"...Afterwards they two [Apollo and Hermes], the all-glorious sons of Zeus turned the cows back towards the sacred meadow, but themselves hastened back to snowy Olympus, delighting in the lyre. Then wise Zeus was glad and made them both friends. And Hermes loved the son of Leto continually, even as he does now, when he had given the lyre as token to the Far-shooter, who played it skilfully, holding it upon his arm...and Apollo, son of Leto, swore to be fellow and friend to Hermes, vowing that he would love no other among the immortals, neither god nor man sprung from Zeus, better than Hermes: and the Father sent forth an eagle in confirmation." -Homeric Hymn to Hermes, 503-549

On These Wings, I Fly

Prologue

It was dark and stormy in Arcadia, but in a cave on Mount Cyllene, the mountain nymph Maia was warm and dry.

It was merely a day after her relations with the king of the gods, Zeus, but already she was feeling the beginnings of birth pains. A boy, she thought as she leaned against the wall of the cave. It will be a boy. She felt a kick against her stomach, almost as if the child was agreeing.

She took a deep breath and began to push. It didn't take long, and soon her son was resting on the floor of the cave. He didn't cry, but simply looked up at her with something akin to interest. Black, curly hair was matted to his head. His eyes shone green in the dim light cast by the lone torch. "Hello," Maia greeted him softly, beginning to swaddle him in blankets. When she was sure that he was warm, she laid him back down before settling next to him with a tired sigh. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Chapter 1

As a full-blooded Greek god, the new baby was maturing rapidly. He squirmed around in his blankets, attempting to get loose. His stomach was rumbling, and he sensed fresh meat nearby.

When he finally freed himself from the blankets, he sat up and gazed around. His mother was sleeping peacefully, curled beneath a blanket. Only her dark head was visible. The baby smiled in her direction before standing up on wobbly legs and making his way out of the cave.

The rain had passed, and the sun was just beginning to come out. The child looked around at the new world in admiration before continuing on his way. Soon, he was off the mountain and in a vast valley where a large herd of golden cattle was grazing.

These animals would make a wonderful meal, he thought, gazing up at the golden heads. But how can I keep their herdsman from discovering that I stole them?

Then it came to him. He would drive the cattle backwards, creating a trail that would be sure to confuse anyone who saw it.

The baby smiled, pleased with his own brilliance, and climbed onto the back of one of the animals. With the power of his mind, he commanded them to begin walking backwards.

It wasn't long before they arrived at a river crossing, and the baby decided to stop. Climbing off of his makeshift steed's back, he rested his hands on his small hips. He was still hungry, and he had another idea. With a grin, he transformed a nearby rock into a sharp knife and slaughtered two of the fifty cattle. The child carved into the animals, disemboweling them and separating the meat into equal portions.

There was a portion for each of the twelve Olympian gods.

After lighting a fire, he cooked his own share of the meat and ate it quickly, easing the rumble in his stomach. After he finished eating, he found himself gazing at the piles of the cattle's entrails and then at a nearby tortoise shell. Surely he could make use of the items. It seemed like such a waste to just leave them there.

The baby wobbled over the entrails, gathered them up, and then retrieved the tortoise shell. Maybe if he used the entrails as strings…

He wrapped them around the shell as tightly as possible, creating taut cords, and tied them together at the back of the shell so that they remained in place. When he was finished, he gave the cords an experimental strum, and giggled with delight at the ensuing music.

The baby clutched his new instrument as he drove the remaining forty-eight cattle in a nearby cave and then made his way home.

Night had begun to fall before anything happened. The baby was safe in his cave, once again swaddled in his blankets. His mother was once again asleep, though she had been waiting for him when he arrived to tell him that the gods were probably not going to be amused by his devilish antics.

The baby had just begun to doze off when he heard the sound of footsteps outside the cave's entrance. He was instantly alert.

Light began to flood the cave even though it was the middle of the night, and the baby squinted his sensitive eyes. It took a few seconds before he could see that there was a figure standing inside the cave.

His first thought was gold. Everything about the newcomer was golden, from his long hair to the robes he was wrapped in. The baby stared with wonder at the stranger. His mother didn't stir.

The stranger moved forward. As he came closer the baby could see that he had a bow-and-arrow strapped to his back and that his eyes, which were now scanning the cave, were bright blue. His mouth was set in a thin line; clearly, he was angry.

Instinctively, the infant shrunk down inside his blankets and squeezed his eyes shut.

He heard the rustle of robes as the stranger moved. He was coming closer. The baby could now feel the power of this mighty person as though it were coming off him in waves. And then—

"Little child, lying in your cradle, how sweet you appear to be," a voice spoke, and the sound was a beautiful thing; seductively deep and radiating with majesty. The baby couldn't help but open his eyes and gaze upon this glorious creature who could only be one of the powerful Olympian gods.

"Indeed, you are quite crafty," the god went on, and even in the dim light of the cave, his narrowed eyes were visible. "But there is one thing you did not foresee. I have the gift of divination, and I know you're the thief who stole my herd. Surely after this, the gods will call you the prince of robbers for all eternity."

The baby gulped but blinked up at this terrifying god, all the while struggling to maintain an innocent expression.

The golden-haired god tilted his head, and if it was possible, he looked more furious than before. "I know that you can speak! Now tell me, or I shall cast you into the deepest pits of Tartarus: Where did you hide my herd?"

The baby hesitated, but finally spoke. "My Lord, I do not know who stole your sacred cows, but it surely wasn't me. I was just born this morning, and the only things I care for are warm blankets and sleep."

