Titan_Kingdom of the Dead_An Epic Novel of Urban Fantasy and Greek Mythology

by Daniel Mignault

I let the silence sink in, let it wash over me like waves. I reach out to the rocks we pass, taking comfort in them. Hannah’s not wrong: I am worried. We’re in danger: incredible, impossible danger! But we’re also taking action. We’re doing what’s right. Right for us, and right for the world. Alone, none of us could, but together? We might have a shot.

  “So what’s the plan?” I ask Hannah. “You recruited us, remember?”

  “Actually, I recruited you. I warned against involving Mark.”

  “I was already involved.” Mark doesn’t sound bitter, though he has every right to be. What he does sound is determined. “We’re all in this together. I may be human, but I have something neither of you has.”

  “What’s that?” Hannah asks.

  “Brains.”

  She laughs. “Well, you’re not stupid. I’ll give you that.”

  “And you’re brave,” I tell him.

  Mark shrugs. “I guess, but I’m not brave because I want to be. I’m brave because I have to.”

  “Not much difference in the end,” Hannah muses. “We’re all coming out of this heroes.”

  “Heroes or traitors,” I remind her, “the biggest the world has ever seen.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re bigger than Zeus now?”

  “If we win, I am. If we win, Cronus is dead, the Titans are dead, and… well, I’m not sure what happens after that, but I’m sure it will be impressive. And we’ll all be bigger than Zeus, not just me.” I add that last part because it sounds crazy to put all this on me. Yet part of me, the newly awakened Titan part says, Yes, I can defeat Cronus. Yes, I can save the world. I can rule in his place, because I should rule, only my rule will be just and strong and forever…

  Where is this coming from? I shake my head to clear it. I’ve had so many strange dreams, so many strange thoughts. It’s my connection to Cronus. Through the accident of my birth, I absorbed part of his power, but what if I absorbed part of who he is as well? What if I’m no better than him and I just don’t know it yet?

  “The plan,” I say, “what is it?”

  Hannah shrugs. “To free my father.”

  “Yeah, you told us that, but how exactly? You do know where Hades is, don’t you?”

  Hannah chews her lower lip. “It’s complicated; the location is cloaked by magic. Magic no immortal can see through except Cronus, since it’s his spell.”

  “And me?” I ask. “You think I can because of my connection to him?”

  She nods. “That’s what Ares and I are hoping.”

  “OK, so how do I do it?”

  “Um… you just close your eyes, reach out, and look for him.”

  “I look for him with my eyes shut?”

  “Yes, genius! Look with your mind’s eye. The magic of Tartarus will enhance whatever natural ability you have… if you have any.”

  “You can do it,” Mark says. “Have faith!”

  “Spoken like a true priest,” Hannah jokes.

  He looks away. “Well, I don’t know about that. I’m kind of between deities right now.”

  I apologize. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I appreciate your confidence in me. Both of you.”

  “Charon too,” Hannah adds. “He may not look it, but he’s cheering you on.”

  I look at the grim, skull-faced ferryman. He looks back, with empty, unknowable eyes. “Thanks,” I tell him.

  Charon gives me a stiff, creaking nod, then returns to staring straight ahead. I watch his pole go in the river, propelling our boat forward. Pole in, pole out.

  I try to time my breath with the pole. Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly. I close my eyes. Relaxing, going inside myself. I listen to the sound of the boat, the river, the rustle of Charon’s robe.

  I reach out, sensing water, sensing rock: the river, the tunnel. Forward motion: slow, rhythmic. Across the Styx, the River of Hate and Promises, and beyond… deep, into haunted Tartarus…

  I sense the whispering presence of ghosts, but feel the physicality of monsters. Breath hot, muscles strong. Wild, animal, unnatural. Magic.

  I feel other things too… brothers, sisters. Titans. Some monstrous, some fair, but all to be avoided. Unless… some of them want to rebel against Cronus? But no, as helpful as that would be, we can’t risk it. Why should they follow me? I’m no one, nobody.

  I pull away from them and keep searching, but it’s no use. I don’t know what to look for. I come back into myself, feeling drained.

