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THE UNDERWORLDS

Thetis walked slowly down the passage of Duat, the Egyptian underworld. The walls were sandstone and grains of sand would dislodge from the ceiling, which was shrouded in darkness above, as she went. Her bare feet felt the horrid cold of the stone beneath her soles and her eyes struggled to see the passage further ahead. Her heart raced in fear of what she might see.
 
From the gloom then stepped a tall, muscular figure. His arms were long and his toned, bronze torso was bare. He leaned on a straight, metal staff that was tipped with a hook. Rather than a human head, he had the head of a black-furred hound. Anubis, guide to the dead. He did not speak and she wasn’t even sure, with his dog-head, that he could. He turned from her and started to walk onwards. She followed after him. There was a cold breeze that blew into her face, yet her toga and her hair remained undisturbed. The toga was forest green and she had short hair, wrapped by a headscarf of turquoise. Heavy earrings hung from her ears and around her wrists were gold bangles.
 
Like her, Anubis’ feet were bare but they were much larger than her own. She was dainty and he was large. She reckoned even one of his leg muscles was as thick as her very waist. Eventually Anubis led her into a chamber. On either side of the room were pits of fire that burned fiercely and yet she felt no heat. At the far end was a large scale but beside that was a monstrous beast that caused Thetis to clinch in fright.
 
Its hind was that of a hippopotamus; thick, grey and bulky. The torso was a lioness, with smooth golden fur and sharp claws upon the forepaws. The head was the most terrible of all. A massive crocodile head with rows of patient teeth, just waiting for the kill. The creature didn’t move a muscle, but its eyes followed her the entire length of the chamber. A woman stepped from behind the monster. She wore a short, red dress and high heel – things that Thetis had never seen before. Her wild, curly hair is pushed back from her face by the sunglasses propped on her forehead.
 
Ma’at: “Don’t worry about Ammit, honey. She won’t bite. Unless you’ve been naughty.”
 
Thetis: “Ma’at, thank you for meeting me. I know you didn’t have to.”
 
Ma’at: “This room is usually reserved for weighing the hearts of the dead. Ammit here sometimes gets a treat if a villain comes this way. But Isis wants you to have special exemption and I’m inclined to agree. These Greek gods get too much attention, I’d like to give them some frustration.”
 
She lowered her massive shades to her eyes, looking like a rich fashion model. She blew a burst of pink chewing gum and grinned.
 
Thoth: “Anubis will lead you through safely, no need to fret.”
 
Thetis turned to see Thoth had accompanied his wife to the measuring room. On a table to the side were piles of documents that he would usually be filling in, taking down exact measurements and testimony of the deceased while his wife passed judgement.  He drew near and gave Anubis a nod of the head. The dog-headed god didn’t motion back but simply started to walk on.
 
Ma’at: “Goodbye, honey.”
 
Thoth: “I wish you luck, Thetis. Concealing yourself from Zeus will not be easy. But the underworlds of Earth are the best hiding spots.”
 
Ma’at: “We used to play hide and seek with Ra all the time and he could never find us down here!”
 
Thetis: “Thank you. Both of you.”
 
She followed Anubis out of the weighing chamber and down the next passage until they reached the final stage of Duat. At the far end of the new chamber, which was nothing but blackness all around, was a throne with a man seated upon it and beside him, standing, was a woman. Thetis recognised her friend, Isis, instantly. She wore traditional Egyptian makeup and clothing but had the white skin of a Grecian. Upon the throne was her new husband, Osiris – the king of the underworld. His skin was green and upon his body he wore white clothing that was further wrapped in smatterings of bandages here and there. The bandages and the green skin gave the impression of an old, decaying body. Yet his eyes were a wellspring of life. Around his waist was a bright red sash that contrasted with the white and green visage he otherwise presented. Tied to the sash were several objects that hung limply around his hips. Around his neck also hung a thin, red tie from the modern era. On his head he wore a tall, oddly shaped hat.
 
Thetis approached, eyeing the weird hat.
 
Osiris: “Thetis. I am happy to be of service to you, as my wife’s friend.”
 
Thetis: “Thank you, Osiris, for letting me come through here. I have I haven’t been too much of a disturbance.”
 
Osiris: “The processes have been stalled, but it is nothing we cannot handle. Thoth may have the greatest workload as he will have a lot of paperwork to manage.”
 
Isis: “To be honest, I think he enjoys the paperwork.”
 
Osiris: “I think only Ammit will be most upset. She looks forward to her snacks.”
 
Thetis’ face blanched at the thought of that creature being fed the hearts of people that the scales deem unworthy. Her eyes kept roving to Osiris’ hat. To her it looked like a giant condom strapped to his head but she dared not utter anything of the kind to him. Around his neck she could make out scar lines that went straight across, as though his head had had to be sewn back to the body.
 
Isis: “Everything has been arranged, Thetis. The Greek deities may know you came to us but they will not know you then left us and where you went. I think it is quite a cunning plan!”
 
Osiris: “You will hide right under their noses. While they are looking at us, trying to find you here, they will never suspect that you are in Hades.”
 
Thetis nodded eagerly.
 
Thetis: “Thank you!”
 
Osiris: “Now, prepare yourself. You are about to meet one of the most power deities in all of existence. None in the Multiverse are like it. You may be overwhelmed so we will protect you with our power.”
 
Thetis was shocked. Could it be Atum-Ra? Perhaps even Aten, who doesn’t technically exist yet? Or some foreign or, dare she believe, an alien god? She grit her teeth as, from the shadows, a figure emerged.
 
She looked down.
 
Four feet tall, she could see a pair of little legs sticking out from beneath what appeared to be a white sheet over a person’s head. On the sheet was a lazy-eyed, dopey face.
 
Osiris: “This is Medjed!”
 
Osiris looked as though he could hear sirens singing, trumpets blowing and the worlds colliding. Thetis just saw a weird little person in a ghost costume. Medjed lazily turned and started to potter off. She glanced at Isis who ushered her eagerly after the sheet-god. Thetis trotted after it.
 
Thetis was wondering if there was some mistake and she looked back down through Duat to where Osiris and Isis watched after her. She and Medjed passed through an arch and disappeared. A moment later they reappeared in a new underworld, another portion of the Heavenly Realm reserved for a different religion’s afterlife. Here was Hades.
 
While Duat had been a sombre affair, it had been an organised and stately process. Hades appeared as a grey, barren world that stank of death and misery. Thetis’ spirits were instantly cast over as she thought of spending her days in such a desolate place. She looked at Medjed. Its stupid face gazed at her sleepily. There was no mouth, no nose. Just eyes and their eyebrows that looked like a badly drawn kid’s picture. The thing slowly started to lean to one side, as though it forgot how to stand up.
 
Thetis: “Thank you, uh, Medjed. For bringing me here.”
 
Medjed, very slowly, straightened itself up again. She began to find the thing extremely creepy despite its dopey looks. It was just too weird and oddly cute. She looked around and saw the river and in the distance it appeared there was the boatman, herding the dead onto his boat.
 
Thetis: “Well, goodbye Medjed. Thank you again.”
 
She tried to give the weird god her best smile and she turned to walk away. She hadn’t gotten far when she noticed the pattering of bare feet on the stoney beach behind her. She turned to find Medjed stalking her.
 
Thetis: “Um. Shouldn’t you go back to Duat? With Osiris and Isis?”
 
Medjed stared at her. It then, slowly, squatted, bending its little knees. Thetis backed away only for Medjed to jump back up and scuttle after her. Concerned she went at a fast pace towards the boat, though not so fast as to run from the little creature like a fool. When she reached the boat she saw the boatman, Charon. He was a monstrous skeleton in a thick, ragged robe that hung loosely over his bones. His skull looked at her with two tiny points of light that lurked within the darkness of the eye sockets. He grinned – but it was a skull, so its face was a permanent grin – at her.
 
Charon: “Hey there, sweetcheeks!”
 
Thetis was aghast.
 
Thetis: “Swee—I am Thetis. Did word come about my arrival?”
 
Charon: “Yeah, yeah! Sure did! Nice to have a pretty face around. Not like this lot. That’s right, I’m talkin’ to you lot! You ugly scoundrels! Get on the boat or do I have to bash you with my oar?”
 
His voice was high-pitched and surprisingly camp. She had expected bass and monotone. Charon leaned himself to the side to look over her shoulder.
 
Charon: “What in the name of my petrified balls is that?”
 
Thetis: “Oh, uh. This is Medjed. I think he’s an Egyptian god of… I’m not sure what.”
 
Charon: “Hey there, cutey. Are you travelling with Ms Thetis?”
 
Medjed waddled close to Thetis by way of response and she realised she was going to have to get used to the little beast as it seemed intent on stalking her even through Hades.
 
Charon: “Well, you two better hop on board the Charon Express! Yo, you chumps, get outta the way for the lady!”
 
Miserable Dead: “I am a lady!”
 
Charon: “You’re a damned corpse is what you are! Move your incorporeal ass outta the way! That’s right, shift it! Don’t make me spank your ass with this oar! I’m deadly with this beauty, I tells ya!”
 
Miserable Dead: “I’m already dead!!”
 
Charon: “You’ll be double dead in a freakin’ minute! Ya damned ungrateful yobbo! I gives ya’ll passage on my boat and you don’t even show any respect. This is what the youths of Greece are like these days! Back in the old days I used to ferry real Grecians.”
 
He glanced at Thetis as she seated herself down.
 
Charon: “Present company excluded, of course!”
 
She tried to smile in recognition of his compliment in her direction, but it was difficult to be jovial with a chatty skull. Medjed sat down so heavily that the boat rocked vigorously.
 
Charon: “Anyone falls in, I ain’t comin’ in after ya. So hold on tight.”
 
The dead instantly clutched at the sides of the boat.
 
Charon: “Please keep all arms and legs in the vehicle at all times. The emergency exits are… everywhere. Please respect the needs of other passengers and don’t make a fuss. Wailing and whining are strictly prohibited because I’m sick to death of hearing it. Ha. Sick to death. Good one, Charon.”
 
He pushed off the shore and started sailing across the River Styx, the oar deep in the water like a gondolier. He steered them towards the opposite shore where Thetis could just about make out the figure of a man waiting.
 
Charon: “I reckon ya’ll are gonna love it here, Ms Thetis. Not you lot though. Ya’ll gonna burn for ya sins!”
 
Miserable Dead: “No please!”
 
Charon: “Ha! I’m just playin’ with ya’ll. I haven’t a frickin’ clue what’s goin’ to happen to you. For all I know you’ll get a ghost mansion and forty-two virgins to sex up.”
 
Miserable Dead: “I don’t want forty-two virgins!”
 
Charon: “What? You want forty-three? Stop bein’ so greedy, you ungrateful assholes!”
 
Miserable Dead: “That’s not what I said!”
 
Charon: “Look, you’re upsettin’ Ms Thetis with your lechery! Don’t you worry, Ms Thetis, we’ll be keepin’ these hoodlums away from you. You’ll be safe and protected down here. Ain’t no gods gonna be even lookin’. They’ll never suspect. You can have that baby safe and sound.”
 
Thetis: “That’s a relief. Thank you, Charon.”
 
Charon: “You hear that, ya bastards!? That’s gratitude! See, real Greeks know how to thank a boatman for his services! Ya’ll are a disgrace to the name of Greece!”
 
All the Miserable Dead: “Thank you, Mr Charon!”
 
Charon: “That’s better. We’re gettin’ there. Almost brings a tear to the eye, it does.”
 
Miserable Dead: “You don’t have eyes.”
 
Charon: “See!? And there you go ruinin’ it! Just couldn’t help yourself, could ya? Just gotta open that yap and go insultin’ me. I have half a mind to toss you outta my boat and go on without ya!”
 
A lot of chiding later and the boat bumped up onto the opposite shore. The dead clambered off the boat, terrified that Charon might take them for a return trip. The procession went on down the shoreline while Thetis and her new, and unusual, friend, Medjed, turned to the man waiting for them. He was around six feet in height and of a slender build. His face had a well groomed beard, trimmed neat and tidy and short. Even his eyebrows appeared plucked to perfection. He wore a dapper suit of black with a white shirt and red, silk waistcoat. He had a ruffled cravat around the collar and his shoes were extremely well-polished. In one hand was a cane, with a shiny, silver skull at the top, and in the other was a top hat.
 
Hades: “Welcome, Lady Thetis.”
 
He bowed deeply. Thetis was at a loss. She had expected someone as grim and serious as Osiris and instead she was met with a handsome, debonair gentleman in such an unusual fashion that struck her as charming and sophisticated. She didn’t know how to respond to such a greeting so she just nodded her head energetically.
 
Thetis: “Thank you for helping me, Hades.”
 
Hades: “And Medjed. It is sublime to meet you once again. You are as radiant and inspiring as always.”
 
Medjed’s gaze slowly wandered from Thetis to Hades. She wasn’t even sure it understood a word Hades has said, or even if it knew it was being addressed. Thetis tried not to look at it.
 
Thetis: “I understand that time works differently in the underworld than it does on Earth. Will this cause any problems for me?”
 
Hades: “Not at all, my good lady. I have enshrined you in a bubble of the underworld that will allow time to run normally into you. And into your unborn child. Seven months from now, you will have your baby. I have enlisted the aid of some of your fellow nereids who know a thing or two about being midwives.”
 
Thetis: “Oh no! If they know I’m here, they may tell Poseidon!”
 
Hades: “Never fear, I have not told them who they will be helping. They believe it will be my wife.”
 
Thetis: “Persephone? Where is she now?”
 
Hades: “She will be absent for several months, I am sorry to say. She only spends the winter months in the underworld. The rest of the time she spends with her parents on Mount Olympus.”
 
Thetis: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
 
Hades: “It is our arrangement. I am just sorry you will not have much company here. At least you have Medjed.”
 
Thetis: “Uh, yeah. At least there’s… that…”
 
The months passed by until, eventually, it was time for the birth. Many nereids were invited during the last month the birth was expected and asked to remain in Hades so that they couldn’t go gossiping to Poseidon or any other gods before the baby was born. As a bonus, Hades was able to secure the help of the Roman god Salacia, who was already good friends with Thetis. At Salacia’s suggestion of a water birth, they, all being creatures of the sea, agreed to help Thetis give birth in the River Styx itself. When Hades learnt of this he advocated the idea immediately.
 
The baby was thus born and as it came out the child was plucked from the water by its heel. The nereids were all ecstatic and Salacia helped Thetis nurse the little boy. Hades crouched beside them as she rested in the water.
 
Hades: “This is good. I was able to create a connection between me and your child because of the water of the river. Should your son ever be struck down, even by my brother, Zeus, I shall be able to return him to his body in an instant. He is now safe. The prophecy that your son would bring about the ruin of Zeus may well come to pass now that he is invincible!”
 
Salacia was laying back on the water, letting herself float like a pale log.
 
Salacia: “I hate prophecies. Soon as they’re made, everyone scrambles to break them before they can come to pass. It just puts everyone in danger. This being the perfect example.”
 
Thetis: “I agree with you, Salacia. I wish gods like Apollo would stop giving the gift of future sight to the humans.”
 
Hades: “I am not one to pass judgement on such things. I am just happy that you could give birth safely and never have to worry about your son again. Did you choose a name, by the way?”
 
Salacia: “You should call him Dave!”
 
Hades: “I’m not sure how heroic ‘Dave’ sounds…”
 
Salacia: “It’s the name of this alien god who’s supposed to be one of the most powerful gods in the Multiverse, I’ll have you know!”
 
Hades: “Like Medjed?”
 
They all glance to the shore behind Hades. Medjed was lying on the grey stones like a lump, its vacant face staring into the sky. It rolled to look at them with slow deliberation.
 
Salacia: “Maybe they know each other!”
 
Hades: “How I would love to experience the higher understanding of the Multiverse that such beings as Medjed and Dave must have. I suppose we mere local deities shall never achieve such a wonderous state of being.”
 
Thetis shook her head with some disbelief as she looked back into Medjed’s stupid face. Half of her actually believed it all, while the other half thought the entire lot of them were deluded.
 
Salacia: “What about Doctor Pepper! That’s a great name.”
 
Hades: “I think that’s copyrighted.”
 
Salacia: “You can’t copyright a name!”
 
Thetis: “His name is Achilles.”
 
Hades: “A good, strong name.”
 
Thetis: “And he will become the scourge of the gods!”
 
Hades and Salacia glanced at each other.
 
Salacia: “You know we’re gods, right?”
 
Thetis smirked.
 
Thetis: “Present company excluded, of course.”

GANGS OF THEBES
 
The sky was bright blue without a single cloud to mar it. The sun was at its height and its bright rays blasted down upon the Theban Necropolis. Most of the land was silent with the dead kings and queens of Egypt’s past, as well as the nobles that were able to afford entry to the holy district. There was no wind; there was no relief. Two men walked across the entirety of the necropolis having done business in the main city of Thebes several miles away. The two men were Aman Tabiz and the Greek-Egyptian named Pirithous.
 
Pirithous was a short man with a stooped gait, his shoulders hunched over and neck stretched out like a preying bird. He wore thick desert robes to shield him from the sun. They may be hot to live in, but they spared his skin from the blistering sunlight. The robes were white to reflect some of the light but years of use rendered them yellowed and torn. His skin was well weathered and bronzed, inherited from his Egyptian mother who had worked as a prostitute for sailors. His father had been a Greek merchant who visited his mother with every trip into port. Soon as she was pregnant, however, he never returned to her brothel. Pirithous had grown up as a street rat, pickpocketing and stealing. He had been punished by the police numerous times as a teenager, resulting in a lot of scars from being caned repeatedly. The final time he had been caught they have cut off his left ear. He learnt from that – never get caught again.
 
Now he was a middle-aged man, though he looks many years older, and was in a position of influence and power. He turned his skills from petty theft to extortion and blackmail. He became a pimp, having learnt the trade from his mother, which led to him having very wealthy customers for certain exquisite beauties under his protection.
 
He started to hire other thieves and crooks to help him and soon enough he had a small gang. Then he met the enigmatic Aman Tabiz. The man had been studying in Thebes but had finished his sessions and was looking for employment. Aman was initially hired for his knowledge and strength. He quickly became trusted to perform his own operations. Then he became Pirithous’ right-hand man. In truth Aman was running the organisation and Pirithous just sat at the top, making the coin. Pirithous was the figurehead of the outfit now. The ambassador. He was the one that greased the officials’ hands, dealt with the police and paid the taxes to the government. But no move was made without the approval of Aman Tabiz.
 
Aman’s hair was greying around the temples but that was all that seemed to tell of his true age as his body was a grand temple of muscle that made his brown skin taut and youthful. He wore a loose-fitted tunic that exposed his chest and worn linen trousers with thick, sand-proofed boots. To keep the sun off he carried an umbrella made of papyrus that created shade over him. He had started hiring women to carry it for whenever he did venture out. Usually, however, he remained indoors and out of sight, allowing Pirithous to be the face of the gang.
 
While most of the gang members had started wearing jewels and fine clothes, symbols of their improved status, Aman retained simple attire. Likewise, Pirithous was a traditionalist and he maintained his old desert robes, giving him the nickname of beggar king amongst the gang’s members.
 
The two of them rarely met together in the open any more. That was too much of a risk should a rival gang try to take them out them, or worse yet a police officer looking for a major score. However the client had insisted on the major players only as the job was of the utmost clandestine nature. The runner had been a boy employed by priests of Hathor, whose temple was close to the workers’ village within the necropolis.
 
As they neared, Deir el-Medina came into clear view. The village was small, but well built and the people appeared to be constantly working. This was the workers village for then necropolis. Though slaves were often brought in to haul the heavy loads, most of the actual work was performed by professional craftsmen who were given homes deep in the necropolis. Not far from the village they came across a strange man.
 
His skin was green and his hair was blue. This was the immediate tip off that this was no ordinary person. He wore a skin-tight, white suit of polyvinyl chloride (PVC) that clung to every crevice of the body. He didn’t appear to be muscular but instead he was very lithe but his buttocks were pert and his crotch bulged. Even the very shape of the man’s genitals, in far too much detail, was observed by the two gangsters. Aman was completely unfazed but Pirithous was horrified at seeing another man’s junk with very little to the imagination left behind.
 
Ptah: “Welcome to Deir el-Medina, strangers. I am Ptah. This is a peaceful village. I hope you’ll be respectful here?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “We’re not here for the village, Ptah. We were send word to attend the Temple of Hathor.”
 
Ptah: “Ah, I see.”
 
The man placed a green hand on his hip and stood at an odd angle. His lips twisted round as he studied the two of them.
 
Ptah: “You look like a couple of rogues.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Does it matter? We are not here to harass the village, like I said.”
 
Ptah: “That doesn’t mean you aren’t going to bring trouble. What’s your business?
 
Aman Tabiz: “We’ll know that when we arrive at the temple.”
 
The man mused some more.
 
Ptah: “Fine. Then you won’t mind if I accompany you there?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “If needs be, though once there our meeting will be private.”
 
Ptah: “We have a deal. I shall lead the way.”
 
The man walked with swaying hips that caused Pirithous to choke. He looked up at the sky as they walked.
 
Pirithous: “You don’t look… normal. In fact, you look like a damn anime character!”
 
Ptah: “A what?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I assume you are the Ptah? God of craftsmen?”
 
Ptah: “Yes.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “And that’s why you’re so protective here. Is that your shrine further ahead?”
 
Ptah: “It is! And beyond that is the Valley of Queens, straight down this road. But we’re not going that way. We’ll be turning to the right here. We’ll take a route around the outside of the village.”
 
Pirithous: “You don’t want us mingling with your people?”
 
Ptah: “I’m just not willing to take chances. These are good, hard-working people. They’re paid well, they serve their pharaoh well and they respect the gods and the dead. They deserve protecting.”
 
Pirithous: “What happened to your son? Is he here too?”
 
Ptah: “Who? What son?”
 
Pirithous: “Imhotep!”
 
Ptah: “Not this again! It’s been centuries since then and that story still circulates. I don’t know any Imhotep. I think I’d know if I sired one.”
 
Pirithous: “Yeah… you don’t seem like the type of guy to… sire…”
 
Ptah: “What does that mean?”
 
Pirithous: “Nothing! Just… you’re quite fond of these craftsmen, aren’t you?”
 
Ptah: “Yes I am. I like to help them with their work. I provide inspiration and reserves of strength when they are fatigued. I introduced them to keeping well oiled and strong.”
 
Pirithous: “I bet you did.”
 
Ptah: “And what does that mean?”
 
Pirithous: “Nothing! Aren’t you supposed to have a wife?”
 
Ptah: “Ah yes. Dear, dear Sekhmet. Warrior goddess, you know? Very, very strong. She could probably rival your handsome friend here.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Indeed.”
 
Pirithous: “To each their own. I just hope your wife is happy.”
 
Ptah: “Why wouldn’t she be?”
 
Pirithous: “No reason!”
 
Aman Tabiz: “There is the temple.”
 
In the distance, stood upon a hill, was the Temple of Hathor. It was grand, built by the skilled workmen of Deir el-Medina. Aman had to wonder why there was a temple of hers here in the necropolis. She was a deity of femininity and the rights of women. Though she did cross the boundaries of the mortal realm and Duat, he would have expected temples to Osiris or Anubis to be more prevalent in the necropolis than hers. The building was squat but wide with sandstone pillars and murals on the walls. Outside it were garden beds that were home to a row of sycamore trees, which were symbols of Hathor. Even as they reached the large doorway to the temple, the coolness of the interior wafted upon the men’s skin.
 
Hathor: “Halt! Who goes there!?”
 
Ptah: “The best god in the necropolis!”
 
Hathor: “Impossible! That’s me!”
 
Ptah: “Guess again!”
 
Hathor: “Why are you here, Ptah, you green-skinned bastard. Go back to your village.”
 
Ptah: “You see how she treats me? Is this any way for a lady to behave?”
 
Hathor: “I’ll show you ladylike behaviour in a minute if you don’t bugger off.”
 
Ptah leaned close to his male compatriots.
 
Ptah: “Must be that time of the month, amiright!?”
 
Hathor: “Sexist—”
 
She leapt at him but he vanished and instead she turned on the two mortals.
 
They both threw their hands into the air.
 
Hathor: “What do you two want?”
 
Pirithous: “We were told to come here by a boy from the priests.”
 
Hathor: “Ah. You must be the gangstas!”
 
Pirithous: “You mean gangsters. We’re not rappers, you know?”
 
The woman beckoned them to follow her. She was tall, over six feet, and her skin was as yellow as a Simpsons character. Her hair was a colour somewhere between blue and black and worn to her shoulders in bunches on either side of her face, wrapped in loose leather laces. Two very long, thin horns protruded from her head and between them was a glowing sphere of red and gold, like a miniature sun. The two men were mesmerised by it as it was quite unlike anything they had seen before; even Aman who was well travelled and world weary. She wore a long, free-flowing toga of gold, which blended with her unusual skin colour. On her feet were high-heeled sandals, which boggled Pirithous’ mind.
 
The walls of the interior of the temple were decorated with more murals, depicting all levels of Egyptian life from the farmers, to the merchants to the royals. Amongst them were depictions of the gods; Abunis, Osiris, Isis and Hathor as they welcomed the dead to the underworld. There were fewer images Ma’at and Thoth but they were often found alongside the dreaded Ammit. Deep into the temple they saw a god that looked like a bedsheet with eyes.
 
Pirithous: “What in the name of Amun-Ra is that weird looking thing?”
 
Hathor: “The mighty Medjed! One of the most supreme deities in the Multiverse. Ruler of many universes and most feared by all gods. Medjed is everything.”
 
The men glanced at each other.
 
Pirithous: “A walking tea cosy?”
 
Hathor: “Lucky for you, Medjed is eternally merciful and won’t take that as an insult.”
 
She ushered them to a separate room. When they got inside they found another woman. She appeared refined, to the point of regality, and had the white skin of the Europeans. Pirithous recognised her first, having studied the culture of his father when he was young.
 
Pirithous: “Hera?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Why would a god hire mortal gangsters?”
 
Pirithous: “And Egyptian ones at that.”
 
Hera: “No Greek God must know I had a hand in this. This is of the utmost secrecy. This is why I am contacting you both personally. The fewer people know of my involvement, the better.”
 
Pirithous: “I see. And what exactly is it you expect us to do for you?”
 
Hera: “Murder most foul.”
 
Pirithous’ hair prickled and he straightened his back in surprise. His outfit very rarely dealt with murder. People were far more useful when they were alive. Why kill someone when they can be blackmailed? The only people they tended to murder were police officers, and only when those officers strayed too far into their business and couldn’t be bought off.
 
Hera: “As Egyptians, you may not know of Greek deities and the stories of our lives. My husband’s name is Zeus, perhaps you know this much?”
 
Pirithous: “I do.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “As do I. I met him once.”
 
Pirithous looked at Aman with utter disbelief.
 
Pirithous: “Yeah right.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “He taught me and my classmates politics. At least he was supposed to. It devolved into a lesson on wooing women.”
 
Hera: “Then you have touched upon my problem. My husband’s infidelity had led to a great many children that are not mine.”
 
Pirithous: “I can see where this is going now.”
 
Hera: “These children are an insult to me personally. But they are also a means to undermine me. When I act against him, he turns to his illegitimate children for aid. Athena, the little pest, is prime among them.”
 
Hathor: “And this is why I haven’t married. I have had a string of boyfriends, but never married any of them. It’s the best way, Hera. You should get a divorce!”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I don’t know if divorce exists yet.”
 
Hera: “I will not lose my position as queen of the gods. Besides, he might be a cheating bastard but I do love him and I know he loves me. He just can’t keep it in his pants.”
 
Hathor: “Greek lives are so messy. You should take some advice from us Egyptian gods, we have much more simplicity to our lives. Less of the soap opera nonsense.”
 
Hera: “It doesn’t matter. The point is, I want you to kill these children. Wherever you find them. You will be paid per kill. Do whatever it takes. You will not be able to slay such as Athena, she is a true god, but many are demi-gods or entirely mortal. Those are to be taken out.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I think this is a contract worth considering.”
 
Pirithous: “Are you serious? Demi-gods? Sure, they’re mortal but only to an extent. They’ll be way too much for us to handle.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “No matter how powerful, everything has a weakness that can be overcome. Human ingenuity is the greatest force in the world. We can prevail if we figure out how.”
 
Pirithous: “This is a huge undertaking. We’ve done missions aboard, but nothing even approaching the systematic murder of a family tree of half-gods.”
 
Hera: “Remember, this is a secret undertaking. It doesn’t matter if Zeus knows his children are being killed, but he must never know it was me. Protect yourselves and you protect me.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I expect our punishment from Zeus would be extreme. We will not be caught and so we will not expose you. No one else will ever know of this.”
 
Hathor: “This is going to get really ugly. I’m glad I’m not Greek!”
 
And so the killing spree began after a year of preparation and intelligence gathering. They obtained weapons and trinkets to aid them in their quests, all divinely powered or magical in nature to grant them boosts in given situations. They always approached their targets unawares and never confronted them in open combat. Whenever their secrecy was compromised, they went underground for many months and moved onto a new target with the intention of returning, one day, to finish the job.
 
One such job they had reached Mount Oeta in Thessaly. Aman Tabiz and Pirithous hid nearby and used a ‘seeing lens’. It was a magical mirror, devised by followers of Thoth, to allow sight of nearby locations, even through walls. The hut was about a mile down the mountain where the great hero and son of Zeus, Hercules, was shacked up with his wife Deianira. As the mirror activated they could see the interior of the hut as though they were inside it themselves. The hut was a simple affair but well decorated and furnished, clearly meant as a holiday home for the couple as a retreat from the life of a celebrity. Hercules was an old man but, like Aman himself, incredibly muscular and retained all the trappings of youth. His wife was three decades younger than himself and had an air of innocent youth about her. They soon concocted their plan.
 
Several hours later they saw Hercules leave the hut and head to town. Aman looked to Pirithous.
 
Aman Tabiz: “You know what to do.”
 
Pirithous: “I’m on it.”
 
Pirithous got up, stretched, and then started to head to the hut. He hunched his back more than usual and trotted down the mountain. He reached the door and gave it an uncertain knock, trying to give the air of a lowly man unsure if he should intrude. The door opened and Pirithous kept his head down in a revering gesture.
 
Pirithous: “Good day, madam. I’m sorry to disturb you. Is your fine husband home?”
 
The girl leaned against the doorframe and shook her head.
 
Deianira: “Sorry but no. He left for town a short while ago.”
 
