“The One and Only” Ch. 2

Slowly, the reality of the present moment came back to him. He enjoyed his reminiscences. It was in fact probably one of the few things left that he enjoyed. But he always became restless, even with memories.

Picking up the cup in front of him, he found himself satisfied at its deep, bitter flavor. His long hair tumbled into his drink, and he scowled as he quickly tucked the loose strands behind his ears.

The birds were singing.

Long ago he had thought that the birds strictly sung to attract mates and communicate. Now he understood that much of it is done as a sign of territory. The birds wake up in the morning, and immediately feel the need to tell others that there are places they could not go. He had once found profound satisfaction with the early morning and the sounds of the birds. Now he found no pleasure in it at all. Or displeasure. He didn't really feel much of anything.

Finishing his breakfast, he grabbed the pan and headed over to the nearby creek. If there was one thing that he prided himself on it was his ability to find a place to drink. Long ago he used his keen sense of direction to find local drinking holes, the ones that served the good stuff. Stuff that could either please the senses or strip stone. Depended on the night. But today, he was merely using it to find a creek.

The branches broke as he walked, the birds and wildlife paying him no heed. Eventually the sound of running water became audible. He followed it dutifully, until at last he found himself on the edge of a quaint bubbling creek. Leaning down, he gathered some moss off the ground and began to work it over the pan. He didn't like effort, so he never made anything tough to clean. By the time he was done the moss had broken apart, taking the greasy bits with it. Dionysus placed the pan to the side, leaned over, and took a long drink.

“Power dies. Love dies. But drink? There is always a reason for it.”

Startled, he looked around for the source of the noise. But there was nothing to connect it to. He had been talking to himself again. He smiled as he placed the voice.

Acoetes.

It had been over two thousand years since he had last seen him, but he never forgot his face or his voice. One only tends to do that with the important people. And Acoetes was perhaps the most important person outside of his parents. The story of their meeting he remembered differently depending on his mood. Today he was reminiscent. So he remembered how he wanted to.

It always started with the sea.

No matter how many times he rolled it over, rearranged it in his head and retold it, the one detail he always knew he got right was the sea. The feeling of it on his feet, sunk halfway into the sand. The coolness that seeped around his calf. The smell of salt and the cool rush as the tide advanced and then fell away. The sound of the gulls and the pulse of the surf. Sensory details were immutable. Everything else was malleable.

But not the sea. Never the sea.

The sun was out. It fell warmly on his skin, a slight sensation of burning lingering not unpleasantly on his flesh. He looked out at the horizon, a flat line of water undisturbed save for the movement of the clouds, a gentle wind carving its way across its surface. He was entranced by its beauty. He wished to bottle the moment, and so he did what he could to drink in every detail. But even in this he was aware of the sound of approaching footfalls in the woods beyond the sand, then on the sand, ending with the sensation of cool steel on the back of his neck.

“Move without me telling you and you die.”

Dionysus smiled at his unseen visitors. “Alright.,” he said dully.

“Are you alone? Tell me the truth. Doubt you want to get anyone else killed.”

“I am alone,” he replied.

“Good. Now stand up and turn around.”

Dionysus stood up, then turned around to face his opposition. The man was hideous, a long scar running over a dulled, yellowed eye. As he spoke, the foul stench of fish caught in his teeth and rancid wine spilled out, a slight dribble of drool running down his poorly shaven face. The man sneered as he looked the young boy over, motioning over a group of similarly dressed fools, their clothes rotting and worn. But none were as ugly as the one in front of him, and so Dionysus came to two conclusions. One, the people were pirates. And two, the ugliest one was likely the captain.

“You have a name boy?”

“Yes.”

The man snarled and cracked him across the head with the hilt of his sword. The young man stumbled a little, the blow like a crying child after a night of revelry. “Your name...now!”

“Abrosios Ampelios."

“Bet a good looking, well dressed, light skinned fellow like you must be a prince of some sort.”

