by Luke Romyn
“NO!” interjected Talbot. “No arguments. That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“Where do we go once we get to shore?” asked Wes.
“You will see the gates of Hades in the pass between the two mountains yonder,” Kharon pointed at the twin craggy cliffs they had been aiming for ever since arriving in Hades. “You must go through the gates.”
“What about Cerberus?” asked Talbot. Heracles had told him Cerberus was a beast from Tartarus, but something within Talbot still feared the three-headed dog was somehow still a part of Hades.
“Cerberus?” said Kharon, his brow furrowed in confusion, as well as something akin to fear. “Cerberus was expelled from this dominion during the wars between the realms. He is back in Tartarus, hopefully never to return.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Talbot. What was it about Cerberus that could produce fear in one such as Kharon?
“That beast is more than just one of the creatures of the pit. It tore apart most of my kind before the Olympians were able to band together and herd it back through the rift into Tartarus with their glowing weapons – weapons such as the one your companion carries, as well as the sword Heracles carried.”
Talbot glanced around in shock. “What happened to Heracles’s sword?”
Kharon stared at him, and Talbot saw past the features of Heracles, into the depths of a being so far beyond his concept of life that he felt instantly daunted. “The weapon was absorbed along with your companion,” said Kharon emotionlessly. “It will provide much sustenance throughout the centuries.”
Talbot shuddered, trying to escape the sensation that the thing before him had reached inside and run a cold tongue along his soul. It reminded him of someone scraping their fingernails down a chalk board, only the sensation was a hundred times worse. He looked around, wondering if he could throw up into the black sludge surrounding the boat without any of the viscous liquid splashing back on him –
“Don’t you dare vomit!” barked Wes. “That’ll dehydrate you, and we’re on short rations for water already, even without Gigantor slowing us down.”
Talbot swallowed back the bile rising in his throat and concentrated on settling his stomach. “What are you, Kharon?” he croaked, not looking at the Ferryman.
The Ferryman seemed to think about the question as he poled his craft methodically through the black, oily filth of the Styx.
“My race was here when the universe was born.” His voice was deep and full of trapped emotion. “We are virtually immortal, and travelled through the many dimensions looking for one free from the torment of emotion or physical pain. Along the way many of my kind went their own way, choosing to follow paths separate to what the rest of us believed. Some came to your world, passing themselves off as beings of supernatural origin – which I suppose they were.
“Many of your stories about creatures of horrific nature can be linked back to some of the more renegade members of my kind,” Kharon continued. “I believe they are known as such things as werewolves, vampires and other monsters. Opposing them are the more benevolent members of my race who believe we should not just take our sustenance without giving back. They have found a way to achieve what they require by feeding on the stronger emotions of humans. Love, happiness and caring feed them in much the same way as absorbing the physical substance fuels the others.”
“So what are these guys, fucking angels or something?” asked Wes.
“Yes, I believe that is one thing they have been called. They aid humanity in order to feed on the joyful emanations they produce. It is a much more difficult way of feeding, and requires huge amounts of people, but they feel the effort required is worth the end result.”
“Which is?” asked Talbot.
“Not killing the host, like our renegade brethren do,” replied Kharon, the pole not missing a stroke. “And they avoid being hunted by your kind.”
“What difference does that make if you’re invulnerable?” asked Wes, his eyes narrowed. “How can our kind hunt you?”
“We can be hurt, even killed if the being hunting us knows how. The creature Cerberus is well versed in the destruction of my kind,” said Kharon, his haunting eyes fixed ahead, unblinking. “Your people in particular are ingenious when it comes to killing. They found ways to hurt us you have thankfully not heard of.”
“What? A wooden stake through the heart? Silver bullets?” asked Wes incredulously.
Kharon grinned humorlessly. “Nothing so simple, I’m afraid. And before you ask, I’m not going to tell you,” he said to Wes, whose expression abruptly dropped.
“The rest of my kind came here,” continued Kharon, ignoring Wes’s brooding look. “Here we found a world with life which did not require what you would consider murder. We developed a way – much as you have just witnessed – of absorbing a life force completely. This way the creature we absorbed did not die in the strictest sense of the word; rather it lives on within us.”
“Still sounds like murder to me,” muttered Wes. Talbot nudged him and gave a warning glance. It wouldn’t do to upset the one creature in this realm that seemed to be helping them. He understood Wes’s misgivings after Kharon had devoured Heracles, but their mission had a much larger goal. If they died trying to avenge someone who had given his life freely, they were even more foolish than if they trusted Kharon. At the moment they were heading the way they needed to, and that was enough for Talbot.
Kharon shrugged. “You eat meat. Would you not think it more merciful if that meat were not subjected to horrendous treatment before being consumed by you? Would not the joining of two beings, with you in control, seem much more blissful in comparison?”
Wes opened his mouth, but he had no response, and quickly shut it. What Kharon described was inarguable. Talbot moved to say something, but the skiff suddenly juddered as it skidded up onto shore. He’d been so entranced with the conversation, he’d forgotten to pay attention to their surroundings. They were now on the far bank of the river Styx, one step closer to Hades – and one step closer to what lay beyond Hades: Tartarus.
