The Beast Of Both Worlds: A Drunk Mythology 9 There, You're Back Again

The second meeting with Zeus proved even more intense than antic.i.p.ated. In their short time together, Ginrius never thought he'd lean on someone like Hermes for comfort; a being so impatient, it seemed like they were always on the run. But when the messenger left him alone with the G.o.dking, on mayhap the highest battlement of Olympus, he felt like he was being sacrificed to the Kraken. Outdoing himself, Zeus even wore his fabled battle armor, Aegis, for the occasion, explaining that he was fresh off a Tartarus skirmish with Hades.

"How did it go?" the G.o.dking said. Up close and personal, his thunderous voice hinted command with every syllable, his aura a grounding barricade of sheer power.

"I would love to say smooth, your highness, but it's my first day on the job, so…" Ginrius began his brief, but paused when he tasted the same burnt air from the banquet, just ten times more potent. Attributing the phenomenon to his host, his mind strayed to the other G.o.ds and their sentiment on the matter, especially Hera, who was spouse and bedfellow to the king.

Sensing his displeasure, Zeus went ahead and confirmed it to the G.o.dsmith. "Pardon me, child, even at its lowest, my energies have lasting effects."

"There is nothing to pardon, my lord," Ginrius replied, contradicting his thoughts. "In fact, I should be the one apologizing for my weak const.i.tution."

"All is well then… Hermes attested that you completed your routine commendably."

Ginrius became mildly amused by the merit Hermes left him; the antsy G.o.d just didn't strike him as the type. But he was not able to relish it as Zeus went straight down to business. It would seem that impatience ran deep in the family.

"Rest a.s.sured, however, that the remainder of your duties will be of the more menial variety," the G.o.dking continued. He then raised his arms sideward, beckoning Ginrius to come closer. "Bringing us to our next affair…"

Again, Ginrius knew almost instinctively what to do. He approached the G.o.dking and with every step, felt the grounding energy rise around him, to the point that it p.r.i.c.ked his skin with noticeable pain—the same skin that glossed over fire, pressure, and vacuum of s.p.a.ce. He then proceeded to strip Zeus of his battle regalia, choosing to wince only as he reached his back. He noted that even with emboldened strength, the weight of the Aegis enc.u.mbered him. G.o.d or not, he knew he wouldn't go anywhere near an armor that heavy. Though supremely defensive, the sheer ma.s.s just didn't feel functional—at least not for a lowly G.o.dsmith like him.

"Polish it and Hermes will come for it later," the king ordered.

Taking it as his cue for exit, Ginrius bowed and began his retreat, stopping briefly along the way for some last minute advice.

"By the way, you should visit the prayer well by the garden—see if there are mortal wishes in there for you. We also have an arena if you ever feel the need to train."

"Yes, my lord," thanked Ginrius. "I'll be sure to drop by when I find the time."

Zeus guffawed at the comment, one of both fatherly and martial cadence. "As G.o.ds, time is the most of what we have. You are free to your devices once the Aegis is tended to."

Bowing one last time, Ginrius skittered out of the chamber like he was on fire.

***

Polis.h.i.+ng the Aegis was nothing compared to his previous labors—it was well and done before he even started getting the hang of it. In hindsight, it was probably just an excuse for Zeus to get personally acquainted, as they never got too much allowance from their prior meeting in the feast. As instructed, he left the Aegis for Hermes outside his smithy, before hurrying on to inspect the recommended Olympian amenities.

He started with the arena, even though he was not in any mood to train. After that little sparring match with Chaos, physical activities were the last thing he wanted to do. When he got there, he was thrown further off by the attendance of both Ares and Heracles, who were both very compet.i.tive and reeking of G.o.dly testosterone. Ares was raining giant spears at a very battered target; Hercules was alternately bench-pressing the sky and doing Hades-chained leg-ups. If he got anywhere near these two, he knew he'd be hearkening back to his days as a clueless demiG.o.d, and would probably be bullied for it. In the end, he skipped the logbook and went straight to the garden for its prayer well, and hopefully, some floral-themed buffet on the side.

