Soul in Darkness

by Wendy Higgins

  “Someone is looking out for us,” I whispered to my unborn child as I thought about the ants, grateful beyond measure. Would I be so lucky next time? If this task was any indication of what was to come, it would only get worse.

  SECOND TASK

  Cupid

  In the next room, his mother hummed a lively tune as she readied herself that morning. Her pitch was perfect, but it grated on his ears.

  “What is today’s task?” Cupid called out through the bars.

  “Well, my dear, I would tell you, but someone seems to have a habit of interfering.”

  Cupid scowled, thinking of her disguise as the old seer. “You interfered first.”

  “And now we are even.” She blew him a kiss from the doorway, sending a breeze of lilies his way. He turned his head away from it.

  “Mother…”

  “Good-bye. I will be certain to relay every detail when I return.”

  “Mother!”

  Moments later he watched from the window as she gathered Psyche from the storehouse below. Had his mother even fed her? His wife appeared bedraggled and frail in her nightgown, despite how she held up her dainty chin as if filled with purpose. The sight of her caused a chasm to open inside him, rapidly filling with a flood of fear. Cupid tried to shout to her, but his words reverberated back at him like an echo. He cursed and banged the window as the goddess’s chariot took to the skies with his mother and wife, arcing toward the forest of Olympus.

  Psyche

  If my situation were not so dire, I might have enjoyed the magical chariot ride. It was truly a spectacle worthy of the goddess of beauty. The oversized doves with colorful necks flew and landed with smooth, steady precision. I stepped from the bejeweled carriage into the forest behind the goddess, trepidation stealing my body warmth. I crossed my arms and peered at the trees, but they gave off an ominous air, not the feel of comfort I had felt from Cupid’s trees. Oh, what I would give to have them here right now!

  The sound of rushing water came to me, and I saw a river with a meadow and a grove just beyond it. I walked behind Venus to the river’s edge, my heart thrumming. I followed her eyes across the river to where golden-fleeced sheep glittered under the sun. From tiny lambs to mother sheep and large-horned rams, the magical animals idly munched on the grass.

  “Here is your second task.” Venus snapped her fingers and a large wooden pail appeared by my feet. “You will cross the river and fill that pail with golden wool.”

  I bent to pick up the pail, peering around for sheers or a knife.

  The corners of her full lips tipped upward as if knowing what I searched for, and I was hit with the splendor of her beauty, even while she was being cruel. The set of her eyes, cheekbones, and mouth were perfection.

  “I shall do it, my goddess. I shall prove myself to you. Thank you for this chance.”

  She frowned. “Do not attempt to run away. I will find you.”

  “Of course not, great mother of love.”

  She made an annoyed sound and turned, gliding away from me back into the trees. Over her shoulder, she said, “As much as I would enjoy staying to watch, I have things to do. I will fetch you after dark.”

  Once she was out of sight, I shook out my arms and did a series of meditative breathing. I could do this. The river would be the toughest part. It looked to be deep and fast moving. I would have to swim harder than ever. If only I had my full strength. I shook with hunger and thirst, but I dared not eat or drink anything in Olympus.

  I peered out at the sheep, serene and gorgeous with their golden fluff. There had to be more to this. Yes, it would be hard to get wool without shears, but I could tug through with my fingers and pluck it if necessary. The sheep would not be happy, and it would wound my soul to hurt them, but they would survive. So, what was the catch?

  Remembering how the river had been enchanted on Cupid’s property, and the trees sentient, I decided to give something a try before I dived into the undertaking. I crouched, petting the mossy grass at the bank while peering down into the blue depths of the gurgling water.

  “Hello, magnificent river.” I felt silly but continued anyway. “I would like to cross. I need to get to the glen on the other side to perform a task for the goddess Venus. Will you grant me safe passage? I promise to be as careful and gentle as I can. It will be an honor and a privilege to feel your grand waters around me, like a mother’s embrace.”

