The Maze of Minos

by Tammie Painter

  "What news from the outside world?" Achilles asks. I notice a woman lurking within earshot. Not Briseis, but Achilles’s overbearing mother, Thetis. As ever, I’m unclear what her role is here at Chiron's Fields. She doesn't teach, she thinks too highly of herself to stoop to any cleaning or repairs, and she’s too self-centered, or rather Achilles-centered, to provide support for any other child. If I didn’t know Chiron better, know that he doesn’t allow hangers on who don’t pull their own weight, I would guess she only remains here to keep guard over her son.

  "Helen's suitors are bickering," I say curtly, avoiding my real news. With Thetis hovering over us, I again feel the need to be alone with my cousin, not standing here like a town crier. "Tyndareus came to Athenos for Aegeus’s funeral and I gave him some advice about the matter."

  I glance to Jason. He’s smiling proudly. Even a year ago, he would have been steeping in a stew of jealousy that Tyndareus would ask my advice. But now my cousin has learned I don’t want power; I want to do nothing but to help him and to live happily with my wife (if that day ever comes).

  "What did you tell him?" Achilles asks. "Lock your daughter away and save the world from her?" He then laughs at his own cleverness. Gods, he’s annoying. I don’t know how my cousin can be friends with this cocky know-it-all. I answer, hoping he and his nosey mother will go away soon.

  "No, I said all suitors should swear fealty to whomever she chooses."

  Thetis makes a disapproving clucking sound. What is it with these two? Does she have no shame to be eavesdropping? I call over to where she pretends to be collecting mushrooms or some other item from beneath a tree.

  "You don't like it, Thetis? It ensures peace." She glares at me. Her eyes are cold enough to freeze a man’s balls even in the burning depths of Hephaestus’s volcano, Mount Helena. In truth, Thetis scares me a bit, but I refuse to let it show. Jason mentioned once that he thinks she would prefer Achilles to have more illustrious friends—or maybe no friends at all—but she tolerates him and Briseis because Achilles favors them. Should Achilles ever decide he hates either of them I imagine Thetis would have a wonderful time crushing them both into dust.

  "It does no such thing," she continues, tossing aside her gleanings and striding over to us. "It ensures an even bigger war if one starts. A force comprised of nearly all the vigiles of the poli rather than the usual skirmish between two poli that fizzles out within the week. You have created a monster with this advice." She crosses her arms over her flat chest and shakes her head. "No, I do not like it." She adds as if this emphatic statement will magically change Tyndareus’s mind and turn all Osteria to her will. "Now, I need to speak with my son. Alone."

  "Good," I say irritably. I truly believe Achilles may have inherited his arrogance from her. "I didn’t come all this way to speak with either of you."

  Chiron, seeing the flare of anger in Thetis’s eyes, steps between us, facing me and Jason. He scolds me gently with his eyes and I force myself to calm down.

  "You may use my home if you need privacy."

  I thank him and, without saying goodbye to the arrogant duo, Jason and I step over to Chiron’s airy home.

  "Sit," I say. Jason's smile drops harder than hailstones.

  "No good news ever started with the need for privacy and a command to sit."

  "You’ve grown astute here," I say trying to lighten the mood.

  Jason remains standing and unsmiling. I don't tell him to sit again. He is my king and it's not my place to issue orders.

  "First off, the rebuilding of Salemnos is complete," I say, hoping the good news will lessen the pain of the bad.

  "Good to hear, but as you say, I’ve grown astute. That’s not why you wanted to speak to me alone."

  I swallow a lump of guilt then begin my news describing all that happened, what brought me to Athenos, the minotaur, and the events when Theseus returned.

  "Medea fled. She was right there. I let her slip through my grasp. I'm sorry." And with this apology, guilt suddenly bears down on me. I drop to my knees before my king, before the cousin I love. Without acknowledging my show of apologetic deference, Jason steps back. If he had even an inkling of forgiveness in him, he would have touched my shoulder to indicate I may stand. I glance up. His face is stony. His jaw clenched. His eyes are no longer bright with happiness, but dark with hatred. For me? I wonder. "I have failed you."

  "Where is she headed?" he asks, not responding to my comment. "Does anyone know?"

  "We found this." I stand—my knees can only take so much pleading on the hard floor—and pull from the satchel the crumpled piece of parchment Medea had left behind: a recent letter from her father. "I'm sure she's heading for Colchis." Jason nods in agreement. "She may not want to see her father, but she will want more than anything to keep Phrixus off the Colchian throne. She will try to get there before Aeetes changes his will, to get him to make her child—Aegeus’s child—heir to Colchis." I explain to him the orders I’ve given to the ports and stables in the area around Athenos City, hoping to prove to him I’m not completely useless.

