Alex sat in a folding chair under a cloudless sky, deep within his remaining army’s camp and sighed. He already longed for days that weren’t filled with the crack of rifles, explosions from mortars, and severing of arms by god-thrown spears. He longed for days that filled him with joy, not those that sapped his strength and taxed his body. In short, he longed for the war to be over and for Euryale to be at his side once more. At least the words Ares had spoken were true. Alex’s arm and leg had all but fully healed. There was some stiffness in both, but they worked. At least that was something.
“Shouldn’t you be preparing for tomorrow?” Athena asked, glancing over the book she was reading. She sat near a campfire, and thus far, hadn’t said much except to wish Jessica well when she trotted off to photograph the night sky.
“This helps me think,” he replied as he licked and sealed an envelope and then used a small ribbon to tie it to a balloon. With his left hand he held the ribbon tight, letting the envelope dangle below as the balloon tugged toward the stars. When the wind was right, he gave the letter a quick kiss and let it go.
Athena raised an eyebrow at the sight. “How many is that?”
“Forty-eight.” Alex checked the near-empty bag at his side. Only one balloon remained. “No, forty-nine.”
“Hallmark card?”
“Yeah,” he said as he grabbed the last balloon. “Took the chariot out a couple of hours ago and picked up some things. Hallmark cards, balloons, Jessica’s laptop, some more beef jerky.”
“You bought beef jerky?” she asked with surprise.
“Want a piece?” he said, reaching into a plastic bag and pulling out a stick of Hot-N-Tuff. “This is the granddaddy of jerk right here.”
“No, thank you,” Athena replied. “But getting back to the balloons, of all your ideas, I think this is the worst. Worse than the pigeons, even.”
Alex paused his balloon making. “How else am I supposed to talk to Euryale? It’s not like Ares will let me waltz in and see her. There’s no phone or internet. I would’ve tried pigeons, but I’m not sure how they work, let alone where to buy some. Thus, I’m using something that’s cheaper and easier to manage—i.e. balloons.”
“Delivery method aside,” Athena said, “flooding your wife with impersonal cards isn’t the way to do it.”
Alex huffed and stuck a piece of beef jerky in his mouth like a cigar and slowly chewed on the end. His taste buds exploded in a deluge of spicy goodness. Sure, it brought a few tears to his eyes, but they were good tears. Tears that celebrated the perfect jerk. However, his state of masticating bliss didn’t last. His thoughts soon returned to the war, Euryale, and her continued absence. Frustrated, Alex grabbed a nearby stone and threw it into the campfire. “I’m sick of this.”
“Please don’t do that,” Athena said, lowering her book. “You’re disturbing the light and there’s no moon out. Selene took the night off and Artemis isn’t covering for her.”
Alex grunted. “This isn’t fun, not that it ever was.”
“It’s day one and you’re already turning in the towel?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. You should be taking this opportunity to develop your romantic side.”
“No, absence drives you crazy is what it does.” Alex did have another, a more vulgar and insulting response, one that would challenge her knowledge of anything romantic, but he chose to keep it to himself, for his liver’s sake. Despite his verbal self-constraint, his knew his face soured, mirroring his thoughts. Fortunately, Athena had returned to her own reading and took no note.
The conversation ground to a halt, and for several more minutes, Alex stewed about the current state of affairs in silence. Finally, he groaned out of frustration. “That’s it,” he said as he took to his feet and brushed himself off. “I’m done. I’m done. I can’t take this anymore. Everyone knows I can’t beat him. I’ll surrender and be done with it. I’ll admit I cheated, even if I didn’t, and give into whatever demands he wants.”
“What if he wants you to leave Euryale?” Athena said, looking at him disapprovingly. “You going to give her up too to avoid a little pain?”
“A little? I got pulverized out there today!”
“And lived to tell the tale. You’ll do better next time.”
“He has my scepter,” Alex replied. “That means no more army, and no immortality for me anytime he chooses. He can literally break me anytime he wants.”
“That does complicate things on your end. But if I were you, I’d consider what ‘whatever he wants’ might entail.”
“Euryale will understand,” he said. “She wouldn’t want me to be pounded into jelly on her account. Besides, it’s not like we can’t get back together after this is all through.”
“Unless those are the terms of your surrender.”
“Ugh!” Alex threw up his hands. “Why are you pushing this doom and gloom scenario so much?”
Athena closed her book, keeping a finger to mark her place. “Because if you’re going to ruin an experiment this quickly, I don’t want you to have any excuse afterward as to what the consequences might or might not be.”
