Гарри Тертлдав - The First Heroes

Inaras released him, and Hupasiya fell helplessly to his knees, gasping for breath. That kiss had nearly been strong enough to force the life from him. And yet, and yet, he was a man, a mortal man, and there was a thought deep in his mind that would not be denied: What would it be like to know that kiss again, what would it be like to feel those limbs about a man, to know the passion of a goddess . . .

"I've been recruited." Those were the only reasonably sane words he could find that would come forth. "Your pardon for any rudeness, great one, but—you want me to conquer that?" How could a mortal ever possibly succeed when the gods themselves could not?

To Hupasiya's immense relief, the goddess didn't blast him where he stood. "It is precisely because you are mortal that you shall succeed." And are you also so sure that the mortal will survive? But sarcasm almost certainly would get him turned to ash. At least Inaras didn't seem able, or at least willing, to read the thoughts in his mind. "I know how mortals think," she said, and disdain was in the words. "Name a reward."

What reward is worth my life? Hupasiya wanted to say something about his wife and children, anything to ensure their safety, but confronted by all that too-living, too-perfect female splendor, he could not focus his mind on them, or on his love for them. Instead, he heard himself say, "You, gracious lady. The price I name for my aid is a night with you."

He waited, heart pounding with renewed force. Oh, fool, fool! Surely she, goddess that she was, would refuse him, and he could only pray that she would not strike him down for his impertinence, and not take vengeance on his family, either.

But to Hupasiya's astonishment, after the briefest of silences, Inaras merely said, as though it meant nothing to her, "Done." So fierce and hot a stare did she give him in the next instant that lust beyond all controlling blazed up in Hupasiya. His last clear thought as the goddess opened her arms to him was, And here I worried about a Dragon? This will probably kill me! At least he would die happy.

But. . . he hadn't died. He was himself, waking and standing without any memory of awakening and getting to his feet, yes, and with only the dimmest, most unsure memories of . . . of . . . a wife . . .? Children . . .? He couldn't even be sure about what had just happened. And he—

He was standing among others—

The gods! He was surrounded by gods! These so very fierce with Life folk were never, never human men and women! That tall, handsome young deity in the fringed robes of a hundred different shades of green could only be Telepinus, he who oversaw all that grew. For a mindless instant Hupasiya wanted to ask, "What happened to this year's harvest?" But he already knew the answer to that question: Illuyankas.

Besides, Hupasiya really didn't think this was the time to ask any deity anything, not after . . . well, the details still weren't at all clear in his mind, but whatever had happened . . . had happened.

Hot breath on the back of his neck made Hupasiya whirl, going almost instinctively into a warrior's crouch. He nearly let out a shout to find himself nose to nose with a lion, and sprang back a step, just bar ely keeping from landing on his rump. The lion gave a rumbling purr, almost as though laughing at him.

"And this is your hero," a woman murmured from behind the beast.

That was Hebat, surely, since who else but she would keep a lion as a pet? Who else but Hebat could look so motherly and dangerous at the same time, she who was the Storm-God's wife. And, for that matter, she who was Inaras's mother—gods, had she, did she—did she know what her daughter and he had—

What nonsense! These were the gods, and they would hardly be interested in anything so petty as human morality.

"Glorious Lady," he said, making a raised-hands gesture of reverence, "I make no claims of being a hero, nor do I make any claim to understand the ways and wishes of the divine. But surely we do share this one thing: We both wish an end to the Dragon to avenge a wrong and return the rightful order to the world."

"And how, little mortal," Telepinus asked, "is that to be accomplished?" You didn't snap back at someone who could easily destroy you. But something in Telepinus's jeering tone struck an odd chord of memory in Hupasiya's mind. He'd heard the same sort of so-superior backtalk from superior officers in the Hittite army. Then, too, he'd been unable to say what he was thinking. But he'd handled the situation then, and by the—by the gods, he'd handle it now.

Crouching down, he cleared a patch of ground with a stick, then used the same stick to cut symbols in the earth. As he did, Hupasiya spoke in his most no-nonsense military voice, "To destroy a foe, we must first know his strengths and weaknesses."

When the gods were silent, Hupasiya prodded them, "I am, as you remind me, a mortal. What may seem quite ordinary to you will be new and unknown to me."

"Shall we then waste our time educating you?" Telepinus asked.

Calmness. Can't strike back at a superior officer. "It may seem a waste, Divine One, but the smallest of details so familiar it has been overlooked may provide us with a clue—and a weapon."

"The mortal shows a good line of reasoning," Hebat murmured. "Let us agree with him and begin listing what we may know of the Dragon."

The gods listed feature after feature: Illuyankas's strength; II-luyankas's fury; Illuyankas's envy of the gods. Obvious features, useless features. Hupasiya kept silent all the while, forcing himself to keep his uneasiness and growing despair from showing. Nothing here, nothing at all. But if he didn't find some weapon against the Dragon, they were going to throw him against the Dragon, and there was a knife's edge difference between being slain by Illuyankas or by angry gods.

Eh, wait—Hupasiya held up a hand, not caring in that moment of sudden hope that he was interrupting Inaras. "What was that? What did you just say?" She stared at him, clearly too startled to be angry. "Why, that Illuyankas is large in all his appetites."

"Ah, yes, there it is! O Divine One, you have just given us the weapon we need!"

As the gods listened, frowning slightly, Hupasiya told them his newly born plan.

"That's impossible!"

"It can never work!"

"There is no honor in this!"

"I am but human," Hupasiya reminded them all. "It is my honor, not yours, Divine Ones, that is at stake. And I dare risk it." He could feel the gods uncertainty as a chilly wind prickling his skin, so Hupasiya added, "What harm to this? If my plan fails, why, you are no worse off then you were before my arrival. But if it succeeds, then you are avenged."

"Interesting," a stern voice said.

The newcomer was a tall, powerfully built god, the dark masses of his hair like gathering storm clouds, his eyes flashing with the blue-white fire of the lightning. Even as Hupasiya bowed low before the Storm-God, he thought, at the point of terror when one is utterly calm, I was wondering when he would appear.

"Let it be done," the Storm-God said.

I hoped that the invitation would be made, Hupasiya thought. I knew that the invitation had to be delivered. I just never thought that I would be the one to deliver it. It was hardly work for a warrior. And yet it made sense, in a purely unemotional way. Illuyankas would never believe any offering made directly from the gods.

And of course if something happens to the messenger, why, that is merely the inconvenient loss of a human.

He hadn't expected Illuyankas to live in a palace. And sure enough, this was a cave. A cavern, rather, he realized, once he had gotten through the narrow entrance. Excellent defense to keep enemies from following the Dragon into his home. His dark, chilly home.

Illuyankas suddenly loomed up before him, a great mass of darker shadow against the darkness. Other shadows moved behind him.