“Of some sort.”

The man looked annoyed, but continued. “Alright boy. You are coming with us.”

“You really don't want me to do that,” he said plainly.

The ugly one tilted his head in confusion, then laughed. “Let me the judge of that. Now move your pretty little feet before I remove them from your body.”

Dionysus obliged, a flock of gulls scattering as he made his way across the beach to a boat tucked just out of sight. The boat was ugly too and poorly maintained, the wood splintering along its edges. He made of show of refusing to get in the boat, but stopped his antics when the second ugliest one put his sword to his throat. Once he was in the boat the lot of them pushed the boat into the water and got inside, the vessel swaying back and forth, back and forth. Then the least ugly ones gathered up the oars and began to row, making their way out of the shadows of the trees and into open water.

It was a long trip around the bend, the edge of the beach disappearing behind them. As they made their way around, the tropical birds called out their calls, as Dionysus closed his eyes to listen. Their voices were beautiful, the sound of the wind and the surf mingling with it in a relaxing cascade.

At last he opened his eyes again, just in time for them to make their way out completely, their main ship sitting in the open water. The boat was as ugly as one would expect, perhaps a little bit uglier. The black tar used on the decks hung over the edges, the ugly, stained sail wrinkled even when taut. The crew of the small boat were chuckling to themselves, enamored with their prize as the sounds of the boat became clearer and clearer. Old sailor curses and stern orders filtered over the water as the crew scrambled to prepare the ship to raise the small boat.

The lines were attached and the boat raised, the rowboat bouncing as the crew pulled on the ropes, their effort cumbersome and without patience. Hurried and without concern. At last they were level with the railing as the young boy was placed in the center of the deck, the captain approaching from his cabin. He was a smelly man, warts and spare hairs interspersing his face. He laughed hauntingly as he observed the well dressed prize presented to him, such a stark contrast to the environment around the boy.

“So tell me boys, what have you brought me?”

“Says his name is Abrosios Ampelios. Figuring he is a prince," said the ugly one.

The captain nodded in agreement, as he squatted down to address the lad. “Tell me young Ampelios, where are your parents. Where are they located so we can properly tell them their poor little boy is our prisoner.”

“My father lives on Mount Olympus. My mother died at my birth.”

The mans brow lowered as he growled ”You better start telling me the truth. I am not known for my patience.”

“I will give you this one chance,” he said in as clear a tone as he could manage. “Take me to Naxos and you will be forgiven for your stupidity.”

The helmsmen of the ship screamed in horror, his eyes bulging as he tried to push through the crowd to untie the boy. “Captain, let him go! He's Dionysus! Please, listen to me. You will bring his wrath down on us all!”

The captain smirked. Then he turned back to the young boy, only to see the ropes fall from him as if they hadn't been tied at all. Now it was Dionysus who was smiling, laughing at the captains foolishness. “You had your chance. Now you will suffer for your impudence.”

With that the young lad dropped onto all fours as golden fur sprouted from his skin, his body growing and growing, a thick mane forming around his neck. The lion roared with rage as the crew went to prepare themselves for a fight, only to hear another roar came from behind them. Out of seemingly nothing a large bear appeared, eyes bloodshot and breathing coming out in fierce, foaming breathes. Before the crew could react they were upon them, biting and clawing as they tore the crew apart. It was the ugly one who was the last to die, crawling up the mast in vain as the beast rushed up to his position and tore him down, his teeth sinking into his head.

Only one survived the slaughter; the lone helmsmen, his boots quaking with fear.

“Please my lord. Please don't kill me."

Dionysus returned to his normal form, approaching the man with his arms razed in a sign of good will. ”You have nothing to fear mortal, for you alone saw the truth and acted appropriately. Tell me, what is your name?"

“Acoetes," he said in a quivering tone.

“Then let us go to Naxos Acoetes. I desire to go there. Will you take me?”

“Of course.,” he said with a smile, his safety finally assured. “Of course...”