Alex found himself alongside Jessica at the base of Apollo’s temple, watching a pair of large palomino horses stand idly by. They looked happy enough, even if they were yoked to a heavy chariot made of bronze and purfled with gold. The nearest one gave a brief glance as Alex extended his hand. It nickered, snorted, and then turned away.
“Stupid horse,” Alex said as he dropped his hand to his side. “It’s a wonder cars weren’t invented sooner. I bet all you do is eat and poop.”
“It’s a horse,” Jessica said. “What did you expect?”
“Around here? Anything. Everything.”
“Get closer to it and pretend you like it anyway,” she said, raising her camera. “The lighting here is outstanding.”
“Alex, my good man,” called out a young, beardless and muscular man as he bounded down the temple stairs. Though Alex had never seen him before, a quick whisper from Phorcys told him that this was none other than Apollo, God of the Sun and Giver of Prophecy. The god stopped and put a hand over his chest as he sucked in a sharp breath of air. “And you, Jessica, so nice to finally cast eyes upon your lovely self, at least, literally. Seeing your future is not the same as seeing your present, yes?”
“If only I could!” she said.
“But then where would the fun be in all of life’s surprises?” he replied. “You wouldn’t want to ruin that, I assure you. Stay in the moment and enjoy your life here and now. Relish the sun’s rays against your skin and enjoy the fresh air that abounds. What more could one want?”
“Being by my wife’s side might be nice,” Alex replied with a smile.
“Ah, love. The ultimate want!” Apollo added, patting Alex on the shoulders with both hands. “My heart soars knowing you’ve found it.” The god stopped when his eyes met with Alex’s. “It seems I may have misspoken,” Apollo said once his scrutiny was over. “Not love, no. Not yet at least.”
Phorcys let a low growl slip, but said nothing.
“Fear not, either of you,” the sun god went on. “Love can still easily grow from this infantile infatuation you and Euryale have now. I tell you the truth, Alex, there’s no stopping what has begun and what the Fates have in store. Your wife will be the center of your heart before you know it.”
“What’s in store for me?” Jessica said, face full of excitement. “Love, too? A new house? A lifetime supply of pumpkin spice lattes?”
Apollo stepped in front of her and lifted her chin with a single finger. His eyes seemed to study every facet of her face. When he started, his mouth held a half grin, but by the time he finished, it was twisted and his eyes looked strained. “Strange,” he said looking between her and Alex a few times. “You two are entwined yet again, but for how long, I can’t say. Nor can I in regards to how it relates to Euryale, only that the three of you will be in conflict.”
“With someone else or each other?” Alex asked.
“Both, I think,” Apollo replied. “The Fates have hidden much from my eyes.”
“Maybe it’s something silly,” Alex offered, knowing full well he was tricking himself into believing such a thing. But one good feeling did come of Apollo’s talk. A pit grew in his stomach, one that had him long to be at Euryale’s side, and thoughts of her put a smile on his face. “Is there at least a happily ever after for everyone?”
“That will depend on you,” Apollo said, taking him by the arm and walking him slowly around his chariot. “I know you’re eager to rejoin your wife, so I shall move things along, but remember, you’ve all of eternity to spend with her. Life is not meant to be so narrowly focused. Even with her absence, there is much to see, do, and enjoy.”
“Like enjoying horses that eat and poop?”
“Yes, my dear man!” Apollo’s face beamed, and Alex found himself shielding his eyes for the moment. “They’re Akhal-Tekes, by the way, and a source of joy for all those that get to know them. They love sharing music and poetry, if you happen to have some good bits of either, and they’ll never tell a lie. I think I like that the best about them.”
“They can talk?”
“Well of course they can talk,” Apollo replied, giving the nearest horse a good scratching behind the ear. “How depressing would it be if they couldn’t? They would have all sorts of fine things to say to the world but be completely unable to get it out for us to enjoy.”
“Well the last thing we would want is a bunch of depressed, non-speaking horses,” Alex said with a grin. “I mean, what would the world do with those kinds of beasts?”
