The Immortal Heart

Chapter 32

Rhea had not given a specific number of days in which to await the messenger she spoke of. The gods awaited the arrival of their foretold guest with great anticipation, then with anxious impatience. Zeus had no idea who their visitor could possibly be, and on the third day he was practically sitting on his hands at noon’s meal.

A nymph flitted into the room – as usual through a window – and announced that she and her equals had spotted the messenger ten leagues away, headed in the direction of the house. Zeus promptly rose from the table and was the first to head outside while his siblings only stared at his departure.

“Zeus,” Poseidon called after him, struggling not to find his brother’s exit funny. “He still has several leagues to go before he arrives!”

But Zeus pretended not to hear his brother and did not return inside despite his siblings’ calls. He would be the first to see the messenger arrive, and the first one to lay his eyes on the weapons made for him to defeat Cronos.

Over four hours passed until anything happened, and the sun had started its slow descent behind the mountains in the west. Then, when even Zeus considered giving up waiting and joining his siblings around the warm hearth inside the house, he saw movement in the forest.

His sword was in his hand as soon as his eyes registered the movement, and the Olympian leader prepared for battle just as much as he prepared to greet the messenger of the giants. One could never know beforehand if a stranger was a friend or a foe, and Zeus preferred to always assume the latter until the opposite was proven.

He had expected a satyr, a dryad, or possibly even a low-ranking giant, but Zeus was not prepared for what finally appeared out of the dense vegetation. The man, if it could be called that, bore the head, torso and arms of a well-sculpted god, but below the waist its body extended into that of a horse, running along on all four legs. Zeus did not lower his sword as the strange being approached him, but there was little doubt that this was indeed who they’d been waiting for.

The horse-man mixture let out a bellowing laughter in response to the god’s shocked expression and crossed his arms over his chest. Zeus’ eyes were inevitably drawn to the objects, wrapped up in sheets and thrown over its horse back.

“Do not look so surprised, O great Zeus,” the being said, and to his even greater surprise, Zeus found the voice familiar. “I am Chiron, son of Cronos. And I believe we have met.”

Zeus watched the creature closely, knowing his childhood had to have been where deeply buried memories of Chiron lay. “Chiron,” he echoed. “I deduce you are affiliated with my mother.”

“I am.” Chiron could speak very clearly, but he was direct.

“I remember you from my childhood. Not quite as clearly as the nymphs, but…”

“My visits were not as frequent as those of your nymphs,” the creature said plainly, he glanced beyond Zeus and at a window. “Nor were they as… memorable.”

Several nymphs were perched at the frames of the windows, giggling. When Zeus turned to regard them, he saw his brothers and sisters exiting the house. Though they came forward with a façade of fearlessness, Zeus could detect fear more clearly in Hades and Hestia.

“Brothers, sisters,” the Olympian leader addressed them. “This is Chiron, the messenger our mother spoke of. Half-brother as well, it would seem.”

Chiron glanced in their direction. His face was not exactly like that of a god, but it was handsome nonetheless. The bones of his skull were curved and prominent in his face, giving him a profile slightly more similar to the animal whose legs he shared. Looking over each of them, his eyes finally rested on Poseidon, to whom he gave a polite smile.

“Cronos may have conceived me, but he is no father of mine,” he said. “I serve Rhea.”

“Are you here to deliver us something?” Zeus then asked, still throwing furtive glances at the objects Chiron carried with him. His curiosity urged him to simply reach out and claim them for himself, but he was also well aware that such an action might reward him with a hoof to his forehead.

“I am,” Chiron replied, now smiling. “On behalf of the great Cyclopes, I am here to bring you gifts wrought as a token of their appreciation.” Reaching behind himself, Chiron brought forth something small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. The object was shrouded in a sheet, but it was not enough to conceal its bright blue luminescence, which was reflected on Chiron as well as the Olympians.

“Zeus, leader of the Olympians,” the centaur spoke solemnly, lowering his hand with the mysterious, sparkling orb. “I hereby present your gift.”

