Muse Unexpected

by V. C. Birlidis

  She searched for another means to reach the canyon below. A thick and foul-looking fog hung in the air a few hundred feet below and she couldn’t make out a single detail of what she would find down there. The fog crackled and gurgled, making her wrinkle her nose.

  “Such nonsense.” she said, picking up her walking staff.

  She examined the ground and found the flat stepping stone she was looking for. Covered in dirt, wild grass and rotted wood, the worn face of the stone was carved with the image of a skull. Stepping in front of it, Penny knelt, and removed some of the debris. When she was satisfied, she raised her staff and thrust the point of it into the skull’s gaping mouth.

  She waited, but nothing happened.

  “I am so very rusty.”

  She lifted and slammed her staff three more times, the third time causing a bright spark to ignite, lighting up the skull’s eyes before flickering out. She struck the stone so hard her teeth chattered in her head. In an instant, the stone shifted and the ground creaked and shook under her feet. She could hear earth shake off the side of the cliff, as stone slabs slid out and locked into place. When the ground was still, she walked to the edge and saw her way down to the canyon: a set of stairs disappearing into the thick fog.

  “Well, that’s helpful, but enough of these tricks. I mean, really Haddie, how childish of you.” After she'd exposed the rope bridge for the fraud it was, Penny conjured another gust of air and swept away the fog, revealing what she guessed were more than a thousand steps. Her legs and back ached, telling her to go back home.

  “You are a dead god, Haddie,” she muttered.

  After two hours of maneuvering down the steps, some were so crumbled they stretched the definition of ‘step’ to its breaking point; she reached the bottom and sat down on an outcrop of rocks.

  “Maybe,” she said to herself, between huffs of breath. “I’ll maim him. Rip an arm off or maybe just a finger.”

  When she had caught her breath, she stood up. Even though the watch pinned to her blouse said two p.m., the canyon was deep enough it only allowed enough light to make a person think it was early twilight. Tall rocks with carvings on them were scattered throughout the canyon floor, reminding her of Stonehenge. She once again encountered the same thick fog, making it difficult for her to see where she needed to go. Using her staff, she tapped her way forward, keeping a wary eye for any surprises she might encounter. There were places where the fog seemed thicker and as she passed through them, she saw a figure, which vanished with an audible swoosh.

  “Turn back,” a harsh whisper said.

  If sandpaper had a voice, this is what it would sound like.

  “You are not welcome, Olympian. Turn back.”

  She rolled her eyes. “How annoying,” she replied. “Go away, spirit. I have no need for you.”

  “Doom,” the voice said. “Continue at your own peril.”

  The air gathered around her as another swoosh passed by. This time, it grazed her cheek and she raised her hand to her face and saw her fingertips were red with blood.

  She now saw several places where the fog had gathered. The thing had brought reinforcements. Before she had time to react, she was surrounded.

  “Not welcome,” one of the entities said.

  “Foul abomination.” another voice said, screeching louder than the others.

  “Fallen One.” the first voice said as it took another swipe at her other cheek.

  The group of creatures surged onto Penny and attacked.

  She screamed as they tore into her arms, her legs, their teeth biting into her shoulder and neck.

  A rage built inside her and Penny sensed her powers building. Bolts of energy shot from her hands and with one quick moment she threw them all off, forcing the creatures to retreat into the fog to gather their strength once again.

  Not being one to come unprepared, she reached into her pocket and clutched a small white stone.

  “How dare you touch me.” she shouted at the creatures. “I, born from Olympus.”

  The creatures had gathered their strength again and pounced.

  Blood from her cuts coated the stone and it began to glow, brighter and brighter.

  “Foul abomination? Look at what a festering bunch of bones you are. How dare you even glance at me,” she shouted.

