Chapter 10
His name was Cerberus.
She’d called him that…and he’d kissed her. That was his thoughts as he fell back into a body that was apparently his, little more than a watcher, as if he was seeing his own past. Which, he realised, was probably the case, given that the Andromeda he’d kissed wasn’t trapped in a portal. The question was, how much time had passed? He could only watch on and hope that he’d figure out. Because he knew he was being these moments for a reason.
Right?
After a beat, he realised he was creeping along a cliff top. Fissures in the stone ran out in chaotic patterns, some wide enough to fall through, others scarcely big enough for a hand. He glanced down. Tunnels could be seen through the wider cracks. He moved along slowly, each step made cautiously, even as the wind howled bitterly cold and loudly over him. As he came upon one of the larger cracks he stopped and without missing a beat, dropped down into the tunnel below. He landed soundlessly on the dirt, then seemed to pause, looking up and down the tunnel, poised to attack. Releasing a soft breath, he set off slowly, picking his way through the labyrinth, taking tunnels left and right with confidence. As if he somehow knew where he was going – or was guided by something. Instinct, perhaps.
Whatever it was, he still kept his cautious pace as he descended deeper into the dark. Slowly, the moonlight above faded as the cracks ceased. In the dark he seemed to fumble for something in his pocket. There was a sharp crack in the dark, then a faint reddish glow flickered to life in front of him. A small torch that he held up to guide his way.
He heard his breaths – each one long, controlled – and the sound of his heart in his ear, of his feet soft against the ground. It as all he heard as he descended deeper, the ground sloping sharply before it suddenly evened out. Then, as the flattened path stretched before him, caught by the glow of the torch, he heard the feint sound of voices. He continued on, the voices growing louder – distinct. He snuffed out the torch. The feint glow of a distant light gently illuminated the curve of the tunnel, keeping him just out of view.
“Epirus, this weapon-“
“I know, Lupus,” snapped another masculine voice, the voice thick with tension. Epirus, presumably. “But this war must end!”
“So, you give your finest creation to Zeus? Why not Hades or Poseidon?” Lupus exclaimed. “Zeus is the mirror of his father!”
There was a long pause, then a sigh. “You truly think Hades would be the better option? His dark heart to rule over all?”
“Personally, I’d prefer Poseidon – he’s even tempered, at least but yes, if not him, then Hades. For all his flaws, his nature is at least predictable. Zeus breaks his word far too easily – he’s unpredictable,” said Lupus softly, then with a sigh: “Isn’t that why you’re here, Cerberus?”
There was a sharp inhale, likely from Epirus, as Cerberus rounded the corner and stepped into the well-lit chamber. The twin brother of Lupus, different only by the gentler shape of his face, stared at Cerberus with a knowing expression from the table. Next to him, hunched over the table, with a large, muscular frame that stretched the thin tunic he wore, was Epirus. The weapons master stared at him with mistrustful eyes, his mouth a thin line, seen faintly beneath his beard.
“Hello Lupus. Your brother sends his regards,” said Cerberus with a friendly voice.
Lupus cocked his head. “Oh? How kind of him. I suppose he’s finally admitted to Calypso that he loves her?”
Cerberus snorted. “When the world freezes over.”
Epirus watched the exchange with growing irritation when finally, he snapped. “Hades isn’t having the bow.”
“Well, that puts me in a tricky position, doesn’t it? You see, normally I might be inclined to ‘lose’ said item and be helpless as it falls into Zeus – or Poseidon’s – hand. Unfortunately, I’m being tested, so I have to bring the bow to Hades. I can’t leave here without it.”
Epirus grabbed the bow in a flash and pulled the string back, an arrow appearing, aimed straight at Cerberus’s chest.
“This bow is designed to shatter the soul of anyone whose touched by the arrow. What is to stop me from striking you dead?”
“Common sense, I hope,” said Cerberus smoothly.
“Oh, pray tell, how sparing you is common sense?”
Cerberus took a step forward, his hands out to the side in peace, as he took a seat by the entrance.
“Look, you and I both do not wish for Hades to claim power. It’d be disastrous to say the least. So, I offer this alternative. Let me take the bow back to Hades but leave it with a mark, so that only one considered worthy to wield it.” He studied the bow closely. “You can’t mark it solely for Zeus without dividing the Gods – you needed to have made it so that it didn’t favour anyone.”
Epirus stared for a moment, then after an impossibly long moment, lowered the bow and softened his hold on the string. The arrow vanished.
“You would go against your god?”
Cerberus shrugged. “I can’t be blamed if you already had charmed it so that only someone worthy could wield it.”
Epirus didn’t seem convinced. “Even if I did that, I could still remove the mark. They’d see it and demand I remove it!”
