XVII
Hades was not sure if it was sheer terror that woke her or the orchestra of panicked arguing ricocheting off the walls. Her eyelids shot open, sending her bolting upright only to crumple over, eyes searing with pain. She moaned like a drunkard waking without a bottle, brain fogged. The constant voices rattled off the bones of her skull, and she sat on the edge of the bed trying to recover from the torture scorching through her when a presence shifted the air.
Hades’ eyes flicked up and found Kerberos’ hulking frame shifting from one massive paw to another in the doorway, his expression that of an agitated child come to tattle to his mother. Hades squinted at the dog in confusion, wondering what bothered him, when the bellows of familiar voices barreled through the corridors. Hades shot to her feet despite the fire in her skull and on teetering steps rushed from the bedroom, nearly tripping over Chimera who crouched uncomfortably by the door.
Hastening toward the throne room, beasts on her heels, the voices grew louder. They were angry, full of fear and rage, and Hades knew why. She had the moment she woke. It was her fault; she had caused their horror and pain, and now they were trapped in a place that no one had willingly stepped foot into for centuries.
“Stop!” Hades screamed, bursting into the throne room. “Stop!” Her voice was drowned by hysterical gods and immortals. Normally it commanded great power, but the anguish in her head made it difficult for her to stand upright.
Hades’ mouth opened to scream again when Chimera planted his feet firmly on the stone beside his mother and roared. His bellow so impressive, it shook the Underworld, the deep tone of his voice evil and terrorizing. Bloodied and battered faces and soot-covered bodies stilled impossibly motionless. All turned toward the noise and were met with the sight of the god of the dead. Despite Alkaios’ power and claim to the Olympian title of King of the Underworld, here stood true death. Though disheveled, Hades with her long raven hair and flowing black dress, flanked by her hellhound and monstrous lion, was a terrifying vision to behold. More so now than ever before.
The crowd collectively sucked in their breath and almost leaned away from Hades as if to put distance between them without actually moving. For many, this was the first time they ever witnessed Kerberos, and his three vicious heads with mouths full of sharpened fangs shifted ever so slightly to observe the throng. Out of the frozen bodies, Alkaios emerged, defying Kerberos’ warning. He covered the ground between them, both relief at seeing his wife and horror at the news he bore warring in his eyes.
“Olympus has fallen,” Alkaios said gravely once he stood before her, pitchfork gripped tightly in his fist.
“I know,” Hades answered, lifting a hand and resting it lovingly on his ash streaked face. “I prophesied it.” Her fingers dropped from his cheek and slid down until they came to rest over his heart. “I can feel them… in my head.” Hades lowered her wavering voice so only Alkaios could hear. “The pain… I feel their anger ripping through me.”
Heartbroken, Alkaios placed his free hand over hers and clutched it to his chest, longing for a way to lift this burden from his wife. He was thankful Hades had not been on the mountain today. He knew what awaited her when their darkness finally consumed her mind, and it was almost too much for him to bear. Alkaios could not fathom how horribly it would weigh on her. But dwelling on it would only breed consuming dread, and so he withdrew his hand from hers and wrapped it around the base of her neck. He pulled his wife’s forehead in close and kissed Hades with all the love he had within him.
Hades let Alkaios’ lips press warm against her skin for a moment and then drew back to cast a look over his shoulder. Keres and Hydra had removed themselves from the crowd, and catching their eyes, she gestured them closer.
“Go to Charon,” Hades instructed in a low voice. “Tell him to remain hidden. I do not trust Zeus to refrain from violence if he were to discover a living Titan.”
The women nodded their understanding and left the throne room without a word as Hades dropped her hand from Alkaios’ chest and began to make her way to the thrones. The sea of bodies parted as she and her unearthly pets passed, giving the monstrous god-killers a wide berth.
“We all should stay here for the foreseeable future,” Hades said, collapsing on her throne and adjusting her feet so Kerberos could lie protectively before her. Alkaios followed suit and sat on the throne next to his wife. Chimera settled on the cold steps in front of him, but not as close as if it were Hades. The beasts usually flocked to their mother, but in the face of these strangers, the Underworld felt Alkaios was worth guarding.