  The creatures fell backward as if stuck with great force, screaming in agony, as the stone’s bright light attacked them and chunks of their bodies evaporated with a sizzling sound. She watched with glee as the guardians cowered. Penny knew they were dying and their ability to hide behind the fog was gone, exposing their skeletal bodies covered in strips of rotting flesh and wrapped in ragged, hooded death shrouds. They had shark-like teeth and their hands were more like claws with large black fingernails. Feeling light-headed and energized, Penny ran toward what was left of the creatures and watched them reach up with one final scream and disappear.

  Her wounds were already healing and she wiped the blood from her face. She frowned as she noticed her skirt and blouse were ruined.

  Bloodstains left untreated will ruin clothes. I should have brought my stain stick.

  She continued to tap her way forward and after a few moments ran into what she was looking for—two large, crumbling stones, easily fifty feet in height.

  An ancient, lifeless looking grapevine coiled itself around the tall entry stones and across the wide space between them. The trunk of the vine, created from the fusion of thousands of independent ones, was twisted and gnarled, and its tendrils gripped and girdled the stones with such strength the stones appeared to cave inward. What fruit grew from the vines was black and shriveled and dripped with a putrid-smelling sap-like substance. She walked between the two large rocks and heard the moans of the souls trapped within the vines' eternal embrace. Several arms shot-out from within the vines, attempting to grab her, but she chuckled as she stepped out of reach of the beseeching dead.

  She stumbled a little and steadied herself, staring in awe at what was in front of her— the entrance to the Underworld. It was as she remembered. Truly a loathsome place, with dead, petrified trees surrounding it. Their trunks were stripped of bark and bleached white so they seemed to glow in the darkness. The entrance, a vast opening in the side of the mountain, resembled a screaming giant’s mouth filled with row after row of razor-sharp teeth that jutted out in all different directions. The path leading to the cave and the cave’s entrance was littered with the bones of both humans and animals. She walked forward quickly, but with cautious steps, to make sure she didn’t trip and fall onto the sharp point of a ribcage or the shard of a shin bone.

  The crunching sounds her footfalls made bounced off the walls and became almost deafening. With great relief, she could make out the rocky shoreline where the four rivers of the Underworld converged into a marsh, and she picked up her pace, reaching the edge where an old wooden pier stood, half submerged in the water and covered in moss and slime.

  Several dead souls attempted to crawl onto the pier. Their bodies were pale white and had eyes resembling pools of shiny black ink. But the pier’s slippery support logs and rotted edges sent them tumbling back into the putrid water, landing on top of dozens of other souls who were also attempting to climb out. She knew those were the souls who had no money to pay the ferryman. They were damned to stay in the river for hundreds of years before they had paid enough penance to earn their journey into the afterlife. Some of them had the word “Nothos” branded on them, the brand glowing bright red on their white skin. Those souls would never be allowed passage onto the afterlife. They were permanently damned, never to know relief from their suffering.

  She eyed the pier and knew in its current state it wouldn’t hold her weight and could cause her to fall in, allowing the dead to drag her down. She put the tip of her shoe on the pier and the soft, spongy wood creaked and broke away, proving her opinion correct. Penny reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial full of an emerald green liquid.

  She
raised her arm and threw the vial down onto the pier. Even though the surface was soft, the glass vial shattered, and the green liquid sizzled and bubbled. The vial held a small amount of the substance, but it grew in mass as it worked its way across the surface of the pier’s planks and dripped onto its support logs. The dead, attracted by the glow and sensing a change in the pier, became frenzied and rushed it, only to howl and scream as the liquid burned their tender, milky skin. A few drops dripped into the water and the dead rushed away in fear.

  Penny watched as the green liquid both restored the pier and kept the dead away. She tested the restored pier with a toe and once assured it could hold her weight, she stepped out onto it.

  Penny looked down into the black, murky water and was surprised to recognize a dead woman with long blond hair who had once been her neighbor. Penny had attended the woman’s funeral and with great enjoyment removed the gold coins from the woman’s eyes and branded the woman with the word “Nothos”; thereby forever damning the woman to her present situation. The woman had dared to complain about Penny’s desolate yard to village officials and Penny had thus made sure she was paid back in spades.

