Hades and Seph
Page 20
It will be a bad winter then, and Hades is sorry to hear it. But it happens all the time.
He considers traveling to another town, wasting more time, but at least he would find one not about to be hungry.
Looking across the open space at the slave girl, he decides this is ridiculous.
And he notices that the egg seller has a young son, here to learn his father’s trade. Perhaps he has young daughters as well. And since they are selling food, they likely have enough to share it.
He whispers in the family dog’s ear. “Go home.” And the mutt quickly takes off with purpose, ignoring the call of the merchant’s boy. They are perplexed, but not bothered enough to leave the stall, and Hades follows him to a house at the elevated part of town, much nicer than the hovels below, with a clean well nearby too.
There are many girls here, all slaves or the shopkeeper’s children. It’s hard to tell on this common day. The slaves look after the masters’ young ones like their own for awhile, and all the babes wear the same gowns or loin clothes. The toddlers are simply naked on a hot day like this, and all the children not old enough to help are looked after in the courtyard.
Here Hibus is released, under a rose bush. Soon the rabbit is swarmed by screeching children, and he takes off to escape. The fleeing bunny surprises a young slave mother carrying pots, who does not want a creature dashing for her feet, under her dress. But she rescues the poor rabbit as he trapped in a storage room with only one exit. As she smiles bigly, she reminds Hades of Verah and he thinks that her eyes are kind.
Hibus will go to the slave mother then. She carries him like a pet cat and pets down his back. Her oldest girl is a curious teen who looks motherly and wants to hold the rabbit.
So Hades leaves. He’s done well enough. But knowing as much of the world as he does, he does not feel like he’s done a good thing.
The other slave girl at the agora will not be sold tonight. In this market, masters will not be looking for more mouths to feed, but they might be looking for fresh workers to replenish the stock in the spring. It is a bad winter coming, and Hibus may not survive it. And he will not be the only one.
Seph will need to come to understand all of this. He is young still, so his affection for Hibus can be forgiven. But Hades cannot continue to give him the impression that the world is kind.
Twenty-Nine
“Hurry up!” Minthe yells at him, pulling on Seph’s hand, taking him up the rock’s ledge to where it juts out over the open space. “The next one is coming! You have to see it go over the edge!”
Seph is reluctant to approach what he now sees is a very steep drop off. Tartarus is just as ugly in full view as it was through glimpses. It’s plain, stone-colored, and square, one tower sticking up at the corner closest to him. The architect apparently did not care for symmetry or form, only function.
And Seph was wrong about it being contained by a shallow moat. The river runs here and just… drops. A little further along this round unending pit, there is a massive waterfall like he’s never seen before. But no lake below, no river, no end that he can see.
Instead, beneath the island that holds Tartarus, there is an enormous turning machine of wind sails fashioned like paddles. The rock Tartarus is on looks like an apple core, the building on top. The ‘trunk’ holding the island up is a series turning pillar blocks, twisting at different speeds, sails as big as houses driving the wind.
It shoots up in a blast, so much so that Minthe’s hair is only contained by his hood. Seph’s rushes all around his head, and his chiton is almost impossible to hold onto. He twists it tightly to one side and does not particularly care if he flashes Minthe or something private hangs out.
He is simply awed. The sheer amount water dropping into this pit is picked up by the sails and water rushes in a spiral downward, crashing against the rock walls, like he’s standing over a turbulent ocean. He understands now why the river sounded so loud, though it was so far away. Everything beneath him is splashing and frothing.
It is dangerous. Seph takes two steps backwards, afraid that he might be falling. Minthe grips him too tightly to go any further without a struggle. He sees…
An arm! Someone reaches out of the water for him, calling for help but his cries are choked by liquid.
“Minthe!” he calls and tugs urgently, stepping close to the edge again, meaning to urge his friend to help. But first to make sure that his eyes didn’t trick him, because the face is lost to water and it’s just rushing foam again.
“There they are,” says Minthe. He’s smiling, and his face is beautiful, but he looks… off. “I wanted you to see. So you can understand this place.”
He steps behind Seph pushes him forward. Not too close to the edge, but this keeps Seph from falling back to the safe land behind him. Minthe’s grip is the only thing that keeps him standing as an enormous barge approaches the drop, tiny figures already clinging to the furthest end, and the boat approaches faster as it gets closer.
There is nothing to stop it.
There is nothing to slow down time so that Seph’s eyes can appropriately process what he sees and then he can figure out how to help.
Instead, he only watches, the events happening too fast, and his legs not doing more than trembling.
The boat goes over the edge. Several figures have already jumped, trying to beat the swift current and get to the shore. The faint calling sound has started—the screaming. It must be loud to be heard so clearly over the rushing water. He and Minthe have to shout to speak to each other.
But their cries are heard, sharply at first. The ones who jumped ship are the first to go over. And then boat is in free fall, and the screams are very loud.
They end.
Little figures fall, flailing.
Seph breathes so fast it is like he’s run a race.
