Pale Eyes

by James Welsh

Although Zeus and Hades were still fighting each other on the slopes of Olympus, it seemed as if their battle had already been decided for them. Far below, Hades’ shade army still advanced, chewing up everything in its wake. Farms, villages, ports, even entire cities were buried under feet and feet of ash and dust. And so, for the first time in history, the night swept eastward instead of westward. As the cloud of spirits swept across the land, it only grew larger and larger. Because, for every person that choked to death from the ash, a new soldier joined the ranks of the shades. But the cloud’s stomach was infinity, and nothing that it ate could ever be enough. Yet still the shades stormed across Greece, starving, looking to fill and fulfill themselves.

  No one – perhaps not even the shades themselves – knew the army’s intentions. The innocent below were doing all they could to survive, with the lucky ones thinking to wrap their faces with cloth. The unlucky ones, though, tried to outrun the storm, gasping heavily as they did – they inhaled the shades until they themselves became shades. And yet, as incredible as the shade army was, they had little control over their own march. Instead, they were pushed or pulled rather by the strong currents of wind. They were little more than flying jellyfish, their legs useless, the world doing the walking for them. But anyone who survived the panic below would have noticed the wind was pushing in a northeasterly direction, hugging the coastline. At the speed the wind was going, it would not be long before the shades reached the outskirts of Athens. The moment the army touched Athens, the city would become the world’s largest cemetery, the army would grow impossibly, and all would be lost.

  But there was no mortal who could stand against the march. Their best spearmen would only throw their spears through the shades, the archers their arrows. If the swordsmen stabbed at the shades, they would only get their swords dusty. If the mortals could draw up any hasty defense along the coast, it would be no use. There were a few riders brave enough to race the storm, their horses galloping breathless along the shoreline. But even if the horsemen reached Athens in time, would the Athenians believe them? Would they actually believe that a cloud of death was rumbling towards them, a storm of choking dust that could kill the strongest in just moments? Who would want to believe in such things?

  And just like how the shades didn’t know where the path would take them, they didn’t know what the path would bring them. Their answer came further along the shore. There, the cliffs began to rise higher and higher over the sea and the wind changed course, veering to the left, deeper inland. There, the shades quickly found themselves in a maze of canyons and valleys, a convoluted network that did nothing but slow down the inevitable. It may have been easier for the shades to continue hugging the coastline, flying straight like an arrow towards Athens. But the wind was their master – wherever the wind went, so did the shades.

  As the cloud of shades made its way through one valley, where the muddy walls on either side were mossy with stubborn trees and bushes, something began to happen. It began first as a growl, low and murmuring. But then, the growl rose until it became a roar, which the shades recognized as not being their own. This roar was something new, something raw, something very much alive.

  And that was when they appeared. A band of soldiers climbed over a nearby ridge, dressed in full armor, clanging their shields with their swords, giving their battle-cry. Who are these people? The shades wondered amongst themselves. Don’t they know how easily we can kill them?

  What the shades didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, but it could defeat them.

  “Shades of Hades! Stay back! Stay back or we will bring you down!”

  The voice of Athena boomed and echoed through the valley like a rockslide. The cloud halted, suspended in the air like a black sun at noon. The shades whispered amongst themselves once more.

  The gods, they’ve come.

  We can’t kill them. Their skin is too tough, their blood too strong.

  We need to push on.

  As long as the gods stood between the shades and Athens, the shade army could not move. Each Olympian gave off a soft breeze when they were in their immortal form. This wind was necessary, because it trumpeted their arrival in the mortal world. When other creatures in the woods and plains felt that wind, they knew that a god was approaching, and all of the bears, foxes, wolves, and rabbits would bow. When the gods were separate, the breeze was noticeable yet weak – when they were together, though, their breeze combined was more of a whirlwind than anything else. Even though the gods were still a distance away from the cloud, their wind was still very real. And so the cloud hung in the air, frozen.

  As the cloud hovered, the gods looked on from the ridge, unsure of what to do. Hermes, floating with his winged sandals just above the others, wondered out loud, “So, how will the battle go?”

