The Twelve Labors of Nick

by Amy Wolf

  “Who else?” said the god, floating above Nick’s head. “Look,” he said, the wind blowing around him harmlessly. “I was wrong. That’s not easy for me to admit. But seeing how Artemis mourned her lover, I went with her to Zeus. Orion now lies in the stars, where she can visit him nightly.”

  “Wow,” said Nick, keeping one eye on the eagle.

  “He won’t harm you while I’m here,” said Apollo. “Now, shoot your dart. I will calm the winds.”

  “Are you allowed to help me?”

  “I’m a god. I can do what I want.”

  Leaning into the wind, Nick no longer saw Apollo.

  “Okay,” Nick said, and, just like he’d promised, the god ended the gale.

  Standing completely still, Nick notched his new arrow and pulled back the string to his chin. There went the bolt . . . past Helios and the sun, plummeting down toward the Eagle. The four sky-horses neighed, but, in the glare of noon, Nick couldn’t tell if he’d hit. As Apollo’s power faded, the winds howled back, colder and fiercer than ever.

  Nick didn’t know how long he stood there, waiting for a claw to swipe. But then, the wind failed, and he watched the eagle fall, first close to the mountain, then lower and out of sight.

  “Wow,” Nick breathed. That Hydra’s poison was something! “Dad,” he yelled. “How do I cut you loose?”

  “You can’t,” Chiron called. “I fear I am doomed forever.”

  “No,” Nick cried, “not while I’m still alive!”

  “My son,” said his dad, “I’m afraid you have no choice. You must get down before nightfall. Or you and Medusa will perish.” Nick wanted to protest, then saw Helen coming toward him. “Save yourselves,” said Chiron. “At least my torture is over. Climb down, I command you, as your father and head of all centaurs!”

  Nick let his head droop as Helen took his cold hand.

  “It’s not over,” she whispered, nodding toward his dad. “I know one day you will free him.”

  Down Is Better Than Up

  “You heard him,” Helen went on, rousing Nick from his shock. “We have to get down before dark.”

  “Yeah.” If it weren’t for her, Nick would have frozen in place. He turned to his dad, still hanging from that white cliff. “I won’t forget you,” he called.

  “Leave now!” Chiron ordered. “Before the weather turns.”

  Nick nodded, though he felt heartsick. Turning away from his dad was harder than slaying the Eagle.

  “Nikólaos,” Helen urged, leading him down from the peak.

  “Okay.”

  Her trailed her reluctantly over rough terrain: where there were rocks, there was ice; where there were no rocks, there was thigh-high snow.

  “I-I figure,” said Nick, shivering, “we have as m-much chance as getting down as I d-do against Typhon.”

  “That’s good,” Helen said with a smile. “That means we’re going to make it.”

  “W-who would have thought,” Nick grumbled, “t-that Medusa c-could be so cheerful?”

  Despite having no ladders and not a stitch of rope, there was still one thing in their favor: they were going down. Nick tried to keep this thought as his sandals filled with snow.

  Titan Helen was just fine: she never slipped or whined, just continued her steady march. She must have saved Nick three times from sliding to his death.

  “S-so,” he said, “g-guess your people were into m-mountains?”

  “Our ancestors created them.”

  “R-really?”

  “Along with the world.”

  “G-good to know.”

  They had now reached a place which was flat: Thank, uh, Apollo. It was also covered by snow hit straight up by the sun, causing a heat that stifled Nick in his armor.

  “Man,” he called to Helen, “talk about extremes.”

  “Shhh.” She pointed to poised snow around them, just ready to roll off the cliffs.

  “How much longer?” Nick whispered. He guessed it was about two.

  “About twelve more . . . you call them ‘hours,’” she said.

  “Whaa-t?” Nick yelled, not caring if he was buried. “That means we’re dead. There’s no way we can survive—not without tents and stuff.”

  Helen looked down.

  “I can make it, but—”

  “Oh, just leave me here,” Nick said. “I’ll wait for the snow to come and cover me up.”

  “Stop. What we do, we do together.”

  “That means,” Nick said, “we both become frozen treats.”