  All at once, sounds of nature rose up, the whisper of reeds and trickling of water, coming together in harmonious pitches to form intelligible speech. My eyes widened, and I stilled to listen.

  “Nay, Nay, Psyche, have a care. These are not gentle sheep. The flock will destroy any who set foot in their grove during the light of day. The rage of bloodlust is their nature.”

  My gut gave a violent tremble. “Oh, dear. Are you…a river god?”

  “I am. Your passage will be granted when the sun begins to lower, and the animals nestle into sleep. Even then, it is not safe. You will gather your wool from the bushes and trunks of trees where their bodies have brushed.”

  “Oh, thank you!” I bent and kissed the wet place where the water met the pebbled sands. The river danced, lapping at my fingers and lips before receding. Now I had to wait out the day and hope I would have enough time to gather bits of wool when the sheep bedded down. I, myself, was sleepy, but I feared the myriad of things that might happen if I napped here. Any creature of Olympus could happen upon me. I could oversleep. It wasn’t worth the risk. I paced the river’s edge, my bare toes loving the contrast of warm pebbles and cool water. Now and then I peeked at the sheep. The rams had taken notice of me, coming closer to their side of the river and sniffing the air, huffing through their noses with looks of evil in their eyes.

  Never before in my life had I thought an animal possessed an evil look, even those mountain lions. There was a distinct difference between evil and having a hunting instinct. These creatures were not what they seemed. Their beauty was a deadly lure.

  I decided to move closer to the forest as I waited out the day.

  Cupid

  Cupid paced the cell. And paced. And paced some more. He did not think he would ever forgive his mother for what she was doing to Psyche and his child, and for the demeaning humiliation of being jailed.

  He was so busy cursing her name to the edges of Olympus that he almost missed Zephyr outside his window, knocking at the soundproof ward. Cupid nearly leapt from his skin, jumping forward and mouthing to his friend.

  “Forest!”

  Zep mouthed it back slowly, and Cupid read his lips, nodding. Then the god of love used his hands to pretend to eat and drink. Zep pointed at Cupid in question.

  “No.” He shook his head. “My wife. Psyche needs food. And help!”

  Zep gave a nod and sped away. Cupid clapped his hands together once, grinning like a boy. Zephyr would be smart and make himself scarce where Venus was concerned. With the god of the west wind on her side, he felt confident Psyche could pass this test, whatever it may be.

  Psyche

  I never had a chance to scream as a sudden hand was placed over my mouth, and a warm breath of wind coasted past my ear.

  “Shh, Psyche, it is Zephyr.”

  I spun to face him and held back the urge to hug him. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you!”

  He handed me a round of flatbread that had been sliced on one end to be opened and filled. I spied meats, soft cheeses, and sliced vegetables.

  I took the gift from his hands and held it to my chest. It took all of my self-control not to scarf it down that very second. He next handed me a pouch of water.

  “I cannot stay,” he said. “Venus will feel my winds and be angered. What is your duty here?”

  I explained to him my task, and before I could tell him about the river god, he said, “I can fly you across, but not until the golden sheep are asleep. They will devour you. And the river will not take kindly to human touch.”

  “About that, I spoke to the r
iver god, and he spoke back to me, promising safe passage.”

  Zephyr’s eyebrows drew together as if doubtful. But when he glanced over at the rushing river, a stream of water rose up into the air, formed the shape of a hand, and waved at him. At the look of surprise on Zep’s face, I nearly laughed despite the dire, sour feelings riddling my insides.

  “Well, that is…highly unusual,” said the god of the west wind. He raised an eyebrow at me, impressed. “It seems fate is on your side, so I will leave you now. I wish you luck, love of Cupid.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the moniker, though the moment of warmth quickly cooled when I remembered how my mistrust had caused all of this. Zephyr turned and rose in a rush, spinning like a sea funnel before disappearing from sight.