  The gods looked expectantly towards Ares, thinking that the god of war would know a strategy. Red in the face, Ares blustered, “I’m still working on a plan. Let me think!”

  Hermes looked back at the cloud. “Well, what’s the worse they can do to us, anyway? They can’t kill us.”

  Demeter said thoughtfully, “That’s true. We’ve lived in the mountains our whole lives – we’re used to breathing thin air, if any.”

  “We need to drive them back into the Underworld, now!” Athena said urgently. She pointed in the distance to Mount Olympus. The mountain was covered in clouds darker than night. Even from far away, they could hear the applause of thunder. “Zeus and Hades are already fighting. We have to make the shades retreat if we want to weaken Hades. We need to…”

  “Look!”

  Artemis was pointing past the gods and goddesses, her outstretched finger towards the shades. The immortals looked, and what they saw astounded them. The belly of the cloud was opening up, and figures were raining downwards. The gods watched as the raining creatures landed in a creek far below. The creatures quickly recovered and leapt from the creek, sprinting up the slopes towards where the gods stood. As high up as the gods were, the creatures were running even faster. They only had moments before the battle would begin.

  “What are those?” Hera asked, squinting at the charging forces.

  Athena was the first to recognize them, even though she had never seen them before. She had heard enough stories to know who they were. She screamed, “They’re the prisoners of Tartarus! Prepare for battle!”

  The gods barely had time to raise their swords and shields before the charge struck. Tantalus was the first of the prisoners to reach the gods. Tantalus pulled his longsword from the sheath and swung for Athena’s head. Athena ducked and moved her shield to the side, ready to jab at Tantalus with her sword. But the prisoner was already lunging at her and the two fell, tumbling down the slope behind them. Their fall stopped a short way down the hill, when the two of them slammed against a boulder jutting out of the hillside. Dazed, Athena stumbled up to her feet, taking a moment to realize why she fell. She spun around wildly, looking for Tantalus. She found the prisoner nearby, clutching his chest – that was when she saw the sword handle sticking out of his breast. Tantalus must have impaled himself as they tumbled down the hill. She watched in silence as Tantalus lurched upwards – the old king gritted his teeth and pulled the blade from his rotting chest. As Tantalus wiped his guts from the rusty sword, Athena wondered how she could kill a man who was already dead.

  As Athena looked past Tantalus and up the hill, she could see the other gods and prisoners fighting each other. Although the gods had managed to stay together at first, she could see that they were breaking up into one-on-one combat. Once the group of gods broke their ranks and dispersed into their separate fights, the hill would be unguarded and the storm of shades could march on again. She had to make the gods regroup.

  She tried to race past Tantalus, but the rotting king stepped in front of her and raised his sword. She couldn’t tell if he was grinning or snarling. “If you’re really a god, why are y
ou afraid of me?”

  “I’m not,” Athena said warily, looking past Tantalus at the larger fight happening uphill.

  “Then fight me…” Tantalus began, and then a commotion happened. A swirl of feathers and talons landed on Tantalus’ face, scratching and digging. Tantalus screamed, his hands latching to his face as the owl flew away. Athena’s eyes followed the owl as it shot back into the skies. Athena smiled and whispered, “Thank you, mother.”

  She looked back down at Tantalus, who had somehow become even more gruesome. The owl’s talons had popped Tantalus’ eyeballs, the jelly dripping thickly down his cheeks. It was a blessing for Tantalus that he could not feel the blinding pain that came with his eyes being clawed out. But, that also meant that he couldn’t see anything that was going on in front of him. His arms flailing in front of him, Tantalus tripped forward as he roared, “You see what I am now? This is what you’ll look like when I find you!”

  Athena laughed. She cracked Tantalus across the face with the broadside of her sword. Not expecting the blow, Tantalus stumbled to the side and continued rolling down the slope. Athena watched, mildly interested, as Tantalus reached the edge of the slope and disappeared over the side, leaving behind only a trail of frustrated screams.

