The Twelve Labors of Nick Read online

  “Helen, I’m sorry!” he cried, losing sight of her between heads. Nick saw them swoop in: even felt their fetid breath as their yellow eyes blazed. He closed his own against the sight of so many fangs, but oddly, felt nothing: no bites followed by pain. As the coils around him stiffened, he allowed himself to look . . . and saw that the Hydra was as motionless as a rock.

  “Helen!” Nick shouted, using his sword to cut himself free. “You didn’t—?”

  She nodded sheepishly.

  “I couldn’t help it,” she said. “That monster was going to kill you.”

  “Oh no,” Nick breathed.

  He turned his shield around to look at the Labor engravings. Sure enough, the third one had a red circle with a slanted line slashed through it.

  “I knew it,” said Nick. “The International ‘No’ Sign.” He slammed down his shield. “So this one doesn’t count.”

  “Please forgive me,” said Helen, hanging her head. “It’s just that . . . all those fangs . . . and it had hold of your feet . . . ”

  Nick nodded, thinking of what she had sacrificed in becoming a monster again.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s chalk this one up to practice. I need all I can get before I face Mr. Big.”

  “You mean father,” Helen said.

  “Yeah, and I have a feeling he makes his kids look cuddly.”

  Helen sighed as Nick expelled foul air. He had an urge to touch the Hydra, its scales a ghastly white, but managed to stop himself. You never know, he thought.

  “Wait,” said Helen, and then she did something weird: she gathered up all his arrows—those on the ground and the ones still in his quiver—dipping them in green blood which pooled beneath stone heads. Nick could see—and smell—the arrows’ brass tips exuding a foul-smelling smoke.

  “Souvenir?” he asked.

  “I have a feeling,” she said, “that these could come in handy.”

  “Okay.”

  “Stay away from the tips. They can kill in an instant.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Nick made sure to swing his quiver well away from his back. He took Helen’s hand as they moved away from the Hydra which could now be displayed in the Getty.

  “I’m sorry,” said Nick, turning to her.

  “For what?”

  “For you having to be Medusa.”

  “That’s all right,” she said. “It was just for a minute.”

  “Hmm. I didn’t know you could change back.”

  “Neither,” said Helen, with a toss of her hair, “did I.”

  Not Aquaman

  They both walked away quickly, anxious to leave that still monster and noxious lake behind.

  Nick sighed.

  “Since I fumbled that last one, guess we should see what’s up next. Hit me.”

  “I won’t,” said Helen. “But I can tell you your shield shows a hind.”

  “A heinie?” Nick asked. This was getting bizarre—even for Mýthos . . .

  “No, a hind. It’s a kind of deer. And this one belongs to Artemis.”

  “The arrow lady. Is it on Olympus?”

  “No, in Keryneia. That’s what all the myths say.”

  “Is it close?” Nick asked, hoping.

  “Not really. But if we head toward the coast to Corinth, we can take a ship from there.”

  “Another boat?” Nick asked, the taste of saltwater still fresh as he remembered the last one.

  “It should be fine,” said Helen. “What are the odds of being caught in another whirlpool?”

  “In Mýthos, I’d say high.”

  “Well,” she said, “sailing’s the best way to get there. And this time, before we go, we must pray to Poseidon.”

  “Okay,” Nick answered, but his heart wasn’t in it. Sure, he liked the ocean, but mainly from a distance. Once you were on the water, who knew what lurked beneath?

  Helen stopped at an olive tree to refill their supply.

  “Mmm,” said Nick. “You know, I love olives, but I’m getting sick of ‘em. You guys don’t have any hummus?”

  “Not that I know of,” she said. “And I don’t think that grows on trees.”

  “Too bad. So, which way to Corinth?”

  After his last botched Labor, he was hoping he could redeem himself.

  “Northeast,” said Helen, pointing down a dusty path. “I warn you, it is quite far.”

  “Wanna run?” Nick asked with a wink.

  In a second, they were off, sprinting past green hills, tracing the land as they ran up and down inclines like two unleashed horses.

