by Eileen Glass
It turns around and looks at him though, and Seph opens his mouth in horror. It is a woman’s head! Twice as big as his own, but a beautiful looking woman nonetheless. And Seph recognizes her. It is a likeness of Hecate’s own face that looks at him with beastly, unintelligent eyes. It blinks, tilts its head, and then turns back to Hecate, who seems to be speaking affectionately.
The bird woman bows, and Hecate pets her in the same gentle manner one might treat a kitten.
“There is nothing to fear, master,” she calls after a moment. The creature looks left and right quickly, its head twisting with unnatural speed and then stillness. Then the she-thing opens her mouth, and instead of a bird sound or a human sound, she lets out the most awful, the most loud, shrieking, unnatural, longhorn noise that must carry through the entire forest. All of the underworld must hear it, and both Seph and the young woman cover their ears.
Thankfully, the noise ends. Seph’s horse might have bolted otherwise, and he does not look happy at all that Seph secured the bridle to a limb on the tree, suspecting Demeas might walk away as he tries to mount. The horse dances too much to attempt it now. He throws his head, unaware of his free state of being.
“Shhh, shhh,” Seph says, trying to regain control. Hecate waves, gesturing Seph forward.
“Approach slowly. I know she’s big, but she is a shy creature. She’s very scared of you, you know.”
“What is she?” Seph asks, approaching with his cane. He pauses as the she-creature stares him down suddenly again. Seph lowers his eyes and stills for a moment. Hecate taught him to approach animals this way if they show signs of nervousness. Let them come to you, she said, as he was learning to work with horses and get along with Cerberus.
Cerberus does not approach the thing, nor does he growl at it, and that alone tells Seph there’s nothing to worry about here. Not from the obvious monster anyway. From the man on the other hand…
“Who are they, Hecate? And why did one of them say I needed rescuing? I assume it was bullshit, and he was going to ransom me.”
He looks in the direction of the woods from where Hecate came. He can only see two boots sticking out from some shrubs a ways away.
“No doubt that is what they were trying to do. And for the attempt I assume they have balls the size of Mount Olympus. And a head as empty as the clear sky. They were kings, both of them. Wearing their crowns and everything. They must’ve thought they’d achieve infamy for this stupid act!” She spits in the direction of the boots, though he is too far to hit. “They weren’t even a challenge. They didn’t even fight.”
The winged thing shuffles a few steps away from Seph and closer to Hecate, coming between them like its trying to shield her. The creature has a woman’s torso and stomach, fully bared, but then has feathers that grow out of her skin and the parts blend into a bird. The thing seems to mostly have the mind of an animal though, and she squats a bit like a chicken, down low to the ground, and rustles her wings. The feathers angle upward, which Seph assumes means that she is still scared.
“This is one of my daughters,” Hecate says, stepping around her and trailing a hand down her feathered body.
“She’s, uh, lovely.”
Hecate gives him a dirty, offended look. But Seph does not offer an apology. He didn’t say it meanly or sarcastically. Just with warranted hesitation.
“I thought myself above Gaia at one time. I saw the little humans come into the underworld beaten and battered. Broken to pieces, some of them. And at first, I didn’t care for humans. I took the form of a snake back then, and I didn’t have my sisters. I didn’t work for Hades yet, and I wandered the Earth alone. But gradually I saw the cleverness of humans. I spoke to them sometimes. I heard that Prometheus gave them fire, and I scoffed at that gift. I thought I could do better.”
She takes the large woman’s head by the chin and touches her little nose to the enormous (though perfect) one. This seems to be an affectionate gesture, and the creature closes her enormous eyes. Her feathers smooth out.
“So I tried to make them perfect. Huge, so they would not be preyed upon. I gave them wings so they could fly and spread across the Earth more easily. I made them fierce with talons, so they could pick up and eat any food imaginable. And I made them soft in the heart, thinking that my humans would be loving creatures who lived in harmony with each other.
