Patrick H. Adkins - Titans 1 - Lord of the Crooked Paths

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LORD OF THE CROOKED PATHS

PATRICK H. ADKINS

ACE BOOKS, NEW YORK

This book is an Ace original edition, and has never been previously

published.

LORD OF THE CROOKED PATHS

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING HISTORY

Ace edition / October 1987

Cover art by John Jude Palencar.

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or

any other means, without permission.

For information address:

The Berkley Publishing Croup,

200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

ISBN: 0-441-49036-0

Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

200 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016.

The name "ACE" and the "A" logo are trademarks

belonging to Charter Communications, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

10 987654321

For Alisha, my bright-eyed daughter

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

The Age of the Titans, the elder gods of Greek mythology, was little

known even to the ancient Greeks themselves. Our knowledge of that era

is still more scanty. The only work of appreciable length dealing

directly with it, the Titanomachia, failed to survive the collapse of

classical civilization. What we know of the Titans is drawn from short

summaries in the Theogany of Hesiod and the Bibliotheca of Apollodorus,

and from brief references that must be sifted from works devoted to

other, often nonmythological subjects.

Although a work of fiction, Lord of the Crooked Paths is based upon

extensive mythological research. My purpose has been to shape a new,

fictional story around these scattered fragments, many of which are

quite esoteric and no longer have a true story context of their own. In

the process I have attempted to form a coherent fantasy world from the

sometimes confusing and contradictory elements of Greek mythology. Like

the historical novelist, I have felt free to pick and choose among

conflicting evidence, expand upon tantalizing hints that lack full

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documentation, and extrapolate freely within the established confines of

my subject. Nevertheless, accuracy of mythological detail has been my

goal, and I have sought to remain faithful to classical authority

throughout.

The reader's forbearance is requested for any seeming contradictions of

the mythology of the Age of Zeus. The gods willing, these will be

resolved in future volumes. Only one such point need be mentioned here.

The Muses are generally said to be the daughters of Zeus and the

Titaness Mnemosyne (Memory), a genesis that is more allegory than myth.

For this reason and others, I have overruled both Homer and Hesiod in

favor of the nearly as ancient testimony of Mimnermus and Alcman, who

deem them the children of Ouranos and Gaia.

The nature and manner of the gods is based primarily on Homer, while the

milieu of Kronos and the intricacies of divine relationships are drawn

principally from Hesiod. Latin authors have been consulted only to

elucidate matters left unclear by the Greeks. The title is loosely

derived from the Homeric epithet Kronos agkylometes. With a single

exception the names of the gods have been directly transliterated from

the Greek; as an aid to the reader, however, I have partly Latinized

Krios to Crios, that he might not so easily be confused with Koios, his

brother.

--Patrick H. Adkins

ONE

"Come, Kalliope! Melpomene--Thalia, come on!" Metis scowled, tapping her

foot impatiently as she waited for the three Muses to catch up with her

and Lachesis.

For more than half an hour the five goddesses had been making their way

across rugged mountains and rambling foothills, walking with an ease and

suppleness that belied their towering size. They seemed to glide over

the rocky terrain and between the huge fir trees of the mountain

forests. When the trees grew too closely together, they bent them aside.

They drew up the hems of the chitons to step lightly across rivers and

gaping chasms.

For the Muses the journey was a lark; the divine maidens traipsed along,

singing and bantering among themselves. The young goddess Metis, no

longer quite a child but not yet a youth, usually rushed impetuously

ahead. Lachesis, stately and somber as ever, followed at a steady pace,

wrapped in her own thoughts.

"Can't you three come on?" Metis demanded, her dark curls flouncing as

she stamped her foot.

Lachesis had gotten ahead of the others and finally slowed to a stop.

"Is something wrong?" she called down, her voice not quite as

lackadaisical as usual.

Melpomene shook her head and held up a hand to silence them. Metis

shrugged in resignation and began to skip back down the path. A few

moments later Lachesis followed her.

Thalia danced toward them as they reached the group. "Quiet, child, do

try to hold your tongue," she sang without the slightest hesitation,

caressing Metis's cheek with her open hand; "a song is not a song, you

know, until that song is sung!" She twirled gracefully away, continuing

to sing as though there had been no interruption.

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Metis folded her arms across her chest and waited with obvious

impatience. Finally Thalia completed her last verse, swept into a

pirouette, and ended with a deep bow. Kalliope and Melpomene, both

laughing, applauded with enthusiasm.

Metis planted her hands firmly on her narrow hips as she turned toward

Melpomene. "You promised to show us something new and interesting," she

said. "You're supposed to be leading us to it, but I'm always in the

lead. And 1 don't even know where we're going!"

