Gods of Olympus Chapter 2

          Dionysus opened his eyes. The god looked his right, his long, unkempt hair all but blocking the outcome of his grand festival. He sat himself up and glanced around to see where the power of the wine had taken him. He was on Gaia. That much was sure. He had once found himself dancing at the steps of the Underworld. He noticed the trees around him and laid his fair head back down onto the grass. He did not care where he was as long as he was with nature. He saw that Dryads around him were still writhing in ecstasy from the festival. The poor nymphs had found themselves away from the protective hands of Artemis and into the company of Dionysus’s vine. Their green cloaks had been torn, ripped and stained with blood. They begged and pleaded with Zeus on high for their happiness to never end. Dionysus, however, took pity on the Dryads and released them from the bonds of the wine. They fell into a deep slumber at the wave of his hand.

          The Satyrs that were granted the pleasure of worshipping Dionysus were taking turns harassing the newly sleeping Dryads. It wasn’t often that the Satyrs were able to see the nymphs without their mistress. They smelt their hair and ripped off portions of their protective green cloaks. Dionysus released a hearty laugh at the sight of the Satyrs’ games. They fled in terror at the sound of the god’s voice. The Maenads, however, were awoken by their master’s laughter. Dionysus’s wild maidens sprung to their feet and resumed their dancing. They jumped into the air and twirled through the grass. They ripped the branches off trees with their bare hands and used them to parade about. The fawn skins that they wore gleamed in the sunlight as they grabbed snakes from the ground and wrapped them around their beautiful heads. Any who would have witnessed these frenzied women would have been struck with madness.

          The Maenads, realizing they had been neglecting their beloved master, ran to him and worshiped him. They clawed at his skin, eager for his attention. They pleaded with him to have just one look at his eyes. His eyes that changed from an alluring shade of blue to the most menacing shade of red. Dionysus, pleased with their devotion to him, placed his hands onto Gaia and requested from her the vine. Gaia, a loving mother to all of her faithful children, obliged. The vine burst from the ground and seemed to be bountifully ripe with grapes that were filled with juice. Dionysus conjured, with merely a thought, the most beautiful chalice ever to be seen on Gaia. He grabbed the vine and masterfully went to work at his craft. The juices seemed to flow into the chalice simply because they wished to be put to Dionysus’s lips. The Maenads grew insatiable as they watched their master work. When the vine had been squeezed of all its juice, Dionysus set the cup before the Maenads. They thanked him and simply stared at the wine, not able to move. One Maenad, tired of watching, grabbed the chalice and ran into the woods. The others, angry at her theft, chased after her. Dionysus roared with laughter.

          “Would you cease your laughter!” a voice yelled from behind Dionysus, “Not everything requires a loud chuckle! I am attempting slumber.”

          Dionysus peered over his shoulder and saw Pan, the god of the wild and master of the Satyrs, lying on his domain’s floor. A smile came across Dionysus at seeing his old friend, a smile that caused even Helios in his chariot of fire to look down to Gaia. Dionysus promptly rose to his feet, picked the god up, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

          “My old friend!” Dionysus said, his voice striking the earth and causing it to tremble, “I wondered where you had gone.”

          Pan pushed away from the god and landed on his hooves.

          “This is the last time you bring me to one of your festivals. My head aches with pain and I do not remember a thing! I think I may have fathered children. Several children.” Pan said.

          “That is the wine, my friend. It takes hold of everyone. God or human. Isn’t wonderful?” Dionysus asked.

          “Wonderful? I suppose so. I do remember dancing about the forest and teasing that old moon virgin.” Pan said.

          “Ah yes. Artemis. She will be quite angry when she discovers that I borrowed a few of her handmaidens.” Dionysus said.

          “I don’t wish to be purged by the wrath of the moon, Dionysus.” Pan said.

          “Do not trouble yourself with Artemis. She cannot deny the power of the vine,” Dionysus said, “How long did the festivities last? I cannot recall when we began or when we ended!”

          “I believe we began when Alexander went off to war. You asked him to accompany you, but he said that he would rather fight battles than drink your wine.” Pan said.

          “Ah,” Dionysus said, “I remember that. He was a good man. But where are we now? And how long did we revel?”

          “I can tell you, for sure, that we are in the East. Far past Greece or Persia, though.” Pan said.

          “How do you know?” Dionysus asked.

          “I know my land, god-kid. But, I do not know how much time has passed.” Pan said.

          Dionysus looked around him and listened. He turned his head to his left when he heard the rushing sounds of a river nearby.

          “Come,” Dionysus said, “We will ask the river.”

          “Why not ask Gaia?” Pan asked, “We are standing on her, so she is sure to answer.”

          “We do not bother our mother with trifles such as time.” Dionysus said.  

          Dionysus led Pan to the rushing waters of a river that sprouted from a mountain not too far from the gods. Dionysus stepped towards the river and bowed his head. Pan, even though he was the master of all things wild and the river was certainly untamable, bowed his head towards the subordinate of Poseidon. Pan’s authority did not overstep that of the god of the sea.

          “Please, Good River, would you kindly tell the god of the vine and the god of the wild what day it is?” Dionysus asked.

          The water flowed. The rocks skirted along the bottom. The river did not speak.

          “How dare you remain silent in the presence of higher beings!” Pan shouted, “We demand that you speak with us.”

          Pan did not see, but Dionysus’s eyes turned red.

          “I will ring his neck for this insult!” Dionysus said.

          Dionysus lunged for the waters of the mighty river and squeezed with all of his might as a god. However, there was no neck to be wrung. The river was merely a river.

          “What madness is this when a river will not speak with you and has no neck?” Pan asked.

