Interlude – Tracing the Centaur

Two months, one snowstorm, at least three red herrings and several attacks later, Ares, Nike and Cadmilos were finally nearing the place where Cheiron the Centaur was said to dwell. They had ventured far north, across the Transylvanian mountains and through the woodlands yonder those and were now standing on a narrow plateau, overlooking an elongated valley where a broad river was snaking its way towards some distant ocean, partly ice covered and almost black against the snow-covered ground. Forests of pines and spruces were climbing the mountainside, where wildlife in the form of deer, stag, wild boars, red foxes and furry bears could be seen. Eagles were soaring the sky and smaller birds were chirping among the trees. The cold air was hardly moving and it breathed a crispy sense of calmness, of peacefulness that felt restful for the three Olympians after their long trek.

"Hope this is finally it," Ares said as he gazed across the valley, using divine farsight to catch all the small details down there, trying to sense intelligent life. "Nike, what was it the oracle told you?"
"Two stairs, three gates and one beast between you and the man you search. But the hardest battle will be fought without hands."
"Gee," Cadmilos snorted. "Did she mean we were going to kick our way there?" Nike rolled her eyes and Ares replied:
"Not really, she probably meant that when we have climbed the stairs, passed the gates and defeated that beast, we will have to persuade the old horse-man to return to Hellas."
"Why can't these chicks ever be straightforward," Cadmilos huffed and started down the icy track, almost slipping and falling twice before giving up and starting to levitate instead.
"Because the mystery is half the allure, Cad," Ares replied as he set out after the younger god, although he was levitating from the start.
"I'm with Cadmilos," Nike admitted. "Oracles are so stuck up and all full of themselves."

When they reached the bottom of the valley and started for the far side, Nike asked Ares what he really was looking for.
"The tribal chief I talked to, the one who knew about the horse man, he said we should look for a statue of three wolves by a crossroad. It's there we shall turn left and start ascending the mountainside."
"Was that the last village, where we had to leave in such a hurry?" Nike wondered as she glanced up in the overcast sky, noting that some random snowflakes had started falling.
"Yes it was."
"Why was that? We had to leave, you mean?" asked Cadmilos, who hadn't understood the language. (To be true Ares had been struggling as well, unfamiliar as he was with the dialect, even if he did know the language of those north men.)

"Because we were on the brink of blowing our cover," Ares replied.
"And what? Expose ourselves as gods?" said Nike.
"Yes, the old shaman was seeing through our disguise. Don't ask me how he did it; he just seemed to have a way of knowing."
"Hey, Ares," Cadmilos protested. "Would that have been so bad then? After all I'm sick of playing mortal now. This charade..."
"This – charade – as you call it," Ares sighed, "is what has helped us getting this far without Cheiron knowing that we're coming for him. Hopefully that is. Otherwise he might've learned that three gods of Hellas are coming his way and mayhap he decides to sneak away."

"You think he'd done that?" Cadmilos looked at Ares with thoughtful, green eyes and the God of War sighed.
"Cheiron left Hellas 265 years ago. He has refused to be found since. There must be a reason why. And I don't think that reason is becoming less valid just because the three of us are struggling through the mountains and the forests to find him. Our only reasonable chance, methinks, is to surprise him."
"Something says me we cannot do that," Nike figured and pulled her fur-brimmed leather jacket tighter around her chest. "That he's well aware that we're coming. Preparing for that. Perhaps talking to those tribals was part of that set-up."
"Yes, that might be a possibility," Ares admitted. "But it's easier to just slip away in the dark. Now, let's stop speculating, it's not getting us anywhere. Let's see if we can find that wolf statue instead."

The snow started to fall and the Olympians quieted down and begun walking up that path. But nowhere did they find any signs of a wolf-statue. Or anything remotely resembling a thing made by intelligent beings, and Ares began to think that the shaman had remembered wrong. Luckily enough the old fart wouldn't have managed to set them up or the war god would've noticed. But while lying was one thing, it was nearly impossible to discover if someone remembered things wrong.

