Odysseus in the Serpent Maze (18 page)

“It’s the real beast,” said Silenus. He turned to Odysseus. “It’s naaaame is Laaaadon. I’ve been meaning to tell you aaaabout him.”

The awful roars came again.

“You’ve been
meaning
—”

“Something’s coming!” Penelope cried, pointing down the passage, where an enormous shape came slithering out of the gloom.

It was a monstrously huge snake, with a body as thick as a grown man’s waist, so long its tail was still far back in the blackness. Slitted eyes reflected little light, but when it opened its jaws, it exposed a set of long, pointed fangs.

“Take this,” Odysseus said, passing the torch to Penelope. “Hold it high so I can see what I’m doing.”

He grasped the hilt of the sword with both hands and advanced to meet the serpent.
This is no worse
, he told himself,
than facing a charging boar
. He didn’t think about how much larger the snake was than the boar. He didn’t think that a light javelin and a heavy sword fitted differently in the hand. All he thought about was the danger, and the blood raced wildly in his veins.

The serpent jabbed at him, and Odysseus drew back a step, sword raised. Before the serpent had a chance to try again, Odysseus struck out. Twisting his body around, throwing all of his weight behind the blade as it scythed through the air, he struck downward with the sword, slicing cleanly through muscle and tissue.

Whoosh
! he thought.
That was easy
!

The severed head flew into the air like a ball tossed by a child. The body recoiled, whipping back into the dark passage.

Suddenly Odysseus could feel the heat of battle drop away from him, and his knees nearly buckled. He prodded the lifeless head with his sword point. It rolled away, the dead eyes staring at the cave’s ceiling.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, pushing the words out with his last bit of breath. “Like killing any adder. Only … larger.”

“There’s no need to sound disappointed,” said Penelope, but her hands were shaking, and the torchlight flickered.

“You don’t understaaaand,” Silenus said. “Laaaadon’s not dead.”

Leaning on the sword, Odysseus gave the satyr a quizzical look. “But you just saw me kill him.”

Silenus opened his mouth to explain, then gaped in mute horror at something behind Odysseus.

Odysseus whirled around and let out a gasp. There were six more serpents, each as large as the first, hurtling towards them.

Battle fury again surged like a tide through Odysseus’ veins. He felt hot and cold and hot. Raising the heavy sword with both hands and screaming, he charged the snaky heads, swinging his sword to keep them at bay.

They rose on their long necks and snapped at him from every direction at once. One of them even curved around behind him and prepared to take a bite out of his neck.

Penelope grabbed the oil lamp from the satyr, lunged forward, doused the snake’s head with oil, and set it alight with the torch. The creature let out a screech of pain and pulled sharply away along with its brothers.

“We have to get out of here,” Penelope cried, shaking with terror. “We can’t fight them all at once.”

Odysseus felt the sudden weight of the sword but willed his arms to keep the blade up. “You only mentioned one of these things,” he said to Silenus. “Where are all the others coming from?”

“There
is
only one,” said the satyr. “Laaaadon—the serpent with aaaa hundred heads. You caaaan chop off as maaaany as you like, but he just grows new ones to replaaaace them.”

“You could have mentioned this before,” Odysseus said.

“And whaaaat good would thaaaat have done?” asked the satyr. But he was shaking worse than Penelope.

They backed out of the hall, staying clear of the corridors from which the snake heads had come, when a loud snarling hiss to their right caused all of them to turn as one.

Six more snakes were coming towards them.

“Penelope, when I yell ‘Now!’ we both charge at once.”

Penelope gulped and nodded.

“Now!” Odysseus cried. He whipped his sword in a vicious circle, slicing a shower of scales off two of the sinuous necks and cutting a third neck neatly in two. By his side, Penelope jabbed at the other serpent heads with the torch. The five live snakes shrank back from the fire into the shadows, leaving the dead head behind.

“Run!” Odysseus yelled, pointing his sword towards the only corridor that hadn’t held snakes.

They spun around and ran down the stone hall, with its bewildering twists and turns. Odysseus led them around a sharp corner, then skidded to a stunned halt.

The way before them was swarming with serpents. Razor-sharp teeth glittered in the torchlight.

One snake lunged forward and ripped the tunic from Odysseus’ shoulder. He barely turned away in time.