  Still holding her staff, Penny reached the end of the pier and ignored the stares of the dead, who grew silent. She slammed the end of her staff three times, the sound echoing off the walls and bouncing off the surface of the water. She waited and listened. She knocked her staff again three times, and after a few moments of silence heard a low, deep horn call back to her. She tapped her staff again and the horn called back again, but this time it was accompanied by the sound of splashes.

  The ferryman is coming. She gathered the small coin purse she carried. Her coins were ancient and she knew Charon would be pleased to receive such treasures. A mist appeared on the water, which grew into a great fog.

  “By Zeus, enough with the fog. You would think they would come up with something more original than fog. I shall deduct two points for lack of imagination.” she said, noticing the dead had gathered in even greater numbers in their attempt to gain passage. The boat approaching the pier was old, although anything but decrepit. It was common knowledge among Olympians that Charon took great pride in the maintenance of his ship, and the mere suggestion it was rotted and miserable looking was enough to send the ferryman into a rage.

  The truth about the state of Charon’s boat was different. The lower part of the ship was black with a bottom stripe of red that could be seen depending on the tide. In contrast to the dark hull, the main deck was made of seasoned oak, with accents of cherry wood here and there. And there were several masts lacking sails but did have several pale blue banners flying at different heights with gold lettering. Each of the banners had the single letter, Omega, embroidered onto the fabric. Without the use of sails, the current of the dead and the golden oars jutting out of the hull’s side caused the ship’s main movement. Few had ever seen the creatures that worked the oars, although legend tells of beings with glowing green eyes living an eternity of the damned.

  The boat reached the edge of the pier with a muffled bump and the dead remained silent, hoping to hear their names called to journey on. The only sound coming from the large ship’s flapping banners.

  “Charon…” Penny shouted. She waited a second and grew impatient. She thought at least one part of her journey should be easy.

  “Charon.” she shouted again. “I know you hear me.”

  “How can I not? Your voice is most disrespectful to me and the dead,” said a voice. It was deep and casual but had a lofty air about it, as if it were greeting an undesirable on the street.

  She faced the ferryman. Charon on many levels was quite pleasing to look at, with his white skin, straight black hair and jet black eyes. Similar to the dead, Charon’s eyes were pools of shimmering black ink. They were hypnotic to mortals and could not be resisted. He was tall and was fashionably dressed in a black suit tailored to fit his strong stature. A black, French-cuffed shirt with golden coin cufflinks and black wingtips completed the look.

  She wondered if being the ferryman afforded him time to work out and smirked at the ridiculous idea.

  “Yoga and push-ups,” was Charon’s response, providing Penny a gentle reminder that in this realm he knows everything and can read the thoughts of anyone who ventures into his territory. She clouded her mind and allowed only the thoughts she wanted the ferryman to know.

  “You know who I am and why I’ve come?” Penny said.

  “I do not serve those from Olympus, goddess. You have no right to be on this sacred ground and bother me with your travel requests,” Charon said, matter-of-factly.

  “You serve all who call you,” Penny spat back. “And the reason for my journey is of no concern to you. Let me on your ship.”

  “Hiding your thoughts will not help your case,” he said.

  “Well,” she said, changing her strategy. “If you feel that way, I’ll take my gold coins with me, which would be such a shame, for they are special coins.”

  Charon lifted his eyes to meet Penny’s and moved closer, appearing to grow several feet in height his complexion becoming paler.

  “You forget who you are speaking with, Fallen One. You, who above all have caused great misery to those I travel with, have little ground to stand on right now. I hear their cries of anguish at your hands and take great satisfaction knowing I undo so much of what you have done,” he said, allowing the last words to echo. “Maybe a dip in the river Acheron would silence your tongue and teach you humility. You are no more to me than a piece of filth I wipe off the bottom of my shoe.” The last word came out like a curse and Penny took a step back, unaware of how close she was to the pier’s edge.