On Ares' order they backtracked, trying to see if they had missed something which they would've noticed if coming from the other direction. But no luck this time either. Once more did they turn around and walked through the valley, and it was when they turned around a curve they met someone walking in the opposite direction. A mortal human, dressed in animal skin, and walking with a limp, a hood covering most of his face and a staff made out of polished dark wood helping him along.

Naturally they stopped the man, who faced them with suspicious brown eyes under the frost-ridden rim of his fur hood. Something told Ares that he shouldn't ask for the Centaur directly, so after having hailed the elderly man, Ares asked if he knew anything about a statue of three wolves.

As a response the mortal got a sudden anger lashing across his weathered face before he turned around and spat on the ground.
"The blasphemer's symbol!" he cursed and made a warding sign with his bony, right hand, which lacked a finger. Then he enquired: "Who are you searching him?"
"We're travelers from the south," Ares replied noncommittally.
"I can tell that. Fancy clothes and all that. I advice of you to turn around and you go back to where you came from. These are dangerous grounds, not matter how big them swords you carry on your back. Or how much gold you carry with you."
"And why is that?" Nike asked.
"Do you not know, young woman," the old man answered in a patronizing voice. "Tis the place of the Angry God. Further on here, up the mountains he has his dwelling. And he does not like strangers. Those who come here he cast down the mountainside so they break their arms, legs and back. Every bone in 'em. The lucky ones, that is. "
"And the unlucky ones?" Cadmilos asked.
"You donnot really want to know that, do you? If you wish to sleep soundly tonight, you donnot ask anymore."

"All right," Ares stopped the stranger's further rant. "I can understand that you are afraid of what you've heard and I respect that. Caution is always the best way to treat the unknown. But I do think I know the god you're talking about. In fact he is the one we are searching."
"You insa... " the stranger began but Ares held up his glowed hand to signal that he was not done yet.
"We take full responsibility for our own health. All we want to know is where this 'angry god' as you refer to him as, is dwelling. Or if you rather not say, do tell us where that wolf statue is found."

The old man seemed to hesitate for a while, then made a motion with his staff, as if he was going to deny them their answer and just keep on going, but instead he pointed ahead of him, saying:
"Go you back where you came from, foreigners."
"Did we pass the wolf statue?" Nike asked.
"Are you dumb or what?" the old man returned, and Ares had to lay his hand upon Nike's arm to hinder her from pulling her blade. Then the war god reached inside of his cloak and produced a leather sack, which he held in front of the old man, shaking it slightly so a merry jangling sound was heard. The man's eyes widened at that sound, and Ares could almost hear how he started to think.

"H'much is in there?" he enquired eagerly.
"Enough," Ares replied shortly, well aware that he was right. He knew exactly how much money this man needed to begin talking. The man bit his dried up lip while his eyes darted to and from as if to make sure no one with listening ears was hiding in the forest.
"What good will money do if the Angry God gets me?" the stranger asked and Ares smiled slightly.
"That god will never know," the Olympian promised. "I will not even ask your name so he won't know where to start looking. So tell us where the wolf statue is and then take the money and run, and no one will never be the wiser about whoever told us where to look for the Angry God."

"'Oooo.." the man said and then he leaned closer to Ares, (who had to brace himself for the man's stench of sweat, dirt and bad digestion.) "...kay, but give me the money first."
"Sure," Ares said and handed over the sack. "After all if you set us up there'll be more than one angry god after you. Now tell!"
"You just hafta go a bit further," the man nodded his head in a backward direction. "Cross the brook and then there is one large pine. Larger than the most. Just next to it is a small boulder with three tiny iron wolves smitten to it. Is really small so you have to look or you wonnot see it."

Ares nodded gratefully.
"Thanks," he said and then he gestured to Nike and Cadmilos, before saying a curt goodbye to the old man and they went in their separate directions again.

When they were out of hearing range from the mortal, Cadmilos asked:
"Did you trust him?"
"He didn't lie, if that's what you mean," Ares responded. "The old fart was scared like Tartarus, but he told the truth. That statue is over yonder, I even saw it in his mind. No wonder we didn't see it before, it's quite small and we were all looking for something man-sized or larger.

