Hephaestion nodded. “You’re welcome,” he replied as he hung his head in exhaustion.
“Well, enough of that,” Boudica interjected. “We need Heph to get some rest. I’ve booked passage on a dirigible for me and him to cross the pit. I’ve been cooking a plan to get him down into Hell without being noticed. It was Gottbert’s idea, really.”
“I’ve arranged a contact with you by wire.” Gottbert took over. “Several Buddhist monks will be at the airship’s arriving dock on the other side of the pit, waiting for you. They’re preparing for another prayer expedition into the depths, and they’ll provide you safe escort as far as the Suicide Wood. As for leaving New Dis undetected, they have robes for you.”
“Once those hoods are up, you’ll all look exactly alike,” Boudica said. “We’ll figure out a way to disguise your javelin as a walking stick or something. They don’t carry weapons into the pit, so it will be a challenge.”
“How do they survive without weapons?” Hephaestion asked incredulously.
“Even the worst of Hell won’t raise a hand against a gathering of Heavenbound Buddhist monks. The men you will be traveling with exude such grace that it stays any violent hand.”
Getting to his feet with a painful wince, Hephaestion yanked Boudica into a hug. “Thank you.”
Taken aback for a moment, Boudica returned the gesture.
Hephaestion smiled as he pulled away, nodding to his fellow warrior and patting her shoulder. When he stepped to Adina, she started when she realized that she was in for a hug next. Trying to form a polite protest, Adina fumbled her words as Hephaestion moved in quickly and wrapped his arms around her.
“There, there. Ah, you’re…welcome?” His massive chest muffled her reply, and she patted his back awkwardly.
Next came Gottbert, who already had his arms wide in anticipation. “May all arms be open to you always,” the young priest blessed Hephaestion, then kissed him on both cheeks. “And may you always open your arms to others.”
Everyone then turned to Yitz.
“I’m not a hugger. I’m a Jew.”
Hephaestion would not be deterred, and Yitz found himself scooped up into the Greek’s massive embrace. “I’ll miss you, my reluctant savior. I hope you find adventure without me.”
When his feet touched the floor again, Yitz straightened his waistcoat. “Well, actually, I was thinking of joining you and Boudica on the airship and seeing you off with the monks. Only right that I see you to the end of your road here.”
Yitz felt sure that, whether it took years or decades or centuries, Hephaestion would accomplish his mission and keep his vow to them: Yitz and Adina’s boy would know he was loved and missed. He hadn’t forgotten how eager Hephaestion had been to be on his way, but the moment he heard that Albrecht was in trouble, his priorities had changed. Not only was Hephaestion a more moral and probably better man than himself, Yitz enjoyed the bragging rights of his acquaintance, which would only be cemented by seeing Hephaestion onward in his journey. At least, until he reached the other side of the pit.
Clearing his throat, Yitz handed Hephaestion several documents bound in leather. “I’ll give this to you now. These are illustrations and details regarding our boy. During your trip, we’ll read over them together.”
“Of course,” Hephaestion said, untying the bindings and thumbing through the contents. The top parchment displayed a composite drawing of their son. The hardness of his mother’s eyes yielded to the wily smirk of his father. “I’ll find him.”
Gentle as a breeze, Minu arrived, her hand brushing against Hephaestion’s elbow. She rested her temple on his arm in a child-like pose of adoration.
“You are the good kind of broken man, Hephaestion,” she whispered. “When you are whole, find us again.”
Chapter 22
Hephaestion had taken a day to rest. After another round of goodbyes, Boudica pulled up in front of Minu’s home. Rarely had Yitz been in such a vehicle, and he stood on the curb with his bags packed excitedly humming like an impatient child.
“I’ll let you sit up front,” Yitz offered graciously to Hephaestion.
When Boudica spun the crank, the small, topless vehicle coughed, gurgled, and growled to life with hellfire under its bonnet. The flaming glow also acted as a forward light, its intensity focused with polished, flanking steel sheets, and as they drove to the dirigible docking towers, the flickering red light revealed the road before them.