  Jason pauses then turns to the door. "I must pack."

  "You're ready to leave?" I say, glad my cousin will return to Salemnos and begin his life again. Together we can decide how best to pursue Medea. Perseus knows the way into Colchis Harbor, maybe he could go with a group of vigiles. I know Jason is upset, but I’m bolstered by how well he’s taking the news. "It's about time, too. If you're away too long the people may think they need to pick a new leader." The moment I say it I want to slap myself. Jason and I had quarreled on the Argoa because he thought I meant to usurp him. For some reason he'd gotten it into his head that his father's kindness toward me was not simply a gesture of a generous uncle, but of a lord grooming his successor. "Not that they ever would. They love—"

  "I’m going to Colchis," he says, the curt words cutting me off. "I would ask you to go, but I know you want to find Penelope. And this is something I have to do myself."

  "What do you intend to do, cousin? You can’t want to return to that oppressive outcrop of rock."

  "No, I don’t. But I swear to you, I swear to my dead children, that I will see Medea punished."

  "I should go with you," I say, although no part of me wants to go.

  "This is something I must do on my own." I hate the look in his eyes. It’s not anger—that I could handle since I’ve pissed off a number of people in my lifetime—it’s disdain. It’s a look to make me feel ashamed and worthless. "Besides, you had your chance and let her slip away," he adds maliciously.

  "You can't be angry with me. I told you she disguised herself, and in the confusion—"

  "Oh, I’m not angry; I’m furious. But it’s for the best; this fury will drive me as nothing ever has, not even the need to impress my father. I’ve thought about this off and on during my time here. I realize there’s only one way to put an end to my grief. Someone else taking care of the punishment I want to inflict on her will not close the wound I still bear."

  I don't like his tone. It’s cold and serious, not at all like the bumbling, lighthearted Jason I grew up with. I know what he means, not legal punishment, but ancient punishment. She has killed and she must be killed. I’m a vigile. I uphold the law. I don’t agree with what he wants to do. Medea should face trial, conviction, and full penalty for what she has done to him and to Aegeus and even to her own brother, but I also understand that maybe he’s right. He may indeed need this to move on with his life.

  "If this is something you need to do, then I can’t stop you. But be careful, Medea is trickier than we ever realized."

  "Not for much longer."

  Jason’s cold stare hardens. He may be better, but he will never be the same.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Epilogue - Typhon

  I DON'T KNOW whether to knock or just simply walk in. It's been a hard decision to come here. I thought I could destroy Osteria on my own but my partnership with Ares—a bad decision if there ever was one�
��taught me that I'm going about this all wrong. Not in my reasoning, humans are a plague on this land, just as they have always been. I had hoped the Disaster would have set them far enough back to never be a problem again, but already they are moving down the same paths as before. I must rid Osteria of them before the havoc they wreak on the natural world reaches the astronomical levels of destruction they caused before the Disaster. Despite what they think, they are not above the laws of nature. And now I have figured out how to sweep their egotistical feet out from under them.

  If I want to destroy the humans, I need to destroy the gods first. Without the gods’ protection, humans won't survive. Besides, I'm bored with trying to break their resolve by sending earthquakes and storms. Look at Salemnos. Nearly all destroyed at my hand, but the destruction still didn’t turn them against the gods. Instead, with Hera’s assistance, their northerly neighbors in Portaceae have pitched in and reconstructed their city. Oh sure some Illamosians cursed the gods for their misfortune, but it's almost as if most of these pests relish the challenge of rebuilding. As if they enjoy starting anew.

  After much debate, after heading to this place more than once and stubbornly turning away each time, I have finally stuck to my resolve and have arrived. In this remote spot in the woods of southern Osteria, an island juts up from the middle of a crater-formed lake and on this island lives the titan from who I will, even if it is demeaning to do so, request his aid. Standing on the front step of his home, my fist poised to knock on the door, my gut instincts and my pride scream at me that I don't need to do this. I am a titan, a father of monsters, a force of nature. It’s belittling myself to ask for help. Perhaps I just need to be patient. Perhaps I just need to strike hard enough, repeatedly enough at the right polis to turn the humans against the gods. Or should I muster all my life force and risk my own existence to conjure up an earthquake massive enough to wipe the humans out for good?

  I pause at the thought.

  I could do that. My life—a worthy exchange for the world to be rid of the pestilence of humans. I lower my fist from a door that is so large it must have been made with the full lengths of mature redwoods. I'm just about to fill myself with enough wind to blow my body back across the lake when the door swings open.

  "What are you doing here, Typhon?" a bodiless voice as gnarled as an old pine limb demands.

