by E. A. Copen
The Ferryman jabbed at Jean again. “But this one I owe nothing. By the looks of him, no judgment has been passed, no debts paid. I can’t very well ferry him onward without proper processing, which means back into the river with you!”
Jean’s icy fingers closed on my arm. “Don’t make me go back into the river. Anything but that. Those souls in there aren’t normal. They’re hungry. They took bites out of me!” He held out his arms, showing me several black holes of nothingness where his spectral body used to be.
“He’s with me.” I stood. The boat shifted under me, threatening to overturn. “He stays on the boat.”
Charon jabbed his oar into the river, keeping it upright and showed me rotten teeth.
“I’d listen to him, mate,” Josiah advised and lit a cigarette. How he had any cigarettes to smoke as a soul stuck in the underworld was beyond me.
He squinted at Jean and jabbed his oar at him one more time. “Very well, but only this once. I’ll ferry him down the river and across the marsh, but no further.”
With Charon’s word, we settled into the boat. Jean huddled against me, still shivering from his dip in the river, while Josiah smoked at the other end of the boat. Charon took up his whistling again, clearing away the green noxious fog and steering the boat across a never-ending sea of black.
The little boat shifted slowly away from floating parallel to shore to move away from it. Our progress slowed as Charon fought against the tide of souls pushing us downstream. Waves crashed hard into the boat, making it rock. My stomach suddenly remembered why I hated being on boats while my brain reminded me I’d almost drowned on Lake Pontchartrain the last time Jean and I worked together.
I leaned to the side as my stomach started doing flip-flops. If I was going to puke, I wasn’t going to do it in the boat. The move gave me a front row seat to the horror of the river. Not only were the waters made of human souls, but I could see bodies floating just beneath the surface. Empty eye sockets stared up at me, jaws stretched in an eternal scream. Withered, rotting limbs lay in dismembered piles, the flesh green and bloated.
I lost the battle with my stomach.
Charon halted his whistle and sighed. “Least he had the sense not to dirty the boat. How about another tune?”
He started whistling something slower, more jovial. After a few bars, I recognized the old folk song as Waltzing Matilda.
“Christ.” Josiah rolled his eyes and sat forward. “I hate that song.”
Charon took that to mean he should switch from whistling to singing.
And so, a necromancer, the disembodied soul of a pirate, and an Australian wizard floated over the Styx to Charon’s crackly voice as he belted out a song about jumbucks and swagmen.
The further we went, the less river-like the water became. Twigs, stumps, and the remains of long-dead vegetation littered our path. Twice, Charon had to turn the boat and remove tangles of putrid-smelling black seaweed from our path.
After the second time, I finally felt well enough to sit up again. The other shore loomed in the distance, more barren than the one we’d come from. An ancient wooden pier butted against a cracked white sidewalk stretching over the flat land. On either side of the sidewalk lie dead gray grass. No trees. No rocks. Just dead, empty nothingness and a forgotten path leading to nowhere.
Charon brought us to the pier and cast out a length of braided rope to secure the boat. “The Fields of Minos,” he announced. “Beyond that, you’ll find the Vale of Mourning. Should you seek Hades’ palace, you should head north from there. If you choose south, do not expect to return. Southways lies Tartarus, resting place of Titans and the souls of poor hosts and disrespectful guests. Bear that in mind while you wander the underworld. The Greeks place hospitality in high regard.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I stood on wobbly legs.
Josiah had already made it onto the dock. He extended a hand to me and helped me up. Even back on solid ground, my stomach still felt woozy. Jean floated up to join us.
Charon untied his boat. “I’ll wait for you at Lethe with room for two, Josiah. No more. Don’t be late.”
“Until then.” Josiah flicked his cigarette into the marsh and watched it sink before putting his hands in his pockets and walking away.
“Laz,” Jean whispered as we followed, “are you really going to leave me behind?”