Pirithous: “Oh, I see. And did your lady enjoy the necklace?”
 
She blinked her big, brown eyes.
 
Deianira: “What necklace?”
 
Pirithous opened his eyes wide and stooped his head even lower.
 
Pirithous: “Oh my! I apologise, madam! I must have made some kind of mistake!”
 
Deianira: “I think so! I have no necklace!”
 
Pirithous: “I should… I should leave. Thank you for your time, madam.”
 
He turned and hobbled away. He got down the garden path before she called him. He had almost thought she really would allow the matter to drop but sighed with relief when he heard her delicate voice.
 
Deianira: “Wait, wait. Please tell me what necklace?”
 
Pirithous: “Oh. Nevermind, madam. I am not here to cause you any distress.”
 
Deianira: “I tell you, I am quite distressed now as it is! Please explain yourself. Are you saying my husband has bought a necklace for me?”
 
Pirithous: “That is quite right. I’m sure he just hasn’t given it to you yet. He wanted to show it to his lady before making the rest of the payment to us for the necklace, so I came to see if it was suitable. Perhaps he just hasn’t shown it to you yet?”
 
Deianira: “That… that must be it.”
 
Pirithous: “You’ll know it when you see it! It has a fine red gem right at its centre. Quite a beautiful piece. Well then. I shall take my leave. I hope you can keep this secret, my lady? I would hate for the honoured Hercules to be disappointed if it isn’t a surprise.”
 
Deianira: “Of course. Thank you good sir.”
 
Pirithous started towards the town, following the small path that led from the house. The path was mostly overgrown with the grass of the mountain but a few rocks clearly marked the way. Ahead of him he could see the figure of Aman going the same way. When they reached the town, Aman went one way and Pirithous went the other. Eventually he reached the home of a woman named Hippodamia and knocked, much more confidently this time. The woman answered and grinned when she saw him.
 
Hippodamia: “Pirithous! Thank you for the fine gift!”
 
Pirithous: “You’re welcome, my dear! Anything for the woman I love!”
 
He ascended the few steps to enter the abode. Hippodamia was a woman of thirty years, a decade less than himself, and a fine example of Grecian women. She was daughter of the town’s leader and considered a grand prize by any nobleman. However, it was the rich foreign trader she had fallen for as he lavished her with exotic gifts and tales from across the world. She had been married once before but her husband had perished in war. Her son, Polypoetes, already looked to Pirithous as his adopted father and addressed him thus. Pirithous complained that the boy’s name was too difficult to say and nicknamed him Polypotatoes, which eventually got the boy to be named Spud by his friends.
 
Hippodamia was friends with everyone in town and when Pirithous suggested inviting several guests to an outdoor party, the name of Hercules was included on the list. She had met the hero many times but had never partied with him or his wife. Pirithous vowed he would be at the party too and the date was set and the invitations sent.
 
The days passed until the party came. Pirithous was, as he professed, unfortunately busy with work and couldn’t attend after all. This was a major disappointment for Hippodamia but she was resigned to his work taking his time at all hours. She did, however, wear the new necklace he gave her. A beautiful piece from Egypt that came with a large red gem in the centre.
 
Hercules had a grand time at the party but his young wife was troubled having seen another woman wearing the necklace she had expected for herself. She had been anxious day after day as no sign of the mysterious gift arose and when she finally saw it around the neck of another woman, Deianira became distraught. She left the bulk of the party to sit alone in the garden, taking a perch on a rock under one of the old oak trees. She tried to hold her tears in as a man neared her.
 
He crouched down.
 
Aman Tabiz: “I believe I know why you are upset, my young lady. I am the unfortunate merchant that sold the necklace to your husband.”
 
Deianira: “It is not your fault, sir.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Perhaps not. Hercules is a man of many lovers in his past. Your are his third wife, he has had many affairs with other married women and he has had countless male lovers.”
 
Deianira buried her face in her hands, beset with mortification. She had married him knowing all of this but she foolishly believed she could be the one and only.
 
Aman Tabiz: “But I would like to help you.”
 
Deianira: “How?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Come to my shop in the morning and I shall show you something. Keep it a closely guarded secret, however. It is an item of great magic.”
 
The next morning Aman Tabiz showed her a precious shirt of excellent tailoring, down to the smallest of fine stitches. Despite this, it was a simple design with just some minor details etched into the lining. It was, assured Aman, a shirt imbued with magic that would make the wearer all the more passionate and receptive during lovemaking. Hercules would want no other if he should wear this shirt when in bed with her. Deianira instantly snapped it up, at a small price, and took it home with her.
 
That night, Hercules donned the magnificent gift but as he crawled into the bed he suddenly toppled over, his face planted into the pillow. Stone cold dead.
 
Police investigated that very night as the young Deianira ran to the town for help. An alchemist from the town was brought in and discovered that the shirt had been laced with poison from a hydra’s blood. Deianira insisted that she had bought the shirt from a man in the town but when they came to the shop, the building was empty and nobody remembered there ever being a shop there at all. Deianira was arrested for the murder of her husband and, several weeks later, she was executed for the crime.
 
Pirithous: “Another one bites the dust and the culprit caught. We remain completely undetected.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “On to the next then.”
 
Pirithous went to his girlfriend, Hippodamia, and explained he would be gone for a year with work. She and Spud were sorrowful but understood. She would wait for him to return, she promised. He gave her plenty of money to support herself and the murderers left the town.
 
Pirithous: “Who is next one the list?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Someone named Helen of Sparta…”

MURDER MOST FOUL
 
Aman Tabiz: “Welcome! Welcome! These are beautiful wares from overseas, the likes of which you will never see outside of their homelands. Here is a precious statue of the Goddess Hothar, observe the intricate detail of the horns and the sun of life. And here is an amulet from the distant Celtic land of Britannia, which is said to grant one wish per month by the blessings of Epona. And here is a marvellous vase from the city of Troy, where the mighty Greek Gods rule. And here I have precious medicines from China, the most prosperous civilisation in the world. Come, come! Anything I can help you with, good sir?”
 
Aman Tabiz was wearing a bright robe of white that was trimmed with gold and turquoise. It was a gesture of great opulence. He even wore curly-toed shoes. On his head was a turban, carefully wrapped. He feigned a strong Sabaean accent to give him some legitimacy as an exotic trader. The Spartans generally had a preference for useful wares from his store, though they drawn to the most finely crafted goods as they showed dedication by the craftsman and this they appreciated. Initially it was only the useful, though well-made, objects that were sold, such as the vases and clothing. Of the trinkets he realised only the objects said to have powers or divine function would be sold and so, soon enough, every necklace, ring or broach had a special gift.
 
Soon enough his little shop was making a great deal of money and he had to wonder if this wasn’t his true calling in life. But he knew he had to act with greater purpose, for the sake of humankind. He had long ago know that this Earth was for humanity and not for the gods. Humans required such precise conditions in which to live and the Earth was primed for human life. Gods required no such thing and so they didn’t require the Earth. They subjugated the people under the pretence that they were all-powerful, as though this was reason enough for them to rule. Aman had constantly found that the best rulers were not the strongest, they were not even the smartest. They were the most charismatic. They were the rulers who wanted to help. They were everything that humanity should strive to be.
 
He did not approve of the Spartan way. To him they seemed less than human. They seemed void of compassion, of kindness, of vibrance. They were all soldiers, down to the last husband, wife and child. This entire civilisation was one big war machine. He often disliked his own actions, though he accept they must be done to protect everyone. But he held no such qualms about these Spartans. He would perform his service to Hera and eliminate Helen of Sparta without restraint for she was surely to bring war.
 
The market was some way from the royal palace. Keeping watch there was Pirithous. He was dressed in ragged clothes even worse than his usual robes. He held a stick and hunched over as far as he could. He ensured his lost ear was firmly on display to give himself the most piteous appearance he could muster.
 
The queen of Sparta, Queen Leda, was never afraid of the people. She had just two guards whenever she left the palace and strode with rapidity down the roads so the two of them had to chase after her. Pirithous had observed one desperate thief try to snatch the purse from her hip but the woman had snagged his arm and, in an instant, snapped it in half. Crime in Sparta was severely punished and the man was executed on the spot. Beggars were quite rare but at least tolerated. Pirithous supposed the Spartans believed there was always a chance a beggar could come back from destitution one day but a thief was always a thief.
 
Queen Leda strode now from the palace and Pirithous plucked up his courage.
 
He bumped into her. He was very careful not to touch her too much and upon immediate contact he flung himself backwards to the ground, as though she had given him a mighty shove. He sprawled there before he scrambled to his knees. He remained down there with his head bowed.
 
Pirithous: “Oh! Forgive me my lady! I am sorry!”
 
She saw the jewel in his hand. She reached down and yanked him to his feet.
 
Queen Leda: “You walk into your queen and you are a thief!? Guard!”
 
Pirithous: “No! No! Please, my queen! I am no thief! I was hired to deliver this ring to a noblewoman in these parts. I got lost and wasn’t watching my path. I’m so sorry that I walked into you, my queen. You walk so fast, I had no time to move! Please, please forgive my ineptitude! It won’t ever happen again!”
 
Pirithous’ Greek accent was perfect. As a child he had tried to copy the Greek sailors, wanting to be like his absent father when he grew up.
 
Queen Leda released him with a sneer.
 
Queen Leda: “Who would hire a beggar to deliver his precious wares?”
 
Pirithous realised they hadn’t come up with a name and stammered.
 
Pirithous: “Uh, ah, erm… Spice… Spice… Spice GeriMelMelPoshBaby!”
 
She looked incredulously at him.
 
Queen Leda: “What?”
 
Pirithous: “It’s one of those… foreign names, my queen. He hired me to help me earn some money. He knows crime has grave consequences in Sparta so he trusts I will do as he asks on the promise of further delivery work.”
 
Queen Leda: “That does sound promising. I hope you can get off the streets soon. You clutter the place. But I’m surprised a Spartan would buy something as useless as a ring.”
 
Pirithous: “Ah. I believe it is no ordinary ring, my queen. It was blessed by Apollo himself. It will grant the wearer immunity to illness. If you become sick, you can wear this for a day and your sickness will disappear.”
 
Queen Leda: “Interesting…”
 
She snatched it and looked at it keenly.
 
Queen Leda: “It appears of fine quality.”
 
Pirithous: “I heard Master Spice say it was from the master craftsmen of Troy.”
 
Queen Leda: “My daughter has been sick recently. Perhaps this would do.”
 
Pirithous: “I am sorry to hear of Princess Helen being sick, my lady. I’m sure Master Spice can provide you with a similar jewel to help her.”
 
Queen Leda: “Very well. Go. On your way.”
 
He scurried off, though he glanced back as he went through the crowd to see that she was headed to the town market. He pocketed the ring, straightened his back and whistled a merry tune as he went down into a shadowy alley.
 
In the market the queen soon found the stall of exotic goods where Aman Tabiz was affirming the potency of a potion of fertility to an especially desperate woman. He looked up to see the queen and the woman quickly moved aside.
 
Queen Leda: “You are Master Spice GeriMelMelPoshBaby?”
 
Aman blinked, stupefied.
 
Queen Leda: “I met the beggar delivering your wares.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Ah! Sorry, my lady of the sun. I have told very few my name. You took me by surprise. How may I serve you?”
 
Queen Leda: “You have a ring that can protect from sickness? Blessed by Apollo?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Indeed! I have a whole set. Just one moment.”
 
He fished out a handsome, leather box and carefully opened it to reveal three things, with the obvious impression where a fourth once lay.
 
Aman Tabiz: “They are extremely rare, only four in existence.”
 
Queen Leda: “It will work?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Absolutely.”
 
Queen Leda: “Then I will take one.”
 
She held out her hand.
 
Aman Tabiz: “Of course, my queen! I shall have my delivery man bring it to you tomorrow.”
 
Queen Leda: “You can give it to me now.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “But, my lady, are you sure that’s wise? The law states that the jewels sold here must be checked by the alchemist for poison.”
 
She hesitated and lowered her hand, evidently forgetting her own laws of the land. She glanced down at the rings and Aman felt a tension rise in his spine. He had not laced any of them with hydra’s blood, knowing of the laws in Sparta. They had to take a more direct approach with this mission. If she took the ring, the mission was over.
 
Guard: “My queen, Princess Helen is not so sick. She can wait a day. It is better to be safe.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “It is no business of mine, either way, my queen! But I always pay my taxes and follow the rules in my business. You are the arbiter of those rules, so the decision is yours to make. I expect those rules are there to protect us all.”
 
Queen Leda: “Tomorrow then. Take it to the alchemist immediately.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “It shall be done!”
 
Queen Leda: “The guards will expect your man.”
 
The next day the ring had been screened by the alchemist and handed back to Pirithous who went on his way to the palace. He hobbled up the stairs and announced himself to the guards as carrying the ring. They allowed him access to the palace. It wasn’t long before he was skulking through the shadows and found the Princess Helen in the garden. It wasn’t the best spot as it was so open to observation, but the guards were not on duty this far into the palace. Arrogance breeds complacency he long ago realised. He poked his head out of the doors.
 
Pirithous: “My princess, I have brought you the ring promised!”
 
Helen turned and walked up to him. Pirithous stared at her. Her pretty, little face looked up at him with large, innocent eyes. She smiled politely. He looked her up and down and his lip trembled.
 
Pirithous: “How did we miss this?”
 
Helen: “Miss what?”
 
Pirithous: “You’re just… a child.”
 
Helen: “Yes. I suppose even children get sick. I am not so very sick though. My mother just wants me to remain strong. Will the ring not work on children?”
 
Pirithous’ plans had crumbled and now he didn’t know how to deal with the situation. He needed to leave but Helen had seen his face and could easily identify him should they ever return to finish the job when she was a grown woman. He swallowed. He knew he should kill her. What difference did it make if she was young or old, she had to die either way?
 
He slipped out his knife. Helen looked at it in horror. He moved his arm and she tried to defend herself. Quite admirably, he had to admit, for a child. She was evidently learning from her mother. The knife struck Helen in the face and she toppled over and fell to the ground. Even the hilt of a knife was a useful tool when needed. He leant down and scooped up the unconscious girl. He had no idea what he was doing or how he was going to get out of this situation without being killed. He cursed his stupidity.
 
From inside his robes he snatched a grappling hook. There were always plans for escape. He threw it and it hooked on the exterior wall. With the girl over his shoulder he climbed up the wall, though it was an arduous process that took a lot of strength from him. He got to the top and had to rest. He looked out over the wall and saw how close to the river he was. Down there was Aman and their boat. Originally he was supposed to walk out the front door quietly and saunter down the street but now he would have to run across the field with the girl over his shoulder and hope he’s not seen.
 
He ran.
 
He was seen.
 
Alarm bells sounded. A couple of arrows struck the ground but soon stopped when someone intelligent reminded them they might hit the princess. The boat was already starting to move down the river when Pirithous arrived.
 
Aman Tabiz: “Why is she here!?”
 
Pirithous: “Because we didn’t do our research enough. We’ve gotten careless, Aman. Look at her!”
 
He tossed her into the boat.
 
Pirithous: “She’s, what, seven? Eight? We came too soon to this job.”
 
He glanced up at Aman’s cold face.
 
Pirithous: “Wait, you knew!?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “It must be done, Pirithous. That’s our job.”
 
Pirithous: “Not children, Aman! Never children.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “And now what are we to do with her? Keep her until she’s old enough to be killed?”
 
Pirithous: “Well… yes. Yes, that’s it.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “And you think that’s the merciful way?”
 
Pirithous: “Look, I don’t know! Okay? I just—I just grabbed her. We’ll figure it out later.”
 
Although the Spartan military was an efficient killing machine, it wasn’t the best when it came to subterfuge, unlike out intrepid anti-heroes. They were able to escape Sparta, over hills and dales, and made their way to sea. They kept Helen asleep most of the days using drugs, only allowing her time to eat and toilet a few times in the day. They went straight for the island of Lesbos where an old friend of Aman’s ran a ‘School for Crazies’.
 
The island was a lush, verdant paradise of temperate weather. The Aegean Sea brought cool winds to the island while the sun kept it warm. The small settlement there had a newly built school, which is where the two men carried their victim. The building was far grander than Aman expected it to be. It had white columns and an orange tiled roof. There were fenced gardens all around the school with several private gazeboes and a large plaza at the rear. It was in the plaza that they met the owner of the school, an old crone by the name of Medea.
 
She was seated on a stone bench watching several girls making a performance. The performance wasn’t very good as they seemed to constantly forget lines, or even where they were. But they tried and Medea was encouraging with claps and cheers. She wore a toga in the Greek fashion now, but she insisted on the toga being hooded to cover her hair. She glanced up at the two men and was surprised to see them coming. She snapped at the girls;
 
Medea: “Enough, girls! We have guests! Remember your manners!”
 
Two of the girls did remember and they scurried over to bow and greet the strangers. A couple others followed their example, while the rest stood around confused. Those who forgot were not chastised but helped along by another adult woman. She was much younger than Medea, being in her mid-twenties. She was Grecian woman of high class from the way she spoke and her manners. She was very attentive to the girls and whispered encouragements to them.
 
Medea: “My long-lost boyfriend!”
 
Some of the girls gasped and giggled.
 
Aman Tabiz: “I am not—”
 
He then just rolled his eyes.
 
Aman Tabiz: “I need your help, Medea.”
 
Pirithous: “Don’t you think the name of your school is a little on the nose?”
 
Medea: “Well, sometimes subtlety is lost on people, so why bother. What do you need? Why have you kidnapped a girl?”
 
Pirithous: “Um…”
 
They retired to one of the private gazeboes where Aman explained their endeavours in Sparta. When Medea pressed for explanations of their actions, they refused. They were under strict oath not to reveal Hera’s involvement in the affairs and even telling Medea this much was a great risk. Aman, however, was certain she could be trusted enough.
 
Medea: “Well, there is a problem.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “And that is?”
 
Medea: “I’m leaving Lesbos.”
 
Pirithous: “Crap.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Where are you going? Can you take Helen with you?”
 
Medea: “I don’t think so, she’d be recognised in an instant. I’m going to live in Troy. There’s a girl here, she’s the daughter of the king of Troy. She’s batshit crazy. I mean the ‘I see dead people’ level. But she also seems to have the gift of future-sight. The problem is, it’s all jumbled up in the nonsense so nobody knows what to listen to. She might scream, ‘oh no, please don’t die’ and put everyone on alert but then someone stands on a bug and she cries. Other times she’ll start spouting deaths of dozens of people, but all for wars or plagues that don’t exist yet. Maybe not for thousands of years. Do you know what a Spongebob is? She talks about him a lot. I think it’s a god of some lost nation called United Americas. I try to piece things together, which is why I want to go with her. I’m writing my memoirs before I die. If I can cobble together all the jibberish she spouts, my name will live on in history for deciphering the code!”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Or hers will.”
 
Medea: “Well yes, but I’m the author so my name goes on the cover!”
 
Pirithous: “Well, what’re we going to do?”
 
From the bench beside them, Helen started to stir.
 
Medea: “The school will go over to my assistant, Sappho.”
 
They glanced over to look at the dark-haired woman who was helping a girl wipe drool from her chin.
 
Medea: “I’m a bit worried though.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “About Sappho? Why?”
 
Medea: “Well…”
 
She leaned in conspiratorially.
 
Medea: “She’s one of them, you know?”
 
Pirithous: “One of who?”
 
Medea: “You know? They like their toast buttered in the morning? She loves a good strawberry. Always licks her yogurt pot.”
 
Pirithous: “Oooooooooooh!”
 
He blushed.
 
Medea nodded knowingly at Pirithous but Aman was still confused.
 
Aman Tabiz: “I don’t get it.”
 
Pirithous: “She’s a lesb—”
 
Medea: “She’s a damn poet!”
 
Pirithous blinked.
 
Pirithous: “Oh…”
 
Medea: “Can you believe it? What’s the world coming to when women want to be poets!? Poetry is far too manly! You know she wrote an Ode to Aphrodite!? Can you believe that? I mean, she is lesbian so I suppose it makes sense.”
 
Pirithous blinked again.
 
Pirithous: “Uh… oh?”
 
Medea: “But you know there’s something else?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “What’s that?”
 
Medea: “I think there’s something… wrong with her.”
 
Pirithous: “Like a sickness?”
 
Medea: “Well. She doesn’t like the sun very much. She usually stays indoors. Sometimes when she is out in the sun, I swear she sparkles! Like bloody glitter! Like those lame Twilight vampires!”
 
Aman Tabiz: “What?”
 
Medea: “Oh, that’s how Cassandra describes them.””
 
Aman Tabiz: “Cassandra?”
 
Medea: “The crazy girl with future sight! Are you paying attention?”
 
The men decide not to remind her she didn’t tell them the girl’s name until just now.
 
Aman Tabiz: “So you think Sappho is some kind of… monster?”
 
Medea: “I don’t know. Maybe I’m thinking too much into it. She does have some… special friends in town though.”
 
Pirithous: “Well, you did say she’s a lesbian so…”
 
Medea: “So? What?”
 
Pirithous: “Well… nevermind. Is it safe to leave Helen here? Tell everyone she’s a crazy girl—”
 
Medea: “You can’t call them that! Mentally challenged!”
 
Pirithous: “But your school is—and you said—fine. Tell everyone she’s mentally challenged. That way, whenever she tells people she’s a princess of Sparta they won’t believe her, right?”
 
Medea: “Sure. There’s a few princesses of that nature here already.”
 
Pirithous: “There are!?”
 
Medea: “Sure! Everyone’s always trying to get a princess out of the way, say she’s dead back home. You wouldn’t believe. So it’s fine, no problem.”
 
The two men straightened up and left Helen on the bench.
 
When the girl awoke she found Medea seated beside her.
 
Helen: “Who’re you? Where am I?”
 
Medea: “Hello there, girlie. I’m Medea. I’ll be looking after you for a few months before I leave. Then Ms Sappho will be looking after you.”
 
Helen: “Where’s my mother?”
 
Medea: “Back in Sparta I suspect.”
 
Helen: “I want to go home.
 
Medea: “I want to be young and beautiful again, but that’s not going to happen either.”
 
Helen sulked, ready to cry. Only her Spartan training kept her emotions in check.
 
Medea: “Say, do you know anything about magic?”
 
Helen: “Only what I read in books.”
 
Medea grinned mischievously.
 
Medea: “Wanna learn how to blow shit up?”
 
Aman Tabiz and Pirithous were well on their way to their next target by the time Helen started learning to basics in magic with Medea. In the months Helen spent with Medea she learnt a lot about magic and the mechanics by which it works. But eventually the old woman had to leave and she set out for Troy with her young ward, Cassandra, and Sappho came to run the school. Helen was cared for but every day she longed to return home.
 
The two anti-heroes’ journey took them further than they had ever travelled before. The ship they bought was an old one, meaning it drew less notice and didn’t require any official documentation to be processed. The name of the ship was the Argo and was around fifty years in age. The thing had been built to last, unlike most ships of the era, but it struggled with the waves of the Indian Ocean. Most Greek and Egyptian ships were only meant for the Mediterranean and seas similar but the Argo had been built for a much longer voyage – making it the ideal ship for the two men. Deep in the Indian Ocean, far from land, they eventually saw their quarry.
 
Looming in the sky, with ocean waves lapping at its rocky bottom, was a floating island. Waterfalls cascaded down its sides and a halo of light encompassed the thing, created by the spray of water. This was the last remnant of the Lemurian continent, something only someone as ancient as Aman Tabiz would know. He was forced, now, to explain his long origin as the world’s First Man to Pirithous. He avoided too much detail, not wanting to overwhelm his roguish friend, but it was a testament to his knowledge of the world that so few people of the era could understand. He pointed to the island;
 
Aman Tabiz: “That is the island of Uttura Madurai, once home to one of the Three Sangams of Kumari Kandam, a queendom of Lemuria. It’s the only thing left. Everything else is under the ocean, lost to us.”
 
Pirithous: “And the last of the Lemurians live there?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “No. If any of them did survive up there, they’d have died out long ago. The population would have been too small to last. We’ll just find the ziggurat ruins and maybe some of the small houses that supported the ziggurat itself.”
 
Pirithous: “If nobody lives there, why are we here?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I didn’t say nobody lives there.”
 
And so they discussed the project. This plan had been in the works for the past year as they had spread rumours ever since the death of Hercules about who stole his bow. They blamed the act on the person everywhere they went, especially around Thessaly, where Hercules had died. Every port they entered they spread the tale. Anyone seeking knowledge of the bow would invariably hear of these rumours.
 
To get up to the island they used a teleportation scroll they got from Medea before they left. However it was a one time use so they had to strap bizarre contraptions to their backs which were known as ‘parachutes’. Nobody had been crazy enough to use them yet so they were not widely used.
 
They reached the island to find it much as Aman had expected. The old ziggurat was a complete ruin and overrun by the plant life of the island. Aman explained that the ziggurat was sistered to two other ziggurats, as part of the Three Sangams, which were both under the ocean with the rest of Lemuria. There had been Kapatapuram and Tenmaturai. He explained how he had learnt, at the time, that Tenmaturai had been the birthing place of the gods Apollo and Artemis by their human mother Leto.
 
Pirithous: “Are you sure we can kill them? They might be children of a mortal but I think they are actual gods, not demi-gods.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “We’re not here for them.”
 
He lifted the bow.
 
This venture was all too easy. The two gods had brought their half-brother and half-god, Orion, to live on their island home. Orion, who was now a middle-aged man but as innocent as a child, was running across the ruins of the ziggurat, playing. Pirithous looked unhappy but Aman fired the arrow. He had been certain to use one of Hercules’ original arrows, which were especially fashioned with his signature, so that the bow and arrow could be connected.
 
Orion was shot and went down. It wouldn’t be long before the twins found him so the two killers leapt from the island and activated their parachutes. It was a choppy ride down but they managed to land in the ocean and were soon rescued by the Argo’s crew. Once aboard they set sail for the nearest landmass and took refuge there for several weeks, living off the island. They didn’t want to be seen out at sea and get caught by the watchful gaze of Apollo.
 
The arrow had been laced with a maddening poison that Aman had procured from Hermes Trismegistus, who was working as an alchemist again but worked along with a cow named Taliesin in Athens. Why there was a talking cow, Aman decided not to ask. The poison, when struck into Orion, caused him first to become disorientated and then to go berserk. When the twins found him on the ground, he tried to kill them with his mighty club. He acted like any savage beast. While a normal human wouldn’t be able to kill either Apollo or Artemis, Orion, as a demi-god, certainly could. As he raged Apollo realised that he had been poisoned and tried to use his godly-powers to cure him. Unfortunately, as Apollo paused, he was struck a great blow by Orion and given a mortal wound. Artemis, with tears in her eyes, was forced to put an arrow through her half-brother’s head and kill Orion. She whisked Apollo away to Mount Olympus to be healed, where he would remain for many years.
 
Artemis then found the person accused of stealing the bow.
 
Artemis: “You will meet your end now, mortal.”
 
Random Guy: “Uh—”
 
And he was dead. Once again the true killers went without blame. Orion was the prime target but if he had killed Apollo or Artemis in the struggle, the contracted killers would have been happy.
 
A few months went by and they had their biggest project to date. Sailing out to the Indian Ocean to find an ancient and forgotten flying island would pale in comparison. They had to journey into the depths of Hades for the daughter of Zeus, and wife of Hades, Persephone.
 
Aman Tabiz: “We should wait for her to ascend from Hades. Every year she will go to Mount Olympus. When she first rises, she will be vulnerable and open to attack.”
 
Pirithous: “I’m sorry, Aman, but I’m out. This is the last mission. I promised Hippodamia I would return in a year.”
 
Aman frowned.
 
Aman Tabiz: “You actually meant that? I thought it was part of the act.”
 
Pirithous: “It was! But… ever since we kidnapped Helen, I’ve been thinking about Spud.”
 
Aman frowned deeper.
 
Aman Tabiz: “You’ve been thinking about potatoes?”
 
Pirithous: “No! That’s the nickname I gave Hippodamia’s son. He’s a good lad and, you know, I really felt like I was his father. Do you know what that’s like?”
 
Aman did indeed have children but he could only related to a certain extent. His feelings on his children were far more complex than the feelings of a father over a single child. And yet in many ways that relationship was even more complex than his own, having such emotional feelings of attachment at the expense of others was one that Aman could only loosely sympathise with. His only true love had been his long-dead wife and even now he couldn’t say how much of his love for her was genuine love, like it had been when she lived, or if it was habitual and traditional, built on foundations rather than truth. He did know, however, that he could love no other.
 
He thought about how he would feel if she came back now and what he would give up for that.
 
Aman Tabiz: “You wish to be that man. Then this will be our last task and we will do it before the year is through.”
 
Pirithous: “Thank you. Hey, I guess this means you get to be boss of the Egypt Twats!”
 
Aman Tabiz: “And my first order of business will be to change that damn name.”
 
Pirithous just laughed and they plotted their final caper.
 
They first returned to Egypt to study how to access Hades, especially they wanted to enter undetected. They went to the Great Library, wherein every book in existence throughout the Multiverse can be found so long as you know where to look. Doors to alternate universes would open up and people would slip into this reality, making the Great Library a very elitist institution where only the registered people of the world could enter. Aman Tabiz was naturally on that list, though he realised he was still registered under his old name of Adai Theos.
 
There they learn of the recent venture into Hades by Thetis, mother of Achilles, the Scourge of Gods. The information had become widely available since Hades himself now protected Achilles and so even Zeus, Hades’ brother, couldn’t kill the human. It told how Thetis found her way in there by travelling from a rival underworld, that of Egypt.
 
Although Hathor, an Egyptian god who did help take the dead to Duat, was in on Hera’s scheme, this method would be too risky. The Olympians were now aware that the Egyptian gods did this and would be watching, not to mention Hades had been in on the act last time and allowed it to happen. He was also uncertain that Osiris would allow them access on the grounds of murdering a god of the underworld, even of a rival religion.
 
Instead they would need an alternative underworld to go through and they would need an excuse.
 
They went back to the Theban Necropolis. Just like last time, as they approached Deir el-Medina, Ptah appeared before them.
 
Ptah: “Ah, it is you two again. Long time, no see!”
 
He patted Pirithous on the bum.
 
Pirithous: “I… I have a girlfriend, oh Ptah.”
 
Ptah: “Aha! You’ll be married soon enough then!? Marriage is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Mine was beautiful ceremony. A big cake, lots of bridesmaids. Sekhmet was simply handsome in her tuxedo.”
 
Pirithous: “I hope tuxedo is some kind of dress.”
 