Five minutes later the Olympians were staring at said statue. It was indeed a tiny one, not much larger than a human fist, and the falling snow was hiding it fast. If they had just passed a few moments later they wouldn't have seen it at all. Although beside the statue there was no sign of any lead up to the mountain side and the supposed dwelling of the immortal Centaur. At least not until Cadmilos walked over to the opposite side of the main road and discovered a small track leading in among the trees. Nike seemed doubtful when Cadmilos announced his discovery but Ares thought it was worth a try at least and they started walking in file down that path.

Soon the narrow path began carrying upwards and from time to time it ran across the mountainside and became rather risky, especially in those parts where it was ice covered. All of them slipped now and then and soon found themselves levitating rather than walking the normal way and in the end they simply gave in and kept on floating above the ground. After all who would see them here? Save for one or two goats and the odd bear poking up its curious brown head among the trees to check what strange beings were crossing its forest. It all felt like it was going a little bit too smooth and always when it did, Ares got suspicious. But he had barely time to form his thought before the attack came.

The strange, black skinned and bat-winged beings looked like men from top to navel, but black reptiles below that and their heads were horned like Satyrs, but instead of the gentle-and-dumb face of a Satyr, these beings had horrid, narrow faces contorted in anger, carnivore fangs bared and almost luminescent orange or red eyes. And there were plenty of them. Plenty of plenty and Ares barely got the chance to call out a warning before the monsters were over them. They were unarmed, instead they were using razor-sharp and sturdy claws which they lashed out with, using real strong force in their backhand strokes.

Ares and Nike were defending themselves like furies, and also doing their best to protect Cadmilos, who was only armed with a small dagger and tried to ward his face instead of using it.

"Shield, for fate's sake, Cad! Shield!" Nike was calling out to him as her sword passed through five beasts in a single stroke, slicing them in half.

At the same time Ares tried to drag the beasts away from Cadmilos by jumping in the air and distancing himself from the others, but the beasts were unfortunately too many for the trick to work. So Ares sheeted his sword and picked up a large boulder and hurled it right into the melee instead, taking quite a few of them out at a time. Three boulders were thrown the same way then Ares was out of that kind of ammunition and had to grasp his trusty old sword instead. However there were still too many beasts, it became hard to maneuver both in the sky and on the ground, since the black beasts were all attacking at the same time and from every direction. Yet after a while even the strongest assault was no match for the Olympians. Soon the number of foes started to diminish, until they were all destroyed, ground littered with fallen attackers, most of them beheaded or simply cut in half.

Covered in blood, Ares and Nike looked at each other.
"A bit refreshing, don't you think so?" Ares asked and Nike grinned back.
"Sorta. A nice change from all trekking and tracing," the goddess responded. Then she looked at a cut-off bat wing which was still twisting and fluttering around like some freak, landside ray-fish, making a face at the discomforting sight. "Where's Cad?" she asked.
"I..." Ares looked around. "I guess he's hiding somewhere."

"Cad! You can come out now," he then called, but got no reply save for his own echo and a caving raven somewhere. "Cadmilos!" he persisted and Nike was also calling out the name of third god.
"This isn't like him to just disappear and not replying," she shook her head while sheeting her sword. Ares willed the blood from his body and clothes away and then he called once more for the nature god, while scanning the area for his soul pattern. Nothing.
"Where can he…?"
"Ares! Over here," Nike called out and in an instance she jumped down from the mountain edge and almost fell when she hit ground in the soft snow below. Ares went right after her and wisely decided to stop a few decimeters above ground, and thus avoid stumbling in the soft covering of the ground.
"What... Oh..."

Soon the war god was seeing what Nike had spotted. There laid their comrade – or what was left of him. What once had been the agricultural god Cadmilos was now nothing but a headless corpse with a torn-up chest.
"Oh fate! They took his heart!" Nike moaned. Then she buried her face at the War God's strong chest, almost crying out: "Ares, they took his heart!"
"Yeah, freaks me out too. It's almost – like they were after that, nothing else."
"What were these things? I've never seen anything like it."
"Some kind of nagas, I think," Ares said while caressing the goddess as he fought the discomfort he too was feeling. "Just wonder how they could've become so plenty. There's nothing here to eat after all, save for the goats. And one or two wanderers. And if they are so picky that they only desire the hearts, then..."