“Experiment?” Alex said, unsure if he heard her right. “What are you on about?”
“What does it matter?” Athena said, returning to her book. “You obviously don’t love your wife if you’re giving up after the first day.”
“You stole my wife to see if I’d try and get her back?”
“Ares stole your wife, Alex. I’m merely observing,” Athena said.
“This is why you won’t help?”
“I can’t falsify the data. I need to see if the match I made is the real deal,” she said. “By the way, you’re really starting to give the name Alex a bad reputation.”
Alex set his jaw and clenched both of his fists at his side. “Oh I am, am I?”
“Yes, you are,” she said. “You’d be much more likeable if you followed in the footsteps of Alexander of Macedon. Do you have any idea how much of the world he conquered by the time he was thirty-two?”
“I bet he wasn’t fighting a war against Ares so some stupid goddess could feel good about herself.”
Athena placed her book down and took to her feet. Her march around the campfire was stopped when Alex took to his and the two squared off. “Do we need another lesson, Alex?” she said, jabbing him in the chest with two fingers and narrowing her eyes. “I thought you knew better than to make such careless remarks.”
“Threaten me all you like,” Alex replied, keeping his defiant tone. “But it won’t change the truth. Dismissing my suffering—my wife’s suffering—as some grand test isn’t a scholarly pursuit of wisdom. It’s for your own selfish ego, and it’s positively evil.”
Athena stepped forward and pushed him into his chair. “Let’s get something very clear, Alex. You are in no position to make any judgments about anything I do.”
Alex opened his mouth to speak, but with Athena towering over him, he opted to shut it and remain silent.
“Perhaps some clarification is in order,” she went on with a smirk. “Were you around when man was fashioned or Elysium was made?”
“Of course not.”
“Then certainly you can pull the sun across the sky,” she added as she circled him. “Or did you bind the Titans with the greatness of your strength?”
Alex shook his head. He didn’t need a map to see where this was headed.
“Did you slay Argus? Tame Cerberus? Undoubtedly you’ve done something to warrant this attitude of yours,” she said, drumming her fingers on folded arms. “By all means, boast of your accomplishments and take your rightful place amongst the Olympians if your deeds are as great.”
“I spoke out of frustration,” he said, choosing his words carefully. He despised her chiding nature, and though the temptation to argue was still there, he decided that at best all he could win was a Pyrrhic victory. It was time to get back on track. It was time to save his wife. “I’ve done none of those things, but you ask the impossible of me. You can’t expect me to hear any of this and not be angry.”
“The only thing I expect you to do, Alex, is to beat my brother and rescue your wife,” Athena said. The unyielding tone eased in her voice, and the goddess took a step back. “Whether or not you have the desire to do so, is up to you.”
“Beat him without your help,” added Alex.
“Yes, without my help,” she said.
“I have an idea,” Jessica said as she stepped into the circle of firelight. When Alex and Athena turned toward her, both surprised at her arrival, she smiled and went on. “Sorry, I kept quiet when you two were arguing since I didn’t want to catch a stray curse.”
“See, Alex? Here’s a mortal I like. She knows who’s in charge,” Athena said.
Alex forced the tension out of his back and neck as he let the goddess’s statement go. “What’s your idea, Jessica?”
“Well, since you’re fighting Ares, I thought Hephaestus might be willing to help.”
Alex dropped his eyebrows, not following her logic. “Why would he?”
“You never did read your mythology,” Jessica said with a huff. “Ares and Aphrodite had an affair. Hephaestus was none too pleased when he found out.”
For the first time since his last encounter with the God of War, Alex’s face lit up with hope. “You think he’d want revenge?”
Jessica shrugged. “Worth a shot.”
“Think he could actually make me something to take Ares down?”
“He could make you a banana that would take him down,” Jessica said before snatching a piece of jerky from Alex’s pouch. “He’s the God of Smiths, after all. I’m sure in that magical forge he can make anything into a weapon of legends.”
Alex chuckled as a thought came to him. “A banana?”
“I think you’d want something other than a banana,” Jessica said.
“I’m not planning to attack him with fruit,” he said, “but that did give me an idea.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Yeah, give me a sec.” Alex ducked inside his nearby tent, rummaged through the contents of a small chest, and returned to the campfire with parchment and quill in hand.
Though Athena’s anger seemed to have subsided upon his return, her sarcasm had not. “Going to pen an epic poem?” she asked.
“No,” he stated. “I’m going to challenge Ares to a duel.”
Athena and Jessica watched as Alex penned the letter. On the scroll he wrote:
To Ares, son of Zeus, God of War and lord of battle, from Alexander Weiss, husband of Euryale.
