The Twelve Labors of Nick

by Amy Wolf

  “What? Oh no. I need you, right?” Nick tried to give her what he hoped was a dazzling smile. “How else would I know where to go?”

  “I can tell you,” she said.

  “To Hades?” asked Nick. “Helen, you made a joke!” She shrugged. “But you know there’s more than that. Being a Hero is . . . well, frankly, it’s lonely. And if you weren’t here, who would tell me not to give up? If you hadn’t been in that cave, I would have run away.”

  As a guy, he had trouble saying this: but, as a Greek, it was tough to hold back.

  Beside him, Helen smiled—even patted his arm.

  “Very well,” she said, “let’s not fight. You must save your strength for your Labor.”

  “Yay,” said Nick. Then he thought of the Hydra. “How do we get to Lake Lemon?”

  “Lerna,” she corrected. “I’m fairly sure it’s south, but I don’t know how far.”

  “Okay,” said Nick. “Let’s head that way and hope we never get there.”

  Helen shook her head.

  They walked all afternoon, trudging in the heat until they spotted two shepherds. Nick groaned. Not more lamb chops! He let Helen approach them, and was glad he did, since she returned with bread and cheese, not to mention wine.

  Nick was more thirsty than hungry: still, this food was so fresh that he ate every bite. Even Helen finished her portion.

  “Thanks,” said Nick as Helen got up to give back the jug. When she rejoined him, he tried to find some shade. Ha! “You know,” he said, “I always thought Greece was so green. Ya-Ya used to say there’s always an olive nearby.” He looked around. “All that I see are rocks.”

  “That’s just here,” said Helen. “With the gods’ blessing, we’ll see some wonderful places.”

  “The gods,” Nick mumbled. Is that what he had to count on? His thoughts turned to his dad, carrying on the family tradition: of never showing up. “Nice of Chiron to help,” he muttered.

  “He cannot,” said Helen. “Like all of us here, he must obey Zeus’ will.”

  “What about me?” Nick asked. “I’m not even from here.”

  “Does it matter? For you have seen Hephaestus; heard the voice of Athena. You have been to Olympus and viewed the Sphinx and Lion. How can you not believe?”

  Nick struggled with this one.

  “Um . . .” he said, “I wasn’t brought up ‘in the faith.’ I mean, where I come from, we only have one god.”

  “Curious.”

  “And dudes like Zeus and Apollo . . . in my world, they’re just myths.”

  Helen arched an eyebrow.

  “But you have seen them with your own eyes.”

  “Well . . .” Nick tried to think, but it was just too darned hot. “I know I’ve seen things, but I’m not sure what they are. I mean, this could all be Storyland where nothing in it is real. In a way, I hope so.”

  “Do you?” asked Helen sharply. “Then your father is a dream, and-and so am I. We simply do not exist.”

  “I didn’t mean that!” Nick cried, wishing he had stayed quiet. “It’s just . . . if Mýthos was make-believe, then I couldn’t be killed.”

  “Oh,” said Helen, but she still didn’t sound too thrilled.

  “Of course,” Nick went on, “I don’t wish you were a dream. As far as my dad . . .”

  “Do not discount him,” she said. “He might help you yet. Or do you have the gift of prophecy?”

  “Me?” Nick hooted. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here!”

  “Hmph,” said Helen, and, for the next few miles, they tread their path in silence. As in all his races, Nick waited for a second wind, and, at mile five, he felt it kick in strongly.

  “Wanna go for it?” he asked. “I mean, you are a world-striding Titan.”

  “For what?” she asked. “Unlike you, I am not an oracle.”

  “Let’s run!” Nick cried, and he put himself in track mode. His armor—more awkward than heavy—wasn’t much of a burden, though his weapons were clunky. He was glad to see Helen keep up: even in an ankle-length peplos!

  “Loser buys pizza!” Nick yelled, and, though she looked at him oddly, Helen extended her stride, keeping up with him until he found his sweet spot: a hundred-eight strides a minute as his arms and legs pumped together.

  Nick felt great. This was just what he needed! He took it to the next level as he approached a large boulder, hearing Helen’s steps behind him. Just like he used to do, he raised both arms in victory.

