The Spear of Zeus

As the beast and I locked eyes, we both silently agreed upon one thing: only one of us would leave the mountain alive that day.

***

"Come to me, Andreas," it called.

I looked up from the fields, sickle in one hand and a sheaf of golden wheat in my other. No one was around me. I let go of the wheat and wiped sweat from my brow as my eyes wandered to find the owner of the voice calling my name.

"Andreas…" it called again in a ghostly whisper. A chill ran down my spine as the voice, carried by the cool winds of the peaks surrounding my home, met my ears again.

I looked in the direction the voice came from, and then I found it. As I gazed upon the mountain to the south of my home, the tallest peak in the area I had named The Spear of Zeus, I could sense the voice in my bones. It called to me, that mountain. It wanted me to climb, and I found myself wanting.

The longer my gaze lingered on the jutting rocks, curving plains, and grass-covered plateaus, the more the spell of that voice wormed its way into my very soul. Thankfully I was not so far gone to not pack for the journey up those craggy cliffs.

At first, the climb was as swift and easy as the breeze on my back. A light incline, many footholds nearly as large as a weathered stone staircase underfoot. Then, it grew steeper and steeper as I wound the edges of that mountain. As the voice slid like mercury into my heart, the climb became a task worthy of Hercules, at least in my mind.

Sweat slid over the dam that was my brow as though it had broken, and my eyes stung. My fingers bled from the thousand cuts of the piercing rocks. My sandals had long been lost to the void of grey and green, and my feet were raw against the bare cliffside.

As I reached for the next handhold, the fresh blood on my fingers loosened my grip. Next, my foot fell away as I jerked from my hand's sudden betrayal. I dug in my other fingers and curled my toes on the rockface as I brought my lost limbs back to me.

How long have I been climbing this mountain? The voice in my heart would not let me know, would not let me rest until I reached the summit. Ever calling, ever lustful, and never satisfied like Aphrodite. How many other men have you called to, mountain of mine? How many others have you called to your bosom only to have dashed against your feet?

I swallowed the questions with the last drops from my waterskin and began to climb again.

I wasted away on the cliffside, no food nor water aside from the merciful rain that moistened my parched lips. If the gods were watching, they were indeed laughing as they pitied me with those few drops when I needed them most.

My face felt itchy, the kind of itch that came after days, perhaps weeks, left unattended by a sharp knife. I had grown on this hill, so long had I been removed from the world. I fear I shall ungrow upon it as well.

The pain of the climb had long since changed to numbness. My body had become so used to the pain that it was no longer worth letting me know about it, and so I forgot. But, it would not be long before I remembered again.

Step after numb step, pull after agonizing pull. The mountain didn't seem so large as this from below. No doubt, this was the same hubris that my dear friend Icarus felt as he made his wings of wax.

Then, just as my hope faded, I climbed through the haze of the clouds to see that blazing sun above a sea of white. Helios was steadily making his way across the sky. It was only mid-morning now, and it was truly a sight to behold.

"Andreas," the voice called, "you are almost there, Andreas."

I looked around, but there was once more no source to the voice. I wasted no more time on the search, spurred on with new vigour by the summit's siren call. The steps and the pulls became more manageable, the hand and footholds within reach as soon as I felt for them. As the voice proclaimed, I felt the top of the mountain under my hands in mere moments.

I pulled myself up, heaving my way over the lip of the peak to a small flat plain of rock and grass and flowers. I landed on my stomach, breathing as though all the exhaustion from the climb had come due at once.

As I laid there, my world became the impressive view of green moss, gray rocks and white clouds stretching towards the horizon, with clear blue sky above it. When my strength returned, and I pulled myself to my feet, the clouds parted, and I saw the world and all its glory laid before me. There was an endless expanse of greenery, dots of people in cities going about their lives, bountiful blue sea, and all the animals that resided across them. This is what the Gods saw.

No sooner than I had my foolish thought, the sound of scraping rocks cut into my ears, and I was skewered with the sharp horn of a bull. The force of the impact pushed me forward, and I slid off the bull's horn to the mossy summit, the life draining out of me.

My body suddenly and violently remembered what pain was, and it sent a vigour through me that even the voice of this mountain couldn't compare to. I scrambled to my feet as I clutched the side where I was pierced, and I looked the bull in the eyes.

How did the beast get here, atop this peak? How had it survived? How had I not seen it until now? It would do no good to ask such questions that I couldn't answer. As the beast and I locked eyes, we both silently agreed upon one thing: only one of us would leave the mountain alive that day.

The bull charged again, but it was an easy enough creature to dodge when seeing its approach. It only moved well in a straight line. But with each move, the wound at my side kept seeping life from me. I needed to stop it from attacking at all.

Another dodge and I climbed atop the beasts back. I covered its eyes as I held onto it with the bit of strength I had left. The bull became furious at this and kicked and jumped to shake me off. Each sudden movement was a tumultuous toss of torment on my aching limbs and wounded stomach, but I held firm as it thrashed. The more it quaked, the closer it came to the edge of the mountain, until…

I leaped from the back of the beast just as it lost its footing. It snorted and roared a yell as it fell beneath the misty clouds. I landed in a heap once more on the mossy top of the mountain, secure and alive but still mortally wounded. In my assessment, I may have been right as the bull had left the mountain alive, yet I would die atop it.

But at least I was able to see such beauty at the top. My last memory would be an endless view of the earth below, a carving of wonder on my soul that I would cherish even in the afterlife. Though I could not pay the toll to pass the river, that view would sustain me for all my days.

***

A sudden jolt awoke me. Lightning and thunder above the clouds rang out, and I sat up in an instant. I clutched at my stomach where the bull had gored me, but the wound was gone. The only remnant was the hole it had left in my tattered tunic.

I looked around, but once more, I saw no one around me on the summit. What I did see shocked me almost as much as the lightning did before: In the center of the summit, atop the mountain I called the Spear of Zeus, was an actual spear jutted into the rock.

Golden metal, unlike any workmanship I had seen, and a perfect leather handle grip in the middle. It was unadorned, but it took on a strange splendour in its simplicity. It was not something meant to be placed on a shelf; this was a weapon through and through. And it called to me, the same as the mountain had… no, this, this spear, was what called to me. The Spear of Zeus.

I took a trembling step forward, not from weakness, no my weakness was gone with the healed wound. I trembled in anticipation. I gripped the handle of the spear, marvelling at the workmanship before me once again, and then I hefted the spear from the rock. It came loose with no resistance.

I turned the spear up to look at the tip. The same golden metal came to a sharpened point, but this was no gold. It was hard enough to hew through rock, but it certainly wasn't gilded. This was indeed a spear of the gods.

I gave a silent prayer to my godly benefactor, thanking him for his gift. The gods may enjoy their games, but they reward the victorious. That much is sure.

I walked over to the edge of the cliff, looking at the sea of white beneath me. Now, the question remains: how do I get down?