Ptah: “What?”
 
Pirithous: “Nothing.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “We’re here to see Hathor.”
 
Ptah: “Oh, pooh! Come to see her again? Why can’t you come to see me?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Last time, you weren’t exactly trusting of us, were you?”
 
Ptah: “Good point. And I still don’t. You’ll have to skirt around the village again. Only you’ll be going past my shrine, this time. Hathor isn’t in her temple, she’s in the Valley of Queens. Allow me to guide you.”
 
He guided them down the path, away from the Temple of Hathor, and towards the distant mountains, wherein would be the Valley of Queens. As they approached the shrine, built into the rock, to Ptah the god is suddenly struck down as woman leapt out of nowhere. With a long staff she struck him in the stomach and then the face and then again with such a powerful whack that he went flying backwards and landed flat on his back.
 
Pirithous looked up to see that the tall woman was no woman at all but a cobra-headed god. She had the body of a woman, all the curves necessary to make that fact abundant, but her head was green and the hood wide open and filled with bright, dangerous colours. Though her eyes were positioned like a snake, they were clearly human and had blue irises. Before either of them could open their mouths, she beat them both with her staff until they, too, were in the ground.
 
Snake-god: “Who goes there!?”
 
Pirithous: “You couldn’t ask that before you hit us!?”
 
She gave him another whack.
 
Ptah: “It’s me! Meretseger, it’s me! It’s Ptah!”
 
She turned her head a little to get a better look at Ptah as he patted himself down.
 
Meretseger: “Ah. So it is.”
 
Ptah: “Seriously! Every damn time! I have green skin, how many humans come in here with green skin!? I’m a god, you know? I’m a more important god that you, even!”
 
Meretseger: “In the necropolis, no one is more important than Meretseger.”
 
Pirithous: “Why are you gods all trying to be the best god of the necropolis anyway? It’s just a bunch of dead pe—OUCH!”
 
Meretseger: “Meretseger did not give the humans permission to get up.”
 
The two humans lay on the ground with some frustration.
 
Ptah: “They’re here to see Hathor.”
 
Meretseger: “What for?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “That’s our business.”
 
She whacked him across the jaw and he fell sideways.
 
Aman Tabiz: “Okay, you really need to stop hitting us.”
 
Meretseger: “Meretseger is the Guardian of the Theban Necropolis. Intruders must be punished. The pharaohs and their queens lie here and must remain undisturbed.”
 
Ptah: “I’m sure Hathor will want to see them.”
 
The snake woman seemed to consider this, though it was difficult to read any kind of emotions on the reptilian face. Her body was clothed in very post-modern era styled clothes that were made entirely from snake-skin. From the jacket, to the tight trousers, the boots and the belt. The jacket was open to reveal that she had a woman’s chest, but the sides of the coat never flapped in the wind to show anything more than the inner curves. Aman was sure a snake-god wearing snake clothes was like a human wearing human leather.
 
Meretseger: “Then Meretseger will guide you to Hathor and keep watch over the humans.”
 
Ptah: “Hey now, I was guiding them!”
 
Meretseger: “Meretseger does not care what Ptah was doing with the humans. Now the humans are with Meretseger.”
 
Ptah: “You’re so mean to me, you know that?”
 
Meretseger: “Meretseger is mean to every person.”
 
Pirithous: “I don’t think that’s something to brag about.”
 
Meretseger: “What is the human’s name?”
 
Pirithous cursed himself for drawing her attention but he told her his and Aman’s names. But upon hearing their names she hisses aggressively at them.
 
Meretseger: “The Egypt Twats!”
 
Pirithous: “Wooooow! You’ve heard of us!?”
 
She whacked him with her staff and then whacked Aman too, for good measure.
 
Meretseger: “Egypt Twats stole from Valley of Kings. Meretseger punished Egypt Twats severely. Pirithous and Aman Tabiz must be here for more punishment!”
 
Aman Tabiz: “We didn’t know this happened, we didn’t authorise a raid on the necropolis. I’m sorry. We’ve been away for many years. The gang has been doing its own thing without us. We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
 
She tapped her staff upon the sand in thought.
 
Meretseger: “Meretseger will take Pirithous and Aman Tabiz to Hathor. She will confirm if Egypt Twats are welcome here. If not…”
 
She hissed at them and spat at them.
 
Aman Tabiz: “Message understood.”
 
Ptah: “You are a remarkable woman, Meretseger.”
 
She hissed at the green-skinned god.
 
Meretseger: “Ptah go away! Humans belong to Meretseger now!”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I wouldn’t say belong…”
 
Meretseger: “Aman Tabiz is in Theban Necropolis. Meretseger is Guardian of Theban Necropolis. Aman Tabiz belongs to Meretseger until Aman Tabiz leaves the necropolis.”
 
Ptah: “You never want to own me...”
 
Meretseger: “Ptah go away or Ptah get staff to the face.”
 
She glared at him.
 
Meretseger: “Again!”
 
Ptah: “You know, my wife could beat you up!”
 
Meretseger: “Sekhmet also get staff to the face!”
 
Ptah: “I’d like to see you try!”
 
Meretseger: “Sekhmet bring it! Ptah bring it! Meretseger Guardian of the Theban Necropolis! Meretseger whoop ass!”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Ptah, Ptah, it’s okay if we go with her. Thank you for your help so far.”
 
Pirithous: “You are a very… gay god.”
 
Ptah: “Gay!?”
 
Pirithous: “As in happy!”
 
Ptah: “Well, I do try! Unlike some!”
 
He gave a little pout at Meretseger, who waggled the tip of her staff at him and he turned and left.
 
Aman Tabiz: “Now that’s over, perhaps we can—OUCH!”
 
Meretseger: “Meretseger never say Aman Tabiz can get up.”
 
They lay on the ground until, finally, she relented and let them stand up. Even then they cautiously did do. The snake-god led them towards the Valley of Queens. The mountains rose up on either side of the road and deep in the valley were tombs built into the mountains. Paths ran up the sides of the mountains to alternate entrances to various burial sites. When they reached the threshold, there appeared Hathor.
 
Hathor: “Oh. It’s you two.”
 
Meretseger: “Hathor know Egypt Twats?”
 
Hathor looked aghast.
 
Hathor: “What!?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “She means the name of our gang.”
 
Hathor: “Oh. Well, I know these two at least. They’re… permitted here. When on business to see me anyway.”
 
Meretseger: “But not to see Ptah, right?”
 
Hathor smirked.
 
Hathor: “No. If anyone comes here just to see Ptah, you can throw them out.”
 
Meretseger: “Ha! Fuck Ptah!”
 
Pirithous: “Are you guys bullying Ptah? I feel sorry for the guy now.”
 
Hathor: “He shouldn’t go round telling everyone he’s the best god of the necropolis then! Everyone knows it’s me!”
 
Meretseger: “No! Hathor is not the best god of Theban Necropolis! Meretseger is Guardian of Theban Necropolis! Meretseger is best god of Theban Necropolis!”
 
Hathor: “You’re bloody not, you snake-face—OUCH!”
 
Hathor got a staff to the gut and then more whacks until she was also pummelled into the sand. There she managed to groan;
 
Hathor: “Fine. Fine… Meretseger is the best god of the necropolis…”
 
Meretseger: “Ha! Meretseger whoop ass! Pirithous and Aman Tabiz heard what Hathor said!? Best god, Meretseger.”
 
Hathor: “Meretseger…”
 
Meretseger: “What, second best god of the necropolis?”
 
Hathor: “You can piss off now.”
 
Meretseger hissed.
 
Meretseger: “What is Hathor plotting in Theban Necropolis? This is no place for plotting with Egypt Twats!”
 
Hathor: “It is if I say it is. I may not be the guardian here, but I am still a caretaker of the dead and this is my domain too. I can do business here as I like.”
 
Meretseger grumbled but snatched her staff out of the sand and marched away.
 
Hathor: “This is probably no longer the best place for us to meet. Meretseger may not be so lenient next time. And given the nature of your task, if she alerts anyone to your being here it could start a negative chain of reactions…”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I understand. This will be our last visit.”
 
Hathor: “Quitting already?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “We have thinned the herd more than enough by now, I believe. Our benefactor will be most please, I’m sure.”
 
Hathor: “And what can I do for you?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “We need to become your handmaidens…”
 
Hathor looked from him to Pirithous and back again.
 
Hathor: “Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight…”

Aman Tabiz and Pirithous stand upon a rocky mountaintop that overlooks the entire Otherworld. From this vantage point the various domains of this Heavenly Realm can be seen standing tall from the endless sea of clouds. Each mountaintop has its own domain for the deities of the British Isles. Unlike the Greeks and the Egyptians, these Celtic peoples have no ‘Underworld’, only the Otherworld. A world beyond that of the living where all the dead go and the gods reside.
 
Across from their mountaintop they could see Tír na nÓg, the land where the ‘King of the Otherworld’ would be. Behind them they could also see Annwn, the land of eternal delights. There was Mag Mell in the distance, where the glorious dead would reside after living lives of honour or glory in their human lives. But it was Tech Duinn that the two men needed to get through, which was the land of the dead for everyone that had not achieved fabled status in life. It was often called the House of Donn as it was the domain of the deity Donn, God of Death, himself.
 
For now, they would need to pay homage to the king.
 
Hathor motioned to Tír na nÓg with her head and as the three of them stepped forward they melted into the fabric of the Otherworld. Seeming miles were reduced to a second as their bodies moulded through the thick, cloudy soup of the Otherworld. Hathor strode forth with ease while the two humans struggled to keep their balance and composure as they landed on the new mountaintop. Aman Tabiz grunted as his stomach gave vigorous protest as being mistreated so while Pirithous looked like he might faint.
 
Hathor: “Looks like we’ve come at a bad time…”
 
They look at the tall hill, which stood atop of the mountain plateau, and there were several deities all stood at the foot of the hill.
 
Aman Tabiz: “What are they doing?”
 
Hathor: “Electing a new king!”
 
Around the hill were a lot of other deities and ghosts who were spectating this contest. The racers were all sorts, both male and female and not all of them seemed to be physically fit – but that meant nothing to gods. The three outsiders approached the race and joined the cheering crowds. There was a lot of beer going round and people were generally treating this as a silly but fun affair rather than a serious contest for kingship. One of the deities started to do a ridiculous dance to prompt cheers from the audience. Some of the deities were wearing odd costumes that neither human recognised – the Honey Monster, Barney the Dinosaur, a T-Rex and someone dressed as Donald Trump with a big inflatable head. Stood at the end of the line was the god Áine. She was the god of sovereignty and thus had the divine capability to make a ruler or break one. She has bright orange hair that moves and curls like the plasma flames of the sun and upon her head is a crown made of stark, white light that juts up with several prongs. She has white skin and green eyes. Her dress is blue but, like her hair, it flows and moves like fire, representing the other domain of hers – the light of summer.
 
She rose her hand and most of the deities geared up for the race, though the dancer was still distracting himself with the crowd’s support of his antics. From her hand was a sudden BANG like the firing of a rocket.
 
The racers leapt to action and started dashing up the hill. Most wearing silly costumes wound up toppling over and rolling back down the hill, bowling over others as they went. The T-Rex rolled all the way to where Aman and Pirithous were stood and he wriggles his legs and arms in the air, helplessly trapped inside the cumbersome costume. Barney the Dinosaur had fallen and rolled so far that he went rolling off the edge of Tír na nÓg completely and disappeared into the clouds, the man giggling the whole way. As one of the gods was dressed as Hilary Clinton, one of the male gods at that, the deity with the blow-up Donald Trump head leapt on his rival and they were both taken out of the race as they rolled down the hillock together, bouncing most of the way down until they struck the bottom hard and blasted apart like a couple of bowling pins. The Honey Monster had actually done pretty well, despite his getup, but as he neared the top his head fell off and smacked the runner behind him in the face. That runner instinctively reached out, latched onto the Honey Monster, and yanked him down the hill. The two of them knocked over several other racers while the Honey Monster’s head bounced its way down, smacking several running at various intervals, pinging off each one and hitting another like a guided, fuzzy bomb.
 
Finally at the top one of the biggest of the gods, having a huge barrelled chest, reached the peak where he was the first to drink from the mug and pour most of it onto his own head. A few others got there shortly after him and together the lot of them celebrated the day. A new king was found for the next seven years, at which time the races would commence once again.
 
It was some time before the new king of the gods came down and when he did he was carried by the others. They tossed him in front of Áine. He bowed to her and she placed her hand upon his head. A moment later and a halo appeared around his head to signify his kingship of the Otherworld and the deities all collectively dropped to one knee. Some of the more drunk simply fell flat. After this moment of ceremonial seriousness they all cheered again and the party continued with more drinks, a banquet of meats and cakes and songs and dances.
 
Eventually the three outsiders were forced to insert themselves into the merrymaking as the king was constantly surrounded by his fellow gods who were constantly making new toasts and boasts. The new king was Cichol, a god of war but also a god of provisions, with a particular liking for meat. He is tall, reaching fifteen feet, and has a massive chest and broad shoulders. Though he is topless, he has long trousers of black and white but wears no shoes. He has a pair of brown-feathered wings sprouting from his back like an eagle’s. His face is handsome and very masculine, with a square jaw that could have been drawn by an artist over at DC. His eyes are coloured more like a bird’s eye, with a solitary black pupil surrounded by yellow. He has a big roman nose and his chin is scruffed by five-o’clock-shadow.
 
The gods make way from Hathor, most of them curious about her and her two human companions, though some of them are too drunk to know what they’re looking at. One of the gods there wasn’t even a Celtic deity but was Bacchus, the Roman god of mirth, who was encouraging everyone to chug entire bottles of brandy. He appears to be a reckless youth with long curly hair, fair skin and plump red cheeks. A ‘cheeky chappie’ that will certainly lead you down the road to destitution and leave you there.
 
Hathor: “I’m Hathor and these are my… handmaidens.”
 
Most of the gods wince at the two humans. The two men, who were never the prettiest to begin with, were in long dresses and had terrible wigs attached to their heads. Their stockings itched, their knickers were yanked up their butts and were strangling their testicles, their corsets rushed their ribs and their high-heels were making their feet bleed. Welcome to womanhood had been the slogan of Hathor.
 
Cichol: “Well—welcome! You came on a great day! Join us and have a good time!”
 
He wrapped his arm around Hathor’s shoulders and hoisted her from her feet with a friendly embrace. Hathor was bewildered at this and just hung there like a kitten being carried by the nape of its neck. He swung her around and introduced her to one of the buffet tables.
 
Cichol: “Some of the finest mutton in the world, I’m telling you! Help yourself!”
 
Instead of allowing her to help herself, he was grabbing at the food and thrusting it at her to sample. Hathor accepted one of the skewers of mutton, then another and another. Soon she had hands full of meat skewers. It was an odd sensation for Aman to see a god uncomfortable and out of her element. It actually amused him.
 
Hathor: “Thank you, Cichol, all of this is wonderful. But I really need to speak to you on an urgent matter.”
 
Cichol: “Oh pooh! You want to talk business on today of all days?”
 
Hathor: “Sorry! Can’t be helped. My handmaidens need some… training. In being handmaidens of the dead.”
 
Despite her words, Hathor had started to chomp on one of the skewers, which was a balancing act not to drop the rest and chew on the one.
 
Cichol: “Oh right. So you’ll be meeting with Donn. That’s his area. I give you permission, if that’s what you’re after.”
 
Hathor nodded mumbled an affirmative through a mouth full of mutton.
 
Cichol: “Need a drink to wash that down?”
 
She managed to nod. He angled a mug of beer for her to guzzle from. Cichol once again physically ushered his guest around and led her from the food. He beckoned with one of his thick hands for the humans to follow and they scuttled after him. They marched across the banqueting field, away from the hill, to where more of the gods were gathered. Several gods were reclining on a stage of sumptuous pillows, silks and fabrics. They were drinking just as heartily as everyone else, except they did so from golden chalices and ate from silver platters. At the centre of these longing deities was Donn himself. He was most striking firstly due to the ominous dark aura that surrounded his visage perpetually, gently swirling around and around in a mesmerising yet foreboding fashion. Yet in the centre of that was a god that shone brilliantly out of the darkness. His clothes were form-fitted and cut in such ways that reminded Hathor of the female Egyptian gods. The dress he wore sparkled and glittered like dazzling stars against the backdrop of space. Upon his head was also a crown of sorts – several long peacock feathers stemmed from a thin tiara and hung limp behind his blonde hair. His eyes irises were grey and his chin was smooth and soft. He had high cheekbones and an upturned nose. He was very skinny and his limbs moves loose and free.
 
He beckoned Cichol and his guests.
 
Donn: “Welcome, oh king! Who are our unexpected guests?”
 
Cichol yanked Hathor off her feet again and waggled her in front of Donn.
 
Cichol: “This is Hathor! She’s an Egyptian goddess of sex and death!”
 
Donn: “Sex and death!? There’s an unusual combination.”
 
Cichol: “Egyptians.”
 
Hathor was put back on the ground and she motioned to Aman and Pirithous to join her.
 
Hathor: “These are my handmaidens. I want them to train in the ways of your afterlife, Donn. Will you show them the ways of your culture?”
 
Donn clapped his hands eagerly.
 
Donn: “Oh! What a lovely idea! Like a cultural exchange! I don’t have handmaidens myself but there are priests I could send your way!”
 
Hathor: “Absolutely. Our customs regarding the dead are very complex, I’m sure your priests will learn much.”
 
Cichol: “Well you are goddess of sex and death, so complicated might be an understatement.”
 
Donn got to his feet, floating up from the ground rather than using physical force. He approached the humans and looked up at Aman.
 
Donn: “You are a big girl, aren’t you?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Good genes.”
 
Donn glanced down.
 
Donn: “You’re not wearing jeans. And let’s be honest, jeans are so common these days that they are just plain old boring. Am I right?”
 
Cichol: “What the hell are jeans? In fact… what the hell are genes!?”
 
Donn: “We’ll have to get you suited up, my dears. You simply can’t be handmaidens in my house when dressed like a couple of hookers.”
 
Cichol: “Hookers? What’s that? That sounds like I’d like it!”
 
Donn: “Cichol, darling, you do yourself a disservice. I guarantee you can do better than a couple of trollops. You want glamour and elegance, my dear man.”
 
Cichol: “I have no idea what you’re talking about but I feel like you’re probably right. You really know about this stuff.”
 
Donn: “Praise from our new king. How delightful! But come, handmaidens, let me show you to my parlour.”
 
Donn sauntered away with Aman and Pirithous walking after them and then Hathor and Cichol a little behind still.
 
Cichol: “So, you’re a goddess of sex?”
 
He was standing straight-backed and eager to show his good side. Hathor gave him a playful smirk.
 
Hathor: “That’s right. Consort to several, wife of none.”
 
Cichol: “You’re not one of those, uh, trollops Donn warned me about just now?”
 
Hathor: “Certainly not. I may be a god of sex, but my passions are for a select few.”
 
Cichol: “So. Um. Any… tips?”
 
Hathor: “Many. First tip. Your evil army is showing.”
 
Cichol almost fell over.
 
Cichol: “What!? What!? What’re you talking about!?”
 
Hathor: “I saw them on my way through the Otherworld. I heard them. You’re lucky they’re all busy with this festival or you’d have been caught out by now.”
 
Cichol: “They’re not evil. My monsters are just… just… misunderstood!”
 
Hathor: “Right. Well. When I saw them, I knew you’d help me.”
 
Cichol: “Help you with what?”
 
Hathor: “These two are not handmaidens. They need to gain access to Hades. Best way to enter a Heavenly Realm is through another. I can’t use Duat, they’ll be watching for it. So. Your House of Donn. Can you do it?”
 
Cichol: “I can. But you won’t tell anyone about my monsters?”
 
Hathor: “I won’t. Why do you like them anyway?”
 
Cichol: “They’re cute!”
 
Hathor looked at him in disbelief.
 
Hathor: “If you say so…”
 
The group reached the edge of the mountaintop plateau and a second later, after splodging through the clouds, they arrived on the lower peak of Tech Duinn. Here was what appeared to be an old peoples’ home. A large hotel-like structure with a pretty and large garden for strolling. At the rear were resort-like facilities. On the other side of Tech Duinn was a massive hotspring area with many layers of precious hot, soothing waters. This was the Spa of the Dead and though it was part of Donn’s domain, it was also presided over by Grannus, the god of healing waters. However he rarely ever visited the Spa of the Dead on account of him claiming it too depressing. Instead there were often nereids to be found basking in the warm waters and gossiping with the men and women of ages long gone.
 
They strode up the steps of the hotel and entered the House of Donn. Inside faint muzak was playing, a classic album of the 70s (not that the 70s were classic before they existed, but you know). Unobtrusive but pleasant background noise that listlessly coursed the airwaves. The interior looked like a classic, old hotel. There was even a receptionist. She wore a white business suit with a skirt that reached the knee. She had a pair of white, leather heels to match and a smart cravat around the neck. Her hair was long, full and also white. Her skin was well tanned, a woman that spent her off hours basking in the sun.
 
Coventina: “Hello and welcome to the House of the Dead! My name is Coventina, I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us!”
 
The two humans glanced at each other. The nicety of it all just seemed to make everything more depressing.
 
Donn: “Coventina, my dearest, these are not dead people. Not yet at least…”
 
Coventina: “I see! Then how can I be of service on this fine day?”
 
She beamed a bright, white smile of loveliness, hands clasped at her stomach.
 
Cichol: “Why don’t you show our human friends to some of the facilities, Coventina? Donn, you can show Hathor those priests?”
 
Donn: “How commanding you are already, Cichol! I’m sure you’re going to be a fabulous king! My beauteous Hathor, perhaps you’ll follow me?”
 
He linked arms with Hathor and the two of them trotted off together in a sudden discussion on the latest fashions of Egypt.
 
Coventina: “If you’ll please follow me, gentlemen? We have many fine establishments as part of our enterprise! Is there anything in particular you’d like to visit first?”
 
Cichol: “How about the bath?”
 
Coventina: “An excellent choice, your majesty! Would you please follow me? It isn’t a long walk.”
 
She turned and led them down a corridor. On either side of the corridor were doors to rooms. Sometimes one of the doors would open and a ghost would step out, on their way to go do… whatever dead people did here. Each room was an apartment for every individual that died believing in the Celtic Pantheon. Sometimes there were even animal ghosts, like a pet dog, cat or hamster. Coventia’s heels clopped on the drab, navy blue carpet as they marched along. Soon they found a staircase and she led them downwards. As they went down the steps, the walls on either side seemed to move with them. When they reached the bottom of the staircase they were someplace completely different.
 
A large bath, which would resemble the swimming pools of the future, stretched out before them. There was nobody here.
 
Coventina: “There are always private baths available at any given time. Of course, if you’d prefer company you can visit one of the public baths instead! We try to cater to everyone’s needs here in the House of the Dead.”
 
She smiled sweetly.
 
Coventina: “We can alter the temperature to suit your personal needs as required. To the rear here you will find a resting area with some comfortable wickerwork seats and muzak available for relaxing to. There are games and puzzles and books and movies—”
 
Pirithous: “Movies?”
 
Cichol: “Well, best not get too far ahead of ourselves, eh?”
 
Cichol was doing a bad job of not looking nervous but Coventina seemed not to notice. She gave the humans an expectant smile.
 
Coventina: “So, will you be converting?”
 
Pirithous: “Sorry?”
 
Coventina: “Converting to our religion. I can assure you that our benefits package is much more inclusive than our competitors. So many religions these days value punishment as a form of garnering belief but here, in the Celtic Pantheon, we strive to help our followers be one with nature and form a lasting bond with the physical world before they, ultimately, perish.”
 
She gave another sugary smile as part of the sales pitch.
 
Conventina: “I promise you, once you die in our religion you’ll never want to go back!”
 
Pirithous: “Isn’t that kind of a moot point? You can’t go back.”
 
Coventina blinked as she processed.
 
Coventina: “Um. Right. Yes. But! You won’t want to go back. So you it’s better… I’ll need to rethink this one.”
 
Cichol: “Coventina, would you fetch some brochures?”
 
Coventina: “Of course! Why not take a seat here and I’ll be back with you in a moment, okay?”
 
The two men felt uncomfortable but Coventina’s reassuring demeanour was enough for them to follow her suggestions. Aman drummed his fingers on the glass table.
 
Coventina: “Such a lovely couple.”
 
She gazed at them a moment while they both frowned at each other.
 
Coventina: “Don’t go away okay?”
 
She tittered and hurried away to find the brochures. As soon as she was gone Cichol turned and snapped his fingers. The waters of the bath slowly changed colour until they were now a deep, dark black.
 
Cichol: “Okay. I don’t know what you two vagabonds are up to, and I don’t want to know. This will take you to Hades. Hop in.”
 
Pirithous: “I’m going to get wet.”
 
Cichol: “That’s your major concern?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “What will you tell Coventina?”
 
Cichol: “I’ll tell them you drowned.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Uh… maybe think of a better lie than that. There’d be no bodies.”
 
Cichol: “Bodies? Oh right! Sorry, I’m not a god of death. I don’t really understand all this dying stuff. I’ll just tell her that your mother called and her cat is stuck in a tree. That’s an emergency, right?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Barely. But it’s your neck on the line, not ours. Pirithous, are you ready?”
 
Pirithous: “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. To Hades we go!”
 
The two men jumped into the dark, black water.

Aeacus is grandfather of Achilles and Ajax and helped to build the walls of Troy. Dragons attacked Troy and were defeated but Aeacus dies.
 
Rhadamanthus is married to Hercules mother, and is his step-father. He was driven out of Crete by Minos. He is unwavering in the law. King of Crete.
 
Minos wanted children to be sacrificed to the minotaur as punishment for crimes against his son. He was king of Crete after Rhadamanthus, his brother. Idomeneus is his grandson at Troy.

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Non-Story Note: Sorry but the above was actually included by mistake. Those are actually my notes on the post and the characters for the rest of the Greek Legends. I accidentally wrote in those notes and forgot to remove them. For the sake of posterity, as this post has been read and continued on from I shall leave the post as it but with this disclaimer. Apologies for the spoilers contained in the above content!

----
 
The young architect stood upon the grand walls of the city. They were tall, proud and firm.
 
Mostly built of smooth, white sandstone, they were embellished with buttresses of pure gold that shone effulgently under the rays of the sunlight from above. Upon the battlements stood archers who watched the lands leading from the city to the distant beach. Some of the most experienced snipers would be able to fire straight onto that beach, despite the distance. Ships on the water sailed by lazily across the Aegean Ocean, passing by the magnificent city of Troy.
 
The architect himself was just fifteen. He was struggling to grow himself a dignified beard but only managed some wispy fluff. He was slim and short but tried to carry himself upright and proud as he could manage. He was famous now, after all, and had to command respect in the people of the city. His homeland of Crete lay far off and he would return there one day, but now the political climate was hostile amongst the queen’s sons and he didn’t wish to be drawn into a civil war. He didn’t care who sat on the throne of a small island in the middle of the ocean. He just wanted to impress the world with his talents.
 
Though a young man, he had married a beautiful Greek woman just a few months ago. He could tell already that she was pregnant and trying to keep it from him. He wasn’t sure why she kept it a secret. He believed she was afraid of getting his hopes up in case she miscarried, or he supposed she was worried he would be angry at the idea so soon into their relationship. He wouldn’t be upset in either case but he wasn’t going to cause a fuss. She would tell him when the time was right, he knew.
 
He adjusted the beret on his head as it blew in the strong ocean wind. Now he knew why all the archers had their helmets strapped and their quills tucked behind the ramparts. As he walked along he saw some figures further down and went over to greet them. There were three of them. Two were not even human.
 
Poseidon: “And here comes the man himself!”
 
Aeacus: “My lord Poseidon. It’s good to see you again.”
 
Poseidon: “My young man, the walls of Troy are a testament to the skill humans are capable of. I am extremely impressed.”
 
Aeacus: “I could never have done it without your help, lord Poseidon. Nor without the foresight of lord Apollo.”
 
Apollo just shrugged.
 
Apollo: “It was easy-peasy. I don’t mind helping out. But I have to go. My sister is waiting for me.”
 
Apollo leapt from the wall and flew off into the sky, drawing the attention of the guards on the wall. Even Aeacus, who had seen Apollo many times before, watched with amazement. It was always awesome (in the original sense of the word) to see a man defy the laws of reality. Apollo had helped Aeacus by using his future-sight to anticipate where the walls might be weakest and what attacks done on them might be successful. Then he would counter those prophesies by emboldening the walls where needed or placing countermeasures. The wall was future-proof.
 
But additional strength, durability and speed came from Poseidon. They were able to construct the city walls in just a year – a venture that should have taken a lifetime. Since declaring its independence from Hattusa, Troy was vulnerable to retaliation and the walls had to be up as soon as humanly possible – or as soon as god-imbued-humanly possible.
 
Poseidon turned to the two humans.
 
Poseidon: “He really loves that sister of his. I swear he’s banging her.”
 
The two human men glanced at each other uncomfortably.
 
Poseidon: “Hey, I’m not criticising. I wouldn’t say no to her either! Incest is wincest, am I right!?”
 
The god grinned and held his palm in the air. The humans stared at it.
 
Poseidon: “What? Oh, we don’t do high-fives yet? Nevermind. But seriously, that Artemis. Yum. She’s got that whole Sporty Spice thing going on, you know? Oh, you don’t know Sporty Spice yet. What about the marathon? I think there a few hundred years before that even. I’m out of analogies.”
 
Aeacus: “That’s okay… I think we get it.”
 
Poseidon: “I haven’t slept with a relative since… well, must have been Alope! She was my granddaughter. I remember that one like it was only yesterday. Except it was, like, 850,000 BC. Shame her father killed her in the end. She had my son though. Suppose he’d be my son and great-grandson at the same time!”
 
The humans winced at the idea.
 
Poseidon: “Weird I never got it on with his daughter. Well, he was voted in at the first king of Atlantis!”
 
Aeacus: “You’re saying Atlantis was real!?”
 
Poseidon: “It sure was! And my son became its first king. It was run by a council before then but the people turned to my son to lead them as king. He changed his name to Atlas too, just to cement that image. There were a lot of kings of his dynasty called Atlas after that. His real name was Toltec, but only I remember that. Proud of that boy I was. Who said inbreeding makes you retarded, eh? Mine was such a genius he became ruler of the most powerful nation on the planet.”
 
Aeacus wasn’t sure to even believe Poseidon. While he couldn’t think of a reason for the god of the sea to lie, he couldn’t get his head around such a tale of a fantastical kingdom and such an absurd date.
 
