by Maz Evans
“What are you going to do?” he asked her.
“You heard them. I have to recapture Prisoner Forty-Two.”
“How?”
“I have no idea,” said Virgo heavily.
“… and Theseus slaying the Minotaur? Do me a favor,” Charon scoffed. “That boy couldn’t win a food fight … ”
“Tell me something,” Elliot began. “If Prisoner Forty-Two isn’t a Daemon, why did he have their kardia?”
“Maybe it was just … dirty,” muttered Virgo. “I don’t know. You heard Pisces. There’s no way that Prisoner Forty-Two could be Thanatos. He’s dead.”
“No, he’s not,” announced Charon suddenly.
“Why do you say that?” asked Elliot.
“He’s making it up—have you not studied our history?” said Virgo grandly.
“My mom says history is only what the winners wrote down,” said Elliot.
“Hold on a sec—we’re at Earth Junction,” said Charon, pulling over to the riverbank. “Got some more customers to pick up.”
Until that moment, Elliot had thought that the strangest passengers he’d ever seen were on a London bus. He had read about some of the creatures he now saw: There were two young goblins sniggering as they blew bubble gum into a centaur’s tail, while a half man, half goat—Elliot remembered this was a satyr—was annoying an elderly fairy by playing heavy-metal music on his panpipes.
“Do you mind?” the fairy huffed, pointing to a sign with crossed-out panpipes on the mast.
“Whatevs,” muttered the satyr as he plugged some headphones into the pipes and returned to his thrash panpipe solo.
“Urgh. Elementals … ” Virgo tutted disapprovingly under her breath.
The boat pulled away from the shore and Charon regained his easy rhythm with the oars.
“So. Thanatos,” he went on plainly. “He’s alive all right. Must be.”
“What are you talking about?” said a weary Virgo.
“Now listen, I’m as neutral as a magnolia living room in Switzerland. I don’t play for any of the teams, see?”
Charon held out his kardia, which was made of glass.
“I get on fine with all sides—and none of their powers work on Neutrals, so I can do what I like,” he said. “But if you believe that Zeus killed Thanatos, you’re blinder than a Cyclops with an eye patch.”
“And Charon, you are as full of poop as King Augeas’s stables,” Virgo scoffed.
“I don’t know what happened,” said Charon. “But I’d bet my eleventh toe it was something dodgy. Back in the day, I used to ferry the souls of the dead to the Underworld—mortals and immortals. Made a tidy living—the dead used to be buried with a coin in their mouth to pay my fare. No one does that anymore. I blame credit cards.”
There was a kerfuffle at the back of the boat as the centaur put his hind legs on the seat next to the fairy.
“Do you mind?” she said haughtily, nodding toward another sign saying PLEASE KEEP YOUR HOOVES OFF THE SEATS.
“So where did you take Thanatos?” asked Elliot.
“That’s my point,” Charon insisted. “I didn’t. I escorted every dead soul in those days—including Erebus after Zeus killed him. But I never saw Thanatos. And if he’s flown the coop, he’ll be heading straight for his Chaos Stones. He loves them like a dung beetle loves diarrhea.”
“What are they like?” asked Elliot.
“Well … they’re small black beetles that like dung,” said Charon.
“The Chaos Stones,” said Elliot.
“Oh, them,” said Charon. “Boy, they’re a sight. The four most beautiful jewels you’ll see. The Fire Stone is a boundless sapphire, the Water Stone a deep-red ruby, the Air Stone a beautiful emerald, and the Earth Stone a brilliant diamond.”
“Hang on,” said Elliot, picturing the stones. “They’re all the wrong colors?”
“Chaos—Thanatos’s gran—who created the stones at the dawn of the universe, was an almighty Goddess with the power to produce day and night,” explained Charon. “Unfortunately, the old dear was as color-blind as a shortsighted bat in sunglasses … If you control the stones, you control the elements—not to mention becoming as rich as King Midas. Before he invested all his wealth in seafront property in Atlantis.”
Elliot’s ears pricked up.
“Rich? How?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“It’s that Earth Stone,” said Charon. “Think about it. If you control the Earth, you can find oil, gold, buried treasure—you’d be minted in a minute.”
