Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

There was a lullaby Philipp remembered his mother singing—back before his father had gone away. He couldn’t remember if there had been words, but the notes were still there—like bubbles in his head. Solid for a second and then gone.

He opened his eyes to the blue around him. There was a girl staring him back in the face. Her skin was the color of seashells. Her hair trailed upward—and danced—free of gravity. Her face was small—two luminous eyes filled it. In one smooth movement, her lips pulled apart—and she leaned in for a kiss.

A rough jerk came at his neck, and he rushed upward. Breaking the surface, the boy spluttered for a moment and wiped the water from his confused face.

Hermes was standing the pool beside him—striking at it with his winged cap. “Back, back, I say! That’s quite enough out of you! You, too! And you, you should be ashamed of yourself!”

Philipp gazed blankly ahead. “What was that?”

“That—was almost the end of you,” the god said angrily—slamming his sopping hat back down upon his head.

“She was…she was…beautiful…”

“Don’t get all poetic on me,” he said sarcastically. “Of course, she was beautiful. She’s a naiad.”

Philipp stared dumbly at the shallow water. “A nymph?” Once again, the eyes appeared there—in between the ripples.

“That’s it!” Hermes yelled. “Show yourselves!”

Silence spread itself over the pool.

“It’s enough to drive a god mad, Sheepboy!” Hermes shouted at the emptiness around him. “These dumb nymphs love to play games—and there comes a point, where you just can’t take it anymore!”

“Maybe if you asked nicely,” the boy suggested softly.

“Nymphs. Hmph. No, no, I’m fine. Just finished saving your life, that’s all,” came a familiar voice from the shore. Philipp turned to see the ram sitting dejectedly on the bank. “Don’t worry a bit about me.” He had seen better days. A portion of his fleece had been burnt clean off, and grey skin showed through beneath. What golden fluff was left was sufficiently soaked to prevent further burning.

“A bit of a close call for the ram,” said Hermes.

“Close call?” Colchi’s voice began to raise to its normal level of shrillness. “Half of my body is nearly seared off, and you call it a close call?”

“Did I stutter?” Hermes retorted angrily.

Philipp interrupted. “How long was I down there?” He pointed to where the face had been.

“Long enough for hothead to give up the chase,” the god replied. “He has his bits of impulsiveness, but when it comes right down to it, he dares not stay away from his course too long. The entire world is counting on him, you know.”

“All those things he was saying up there—about his son…”

Hermes sighed. “Unfortunately, most of them are true. I did cause him some eternal pain and suffering. But it was his dumb son’s idea to drive the chariot in the first place.” The god paused, waiting to see if this explanation were sufficient.

When the boy continued to stare at him expectantly, he continued. “Helios never knew that he had a mortal son until Phaethon looked him up one day. You see, Phaethon wanted to impress all his mortal friends and prove once and for all that the sun was, in fact, his father. And Helios, feeling the guilt of years of neglect, agreed to give him anything that he asked for. Bad idea. He even swore on the Styx. That’s asking for trouble for any god.”

“What did he ask for?”

“Well, what do you think? What’s the surefire way to wow all your friends down on the earth? Drive the chariot of the sun, of course. And Helios had to agree. He’d promised. A god can’t go back on his Styx-word. I’ve seen it happen before. It isn’t pretty.”

“I suppose he died trying to drive it,” Philipp said.

“He would have. He was doing an awful job of it—things were going earthward quickly, if you know what I mean. At first he got too high and seared the top of the heavens, then he got too low and wiped out a couple of forests…”

“Where do you come in?”

“I was getting there. Innocently enough, I happened to be using my staff to reappear at that moment, and, well…wrong place at the wrong time. Phaethon disappeared—right into one of my little timeholes.”

“He disappeared! Forever!”

“Save our ambrosia, no! Not forever. He got caught in a loop. Every night, he reappears—falling toward the earth, a flaming mess for all to see…but right before he hits, he gets sucked back in. Night after night this happens.”

“A falling star! We thought that was a falling star!”

“Stars can’t fall!” said the god irritably. “Who educated you anyway? It’s Phaethon—falling to his not-quite death.”

Colchi returned to the conversation. “See why he might be a little angry now, boy?”

“Yes.”

Hermes shrugged. “Not much I can do about it though.” He surveyed the pool and wood around them for a second. “it looks like we’re going to have to travel the low-road for a while and steer clear of Mr. Sunshine.”

“Why don’t we just fly at night?”

The ram and the god looked blankly at the boy a split-second before dissolving into quick laughter.

“Fly? At night? If you think the sun’s a nasty customer, wait until you meet the moon. She doesn’t meet many people being out when she is, and when she happens upon someone she takes a fancy to—she has a bad habit of putting him to sleep…”

“That doesn’t sound so awful.”

