The Twelve Labors of Nick

by Amy Wolf

  “Do you know why he hates me?” asked Nick.

  “No,” said Proteus. “Only that he wants you dead.”

  “We figured that,” said Helen.

  Nick loosened his grip. His arms were getting tired.

  “Look, I don’t want to hurt you. Can’t you just whisper it?”

  Proteus slumped.

  “I have,” he said, “powers of my own, you know.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Nick. “You’re the original shifter!”

  “Not just that,” said Proteus, waving a green-laced arm. “I am also a herdsman.”

  “No offense,” said Nick, “but I don’t see how goats can help.”

  “For Triton’s sake,” yelled Proteus, “my beasts are from the sea!”

  “Oh,” said Nick.

  Helen moved in.

  “Do you think, Old Man,” she asked, “they can herd us close to the Garden?”

  Proteus blinked.

  “After, that is,” said Nick, “you reveal where it is.”

  The Old Man thought, his kelp-tinged beard looking sad.

  “Very well,” he said. “I am loyal to Poseidon, but I also value my life.”

  “Good choice,” said Nick. “So, where are we headed?”

  “Across the Black Sea,” said Proteus, “then, the Mediterranean, and finally, to Aethiopia.”

  “Ethiopia?” Nick cried. “Couldn’t you make it closer?”

  “No,” said the Old Man. “That is where Hera sent the Hesperides to guard her golden apples.”

  “And they’re guarded by a dragon?”

  “Oh yes,” said the Old Man, “but first, you must get past Atlas.”

  “A Titan,” Helen added.

  “You mean,” asked Nick, “there’s two guards who guard the guards?”

  “Exactly,” said Proteus. “That’s why it’s so dangerous.” He sighed. “I suppose I could help you. Unlike Heracles, you didn’t try to kill me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I will,” he went on, “summon my mermen to help you. They are mighty swimmers and can bear you above the waves.”

  “Uh, wait a sec,” Nick objected, “the last one tried to—"

  Too late. Four muscular mermen appeared at the water’s edge. Nick looked for the blue one with the big fork: happily, he wasn’t there.

  Proteus spoke to his guys in a language that sound like bubbles. They nodded, their manes of long hair flowing over their backs.

  “Go,” said the Old Man to Nick. “They are sworn to obey me, and I have sworn them to secrecy. Treat them like men, not beasts, and they will serve you well.”

  “I know the feeling,” said Nick. “Thanks, Old Man, uh . . . Proteus. Here’s hoping Poseidon doesn’t turn you into a squid.”

  “I can always turn back,” said Proteus, waving them toward the sea. “Do not trust Atlas,” he called. “He has a bitter heart.”

  “Okay,” said Nick, shrugging. He didn’t care about the dude’s heart as long as he showed them the apples.

  Centaurs of the Sea

  “Here goes,” Nick muttered, dipping a tentative sandal into the blue Black Sea. “Brrrr,” he said, though it really wasn’t that cold—not much more than P.R. He turned to Helen, who’d waded in waist-deep. “You okay?”

  “Sure,” she said, though she almost looked like she wished she was back in snow.

  “Yo,” Nick said to the mermen. He tried not to stare at their tails bobbing beneath the surf.

  “Nikólaos, son of Chiron,” one greeted him. “My name is Glaucus. We have vowed to carry you as far as Hyperborea.”

  “Isn’t that from Conan?” Nick asked.

  Still, he gritted his teeth and plunged in. Two mermen—including Glaucus—stood on their blue tails so that he and Helen could mount their scaly backs.

  “Sweet!” Nick shouted, happy to be a rider for once. The only drawback was fishy flesh rubbing against his bare legs.

  “Stay still,” said Glaucus, annoyed.

  “Sorry,” said Nick. “Trust, I know what it’s like.”

  “Hold on,” the merman cried, and they were off, he and his friend acting as mounts as they dashed through the sea.

  “Whoo hoo!” Nick cried, clinging to Glaucus’ hair as cold spray hit his face. “You still there?” he yelled to Helen, who nodded and gave him a smile.

  Well, Nick thought, if you had to cross the sea and its god hated you, this was the way to be!

