Hades and Seph

by Eileen Glass

  “That was before I liked you!”

  And that’s a simple enough answer to make sense. Minthe did help Seph make the weighted vase after all. He did warn several times that Hades absolutely must not find the rabbit on his own. Of course, he made it sound like the dark king would be furious at him. But maybe Hades tempered his actions. Maybe Hades thought it would be easier to let Seph stupidly believe he would scout for and place Hibus in a good home.

  Honestly, don’t you think the dark god has something better to do with his time?!

  Seph’s shame in himself burns deeply. His mother, who knows Hades better, would have corrected him and protected Hibus if she was here. Seph is helpless and stupid on his own.

  He does not hesitate anymore, urging his feet faster to catch up with Minthe as they climb the stairs. It seems there’s a maze inside the walls, narrow hallways branching off, more steps going up or down. These must be the servant passages, Seph assumes, though his knowledge of palaces is slight. It makes sense that the servants who look after the bathhouse would not be allowed to tromp through the king’s bedroom whenever they wish.

  “Wait!” Minthe hisses, stopping, and Seph hears footsteps that aren’t theirs. “Back! Back!” he urges quietly, and they retreat to the last corner, huddling unseen.

  “Why are we hiding?” Seph has enough sense to whisper. Also, his eyes are leaking and his voice is hoarse with new tears. He wipes his cheeks dry and sniffs.

  Minthe waits until whoever it is disappears, a creak like a door sounding before the footsteps are gone.

  “We don’t want him to know we’re coming.” He tugs Seph along. “All the ghosts here are loyal to Hades. They’re afraid of him. Come on!”

  Seph thinks about his first day here and how impressed he was that the young-seeming souls were happy and unafraid. Unfortunately, he was wrong to have hope. Hades is the generous ruler, but only when his word is obeyed. How stupid of Seph to start feeling free and daring! And to start wondering if their games of my king meant anything about being equals.

  He doesn’t know enough about Hades. He should have been more cautious more alert. And more protective of Hibus, like Minthe urged him to be.

  They come to a door. It has a barred peeping window that Minthe peers through, checking left and right before pushing it open. It leads to the outside.

  “Alright. We have to move even faster now, and we can’t talk. Nor more questions, okay? I know the alleys and back streets to keep us hidden—hopefully. But you have to keep up. We have a long ways to go, very fast.”

  Seph nods, taking a deep breath to calm himself, wondering what he will even say to Hades when he sees the dark god again and calls him out on his lie.

  I will make him take Hibus to the upperworld and make good on his promise. I will go with him, which I should have done in the first place, and make sure that Hibus is looked after. And then—

  And then…

  Then he will come home. Where everything is ruined.

  Twenty-Six

  They run for so long, for such a distance, that Seph feels like he has no hope for getting to Hibus in time while he’s alive. He tries to say as much to Minthe, while they are crouched inside a building and waiting for some idle souls to turn another way. But Minthe only shushes him harshly, focused on the task of always moving ahead, always as fast as they can go without being seen.

  It is not an easy thing to do in a city, and Seph is a tall bronze man in a world of small pale children. There is no need for underground tunnels like a real city might have, for here no one dies a second time and is in need of a grave, nor do they have latrines or kitchens or any of the practical necessities that would take up space and give Minthe and Seph more room to hide.

  Elysium is a place of open doors, open spaces, and plush pillows on benches. There are a lot of trees though, which help. And a lot of shrubbery and fountains too.

  There is also painting, playing, climbing, singing, and all manner of activities that only well-off children get to afford in the living world. There are many ghost cats, which Seph did not notice before, and they are all some shade in the spectrum of black to white. He sees one small flock of chickens, looking exotic and beautiful in their light golden tone, but they are only six, and they seem to be doted on by a large, pleased crowd of children.

  Seph does not have to ask. By how pleased the children are, and how the street is literally covered in seed by their spoiling efforts, Seph can guess that these might be the only chickens in all of Elysium. The smartest ones who formed an ego and made it to the afterlife.