  Charon continued to curse at Penny as he took yet another step closer. Penny stood on the edge of the pier, her heels within reach of the dead. Suddenly, her former and very dead neighbor launched herself out of the water and grabbed hold of Penny’s right ankle.

  Taken by surprise, Penny hit the dead woman with her staff. The bag of coins dropped to the ground and the leather drawstring loosened enough to allow a single coin to pop out. The animated face of Medusa gleamed on one side of it, the snakes of her hair writhing and her sharp teeth gnashing. The coin flipped and the face of Aphrodite appeared on the other side. She smiled and winked. The dead woman ripped away Penny’s staff and crawled up her back, her nails tearing through the old woman’s blouse and sinking deep into her flesh.

  Penny beseeched Charon, who stood laughing at her. Right as the old woman toppled towards the bog, she and the ferryman disappeared, leaving the dead neighbor to scream in fury as she fell backward into the water clutching a clump of Penny’s hair. The green liquid evaporated and the pier crumbled into the bog. Within a few seconds the water bubbled and a new, ever-more rotted pier rose from its depths.

  Penny fell face forward onto the deck of Charon’s ship, her staff and the purse of golden coins clattering onto its surface. The purse was now fully open and more than twenty-five of the magical coins of Aphrodite glowed back at Charon. Penny thrashed around for a few more seconds and, after realizing she hadn’t fallen into the bog, got to her feet.

  “Where did you find these coins? Do you know what these coins are and what they do?” Charon asked.

  Penny reached down and collected them, placing all but five back into the purse. Using a slight of hand trick learned years ago, she concealed the five coins until she was able to drop them into the front pocket of her skirt.

  “Of course I do. Do you take me for a fool? Give me passage to Hades and the coins are yours to do with what you will. Refuse and I take them back and you can continue on your cruise up this lovely waterway,” she said, not caring if Charon could hear the mocking tone in her voice.

  The ferryman licked his lips. “You have a deal, but it’s for only one way.”

  Penny smiled sweetly and handed over the purse of gold. “One way was exactly what I was looking for.”

  Chapter 20

  Sophie enter
ed the dining hall, followed by Angela, after being ‘summoned’ by Georgia. Seated at the head of the long, dark mahogany dining table was her grandmother, engaged in conversation with her mother and Aletheria. A small male Hob, whom Sophie remembered her mother calling him Gavin, was standing in the mouth of the fireplace, sweeping ash and soot into a dustbin. A grunt turned Sophie’s attention away from the dining table as Bennett walked in carrying several large white ash logs. She was determined to play it cool, but knew she was failing miserably as she grinned like an idiot... again.

  It wasn’t until she got about ten feet away from the table that Sophie realized there was something else in the room.

  It was a rather fat cherub fluttering around the ceiling, an irritating giggle exploding from it the moment it saw Sophie. A small swath of cloth covered the bare essentials of its pinkish bloated body and the flapping sound its wings made was anything but angelic. Clutched in its chubby hands was a single white envelope with gold trim.

  “What the heck is that? Sophie asked.

  Georgia threw her hands up in exasperation. “Well, it’s a page of some sort with a message, possibly an invitation.”

  “From whom?” Sophie asked.

  Aletheria smiled. “If we could catch the blasted thing, we would be able to answer your question.”

  “Let me see if I can get it,” said Callie, standing up. The page fluttered within grabbing distance and she reached over, but in a flash the cherub slapped her hand out of the way and zoomed to the highest point in the room, its giggles echoing off the ceiling and walls.

  “Ouch!” yelled Callie, as she rubbed the back of her hand. “That little beast has a wicked slap.”

  Aletheria laughed. “Don’t be too forceful with it. It bites,” the Oracle said as she lifted up Georgia’s hand.

  Sophie turned her attention to a new app she had been trying out on her Vasilikós-issued eTablet. The app used the built-in camera to scan and determine if the animal or human had supernatural or Olympian heredity. A full description of the entity was provided if it tested positive for either. It was called “Whatsit.”