by Skyler Andra
My gaze shifted to the seat to my right. Vacant and lonely, and once belonging to someone I loved. My queen.
A knocking noise called me back to the chessboard positioned on the table between Charon and myself. My skeletal ferryman was seated to my left, a place of honor reserved for special guests. He tapped his long oar against the side of the table, considering his next move. Nothing ever moved fast with him. He liked to take his time, contemplating all options, and I supposed the dead sailor had all the time in the world. It probably explained why he only managed one boatload of fresh souls per day when he could easily deliver three. What was he doing for the rest of the day? Sight seeing?
My fingers drummed on the table while I waited for my companion. I supposed I had all the time in the world too while anticipating her return. Long ago, I’d become accustomed to her absence. Did not mean I accepted it, however. I could have left like her, too, but the dead needed a place to rest and a master to ensure the balance of the Underworld to keep it functioning. That duty fell to me, and I took it seriously.
The Underworld was a place of contemplation. Some souls took an eternity to come to terms with the abuses they committed. Neglect, betrayal, deception, dishonesty, jealousy, and revenge—just to name a few of their motives and deeds. But once they accepted their part in hurting another by in turn hurting themselves, they could find peace and begin planning their next life.
Charon sighed and scratched his head, scrutinizing the board. His bony fingers creaked with the movement. For once, he had made an effort when attending dinner. His frayed and holed rags were replaced by a velvet robe sewn by my handmaids. The long hood concealed his skeletal features, and that was probably for the best because staring at a skeleton all night became rather tedious.
I drooped in my chair. This was what my life had been reduced to: bargaining with my staff to keep me company. They called me God of Deals. Many traded with me. Charon one of them. In exchange for his freedom, to return to the Land of the Living in a fresh incarnation, he bargained to steal the thunderbolt of Zeus. For failing to deliver on his contract, I punished him to play chess with me every second evening.
Almighty Olympus!
What would she say if she knew I kept my ferryman prisoner? All to keep me from being alone—to stop myself from lamenting over her. A few choice adjectives came to mind: pathetic, outcast, wretched, and pitiful to name a few.
No one wanted to visit the Lord of the Dead. No one liked the idea. Everyone feared me, thinking me heartless, unkind, and cruel. I wasn’t these things in my mortal life, back before I merged with Hades to become a powerful combination of avatar and God. So long ago that I had lost my mortal name. A humorless laugh almost escaped my lips. It was amazing how my indifference was perceived as aloofness.
I glanced at Melody, my servant, who was playing with the ends of her long brown plait. Slender and translucent, her cautious gaze watched me. Dressed in her Grecian robe with a golden rope around her waist and a silver headband on her head, she stood stiff and straight by the marbled wall. She remained so still and silent that she almost blended in with the golden statues along the far wall. It reminded me that with each passing day I became more like them. Hard and dead inside.
I knew what she was thinking. She stared at the uneaten food on the dining table spread out before me, urging me to select a delicacy from one of the platters, each cooked by my team of servants. Roasted meats, vegetables, cakes, fruit, rolls, and pastries—all the food I once loved and dined on until my heart had been content. Not anymore. Long ago, the food lost its smell, taste, and texture, mirroring my slowly dying heart.
At last Charon moved the tip of his pole forward, pushing the knight diagonally three spaces across the chessboard. I did not know why, but he always chose to move the pieces like that, rather than with his finger. And every time he would tip the character over, knocking one of my pawns down, just as he did now.
“Almighty Olympus!” I removed the pawn, carved in a representation of Cerberus, my three-headed hound, and placed it to the side of the board. “I hope you are a lot steadier ferrying the dead to the Underworld.”
“My humblest apologies, master,” Charon rasped, grabbing his coins as if he feared I might take them from him. “If I have angered you; I’ll take my leave.”
“No,” I commanded. “We haven’t finished this game.”
The ferryman sat tensely on the edge of his seat, ready to drift away if I raised my voice again.