  When Athena rejoined the battle, she knew then that the rest of the fight would not be as easy. Ares and Nemesis were struggling with one another. Hephaestus and Thanatos were dueling. Sisyphus was fighting both Artemis and Apollo. Hermes was hovering above the battle, trying to get close enough to help one of his fellow gods but getting chased away each time by the vicious Cerberus. To the side, Athena spotted Aphrodite standing between Hera and the lustful Ixion. Each of the gods – even the powerful Ares – looked as if they needed help, any kind of help. Athena paused for a moment before deciding to help Hermes.

  Hermes dove in to save Aphrodite from what looked like a stunning hit, but he yelped as the three-headed dog leapt forward and got a hold of one of his winged sandals. Hermes tried to pull away, but Cerberus yanked off Hermes’ right sandal. Now uneven, Hermes awkwardly tried to fly away on one sandal, but he hit the ground hard after a short distance. Two of Cerberus’ heads growled hungrily as the lucky head ripped the winged sandal to shreds. With Hermes downed, the mischievous god had no more tricks, now easy game for Cerberus’ three jaws dripping with poison. Hermes would survive the bite, of course, but at the cost of his sanity. Even from a distance, he could see the dog’s jaws frothy with spit, the faces soaked with hysterical tears, the eyes both terrified and terrifying. Still, Hermes did not think to get up and run away – his winged shoes had spoiled him for too long, and Hermes could not remember the last time he had to run, if ever. He scrambled backwards in the rocky soil as the dog rushed towards him. He shut his eyes and waited for the poison.

  But the agonies never came. Hermes heard howls and grunts and he opened his eyes to see Cerberus rearing back on its hind legs. Athena had grasped onto the mighty dog’s back, her fingers digging into the patchy fur. She ducked and twisted her body as the dog spun in circles, its many jaws struggling to snap at the rider. Through the swirling rush, Hermes saw that Athena was barefoot, and that she was holding onto something with one clenched fist. Hermes saw the goddess lash out with her hand, and at first he thought she had punched Cerberus in one of its jaws. But then, he saw the jaw clamp shut, with something dark like a snake coiled around its long snout. It took Hermes a moment to realize that Athena had unlaced her boots, and that she was using the leather laces to tie the dog’s mouths shut. There was a yelp as another dog’s jaw was tied shut. Unfortunately, Athena only had two boots, and the dog had three jaws. Cerberus finally managed to toss Athena free, and the goddess rolled in the dirt. As she got up, she saw the dog charging towards her now, its last free mouth snapping wildly.

  Athena reached for her sword, but she realized that she had dropped it, when Cerberus had thrown her. The sword was ten feet away, useless – she would be mauled to madness by the time she reached her weapon. When Cerberus was just a few feet away from her, she saw a flash from her right. There was a moment of turbulence, and then the dog collapsed in a shaking fit. Standing over the dog was Hermes, now completely barefoot and triumphant. He had shoved his sole sandal deep into the dog’s mouth, jamming the dog’s jaw. The dog fiercely shook its head, trying to dislodge the stuck sandal, but the shoe remained. Whimpering in strangled tones, the dog trotted away, desperate to free all three of its jaws.

  “Your sandals!” Athena called over the battle’s roar.

  “I can always get another pair of winged sandals…look!” Hermes yelled, pointing his finger. Athena turned and saw Hephaestus stumbling down the hill, with Thanatos marching swiftly behind him. She also saw, out of the corner of her eye, Demeter standing on the outskirts of the battlefield, wringing the worry out of her hands, Persephone shielded behind her.

  Athena wanted to scream out in fury. She wanted to tell Demeter to let Persephone alone for once. They were in a battle where every number counted – yet Demeter would rather guard her daughter than the rest of the world. But there was no time for her to shout sense into Demeter.

  She snapped, “Hermes, drag our aunt into battle if you have to. We need her!”

  While Hermes dashed through the battle towards Demeter, Athena ran to Hephaestus’ aid. The crippled god was making his way through the hillside strewn with boulders, struggling to reach his dropped crossbow. Moments earlier, Hephaestus aimed a dart from his crossbow at Thanatos – but the jailor was swaddled in dark, flowing robes, making him a hard target to hit. And so the crossbow dart frayed Thanatos’ robes and cracked into the ground behind him. Hephaestus desperately reloaded his crossbow with another dart, hoping he could do it in time. He wished that, when he made the crossbow, he didn’t make the weapon so complicated to reload. The fact that his heavy plate armor was slowing him down did not help matters. By the time Hephaestus had a dart resting in the crossbow, Thanatos had already reached the god. Thanatos jabbed his sword between the bow and the string, ripping the crossbow out of Hephaestus’ hands and sending it flying down the rocky hill.