“I don’t see that I have a choice, Jean. Don’t worry. Persephone will take care of you. She won’t let them process you, and she’ll help you get back.”
Jean groaned, but there wasn’t much I could do.
The one thing I had noticed in every underworld so far was the flowing water. Helheim had the river of weapons, the Egyptian underworld had those bottomless pools, and Hades had the Styx. If I had to guess, a single massive metaphysical river probably stretched between all the realms, carrying souls from one place to the next, and Charon was the only taxi service that moved up and down the river. He was only willing to take the two of us, so that’s how it had to be. He was my ticket to reaching Emma in time.
Josiah stopped suddenly. His head snapped to the side, his gaze narrowing as he looked out over the empty plain. “Something’s coming.”
A chariot burst over the horizon, drawn by four black horses. I could barely make out the man driving it from where we stood on the sidewalk. He was huge, bare-chested, and dark-haired. The charioteer pointed forward and sped our way. An army of souls appeared at his back.
I took a step back. “Pretty sure that’s not a welcoming committee.”
Josiah unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.
“You idiot,” I said, reaching for him, “you can’t punch an entire army.” I stopped just short of putting my hand on his shoulder, remembering what’d happened to me last time.
Something whizzed through the air and thumped into the ground next to me. An arrow. More followed.
“Run!” Jean shouted and sped away.
I wanted to follow, but there was no point. As fast as the army was moving, there was no way we’d outrun them. Not that Josiah’s way was any better. If we stood and fought, we’d die just as fast.
Josiah barked out a single word and extended his hands. A bright gold bubble extended out from him, stretching over us like a shield. Arrows struck it and bounced off. Jean hit the edge and recoiled, unable to pass through. The army rode up and surrounded our protective bubble, riding in circles around us. We weren’t dead, but we weren’t going anywhere either.
“Okay,” I said, backing toward Josiah, “now what?”
The army fell to a halt with the dark-haired charioteer stopping directly in front of us. He dismounted and stormed up to the shield. “Who dares invade my land?”
“We’re not invaders.” I raised my hands in the classic surrender gesture. “My name is Lazarus Kerrigan. I’m a friend of Persephone’s. This is Josiah Quinn. He’s…working for me. The other guy’s with me too. We’re just passing through.”
Jean floated up next to me. “Let me handle this. What my friend means to say is that he is the Pale Horseman. We seek an audience with your queen in the palace.”
The man glanced at one of the souls, a grim-faced old man with a wispy beard, before turning back to us. “Persephone and Hades no longer hold the palace.”
The news struck me like a slap. Hades was the god of the underworld. That was how it had been since before recorded history when Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades drew lots. Zeus was granted the heavens, Poseidon the seas and Hades the underworld. That wasn’t something that could change at the drop of the hat, and I’d just seen Persephone.
I pushed past Josiah. “What happened?”
“It was Poseidon. Hades and Persephone welcomed his messenger into their halls with open arms, but they were betrayed in the night. A great beast, summoned forth by Poseidon’s messengers, sprang from the river and dragged the palace below where it was claimed by waves.” He gestured to the souls around him. “We are all that remain.”
“And Persephone?” Sh
e might not be my reaper anymore, but she was a friend.
The charioteer shook his head and cast his eyes to the ground. “Taken.”
What would Poseidon have to gain by attacking Hades’ home in the underworld and taking Persephone prisoner? And why now? What had changed to set them off?
“Winged warriors flooded the land,” continued the charioteer. “Foreign women claiming their attacks were retribution for some slight long ago. I tried to reason with them, to tell them Persephone had no part in it, but they wouldn’t listen. If I had stayed, they would have murdered her in front of me.”
“Valkyries.” I closed my hand into a fist. “Loki. This is him.” Whatever move he had been waiting to make, he was making it while I was out of the way, distracted by my quest to save Emma.
Josiah released his protection spell with a grunt and called the magic back to him. It struck him like a punch and left him stumbling. After a few staggering steps, he sank to his knees, breathing hard. “I take it you’re Hades, then?”
