Chapter 27: A God's Favor, A Cyclops' Wrath
Another day, another island, another argument. From his perch on the ship's mast, Cyd looked down at the latest squabble boiling over on the deck below. The "heroes" were at it again. This one was about provisions, or boredom, or maybe just the fundamental clash between having a purpose and having a pulse. The core of it was always the same.
You could bed a different woman every day there, with no danger at all, as long as you could stomach their demands.
These heroes aren't lacking the strength to farm. They just prefer to indulge.
We are heroes. You are just common folk. Why should we till the soil when you can do it? Our role is to enjoy the fruits.
That entitled, rotten logic was the unspoken creed here. It wasn't even debated; it was assumed, a foul odor everyone had learned to ignore. Cyd hadn't.
The memory of his meeting with Athena, the goddess of wisdom and warfare, was still sharp in his mind. She'd found him the night they left the island of the Amazons, her grey eyes glinting in the moonlight. She'd kept her promise.
"I will teach you how to win the favor of Ares, the God of War."
Her confident words echoed. Of all the Olympians, Ares's blessing was arguably the hardest to get, maybe even harder than Hades's. Where Athena was strategy, the grim calculus of war for a purpose, Ares was the raw, screaming Id of it—the blood-spray, the shattered bone, the pure ecstasy of violence. Getting a blessing from him seemed about as likely as getting a hug from a landslide. Especially considering Hephaestus's… history with him. And yet, Athena had promised a surefire method.
The method, however, was the problem.
"That child is a bit stubborn, but as long as you demonstrate true courage and martial spirit, and make her happy, it will suffice."
"Her." Another goddess.
"Why?" Cyd had muttered to the night sky after she left. "First, I effectively steal Hephaestus's 'male' aspect. Now Ares is next on the list? What's the grand plan here? Might as well turn Zeus into a woman too!"
Then he remembered. Too late for that. Heracles was proof.
He leaned back against the mast, the worn wood solid against his spine. The principle was simple: please a god with their own domain. Wisdom for the wise, war for the warlike. But he wasn't about to start a war just to get a shiny new divine trinket. That left… demonstrating prowess. Great.
Below, the argument hit a crescendo. "How long are they going to keep this up?" Cyd asked, glancing at Atalanta beside him. She'd chosen the quiet of the rigging over the deck's drama.
"Who knows?" she said, her tone flat. "Ever since we left that island, they've been dreaming of the next one. Hoping for another playground. Heracles insists our supplies are fine, that we should press on. A minority agrees with him."
"Let me guess. Jason's leading the 'let's-go-party' faction."
"He's the captain in name," Atalanta said, her cat-like eyes tracking Jason as he worked the crowd, all practiced smiles and reassuring gestures beside the glowering Heracles. "But he knows who the real power is. Backing the majority's desire, even a stupid one, is how he keeps his tenuous lead. It's the smart political move."
"If Heracles were in charge, this voyage wouldn't be such a farce," Cyd mused, stretching his arms overhead until his joints gave a satisfying pop. "Ah, well. I've officially decided to stop participating."
"You're leaving at the next island?" There was a subtle shift in her posture, a slight tension in her shoulders she tried to hide.
"No. Just not getting off the ship. My gut tells me this lot is a magnet for trouble. Whatever's on that island, they'll stir it up." He tapped his temple. "I'm sitting this one out."
"I see." A barely perceptible relaxation. "I won't travel with them, but I will hunt. The ship's fare is… lacking."
"Hey, Atalanta," Cyd grinned, reaching over to tug lightly on the edge of her tunic. "If you bag anything good, think you could spare some for a poor soul dying of hardtack and dried fish?"
Her lip twitched. "Is that an order?"
"A heartfelt request. From a friend."
She turned her head away, but not before he caught the faintest curl at the corner of her mouth. "I'll consider it. If I'm not hungry."
The debate on deck reached its inevitable conclusion. Once again, the collective whim of the Argonauts overruled Heracles's sober counsel. The course was set for the lush, green island on the horizon.