Piyama-Radu: “I would like to thank you also, Aeacus. Your success here will save this land from Hattusa and all oppressors for centuries.”
 
Aeacus: “King Priam, I don’t did my service as requested.”
 
Piyama-Radu: “You did more than merely build me a wall, Aeacus. You managed to convince even the gods to aid us and created the world’s mightiest walls. This city will stand here for millennia, I just know it. Even the legacy of Egypt will one day be overshadowed by the legacy of Troy!”
 
Aeacus: “Then I can only wish your people the best of luck in the future.”
 
Piyama-Radu: “We won’t need luck when we have your walls!”
 
Aeacus had no more words to say and just gave a bow of the head to the young king. He and King Piyama-Radu, known as ‘Priam’ in the Greek language, was also a very young man. He was just a few years older than Aeacus and Aeacus was certain this similarity in age made the king of Troy take the chance on him in the first place. There was some kind of kinship in their souls that spoke to each other. They had become friends in private but in public they maintained a cordial but distant relationship. Aeacus was a common man of low birth, only advanced by education and talent. Piyama-Radu was a man of high political birth within the Hattusa Empire and meant for high offices. He had led Troy to freedom against the empire and was now seen by the old kingdom as a rebel king, but in Troy is was seen at a great hero and was already a legendary figure in his own lifetime. Certainly, his name would live on in songs and poems of the Trojan descendants for all of human existence. Of that Aeacus had no doubt.
 
Poseidon: “Hey, kid, how’s your wife?”
 
Aeacus: “Uh. She’s fine. Great even. I’m very happy.”
 
Poseidon: “I bet! She’s drop-dead gorgeous. So…”
 
He wrapped an arm around Aeacus’ shoulders.
 
Poseidon: “Tell Uncle Poseidon everything. What’s she like under the sheets? Is she passive or assertive? Does she get what she wants?”
 
Piyama-Radu: “My lord Poseidon, you know talking about things like that is personal. I’ve told you before.”
 
Poseidon: “You humans are such prudes. Then again, not all of you. What about you, Priam? You still ain’t had any kids yet! Is she frigid? You know some women need a bit of coaxing, right? If all else fails, and you don’t want to fight, just get her drunk. Or even better there’s a good few drugs out there that’ll—”
 
Aeacus: “Is that Apollo?”
 
They turn and look to the sky to see Apollo returning. He gained a quick boost in speed and soared over their heads before he landed abruptly. He pointed back to the sky from whence he came.
 
Apollo: “Dragons!”
 
Poseidon: “Eh?”
 
Apollo: “Dragons!”
 
Poseidon: “Is this another one of your animal games? I told you, platypus isn’t a real animal. And even if it was, it wouldn’t say ‘platy, platy, platy’ like a damn Pokémon.”
 
Apollo: “No! Actual dragons are on the way here! I scoped them out and they’re unnatural beasts. Definitely the work of gods. I’m thinking maybe some rival pantheon got wind of our involvement here in Anatolia. They probably think we’re spreading our influence into the Middle-East.”
 
Poseidon: “Cheeky gits! Thought they’d smash our shiny new walls, eh? These took, like, five minutes of my time to help with. I won’t be letting some upstart gods wipe them out.”
 
Apollo: “Are we allowed to interfere though? They’re dragons, not deities themselves.”
 
Poseidon: “You said they’re unnatural, right? If they were summoned or created just to attack Troy then we get to smash them. How many are there?”
 
Apollo: “Just three.”
 
Poseidon: “A cakewalk!”
 
Apollo: “They’re… massive. The size of these walls even.”
 
Poseidon: “So we’ll break a sweat. We can still take them. I know you’re a baby god, Apollo, but you can handle it. You take one, I take one. Then I guess we’ll take the third one afterwards.”
 
Apollo: “Even one can bring these walls down.”
 
Aeacus: “We built these walls to last not just in durability but in the ability to defend them. My lord Apollo, don’t worry. We’ll protect the city!”
 
Piyama-Radu: “Well said, Aeacus. Soldiers, prepare the defences!”
 
With that the walls were abuzz as men in armour hurried along the walls to get into position. Aeacus himself aided in wheeling forth the newly created ballista. The new-fangled weapon was a mere prototype that Aeacus had worked on. Though the original idea had been conceived elsewhere, Aeacus was the first to create a working model with a great deal of ingenuity. He stood at the rear of the weapon and ordered the soldiers to aim it higher – they would not be firing onto the beach, they would be firing into the sky this day.
 
Apollo reached out and touched the bolt.
 
Apollo: “Aeacus, I have imbued this bolt with some of my power. It will strike true if fired straight at the target. But I have to warn you, it will hit but it may not kill. I don’t know if these weapons are strong enough to pierce dragonscales.”
 
Aeacus: “If we hit it once, that might be enough to slow the beast down for a second attempt of our own skill. Thank you, lord Apollo.”
 
Apollo: “Hey, what noise do dragons make? Maybe I can talk to them!”
 
Aeacus: “I have no idea.”
 
Apollo: “Do they squeak? Or is that a dog?”
 
Aeacus: “Dogs say, uh, woof.”
 
Apollo: “Oh right.”
 
Aeacus: “I expect they may roar.”
 
Apollo: “Like a dinosaur!”
 
Aeacus: “What’s a dinosaur?”
 
Apollo: “Oh, they’re these small, fuzzy mammals that everyone likes… or is that a cat? Well, I better get up there.”
 
The two gods leapt into the air. Apollo was surrounded by the wind element, a visible breeze around him as dust swept about like a miniature tornado. Poseidon was surrounded by the water element, which swirled around him like a whirlpool.
 
Then they saw the beasts.
 
Perhaps in anticipation, the creatures were likewise. The water dragon was a Chinese dragon that snaked through the sky, flying without wings. The wind dragon was barely even physical as its form was blurred and aethereal. The fire dragon, the most commonly seen dragon across Europe, was large, red and scaled like a flying lizard. Its wings were large and beat upon the wind to keep it in the air. As the other dragons engaged the gods, the fire dragon’s wings spread into a glide and it came straight for the wall.
 
Aeacus: “Loose!”
 
The ballista unleashed its bolt. The long shaft with the black, metal tip, smashed into the dragon’s chest just as the creature reached the wall. The beast roared.
 
Aeacus: “So that’s the noise a dragon makes…”
 
The dragon plunged straight at the wall, writhing with the bolt embedded in its chest. It crashed straight ontop of the ballista and sprayed fire in every direction like a fountain of flame. The ballista was gone. The soldiers were gone. And Aeacus himself was gone.
 
----------
 
Four decades later, Aman Tabiz and Pirithous finally found themselves in Hades. The Underworld of the Greeks was a bleak and desolate place. Above there was only blackness, an impenetrable void. The barren rock around them was grey and there was no sign of vegetation, nor animal nor even insect.
 
To their right they can see the River Styx and in the distance they spy the crowd of ghosts waiting for the ferry. The water of the River Styx is peaceful with a slow, steady flow, except for the disturbance caused by the boat as Charon rowed it towards the shore for the next batch of dead. Aman thought it strange that the river representing hatred should appear so calm and serene but he supposed the greatest hatred was the kind of deep-rooted hatred bred from prejudice and intolerance that rested in the mind in constancy rather than the bubbling hatred caused by rage. The kind of hate that leads to genocide.
 
They hurried along the river but they were careful not to be noticed by anyone there. They knew they couldn’t trick Charon, he would sense the life in them instantly, and they were doubtful that he could be bought, despite him raking in a huge commission for his ferry tolls. Pirithous had wondered what Charon needed all that money for but Aman didn’t think Charon needed the money at all, it was just one more structure of societal control. The gods demand payment of their servants, even in death.
 
They passed the small domains of some of Hades’ own gods, lesser gods or ‘daemons’ of Greek religion. There was Thanatos, the god of death, and Polemos, a god of war. But both were personifications and minor deities restricted to Hades. They saw Thanatos himself as he stood watching the River Styx in silent contemplation. He was a young man in some appearance but also looked much older with worry lines and a raggedy beard. He wore rugged clothing and a deep, dark hood. He looked much like a warrior-ranger of the wildlands. Not at all dark or mysterious like Osiris, nor even otherworldly as Donn. He appeared as a tired, earnest man who would aid the dead like a guide through the barren world of Hades. A man who hated his role but knew it was necessary.
 
But the two humans were not here to meet Thanatos so they continued on, careful not to let him see them.
 
Here in Hades, the powers of the gods were limited to the point of almost being null. This world belonged to Hades and was, in a sense, an extension of the god himself. It functioned only as his will would permit. Even gods who were objectively more powerful, such as his brother Zeus, would be powerless within Hades.
 
Aman and Pirithous reached the small domain of the god of discord – Eris. They found her spray painting a wall with ‘Eris Woz Ere 1200BC’, followed by ‘Fuck Da Pigs’. Why Eris wanted to have sex with pigs, Aman wasn’t about to ask.
 
Aman Tabiz: “Eris.”
 
Eris: “WAAAAH! IT WASN’T ME!”
 
She looked down at the spray can in her hand.
 
Eris: “Uh, it’s deodorant!”


She looked at them properly and put her hands on her hips.
 
Eris: “You’re not working for Hades are you?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “No. We’re actually here to ask for your help.”
 
Eris: “Huh! That’s new. I don’t think anyone has ever asked for my help before! Well, actually, that’s not really true is it. Please, Eris, ruin the life of my cheating husband. Please, Eris, ruin the life of my political rival. Please, Eris, ruin the life of my sister because I’m super jealous of her. But you guys seem to want something different… what is it?”
 
She had bright green hair worn long and messy and she has a full-body tattoo that went from her ankle, up the side of her body, to her cheek. Over that she wore a tartan skirt of red with blue stripes and a pair of knee-height black socks. On her feet are a pair of massive, leather Dr Martens in oxblood and with the signature yellow stitching. She has a smart, white shirt on with a lace cravat and over that she has a large, black leather jacket that is one-size too big for her. The zippers on the jackets arms and front were open and the collar was up. She had a piercing in her nose, a tint stud that was barely noticeable until it glinted in the right light, and several in both ears. She also had a tongue bar with the cap a Hello Kitty with pink background. She had a few rings on her fingers, including a skull ring in silver.
 
Aman Tabiz: “We want you to get us across the river.”
 
Eris: “Do I look like the fricking boatman?”
 
Pirithous: “We don’t want to be seen going over the river.”
 
She looked between the two of them.
 
Eris: “What in the crap are you two wearing?”
 
Pirithous: “We’re disguised as handmaidens.”
 
Eris snorted and smirked.
 
Eris: “Sexy.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Sarcasm aside, will you help us? I assure you, we are definitely here to cause trouble.”
 
Eris: “Aren’t you supposed to assure me of the opposite?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “You’re the goddess of discord…”
 
She then grinned slyly and winked at him.
 
Eris: “Ain’t that the truth. Okay, I’ll help you get into trouble. But I want you to do something when you get over there.”
 
Pirithous: “We don’t have much time for diversions, but we’ll do it if we can.”
 
Eris: “Fair enough. You’ll find a tree, the Tree of Oneiros. It is the only tree in this part of Hades. In fact it’s the only living thing outside of the Asphodel Meadows and the gateway to Elysium. Find that tree and gather a bunch of its leaves. As many as you can manage.”
 
Pirithous: “You want… leaves?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Oneiros is a god of dreams, correct?”
 
Eris: “This is a special tree that is connected to the Dreamstate—”
 
Pirithous: “The what?”
 
Eris: “Doesn’t matter. Each leaf represents a false dream. I can implant a false dream into the minds of sleepers everywhere and ruin everything. I’d be hilarious.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Hilarious isn’t the word I’d use, but I think we can accommodate you. Do you have a way over the river?”
 
Eris: “We can’t use our powers here in Hades, so we’re as restricted as any mortal. But I do have a raft to get over. I use it sometimes to get over the Styx and get into the Mourning Fields.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “What are the Mourning Fields?”
 
Eris: “Where those of unrequited love go. They’re incredibly funny to watch as they wail on and on. I like to watch idiots.”
 
Pirithous: “That’s… kind of sadistic.”
 
Eris just shrugged.
 
Eris: “Idiocy is the one constant of this universe.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Now that does sound like words of wisdom, I confess.”
 
Eris: “Okay. You’ll find the raft just down there. If you get caught, you never saw me! I have to go paint some dude’s house green.”
 
Pirithous: “Uh, why would you do that?”
 
Eris: “Because when he gets home he’ll be like, ‘is this the wrong house!?’ and it’ll be dead funny.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Dead funny? Really?”
 
Eris: “Oh! Ha! I made a punny. It was an accident. Puns are beneath me.”
 
The humans scampered off down to the river while Eris scampered off in the opposite direction, both parties on their way to cause mayhem. The men found the raft and they stepped tentatively onto it. They had to be very careful not to touch the water itself else they would be lost and consumed by feelings of hatred.
 
The raft took them over the river. In the distance they could see Thanatos was still stood at the river in his own thoughts and further down was Charon with his passengers. Once they were at the opposite side they moved on. They had read tales of the landscape and had formed a mental map of the key areas. Few had ever been to Hades and returned to the living world, so Aman wasn’t sure how accurate the reports would be, even from the Great Library’s stock of tomes.
 
They soon came to Lake Lethe, which was fed by the River Lethe. Despite there being a lake and a river, the water of both was as still as ice. In the middle of the lake were two fountains with waters spilling from them and down into the lake water, yet there were no ripples caused by the connecting water. This created an unnatural appearance that looked illusory to the eye and so horribly weird that it actually caused nausea.
 
Pirithous stopped Aman and placed his finger to his lips. He then motioned. Not far from the fountains, at the centre of the lake, was a tiny island. On the island was a tall elm tree which they concluded was the Tree of Oneiros. They couldn’t see anything special about the leaves, but Aman expected a god like Eris would know what to do with them. Also on the island was a small hut. It looked like a shanty fisherman’s hut but all around it were pillows and blankets scattered all over the floor. Lying there was a man.
 
Pirithous: “It’s Hypnos.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “God of sleep?”
 
Pirithous nodded.
 
Aman Tabiz: “Is it safe to wade through this water? I’m guessing no?”
 
Pirithous: “It’d be the worst of all. The water of Lethe would cause forgetfulness. Wading through it… you wouldn’t even know your own name by the time you reached the island. We need that raft.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I don’t like deviating from the plan.”
 
Pirithous: “Me neither. But I think we’d find it worse if we cross Eris. We knew she would want something before we even came down here. We get a few leaves and get back on track soon as we can.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “Agreed. Once we kill Persephone, there wouldn’t be the chance to get them on the way out so this is our only opportunity. Come then. The raft.”
 
They had to drag the heavy raft across the barren rock. They were wary of all the noise it made but resigned to the struggle all the same. When they drew near to the lake, they took it more carefully and tried to carry it by lifting from both ends. They slipped it onto the water and were repulsed visually when there were no ripples of disturbance in the lake. It looked like it was floating on space. They climbed aboard and sailed across. The oar went into the water and felt like air to Aman’s strong arm. Because the water remained so still, there was no noise to alert the sleeping god.
 
Pirithous clambered off the raft while Aman remained poised with the oar. Pirithous crept around Hypnos’ pillows and blankets slowly and carefully. Hypnos looked like a much healthier version of his twin brother, Thanatos. His face was the same but not marred by the worry lines and his chin was clean shaven. He rolled over with a happy smile on his sleeping face. He wore white pyjamas with Spider-Man print, a pair of Hulk slippers on his feet and a floppy nightcap on his head. He appeared to be snoring, but no sound hit Pirithous’ ears.
 
He reached the elm tree and plucked a leaf. As his fingers stroked it, it glowed softly and into Pirithous’ mind appeared brief images of the false dream. The ambition and idea of becoming wealthy and living a rich, lavish lifestyle by singing and dancing and being honoured all day. He put the leaf away. He took another and saw images of writing an unexpected hit poem with zero effort put in and becoming revered by the intellectuals. He tucked that away too. He plucked a third and saw a lottery and claiming that single ticket in millions that would grant unlimited wealth.
 
They were all dangerous things. Giving hope to people who believed they would gain success without any of the true skill or effort required to do so, as though success could simply be given away, handed to the talentless or lazy people. Pirithous had grown up on the cold, hard and uncaring streets. He knew reality and reality didn’t give freebies. But he had, in his heart, always held that false dream that one day his father might return for him. He had been busy in wars. He had been lost at sea. He had been stranded on an island. But then he came home. Those false dreams had lasted with him long into his adulthood. He looked down at the last leaf he held in his hand. Killing people was easy. Deceiving them was easy. Giving them illusions of an undeserved future was cruel.
 
He chewed his lip.
 
Then put the lead into his pocket with the rest of them and turned around to head back to the raft. One more act of evil to add to his list of crimes against his fellow man.
 
Then he tripped. He let out a surprised yelp and hit the floor. Except he had heard nothing. Not his own voice, not his landing on the ground. He scraped against the rock as he got back to his feet and, once again, there was no sound at all. The small Isle of Hypnos was forever silent, trapped in dreams. Pirithous thanked the gods… then realised he was thanking the very god he was trying to avoid.
 
He got onto the raft and Aman rowed them back to the other shore. They stepped off.
 
Aman Tabiz: “We should return the raft first. Then it will be in place when we escape Hades.”
 
Hades: “And why would you need to escape me?”
 
They turned.
 
Hades looked from one man to the next.
 
Hades: “I heard the thanks of a human mind. A living human mind.”
 
Pirithous facepalmed.
 
Hades: “Trespassers are surely up to no good. Come, gentlemen. Your trial shall begin immediately. Rhadamanthus serves as the defence and Minos is the prosecution. Your guilt will be determined by a jury but the affair will be presided over by our esteemed judge, Aeacus.”
 
Hades swept his arm in the direction of the court.
 
Hades: “Please come this way.”
 
They hesitated and Aman glanced at the River Styx, wondering if they could make it. Hades would be subject to the mortal limitations too. The god shook his head with mild disappointment.
 
Hades: “Come now, do you believe you are the first to come down here? Many have been caught. Our bailiffs.”
 
He pointed toward three approaching women. They all wore police officer uniforms of the modern age.
 
Hades: “The Furies!”

The Furies led the two intruders away. The three of them were wearing a police uniform of navy blue with little caps on their heads, that looked more like an air steward’s hat, and have tall, knee-height boots. All three are wearing short skirts, though, which surprises Pirithous.
 
Pirithous: “Aren’t you dressed a little… sexily to be police?”
 
One of them, who identified herself as Alecto, whipped out a notepad and started writing something down.
 
Alecto: “Making disparaging remarks against police officers is a minor crime here in Hades, Mr Pirithous! I’ll be making a note of that!”
 
Pirithous: “But-but it was just an observation!”
 
Alecto: “Observations are also a crime in Hades! I’ll write it down.”
 
Pirithous: “Fucking hell.”
 
Alecto: “Swearing is a most serious offence. Added to your rap sheet now.”
 
Pirithous: “Seriously? For God’s sake!”
 
Alecto: “Invoking a rival religion! That is a grave, grave crime.”
 
Pirithous: “Aman, I think I’m buggered!”
 
Alecto: “Sodomy!!!”
 
Pirithous: “Uh-oh!”
 
Alecto: “Actually, we’re Greek. So sodomy is a-okay.”
 
Pirithous: “Thank God! I mean—Hades! Thank Hades!”
 
Alecto: “Too late! I heard it!”
 
The men were guided across the barren landscape. So far as they could tell, everything looked the same so it was impossible to know where they were even going. Hades had gone but The Furies were ever present. As they went they saw more uniformed women around the landscape, other Furies.
 
Finally a crowd appeared before them, gathered around a lake. The lake, however, was burning as though it was coated in a layer of oil. The fiery lake ran into a flaming river that ran away to a distant point where they could see what appeared to be a massive hole into a world of darkness that swallowed even the flames of Hades. They were ushered into a line of people and as they watched, they realised this was a courtroom.
 
A man approached the dock and stood there, beneath the judge. The judge was seated behind an incredibly tall podium so that he could look down at the culprit. The judge was Aeacus, the builder of the walls of Troy. He appeared just as he had when he was killed by the fire-breathing dragon that fateful day a decade ago.
 
On either side of the accused were two desks and behind each desk was a man. On the right was the prosecutor, Minos Edgeworth. He wore a snappy red suit and had lank, black hair that hung around his pale, angry face. On the opposite side was Rhadamanthus Wright who was wearing a smart, blue suit and had his black hair slicked back.
 
Edgeworth: “The culprit is a convicted serial murderer. His fate is clear!”
 
Wright: “Yeah!? Can you prove that, Minos!?”
 
Minos Edgeworth presented an illusory display of each murder that the criminal had committed. The display came from a sphere of memories that had been taken from each victim as they were murdered and amassed to attest against their attacker before the victims were sent on to their own afterlives.
 
Wright: “Oh… that’s unfortunate.”
 
Edgeworth: “I rest my case!”
 
Wright: “Well… he… loves puppies!”
 
Minos Edgeworth grinned sinisterly and wagged his finger at his rival.
 
Edgeworth: “Always ill-prepared, Rhadamanthus!”
 
The illusory displays shifted to show the criminal eating puppies!
 
Wright: “That’s… a kind of love, right?”
 
Aeacus: “Jury! What say you?”
 
Up in one of the tall stands, though not as tall as the judge, was a group of people all watching the proceeding with keen interest. Several well known heroes were there, many of them the humans recognised. The jury conferred and then passed their verdict over to the judge.
 
Aeacus: “And so, I find you… G U I L T Y!”
 
There was cheering from the spectators and The Furies started to urge the man down the river of fire.
 
Criminal: “No! No! I won’t go! No!”
 
He suddenly bolted.
 
He ran as fast as he could but Furies suddenly swarmed the area and tackled him to the ground. He cried out in anger, then in despair and then cried for his mother, as he was led along the flaming river.
 
Alecto: “Down the River Phlegethon they go. Doomed for Tartarus.”
 
As the man reached the hole at the end of the river, something indescribable reached out and scooped up the soul and sucked it into the portal to Tartarus. The man’s screams of horror echoed as a warning to all others.
 
Aman Tabiz: “We must be released!”
 
Alecto: “Intruders into Hades aren’t allowed to just go free, not until you stand trial for your crimes!”
 
Aeacus: “Bring forth the next soul.”
 
Alecto pushed her way along the line to thrust Aman Tabiz to the front of the cue.
 
Alecto: “This one was caught snooping about Hades.”
 
Edgeworth: “That alone is a crime. Will you plead guilty, stranger, and save us some time?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I am not guilty!”
 
Edgeworth: “Then you wish to drag this out. Very well! I am reviewing your life as we speak and… ha ha…”
 
He gave a sneering laugh.
 
Edgeworth: “Members of the jury… you will be quite astonished by this particular criminal record!”
 
Wright: “This doesn’t sound good.”
 
A memory was projected and one of the jury members jumped to his feet.
 
Hercules: “Oi! That’s my memory!”
 
Edgeworth: “Indeed! You will recall the poison shirt? You will remember how your wife was falsely executed for the crime of your death?”
 
Minos looked pointedly at Aman Tabiz.
 
Edgeworth: “We have the rule criminal mastermind behind that.”
 
Hercules roared and tried to leap out of the jury box to accost Aman Tabiz. Aman stood silent and composed.
 
Edgeworth: “Oh. And would you look at this one?”
 
A new memory appeared and another jury member jumped to his feet.
 
Orion: “That’s mine! It was he who killed me? Made me try to slay my family?”
 
Pirithous: “Are they all up there!?”
 
Pirithous muttered from behind Aman with some frustration in his voice. It seemed that Pirithous always expected to be here at the end of his life anyway, so he was merely agitated and not so much afraid.
 
Edgeworth: “Need we continue?”
 
Wright: “Well, actually, it appears our Aman Tabiz, as his name is, holds a lot more than just this lifetime that he is currently leading! In the past he was—”
 
Aman Tabiz: “There is no need to speak in my defence, Mr Wright.”
 
Wright: “But dude, there’s a lot here to balance out these crimes. A hundred lifetimes of material.”
 
Edgeworth: “Hundred? What’re you talking about?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “It doesn’t matter. Whatever I have or have not done, or even what I deserve. You have made a mistake here.”
 
Edgeworth: “And what, pray tell, is that mistake?”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I am not Greek. I am not a worshipper of your faith. I cannot be judged here.”
 
Wright: “Ho ho ho! Good point! We’re so used to getting our own souls, we didn’t stop to consider that an intruder to Hades might not be one of our followers! He’s absolutely correct, Minos! Your honour, we must release this man immediately.”
 
Hercules: “No! He must pay for his crimes!”
 
Orion: “He cannot be allowed to avoid justice!”
 
Aeacus: “Unfortunately, Mr Wright is wright—I mean, right. Alecto, as much as I am loathe to allow such a villain to go free, we must release him. I hope that you are judged accordingly upon your future death.”
 
Aman Tabiz: “I don’t expect that day to come any time soon…”
 
Alecto growled at him and shoved him aside. She snagged Pirithous and thrust him forward instead but she is surprised to find him grinning like a lunatic. He stood confidently before the podium, having seen Aman freed instantly.
 
Edgeworth: “And of course we have his accomplice in your deaths and the deaths of many. Theft, murderer, extortion, assault, perjury—actually, it might be a shorter list if we read off what he hasn’t done! In fact, he even stole candy from babies!”
 
Even Aman glared at Pirithous for that.
 
Pirithous shrugged with wide, innocent eyes.
 
Pirithous: “It was chocolate mint! I couldn’t help myself!”
 
Edgeworth: “Puppy kicking!”
 
Pirithous: “Well, now, in my defence it was barking all night long. I couldn’t sleep at all…”
 
Edgeworth: “Kitten kicking!!”
 
Pirithous: “It kept going to the toilet in my garden and eating the fish in my pond!”
 
Edgeworth: “Squirrel kicking!!! Honestly, who even thinks of kicking squirrels!!!”
 
Pirithous: “Who doesn’t hate squirrels? Come on! That can’t just be me?”
 
He looked around at the frowns.
 
Pirithous: “Apparently it is just me.”
 
Edgeworth: “I think the jury can make a clear verdict with this one.”
 
Wright: “OBJECTION!!!”
 
His shout was so loud that everyone was almost blown over.
 
Edgeworth: “I wish you would stop doing that!”
 
Wright: “But it’s my catchphrase!”
 
Edgeworth: “It is not a catchphrase! Just—”
 
Wright: “OBJECTION!!!!”
 
Even Pirithous fell from his podium and had to be propped back up by a couple of Furies.
 
Edgeworth: “Stop it! You have no objection here!”
 
Wright: “But if Aman Tabiz can be released… why are you grinning at me?”
 
Edgeworth: “Tut tut tut. The clue is in the name, Rhadamanthus.”
 
Wright: “The name? His name? Pirithous? Piri… it’s a Greek name. Bugger.”
 
Pirithous: “But that doesn’t make me a worshipper! And I’m only half-Greek!!”
 
Edgeworth: “Aha, you cannot lie to us. Now that we’re onto your game, we can sense your belief. I will admit you may not strictly worship the gods, but you believed in them.”
 
Pirithous: “I wouldn’t say believe… I mean, I knew… I knew I’d come to Hades when I died… Damn.”
 
Wright: “Okay, okay. Wait a minute. Hold on. He’s not actually dead yet!”
 
Edgeworth: “So? He soon will be!”
 
Wright: “Aha! Buuuuuut, he could change his mind on religion before he is supposed to actually die.”
 
There was a moment of silence and Rhadamanthus couldn’t help but give a cocky grin, knowing he was onto something.
 
Wright: “See? Right? Before he dies, he could become a worshipper of, say, the Egyptian gods. Like his mother. Or he may worship the gods of Arabia. Or China. Or the Celtic Pantheon. Or Christianity!”
 
Aeacus: “What in Hades is Christianity? I can’t keep up with all these minor religions these days.”
 
Wright: “I think my case is closed, Your Honour. This man cannot be tried until his affirmed death!”
 
Aeacus: “I suppose you’re right. As loathe, again, as I am to admit it.”
 
Edgeworth: “Now, now! Hold your horses!”
 
Wright: “I don’t have any horses!”
 
Edgeworth: “What? Shut up, Rhadamanthus! I mean, hold on a moment! He can stand trial! He may not be tried for the crimes in his lifetime but he can be tried for the crime of entering Hades and all subsequent crimes committed herein!”
 
Pirithous: “No! So close! Come on!”
 
Aeacus: “Aha! He is a believer in our ways, after all. And he did commit the crime of coming here.”
 
Alecto: “And he has a significant list of crimes he has committed while here, Your Honour! Disparaging remarks against officers, making unwarranted observations about Hades, swearing like a lout, invoking foreign gods, crimes against fashion, untied shoelaces, looking at me funny… the list goes on.”
 
Pirithous: “You have got to be kidding me?”
 
Alecto: “And now accusing authorities of making jokes! You are going down, sonny!”
 
Pirithous: “This can’t be happening!”
 
Alecto: “Telling officers what they can and can’t do!”
 
Pirithous: “Please! Just stop!”
 
Alecto: “Begging like a worm! You should quit before you dig yourself a deeper grave, as they say.”
 
Edgeworth: “We may not be able to punish him to Tartarus, but he can be punished.”
 
Aeacus: “Will the jury confer?”
 
The jury spent just a few seconds in discussion and came to a unanimous decision and hand the note to the judge.
 
Aeacus: “As expected. Pirithous, you are found G U I L T Y!”
 
Pirithous: “No, not now! You bastards!”
 
Alecto: “You’re only making it harder on yourself, boyo!”
 
And then Pirithous calmed himself. He knew why he was getting so worked it. It wasn’t because he would face punishment, he always believed he would. It was because he was to be punished before he could feel what it was to be a good man and live a good and honest life. He wondered if that would have made a difference at this court had he died the normal way many years into the future. Probably not. He would have been bound for Tartarus anyway. But maybe he could have gone knowing he was not all bad. That he had done something good in his life. He thought of Hippodamia and how lovely she was, but more so he thought of the boy Polypoetes – his Spud. The boy needed a father. A father that would teach him to be better than himself. He had hoped to be that father. That would have been his legacy – giving the world a fine, young and, most importantly, good man.  Spud wasn’t his by blood but he felt such an attachment that even now, separated by all earthly bonds, all he could think of was how he failed the boy.
 
