Die, Brony, Die Read online

  “To enjoy good health, to bring true happiness to one's family, to bring peace to all, one must first discipline and control one's own mind.”—Buddha

  Prologue - Succession by Song and Sword

  Acrisius, king of Argos, declared war upon the whole of Greece and terrorized his neighbors on the peninsula for decades. Finally, Zeus could no longer ignore the prayers of the other Greek kings, so he set a plan in motion. Disguised as Acrisius, he snuck into the royal palace and impregnated Danaë, Acrisius’ wife. Zeus knew that the demigod offspring of that union would set things right in Argos.

  When he learned Danaë was pregnant with the allfather’s progeny, Acrisius became enraged and sealed his wife in an airtight chest. He then cast the chest into the sea. Under Zeus’ direction, the sea god Poseidon saw that no harm came to the vessel. Lonely and afraid, Danaë gave birth to her son Perseus while still adrift. The poor woman died in childbirth, but Perseus—who had the blood of a god flowing through his veins—survived.

  In time, fisherfolk discovered the chest, and took it up out of the water. The fisherman and his wife opened the chest to discover a healthy baby boy. Having no children of their own, they adopted Perseus as their son.

  As Perseus came to manhood, the fisherfolk could see he was not a normal boy. He could perform feats of strength and run distances far beyond mortal capacity. Still, they raised him in the simple ways of their village and taught him right from wrong. He grew up a wise and thoughtful soul.

  Finally, sick of Acrisius’ unending war on their territories, the kings of Greece turned their pleas from Zeus to Poseidon. The kings understood that Poseidon was master of the waters and had sea monsters at his command. Since Argos was a coastal city, they thought Poseidon was best-suited to end their suffering. Knowing Zeus had another plan upon a parallel track, Poseidon answered the other kings provisionally. To them he said, “On the third day of the third month, the moon will align such that it blocks out the sun. On this day of darkness, I will send the Kraken—a monster of the sea—to pull Argos into the waves.

  Poseidon’s promise to the other kings forced Zeus to swifter action. He sent portentous dreams to Perseus, his son. Dreams of Argos beset by the Kraken. He also showed the boy an image of Andromeda. Andromeda was the daughter of Cassiopeia, queen of Joppa. Joppa was one of the cities at war with Acrisius. In fact, Andromeda was a spoil of that war. Acrisius had taken her during a raid and planned to wed her on the very night of the eclipse.

  Princess Andromeda was beautiful and, seeing her in his dreams, drove Perseus to act. After a fond farewell to his adopted parents, the boy set off down the coast toward Argos. He swore to save both the princess and the city from the terrible fate awaiting them. But he was not foolish. He knew his strength alone would not suffice. He knew he was no match for the Kraken, a forty-foot monster with a hide too thick for simple spears to penetrate. If he wanted to win the day (and the girl’s hand) he would need guidance.

  Perseus knew that, not far from his village, a seer of great renown lived. Tiresias was blind, but he had a mystic sight which made up for the defect in his eyes. When he found the oracle at his hut, Perseus entreated him for help. Tiresias, being a kindly sort, put the boy at ease. He would have helped regardless, but he sensed the destiny placed upon Perseus and knew that he must do whatever he could. He took Perseus and, together, they sat underneath a great tree. The seer’s visions came to him on the song of birds, and Perseus sat while Tiresias listened to the larks sing their omens.

  When the song was over, Tiresias turned his blind eyes to Perseus. “The birds do not speak to me with directness. Their help comes in a more poetic form.”

  Perseus said he understood and was eager to hear all the oracle could share.

  Tiresias said, “The larks said two things to me. I will say them to you, but I cannot interpret them. That task falls to you.” Again, the son of Zeus nodded. “The first line is this: ‘Where the waters do not flow, the sky may be a road’. The second line is this: ‘When brine is in the blood, the singing of the sea beguiles more deeply’.”

  The fisherman’s ward was crestfallen for the words meant nothing to him. He sighed. “What am I to do now?” he said. “Must I find a second seer to untangle the skeins of the first?”

