Too late I settle on the middle head. The dog is already charging toward me, into me, knocking me to the ground. I tuck my legs up just as the left head makes a snapping bite at my calf. I push myself to all fours. In an instant, Cerberus lunges at me. I drop, roll to the side, and jump to my feet.
Again the beast is on me. Her heads working as one to anticipate my next move. I dart to the right and she instantly changes course back to the left to cut me off. Just as I think I've tricked her by moving to my own left, she swings around. The head nearest me sinks its teeth into my thigh. The other heads, jealous it seems of the treat the middle one has in its jaws, begin snapping at me as well, but their efforts are blocked by the size of their center companion.
“Cerby, play nice,” Hades says without conviction.
As if annoyed by the other heads, Cerby’s central head lets go of my leg and starts snapping at them instead. Taking the only chance I have, I slip to the great beast's side and leap onto her back.
The heads all begin barking at once. The noise of it fills the cavern. The two side heads twist around to bite me but they can’t reach—the thick, muscular neck not quite flexible enough. Cerberus shakes like a dog trying to dry itself, starting with her heads then jerking and twisting the length of her torso. I spread myself on her back, wrapping my arms around the massive neck to hold on. When the first shake passes over her, she begins another. I grip tighter and she gasps. In my effort to hold on, I’m unwittingly choking the beast.
Realizing what I’m doing, I cinch my arms tighter, pinching her tightest where I assume her carotid artery runs. It’s a wrestling move only allowed in the most unsavory fighting pits, not the arena, but it’s one every wrestler learns at some point in his training. A third shake, stronger than the first two, works over her body. She tries to bark but only a rasping hack comes out. Changing tactics she arcs her body around then drives her side into the nearest column, crushing my leg that now drips with blood from her earlier attack.
The pain from the forceful slam, the throbbing ache from the power of the bite, and the Chasm’s weight bearing down on my limbs proves too much. A scream erupts from my throat and my grasp slips. Cerby swings around again for another sideways charge. I reassert my hold, ready myself for the agony, and when the blow comes I hold tighter than before. One head whimpers as another growls. The center head starts to shake. Before the movement has passed her shoulders she slumps to the ground.
I pull out from under her sleeping body. My leg shrieking with agony, I limp over to Hades’s throne.
“Subdued, Your Highness.”
His brow furrows in anger at first, but slowly a smile creeps over his lips as he begins clapping.
“Good show. She's yours.”
I have no idea what to do. As soon as she wakes, she’ll be on me again. Possibly reading the quandary on my face, Hades holds up the silver leash and collar.
“When this is on, she's like a puppy. You can do anything with her and she won't turn on you. Without this and, well, you've seen what she'll do. She craves flesh, living flesh, which, as you may guess, is in short supply around here. And she won't stop until she's fed. Unless,” he shakes the leash, “this is on. Got it?”
I say I do and take the leash, then work the collar back around the stunned beast's neck. She wakes, looks about groggily, then focuses her glittering eyes on me as she climbs to her feet. The middle head opens its jaw wide and the huge teeth shine as Cerberus stalks toward me. I want to drop the leash but at the same time fear to let it go.
“What trickery is this Hades—?” My question is halted by a large saliva-dripping tongue dragging across my hand. The other heads pant with a happy-dog glint in their eyes.
“No trick. She's yours. If you're done here I'd suggest you go. Cerby isn't the only creature in these caverns that craves the flesh of the living. The dead are starving for life. They've surely caught wind of you by now with that leg wound. Best you be going. Even a leash made from a lightning bolt can't subdue what roams the underworld.”
I shudder to think what the dead might do to me and hastily make my farewell. Once out of the cavern and into the tunnel all is dark without Hermes’s glowing helmet to light the space. Although I try to imagine the size of the tunnel as being vast, the darkness reminds me of being trapped in the blood crime vault. Panic sets in. My legs tremble and a wave of disorientation washes over me. I turn left then right unsure where to go. I am blind in the darkness. My only sensations are the pain in my leg, the pressure on my frame, and the heat climbing up through my feet. In my confusion, even the light of the cavern seems to have disappeared.