The boat doesn’t fall far. It hangs from its bottom end, the water smashing down onto it. Those who managed to cling to the edge now fight the pummeling of the water from above and the waves crashing from the sides as well, driven by the sails. The boat drifts in the current like a leaf on a branch, attached on one end.
Then it is drawn upward. Seph can barely see the enormous metal hook on the bottom of the boat, a contraption made of heavy steel, which should not be on any ordinary boat. Somehow as it is dragged up, the chain shortens. Seph notices two other crank wheels on one side of the waterfall, turning in opposite directions, manned by other giants.
The boat goes under the water, moving up river, empty of its passengers. The river is so deep, the boat is swallowed, invisible if you were standing on the shore.
“I-I don’t understand.” He’s leaning entirely on Minthe now, clinging to him like he’s his mother.
Minthe pets his hair, but does not speak comfortingly.
“This is Tartarus. It’s like… a granary. For souls. People get ground up and made into more people. This is the great secret Hades doesn’t want getting out. It makes his souls want to escape and warn the others—”
“There’s another one coming!” Seph shouts, pushing away to stand, but he is lucky Minthe is here. The nymph catches him and grabs him close before his misplaced weight topples him over the edge.
Seph looks into the water again, searching for faces.
He can see… parts. Just barely, just swiftly, before they are swept deep and under. A sandal drifts atop the waves for a time.
“We have to go get them! We have to go—”
It’s too far. He can see that already, and somehow he has to sneak past two sets of those giants. This ship will be lost. And several more if they are arriving so fast.
“There is no time!” he yells at Minthe, who does not want to move.
The nymph has a funny half smile on his face.
Seph sniffs. He already senses what’s the matter. And he looks again in the direction of the oncoming boat.
It is packed tightly with no room to sit, the souls crowded in shoulder to shoulder. And no belongings,
cargo, or crates reduce the number of passengers. Each barge carries hundreds of passengers—enough for a whole village! And this one approaches the waterfall at swift speed.
Several men begin to jump and swim for the shore, realizing the river ends. The others just wait. The river moves too fast and is too wide for the quick thinkers anyway.
And down it goes.
They scream very loud, but with the sound of crashing waves everywhere, they cannot be loud enough to disturb the next arriving boat. It does not sound like screaming. Just… a whistle over the wind. A faint screech, like a cat. And Seph realizes why it felt so familiar. Many animals reach that high screaming note as they die.
“I can’t be here. I’m going to be sick.”
Hades is a butcher.
Seph can see that plainly.
Tartarus is worse than he ever imagined.
“Are we going to go save them?” he asks, bent over his knees, heaving.
They ought to get moving. He hates that Minthe even paused long enough to show him one, let alone two! They need to save as many people as possible!
Has Hades gone mad?
“Save who? What? And why?” asks Minthe. He gives Seph a pat, but he does not sound troubled. “They are already dead, dear king. They needed saving in the upperworld. Not this one.”
“Why is this happening to them? I thought Tartarus was—” A place to serve out punishment. Well, this is certainly more efficient, though it doesn’t account for any one person’s crimes. He lips say something else, his mind reeling from one memory to another of anything Hades ever said about this place.
“He said they were reborn. The unwanted souls. He said they came to Tartarus to be sent back into the world as babes.”
Minthe’s chuckle is like a pleased child. “That’s what this is!” He gestures to the open pit, his cloak billowing. He’s chewing his tongue and smiling, badly hiding how much this pleases him. He’s happy Seph is upset.
“To make baby humans, you grind up a bunch of other humans! They all get mixed in here. And killed. This is permanent death, the same thing that happens in the upperworld! Only here there is not so much essence wasted. A lot of it, when a soul rots, just disappears into the ether.
“Hades found a way to drill into the very heart of Gaia—who gave up her form to create the Earth. It’s Gaia’s essence that has been bleeding and building and giving life to all of you. She was too selfless for her own good. And now her essence returns to her—all these human souls—so that she can keep bleeding and birthing. Everything becomes something. Everyone becomes someone. It makes you wish to appreciate the time you had on Earth, doesn’t it?”
Minthe carelessly walks close to the chasm, his arms spread as he speaks, like he is revealing a great magnificence, and he does not watch the next ferryboat arrive. He is looking at Seph instead.
“This is the great truth that humans do not understand. Part of it. Life feeds life. It is how it will always be. Your life is precious, given, not to be wasted, and not to be spent suffering either. We all return to Gaia and become her creatures again. Whatever you are, whatever you become, is not up to you. But humans come up with such fanciful notions. Things about having a purpose or serving a divine being.”
“Minthe, come away from there,” Seph says, his voice hoarse. Minthe has only two more steps to possibly fall into the rushing water. It feels especially dangerous because the wind is so strong.
The screaming is at its loudest as Minthe grins at him, his hood falling down, his hair flying everywhere. The whistling shriek fades quickly, the boat hanging in the waves.
“Hades understands, you know. He’s more nymph than god. He’s… brilliant. Powerful, yet not silly like your stupid father, Zeus. Hades and I belong together. That is what I brought you to see.”