  Surely if there were more, they would all flock together.

  He sees one goose, looking rather lonely and not chasing anyone.

  And throughout the city, dogs are a common appearance, but not nearly as common as in the town where he grew up. There are no puppies, nor can ribs be seen on the animals. Every single pet is well looked after and seems to wander without following any one person.

  The dogs do not bark when they happen upon Seph and Minthe sneaking through the city. Indeed, they do not seem to be aware of the concept of danger at all. A shepherd’s breed ambles up to them while they are sneaking along a row of wine barrels. Seph speaks soft words to calm the coming eruption, but she only sits, scratches her ear for a moment, and then looks at him peacefully with her tongue hanging out.

  Everyone in Elysium leads calm, untroubled lives. She collects a pat on the head from Seph as casually as acquaintances saying hello, and then she wanders on. The lack of fences and stone walls makes traveling easier. And hiding harder.

  The woods are completely empty, and here at last they pick up their speed.

  Minthe only says, “Keep up with me,” and then they are off.

  Keeping up is not hard. Seph does not even have to pant for breath. But nymphs do move faster than mortals generally do, and they can weave through the trees like wolves. Miles pass quickly under their feet, and soon Seph begins to wonder if he can find his way back. He looks over his shoulder and can only see the same-looking trees.

  Not being in Hades’s chariot, the towering palace is invisible to him.

  So I may have to climb as I find my way back.

  He does not know why the ever-increasing distance from the palace into the woods bothers him. Like he’s getting lost. Like he’s not where he supposed to be.

  The underworld might be dangerous maybe. Everything is new. There are things I don’t understand.

  I should not be doing this perhaps.

  Hades might be mad that I left.

  But then, he does have Minthe to look after him. Nymphs have such subservience to kings and gods and things that are greater than them. Seph doesn’t have to worry. Minthe will see that he’s returned to the palace safely. Even if Hades might not want him anymore after this confrontation.

  Ah. Is that what this is about?

  He holds the thought until Minthe naturally slows down. They’ve come to a riverbank, though this is not the River Lethe. The water is shallow and spread far, and trees grow out of it. This must be the Acheron Marsh. Hades and he crossed an expanse of it before they were hovering over the Field of Asphodel.

  “Minthe! Wait! I have to ask you something!”

  Minthe rushes ahead to where a boat is resting on its side amongst tall grass. He starts dragging this a short distance to where the bank becomes river mud.

  Seph catches up to help, though he quietly suspects he will be staying.

  “Why does Hades have a plant named after you?”

  He can see Minthe pause. He did not expect Seph to know this. Though he continues trudging with the boat through mud as the water comes up to his ankles. He does not seem to mind that some of it splashes and gets the bottom of his chiton wet.

  “He names his flowers after a lot of random people.” He does not look at Seph while he speaks. “The narcissus is named after one of the people he tortures in Tartarus. The asphodel is named after a friend—I’ve never met her. I think she was ju
st a random soul. So I am not the only random normal person to have a plant named after me. I think he’s just bad at choosing names himself, so he borrows whoever’s close by.”

  There is enough water here for the boat float on its own. Minthe steadies himself and steps in. Seph does the same, though he recognizes that Minthe is not telling the whole truth.

  Probably.

  “Minthe…” He sits on the second seat, as Minthe picks up the oars and moves them off into the water. Seph is not alarmed since a god can swim a long way back.

  “Were you and Hades lovers? Is that why you were in my room the morning after our wedding? Are you planning to start a feud between us over this rabbit so that you can come back to his bed?”

  The fact that Minthe does not have much of a reaction is telling. Seph’s accusations sound almost ludicrous his own ears, but he knows well how gods and nymphs have a habit of tangling with each other. They are such lovely beings, alluring to all. In fact, Seph can imagine that Hades might have taken several nymphs as lovers here in the underworld. He is their king, so it would be incredibly easy.