“Of course, something was missing. Something is always missing in every god’s creation except Gaia’s. I love my daughters dearly, but I was not willing to die for them.” Hecate shakes her head. “Even then, I don’t think it would’ve worked. Gaia was a genius, one-of-a-kind. And the humans are perfect as they are.”
“What is her name? Does she have one?”
“Podarge. But she doesn’t recognize it.” Hecate reaches for him. “You can approach now.” And she soothes her daughter with cooing whispers as Seph approaches.
He doesn’t really want to. While he’s not afraid exactly, and he trusts Hecate completely, he finds the creature disturbing and simply too large to want to step into its shadow. But he does come close with small steps and his eyes lowered. Because he also wants to ask Hecate a question.
“How did the man get in if you and your sisters are guarding the gate?”
“Oh, the gate is just a formality. Lots of kingdoms have gates. And lots of kingdoms have back doors and secret ways in, places that only the residents of many generations know. As for the underworld, we really have no border. The River Styx can be found by all. If you go into the woods with the right thoughts and the right heart, and if you wander long enough, you will always find yourself on the shore of the Styx. And then it is just a matter of crossing, and you are in our world.
“That is what Charon is for. To help people get across. But gods and exceptional mortals can figure out how to cross a river without a bridge. It’s not exactly hard.”
“So we don’t have a guarded border?” Seph asked incredulously. “Why put guards at the gate at all then? I thought Hades said this place was safe!”
She shrugs. Her daughter seems to want to stare at Seph, so Seph respectfully takes a large step back, but she grabs her daughter by the hair and doesn’t let her move her head so much.
“The underworld is not a place that gods or anyone really want to be. It is difficult to achieve the right mind and the right heart to even find the river. And if you do find it and come here and make yourself enough of a nuisance that Hades should become aware of your presence—well, you’ll end up like these idiots.” She gestures lazily at the boots and props a hand on her hip. She lets her daughter go with her other hand, but taps her on the nose and says firmly, “No biting.”
Hecate and the bird creature are caught in a stare. Her daughter’s expression remains blank.
When the creature looks away, Hecate says, “If you want to visit the underworld without pissing off Hades, you rightfully enter and exit through the gate.” She points up. “And Hades does not like visitors. So when you get turned away, or chased off by my dogs, you had better damn well stay away. Anyone not respecting the gate is obviously a thug and an idiot. These men will go to Tartarus and wait in the prison for interrogation. That is why I called my daughter.”
She walks away as she is speaking, her voice growing distant. The creature watches him, but Seph senses fear from her now, not malevolence. He waits without moving or making eye contact for her benefit. And Hecate begins to drag a man toward him, carrying him by his ankles.
He looks a lot like Pirithous, though he has a less wrinkled face and lighter hair. His eyes are half shut and his expression is still like a corpse. He does not twitch or make any movements.
“He looks dead.”
“Only the snake’s venom,” she answers. She drops him near her daughter and walks past Seph to collect Pirithous. “It causes full body paralysis, and since it comes from me, it’ll work until I give them an antidote. Which I will do when they are safely contained in a prison cell.”
Cerberus t
rots alongside Hecate now, with a mild protective growl and a puffed up chest, as though telling off the unconscious man.
Though it feels a little caution worthy and new to him, Seph pats the dog on two heads when he stands close enough. It must be a sign of their growing bond that Cerberus sits kind of close to him.
“My daughter will drop them in the prison. She knows where. They’re trained well.” Hecate brushes her palms together, appraising a job well done. “Shall we continue hunting or take the tiny bird home?” She gestures toward Seph’s horse. Then she pets her daughter on the head one last time and says, “Off with you.”
The bird woman bends down to sniff at the bodies, her face still blank, and she even nibbles on the clothes of Pirithous with her huge human teeth.
Though Pirithous is completely paralyzed, Seph sees his eyes widen even further in terror.