The Furies led Pirithous away and they wouldn’t allow Aman to follow. They didn’t go far from the River Phlegethon before snakes burst from the ground and wrapped around Pirithous, trapping him in place. Then, maliciously, they started to bite him. Sometimes they would wait for him to relax before they bit him again, other times they would relentlessly bite for hours at a time.
 
Aman couldn’t watch his friend being tortured. It was a strange feeling for Aman to experience something that repulsed him so much. He had seen so much death, he had been responsible for it also. But to see continuous suffering was a terrible sensation that welled within him. Alecto and several other Furies forced him away and, eventually, he was banished from Hades with a sudden blow.
 
He landed back in the mortal world and immediately set out for Thebes with determination in his heart.

At Mount Oeta, Hippodamia was quietly picking flowers to make a pretty decoration in her home. It had been over a year since Pirithous was supposed to return and there was still no sign of him. Many in the town scoffed at her for ever believing he would return at all. They had all believed he had just been using her, which none of them had ever said to her before the year was out but apparently they had known all along. She just ignored them. She knew he would come back. She knew he loved her.
 
Unless something terrible had happened to him…
 
She cast aside those dark thoughts and resumed her minor chore. Her son was playing the flute nearby, the merry sounds of music drifting over the hills towards the mountain. It was strange that Pirithous had only been in the town for such a short time but had managed to have such a profound effect not only on herself but on her son. He never went by his real name anymore, the name of his biological father. Now he was Spud. Hippodamia hated that stupid name but she the boy liked it and that was that. His friends would always come over asking for ‘Spud’, her friends would always ask how ‘Spud’ is doing. Spud, Spud, Spud.
 
She crushed a flower with her hand and grit her teeth.
 
Hippodamia: “Damn you, Pirithous…”
 
Tears fell down her face. Out here, away from the town, nobody would see her weep.
 
Hippodamia: “Please come back.”
 
It was some minutes before she frowned to herself. She hadn’t noticed until then that the music had stopped. In a sudden panic she turned and looked around. Spud was gone. She ran up the hill. He wouldn’t have run off without telling her.
 
Then she saw the beachhead where her son was walking back towards her, accompanied by a man.
 
Hippodamia: “Ah!”
 
Pirithous: “You’ve grown, like, a whole head taller than last I saw you! Soon you’ll be taller than me!”
 
Hippodamia ran straight into his open arms and clutched him as though he might suddenly disappear. With her face buried in his mucky, old clothes she mumbled;
 
Hippodamia: “Please tell me you are back.”
 
Pirithous: “I am back.”
 
Pirithous patted her head.
 
Pirithous: “And I am back for good.”
 
He moved so he could turn around and down on the beachhead she saw an old battered ship with the name ‘Argo’ barely visible on the side of it. Climbing into the boat were a series of surly men and women, all wearing dark clothes and hoods.
 
Hippodamia: “Who are they?”
 
The last man to climb into the boat seemed somehow familiar to Hippodamia but she couldn’t exactly recall the face. The man rose his hand in farewell and Pirithous returned the gesture before he slipped his arm around Hippodamia’s shoulders and tucked in Spud with the other.
 
Pirithous: “The Egypt Twats!”
 
Spud: “Twats!”
 
Hippodamia: “Ah! No! Don’t say that! Pirithous!”
 
The old rogue laughed and they turned and headed for home.
 
What he didn’t tell his wife and son was how his old gang had gone through months of training in stealth. All of them, together, with the single goal of infiltrating Hades and rescuing Pirithous. Led by Aman Tabiz, the training had been intense, day-and-night. The gang had been transformed into a machine of espionage. Aman had, once again, found a new way into Hades. He bribed Eris with the false dreams that he and Pirithous had stolen the first time round and they had managed to steal Pirithous away without even Hades himself ever knowing they had been there. The entire venture had proven not only a success but seemed to be a whole new way of life for Aman and the gang. Aman intended to continue to hone and improve these skills and teach others to follow this way of self-discipline but also to serve some greater good. They would not be working just for money, the would be working for humankind.
 
Pirithous doted on Spud and taught him everything he had always wished he could have learnt from his own father. He strove to be nothing other than the perfect father figured to the boy and vowed that, upon his true death, Polypoetes would be the very best of humanity. When it came time to learn to hunt, Pirithous bestowed a very special gift unto his son. The bow that once belonged to none other than Hercules himself.
 
A few days went by and Pirithous was found at the harbour where he met an old friend with a very specific message to be sent to Sparta and Queen Leda. Though the writer of the message was never to be revealed to the queen, it told of the location of Helen of Sparta so that the queen might retrieve her only child.
 
The Spartan soldiers arrived on Lesbos to find the strange school that Helen was being held at. Initially they had intended to kill everyone but Helen demanded mercy be shown. The school was put into new management and the girls there were left alone. Sappho, however, was seen as the chief culprit for keeping Helen captive, though Sappho was barely aware of it. She was, therefore, forced into slavery to Helen, to act as her personal servant. The woman was frustrated but conceded and they all returned to Sparta.
 
Unfortunately, Helen’s problems were not yet over…

Non-Story Note: I want to expressly warn readers that this post contains a fair bit of bad language, a lot more than I would usually write into a post.
--
Cadmus was a middle-aged man with a nice, quiet farm in the countryside on the outskirts of Tyre in Lebanon. He would spend most of his days tending to the crops, feeding the cattle and kicking chickens. Who doesn’t love kicking chickens? Just be prepared for their chickeny revenge as a certain popular, green-clad warrior could attest to.
 
Cadmus, however, was no warrior. He was strong from the hard labour of farming but his body was not attuned to the rigours of combat and he had never wielded weapons. He never even hunted, his cows and chickens right there ready to be slaughtered when necessary. He did, however, wear a green tunic and a little green hat.
 
Today, however, he was kitted like a one-man army. He went to the local blacksmith and bought as much weaponry as he could. Unfortunately he had no money left for armour but he figured with enough weapons he could kill everything before he would need armour. A bow and quiver on his back, a short sword to his right and a scimitar to the left, daggers in a row around a belt on the leg, a short axe attached to the other leg and even a blow gun tucked behind the bow.
 
He trekked through the streets of Tyre, which got him a lot of odd looks. When the guards approached him he assured them he was on a quest from the gods. Dubious, they escorted him to the Temple of Astarte who was the god he claimed to have seen in his dreams. When there the guards dropped to their knees as they beheld the deity herself. She then shooed them like a couple of pests and they ran away.
 
Astarte was coloured stark white from head to toe with an uncanny marble-like sheen to her skin. Her hair was also white and worn in a complex weave and was so long that it reached the floor at her feet even tied as it was. Light seemed to have no hold over her physical aspect as she was never in shadow and cast none of her own upon the ground. She appeared like a bright ghost through the darkness. Her eyes were bright red like a couple of headlamps that even left light trails when she turned her head quickly. She had no clothes, which was expected as a deity of sex, but she represented the appetite of women and not of men so she was demanding and expectant rather than alluring or seductive. ‘You don’t fuck Astarte, she fucks you’ as the common saying in Tyre went.
 
Breaking up the white were a few spots of red. Her sexual organs were in colour – the nipples of the breasts and the crevice between her thighs but also the bellybutton. Because she thinks bellybuttons are sexy.
 
Cadmus was completely undistracted by the sex god before him. His worries weighed too heavily on his mind to leave room for other pleasures in life. She measured at a similar height to himself, six feet, which was tall for the period.
 
Cadmus: “I’m ready.”
 
Astarte’s white lips cracked into a smile, showing the red inside her mouth.
 
Astarte: “Your vessel is ready. Take this bag, it contains dragon teeth. Place them on the ground, next to the ship. Heed my advice and you shall find your lost sibling.”
 
Cadmus: “Thank you, my lady. I am honoured with her aid. But I must ask…”
 
Astarte: “Ask away.”
 
Cadmus: “Why? Why would you help me find my sister? The gods are usually silent on such matters that are… beneath their notice.”
 
Astarte: “The affairs of mortals are none of our business, Cadmus. If bandits stole your sister, I would not interfere. If she was taken by your neighbour, I would not interfere. But she was taken by a divine being and that makes it my business.”
 
Cadmus: “I guessed as much from the dreams you sent me. But tell me who is this deity? I did not recognise him.”
 
Astarte: “He is a foreigner, making this an even greater quest. Had your sister been taken by another of my pantheon, we could resolve the issue within moments. But she was taken to the island of Crete by the king of the Greek gods. His name is Zeus.”
 
Cadmus: “Then to Crete I shall go!”
 
Astarte: “Not yet. You must follow my advice. It may take many months, even years, to reach her.”
 
Cadmus: “But that is too long! She is in danger now! I must save her!”
 
Astarte: “Do you think you can fight a god?”
 
Cadmus shook his blowgun.
 
Cadmus: “I am well-armed!”
 
Astarte laughed, genuinely amused. She liked this. Usually she was dealing with young, strapping warriors for quests to slay monsters. But here she was dealing with a desperate but earnest man, well out of his depth but determined to do anything to play heroics. He would be entertaining to watch but he would need all the help he could muster in his adventure.
 
Astarte: “If a god were to apply themselves sincerely to battle, a single one, could destroy an entire battlefield of warriors. One farmer with zero training would barely be noticed. No, Cadmus, you must get help for your quest. The best man to aid you now is a genius tactician with the added benefit of augury. Travel to Thebes in Egypt. There you will find the man who will lead you on the path to victory.”
 
Cadmus: “…very well. If that is the only way, I shall do whatever it takes for as long as it takes.”
 
Astarte: “I wish you luck, Cadmus! But remember, I cannot come to your aid beyond the shores of my domain. While you explore the lands of Egypt and those of Greece, you will have to rely on your mortal allies.”
 
Cadmus sucked in his breath and tried to put on a brave face. He knew she could probably see straight through it, even without being a god, but he made the effort anyway.
 
Cadmus: “I can do this!”
 
Astarte: “I know you can.”
 
She reached over and caressed his face.
 
Astarte: “But do not be afraid to experience life while you are journeying, Cadmus. You should remember not to deny yourself friendship or even love. I know your heart is heavy, but if you heed my advice and the advice of your allies then you are assured of success in the end. But I guarantee that Europa will not want to be saved by a broken, hollow man who has worn himself cold in her name.”
 
She drew close and kissed his lips lightly. It was not a romantic kiss like the movies, but a simple kiss of admiration and a blessing of good fortune. He bowed his head and retired from her temple.
 
The temple itself was small, especially compared to the temples of deities in other lands, and made of simple sandstone. It might have been mistaken for any other building next to it if not for the statues of lions on either side of the door, asserting the dominion of Astarte. Away from the temple he was soon at the dock where the vessel granted to him was waiting.
 
He could tell, instantly, which ship was supposed to be his. It was the bright, glowing ship that looked like it was birthed from moonlight. He touched it and saw the magic ripple from contact. He was instantly terrified at the idea of trying to stand on it. He looked back to see a large crowd had gathered to see the odd ship and to see what was about to happen to the guy who stood on it.
 
Before he got onto it, he remembered the bag he still held in his hand and opened it up to find the massive dragon teeth within it. He mused for a moment, wondering what possible use it could be to put these on the ground. They’d probably be worth a lot of money and he could buy even more weapons! But he knew he had to do as Astarte demanded. Her power would be a greater benefit in his quest. He tipped over the bag and scattered the teeth around the dock. The onlookers were bewildered by the experiment.
 
And then became more bewildered as the teeth started to grow into people!
 
Ten little girls popped into being, all miniature versions of Astarte in different colours and each with her own hairstyle. Fortunately, unlike their ‘mother’, the girls were clothed, albeit they were clothed in lycra sportwear, as though they were all about to go cycling, looking like an all-female Power Rangers convention. The red one stood firmly, legs apart and one hand on her hip with her back rigid. She pointed at Cadmus.
 
Red: “Listen up, troops! Your orders are to help this sad sap sail the ship across the waves whenever and wherever we need to! No ifs or buts!”
 
A green girl, whose hair was cut into a short ‘pixie style’, snickered.
 
Green: “Butts.”
 
Red: “What are you, a fucking Minion!?”
 
Cadmus’ eyed bulged to hear this little girl’s voice using such bad language.
 
Yellow: “I love Minions!”
 
Red: “Shut the fuck up, I didn’t ask you!”
 
The yellow girl growled, albeit very cutely, at the red girl but the leader of these little demons just thrust her finger at the ship.
 
Red: “Get on it, you asshat!”
 
Cadmus: “Okay, okay. I think, first, you could tell me who… or maybe what you are. And please, less of the swearing.”
 
Red: “Don’t tell me what to do, old geezer!”
 
Green: “I thought we were supposed to do what he says?”
 
Red: “Don’t backchat to me, you little—”
 
Cadmus: “Whoa, whoa. Calm down.”
 
Red: “My tits are calm! You calm yours!”
 
Yellow: “He doesn’t have any. Actually, neither do you for that matter!”
 
Red: “Hey! Minion-tard, you want a kiss!?”
 
Yellow: “Oh! Yes please!”
 
Red: “From my fist!?”
 
Blue 1: “Why is Red always such a bitch?”
 
Blue 2: “It’s the dragon she came from.”
 
Cadmus blinked. He was not a stupid guy and, for a farmer, people considered him pretty smart. He looked over the ten girls. He hadn’t noticed any difference in the colours of the teeth but from that girl’s words he deduced that each of them were part of the essence of the dragon from which they came. There was Red, who seemed to be the leader and had a nasty attitude. So too, then, probably did the dragon from whom the tooth originated. There was Yellow and Green, who both seemed pleasant. Two of them were blue, the very same shade. He calculated then that the two were ‘sister teeth’ from the very same dragon.
 
Cadmus: “So a part of you is from the dragon you came from, and another part of you is from Astarte herself?”
 
Red: “Everyone give the old man a round of applause. He ain’t so dim as that last twat we worked for. He was all, like, grunt, grunt, me hit man in face with stick, grunt, grunt.”
 
Yellow started giggling at Red’s impression, but this only provoked the red-coloured girl’s attention;
 
Red: “What’re you laughing at, retard!?”
 
Cadmus: “Do you have to be so… confrontational?”
 
Red stomped over to the man that towered over her, yet she stood as straight-backed and intimidating as if she were double his height.
 
Red: “I’m a badass motherfucker, you got a problem with that sucker!?”
 
Cadmus: “Well… yes actually.”
 
Silence fell over the girls. Apparently not many would defy the little red monster. He suddenly stamped on his foot.
 
Cadmus: “Yeowch!”
 
Red: “Take that, buttmunch!”
 
Yellow: “Hahaha, butt.”
 
Red: “Say anything again, you—oi! Where the fuck are you going, you dweeb!?”
 
Pink: “Setting sail! Ahoy, my mates! Avast there my landlubbers! Shivering in my timbers! Land ho!”
 
Red: “That’s you. A land hoe! Get away from that wheel, I’m captain!”
 
Red angrily marched onto the ship and the other girls followed her. Green looked at Yellow;
 
Green: “Isn’t a hoe what people water their gardens with? Why is that an insult?”
 
Yellow: “It’s Red, watering gardens is probably a bad thing for some reason.”
 
Cadmus watched in despair as the girls started ‘manning’, or ‘girling’, the ship. They were hoisting sails and swabbing the deck and generally seemed to be doing a competent job of being sailors, but he still couldn’t understand if there was some mistake.
 
Cadmus: “Did I do something wrong? Should I have planted the teeth instead? Maybe water them for more growth? Did they need good soil? Why are they children!? And why does she have to be so mean!?”
 
Red leaned over the shiny railing.
 
Red: “Are you coming or what, you fucking meff?”
 
Yellow: “He seems nice. I think he’ll be fun to travel with!”
 
Red: “I told you to shut up, retard.”
 
Cadmus: “Am I being punished? Did I upset Astarte somehow?”
 
Red: “Come on, you dweeb! Hurry the hell up! What’re you waiting around for!?”
 
Cadmus: “Astarte, have mercy…”
 
One of the girls then appeared at his side and took his hand. She was a deep, rich navy blue. Her eyes were bright white, like Astarte’s skin, shining from within the darkness of her skin and clothes. Her hair was ornate, much like her ‘mother’s’ had been, but worn up and around her head to hang loose around her neck and ended at her shoulders. She appeared much like a miniature queen. A blue miniature queen.
 
Navy: “Don’t worry. She’s mean but strong.”
 
Cadmus: “Yeah, that makes it worse not better.”
 
Navy smiled in such a way that he could see Astarte in her.
 
Navy: “Not like that. She will be strong and fierce for you. She will be far more loyal to you and your quest as any human sailor you could hire.”
 
Cadmus: “I hope you’re right. What do I call you by the way? Are you really just called colours?”
 
Navy: “We are the spartoi. Dragon essences, as you said, infused with the power of Astarte. I suppose we’re a kind of elemental in a way. But our names… our identifiers that we would use beyond the physical world are unpronounceable. So we just use our colours.”
 
Cadmus: “What about the two Blues?”
 
Navy: “Blue 1 and Blue 2.”
 
Cadmus: “Ouch. Do they fight over who gets to be one?”
 
Navy: “Can you tell them apart?”
 
Cadmus: “No?”
 
Navy: “Neither can they.”
 
Cadmus: “They can’t tell themselves apart?”
 
Navy: “They’re both the same dragon.”
 
Cadmus nodded slowly with sudden understanding, though it strained his brain to try to think in this way.
 
Cadmus: “Okay, Navy, let’s go.”
 
He put a foot on the gangplank and found it was entirely solid, though the light rippled around his shoes as though he were stood on water. He started to walk up and reached the top.
 
Cadmus: “To Thebes!”
 
Red: “You heard the lanky twat! Get your butts in gear!”
 
Yellow: “Hahaha, butts.”
 
Red: “I swear, I am going to throw you overboard and feed you to the damn sharks you--!!!”
 
Cadmus turned to watch the dock as his ship set sail from the distant lands of Egypt. The people there were still watching in dumb horror at what they had witnessed but nobody was brave enough to even faint. He watched them watching him and grew uncomfortable. So he waved.
 
Someone waved back.
 
It was Astarte, stood at the back of the crowd who were too busy looking at the retreating mini-Astartes to notice the tall one behind them. She was smiling serenely and Cadmus hoped she knew what she was doing when she placed him into the care of the little spartoi. The gods were not simple or easy to understand so he had to trust in her judgement. He just hoped this genius auger was not so insane.

Pink: “Landslobbers ahoy! Time to get me some booty!”
 
Green: “Haha, butt.”
 
Red: “She didn’t even say—you know what? Imma kill you. Like literally. Right now.”
 
Red then grabbed Green by the hair and yanked so hard that Green started screaming with panic. The other spartoi girls all leapt to action, trying to tear Red away from Green without pulling out any more of the green-girl’s short hair.
 
Several spats ago, Cadmus had tried to intervene and keep the girls calm. He felt like he had been thrust into fatherhood without any of the pleasurable proceedings that would have gotten him ten daughters. He finally knew what it was like to be Yoshi with a screeching Baby Mario floating around in a bubble.
 
Then he stopped and left them to sort out their own squabbles. Navy, likewise, often stood by and watched as though she had seen these fights thousands of times before. Cadmus had no idea how old these girls were but he had a feeling they were some kind of immortal spirits. He took out a notebook and scribbled down a new line to add to the ‘petty scuffle tally’. Pink was one of the sillier of the girls who often ran about the ship making stupid pirate quotes, usually inaccurately, but when it came to fight time she dove into the crowd like a bull and kicked and scratched everyone, even Red. Red was like a limpet. Once she grabbed something she held on and became an immovable object, even with the other children smacking her. The two Blues stood back-to-back and pushed at both sides. Yellow was desperately trying to calm everyone down with crooning and plying words but everyone ignored her and she even got a slap or a bite several times for her trouble.
 
Violet had gotten Red in an armlock, taking the opportunity to assault the leader regardless of whether Green got injured or not. Purple, who Cadmus constantly mixed up with Violet, was trying to untangle Red’s fingers from Green’s locks while the final girl, Orange, was talking to everyone as though nothing was happening.
 
Orange: “You know, we should get deckchairs for the boat.”
 
Red: “It’s a ship, asshat!”
 
Red attempted to kick Orange but didn’t want to lose her purchase on Green’s hair, so it was half-hearted. Orange turned to Green instead.
 
Orange: “What do you think, Green? Deckchairs, am I right!?”
 
Green: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”
 
Orange: “And a mini-bar!”
 
Purple: “No underage drinking!”
 
Orange: “We don’t need to fill it with booze! We can fill it with Sunny D!”
 
Yellow: “Ooooooh! Sunny D!”
 
Cadmus: “And maybe a bottle of brandy for me…”
 
Navy: “We’re going to crash~~.”
 
She sang, amused, and everyone snapped their attention to the fast-approaching shore.
 
Pink: “I did tell you!”
 
Suddenly the crowd dispersed and the girls were climbing all over the rigging like little, bright spiders.
 
Red: “Get ya cunts in order!”
 
Cadmus: “By the gods, that girl’s language…”
 
Red: “If we crash, I’ll drown every last one of you and feed your corpses to cannibals!”
 
The ship came into dock and, just like in Tyre, the folk stared with wonder at the magical ship that shone like glittering stars. Cadmus leapt over the railing, not even waiting for the gangplank, glad to finally b e free of the spartoi children.
 
Pink: “We hit ground! Time to visit the taverns and grab us a wench!”
 
Red: “You don’t even know what a wench is, numbnuts!”
 
Pink: “I don’t have nuts!”
 
Red: “But if you did, they’d definitely be numb! Ha!”
 
Pink: “Only because I’m so cooooooooool!”
 
Red: “Holy shit that was bad. I’m not even angry. I’m just morbidly horrified.”
 
Pink: “I’m a funny fucker!”
 
Red: “It was so bad I think I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
 
Pink started dancing like a fool, celebrating her awful joke, while the other girls go about their ship-bound business of cleaning up and setting up. Cadmus stalked off. He didn’t care where he went, so long as it was in another direction.
 
Then he spotted glory. A weapons shop!
 
Cadmus: “Ho ho ho! Pappa’s got a brand new bag!”
 
He considered that.
 
Cadmus: “Whatever that means.”
 
He came out with a whole new set of Egyptian weaponry, which consisted of several swords, a series of metal-tipped arrows, a long spear and an uzi. He wasn’t sure what the last one actually was but it looked square and heavy and would club pretty well. He marched out of the store as a one-man-army and came across an unusual sight. In the middle of the road were a bunch of pigeons that were pecking at the leftovers of the human denizens of Thebes. There were no seagulls this far in land and they didn’t follow the Nile this far down from the sea. Pigeons, however, are everywhere. Rats with wings.
 
Near them was an old man. He was lying down, watching them intently. He wriggled a little to get a better look, worming along the dusty ground. He slowly itched his head, careful not to disturb the birds. While he carefully watched the birds, Cadmus carefully watched him.
 
Old Man: “AHA!”
 
The birds blasted off the ground, as did Cadmus. He dropped the uzi, which suddenly exploded in a shower of noise and rapid-fire projectiles that demolished a nearby fruit stall in a shower of apples, olives and pomegranates.
 
The man was on his feet while Cadmus was on the ground, head covered by his hands. Cadmus felt him ribs poked by the old man’s sandaled foot.
 
Old Man: “Come on then, youngster! Let’s get a move on.”
 
Cadmus peeked from beneath his hands, seeing that his weapon was fully spent and nobody was in danger of being riddled with holes. He looked up at the old man. The Egyptian was missing most of his teeth and his beard was patchy, trying to grow around the diseased skin of his chin. The hair on the top of his head had long given up but it was long and scraggly from the base of the crown, down his back. It was mostly white but with a streak of the old black hanging in there. His clothes were little more than rags that clung to his old bones and only served to cover up the rest of his dirty, diseased skin.
 
Cadmus: “I… I just knew it. Soon as I saw you watching those birds.”
 
Old Man: “Aye, I bet you did. I hope you have a lot of candy on your ship. I love candy.”
 
Cadmus started to his feet and got a better look at the supposed genius. First a bunch of argumentative children and now an old, diseased beggar that looked ready to drop dead at any given moment. The old man stared back.
 
Old Man: “So? That candy?”
 
Cadmus: “Uh, no. No candy.”
 
The old man stared at him for a long, uncomfortable silence.
 
Cadmus: “But… we’ll get some?”
 
Old Man: “Good to hear it! Let’s get to the store before it closes.”
 
Cadmus: “It’s the middle of the day.”
 
Old Man: “It’s going to close in about ten minutes when the owner catches his wife with the milkman.”
 
Cadmus: “Oh wow. The birds told you that?”
 
Old Man: “Birds don’t talk, idiot.”
 
Cadmus: “I didn’t mean told like… told.”
 
The old man stared at him.
 
Cadmus: “Nevermind. Candy store.”
 
Soon after they exited the candy store with a whole basket full of sweets they heard the sudden roar of rage from within. The milkman came diving from the second-floor window with his trousers around his head and nothing else. He ran down the street and the candy man burst from the shop door and chased after him.
 
The old man grinned.
 
Old Man: “I’ve been waiting for this moment for months.”
 
Cadmus: “To watch a guy get chased down the street?”
 
Old Man: “Of course not!”
 
Cadmus: “Oh, you mean to meet me.”
 
Old Man: “I mean the moment I get free candy!”
 
He waggled one of the sugary sweets at Cadmus before he threw it into his mouth.
 
Old Man: “NOM NOM NOM!”
 
Cadmus: “What’s your name, by the way?”
 
Old Man: “Tiresias.”
 
Cadmus: “And you read birds as a living?”
 
Tiresias: “Reading? What’s that?”
 
Cadmus: “Uh… like… writing, but not writing in this case.”
 
Tiresias stared at Cadmus.
 
Cadmus: “You kind of freak me out a little bit.”
 
He continued to stare at Cadmus while sucking on a gummy worm.
 
Cadmus: “Maybe we should just…”
 
Tiresias: “HA! DIE!”
 
The old man suddenly smacked his foot against the ground to crush a cockroach that happened to be crawling by. Cadmus looked down at the unfortunate bug.
 
Cadmus: “Congratulations. You sure showed that guy.”
 
Tiresias: “Little blighter. The lot of them should be exterminated on sight.”
 
Cadmus: “Suppose they are creepy. Okay, the ship is this way.”
 
Tiresias: “Yes! To The Wind Waker!”
 
Cadmus: “The what?”
 
Tiresias: “Your ship.”
 
Cadmus: “I didn’t name it that. Actually I didn’t name it anything.”
 
Tiresias: “It already has a name.”
 
Cadmus: “It does? Oh right, you mean—”
 
Tiresias: “The Wind Waker!”
 
Cadmus: “Read that in your birds, did you?”
 
Tiresias: “No. I just came up with it.”
 
Cadmus: “You just decided to name my ship?”
 
Tiresias: “Yes. It’s a good name.”
 
Cadmus: “What if it already had a name?”
 
Tiresias: “My name is better.”
 
Cadmus: “Good grief. Is this what a god’s help is like? Well, are there any birds you want to read before we go?”
 
Tiresias: “Read. You keep saying this, I don’t know what it is.”
 
Cadmus: “Read. Like a book. You see it and you understand it. In a book it’s writing, in birds it’s …. Whatever you do.”
 
Tiresias: “What’s writing? What’s a book?”
 
Cadmus: “Like… those pictures your people have, right? That’s like writing. Only we don’t have pictures. We have writing. In books. Here.”
 
He got out his notebook to show some of the notes he had been jotting down since his journey began. A prominent couple of paragraphs were dedicated to telling the difference between the colours violet and purple. Tiresias snatched the book and stared at the writing in wonderment.
 
Tiresias: “What is this!?”
 
Cadmus: “That’s writing. You’ve never seen writing?”
 
Tiresias: “But what is it? What does it do?”
 
Cadmus: “It says things.”
 
Tiresias jolted away from the paper.
 
Tiresias: “It speaks!?”
 
Cadmus: “No! No! Look. Like this part. It says, ‘roses are red…’.”
 
Cadmus glanced up.
 
Cadmus: “Actually, why did I write that? Roses are nice. Red is not. Anyway…”
 
He put his finger to the words.
 
Cadmus: “’Violets are blue’… wait…. No they’re not. Violets are violet, that’s why they’re called violets. Why the hell did I write this? This is stupid!”
 
Tiresias: “This. Is. AMAZING!”
 
He danced around with the notebook in his hands. The papyrus ruffled limply between the old man’s palms and Cadmus worried he was going to tear the thing apart. Papyrus, or paper as the cool kids called it, was not cheap at all. The old man suddenly turned on Cadmus.
 
Tiresias: “I want to learn to read!”
 
Cadmus: “I can teach you to write too, if you’d like?”
 
Tiresias: “Yeeees! I shall be a genius!”
 
Cadmus: “Hold on, Astarte told me you already are a genius!”
 
Tiresias: “I am!? I am! I am a genius! I shall be even more of a genius with this writing book!”
 
Cadmus: “I’m beginning to have my doubts…”
 
Tiresias: “Oh ho, is this where you question my intelligence and I give you a grand mathematical equation to prove it to you?”
 
Cadmus: “You can do maths but not writing?”
 
Tiresias: “Numbers are easy for old Tiresias. I can count to ten!”
 
Cadmus stared at Tiresias.
 
Tiresias stared at Cadmus.
 
Tiresias: “Did you know the Earth is round?”
 
Cadmus: “Fuck off.”
 
Tiresias: “It’s true! It’s a giant ball!”
 
Cadmus: “Okay, now I know I made a mistake! There must be some other birdwatchers around here.”
 
He turned to see a group of men and women in anoraks on top of a building with binoculars.
 
Cadmus: “On second thoughts, I think I can do without the birdwatching entirely. I have little girls, what could possibly go wrong?”
 
Tiresias: “GAH! A spider!”
 
He stomped on the spider, checked, then stomped it again to be certain. Cadmus shook his head at the unfortunate creatures that happened across the old codger.
 
Cadmus: “Okay fine. Answer this question. What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow!”
 
Tiresias: “European swallow or an African swallow!?”
 
Cadmus: “Uh, I don’t—”
 
He felt as though he might suddenly be hurled off a bridge if he continued that sentence, even though there were no bridged nearby, so he blurted out;
 
Cadmus: “European! Aha! See!? Can you answer that, Mr Smarty-pants!?”
 
Tiresias: “Twenty-four.”
 
Cadmus: “Uh… what?”
 
Tiresias: “Twenty-four miles an hour. Or eleven metres per second.”
 
Cadmus stared at Tiresias.
 
Tiresias stared at Cadmus.
 
Then expanded.
 
