"Tell me your name, oh metal limbed one, with the voice of honey."
Sing, oh muse, of the man once known as Odysseus, who traveled long and far. Sing of his fleeing of Dread Adytum, populated by untold horrors. Sing of his schemes and of his sorrowful return to sweet Ithaca.
What shall be the first of many misfortunes recounted here? Adytum lay on fire, the baleful flesh mortally wounded. Its Witch King and his Dark Court of abominations had long since departed for the lands beyond the gaze of deities and mortals. Wánax Bumaro bade return to many pillared Amoni, for such was MEKHANE’s will. The Black ships of the King in Gold made haste through the wine dark sea, but the heathen gods of wind and water, and the failure of the imperfect aenigmatic design of Antykthera, scattered the fleet to the four corners of the known world.
Odysseus Laertiades, captain of men, led his ship through the storm and beyond. He traveled for nine days without Sun, arriving at the lands of the Lotus Eaters. The men there are unique in shape and size, though their humorous form come not from the corruption of the flesh. They are mirthful and cover themselves with joyous paints and strange clothes. They lack malice, but their powerful and milky emanations uncover the madness of men and women alike. Thus, two compatriots lost their minds in that foreign land, never to return to sunsoaked Ithaca.
Traitorous winds led the captain and his men westward for three days, arriving at an island of rocks beaten by salt and storm. They sook shelter in a bay, making landfall in the unknown isle. He who weaves plans led twelve men to explore the place, finding it to be large and ripe with trees and wheat, perfect to replenish the ship's meager supplies,
But the travelers witnessed something troubling. There were many strange beasts grazing in the fields. The men cowered for they recognised the nature of these beings, as they had fought many a time against monsters of their ilk under the bone walls of dread Adytum. Amongst them, the largest monster of them all. Standing on two feet, like the men who eat bread, was a giant, slumped forward and with one big eye in the middle of its enormous forehead. It was clad in skins and herded the beasts towards trees made of cartilage and bone.
The fearsome sight left the men frightened. And so spoke Polites, the captain's dearest friend:
"We have fought ten years under the watchful eye of the flesh. We are now in another foreign land and we cannot escape the enemy's corrupting influence. What shall we do, oh, fair Odysseus, who has guided us through the worst perils?"
The leader of men observed the field. The war had been long and there was truly no need for further bloodshed, or so he felt. But he was surrounded by friends, who were as scarred as he, twenty-four eyes fixed on a man who didn't feel humanity anymore. And so, from below his helmet, came his voice:
"These islands, like every one in the water filled eye of MEKHANE, are ours to rule and dispose of. Down there, thread beings that laugh at the majesty of the Machine, shepherded by a herald of the Flesh. But fret not, for we have a mission: to locate sustenance for the compatriots that wait for us so we can brave the open seas once again. We shall find this being's dwelling, with the will to ambush it and bring its monstrous head as a trophy back home. Then, we shall take its food for us." He spoke thus and the men had their spirits lifted, their hearts beating with iron resolve, for these lies were what they wanted to hear.
They walked around the field, evading the giant and heading into a cave. It was full of animal hides and flesh hanging from the high ceiling, and the smell of wine, blood and milk coming from kraters along the walls.
"These surely must be the monster's dwellings," announced the dark-skinned Eurybates, squire of the master mariner.
"It is. Hurry along the back wall, my fair companions. We shall strike once the beast returns.", answered kingly Odysseus.
The twelve brave men lay in waiting among the gargantuan husks as the sky turned and the shards of the goddess started to shine above. Until, at the last hour of day, the behemoth came lumbering, herding the colossal beasts into the cave. It hummed a tune, a song of flesh and sinew, and the sweat of working the entire day. When all the animals were peacefully inside the room, it rolled a rock in front of the entrance, closing it. Then it walked to the middle of the cavern, where a hearth lay, starting the fire within.
"I smell metal," it spoke. "I smell men. Strangers from a far away land, coming here riding the watery ways on dark steel ships. Who are you that prowl in the dark and what do you seek in my humble abode? For I am Polyphemus, the shepherd of the beasts of Gyaros, of the Halkost of Orok."
