by R.N. Decker
Pax looked where the man had looked and saw as much as he really wanted to see. The river; green and lifeless, covered in algae, swirling in eddies of pooled filth and detritus. And the other side, waiting for anyone crazy enough to go; a lifeless barren landscape made of nothing but poisoned trees and blackened earth. He didn’t want to cross, but he knew he must if he would see his wife again.
Pax looked to the ferryman and nodded. “Yes, it’s true, the other side looks unwelcoming and unfavorable to any who happens upon its shores. But I am a traveler with nothing to fear. I wish to see the other side, whether in this world or the next.”
The ferryman leaned toward Pax, holding his pole for support and asked, “What do you do, boy? You don’t look old enough to know what you want or where to go. What do you know I do not?”
Pax smiled then. It never seemed to amaze him the curiosity of people. All wanted to know who he was and what he knew they did not, and what they could get from the knowledge. Slightly bowing at the waist again to the man, never taking his eyes from the pole and the river behind it, Pax said charmingly, “I know much and nothing at all. I have been far and wide and nowhere special. For a ride or a wager, I will tell you what you truly want to know and what you truly will gain from the knowledge.”
The ferryman’s eyes sparkled with an unanswered question. Pax knew it was coming, he could see it under his wrinkled brows. “Tell me boy . . .”
Here it comes.
“Why must I row this ferry backwards and forwards from one side to the other and never set foot on land? Never be free?”
Got you!
“I am saddened I do not know, my friend. But if you take me across I will find out for you.”
Part 5
The Styx
The journey across the river wasn’t a pleasant ride in the least for Pax. The ferryman, a straggly man only trying to find a way out of his dilemma, seemed to be in constant agony. He muttered constantly about not being able to set foot on land, and this being the punishment of the Devil, and with his fingers grinding against the poling staff, sounding like grain grinding in a pestle, the noise nearly set his nerves to tingling. And the river itself changed halfway across; the water turned a deep blackish purple color, and the smell coming off it gagged and clotted Pax’s nostrils. He knew just from the look of the sludgy water nothing would be able to live in it.
The other side of the river was no more inviting than the side he came from. The trees were dead or dying and twisted into odd shapes. The leaves, or more like the one’s he could make out, were brown and withered, or none on the branches at all. It looked as if rot had set into everything living, even the soil, allowing nothing to grow under the trees but shrubs and brush. The very ground looked decayed, yellow, and puss filled. A very uninviting place indeed.
Part 6
Devil’s Grandmother
Pax walked slowly along a weed-encrusted trail after crossing the river. He’d told the ferryman to wait and he’d be back as fast as he could. The ferryman chuckled and said, “Boy, If you’re back at all I’ll take you back across for nothing.”
Pax smiled, his time finding Hell so far had been very interesting. Within an hour of watching the dead and dying trees around him, he came upon a blackened, soot smeared entrance to a cave. There was no mountain or hill the cave was in, it was simply there. One minute nothing, the next, an opening in the ground. It sloped slightly downwards when he looked inside, but didn’t look too steep. But the opening . . . the opening was huge, like a giant crab had dug itself a hole, or a spider a trap. But whatever the reason, this had to be the place. Looking around at the emptiness and wastes for as far as he could see, there was nowhere else to go but down.
Cautiously Pax stepped in the hole, going in the only direction he could; down. And almost immediately the light from the outside disappeared and it was pitch black. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face the blackness was so absolute. But, just before his nerves could desert him and his knees went weak with fright, a small dot of light appeared ahead of him.
The light wasn’t bright, but he recognized what it was immediately; a candle being lit inside a shack or cabin window. Why anyone would put a shack inside a cave Pax had no idea, but any light in a storm as the saying goes.The darkness around Pax was the blackest he’d ever encountered, so he had to move slowly. Approaching the place nervously he could only make out the light in the window. Around the cabin was nothing but blackness and emptiness. As far as he could tell, nothing was behind the shack at all, nothing but shadows and rock walls.