“Between the Styx and the god-killers, we should be safe for now,” Hades continued, noticing how uncomfortable Zeus was with the fact it was she on the throne and not him. “At least safer than Olympus I hope.”
“But are we safe from you?” Hera spat, her brown hair tangled atop her head. “How do we know we are safe from your monsters?”
“You don’t,” Hades answered truthfully and reached out her fingers to stroke Kerberos’ closest nose as if to emphasize her point. “But where else will you go?”
“You have our word,” Alkaios said, seeing that Hera, true to form, was about to spew more foul words. “The Underworld will do you no harm. Not to say it will not strike if provoked. It would be wise to be careful.”
“There is no reason to leave the fortress,” Hades interjected. “The Underworld was sealed long before we were born, and I am sure you are curious to lay your eyes on the beast called Hell. For those of you who wish to witness it for yourself, you may. But after today this offer is withdrawn, and you are to stay inside unless it is absolutely necessary you venture out. Hell is dangerous, even for gods.”
“We will remain within these walls,” Poseidon promised.
“That is all good and well,” Zeus interrupted his brother. “But they took Olympus. It fell in minutes like a house of straw. That is our home, our holy mountain. Ever since the day Poseidon and I set foot on those peaks, an Olympian has always resided there, and now we are cast out, hiding in the darkness like cowering rodents. Stripped of our mountain, we are as good as dead.”
“I am still here,” Hades answered, voice carrying through the chamber. “They are not at full strength yet. Perhaps we can still trap them, and this time the god-killers will be with us.”
As if on cue Kerberos reared all three monstrous heads, eyes and ears alert. The entire room jerked backward in fear, their breath sucked from their lungs. Zeus and Poseidon grabbed their weapons, but before they could brandish them, Hades lifted a hand, gesturing for all to hold still.
“Someone is here,” she explained. “He is merely blocking their entrance.” Hades flicked her wrist, and in a swirl of black smoke, Medusa materialized before the thrones in her human form, the braid of snakes weaving down her back the only hint at her true nature.
“Hades is right,” the Gorgon said by way of greeting as if she had been part of the conversation from the beginning. “She has yet to join them, which means we still have time. We yet might trap them, and this time, we will use her dark monsters to help… including me.”
Zeus wandered to the ancient door and paused at the cracked seal, running his fingers over the rough edges. Not that he wanted to see the Underworld, but he felt he had to. He needed to witness with his own eyes where he banished the woman he once loved and perhaps still did. Most of the immortals had ventured further into Titan fortress to find filthy, destroyed rooms to call home, but a few of the Olympians, under the watchful gaze of that monstrous lion, found it impossible to resist the chance to behold Hell.
With a steadying breath, Zeus stepped over the threshold and onto the dirt. The dark and barren terrain stretched out in a depressing wash of bleak colors. His eyes shifted to take it all in, but every time they returned to where they once rested, the land was different. It was solid, unchanging until you blinked. It was as if the earth itself writhed and altered while one’s back was turned. The only constant was the fortress t
o his rear, the heavy distant fog to his front, and a crimson red burning in the depths to his right. Those never changed, and the king made note of that. Without those constants, a soul would be lost in this ever-changing beast.
Other gods filtered out, only to freeze in awe and horror, and Zeus moved away from the crowd, hiding his expression. How had he allowed Hera to convince him to send Hades here? He could have saved her from this darkness, kept her from bringing destruction on his holy mountain.
A shadow crossed his vision, jerking him out of his thoughts, and Zeus looked up to find a single vivid green tree with heavy, red fruit weighing down its branches growing alongside the fortress. The beauty of its vibrant colors starkly contrasted the bleak Underworld, and he would have ventured forward to caress the smooth, inviting skin of the plump, crimson spheres if his path had not been barred. Four furies hovered, protecting its roots. They peered at him with tilted heads and empty eyes, their talon fingers clicking together, hungry for flesh to rip. Zeus had seen these treacherous women before and took a step backward, putting a greater distance between him and the monsters.