The dark-haired charioteer nodded gravely. “I am. I have gathered all the fighters I could with the intent of storming the ruins of my palace to recover my wife. Lazarus, she spoke highly of you. If you truly are her friend, help me.” He stretched out his hand.
“I need the key to the next gate,” I told Hades. “I need to get to She’ol to save someone of my own.”
“Help me rescue my wife, and I will give you a thousand keys to a thousand gates. I would give you the laurels off my head if only Persephone were back with me.”
Taking the palace back would eat precious time, but it might also gain me an ally, one I desperately needed considering the state of things. Yet stepping between a bunch of warring gods would likely hurt more than help in the long run.
I turned to Josiah.
He shook his head. “We’ll miss the boat if we dally about, mate.”
I looked at Jean.
Jean raised an eyebrow. “A sea monster swallows a palace and kidnaps a beautiful woman, and you want to know what I think you should do?” He pushed up his sleeves and tilted his hat. “Kill the beast and save the woman, Lazarus. He has an army. We can make it.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” I clasped Hades’ arm.
“Thank you.” He turned and raised a stubby looking sword. “Onward to battle!”
Chapter Nineteen
Hades tried to give me a horse, but I didn’t know the first thing about horseback riding, so I passed and wound up in a chariot with him. The horse passed to Josiah who took to the animal as if they’d known each other all their lives.
Hooves thundered, the chariot carrying us over the plain with an army at our back. I looked out over the barren landscape and marveled at all that unused open space. Without the horses and the war, it would’ve been a peaceful place.
“Not what you were expecting the After to be?” Hades asked, shifting the reins. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the horses.
“I expected more fire and brimstone, I guess.” I gestured to the never-ending plain. “This is basically Nebraska minus the corn and soybeans. Where are all the souls?”
“My kingdom is the final destination of very few souls these days, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t thousands of them all around us.”
Hades gestured off on the other side of the chariot toward the horizon where a huge, black wall loomed. Barbed wire curled around the top while dark shapes patrolled a guard tower armed with glowing auras. “Tartarus. Most of my time and effort was devoted to making sure no one breached the walls. If Poseidon’s spies are allowed to keep control of my kingdom, they will open Tartarus. Titans and monsters will walk free in your world again. It will be as it was before the dawn of man, destructive and chaotic.”
I frowned at the dreary gray walls as we passed, wondering if that’s what people said about me while I was in lockup. “Prisons aren’t meant to be punishments. They’re supposed to rehabilitate offenders.”
“There is no rehabilitating a Titan.”
The chariot rolled on a short distance before we crested a small hill. The empty plain abruptly shifted into a grassy meadow dotted with tall, white flowers waving and bending in a gentle wind.
“Can you see the souls, Horseman?” Hades shouted and gestured to the meadow.
At his urging, I activated my Vision. Thousands of faded gray souls wandered among the flowers, their faces despondent. They floated back and forth without interacting or reacting, even when they passed through each other.
“The Asphodel Meadows,” Hades explained. “The destination for most souls, I’m afraid. Those who are neither good nor evil and live unremarkable lives.”
“Are they really souls?” I turned away from the meadow, gripping the side of the chariot as it went over a bump. “I thought souls were supposed to go to the river to be processed and sent down the line to be reborn. How do they break down here?”
“They don’t.” Hades’ face was hard as granite.
That was what I had suspected all along. Osiris had explained to me the way things were supposed to work. A soul was supposed to go first to him for processing and then sent on its way to wherever it would most efficiently be broken down. Except the gods weren’t sending every soul on its way because souls were power and currency. The more souls a supernatural being had, the more pull they had and the easier they could negotiate. Some souls, like mine, would be worth a lot more than others. Someone like Hades had been around long enough to amass a huge collection. His Titans were probably a gold mine each. He didn’t need the poor slobs wandering around in an aimless eternity. Greed made him keep them.