  Tiresias smiled. “I’m afraid you’d only get more of the same cryptic pronouncements. Oracles hear the song of the universe, and the song of the universe was not designed for the ears of men. Fortunately for men they have brains that think. Devious, twisty brains built for survival.”

  Perseus nodded, realizing his confusion was not Tiresias’ fault. Then, the answer to one of the riddles came to him unbidden.

  When he was a boy, his father, the fisherman, told him stories of gods, and monsters and great heroes. In one of those tales, the herds of Zeus figured prominently. High up, in a cleft between two mountain peaks (from which no river found its source), the allfather kept his horses. As befits the king of the gods, these were not earthly mounts. They were winged steeds meant to bear the Olympians into battle. What else could a line like ‘Where the waters do not flow, the sky may be a road’ be referencing? Perseus gave a little whoop of joy and told the oracle what he had intuited.

  Tiresias could not contain his delight. “Then that cleft in the mountains must be your first destination! Ah! If only I had the strength of youth and the use of my eyes! I would give all I have for one sight of Zeus’ sacred herd! Horses without wings are nature’s noblest beasts. I can only imagine steeds that gallop amongst the clouds!”

  Perseus smiled for he’d grown fond of the seer. “If I succeed in my quest and do not die,” he said. “I will bring the horse here and you may lay hands upon it!”

  The oracle clapped the young man on the shoulder and replied, “The fisherfolk raised you well! If goodness of heart was the only barrier to your success, you’d be sure to triumph!”

  Perseus grew melancholy and said, “I fear it will take more than kindness to win the day. Farewell, seer, and wish me good fortune.”

  Tiresias did exactly that, and Perseus set forth upon his path once again. His journey to the pasturelands of the gods was long and fraught with peril but, thanks to his kind heart (and a golden bridal given to him by Athena), the young adventurer won the trust of the winged steed Pegasus. As he flew out of the cleft toward the lands below, sudden inspiration struck again. ‘When brine is in the blood, the singing of the sea beguiles more deeply’, he thought to himself. What has brine in its blood? A sea monster. Like the Kraken who was soon to visit fated Argos. What is the singing of the sea? The boy wondered further. Why does it beguile? Surely, that line must refer not to the ocean itself but to the sirens who make their home upon its shores! Their song—as my fisherman father described it—was nothing if not hypnotic! Once again, the son of Zeus had used his devious and twisty brain to solve a dire riddle. As Perseus directed his mount toward the seashore, he thought back on what his adopted sire had told him of the strange women who lure sailors to their deaths.

  The sirens did not start life as mystical creatures. They were human at first and employed as handmaidens to Persephone. When Hades, lord of the Underworld, seduced Persephone and stole her away to his haunted realm, Demeter, Persephone's mother, blamed the sirens and cursed them to the fate known best to legend. She gifted them with wondrous song and bade them lurk along the coastline to lure hapless sailors to their deaths. The sirens figure in two of Greece’s most famous tales—that of Jason and the Argonauts and that of Odysseus. In the former story, Jason took, as a member of his crew, the great musician Orpheus whom he instructed to sing as the Argo passed the sirens. Orpheus’ music was so fair, it drowned out the sirens’ song and the Argonauts passed without incident. After the time of Perseus, in Hom
er’s famous Odyssey, Odysseus had to sail past the sirens on his ill-fated return home from Troy. He bade all the members of his crew to stuff their ears with beeswax while he himself stayed lashed to the mast. The king of Ithaca was curious to hear the sirens’ song, so he told his sailors not to release him no matter how he begged. His crewmen did as they he commanded, and the adventurers escaped harm. However, unbeknownst to them, Demeter’s curse held a condition: the sirens must haunt the rocky coast until someone heard their song and resisted its lure. Since Odysseus heard them sing and lived to tell the tale, the sirens cast themselves into the sea and never bedeviled passing travelers again.

  But, again, the incident with King Odysseus came long after the time of Perseus. In Perseus’ day, the sirens were still a harrowing trap for the unwary. The boy knew, if he were to survive an encounter with the cursed monsters, he would need to be both cautious and clever.