“We have not found a runaway soul lately,” Seph says, watching the massive bird dig claws into the grass as she takes both men in her talons’ grasp. Dirt and weeds cling to the hooks, and he covers his face as the creature lifts up, flapping its wings wildly, creating wind and dust. Then she is gone, and quite suddenly at that. She’s huge, but she flits off easily once she’s in the air.
Arms dangle and flop like hanging puppets from the bird woman’s feet.
“Let’s go home. I want to spend some time at the docks.”
Forty-Eight
Hermes thinks he’s won. He’s unnaturally silent now, not boastful, probably because he thinks Hades’s ego towers high with an unstable, completely collapsible foundation—just like his father’s. He also probably acknowledges that Hades is more powerful than his father, and he has made the dreaded God of the Underworld do something he does not want to do.
Hades admits it is not an easy feat. But Hermes has no idea how much the rabbit is actually worth.
The bunny spirit might be the true Hibus. It’s impossible to tell, but it seems the right size, and Hermes swears the rabbit comes from the exact house. Hades hopes it is, and he hopes that meeting Hibus will help Seph recover more of his forgotten memories as well.
Hades leaves the gift with Verah and instructs her to procure a cage. She will find the right-talented souls and see that it’s done. Then Hades and Hermes travel to the docks, where he’s told Seph has been for a few hours. Hades hasn’t put anymore protection spells on him since he’s currently using all of his magic stay awake and work around the clock, but he hasn’t needed to. The citizens of Elysium track the young king with their eyes and ears and gossip, and Hades can usually ask anyone in the palace and get an accurate answer.
He does find Seph at the docks. But first Hades’s eyes are lost, just scanning and scanning, seeing so many quiet, fearful faces. He has oath takers for every language here, and souls used to be guided into the temples, a few rings of ornate buildings constructed around the dock in enormous half circles. He thought the oath and religion should go hand-in-hand, since humans follow their religions quite faithfully, especially in death.
But Hades has agreed to focus solely on building while Seph sees to the day-to-day and other matters. He shadowed Seph for a while, and then checked up on his work weekly, and then realized he simply didn’t have the time or energy to audit him any further. Seph excelled in everything Hades saw. In fact, Seph hardly seems to be the same youthful young god that arrived here many seasons ago when he’s governing over Elysium.
Seph has been in charge of the hunts and many other things for a while. And Hades had no idea how cramped the docks are now. Seph must have changed some things. For while the temples are open and new souls are being guided inside, the oath takers are more like merchants bartering wares.
There’s many for each language. They each carry a copy of the oath on a tattered scroll. And they call on the newly arriving souls to come—”Come swear the oath and be a citizen of Elysium! Or get back on the boat and choose to be reborn instead!”
Hades stops one of the oath criers.
“We don’t give them the chance to turn back.”
The wise old soul bows. “It is orders, Great Emperor. King Persephone said that none who change their mind should be convinced. Only those with conviction will stay.” Without looking up he asks, “Should I not do as he says?”
“No. Do as you’ve been told.”
A change in orders needs to come from Seph himself, after Hades and Seph have talked about it in private. They have already discussed how these disagreements in rule will happen, but in this case, though Hades hates the thought of losing a soul over cold feet, he supposes Seph must be right.
There are so many!
And not only that, but the crowd is made even worse by the presence of many animals. Ponies mostly, who receive a lot of attention, and sometimes babes are put on their backs. Also dogs and even pigs. There’s more animals here than Hades keeps in his barn!
“Uncle, are you having a festival?” Hermes asks beside him as Hades takes this all in.
He is right to ask. There’s music too, though it is soft and not lively. There are no games and not too much moving about. But with the crowd, the animals, and the music, it certainly seems that Seph has changed the docks from a place of seriousness and religious faith… into the town market.
“I must find my husband,” Hades says under his breath, and pushes onward to do so. He’s never had to walk in such a crowded area in his own city before! He doesn’t have anyone to announce him or part the crowd, so many of the souls milling about are terrified to bump into him. Soon awareness of his presence travels, and a wake is created before and behind him.
