Circe wore a strange garment – copper armor on the wrists, shoulders, shins, and half the chest, but little else covering the rest save fisherman’s netting and personal affectations. A strange device on her shoulder sat back and pointed down when she removed the helmet, like a bird settling into sleep, “I see you found your man. He had a little accident when he was visiting my home last night.”
“You were the divine guardian of Artemis’s sanctuary…?”
Circe laughed, “In a way, I suppose I was. Though, this hasn’t been Artemis’s sanctuary since I bested her ultimate champion, several years ago.” She nodded towards the creature in the pit, “I came here, as a girl to worship Artemis, back when the temple was run more… conventionally? Hunters flocked to the island from all around, following old wives tales of a place where they could test their mettle. See, in Artemis’s honor, the old masters of this place would discretely trade for all manner of savage beasts, and then release them in the jungle. Let the worshippers compete to hunt them down.
“Over the years though, it became less and less fair of a fight for the animals. They died in droves, killed by fat tourists who brought slaves to hunt for them. But then one night, during an exceptionally hot summer about fifteen years ago, Orion appeared to challenge man and beast alike. He massacred the best hunters here, quickly asserting himself as the dominant trophy hunter on the island. Unfortunately for him, even the divine must eat, and when I figured out he was very fond of pork, it wasn’t too hard to set a little trap for him. Poor thing must feel quite the fool for not noticing the pig was drugged. Or maybe he thought he could tough it out? Whatever the case may be, it slowed him down enough I was able to succeed where countless men had failed. I defeated the greatest hunter, and what’s more, I took him alive – living trophies are so much more fun than dead ones, don’t you think?”
“And your magic? Your invisibility?”
“All his,” Circe confessed, “Took me a while to adjust it for someone my size and shape, but then I found his ship hidden in the jungle, and I learned so much. About him. About us. About the universe.”
“So, what now?” Odysseus asked, “You intend to keep me as part of your collection as well.”
“Well, maybe,” Circe said, “You see, I only have room for 12 trophies besides Orion, so someone must go. I think I’ll let you decide though. You have a dozen of the Mediterranean’s deadliest predators to choose from. Face it, kill it, and you earn its place in my collection. Lose and, well, it will eat well. I’m sure my people will wish to watch, so I’ll give you a little time to decide.”
Circe disappeared again in a blue sparkle, leaving Odysseus wondering if she wasn’t still up there watching him. Eventually though, it seemed unlikely and Odysseus tried to relax, to take stock of his situation.
“Well, living out my days in one of these kennels would be unacceptable,” Odysseus thought out loud, “Even if I eventually escaped, I’d have no way to leave this island. No way to return to Penelope or Telemachus.”
“Penelope?” the creature mimicked his speech.
It startled Odysseus, but he realized it was a question, “My wife. We’ve been apart for a long time. I’m a king. Or I was. I had to lead my men to a war at Troy. I survived but the return trip has gone poorly… Do you have a wife? Maybe? Someone special? Someone out there you care about? That you’d do anything for?”
“Maybe?” the creature repeated, “Someone out there.”
“Were you sent by the gods?”
“No,” the creature shook its head.
“What were you here for?”
“War at Troy.”
“You came for the war?”
The creature nodded, “Trip has gone poorly.”
“Came down to earth for the Trojan War and ended up stranded on an island with a lunatic. We’re not so different I guess.”
“Lunatic… not so different.”
“Circe? Like us? She rules over a settlement filled with slaves that she keeps dimwitted enough to not know their slaves.”
The creature pointed at Odysseus, “A king?”
“What? That’s different…” Odysseus thought about it for a moment, “Okay, maybe… I could be more supportive of educating the common people of Ithaca than my predecessors have been.”
“Slaves?”
“Yeah, there’s that part too. I suppose I’m a pretty big hypocrite any way you slice it. I guess you identify with Circe’s zeal for conquest, then? The satisfaction of overcoming an adversary?”
The creature nodded again.
“That’s why you were going to Troy wasn’t it? To fight someone like Achilles or Hector.”
“Achilles?”
“He was the greatest warrior among all of us. People said he was invincible. Few could rival him. Really, just Diomedes, Aeneas, and Hector. Between you and me, he let it go to his head. I didn’t mind though; so long as he was good at his job I didn’t object to a little zeal, and he had a code of honor that reined him in. Until his friend Patroclus died, killed by Hector. He went mad with grief. He challenged Hector to one on one combat, honorable, but then when he won, rather than accept Hector’s surrender or kill him mercifully, he tortured him. While Hector’s family watched.”
“Code of honor?”
“He just didn’t care after Patroclus died. No rules, no restraint after that. Just cruelty. But it caught up to him. Hector’s little brother, Paris, was hopeless with a spear and shield but deadly with a bow. Shot Achilles’ heel, crippled him, and then executed him. The invincible demigod died because a ponce shot him in the foot. I guess we all have something like that, though.”