“See? You still jest,” Apollo said with a playful punch to Alex’s shoulder. He then reached into a small pouch at his side and pulled forth a pair of sugar cubes. “Here,” he said, placing one of the cubes in Alex’s hands. “If I am to teach you to drive a chariot, it is important that you first give our good friends here a little snack. These Akhal-Tekes are a good breed, but their loyalties are tied to their stomachs, I’m afraid. It’s something I’ve complained about to Poseidon, but he cares not to remedy the problem. Do you know how long it takes to pull the Sun across the sky when all they want to do is graze nonstop?”
Alex shrugged his shoulders. “Ten, twelve hours maybe?”
“Ten or twelve hours?” Apollo repeated with a laugh. “My boy, not only are you handsome, but you are as clever as the sphinx. But back to these obstinate equines, it really depends on the time of year. In the winter, when the cold nips at their backs and the foliage is scarce, the day’s work goes by much faster.”
“Ah, and here I thought it was due to the tilt of the Earth,” Alex said. The two’s eyes met and held each other’s gaze but for a moment before Alex looked down and shifted about. Though he was growing accustomed to hobnobbing with the Greek gods, he was now particularly uncomfortable. In the short time he had spent in the god’s presence, this was now the second time he felt as if he had been mentally undressed by the deity. “You were saying about me learning to drive a chariot?”
“There are many things I could teach you, should I suit your fancy,” Apollo said, adopting a more serious tone. “But I suspect your wife would be jealous and frown upon such things.”
“That’s, um, very nice of you,” Alex said, feeling his skin, or whatever the spiritual version was called, crawl. “But I think it’s best we stick to the horses for now.”
“Relax, my good man,” Apollo said as he stepped into the chariot and then helped Alex in. “You’ve nothing to fear with me. Besides, do you know how many Greeks and Romans would kill to be in your sandals right now? To be taught the finer points of chariot racing by Apollo himself?”
Alex gave a knowing smile. “None, if they knew they’d be seeing a gorgon shortly after.”
“I would wager you’re right,” Apollo said with a nod. “Perhaps you can teach Hades a thing or two about humor. I loathe seeing such a depressing individual, always going on about death and dying, but we must, I’m afraid, to pick up the last of your gifts. And to do all of that, we’ll want my chariot. Afterwards I was thinking we could take in a play, or an opera. Jessica could join us when we get back, too, if she likes. It would be a fine place to introduce her to your wife.”
Jessica, who had wandered off a few paces and was talking to The Old Man, perked at the mention of her name and turned around. “What’s that?”
“Apollo wants to know if you’d like to join us after we make a run to Hades.”
“After?” she said. “I don’t get to go?”
Apollo shook his head. “The Underworld is not a place for the living. I have no domain there, and I’d fear for your safety.”
“Right,” Jessica said. “Then I guess I’ll catch up to you when you get back. Maybe Phorcys would be kind enough to show me some of the secrets of the deep sea?”
“I’d be happy to take you to places that will leave you in awe for the rest of your life,” The Old Man replied.
“Then I am but your humble follower,” she said with a curtsey.
“I guess that’s that,” Alex said. “What are we getting in Hades, anyway?”
Apollo smiled. “Your new body, of course. Hades said he would fashion you one, and it will help you greatly in the upcoming games, you know. Not to mention your wife ought to appreciate it as well.”
“Oh, of course,” Alex said. Before he could add another word, Apollo took the reins, gave a sharp tug, and the chariot bolted into the sky.
For two hours, Apollo drove the chariot above the clouds. Occasionally he gave Alex the reins along with instruction, but more than once he snatched them back when Alex would inadvertently plummet them toward the ground. Eventually, Apollo dove to the waters that covered the Earth. There they skimmed along the sea for another half hour before Alex spied a tiny peninsula on the horizon.
“Is that where we’re stopping?” Alex asked.
“No, my good man,” said Apollo, spurring the horses on. “But it is our last waypoint before we go under.”
Alex gripped the body of the chariot as the God of Prophecy and Sun snapped the reins once more, driving the horses ever faster. It wasn’t so much the extra speed that made Alex nervous, for watching the dark waters below speed past was exciting, but rather the fact that the chariot streaked toward one of the many pitch black water caves along the peninsula’s coastline with no indications of slowing or changing course.
