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Chapter Ten

Prometheus

T hough I would never tell Zeus this, I think it’s foolish to dismiss mortals because of their weaknesses. The tools they have devised to ease their many burdens during their brief lives are a testament to their intelligence.

However, as I curl around my terminally mortal bride and my temporarily mortal master to protect them against the windstorm, I am beginning to understand how annoyance can become anger.

Not that either make a sound. At least, not a sound that can be heard over the storm. Atum likely has nothing to say, and Hebe seems like the stoic sort.

The ravine walls protect us from the worst of the wind, but I still feel Zeus’ wrath. He wants to drag us out of here and throw us around like we are playthings without sentience or will. I think that is how Zeus views mortals in general. Then again, he used to throw Primordials who displeased him off great heights where they lay for days until their bodies healed, so it might just be all life he views like that.

Finally, the winds abate and the thunder fades away. I can hear Atum’s struggling gasps and Hebe’s heaving sighs. It sounds as though she can barely breathe despite her desperate attempts to do so.

Is she drowning? It would be most inconvenient of her to perish in shallow water after I shielded her from raging winds.

Sitting up, I grasp Hebe’s shoulder and pull her upright as well. She is soaked through and mud drips from her curls and stains her garments.

Hebe shivers violently, and I wonder if she has any control over her movements. Her brown eyes are wide, and they dart all around. “Is it . . . over?”

“It should be. Even Zeus has limited power in these dark days. I cannot imagine him having much more energy after this display.

She nods, saying nothing more as she wraps her arms around herself.

I frown. I’m too drained to deal with this. “Are you cold?”

Hebe nods again but offers no useful insight— like what it would take to make her warm again.

Not sure what to do, I tug off my tattered, muddy chiton that is already half-hanging from me. I wring it out the best I can and then offer it to her.

Instead of reaching for it, though, Hebe’s wide-eyed gaze focuses on my torso.

I glance down, half-expecting some grievous injury to be causing her alarm. However, my skin is perfectly unscathed, even if I’m nearly as filthy as Hebe is. My perizoma loincloth has been muddied beyond any existing method of cleansing.

Confused, I turn back to Hebe, but her stare is still frozen on my chest.

Atum rolls onto his back. “She needs more than your sopping chiton. Mortals crave one another’s body heat in moments of extreme cold.”

Well, that would explain the desperation in her gaze. I don’t know why she couldn’t have just said something. But I suppose the price of being saddled with a mortal who is mercifully silent most of the time is that she also doesn’t speak up when I actually need her to.

It would seem mortals are frustrating no matter what choices they make.

Groaning, I discard my chiton and scoop Hebe into my arms.

She gives a startled squeal as I press her against me, cradling her in my lap despite the filth coating her skin. If I weren’t so muddy myself, I would have second thoughts about this arrangement.

“I-I’m fine,” Hebe’s teeth chatter as she lies.

I frown at her outright deceit. Has she no shame? Not for the lie— I’ve been dishonest our entire marriage, pretending to be Atum’s loyal lackey. But to not even try hiding her deceit? Incomprehensible. “I feel you shivering, little wife. Such a frail creature you are.”

“I am not.” Hebe wiggles in my arms in a vain attempt to escape. As if I do not notice the way she cannot help but lean closer against me— her body betraying her words in its need for warmth.

“And so deceitful, too.” I click my tongue. Then I turn to Atum. “I’m not sure she’ll survive the journey to the temple.” And this storm is the first and last time I am risking myself to save her short life. Not even knowledge is worth suffering.

Hebe makes a mewling sound of protest and struggles against me. “I may not be a true warrior, but I am a fighter. I can survive this journey no matter how many storms we face.”

I purse my lips as I consider the storm. “How did Zeus find us?” Atum is disguise, and I won’t be contacting Zeus again until after we reach the temple.

Atum pushes himself into a sitting position, with his back against the ravine wall. “I think I saw an eagle earlier. It may have been one of Zeus’ strange pets.”

Grimacing at the thought of just how dangerous Zeus can be, I stand. My body is weary from the strain of surviving the storm alone. But I still have the strength to keep Hebe in my arms a moment longer as I approach the ravine wall. It seems so much taller on this side.

I glance down at my wife, who is no longer shivering quite as violently. It really would be a shame to leave her behind after all this work when we are so close to discovering the secrets of the Tablet . . . “I suppose now is the time to prove you can survive what is to come and shouldn’t be sent back to your own people.”

After all, is if she is too weak, would I inherit that when we are bound while takes a portion of my strength? I cannot afford that when I am the only one looking out for my survival. If I had any less strength than I do now, my experience in the storm would have been very different.

Hebe’s eyes widen. “I am ready for whatever cruel test you have for me. Just do not put me away! Do not abandon me while I am still recovering from Zeus’ wrath.”

So this is the ‘putting away’ that Hebe’s kinsman mentioned. “Very well. My test is this— you must find your own way out.”

She opens her mouth, looking ready to protest. But then Hebe purses her lips together and nods.

I set her feet on the ground and release my hold on her.

Predictably, Hebe’s knees buckle. Her hands grip my skin as she struggles to steady herself. Almost as quickly, she releases me and stumbles backward.

My shoulder and chest feel strange where she had just been touching. Not painful, like she clawed me, but warmer than I should be from such a brief interaction. The remnants of Zeus’ lightning must still be in the air with the way my body tingles.

Hebe braces herself against the wall of the ravine, standing tall and steady now. She lifts her chin as her curls drip mud down her sodden left shoulder. “I accept your challenge, husband of mine. I shall prove myself worthier than abandonment.”

I nod. Then I turn to the opposite ravine cliff, and find a handhold. I move quickly, relying on speed rather than strength to propel me out of the ravine. I’m not far from toppling over myself after expending so much energy to ensure her survival.

Putting some distance between myself and the weaker members of my party, I consider my next steps. I could keep running, bypass the temple, and just go straight to Olympus.

But I also want to know more about this marriage bond and all that might be possible with it. I want to be the first Primordial who unlocks the mortal potential, and I want to discover more of what Hebe hides beneath her stoic exterior.

But all the knowledge in the world will mean nothing if I’m not around to discover it. And even though there are so few ways for a Primordial to perish, I don’t want that to be the last thing I discover— a new form of dying.

Worse still would be the suffering that consumes every thought and moment. What use are my elongated days if I cannot form rational thoughts and discover secret truths?

I thought I could have it all— knowledge and protection. But now Zeus has proven that the decision to join him or suffer is more imminent than I thought.

Shaking my head, I scan the area. The sky has cleared, the storm has either blown far away or faded away to nothing. Our belongings are strewn about. Our chariot is nearer to where Hebe was bathing than where we left it. The horses are nowhere to be seen.

Still, I stride toward the chariot. Mayhap there is a way to fashion it into something useful still. Or perhaps I will just keep walking and leave Atum and Hebe to their fates.

Something gold moves in the corner of my vision, and I turn toward the hills that rise to the right. But nothing is there— anymore.

I reach for a spear I no longer wear. I’m completely unarmed, wearing only a perizoma as I stand in the open.

Just as I realize how vulnerable I am, I see gold movement again. This time, when I turn toward it, it hasn’t hidden behind the chariot. Instead, it prowls forward, apparently sensing my vulnerability.

The beast grumbles, lifting its voice into a roar. Then a lion three times my size prowls toward me.