  “Any luck?” Hannah asks.

  “None. Everything radiates magic, and I’m too new at this to know what to look for.”

  “The first time’s always hard. Don’t worry, you’ll get better at it.” She says it with a smile, but I can tell Hannah’s not happy.

  “I’ve let you down. I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she says. “Not yet, you haven’t.”

  We drift downriver, the only sound the creak of Charon’s bones, the slosh of the pole dipping into the water. Maybe I can try again…

  All of a sudden, Mark says, “Hey, wait! I’ve got an idea.”

  “Yeah?” I say. “What is it?”

  “Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way.”

  “Wrong way how?” Hannah asks.

  “What if the problem isn’t just that Andrus doesn’t know what to look for, or that the whole underworld is covered in magic? What if instead of looking for the spell hiding Hades’ prison, we should be looking for an area that doesn’t look like magic?”

  “You know I’m a witch, right?” Hannah reminds him. “I already tried that. I tried everything! I really thought Andrus might be able to succeed where I failed.”

  “Maybe it’s impossible,” Mark says.

  Hannah snorts. “Really? That’s a good attitude!”

  “No,” Mark says, “I didn’t mean it like that. What if it’s impossible for you, or Andrus, or anyone else to find Hades?”

  “All right, maybe… but I don’t see how giving up helps.”

  I’ve known Mark long enough to understand his moods, and how his devious mind works. “Hear him out,” I say. “Go on, Mark.”

  He nods. “OK, so assuming Cronus’s spell cloaks Hades’ prison from immortals, what about mortals?”

  “You mean you?”

  Mark shakes his head. “No, not me. I mean monsters.”

  Hannah and I stare at each other, then Mark. “Even if that’s true,” she says, “the monsters are all on Cronus’s side. They’ll never agree to help us.”

  “I’m not talking about any monster,” Marks replies. “I’m talking about one in particular. The one closest to Hades. The one guaranteed to be on our side and to know what to look for.”

  Hannah’s face lights up. She leans over and hugs Mark, kissing him on the cheek as the thin boy blinks in surprise. “I love this mortal!” Hannah says, all trace of her bad mood gone. “Didn’t I tell you it was a great idea to bring him?”

  I scratch my head. “Wait, I don’t get it… What monster are we looking for?”

  “Cerberus,” Hannah says. “We’re looking for Cerberus.”

  3

  WORTH A SHOT

  “What’s the deal with this guy?” I ask Hannah, indicating the living mummy behind us. “Charon doesn’t talk?”

  The undead ferryman moves his withered head in my direction. The jaw clacks open and shut, but no sound comes out, just a faint puff of dust.

  “He’s telepathic,” Hannah explains, “but only the dead hear him.”

  I frown, worried this piece of news will mess up the plan I’ve been forming. “You’re not dead, can you hear him?”

  “I’m the daughter of Hades, so I have a natural affinity for ghosts and other… things. So to answer your question, yes, I can hear him. Why do you ask?”

  “Because we need to know where Cerberus is. I figured Charon must know.”

  “He doesn’t. Charon only knows what’s on or adjacent to the river. He has a bond with the water and the shore.”
>
  “Well, damn! That sucks. No offense. I was really hoping he could help.”

  “He is helping,” Hannah says. “He’s giving us a ride, remember?”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Just where are we going then, anyway?”

  Hannah shrugs. “Wherever we want, as long as the Styx will take us there. The default destination is Customs and Immigration.”

  “What?”

  “When you die, your ghost needs to get processed and accounted for, and to make sure you aren’t trying to smuggle anything into Tartarus you shouldn’t.”

  “Like what?” Mark asks.

  “Like the living,” Hannah replies. “That’s another reason to keep that mask on. Tartarus is only for ghosts and monsters, and immortals, like me and Andrus. If anyone found out you were alive, Mark, they’d try to kill you, or…”

  “Or what?” Mark asks.

  “Or possess you to hitch a ride back to Earth.”

  “Right. Why would they try to kill me though? Because I’m alive and they’re not?”