“I love driving,” Boudica said in a rare moment of unrestrained joy as they jittered their way through the cobbled streets, slowing for the crowds and wagons rolling by. “When I walked the Earth, we had nothing like this. Our machines were made of wood and weighted stone, held together by nails and rope. I am so excited to see what trickles down to us next.”
“It’s just not a horse,” Hephaestion complained. “Nothing feels like a horse. Nothing is more powerful, and the horse keeps you warm at night and gives you shade during the day. This car is impressive in its own way, but I could roll it over with my arms, and then it is helpless. It would have no place off the road. Or on a battlefield.”
“True…but the ‘car’ has a big brother. A tank. Giant and weighing many, many stone. They roll like a metal avalanche and crush trees in their way. And at the top, a cannon.”
Hephaestion’s eyebrows rose, impressed. He liked Boudica—she seemed to be on his level, and, despite being anchored to Heaven, her rough edge made her approachable.
“How did you die?” he asked without thinking.
“I killed myself.”
Stunned, he stared at her. “How are you not a tree?”
“Not everyone who kills themselves is committing suicide. Suicide is giving up on your humanity, and permanently destroying the world that surrounds you. I fought to the last, Hephaestion. I watched tens of thousands of my people get executed. When the enemy came to me, they meant to take me as a prize to return to their mad emperor. They wanted to beat us by breaking me. So I ended my life before they could.”
“Do your people not have a ward here in New Dis, or an enclave in Purgatory?”
“Here and there. When I first died and landed in Purgatory as you did, I sought out every one of those tens of thousands of souls to beg their forgiveness. My will pitted them against Rome. By following me, they died. I understand what you’re doing, Hephaestion. I do. And you’ll do it, just as I did.”
“Do what—be free from Purgatory?”
“No. Well, maybe. But you’ll sort your old life. You’ll move on.”
Hephaestion’s hand settled on the small leather pouch containing the heart-ripper. He would rescue Alexander from his suffering and sing his body back into being with the ancient hymns of Macedonia. He would sleep next to his heart and breathe life back into its chambers. They would be whole like Minu said and move on together like Boudica.
Soon after, Boudica slowed and brought them to a jolting halt by tugging on the handbrake. A large field of metal towers comprised of beams and rivets extended before them, and at the very top of the construction, drifted what appeared to be giant balloons.
“I...I’ve never imagined anything like that. Are those airships?” Hephaestion stood on his seat.
“Indeed they are. Can a horse do that?” Yitz chuckled from the back seat.
“We’re going on one?”
“Across the pit. It saves at least two days in travel time, and it’s the safest method. I imagine you’ve had enough of trains,” Boudica said as she climbed out of the driver’s seat and began unloading her travel pack. Hephaestion gathered his sword, javelin, and shield halves. The astrolabe map hid inside his bag, as well as the bundle concerning Yitz and Adina’s son, along with a decanter and some basic provisions for the journey.
“It looks like a long climb.” Hephaestion regarded the stretch of towers, each as tall as a mountain.
/> “It’s no climb at all.” Yitz smiled, beckoning him forward.
Hephaestion stepped into yet another strange structure—“an elevator,” Yitz had said. A cage packed with other passengers of various races and cultures. Each nodded to each other politely before they jammed together inside.
With a metal grind and a sudden jerk, the elevator ascended. Hephaestion felt his stomach go queasy as the metal enclosure accelerated, and he gripped Boudica’s shoulder for balance.
She laughed, steadying him with a hand on his back. As they rose, the shouts and hisses and engine growls of the street disappeared into a windy quiet. The dirigibles were like nothing he had ever seen before, and he surmised that they floated using some unearthly magic born of the afterlife. Each was basically a small craft, some of metal and others of wood, tethered to a large air bladder that held them perilously high above the rooftops of New Dis.
“Are they safe?” Hephaestion blurted in a sudden panic.
All eyes in the lift locked onto him.
“Just like any ship, they are as safe as its crew. And I booked us a cabin on a reliable one,” Yitz said quietly.