  “The winner!” he cried, bending and clutching his knees. He found he wasn’t that winded, and, as she stopped beside him, Helen too breathed easy.

  “By Hermes,” she said, “you are really fast.”

  “Told ya,” said Nick, stretching his legs. “I could’ve gone to nationals.”

  “And that’s good?” she asked.

  “Very.”

  “Perhaps you’ll go someday.”

  “If I live,” said Nick. Now that he’d worked out, he felt a lot more relaxed. “Hey, I’m thirsty. Let’s go down to that lake.”

  He pointed to a small one below.

  “Oh no!” Helen cried. “Lake Lerna is filled with poison.”

  “From the Hydra?” Nick asked.

  “Yes, but this place is known for its springs. Let’s see if we can find one.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Nick, and followed her down to the shore. Now that they were close, he could smell disgusting fumes. Helen stood still as a statue, cocked her head, and listened. She pointed to a copse of trees, where Nick heard a welcome sound: the rushing roar of water.

  “Sweet,” he said, jogging by Helen’s side until they discovered the source: a small spring fed by a waterfall. Here, the air was pure, the water as clear as the Mýthos sea.

  “Last one in’s a rotten egg!” Nick yelled, stripping off his armor and tunic. Oh. That left him totally naked. Embarrassed, he dove into a pool, feeling caressed by its warmth. Swimming over to the waterfall, he leaned back to catch its spray. Man, that felt good! He just wished that he had some soap.

  When Nick moved forward, blinking, he saw that Helen had joined him. She was now without her peplos but covered her breasts with both hands. This was all new to Nick, and, blushing, he turned away.

  “You may look,” she said. “You will not see anything you shouldn’t.”

  “Great,” he said, not feeling it. He shook his head free of water. “Isn’t this awesome?”

  She nodded, and he noticed that her muscles—the ones on top, at least—were as tense as his had been when he’d fought the Lion.

  “You can relax,” he told her. “I am not a Poseidon.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “But sometimes . . . when there’s a boy and a girl . . . ”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “My mom taught me all about it.”

  Helen blushed and sighed deeply.

  “It is too late for me,” she whispered. “As Athena’s priestess, I was sworn to purity.

  Now . . .” She looked down. “All I can do is not shame myself further.”

  Nick nodded, hoping to say the right thing.

  “Hey, I’m woke. I mean, I believe in consent. Not that I’ve been in that situation . . .”

  “‘Cause you just lost interest in girls.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird. I know it worries my mom.”

  “Well, when the time is right . . .” Helen’s voice trailed off.

  “Could that be now?” Nick asked, wondering if he should have said that. “What do you think?”

  She didn’t speak—just turned away in sorrow. All of Nick’s passion deflated, and he slowly submerged. When he had to come up for air, he saw that Helen now stood beside him. Placing her arms around his neck, she kissed him full on the lips. Whoa! It was better without those cheek guards! He put his own arms around her, kissing her soft lips as the waterfall sounded behind them. Against his chest, he could feel the swell of her breasts. He took his hands and moved them carefully down her back.

  �
��Helen,” he whispered, “you could launch more than a thousand ships—I’d say, the whole Greek Navy!”

  “Nikólaos,” she whispered, stiffening, “as an unmarried woman, I must beg you to stop.”

  “Right,” said Nick, reluctantly moving away.

  “Also,” she said, shielding herself again, “there is something you do not know. Something about me which I think will disgust you.”

  “I doubt it,” Nick protested. “Do we really have any secrets?”

  “I do,” said Helen. “You know I have been a monster—”

  “Yes.”

  “Well.” She looked him right in the eye. “I have spawned other monsters.”

  “Oh,” said Nick. He had no other words. Were there other Medusas around, turning men into stone? “I-I think we should get out,” he stuttered.

  “Turn around,” Helen commanded, and Nick obeyed, hearing her slip on her garment. “All right.”

  Now she turned her back, and, using his tunic as a towel, he hastily put on his armor.