Cradling my chin with my hand, I deliberated my move.
I knew whom I’d much rather have been spending my time with. After all this time, I still longed for her—the taste of her skin, the scent of her perfume like flowers and sweet like ambrosia. Nothing like it in the world. Not even the flowers and plants she so loved. All of it haunted me. My chest ached in mourning for her.
Many centuries ago, the Lady of Spring avatar merged with her god like I had to stay in the Underworld with me. But then she tired of her human body, and being surrounded by the same fields of melancholic blooms, causing her to go fallow. She returned to the stars, leaving her essence in her avatars. But even that lay dormant, in a perpetual state of winter.
I tried to keep myself busy to forget about her. Judge the dead in the morning. Lead the worthy to drink from the River Lethe to have them forget the bad things they’d done in their lives before taking them to the Elysian Fields. Deliver some torture after lunch to end the day on a high note—spin Ixion on his wheel until he vomited, make Sisyphus push his rock up the hill until he ached and collapsed, and Paris, well, who didn’t want that ladies’ man to suffer for stealing Helen and instigating the downfall of Troy? A good old prodding with a red-hot iron did the trick. After dinner, I quite often settled in for a game of chess, as I did now. But I still yearned for that missing piece of me.
Charon’s knuckles creaked as he used his bony hand this time to move his rook. I bit back my annoyance. I didn’t know what was worse: his staff or his fingers. But he was the only one willing to visit the palace and play, so I had to give him some credit. The Lord of the Underworld wasn’t exactly known for his charisma, sense of humor, or friendliness.
Melody stepped forward, carrying the wine jug, as if she wanted to diffuse the tension. “More wine, master?”
“Thank you, no,” I replied, unmoving like the stone statues of the gods lining the room.
Her lips twisted with disappointment as she retreated to the wall. In her mortal life, she’d served a great family and cared for them very much. That was one reason why I’d chosen her as my servant. All she wanted was the best for me and I appreciated and rewarded that.
My gaze fell back to the chessboard. I decided on a strategy and swiped Charon’s bishop with one of my pawns.
“Excellent move, master,” Charon croaked.
I yawned. He’d let me win on purpose, no doubt fearful of my outburst if I lost. Deep inside, I longed for a challenge. Someone who did not fear me. Someone like her, who stood up to me, put me in my place, yet submitted to my will in the bedroom. All the qualities I would not find in my ferryman or most trusted servant. Thinking of her put me in a dark mood.
“Charon, old friend,” I started, “would you mind if we picked this up the day after tomorrow? I have a headache.”
The ferryman glanced up at me, exposing his hollow eye sockets and jagged nose. “Of course, master.”
His bones creaked as he rose from his chair and shuffled to the water’s edge. He drifted onto the ferry rather than climbed, making me roll my eyes. Why he chose to torture me with his grating limbs when he could float, I’d never know. But he served me well and I wasn’t about to retire him. Maybe I could get him some olive oil to lubricate his bones.
When the ferryman had pushed away into the River Styx, Melody approached me again.
“Master,” she said, her voice brimming with concern. “You don’t eat anymore. We are worried about you. How else will you gather your strength?”
Of course she would say that. Residuals of her human nature persisted, even in the afterlife. Oh, how she cared for me. If it were not for her, I’d never eat, never rest, nor judge another soul. With each day, I lost the strength for it, allowing the winter consuming my realm to tire and weaken me.
With all the power of the God I didn’t need mortal food. Not when the energy of the cosmos sustained me. But I could delight in when necessary. The only reason I had the meals prepared was in case my goddess returned to me. Each night I sat here, dressed in my finest robes, waiting for her. Pathetic, really. But she had promised to return one day when the time was right. Yet with each passing year, my hopes dwindled like the dying flames in my fireplace, gradually losing their heat and eternal viability.
“Master, please.” Melody put her hand on mine and I flinched.
When I glared at her for touching me, she pulled away, clutching her hand.