There were even more G.o.ds in the garden, most of which pleasured themselves with the sights and harvests above anything else. Ginrius noticed Aphrodite and Eros hanging out in the rose garden, as well as Dionysus and his band of satyrs composing some hits. But it was the lone figure by the well that really caught his attention.

He walked up to the kindly figure of Hestia, G.o.ddess of the hearth, and greeted her with all the respect she deserved. True to her reputation as the kindest divinity, she labored over her cut of prayers like it was n.o.body's business.

"Greetings to you as well, young G.o.dsmith… Are you here for some meandering?" the G.o.ddess said, everything about her as motherly gentle as they as should be.

"Quite so," Ginrius replied, "But frankly more for curiosity of the well."

Hestia gestured for the object and stepped back to give Ginrius room. "Then by all means… Simply retrieve the pail and touch the water. But you already know that, do you?"

Ginrius found himself cranking the wheel up, until the bucket emerged from the depths, half-filled with water. As soon as he touched the contents, he began hearing voices in his head. They came in droves, overlapping each other, but for some reason he was able to perceive them all with resplendent clarity. There was one prayer from a foreman in Egypt, who prayed not just for success but safety of his structure; another from a child in the Mediterranean, who chanted praises for his tree house; and yet another from a local blacksmith who wished to imbue his blades with blessings from both him and the G.o.d of war. They were all so diverse and widespread, pinging from somewhere in the globe like something from a paid subscription.

But the one thing that really got his attention was this girl in Athens, who prayed not for herself, but that of her friend, who was ironically handpicked by the G.o.ds to join their rank. It was Minea and he knew it with all his heart.

Upon hearing her voice, Ginrius knew he had to see her, and with his duties completed, there was nothing preventing him from doing just that. So he gave the well back to Hestia, thanking her for her guidance. Then he took his hammer and wound it up, before pointing it to Minea's direction. The hammer flew with him, past the garden, the gates of Olympus, and back down his old hometown.

***

After his high-speed flight, Ginrius began his descent down a meadow. Sunset was still a few hours off, so he was able to spot Minea with ease, gathering herbs in the heart of the field. The botanical rainbow around her paled in comparison, but then again so did everything else in the universe. "Good afternoon, beautiful," he called out for her on his way down.

Minea looked up with but mild surprise. She recognized him just as easily, but there was no hiding her fascination when they finally stood face to face. Her childhood friend was now taller, fuller, and even somehow radiant over his still pale skin. On top of all that, he can also fly and be flattering now; he was like the same person while being someone entirely different.

"I'm still working on the chariot and lightning entrance—the hammer flight should do for now," Ginrius told her, his warm smile all too familiar.

She then hugged him so very tightly, sobbing as soon as her face landed on his chest. "I thought you've forgotten—it's been three years since you left!" she said.

Ginrius was obviously very touched with the reunion, but what struck more were Minea's last words. "Three years?" he found himself asking.

"Yes, silly. I thought you've forgotten…"

He still thought he heard it wrong, though Minea's reaction was far too real. On closer inspection, she actually looked older as well, more mature in aspects he dared not mention. He failed to notice her growth mayhap because of the more prevalent changes he had undergone himself.

This uneven pa.s.sage of time could only be attributed to his transition to G.o.dhood. Perhaps being immortal changed one's perception of time and its determining factors. In retrospect, that banquet they held some two days prior could have lasted an entire year, the overnight sleep yet another, and his little volcanic and abysmal labor completing the third—he would have to confirm it with the others. Right now, what mattered more was making up for lost time. "What about my father?" he asked.

More sadness welled in Minea's eyes, and he knew for sure that he was gone.

"How?"

"Boating accident," she revealed, "Their fis.h.i.+ng vessel was found off the coast of Sparta—none survived."