“And where are they now?” asked Elliot more keenly.
“Zeus must have them,” said Charon. “Unless he lost them in one of his divorces.”
A cell phone rang through the boat. The fairy carefully opened her handbag and gently pulled out the phone. She elegantly cleared her throat and answered the call.
“HELLO?” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “I CAN’T TALK NOW! I’M ON THE SHIP OF DEATH!”
“DO YOU MIND?” said all the other passengers in unison, drawing her attention to a sign showing a fairy shouting into a cell phone in a prohibited red circle.
Elliot’s mind was whirring. A magical diamond that could make him instantly rich? A diamond that could help him pay off the debt and save his home? A diamond that was … a diamond. Now that was a diamond he needed to find.
“So Zeus is still alive?” Elliot asked.
“Of course he is, duh,” sighed Virgo.
“And whoever this prisoner is, you’re going to need some help catching him?”
“Pah—you offering?” said Virgo condescendingly.
“Maybe,” said Elliot, a vision dancing in his head of the top-of-the-line game console he was going to buy with the treasure the Earth Stone would reveal. “But you also need someone with experience. Someone who knows Prisoner Forty-Two. Someone who has caught him before … ”
Virgo looked as though she’d been hit by a thunderbolt.
“Oh, my Gods!” she gasped. “Zeus! He imprisoned him the first time! He can do it again! That’s the best idea I’ve ever had!”
“Er … excuse me … ” said Elliot.
“Charon—where can I find Zeus?” asked Virgo.
“Haven’t seen him for a day or two—but Zeus doesn’t blow his nose without his son Hermes bringing him the hankie,” Charon put in. “This time of day, Hermes will be in that Café Hero in the Asphodel Fields having one of their high-powered coffees.”
“Then let’s go,” beamed Virgo.
“Er—wait a minute—I need to get home,” said Elliot.
“We’re coming up to the junction with the Avon,” said Charon. “Am I taking you home, or are we going to find Hermes?”
“Will it take long?” asked Elliot, weighing up leaving Mom alone against the prospect of finding the Earth Stone.
“Not at all,” said Virgo, finally brightening up. “We’ll have Thanatos back in prison by teatime. This is all going to work out perfectly.”
“Well?” said Charon to Elliot.
“To the Asphodel Fields,” said Elliot, reassuring himself that today was no different from leaving Mom on a school day. This was his best chance of saving Home Farm. “We’ve got some Gods to find.”
The boat continued its descent along the Styx, the bright colors of the Earth starting to blur as if someone was rubbing them out with a giant eraser. The scenery faded slowly away until there was nothing but gray, foggy cloud. The boat sailed into a long, gloomy tunnel.
“Next stop,” announced Charon as they came to a halt underground, “Acheron Junction. Exit here for the Asphodel Fields. Please ensure you take all personal belongings and limbs with you.”
“Thanks,” said Elliot as the other passengers jostled off the ship.
“No problem,” said Charon. He looked down at the abacus at the front of the boat. “That’ll be three thousand drachma,” he said cheerily.
Virgo looked at Elliot, who looked blankly back.
“What?
” he said.
“Well, I haven’t got any money,” she said. “I’ve never needed it before. You’ll have to pay him.”
“I’m sorry,” said Elliot to Charon, rummaging around in his pocket and producing the three pounds seventy-six he’d stashed there earlier in the day and a random button. “This is all I have.”
Charon’s eyes became the size of saucers.
“Wow!” he whispered. “Can I? Can I really … ?”
“Of course,” said Elliot, trying not to wince at the thought of losing his entire week’s spending money. But as Charon withdrew his hand, Elliot saw that the boatman had only taken the button.
“Mortal treasure!” he said. “I collect this stuff—I’ve not seen a blue one before … ”
“Are you sure?” said Elliot, uncomfortable at cheating the man who might just have solved all his financial worries.
“Oh, I’m not trying to rip you off, mate, that includes the tip,” said Charon, still staring at his fare.
“Well, great—keep the change,” said Elliot, bemused for the umpteenth time that day.
“And here,” said Charon, fishing around in his pocket, producing a small piece of parchment. “Here’s my card. If you ever need me, just drop this in the nearest water and I’ll come and find you.”