Pax looked into the window, maybe if he could see what or who was in there he could figure out what to do next. It was said Split-foot was as sly as an attar and just as mean, so any advantage would be welcome, because he didn’t have a clue as to how to go about getting the three hairs.
Peeking inside the small run-down shack, Pax got the shock of his life; sitting in a well worn arm chair, holding a ball of twine as if knitting, was an old crone of a woman. And if his memory didn’t deceive him, it was the same woman who had given him directions to Hell on the outskirts of the Dark Forest; the witch of the woods.
Pax boldly walked into the shack and said, “What are you doing here old woman? Why aren’t you back at the beginning of the Dark Forest?” He wanted answers. She could have brought him here if he would have known. She didn’t have to lie to him and send him on a wild goose chase like this.
The old woman in the arm chair jerked her head up at Pax, startled, as he came bursting through the door. After sizing the young man up for a moment, a sly crafty mien came over her face, “Who are you, boy? And what do you want?”
Pax was flummoxed. What does she mean? She knows full well who I am. “You know who I am. You told me how to get here after all. This is Hell isn’t it?”
The old woman looked at Pax but didn’t say anything for a moment. Then her eyes brightened with understanding and said, “You must think I’m the witch of the woods.”
As Pax watched the old woman in the chair, a shimmer appeared around her, like a cloud or a mist, blurring his vision. It was subtle and quick, but it happened. When he stepped closer he could see it wasn’t the same woman after all, not the witch, but she favored her looks so much she could have been her sister. Pax shook his head to try and clear the image from his mind. “No. No, I guess not, now I’m closer to you. But . . .”
The woman nodded, smiling a toothless grin at Pax. “It’s been said I do look like her. Or the other way around. Doesn’t matter. Did she send you here?”
Pax only nodded.
“Why boy? What do you want in the Devil’s House?”
“I wish to get three golden hairs from the head of the Devil.”
The old woman chuckled, more a cackle than a laugh. “Why would you want such a thing, boy? That is a dangerous venture, and a good deal to ask for. If he finds you here he will surely make you suffer. You must leave.”
Pax shook his head. “I cannot. I must have the three hairs or never be able to see my wife again.”
“I don’t know how to help you, boy.” The old woman said to Pax. “I am but the Devil’s Grandmother, at least that is what people think of me, he will not listen to one such as I. I am merely here to do his bidding and feed his gullet when he has not fed enough on the souls of the damned.” Pax looked at the old woman with such pleading she could think of nothing else to change his mind. Eventually she gave in to it. “But . . . I have nothing but pity for your plight. I was once young, although you cannot tell now. And I have often had such talks with the Horned One about being more like his brothers, or even his father on high. But he never listens. Since his fall from grace, he has been uncontrollable. But maybe . . .” she looked at Pax with sorrowful eyes and a small tear sliding down her cheek, “maybe I can teach him a lesson with helping you.”
Pax’s own eyes filled with tears of gratitude. He nodded his thanks.
Part 7
Ajattar
The o
ld grandmother had pity on Pax, she didn’t know if she could help, but she knew she had to try. The many long years of arguing and browbeating the Lord of the Underworld had done nothing for her but turn her older and make her crabbier. Maybe if she could actually help someone and not just stand by and watch the many souls be thrown over the cliff into the abyss, to their eternal damnation, her own soul might find a spark of relief.
Ajattar, the old Grandmother, turned to Pax after his meal and said, “Boy, you know you have come to a very bad place. A place of damnation and evil. Split-foot is not the easiest being to get along with, and when he comes home again, if he has not had his fill, he will not be easy to handle.”
Pax nodded. “I’ve heard he was the attar of the Garden. I can only guess how it is with him, but I must take the chance. I must do this or risk not seeing my wife again.”
Ajattar nodded with a glum look on her face. “Yes, I know. But you cannot be seen by the master of Lies. You must hide.”