“Forgive me.” Trembling all over, she backed away, her head bowed as if frightened that I might strike her. Despite my cruel reputation the world over, thanks to my jealous brother, Zeus, I would never raise a hand to my servants, least not for something so innocent. Although I could raise my voice when annoyed.
Hollow and tired, however, I simply watched her recede from the room, leaving me in the giant and empty hall.
Alone. How utterly alone I felt. Look at what I had done. I chased her away too, like I drove away all those that I loved.
Souls came here to escape the living. They didn’t need a broody, sullen god to remind them of what they left behind. That was why I did not burden my subjects with my pain.
My gaze fell to my hand. I had not been touched in almost two hundred years. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have a connection with someone. Long before I merged with Hades, I bedded all the beauties of my age. That is, until I married the love of my life.
My chest squeezed at the memory of her mortal death and the one whose name we refused to utter. Warm, honeyed skin that was so soft to touch. Blonde hair hanging over her shoulders, covering her ample bust and figure. The one Hades loved, and whom I as his avatar had come to love in sharing his power.
The Gods had once roamed the world until they defeated the titans and destroyed much of the world and its beauty. Zeus forbade the Gods from ever entering Earth again, refusing them the option to taking human form, which left them to dwell in the heavens or Olympus as it was known. But the Gods needed to influence Earth in order to stabilize and protect it, so they infused their essences into benefactors known as avatars to do their will on Earth. I had been one of Hades’ many avatars before Zeus’s decree, but he chose me to sneak around his brother’s rule and return to Earth in human form.
When I was fourteen years of age, Hades, Lord of the Underworld, had come to me as a vast expanse of power, light, darkness, and strength. He took me to his place in the stars to deliver me the word of my inheritance of his powers. An avatar he’d called it, with all the powers of godliness: invisibility with the aid of his helmet, the power to strike down a foe with his bident, the wealth of the all the metals, minerals, and precious jewels inside the Earth, as well as the ability to cast whomever I chose into the afterlife.
But possessing the powers of the god was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I’d bolstered my fortunes, destroyed my enemies, spied on my competitors in trading flax, hemp, and tallow, and thwarted their efforts. Yet on the other, he’d deadened me inside and destroyed every ounce of love I had for life, turning me cold, heartless, unforgiving, and lonely.
He wasn’t all to blame though. She had contributed too. It had been too long since the goddess left, retreating for a long slumber amid the stars, leaving the Underworld in a perpetual state of winter.
My eyes found my beloved Cypress tree, planted in the center of my palace, dormant without a leaf to speak of. After its decline, the rest of my lands slowly began to fall asleep. Just yesterday, after sending the judged souls on their way, Charon complained that the River Styx had begun to freeze over and he’d lost more and more channels to ferry the dead to me. My poor Cerberus needed woolen boots so the pads of his paws didn’t stick to the frozen ground. All the fires in the palace and of the hellish parts of the Underworld had lost their heat too. The sky, once beautiful and filled with pinks, golds, and purples, had turned grey. She’d sucked the life right out of our realm and us when she departed.
Overcome with the thought, I pushed myself out of my seat with enough force to tip over my chair.
Damn her!
How I wished to be rid of her, rid of his memory, his pain, and suffering. But the god and I, we were forever entangled. Merged together—god and avatar as one, all so he could piss off Zeus.
I curled a fist, intent on smashing the onyx marble walls to be rid of my eternal misery and loneliness. Unable to control myself, I tore down the dying vines curled around the pillars and kicked over vases containing wilting plants, sending them smashing against the wall.
I heard a yelp and spun around, snarling.
Melody’s small frame peeked around the corner.
“Leave me!” I breathed deeply, trying to calm my rage.
She left hastily. Bless her. The poor soul only wished the best for me.
I moved to my golden throne atop the black marbled dais and sat in it. Apparently, the designer of this great palace believed only black to be worthy of the Lord of the Dead. Horns extended out of the top of the throne to symbolize the skull of a ram. My gold bident leaned against it and my helmet rested atop one of the horns. Neither had been used in over a century.