“Fear not,” Apollo said, glancing toward Alex. “I could fly this route with my eyes closed.”
“Oh good,” Alex replied with a nervous laugh. “Because you might as well.”
And with that, the chariot drove into the cave’s inky black.
* * *
“If you think I’m getting near that, you’re sorely mistaken,” Alex said as he pointed a shaky finger at the most monstrous of dogs.
“What? Why?” replied Apollo, jumping off the chariot and striding across the cavern floor. “Cerberus only keeps the dead inside. He won’t bother you in the least.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” said Alex.
“Alex, trust me. He only hunts down the dead, not those married to the divine. And if you ever wanted something of him, I’m sure a little bribe would go a long way. You know, scratch behind the ears or a nice severed limb to chew on.”
Regardless of Apollo’s reassurances, given that the dog’s three heads had yet to take their combined six eyes off of Alex, he had no intentions of leaving the relative safety of the chariot, let alone giving the dog a friendly pat. And his feelings about those three heads didn’t even include the creature’s mane full of snakes, nor the serpentine tail.
“How about I wait here, and you open them instead,” Alex said, referring to the wrought iron gates on the other side the dog.
“I could do that, but if you’re going to come and go from this land, you must get over this irrational fear of yours.”
“I’m not being irrational,” Alex replied. Then a curious thought dawned on him. “How often do you think I’m going to be making this trip?”
Apollo gave a wry smile. “More than once, I’m sure. Cheer up. It could be worse.”
“How’s that?”
“You could be here without any light at all,” said Apollo. The god winked, snapped his fingers, and the ball of light that had been with them both since they’d first entered the cave disappeared.
Alex tightened his grip on the chariot and held his breath. He couldn’t see anything other than darkness, even when he waved his hand in front of his face. While Alex’s vision had gone, however, his hearing had not. He could hear Cerberus panting a few yards away. The sounds of the dog taking to its feet followed, and Alex heard the repeated clack of approaching claws on the limestone floor. Within moments, hot breath assaulted the back of his neck.
“Get away!” he yelled.
The light reappeared, hovering a few feet from Apollo. To Alex’s embarrassment, Cerberus hadn’t moved from his spot at the gates, though now the canine (if it could be called such a thing) was sprawled out on its side, its tongues hanging out of its mouths, and tail smacking the ground in slow, rhythmic thumps.
“Go on,” Apollo said, pointing to the gates. “Open them and conquer your fear.”
“You said he hunts the dead,” said Alex.
“Quite well,” Apollo replied. “You might say he has a nose for it, or three.”
“And he won’t think I’m dead because…?”
“Because at best you’re not quite dead, yet,” answered Apollo with a wink.
Against every fiber of his being, Alex eased off the chariot, half expecting Cerberus to rip out his throat. But when he didn’t, Alex sucked in a breath, tip-toed past the dog, and pulled the gates open.
Apollo gave an approving nod and carefully drove the chariot through, being mindful not to run over Cerberus’ tail. “Worry not, good Alex,” he said, smiling. “I know much of your story, despite what the Fates have hidden. I promise it does not end here.”
Alex exhaled with relief. He stepped back in the chariot as the iron gates swung closed. A snap of the reins by Apollo sent them moving once more. Faster and faster they raced through the tunnel before they burst out into an open land of gently rolling fields and asphodel flowers.
“Oh no,” said Alex, letting his enthusiasm for the land show. “Not this place again.”
Apollo pulled the reins, and the horses drove the chariot up into the air. “Don’t be so glum. There are only two things to remember while you travel the Underworld.”
“What would those be?”
“First, don’t insult any deity you find roaming around,” he said. “And second, don’t eat anything, even from Hades.”
“What if he offers?” asked Alex.
“Especially if he offers.”
“Why is that?” he asked, brow wrinkling. It seemed to Alex that not taking offered food would be insulting and therefore bad.
“Any mortal that swallows even the tiniest of crumbs is bound by the Fates to stay here forever. And Hades, despite ruling the dead, is ever lonely, always wanting more company.”