Pax looked around the tiny one room shack and frowned. “There is no place. Where do you suggest?”
The old woman grinned. “With me, in my clothes.”
Chapter 7
Part 1
Devil in Disguise
“Come on, boy, get up here. The Devil should be here any time.”
Pax looked down at himself and marveled at the sight of his own body; he no longer had just two legs, he had six and was only one inch long and red in color, with pincers in front of his mouth, and two antenna on the top of his head. Pax had been turned into an ant.
“Hurry, boy!” exclaimed Ajattar. “Stop admiring yourself. I’ll turn you back after this is over.”
Pax squeaked, or gurgled, or something. He didn’t know exactly how to describe the noise coming from his mouth.
“Stop that!” scolded the woman. “No need in using that kind of language. Just get up here.”
The magic the old woman had used on Pax had been very powerful, enough so she could change him into anything she wanted. He never would have thought it possible. Pax had of course heard many tales of witchcraft and magic, but nothing on this scale. Scurrying as fast as his six legs could carry him, he crawled up the old Grandmother’s leg and found a comforle spot inside her skirt pocket to hide and wait.
Part 2
Questions
Sitting and waiting was the hardest part. The journey to Hell couldn’t have been described as pleasant by any means, but getting here and then having to wait to see if he’d actually succeed with his task was another.
Pax asked, “Old Grandmother?”
“Hush, boy. He could be here any minute.”
Pax squeaked again. “I have to tell you. I’d forgotten. On the way here I came through two small towns with problems. They wouldn’t let me pass until I promised to find solutions to them.”
“What towns? What problems, boy?”
Pax ignored telling her the names of the towns. “The first town,” said Pax, “had a fountain that used to flow with wine, but now it doesn’t give anything, not even water.”
“And the other, boy?”
“They have a tree that used to grow gold apples, now not even leaves will bloom on the branches.”
Ajattar sighed. “And you want those answered along with the taking of the three hairs?
“Yes,” answered Pax. “Plus one other thing.”
Ajattar, the Grandmother of the Devil sighed deeply and then groaned. “You ask much from an old woman, boy.” After a moment however, she asked, “What’s the other?”
“Why the ferryman can’t stop rowing back and forth from the Dark Forest side of the river and the shores of Hell. And why he can never set foot on land or be released from his duties.” Pax was praying this wasn’t too much for the old woman to find out. He knew it was asking a lot. More than he should. But he desperately wanted to see Europa again.
The old woman cackled. “Let me see what I can do. In for a penny, in for a pound. It’s too late for either of us to back out now, for he comes. Now hush, keep your mouth shut and your ears open.”
“Thank you,” Pax said softly. “I’ll be forever in your debt.”
“Yes,” said the woman, laughing softly. “Yes, you will. Now, hush.” Her voice went to a whisper, her head whipping around to the sight of the door flinging open. “He’s here.”
Part 3
Split-foot
True to the old woman’s words, the Devil strode through the door. Pax could see quite clearly where he was and was shocked at what he beheld. He’d expected to see a being of monstrous size and power, horns sprouting from his forehead, cloven hooves scraping the wood of the cabin’s floor, and fire coming from his nostrils with every breath he took. The reality, quite different. The being who threw open the door, merely a man wearing a long overcoat with a sun burnt complexion, broad flat nose, shaggy unkempt brownish dirty hair, and brown piercing eyes which could have been in anyone’s head. All-in-all, quite the disappointment.
The tall man stopped after entering the door, cocking his head as if listening to a song only he could hear. After a moment he scrunched his nose and bellowed, “Woman! The air smells of man flesh. Who’s here?”
Correction, he had a disposition that would put a bear with a toothache to shame.
Part 4
Hunger
Ajattar made a dismissive noise. “What are you talking about? There is but me here.”
The Devil didn’t wait for an answer, instead he stuck his head in every nook and cranny and every hole in the cabin, looking for the source of the smell. His nostrils flared every few seconds trying to find the query.