“Achilles heel?”
“Yeah. A vulnerability. Hubris for me. Sort of a recurring theme in my life. And for you I guess its tainted pig meat?”
“Circe.”
“What’s Circe’s Achilles’ heel?” Odysseus asked, “That’s a fair question. She’s using your weapons right? There has to be a vulnerability there, right? Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
“But whatever it is, I’m guessing it’s too complicated for you to explain to me this way, isn’t it?”
“Too complicated,” the creature nodded.
“… If I could get you out of those chains…?”
“Maybe.”
Odysseus took a deep breath and walked over slowly. He half expected the creature to turn on him, rip him in half, but instead it began fiddling with the chains, showing him the heavy metal they were forged from.
“You’ve been down here for over ten years?”
“Over ten years.”
“Well, the metal is stronger than bronze, but it’s not iron,” Odysseus said, “In this climate, iron would have rusted away in a few years, if not a few months. You seem a smart enough fellow to understand the virtues of physics so I imagine you tried leveraging…”
The creature suddenly startled and roared, knocking Odysseus through the air with one hand. Odysseus thought at first he’d been betrayed, but then he heard Circe’s laughter. The creature winked at him – a strangely human gesture on an alien face.
Circe reappeared in a cascade of sparkles as her followers gathered around the pit, “So, Odysseus, what of my pets have you chosen to fight?”
Odysseus staggered to his feet and looked around at his options, then finally looked Circe dead in the eye and answered, “Orion. Him,” Odysseus pointed at the creature.
“Orion?” Circe said, “You can’t choose him.”
“Afraid to lose your most precious trophy?”
“No,” Circe scoffed unconvincingly, “But you’d have no hope against him.”
“I don’t see myself having much hope against the lion, the tiger, or the bear you’ve got down here.”
“Then choose the hyena or the wolf. You’re a clever man and an experienced soldier – surely you can kill a dog.”
“I choose Orion,” Odysseus said, “I won’t fight some poor animal for a cramped, filthy living space and some scraps of food. If I’m to risk my life it’ll be for something worthwhile. Orion’s place in your collection. I may never return to Ithaca, but maybe one day the story of my bravery here will make it back to my beloved Penelope.”
“Ugh, fine. It should make for a better show at least. Well, go to it.”
“Now? I’m unarmed.”
“So is he.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Would you expect me to arm the wolf to fight the bear? You fight as nature made you.”
“Nature made man with the gift of intellect; the deadliest weapon.”
“Then use your intellect, Odysseus.”
“I’m in an empty pit with a broken bow and a few arrows,” the bow was fine, actually, simply knocked out of view, but Circe didn’t need to know that. “Even the sharpest intellect needs some resources.”
“Some resources?”
“A forge, a kiln, a hammer…”
“You want me to watch while you forge a weapon to fight with?”
“Fine, if you won’t let me smith a weapon, then I’m going to need some saltpeter, sulfur, coal, a bamboo stick…”
“No,” Circe said. She drew a strange dagger from her belt and threw it into the mud at his feet, “You get that. Now go to it.”
Odysseus picked up the dagger and flipped it around in his hands. It was light and razor sharp.
“Well?” Circe said impatiently.
“He’s still chained up,” Odysseus said, “I can’t fight someone who is chained to the ground; what would people think?”
Circe put her helmet back on and the device on her shoulder came back to life, its hollow beak following her gaze as she looked at Orion’s chains. A red light glowed from the side of the helmet, tracing red dots on the chains. There was a long whine and then two snaps in quick succession, as bolts of blue energy severed the chains.
Free of his bondage after so many years, Orion roared triumphantly, lowering his stance and spreading his arms out in an intimidating fashion – with that intimidation aimed squarely at Odysseus. The wild beasts in the enclosures fled to the far ends of their cages and cowered in fear as the challenging bellow echoed off of the stone walls.
Odysseus had thought he’d pass the knife to Orion and then go for his bow, hoping that between the two of them they could somehow get out of the pit and confront Circe directly. Instead Orion charged and knocked him through the air with another backhand. Orion roared again, and calmly walked over to Odysseus. He kicked him in the ribs hard enough to lift him into the air. Then kicked him in the face before punching downwards. Odysseus rolled out of the way of Orion’s fist, narrowly dodging it, and slashed at his attacker with the dagger Circe had given him. Glowing green blood splattered across the mud.
Odysseus got onto his feet and went on the offense. He charged forward, slashing with the knife, channeling ten years of experience in the Trojan meat grinder. He was fast and unpredictable, and for a moment, Orion – who was admittedly a bit out of shape after fifteen years being shackled in the middle of this very pit – was on his back foot against his small opponent.
