And in a flash, she knew.
If there was one thing Iole could practically recite backward and forward, it was the stories of the ancients; one she particularly loved was the legend of Orpheus, especially since she’d had the pleasure of seeing him play “live” when they had all gone back in time to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis as she, Pandy, Alcie, and Homer were hunting for Lust.
Orpheus had sought to bring his wife back from the underworld and, because he’d found his way down and had plucked his lyre so skillfully, creating such beautiful music for Hades and Persephone, Hades had granted his wish with only one condition. As he walked back up to the top of the earth, Orpheus must not look to see if his wife was following. He must trust in the word of the dark lord of the underworld. Orpheus agreed. He was almost to the top, could see daylight, and then … he turned around, certain he’d been tricked and Eurydice wasn’t there. Aghast, he watched as her form receded back down the path, a look of anguish and reproach on her beautiful face. In the silence he heard the single word, “Farewell.”
Driven nearly mad, he avoided the company of all other humans, choosing to dwell in the forests, charming the birds and animals with his music. And that’s where they found him—the Maenads. A group of women, followers of Dionysus, so frenzied, so crazed, so furious that no one could or would get near them. They would dance insanely and commit terrible acts of violence, including murdering each other. And the gods help any living creature they happened to find. They came upon Orpheus alone, sitting in front of the entrance to the cave not ten meters away from where Iole stood now, and tore him limb from limb. And, as the legend went, on the night of the full moon … they always came back.
Iole looked up at the incredibly large, pale full moon just emerging from behind the topmost peak of the mountain, then she stared down again at the moving line of flame, finally noticing the end of a narrow pathway that led down the side of the mountain into the darkness. A pathway she and the others could have used to ascend, and one the torchbearers were using now.
“Maenads,” she whispered.
“C … Come again?” Alcie said, the biting wind on top of the mountain causing her teeth to chatter.
“Maenads!” she screamed. But the wind had stopped the moment she opened her mouth to cry out, so her scream echoed across the valley like the call of a great bird.
At once the singing stopped below, and in the next instant a great cry went up from the approaching women. Both Alcie and Iole saw the line of flames, bright torches, begin to move with incredible speed up the winding pathway.
“And now, thanks to me,” Iole said, panicked, “they know we’re here!”
“Pandy!” Alcie shouted. “We’ve got company!”
The two girls ran back to Pandy and Homer; the discovery of the approaching Maenads had taken only a few moments, but in that time Pandy had stood mute at the horrible question before her. Then she started fumbling again in her leather carrying pouch.
“What are you doing?” yelled Iole.
“The bust of Athena,” Pandy mumbled. “It might help.”
“You don’t have time!” Iole cried. “Oh Gods!”
The earhole had begun to close, ever so slowly.
“Wait!” Pandy cried, stopping the closure briefly. “Would … would you repeat the question?”
The small stone mouth sighed in frustration.
“How will you die?”
“What?” yelled Alcie, who hadn’t heard any of the questions.
“Pandy,” Iole said, trying to keep her voice even, “we have Maenads coming up the side of the mountain. We need to either get back down the way we came or …”
“Shhhhhhh!” Pandy hissed, clenching her hands in front of her. Even she could hear the cries of the frenzied women, now only a few meters from the top. “I have to think!”
How would she die? Who in Hades knew? Only the Fates knew why, when, and from what that mortal part of her would finally perish. Maybe that was it! The question was a trick for her because she was semi-immortal!
No, the two previous questions had been meant for anyone to answer; this one was as well. No one could predict what his or her cause of death would be, why it would happen. But that wasn’t the question, was it? It was bigger than that.
Pandy felt that “thing” happen to her brain again, even as the light from the Maenads’ torches began to glow just below the end of the path.
“Not fair!” Alcie shouted at the mouth.
“Pandy!” Iole yelled. “Say something!”
But Pandy was feeling her mind expand. The question was “how.” Not what would kill her, but how would she die.