  Thanatos could have easily caught up with Hephaestus as the crippled god stumbled downhill towards his weapon. But Thanatos was thrilled with the thought of a god trying to run away from him, and so he slowed his sprint to a powerful stride. He loved the moment too much to see it go. Athena knew that the second Hephaestus grabbed his crossbow and wheeled around, though, the god would have a sword aiming straight for him.

  It all seemed to happen in one motion. Hephaestus snatched the crossbow from the ground with one hand, a dart in the other. Thanatos brought his sword back, ready to swing the blade down on the god’s arm. Before he could do this, though, he felt something, or someone, grip his wrist so tightly that his sword clattered to the ground behind him. Athena gripped Thanatos’ wrist with her left hand and swung her sword in a wide arc with her right, the sword’s tip pointing towards Thanatos’ heaving chest. Thanatos gasped as the sword broke through his brittle ribcage, sheared open both of his withered lungs, and broke through his back in a spray of sour guts and crackly skin.

  Athena gave a mighty roar and flung her sword so hard that Thanatos’ impaled body flew off the blade. The rotten Thanatos soared through the air and against a boulder, where the jailor collapsed in a heap of broken bones and spilled juices. Athena grabbed Hephaestus by the arm and snapped, “Hurry! We still have a battle to win!”

  Hephaestus nodded and wheezed as he stood up to his stooped height. Athena scrambled back up the hill, Hephaestus shuffling close behind her, as the two rejoined the battle. As they ran out of the shadow of the shade army, Athena had to swerve around a fiery boulder that fell from the skies – although the shades looked wispy, that did not stop the cloud from raining rocks and ash down on them. Athena glanced back at a pale Hephaestus, chalky with the falling ash, and shouted, “Stay with the group, no matter what!�
��

  Hephaestus nodded grimly. Only by staying together as a group, protecting one another, could the gods protect the rest of the world. He understood now that the shades wanted to split up the group, to weaken their winds so that the army could plunge down the valley towards Athens in the distance.

  Hephaestus ran to help Aphrodite fight back Ixion as Athena wondered which battle to help with next. Ares and Nemesis were circling one another with carnage in their eyes. Athena saw what looked like white paint dripping down from Ares’ arm. She got closer before she realized that it wasn’t paint, but ichor – Ares was bleeding. But how? The only creature that could scratch an immortal was another immortal – Athena understood that all too well. And Nemesis was no immortal – her blood did not shine the way that the Olympian blood did. Athena didn’t comprehend what had happened until she heard Nemesis’ taunts.

  “What a brilliant general! You don’t even know how to hold a sword.”

  Ares snarled and pointed to his sword. “The next time you touch this, it’ll be when I run it through your heart!”

  “If only I had one,” Nemesis said with a smile.

  Athena guessed, but it would not be until later when she heard the truth. Nemesis had managed to overpower Ares in the first moments of their fight. Ares could only watch in horror as Nemesis grabbed his sword – which Ares still clutched in his hand – and rubbed the blade against his other arm. The sword slipped along his skin, leaving behind a path slimy with pain and running blood. And while Nemesis could have easily slit Ares’ throat with the god’s own sword – while the god was still holding his sword – she needed him alive. Already, Ares’ mouth was foaming with fury, his eyes red with shame. Ares didn’t know it, but every moment he remained angry, that was another moment when Nemesis grew stronger. Athena needed Nemesis to be weak, somehow.

  Athena rushed from behind, taking out her sword and plunging it into Nemesis’ trailing robes. The vengeful woman halted as she realized she was anchored to the ground with a sword. By that point, though, Athena had already ducked under Nemesis’ flailing arms and launched herself onto Ares, sending both of the immortals falling to the ground.

  Surprised, Ares sputtered, “What do you think you’re doing? Whose side are you on?”