“So that no one eats the fruit,” came a deep voice. Zeus turned to watch the king of death settle beside him, pitchfork clutched in his still ash streaked fingers. “Once you eat of the pomegranate tree, you are bound to the Underworld,” Alkaios explained. Without acknowledging his words, the blonde god spun on his heels and began to stride back toward the door.
“Zeus,” Alkaios continued, pulling alongside him with powerful steps. “I am one of the three greats, but I am not your brother. You and Poseidon share blood, but not with me. Come, swear a blood pact with me; make me your brother. We have to let our past go and work together. If ever there was a time to unite, it is now. We lost Olympus; we cannot lose the Underworld. It is our only refuge.”
“You will never be my brother,” Zeus spat in a low controlled voice filled with malice. Here in the Underworld, he saw the darkness he condemned Hades to, and now he was forced to accept solace from the man she had chosen over him as the evil consumed his holy mountain. Anger coursed through him, white-hot under his skin, eating at his soul.
“I will never share blood with you, human,” Zeus growled, hoping his petty attempt at an insult would wound Alkaios. “I am here only because I need you. I am only here until I can lock your wife behind that seal with the monsters who birthed her.”
Kerberos stood with all three heads hovered over the triplet’s cradle. His six eyes gaped wide and careful as he stared at Charon’s daughters. His middlemost nose pressed against the soft baby flesh to inhale her new scent. Fearless, the babe reached up with uncoordinated fists and seized his leathery lip flap causing Kerberos to sneeze and jerk back. The women watching him burst into laughter, and the dog arched his spine indignantly and curled up on the floor at the base of the girls’ cradles.
Ioanna hesitantly bent over, and when the three-headed god-killer made no protest, she brushed her fingers over his middle skull.
“Watch over them for me,” she whispered before standing and walking out onto the dock, keeping the open door in her sights. Hades, Hydra, and Keres stood watching her and the beast with wide grins spread across their lips.
“King of the beasts,” Hydra smiled, “startled by the fist of a babe.”
“As nasty as that dog can be,” Keres said, “he seems to have a soft spot for your girls.”
“We have come a long way,” Ioanna said, settling against the railing with her friends. “No one used to even look at Kerberos, and now, by the gods I do not know why I allow it, he watches over my children. He loves Hades and tolerates the rest of us, but strange enough, he is drawn to my daughters.”
“The Underworld is full of death,” Hades interjected. “Chained above Tartarus, its stench was all he knew, but you brought new, beautiful life here to us. He wants to protect it.”
“Soon Kerberos will have another new life to protect,” Ioanna said, flashing a glimpse at Hades’ still flat stomach. At her words, Hades’ eyes glazed, her heart constricting in pain.
“Hades,” Ioanna said, the commanding voice of a mother spilling over her lips and snapping the queen from her emotions before Hades could spiral out of control. “He will have another life to protect. Your son and my daughters will fill his days with mischief.” She stepped forward and looped an arm around Hades’ waist with a conspiratorial grin. “Now, which one is Hera?”
Hades smirked and raised a hand into the thick mist, swiping her fingers. The fog dissipated into a thin veil for them to peer through, revealing the fortress and the Olympians brave enough to venture into Hell.
“Is that her?” Ioanna asked, gesturing to a sooty covered beauty. “She is exquisite.” She turned her eyes to Hades before adding, “Plain compared to you but lovely in an expected way.”
“You only say that because I am standing right here,” Hades huffed, but Ioanna only shrugged as if to say ‘but it is the truth.’
“And no, that is Aphrodite, goddess of beauty and love. That,” Hades said gesturing to the woman walking purposefully toward Zeus, “is Hera.”
“Her?” Ioanna asked incredulously, and Hades, Keres, and Hydra all nodded in unison. “Zeus chose her over you?”
“She is Poseidon’s sister,” Hades said, “and at the time she commanded greater power than I did.”
“Poseidon’s sister? He married his sister?”
“Not exactly,” Hades explained. “Cronus wed Rhea, goddess of motherhood and fertility. As an expression of her power, Rhea split her soul in half, inhabiting two identical bodies. Both versions of herself bore Cronus a son; Zeus his first-born and Poseidon his second. The version of herself that mothered Poseidon birthed Hera to another god.”