“Note to self then: no food, and no pissing him off. How hard can that be?”
* * *
Aphrodite strode into the abode of Pallas Athena unannounced and uncaring that she was. After marching through the front doors, she crossed the inner courtyard without as much as a glance here or there and headed straight for Athena’s great room, for she knew the Goddess of Wisdom would be there, reading, studying, or doing something “smart” like she always did.
“Sister,” Aphrodite said, halting a pace inside the study. She paused to take in the décor. She had hoped Athena would have changed how she lived by now. After all, it had been what, two or three eons since the two talked about such things? But to Aphrodite’s dismay, Athena had not hung up one tapestry on any of the bare walls, nor replaced any of the bookshelves with things of beauty, like sculptures, full-body mirrors, or display cases (to show off the better gifts from adoring, would-be suitors, of course). All she saw were books, books, and more books, along with the occasional oil lamp.
“Yes?” Athena replied, snapping Aphrodite’s attention back to their encounter. Surprisingly, however, Athena was not reading a book. She stood over a table filled with parchments and a small model of a temple, complete with miniature walls and statues. “Is there something you wanted?”
“Only to offer you my congratulations,” Aphrodite replied. “You must be proud that your one and only attempt at love turned out so well.”
Athena smiled warily and never let her grey eyes leave her sister. “I am.”
“I admit I’m jealous at such a record,” Aphrodite said, but her face did not reflect those words for an impish grin followed.
“Let’s drop the charade, shall we?” Athena said. “Tell me what you’re up to.”
“I suppose I should know better than to try and push something past you,” she said. She stopped when she noticed what Athena was working on. It was not some random temple project. It was a temple to Aphrodite herself.
“You were saying?” Athena prompted.
Aphrodite growled. “I was saying, that despite you trying to usurp my domain and evict me from my own temples, I’m not mad. I had a thought that put everything in perspective...”
Athena rolled her eyes at her sister’s intentional trailing off and continued to scribble notes. Such dramatics were unnecessary and wasted as far as she was concerned, but still, she knew she’d have to play along if she were to be rid of her sister. “And that thought was?”
“You haven’t succeeded,” she said smugly. “You see, my dear, the love I’ve created for countless men and women has been tested and strained. My love weathers time, whereas yours is a shadow at best. A simple illusion.”
Athena dropped the pen she held and straightened. “You think Alex hasn’t been through enough?”
Aphrodite shrugged. “Have the gods not placed a hedge about his marriage? Does he not mingle with Olympians and travel the Underworld freely?” she asked. “His father-in-law alone will see to it that neither he nor Euryale will face a single danger, yet mortals on Earth face them daily.”
“What, then, do you propose?”
Aphrodite seemed to grow, both in presence and height, as she continued. “I propose a true test of their marriage. Stand back whilst I strike him,” she said. “He will either persevere and prove his love for Euryale, or he will abandon his vows, and leave her to ruin. But you cannot claim victory in my realm until you’ve tried him and tried him well.”
“Do you plan on trying to break him today?”
Aphrodite shook her head, and she appeared as sweet, innocent, and sensual as ever before. “I thought we could at least give him and his bride one night of bliss together.”
“Then you plan to do this at the games,” Athena finished.
Aphrodite nodded. “I do, and I want this contest bound by oaths. It’s only fair.”
Athena remained silent, and to Aphrodite’s delight, she grew neither angry nor combative at her request. “Very well,” Athena replied. “Let’s see who can make the better match. I swear by the River Styx, everything he has is yours, and I will not interfere as long as you swear by the same not to lay a finger against his life or liberty.”
“With a body made by Hades, his life is hardly in jeopardy,” Aphrodite replied. She then placed a hand against her chest. “But to your demand, with you and the Fates as my witnesses, I so swear by the River Styx, I shall neither destroy his body nor his freedom while he’s put to the test.”
* * *
Alex drummed his fingers on a massive table of gold inlaid with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, and tried to appreciate his surroundings. It wasn’t easy. The few lit braziers barely illuminated their bases, let alone the dining hall. Thick, ankle-high fog carpeted a mosaic floor, and shadows smothered the cracked and worn frescos on the wall. But at least his company was nice. The queen of the Underworld, Persephone, sat a few chairs down and had thus far been a gracious and warm hostess.