  Perseus flew inland behind the shore where the sirens dwelt. Since he would not be passing them on the sea, he reasoned they would not predict his coming. Before he rushed into their midst, Perseus crouched down behind some bushes for it occurred to him his plan was incomplete. Would he need to kidnap one of the sirens and take her with him to his battle with the Kraken? He could not imagine such a scenario going well since the siren would be unlikely to cooperate. The boy realized he’d have trouble getting his prisoner to sing on command. And what if she did sing on command? Wouldn’t Perseus be just as vulnerable to the music as the sea monster? Here was a difficult problem. Fortunately, his half-sister Athena came to him again. She showed the boy the rocky stretch where the sirens lived and bade him look closer. Perseus did as the goddess instructed and noticed the bones of several creatures strewn about. At first, he assumed they belonged to herd animals (for, surely the sirens must eat). But then he looked closer and saw the human character of the bones. He thought these must be the remains of the sirens' victims. Sailors who’s bodies had washed ashore after they’d drowned. Athena corrected this misconception. “You’ve seen with your eyes,” she said. “Now listen with your ears.” Perseus trained his vision upon a particular skull and willed the background din out of his hearing. When he did that, he heard a quiet song—and it seemed to be coming from the skull itself. It was then he realized the skull belonged not to food or to an unlucky mariner, but to a long-dead siren. As the gentle breeze blew through it, its song resonated once again. In that moment, Perseus knew exactly what he must do. He stood and approached the rocks. Before he got more than a few steps, Athena grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Here,” she said. “You’ll need this.” She handed him a golden sword which matched his golden bridle. The boy thanked his kin and started off once again. Before he got more than a few steps, Athena stopped him once again. “Here,” she said. “You’ll need this too.” Perseus looked down into the goddess’ open palm and saw two plugs of sheep’s wool. He smiled and placed one into each of his ears.

  After he’d taken the head of a siren, Perseus bagged it and mounted his steed once again.

  As Pegasus flew high above the peninsula of Greece, all the suffering caused by Acrisius’ campaign of terror was plain to see. Decades of burning and pillaging and death. So much misery, and for so long, Perseus thought. It ends today!

  When the boy was within sight of Argos, he saw two miraculous sights. First was the total eclipse of the sun and second was the steam rising up in many places from the ocean surrounding the city. Past Argos’ harbor there was much volcanic activity. Vents far below the surface set the water to boiling. The adventurer had no time to linger over either marvel for the appointed time had come and the Kraken rose from the sea.

  Perseus rode harder and cast away the bag covering the siren’s head. The strong wind blew through the gory prize and drove the dead creature to sing as if it had life. The sea monster turned away from the object of its wrath and looked back at the enchanting song. For a time, it resisted, but, being born of the sea itself, it could not but follow the plaintive melody. With the Kraken at his command Perseus arced backward toward the part of the ocean where the steam rose. The boiling water burned the Kraken across every inch of its body. Finally, it sank to the bottom, badly wounded and much reduced in size.

  There it would stay for many hundreds of years.

  With his mission accomplished, the son of Zeus flew back to Argos. He landed his steed amidst an outdoor wedding. Even as Argos’ king bound himself to the fair Andromeda, Perseus ran him through with Athena’s golden sword.

  Acrisius’ long reign of terror was over.

  As the evil monarch bled out upon the ground, Zeus appeared and declared his son king of Argos. He told those in attendance that Perseus would rule long and with wisdom and that he would take Andromeda as his queen.

  When things had settled, Perseus talked to his true father for the first time. After Zeus had explained to Perseus the circumstances of his birth, Perseus stated his confusion. “Wait,” he said. “Let me make sure I understand. Rather than kill Acrisius outright, you impregnated his wife to make the hero who would one day be his downfall. But, of course, that hero had to come of age, so all the people who were suffering had to suffer on for another twenty years. Which means there was a lot of unnecessary pain. Can it be you wanted to help, but you wanted to fuck my mother more? Also, I’m still unclear on the part Poseidon played... Why was there a Kraken even involved?”

  Zeus, his cup halfway to his lips, gave his son a sour look. “Look,” he said. “Do you wanna be king or not?”