  I don't answer. I could still leave, but before I make my decision, Kronos forms into a solid being from the dust motes in the air. Although his voice is old, his appearance gives no hint that he is as ancient as time. He has strong cheekbones and a triangular face as rigid as if it had been carved from a wedge of stone. His skin shows no lines but neither does it carry the softness of youth. His dark auburn hair is combed straight back adding to the severity of his face.

  "Well?" he prods.

  "Do I have to state my business on your doorstep?" I should be more polite. This is the father of the titans. Not my direct father, but somehow all the immortals owe their existence to Kronos. Even—and the thought does gnaw at me sometimes—the gods owe their birth to the being before me. With Rhea he made Zeus as well as Poseidon, Hera, and Hades. But I don’t need to worry about him getting sentimental over his children. Since Zeus imprisoned him here on this island, there’s no love lost between Kronos and his offspring.

  "By all means, come in." He sweeps aside in a grand gesture, but his voice is mocking. "Should I rub your feet and feed you ambrosia as well?"

  Ignoring the comment, I step in. The inside of Kronos's home is vast but plain. The only decorations in the cavernous foyer are an oversized hourglass whose sands, although they run continuously never change levels on either side, and a pedestal displaying an oblong stone the size of a human infant.

  "Is that the stone Rhea fed you?"

  "Yes. A reminder to never play the fool again," he says bitterly. "Now, state your business."

  The stone had been fed to him by his wife as a trick when he wanted to devour their children to keep them from usurping his place in the world. Even though it has put him in an unreceptive mood, I’m glad I brought his attention to it because I know it will act as a reminder of all those he detests.

  "I need you to call the titans together."

  A snort of derision that sounds like rocks tumbling down a hillside comes from Kronos's throat. His lips turn up slightly at the corners in an expression that is lost somewhere between smile and snarl.

  "Is it a family reunion you want?"

  "In a manner of speaking." I pause, hating what I must ask. The words coat my tongue with bitterness. "I need help from whoever will give it."

  "You know we don't work together. There's no point of even trying." He's not touching me but a force pushes me back toward the door. I use all my will to resist and hold my ground.

  "Not even if it meant destroying the gods?" I say. "If it meant our return to power? If it meant Osteria, even beyond Osteria, was all ours?"

  The force ceases. I nearly topple over from the change in pressure on my body. Kronos assesses me, stares at me like a wolf deciding whether or not to attack. Then the stare breaks and he shakes his head.

  "Can't be done. We tried before, remember? It's why we are scattered everywhere unable to do much more than cause a little havoc now and then. I remember the days when we could take control of a few volcanoes and spend an entire day in a lava fight. Back when we got along, back before Zeus stripped me of power and stuck me here."

  "Exactly my point. We can go back to the old ways of thriving on the chaos of nature if we do away with humans and rid ourselves of the gods. I know we can do it, but I need other titans to compound my efforts, and you’re the only one who can call them together." I gesture toward the pedestal. "Or do you want that stone to be your lasting legacy?"

  Kronos glares at the small boulder. In his full power he could have blasted it into sand, but not now. As punishment after the last titan war, Zeus sapped Kronos and his closest relations of most of their power. Although I lost some of my skills, I was lucky. Being far removed from the direct line of descent from Kronos, I still retain most of my titan power. Regardless of his near impotence, by being our progenitor, Kronos can communicate to all the titans without leaving his island prison; a skill no other titan possesses.

  "Do you mean for them to come here?" he asks incredulously, as if I’ve suggested he open his home to a herd of drunken centaurs.

  "We can't very well meet on Olympus."

  "Will it really work, do you think?" I don’t miss that curiosity has replaced his condescension.

  That’s the question, isn’t it? I know there must be some way to destroy the gods and I know someone amongst the titans must know how it can be done. That someone isn’t me, but I’m not about to show Kronos that I don’t truly have a plan under my belt yet.

  "We’ll never find out unless you call them here."

  Kronos glares at me for another moment. I expect to feel the push back toward the door. Titans do not work well together. We prefer to stay as far from each other as possible, an easier situation to maintain now that there are so few of us. His gaze flicks to the stone on the pedestal. A look of irritated resolve crosses his face. He gives a slight nod of agreement to me before he closes his eyes and begins muttering in our ancient dialect.

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  The Minotaur in Greek Mythology

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  In the original myth, Poseidon tricks Pasiphae—the wife of Minos, king of Crete—into making love to a bull. This results in her giving birth to the Minotaur, a creature with the head of a bull and body of a man whose palate is only satisfied with human flesh. Minos locks the beast in an underground maze built by Daedalus. When his true-born son is killed, Minos demands the other city-states of Greece pay him tribute by sending seven men and seven women each year to be sacrificed to the Minotaur.