  “Some would, but there’s also a reward for killing trespassers. That way, if they turn you into a ghost, you can’t leave and the secrets of Tartarus stay hidden.”

  “Great.”

  Hannah shrugs. “That’s the way my father set it up, and the Titans saw no reason to change it. Even if the ghosts didn’t try to kill or possess you, they’d bug you with all kinds of questions about what the world is like now, if you know their loved ones and can send a message, or take revenge for them, all the usual annoying ghost stuff. They’d follow you around, pestering and pleading, and that means we’d be attracting all kinds of attention.”

  “Mask on,” Mark says. “Got it.” We sail downriver for a few more minutes, then Mark snaps his fingers. “Hey! I know you said Charon only knows about the Styx, but does he ferry monsters as well as ghosts?”

  “He ferries anyone who can pay. I mean, as long as it fits in the boat. He doesn’t discriminate.”

  “OK,” Mark says, “so maybe he overheard some monsters talking about Cerberus? Something that might give us a clue?”

  Charon turns to Hannah, and I suspect he’s using telepathy. My guess is confirmed a minute later when Hannah mods, then says, “Sorry, guys. Charon hasn’t heard anyone talking about Cerberus, and wherever the Titans are keeping him, it’s nowhere near the riverbanks.”

  Mark’s shoulders slump. “Too bad. Well, it was worth a shot.”

  “I could try summoning some ghosts,” Hannah says. “One of them might know.”

  “Too risky,” Mark says. “What if they rat us out to Cronus?”

  “The ghosts I’d summon would be my friends, like Herophilos, the doctor who treated Mark. They’d never betray me. That would be like betraying my father.”

  “You mean your father who’s in prison and unable to help them?”

  Hannah scowls.

  “Wait,” I say. Everyone stares at me, even Charon, though of course he doesn’t have eyes. Whatever he’s got, I can feel him looking at me.

  “What’s up?” she asks.

  “Maybe… maybe we’re asking the wrong question.”

  Hannah’s brow furrows. “Wrong how? We need to find Cerberus, so it makes sense to ask about him.”

  “Yeah, but what if… well, Cronus wants me dead, and he knows—or at least suspects—you and I are working together.”

  “Right.”

  “I get it,” Mark interrupts.

  She frowns at him. “Get what?”

  “I was on the right track,” he replies, “but Andrus is right. It was the wrong question because it was too easy. With you involved, Cronus would guess we were coming to Tartarus. He’d make sure no one talked.”

  “Operational security,” I explain, grateful I paid attention that day in warrior training class. “So no one is likely to have said anything, especially in the presence of Charon here, who was such a close ally of your father. And frankly, if they had, I’d suspect it was a trap.”

  “So what’s the right question?” Hannah asks.

  “Have there been any unusual troop movements lately?” I ask Charon. “Have you ferried anyone important, and to where?”

  The undead ferryman nods. Hannah’s eyes glaze over, going deep into thought as the mummy beams his reply into her brain. When her eyes snap back into focus, she grins. “Charon says he’s seen troops marching along the bank toward the Garden of Bone.”

  I don’t like the sound of that. “Garden of what now?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. The main thing is we have a direction to go now. Oh, and Charon also confirms that he ferried a Titan the other day to join them.”

  “A Titan?” I say. “Which one? Not Cronus?”

  “No, not Cronus. Nobody you’ve ever heard of. One of the Lesser Titans, the giants.”

  “You mean like a cyclops?” Mark asks.

  “Worse,” Hannah replies. “Gyges.”

  “Guy-GHEZ?” I stumble over the pronunciation. “What’s a Gyges? I must have slept through that class.”

  “Not what,” Hannah says. “Who. Gyges is one of the hundred-handers, three brothers who guard the gates of Tartarus.”

  Now it clicks. “Aren’t they the ones with fifty heads? The ones who can throw a hundred rocks all at once?”

  “They sure are. That means your earth magic is going to come in handy, pardon the pun.” Her raven cackles at the joke.

  I start to laugh too, then frown. “What do you mean, my earth magic?”

  “Well, you have an affinity with rocks, so you’ll figure something out. You better, or we’re dead meat. Pounded meat, like hamburger.”