  1

  Dora

  I found Hope and the Evils hovering in an angry swarm above Vasquez Rocks. If you don’t know, Vasquez Rocks is a badass rock formation north of the San Fernando Valley. You’ve probably seen it lots of times without knowing it. It’s been in tons of movies and car commercials.

  When I arrived there, the atmosphere was spooky. The sky was dark, the wind was whipping up, and no one was around. Even the ranger station was empty. There was also a low thrumming noise, right at the edge of being intolerable. Above the Rocks themselves, a little maelstrom boiled, alternating black and white. I had my new pithos strapped to my back and I carried a gladius in my right hand.

  I won’t lie: I was scared shitless.

  I knew exactly what the little maelstrom was. The black bits were the Evils I’d accidentally let loose. The white bits were Hope—my friend, the personification of a state of mind.

  Right then, she was killing herself to keep the Evils in check until I arrived.

  Scared as I was, there was no way I was gonna leave my old companion hanging.

  I reached around and undid the straps holding the pithos in place. The clay jug dropped into my left hand and I brought it around, so the opening pointed forward. The pithos was a more important weapon than the gladius. In fact, the blade was useless since I was dealing with spectral enemies. I brought the sword along as a pointy security blanket. I was ready to cast it aside at a moment's notice but, right then, I found the weight and the feel of it reassuring.

  I wasn’t afraid of any one of the Evils by themselves. Hope and I had gathered them up in the first place. Over the course of several thousand years, we'd managed to collect over nine thousand of the monstrosities. Funny thing was, all that effort had been undone by a single bullet from a love-crazed track star. As I walked toward the Rocks, I wondered how I was going to deal with all the beasties at once. There were more of them in one place than the pithos could process efficiently. Or so I assumed. I felt sure that, as I was sucking in one, the other eight thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine would rip me limb from limb. Banishing the thought from my mind, I took a deep breath and willed relaxation to pass through me. Top to bottom. Head to toes. If Hope can keep these motherfuckers corralled for this long, I sure as hell can do my part, I thought.

  At the base of the stone formation, I stopped and looked up. “Hope, I’m here. Tell me what you need.”

  At first, nothing happened. Hope didn’t answer. I was afr
aid she was so occupied we wouldn’t be able to communicate. I was also afraid she’d been irrevocably altered by her ordeal and couldn’t answer.

  She answered. “Dora? Dora! Thank the gods! I’m at my breaking point. You’ve got to help me.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Tell me what you need. Can we get all these dirty little fuckers back into the pithos?”

  “Pithos? What pithos?” Hope didn’t know I’d gotten a replacement jug from Zeus himself. That story could wait, though.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a pithos, and I wanna put as many of the Evils back in as possible. I don’t wanna chase them all over creation again.”

  “Um, lemme think...” I could hear the strain in Hope’s voice. Usually, she was bright and optimistic. Right then, she was exhausted and brittle. “As soon as I back off, these guys’re gonna scatter to the four winds,” she said. “They’re fast and they’re mean. I don’t see any way we can stop them.”

  “What was your plan when you penned them up in the first place?”

  “Umm...”

  Fair enough. I couldn’t fault the girl for a little off-the-cuff thinking. Up to that point, Hope had never been much of an improvisor. It was nice to see her exercise that muscle—even if her scheme hadn’t been fully formed. “We’ve never fought more than one Evil at a time. Can the pithos handle this many?”

  “I... have no idea.”

  “I assume they’re not just swarming around the perimeter you’ve set up. They’re also attacking you, right?”

  “Oh, my yes.”

  “How riled-up would you say they are? On a scale of one to ten?”

  “I dunno... Probably a fifteen.”

  I thought for a minute, trying to connect the dots inside my head. “Okay. Here’s the plan... I’m going to stand underneath you with the pithos pointed up. You’re going to open on the bottom so you’re in the shape of an upside-down bowl. The Evils are going to spill out and we’re going to see how many of them I can suck in at once. I’m sure some of them will flow out along the edges, but I have a theory about that... None of them are gonna leave until they’ve turned around and eaten you for breakfast. So, you’ll make like a rodeo clown. Force them to chase you. Pull as many of them as you can back to me and the jug and I’ll nab them. Does that make sense?”