  “Let’s stop here,” Nick panted, after he’d gone through his second—and third, and fourth—winds. He plopped down on a flat stone. “Is it always this hot?” he asked, not wanting to sound like a whiner. “And I thought P.R. was bad . . . .” This got him to thinking. “Hey, I wonder if that’s why Mom moved there. ‘Cause it reminded her of here.”

  “Sounds like it,” said Helen.

  “But my mom was born in the States. She’s never been to Greece.”

  “Perhaps,” said Helen, “she carries a sense of home.”

  “That must be it,” said Nick. “For an ex-monster, you have a lot of smarts.”

  “And for a half-centaur,” she answered, “you’re not wild and drunk.”

  “Is that how they are?” asked Nick.

  “Oh, yes. Most follow Dionysus, and they like their wine. You can hear them carousing in practically every forest.”

  “Great,” said Nick, wincing. “I wish I didn’t know that.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Helen, “Your father isn’t like that.”

  “Yeah,” Nick sighed, “he didn’t seem like a party guy.” Helen nodded. “You know what?” he asked.

  “Don’t tell me—you’re hungry.”

  “Starved.”

  “You stay here. I’ll try to find us some food.”

  “Good luck.”

  “I shall pray to Demeter, goddess of the harvest.”

  “Whatever works,” Nick yelled to her back.

  She returned not too much later holding a bulging wineskin and a basket brimming with food.

  “Lunch!” Nick crowed.

  Helen gave him most of the food which included fresh barley bread. Nick tucked into figs and salted fish as if he hadn’t eaten for days. He did, however, take a pass on the olives . . .

  “Feel better?” Helen asked when he’d finished.

  “Oh yeah, I’m a growing boy.”

  “I noticed,” she said, then blushed. “Shall we?”

  She gestured down to the path.

  “Race ya!”

  They took off running.

  As his sandals hit dirt, Nick wondered: Why were there no big Greek track stars? It seemed like the climate was perfect. Well, he guessed they’d invented the sport and maybe that was enough. As Nick controlled his pace, he wished that his visit to Greece—uh, Mýthos—could consist only of this: sprinting under a sun nudged forward by Helios which spotlighted plants and rocks under its even rays. P.R. was so different: most of its plants looked like kelp. If, Nick thought, he could just keep on running, cradled by a warm breeze, Helen in her white peplos keeping pace at his side . . .

  Nick blinked. Much sooner than he’d expected, he saw a big town’s border.

  “Corinth?” he asked. Helen nodded as they both stopped. They must have been running for hours since it was now nearing twilight. “Any chance,” Nick wondered, “of sleeping indoors tonight?”

  The prospect of a real bed almost made him drool.

  “We are strangers here,” said Helen, “and, alas, have no drachmas. Perhaps we can find a warm corner.”

  “Okay,” Nick agreed. It didn’t sound great but at least it beat the dirt.

  As they entered the town itself, Nick noted that Corinth was more decked out than Athens. The building columns were fancier, and there seemed to be potters everywhere. As they passed through the streets, he saw a small temple
on a hill.

  “Athena’s?” he asked hopefully. Maybe the old girl could give them a place for the night.

  “No,” said Helen coldly. “That is Aphrodite’s.”

  “Goddess of—”

  “—Love,” Helen answered, and Nick heard contempt in her voice.

  “Is that so bad?” he asked. “I mean, you said—”

  “A good, wholesome love is fine, between a man and wife,” she answered. “But the women inside that temple—and there are hundreds—are nothing more than hetaerae.”

  “Um . . .”

  “Prostitutes,” said Helen, blushing. “That is how ‘love’ is defined in Corinth.”

  “Oh.”

  Nick could hardly picture all those hundreds of women. Were they happy? Slaves? This being the ancient world, it could go either way. Nick only hoped they were there of their own free will.

  “So, this Aphrodite,” he said. “She must be wild as a centaur.”

  “Pray that you never meet her,” said Helen. “She’s always with her son, Eros, whose arrows cause no end of mischief.”