To his great chagrin, Zeus found his hands trembling when reaching to accept his weapon from Chiron. He hoped that none of his siblings had noticed his nervousness and prepared to handle the shrouded sphere, suspecting it to feel just as hot as it looked; like blue fire.

“Worry not, my friend,” Chiron said with a chuckle before handing the object over to its new owner. “It is quite cool.”

The weapon seemed to have been made just for him, because it reacted the very moment Zeus touched it. Light exploded at all directions for a few seconds – surprising everyone except Chiron – until it gathered together into a wildly trembling bundle of light and crackling, dry sound. The near blinding light reflected in Zeus’ brilliant blue eyes, and he held onto it like a spear, feeling the power behind the bolt course through him. With the mere wonder of whether or not this light was now becoming a part of him, the bolt shrank until it was no more. Looking up in confusion at Chiron, the being only smiled.

“Take care who else comes near that,” he advised. “It may be part of you now, but to others it will not be so kind.”

Zeus, though looking absorbed with the wonder that was his new weapon, listened to Chiron, glancing at him again with a smile.

“The giants have done well with their gifts,” the youngest Olympian said. “And I have yet to see what else they bring.”

Chiron nodded, reaching behind his torso again and removing something rather long and cumbersome to carry. Unwrapping it, he held it out to the next god.

“To Poseidon,” he said, one of his hooves casually pawing the ground. “I hereby grant you your gift.”

The weapon glistened in the setting sunlight as its wrapping came loose. It resembled a three pronged iron spear, and to Poseidon’s delight, it reminded him of the fishing spear he had created long before the fortress had been attacked. A grin spread on the god’s face as he held it up and looked over every detail before looking at Chiron, who only briefly smiled back.

“Though it seems a mere trident,” the visitor explained, “it rends more than flesh and bone. One thrust and the spearheads cause earthquakes through soil, tempests through water. It should prove useful on any battlefield. And finally for Hades…”

“Hades?” Zeus interrupted. “They made a weapon for him?”

Eyes wide and brow knitted, Hades was taken aback and just a little bit angry at his brother’s remark, but Chiron beat him to a response.

“The giants were instructed to make a weapon for each god by Rhea, and that is what they did.” He lifted the final bundle from his pack and presented it to the eldest god. “To you, half-brother,” he said politely.

Hands stretched out in near child-like excitement, Hades accepted the bundle from their visitor, eager to unwrap it and view his gift. He was genuinely surprised that a weapon had been made for him, and apparently, so was Zeus, and his brother’s obvious bafflement hurt Hades.

Why would I not be worthy to wield a weapon made by the Cyclopes? he thought. This war concerns me as much as it does Zeus and Poseidon. Why should I be left without?

The object turned out to be a simple helmet, made of iron and metal with few adornments. The exhilarated expression was erased from Hades’ face and replaced by one reading of disappointment. A helmet? His brothers receive weapons to wield the power of mother earth itself, and he gets naught but a helmet?

“Why so sad, Hades?” Chiron asked sympathetically. He stepped closer to the eldest god and bent down to whisper in his ear, as if telling a secret. “This is no mere helmet, my brother,” he explained. “When worn by someone, it will make its bearer invisible. You ought to try it before you pass judgment.”

“Invisible…?” Hades murmured, closely eyeing the object in his hands. One could not deny that it was excellent craftsmanship, but its attributes still paled in comparison to the weapons of his two brothers.

“Try it on, Hades,” the centaur insisted. “You won’t know its potential until you put it to the test.”

Giving in, Hades brushed back his hair and allowed the helmet to smoothly slip onto his head. The mere comfort of it made him wonder how the Cyclopes, whom he had never met, could have known how to fashion a helmet ideal for him in size and shape. His musings were put to an abrupt halt when several shocked cries sounded from his siblings, who were staring wide-eyed at the spot where their brother had stood only a moment ago.

Though she felt stupid saying it, Hestia said it anyway: “Where did he go?”

At this, Hades could not help but laugh, and it was heard by his siblings.

“He’s still there,” Chiron replied. “Only enjoying the powers of his gift.”