Tiresias: “The average European swallow has a wing-span of 12.2 centimetres and body mass of 20.3 grams. They beat their wings fifteen times per second. With an estimated amplitude of twenty-four centimetres and a consideration of the waveform of—”
 
Cadmus: “Okay! Okay! I believe you! Sorry I ever doubted you.”
 
Tiresias: “… the Earth is round.”
 
Cadmus: “That… no. I have to draw the line somewhere.”
 
Tiresias: “Gravity holds us all—AH! It’s a rat!”
 
He threw his candy at the rat, which initially ran away but then ran back for the candy and stole it.
 
Tiresias: “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!”
 
He then snapped his stare back to Cadmus.
 
Cadmus: “We can’t get any more. The candy man is chasing the milkman down the road, remember?”
 
Tiresias: “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!”
 
He fell to his knees.
 
Tiresias: “How did I not see this coming!? Have the birds forsaken me!?”
 
A big, white, pile of bird poop suddenly dropped from the sky and landed on Tiresias’ head. Cadmus winced as he watched it dribble down his forehead.
 
Tiresias: “WAHOO!”
 
Cadmus: “Uh, this is good?”
 
Tiresias: “It’s extremely lucky to be pooped on at the best of times. Of all the skies in all the worlds, the bird chose that very moment to let one go and the wind currents and heat vectors guided it to this very spot. The probability factors are incredible, kiddo! But to be pooped on just as I plead to my feathered friends? That’s providence!”
 
Cadmus: “We shall be—A SQUIRREL!”
 
He ran off and punted a random squirrel that ventured down from its tree. The squirrel blasted off à la Team Rocket. 
 
Cadmus: “Can we please stop with the random animal murder?”
 
Tiresias: “Says the chicken kicker!”
 
Cadmus gasped.
 
Cadmus: “You know about that!? I can’t help it! They’re so kickable!”
 
Tiresias: “I know aaaaaaaaaaall about you!”
 
Cadmus shifted uncomfortably.
 
Cadmus: “Uh… even….?”
 
Tiresias: “Yes! Even that!”
 
Cadmus: “It was just one time!!!”
 
Tiresias suddenly grabbed one of the spears from Cadmus’ back and launched it across the road. It skewered stray cat.
 
Cadmus: “Whoa! Okay! No! No cat killing! That’s just wrong!”
 
Tiresias: “Have to. They kill my birdies.”
 
Cadmus: “But… you can just frighten them away!”
 
Tiresias: “And they go on to kill another day. Cats got to eat, Tiresias got to see, cats got to die. And rats. And mice. And cockroaches. And mosquitoes. And ants. And snakes. And—”
 
Cadmus: “I don’t need the whole list.”
 
They travelled down the road towards The Wind Waker.
 
Cadmus: “Any idea what we should do next? Straight to Crete?”
 
Tiresias: “Your sister is there. But we are still underprepared. We should go to see the Oracle of Delphi. I believe we will need to also get the attention of Zeus’ wife. She doesn’t like it when her husband has affairs with other women. She could be a powerful ally. It was difficult to discern the exact nature of the meeting, but there I shall meet her. I know that much.”
 
Cadmus: “Very well, Tiresias. To Delphi we go. But, uh…”
 
Tiresias: “What?”
 
Cadmus: “Maybe you should take a bath before we go?”
 
 
The journey of The Wind Waker across the Mediterranean was fast, which was fortunate for Cadmus’ sanity. Tiresias slept the entire journey, snoring the whole way. His snores were so loud it scared even the sea creatures away.
 
The girls had resumed their bickering in earnest and there was a lot of biting, scratching and hairpulling and, in the case of Red, a lot of punching and kicking too. At one point she managed to dangle Pink over the side of the ship, at which point Cadmus thought it fortuitous that Tiresias’ snoring was keeping the sharks away from chomping on the dangling child. Low hanging meat, as the case was. The ship travelled around the Greek islands and the Greek mainland, across the southernmost region of the Aegean Sea, and around Athens.
 
Delphi, far west of Athens, the ship sailed the long river to Mount Parnassus where one of Apollo’s temples, commonly known as the Temple of Delphi, stood upon the mountainside. The site overlooked the landscape for miles and miles all around. On very clear days even Athens could be made out in the distance to the east and the southerly isle of the Greek mainland to the south, across the Corinthian Gulf, where Sparta would lurk far beyond sight.
 
It was most impressive to behold the world and as Cadmus stood looking across the landscape he felt truly small and yet this made him feel wonderment rather than frailty. It was a marvellous world to be a part of.
 
They had left The Wind Wake in the care of several spartoi, especially Red. Cadmus framed it that Red was captain and caretaker of the ship and the most responsible to be left in charge. In reality he just didn’t want the little demon ruining everything. Blue 1 and Blue 2 were with him, as well as Pink and Orange. Tiresias had found himself a beating stick and was whacking random animals that happened in his path – which was a lot, given the abundance of nature all around the mountain. Even as Orange was playing with a little hedgehog, the poor creature was thwacked into the air and made to tumble down the mountainside. Orange cried for a while but, fortunately, was easily distracted and led into an ongoing conversation about the Oracle they were to meet.
 
Pink: “I heard she has many boyfriends!”
 
Orange: “Isn’t she meant to stay a virgin?”
 
Pink: “So?”
 
Orange: “… you know what boyfriends are for, don’t you?”
 
Pink: “Buying me stuff!”
 
Cadmus: “That’s pretty shallow, Pink.”
 
Pink: “Giving me cuddles on my birthday?”
 
Cadmus: “Adorable.”
 
Tiresias: “Let Granddad Tiresias tell you what boys are for!!”
 
Tiresias leaned down to them and made a ring with fingers on his right hand and with his forefinger on the left hand—
 
Cadmus: “GAH!!!! STOP!”
 
Pink: “What does that mean!?”
 
Orange: “Is that how it works!?”
 
Pink: “Is that how what works!?”
 
Cadmus: “Nothing! Nothing! Stop! Conversation over! Tiresias! That’s terrible! They’re just kids!”
 
Tiresias shrugged.
 
Tiresias: “They got to learn the birds and the bees sometime. Except bees. Kill those little bleeders. Birds are fine though. Got to learn the birds! Kids know more than you think they do.”
 
Cadmus: “Actually, I don’t think they can grow up!”
 
Tiresias stared at the spartoi.
 
Tiresias: “You poor, sad, little bastards.”
 
Pink: “What!? Why!? Is it important to be adults!? What’s so special!?”
 
Blue 1: “I don’t want to grow up.”
 
Blue 2: “If we grow up, we become like that.”
 
They pointed at Tiresias. The girls all scowled at him in disgust.
 
Tiresias: “You cheeky, little bit—”
 
Cadmus: “Don’t call them that.”
 
Tiresias: “…brats.”
 
Tiresias wagged his stick in the air.
 
Tiresias: “You know, when I was young I was a sexy sod! All the chicks wanted a go of my walking stick back then, if you know what I mean?”
 
Pink: “Was your walking stick good then? It just looks like a crappy, old stick now.”
 
Tiresias grinned wickedly.
 
Tiresias: “My stick was the envy of Thebes! The boys wished they had a stick like mine and the girls all wanted to hold it.”
 
Orange: “I think we’re not talking about the walking stick…”
 
Cadmus: “We’re not talking about any stick. If I hear another word about your stick, of any kind, I’ll cram that stick up your arse!”
 
Orange: “… is THAT how it works!!!?”
 
Cadmus: “What do you--? NO! NO! GODS NO!!!! I mean… I suppose for some boys who, you know, like… sticks… they might… no! Stop! This is not a conversation for your ears!”
 
Tiresias was laughing so hard now that tears streamed down his old face.
 
Tiresias: “I haven’t seen you show so much backbone as when you’re trying to keep them from learning life’s truths, you know? You’ll need to keep that up for later.”
 
Blue 1: “Truths! We want to know truths!”
 
Blue 2: “Truth to life!”
 
Tiresias: “I can tell you plenty of truths, kiddos! I’m bursting with truths!”
 
Cadmus: “Stick. Arse. It’s a promise not a threat.”
 
Tiresias: “Suppose I’ll have to stick to the savoury truths because of your Uncle Stick-in-the-mud over there.”
 
Cadmus: “No more sticks…. Please….”
 
Pink: “Hahaha, sticks.”
 
Orange: “You don’t even know what you’re laughing at Pink! Now I know plenty of stories about boys!”
 
Pink: “You do!?”
 
Blue 1: “Orange knows a lot of stories…”
 
Blue 2: “Stories that aren’t true!”
 
Orange pulled her orange tongue at them.
 
Orange: “They are true! You’re just jealous because I am a wonderful orator!”
 
Cadmus: “Don’t even think about it, Tiresias!”
 
Tiresias stared at Cadmus.
 
Cadmus: “I mean… don’t twist what she said into… you know…?”
 
Tiresias: “I didn’t even think of that! You filthy bastard. She’s just a girl!”
 
Cadmus: “Wha--! I mean, I didn’t—You--!”
 
Tiresias: “Come then, Orange, tell Granddad Tiresias what you’ve been doing with those naughty boys.”
 
Orange: “Well there was this one boy and his name was Dave and he had brown hair and he was from the village and his daddy was a fisherman and Dave smelled like fish every day and I thought he fancied me and we played games together and he was a ten years old and his mummy died when he was a baby and he had an older brother and his brother’s name was Steve and Steve was mean and I think he liked Red but Red hated Steve so she didn’t talk to him and Dave liked me so I played some games with him and we ate cookies from the lady down the road who I think was Dave’s auntie and his daddy cooked us fish and we played games by the river and he definitely fancied me.”
 
Tiresias: “Quite the story. What did you do when you learnt he fancied you?”
 
Orange: “I kicked him!”
 
Tiresias: “That’s a good girl! Who the bleeder who’s boss!”
 
Blue 1: “Did you kiss him!?”
 
Blue 2: “Was there kissing!?”
 
The two Blues had gotten in close and were hanging on Orange’s words with bated breath and wide eyes.
 
Pink: “Ew, gross.”
 
Orange: “No I didn’t kiss him even though he wanted to kiss me but I said no because he’s a boy and he smells like fish and kissing is for grown ups but I thought maybe I could kiss his cheek but then I saw Steve being mean to Green so I kicked him and Dave thought I liked Steve more so he ran away and cried but I didn’t like Steve I just kicked him because I hate him not because I like him but Dave didn’t know that so I didn’t see Dave again.”
 
Tiresias: “That’s the end of all the best relationships, Orange.”
 
Orange: “Yeah! I think so too!”
 
Blue 1: “How romantic!”
 
Blue 2: “But needs more kissing!”
 
Pink: “You can kiss the fish! Hahaha!”
 
Blue 1: “Ew!”
 
Blue 2: “Disgusting, Pink!”
 
Pink: “Land ho, my hearties!”
 
Cadmus: “We’ve been on land for a while now, Pink.”
 
Pink: “I mean the special land! Look, the temple!”
 
They had seen the top of the pagodas as they had come along the path but now the temple was laid out before them as them came up the slope. There was a forum first, laid out with stone benches and a platform from which someone could speak or perform. Around it were several pagodas and at the back was the temple itself, which appeared to be an extra large pagoda. There was the green-tiled roof with pillars to support it but no walls. At the centre was a roaring flame, otherwise known as the eternal flame. It was not, in fact, eternal at all but was made eternal by its attendants forever feeding it fuel to keep burning day and night for hundreds of years.
 
Statues of Apollo were set around the temple, in one he held the lyre, as the god of music, in another he stood with a raven on his shoulder, a symbol of his wrath, while another he had a halo of radiant light around his head, as a god of the sun, and finally the statue of him with a laurel upon his crown to represent the athleticism of young men. Finally the largest statue, set apart from the rest, was Apollo with a bow and an arrow poised to take a shot. On the way up the mountain, travellers had told him how Apollo claimed Mount Parnassus when he slew the largest snake-beast of the mountain, much to the ire of Hera, and made it the seat of his influence on Earth. The Oracle of Delphi was the most powerful seer in Apollo’s domain.
 
Sibyl: “What do you lot want?”
 
They were confronted by a woman with a toothbrush in her mouth and a mug of coffee in the other.
 
Sibyl: “We’re closed. Come back during opening hours.”
 
Cadmus glanced at Tiresias, who just shrugged.
 
Cadmus: “We’re here to see the Oracle of Delphi.”
 
Sibyl: “She’s busy.”
 
Cadmus: “Busy doing what?”
 
Sibyl: “Brushing her teeth.”
 
Cadmus: “Oh, I see, we’ll wait.”
 
Sibyl: “And then she’ll be busy drinking her coffee.”
 
Cadmus: “Um… we can still wait.”
 
Sibyl: “And then she’ll be busy taking a morning dump!”
 
Pink: “Ew! Gross!”
 
Cadmus: “Shouldn’t take too long…”
 
Sibyl: “And then she’ll be busy having breakfast.”
 
Cadmus: “Well… I think we can still wait…”
 
Sibyl: “And then she’ll be busy not talking to you. Can you please naff off?”
 
Cadmus: “Well, this is very important!”
 
Sibyl: “More important than watching my soap operas?”
 
Cadmus: “Yes.”
 
Sibyl: “That was a rhetorical question. Nothing is more important than my soap operas. Phil Mitchell just cheated with—okay, fine. What do you want? Make it quick!”
 
Cadmus: “My sister is missing. She was kidnapped by Zeus. I need help to get her back.”
 
Sibyl snorted.
 
Sibyl: “Usual run-of-the-mill god antics if you ask me.”
 
Cadmus: “Your gods, perhaps!”
 
Sibyl: “No need to get so personal!”
 
She yawned and stretched out her limbs.
 
Sibyl: “Why couldn’t you come at reasonable hours?”
 
Cadmus: “It’s one in the afternoon.”
 
Sibyl: “Yes, I know.”
 
She lazily padded across the forum, her bunny slippers slapping against the stones. She went in the direction of the temple and the eternal flame.
 
Cadmus: “I’ll go. Tiresias, watch the girls.”
 
Tiresias: “Why? They’re not very interesting.”
 
Orange: “Hey!”
 
Tiresias: “What? You’re just stupid kids with stupid brains.”
 
Orange: “Don’t make me kick you too, Grandpa!”
 
Tiresias: “You can try, little padawan, but I am a grand master ninja! You’ll never catch me!”
 
Pink: “Are you going with Big Booby Lady, Cadmus?”
 
Cadmus flushed.
 
Cadmus: “Well, yes. But, you know, you should call her Sibyl. That’s her name, remember?”
 
Tiresias: “Bigger the boobs, fewer the brains. Remember that, kids! Sage advice from this sage.”
 
Cadmus: “Tiresias!”
 
Pink: “Wait, does that mean I’m ultra smart!?”
 
Cadmus: “By the gods…”
 
He ran away from them to chase after Sibyl. She put her mug on one of the sacred altars, which was probably meant for something far more grandiose than acting as a coffee table. She was a plump girl, which probably helped with those big boobs that Pink admired, and clearly spent most of her time lounging around the place. She wore a long, white toga that hung loosely from the shoulders with two golden clasps. Her hair was in tight ringlets that tumbled over her shoulders and was coloured bright blonde that shone under the rays of the sun. In her hair was another clasp that pinched the strands to one side of her head.
 
She rubbed her eyes as she sat down.
 
Cadmus: “Were you up late last night?”
 
Sibyl: “No? What the hell time do you wake up?”
 
Cadmus: “Shouldn’t you know everything about me already? Aren’t you the most powerful seer?”
 
Sibyl: “What? You think I sit around watching boring people be boring all day? You don’t think I have better things to do?”
 
She tossed something into the eternal flame and a great gout of blue smoke wafted through the air. It stung Cadmus’ eyes and he winced, trying not to cough. It smelt quite nice but it burnt his throat. As he watched, Sibyl’s brown eyes suddenly warped into pools of swirling blue and her neck arched back. She was staring intently, but not at anything in the physical world. This went on for some time before she finally snapped back with an exhale.
 
Cadmus: “Did you see the future!?”
 
Sibyl: “No. I just thought I’d get stoned for a minute.”
 
Cadmus: “What!?”
 
Sibyl: “Of course I saw the future! You think I just spaz out for fun? You know it hurts, right?”
 
Cadmus: “Oh sorry. I didn’t know…”
 
He bit his lip.
 
Sibyl: “Well… you’re nicer than most of the men that come up here. Sit yourself down next to me.”
 
He sat down and she wiggled over to him. He got a little uncomfortable as she drew so close.
 
Sibyl: “Don’t worry, I already have a boyfriend.”
 
Cadmus: “Oh. I thought you had to be a virgin.”
 
Sibyl: “He doesn’t actually know he’s my boyfriend yet.”
 
Cadmus: “Oh…”
 
Sibyl: “Your situation may be far more complex than you realise. Your god, Astarte, I’m afraid is using you.”
 
Cadmus: “What?”
 
Sibyl: “You’re the focal point of a religious war. Gods can’t do anything to each other lest they start an actual battle of the gods and tear the planet asunder. Instead they battle using peons. The people.”
 
Cadmus: “So, Europa is not with Zeus?”
 
Sibyl: “Oh, yes she is. But Astarte is using that to her advantage. What are you doing?”
 
Cadmus looked up from his notebook.
 
Cadmus: “I’m writing it down! I can’t forget anything!”
 
Sibyl: “Writing? What’s writing?”
 
Cadmus: “Master seer and you don’t know writing? You put letters together to make words, look. This sentence reads ‘bastard took my sister’.”
 
Sibyl: “That’s amazing!”
 
Cadmus: “Can’t believe you don’t have writing in Greece. Even the Egyptians were surprised. Anyway, my sister?”
 
Sibyl: “Yes. Technically the gods cannot interfere with you and your quest directly. This means you can do what Astarte cannot. Spread her religion.”
 
Cadmus: “So she really is using me… but she also is helping me get my sister back, yes!?”
 
Sibyl: “Yes. She is. But you should know her motivations aren’t pure. Like when a rich man gives money to some beggars, he will not do it from the goodness of his heart but because it makes him look good or because he wants to do good deeds to get access to a better afterlife.”
 
Cadmus: “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter why she does it. Just so long as I can get my sister back.”
 
Sibyl: “It may take a long time. To get to her, you will essentially go to war with the entire island of Crete.”
 
Cadmus: “Well, I have enough weapons!!!”
 
He brandished a magical wand he had bought when he arrived in Greece. He accidentally fired it and set fire to a tree.
 
Sibyl: “Not that I don’t admire your tenacity, but you can’t do it alone. You need the power of an army. And to get that army, you need money. To get that money, you need a commercial empire.”
 
Cadmus: “Damn…”
 
He deflated.
 
Cadmus: “So it really is impossible…”
 
Sibyl: “Why would you say that?”
 
Cadmus held back his tears of desperation. He had tried so hard and travelled so far only to be told he needed to be a wealthy king of land, riches and men to save his kidnapped sister.
 
Cadmus: “I’m just a farmer, Sibyl. I’m… no one special. I just… I really wanted to do it. I thought if I got weapons I could do it. Then Astarte offered to help and I thought I couldn’t fail. I have a magic boat, I have magic…”
 
He worried how to put it.
 
Cadmus: “Magic girls? I even have an old auger to help me see the future. And then I came to meet you, the best seer of the future and someone who would tell me exactly how to get her back and… now you tell me the means are beyond me. It’s just… it’s just not fair!”
 
He wiped his eyes and Sibyl leaned over to give him a hug. She patted his back.
 
Sibyl: “I didn’t say it was beyond your means, did I?”
 
Cadmus perked up.
 
Cadmus: “It’s not?”
 
Sibyl: “You said it yourself, I’m the best seer of them all. I see all the paths. And I know the best path that will lead to your success. Astarte saw it too. Even Tiresias has seen it, not that he’d tell you.”
 
Cadmus: “Damn Tiresias.”
 
Sibyl: “One thing we have all said and it has been true. You cannot do it alone.”
 
Cadmus: “So, what is next?”
 
Sibyl tapped her chin.
 
Sibyl: “The best thing to do is to get help from someone willing to defy every god under the sun. Someone who has zero fear and zero respect for any single one of them.”
 
Cadmus spluttered in shock and horror.
 
Cadmus: “It cannot be! Someone who doesn’t worship any deity at all? Inconceivable!”
 
Sibyl: “Actually, he’s a good friend of mine! And he has friends who could help you too. Including gods.”
 
Cadmus: “How can he have friends as gods and not worship them?”
 
Sibyl: “He says just because you have superpowers doesn’t give you the right to worship.”
 
Cadmus: “I guess that makes sense.”
 
Sibyl: “Careful. The gods can’t smite him, but they can smite you!”
 
Cadmus: “Oh…”
 
Sibyl: “Speaking of which…”
 
She hopped to her feet and stretched her legs.
 
Sibyl: “We are about to see a good old-fashioned smiting this very moment.”
 
Cadmus leapt to his own feet.
 
Cadmus: “What!? Is something going to happen!?”
 
Sibyl beckoned him and she went out of the temple and back to the forum where the spartoi were shouting at Tiresias.
 
Tiresias: “What’re you talking about? They’re dangerous!”
 
Pink: “You can just push it away!”
 
Tiresias: “They’re nasty blighters! They eat my precious birds, you know!?”
 
Blue 1: “They could be poisonous…”
 
Blue 2: “You mean venomous.”
 
Blue 1: “If I said it wrong, that means you also were thinking it wrong!”
 
Blue 2: “But I corrected our thinking! So I am right.”
 
Blue 1: “Damn you, Blue!”
 
Blue 2: “Damn me, damn you too!”
 
Tiresias whacked a snake with his stick.
 
Pink: “But there’s baby ones!”
 
Tiresias: “Baby snakes become mummy and daddy snakes and they eat birds, bite people and have more baby snakes to eat people and bite birds… wait, I got that the wrong way round. See what you’re doing to me, pipsqueak?”
 
He smacked another snake so that it went flying off the mountaintop.
 
Cadmus shook his head.
 
Cadmus: “You really shouldn’t kill so many animals…”
 
Tiresias: “Bugger them! What did any animal ever do for me!? Only the birds are good.”
 
Cadmus: “You ate that steak well enough earlier.”
 
Tiresias: “Exactly. Dead animals are better animals. Especially damn snakes.”
 
He smacked another snake and its little body went flying out and fell into the eternal flame with a crackle.
 
Tiresias: “Wow. I should turn this into a sport! We could have snake-whacking competitions!”
 
Pink: “You’re so mean!”
 
Tiresias: “You’re so short!”
 
Pink paused as she thought about that.
 
Pink: “So?”
 
Tiresias: “Exactly! That’s my answer too!”
 
Pink: “You’re not my grandpa anymore!”
 
Tiresias: “That’s a shame. I was going to tell you a story for bedtime.”
 
Pink: “Really!?”
 
Tiresias: “Bedtime story or snakes?”
 
The girls all looked at each other in sudden panic. Tiresias wagged his stick from side-to-side.
 
Tiresias: “Tick tock.”
 
Sibyl: “Clocks aren’t invented yet.”
 
Tiresias: “What? Oh. Time’s a-wasting!”
 
Blue 1: “Who cares about stupid snakes! We want a story!”
 
Pink: “But-but-! It’s mean!”
 
Orange turned defiantly to Tiresias.
 
Orange: “No! You can’t kill snakes or any other innocent animals!”
 
Tiresias drummed his fingers against the staff as he leant upon it.
 
Sibyl: “Here we go…”
 
Cadmus: “What?”
 
Tiresias: “Sorry! No deal! Die, you damned monster!”
 
He wound up the stick. Then the snakes all slithered out of the bushes together, like an army. Tiresias paused in shock of the freakish behaviour. He considered his action. He the bile and loathing for the horrible creatures of the world couldn’t stay his hand. He brought the stick down.
 
It struck.
 
A leg.
 
Hera: “Since entering my domain, you have slaughtered and butchered many of my beloved creatures…”
 
Tiresias: “Oh bugger…”
 
Tiresias was raised off the ground and hung limply in the air. He was slowly pushed back as Hera advanced on him, ever closer to the edge of the mountain.
 
Hera: “Thousands of lives, thousands of lineages, have just been extinguished for no other reason than they were unfortunate enough to be in your vicinity. The lives of snakes, foxes, rabbits, flies, bees, beetles and even snakes may not seem to be important to you, but they have just as much right to an existence as you do.”
 
She thrust him back and he dangled above the abyss.
 
Cadmus leapt towards the Greek God. She was tall and graceful with the kind of beauty that most people could only attain with makeup and grooming. But the fury in her eyes was cold and certain.
 
Cadmus: “Wait, wait, wait! Please don’t kill him! We’re here with information you might appreciate, actually!”
 
Her eyes flickered towards Cadmus and his silly green pyjamas.
 
Hera: “I doubt that.”
 
Cadmus: “Your husband has taken my sister!”
 
Her face turned harder still but she closed her eyes.
 
Suddenly Tiresias was thrown to the ground, alive and scrambling, but she had turned with a horrible fury on Cadmus. In an instant he could no longer see the world around them. Instead he saw burning flames of green like he was trapped inside a firestorm and the visage of Hera was before him like a monstrous snake-eyed beast. Her figure was human but not human and he could feel her rage inside him and it struck cold dread into his stomach.
 
It lasted just a few seconds.
 
He dropped to the floor like a ragdoll.
 
Hera: “I’m sorry. Not your fault…”
 
She leaned down and wrapped her hands around him helpfully to get him to his feet. Suddenly she appeared as all warmth and grace and motherliness that one would expect from the mother and queen of a pantheon. He liked this Hera much more than the primal rage he had witnessed a moment ago.
 
He glanced over to Tiresias. He had clearly seen it too as he now also stared at her with wide, uncertain eyes.
 
She patted Cadmus.
 
Hera: “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I shall look into it.”
 
Cadmus bowed his head low.
 
Cadmus: “Thank you, Hera. That is most gracious of you. I apologise for my friend. He’s very spiteful.”
 
Hera: “Ah yes. I had forgotten about that.”
 
Tiresias: “Damn you, Cadmus.”
 
Cadmus: “Oops.”
 
Tiresias was then dragged across the forum by an invisible force and thrown at the feet of Hera.
 
Hera: “Apologise.”
 
Tiresias: “Um… sorry?”
 
Pink: “Please don’t hurt him, Mrs Queen Lady.”
 
Pink ran over to them and quickly the other spartoi joined her. Hera looked at the girls who were all asking that she spare a human that she considered a reprehensible wretch. These children could somehow see the good in him and so she would have to give this man another chance.
 
Hera: “You cannot go without punishment for your vile crimes in my domain but I will not slay you.”
 
Orange: “Thank you Mrs Queen Lady!”
 
Pink: “Yes! Thank you!”
 
Hera: “I could turn you into a shit-eating fly though…”
 
She looked at the spartoi.
 
Hera: “Pardon my French.”
 
Orange shrugged.
 
Orange: “We hear way worse from Red all the time.”
 
Hera: “Then you’d learn what it is you never consider – the life of another.”
 
Cadmus: “But we need him as a human. Could you not just… give him a big nose or something?”
 
Sibyl: “He’d probably look better then!”
 
Hera: “The punishment needs to teach, Cadmus. You need to know what it is to be someone else. To experience life not your own.”
 
Tiresias: “You want to turn me into someone else? That’s not bad. Make me young and handsome!”
 
Hera smiled and though it was outwardly pleasant, there was a sarcasm deep within it.
 
Hera: “Oh certainly. I know your heart, Tiresias. You shall certainly be made young and very handsome.”
 
Tiresias: “I should get punished more often!”
 
Orange: “Does this mean you’ll make him as young as us!?”
 
Tiresias: “To be a boy again! That would be a fine thing!”
 
He grinned but he finally saw the mischief behind Hera’s smile.
 
Tiresias: “I suddenly feel very afraid. You’re going to do something I won’t like, aren’t you?”
 
Still smiling;
 
Hera: “Absolutely.”
 
She snapped her fingers in his direction and there was a poof of smoke and a cry of anguish. In the place of Tiresias was now a young and handsome person. Cadmus estimated the age to be around eighteen.
 
Cadmus: “He’s not going to like this.”
 
Tiresias: “What? What did she do to me? Wait! My voice! It’s all… squeaky! She turned me into a chipmunk!”
 
Cadmus: “Not quite.”
 
Tiresias: “Wait! I feel funny. I—”
 
Tiresias looked down.
 
Tiresias: “I’ve got… TITS! I’M A WOMAN!? No! Please! Turn me back into a man!”
 
The girls were all laughing.
 
Pink: “Now you’re Big Booby Lady too!”
 
Blue 1: “Not Grandpa now!”
 
Blue 2: “Now he’s Big Sister!”
 
Tiresias: “This… this is just shameful! You turned me into a weak, silly little girl? No one will ever take me seriously now! Who will listen to a woman who talks of strategy and war and literature and… this can’t be!”
 
Sibyl: “Welcome to the club, doofus!”
 
Tiresias: “I’m a genius! I’m a scientist! I’m a mathematician! I can’t be a woman!”
 
Hera: “But you are. Welcome to your new life. Your second chance. Feel what it is to be some else. Someone with less societal privilege than yourself. And perhaps you will learn empathy.”
 
She then vanished, as though she was never there. The girls gathered around their new ‘sister’.
 
Orange: “Are they heavy?”
 
Pink: “They’re almost big as the oracle’s.”
 
Orange: “Big Sister is still skinny though. Her hair is so pretty.”
 
Blue 1: “So your hair was always black? I thought you were born with white hair.”
 
Blue 2: “Even her skin is nice now. It isn’t all ugly and broken.”
 
Tiresias: “My life is over…”
 
Cadmus: “It’s not that bad.”
 
Tiresias: “I feel funny.”
 
Cadmus: “I suppose it’ll take some getting used to…”
 
Tiresias: “No, I mean my stomach. It hurts. It… oh… I think… I think I’m leaking…”
 
Sibyl: “Welcome to womanhood!”
 
Sibyl wrapped her arm around the shoulders of her new female brethren.
 
Tiresias: “I want to cry now.”
 
Sibyl: “Yeah. You’re going to feel emotional for a week or so. Ice cream is a fine cure. There’s an underground cavern where we bury the dead and store cold stuff. What flavour do you like?”
 
Orange: “What’s ice cream?”
 
Sibyl: “Something a friend taught me. You’ll meet him soon.”

Britt: “But my statues were great! Do you know how difficult it is to convince a bandit to pose?”
 
The hole where Medusa’s old Gorgon head was placed was then filled in. Only Britt was crying, though for all the wrong reasons.
 