"Ares," Nike interrupted. "What if it wasn't something they ate. I mean for nourishment. What if they took it for... I don't know, some kind of rite. It was sick after all. And how come that old fart we met was not familiar with them? Because if he had been, his fear of them would no doubt have reeked out of every pore of his. Not to mention that he would not have come here in the first place."
"Yes, it's quite strange," Ares replied. "I wonder if these could've been part of the oracle's prophecy."
"She talked about ONE beast. These were – several hundreds," Nike replied as she let go of Ares and instead kneelt beside the dead body of their comrade. Squatting down next to her, Ares resumed.
"Or perhaps that's just what it seemed like."
"Come on, you mean we were hallucinating? Then what about all the blood and how could ONE beast kill Cadmilos? Even if he had just one knife?"

"I mean that these beings could be like a hive fraction. Several entities which really were one single being. One single mind uniting them all. Or it."
"A shared mind? I've heard about these things. With Hydras and such. But not with beings separated from each other."
"The way they went for Cadmilos' heart and nothing but the heart hints at something like that. Plus the fact that they had never shown themselves earlier, and then just BAM – there they are, all of them. Now, come Nike, let's give our poor friend a decent funeral pyre."

*o*o*

Three hours later, when dusk began to fall, Ares and Nike were standing hand in hand, comforting each other while they watched the last embers die and nothing was left of Cadmilos, son of Sabazios. Ares cradled the lost god's Olympian amulet in his hand, feeling an odd shame burning upon his cheeks, while recalling how many times he had been annoyed with their companion. Infuriated by the other god's flimsiness, endless questioning of orders and often outright cowardice. Now the War God didn't know how to say he was sorry for all those times he had snapped at the younger man. Then he felt something brushing by his cheek and he heard a swirling whispering voice in his ear.
"Ares, take care of my son. Take care of Eurymedon!"

Startled, Ares snapped and turned his head to look, but there was nothing to be seen, not even when looking in other spectra than the visible one. Thus Ares comprehended that it was Cadmilos' spirit – or at least an echo or imprint of it – which he had heard. Realizing that he shivered slightly, he just wasn't used to gods dying. He had seen mortals slaughtered in hundreds of thousands on the battlefield – it was often gory and bloody - but always soon over with and their souls inevitably travelled down under to the waiting Hades. There weren't these strange aftermaths like when gods died. And they – where did their souls go? Ares wasn't so sure he wanted to know. Not at the moment at least.

"Tomorrow, Nike," he said. "We'll keep looking for Cheiron."
"Yes. And if you're right about the beast, then we'll just have two stairs and three gates to pass. That should be a lot more easier than this ordeal."

*o*o*

Nike seemed to be right. Early the next day they came upon a high stone wall. And after having followed it for a while they encountered the first gate. It was not unexpectedly locked, but the chain which held the lock was rusty and old and she could quite easily tear it apart. On worn hinges the gate creaked open, displaying the first staircase, which was in a shape as bad as the gate, worn and withered, several steps more or less turned into rubble. Once again the gods found themselves levitating upwards, fed up with misstepping and slipping on untrustable ground.

Halfway up they sat down on a somewhat steady stepping stone, resting their minds and eating a light snack.
"What are we going to say to Cheiron, have you thought of that?" Nike asked, not for the first time.
"I've been thinking," Ares replied. "Been making speeches in my head. But nothing... Well, I think I'm just going to tell him the truth. Tell him what it's like back home. That his brethren Centaurs are being killed down in Hellas. That there's nothing we can do to stop it from happening, because the Centaurs are free beings, refusing to be pampered, and because we have no idea who or what's behind the murders, other than that they have access to exotic beasts."
"Can it be the same one who sent these batnaga thingies against us yesterday?" Nike asked before drinking from her water sack.