Hearing these words, Odysseus, captain of men, walked forward into the light of the fire, a scheme born of his mind gathering in his lips. And he spoke thus:
"We are Achaeans, warriors of Bumaro, touched by the Goddess. We passed through your marvelous lands and wished to learn more of their steward. So, we entered this here cave and marveled at the wonders within. You have slain many great beasts, oh, one eyed one."
"These animals are raised by me, fed with my flesh, it is only fair that they die to my hands. Come, sit here in the hearth." The cyclops spoke. "Tell me your name, oh metal limbed one, with the voice of honey."
The face of the man was shrouded in darkness under its beryllium bronze helmet. Thoughts were racing behind the slits of metal. Thoughts about carnage, prophets, home and a name that didn't feel owned anymore.
"My name is No-one," The captain spoke at last.
"Be welcome, No-one. You and all your compatriots may come out, we may partake in the food, the wine and the warmth of the flames.
Following the tacit orders of wise Odysseus, the entire group sat down around the fire as the monster cut down a carcass hanging from the ceiling. It gave chunks of it to every warrior, which drowned the meat with abundant wine and milk and the water that comes from the ground.
"Please, oh travelers, regale me with the stories you bring from faraway lands. I have never left this island. There are others like me here, sons and daughters of Orok, the horned one. We are to help raise sheep, and pits of his white worms to send to Gyaros for the feeding of the temples and the warriors. No longer do the ships of the Ozi̮rmok pass through and ask for the tithe, so I now live the life of a recluse, with my halkost."
The men looked at Odysseus seeking guidance, for he was the only one of all the Achaeans who seemed to fully enjoy the gifts of the cyclops.
"You asked for a story, oh gracious host. So I shall provide, but you shall drink with me first." The captain held a cup high, which the monster accepted gladly. "When I was but a child I went hunting in the lands of my forebear. We walked around the deep jungles of the Phthia, until a beast caught my scent. It was a boar, a monstrous one, with black hair and teeth longer than my arm. Its façade would make the gods tremble. And it charged at me, biting down on my leg and thrashing until my bone broke. The blood spilled from my veins that day would nourish the trees of the land for many weeks to come. I would spend the next three days trapped in a deep sleep, and I would recognise that the trappings of my own flesh weren't enough to sustain me."
"The flesh is a wonderful thing. Fragile, yet malleable. Weak, yet the source of strength. Tell me, No-one, is that why your legs and your arms are covered in copper? Is that why your heart beats hollow, like a drum of black iron? Is that why your companions all have a frightful appearance, clad in bronze?"
"That is truth. We shed our limbs, our organs and our minds to become stronger in the name of our Goddess. We are warriors now. We are made for war."
After these words, one-eyed Polyphemus laughed, and patted one of the beasts that dreamt of emptiness in the cave.
"My father is a warrior. He claims that these beasts are made to be felled in battle." He drank another cup of wine. "But this war he speaks of, and this other war you speak of are far away. They have never come to these shores, they cannot penetrate my door. We are safe here. We are at peace. Furthermore, we have all partaken in sacred consumption together. Now we are all halkost. Now we are one."
The cyclops fell asleep shortly after, hugging the beasts of war he had raised. In the dark and damp cave, the men gathered around their beloved captain and spoke in the silence of soldiers.
"That monster is of the flesh. That monster deserves death," spoke Eurybates.
"Have you heard its words? It intends to have us live with it, like its beasts. It has us trapped inside this cave and we have no way of escaping," spoke Polites.
"Patience, brothers. We will not escape our predicament until the cyclops moves the boulder in the entrance tomorrow. Thus, you shall follow my lead now."
He unsheathed his bronze sword, a gift made by the divinely inspired Legate, which ended many lives in the endless war that felled the Kalmaktama. Then he climbed on top of the snoring giant and plunged the sword deep into its closed eye. The scream that followed woke the beasts of burden and shook the earth. When it stop thrashing, its beasts gathered around its face and licked the ichor streaming down from the sword lodged into its forehead.
"I am blinded and can see no more. Who would do such a thing to me? Can you hear me, my halkost. Can you hear me, my friends and family? Who would blind me in the bliss of my sleep?" It asked, to the shadows it no longer could see, but could still smell. "Oh, metal limbed warriors, what did you see? What did you do?"