  They stood on the snowy face, wondering what to do. Nick thought he heard the sound . . . of neighing? That’s when the sun went down. At two in the afternoon, the skies faded to black. Was this some kind of apocalypse?

  “Hello,” a cheery voice called, and Nick saw it was Helios inside his gold chariot. Oddly, the sun that he pulled didn’t burn them all to a crisp.

  “Hey,” said Nick. “What’s up?” He should have asked what was down.

  “Apollo has bid me to help you now that your Labor is done. Please, climb in.”

  Nick barely managed due to his frozen feet. After Helen pushed him in, they both stood behind the Sun God.

  “Hang on!” Helios yelled. “I’m not used to having passengers.”

  His four sky-horses plunged, leaving darkness above. But the ride was smooth and they had the sun to warm them.

  “Whee,” said Nick.

  “We must thank Apollo,” said Helen.

  The chariot flew past Elbrus as if it were the Matterhorn . . . at Disney. In no time at all, they had reached the bottom. Helios pulled on his reins as his horses’ hooves hit the ground.

  “Please,” he said, “do not exit the chariot until it has come to a full and complete stop.”

  When it did, Helen helped Nick out.

  “T-thanks,” he told Helios. “And-and you g-guys too.” He gave the horses a nod.

  “We are very grateful,” said Helen. Then she looked up. “We won’t keep you, or the sun.”

  “Farewell!” cried Helios, urging his white mounts upward. As he climbed, the skies became brighter, until the sun was back where it should be.

  “T-there are so many qu-uestions I need to ask Mr. J-Jared.”

  “Who?”

  “My-my Physics teacher. L-like: why is the sun so small? And how c-come we weren’t taught it was d-dragged around by a dude?”

  Helen smiled. At the mountain’s base, it started to warm. Maybe, Nick thought, I won’t lose all my toes . . .

  “Let’s go,” said Helen.

  This took Nick by surprise.

  “Where?”

  “Back to our camp. It’s a good place for you to rest.”

  “Thank the gods!” Nick cried when they got there. “Thanks to Athena and Helios.”

  “Don’t forget Apollo,” said Helen.

  “How could I?” Nick threw himself onto the ground. He didn’t know if he was hot or cold, just that his feet seemed to be gone. “Fire?” he asked, feeling like a caveman.

  Helen nodded, building a great one close by. Nick both shivered and sweated, but now knew he had toes.

  “Man,” he said, breathing in the nice smell of fir. “That was completely gnarly. Two giant Eagles, a god, and . . .” he sighed. “My poor dad.”

  “Remember his words,” said Helen, trying to defrost her pouch. From it she drew a stiff fish.

  “I prefer fresh, not frozen,” Nick mumbled.

  “Ha. What I was trying to say: your dad said that you helped him. Now he can—"

  “—Keep his liver?” asked Nick. “Doesn’t seem like a lot when he’s still hanging up there.”

  “I know it’s hard,” said Helen, “but no sword—even yours—can cut those chains. They were fastened by Zeus himself. You mustn’t despair. After your final Labor, Zeus may restore him to you.”

  “I hope so,” said Nick, smelling the roasting fish. “Man, I am like—”

  “—Starving?” asked Helen “Why am I not surprised
?”

  After a few minutes, she gave him a speared fillet. Nick thought it tasted better than one caught right from the Pier.

  “This,” he said between bites, “almost made Elbrus worth it.”

  “Speaking of which,” asked Helen, “should we check?”

  “Check what?”

  “Your sword.”

  “D’oh!”

  Helen lifted the blade, where they both saw a new “ε.”

  “‘Τετελε,’” Nick recited, pronouncing it like “tete-e.” “Sounds like a tropical island.”

  Helen smiled, reducing the fire. She came over to his side, sinking beneath the fir.

  “Man, I’m beat,” said Nick.

  “I wonder why.”

  “Yeah.” Nick took her hand, closing his eyes . “Oh, by the way: did I tell you I saw Apollo?”

  Mýthos on the Black Sea

  After a meager breakfast, they set off to reach the wide valley where Athena had first dropped them. Happily, it wasn’t far.