  “But I barely understand my power! What makes you think I can defeat that thing?”

  “Gyges didn’t spend years in Cronus’ stomach, absorbing his powers. You did. That’s what makes me think you can beat him, or at least hold him off long enough for Mark and me to rescue Cerberus.”

  I don’t have a reply, just a sinking feeling our quest might be over before it’s begun. I barely notice when Mark asks how a giant could fit in Charon’s boat without sinking it. Hannah mutters something about magic, how most things can shrink to fit inside the boat, then return to their original size after they exit. Which makes as much sense as anything in this crazy, upside-down world.

  4

  THE PILLARS OF ASH

  To get to the Garden of Bone, we take a detour through the Pillars of Ash. It’s a large cavern, miles long, with walls formed from basalt: volcanic black stone. And it’s quiet, dark and deep, lit only by the orange glow of cinders—cinders set deep in the ashen pillars that rise smoky gray from beneath timeless black water.

  The pillars reach like burnt fingers, ghostly and grasping toward the rock ceiling but never quite reaching their goal. The air smells of smoke. Smoke and sadness, the sorrow of charred dreams.

  Charon stops poling the boat to breathe them in, or whatever passes for breath in his skeletal body. I hear him huff, see his chest inflate under his thick black robe. He doesn’t exhale, but slowly his chest sinks back in. Whatever he did, it seems to strengthen him.

  As we drift between the Pillars of Ash, Hannah explains they’re made of trapped souls—all those who refuse to move on, who never achieved their dreams in life. They never reach the cavern’s ceiling like they never reached anything in life. So they stay here and rot.

  “There’s no room for them in Tartarus,” Hannah says. “They wander, hopeless and alone, ghosts even to other ghosts, then their souls just burn out and blow away, binding to these pillars.”

  “Why?” Mark asks.

  “Because even in death, like seeks like. These souls represent life’s losers.”

  Mark grimaces at the word. As one of the poor, he’d been branded a Loser—with a capital “L”—and forced to live in Loserville, in the worst part of Othrys, the capital of the New Greece Theocracy.

  Hannah notices Mark’s reaction and quickly adds, “It’s not about social c
aste or finances, of course. Their fate isn’t based on what others branded them as in life, but on how they branded themselves in death.”

  “What do you mean?” Mark asks.

  Hannah pauses, considering her answer, then says, “It’s like if you die feeling worthless and unsatisfied, and don’t believe you have a right to enjoy any kind of afterlife, then you end up here, in the Pillars of Ash. If you didn’t, you’d just be clogging up the underworld and making everyone else’s eternity miserable.”

  “So I’m not going to end up here?” Mark asks.

  “Not unless you choose to.”

  “Good,” Mark says. “There’s no way I’d ever choose something like that.”

  Hannah shrugs. “You’d be surprised how many people do. I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s just the way it is. You have to be your own savior; nobody can do it for you. Not Gods, not Titans. Only you. You decide where you go when you die, and what you get when you arrive.”

  I’ve been listening to the conversation, and now I have something to say, something I need to be clear on if we’re going to free Hades and allow people to die again. “So let me see if I get this straight... You’re telling me scumbag murderers like Anton get a free pass into Tartarus? I mean, if that’s where they want to go?”

  “No one gets in for free,” Hannah says. “You have to pay Charon, but if a murderer was happy with his life or wanted to move on, he wouldn’t be refused admission. If he was happy killing, he’d get assigned to Murder Town.”

  “Murder Town? That’s great. Real cheery.”

  “It is, in a way. Murder Town is where all the killers and their victims go… if they’re not ready to move on.”

  “Sounds horrible.”

  “It is, and it isn’t. Remember, these souls want to be there, for whatever reason. And when they’re ready to move on, they move on.”

  “To where? Prison?”

  “If that’s what they want. There are those who seek eternal torment and those who seek redemption. Hades gives the dead what they want, not necessarily what they need. If you ask for the wrong thing, well, that’s what you get, and hopefully, you learn from it… It might take a hundred years, or a thousand, but most souls learn… eventually.”