“Still,” Ioanna said, shaking her head, “Close enough.”
“Perhaps it was for the best with all that is happening to me now.”
Ioanna opened her mouth to reply when a soft thud landed on the end of the dock. The four women turned to watch Charon’s body rise from the fog. Ioanna broke free from Hades’ clasp and went to her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“No one saw you?” she asked concern flooding her voice.
“No,” Charon said against her lips as he pressed a kiss against them. “I ferried them across down a ways, far enough into the depths that none of the Olympians would see.”
“The dead can wait,” Hades said as the ferryman released his wife and strode toward her. “Go when all are sleeping and stay downriver. I will not risk your life for those who are already dead. Only go when you must.”
“I will be fine,” Charon answered and reaching out a calloused hand, grasped Hades’ chin in his careful fingers. He peered into her eyes before twisting her face slightly to examine first one side then the other. “How do you feel? You frightened me when I found you on the riverbank.”
“I am fine for now,” Hades said, clutching his hand in hers and pulling it from her chin. “Do not change the subject. I am serious, Charon; be careful. I cannot lose or worry about you. There is already great chaos in my mind.”
“Hades.” Charon squeezed her hand roughly in his. “There is no need to concern yourself over me. I am still a god, and I will do as you ask. Zeus will never see me.”
XVIII
Hades stood outside the crumbling temple, pitchfork strangled in her fist. She could hear the massive Gorgon slithering softly over the earth behind her, the scaled body lurking just out of sight. The wind gently tossed Hades’ hair and fluttered her skirt as she stood stone still, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only hint of life. Under the cover of darkness, Alkaios, Zeus, Poseidon, Medusa, and Hades had spirited away to the ancient mountain and using their blood, carved markings into the ground. They had then gone to the broken seal and painted symbols, binding the land outside to the recently opened door. One step inside their ring of blood runes, anyone misfortunate enough would find themselves trapped behind this ancient seal, unable to stop themselv
es as the power of the Olympians transported their bodies in an instant.
Hades surveyed the surrounding rocks. The Olympians lay in wait for the Old Ones to show their faces, and the moment the first gods stepped within their runes, they would reveal their intent. They would surround them, forcing the deformed creatures into the trap, but the timing must be precise; move too soon, and the ambush would be sensed; too late and the Old Ones would have Hades in their grasp, fleeing for Olympus. No, they had to be careful, strike at the opportune moment while mindful not to pass the carvings. All inside the blood markings would be forever trapped in the realm of the Old Ones, and as the bait, Hades would be transported with them. If this worked, this was her end. Her name would live on within the form of her husband, but this was Hades’ demise. They had no plan to save her. The seal the Olympians would place on the door would only be breakable from the outside. Even if her son survived her pregnancy, he would be on the wrong side to release them. This was it; the last time Hades would be free to feel the sun on her face or smell the fresh air.
Hades shifted her eyes to where she knew Alkaios hid. It had taken excruciating convincing to force his hand in this plan, but there was no other choice. It was either Hades or all of them, and in the end, Hades had decided. It was her life that unleashed this new hell on earth, and it would be her death that would trap it. But now as she stood motionless and alone, the moment the Old Ones were encircled by runes, the Olympians would unleash the power of their blood soaking in the ground. All within the markings would instantly catapult behind the door, Hades included. It would be over quickly, and this was the last time she would see her beloved husband, the man she had sacrificed so much for to keep by her side. In the fray, the chances of glimpsing Alkaios’ mud-blue eyes would be unlikely. As one of the three greats, his strength was needed more than the others, and he would have to act without hesitation. Hades shuddered imperceptibly knowing she had laid eyes on Alkaios for the final time. Her eternity would be separate from him, and that he would never meet his son broke her heart. Hades was not even sure she would ever experience the joy of enveloping her child in cradling arms. The Old Ones could very well carve the half-breed from her still swollen belly and destroy her only link to the man she loved.
Pitchfork Page 17