A smile spread across her face and she turned away from the ear, clearly wanting to express her thoughts. Out of habit, Iole and Alcie both leaned in, each knowing that they were Pandy’s closest confidants. But Pandy pulled on the front of Homer’s cloak, causing him to bend down so she could whisper her answer. His eyes closed for an instant, then he nodded his head. She turned back to the ear … as the first of the Maenads hit the top of the ledge.
“With honor,” Pandy said, almost defiantly.
Three maenads were hurtling themselves across the small plateau as the earhole grew large enough for a single person to enter. Immediately, Pandy grabbed Iole and shoved her through the opening, narrowly avoiding the sharp stone ear hairs, into the blackness beyond. Homer grabbed Alcie and pushed her through behind Iole.
“Oooof!” came Alcie’s voice as she landed on the other side.
“Ow!” said Alcie, pulling an ear hair out of her arm.
“Dido! Inside!” Pandy shouted. “Go!” she ordered when he hesitated, looking at her. “I’m right behind you!”
The snow-white dog leapt into the darkness.
“Now you!” Pandy commanded Homer. The first Maenad was only two meters away.
“As if!” Homer said, lifting Pandy off the ground and stuffing her into the earhole like he was an expert sausage maker. At once, Pandy found herself enclosed in darkness with only the moonlight shining through from the other side, two ear hairs caught in her cloak. Then, even that dim light disappeared as Homer tried to squeeze through. Suddenly, Pandy heard several hysterical human barks—echoed by Dido—from the plateau, and light shone through the earhole again as Homer was pulled back from the opening. The Maenads had hold of him and were beginning to drag him off. Homer screamed for a reason unknown—something that no one recalled ever having heard; Pandy’s and Iole’s blood ran cold. But Alcie was up in a flash. Throwing off her cloak, she reached through the earhole, and, seeming to Pandy to grow larger than normal, blocked the light completely. She latched on to Homer’s arm just as it was disappearing from view.
“Take my Homie?” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I don’t think so!”
She pulled on his arm with such force that he was violently jerked away from three Maenads, each of whom had an iron grip on him … one with her teeth buried deeply in his cheek. It didn’t matter that his shoulders were really too small for the earhole; Alcie jerked him through with two rough tugs, shearing off many ear hairs. As Homer fell on the ground, two maenads appeared at the opening, one’s face covered in blood, the flesh of Homer’s cheek still in her mouth.
Alcie turned from her beloved Homer and rose up, her shoulders squared, her back straight, her eyes huge as platters; she broke off a sharp ear hair from the stone and slashed at the maenads, baring her teeth as if they were shaving razors, hissing and screaming like she were the leader of maenads herself.
The two maenads were so startled that they backed away, bumping into the group of crazed followers that had come up behind them. Alcie, feeling in complete control of herself and the situation, brought her arm down as if to signal the end of the fight …
… and the earhole closed, leaving Pandy, Alcie, Iole, Dido, and Homer in pitch black.
Chapter Two
Turning Up the Heat
It was dark and silent inside. Alcie droppe
d the stone ear hair as she sank against the wall to the floor; everyone heard it shatter.
No one said a word for ages. The loudest noise was that of Dido, panting hard.
Finally, Alcie heaved a tremendous sigh.
“Okay. Well, I guess I have a few questions.”
That one sentence, timed and phrased just right, made Pandy laugh so hard, she thought she might lose control of her bladder. Iole started laughing, and finally they heard Alcie join in, all laughing so hard that each one found herself lying on the ground, holding her stomach. Finally, they calmed down.
“Yes, Alce?” Pandy said. “What, exactly, would you like to know?”
And that started them off again; the muscles around Pandy’s mouth were now getting a little sore from being stretched in laughter. When there was no more sound to be made by any of them, Pandy took hold of Alcie’s arm.
“I would like to know, really, how you fought off those crazies and pulled Homer away from them.”
“No idea,” Alcie responded. “Had no idea I had that kind of strength. I just saw that Homer was in trouble and I knew it was up to me.”