Britt: “Now how can I make such brilliant statues for my buildings?”
 
Two of the Gorgon Sisters were present but Medusa herself didn’t want to watch the burial of her own head. The new Kingdom of Mycenae was coming along nicely, with new buildings being constructed and the fields were brimming with plants and animals. The former people of Ethiopia that migrated with their queen, Andromeda, to Greece were frequently mixing with the white Greek people that migrated to the new, grand city from other city-states such as Athens and the nearer Sparta.
 
Stheno: “Well, at least that part of Medusa can now rest in peace.”
 
Britt: “You know she didn’t mind me using it, right? Why are you taking my toys from me?”
 
Stheno: “You should learn respect for the dead!”
 
Britt: “I do! Doesn’t mean I need to respect their severed heads. Besides, she’s not even dead!”
 
Stheno: “You’re intolerable.”
 
Euryale turned her weary head to roll her eyes at them both.
 
Euryale: “You’re like an old, married couple. You should just make out and get it over with, you’ll feel better.”
 
Britt and Stheno turned their surprised heads to look at each other in consideration. They both shook themselves free of the idea after a second with an affirmative, and mutual, ‘no way’.
 
Euryale: “Then can you both please stop bickering? At least if you were married, I could look forward to having nieces or nephews. Instead, you’re just annoying with no payoff.”
 
Stheno: “What about you!? You spend all your time with Britt! You marry him!”
 
Euryale: “He said no.”
 
Stheno: “Whoa, wait, what? When did this happen?”
 
Britt: “She just wants me for my insider-knowledge. You shouldn’t be so shallow.”
 
Euryale: “It’d be easier to write my theses if you were around all the time.”
 
Stheno: “You do know a marriage includes things like sharing, caring and sex?”
 
Euryale: “I can do those things.”
 
Britt: “And love, you forget that part?”
 
The two women burst out laughing.
 
Stheno: “How old are you? Like twelve? Jesus.”
 
Britt: “Cold. Sure you’re still not monsters?”
 
Euryale: “You know, I do still sometimes get the urge to eat people again…”
 
She glared at Britt, who shuffled away.
 
Stheno: “She’s lying. We never ate anyone. Though there might have been some nibbling here and there.”
 
Britt: “Comforting.”
 
Euryale: “So, do you have time? I want to continue writing about Apollo.”
 
Stheno: “I really hate this new hobby of yours.”
 
Euryale: “It is no hobby! This is a great undertaking! My magnum opus! People will study my guide to the gods for generations.”
 
Britt chuckled.
 
Britt: “Until they stop worshipping the old gods.”
 
Euryale: “What?”
 
Britt: “Uh, nothing.”
 
Stheno: “Leave it to the priests, Euryale!”
 
Euryale: “But they lie! They spin everything to fit their agenda! I want to tell the cold, hard truth. The facts. My book isn’t a religious text, it’s a history text!”
 
Stheno: “You know nobody even knows what writing is? Nobody can understand those squiggles you’re using. Who is going to appreciate it?”
 
Britt: “You could use hieroglyphics?”
 
Euryale: “What? Here is a sun and here is a cow and this crappy drawing is a god. What are people supposed to really understand from that? Where’s the analysis? Where’s the speculative questions about the nature of the god and their place in our society? Where’s the deep, long, history of them? All you can figure out is there is a god, there is a sun and that’s one fat cow. Genius.”
 
Britt: “That’s a bit negative, don’t you think? Egyptians manage.”
 
Euryale: “You taught me writing!”
 
Britt: “Yes I did. I know. It’s great, it is! But if you really want people to understand you, you have to know your audience. Most civilised people can understand pictures. So you should probably write for them.”
 
Euryale: “I won’t compromise my art!”
 
Stheno: “I thought it was history?”
 
Euryale: “Writing history can be art!”
 
Britt: “Well, who knows? Writing will come along at some point. Hopefully sooner rather than later.”
 
Stheno: “Like it’s inevitable that people will start writing? Please. It’s a complete waste of time. Only nerds like Euryale will ever bother.”
 
Euryale: “It’s we nerds who will shape the future, Stheno!”
 
Cadmus: “Finally!”
 
Stheno: “Jesus Christ!!”
 
The three of them spun on the spot to see a man stood there. He was wearing an odd looking, green tunic and a silly hat. He was also adorned with hundreds of weapons.
 
Cadmus: “Someone that can write! You know, I’ve been surrounded by so many who can’t write? I’ve had to teach everyone around me to read, just so they can understand the post-it notes I leave around my ship. ‘Do the dishes’, ‘put the toilet seat down’, ‘tidy your bed’ and all that. Half the time they claim they’ve forgotten how to read but I know they’re just coming up with an excuse not to do their chores.”
 
Britt: “Riiiiiiiiight, well I smell narrative so I’m going to leave now.”
 
As he turned Cadmus quickly stepped in front of him.
 
Cadmus: “Aren’t you Britt?”
 
Britt: “I should really steal that Helm of Invisibility from Perseus.”
 
Cadmus: “I was sent to find you. Sibyl, the Oracle of Delphi, said you could help me. Would you come with me, back to Delphi?”
 
Britt: “Not in a million years. Actually, scratch that, a million years might actually pass for me. So no, no ever.”
 
Cadmus: “But… but…”
 
Britt: “Look. The last time she sent someone to find me for some urgent quest, I showed up and she just wanted me to make her more strawberry ice cream. I’m not falling for it again. I told her, she’s eating too much of the stuff. Honestly, this is 1270BC. Who the hell is fat at this time?”
 
Euryale: “What’s BC?”
 
Britt: “Banana Crème. It’s an ancient dating system from Atlantis because dates were invented by the guy that invented Banana Crème Oreos. True fact.”
 
Both Cadmus and Euryale were scribbling on notebooks. When they both looked up to see each other doing the same, they became embarrassed.
 
Britt: “Oh look. Love at first words. Bye now!”
 
He marched away.
 
Cadmus chased him.
 
Britt: “What? Dude! Go away! I’m not going with you!”
 
Cadmus: “But you have to!”
 
Britt: “This is harassment!”
 
Cadmus: “Please! My sister is in danger!”
 
Britt slowed. Partly because he couldn’t ignore such a line, but also because he was already out of breath after just a few metres. He grabbed his side and whined from the stitch.
 
Cadmus: “Really? I have dozens of weapons on me and I’m not tied.”
 
Britt: “Don’t judge me!”
 
The two women were strolling over, gossiping, while Cadmus drew a breath and began his tale.
 
Cadmus: “My sister was taken by Zeus and has her captive on the isle of Crete. In order to get there I will need resources to attack the entire Cretan nation. Sibyl explained I would need the help of one who does not fear or even respect the gods. And that’s you.”
 
Britt: “Zeus took your sister?”
 
Cadmus: “Yes. Her name is Europa. My name is Cadmus, by the way. My ship is The Wind Waker.”
 
Britt: “Strange.”
 
Cadmus: “Yes, I didn’t name is.”
 
Britt: “I didn’t mean that. If you really want my advice, Cadmus, it is this. Do more research.”
 
Cadmus: “You mean like reconnaissance?”
 
Britt: “Let’s begin there, sure.”
 
Cadmus: “So you will help me?”
 
Britt: “Huh? No! I didn’t agree to that!”
 
Cadmus: “You said ‘let’s’!”
 
Britt: “But… that was just… oh bloody hell. Why can’t I just be left alone? It’s like the Multiverse is out to annoy me.”
 
Cadmus: “Multiverse?”
 
Britt: “Like, many universes.”
 
Cadmus: “Universe?”
 
Britt: “Nevermind. If you really want to look at Crete, you could recruit Medusa.”
 
Stheno: “You want to get our sister into trouble?”
 
The two women had reached the two men. They weren’t far from the main city of Mycenae as the graveyard was nearby so people could visit their ancestors. Two bandit statues stood to mark the entrance to the gravesite. Britt had somehow convinced them to look sad before he turned the poor sods to stone, making very apt and realistic statues. They were painted, as was typical for all Greek statues, in bright colours. Britt hadn’t been very impressed with the brightness of the colours, but the choice had been made without him. So despite looking sombre and upset in mood, in tone they looked like flamboyant rainbows.
 
Britt: “You talk like your sister is some delicate little petal. I watched her bash some dude’s head in with her hooves a few months ago. She’s been running on adventures ever since we defeated Poseidon’s Cetus ten years ago. I think she can handle a little reconnaissance.”
 
Cadmus: “Did you say hooves?”
 
Euryale: “She’s a Pegasus.”
 
Stheno: “A flying horse.”
 
Cadmus looked at the two women.
 
Cadmus: “Sister?”
 
 
Cadmus reached the Temple of Apollo on Mount Parnassus to find Sibyl, Tiresias, Euryale, Stheno and Britt lounging around on futons as they gossiped and drank wine. Medusa was lapping wine from a bowl on the table.
 
Tiresias: “So she said, “call a cab, I’m going home!’”
 
They all started laughing at this outrageously funny joke that Cadmus was unable to appreciate as he panted before them. Finally they noticed his arrival.
 
Sibyl: “Cadmus! About time!”
 
Cadmus: “Well, you did leave me to make the long trip back here…”
 
Medusa: “Yeah, sorry about that. I couldn’t carry all of you.”
 
Britt: “Hope you had a safe trip!? Only took you, what, a month?”
 
Cadmus: “I got kidnapped by pirates, sold as a slave in Sparta, made to peel olives for some rich merchant and had to escape in a wine barrel floating down the river.”
 
There was a long pause.
 
Britt: “Nothing too bad then!”
 
Cadmus looked like he might cry.
 
Stheno: “Why not have some wine? Take a load off!”
 
Britt: “Speaking of load, where are those weapons? Couldn’t you fight off the pirates? Didn’t I see you with a bloody uzi?”
 
Cadmus: “I couldn’t figure out how to work it. I tried to use a spear, a sword and I even tried to shoot arrows at them…”
 
His head fell.
 
Cadmus: “I’m not much of a fighter…”
 
He wiped his eye.
 
Cadmus: “They took all my weapons from me. Even my blowgun!”
 
Euryale: “You shouldn’t have all those weapons anyway, Cadmus. You have a great mind! You should use that as your weapon instead!”
 
Stheno: “She’s chatting him up already.”
 
Euryale: “I’m being nice!”
 
She flicked her blonde hair in irritation.
 
Euryale: “Can’t I be nice?”
 
Stheno: “I’m sure you’ll be very nice to Cadmus…”
 
Medusa: “Hey, I’m all for it, Euryale. You go get your man.”
 
Cadmus wearily sat down on the end of a futon and, with shaking hands, managed to get a cup of wine and gulped it down. All of it.
 
Britt: “Wow.”
 
Sibyl: “You’re going to get drunk. And I don’t need to see the future to know that.”
 
Tiresias: “Well now that he’s back, I suppose we should get down to business. I know you want to go and check out Crete, but I think first we need to start up the plans for our conquest. Talking to Britt and Medusa, I think we can use the model of Perseus and Andromeda to start our empire!”
 
Britt: “You want Cadmus to get married?”
 
Tiresias: “I meant we should start a city. That’s how Greece operates. City-states. Athens, Sparta, Lesbos—”
 
Stheno snorts.
 
Tiresias: “They’re powerful city-states. That’s where power comes from in these parts. If you want to challenge Crete, you need a city full of money and people.”
 
Stheno: “How will you get people to come? You can’t just kidnap them and force them to live in your crappy hamlet.”
 
Tiresias: “Every great city needs a founding story. If people think your city is some divine, blessed land that is favoured by the gods then they will come to seek their fortune.”
 
Britt: “This girl’s pretty smart!”
 
Tiresias: “I’m not a girl!”
 
Britt: “Sorry. Woman. You just look quite young.”
 
Tiresias: “I’m a man!”
 
Britt looked from Tiresias down to his cup of wine and back again.
 
Britt: “I’m drunk, but not that drunk.”
 
Tiresias: “I was turned into a woman by Hera. I’m a man trapped inside a woman’s body.”
 
Britt laughed.
 
Britt: “Rather you than me!”
 
Sibyl smirked evilly at Britt.
 
Sibyl: “Careful not to dismiss others’ misfortune because you never know…”
 
Britt: “Of all the things that could happen to me, I don’t think becoming a woman is high on that list.”
 
Euryale: “You’d make a terrible woman.”
 
Stheno: “You’d be a hideously ugly woman.”
 
Britt: “You know, not everyone can be born as beautiful as you!”
 
Stheno cocked her head and brushed her blonde hair from her cheeks.
 
Stheno: “You think I’m beautiful?”
 
Britt rolled his eyes.
 
Britt: “I thought the talking horse was supposed to be the vain one?”
 
Medusa: “I’m a pegasus! I’m more awesome than a horse!”
 
Britt: “Yep. Vain.”
 
Stheno: “Everyone likes to be called beautiful by someone they like, Britt.”
 
Euryale: “Ho ho, you like Britt do you?”
 
Stheno: “That’s not what I meant! Shut up you!”
 
Medusa: “You’re all acting like children! Euryale just snog Cadmus and get married. Stheno just… actually no don’t. I hate Britt.”
 
Britt: “You’re just upset because no man will have you now that you’re a horse.”
 
Medusa: “I am upset, yes! And I have to fight off the stallions!”
 
There was a lot of chuckling at Medusa’s expense.
 
Cadmus: “But what about this city-state I’m supposed to create? This divine founding story? Are we supposed to just lie? I don’t think I want to do that.”
 
Sibyl: “No need to lie. I will tell you how you will found the city and it will be genuinely mystical and get people interested.”
 
Cadmus: “Okay, that sounds interesting. How?”
 
Sibyl jerked her thumb at Medusa.
 
Sibyl: “Medusa will decide where to found it.”
 
Medusa: “I will?”
 
Cadmus: “That’s it?”
 
Sibyl: “She’s a talking horse.”
 
Cadmus: “… and that’s enough?”
 
Sibyl: “She starts walking and when she stops, there you found your city.”
 
Medusa took a few steps and then stopped.
 
Medusa: “Done. That was easy. Call the press!”
 
Sibyl: “Stop as in stop when you can’t keep going anymore.”
 
Cadmus: “That seems a bit cruel.”
 
Medusa: “Yeah! What’re you trying to do to me!? Don’t you know I keep these hooves in pristine shape?”
 
Sibyl: “That’s the origin story for your city-state! Take it or leave it.”
 
Britt: “Can he leave it?”
 
Sibyl: “Fate isn’t actually fate, you know? Not in the sense people say fate. It’s more like there are a series of probabilities and possibilities and from them we find a path. Usually it’s firm because we all behave in predictable ways. A selfish person can be counted on to act selfishly, for example, ergo the path is clear. But when that person is told of their path, then they may choose not to take that path and we end up with one of the less clear paths that were possible. But be aware, if you choose something different based on your knowledge of the future, then you’ll actually change the entire course of fate for everything on this planet and possible the galaxy and maybe even beyond.”
 
Britt: “One guy decides to make his city somewhere else and the entire universe is changed?”
 
Sibyl: “You know time doesn’t just stop when we die, right? You should know that best of all. What one person does now, here, changes the future. If, for example, Euryale has a child—”
 
Euryale: “Wow, why me?”
 
Sibyl: “Just an example. If you have a child, that child has children and those children have children and those children have children. It ripples on and on and on. One day humanity goes to the stars, but how do they get there and who goes there? Perhaps some of them are the long distant descendants of Euryale here. They don’t know their ancestry this far back, but it happened. Now, what if she chooses to have no children based on this knowledge? Entire generations of people would be wiped from existence. The future completely changed. And before you suppose that her descendants may never amount to much, consider that every small task done adds to the greater weave of fate. One descendant is a murderer, for example.”
 
Euryale: “Jesus, come on…”
 
Sibyl: “He kills someone else. If that someone else lived, they or their children or their children’s children may have written a popular book that inspired others to do something great. One act by one person changes the events of everyone else’s lives. Consider teachers. An individual teacher shapes hundreds of children in both personality and ambition. One of Euryale’s descendants is a teacher that inspires someone else to do something. Even the blacksmith. He makes a batch of arrows. Those arrows are used by a hunter to get food for a town. The town survives because that blacksmith made arrows. If he didn’t make those arrows, the hunter doesn’t get the food and people die and change the future. Think of it all like dominoes. Fate will have to make major course corrections even for the smallest thing. Usually it’s kind of like a flowing river, making small adjustments thanks to fate following, like water, the path of least resistance – the paths with the highest probabilities. But when you deliberately force a low probability outcome, fate has to make some major course corrections and the knock-on effect is huge – right down the river.”
 
Britt: “Great. Well that was a long, pointless spiel because we’re just going to do what you said to do in the first place.”
 
Medusa: “We are? Not sure I want to!”
 
Britt: “Look, you walk around a bit. When you get tired and can’t keep walking you sit down and we build a tent around your fat, white arse. It’ll be uncomfortable for a bit, just get over it. I don’t have any other ideas and I don’t fancy Chronos coming down here and complaining at me because we changed time.”
 
Euryale: “Chronos?”
 
Britt: “Keeper of time on Earth. Hell we might even get some gods of fate down here to bitch at us too. So, let’s just keep things easy for all of us and do some walking. Okay?”
 
Medusa: “It’s me whose got to do the bloody walking!”
 
Stheno: “We’ll be right there with you!”
 
 
Later, Medusa was slowly trotting along the riverside. Her hooves were getting sore and her legs were aching. Her head was drowsy and her strength was depleting. They’d been walking almost all day.
 
Cadmus: “Don’t stop yet, there’s got to be somewhere better than this just further down! We need to make sure there’s plenty of arable land and trees for wood! At least that’s what Tiresias said before he went to sleep…”
 
Stheno: “Keep it up, sis! You can do it!”
 
Red: “Oi! You dozy, blonde cunt! Get away from the edge of the ship or you’ll fall in! I won’t stop for you, you’ll be left to drown!”
 
Stheno: “You are the most uncouth little monster I’ve ever met.”
 
Red: “I’ll take that as a compliment. Now move that fat ass.”
 
Stheno: “Fat!!!? My—bottom is not fat!”
 
Britt: “It’s a bit big.”
 
Stheno: “What!?”
 
Britt: “That’s not a bad thing, you know? Lots of guys like that!”
 
Stheno: “I hate you.”
 
Red: “Who doesn’t!? Look at that stupid haircut. Like a fucking bowl on his head.”
 
Britt: “This is classic Roman style!”
 
Sibyl: “You know there is no Rome yet? Not really?”
 
Britt: “There’s a very nice village there, I’ll have you know.”
 
Sibyl: “You think they have bowl cuts?”
 
Britt: “No. Not yet.”
 
Sibyl: “Well then.”
 
Britt: “I’m just ahead of my time, okay? I am the trendsetter! Bowl cuts for the win!”
 
Red: “I’m going to bite your balls off if you carry on.”
 
Britt: “I am not ashamed to admit that this brat scares the crap out of me.”
 
Stheno: “I think she scares everyone.”
 
Euryale: “Except Tiresias.”
 
Yellow: “Big Sister Tie like to sleep a lot whenever she’s on the ship.”
 
Cadmus: “He’s very smart. Instead of enduring all the fighting, he just sleeps through it all until we hit land.”
 
Blue 1: “You trying to say you don’t enjoy our company?”
 
Blue 2: “Mr Cadmus hates us…”
 
Cadmus: “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying. … not exactly.”
 
Green: “I’m getting tired just watching the poor horsie…”
 
Medusa: “When you said you’d be with me, I thought you’d be out here with me. Not riding along in a fricking boat!”
 
Violet: “It’s a ship! Not a boat!”
 
Medusa: “I just got called a horsie so I’ll call that whatever I bloody well please.”
 
Red: “We should stick a firecracker up the horse’s ass to get her moving faster.”
 
Green: “That might hurt her butt though.”
 
Yellow: “Haha, butt.”
 
Green: “Hahaha, butt.”
 
Red: “You pair of stupid, Minion-fucking morons. I’m going to shove your heads up her ass!”
 
Britt: “It’s like poetry. Incredibly obscene and abrasive poetry.”
 
Red: “You got something you want to say to me, bowl-fucker?”
 
Britt: “So because I have a bowl cut, that means I want to have sex with bowls?”
 
Red: “Yes, bowl-fucker, it does.”
 
Stheno: “Just ignore her.”
 
Red: “Yeah, listen to the fat ass. Ignore me, bowl-fucker.”
 
Stheno: “You little--!”
 
Medusa: “Okay, okay… that’s it… I can’t go on…”
 
Cadmus: “She’s finally too tired to go on!”
 
Medusa: “Actually, it’s the headache you lot are giving me…”
 
She finally slumped down to her knees.
 
Tiresias: “This is a fine spot!”
 
Cadmus: “Whoa!”
 
Tiresias had suddenly woken up and leapt to her feet. She was admiring the landscape.
 
Britt: “Conveniently awake now, huh?”
 
Tiresias hopped over the edge of The Wind Waker and landed in the river. She swam out towards Medusa.
 
Cadmus: “I’m surprised he cares so much about Medusa…”
 
Tiresias reached the shore and walked straight past the fallen Pegasus.
 
Cadmus: “Or not.”
 
Britt: “Lower the gangplank so we can get to Medusa.”
 
The spartoi were instantly in action. The ship got closer to the shore and the gangplank was dropped for everyone to disembark. Tiresias, still soaking wet, was stalking along the woodland edge and looking at hills and poking rocks.
 
Euryale: “Well, at least she’s thorough. I’m sure we’ll get a nice place built in no time. We have a master builder, that’s you Britt—”
 
Britt: “I know. I’m Britt the Builder for a reason. I just hope the building stays up this time…”

Euryale: “The genius strategist in Tiresias. The writing skills of myself, the future-sight of Sibyl, the determination of Cadmus and the…”
 
She looked at her sister.
 
Euryale: “And Stheno is here.”
 
Stheno turned on her sister with dark eyes.
 
Stheno: “Are you trying to imply I’m useless?”
 
Britt: “Moral support?”
 
Euryale: “She wants to give you moral support…”
 
Stheno: “Don’t start that again!”
 
Cadmus: “You two are almost as bad as the children. Can we try not bickering? Please? Let’s be friends, eh?”
 
Britt: “It’s okay. When you and Euryale write all this down, you can leave out all the whinging and arguing.”
 
Red: “Hurry up, you stupid motherfuckers!”
 
Britt: “And the swearing. Leave that out too.”

A large workforce was contracted to work on the first buildings of the new city and even the spartoi were set to work carrying small things from point to point. Red, however, was soon tasked with guarding The Wind Waker after her outbursts disrupted and even halted construction many times by making grown men cry.
 
Several weeks in, after the first few buildings were built, Cadmus was stood watching a new building being erected with Britt and Tiresias.
 
Cadmus: “We have several houses for the workers now, the temple to Astarte and a library so people can read and write but what is this one?”
 
Britt sighed.
 
Britt: “The ice cream parlour.”
 
Cadmus: “Uh, what?”
 
Britt: “Sibyl claimed it was fate that the ice cream parlour be built early. She then went on with the speech about changing the fate of the future if we didn’t so I thought, bugger it, and gave in.”
 
Cadmus: “Ooooooookay.”
 
Tiresias: “It is hot weather… so maybe the ice cream parlour will keep us all working for longer! I love me some sweeties! They better have lemon sherbet flavour!”
 
Britt: “What’re you going to call this city, by the way?”
 
Cadmus: “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. We’ll have to come up with something really good. Catchy. But maybe also a little profound sounding. Easy to say but still with a flare for the ostentatious.”
 
They fell into quiet consideration, running through names in their heads.
 
Tiresias: “Thebes!”
 
Cadmus: “What?”
 
Tiresias: “Call it Thebes! Or New Thebes!”
 
Cadmus: “That’s the name of your hometown in Egypt!”
 
Tiresias: “Think of it. It’s highly marketable! Name your city after a very important city elsewhere and you get all that prestige for your own city! Imagine if you built a city in, say, Gaul and named it Athens. People would think of it as Athens part two!”
 
Britt: “Or people will think we’re just too lazy to make up our own name.”
 
Tiresias: “It works for the U.S.A., all their names are copied from other countries!”
 
Cadmus: “What’s Yew-ess-eh?”
 
Britt: “Never you mind. And how do you know about the U.S.A.? No way your augers show that far into the future!”
 
Tiresias: “Sibyl watches lots of romantic comedies from the future.”
 
Cadmus: “You know, I think it could work! New Thebes. All the grandeur, the prosperity—”
 
Britt: “The crime.”
 
Cadmus: “Of the original Thebes, right here in Greece.”
 
Tiresias: “Now we just need the crowning ceremony!”
 
Cadmus: “The what?”
 
Tiresias: “To make you king.”
 
Cadmus: “Are you being serious? Me as the king?”
 
Britt: “It is you who founded the city.”
 
Cadmus: “But I can’t be king! I’m just a farm boy! Maybe you should be king!”
 
Britt laughed, almost to the point of tears.
 
Britt: “Oh, you weren’t joking? Dude, I get harassed by the world’s problems even when I’m trying to avoid them. I’m not willing to take on a city-full of others’ problems.”
 
Cadmus looked to Tiresias.
 
Tiresias: “I’m a woman.”
 
Cadmus: “So!?”
 
Tiresias: “Nobody would take me seriously.”
 
Britt: “That’s sexist.”
 
Tiresias: “I know. The classical period sucks for women.”
 
Britt: “How do you even know what the classical period is? You know what, nevermind. The answer is probably Sibyl’s TV shows.”
 
Cadmus: “What’s tee-vee?”
 
Britt: “A magical box with little people in it that act plays for people to watch.”
 
Cadmus’ jaw dropped.
 
Britt: “Yeah, any clearer and Chronos might come down here and use my guts for garters. So that’s all you’re getting. Okay, King Cadmus, better get your best suit on because we have a crowning ceremony to hold!”
 
Cadmus looked down at his green tunic.
 
Cadmus: “Should I wash it first?”
 
Britt: “That’s your best—fine. Wash it. But loose the hat.”
 
Cadmus: “But I love my hat!”
 
Britt: “The official crown of Thebes cannot be a stupid, green, floppy cap. Your descendants will look like morons.”
 
Cadmus pouted.
 
Britt: “Okay, fine. Whatever. When your great-great-grandson is complaining about looking like a massive dork, he’ll curse your name.”
 
Many months later and Cadmus is king of New Thebes, or ‘Thebes 2: The Revenge’ as Britt kept calling it, and the Gorgon Sisters finally returned from their reconnaissance of Crete. Euryale and Stheno had ridden their sister, Medusa, across the Aegean Sea to investigate the island from the air. Cadmus called a council meeting of his trusted friends.
 
Cadmus: “The meeting now commences.”
 
Stheno: “We had to have the meeting in the ice cream parlour?”
 
They were all sat around a table with ice cream dishes in from of them.
 
Cadmus: “There is nowhere else to go! There’s no palace or citadel or even a townhall yet!”
 
Tiresias: “Plus, we get yummy lemon sherbet!”
 
Cadmus: “It’s no wonder you had no teeth when I met you, Tiresias.”
 
Tiresias: “Where’s the pot of the hundreds and thousands?”
 
Euryale pushed the pot passed her own bowl of coffee ice cream. He tipped the little coloured flakes onto his ice cream.
 
Tiresias: “Sprinkles, sprinkles, everyone loves sprinkles~!”
 
Sibyl had, by far, the largest portion and was happily scoffing spoonfuls of the stuff before she suddenly stopped and grabbed her head.
 
Euryale: “Jesus! She looks in pain! Is it some terrible vision of the future!?”
 
Britt: “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s an idiot with brain freeze.”
 
Sibyl: “The paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain!”
 
Britt: “Serves you right.”
 
Sibyl: “It’s… worth it…”
 
Tiresias: “I was right. All boobs and no brains.”
 
Britt: “Look who’s talking, McBigtits!”
 
Tiresias tried to look at his own boobs.
 
Tiresias: “They’re not that big! And they’re not really mine! They’re--- I guess they are mine…”
 
Medusa: “It’s not fair. Why do I have to have ice cream from a horse bag.”
 
Stheno: “Because you’re a horse.”
 
Medusa: “I can eat from a bowl!”
 
Stheno: “Not without making a mess.”
 
Medusa: “I do all this flying and walking and hard work and I don’t even get a bowl. You guys suck.”
 
Cadmus: “Can you tell us what you found out, Medusa?”
 
Medusa: “Suppose so. The island is really big but there’s not a lot of people there. I noticed a lot of them are actually Phoenicians, like you Cadmus.”
 
Cadmus: “You think they’re from Lebanon?”
 
Medusa: “I would guess so.”
 
Cadmus: “Did you see my sister at all?”
 
Stheno: “We did. She has her own palace!”
 
Tiresias: “How lucky!”
 
Cadmus: “A gilded cage, Tiresias! A prison is a prison!”
 
Euryale: “Also she was…”
 
The three sisters fell into an awkward silence.
 
Cadmus: “What? What happened?”
 
Stheno: “She has given birth.”
 
Cadmus then fell into silence himself, only he was steaming with rage and disgust. His poor sister is now left with the constant reminder of what was done to her by this monstrous deity.
 
Britt: “She lives in a palace? So you’d say she’s probably the queen there?”
 
Medusa: “Seems so.”
 
Britt: “Did you actually see Zeus around at all?”
 
Stheno: “No. Not once.”
 
Tiresias: “Hera probably caught onto him after we told her.”
 
Britt drummed his fingers on the table.
 
Britt: “And how did she look?”
 
Euryale: “Fat. She just had babies.”
 
Tiresias: “More than one?”
 
Euryale: “Two!”
 
Britt: “I meant, her mood.”
 
Euryale: “Happy.”
 
Cadmus looked up from his vanilla ice cream.
 
Cadmus: “Happy?”
 
Euryale: “She’s a mummy now, of course she’s happy!”
 
Cadmus: “Not if they’re babies of rape, Euryale!”
 
Euryale: “I didn’t think of that.”
 
Britt: “I thought so… Cadmus, I’m sorry dude.”
 
Cadmus looked at Britt suspiciously.
 
Cadmus: “What? Sorry about what?”
 
Britt: “I think you’ve been strung along.”
 
Cadmus: “What do you mean?”
 
Britt: “I’m fairly well acquainted with these gods, Cadmus. I know Zeus. He’s a notorious adulterer with more affairs than I could ever count. But they’re always consensual. He likes women to like him. Sex is just the by-product, or the culmination of his relationship with them. I am certain he would never force a woman to sleep with him, or kidnap her and strand her on an island.”
 