Slowed down though he might be, Orion could still trade on toughness. He surprised Odysseus by leaning into one of his opponent’s strikes rather than trying to dodge it. The dagger sank into Orion’s upper arm, releasing more fluorescent green blood, but Orion used the leverage to pull the serrated blade out of Odysseus’s grip and knock him aside. Orion ripped the blade out of his arm, flipped it over in his hand and threw it at Odysseus. The light blade narrowly missed the man, and sailed into one of the closed animal cages, well out of reach. Odysseus scrambled for his bow, but Orion kicked him again, sending him tumbling through the air. Odysseus tried to get up, but Orion pinned him down with one foot, roaring.
“Finish him!” Circe cried zealously, “Rip his spine out!”
Orion pointed at his arm and then pointed at her, making a swishing, stabbing motion.
“You want your gauntlet?” Circe asked, “With the blades?”
“Code of honor,” Orion said.
“Oh, yes, of course. You’re not some crude animal,” Circe slipped the gauntlet off and tossed it down to Orion, “Now, please, rip his spine out! I want to know if I’ve been doing it right!”
Orion caught the gauntlet, popped it open and then slammed it shut around his wrist. Panels lit up, and two long blades sprung out and spread slightly apart. Orion rolled Odysseus over and made like he was going to filet him with the wrist blades, but instead he tapped a series of buttons on the gauntlet that resulted in a teeth-rattling, shrill whistle.
Circe’s stolen armor sparked with uncontrolled electricity, shocking her. Orion picked up Odysseus and threw him at the woman like a discus. Odysseus was terribly confused, but when he collided with Circe he immediately put to use all the years he’d spent wrestling the likes of Ajax and Menelaus off the battlefield.
The device on Circe’s shoulder whined, and the red light appeared from the side of her helmet again, but Odysseus punched her across the helmet’s jaw with a left cross. Her head snapped to the side, and so did the lightning device. It discharged and obliterated one of her followers, sending the rest running in terror.
Circe extended the blades on her remaining gauntlet and tried to stab Odysseus, but he used her momentum to roll her face down onto the ground, and pinned her unarmored arm behind her back. He grabbed the back of her helmet as she kicked backward, glancing his testicles with her heel. Odysseus yelped and rolled backwards, but pulled her helmet off as he went, disabling the lightning device. Circe got up, but Odysseus clocked her across the face with the metal helmet, splitting her lip.
Odysseus threw the helmet at Circe. She swatted it away with a clatter, but Odysseus used the diversion to charge her and begin grappling over her bladed gauntlet. She stomped on his instep, then twisted and drove her elbow between his shoulder blades, knocking him down onto his knees. She prepared to deliver a coup de gras with the gauntlet, but heavy chains wrapped around her arm and pulled her backwards, off balance. She tumbled into Orion, who’d climbed out of the pit, and now rendered her unconscious with a single uppercut that lifted her into the air and laid her out on the stone floor with a clatter. Orion calmly reclaimed his stolen weapons and armor while Odysseus recovered his breath.
“So, what now then?” Odysseus asked, “I mean, I imagine after what she did you’ve got to be pretty pissed, but…”
“Code of honor,” Orion said and pointed to himself, “Achilles’ heel.”
Odysseus half laughed, “Your honor is your Achilles’ heel? Fair enough. Just… make it quick, okay?”
Orion shook his head. He picked up Circe in his arms cradling her small body, “Someone special.”
“Her? She is your someone special? She poisoned you, beat you, imprisoned you, and stole your magic!”
Orion nodded, “Someone special.”
“Yeah… I guess when I put it that way it does sound like a sensible match. So you’re not going to rip her spine out and take her head home as a trophy?”
“Living trophies are so much more fun than dead ones, don’t you think?” Orion repeated Circe’s earlier words. The creature reached into one of the pockets of her stolen clothing and retrieved a small black lacquered box. He tossed it to Odysseus.
Odysseus opened it and found it filled with strange markings. There was a circle inside the box, divided into degrees, and a metal needle balanced in the middle of the circle. The needle’s heading shifted as Odysseus moved the box around, always pointing the same direction. Always pointing north.
“Even the sharpest intellect needs some resources,” Orion said, the last consonant trailing off into his distinctive guttural clicking as he snapped his stolen mask back over his face. He carried Circe’s unconscious body into the jungle and disappeared. Odysseus started hiking back to the beach, but stopped when he heard a low rumble. He watched in stunned silence as a strange vessel rose from the jungle canopy, ripping through vines and knocking over trees. It pivoted in the air and faded from sight before launching into the sky with a sound like thunder.
It would be hard enough explaining his confrontation with the cyclops to Penelope, or explaining the sirens. Or Calypso. Odysseus thought maybe he should just leave this strange encounter out of his tale.