Boudica pointed out the most ragged, battered ship of the bunch. Large, with a giant steel bladder, the ship dangling underneath resembled a frigate plucked from the water, its masts removed. The rudder even hung loose from its stern.
“It looks like shit,” Hephaestion commented, causing the elevator to erupt into laughter. The surrounding crowd wriggled their hands free to pat him on the back as several voices gave playful cheers.
Stalling at the top, the front gate slid open with a screeching metal grind. Everyone piled out, still grinning and giggling at Hephaestion’s honesty. Embarrassed, he followed Boudica and Yitz to their gangway while the rest of the crowd splintered off to their various airships and destinations.
Gripping the railing tightly, Hephaestion did his best not to look down, but he couldn’t help himself; the view of the central ward captured his gaze, and the white clock loomed in the distance. Still, panic forced him to crouch lower and lower as he walked, his hands clutching the railing as his shoulder sack dragged along the grated walkway.
“Are you afraid of heights?” Boudica asked from somewhere above him.
“I’m not sure. This would be my first experience with them, I suspect. I’ve been up mountains and on buildings, but I’ve usually been able to handle it. This is something new.”
Tucking her hand under his arm, she hoisted him up.
“Hold onto me, Lord Hephaestion, general of the Macedonian Companions and co-ruler of Greece. We’ll get you onto the ship, and you’ll fly across the pit like a cloud.”
He nodded anxiously.
The captain of their ship stood at the entrance of his gangplank and shook Yitz’s hand. A gruff-looking man, he wore a braided beard adorned with glass beads, a wide tricorn hat, and a sheathed cutlass at his side. Tucked into his leather belt were two revolvers, hammers cocked, flanking a polished silver buckle.
“Welcome aboard, sirs and madam!” he bellowed. “Come aboard the finest ship that ever was. We sailed the seas of the Earth, sailed the seas of the damned, and now we sail the sky. We’ve all the same crew, in death as in life, and we’ve rebuilt our same ship plank by plank. I’m Captain Adam Alan. And the lovely lady you are about to board for a twenty-six hour journey is Mom.”
“Thank you, Captain. Please forgive my friend, here. He’s never been up this high before. He also just rode in his first elevator.” Boudica gave Hephaestion a tiny shove.
“I’ve also never been in a car before today, either,” Hephaestion grumbled, adjusting his satchel and meeting the captain’s gaze.
“And you’re going to end the day soaring through the air.” Captain Alan laughed.
“Is your ship really called ‘Mom’?” Hephaestion asked cautiously.
“Yes, it is. We love Mom. Mom loves us. Even bad men love their mothers. We take care of her, and she rocks us to sleep. She belongs to all of us, and we belong to her. So, climb aboard, find your cabin, and watch the dismal fires below pass by.”
Chapter 23
“The intention is to make our passengers wander about and explore our marvelous ship,” Captain Alan explained. “It’s why the cabins are so small and unwelcoming. Meander and get to know Mom. We also cut out the bottom of the hull and turned it into a viewing deck so you can see directly down into the pit. Used to be able to see a perfect red ring of the boiling river glowing through the murk. Go on down and have a look!”
Hephaestion turned green at the thought.
“Or don’t!” the captain cheerily added, clapping Hephaestion’s shoulder. “Climb into a bunk, let Mom care for you, and be lulled to sleep. We shove off in a few.” And with that, he spun about, shot Boudica an inviting wink, and scampered down the narrow hallway to tend to the crew.
“I think I’ll take the bottom hammock, if you don’t mind,” Yitz said, lazily rolling into its sagging folds.
“I could use some rest, too, after my recent beating,” Hephaestion confessed, fumbling with the top bunk.
Boudica held the netting steady for him to climb in. “I won’t let you lounge for long. You’ll regret not seeing down into the pit directly. Not many get such a sight.”
“Is that why you chose this airboat?” Hephaestion asked.