Lament bore through Ginrius. But knowing that his father was a good man gave him a measure of peace: he had definitely moved on to Elysium to rejoin her mother, sipping nectar in w.i.l.l.y Wonka teacups. It also didn't feel so final as it would have been if he was still mortal; as a G.o.d, he could even visit him through the benevolence of his other, more powerful paternal figure. Zacleus also crossed his mind, though even now, he dreaded any idea pertaining to his half-brother. He took the harder route instead, one he thought more relevant of his deceased foster parent. "How about your mother… Is she…?"

At that, Minea was finally able to regain some cheer. "She recovered... but still unable to walk."

s.h.i.+fting gears on point, Ginrius thought he might be able to help with his craft. He envisioned magical crutches that doubled speed, and the even more ambitious, full-support leg braces that wouldn't come to be until the introduction of Science. Before he could suggest anything, however, a young girl's voice cut through the glade, drawing both their attention.

"Mooooom!" the girl continued to holler as she run across the field. She was quite young, possibly between two to three years old. A few steps from her walked Zacleus, who now looked like a man at his prime. Seeing him there was like seeing a younger, humbler version of Zeus.

Heat started to form in Ginrius' stomach, before coursing through every part of his body. It got so hot that flowers withered around him. It felt like the whole sky just came cras.h.i.+ng down, and he turned to Minea with such despair, he made Hades look like comedy central. "You and…"

Minea mirrored his expression when she answered. "You've been gone a long time, Ginrius…"

But Ginrius couldn't hear her anymore. His attention was completely nabbed by Zacleus, who stopped a few yards off of him, looking formidable and meek at the same time. Even as a demiG.o.d son of Zeus, he knew he was nothing to him now, that he could easily smash him dead where he stood. He even considered it for a good moment. He deserved it more than ever, as he topped his crimes by finally stealing the one girl he loved.

And yet thinking about the repercussions—more on hurting Minea than actually enraging Zeus—he opted to back down. It hurt like Tartarus, sure, but it was his fault for being absent in her life all these years. Considering how he managed to win her over, Zacleus was probably a changed man too—for the better. There was also the innocent child mixed in the equation. When you add other factors like the bergillion prayers he needed to address, and the unknown horrors out there he must combat for all of eternity, it was probably for the best. She was better off with a man who could focus on their family and protect it when needed. He walked over to Zacleus still wanting to punch him in his perfect teeth, but willing to congratulate him for his victory. "Brother…" he greeted him silently, offering his hand for a shake.

"Brother," acknowledged the other, extending his own hand.

Right then, a bunch of other children appeared from the distance, all giggling and calling out for their mother. They varied in age but were all relatively young in appearance, at least well-off from their p.u.b.escent years.

Ginrius felt Minea's body press against him once more, this time embracing him tight from behind. She whispered to his ear, obviously smiling. "You were gone too long that I've taken over the local orphanage. Zacleus here is kind enough to help out."

When Ginrius looked back to Zacleus, his half-brother showed candid signs of jealousy, though far from his usual, childish take on it. "You were actually going with it just to p.i.s.s me off, weren't you?"
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"Well, you're a G.o.d now… I can't just go around smacking you in the head anymore, can't I?" Zacleus answered, with his more familiar, c.o.c.ky tone. He also donned a skewed, irritating grin for added insult.

"That's right, I'm a G.o.d now…" Ginrius flicked his extended hand towards Zacleus, who tumbled backward and rolled down a patch of flowers. "It's my turn to do the smacking."

Zacleus sat straight up right away, muttering something along the line, "I probably deserved that." Ginrius made sure his sucker punch didn't hurt—not too much anyway. The approaching kids then surrounded the demiG.o.d, annoying him further with, handmade scented, adornments.

"Don't mind him, children," said Ginrius, smiling in tandem with Minea. "Uncle Zacleus just tripped—old, frail people do that sometimes."