“I figured that out,” Seph says dryly, approaching only to make sure the nymph doesn’t do something stupid. Like jump. He might have been brought here to witness the nymph’s suicide, though he does not believe nymphs ever attempt such things.
They are a strange people. Death is no tragedy to them, even when it is as terrible as this. Nymph’s do mourn their own kind, but only for a day or so, and not to level that humans do.
“Come away from the edge, Minthe.”
He has so many problems. His chest is so heavy he feels like he can’t breathe.
He suspects a great many things have died for him today. His love for Hades. His love for the world and himself. He can’t be happy again know that this is going on. He will fight and beg and cry when Hades is available—of course he will—and already he knows it won’t change anything.
This is where souls go to be reborn. Hades did not lie, exactly. Seph is too small and powerless to change anything.
But he suspects he’s about to lose Minthe to the pit. The nymph is mad! Or Seph simply can’t understand his nature. Nymphs often seem heartless and weird. But now his heel is such a small distance to the ledge that it is clear he intends to go over.
“Nymph, your king demands that you come here. You will not kill yourself today. I’m not allowing it.”
His visage of strength and authority vanishes as yet another barge approaches the waterfall. This has a greater exodus of hopeful survivors than normal, and they all, screaming, rush toward the pit.
His knees threaten to buckle, and he finds himself doubled over, his balance barely holding, his stomach threatening to undo him.
If I go down, I won’t get back up. That’ll be it for me.
He might need to catch Minthe very soon.
Psychotic bastard.
“Your bunny is down here,” Minthe says, one foot sliding back until the heel is cocked over the edge. There is no other place to go. He’s intending to walk backwards and fall. “Come see. Come reach over and rescue him.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Now Seph definitely doesn’t want to approach. Should I just let him die?
“Minthe, get the fuck over here. I’m leaving. I’ll let you jump if I have to.”
I’m not getting any closer.
But Minthe only grins at him.
And then he is gone.
Seph’s eyes widen a moment, the space before him empty, and he carries himself forward, crawling as he gets to edge, wondering, Why?!
And what would make the nymph go in such a manner?!
On his knees, sobbing, that faraway barge now being lifted and the chain shortened so it will be kept underwater, Seph clings to the rock and looks over the edge, looking for Minthe.
He sees the cloak. It takes off like a lost kite, swirling past and around the turning sails, changing shape and twisting over itself. A messy drop of saliva falls from his mouth and tears also from his cheeks, as he gazes down, knowing it’s too late. Minthe brought him here and left him.
Did he just want someone to know what happens before he died himself? Did he not like that Hades was keeping it a secret?
He looks for that pale form anywhere and only sees water. A face comes around from the ferryboat, but the person is too submerged to see clearly, and way too far to reach.
Then he notices fingers clutched to the rock right below him. Minthe made it! He’s here!
Seph is reaching down to help, when an arm shoots up over the edge of the rock like an underwater serpent to snap at him, and Seph is unprepared to fight. Minthe takes a hard grip of his hair and yanks down. Seph’s arms reaching to assist puts him at a disadvantage, too much of his weight pitched forward already. His balance topples. And the next ferryboat approaches the drop as Seph opens his mouth and screams with them.
Thirty
Hades urges the horses faster. His task has taken too long already, and he’s ashamed of himself for it. This has gone against his very nature and is insulting to the souls more deserving. Somehow, he’s going to have to make Seph realize that he can’t request things like this. That he is not a good god, he is a fair one. He is who the underworld needs him to be.
Tartarus. The great truth.
Then maybe he will understand.
But Hades would like to do so in such a way that he doesn’t lose the young god’s affection because of it.
That makes him selfish, he supposes. Does this mean he will do another foolish thing by avoiding his responsibility to tell Seph properly?
He will have to analyze it later and make sure he is not doing a disservice to his kingdom or anyone in delaying telling him. But what harm could there be?
Hades can think of nothing.
Still, he urges the horses onward, at their fastest, having the notion that he must tell him soon. Seeing the little slave girl in the market was a stern lecture from a disapproving parent. There is more cruelty in the world than the mistreatment of some undeserving bunny.
He passes over the Field of Asphodel, looking down at the ferry destined for Elysium. The poor frightened children cling to the boat and shout, frightened by the chariot and the appearance of Hades. He has never tried to appear kind to them, so this love he feels toward Seph is causing him to lie.
It is a foolish, dangerous emotion that must be watched and culled with honesty.
He notes that the boat is only a third full at the moment, but in eight weeks there will be nearly daily deliveries from the ferry. And many, many, many more deliveries to the Falls of Tartarus. The great mill grinder. The spring of life (and death).
Soon he will put extra boats in the assembly line. One extra for the river bound for Elysium. Daily deliveries of two ferries of young souls would make his kingdom very happy. They have empty homes and parks for his children waiting already, prepared for a famine or a plague to fill them up. Every home near his palace might have a ‘child’ to look after, and the dining halls will be full and loud. That will be nice.