Thalia answered before her sister could. "You lead, rash child, because

your feet outpace your brain. A slower pace--"

"You brought your basket," Melpomene interrupted, smiling indulgently.

"If we walk too leisurely, you can distract yourself among the plants

that grow beside the path."

Metis shook her head vigorously. "You go too slow. You keep stopping to

talk and dance--and to sing your untrue songs."

"What's this?" Thalia asked, turning to her sisters in exaggerated

surprise. "Untrue songs, indeed! The child thinks we lie."

"All those things you sing about--they never really happened," Metis

said. "You just make them up."

"Not at all," Kalliope said patiently. "You're simply too young to

understand. We only tell true lies."

"True lies?" Metis grimaced. "How can you tell true--"

Melpomene was holding up her hands to quiet them. "No more, you three.

We'll walk faster, and Metis can search for plants."

Metis clutched her large basket against her stomach. "I always look for

unusual plants when I walk in the woods. I've been looking. I haven't

found any."

"And we always dance and sing in the woods," Thalia said, patting the

child's head.

They began walking again, Melpomene studying the crest of the high,

rounded hill.

"Is it much farther?" Metis asked.

"Hush," Thalia said, leaning toward her confidentially. "You'll only

embarrass Melpomene. She's lost, you know."

Now Kalliope drew toward them, speaking in a mock whisper intended for

Melpomene to hear. "Tell the child the truth, sister. Melpomene does

this all the time. She says, 'Come see what I have found'--won't tell

you what it is, of course, to keep your interest up--and leads you on a

merry chase for hours stacked on end. It makes a fine, droll tale to

tell that night."

"I think the place is near," Melpomene said, pointedly ignoring their

conversation. "We must be quiet now, or risk discovery. We mustn't scare

them away. ..."

"Ah, discovery," Thalia whispered. "That certainly lends an air of

mystery to the affair."

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"Scare who away?" Metis demanded. "Who? Tell me!"

Melpomene shook her head. "You must be patient. I promised you something

new, and I won't break my promise. I think you'll find it interesting."

"She's got such a knack for suspense," Thalia said, still pretending to

whisper.

"Whatever this mysterious thing is, at least tell us a little," Kalliope

said. "When did you find it?"

"Yesterday afternoon, on my way back from Mount Helikon."

"Well, it can't be all that interesting," Thalia said, still she'd never

have kept it a secret this long."

Melpomene gave them her most tight-lipped smile. They had reached the

top of the hill. All around them stark peaks and gaping canyons bespoke

the unimaginable age of their world; at the same time laughing streams

and virgin forest proclaimed its eternal youth. Staring out across the

treetops, Melpomene scanned the smaller hills and valleys below, teeming

with life. A lone red deer came down from a hillside forest, while a

saber-tooth stalked it from the concealment of large rocks.

Beyond the farther hills began the moist expanse of the Boiotian plain,

most of which was still covered by early morning fog. Near its edge

herds of antelope and bison had begun to graze. Barely visible, Lake

Kopais glinted dull blue in the distance.

"Yes, I'm right," Melpomene announced. "We aren't far now."

She pointed off to the left, where jagged limestone hills descended

toward the plain. A crystalline stream gleamed among the rocks. On its

way to the lake it broadened, becoming brown and shallow as it crossed a

long, narrow glade rimmed by ash and oak trees.

"Is that where we're going?" Thalia demanded. "If you weren't lost, you

certainly took the most roundabout route possible."

"I wanted to avoid crossing the plain. If we were seen--"

"She was lost!" Thalia began to dance around her sister.

"I was not," Melpomene protested, for the first time becoming genuinely

annoyed at Thalia's playfulness. "I didn't want to cross the plain, and

I didn't know the most direct way here."

"That's what I said. You were lost!"

Melpomene folded her arms across her breasts and refrained from

answering. It took only a few moments for her to regain her normal,

indulgent good nature. "I'd love to bicker the rest of the morning, dear

sister, but we should start walking toward those trees. From here on we

must be very quiet--I know you'll find that a chore, Thalia--and we must

avoid being seen."

Thalia grinned broadly, but before she could reply, Kalliope took her

arm and guided her in the direction Melpomene had indicated.

The goddesses made their way down the rocky slope. By following the

valleys and passes they managed to come to the plain at a point not very

far from the glade. A pride of lions, grunting their disapproval at the

appearance of the towering maidens, retreated at their approach.

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Melpomene brought the goddesses to a halt at the edge of an open area.