“The other waaaay!” Silenus screamed, grabbed Penelope by the shoulder, and dragged her with him.

Penelope screamed back as a serpent launched out of a side passage and aimed for her throat. Odysseus knocked Penelope down, and Silenus fell on top of her. Then Odysseus slammed the snake to the floor with the flat of his blade.

“Run! Run!” Odysseus cried.

One by one they leaped over the stunned serpent and ran down the shadow-filled hall. Behind them came the furious hissing of serpents.

“They’re everywhere!” Penelope cried. “Everywhere!”

Odysseus knew, with darkening certainty, that she was right.

T
HEY RACED DOWN THE
twisting, turning passages. Silenus was in the lead, shouting, “My nose knows.”

Odysseus’ nose knew nothing. Between the satyr’s stink, the musty tang of snake, the damp cave odour and the nose-drip of fear, he couldn’t smell a thing. His arms were both red-hot with pain, his shoulders ached, and terror dogged his heels. Going after Silenus made as much sense as anything.

They ran and ran, panicked, through the zigzagging corridors until they were all out of breath.

Except for their own heaving sobs, an eerie silence filled the Labyrinth.

Odysseus looked back warily. “Have we lost Ladon?”

Silenus didn’t answer. His shudder was enough.

Penelope sighed. “Who is this Ladon anyway?”

Taking a deep breath, Silenus said, “From whaaaat the gloating king told me, Laaaadon is one of the maaaany offspring of the giaaaant Typhon and the she-serpent Echidnaaaa.”

Now it was Penelope’s turn to shudder.

The satyr went on. “Laaaadon terrorised Crete during the early years of Deucalion’s reign. There weren’t aaaany heroes who could kill him. So they lured him into the Laaaabyrinth.”

“And here he’s been ever since?” Odysseus had caught his breath. “So why hasn’t he starved to death?”

The old satyr straightened. “Oh—he haaaas regular meals. Deucalion sends all Cretan criminaaaals into the Laaaabyrinth.”

Odysseus smiled wryly. “No wonder the dungeons are empty and lightly guarded.” He glanced at the torch in Penelope’s hand. It was flickering now, a sure sign it would soon die.

“Ladon hasn’t been giving
you
any trouble,” Penelope said. “Both members of the same monster’s guild?”

“Oh, he’d eat me soon enough,” Silenus admitted. “Snaaaakes love goat meat. But so faaaar I’ve staaaayed clear of the centre of the maaaaaaaaze.” His bleating voice let go on the last word.

Penelope sighed. That small bit of breath fluttered the torch. “Too bad. Odysseus’ plan to bring us into the centre was the only plan we had.”

“And it was a good plaaaan too,” said the satyr. “Except for Laaaadon, that is.”

“We could sneak past Ladon in the dark, and …” Odysseus began.

“His maaaany eyes are shaaaarp enough to penetraaaate the gloom of Erebus, the blaaaackest region of the Underworld,” Silenus said.

All three were silent, contemplating just how dark such a gloom might be.

“Maaaaybe we should let him eat us aaaand be done with it,” Silenus said. Exhausted, he squatted down on the floor.

“Never!” Penelope cried.

“There
must
be a way to kill him,” Odysseus added. Though he doubted he’d have the strength to lift the sword one more time, even if they found a way.

“Oh, there is,” said Silenus. “But you haaaaave to kill his one true head, the one containing his scheming braaaain.”

Odysseus leaned over the old satyr and stared at him, eye to eye. “And how do I tell which one is the one true head?”

The satyr’s eyes closed. “It’s maaaarked, Deucalion saaaid, with aaaa crimson crest. The others are really just tentacles with eyes aaaand mouths.”

“Crimson crest, eh?” Odysseus said, straightening up. “That shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Haaaard enough,” muttered Silenus.

“Harder still,” Penelope warned, “if the torch goes out.”

But having gone through fear and defeat, Odysseus had already come out on the other side. “All we have to do is find the crested head and”—he lifted the sword with a barely concealed grunt—“and I
will
kill him!”

Buoyed by Odysseus’ spirit, Penelope lifted the sputtering torch. “You will! You will!” She smiled.

Grateful for her support, Odysseus smiled back and set the sword down carefully.