  “Don’t attack her!” Athena ordered.

  “You’re not the one she shamed. Get off me! Let me save my reputation!”

  With a mighty heave, Ares pushed Athena to the side and got up on his feet once more. From the ground, Athena begged, “Please, you don’t understand! She feeds off your revenge!”

  “Then let her eat herself to death!”

  Ares rushed towards Nemesis, who was too busy trying to free herself from the stuck sword to notice the god. Nemesis spotted Ares, though, at the last moment – she saw the gleam of madness in Ares’ eyes, and when she saw this, she smiled. And as Nemesis smiled, Athena realized what she had to do.

  Ares’ attack never happened. Ares stopped in mid-air, his sword inches away from Nemesis’ face. With a look of shock on his face, Ares was flung backwards into the rock. Athena stood where Ares was a moment before, her breasts heaving, the goddess trying to catch her breath. As strong as she was, Ares weighed just a little more.

  Ares got back on his feet and roared, “How dare you stop me?”

  “I’ll toss you again if I have to!” Athena snapped. “I don’t want you making a mistake you’ll regret.”

  Ares spat on the ground before Athena. The god of war cracked his knuckles and asked, “Why do you care for me now, sister? Why can’t it wait until after the battle?”

  Athena said quickly, “You and I have had our scuffles in the past, but we need to stop fighting. That’s why I forgive you.”

  Taken aback, Ares simply said, “What?”

  “I forgive you for all of the pain you’ve caused me, for invading my home before, for killing my neighbors,” Athena said, walking towards Ares as she spoke. “I can only hope you forgive me for what I’ve done to you.”

  Ares didn’t understand what Athena was saying at first. That is, he didn’t understand until he looked past the advancing Athena, and saw Nemesis, or rather what Nemesis was becoming. The embodiment of all revenge was looking at Athena, shocked that she wanted to end the cycle of vengeance. Although her upper body was still intact, Nemesis’ feet and legs were beginning to fade like sunlight at dusk. Ares could actually see the ground behind Nemesis now, the woman was so faint.

  Hiding a smile, Ares said, “I forgive you as well, Athena. Now, let’s save our family, together.”

  And so brother and sister clasped hands as if they were signing a truce. Although their hands meant peace, their eyes still shook with fury at one another. The treaty was only skin-deep – their war was still ongoing – their war would possibly go on forever. But for now, their peace on the battlefield was enough. They turned to join their family in battle, but Athena forgot her sword. She ran back to grab her weapon, which was still plunged in the rock. Nemesis was nowhere to be found as Athena, with a loud grunt, pulled the blade from the ground and rushed to join the fight.

  The fight was beginning to turn, now that the gods and goddesses were united. Sisyphus had made a terrible mistake during his fight with Apollo and Artemis. The prisoner picked up a nearby boulder and flung it as easily as you would throw a stone across a pond. Artemis tried to step to the side, but she was not quick enough. The massive rock hit her in the arm and she went backwards with the stone. The boulder crunched into the ground, pinning Artemis’ arm and immobilizing her. Artemis had god’s blood and so she felt no pain, but she was not strong enough to pull herself out from under the boulder.

  Sisyphus laughed hard with the knowledge that he had defeated a god as powerful as Artemis. What he didn’t realize, though, was the effect that had on Apollo. As the god of the sun looked back to see his younger sister held helpless under the boulder, the beginnings of rage were creeping over his face. Apollo, a god notorious for being calm and orderly, gritted his teeth, his face flushed red. He roared at Sisyphus, “No one hurts my sister!”

  Apollo screamed an unearthly yell and began to glow. Athena, who was a distance away, could not tell if Apollo meant what he was doing, but she had certainly never seen him like that before. The god began glowing brighter and brighter, until anyone who looked at him had to turn away or be blinded. Sisyphus stumbled backwards before the light, his eyes shut, his arms up to block the shine. But Apollo was too bright, and Sisyphus could still see the glow.