          Dionysus removed his hand from the river and sat in a state of vex. Whom would he ask then if the river did not speak? While he thought, the wind brushed lightly over Dionysus’s face.

          “We are foolish gods, Pan. We need not think to ask the wind the time!” Dionysus shouted.

          “How rude! The winds must not think we do not cherish their breezes!” Pan yelled.

          “Zephyrus!” Dionysus said addressing the air around him, “West wind and bringer of the spring gale! What is today?”

          The wind only blew. It did not speak with the gods.

          “Why will the wind not speak with us? Why will the water no longer talk when it is questioned?” Pan asked. 

          “I do not know. However, I find it too strange that the winds will not speak. They have no quarrel with me. The world has changed, Pan. The world has changed.” Dionysus said.

          “We must have been gone for a month. Maybe Zephyrus angered Zeus and the River gained the hatred of Hera.” Pan said.

          “A month or two at least.” Dionysus added.

          “A bit longer.”

          Dionysus and Pan turned to find inhumanly beautiful face on a human body. It was a slender, golden haired boy with eyes blue as the sky. He wore clothes that were foreign to Dionysus and Pan. For example, he was clothed even though Helios shined bright and warmed Gaia. He wore objects on his feet even though the grass was not wet and was pleasing to the touch.   

          “Who are you to speak to a god, strangely clothed human?” Pan asked.

          “I suggest you leave, old Satyr. I have business with Dionysus.” The boy said.

          “Such bold words for a human.” Pan said.

          The boy snapped his fingers. A burst of light seemed to come from nothingness itself and knocked Pan off his feet. Dionysus raised his brow. Pan, immediately realizing who the boy was, stood and bowed his horned head.

          “Apollo,” Pan said, “Forgive me for angering you. I will leave you gods to your business. Farewell.” Pan said, disappearing into the woods.

          “Apollo. Why do you bother my friend and myself? Aren’t their women waiting to receive your glory? And quite a few men.” Dionysus said.

          “Easy, Dionysus. I only wanted to speak with you alone.” Apollo said.

          “Why do you wear clothes? And strange ones at that. We are brothers and men. There are no women here. It is not the winter. I am without cloth. Have you become bashful in my absence?” Dionysus asked.

          “I’ll explain my reasons later. I have business now. I was sent for you.” Apollo said.

          “Brother. You were sent for me, yet you address me as a human. Why?” Dionysus asked.

          “We are on earth, Dionysus. I can’t simply reveal my true form. I would kill throngs of humans with my light.” Apollo said.

          “The light of the gods. I see. Forget your business with me for a moment. I have a question for you brother: why does the wind remain silent when I have called its name?” Dionysus asked.

          Apollo smiled.

          “I have said something you find humorous?” Dionysus asked.

          “You talk as we did a few millenniums ago. It’s quite funny.” Apollo said.

          “What?” Dionysus asked.

          “You and Pan have been gone for ages. Most thought Pan was dead.” Apollo said.

          “This cannot be true.” Dionysus said.

          “It is, brother.” Apollo said.

          “The wine I made was not stronger or weaker than it had been before. How could this have happened?” Dionysus asked.

          “I don’t know. But it did.” Apollo said.

          “Is that why the river does not speak? It has forgotten after a thousand years how to talk?” Dionysus asked.

          Apollo sighed. The earth, having heard his dismay, sighed with the god.

          “Why are we gods?” Apollo asked.

          “Because we were born as such.” Dionysus said. 

          “But what gives us our power?” Apollo asked.

          “The prayers and worship of our followers.” Dionysus said.

          “Exactly, brother. And how much power had we amassed over the years? The Twelve and those around us, that is.” Apollo said.

          “Enough to ensure our immortality for eternity.” Dionysus said.

          “Keep that in your mind, brother. Now, look at this river.” Apollo said, gesturing to the stream beside the gods.

          “I see, it brother.” Dionysus said.

          “Who do you think prayed to this river?” Apollo asked.

          “Whoever benefitted from its water. Without the river, they would die.” Dionysus said.

          “What if water was available without this river?” Apollo asked.

          “Then its worshippers would stop their prayers.” Dionysus said.

          “Feel the wind, Dionysus. Those who wanted the wind to blow into their faces and cool their summers would pray to the wind gods. But what if the wind could be at their disposal at the push of a button?” Apollo asked.

          “A button, brother?” Dionysus asked.

          “Never mind. But listen to this, Dionysus. In your absence, humanity changed. They no longer needed some of us. One by one, with each new idea they came across, the humans became their own gods. Those gods who became unnecessary began to fade away.” Apollo said.

          “Fade to Hades?” Dionysus asked.

          “Fade into nothing.” Apollo said.

          Dionysus could not speak. He could never imagine a god simply ceasing to exist. It was unheard of to him. However, Apollo would not lie to his brother. Dionysus turned from his brother and l looked to the world around him. He noticed a tree in the distance. Could that tree no longer dance with the wind? Dionysus saw a flower, solitary and alone in a field of grass. Could that flower have been a human that longed for immortality? Did the human who gave that flower beauty fade into nothingness as well? The world around Dionysus no longer seemed friendly. He felt alone. He turned back to his brother. Apollo, noticing the god’s sadness, embraced his brother.

          “Why have you come for me if not to ruin my happiness, brother?” Dionysus asked, “This world you have brought before my eyes is not a pleasing one.”

          Apollo stepped back from his brother and resumed his air of business.

          “Zeus is ordering you back to Olympus at once.” Apollo said.

          “For what reason?” Dionysus asked.

          “You will see,” Apollo said, “But first we need to go and find some humans for you to observe and learn from. You talk too strange for Olympus now.”