“I can go no further,” said Kharon. “My duty to my liege is here, but from the memories of Heracles I know that the task ahead of you is momentous, so I leave you with this advice: When your path seems fractured, return to the beginning of your trail, and your answer will become clear once more.”
Wes and Talbot sat in the beached skiff for a moment, absorbing the words and trying to discern their meaning.
“What the hell is that fortune cookie crap?” scoffed Wes, standing and leaping lightly to the stony ground beyond the dark ripples of the Styx. “Return to the beginning of the path? What does that shit even mean?”
“It will make sense, when the time comes,” replied Kharon without the slightest animosity in his tone.
Talbot jumped out of the skiff slightly less elegantly than Wes, skidding before the SAS commando grabbed his arm, helping him to regain his balance. Talbot nodded his thanks to Wes, and turned back to Kharon, unsure of how to address the creature who had effectively eaten his companion, but who had also delivered them safely across a river of virulent toxins and God knew what else. He eventually settled for a small salute, immediately feeling like a total idiot for having done so, moving to follow Wes up the bank.
“Remember what I have told you, Talbot Harrison,” echoed the Ferryman. “It is not mere trickery as your companion suspects. My kind has seen more than you could imagine, and we are privy to knowledge you could scarcely comprehend.”
Talbot turned back to respond, but Kharon was gone, not even a ripple left as evidence of him ever having been there. Almost beyond shock by now, he nonetheless took a step back in surprise. He stood there momentarily, before shrugging his shoulders, and finally following Wes toward the entrance to Hades’s domain.
***
Talbot paused at the mouth of the valley, his jaw dropping.
Before them towered a set of gates he could have never imagined outside of this realm. They were at least t
he height of the Statue of Liberty, seemingly constructed directly from the rock of the sheer vertical walls which travelled away in each direction for miles on either side until the mountains consumed them. Or maybe those mountains had birthed them, growing them like children to join in the center, the gates grasping like hands, forbidding entrance to this most dreaded of kingdoms.
Comprised of what appeared to be black obsidian – commonly known as volcanic glass – carved into the gates were figures engaging in acts of hedonistic torture and what appeared to be various sorts of bizarre copulation, some figures seeming to be joined sexually with half beasts, others devouring the body parts of their lovers: a gigantic sadistic sculpture within a desert of hopelessness.
Wes strode off ahead, the sword of Chiron held lightly in his right hand, once more leaving Talbot to marvel at his ability to make anything seem less daunting. Even here, in the most inhospitable environment imaginable, faced with gates of such intense repulsiveness, Wes’s nature appeared indomitable. The casual way he regarded the gates before turning and spitting, showed his contempt for things which would render normal men – men like Talbot – terrified.
As if on cue, Wes began whistling. It was a happy tune, and he was still strolling casually toward the gates depicting indulgences of anguish. Incredible. With such a simple action, Wes made the entire situation seem more bearable, and Talbot found himself grinning as he followed the commando.
The huge gates were sealed against them. They seemed impenetrable, unscalable too, due to the intensely slippery surface of the volcanic glass. Along the top, Talbot spotted cruel, downward-pointing obsidian spikes which would make it impossible to climb over, even if by some miracle they were able to get within reach of the top.
A rumbling thunder echoed through the valley mouth, and the gates began to move. Slowly, ponderously, they opened outward, and Talbot glanced around hurriedly for a place to take cover. Wes merely stood, Chiron’s sword held casually beside him, his left thumb hooked into the strap of his supply pack in case he had to lose it quickly.
Nothing rushed out.
No beasts from the pit were disgorged from the opening maw.
Talbot needed to pee.
The gates took several minutes to open fully, and when they had, a long, black, glittering road led off into the distance. Wes glanced around at him, raising an eyebrow.
“I guess we have to follow the sparkly, black road, then,” mused the commando. He began to walk, humming quietly, before breaking into song with the tune from The Wizard of Oz.
“Follow the sparkly, black road. Follow the sparkly, black road. Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the sparkly, black road....”
Talbot thanked God or whoever was in charge that Wes was on his side. Talbot stepped through the ominous gates, jumping slightly as a loud CRAAACK! indicated the synchronous shutting of the gates behind them. Within moments, they had closed completely, sealing them in, leaving no room for retreat.
Talbot jogged slightly to catch up with Wes. Even carrying the pack full of supplies, Wes set a hefty pace.
“How do you do it, Wes?” he asked when he was eventually alongside the commando.
“Do what?” countered Wes, his eyes scanning from one side of the valley to the other, occasionally flitting back to check behind them.
“How do you seem so calm amid all this craziness?”
Wes grinned. “This stuff ain’t so bad, mate. You should try being married.”
“Were you married?” asked Talbot, intrigued by this tidbit of insight into Wes.
“Nah, fuck that!” said Wes emphatically. “Do you think I’m crazy? No way, single all the way buddy.”
Talbot stared at him for a moment, perplexed at the amazing contradiction of Wes’s statement, but brushed it aside. “How come it doesn’t affect you?” he asked again.
Wes finally glanced at him, gauging him. “It comes down to what there is to actually be afraid of,” he said finally, his features serious.