“I am indeed,” Hades’ disembodied voice chimed in. Demeter, knowing the voice could not just be present on its own, poked at the space where she had heard her brother’s words. Partly she did so out of curiosity, to quell the doubt that Hades was truly present, but also in an attempt to tease him for his surprise of a gift. Sure enough, she heard a yelp as her finger collided with an unseen set of ribs. Grass flattened against the ground where Hades’ feet must have stepped, and he walked up to Zeus, who had no idea of the elder god’s expression.

He also was unaware of where Hades’ hands would go, and he jumped in surprise as invisible fingers grasped a fistful of his robes where his sex would have been. Blindly reaching forward, Zeus grabbed at his brother until he felt something that might have been metal and lifted it. In the blink of an eye, Hades was visible again, grinning mischievously.

“I am certain this was not what our mother had in mind for use of your gift, Hades,” the leader said, though his stern expression was betrayed by a small smile.

Hades turned to Chiron, his mood much brighter. He had not been impressed at first by the notion of invisibility made into a weapon, but he had been wrong. To be unseen was what Hades had become accustomed to for most of his life, before Zeus had approached him so long ago in that isolated spring. And with his new helm, he could truly vanish from those around him whenever he wished.

“Thank you, Chiron,” he said.

“I only brought them,” the half brother of the gods replied. His flank shuddered at a detected fly and his equine tail swatted at it. “The giants are those whom you should be thanking.”

“I trust that you will pass our words of gratitude on to them,” Poseidon said. “These weapons will be very useful in our battle against Cronos and hopefully sufficient to defeat him.”

“I have faith in your ability to wield them,” Chiron solemnly announced. “And I shall pass on your word of thanks to their creators.”

“You must be weary from your long journey,” the curly-haired god then said, changing subjects.

He hoped that his fascination with the horse-man hybrid was not as obvious as he suspected, although he was not the only one to be curious about the other son of Cronos. Poseidon found himself wanting to know more about the compelling creature, and in order to do that, he would have to spend time with him.

“Would you honor us by staying as our guest for a few days?” he proposed, boldly counting on Zeus’ compliance in the matter. “Our house is small, but…”

“Oh, I would be honored,” Chiron broke in, smiling broadly. “We are, after all, family!”

Hera glared at her brother when he made the offer, and then glared even more venomously at the stinking, loud-mouthed man-beast Poseidon was fawning over. His interest in the creature was unfathomable to her, and she did not look forward to being under the same roof as the thing for days on end.

“Like our brother just said, our house is small and the space is cramped,” Hera put in, using all her practiced self-control to sound somewhat polite. “There are six of us in three bedrooms, and…”

Chiron held up a hand to silence her. “I would not concern myself over that,” he quickly said. “I sleep outdoors, and doing so becomes me. However, I am starved, and if you have any food to spare, I would love to dine with you.”

Hera was not fond of horses, and to have some half-horse creature taking the gods’ hospitality was ludicrous to her, half-brother or not. Horses were loud and brash, skittish at inopportune moments. And they evacuated everywhere. And large animals made large waste. The goddess only hoped that the beast’s god half knew how to control bowel movements.

Chiron had to bend his upper half forward to manage the doorways, but thankfully the ceilings reached higher than his head. His hooves echoed loudly in the hallways and he had to take care in where he flicked his tail, lest one of his half siblings get hit in the face. Otherwise, he was able to navigate quite well on his own without getting stuck and he could easily wander around the dining hall, taking a seat when the food was served.

Already he could sense the animosity from Hera, and thus he sat between Poseidon – so captivated by his presence – and Demeter. Sitting next to Demeter was Hades, then Zeus, followed by Hera – who continued to stare at the dinner guest uneasily – and then finally Hestia.

Poseidon could not resist the urge to watch with great fascination at how Chiron took a seat. Chiron’s lower half denied the practicality of a chair, and thus he had to sit down on his powerful backside, rear legs bent and front legs held straight. The horse half of him quivered as though becoming used to the strange position. Poseidon smiled at the sight.

“Are there more like you, Chiron?” he asked as the group ate.

The centaur lowered his head in response to the question, as if it saddened him. “I fear I am one of a kind,” he slowly said, looking at the god who had asked him this. “Even though I was sired by Cronos, I am neither a titan nor a god. You may sometimes feel like you’re alone in this world, but at least there are six of you, and you have one another to rely on. I have only myself.”