  “You know,” he said, struggling, “I knew a girl at school who had a baby last year. It really wasn’t so bad—she ended up marrying Steve.”

  Helen whirled like the Titan she was.

  “Was she violated?” she cried. “Held against her will by a rapacious god?”

  “No!” Nick said. “I see. It wasn’t the same at all.”

  Helen wiped tears from her cheeks.

  “You have no idea,” she said, “what it’s like not just to be forced, but to bear unnatural children.”

  “And then be cursed for it,” Nick said softly. “You’re right, I don’t.” They listened in silence to the waterfall. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “What’s done cannot be undone. I ask only that you respect me.”

  “Me? Of course. That’s how I was brought up.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t mean to blame you.”

  “You’re not,” Nick answered. “You’re just someone who’s really suffered. I wish I could make it better.” She nodded, blinking away tears. “If there’s anything—” Wait, he’d already said that. “Helen, I only hope that things get better for you.”

  “They already have,” she said. “You freed me from my torment, and for that I will always be grateful.”

  Nick’s shoulders sagged. Had he been put in the Friend Zone?

  “I . . . I like you,” she went on, putting a hand on his arm. “In fact, I might even love you.”

  Nick had to wait a few seconds, letting her words sink in.

  “You—you—”

  “I love you,” she said. “You have proved yourself a true Hero. But even more, you are a good and kind man.”

  Nick felt his heart sink into his sandals.

  “That’s it?” he asked. “Nothing about my big muscles?”

  Helen laughed.

  “Of course, you are handsome! Though your legs are a bit thin.”

  “I’m a runner,” said Nick. “We’re built for speed, not bulk.”

  She put her hands to her mouth.

  “You make yourself sound like a horse.”

  Nick let out a whinny, then took a deep breath.

  “Guess it’s my turn,” he said.

  “You can do it,” said Helen, “remember—you’re Greek.”

  “Helen, I-I really like you too. I haven’t known you for long, but I feel like you’re the one.”

  She looked at him, puzzled. “I mean, the-the one I’m supposed to be with for the rest of my life.”

  “That’s sweet,” she said, stroking his arm, “but you are very young.”

  “You’re not exactly ancient!”

  “Actually, I am. That is why I know: Nothing lasts forever. Unless you are immortal.”

  There was something about that phrase that seemed like déjà vu. Yes! He had said it himself.

  “Well, immortal or not,” he said, “I’m staying with you forever. Just try to get rid of me—I’ll be meaner than Hera!”

  A Snake Walks into a Swamp

  Nick felt great as they left the spring. Finally, somebody loved him! Somebody who wasn’t his mom or one of his many aunts. That put a spring in his step as they walked out through the trees. Then, he started to think . . . about what Helen had told him.

  So, she was a mom. Not of twins or triplets, but monsters. What did they look like? Nick wondered. Did they wave around tentacles or have huge eyes on stalks? He didn’t want to ask. Then, something hit him: one day, he might be their stepdad!

  “Ew,” he said, as they headed for a narrow path.

  “Ew what?” asked Helen, her hair glinting in the sun.

  “It’s okay. Just thinking about that Hydra.”

  She nodded, leading him deeper into what he saw was olive grove. Hey, maybe Ya-Ya was right! They both picked a few handfuls. Nick had never eaten them fresh, and found himself disappointed that they were kind of bitter. Oh, well. At least they wouldn’t die of thirst since Helen had filled his helmet with water back at the spring. As the afternoon shadows lengthened, Nick just took it easy. He felt he had earned it after this crazy day.

  After Helios did his thing, a mild night fell. Nick wished he could make a bed out of branches—like those guys on Naked and Afraid—but he was a city boy who had never slept outdoors. Thoughts of the nearby Hydra made him keep his sword close as he slumped against a tree.

  “Sorry,” he said to Helen.

  “For what?” she asked, sliding beside him.

  “For not being able to build a hut.” She laughed. “At least it’s not freezing here.”

  “No,” she said.

  Nick tried to close his eyes, but they were plagued by too many images: Helen, naked in the spring, her lips pressed against his; and her startling confession.