He rolled his head to the side. “Don’t look at me like that, Horseman. I don’t keep them here out of spite or joy. My domain is the largest in all the After. It is surrounded and constantly under threat of attack, not just from my neighbors, but from other gods like Poseidon. I must have enough souls here to draw on should I need to repel an attack.”
“Did you a lot of good when Poseidon’s spies showed up, didn’t it?”
Hades didn’t answer me. He knew I was right. Even if he tried to justify his arms race with the threat of war, he knew what he was doing was wrong.
“What would you have me do? Send them on their way and leave my kingdom open to attack? I have no allies. Zeus has forgotten me. Poseidon hates me. The Egyptian pantheon would rather break than bend to the north, and there’s Yama to the south. If Morningstar manages to cement his alliance with Yama and invade, I couldn’t defend my kingdom, not even with twice as many souls!”
My interest was piqued. “Morningstar’s trying to ally himself with this Yama character?”
Hades sighed. “It’s unlikely. Morningstar is a liar, and Yama is nothing if not a strict patron of justice, even if his brand of justice is severe. Where Morningstar seeks to destroy humans, Yama believes his duty is to guide them to make better choices in their next life. Unfortunately, over time, Morningstar’s whispers have twisted many, including Yama, who has come to believe that humans no longer deserve mercy. I fear the entire After has become unbalanced, but there’s nothing to be done. Osiris is too busy, I only have help six months out of every year, and Hel finds the chaos entertaining.”
Sounds about right. I looked back out over the souls. The After was one big land split into lots of smaller kingdoms, each expected to function both autonomously and as a whole. On paper, it was a great idea, but in practice, it only worked if each kingdom communicated with the others on a regular basis. The problem was, each deity was so wrapped up in their own problems they couldn’t be bothered with the complaints of the others.
“You guys need to talk more,” I told Hades. “An annual sit-down in the underworld to address problems like this before they turn into crises. Sort of like a congress for underworld deities.”
Hades shook his head. “It wouldn’t work, not without someone neutral there to enforce order. Everyone would be at each other’s throats in minutes.”
“Yeah, if only there were some neutral party you guys could go to.”
He turned to me and quirked his head to the side, eyebrow raised.
“Shit, that’s my job, isn’t it?” I wiped a hand over my face. Me and my big mouth.
It was still a good idea, even if I couldn’t implement it now. Once Emma was safely back home, and I wasn’t making nightly trips to various Hells anymore, maybe I could throw something together. In the long run, it would benefit everyone to have a sit-down, but only if people didn’t start throwing around spells and curses.
“Tell me about this beef Poseidon has with you,” I shouted over the thunder of hooves and the rattling of the chariot wheels.
Hades slapped the reins, urging the horses on. “Do you have any siblings?”
“I used to have a younger sister, but we didn’t grow up together.”
“Then you wouldn’t understand,” said the god, shaking his head. “Poseidon was the middle son, always living in Zeus’ shadow. When we took Olympus from Chronos, Poseidon and I did most of the work while Zeus took all the credit. He was always bitter about being the only one of the three of us who had to live with humans, whom he is generally not fond of. Things only got worse when his wife, Amphitrite, left him for that merman. He’s been surly ever since we invited him to celebrate our anniversary last year. It wasn’t our fault Amphitrite brought her lover along. What were we to do? Tell him to leave and make a scene? He claims I poured salt water into his wounded heart.”
“Poured salt water on his wounded heart.” I rolled my eyes. Gods were such a melodramatic bunch. “You insulted him. I bet he was easy for Loki to turn after sulking in his own self-pity for so long. Did you ever think of calling him up and offering an apology?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Whatever for?”
I sighed. “Never mind. What’s this monster he sent? How do we kill it?”
“I don’t know how to kill it. As for what it is…perhaps it’s better you see for yourself.” Hades tugged on the reins, pulling the chariot to a halt.
I turned around.