Hermes is swallowed by it. Or perhaps just distracted. Hades doesn’t care. He gets closer to the dock and the ship, where impossibly more souls are being brought into this crowd, and he hears someone singing above all the rest.
About a woman.
Hair so gold, lips so red, and a face to bring peace to wars.
And it goes on to say that she is dead and her husband weeps for her.
The bard has cleared a small area in the crowd and sits upon some crates, strumming a lyre.
I see her dancing with loving eyes
Come away with me, my love, my bride
I move the mountains for you, I say
But her eyes are empty
Her flesh decayed
And silently she whispers
Come away, come away
There are sniffs from the citizens nearby, all of them skeletal, clothes hanging off of them like rags, and they cling to each other in small groups, looking up when he gets close like scared deer.
They try to make room, but on the dock there simply isn’t any. Hades forces his way through a group of new citizens, who beg him for forgiveness or simply cover their heads as if he would strike them.
Over their voices as they scatter, Hades demands, “Who are you?”
The man is not dead. Therefore, he’s an intruder.
Where is my dog?
Oh right, hunting with Seph. Perhaps he did not come home yet.
His fingers are tempted to go to his mouth, his lungs poised to emit the loud whistle that Cerberus can hear anywhere. But then he hears his husband’s voice.
“Hades!” A hand raises in the crowd. Seph is further on, right at the new ship. There is another one approaching in the distance already, and this one is not unloading efficiently with the damn bard making the crowd stop.
“I am Orpheus!” Hades hears behind him. He chooses to ignore it and proceed to his husband. “I beseech you, Great Hallowed God of Death! Listen to my song!”
Hades hears an unpleasant pluck of strings as he continues to leave. The next note is musical, however, and another song begins. This one is about a woman dying—a young bride. And her husband arrives just in time to see that it’s too late. Somehow she’s fallen into a pit of vipers. He is on the part where the wedding guests prevent the husband from jumping in after her, when Hades finally reaches Seph and he’s not sure where to start.
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br /> Hades doesn’t want to tell Seph that he’s done anything wrong, but the state of his docks is far worse than he expected.
Seph’s expression also warns him that this might not be the right time. His young husband looks stern, even angry, as he’s watching the bard with his arms crossed, leaning on a barrel.
“Can you believe this asshole?” Seph says, quietly so only the two of them can hear.
“You didn’t send for him?” Hades asks, and he assumes he at least read part of the situation wrong.
Seph snorts. “No! Why would I? We have thousands of bards right among us and new ones are practicing every day. We compose some of the best music the universe has ever heard. Why would I ask a mortal man, of all things, to come down here and play?”
“He is an intruder then. Where’s my dog? Why haven’t you got rid of him already?”
Hades raises his hand to summon his hound, but Seph catches his arm.
For a moment Hades forgets everything. He hasn’t been back to the palace in nearly a week, trying very hard to get this new neighborhood designed in time. And the deadline for the next one is like a constant migraine, always pounding inside his head. Even when he has come home, he hasn’t touched Seph in a while, and he suddenly realizes how much he misses that.
Seph is saying something.
“—you’ll terrify the crowd, and they’ll cram their way back onto the boats. Do you want to start a mass exodus or something?”
Hades kisses him.
It is not publicly appropriate, nor is Seph prepared for it. Nor does he look particularly inviting, to anyone but Hades anyway. More and more Seph has seemed to adopt Hades’s habits for scowling, and Seph’s is more pronounced, possibly more effective as well.
Hades doesn’t care at the moment. He grabs the front of Seph’s shirt, tastes his husband’s lips, and he just wants to curl up with him. Right there on the docks if they have to, if that’s all the time they can get. He wants another conversation over wine, and to have Seph’s taut, round ass up close and displayed for him. Free for Hades to pet and admire and bury his face into—