Silence permeated the cave, punctuated by the sobs of the unseeing giant. And so, the rosy-fingered aurora came, and the cyclops slowly rose, walking up to the entrance and moving the boulder out, letting the light of day filter in and the animals filter out. With them, the Achaeans. Once they were outside, Odysseus, man of twists and turns, looked upwards to the colossus, and spoke.
"It was me, No-one, who blinded you. It was not my choice, but the choice of the gods that guide our people to war." Even though the colossus couldn't see him anymore, he pointed at his men, who were no longer listening to him, preoccupied now with slaughtering the flock of creatures and carrying them over yonder to where the ships awaited. "These men are under my command, and I must serve them as they serve me. I must go home, and though it saddens my spirit greatly, this meant ridding you of your decaying flesh." The cyclops wailed in response, blood and tears streaming down its face as the captain spoke his last words. "Farewell, friend. I wish I could kill you as your sheep were killed, send you to the plains beyond the Styx. But I reckon we shall live with our mistakes ever more."
So the black ships traveled onwards, passing through the waves where the sirens sing their syncopated secrets to the winds, and into the sun-filled lands of a golden monarch.
It was a bustling city, untouched by war nor famine nor disease. At its port, merchants asked for coin in exchange for wares, protected from thievery by the graces of the invisible gods of misery. The captain requested an audience with the prince of the island, who acquiesced and brought him into the golden palace.
The building shone like the sun, wondrous and sacred mechanisms of bronze made it rotate following the star of the day as it traveled along the sky. Plants from the four corners of the world adorned it, from the tree colossi of the Daeva to the bright black petals of flowers from fabled Druv’Tuul. Inside, a menagerie of the strangest animals under the sky. Elephants, tigers and monkeys. And beings who resembled such but weren’t — in truth these were gods in disguise, the sheen of divinity passing through them, or monsters tamed to be peaceful. On the main floor, a musician played the aulos while a hundred scribes kept track of a thousand wares by writing them down in clay tablets. In the middle of it all, a being golden as the palace itself. The deity of this part of the land.
"Greetings, Odysseus Laertiades, I believe we've never met each other," they spoke. "But I've been informed of your exploits and I must say, great work with that business in Adytum. Potentially saved us lots of money."
They who protect weary travelers walked around the captain, examining him.
“You’ve already encountered monsters in your travels. And you may yet face more dangerous uh… dangers. Let me tell you one thing, Odysseus, master of ships and men, but wouldn’t it be in your best interest to have some insurance on your side?”
“Your offer tempts me, brilliant Helios.” Smiled the honoree.
“Of course. We have a care package that protects your ship until there is such a time when you can get home safely. We have more packages, of course, one for you and even one for your crew in case of harm to the body or the soul. This one also covers death. If you’re so inclined, you can read more in our clay tablets.” A slave brought forward a bundle of clay tablets, showing the cramped writing to the captain.
“My crew is my ship who is I. We are one and we will sail together to Ithaca. I wish to know more about these packages you speak of.” So said the fearless warrior.
“Perfect, wouldn’t expect less coming from you! So, I need you to pay with one measly thing. The machines of your god are a wonderful invention, and I happen to know that you have one of such prodigies in your ship: Odysseus' own orikalkos engine. That's all I ask for as payment for my priceless insurance.” This shocked the master mariner, for his ship’s fragment of Mekhane was a direct connection with divinity, and allowed for safe travels in the perilous pontus. “In exchange, this will be brought on to your ship.” They clapped their hands, and a second slave appeared, leading a cow, yellow like gold. “I present to you one of my cows. It is connected to me through a system of sympathetic links and psionic conditioning that I think is too complex for you to understand. But trust me, it works. Once it has been sacrificed on the deck of your trireme and your crew has eaten it, you will have my blessing. And just like so, in the case of accident or any other injury, you shall be paid a good amount by one of my representatives. Does that sound like a deal?”
The captain stood in silence, pondering the words spoken by they who bring joy to mortals. Then, he spoke, a plan in his mind and his lips.
"I believe this is satisfactory. Would your highness allow me to conduct these rituals on my ship?"
"Of course! By all means, let's go down to the harbor and be done with all this paperwork."