  “You guys are fast,” Nick called, and, he had to admit, they put his own folk to shame. These dudes could win America’s Cup: without needing a boat. At this rate, Nick thought, they’d be in Hypo-Whatever for lunch . . .

  “So, Glaucus,” Nick said, leaning down. He wanted the merman to know that he was more than a ride. “What kind of being are you? A Demi?”

  “No, Centaur,” said Glaucus, “I was once a man. But I loved the sea so much that Triton heard my prayer and made me what I am.”

  “Whoa,” said Nick. “Don’t you miss your old life?”

  “Not really,” answered Glaucus. “In the water, I am free, and can swim all over the world. As a man, I was tied to one place and broke my back to earn drachmas.”

  “I hear ya,” Nick said, “being mythical has its plusses. ‘Specially when you can change back.” He grimaced, realizing how rude that was. “I mean—”

  “Do not worry, Centaur,” said Glaucus, with something like a fish laugh. “It was I who prayed for this form. There is nothing I’d rather be.”

  “Hmm,” said Nick. “In some strange way, I kinda feel the same.”

  The sun setting over the sea was a glorious sight. Orange stripes reflected in clouds reminded Nick of P.R. But after some minutes of this, he started to chafe at the bit.

  “How much longer?” he asked Glaucus.

  “At this rate, forever,” said the merman. “Once Helios descends and boats have left the water, we will quicken our pace.”

  “Ah, Helios,” said Nick. “A personal friend of mine.”

  “And mine,” added Helen.

  Glaucus hadn’t been kidding. As the Black Sea faded . . . to black, Nick could feel the merman’s muscles tense.

  “Now!” Glaucus shouted.

  Nick felt his head jerk back, a victim of G-force. The mermen stepped up their pace, their tails skidding over water that became a wall of white wake.

  “Whoa!” Nick yelled, trying to snap his head forward. Once you settled in, this pace was kinda cool—and boy, was it smooth!

  “Alright!” he cried, leaning in like a jockey. If only he could do this on land . . .

  The night went by in a flash. When Helios returned, dragging a sleepy sun, the mermen slowed, and, as the spray subsided, Nick saw a coast ahead.

  “We’re there,” he cried. “Glaucus, you and your bros are awesome!”

  “Thank you,” said the merman. “Now, we must cross the Straits of Bosphorous to get to the Aegean Sea.”

  “Think we can slip by?”

  “No,” answered Glaucus, “for the city of Constantinople surrounds the straits on both sides. What we need is a diversion.”

  “Want Helen to sing?” asked Nick.

  Glaucus didn’t answer. He bowed his head and muttered. His prayers, if that’s what they were, caused black clouds to form overhead.

  “Come, men,” Glaucus exhorted, “we must cross before the storm breaks.”

  They did, at Hypersea speed. Nick never saw Constantinople as it whizzed by in a blur. Oh well, he thought, maybe another time . . .

  Having left the city behind, the mermen slowed along with the storm. Nick couldn’t believe it as rain, wind, and whitecaps receded as fast as they’d come.

  “Wow,” he breathed to Glaucus. “Did you bring the storm?”

  “Oh, no,” said the merman, “Triton.” He turned to his three friends. “We may now take time to eat.”

  “Yay,” Nick answered. He could hardly wait for crab, maybe even a nice lobster!

  The two m
ermen without riders dove beneath the waves. Before long, they resurfaced, and Nick saw that each held three fish. After handing out their catch, they tore into their own with their teeth.

  “So, this is like . . . poke?” Nick asked.

  Helen shrugged.

  “Why don’t you use your sword?”

  Nick brought it out, doing the best he could to mimic his favorite sushi chef. With one-millionth the skill, he managed to slice off small cubes.

  “Here’s to not dying,” he said, handing some over to Helen. “Kanpai!”

  They both popped in a piece.

  “This is great,” Nick told Glaucus. “A dash of wasabi, some rice, and you’ve got a restaurant.”

  “Let’s move on,” said Glaucus, nodding toward his men. “After dark, we should be rounding Mýthos.”

  He was as good as his word. They went at their daytime pace while the sun rose and then descended. When Helios dragged his captive below the western horizon, it was Merman Time.

  “Now!” Glaucus cried, and again, they were off.