  “Why would you say that?” Minthe says and tries to look nonchalant, checking over his shoulder as he guides the boat. “What gave you such a dumb idea?”

  Seph sets an elbow on his knee and props his chin in his hand. The water is growing darker as it deepens, and the trees grow thicker and taller in the marsh, their branches reaching impossibly far on thick, gnarled boughs.

  “I just don’t think he would name a plant after anybody. He puts so much work into them. I don’t know why he named a flower after Narcissus… Perhaps because the flower was so beautiful, it reminded him of the man. But I think to have a flower named after you, you must be very significant in Hades’s life.”

  There is a moment when Minthe’s eyes widen and it seems like he might look happy. Like he wants to hide a smile. Or maybe a relieved expression. Like that is what he wanted to hear.

  “It must be hard for you to have me in his bed while you have to keep looking after the palace.”

  He means it sympathetically, though he does not say it in any particular tone or another. Just as a statement of fact. And the following is said casually too:

  “Hibus is just a rabbit though. Even if he’s already dead… It’s not like I’m going to run away or anything. If that’s what you’re hoping. I’m not going to punch him or get in a fight. Hibus would have died soon anyway. He’s an old rabbit. And I accepted that I would never see him again when Hades took him.”

  Minthe is still avoiding looking at him, and he rows with continuous effort, not slowing down.

  “Well, you’re wrong. About me and Hades. We’re just sort of friends is all. And you might change your mind about hating him when we get Tartarus. You will wish your rabbit had just died the normal way instead of being sent there.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Some things are better left seen than said,” he answers.

  A creature moves close by, coming toward them, only the curl of its back to be seen, and the monster is huge!

  Seph jumps to his feet fearfully, but Minthe says, unconcerned, “It is only one of Styx’s creatures. Do not worry. They are awful ugly and were dangerous when they were alive, but they’ve been dead for a long time now so they are peaceful. It does not even know what we are. There were no nymphs or humans when it was in the world.”

  “Oh,” Seph says with a breath of relief, though he is timid to sit. He has come a long way from the palace where he’s supposed to be… with a nymph who acts very strange over a rabbit. He’s glad Minthe’s plan is not to tip the boat and watch him be terrified in the water with monsters.

  And having that thought, he has to admit that what he said to Minthe is probably cruel and baseless. Perhaps he is wrong. Perhaps it’s not the rabbit that causes Minthe to feel merciful and feel like helping him with this bunny. Perhaps Tartarus itself is what prompted Minthe to help.

  Is the place so awful that it’s worse than death? That it’s the utmost terrible fate to happen, even to a rabbit, from a nymph’s perspective?

  “So you’re taking me to Tartarus to save Hibus? This does not really have anything to do with Hades and why one of his creations is your namesake?”

  Minthe nods and keeps rowing. “When we get Tartarus, you’ll understand.”

  Twenty-Seven

  They row a long time. Seph keeps his eye out for the Field of Asphodel, but it never appears. Wherever they’re going, he has no reference to anchor himself with, and soon through all their gentle turns and meandering, he cannot say in which direction Elysium is for certain. And that is troubling. But Minthe seems to know exactly which way they are going. As they travel, Seph notices a lone narcissus flower growing here and there, at the base of a tree, or on a pocket of land crammed with tall grasses and weeds. The flowers grow in such places that they could only have been placed there, where their appearance will not be diminished by the surrounding plants.

  So there is a path, it seems. And one he bets was not cultivated by Hades himself, for why would a man with a flying chariot slink around his swamp in a boat?

  Seph suppresses his fears and worries. Whatever Minthe wants to show him, it clearly has to do with Tartarus, and he is very curious about that place.

  Hades told him he only wanted to show the places he was most proud of. He hinted that Tartarus might cause horror or sadness. But Seph still wants to see, if only to know the entire truth of the man he’s wed to. He knows some of that truth will be unpleasant.