Thus, on the deck of the ship, the slaves of who sees all things and listens to all things, all seeing and all hearing secured the calf to the mast, preparing a sharpened knife to cut its neck. From ashore, their owner supervised the process. The master mariner spied the process standing on the bridge, connecting himself to the ship's machine mind through the helmet gifted by the six-armed Trunnion. The crew looked on, nervously, as the servants slit the cow's throat and spilled the brilliant ichor on the worn-out metal planks.
Eurylochus, who stood tall, walked forward and spoke with the lord of men.
"What is the meaning of this, oh captain? We are far away from Ithaca still and you sell our to a foreign god? Look, don't avert your gaze, as their servants bring aboard flesh to do strange sacrifices."
"Eurylochus, I ask of you: if you trusted me as your king, your wánax during the war that kept us from our home, you must also trust me now, when enemies and danger lurk at every corner," answered the lord of men.
"That might be true, captain, but the fact that you didn't slay that accursed cyclops raises suspicion amongst the crew. Some wonder if you truly still honor MEKHANE. If you truly still hold our best interests at heart. Some of us believe that we should have burnt this town to ash before letting these heathens take away our sacred machines," cowardly Eurylochus spoke.
The king of Ithaca looked at his second in command as he became one with his boat through the gears, the thaumic glyphs and the copper cables.
"My dearest Eurylochus, may the Goddess strike me down if I lie to you: everything I do, I do it with the aim to bring us home."
Right as the servants of the sky deity moved towards the engine, his mind gave the order through the sacred connection with the machine:
Flee.
With one practised motion, the oars beside the ship shot out, stabbing the waters below and the sails unfolded, catching the plentiful etesian wind of the east. The sailors jumped into action and steered out of the harbor.
The master of the sun, overtaken by panic, ran along the dock, screaming:
"What are you doing? Where's my payment!"
The captain looked across the widening chasm of the green sea opening between them and with a thunderous voice, spoke:
"You're a fool, Goldbaker. You asked for Odysseus' orikalkos engine, and you asked for Odysseus to lend you such in payment. But I'm no longer Odysseus." The wind, the oars and the engine propelled the boat ever forward. "I am no-one."
Far away, a snake traversed the waves and made landfall in the red pastures of Polyphemus. A blinded colossus waited, sitting atop a mountain of the corpses of its herd.
"Is it you, father, who comes here to put me out of my misery?" the giant asked.
The snake shuddered in sacred metamorphosis, turning into a woman of frightful gaze. It slithered sadly over the bodies silently. Like the wolf who hunts lambs under the cover of the dark night, the serpent wraps around the cyclops, and swallows it whole. The prey lets out a stifled cry and then no more.
From atop the mountain of slain chimeras, one monster digests another. Flesh is consumed, bones are broken and its meal fused within a stomach, blood and brain swirl inside a pit of acid, now part of a greater sum. The predator speaks, inward, to the food it has eaten in sacred consumption.
"Your father is no more, oh, shepherd. I am Karcist Halyna Ieva and I ask of thee, what happened here?""
The memories of Polyphemus speak, weak, from inside the throat of the snake.
"No-one blinded me. In a mockery of hospitality, my own halkost turned against me and gouged out my seeing eye while I slept. I thank you kindly for relieving me of the pain of a failure of my strength, karcist." It is as if the dead one was weeping.
"The cruelty of the gods lashes out at our people once again." Ieva says, inwardly. She slowly descends the mound, back towards the sea.
"It was prophesized, karcist. The writing in the bones and the swirls of bile on the entrails spoke of a man called Odysseus who would wash ashore and blind me in an act of peerless rage. But No-one blinded me." The last words of the last follower of Orok in Gyaros rang inside the veins of its predator. With them came a flood of memories. The temples of Adytum, that was no more; the eye of the Horned Beast, looking proudly at the followers of his path; the pain and pleasure of fleshcrafting to feed one's own herd, who now lies dead and rotting in a nameless beach and the last moments of sight, partaking in food and wine with newly made friends. Ieva spilled bitter tears on the sand.
"Peace is repaid with violence in these times, oh Polyphemus. The Ozi̮rmok is dead and we lack guidance. Violence inflicted by Nobody upon nobody." She smelled the air. "But I am pursuing the one responsible for your misery. Soon, we shall all feast on his blood."
The cyclops was silent forevermore, as he was now part of its karcist, on both likeness and voice — now a hunter who sets out to the water.