  Food and water in hand, I sat amongst the trees and ate every bite. Once finished, I stood and paced to bide the time, glancing anxiously at the sheep every few minutes. Time was a strange thing in Olympus. The sun never moved from overhead. It simply appeared and disappeared, though Cupid did allow it to dim in his land. I wondered how much longer I had until Venus would return, and when the sheep would ever tire of eating and take a rest.

  I took to speaking to my belly as if the tiny speck within me could understand the dilemma we faced. Though I felt no different, and my stomach had not yet begun to swell, it was oddly comforting knowing I wasn’t alone. At the same time, that comfort morphed into distress, knowing my life was not the only one at risk if I failed.

  Finally, finally, the sheep began to slowly make their way from the open grove into the nearby trees to lay. My blood moved in a rush beneath my skin, nervousness etched into every fitful movement. When the last of them had made their way to bed, I tip-toed my way through the soft grass and knelt at the river’s edge.

  “Beautiful river,” I whispered to the water god. “I think they are sleeping. May I have the honor of passing?”

  That same swishing sound of reeds and trickling came together in my ears, saying in a garbled whisper, “You may.” I held my breath as the water slowed and shallowed.

  “Oh, thank you!” I whispered, taking up the bottom of my dingy nightgown in one hand while I held the pail in the other, on my hip. It was heavy. I crossed in brisk steps, stepping on the smooth rocks that were somehow dry on top. When I got to the other side I blew a kiss of gratitude to the river, and it seemed to swell for a beat before returning to its rushing movement once more.

  I held my breath, a beat of fear striking me as I turned to face the meadow and bordering forest. The golden shapes of the sheep, nestled in sleep, were too close for my liking. I would have to work fast. I darted through the large expanse of grass, stopping at every bush to pull golden threads that had snagged on leaves and branches. My heart never stopped thumping in my ears and throat as I raced about, casting surreptitious glances toward the grove as I went.

  After I’d scoured every bush in sight, my basket was only half full. My blood pounded in wild fear. I would have to get closer to them. The bottoms of the trees held large tufts of glittering wool stuck to the bark.

  I forced my breaths to be steady and silent as I walked slowly, my every sense on high alert, working together to watch, listen, grab, move. I made quick work, and my basket was nearly full. So close, so close…

  The final tree had enough fleece attached to overflow my basket. I stepped gingerly toward it. My fingers closed around one, two, then three tufts, and I pressed them onto the top of my pile, exhaling slowly. The closest sheep to me was a lamb, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the tiny, wondrous creature. In sleep, it looked so peaceful and innocent, but I knew better. I took a step backward, keeping an eye on it, then another step.

  Snap.

  A twig. Of all things! Why couldn’t this forest be like Cupid’s, where there was no shedding of the trees? I froze in place as the tiny lamb’s head rose heavily and turned to me. Even through its droopy, sleepy eyes, I saw the realization take place, and the red of bloodlust come to life. I froze, petrified, hoping it would go back to sleep. Instead, it let out a demented baaa, that was too deep for such a small creature. My chest gave a painful bang and I grasped the pail with both arms, turning, and sprinting at full speed.

  I never turned to look. I didn’t need to. I could hear them.

  A dissonance of rickety baaa’s and quick stomping feet rose up behind me.

  “River god!” I shouted, praying it would have pity on me once more. “Help! Please!” The basket was too heavy, and I kept stepping on my damned nightgown!

  Would the animals follow me if I leapt into the river’s depth? They were so close! Would the river consume me whole, rolling me under until its water became part of my body? What about my baby? Cupid’s child? My despair crashed down on me as I neared the bank of the river.

  I watched in wonder as the water rose up like a great sheet, my awe turning into horror as the liquid arced over top of me like a massive wave. I crouched, covering my head, but not a drop hit me. A great rushing sound came from behind me and I spun in the dim light, watching as the water formed a wall to stop the evil sheep.

  “Thank you!” My voice was hoarse as I shouted my appreciation, running forward through the rocky riverbed until I was on the other side again. I didn’t stop until I got to the trees, then I turned, panting for air, and watched as the wall of water receded into its bed. The sheep ran about bucking and kicking their back feet angrily, shaking water from their fleeces. I covered my mouth as I laughed in shock and gratitude. Someday, in some way, I wanted to thank the river god properly.