"It could be," Ares agreed. "It's a long shot, but... it could mean – that Cheiron might be in danger. Perhaps we have to hurry."
"But they – they cannot..."
"Harm Cheiron? I don't know. Any other day I would've I doubted it, but if they have access to beasts who can kill an Olympian – even if he was far from the strongest of us – then you're right, Nike, Cheiron could be in danger."

As on an unsaid order, they both corked their sacks and gathered what was left of their food and resumed ascending the stairs. Soon they reached another gate, in quite a bit better shape than the former and quite a bit harder to deal with as well. It wasn't the lock or anything even remotely like it. The gate was open, it was just about pressing the hatch and then entering the dark cavity lying behind – which turned out to be a dead end.
"You mean we came all this way for nothing?" Nike cursed. "A blistering dead end."
"No," Ares said. "There has to be a secret opening here."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Simple logic. Why would anyone bother building a wall and two gates up here and then carve out that long and winding staircase we just mounted, to just create a dead end. What for?"

"Some people do strange things," Nike sighed but Ares was not listening. He had conjured up a ball of divine light which he was shining around the cavity while thoroughly scrutinizing every square inch of the rock wall. Shrugging her shoulders, Nike started to do the same. Ares was right, the likelihood that this was a real dead end was very slight indeed. Besides, this wall and gate thing added up with what the Oracle had told them earlier. She began running sensitive fingertips over the stone while helping along with enhanced sight and tentacles of mind seeking across the wall for a lingering pattern of a human touch. Or at least the touch of a sentient being. Someone who had triggered something in the stone to let themselves through. Unexpectedly she hit jack pot.

"Ares!" she called out. "Come, look here!"
"Yes?" Ares turned around, giving up his search to see what Nike had found.
"This! It's not much, but it's odd. And I've an indistinct recollection of sentient vibrancy."
"You're right," Ares regarded the faint trace of red metal imbued into the stone. If he was using his imagination the small blotch did resemble the head of a wolf. A wolf in profile with somewhat enlarged ears. The oddly coloured metal glistened in the divine light. Ares ran his index finger over it, trying to sense the same thing as Nike, but instead it was as if a bolt had passed through his digit and as a large snap was heard. The surprised war god became thrown back against the opposite wall, which he hit with a resounding thud, making parts of the cavity collapse and a large heap of rock falling down over him.

But Nike hardly cared, because at the same time she saw a crack appear, which passed from the red "wolf-blotch" and ran upwards and downwards. The next moment the stone slid to the side with a grinding sound and an opening in the cave became visible in front of the astounded goddess, who once again called for her comrade. He was rising with a grunt, throwing stones to the left and to the right.
"My usual lu... What the...?"
"Yes, I think we found the third gate," Nike grinned. "C'mon chap, don't be so miffed! Shit happens. Now we're going to visit our Centaur!"

With those words Nike went ahead into the long corridor opening up ahead of them, shining her divine flame in front of her. Ares trailed after, he had pulled his sword. He didn't know why, perhaps for some sense of comfort. He had no idea where this road was taking them, and he had never been that found of caves. Not after being trapped in one in his youth when he had been chasing after a dragon. A dragon which wasn't real but part of a set-up he had walked right into like some dim-witted dumbass who wanted to play hero. On top of that Athena had to come to his rescue and that was even more embarrassing than being trapped in the first hand. All right, he could sleep in a cave now and then when out on a campaign, but he seldom ventured far into them. Not if he had a choice anyhow. Which he didn't have now, instead he followed Nike, who once again called out his name as she turned her head.
"Ares, the second staircase!"

Yes, there it was, a spiraling one snaking itself upwards. Without hesitation Nike started to ascend, and Ares who didn't want to lose momentum followed right behind her. The first three turns the staircase followed the normal turns of a spiraling staircase, but then it turned around and switched direction, and Nike almost stumbled in surprise, Ares having to catch her by her arm, which made him feel a bit better. Rescuing a lady was after all his thing. Twice more the staircase changed direction before it opened up into a larger cavity which was generously lit.

"Welcome," a smooth tenor voice was hailing them. "I knew it was only a question of time before some of Zeus' minions would find me again."