“It’s not without precedent,” Iole said, her voice loud in the blackness. “My mother and I were walking home from the agora in Athens a few years ago and we were passing a temple to Apollo that was under construction. Some sections of a pillar were being hoisted, and suddenly the rope snapped. The stones landed on top of a woman and her baby. The woman was thrown clear but everybody thought the baby had been crushed. Then we all heard the baby crying underneath the rubble. The workers tried to move the stones but they were all too weak. The mother became frantic and she, all by herself, threw off three big hunks of pillar until she uncovered her child. It was, in a word, wild. There are other similar stories … I’ve heard them. People discover hidden strengths in times of stress. I used to think it was the gods intervening … but now I’m just not sure. This mother didn’t have the time or wits to appeal to any god. It was all her. Just like I think it was all you, Alcie; I’m not surprised.”
“Thank you,” Alcie said, the last of her involuntary laughs dying away. “I just saw my future being dragged off, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. No band of loonies was going to keep me from being wife of Homer of Crisa—in four or so years, that is. Right, Homie?”
Silence.
“Oh Gods!” Alcie shrieked, her cries echoing around what was obviously a very small chamber. “Homie! Where are you? Homie, are you all right?”
From a space between Pandy and Alcie there was a soft grunt.
“Light,” Iole said. “We need light.”
“Duh!” Alcie yelled.
“I’m only asking if we have anything to burn.”
“Oh. Homie, where’s your hand … and your arm? There!”
Alcie moved her hand up to Homer’s face and felt something sticky and wet coating her fingers. Homer whimpered and moved her hand away from his ravaged cheek.
“He’s bleeding,” she said, rolling clots of blood in the palm of her hand; her tone changing as emotion drained from her; announcing the fact as if she were saying that the day was cloudy. “Pandy, he’s bleeding. There’s a lot of blood.”
Suddenly Dido was up, licking Homer’s face, trying to clean the wound.
“Dido, no,” Alcie said.
“Dido, yes!” Iole countered. “Dog saliva has many antiseptic properties. It’ll be good for Homer.”
“Dido, lick!” said Alcie.
“Go ahead, boy,” Pandy urged, hearing the dog flop down to the ground as he cleaned Homer’s face.
Frantically, Pandy took stock of everything they were carrying. Only one thing was capable of burning; she didn’t want to give it up, but they needed light—to see Homer and to move forward. For the second time that day, she pulled the magic rope out of her carrying pouch.
“What are you doing?” Alcie asked.
“Quiet a sec,” Pandy said, her mind weighing the options. This rope would do almost anything Pandy told it to: what if she told it not to do something? There was only one way to find out. With an end of the rope in one hand, she concentrated her power over fire into the forefinger of her other hand. As her finger began to instantly glow orange, then red, then whitish, Iole and Alcie were just able to make out the look of intense concentration on their friend’s face.
“Rope,” she said, touching the end of it to her white-hot finger, “flame, but don’t burn!”
The rope caught fire and Pandy watched the slow creep of black work its way down from the end. Immediately, with her mind diverted to cooling her finger down, Pandy thought she was watching the rope destroy itself and raised her hand to dash the flame on the floor.
“Wait!” Iole said. “Wait. It’s slowing. I swear by Aphrodite, it’s slowing, Pandy.”
Sure enough, the rope was staying aflame, but only a small part was on fire and it was holding steady. The light was enough to illuminate Iole and Alcie, tangled in their robes, and Homer, lying against the wall of a tiny round room.
“Dido,” Pandy said softly. “Move away.”
Dido raised his white eyes to his mistress, his mouth ringed with red, and padded a short distance away. Bringing the light to Homer’s face, they could all see that he was pale and his left cheek was still gushing. His flesh had been torn to the bone and several teeth were exposed. Alcie raised her hand again in a vain attempt to staunch the wound.
“Alcie, no,” Iole said.
“I have to stop the blood,” Alcie muttered.
“Not you, honey … Pandy.”
“Me?”
“Your finger,” Iole said, looking at Pandy. “You need to cauterize … to seal the wound. You can stop the blood.”