  Once they got there, Nick looked around. There was nothing but grass and trees.

  “How do we leave?” he asked Helen. “Think Athena would help?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “We can’t keep asking for favors. One doesn’t annoy the gods.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Nick. “I’ve seen Heph in action.” He heaved a sigh. “Well, we can walk or ride—that is, you ride, and I trot.”

  Helen pursed her lips. That was not a good sign.

  “Would you like,” she asked, “to know where we’re going next?”

  Not really,” he said, “but shoot.”

  “The next Labor is in the Garden of the Hesperides.”

  “That sounds nice,” said Nick. “Where is it?”

  Helen spread her hand.

  “That’s the problem. Nobody knows.”

  “Oh well,” said Nick, shrugging. “Guess it can’t be done then.”

  “It must be!” cried Helen. “Think of your father and mine.”

  “Mkay,” said Nick, “but you said there’s no ‘there’ there.”

  Helen tried to ignore him.

  “Your shield shows golden apples.”

  “Sweet.”

  “But they’re guarded by a dragon.”

  “Harsh.”

  “His name is Ladon. He has a hundred heads.”

  “Nine wasn’t enough?”

  “Ladon is a son of Typhon.”

  “Who isn’t?” Nick asked. “He’s probably my uncle.” He started to think about Ladon. “Hmm, you know, I never expected a dragon. I thought that was Middle Ages.”

  “Most cultures have them,” said Helen, “and we need to find him.”

  “How?”

  She thought.

  “Uh . . . maybe go to village and ask?”

  “A little weak,” said Nick, “but I guess it’s the best we’ve got.”

  He handed over his stuff, commanding himself to “Allagí.” As his hooves hit the ground, Nick found himself smiling. Seeing his dad again had made him proud to be a centaur.

  Once Helen leapt on his back, he trotted out of the valley and onto a path filled with snow. Since it was pretty hard-packed, he managed to stay above it. Good thing his hooves were like rock: they didn’t feel the cold.

  Nick felt a sense of elation as the air became pleasantly brisk. He almost felt like a sleigh horse . . . all he needed were bells!

  “Giddy-up, Giddy-up,” he sang.

  “Someone’s in a good mood,” said Helen.

  Nick continued mangling the song until they arrived at a village. He saw that a ring of small houses was made strictly from wood: not the bricks of Athens or Thebes. Before entering, he Allagí-ed and put on his armor. No need to freak out the locals.

  He and Helen walked until they found a farmer. When he spoke, what Nick heard was way different from Greek. Still, after Helen mimed for some minutes, the man went to a cellar and offered them some veggies.

  “Yay,” said Nick, crunching down on a carrot. He just wished he had some Ranch dressing.

  “From what I could gather,” said Helen, “he was trying to tell me that a sea lies to the west. I think we should head there.”

  “No water,” Nick insisted, nibbling leaves like a rabbit.

  “But,” she said, “I also think he was also saying that some of our people live there. He kept pointing to my peplos and throwing his hands to the heavens.”

  “Maybe,” said Nick, “he thought your peplos was made by Zeus.”

  After thanking the farmer, they walked to the edge of the village, where Nick changed back again. Against his better judgment, he kept heading west. He and Helen spent four days at the mercy of strangers: scoring a bit of cheese here; a bowl of grains there; some secret special wine; and plums that were like no other. The whole time, they ran into people who were definitely not from Mýthos.

  Despite his upcoming Labor, Nick felt almost relieved when they reached a wide shore.

  “What is that?” he asked, pointing to sparkling water. This lake—or whatever—seemed to be pretty huge.

  “I’ll find out.” Helen walked down to some fishermen. When she came back, she said, “They tell me this place is Colchis, which is well-known back home.”

  “Okay.”

  “The people are Greek, and they say we’re on the Black Sea.”

  “Is that good?”

  Helen shrugged.

  “They told me something else, which I think is not good.”

  Nick waited.

  There is only one being who knows the way to the Garden.”

  “And where is he?” asked Nick. “Eating baklava in Athens?”

  “He is Proteus,” said Helen, “the Old Man of the Sea. He likes to walk up to beaches so he can rest. This one is a favorite.”