Yitz yawned an affirmative and then continued. “I chose Mom and her crew because they’ve been together since they were young men, and that means they probably can’t be bribed or corrupted against each other. Which also means that none of them will report our goings or comings, and we don’t have to worry about one yanking out your heart and tossing it overboard.”
Hephaestion’s hammock swung unevenly as the boat shuddered beneath them, and Boudica steadied herself against the cabin wall. Yitz was halfway asleep.
“Feels like we’re underway. I’m going up to the main deck to enjoy the view. You can find me easily enough, Hephaestion.”
A dim brass oil lamp mounted on the wall lit the room. Hephaestion lay still, lulled by Mom’s gentle motion, watching the tiny flame dance. Despite his frustration with himself and his renewed terror of heights, he was glad to be in a dark, warm place.
He wondered if the monks would be more help than hindrance, but then immediately chastised himself for his impatience. He would be doomed alone in Hell and his fate already sealed if not for the company and kindness of others. He just hoped the monks would be as charming and delightful as Boudica, Minu, Adina, Gottbert, and Yitz. Or even the boisterous Captain Adam Alan.
Hephaestion allowed Mom to rock him to sleep as she sang to him a lullaby composed of creaking wooden planks and whistling wind.
Hephaestion’s memories of sailing were fond ones. Many times he and Alexander toured through the Aegean Sea on the royal trireme, plotting out island locations for future hideaways or monuments. Sometimes they would get the entire forward deck to themselves at night and sip wine while star gazing.
“That’s a penis.” Alexander said, tracing his finger through the air to outline a constellation he’d just discovered. The two men had laid out their bedroll on the deck, their feet propped up on bundled rope, and their cloaks folded beneath their heads as pillows. Several bottles of wine surrounded them, one of which had been completely drained.
“Always penishes with you.” Hephaestion laughed lazily.
“I am what I am,” Alexander confessed. “What do you see, Patty?”
“Stars.”
“That’s it? Just stars? You don’t draw things with them like the scholars?”
“Whatever you want to see up there is what you see. Scholars want to see a tiger, and then we all have to pretend we see the tiger, too.”
“As your king, I demand you see penises,” Alexander pronounced.
“You subject me to yours often enough. And beside
s, I don’t see any stars close enough to draw your snail to proper scale.”
“I’ll remind you of that next time I’m in the middle of doing that thing you like so much.”
“You fucker.”
“Only if you apologize to your king,” Alexander chided.
Both men laughed, their joy echoing over the still water that lapped the hull.
“Seriously, you don’t see a bear or a hunter?” Alexander inquired.
“I just see stars. Stars are beautiful enough on their own. Or maybe I lack imagination. Which is why you have the vision, and I just keep the parts moving.”
Alexander rolled onto his side and touched Hephaestion’s shoulder. “I hate it when you diminish your role, Patty. I need you. Macedonia needs you. All of Greece, and the world, needs you.”
With that, Alexander let the wine take hold. He nestled his head under Hephaestion’s arm, bound himself in his cloak, and promptly fell asleep. Hephaestion wondered at how easily Alexander fell asleep. No matter how traumatizing or thrilling the day, the man could slip under instantly anywhere. Was it indicative of inner peace and a sign of completely knowing oneself? Hephaestion wondered if he could attain such internal calm.
The boat swayed with the wind’s whisper, and Hephaestion spent much of the night counting and organizing the stars into groups by brightness and size while his arm fell asleep under Alexander.
Hephaestion murmured Alexander’s name, flailing about for his hand. Then he stuttered awake, his chest aching with loss and fear, even as his eyes fluttered open.
A blade winked against the weak light before plunging down, and the ache in his chest morphed into searing heat. Disoriented and in agony, Hephaestion stared up at the black figure that held him down.
Instincts taking over, he clamped his fingers around the attacker’s forearm to anchor the blade lodged in his chest. Using the hammock’s unsteady balance for momentum, he rammed his palm into the man’s chin, upsetting the assailant’s footing on the net below and dumping them both on top of Yitz.
Trampling in the Land of Woe Page 13