She held Metis back to keep her from venturing too far into the open,

then drew concealing fog from the plain. It crept toward them in

drifting wisps at first, then in slow, billowing waves. The fog grew

thicker, layer upon layer, completely obscuring the space they must

cross.

Hand in hand, Melpomene led them forward until they crouched behind the

concealment of the tall, thick trees that rimmed the glade. She

dismissed the fog and signaled to the others. Following her example,

they cautiously parted the branches to peer through the foliage.

Metis could see nothing. To get a better view she threw herself CHI the

ground and crawled forward between the boles of the trees. Before her

lay the mud bank of a stream. All along it, at irregular intervals,

vaguely oval mounds protruded from the water and ran up onto the shore.

Metis edged forward on her elbows, making as little noise as she could.

The mounds glistened where the sunlight struck the translucent slime

that coated them, and they heaved with slow, rhythmic movements. She

watched in puzzled fascination for more than a minute before she became

aware of the creatures across the stream.

They were tiny, but perfectly formed--not much bigger than the hand of a

goddess. All were dirty, but some were caked with mud from head to foot.

Much of their bodies was covered with coarse, sparse hair, and in places

the hair sprouted in thick patches.

Ten or fifteen of the creatures were visible across the stream, and now

Metis realized that there were more on her side. Some cracked open

acorns and ate them. A few seemed to be playing. One began making

high-pitched, piping cries as another chased it.

Metis backed out from between the trees to join the other goddesses.

"Well," Melpomene asked, whispering softly, "what do you think of this

strange new thing? An interesting discovery, aren't they?"

"What does it mean?" Metis asked. "Except for being so tiny, they look

just like us."

Melpomene smiled despite herself. "Well, no--not just like us. As far as

I can tell, they're all male."

"And they're filthy," Kalliope said. "They've got ugly hair all over

their bodies and they smell dreadful. I can smell them from here."

"Are they really little?" Metis asked. "I mean, is that their natural

size?"

"I think so. That's how they looked yesterday."

Thalia was studying them, her brows contracted in thought. "Dirty,

smelly little gods," she said finally as she turned toward the others.

"I think they're cute," Metis objected.

"Filthy, hairy little creatures formed in the image of the immortal

gods. Grotesque little godlings, caricatures of the gods--mockeries of

the gods!" Thalia's eyes brightened and

her lips spread into an enormous grin. "And not a female among them. I

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love it! It's hilarious!"

Metis was pouting. "I still say they're cute," she insisted. "All they

need is a good bath."

"Look at the one over there," Thalia continued, pointing. "See* how he

walks, watching the ground. He looks like Crios, and the one next to him

could be Koios! Oh, this is a marvelous joke. The gods will never live

it down."

"There's something about, them. . . ." Lachesis said thoughtfully.

"Indeed there is--their odor!" Thalia laughed.

"Quiet," Melpomene warned. "They'll hear us. Keep your voices down."

One of the creatures was wandering toward them in search of acorns. Even

as Melpomene spoke it looked up through an opening in the concealing

leaves and branches. Its eyes grew very round and it began to cry out in

shrill, inarticulate sounds. Kalliope reached for it between the trees.

The creature stumbled backward, falling, and she picked it up by the

feet.

At the first cry the others had disappeared among the rocks and trees

and bushes. Now not one remained in sight.

Melpomene rose to her full height and the others stood up around her.

They gathered to look at the specimen Kalliope had captured. It wriggled

like a fish held by the tail, but as soon as it noticed their huge,

peering faces, it became completely limp.

For nearly a full minute Melpomene stared at it, her head arched to one

side. Finally she said, "Man."

Kalliope and Thalia nodded their immediate agreement.

"What?" Metis asked. "What did you say?"

"This is a man," Melpomene explained. "That's what the creature is

called. Usually we know the right word immediately, without having to

think about it. This time it took a bit longer."

Lachesis repeated the word slowly as she stared at the peculiar man,

which was still dangling upside down from Kalliope's fingers. "It's very

puny. Puny and helpless," she said.

"Let me hold it," Metis pleaded.

Kalliope gently lowered the man into her outstretched hands. Now

Lachesis stood beside the child, searching the tiny form with her eyes.

Melpomene pushed her way between the trees, and the others followed out

to the bank of the stream. They stopped beside one of the mounds. A

section of mud had fallen away near the top. Through the jagged opening

they could see a diminutive, godlike mouth. It gurgled and sucked air.

"This man," Metis said, "is it a god? I mean, is it a little god or ...

or ... only an animal in the shape of a god?"

Melpomene looked down at the tiny form in the child's hands. "It's hard

to imagine that they could truly be gods," she said. "They make me feel

sad, somehow."

"Sad? Why so?" Kalliope asked.