At once, Pandy knew Iole was right. She felt revulsion at having to get anywhere near the horrible tear, but Homer would certainly die of blood loss and there was no way she was going to let that happen … especially now that he was engaged to be engaged to her best friend. Her finger was barely back to its normal color when her power heated it again and soon it was a glowing brand. She handed the burning rope to Iole.
“Ready, Homer?” she asked.
Homer reached for Alcie’s hand.
“I’m right here,” she said, holding his fingers tightly.
Homer closed his eyes and nodded.
The first touch of her finger to the exposed flesh made Homer jerk his head backward, knocking it into the wall. Alcie screamed; Iole threw her arms around Alcie and held her close as Dido whimpered. Then Homer tensed his whole body, clenched his jaw, and nodded his head again. Pandy slowly worked her finger around the edges of the entire wound, the searing flesh causing a horrible smell. Alcie began to sob, and Iole thought she was going to faint at the sickening stench. Homer didn’t make a sound, but tears flooded down his cheek; when they hit Pandy’s finger, there was a slight burst of steam. Alcie gripped Homer’s hand like she was holding on to a life rope in the sea. At last, Pandy pulled her finger away and took the rope from Iole; holding it close to his cheek, they could see that there was no blood flow at all, but the wound was immense.
“I got it,” she said, cooling her finger down again. “I got it all.”
Homer lay still for a moment, then lifted his head.
“Is it as large as I think?” he slurred, ever so slowly.
The three girls looked at each other.
“Nope,” Alcie said. “You’ll be healed in a week. Never know it happened.”
Homer looked at Iole.
“You won’t lie to me out of love,” he said, squeezing Alcie’s hand gently as she looked at him. How did he know she’d lied to him?
“It’s bad, Homer. It’s very bad,” Iole said. “I’m worried about infection.”
“Okay,” he said, cautiously relaxing all his muscles. “Now I know.”
Dido let out a long whine.
“Go ahead, boy,” Pandy said, knowing the mind of her dog.
Dido got up and padded back to again gingerly
lick Homer’s face.
Alcie took a spare toga from her carrying pouch and ripped many long strips from the bottom.
“This has been washed so many times; it’s worn but it’s clean,” she said, gently moving Dido aside and wrapping the makeshift bandages around Homer’s face to cover the wound. “When we get down to Hades’ palace, Persephone will have something to put on it. Some sort of oogly-boogly potion or poultice or something. Homie, hold your head up … Homie?”
But Homer had slipped into unconsciousness.
“I’m surprised he lasted this long,” Iole said. “I would have passed out when I saw Pandy’s finger coming toward me.”
“Well,” Pandy said, “we can’t move him and we can’t move forward until he’s awake.”
“We gotta give him just a little bit, Pandy,” Alcie said, cradling his head.
“Who were those insane she-dogs?” Pandy asked, then she held up her hand. “Wait a sec … rope, stay lit and hold yourself upright on the floor.”
She placed the end of the rope on the floor and it stayed upright, flame burning brightly, the rope not burning at all.
“Okay, who were they?”
“Maenads,” Iole said. “Followers of Dionysus and murderers of Orpheus. They come here once every full moon to reenact his death and dance around, hurting themselves and each other till they drop …”
Iole’s voice drifted off, and Pandy and Alcie could see that Iole was concentrating intensely on something else. Her eyes drifted to Dido, his head resting on top of Homer’s chest.
“Dogs,” she mumbled. “Dog.”
“Is she gone?” Alcie asked. “Have we officially lost the brains of the operation?”
“Iole?” Pandy said.
But Iole was recalling two other myths. One, the tale of Psyche and how her love for Eros as a youth had led her on this same path they now traveled. The second, the story of Aeneas, a young son of Aphrodite. His great adventure also led him into the underworld. Both had different experiences, but both had encountered one thing—one terrifying thing—that had forced them to think fast, acting only by their wits. She had read of how both had handled this terror and knew exactly what she had to do. Without warning, Iole began rifling through her carrying pouch.
Pandora Gets Frightened Page 2