In the light of this drawn-out campaign, I offer that all matters between the two of us be settled by manner of individual combat, to take place tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. in the arena.
Athena took it from him and read it over. When she finished, she handed it back and regarded him with an arched eyebrow. “Since we all know you will never defeat Ares in one-on-one combat, why don’t you indulge our curiosity as to what you are planning.”
“Let me see if he agrees first. Otherwise it’s pointless,” Alex said. He then gave a sharp, three-note whistle, and before he could draw another breath, Hermes stood before him, jogging in place. “I have a message for Ares,” Alex said. “If you would be so kind as to deliver it for me, I would be eternally grateful.”
Hermes took the letter and glanced over Alex’s shoulder. “That’s a nice tent you have. Real nice.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
Athena chuckled.
Alex didn’t.
Hermes tucked the letter away and smiled. “Only a comment.” The messenger god took a deep bow and left. Less than two minutes later, he returned with letter in hand. “Reply for a one Alexander Weiss, sign here.”
Alex took the parchment and looked at the reply:
Weapons?
“He’ll never agree to anything modern, if that’s what you’re planning,” Athena said after she read over his shoulder. “And even if he did, I’m certain he’d still beat you.”
“Maybe you should insist on Ares having a handicap and forcing him to use a banana,” Jessica suggested.
“I’m going to use a pineapple,” Alex replied as he wrote his reply. “Ares can use whatever he wants.”
Jessica tilted her head. “A pineapple?”
“Yes. A pineapple.”
To Alex’s surprise, Athena patted his shoulder. “Clever, Alex,” she said. “Very clever indeed. Skirting on deceitful, but within the rules, I think. I suppose it can’t be held against you that my brother refuses to read a little history and know what’s what.”
“Thanks.” Alex handed his letter over to Hermes once more, and Hermes, in turn, left and came again before anyone could say Parthenopeus. Alex read through the final exchange and then set his mind to the task at hand. “Well, I guess I need a pineapple now.”
“He agreed to the terms?”
Alex looked at the letter again to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted it. “I’m assuming. There’s a smiley face at the bottom. So I should go.”
“We should go,” Jessica said.
“He lives in a volcano, right?” Alex said. “I think you should sit this one out since you don’t have an immortal body, and I’d rather not see your face melt.”
“Point taken,” Jessica said, plopping down in her folding chair. “Have fun, and try not to fall in any lava.”
* * *
Alex kicked the ash off his winged sandals. Looming in front of him was the volcano of Hephaestus, stretching high into the night sky. It was the sole occupant of some nameless island in the middle of the sea. From its top, great columns of smoke made their way into the heavens, and deep within its belly came the rhythmic sounds of a hammer striking an anvil. In the back reaches of his mind, Alex wondered if this was such a good idea after all.
Alex picked his way up the side of the volcano, pausing every so often as it rumbled. He ignored the strong smell of sulfur, and while a large part of his brain prayed that there would be no sudden eruption, a small part—the useful part that insisted on his survival by considering all points—reminded him that spewing lava wasn’t the only method a volcano had that could do a person in. Case and point, poisonous fumes were just as lethal, and a gasmask wasn’t part of his usual personal belongings.
Thankfully, no eruption took place, and no noxious clouds poured forth. Alex eventually found himself at the mouth of a dark cave. He entered, and after fumbling in the dark and procuring several new bruises on his shins and head, he emerged from the tunnel and found the forge he sought.
On the other side of the chamber stood Hephaestus with a hunched back and a withered, twisted leg. Powerful arms slaved away at the hammer and anvil. Upon Alex’s entry, Hephaestus snorted and stopped his work. “Alex, Alex, Alex,” he said. “You dare rob me in my very presence?”
Alex swallowed hard and wished he had brought a drink. Nothing too strong, mind you, but enough to calm his nerves. Maybe a keg or two of mead, as he could then share it and break the tension. Blacksmiths were keen on mead. That much Alex knew. At least, he corrected, according to a number of books and movies that depicted their alcoholic preferences, they were keen on the stuff. But without any drink to offer either himself or Hephaestus, Alex was forced to get straight to the point. “Rob? No,” he said. “I was hoping you would fashion a weapon for me. A unique one at that.”
Hephaestus flipped the hammer in his hand, end over end. “Yes, yes. That’s what they all say. Make us a weapon and never mind what we’re doing while your back is turned. Never mind at all.”