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, Chiron…” Hades quietly spoke. “How exactly were you conceived?”

Chiron’s initial reply to this was a mere scoff, and Hades began to fear that he had offended their guest by asking. He opened his mouth to apologize, but promptly closed it when Chiron spoke again.

“From what I have been told, Cronos took the form of a horse to seduce my mother and impregnate her. As you can see…” He gestured at the lower half of himself. “There were consequences.”

“You were told this by your mother?” Zeus asked.

Chiron shook his head. “My mother abandoned me at birth. I suppose I was not what she had expected.” Though he finished his statement with a chuckle, it was easy for the gods to see past the jovial mask and detect the sorrow hidden in his words.

“I am truly sorry, Chiron,” Poseidon said compassionately and placed his hand on his equine half-brother’s arm as a gesture of sympathy. “Your mother was foolish not to see your worth.”

“It is all in the past,” the centaur replied. “Let’s not dwell on it. However… I hope that perhaps someday, there will be more like myself.”

“One would hope so,” Demeter said in encouragement, “though perhaps it would be premature to start anytime soon.”

“Yes,” Hera muttered under her breath, looking a little disgusted, “I’ve just started eating…”

“What I meant,” Demeter said, uncertain if their half brother had heard the eldest goddess’ insult, “was that Cronos may not allow us to add to our families whilst he is still at large.”

“Indeed,” Hades said quietly, thinking back on his own attempt at bringing life into the world. He tried to tell himself that raising a child now when Cronos could cause it harm was worse than losing it before its true birth, but the pain of the memory still hid away in the back of his mind, ready to twist its claws.

“But one day Cronos will know that he does not rule over us,” he continued, “and when that day comes, maybe we will be able to live in peace.”

“Well said, dear brother,” Zeus gently told Hades, taking his hand and kissing it. Zeus had neglected to wipe his mouth of the meal the family ate, and Hades had came back to him oily and stained, but the elder god only laughed and wiped his hand clean.

If Chiron had heard the offensive words made by Hera, he did not show it. One of his pointed ears twitched, and he continued to eat and engage in casual conversation, smiling at Hades’ words. He could tell Hades was not the strongest of the gods, despite his age, but if given the chance, perhaps one day he would be very strong indeed. Only time would tell.

Hestia and Demeter were pleasant to talk to, unlike their sister, who seemed comfortable in her own mind and nowhere else. Chiron only tolerated her because of her standing, but otherwise thought low of her. Zeus, memories of him as an adolescent still clear in Chiron’s mind, had not changed much in the way of his thinking, but the youngest god clearly knew the importance of how he led his family.

Then there was Poseidon, a puzzle indeed. Clearly the god was fascinated with Chiron, and he allowed such awestruck stares and curious questions, as the centaur admitted he looked quite strange to his half-siblings. But Poseidon’s intellect made his childlike inquisitiveness bearable, and the god obviously had an interest in horses from the way he spoke. Perhaps god and god half-breed could learn much about one another.

Hera was relieved that the stinking horse-beast at least stayed true to his claim of preferring to sleep outdoors, as it was doubtful whether she could have tolerated the smell of him in their small rooms overnight.

Though this had been a joyful and memorable day for her siblings, Hera did not share their glee. Aside from Chiron, there was one other thing that the goddess was truly irate over. What had Rhea been thinking, asking a weapon to be constructed for Hades? Had she not seen how useless her eldest son was? The thought of Hades engaging in battle of any kind, let alone against titans, was ludicrous indeed, and she knew that Zeus shared this sentiment. This knowledge provided her with some comfort, but remembering Hades’ elated visage as he reached for the ridiculous helmet continued to eat away at her heart.

They might as well have sent me a weapon, she thought angrily as she lay in bed unable to find sleep. If it comes down to it, I am probably more of a warrior than he is.

Her own conviction finally managed to soothe Hera into a light, restless slumber, from which she awoke the following morning, feeling as though she had slept only for a half hour.


TBC...