Silenus got to his feet wearily. “Now Laaaadon’s haaaad a taaaaste of your sword, he’ll keep his one true head aaaat the centre of the maaaaze, well out of your reach.”

“The centre of the maze!” Odysseus and Penelope said together, and Penelope added, “We’re back where we started.”

“No, we’re not!” Odysseus was suddenly certain. “Do you remember what happened when I cut off that first head?”

Penelope nodded. “The neck disappeared back into the dark.”

“Yes!” Odysseus was triumphant. “Just what you’d do if you pricked your finger. Pull the finger away without thinking. Ladon’s done the same thing, and
that’s
what gives us a chance!”

“I still don’t like this idea,” Penelope said as they made their way through the dark corridor. The torch was madly flickering.

“We don’t have another choice,” Odysseus reminded her. “Soon we’re going to be completely in the dark. Better to strike when we still have some light on our side.”

“We’re getting close to the centre,” said Silenus, touching a finger to his nose. “Laaaadon’s bound to attaaaack soon.”

“Remember: when he does, you two get away and leave the rest to me.”

“I
really
don’t like this idea,” Penelope said.

Odysseus ignored her complaint. “Lift the torch, Penelope.”

She held the torch higher.

They’d come to an intersection of two passages, and Silenus sniffed loudly. Odysseus didn’t need any help from the satyr’s nose this time. A prickling sensation at the back of his neck had already warned him of the danger.

“He’s coming,” Odysseus whispered.

“He’s here!” Penelope whispered back.

A single serpent body writhed down the corridor to his left. Odysseus turned to face it.

“Here come some more,” cried Silenus.

A dozen of Ladon’s snake heads, like a great roiling wave, surged towards them.

Odysseus felt the battle fever surge through his body again and grabbed the torch from Penelope with his left hand. Raising the heavy sword in his right, and heedless of the weight, he rushed towards the snake body.

A hissing head rose to greet him.

With one well-aimed stroke of the sword, he sliced through the snake neck which sent the head twirling through the air. Immediately the bleeding stump whirled back into the shadows.

Odysseus sprinted after it, caught up, and rammed the sword, point down, straight through the scaly hide until it fixed into the thick muscle. Then he wrapped his right arm around the sword hilt.

Now
, he thought,
I don’t have to raise that awful heavy weight again
. Now, he knew, he just had to hang on.

The snake retreated, carrying Odysseus at dizzying speed along the corridor.

Bang
! Into the floor.

Bash
! Into the ceiling.

He bounced bruisingly off the walls, his arms and legs scraping over the stones. His arm muscles ached with the effort of keeping his grip on both sword and torch.

At last he was hauled into a huge cavern that could only be the very centre of the Labyrinth.

He set down the torch for a moment, and with both hands twisted the sword out of the snake body. It came out more easily than he’d expected, like a knife through meat.

He picked up the torch again. As he did so, he was immediately aware that everything on his body hurt. He was a single hot point of pain. But he knew he’d have to think about that later.

Now there was only the hero and the snake.

Holding the flickering torch aloft, he looked around. Coiled before him was Ladon’s scaly body, as huge as the hull of a ship. Swaying in the air above it was a head twice the size of the others, topped with a bright red crest.

“The one true head,” Odysseus whispered.

The narrowed snake eyes glared balefully at Odysseus, and gigantic fangs gleamed like silver swords in the torchlight.

On every side of the body, dozens of elongated necks were thrust down the tunnels. Odysseus was certain they were pursuing Penelope and Silenus, who were weaponless. He hoped the old satyr could keep them clear of the snakes until he finished this task.

If I can finish my task
, he thought. Then shook his head. He had to think like a hero. So he forced himself to look up at the head above him and shout, “Come, Ladon, son of Echidna and Typhon, let us see which of us lives and which of us dies!”

Ladon’s crested head came straight down towards him, hissing like a waterfall.

Odysseus was so focused on the head before him, he didn’t see what was behind. The bloody stump of the neck he’d ridden smacked into his back with the force of a club. The torch fell from his left hand and the heavy sword from his right.

Like a tentacle, the stump wrapped around his waist and hoisted him into the air.

His legs dangled helplessly as the one true head of Ladon drew close. In the last flickerings from the fallen torch, he saw the lipless serpent mouth spread in a cold grin.