“No, no, that’s not it at all.” Alex threw up his hands defensively. “I need your help—”
“Silence!” Hephaestus yelled. He picked up a glowing steel bar in his bare hands, turned it over, and held it out for Alex to see. It was about three inches wide, tapered and curved at one end. “They lust for my wife. Their desire burns hotter than any bar in my forge. We know this well. All of us down here.”
“I would do no—”
But as quickly as the words came out, Hephaestus stepped forward, and Alex shut his mouth. Despite the god’s limp, Alex did not doubt the divine strength that rippled throughout the god’s arms and chest. “I can smell her on you,” he said, leaning close. “Even the forge cannot cover such a thing. They think the outcast knows nothing. That they can do whatever they please and I’ll be none the wiser. You, Alex, are not near as clever as they. I know you want her. I know you’ve been with her. Insult me no more.”
“I’m only here to save Euryale,” Alex blurted out, terrified what the god might do next. “Please believe me, I would never pursue another man’s wife.”
“Believe you?” Hephaestus said, pointing and laughing at Alex. “With one breath we lie to my face, and the other we whisper sweetness into her ears.”
“I am not stupid enough to try and deceive you,” Alex said. He hoped a new line in the conversation would pan out better. And if it didn’t, he hoped he might be able to at least talk his way out in one piece. “Your perception is as strong as the anvil you use.”
“Yes, yes it is. Deceit is not something you can craft, is it?” Hephaestus backed off and eyed Alex with newfound respect. “Do you know what this will become?” he asked, nodding to the brightly glowing piece of metal.
“No,” Alex replied. He glanced to the walls where countless numbers of arms and armor hung, hoping to find the answer, but none seemed to match. “Cow tools?”
Puzzlement crossed Hephaestus’s face. “Cow tools?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said, wondering what he was thinking as well. “It was the first thing that came to me.”
Hephaestus murmured his disappointment and put the bar down. “Go. Leave me be. I have work to do.”
“I can’t leave empty handed,” Alex said, bordering on begging. “I need your help to save my bride and my sanity.”
“Your bride? Your bride!” Hephaestus spun around and threw his hammer. End over end it flew until it struck the far wall, carving out a portion of rock. “You would have me save your marriage as if I have no problems with my own? Tell me, Alex, why are your problems my concern? Tell me, or I shall not intend to miss with my second throw.”
Alex picked himself off the ground, glad the god had not separated his head from his shoulders. “They are not your problems,” Alex admitted. “But you know what it’s like not to have your wife at your side. I’m asking that you might have some compassion for my predicament, especially since I face Ares in the morning. I need you to craft a pineapple for me. You’re my only hope.”
Hephaestus’s anger faded and the corner of his mouth drew back. “Ares, you say? You seek to defeat him?”
Going by the expression on the god’s face, Alex dared to hope Jessica’s prediction would prove true. “I do.”
“Humiliation…” the god’s voice trailed. His face grew brighter until it outshone the fires at his back. “Are you ready for his anger, mortal?”
“Probably not,” Alex replied. “But I haven’t a choice at this point. I’ve already issued my challenge.”
“He thinks he is clever, lusting my wife while believing I’m not paying attention.” The god limped across the forge till he stood next to Alex. “We trapped them once,” he said taking a golden, chain-linked net that hung on the wall. He held it up for Alex to see before giving it a tug. The net disappeared in the blink of an eye. “Stronger than any god, and unable to be seen,” he said. “Yes, yes. This worked well, but not well enough. Maybe it is time to show them all what we are capable of.”
“Does this mean you’ll help me?” asked Alex.
Hephaestus hung the invisible net back on the wall at which point it reappeared, its golden links catching the forge’s light. “Indeed we will, Alex. Indeed we will. After this is done, we will be great friends. Trusted friends, that is, but you must promise to come see us again.”
“Help me win back my bride, and we’ll visit often.”
“Do you promise?”
“I do,” said Alex.
“Swear by the River Styx, will you?”
“Whatever oaths are needed,” Alex said. “But I don’t even know what that means.”
“Gods that swear by the River Styx and break their oaths lose their immortality,” said Hephaestus. “Those who are not divine fare far, far worse.”
“Sounds serious.”
The corners of Hephaestus’s lips drew back. “Which is why we insist you swear such things.”
“If you help me, I swear by the River Styx I will not forget what you’ve done for me and will visit often, fate willing.”
“Good, good. We are lonely here and will enjoy your company.” The God of Smiths limped his way back to the anvil before continuing. “Promises, Alex, are not to be given lightly. I will hold you to them, but now that we are friends, tell me about this pineapple of yours so that I might fashion one without rival.”