I pulled a face. “That hasn’t always worked out in my favour.”
He grimaced. “I admit, I thought you were a shadow shaper when we first met, and that coloured my opinion of you. But I was wrong. I see the real you now, and I like what I see. You could never be one of them.”
“I stole the ring from you,” I reminded him.
“You also risked your life to save Holly, when it would have been easier to run and abandon her. You even risked your life to save me, when you didn’t even like me.” That wasn’t quite true—I’d definitely moved into the liking stage by then, even if he hadn’t realised it—but I let that one slide. If he thought I was so great, who was I to disabuse him of the notion? “I see a woman who’s brave, resourceful, and loyal to her friends. A woman who does what’s right, no matter what it costs her. That’s the woman I’d like to know better. I really don’t care about her past.”
Well, that made one of us. I cared, but at the moment, there was nothing I could do about it. I sighed and stepped into the circle of his arms, resting my head against his chest. His heartbeat was firm and strong under my ear. Was this enough? Maybe it could be.
Maybe it would have to be.
***
We sat outside under the cool silvery light that had replaced the golden “sunlight” of Elysium’s false day. I missed the moon—the light kept making me think there should be a full moon in the sky, but there weren’t even any stars. There were no small animals rustling in the woods around us either, nor any mosquitos buzzing around. They were only small differences, but they were enough to keep me constantly on edge, subconsciously aware that things were not quite as they should be. The underworld could be frightening or it could be serene, but it was never quite the same as the real world.
Hephaistos sat on a log, a chunk of wood and a knife in his big hands. He was whittling something that looked more and more like a centaur as it took shape. Maybe I could stick pins in it. I flexed my calf surreptitiously; it still didn’t feel quite right. There was a glass of wine at the god’s elbow, perched on another stump, but he didn’t stop to drink from it often. His hands were always moving, as if he couldn’t stand to be idle. Warm light spilled from the open back door of his cottage, but it didn’t reach quite to where we sat. Red eyes blinked from the shadows where Cerberus lay stretched out.
Jake and I had eaten some of our dwindling rations, and now he was sprawled on the lush, cool grass, his head pillowed in my lap. I had my back against a small apple tree whose fruit hung low enough to reach out and pluck, even from my sitting position, but I resisted the temptation. If even a goddess could be trapped in the underworld for eating its food, I wasn’t taking any chances.
Hephaistos and Jake had spoken for a long time of metalshaping and other aspects of their craft. I admit, I hadn’t paid much attention, letting the words wash over me, watching as Hephaistos lost his surly aspect and became more animated. Jake had made no mention yet of our reason for visiting, and I was chafing to get on with it, though I could see that he was worming his way into the god’s good graces. Probably a smart move, considering Hades had warned us that he could be difficult.
Hephaistos emptied his glass and regarded the bottom of it morosely. “It still tastes as good as I remember, even if it’s not real.”
“It’s not?” Jake asked.
“Of course not.” The god barked a sharp, bitter laugh. “I’m dead—why would I need food or drink? But it passes the time.”
“How did you die?” Jake asked. I sat up a little straighter. This would be more interesting than discussions of how to get the most heat out of your furnace.
“Why do you care? Are you going to avenge me, boy?”
“Yes, I am. Though I need a little help from you first.”
“Ha! You’re as bad as everyone else. They look down their noses at poor old Hephaistos until they need me, and then suddenly they’re my best friends. Zeus used to do it all the time.”
“Do you know where he is now?” I asked, seeing an opportunity.
He snorted. “I didn’t even know where he was before I died. I haven’t seen him in years. He only showed up when he wanted something, and in this modern age, he obviously had little need for the work of a smith.”
There was a bitter note in his voice. It must have been tough, being the greatest living master of a craft, and having your only skill outpaced by technology. Zeus had managed to adapt, transforming his command of lightning into an all-purpose mastery of electricity. Perhaps Hephaistos should have gone into IT. Or weapons manufacture.
Jake sat up. “But we do, my lord. Your great skill could help us in the fight against your killers.”
Hephaistos’s craggy brows came together into a suspicious frown, and his hands stilled. “How do you know who killed me? Were you there?”
I suddenly felt vulnerable sitting there at his feet while he held that knife. The blade glinted in the fake moonlight.
“Of course not, my lord,” Jake hurried to assure him, his eyes on the knife. “We’re working with Lord Hades to destroy the group responsible. You aren’t the only god they’ve attacked. We need your help to stop them before they kill again.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? You could just be a pair of adventurers, come to steal my secrets.”
Jake paused, at a loss. I wondered if Hephaistos had always been so suspicious, or if being killed had made him that way.
“Would Cerberus be with us if that were the case?” I asked.
Hephaistos stared at me for a long moment. “I suppose not.” He bent his head and returned to his whittling. I breathed a sigh of relief as the tiny chips of wood began to fly again. “You had better tell me all about it.”
Quickly, Jake explained the situation with the collars, and outlined the things that he and Hades had already tried, without success.
Hephaistos’s shaggy eyebrows rose higher and higher as the story went on, until he cut Jake off mid-sentence. “Describe these collars to me.”
“They’re made of a metal I’ve never seen before, that looks like pewter, with a dull silver sheen. Patterns are inscribed on them—”
“Like runes,” I said.
“—like runes,” Jake agreed, “but no one can read them, not even Lord Hades.”
“I know these collars,” Hephaistos said.
“You’ve seen them before?” Jake asked eagerly.
“I made them.”
There was a shocked silence before Jake found his voice. “You made them? Why?”
Why would Hephaistos make such things, that could hold a fellow god captive, unable to use his or her powers? Evil things, that could allow the gods to be slaughtered by humans? Jake barely managed to keep the accusation out of his voice, but I knew he was thinking it. Hell, I was thinking it myself.