  Will this destroy his burgeoning feelings of affection?

  They make their way slowly to where the shadows grow deeper, darker, and longer, until they are trapped in a continuous night of shade. The trees don’t rustle overhead. Nothing creaks except the rhythmic knocking of the oars, followed by the smooth rush of water over the paddles.

  The truth is only the truth. The facts will not change if I chose not to go to Tartarus with Minthe. Besides, Hades never planned to hide it from me permanently. He said we would go on a different day.

  So going to Tartarus without Hades’s command, without his knowledge, does not feel like a betrayal. The only thing he doubts is Minthe. Did he form a friendship with a nymph strong enough to overcome their disregard for pets? Last time when Minthe helped him secure the rabbit, it seemed the nymph was just obeying an order and not really displaying compassion for a small creature that is insignificant and defenseless. He continued to say that their measures would not work and that Hades would find the rabbit eventually. He hinted that Hades would destroy the rabbit and be angry…

  Which might have happened already without Seph being aware of it.

  He sighs after a while and stops mulling over the possibilities. He just hopes Hades won’t be mad now, to discover Seph going to this terrible place without his permission. But he does say my king sometimes so…

  He imagines his mother telling him, You know it is just a stupid game. You are not his equal. Persephone, you are barely more than a nymph!

  She never said that to him, but the words are true.

  He has enough god in him that he doesn’t have to worry about a knife across his throat or a very hungry sea serpent deciding to snack on him. Seph will find a way out of it. Somehow.

  There is nothing to do but wait for a very long time. To stare off into the shadows and notice how lifeless everything is. There are no birds flitting in the branches. No insects anywhere, ever, and that’s a bit of a blessing. Seph hasn’t had to shoo a fly off his shoulder since he arrived.

  It is very cold though, and Minthe pauses rowing to take a cloak out from underneath the seat. It is dark and ragged, and the nymph’s delicate face stands out starkly under the hood. His features are so gentle. Tresses of his long blue hair fall out of the hood in a messy, pretty manner.

  Seph can feel himself developing a crush for Minthe.

  How is it different?

  Well, with Hades it is like… He owns me. And I own hi
m. When I see him, it’s like… he is the most fascinating person there. I can’t stop staring at him.

  But it is more. I love to study him. And I feel like I know him well, even though it has only been a few days.

  When I am playful him, I never feel like I am overstepping my bounds or behaving stupidly. Though I am still fearful around him sometimes. It is like… What we have is new. But it is not perilous.

  And with Minthe it is different. He is just a pretty face. I cannot know anything about the person inside. I don’t feel that way about him.

  And Teysus? Seph’s once good friend, the love of his life, as he told his mother?

  Well, Seph already feels like Hades knows him better than Teysus ever did. Teysus knew the man Seph was trying to become—the mortal human he pretended to be. Hades treats him as an equal (so far). He treats Seph like a god. A young one, but not in the coddling manner of his mother.

  He concludes at the end of these long, ever spiraling thoughts that what he and Hades have is real. Hades is the first love of his life, besides his mother and Hibus, and he’s the most important kind.

  Minthe steers them into a place with tall grasses, where the reeds rustle as they part and run under the boat. The marsh must be shallow, though the water is as dark as ever in this light. Some of the cattails grow as tall as he sits. Then there’s a short mild scrape. They’ve run into mud.

  “We’re here,” Minthe says, pulling the oars into the boat. Seaweed clings and slides off them, back into the water. The land ahead slopes upward into a long hill and the tree at the top grows with a little speck of white at its base. That must have been Minthe’s signal.

  Minthe prepares by gathering up the bottom of his cloak, but since it is very cold, Seph hops out quickly and performs the chore of pulling the boat to the shore himself. He is stronger, so Minthe’s extra weight is no strain. And he will not mind the freezing wet water.

  There are no frogs here. No bugs as he noted before, no flying things.