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"They're such pitiful creatures. Look at them. Wretched little things .

. . shaped like us, but born of slime. ..."

"They're our brothers," Kalliope said. "We, too, are children of the

earth."

Melpomene smiled wanly. "A poor joke, sister, and a cruel one. By that

logic the grass and the trees and the insects are our brothers and

sisters also."

"They are," Kalliope said. "Less fortune than we, but still kin, even if

they have been born of mud and slime rather than immortal flesh. Poorly

born, these may yet prove worthy."

Melpomene looked doubtful.

"Look at this one," Kalliope continued. "He has a good face, handsome

under the grime. Look at his chin and forehead--the nose too. All well

shaped, not without a touch of nobility about them. Perhaps they are

gods. It's too early to say."

They moved slowly up the long, narrow glade. Across the stream little

heads appeared, wide eyes following them.

"They're watching us," Metis said. "They're curious. That means they're

smart."

A bittersweet smile touched Melpomene's lips. "So much the worse, if

they do have any intelligence."

"Why?" Lachesis asked.

"They'll compare themselves with us. They'll envy us and aim too high.

They'll smolder with resentment, and finally they'll hate us, when the

futility of their efforts starts to crush them. Oh, pay no attention to

me," she said suddenly. "I don't know what's wrong. My mood has turned

terribly glum."

The mounds grew in all sizes. Some were little larger than

acorns; others were as big as the full-grown men watching from the

trees. Many of the largest mounds had the mud broken away in places from

the violent struggles of the creatures within, which seemed to be trying

to extricate themselves.

"I think you're wrong," Kalliope said. "None of that matters. Even

beings as wretched as these can be noble, if they strive." There was a

peculiar quaver in her voice.

"But without hope of success . . . ?"

"It doesn't matter," Kalliope insisted, pointing first toward one of the

mounds and then across the stream. "Yesterday they were fighting to

birth themselves from these mud and slime cocoons. Today they're playing

in the wind and sunshine. Who may say what they'll do tomorrow?"

Metis was absorbed in the man cuddled against her breast, and not

listening to their conversation. "May we take this one back with us?"

she asked.

It took Melpomene a moment to cast off her sad thoughts. "You'd better

not, I would think. Not until we've received Lord Kronos's permission."

"You'd better put him down now," Kalliope told her. She lifted the man

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gently from Metis's hands and set him on the ground near the stream.

The goddesses continued walking, a pace or two at a time, each now sunk

in her own thoughts. Metis hung back, waiting till none of the others

was looking in her direction. Scooping up the man's still limp body, she

hurriedly concealed him within her basket, then followed. As she looked

up, Thalia was grinning at her. She had seen, but made no attempt to

tell her companions.

"Why do you suppose they've come into existence now, so late?" Lachesis

asked.

"Does there have to be a reason?" Thalia said.

The creatures scurried along the opposite bank, behind the trees and

brush. Here and there eyes and heads were visible.

"They're so curious," Metis said. "Why don't we try to make friends with

them?"

"Just how do you propose we do that?" Thalia asked.

Metis considered for a moment. "You could sing for them. Even animals

love your singing. I'm sure these tiny gods will. Please sing for them."

The Muses consulted.

"Dance for them too," Metis begged.

"What shall we sing?" Melpomene asked,

"A lullaby. Sing a gentle, soft lullaby."

Metis and Lachesis drew back to make room. Melpomene began with a voice

like the wind whistling through canyons and rustling among forest

leaves. Her sisters danced with the flowing grace of autumn leaves

lapped by the breeze.

Tiny heads appeared among the foliage on every side. Hairy, mud-streaked

bodies edged forward, until all around the goddesses men stood watching

and listening in entranced wonder.

TWO

Proteus, the shape changer, awoke suddenly, listening. The singing was

real, though distant. It had insinuated itself into his dream, merging

with the slow, rhythmic caress of the tide upon the rocky shore of a

shaded cove.

He arose slowly, disentangling himself from the arms of the sleeping

naiad beside him. She sighed softly at his touch, moistening her parted

lips and curling into a more comfortable position. During the night she

had shared her cloak with him. As he bent to tuck it carefully around

her slender body, he experienced once again the disconcerting sensation

he had felt last night--a sort of false memory, as though he had done

this before.

Rising, he made his way out of the dimness of the grotto. Outside he

paused briefly to listen, then clambered partway up the steep rock wall

that partially surrounded the narrow valley. Small rocks dislodged

beneath his huge feet, and more than once during the short ascent he was

forced to shift his weight unexpectedly from left to right or from foot

to hand. In his own environment, the sure, powerful movements of his

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supple muscles propelled him through the ocean depths with speed and

grace no fish could equal. Here, where everything seemed to be rocky

cliff or rock-strewn valley, the ocean god felt distinctly out of place.

