with anger and fury
when the source of such a blast was known,
and to the mighty source did he growl:
“‘Great Bolt-bearer,
the reason must be high and mind be swift to infuriate
to strike such a godly strike against my sanctuary.’
“While Zeus shined gold, he held his unwavering voice high:
“‘No greater an offense than what traitorous, villainous acts
my ears have caught your conjure enacting!
Is our trapped brother planning his great escape?
His promises to you, of rule and splendor,
would they bring you to a higher cloud than now?’
“The Sea-Bearer laughed boisterously:
“‘My Great King, do your immortal lungs some favor and allow them a rest,
for their echo is not needed
where there is no threat.
Our brother, the Lord of Styx himself, whispered to me from beneath his bars,
which I have kept strong and safe,
that he has to settle a mortal dispute.
Your highness was watchful upon Ida
as the small favor occurred.
He gave a folded parchment no bigger than your smallest crest,
and I swore upon our brotherhood to deliver the parcel.’
“The Golden King huffed, retracting his form and volume while speaking:
“‘Such a small favor would open your dams of compassion,
to which Hades would fill Styx and Tartarus with your form alone.
Dangerous though it may be for you,
kindness amongst family deserves no reproach.’
“The Great Sea-God mocked:
“‘Am I not a brother to you?
Do you show me kindness, or strike a bolt into my throne?’
“Zeus, King of the Gods, would hear no more:
“‘Back to your depths, Earth-Shaker,
before my wrath would find the Earth of little concern.’
“Poseidon did recoil to his lair while Zeus raged on:
“‘To my company of glowing brethren: I search for an all-knowing answer.
This claw which does latch to my hands and make them heavy
brings my knees to the ground and snaps my will.
As we have no need for the hearts of man,
my love seems to leave on spread wings.
There is nothing holding such a beat within my great body.’
“Aphrodite, hearing the word of love,
did fly to Zeus’ feet and spoke
in nothing but the sweetest of lyrical tones:
“‘To the great Father of Gods the heart of man used to feel trite
as their size was easily fractured beneath a light stomp of a satyr’s hoof,
but now, the smell of Zelus wafts to your high cloud.’
“The Golden King was not offended and spoke with longing:
“‘Perhaps not the lesser God,
but I do wish man and Achilles and Hektor,
though below he be now,
would show meaning for my grace with a feat unstoppable from human hand.
To be shown the bridge over the chasm between spirit and action,
and then perhaps my love would be ever-lasting,
my mercy unstretched as I would know the capable limits of man.’
“The Queen of Gods offered a hand to her husband’s broad shoulder
and spoke soft words to his bent ear:
“‘Dear husband, to your growing sorrow I offer a spike,
as the air within may overwhelm and consume even the King of Gods.
Achilles was built and born for war;
Hektor was for leading deathly harbingers until his own departure;
to what other men would greatness such as there’s abide the flesh?’
“Zeus sat upon his throne with a heavy sigh:
“‘I am to wonder, then, if any man possesses what the Fates do resist.
If these men were built thusly for war-like actions,
then let them destruct their own accords while I ponder mine.’
“Back in the deep Sea-Palace,
the Great Poseidon felt the constant beat
from far above
of oar against water,
and the massive wave crashed rhythmically
as if fifty men were behind the single pair of oars.
“He roared against the waves:
“‘Any nymph closest to my voice,
go above and find the men capable of such strength.’
“The closest nymph rushed forward with an answer quick from her tongue:
“‘The constant flap of watery wave against your castle
comes from one man within a tiny boat, my lord.’
“The Earth-Shaker, disbelieving, mocked his servant:
“‘Your senses have dulled from your journeys to your son’s side.’
“The nymph Thetis responded with a plea:
“‘I would travel there more if you would but let me.’
“The bender of waves thought aloud with bold speech:
“‘Zeus did lay the law upon the Olympians,
that men will fight amongst themselves,
but servants were not banned.
Go, watch the fall of the Citadel from the shoreline,
if only to find yourself relieved.’
“The Mother of Achilles prostrated herself before the great god:
“‘Thank you, Lord of the Seas,
but the waves that still crash beside your fortress
did come from one man,
and his great steps across your Earth,
may echo e
ven more deeply.’
“Above the fleeting Nymph,
the man named Kaneis treaded lightly
with only a dented sword and a loaf of bread tied around his waist.
His clothes,
having barely survived the journey from Trojan shores,
had lost even the deep color of the Aneaid nation.
They hung with porous will from his shoulder,
revealing his tight and reddened skin.
The salt within his tangled bear added such a weight to his face;
the face that had so kindly greeted injured and sick
had all but hardened from the winds
into one of constant stillness.
“While Apollo moved the golden orb across the sky,
the Man with Nothing strode across the dirt split in the vast green fields.
He continued into the horizon until the tip of Olympus,
shrouded by cloud,
could be traced,
and the village of worshippers,
a common ground for the most loyal of servants,
could be found at the base.
“Kaneis basked in the mighty mountain as he approached,
finding himself tangled in the low structures of the village
as his neck craned up.
“The mighty voice Zeus bestowed within Kaneis let loose as he found the village center: