Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume One (50 page)

They were passing over tiny cliffs that dropped off into the puddle of sea. She gasped in pleasure as she saw the water start to sparkle in the early light. “Lower!” she cried. “Lower, Father! Go down!”

“Why?”

“I want to see if we can make the water boil.”

Helios twitched the reins, putting the horses into a dive. The chariot swooped low over the sea. Circe saw the water bubble and hiss. Steam arose, and a strong, hot chowdery smell as the fish began to cook.

“Phew!” growled Helios. “What a stink!” He shouted to the horses, and they began to climb so steeply that the girl felt herself sliding toward the back of the chariot and clung to her father's waist. She saw gulls, maddened by the smell of boiling fish, diving toward the sea, screaming greedily as they went. She saw them pull up short. The sea was too hot, the steam too thick; they could not alight. And bears and wolves thronged the headland, coming down to the shore to feed, but they, too, were driven back by the heat of the boiling sea.

Screaming with excitement, Circe clung to her father as the chariot careened over the billowing steam. And her screeching was a wild song to Helios, who had never loved anyone before and didn't understand his new, strange feelings. All he knew now was that he would do anything, anything at all, to keep this daughter shrieking so joyously.

“Faster!” he called to his horses. “Go, my golden ones—faster still!”

The great stallions broke into a gallop. The chariot smashed across the sky fifty times faster than it had ever gone before. And folk on earth saw a sight most strange: night pursuing day like a black hound chasing a golden stag. And no sooner had the sky turned black than silver light began to nibble at its eastern rim. Silver turned to pink, to red, to orange. Bars of orange fire branded the horizon, flushing to hot gold, becoming a golden flood of light that washed away the last darkness.

To the gods atop Olympus watching the sun chariot streak by, it seemed that earth's day was flashing on and off like a child playing with a lamp.

“What's happening?” said Zeus to Hera. “Has Apollo gone mad?”

“Ask him,” said Hera. “There's your golden boy now racing up the mountain as fast as he can.”

“Apollo!” cried Zeus. “Why are you down here with your sun high in the sky?”

“Oh, Father, 'tis not I in the sky. I'm right here, as you can see. Someone has stolen my chariot. And the damned fool is racing the horses without mercy. They'll pull up lame.”

“You've lost your chariot? How careless!”

“I didn't lose it. It was stolen, I told you.”

“You allowed yourself to be robbed? By whom?”

“By Helios.”

“Him? Are you sure?”

“Very sure. It must be Helios. The horses will allow no one else to drive them. Except me, of course.”

“Helios driving the sun chariot?” growled Zeus. “Against my strict edict. He's either very crazy or very brave.”

“Probably both,” said Hera.

Poseidon suddenly appeared on the mountaintop. The sea god was looking very unlike his elegant self. His hair was matted with boiled seaweed, and a huge, half-cooked stone crab was clinging to his beard. He walked toward Zeus, bellowing: “Do something about Apollo; he's gone mad! The sun is out of control. My sea has turned to steam, and my fish are all cooking.”

“I'm here, Uncle!” cried Apollo. “Can't you see? I never touched the reins this morning. Helios stole my chariot. It's he who's driving it so fast, day chasing night, and night chasing day. Oh, Father Zeus, can't you do something?”

“Yes, Brother,” said Poseidon. “Do something.”

“Yes, Husband! Something … anything,” said Hera.

He drew back his arm and hurled his thunderbolt. The fiery spear sizzled across the sky and hit Helios in the chest, knocking him out of the chariot. He fell to earth as the masterless horses galloped over the horizon, dragging darkness in their wake—so that Helios, ablaze, fell like a star.