  The smile was still on my lips when Venus’s grand chariot appeared from nowhere, coming to a stop just before it ran me over. I jumped back, holding the pail close, but nearly falling on my rump.

  Venus towered over me in the glittering, bejeweled cart. An absolute scowl marred her beauty when she laid eyes on the pail of golden wool in my arms.

  “My goddess,” I said, bowing low as I set the pail before her.

  I stayed low to the ground, my head bowed, my heart hammering my chest like a blacksmith forging a shield. She took her time exiting the chariot and gliding to stand over me.

  “Who helped you?”

  The fierceness in her voice caused me to shudder with fear.

  “I gathered the wool on my own, goddess of love. I swear it.”

  Her words came out in slow, enraged spurts. “Spoiled girl. You. Are. Useless. I know you did not do this alone! You are incapable of doing anything for yourself! Well, you can rest assured…” She sounded as out of breath as I was, her anger sending a chill over me. “You are on your own for this next trial, for I daresay nobody will help you where you are going.”

  SERVANTS OF VENUS

  Psyche

  The goddess put me in a cell on her property. I sat on the cool, stone ground, one hand on my belly, my head leaning against the wall as I thought about my husband. Where was he? Was he captive, like me, or had he come to his wits and had a change of heart? I’d hurt him with my distrust. I’d ruined everything we’d precariously built. My eyes squeezed shut, fighting the burn behind my lids, sorely wishing I could turn back time and choose love over fear.

  I was so tired. So very tired.

  “There she is, Sorrow,” said a small, childlike voice. My eyes popped open and I gasped at the sight of two willowy wisps on the other side of the bars. The women were identical in body with long, stringy yellow hair, their eyes like bottomless pits, skin pale and ashen. The only difference was that one wore a crimson dress and the other dark blue. I hadn’t even heard footsteps! I scrambled to my feet.

  “Not as beautiful as they say, is she, Sadness? We shall have to remedy that.”

  The women smiled, sending a wave of frigid fear cascading over me.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “We are Sorrow—”

  “—and Sadness.” Still, they smiled. “Servants of Venus. Here to beautify you for your next journey.”

  I shook my head. “No,
thank you.”

  “We take our orders from the goddess of all things beautiful,” said the one in red, Sorrow, I thought.

  They opened the cell and glided in with bags in their hands, closing the door before I could even think of fighting my way past them. I held up my palms in warning.

  “Do not touch me.” I pointed at the door to my cell. “Just get out and leave me be.”

  They both giggled, the sound high and creepy. And then Sadness, clad in deep blue, pulled out a gleaming pair of shears, opening and closing them with a ssssnip.

  “First for your hair cut.”

  My bowels turned over and I clutched my stomach. I had never been in a fight, other than innocent swordplay years ago. But these two were frail enough. Even in my state of exhaustion and pregnancy, I felt confident I could fend for myself against them. Although those shears looked sharp. That would be a problem.

  “Get out,” I said again. “No haircut. I want nothing from you. Leave me.”

  “Stay still, human,” Sadness warned. “Or Sorrow will have to hold you down.”

  I lowered my voice, feeling as if I had sprouted spikes like a porcupine. “Do not come near me.”

  “Keep her still, Sorrow.”

  The waif in red came at me, and I lunged forward, a scream tearing from deep in my throat. But what I encountered was not a weak maid. She had the power of Boldar. Damned immortals! I screamed and fought as she took me by the arms and shoved me to the ground. I pulled my legs in and kicked her hard in the stomach several times, making her mouth open in a yell to reveal jagged teeth.

  We scrabbled, both kicking, screaming and scratching. When she let go of one arm to smack my face, whipping my head to the side, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked hard enough to fill my fingers with the greasy strands as she screeched into my face. I nearly vomited at the sensation of causing pain to another.