Cadmus: “So how did she get there? Pregnant!?”
 
Britt: “Dude…”
 
Tiresias: “She went with Zeus? Willingly?”
 
Britt: “I reckon so, yes.”
 
Cadmus: “Impossible! Astarte said she was taken!”
 
Britt: “She’s a clever god, Cadmus. She never lied to you. She chose her words very carefully. Europa was taken to Crete by Zeus because she wanted to go with him. He probably fell in love with her and wanted to give her a whole island to herself.”
 
Cadmus: “But…
 
Britt: “I could be wrong…”
 
He looked sidelong at Sibyl, who was eating her ice cream again.
 
Cadmus: “Sibyl?”
 
Sibyl: “What?”
 
Stheno: “Have you been paying any attention?”
 
Sibyl sighed and put down her bowl, ice cream all around her lips.
 
Sibyl: “Okay, fine. Britt is probably right.”
 
Cadmus: “You—you—you--!!! Why didn’t you tell me!?”
 
Sibyl: “I can only lead you down the path fate wants you to tread. If I told you she ran away with her lover, you’d never have founded this city. I spoke as the future required me. It’s not my business why something is happening, it’s only my business to follow the directions.”
 
Cadmus, in continued silent rage, rose from his chair and then stormed out of the building. It might have been more dramatic if they weren’t in an ice cream parlour of all places. The others sat in awkward silence before Britt finally piped up;
 
Britt: “Got to say, Sibby, that was pretty crappy.”
 
Sibyl shrugged but the expression showed that she was unhappy.
 
Sibyl: “I have a job to do. I’m an Oracle, not a philosopher. I follow fate and find the best route there. I don’t offer moral guidance or explanations of people’s motivations. That’s a job for a psychologist or a counsellor.”
 
Britt: “You could have told him.”
 
Sibyl: “Only at the risk of changing the fate of humanity. His feelings aren’t worth jeopardising that.”
 
Stheno: “Bitch.”
 
She stood up and walked out after Cadmus, as did Euryale and Medusa.
 
Tiresias: “I am really annoyed.”
 
Britt: “Why are you annoyed?”
 
Tiresias: “I got turned into a girl for this!”
 
Sibyl: “Well, now you get to experience sex as a woman. Did you think of that?”
 
Tiresias: “Like… with a man?”
 
Sibyl: “If you’d like.”
 
Tiresias stared at nothing for a long moment before he then suddenly dashed out of the ice cream parlour. Britt turned to his friend with pursed lips.
 
Sibyl: “Don’t be mean to me, okay?”
 
Britt: “You know I won’t. But I am a bit disappointed. I don’t think you had to be so rigid with this prophecy as you were. Would it really have risked so much if you at least said she’s okay and that maybe she likes Zeus?”
 
Sibyl: “More of a risk than I was willing to take.”
 
Britt: “Alright. Well. It looks like this adventure is over! Time for me to bugger off and find something less stressful to be doing.”
 
Sibyl: “You could stay and help them build the city?”
 
Britt: “Did you see that in the future?”
 
Sibyl: “I didn’t look.”
 
Britt: “Then I think not. Besides, one too many casks of ale and me and Stheno might actually sleep together and that would be a regret for both of us!”
 
Sibyl: “Ha! I could see what the chances of her getting pregnant would be!”
 
Britt: “No thanks. Although, you know, what about me and you? I mean, just a thought?”
 
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
 
Britt: “Oh dear. The cheek kiss is always a good old no.”
 
Sibyl: “I’m already taken!”
 
Britt: “By who!?”
 
Sibyl: “My one true love.”
 
Britt: “Haha, fine. Keep your secrets. I hope you live happily ever after.”
 
Sibyl: “I said he’s my one true love, I never said I’d live with him…”
 
Britt: “That sounds like unrequited love. You must know that’s unhealthy after watching all those soap operas and romcoms?”
 
Sibyl just shrugged.
 
Sibyl: “I have to stay a virgin anyway, or I get fired.”
 
Britt smirked.
 
Britt: “No job’s worth that.”
 
Sibyl: “Go on then, be off with you. I’ll see you again, eventually.”
 
Britt: “Sorry, Sibby, but I doubt it. I live forever, you live a short normal life, remember? I’ll probably be getting into troubles somewhere for years. I was thinking of South Africa.”
 
Sibyl smirked now.
 
Sibyl: “I promise you this. I will see you again.”
 
Britt: “Okay, Oracle. We’ll see.”
 
He gave her a hug and got up. He reached the door and turned for the last time to see her while she was alive;
 
Britt: “Have a good life, Sibby.”
 
She smiled at him.
 
Sibyl: “I’ll see you when I wake up.”
 
Britt: “That’s cryptic.”
 
He rolled his eyes and left.
 
Many months later and a fleet of Theban ships approached Crete waving the flag of peace. With some concern, the sailors were welcomed to Crete. King Cadmus himself, with his entourage, was led to meet with the ruler of the island.
 
In the great hall of the palace, Queen Europa fell into a warm embrace with her long-lost brother.
 
In the discussion afterwards, she admitted she ran away with Zeus after a long affair. She apologised for not telling him but she knew that society would scorn her for her behaviour of not becoming a dutiful wife to a Phoenician. When she was made queen of Crete, many people from Lebanon came to join her there and populated the island. The worship of the Phoenician gods was common on the island but Cadmus avoided mention of Astarte. She got what she wanted, just as he had been warned of by Sibyl. He recalled how she told him of the deity’s true intentions, he had just never expected that those intentions would be a lie.
 
The city-state of New Thebes prospered under its king and, eventually, its Queen Euryale. Together they spread the use of writing throughout Greece and Euryale had the opportunity to make her sister, Stheno, ‘eat her words’.
 
Europa had had two twin boys. Rhadamanthus and Minos, who were given baby nicknames of Wright and Edgeworth by their nurses. One day, long after the deaths of their mother and their uncle, the two men would fight for control of the island. Their fighting drove the talented Aeacus out of Crete and to Troy, where he was the architect to the greatest walls in history.
 
Tiresias, however, was just beginning a great many lifetimes of adventures…
 
Three decades later…
Hera: “You’ve been doing better, I see. No more pointless murdering of animals.”
 
Tiresias nodded. She had gotten employment as grand vizier to the king of Thebes, a role she was lucky to be granted by Cadmus as a female scholar of the classical age. She went back to Mount Parnassus, paying Sibyl a friendly visit, when two unexpected guests also arrived. The king and queen of Olympus themselves.
 
Zeus: “I think you should turn more men into women, Hera…”
 
Hera glared at him.
 
Zeus: “Uh, because… uh… you know, more men should learn to treat women more fairly! That’s it! Nothing to do with more boobs in the world… nothing like that at all….”
 
Hera turned to Tiresias.
 
Hera: “You, Tiresias, are you settle an argument for us.”
 
Sibyl, who was sat at the stone table with another bowl of ice cream, waggled her spoon at Tiresias.
 
Sibyl: “You are so screwed.”
 
Tiresias: “It’s fine! I am a genius! I can answer a debate, even one from the gods!”
 
Zeus rose an eyebrow.
 
Zeus: “Watch that hubris.”
 
Tiresias: “I am ready for your question!”
 
Sibyl: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
 
Hera: “Who enjoys sex more, men or women? I say men get all the pleasure, my fool husband says it is women who get more out of sex. You are the only human to be both a man and a woman and have sex both ways. Who is correct?”
 
Tiresias glanced at Sibyl, who was leaning forward as though watching one of her shows with keen interest.
 
Tiresias: “The answer is clear. Women.”
 
Hera: “What!?”
 
Zeus: “HA!”
 
Tiresias: “Women experience more consistent pleasure the entire time and they can climax several times through foreplay and sexual intercourse. A man ejaculates just once, his moment of pleasure, and then can do no more.”
 
Zeus did a happy dance.
 
Zeus: “I’m going to go and brag about how I am always right.”
 
He was gone in a crack of lightning, but Hera remained with a deathly stare at Tiresias.
 
Hera: “You defy me, after I spared your miserable existence?”
 
Tiresias: “I just honestly answered the question!”
 
Hera zipped over to Tiresias and loomed over her, larger than life.
 
Hera: “You should have lied to him!”
 
Tiresias: “I’m a genius scholar, lying about facts of life is not my way.”
 
Hera: “Is that so? Then prepared to be punished!”
 
Tiresias: “Punished!? For telling the truth!? That’s not fair!”
 
Hera: “I’m a god. I don’t give a jot about fairness!”
 
Sibyl closed her eyes, anticipating what was about to happen.
 
There was a brilliant, sudden, blindingly light as though the sun itself had been blasted into Tiresias’ face. She wailed in anguish but, upon feeling herself in no pain, opened her eyes again. Only she found only darkness.
 
Tiresias: “What happened? Where am I? Did she kill me?”
 
Sibyl: “No. You’re still here.”
 
Tiresias looked around but still saw only darkness.
 
Tiresias: “Sibyl? Where are you, I can’t see you.”
 
Sibyl: “It’s not just me you can’t see, Tie. Hera’s a spiteful woman when crossed.”
 
Tiresias: “You mean… I’m blind!?”
 
Sibyl: “Sorry…”
 
Tiresias: “You knew it was going to happen, didn’t you?”
 
Sibyl: “I don’t interfere with fate, you know that.”
 
Tiresias: “But--! Being a female strategists and scholar has been extremely difficult already! A blind female strategist!? I—I—I—I’ll never be able to read again. I only just learnt. I was reading and writing my ideas down and… and now…”
 
She grit her teeth but couldn’t help crying.
 
Tiresias: “These damned gods!”

Otrera was a tall and strong woman, with muscles to rival plenty of slimmer men down at the gym. She had worked hard for those muscles when she worked as a captain in the Atlantean military branch. Atlantis had grown peaceful in its old age, unbothered by the other human nations of the world. Its greatest rival, Kumari Kandam, was older and more decadent but caught up with entertaining itself rather than jockey for power with the technologically advanced Atlantis.
 
But then Helebon’s forces invaded and war consumed Atlantis and its people. Other human nations joined Atlantis’ cause and joined the ranks against the Hell-spawn. While the great and famous heroes, the Champions of Atlantis, led the charge, the rank and file military were up to their necks in violence. Otrera led her squadron in combat. They used their magiblasters to pump the enemy full of magical projectiles. The weapons drew aether from the air into its canister and quickly converted it into magic blasts. The longer the canister charged up, the stronger the blast.
 
Otrera’s squadron went into the thick of battle, with Ares as their bannerman. He was a god of war and thirsted for battle. His dominance and lust for violence spurred the soldiers into a heated frenzy as they pushed their bodies to the extreme. When their magiblasters would no longer suffice without the range required to get a good and powerful shot, they resorted to the more brutal means of swords and clubs. Blades cut flesh while the clubs were imbued with a powerful aether exploder. Upon physical contact the club would send a quick-spell that could excite the aether around its head. The spell wasn’t controlled or artful, but it didn’t need to be. The aether would explode and whatever the club struck was sent reeling into the sky. Otrera’s weapon of choice.
 
The forces of Atlantis held off the invaders to great effect, even whittling them down as the war progressed. Everyone knew this was the final battle as the demons had finally made their incursion into the city itself and Helebon, the Archdemon leader of these forces, was marching at the fore of the army. Th Atlanteans were pushed back many times, but they knew their city and their commanders had drawn up battleplans for the defence. They would retreat and regroup in new battle lines to continue destroying the demons in their relentless advance. It was difficult to battle an enemy with no fear for their lives. They would happily run into the line of fire without a second-thought.
 
Otrera’s squadron retreated through the Holy District. They were a mile from the Basilica Numenaedes, the grand temple of the WriterGod, where reports of Helebon were blasting through the communication orbs that floated after Otrera. She, however, was dedicated to the task of protecting Edras Magnaulam, the royal palace of King Stafford and Queen Exeter. The king and queen were locked up within the palace with the royal guard protecting them but troops were falling back to defend the building from the exterior. Otrera and her squadron ran through the streets of Atlantis. They were already several storeys from ground level. The public vehicles had been shut down, so the only way to travel was on foot or with magitech. Otrera’s squad were all outfitted with talismans that allowed near-flight with mighty bounds. They leapt from their walkway that connected the two skyscrapers on either side of them and reached a platform somewhere above. Without pause they jumped again to another platform and made their advance quickly through the streets. Flying demons gave chase, though they were undisciplined and unfocused. Many of them stopped to start smashing the buildings or statues or plants. The decorative water tubes that flowed with pleasant, bubbling water, along many of the buildings were smashed and broken open to unleash torrents of water over the platforms and rain down into the depths of the streets where most of the unwinged demons were also trashing the place.
 
With each leap into the air, the Atlantean soldiers would turn and make a quickshot into the demon horde behind them. As well as picking off their numbers, this meant the creatures continued to pursue them. When a larger, faster, demon suddenly burst from within one of the buildings, Otrera, without breaking her flow, twirled in the air and landed her club to the stomach of the monster. With a yowl, the beast was sent soaring back into the window from whence he had emerged.
 
Edras Magnaulam was given a great parkland to surround it so the soldiers all dropped from their platform to land on the street below. They were quickly set upon by some of the smaller, faster creatures but they were taken out with ease. The blood of demons spilled across the sandstone path. There were no roads, unlike other cultures that used wheeled vehicles, only paths for walking. Shrubs were potted in neat rows and many people decorated the outside of their apartments with flowering vines. Shops usually had large windows in which visuals would shape and change to advertise products. The parkland around the palace was large, wide and open. This would be a dangerous crossing – for both the soldiers and the demons.
 
Otrera led her people over the gardens. They had no time to take care not to tread of the flowers. Behind them the bulk of the horde finally burst from the street with howls and roars and eerie, terrifying wails. The air was filled with the unnatural vocals but it was normally filled with the tinkling of ambient music played to ease people as they went by. Then the air was filled with the roaring of magic, energy and fire as the demons hurled whatever they could at the retreating soldiers. Flaming clouds appeared above them to drop burning droplets upon them, bolts of magic struck the ground at their heels and telepathic attacks seared their minds. Then the defenders around the palace opened fire.
 
They had formed lines around the palace and many were sniping from the upper floors. Magical blasts zipped past Otrera and the demon horde were engulfed in a torrent of magical-energy. Catapults were unleashed, hurling giant blobs of acidic vril into the air until it splashed down on the pursuing army. Some magically-hardened soldiers flew in the air and dropped spells upon the demons or took on the other flying counterparts. Otrera’s group leapt over the river that acted as a moat around the outskirts of the palace. Just as the last human crossed the gulf, the vril within started to crackle and growl with energy and any demon that tried to cross was zapped so hard they burnt to a husk. The bridges were too important to destroy but they made excellent choke points for the Atlanteans to decimate the demons crying to cross. The bodies of the monsters piled on top of each other as they started to climb over the fallen to get to the palace and the hill of bodies grew ever taller.
 
At the front of the military blockade were the heavy-hitters. They wore heavy suits of orichalcum armour that was fashioned for the very select few heroes who had proven themselves to be the best-of-the-best. They were armed with spear-like weapons that doubled-up as rifles as they opened fire with magical blasts from their tips into the approaching horde.
 
Then, suddenly, it was all over.
 
The communication orbs reported that Helebon was defeated by the WriterGod himself within Basilica Numenaedes and the demons, without their leader, had no reason to continue to fight and they began a mass exodus of Atlantis. Many, however, were content to begin pillaging and rampaging without a cause but the Atlanteans made short work of these vagabonds.
 
After the war ended, Atlantis began to reconstruct. Several of the Champions went on their way, though others remained. Ares himself took a leading role in the new Champions and was especially hailed by the military as a great hero. With their victory over the demons, Atlantis showered itself in praise. The Champions were commemorated, the heroes of the army were celebrated and the rulers were revered by the people. When it came to light that Atlantis had received a communication from the stars, sent by the distant Prince Oberon of the fairies and his Atlantean wife Titania, sudden interest in new possibilities surged within the Atlanteans.
 
An upsurge of nationalism took hold of the people of Atlantis. Massive warships were under construction to begin unadulterated expansion into the cosmos, intent on conquering rival alien worlds and spreading the ‘greatness of humanity’ to the stars just as Prince Oberon and Titania once had. This supposed manifest destiny spoke volumes of Atlantean arrogance and the new thirst for war disgusted the venerable Captain Otrera. She wasn’t the only one. Britticus, one of the Champions that had helped to thwart Helebon’s army, displayed his disappointment with this new direction and made his stance very clear as he departed. Those who were likewise disillusioned saw this exit as a rallying call to follow suit.
 
War was her business, it was her job, but never her duty. There was no deep-rooted patriotism for the patch of dirt she happened to be born on and dying in the name of King Stafford and the Ancient One was never on her to-do list. Worse still was the idea of murdering a bunch of alien beings who were defending their right to independence and freedom. Forcing ‘enlightenment’ upon others seemed very ironic.
 
Her way of war was in the protection of those she cared for. That was the way of old, the traditional way. Now the common people were obsessed with space and weaponry and planting flags. They were inspired by the truly ancient tales of Atlantis wherein the young nation had sought to gain land and resources and supremacy. Apparently stabbing people in the face was the best way to teach humanity’s peace, tolerance and civilisation now.
 
Otrera deserted.
 
Otrera initially worked as a mercenary for these people. She soon found, however, that banditry was the far more effective option, not just for her but for those she met. Atlantean caravans and traders were juicy targets. As former captain, she not only knew how to operate the magitech she stole but she knew the operation parameters and inner workings of the Atlantean military so she became exemplary at the task.
 
She stole everything. Food, medicine and weapons. Most of the food and medicine was sold or given away but the weapons were hers. She roamed the Great Steppes of the planet, wielding her magiblaster. Fortunately it could be adjusted between lethal and non-lethal. She didn’t want to become the murderer they had asked her to become in the first place. She also didn’t want to become subjugator of the people of the steppe but she soon found others wanted to join her.
 
While Atlantis was a bastion of equal opportunities for men and women, a lot of other civilisations were not so balanced. A muscular woman with a penchant for guns was unseemly to most patriarchies of the Scythian people, the nomads that lived on the Great Steppe. She was joined by an unlikely ragtag group of women who didn’t fit with their tribes. Strong women, intelligent women, lesbian women – all of which suited Otrera just fine. She taught them to use the magitech they stole and together their band raided and bandited their way to success. When groups of Scythian men came to capture themselves a harem after hearing of this band of women, they were slain – this gave them the title of ‘killers of men’, which read as ‘amazon’ in the original language of the Great Steppe.
 
The Atlanteans didn’t do much to curb the Amazons. Their thefts were not significant enough to warrant a largescale retaliation and Otrera’s knowledge of Atlantean operating procedures meant she was always one-step ahead. She normally chose the camps or caravans where she knew there were rookies in charge and took every advantage.
 
Several months earnt her and her Amazons a cult status as a folk hero. She didn’t kill the Atlanteans they robbed and news that she was helping underprivileged people only enhanced her reputation both in Atlantis itself and amongst the Scythian people. More disenfranchised women flocked to the Amazons.
 
It took just a single year for Atlantis to build a terrible navy to sail into the stars and rain down destruction on those who would oppose them. Otrera had travelled far into the lands of the Great Steppe, which offered a wondrous scene as the starships took flight. She was witness then to the arrival of another fleet of ships that sought to halt the advance of the Atlanteans. The spacebattle was both amazing and horrifying to behold. She knew that Ares would be up there, fighting in the upper atmosphere and leading the charge to glory.
 
And then catastrophe happened.
 
She never discovered the exact cause of the explosion but she knew it was the ultranexus that gave Atlantis its power. The wave of devastation rocked the entire planet. She thought the world itself would split in twain. The ships were struck by the force of the blast and brought down in ruins. Chunks of spacecraft fell and plunged into the oceans.
 
The continents were smashed. Atlantis was all but gone, with just a few islands remaining, as was Kemari Kandam. The entire civilisation was wiped out, innocent of any misdeeds against the Atlanteans or the fleet of ships that had tried to stop them. Entire deserts were suddenly formed as the land was blasted and swept of life and water. Entire cities and other civilisations were destroyed in the blink of an eye. No population was spared and the total world population was more than halved in an instant. Killed thanks to the murderous ambitions of those that stood to gain the most at the top of Atlantean society.
 
Humanity was thrust into an emotional, spiritual and technological decline. The abundant resources of Atlantis has been freely traded to other civilisations, especially food, but they were now gone. The reliance on Atlantean technology made a sudden halt as much of it suddenly ceased to function. Travel was suddenly limited, as was communications. Each pocket of humanity regressed and became insular and isolated.
 
But the surviving Atlanteans among the Amazons strove to continue their independence. They were the first to develop a new mode of transport in lieu of the magitech vehicles of Atlantis. They developed cavalry. They tamed horses for riding across land. They tamed pegasi and gryphons for riding through the skies. The other Sycthian tribes were quick to follow suit, though they were forced to use only horses as they were more common and easier to breed. The Amazons had had to adjust from a life where they were able to steal everything they needed to a life of self-sufficiency. While many Scythian tribes continued their nomadic lifestyles, the Amazons settled and founded the city of Otreriana – named after their founder many decades after her death.
 
Millennia passed and the Amazons still held to their ways. Women only they were still predominantly raiders. They largely targeted other Scythian tribes. They would slay the men and capture the girls. The women that agreed to join them did so while the women who refused were released. This was the means by which they would quickly increase their numbers. They did also raid the cities of the Grecian mainland, including Thrace and Macedon, to the west and the lands within the Hittite Empire to the south. Greeks were easier as they were not united as a single nation and their lands were wide open to Scythian plains. The Hittite Empire lay on the opposite side of the Black Sea. To get there the Amazons would be limited to flying cavalry or be forced to travel around the inland sea by horse, which would give them plenty of time to await the Amazon arrival.
 
Rarely was an Amazon born via the seed of a man. The eldest daughter of the queen was, however, daughter to a Greek God. Her mother, the current queen, had been tempted by heterosexuality and thus Hippolyta was born as the daughter to the god of war – Ares. With such divinity in her blood she was able to protect her right to be queen despite the nature of her birth. She was granted a special gift by her father, a girdle that would imbue the wearer with superhuman strength. She was able to snap the bones of contenders with ease. This ferocity was commended by her fellow warrior women despite her parentage and her mother held Hippolyta as a paragon of Amzonian strength.
 
If girls were to be born, as they sometimes were, then Amazons would seek out the supernatural Si’la. These beings were not human but appeared just like human women, except they happened to have male appendages that could be used to get an Amazon pregnant. The si’la were able to do this due to their shapeshifting abilities, able to alter parts of their bodies to appear in different ways. This was considered an acceptable means of impregnation by the Amazons, so long as there was no actual man involved.
 
At eighteen Hippolyta was finally of age to personally lead raids against their neighbours. Rather than make the obvious choice of taking girls from the Scythians, or even the Greeks, she made it her challenge to claim girls from Troy. The city lay on the coast of Anatolia, lurking to the far west with the Hittite Empire to the east. The city, under the guidance of Priam, had declared its independence and built mighty walls to protect itself from being reclaimed by Hattusa. This was a worthy challenge to the daughter of war.
 
And so, across the Black Sea went the raiding party of the Amazon princess.

NEITHER PEASANTS NOR PRINCESSES

Ancient Greece.

Britticus arrives at Delphi, and is enthusiastically greeted by its oracle, Sibyl.

Sibyl: Britt! You're here! Quick, make me some ice cream.

Britt scowls.

Britt: You said this wasn't about ice cream this time!

Sibyl: It's not! But while you're here, you might as well make me some ice cream too!

Britt sighs longsufferingly.

Britt: Fine. After this other business. So what's up?

Sibyl: There are these twin women here-

Britt: Whoa. Hold up. Stop right there. I am not going to meet them. I'm leaving right now.

Sibyl: What? Why?

Britt: You're the oracle, you tell me.

Sibyl: I'm an oracle, not a mind-reader!

Britt: Beautiful twin women are nothing but trouble.

Sibyl blinks.

Sibyl: They're not, in the classic sense of the word anyway, beautiful.

It is Britt's turn to blink.

Britt: What? But twins are always hot!

Sibyl: Not these. Come on.

She yanks Britt along by the hand into one of the gardens. Two figures in robes are sitting on separate marble benches facing each other. The robes are well-made but imple, pure black in color, and adorned with all sorts of mystic ornaments. No fine artifacts these, but things such as intricately carved skulls, dice marked with runes, and ther such things, all dangling on beads from various pockets.

Hoods cover the figures' faces, but long strands of loose hair fall out, revealing lustrous silver. One figure's hair also has a few streaks of lavender, and the other's has a ew streaks of aquamarine.

Tarot cards hover in mid-air between them, as if on an invisible table, and the figures manipulate the cards with lined, wrinkled hands.

Britt: Oh. They're old.

Sibyl: Come say hello.

Britt: I know better than to interrupt any kind of spell or divination.

Sibyl: Don't be silly, they're just playing double solitaire.

At that moment, the two robed women wave their hands over the floating tarot cards, and the cards fly up into two separate decks, before disappearing up voluminous sleeves. The women stand and turn to face Britt and Sibyl, lowering their hoods. Their faces are wrinkled with age, though they are not decrepit. In addition to each having differently colored streaks in her silver hair, their eyes are different as well. One has glistening pearlescent irises, while the other has solid blue eyes with no pupils or whites. Other than coloration, they are identical in appearance.

Sibyl: Meet Silvryn-

The one with lavender streaks and blue eyes.

Sibyl: -and Sepphorah!

The one with aquamarine streaks and pearlescent eyes.

Britt: Um, pleased to meet you.

Sepphorah: As we are to meet you, Legendary Britticus.

Britt groans and looks at Sibyl.

Britt: You told them about me?

Silvryn: She did not. We knew of you from our own sources.

Britt: This better not involve a quest.

Sepphorah: It does.

Britt groans.

Britt: Alright, that's it, I'm outta here. Not gonna stay long enough for you to convince me otherwise. Toodles!

Silvryn: The quest is ours, not yours.

Britt: Oh. Well that's alright then.

Sibyl: They're gonna rope you in on it.

Britt: I knew it!

The ghost of a smile tugs at the twins' lips.

Sepphorah: She is teasing you, Legendary Britticus. We only wish to talk with you.

Silvryn: For you see, our quest at the moment is to chronicle as much of Earth's history as we can.

Sepphorah: And you have a unique perspective.

Britt: What, that's it? No one to rescue? Nothing to slay? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm a tiny bit disappointed.

Sibyl: If you want something like that, I can always divine up something-

Britt: Never mind! Moment passed. But uh, ladies, you should know I generally try to avoid spoilers.

Silvryn: We are not natives of Earth.

Britt does a double take.

Britt: You look pretty human to me.

Sepphorah: Humans are common throughout the Deep Void.

Britt: The what?

Silvryn: Our mother was near-human. Our father was human.

Sepphorah: You knew him, once.

Britt: I've known a lot of people once, that doesn't tell me anything-

Silvryn: Highemperor.

Britt: Bollocks. I'm leaving.

Sibyl: What? Don't be rude!

Britt: I know better than to mess with anything related to Highemp. He's trouble. Well-intentioned sometimes maybe, but trouble.

Sepphorah: Legendary Britticus. Look at us.

Britt complies, his gaze riveted by the iron in her tone.

Silvryn: We are no blushing damsels, no spoiled princesses.

Sepphorah: Are we the sort you expect to be associated with our father?

Britt lets out a breath.

Britt: Honestly, no. Twins maybe, but old? Without sparkly magic jewelry and dresses worth more than the planet?

Silvryn: We love our father dearly, but we do not always see eye to eye with him. And our mother, despite going her own way and developing her own faults and obsessions, was once more grounded, back when she raised us. She was a simple peasant girl, of a faraway universe.

Sepphorah: We left her shortly after reaching adulthood, to find our own path. Yes, we have lived a time in his city, but that was not what we wanted, glorious and luxurious though it was.

Britt: You wanted to see things. And you wanted to make a difference once in a while.

The old women nod.

Britt: Are you powerplayers?

The twins chuckle.

Silvryn: We are not, though we have the latent potential for it due to our heritage. We are not without skills, however.

Sepphorah: Martial arts, ritual magic, and advanced technology are our tools as we wander and chronicle histories throughout the multiverse.

Britt: You don't look like you have advanced technology. And you frankly don't seem capable of martial arts without breaking a hip- Ow!

Sibyl: Stop being rude!

The oracle is looking crossly at him, after having elbowed him.

Britt: But they- Ow, ow, ow, stop it! I didn't even say anything that time!

Sibyl: But you were going to. Oracle, remember?

Silvryn: We are rather more capable than we look. But we shape our magic and technology into crude forms, just as we dress simply and wear wrinkles. Once we were courted, but only by those who desired beauty, power, or importance. But we saw what happened to our parents, whose love was founded on those things.

Britt nods.

Britt: I understand. And I respect that. And if I may say so...I think you two are very beautiful, in the right ways.

The twins smile, pleased at the compliment. Sibyl chortles.

Sibyl: Should I be jealous, Britt?

Britt: What? No! I'm not interested in them like that!

Sibyl: I know. Oracle, remember?

Britt: Ugh.

Sepphorah: We have so many questions. But we would like to hear your perspective uninterrupted, first.

Silvryn: I can't wait to hear it! The history of every planet in this solar system gets more interesting the closer to the sun it is, for some reason.

Sepphorah: You wouldn't believe that Uranus-

Britt snickers.

Sepphorah: -has a history more interesting than Pluto the Party Planet's, or that Mars has a more interesting history than Jupiter of all places, but there you have it.

Silvryn: Salmitton history is a true humdinger! I wonder how Earth's history will top it. Assuming the pattern continues.

Sibyl: Wait. If we're about to have this long, in-depth thing, I really need Britt to make ice cream first!

Silvryn: Ice cream? I'd be interested as well.

Sepphorah: That's one of the things I do miss from Daddy's palace. 24/7 access to the ice cream universe.

Britt opens his mouth in astonishment at the idea of a whole universe of ice cream, but then closes it and decides his sanity would be best served by not inquiring further into the matter.

Britt: Uh, sure, I guess I can make ice cream for all of us!

Silvryn: That is very kind, Legendary Britticus, but we do not ask you to make it for us.

Sepphorah: Teach us how to make it alongside you! We are no damsels to be waited upon.

Sibyl: Well, I don't mind being waited on!

Shortly, Britt and the twins are making ice cream as Sibyl lounges in a seat sipping lemonade. Britt muses to himself.

Britt: I can't believe I was written into a relaxing post for once...