Without hesitation, Circe leaped out after him. Her hair floated, casting a nimbus of light. The steam was still coming off the sea where she fell, slowing her descent. It was like falling into a cloud, falling in a dream. And when she landed it was upon a seabed left by the evaporated tide. She found herself among the corpses of octopi and whales and the skeletons of foundered ships, and she didn't know whether she was awake or asleep; whether a happy dream of her father had turned into nightmare, or whether she had really found her father, and had fallen into this slimy nightmare and would soon awake. But awake or asleep, she had to find him. She moved off along the seabed, among the dead, huge bodies of whales and sharks and manta rays, and threading through the skeletons of sunken ships, calling, “Father … Father …”

5

The High Council

Helios had vanished after being hit by the thunderbolt. He was not dead, Zeus knew. Titans, being of the god breed, are immortal; they can be made to suffer, but cannot die. And Zeus was determined to make Helios suffer as much as possible. He called a meeting of the High Council to organize the pursuit. They met in the great throne room of the cloud castle atop Olympus.

Zeus, clad in his star-encrusted purple judgment robes, sat on a gold and ivory throne, fingering the volt-blue zigzag shaft of lightning he used as a scepter. He addressed the gods briefly, outlining the task.

“I have a question, Your Majesty,” said Poseidon. “Do we really need to mobilize such vast forces against one unruly Titan?”

“Well,” said Zeus, “if you think back to our war against Cronos and his Titans, you will remember that Helios was one of our most dangerous foes. His strength has not diminished with age—and he seems to have grown more reckless than ever. He will not, I assure you, be easily subdued.”

“In any case,” said Poseidon, “we have to catch him before we start subduing him.”

“Exactly,” said Zeus. “And that is why I shall ask Brother Hades to lend us his Furies. In addition to their other formidable skills, they fly so fast, and their noses are so keen for the hunt, that they'll be able to ransack all the corners of earth and heaven for that cursed rebel. Once we take him we'll make sure he's incapable of any further escape, and his endless punishment will begin.”

“The Furies will report to you this very night, My Lord,” said Hades.

“Our thanks to you, Brother,” said Zeus. “And while they're up here they can attend to some other matters. As I mentioned, some of my mortals are getting out of line and need a bit of professional torment to teach them their place. Yes-s-s, your hags will find themselves fully employed.”

6

Dione

Searching for her father, Circe was walking through a wood in Arcadia. The trees thinned into a clearing; she crossed it heading toward a stand of oaks. She stopped when she saw a big woman standing there. Too tall for a mortal; she seemed to be a goddess. But Circe couldn't tell what she was because her hair was white and her handsome face looked worn, and no goddess, Circe knew, ever aged past her glorious prime. Whatever she was, though, the girl immediately preferred the look of her to anyone she had ever known, except her mother and father. In fact, her wide gray eyes reminded Circe of her dryad mother. Her voice was curious, too—rich but harsh—as she called to Circe.

“You there, stop lurking. I see you.”

“I'm not lurking,” said Circe. “If I didn't want you to see me I wouldn't have come this close.”

“Come closer.”

Circe came right to her and looked up into her face. “My name is Circe,” she said.

“I am Dione.”

“The oak goddess?” cried Circe.

“Well, I used to be.”

“
Used
to be?”

“I'm no longer a goddess, but am still an oak something, I suppose.”

“I don't understand.”

“Can't blame you,” said Dione. “I scarcely understand it myself, but it happened.”

“What happened exactly? How could you stop being a goddess once you started?”

“I fell in love, shed my divinity, and became a woman.”

“Oh, tell me, tell me!” cried Circe. “Whatever you are, I seem to be growing fond of you quite rapidly. Which is odd because I'm coldhearted.”

“Who told you that?”

“My mother—many times. Anyway, we must be related. My mother is a dryad of the Oak Clan. Her name is Arlawanda.”

“Arlawanda … Circe … Yes, they're clan names. I'm probably your great-aunt or something. Do you really want to hear my story?”

“Yes, please!”

Circe sat on a stump and looked up at Dione. She saw that the gray eyes were brimming with tears.

Dione said: “Cronos, who gave his name to time, was master of all its cruel tricks. I went to him and pleaded that my husband, who happened to be human, be granted immortality. Cronos pretended to heed my plea. He said that year by year, bit by bit, I might bestow my own immortality upon my husband. And if I managed it skillfully I'd be able to keep him alive for a thousand years and we'd both die at the same time. I accepted the conditions joyfully, for I had no wish to outlive my dear one. And so the bargain was struck, but I didn't realize what a foul trickster Cronos was. For, while I was able to keep my husband alive by shortening my own life, I could not keep him young. And he aged much faster than I did. Kept withering, shrinking … Behold him now!”

She pointed to a tree. At first Circe saw nothing, then when she went closer she saw a tiny man leaning against the trunk. No larger than a three-year-old child, he wore a long, grizzled beard, and his skin was as wrinkled as bark.

“I shall lose him soon,” said Dione. “If a hawk doesn't take him, or a fox, he'll simply dwindle away till there's nothing left. But he shan't go alone into Hades, poor little darling. I shall take full advantage of my mortality. I shall slay myself, and our shades will embrace as we journey to the Land Beyond Death.”

“I've just found you, Aunt. Don't go away. I can't bear another loss.”

“Another? What do you know of loss, my child?”

“Too much. A few months ago I tracked down my father, whom I'd never met, and was just teaching him to love me when he was taken.”

“How?”

“Well, we were going for a ride in his sun chariot when Zeus hurled a thunderbolt, hitting him square.”

“Your father is Apollo?”

“No!” cried Circe. “Not that thief! My father is the true sun god—Helios. Zeus stripped him of his authority and put Apollo in his place. Took away his chariot and his horses and his proud task, and broke his heart—which I was just mending before he vanished.”

“What happened? Did he steal the chariot?”

“Not steal; it was his. He repossessed it. Whistled up the horses, who love him, and they came galloping. He didn't mean to keep the chariot. He knew he couldn't. He just wanted it for long enough to take me for a ride. Then slimy Poseidon made some trouble because we boiled a bit of his sea away, and the tyrant, Zeus, flung his fiery shaft. And my father fell from the chariot. I jumped out after him but couldn't find him anyplace. I've been searching and searching.”

“Let's try a finding,” said Dione.

“What do you mean?”

“I'll try to locate your father for you. Witch me up a fire on that flat rock.”

“How do you know I can do that?”

“You have the look of someone who's been dabbling in magic. It's a family trait. Start me a fire so that a daughter's sharp young love can enter the spell—and I'll do the rest.”

Circe pointed her hands at a rock, mumbling as she whirled about three times. Pale flame stood upon the stone. Dione cupped one hand in the other; when she opened them they were full of herbs. She dropped the herbs on the fire. The flame leaped. It danced on the rock, spitting purple and green gouts of smoke. Aromatic smoke, very sweet.

Breathing it, Circe felt herself go blank. She didn't know her own name. She was being translated into a place beyond words. In the burning crystal of her new state she saw patches of hard whiteness that might have been snow-covered rock, but were only glimmers of whiteness behind struggling shapes of darkness. She screamed. Nameless horror filled her. Blackness swarmed. Deeper and deeper she sank.

When she awoke it was into fragrant warmth. She found herself in Dione's lap. The great arms cradled her, rocked her gently. She heard her voice coming out in a thready whisper.

“Oh, Dione, I saw things. Horrid, huge, ragged things. Their blackness covered everything. I couldn't see past them.”

“Yes,” said Dione. “I saw them, too.”

“What are they?”

“The Furies.”

“Furies?”

“Flying hags. Hell hags. They serve Hades. They hunt down runaway shades and flay them with their stingray whips.”

“What are they doing up here?”

“Pursuing your father.”

“Why would Hades send them? It was only Zeus my father offended. Well, and Poseidon and Apollo, too, perhaps. But not Hades.”

“Ah, my child,” said Dione, “while the gods quarrel among themselves, they tend to help each other when there's an important cruelty to be done.”

“But I didn't see my father. Just those things flying.”

“It means they're pursuing him hotly, but haven't caught him yet. Helios is very powerful and resourceful. It may be that they'll never catch him. But they'll keep trying, you can be sure of that.”

“Then I must leave immediately,” declared Circe. “I must find him before they do.”

“Then what?”

“Help him fight the Furies, of course.”

“You're a very brave girl, but you're not ready to fight the Furies, not even one of them, let alone three. As you are now, you wouldn't last the wink of an eye. You must prepare yourself before you go against them.”