  Nick managed to snack on his poke as they roared through the Aegean. Between massive sprays of wake, he spied the full moon above. Was that a good sign, or . . . ?

  By the time the sun came up again, Nick could see a land mass behind them.

  “Mýthos,” said Glaucus. “Home.”

  “Yes,” echoed Helen, and Nick wished he could join them. Though he felt a pang, he knew he wasn’t from there, even though he was Greek. One thing he liked, he thought, and maybe it was his heritage, was to be on the open sea. This brought up a question.

  “So,” he said to Glaucus, “How come Poseidon isn’t blasting you with his triton?”

  “The oceans are vast,” said the merman. “Poseidon cannot know all. And he is more concerned with the depths.”

  “Not when it comes to me.”

  “Be careful,” Glaucus told him. “You could not have a worse enemy. Except for Zeus or Hera.”

  “Whose apples I’m trying to steal.”

  “I wish you luck, Centaur. If she finds you, it will go badly.”

  “I hear she was mean to Herc.”

  “She is the kind of goddess who delights in revenge.”

  “Good to know,” said Nick. “But was it?

  They continued to cruise along at relaxed daytime speed. All Nick could see was water, without a hint of land.

  “What’s our next stop?” he asked.

  “We round Sicily,” said Glaucus, and Nick could feel him shudder. “Let us hope Typhon isn’t awake to greet us.”

  “Right,” said Nick. He could picture Mount Etna blowing its literal top. “Any chance we can go faster?”

  Glaucus shook his head. He sent his men down for more fish. Greek sushi, Nick thought: maybe he should open a restaurant . . .

  That night, Typhon lay still, for when the merman slowed, Nick saw a long coast in the distance—one with no sign of smoke.

  “Hyper-whatevs?” he asked hopefully.

  “Yes,” said Glaucus. “Hyperborea. That is your destination.”

  “Yay.”

  After so much time in the water, Nick felt like a fish himself. He watched Glaucus and his blue-skinned mermen as they powered their way past an island.

  “One more night,” said Glaucus, “and we shall set close to the mountains.”

  “Thanks,” said Nick. “Trust, we’ll never forget you. Just hope you don’t get your tails whupped by . . . you know . . .”

  When Nick woke the next morning, he saw Glaucus leading the others straight toward a placid bay. Skimming the water with their tails, the mermen took them as far as they could.

  “You guys rock!” Nick yelled, feeling sad that the ride was over. He shook Glaucus’ hand. “You’ve redeemed your whole species.”

  “As have you,” said the merman. “I’ve a new respect for centaurs.”

  “Thank you,” Helen said to her ride, kissing him on the brow. His face went from blue to green.

  The two of them stood waist-deep as they watched the sea creatures go.

  “I’ll miss them,” said Helen.

  “Me too,” answered Nick. “Glaucus is my first real friend.”

  Them Apples

  They splashed from the water onto a narrow beach. Nothing strange here, but when they walked out further, all they saw was sand.

  “Oh no,” Nick groaned. “A desert. My least favorite landscape.”

  “It’s not all bad,” said Helen. “It’s not freezing and there’s no Eagle.”

  “And Typhon’s not blasting me, but I still don’t feel any better.”

  “You’re very negative,” said Helen.

  “Hello, I spent my youth getting beat up by blonds.”

  “Let them try now,” she said.

  “Yeah. That’s a point.” Nick stepped off the beach, from sand onto more sand. “Okay,” he said. “Do you know where we go to now?”

  “Well, Harold, my merman—”

  “Harold?”

  “—told me to head for the Atlas Mountains, which are southeast of here.”

  “Great,” Nick grumbled. “We have to get through a guy who has mountains named after him.” He squinted and saw swirling dunes. “Guess I have to—”

  “—Change?” Helen asked. “Yes, that would be best.”

  Nick nodded, handing her his stuff. When she turned back, he had four legs and a tail.

  “Hop on,” he said, already sweating. Now he understood why (Arabians excepted) the desert was no place for horses. That’s what camels were for.

  “Fun,” said Nick, going up and down dunes and sinking up to his fetlocks. This went on for about an hour until he was covered with sand.

  “I miss the ocean,” he gasped. He was starting to sound like a frog.

  “Me too,” said Helen. “We need to find an oasis.”