“Forever.”

“Oh,” said Philipp. He began to make his way toward the bank. “Walking isn’t so bad. It’s the only way I ever got around until I met you.”

The god arched an eyebrow. “It’s the worst. It kills my feet.”

“You’re one to gripe!” cried Colchi. “Everyone acts like they don’t know what all this means for me! Now that you’re done with dear old Colchi and his magical flying powers, it’s time to give him the old gizzard-split!”

“Hmmmm…” said Hermes absentmindedly. “Thanks for reminding me.” He pulled a dripping knife out from under his cloak.

“Wait. But…” Philipp said helplessly.

“Hazard of the job, boy. See you on the other side.” The ram sighed, flopped over onto his back, and looked up the god crossly. “Make it quick.”

Chapter 8

The sky lit up in a blaze of eye-seering radiance. Philipp felt the ram rear up beneath him as a wave of heat washed over them. Shielding his eyes, Philipp threw his arms before his face.

“Oh boy,” said Hermes—sounding very far away.

Thundering words crashed out of nothingness, vibrating the bones in Philipp’s chest. “Hermes! You villain!” He heard a pitiful meep of pain. “How dare you come to these parts again! I warned you!”

“Helios, my friend.” Hermes’ voice wavered on the verge of panic. “We are awfully close to your route, aren’t we? My, my. A complete miscalculation on my part, I assure you. I totally forgot about the summer solstice. I can’t ever remember—perhaps you can help me. Is it spring back, fall forward—or—“

The voice roared, and forgetting his eyes, Philipp grabbed the ram for support. To his astonishment, Colchi’s wool felt almost hot to the touch.

“Colchi, are you all right?” he whispered.

“No, of course not,” the ram hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m highly flammable! I’m not going to last five minutes here five feet from the sun!”

“The sun?”

In that instant the blinding blaze lifted, and Philipp suddenly wished that it hadn’t. If the image of Hermes had impressed him, it did not hold a candle to the fiery god that now was before him.

Dwarfing his golden chariot with his massive frame, Helios stood fixed—his flaming beard blazing—holding the struggling Hermes out at arm’s length. The furious sun steeds tethered to his car pawed the air anxiously as their master continued to berate his captive. “Who are these miserable creatures with you? Planning to ruin their lives as well?”

“Well, not exactly—“

“You took my son away from me! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t take life away from you?” the sun god spat.

The words of the young god began to fall over themselves. “No, no…I like life very much—a shame to lose it—after all—you know…“ A sudden frown furrowed its way across his face. “Now, hold on just a minute, sirrah!” He put his own puny hands to the monstrous grip about his neck. “This has gone too far! Kindly unhand me.”

Helios—somewhat surprised—released his sunburnt fingers from the messenger god’s throat. Hermes hovered backward and furiously smoothed his cloak. “I am an Olympian, sir. You do not threaten me with death. We are both immortals, and we must settle our differences civilly. If we do not, then we are no better than men.”

“Very well. Now that I have released you,” Helios began again gruffly, “tell me what you intend to do about my son.”

Hermes sniffed indignantly. “I have given this careful consideration, my heliocentric friend. Phaethon was a lovely boy. We all thought so. There never one better. As for what I should do in acceptance of my part in the events that led to his demise, I have come to the conclusion that the best recourse would be to—“

The young god’s eyes grew wide. “RUN!”

It would have made more sense to say, “Fly”. But Philipp and the ram took the hint. Hermes shot off in a silvery streak of fluttering sandals with his two startled companions close behind.

Helios roared, solar rage blasting forth from his mighty form, as he took after them.

“Faster, you fools!” Hermes yelled at the top of his lungs. “He’ll kill us all!”
Sweat began to pour from Philipp’s face—the furiously driving wind whipped it from his face. He dared not look behind. He could feel the hot breath of the charging horses growing closer on his neck.

Before him, the boy saw Hermes jerk upward and double-back toward them. He swooped—catching Philipp and the ram in his grasp—and pulling them downward. The gnashing teeth and striking hooves of the sun steeds struck where they had been only seconds before.

Philipp saw fear on the god’s face inches from his own. “Can’t go up,” he said breathlessly. “Then we’ll go down.”

Breaking forth quickly from disappating clouds, the ground was rushing up at them at a rapid rate. Sucking the breath from their lungs a comet of flame roared past them.

Philipp smelled something burning. “I’ll get you for this!” cried Colchi.

Trees were below now—leaves rushing up to greet them. With one last desperate burst of speed, they tumbled through them—branches lashing at their faces trying to keep them skyward. And then there was blue—the cool blue of a pool—and everything became extremely wet.