  Still bursting with light, Apollo gave a piercing whistle. There was a brief pause, and Athena saw Apollo’s chariot shooting into view. The flying horses landed the chariot next to the temporarily blinded Sisyphus. The prisoner was still shaking the light from his eyes when Apollo roughly picked up Sisyphus by the foot and dragged him onboard the chariot. Apollo gave a sharp order and the horses obeyed. In less than a second, the chariot flew from the ground and shot into the heavens. Athena couldn’t see what was going on through the clouds, but she knew that it would end with Sisyphus having a very hard fall back to the earth. And she was right, as a few moments later, a dark blob broke out of the clouds and hurtled towards the ground. Athena watched as Sisyphus fell screaming into the valley far below.

  Almost all of the duels were over now, almost. The remaining fight was happening in the corner of the battlefield, on top of a large, flat rock. Ixion had managed to break his way past Aphrodite and Hephaestus, and he had clambered to the top of the boulder, where Hera was standing. Ixion had Hera by the arm, and Athena was surprised to see Hera not struggling, instead looking at Ixion with a dazed wonder in her eyes. Ixion had joined Hades’ army not to fight for the King of the Dead, but to have Hera in his arms once again.

  But Ixion soon realized how difficult it would be, fighting off a pack of gods with a sword in one hand and Hera in the other. Ixion waved his sword wildly at the approaching gods. The prisoner sh
outed, “Don’t come any closer! I’ll kill you all if I have to!”

  But there was no confidence in Ixion’s words. The prisoner knew that he couldn’t fight so many Olympians at once, and he knew that the gods knew this as well. Still, he held his sword up, ready to stab. And that was when Hera began to whisper in Ixion’s ear, words so soft that none of the others could hear what she was saying. As Hera whispered, the fight began to leave Ixion’s eyes. His sword lowering, Ixion looked at Hera with wonder and said in a hushed tone, “Really?”

  Hera simply nodded.

  Ixion let go of Hera’s arm and dropped his sword in surrender. Hephaestus and Aphrodite bound Ixion’s hands together with invincible leather straps from their sandals. As Apollo came back and lifted the boulder off Artemis’ arm, Athena approached Hera and asked, “What did you say to him?”

  Hera glared and said nothing.

  Athena didn’t bother questioning Hera any further. Instead, she looked up at the cloud of shades hovering above them. Across the globe, there were hundreds, if not thousands, of people dying by the minute, whether from disease or hunger or war. And when they died, their numbers joined the shade army, whether they wanted to or not. It would not be long before the shade army grew so strong that not even the Olympians could hold them back. They had to come up with a plan soon, one that would push the shades back into the Underworld.

  And that was when Athena thought of a plan – or rather, the plan hit her. That was possibly their best way of defeating the shades, perhaps the only way. She ran over to Apollo, who was hunched over Artemis, making sure that his sister was okay. She whispered her plan into Apollo’s ear. The god listened attentively to what Athena had to say. For the second time that day, Apollo showed a rare emotion – instead of fury, though, there was a thin smile on his face. When Athena finished whispering, Apollo said, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  Apollo jumped into his chariot, with Artemis close behind him. As the chariot zoomed into the sky, Athena rushed over to where Demeter was standing. She snapped at her aunt, “Your daughter’s fine for now. There are more important things at the moment.”

  Demeter said defensively, “The last time I looked away from my daughter, that beast took her.”

  Persephone, who was sitting on the ground behind Demeter, looked down and said nothing. Athena snarled, “Well then, if you don’t want to help us, then give me a seed. I’ll do the work myself if I have to!”

  “A seed?” Demeter asked. “What kind of seed? What for?”

  “A seed for an olive tree,” Athena said cryptically.

  Demeter reached into the pouch that she kept around her waist. She produced from the pouch one olive tree seed, which Athena snatched from her. Athena motioned for all of the gods to lean in close and listen to her.

  “I want you all to follow Apollo and do as he says,” Athena commanded, pointing up to the sky. “And, no matter what, you all must stay together!”

  With that said, Athena spun and started walking towards the ledge. She stuck the seed under her tongue, careful not to swallow it. She was beginning her transformation into an owl when a worried Hephaestus called out, “What about you? What are you going to do?”

  “I’m off to plant a garden,” Athena said through gritted teeth, now more owl than person.

  Book 19