“Hades will be here shortly,” she said. A royal gown, white and flawless, clung to her slim figure and seemed utterly impervious to any stain or smudge it might encounter in such a dark world. As she waited, she occasionally brushed aside a curly lock or two that escaped her ponytail or toyed with the silver tray in front of her. “Though,” she added, taking a pomegranate seed from the tray and popping it into her mouth, “he may be here already.”
Alex twisted in his high-back chair, but saw only Apollo who sat nearby. “Am I missing something?”
“Nobody misses me,” said a voice. “That’s for certain.”
Alex turned back around and found a man, nay, a god, he corrected, sitting at the head of the table and placing a helm and bird-tipped scepter at his side. “Hades?” Alex asked.
“That’s me,” he said. The God of the Underworld leaned forward with his elbows on the table and rested his cheek on folded hands. His gaze was not at Alex, but Persephone, and the look in his eyes was not a joyous one. Grief, was it? Alex wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was the anticipation of something painful.
“Well, good morning,” Alex offered in an uncomfortable moment of silence.
“Good morning, Alex,” Hades replied. “If it is a good morning, which I doubt it is.”
“Is something the matter?” Alex asked more out of politeness than anything else. He wanted to get home as quickly as he could, as this place continually raised his anxiety.
“Winter has come, and spring will soon arrive,” Hades said. “We can’t all be excited for that.”
“How so?”
“You don’t need to feign interest in me,” said Hades. His voice drifted off, and the god took the tray from Persephone and helped himself to some of the pomegranate. “But if you want to carry on with your pretense, have a bite to eat.”
With a flick of the wrist, Hades sent the tray sliding over to Alex, who in turn was very impressed with the fact that both the tray reached him from so far away, and all the seeds remained on it.
“Thank you, but I’ve already eaten,” Alex declined as politely as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Apollo shifting in his seat, perhaps to object on Alex’s behalf, but the God of Sun and Prophecy did not.
Hades nodded slowly, and what little life was in his face fell to gloom. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “I suppose you’ll be wanting your new body now. Though I can’t say I’ll make a good one. Or even if I want to. It’s hard to make something nice when your efforts go unappreciated.”
Sorrow filled Alex’s heart. Sorrow and pity. Hades’ lament struck a chord in him, unnatural and divinely inspired, perhaps, but all Alex could think of was how an eternity spent under rock and clad in shadow would drain the merriness out of anyone, gods included. “It’s not that, really,” Alex said, hoping he might smooth over the rejection of hospitality. “It’s not you. It’s me. I just—”
“That’s what they all say,” Hades said, cutting him off and waving his hand. “People don’t want to spend time with me, I know. You want to get back to your wife. I envy you for that, Alex, to know she’ll be at your side day in and day out.”
“I do want to see her soon,” Alex admitted. “But it’s not like that.”
Hades expression didn’t change in the least, and Alex, feeling horrible about being the source of Hades current depression, decided to make an offer. “If I try one seed, would that be enough to show I mean no offense?”
Hades sat up in his chair, a hint of life now showing in his face. “It would be a start,” he said as he took up his scepter and helm. “And I might even put an extra effort into your wedding present if you did.”
“Then so be it,” said Alex, grabbing a seed and popping it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, deliberately, and a few seconds later, Alex swallowed, smiled, and wiped his mouth. “Not bad,” he said. “For a seed.”
Hades stood, pushed his chair under the table and motioned for Alex to follow him. “Come, Alex,” he said. “Let us build you a body even Heracles would envy.”
Apollo groaned, and Persephone covered her mouth with her hands. Alex was certain she was about to say something, as he could have sworn he caught the tiniest of noises escaping from her lips. A caution, he’d guess, if he had to wager, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore at least.
* * *
“Prometheus shaped your kind from mud,” Hades bellowed as he stood upon a rocky precipice. Lava flowed underneath, bathing both the god and the cavern in a deep red and giving the scene an ominous tone. “But you, Alex, you who marry into the gods, will be shaped in a proper fashion. A fashion, I might add, that won’t leave you petrified by your wife’s infamous gaze.”