  “Oh. You must mean Cupid. He’s big on Valentine’s Day.”

  “He is quite small,” she answered, “but causes enormous heartache.”

  Nick grinned, thinking of his own poison arrows. Now those could stir up some trouble . . .

  The two of them wandered the streets, looking for a place to sleep. They finally found one nearly overrun with pottery. Those who had crafted this clay must have gone home for the night.

  “Here.”

  Helen took a seat beneath one of those flat-roofed tents while Nick slumped down beside here.

  “Seems weird,” he mumbled, looking down at his armor. “I’m like walking bling, but we’re outdoors again.”

  “This, “ said Helen, is how Labors work. They were never meant to be easy.”

  “Until after you do them,” said Nick, thinking of Herc and his scrolls.

  “Yes,” she said. “Then you’ll be covered with glory.”

  “Right now, I just want a blanket.”

  Nick scooted closer, wondering what to do next. Slowly, he rested his head in her lap.

  “I don’t care,” he said, feeling her warmth beneath him.

  “About what?” she asked.

  “Your kids,” said Nick. “Being monsters. I mean, look at my dad. He’s no Mr. Rogers.”

  “We do share that,” she said. “Parents who are extraordinary.”

  Nick thought of his mom.

  “You can say that again.”

  The next morning, Nick woke with a crick in his neck. The design of the tiles he’d slept on now decorated his arm. At this point, he looked forward to finding a ship—there might be a pillow. He looked up to see Helen approaching him with a wineskin and bread.

  “The old ‘we’re favored by the gods’ bit?” he asked.

  “It never fails,” she said. “Besides, we really are.” After they’d finished eating, she told him, “I found out where the port is. It’s north, since Corinth lies on a small strip of land.”

  “You should give tours,” Nick winked, and she gave him a swat.

  “Not in Corinth,” she said. “We cannot leave soon enough.”

  Her wish was close to being granted when they arrived at the port. As she’d done in Athens, Helen had a captain begging to Please, take his ship!

  Hmm, Nick thought, he hoped this wasn’t a bad sign, but this boat was like a twin to the one they’d lost, right down to its blue sails.

  “Uh—” he started to say.

  “Hop in,” Helen told him, and, shrugging, he did.

  Before they unmoored the ropes, she turned to speak to the water.

  “Great Poseidon,” she prayed, “we erred in not seeking your blessing before we took our last voyage. We ask you now to favor us with fair winds and calm seas, so we may seek Artemis in the land where she dwells.”

  “Amen,” said Nick.

  The captain helped shove them off into the Sea of . . . Corinth? It was a perfect day, the deep blue of the sky matching that of the water. Gentle winds filled the sails as the painted eye on the prow protected them from harm. Or did it? Nick wondered. The last one sure hadn’t helped. Of course, there was Poseidon, but that guy was a dick. How hard must it be, Nick thought, to pray to the guy who’d assaulted you?

  “You okay?” he asked Helen.

  “Sure,” she said, working the tiller. “I was born to sail.”

  Nick smiled, glad to see her happy.

  “How far?” he asked.

  “Keryneia’s up north,” she said. “And, once we dock, I think we need to go inland.”

  “‘Kay.”

  As on their last trip, Nick tried to enjoy the sights, but now, he could only think of that whirlpool. Man, that had been close. Nick decided to stay sharp, shielding his eyes with a hand and looking to every horizon. But the sea remained calm, low waves lapping the hull as Helen stuck close to shore.

  It took awhile, but Nick finally relaxed, enjoying the boat’s rocking motion and the sight of other ships. When their crews spotted his armor, they gave him a salute, making him feel like a Hero. He puffed out his chest as he returned the gesture.

  Helen hadn’t been kidding when she’d said this place was far: morning became afternoon, and afternoon turned to night. When it was too dark to steer, she docked just off a beach.

  “Dinner?” she asked, offering him some bread.

  “Thanks,” said Nick, wolfing it down. He still missed rice and tomatoes, but this stuff wasn’t bad. “I guess you could say,” he told her, “we’re on the Mediterranean diet.” Helen gave a blank stare. “Beats Keto,” he added.