"I pray to the gods that this island is Colchis!" Heracles's muttered plea carried up to them, thick with frustration. Even he knew it was impossible. If it were that easy, Pelias would never have sent Jason on this suicide mission in the first place.
Yet, the island appeared with suspicious haste, a verdant mound rising from the waves in less than half a day.
As the heroes readied the landing boats, Cyd waved from the rail. "Have fun! I'll hold down the fort. Or the deck, rather."
Heracles merely sighed, a world-weary sound, and clapped a massive hand on Cyd's shoulder. "Watch yourself." He lumbered after the chattering, eager crowd, looking more like a beleaguered nanny than a demigod.
Atalanta gave Cyd one last, lingering look before melting into the tree line, separate from the main group.
Silence settled over the Argo, broken only by the lap of waves and the creak of timbers. Cyd settled on a coil of rope, legs stretched out.
"Alright," he said to the empty air. "They're gone. You can come out now… my divine guest."
He waited. A minute. Two. Five.
Only the cry of a distant gull answered.
"Huh. Guess I was wrong." He scratched his cheek, feeling a flush of embarrassment. He had no special senses, just a nagging suspicion that divine attention tended to follow dramatic exits. Apparently not.
"How'd you know I was here?" a cheerful voice chirped right beside his ear.
Cyd jerked, heart leaping into his throat. Leaning against the mast with a mischievous grin, as if he'd been there all along, was Hermes, the messenger god. His winged sandals were still, his traveler's cap tipped at a jaunty angle.
"I… didn't. I was bluffing," Cyd admitted, regaining his composure.
"A good bluff is a form of truth!" Hermes laughed, plopping down next to him with familiar ease. "And you were right to stay put. Smart move, skipping that island."
Cyd's eyes narrowed. "Oh? My intuition gets a gold star?"
"On that island," Hermes said, his smile turning razor-sharp, "lives a cyclops. A son of a certain god who tends to get… testy when his offspring are bothered." He nodded meaningfully towards the vast, churning sea.
A cold knot tightened in Cyd's gut. Poseidon. Of course. The one god you did not want angry at you in the middle of the ocean. If Jason and his fools did something to a son of the Earth-Shaker, their voyage would transform from a quest into a prolonged, watery death sentence.
"I think I should jump overboard now and take my chances," Cyd muttered, already eyeing the waves.
"You wouldn't sink," Hermes said lightly, tapping Cyd's left wrist.
Cyd looked down. His breath hitched. On the divine bracer Hephaestus had forged, nestled beside the amber glow of Hestia's blessing and the subtle warmth of Hephaestus's own, a third crystal now pulsed with a deep, oceanic blue. It hadn't been there an hour ago.
"When…?"
"Just now, I'd wager. Or perhaps it was always there, waiting to be acknowledged." Hermes's gaze was knowing. "You think you're just an odd mortal in the gods' eyes? We're not blind, kid. Poseidon was the second-most interested in you, after a certain forger. He blessed you the moment you took up that burden. But when you chose not to step foot on that island—when you chose wisdom over reckless curiosity—he blessed you again. Made it manifest."
Hermes clapped him on the back. "Three blessings. In such a short time. For a mortal, that's not just luck. That's the making of a legend. A hero, whether you want the title or not."
"I'm just a guy trying to get by with a weird piece of jewelry," Cyd grumbled, though the weight of the god's words settled on him. "You're not here just to congratulate me, are you? Divine messengers usually bring more… complicated news."
"Perceptive. And because of my own domain, I can't lie to you, so I'll skip the charming deceptions." Hermes's expression sobered, a rare moment of genuine gravity. "This is about Artemis."
Cyd had a sudden, powerful urge to rewind the last thirty seconds. "Can I take back my question?"
Hermes's grin returned, wide and utterly unapologetic. "Sorry! No refunds on divine dialogue. Her huntress saw you with Atalanta in the forest. Let's just say… the Lady of the Moon has questions. And she doesn't ask them nicely."