  “Nick,” Helen’s voice called softly. “Do you mind?”

  “What?”

  “That I’m the mother of monsters.”

  “Uh . . .” He tried to think. “Guess I’d have to see them first.”

  “That’s fair,” she said, though he thought he heard disappointment.

  “Look,” he said, “I’m scared to be dad to a squid, but I’m certainly willing to try.”

  Helen burst into laughter.

  “You are a strange one,” she said.

  The next morning when he awoke, Nick saw Helen already up. She’d gathered a clump of olives which Nick gratefully took. After he’d eaten his fill, he glanced at his shield . Ugh. There was the Hydra: spitting poison from every head. What had made it so mad?

  “So,” he asked Helen, “is Snaky worse than Leo?”

  “I would say . . yes. I confess that last night, I prayed hard to Athena. She implored her sister Artemis, who has given you this.”

  From behind a trunk, she withdrew an archer’s bow—and a quiver of bronze-tipped arrows.

  “Whoa,” said Nick, picking both of them up. “I just wish I knew how to use them.”

  “Aim and shoot,” said Helen. “Now, you can strike from a distance.”

  Nick nodded, fingering the taut string. Now he wished he’d done Archery when he was a kid at camp.

  “We better get started,” said Helen. “It’s twenty stadia back to the lake.”

  “I wonder,” said Nick, “why you’re always so eager, and, for some reason, I’m not.”

  “Hmmp,” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the swamp. They could smell it before they could see it, and it wasn’t exactly like roses.

  “Blech,” said Nick. “Old Snaky’s sure smelly.”

  As they came closer, he saw that the “lake” was more like a swamp itself.

  “I prefer Lake Elsinore,” said Nick, holding his nose. “Or anyplace, really.”

  As he and Helen circled the shore, they looked for a mutant reptile. But they didn’t see the Hydra: just a cave that bellowed foul steam.

  “That must be its lair,” said Helen.

  “They all seem to have one,” Nick said. He w
as getting, if not casual, than used to this whole monster thing.

  With Helen beside him, he slogged through mud to the cave.

  “What’s up?” Nick yelled, his words muffled by rock. “It’s me, Nick—Nikólaos, son of Chiron. I’m here to beat your slimy behind!”

  Nick heard hissing within: then, the steady movement of coils.

  “Oh boy,” he breathed, grabbing his bow and an arrow. He shakily notched up the shaft and slowly pulled back the string. His jacked-up arms didn’t hurt.

  “Hey, Snake Boy!” Nick yelled.

  This seemed to anger the Hydra, since Nick heard its scales slide faster, until, from the cave mouth, came a slithering, stinky mess!

  It really did have nine heads, and all were bobbing and hissing, eighteen fangs bared like daggers. The Hydra was truly hideous, with scales of green and grey, about the same size as his old friend Leo. Trembling, Nick didn’t hesitate: he let his arrow fly, and, at this short distance, struck one of those hissing heads!

  “Cut it off!” Helen yelled, then covered her mouth. She wasn’t allowed to help, and Nick bet the Hydra knew it.

  He went in with his sword, swiping under the injured head. THERE! He lopped it off, but, to his horror, two more grew in its place!

  “I think I saw this in a movie!” Nick shouted, firing off two more arrows. They pierced the Hydra’s coils, but not enough to stop it.

  “Okay then,” Nick yelled, running toward those clustered snake heads. He cut one off, then another, but all they did was multiply. Nick counted twelve; then sixteen: he had a feeling he would never see a prime number!

  C’mon, he groaned to himself, his sword arm getting heavy. Stop growing already!

  Despite the swarm of heads, Nick tried to keep the main one in sight: the one that was immortal. It did look kind of smug, with an expression that said: “You can’t kill me, so don’t even try.” In the meantime, Nick felt a coil slither against his sandals, and, with a snap, drag him across the ground.

  “Hey!” he yelled, raising his sword, but couldn’t see where the Hydra began and his ankles ended. It would be a shame, he thought, to cut off his own foot.

  Nick felt the same kind of fear as had in the Lion’s cave. The Hydra was sweeping him closer, his death just seconds away.