“See you, Charon,” said Virgo as she and Elliot walked into the gloom.
“Ta-ra, kids,” he said, pulling out a newspaper and the sandwich with something horrible wriggling inside it. “Zodiac Council Pledges More Free Centaur Schools,” he read on the front page. “Believe that, you’ll believe anything … ”
A short while later, a card floated down the river to announce a new job. Charon picked it out of the murky water.
“Well, I’ll be … ” he said, taking up the oars in his gnarled hands.
Charon rowed back along the Styx, this time taking the river Avon turning toward Stonehenge. A few moments later, he saw his passenger lurking in the cold fog that hung over the riverbank.
“Hello, Charon” came a drawling voice.
“Blimey,” said Charon. “Your ears must have been burning—I was only just talking about you. Long time, no see.”
“Too long,” said Thanatos, taking his seat as the boat pulled away from the bank. “But I can promise you this—you’ll be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”
“So what have I missed?” yawned Thanatos as the Ship of Death rowed through the melancholy depths of the Underworld along the river Lethe, the river of oblivion, passing forests of dead trees and vast expanses of barren fields.
“Oh, you know how it is—nothing really changes,” said Charon. “I’m getting older, everything creaks a bit louder, bits keep falling off … ”
“Nonsense,” said Thanatos. “You don’t look a day over four thousand.”
“Too kind, guv’nor.” Charon smiled.
They rowed past a building site on the riverbank, where a team of Penates were scuttling around a half-finished construction covered in scaffolding.
“What’s this?” asked Thanatos disapprovingly.
“It’s happening everywhere,” said Charon. “You get a nice bit of riverside wasteland and someone snaps it up and builds apartments. That’s going to be a luxury Underworld complex called ‘Dun Livin.’ These jokers are totally ruining the character of the area if you ask me … ”
“Is that so?” said Thanatos, his eyes darkening. “Are we far from Tartarus?”
“I’ll get you there faster than a satyr chasing a siren, guv’nor,” said Charon cheerily. “In fact—I need to pop in anyhow. I’ve been diversifying my business model—branching out a bit. I’ve started a grocery delivery service—it’s doing all right. I’ve got a drop to make in Tartarus as it happens. Be there in no time.”
Ten minutes later, the boat pulled up alongside an infinite brass wall. Thanatos and Charon disembarked from the Ship of Death and made their way to a set of imposing ebony gates. The flaming letters across the top announced that this was the entrance to Tartarus.
ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE! proclaimed a large sign. SECURITY CAMERAS ARE IN OPERATION IN THIS REALM!
Thanatos stood back as Charon slouched toward the security booth in front of the gates, where Cerberus, the three-headed hound, had one set of eyes on the gates, the second on a large sandwich, and the third on a small TV screen showing two harpies screaming over who stole the other’s boyfriend.
“All right, mate,” said Charon to the security guard. “How’s the family?”
“Not bad,” said Cerberus’s middle head. “Wife’s just had a new litter.”
“Oh—congratulations! How many kids you got now, then?”
“Forty-seven boys and thirty-two girls,” said Cerberus proudly. “Actually I think it’s forty-six boys. One of them said his sister had put on weight. So she ate him.”
“Kids do the funniest things,” chortled Charon. “Got a delivery for one of your inmates—all right if I go through?”
“Help yourself,” said Cerberus, buzzing the gates open before picking up the sandwich. “Oh, no—one harpy’s just pulled the other one’s wing! I know it’s trash, but I love a good harpy fight … ”
As the ebony gates creaked open, Charon and Thanatos proceeded into the fiery wasteland of Tartarus. They were in a vast, blazing valley where, on all sides, prisoners were performing everlasting punishments, moaning as they pursued their endlessly futile tasks.
“So what’s the plan now you’re out?” asked Charon. “Put your feet up? Take it easy? Find a new hobby?”
“I’m going to reclaim my Chaos Stones, take my revenge on Zeus, enslave the mortals, and rule the world,” said Thanatos. “Although golf also sounds charming … ”
“Important to keep busy,” said Charon. “Well, how ’bout that—look who it is!”
Across the valley, a lone scrawny figure was struggling to push a huge boulder up a sheer hill.