  Nick nodded, searching the desert for even for a single palm. Man, in L.A., they grew like—

  “There!” said Helen, shielding her eyes and pointing south.

  Was it a mirage?

  Nick could only hope not as he trotted up to some date palms. Helen slid off his back, filling a skin with water. Man, that tasted good! Even though there was sand in his throat, Nick savored every drop. Though he wasn’t that hungry, he stood on his rear legs, bracing himself with one hand while plucking some fruit with the other.

  A scatter of dates hit the ground.

  “Hey,” Nick asked, “how come they’re not dried?”

  “They’re fresh,” Helen smiled, peeling one like an expert and popping it into her mouth. “Hmm,” she said, “they taste like . . . actually nothing.”

  “Great,” said Nick, after peeling his own. “Yeah, I uh . . . think I prefer them in fruitcake.”

  They decided to stay and travel only at night. The shade was a blessing until the sun went down. Then, just like P.R., the desert got kind of cold.

  “Let’s roll,” said Nick. Helen nodded, leaping on. He now sunk into a substance he could barely see. “What do you think,” he asked, “we’ll find if we ever we get there? In the Garden, I mean.”

  “The Hesperides.”

  “And they are . . .?”

  “The ‘Nymphs of the West,’” said Helen. “They’re in charge of sunset and evening.”

  “Sounds pretty harmless.”

  “They are,” said Helen, “but Ladon the dragon isn’t. Did I mention he never sleeps?”

  “No,” said Nick, silently thanking Artemis as the moon unhid from a cloud.

  “Then, of course, there’s Atlas.”

  “Anyone else?” Nick asked. “Hera doesn’t hang there, does she?”

  “Oh no,” said Helen. “She’s too busy spying on Zeus.”

  They continued their trek for three nights, resting during the day. Nick felt let down, since he’d hoped to see a vast caravan snaking over the dunes. Instead, there wasn’t even one snake.

  Finally, he thought he spotted some green and heard the rush of the wa
ter. Nick almost neighed! He loped into a valley sheltered by drooping trees. Beyond them lay some mountains crowned by winter snow.

  “I can’t,” said Nick, cringing. “No more climbing. I’m done.”

  “It’s all right,” said Helen. “We’re seeking a Garden, remember? What are the chances it’s up on a mountain?”

  “Hmmp,” Nick answered. “Not much.”

  “So now, we should find Atlas.”

  “Okay,” said Nick, Allagí-ing back to himself and fastening on his armor. “Don’t tell me—he holds up the world.”

  “No.”

  As always, Helen was right.

  When they sighted the Titan at the edge of a grove, Nick saw that his burden was greater. What he held on his shoulders wasn’t just Earth but the Heavens.

  “Yo, what’s up?” Nick asked the crouching giant. He had to lean down, but instantly turned away. This dude was practically naked!

  “The Heavens,” said Atlas.

  “Huh? Oh, ha ha.”

  “Thanks,” said the Titan. “Here at the end of the world, I don’t see many people.”

  “How long have you done this?” asked Nick, gesturing to the globe.

  “Since Zeus overthrew us.”

  “But that’s . . . forever,” said Helen.

  “I prefer ‘always.’”

  “Did you anger the gods?” Nick asked.

  Atlas shrugged, then gave up.

  “I led the revolt.”

  “Not such a great idea?”

  “In retrospect, no.”

  Nick wanted to find out more, and turned to Helen.

  “So,” she asked, “you are father to the Hesperides?”

  “Yes.” Atlas smiled. “Such lovely girls.”

  “Well, I’m Helen. And this is Nick. We’ve come over land and sea to ask you a favor.”

  “Um . . . I’m not exactly in a position—"

  “Right,” said Nick. “We hear you’re the only guy who can fetch those golden apples. And we seriously need them.”

  Atlas tried to not to laugh, since for him it must be painful.

  “Do you now?” he said. “And I want to be Zeus.”

  Nick rolled his eyes to the Heavens . . . actually, their globe.

  “So, you’re saying you won’t?” he asked.

  “I can’t,” answered the giant. “For Heracles, I was able to hand off my burden while I went and stole the apples. But Nick, I’m sorry, you’re extremely small. From where I crouch, you look like a bug.”