“What do you mean?” asked Talbot.
“People are always so scared about everything,” said Wes, his eyes resuming their constant scan of the area as the two of them strode through the obsidian-walled valley. “For instance, what are you afraid of right now?”
Talbot paused for a moment.
“Why do you have to think about it?” interjected Wes. “If there is a direct threat, you should be able to answer immediately.”
“Well, there isn’t a direct threat,” said Talbot.
“So why are you scared?”
“Well....” Talbot looked around. “Something might happen.”
“Then worry about it when it actually happens. I mean, sure, keep an eye out for shit, but don’t let it affect you internally. Even when some bad shit does happen, you need to react – so you shouldn’t be scared then either. For me, I’m more interested in finding out who opened those big fucking gates back there, and right now nothing can come at us without us spotting it – unless it comes straight through those rocks, which isn’t impossible after everything we’ve seen so far, but I somehow doubt it. I mean, why make the gates out of that black shit if things can move straight through it. So tell me; why are you scared, Doctor Harrison?”
Talbot paused, Wes carrying on for several steps before stopping and looking at him. Broken down into such simplistic terms, Talbot realized his foolishness and tried to release the tension he held deep within. He had vowed back at the centaur village not to be afraid anymore, but since that moment it had crept back up on him, little by little.
What did they really have to be afraid of, right at this moment?
And then it came to him.
The unknown.
That’s what Talbot was afraid of, what he had always been afraid of: the unknown. A specific event or action never really scared him, but not knowing what was going to happen next had always terrified him. Perhaps this is why being with Wes strengthened him; the man’s confidence made him feel nothing uncontrollable was about to occur.
Or it could just be because Wes was the toughest guy Talbot had ever met.
Talbot grinned, once more following Wes down the glittering mountain pass, somehow feeling his fears repressed once more.
As he prayed they would stay.
CHAPTER 12
The haunting melody floated down, surrounding them, caressing Talbot’s mind with promises of comfort and love. In an instant, Wes was forgotten, their mission became unimportant, life itself held no significance – the only thing that mattered was the wonderful song....
Talbot wandered off the glittering ebony path, strolling across the shale-like stone and through a small gulley. They had left the walled section far behind them, and now the broken desert of Hades stretched forever in every direction.
The music dragged him, his feet moving of their own volition. He yearned to meet the singer, the orchestra, whatever was pouring his most desirous yearnings into this song. Everything Talbot had ever imagined was promised to him, conveyed along an emotional thread so deep he soon felt tears coursing down his cheeks.
And then he saw her.
Beyond beautiful, she sat atop a short outcrop of rocks, reaching out to him, her soul-wrenching song seemingly emanating from within her. Blonde hair cascaded down, surrounding the most incredibly beautiful features possessed by any woman.
And she yearned for him!
Talbot couldn’t believe his luck. He ran down the small slope, his feet skidding slightly on the loose shale as his beautiful beloved ran toward him, her loose dress flowing behind her, the warm sun upon her cheeks –
Sun? There’s no sun in Hades.
Talbot tried to follow the path of the thought, knowing something wasn’t right about this situation, but the song hit him once more, pushing aside all his doubts. She loved him; this wondrous creation wanted nothing more than to be with him forever and ever....
Talbot reached for his beloved’s hand, longing to taste her mouth, his need all consuming. He gr
asped her, pulling her toward his embrace, her mouth opening slightly in anticipation of his kiss.
An Olympian sword easily cleaved her beautiful neck, her head toppling to the side and falling to the ground with a soft thud. The mists filling his mind parted, but horror still filled Talbot, swiftly replaced by rage, and he launched himself at his beloved’s assailant, reaching for eyes, anything to avenge his stolen passions.
“Control yourself, human,” commanded his target, quickly securing his flailing arms. Talbot tried to bite him, but found himself spun to face the object of his desire. “Look at what you were about to embrace,” the voice hissed, forcing his gaze down.
Lying before him on the rough shale, a hideous carcass mocked Talbot, and he frantically searched for the body of his beloved to no avail. The wonderful sunlight which had glowed only moments before had also disappeared. He looked at the thing once more, noting the torn and shabby ashen shift it wore, empty, drooping gray breasts hanging from an emaciated ribcage. His eyes moved down, noting with horror the vulture-like legs which sprouted from the creature’s waist, wasted remnants of feathers where the pubic region should have been.
The arms were human, apart from the blackened claws extending from the fingertips, something green and toxic-looking dripping from their ends. Talbot’s gaze moved to the decapitated head, wisps of gray hair sticking out in clumps from its irregularly-shaped cranium, the face –
Oh dear GOD!
A sharp, hooked beak protruded from the center of the creature’s face, full of horrific, shark-like teeth. The teeth themselves shone green and gangrenous, saliva dripping from them and hissing slightly as it touched the stone. Wrinkled gray skin folded around a scabby and diseased face, several malignant-looking warts sprouting from the cheeks. And then Talbot saw the eyes....
They were the eyes of the woman who had sung to him, entrancing him with the most wondrous emotions. Those eyes appeared completely out of place, and Talbot struggled to comprehend what had happened.