He raised his eyes cautiously above the rim of the valley and peered out

across the plain in the direction from which the singing came. He

scrutinized the five goddesses, then, as he looked more closely, became

aware of the small, godlike creatures partially hidden among the

foliage. He drew back a little, passing his fingers through his thick

black hair. The strange sense of familiarity came again, even more

strongly.

A hand touched his forearm, and he turned to find the naiad beside him.

She had followed him up the steep bank.

"Good morning, my lord," she said, brushing strands of long brown hair

away from her face. Her mouth had a pleasant smile but her eyes kept

flitting away from him.

"Good morning," he answered, trying to shake off the odd feeling that

had claimed him. "You climb very quietly."

She looked out over the valley wall rather than meet his steady gaze.

She found herself peculiarly flustered at the sight of his smooth, nude

body. After an awkward moment of silence, she said, "I love to listen to

them sing. Sometimes I stay for days near Mount Helikon, just to listen

to them."

"Mount Helikon?" He started to follow her gaze, but changed his mind and

looked back at her. "You know them?"

"Of course. Everyone knows the Black-Haired Nine." She hesitated.

"Pardon, my lord. You must not be from here."

"It's been a long time," he said, almost to himself.

It was his eyes, she decided, that hinted of age. He was tall, neither

slender nor bulky, but with sleek muscles that rippled beneath his skin

with each slightest movement. "They are ladies of Olympos," she

continued, her glancing eyes absorbing every detail of him. "Those who

are singing are three of the nine Muses and--''

"The child," he interrupted, "she is a daughter of Okeanos?"

"I don't know her, my lord." His face was clean-lined, with a high

forehead and squared chin. He looked even more handsome now than in the

silver moonlight of the night before. "My name is Nalassa. What is your

name, my lord?"

He had turned briefly to look toward the Muses. "What are the little

creatures?"

"I don't know, my lord. I've never seen them before."

Small beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as he turned back to face

her.

"You are ... you are an old one?" she asked.

His eyes fastened on hers, and she could see amusement lurking in them.

He wiped away the perspiration. "Yes--and you are a very young one."

His smile was very attractive. Nevertheless she looked away, flushing.

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She kept talking to relieve her embarrassment. "You slept soundly last

night. You must have traveled far."

He nodded. "Quite far, especially after chasing you."

This time she blushed vigorously. She turned her back on him and

scrambled rapidly down to the valley floor. She stopped there,

hesitating, then turned to confront him. "You would never have caught me

among the rocks--if I hadn't wanted you to!"

Probably she expected him to follow her down, or at least to turn in her

direction. Instead he stood looking in the direction of the Muses. As

she watched, his hands moved one at a time from their holds on the rock

face of the cliff to clutch his head. He swayed, then tumbled backward.

With a cry of surprise she ran toward him. He lay on his back, still

clutching his head. His teeth were gritted and his face contorted in

pain. She threw herself down on her knees beside him.

"What's wrong, my lord? What can I do?"

His face began to change first, the features blurring. She drew back as

his entire form began to alter. The flesh started to run and shift,

flowing like molten wax. As she watched in horror, an amphibious monster

writhed upon the ground; but no sooner had the form become distinct and

recognizable than it began to change again.

His mouth, which was no longer exactly a mouth, choked out sounds. She

forced herself to lean over him, trying to understand the strange words.

Some were clear and plainly audible, but many were slurred beyond

recognition. The garbled words were interspersed with groans and sobs

and weird, slobbering sounds.

More than five minutes passed while his body writhed in continual

metamorphosis. The entire time the naiad, despite her fear, kneeled

beside him, ready to assist in any way she could. Then, as suddenly as

it had begun, the seizure passed. The god's body returned to its usual

shape, the panicked breathing slowed and became normal. Finally Proteus

was himself again. He stared calmly up into her face.

"You're all right now?" she asked, more upset than he. "Shall I bring

you water?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. That doesn't happen

often, but when it does . . . well, there isn't anything I can do about

it."

She was still kneeling beside him, and now he sat up. She held his arm

to steady him.

"Did I speak?" he asked.

She nodded, her eyes very wide.

"What did I say? You must tell me the exact words."

She recoiled a little at his forcefulness. "I heard you, my lord, but I

didn't understand. You kept changing, so that you would say a few words

that I could understand, and then the rest ... the rest I could not.

Don't you know what you said?"

He shook his head. "I never remember afterward. You must try to

remember. It's important."

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