“Then let me steal it with the mark…and go find a little abode somewhere that I can’t find,” said Cerberus rationally. “It’s a neat little plan that keeps the bow out of the hands of Hades and I get to stay alive.”
“Not a good goal if you’re determined to continually betray your master,” said Epirus sceptically.
“Let me worry about Hades. So, what do you say?”
Epirus glanced at Lupus, a silent exchange between the two. Lupus leaned forward and set his hand on Epirus’s hand, nodding softly. With a deep, shuddering breath, Epirus looked scathingly at Cerberus.
“I do not like modifying my work once completed,” he sniffed. “But I will add the mark. However, if by some chance Hades is worthy, then he will wield the bow.”
“Then Hades will find his loyal slave actually loyal,” replied Cerberus. “But I do favour my chances with fate, so I’m not too worried.”
“Gods above, you’re an arrogant one,” exclaimed Epirus.
Epirus, a true master of his craft, had the mark carved at the very tip of the bow. It was a small symbol of a tree, little bigger than the tip of a finger. Outwardly, it appeared little like a mark that would control whom wielded the bow. Cerberus ran his hand over the bow itself, feeling the soft thrum of power through the ancient wood. He finished his inspection and strung it across his back, then looked up at Lupus.
“You have a long journey back,” remarked Lupus. “A dangerous one.”
“Epirus worried about his bow, even with his mark?” Cerberus smiled.
“It is the finest weapon he’s ever created. The wood…Well, it’s very special. He worries,” he said helplessly. He wanted to say more but he turned suddenly from Cerberus and walked to the edge of the cliff. He pressed two fingers between his lips and whistled – the sharp sound pierced the air, ringing out, carried by the wind across the land.
He then raised his hand to his forehead and looked upwards to the darkening clouds. Cerberus followed his gaze…and felt his eyes widen as a creature shot from the clouds. A Pegasus. He’d seen them before, a few kept in the private care of Zeus’s domain. To see one truly up close, however?
As the black beast swooped down, wings outstretched, he felt his breath hitch. The Pegasus flapped its powerful wings as it landed, trotting across the stone with a clattering chime. As it finally stopped it folded its great wings down at its side and looked between Lupus and Cerberus, assessing. Then Lupus walked over and the Pegasus diverted its attention to the one whom summoned in.
“Hello old friend,” crooned Lupus, stroking the neck of the Pegasus. “Can you take my friend here back to the camp of Hades?”
The beast snorted, then let out a long whinny. Lupus smiled and whispered something into its ear. Then the Pegasus turned to Cerberus and walked over, head lifted high, as if to say, I am above you, mere immortal. Cerberus bowed to the creature and once he stood the beast was side to him, one wing dropped to the ground out of the way. He thanked the beast and climbed on, taking care to tuck his legs out of the way.
“Thank you, all of you,” said Cerberus, then added to Lupus. “Your brother misses you. We all do.”
Lupus smiled somewhat sadly. “I know but I can’t return. It isn’t safe.”
“This whole world isn’t safe.”
With a shrug, Lupus looked at him seriously. “Perhaps someone ought to change that, don’t you think?”
Cerberus only nodded and gently nudged the flank of the Pegasus. It whinnied loudly and its wings snapped open wide; then, it surged forward and beat its wings, sailing into the air. He held on tightly until the Pegasus steadied out, flapping only occasionally, letting the wind carry them onwards. Only then he relaxed his grip and peered out across the sweeping landscape.
He saw the hills that he’d spent the past few days trekking up. The ground flattened out beneath them, alive with a vibrant green forest. He wondered where Kronos was, given this was meant to be his domain or was he entirely focused on breaking down the enchantments on the camps? He didn’t know. Maybe Cerberus did but, whilst they may have been one person, his own memories were few and he couldn’t access Cerberus’s memories.
So, as the Pegasus flew on, he found his own thoughts drifting to Andromeda. He couldn’t forget how she looked at him…like she hadn’t expected to see him. The joy in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. It had been instinct to kiss her, like the desire had always been there, and the moment his lips found hers, something clicked. It was familiar. It was home and suddenly, he didn’t feel so confused.
Time passed for him in the haze of his own memories of Andromeda so strangely. When he looked down the forest was no longer stretched over a flat expanse; rather, the ground swelled and exhaled in small hills; it guarded rivers that snaked through it and pools of water that glittered up at him like jewel blue eyes. He had no time to take it in, however, when the Pegasus let out a sharp cry and banked sharply to the left. He grasped on tightly, hunkering down low. The Pegasus banked sharply again, then dove; something hot and fiery blazed over his head. He twisted to look. It was an orb of fire. He twisted again to look ahead, to see where it had come from, when something slammed into the Pegasus – and the next thought he was that he was falling.
And darkness rushed to meet him.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