“Sisyphus!” Thanatos cried. “How good to see you again!”
“Thanatoth?” said Sisyphus, raising a hand to wave, but quickly slapping it back as the boulder started rolling down the hill. “Well, thith ith a thurprithe. Lithen—no hard feelingth, I trutht?”
“Of course not,” said Thanatos languidly. “The whole thing was hilarious. That time you tried to cheat your own death by tying me up and hiding me down here! Really, you are too funny. Oh, how I laughed.”
“Thank heaventh!” said Sisyphus. “Thath very magnanimouth of you. You know how it ith—you work yourthelf up into a thilly frenthy and then you jutht have to thay to yourthelf: ‘Thithyphuth? Theriouthly? You are a thuch a thilly thauthage. Thanatoth won’t give thith a thecond thought.’ ”
“Of course not,” said Thanatos, gesturing to the boulder. “I’m not one to hold a grudge. Looks like you’ve nearly cracked that as well.”
“Jutht one more push,” said Sisyphus. “Thith ith the one. I can feel it in the pit of my thtomach.”
“How many times have you tried to get that boulder up there now?” asked Charon.
“Thith will be … theventy-theven thouthand thix hundred and thixty-thix,” said Sisyphus. “But thith time, I really thenth I’ll be thuccthethful.”
“Good for you,” said Thanatos. “I’d shake your hand but … !”
“You thneaky thwine!” laughed Sisyphus with a heave, as Charon and Thanatos continued through the scorching inferno.
“This is the address,” said Charon, reading his order form as they approached a large pool. “Tantalus. Number One, Pool of Despair.”
“You’re late,” snapped Tantalus from the middle of the water, where he was chained to a post beneath a plum tree that was groaning with perfectly ripe fruit. “I specifically booked the one p.m. to two p.m. slot. It is 2:04.”
“Sorry, mate,” shrugged Charon, before adding under his breath, “didn’t realize you had such a busy schedule … ”
“Did you bring my order?” barked Tantalus.
“’Ere it is,”
said Charon, waggling the bag with a grin.
“At last!” whooped Tantalus. “I’ve done it! I’ve beaten the system! I will have food! I will have drink! I will have a refund—you’re four minutes late!”
“Yeah … one little thing,” said Charon, consulting his order form. “I’ve had to make an … item substitution.”
“What do you mean, substitution?” snapped Tantalus. “I only ordered two things: water and fruit.”
“Yeah—it was weird. I tried everywhere—Trader Plato’s, Drachmo, Aesop & Perseus—every single shop was completely out of both. But I’ve brought you a replacement … ”
Charon rummaged in the bag and proudly produced his shopping.
“Toilet paper,” he announced. “You can never have enough.”
“YOU IDIOT!” screamed Tantalus. “I haven’t had anything to eat or drink for thousands of years! Every time I try to eat the fruit, it moves from my grasp! Every time I try to drink the water, it seeps away! I am mad with hunger and thirst, my skin is wrinkled like a prune on a pension, and YOU BRING ME TOILET PAPER!”
Charon hung his head. “It’s quilted,” he added hopefully.
“YOU TOTAL MORON!” Tantalus yelled. “I can’t eat this!”
“Listen, pal,” said Charon. “You served up your own son for dinner. I didn’t have you down as a picky eater … ”
“AAAAAAAAARGH!” yelled Tantalus, throwing his livid hands up in the air, sending the fruit-laden branches flying and the water slipping away. “I’M STARVING!”
“Now, now, now,” smirked Thanatos, plucking the toilet paper from Charon’s hand. “That’s not very community-spirited of you, Tantalus. Just because you can’t make use of this, it doesn’t mean someone else shouldn’t benefit. Hey, Sisyphus?”
“Yeth?” strained Sisyphus, his boulder teetering on the brow of the hill.
“Catch!” sneered Thanatos, tossing the roll straight at him.
Sisyphus instinctively snatched his hands away from the boulder to grab the gift.
“Wow—quilted, thankth!” said Sisyphus, before his face fell a mile. “Uh-oh … ”
For a second, the boulder looked as though it might simply drop into a crevice on the hilltop. But as it wobbled precariously at the summit, it quickly became clear that gravity was going to win.