Then I hear it. Heaving but rapid footfalls. It is the dead wakened by the scent of life. I freeze unable to do anything but clench the leash tighter. With the puncture wounds in my legs and the heft of the Chasm’s oppressive air, if anything comes for me I know I won't be able to run, let alone fight with any force. I follow the length of the leash, pulling it along like pulling in a boat. I brush my hand along the beast feeling for the heads and then the shoulder. The feel of Cerberus comforts me, but only slightly.
Grunting from what must be a hundred throats somewhere in the darkness kills the miniscule amount of calm I have found.
The sounds grow closer. Cerberus whines.
And then I remember Hermes's words.
Gripping Cerberus’s neck in a scruff, I haul myself onto her back. With the leash wrapped around my forearm, I hold onto her with my legs and hands.
Cold hands brush along my injured thigh.
“Get us out of here,” I yell. Something grasps at my ankle. “Now, Cerberus. Go.” I command and she takes off.
Creatures clutch at me. I can do nothing to fend them off without losing hold of Cerberus. Her heads snap as she runs, but still my flesh crawls with their frigid touches. One gets its fingers into the holes Cerby has made in my thigh and pulls, stripping off a piece of flesh. The pain burns through my thigh as if Prometheus himself has me between his hands, but at least the raw chunk of my leg distracts the dead. The clasping at my body ceases and is replaced by the guttural sounds of the dead fighting for the scrap.
Although it feels like my entire thigh has been ripped away, the chunk of flesh doesn’t occupy my pursuers for long. The shuffling sound of the dead and their chilling moans of hunger race up to me, closing the distance in a handful of heartbeats. Their fingers pick at my leg again stealing small chunks like someone picking at a roasted chicken. I fear they will leave nothing but bone.
Then I see it.
Light!
The opening is just ahead. Relief courses through me, until I remember the pool and its morbid water. At Cerberus’s pace, she will charge straight into the pool or stumble over the stones and send me hurtling into the deadly liquid. I don’t dare slide off. I won’t let myself be picked to pieces by cold fingers. But neither do I want to be taken by the water. I don't want that blackness touching my skin any more than I want the dead clambering over me like ants on a honey cake.
I yell for Cerberus to stop but she charges ahead. I can’t let go of her. I can’t release my grip on the leash or she will devour me. I realize now I will die in the water. With a stoic calm, I accept this. I can only hope it will be a faster death than being torn to pieces as the dead or the dog feed on me.
I close my eyes and prepare for the black water to choke me out as it has done to all the vegetation at its banks and all the creatures under its surface. Cerberus leaps. I think of Iole. I think of my children. I came so close. Who was I to think I could escape the realm of the dead? No mortal does. It’s why Eury sent me to this place.
When the hard thump jolts my body, my only thought is of sinking slowly into the depths of blackness. I open my eyes and there it is, blackness swirling around me. Engulfing me. I feel the sensation of being swung around, like a whirlpool is swallowing me. My body is stone heavy, but there is no pain. I let my eyes drift shut again.
As the swirling sensation ceases, all is pe
aceful.
39
EURY
“When will my gift be ready?” Adneta asks as a servant places a portion of roast quail on her plate.
I fidget with my fork, pushing around a pile of creamy risotto made of rice imported at great expense from the Califf Lands. The dish is normally such a treat, but the smell of the garlic that has been liberally added to it makes my eyes water. I’ve avoided telling Adneta of Herc’s trick with the apples. If she knows I’ve let my one plan, my one grab for power slip through my fingers on a technicality, what will she think of me?
“Soon, my dear. I have it all planned.” The servant hovers over me and places a sliver of quail on my plate. I eye him, annoyed by his frugality. It’s no secret that any leftovers go straight into the bellies of the kitchen staff. I pay their wages, there is no reason I should give up my own meals to them. I grasp my fork and skewer the entire bird. The carcass drips brown juices onto the white tablecloth before I drop the bird onto my plate. At a flick of my hand, he steps back.