Bored with the old décor, I flicked my fingers to add some color and jewels of every color to decorate the walls, floor, and throne, each adding a dazzling array of lights.
“That’s more like it,” I muttered, leaning back.
But I didn’t get much time to relax when a voice disturbed the peace.
“Take me to your master,” it commanded.
I sat up straighter on my throne, scanning the room.
“Please!” Melody’s voice rang out. “Do not disturb him. He is not well.”
“I don’t care if the Lord of the Underworld is sobbing over his lost love, eating chocolate ice cream, and watching romantic comedies!” the man shouted, even louder this time. “I must see Hades! It’s urgent.”
What were these things this stranger spoke ok? I growled at the fool who dared disturb me… and who thought I’d resort to what sounded like such depressive acts?
The intruder swaggered in, a tall and lean thing with golden, perfectly styled hair and high cheekbones.
Instantly, I recognized him and leaned forward, growling menacingly. “How dare you invade my palace, Avatar of Thieves!”
He leaned his neck back in mock offense. “That’s Avatar of Messengers, Thieves, Liars, Travelers, Sports and just about everything in the ancient Greek world.” Then he straightened his collar. “I addressed you with your correct title. The least you could do is get mine right. Or address me by my human name; Mads.”
Smart-mouthed avatar. That was why Hermes had chosen him.
Now I definitely needed a drink to deal with him. I climbed down the dais and swiped my goblet from the table, drinking the whole lot in one gulp before wiping my mouth. “I could send you to the Tartarus for your insolence!”
The one named Mads shrugged and examined his nails. “Go for it. But then I’d tell everyone that Beaches is your favorite movie. Then you’d cut my tongue out, tie me to one of your spinning wheels, and I’d forever rotate. Not my ideal way to go.”
I glared at him, not understanding what he was going on about. “What makes you think you would be welcome in my realm?”
Mads turned his keen green eyes on me. “Listen, Hades, do you want to know what’s wrong or not?”
“Wrong?” I waved him away, not wanting to know what trickery he’d brought to my realm. “Get out of my throne room.”
Mads refused to move. Realizing I wasn’t budging, he
tried another tactic. “All right, Lord of the Dead. Have it your way.”
He exited the room, but quickly returned, marching in a dead soul held by her shoulders. She was a pretty young nurse only a year departed from her earthly existence, her expression confused and lost.
Hermes was one of the only Gods able to access realms of the Underworld, and as such, so was his avatar.
“Take me back,” she urged Mads. “I have to feed my children.”
I squeezed my goblet. Impossible. All the dead were carried to the Underworld by my magic. They were not supposed to dwell in the land of the living.
“Care to explain why I found this lost soul lingering in the land of the living?” the avatar demanded. “Are you getting lazy in your old age and not summoning them anymore?”
Oh, he enjoyed taunting me, didn’t he? Fool. Never pick on a god. Especially when you were an avatar and mortal. With a sneer, I clapped my hands, tossing him back to the land of the living. In my mind’s eye, I saw him being spit out of the ground, rolling across it from the force.
“Is that all the thanks I get?” he goaded via telepathic message, sent courtesy of his Hermes communication channel.
“Come back again,” I warned, “and I will send you to a worse place than the afterlife.”
He climbed to his feet, dusted himself off, and smoothed his crinkled and stained clothing. “Last time I tell you that the afterlife has a serious problem.” With that, he hobbled away, muttering something under his breath about that woman being the fifth soul he’d encountered in days.
I sucked in a long breath. Five souls. Surely this must be a trick. Hermes and his avatar were known for playing them. But when my gaze fell to the lost soul I knew it was no trick. Panic seized my chest and set it ablaze. No soul had ever rejected the call of my magic. Something was wrong and I had to go to Earth to find out what.
For now though, I had something else to deal with. The poor, lost woman had withdrawn to wander the halls, searching for a way out.
I rushed to her side. “Come with me, Mary.”