“What are you doing? Stop that! I have spent the day cleaning and slaving for you and you try to destroy it when you come home.” Ajattar sneered at the Devil. “Come, sit down and eat. You always have man’s flesh in your nose. You are after all, the reason man must come here in the first place. You coax and cajole souls with sins and perversions of their flesh. This place reeks of man’s flesh. Now, stop and eat.”
A puff of smoke actually escaped the Devil’s nostrils when Ajattar reminded him of his duties. It was his job to make sure no one escaped their rightful judgment and where to be placed. The Father could not stop it. He smiled thinking of his brothers and sisters in Heaven having to compete with him for the souls of these worthless bags of flesh. Ha! Heaven.
These poor fools walking the earth think there are many gods and goddesses that can guide and protect them, but they are wrong, there is but one God, and he is cruel and judgmental. He does not allow his faithful to help protect them. They must show free will for His judgment. But I am another matter all together. I can do much. And I do. He has payed a terrible price by casting me out, not allowing me to do what must be done. And now, He cannot stop me.“Yes,” the Devil agreed, calming somewhat. “ You must be right.”
“Yes, now come. Sit. Eat, before it gets cold.”
Part 5
Answer
After eating, the Father of Lies became drowsy. He’d overstuffed his body just as he’d overstuffed the souls going to Hell. He’d had enough of foul souls and grading them for the afterlife for one day, and he was weary. Listlessly walking to Ajattar, he sat by the side of her arm chair and laid his head on the old woman’s lap. “I’m tired Old Grandmother. I need rest. Delouse me for a while until I fall asleep.”
Ajattar stroked the Devil’s head and grinned. Picking the foul lice out the Devil’s head always smoothed his moods and calmed his fiery nerves enough for him to fall asleep. And sure enough, just moments later he was fast asleep and breathing easily.
The old woman knew it was her chance to get one of the golden hairs. The ancient evil laid upon the Devil had produced but five golden hairs in all the millennium he’d been around. It was said by God’s messenger and knight Azazel, when the universe and all of creation came to an end, as it ultimately must, the weight of all the sins put upon his own soul, foul as it was, would turn him to solid gold. It was
prophesied that it would be the only time in existence in which the Devil would be the most precious being in all the heavens; and it wouldn’t matter, for there would be no one left to covet him.
Ajattar gripped a long strand of gold hair and pulled. Surprisingly, it came away with ease. Hurriedly she placed it under her blanket.
The Devil came out of his sleep with a jerk and a howl. “Oh!” He grabbed his head, running his hand through his scruffy locks. “What’s going on? What are you doing? Why grab my hair?”
The old woman was in some ways as crafty as the Father of Lies. Holding her hands out as if warding off a blow, she said hurriedly, “I grabbed at your hair.”
“Why?” growled the Devil.
“I too fell asleep. I was dreaming. It woke me.”
“What was so bad you grabbed my head when you woke, woman?” He sneered at Ajattar, still rubbing the top of his head.
“I was dreaming of a village that has a fountain in their common area. The people were weeping and causing havoc.”
“Yes,” the Devil asked, encouraging her despite himself, intrigued. “Why?”
“The fountain used to flow with wine. Now, nothing, not even water.”
The Foul One started to laugh.
Ajattar asked, “What makes you laugh so? It wasn’t funny in my dream.”
“The town you speak of I know. There would be no trouble with the fountain if the townspeople would kill the toad sitting under a stone at the mouth of the well,” he explained smirking.
“But why am I dreaming of such a thing?” asked the old woman.
The Devil dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. “I care not. Maybe you’ve been here,” he indicated the small cabin and her surroundings, “too long. I know and care not why. I just want sleep.”
Part 6
Answers
Now the old woman knew she had to be smarter. The Ancient One may be tired and sleepy from his journeys in the land of men, enticing the uninformed and edging the wicked toward the abyss, but he was the Devil after all. If she did not do what had to be done soon, not only would his patience run out, but his forgiveness also.