“Do you want to hear?” I ask my wife with a grin. I’m so sure she’ll love my idea, I’m giddy. The secret bubbles in me like a pot ready to boil over. Not wanting to talk across the table, I pick up my plate and move to the seat next to her. We never dine like this anymore. Side by side, able to whisper to each other, able to feel the warmth of one another, and able to feed one another tidbits of food. I pluck a piece of meat from the thigh and hold it up to her. She stares at it like I’ve just snatched the morsel off the stable floor.
“I’m not a bitch who eats out of her master’s hands.”
I sigh and pop the meat into my mouth but thanks to the scent wafting off the risotto, all I taste is garlic.
“So, what’s your plan?” she asks.
I wipe my hands and sit back in the chair. A delighted smile spreads across my face as I imagine how much she is going to enjoy this.
“I have runners on the road. When they bring word that Herc is returning to Portaceae, we’ll begin the preparations for your event.”
“And if he fails?” She raises her eyebrows and takes a sip of wine.
If he fails, he will be dead and I will celebrate. Indeed, I would bankrupt the polis to celebrate, even if I have to call it a funeral and dress in the maroon robes of mourning. But I—ever positive—am working on the assumption he will succeed. That somehow he will pass into Hades’s realm and come out unscathed. Either way, alive or dead, the plan will go forth, only the players and the attire will change.
“My dear,” I take her hand. She gives a look of revulsion at the place where my thumb had once been. Ever since I removed the bandages to reveal a puckered scar that reminded me of a toothless mouth, she has avoided touching my right hand and eyes it with wary disgust. I cover the offending sight with my other hand. “He is after something to make you happy. He wouldn’t dare fail. Do you know why?”
She doesn’t respond.
“Because you are Lady of the Polis from this moment on. The event I have planned will all be for you.”
“What does that mean exactly?” she asks, her icy demeanor melting slightly at the hint of an honor.
“You will be the most honored woman in Portaceae. More highly honored than Hera. More revered than the Herenes. This is what I will tell the people and this is why Herc will present you with your gift in the arena.”
A satisfied smile breaks over her face.
“You can do that?”
“I’m tired of being told what I can and can’t do. I will make my own laws. Hera has little enough to do with this polis and therefore why should she or the Herenes matter any longer? It’s simply a case of changing the laws. Soon after the ceremony, my guards will drag the Herenes from their complex and it will belong to me. The Temple of Hera will become the Temple of Solonia Adneta and her statue will be replaced by one of you.”
Adneta is leaning forward now, gripping my incomplete hand in hers, a flush of excitement over her cheeks.
“If Herc fails, we will burn an effigy of him and call in a rebirth of Portaceae—a sort of out with the old, in with the new. If he succeeds, he will give you the gift, which I will declare the beginning of the new order.” I will also ensure if Herc succeeds that Deianira is there to present her husband with her love potion. “Either way, wear your new belt. It will be a nice touch. See, I’ve thought of everything.”
Adneta releases my hand and slips her fingers into my wine glass. She traces a wine-soaked finger over my lips as she licks her own. I grab her hand and suck on her first two digits as the fingers of her other hand draw circles over my chest.
I look over my shoulder to the servant who stands rigid beside the serving board. “We’re done with you,” I say. He gives a choppy bow and disappears through a concealed door.
In a flurry of desire, I shove the dishes aside and lift Adneta onto the table. The thrill of the act is marred only by the acrid smell of the risotto that spills across the table in my haste to mount the Lady of the Polis.
40
ORPHEUS
The woman is enormous. Even sitting at her table in front of her books, she seems a living mountain. My hands shake and my legs refuse to hold still as I fidget in a rickety wooden chair in the offices of the House of Hera.
They think I’ve done something wrong. Why else would they have called me here?