  “Why is that bad?” asked Nick, turning around to change before he was spotted.

  “Think,” said Helen. “Proteus is a sea creature. And—"

  “Don’t tell me: his boss is Poseidon.”

  “Exactly. You must force him to give you directions.”

  “How?” asked Nick. “Threaten him with a seahorse?”

  “The fishermen told me that Heracles first wrestled him, then held him down to the ground.”

  “Do I look like Herc?” Nick asked. “That guy’s Vin Diesel squared!”

  “Regardless, you must try,” said Helen, slipping two fish from her pouch. “Otherwise, no lunch.”

  “Man,” Nick groaned, “this Labor’s already a pain.”

  “It can’t be helped,” said Helen. “Why don’t you spear these fish?”

  The Pelian spear was put to its strangest use ever. Helen kindled a fire, cooking the meat to a crisp. This might, Nick thought, be their last meal for awhile . . .

  He took a final bite.

  “Ready?” asked Helen. “We need to search the beach. Why don’t we split up?”

  “That didn’t work so great with the Hind.”

  “True.”

  “Or in any horror movie.”

  They both set off down the sand, which was nicely warm. The waters of the Black Sea were not as blue as Mýthos’, but still pleasantly turquoise.

  “So,” said Nick. “Does Proteus have a fave spot? Like, where he puts his cooler?”

  “They didn’t say,” said Helen. “But I must tell you this.”

  “Uh oh,” said Nick.

  “Proteus can take any form. That is his power.”

  “Great,” said Nick, instantly feeling uneasy. “What if he decides to be a Hydra—or another Boar?”

  “One step at a time,” said Helen. “First, we need to find him.”

  Nick sighed, walking beside her, then started enjoying himself. Unlike the harsh Caucasus, Colchis was sunny, the sound of the waves was calming, and the feel of sand on his toes waaay better than ice . . .

  “Kind of hope,” Nick muttered, “this dude doesn’t show. I could get into this beach thing.”

 
; “Remember,” said Helen, “he is the key to the Garden, and we must get there soon.”

  “Mkay,” Nick answered.

  He wished that like Helen, he could stay on track.

  Three more hours, and he just wished he could leave.

  “Time to go?” he asked hopefully. All he was seeing was sand, driftwood, and the occasional crab. Nice life, he thought. When things didn’t go well, you could just bury yourself. Nick was about to declare his intention to quit when he noticed something onshore: Nah, it was just trash. But as he and Helen came closer, he saw what the pile was: an old man, his body wrapped in kelp, his long white hair strewn with seaweed. Ick, Nick thought, this guy could be served with sushi!

  Helen made the “shush” sign and motioned for Nick to approach. He crept up with no weapons since he needed to hold this guy.

  “Gotcha!” Nick cried, lunging toward the guy’s neck and using a wrestler’s grip. It was then that he felt smooth hair since he was holding a stag. “Stay still,” Nick yelled, grabbing the thing by the antlers. This was worse than the Hind!

  But it didn’t last long as antlers morphed into wings.

  “I don’t think so!” Nick shouted, trying to hold down a seagull. The bird just laughed as it became a lizard which flicked its red tongue at him. “Stop licking me,” Nick insisted, and the reptile did, to be replaced by a giant crab whose pincers went for his hand. “Ow!” Nick cried, trying to grab a leg. If he just had some had lemon and butter . . .

  Still, those wouldn’t work against a slippery dolphin . . . a seahorse the size of Johnny ... and, darn that Proteus, the world’s biggest and meanest porcupine!

  “Hey,” Nick groaned, trying to find a handhold. He finally swung round his shield, smashing it down on quills which bristled, then went still. Now, Nick found under his metal that same old man, out of breath.

  “Who are you?” gasped Proteus. “What do you want of me?”

  “I’m Nick, son of Chiron. I’ll let you go in a sec if you just tell me one thing.”

  Proteus nodded.

  “The Hesperides’ Garden—where is it?”

  Proteus, slimy with kelp, groaned.

  “I’d gladly tell you,” he said, “but my master, Poseidon, would drown me a thousand times!”

  This was an opportunity.