  “The sea goddess?”

  “Nah. This one’s just protein.”

  Nick rummaged around, glad to find two threadbare blankets. He threw one to Helen. “Man, I’m tired,” he said. “Even though I haven’t done much.”

  “You don’t have to,” she told him. “Being out in the wind is tiring.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Why would I?”

  Nick gave her a smile as he hunkered down in the hull. She sprawled at his side, and, without thinking, he put his arm around her.

  The sky was beginning to lighten when Nick jolted awake. He didn’t think he was dreaming, but could have sworn that something sharp was poking him.

  “HEY,” he yelled. What he saw was so bizarre he tried to blink it away. It was a . . . blue merman, thrashing his angry tail as he stabbed Nick with a trident!

  “You!” Nick shouted, fumbling for his sword. “I thought sea creatures were nice. Didn’t you see Finding Nemo?”

  “My father says you must die,” the merman replied.

  “Who’s your daddy?” asked Nick, and by this time, Helen was up.

  “Answer him,” she ordered. “Who sent you to us?”

  The merman responded by splashing his fishy tail.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” said Helen. “Nikólaos, look away.”

  Nick hid his face and heard hissing just like the Hydra.

  “NO,” the merman shouted, and Nick heard something else: the sound of a body plopping heavily into the water.

  “Can I come out?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Helen said as the hissing stopped. Nick took his hands from his face. “I can’t believe this,” she said.

  “That a giant half-fish stabbed me?”

  “No. That Poseidon hates us, as Hera hated Heracles. We must now avoid all water: seas, lakes, and rivers.”

  “Can I still take a shower?” Nick asked.

  Helen ignored him.

  “We must make for land right away.”

  “Dude.” Nick felt resentful as he hauled up their wood anchor. “What did I do to make a major god mad? I mean, I admired his statue and I like to swim—”

  “One never knows, said Helen. “The gods are always changeable. Perhaps he is set against you to get revenge on Athena.”

 
“No fair. I’m just a guy.”

  “Whose father is Chiron. Perhaps he angered the Sea God, or even me.” She sighed. “One thing is certain: Poseidon will never tell us.”

  “Unless he sends a fishgram.”

  They were now skirting the shore, causing the prow with its painted eye to bump onto the beach. Nick didn’t have to be told to get the heck onto land.

  “Phew,” he said, “that was close. Do kids in Mýthos like the merman always obey their folks?”

  “Usually,” said Helen. “We are raised to be dutiful.”

  “My mom would love it here. By the way, where is here?”

  “I really don’t know,” she said. “I guess we should ask—”

  POP.

  Next thing they knew, they were standing in a forest.

  “Hey,” Nick breathed. “What happened?”

  “Praise Athena,” said Helen. “She must have answered Poseidon by taking us to Keryneia.”

  “If only she had thought of that before we got in the boat.”

  “Shhh,” said Helen. “Do not question the gods! It only makes them angry.”

  “What doesn’t?” Nick asked.

  In Hindsight . . .

  Of course, since it was morning, Nick’s stomach started to rumble. Finding food in the forest was easy: at least, it was for Helen. She picked some edible berries, and, in a deft move, used the Pelian spear to snag a couple of birds. Nick watched in awe as she kindled a fire using only a rock and his sword. Then, she pulled down a branch, plucked and spitted the game.

  “Wow,” Nick exclaimed, watching her roast the birds. “Do you hang with the End of Worlders?”

  “When Athena first cursed me,” she said, “I fled to an island and learned to fend for myself. But I could not stand the silence and returned to her temple.”

  Nick nodded, still overwhelmed.

  “What else do you do?” he asked.

  “Besides turn things to stone? Not much.”

  She offered him a cooked bird.

  “Sweet,” Nick said with his mouth full. Boy, would Mom be mad! But he hadn’t had meat in so long that he soon stared in sorrow at a small pile of bones. “You’re a great huntress,” he told her. “The best.”

  “Shhh,” Helen warned. “Artemis might hear you.”