Since Stavros’s death, I’ve applied myself to learning as much as I can about electronics by fiddling with the random pieces of equipment I’ve collected and littered Mother’s house with over the years. I even managed to build a small solar panel that now powers a bubbler in Mother’s bird bath. In my excitement over my achievement, I sent an appeal to the Solon to grant me a travel pass to go to Athenos to study with the people who are masters of electricity. Am I now being questioned for that? Dear gods, do they think I’m a spy for Athenos? Or am I in trouble for building the panel? Electricity is under the control of the Council. I know that, of course I know that, but surely a tiny thing to entertain birds can’t be illegal. Dear gods, why didn’t I listen to Mother and stick to music? How was I to know the dangers of engineering? As I wait, the image of Stavros flying through the air from the control room to the arena floor plays through my head in slow motion.
The chair begins to shake under me as my nerves lose hold of themselves. My eyes flick to the mountainous Herene and freeze when they met her concerned gaze.
“Calm yourself. You’re not in trouble,” she says and then goes back to recording something in her books.
Her words and demeanor comfort me, but only a little. Surely if I am in trouble, vigiles would be in the room, not just a woman tending to her lists. Although that woman could crush me under her foot with one step.
The door swings open. A man with coppery red hair walks with a slight limp through the door. He is dressed in full vigile uniform complete with a short sword at his hip and a dagger lashed to his calf. I jolt and nearly topple over the chair.
Oh gods, I am in trouble.
How many more of them are outside? Are there centaurs as well? I knew I’d heard the sound of hooves. I fall out of the chair and drop to my knees.
“Please, I only meant it as a gift for Mother. I’m not a spy.”
The vigile looks at me, his face stern, unyielding. My heart chugs in my chest. He reaches out to pull me up by my arms. And then he starts laughing.
“Orpheus Keros, get up, you idiot. Don’t you recognize me?”
My head swims. My mind floods with so much fear I don’t think I could recognize my own mother. Ever since the Solon tossed Stavros from the control room, I’ve had a perpetual sensation of falling. It’s gotten so bad I had to move my mattress from my bed, only an arm’s length high, to the floor and even then I dream of falling. Falling from horseback, falling from the top of stairs, falling from cliffs. Falling.
But the man’s hair and his easy manner—
In a flash I’m hit with recognition. From outside, bells are sounding, calling the
people to the arena.
“Iolalus. What, what is—I don’t understand,” I stammer.
“I don’t have much time to explain,” he says as he steps over to look out the window. “Do you still have access to the control room?”
I nod. My throat has closed too tightly to speak.
Please gods, don’t ask me to go there.
From a desk drawer, he pulls a cassette. I recognize it as one of the cartridges placed inside a camera to record on.
“There’s a gathering at the arena. On my signal I need you to play this so the people can see it on the screen.”
“No.” I shake my head as my voice trembles out the word. “I can’t go up there. He’ll—”
“He’ll be powerless to do anything to you once this is shown,” he says in a manner that, while it doesn’t completely erase my fear, somehow sends a feeling of ease through me. “This shows our Solon for what he truly is.”
Oh, believe me, I know what the man truly is. He is the one in my nightmares pushing me from the horse, pushing me down the stairs, and pushing me off the cliff.
“He’ll kill me,” I manage to say through my clenched throat.
“Maxinia and I have arranged for centaurs and vigiles to block Eury once he is on the dais. And there will be more stationed at the steps to the control room.” He rests his hand on my shoulder. “He won’t even be able to reach you.”
“I don’t—”
Iolalus steps directly in front of me and places both hands on my shoulders as he looks straight into my eyes.
“Your call brought the vigiles to arrest Herc. Your mother’s word as witness made him into Eury’s pawn. I’m not sure what caused my cousin to do what he did, but the gods, Athena herself, has said it was not Herc who truly did it. You owe him this. This can free my cousin and remove a corrupt man from power. Will you do this, Orpheus?”
He holds the cassette out to me. I stare at it as the bells toll outside.
The Trials of Hercules: Book One of The Osteria Chronicles Page 37