“Thank you,” Alex said, taking a few steps back. Heat rolled toward him in waves, and he wondered how much more of it he could stand before he roasted. More concerning to him, however, was the sudden change in Hades’ attitude. The god’s depressive state was no more, and instead of the slow movements and apathetic conversations of the past, Hades worked and spoke swiftly with purpose and power. “I take it you enjoy this part?” asked Alex, hoping something sinister wasn’t in store for him.
“It keeps me from having to think about my wife’s soon departure from my realm. How I long to be with her for all of eternity, but we can’t all have what we want,” Hades replied. As he spoke, the cave dimmed and the air cooled. His shoulders fell, and his scepter, now outstretched over the lava flows, dipped. But all of this was only temporary. A second later, his head snapped back, and he raised his scepter high. “With this scepter I can raise the dead, shape the earth, and snatch immortality away from anyone short of a god,” Hades said proudly. “With it, I shall form your bones from iron, and bronze shall cover your skin. Any injury you suffer shall be healed by dawn of the next day and death shall never come for you.”
Out of the lava floated an amorphous, glowing mass. Up it went until it hovered an arm’s length from Hades. It stretched and bent in five different directions, and all the while Hades waved his scepter to and fro. Alex watched in amazement as the form took a human shape. Its features turned masculine, a strong jaw set into a chiseled face, one that looked much like his own when he was alive, save without any imperfection or hint of weakness. Its shoulders were wide, something one might set the world upon. Its back rippled with muscles, its chest the same. Its arms bulged, and its hands looked as if they could turn coal into diamonds without trouble. A washboard stomach and powerful legs complemented the upper torso, each something Olympic athletes could only dream of attaining.
Hades lowered his hands, and the body gently floated to the ground on its back between him and Alex. The white-hot skin cooled, and Hades blew sharply upon it. Instantly, the metallic look disappeared. Flesh, dark and toned, took the place where bronze once was, hair sprouted, and the chest slowly began to rise and fall.
“Lie inside and take your gift,” Hades said. With his work now done, the enthusiasm in both his face and voice fell away. “And do try and remember all I’ve done for you,” he added as he walked away. “Not that you really care.”
Once Hades was gone, Alex looked at Apollo for direction. “So how do I use this?”
“You only need to lie down inside,” Apollo said. “The rest will happen on its own.”
Alex straddled his new body and sat in its abdomen. A tingle ran up his spine, one that intensified as he stretched out his legs, shut his eyes, and eased back.
He felt as if he were sinking into a bed filled with blankets fresh from the dryer. Alex enjoyed the sensation for as long as he could, but it soon faded away, and all he could feel was the hard rock beneath his skin and hot air hanging over his face.
“Is there anything you want me to tell your wife when I see her?” Apollo asked.
Alex opened his eyes and noted that the god stood over him with an offered hand. “No,” Alex said, gladly taking the help to his feet and admiring his new body. “I think I can tell her everything myself.”
“You want me to bring her here then,” Apollo replied. “I suppose you should be the one to tell her how and why you confined yourself to an eternity in Hades despite my warnings.”
“I don’t really think that’ll be an issue,” Alex said with a grin.
Apollo, apparently, didn’t share Alex’s optimism, for his face looked grim, an unsettling characteristic for such a light-hearted being. “You think you’re special?” he asked. “Even Persephone, daughter of Zeus and Demeter is confined to this place during the winter, and her place in the Universe is far greater than yours will ever be. No Olympian will argue your case on your behalf, and even if they did, you would fare no better than she.”
Alex, still beaming, held out an open hand. In the center, covered in saliva but not chewed in the least, was a single pomegranate seed. “I suppose it’s a good thing no one will have to.”
Apollo laughed heartily, rays of golden light bursting from his face. “Alex, good man,” he said, wiping away a tear. “I should never have doubted you or my own foresight for that matter. Come, let us see to your bride and leave before Hades learns of your deception. I fear he would not take it kindly.”