The god's eyes danced with rage. "Your words are very crafty, rogue Prince, and so innocent that people less knowledgeable than I be would most surely believe you, but I am no fool."

And before the baby knew what was happening, he had been snatched out of his cradle and tucked under the god's arm.

The baby wasn't going to be taken so easily. Noticing how the god's long hair hung over his shoulder, the child freed an arm from his blankets and reached forward, grabbing a handful of the tresses and pulling as hard as he could.

His plan worked. The god, taken by surprise more than pain, dropped the baby to the ground.

"That wasn't very polite," he snapped, and then in a mocking voice asked, "Are you scared, dear Prince? You've no need to be. Why don't you make things easier for both of us and lead the way to my cattle?"

The baby leapt to his feet. "Where did you think you were taking me?" he demanded. "Are you really so angry at me just because of your cows? If so, I almost wish that all the cattle of this world would drop dead!"

"I was angry because of my cattle," the god said irately, grabbing the child's arm. "Now I am angry that you are attempting to deceive me with your pretty words."

It was then that the baby noticed that they were no longer in the cave.

"Apollo!" a booming voice called out.

The baby struggled to sit up in the god's—Apollo's?—arms. Looking around, he saw that they were in a beautifully decorated room, at the far end of which sat a large man upon a throne. He had shoulder-length blonde hair that was slightly darker than Apollo's.

"Father," Apollo acknowledged, and the infant knew then that this must be Zeus, king of the gods.

"I see that you've brought my newest son for a visit," Zeus said happily, climbing off his throne and hurrying forward. He tickled the baby under the chin. The newborn smiled up at his father.

"This little terror is your son?" Apollo asked angrily. "He stole my cattle, Father! And quite a job he did. You should have seen the tracks—they pointed towards the valley, yet moved towards the sea. And this baby's tracks were nowhere to be seen. Wondrous, is it not? Certainly the work of a genius. Yet he tells me, this new son of yours, 'I have not seen them. I did not steal them.'"

"I didn't steal them!" the baby protested. "I was just born this morning. How could I herd cattle? He must be mistaken! I could not lie to you, Father. Surely I am too young for stealing and lying? I swear an oath that I am not guilty. If you are my father, and if you love me, your youngest son, you will punish this audacious god for accusing me and threatening to cast me into Tartarus!"

Zeus was clearly amused by his sons' rants; he chuckled and ruffled the infant's hair before turning his dancing eyes to Apollo. "I was watching him this morning. Cunning little thing, isn't he? Just like his father!"

Apollo's face twisted into an ugly expression at his father's nonchalant attitude. The baby glanced up at him, getting a good look at the golden-haired god's face for the first time now that they were no longer in a dark cave. Apollo's face was all sharp lines; his nose was long and straight, his cheekbones were extremely prominent, his forehead was high, and his jaw was finely chiseled. At the moment, he looked like he would like nothing better than to murder the child in his arms.

The infant, realizing that he was caught, relented. He met Apollo's eyes. "Fine. I took your sacred cows," he mumbled. "But I only sacrificed two of them. The rest are in a cave."

"Sacrificed?" Apollo asked suspiciously. Next to him, Zeus looked confused.

"Yes! I split the meat into twelve parts for each of the gods," the baby said proudly.

"Twelve?" Apollo was baffled. "But there are only eleven of us. Who is the twelfth?"

Zeus was now grinning widely.

"I am, of course," the baby laughed, tugging at his brother's hair again.

Apollo opened his mouth—undoubtedly to complain about his sacrificed animals—so Zeus jumped in before he could. "I can already tell that you'll be a hermeneus," he said to the baby with a wink. "So I think we will call you Hermes. As long as you show Apollo where you hid his cattle, you won't be in any trouble."

"But, Father!" Apollo protested, glaring down at his brother. "Surely he deserves to be punished!"

Zeus waved him off.

Apollo, grumbling darkly under his breath, stormed out of the room.

Hermes directed Apollo to the cave where he had hidden the golden cattle. Apollo set his newest brother on a nearby rock as he began to herd up the animals. When he spotted the remains of the two sacrificed cattle, he glanced at Hermes with befuddlement. "You actually did sacrifice them? How did you manage to do that? You're just a baby!"

Hermes shrugged.

He had watched his brother for a few moments but had quickly become bored. Producing his instrument from inside his blankets, the baby began to strum out a tune that he made up as he went along. Soon, he began to add lyrics. His eyes once again found Apollo, who was moving about the cattle with his bow-and-arrow on his shoulders. "Apollo, who shoots afar," the child began to hum. "How shall I sing of you who are in all ways a worthy theme of song? My golden-tressed lord, with sweet-flowing words…"

Apollo became still as he listened to the music of the instrument and the song. Hermes sang louder, and his voice echoed beautifully throughout the cave.

When Apollo turned to face him, he was shocked to see that it was no longer a baby sitting on the rock—it was a full-grown god with dark hair that curled over his ears and bright green eyes that wouldn't have looked out of place on a cat.

Hermes stared right back at Apollo; any trace of anger on the blond's face was long gone. He looked absolutely enchanted.

"If you let me have this, you can keep my cattle," Apollo offered.

Hermes nodded eagerly, and Apollo sat down next to him. "Then you'll be needing this," the blond declared, and as he spoke, a golden staff appeared in his hand. Hermes gave it a curious look, for it was an interesting thing; the top of it was winged, with two snakes entwined along its length. Hermes handed his brother the instrument that he had decided to call a lyre, and Apollo handed him the caduceus.

"So we're friends, then?" Hermes asked Apollo, just to be sure.

Apollo hesitated, but nodded.

From where he was watching up in Heaven, Zeus smiled happily.