Hephaistos frowned. “I think somebody asked me to.”
“You think? Who? Who asked you?”
The knife moved again, and a tiny chip of wood flew off into the grass. Hephaistos frowned down at the centaur emerging from the wood. “I don’t remember.”
Jake glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. There seemed to be an awful lot of people with memory problems around all of a sudden. Apollo and me, and now Hephaistos. And Hades had said that none of the gods who’d turned up dead in the underworld could remember how they’d been captured. What the hell was going on?
“Even so,” said Jake. “If you made them, you should be able to get them off.”
But Hephaistos was already shaking his shaggy head. “I cannot leave this place.”
“We could bring them to you.” Jake was practically bursting with eagerness.
“Even if you did, I could do nothing.” He held up the piece of wood he was carving. Definitely a centaur: the barrel chest and equine rump with its swishy tail were clearly delineated now. The little bastard was even holding one of those cursed spears. “This is of the underworld, like me. I can work it into any shape I please, just as I did in life.
I could create a sword fit for a king in my smithy here, but only a king of the dead could wield it. I can no longer affect things of the overworld, including its metals. I am a smith of the dead now. These strange collars of yours would not answer to me any longer.”
Damn. That was disappointing. But Jake wasn’t giving up so easily. “There must be something we can do. Is there no way to cut them? Some tool we could retrieve from your earthly smithy that would help?”
“You cannot cut them. You need either a spell of unmaking or a key.”
“We don’t know where the original key is,” Jake said. “If it’s not lost forever, our enemies have it. I’ve tried making another, but none of the keys I shape will open the collars.”
“That’s because the collars require a key made of the same star-metal.”
“Star-metal? You mean the ore came from an asteroid?”
“Originally, yes, though it’s had many charms worked into it since.”
“Is there any left? Enough to make a new key?”
Hephaistos paused. “You would have to go to my smithy to get it.”
“We can do that,” Jake said.
I sat up straighter. Finally, progress. Cerberus raised one head to watch me, but let it sag back to the grass when I made no further move.
“I’ve always kept its location a secret.” Hephaistos sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I’ll never use it again.” He gave Jake a fierce frown. “But I don’t want you messing around in there. There are things inside that are not meant for mortal eyes.”
“Only tell me how to find the star-metal, my lord. I won’t touch another thing.”
“Hmm. Perhaps I should have you destroy the place, before some other mortal fool gets into it.”
“Anything you like,” Jake said. He would have promised the moon if it would help persuade the blacksmith god. “You will have Lord Apollo’s eternal gratitude.”
Hephaistos spat into the grass. “As if I care for that pup’s gratitude. He cost me the best assistants I ever had—Brontes and his brothers, all thrown into Tartarus by his demand. The other Olympians had no time for the cyclopes, but they were good men. They deserved better. No, boy, you will make an offering in my temple when this is over. Even a dead god may help his worshippers.”
Thank goodness. I felt my whole body relax as I sagged back against the apple tree. The light glinted off huge canines as one of Cerberus’s heads yawned. It had been a busy day for all of us. I rubbed absently at my left leg. The bone still ached, and my toes prickled with pins and needles, despite Jake’s best efforts. Hephaistos caught the movement.
“Does your leg still pain you?”
“A little,” I admitted. “Hopefully it will pass.”
“Perhaps it will,” he agreed, though his tone implied that the alternative was just as possible. Well, we’d deal with that if we had to. No point borrowing trouble—we had plenty on our plates already. He considered Jake, as if sizing him up. “The Phlegethon is the hottest fire known to man, in this world or any other. It’s what I use to power my forge here. If you channelled that into her, you could burn out the last of the centaur’s poison.”
Jake frowned, as if he wasn’t sure he could handle that kind of firepower. I can’t say that the prospect thrilled me either. I almost preferred Hephaistos when he was too grumpy and suspicious to talk to us. This chattier version was simply bursting with bad news. The Phlegethon was one of the five rivers in the underworld—the River of Fire. Having that channelled into me didn’t sound exactly comfortable, even supposing Jake could manage it. Could Hades do it? He wasn’t a fireshaper, but he was the Lord of the Underworld.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Jake said. Yeah, me too, buddy. “Is it getting worse?”
“No. About the same.”
“Good. Tell me if there’s any change.”
“Or if you could find a fireshaping god who’s still alive and not collared …” Hephaistos added. “Hestia, perhaps.”
The frown cleared from Jake’s face. That was more like it. Apollo would be perfect, just as soon as we managed to get that collar off him. Because we were definitely getting that collar off him, and Syl too. Failure was not an option.
7
“Are you sure you won’t come with us, my lord?” Jake asked, but Hephaistos was shaking his head before he’d even finished speaking.
“I have a project at a delicate stage in the forge. Besides, a few minutes in Apollo’s company makes me want to punch him back into the sun he came from. I don’t need his false sympathy or his scorn that I managed to get myself killed.” He laid a massive hand on Jake’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Remember what I said—don’t touch anything in the smithy except the star-metal. Oh, and you’ll need this.”
Hephaistos offered him a small golden horn, engraved with hunting scenes. He sighed as he handed it across, as if reluctant to let it go.
“This is beautiful.” Jake turned the horn over, examining the work reverently. “Did you make it, my lord?”
“A long time ago. It’s the key to the smithy. Wherever I was in the world, blowing the horn would open a path directly to it.” He smiled. “Saved me a lot of travel time, I can tell you.”
“Can we blow it now?” I asked, envisaging a much swifter end to our quest than I’d expected.
“You’ll have to wait until you leave the underworld. Hades is the only person who can open gates at whim between the underworld and the upper realms. The horn will only work for you in the real world.” He sighed again, a gusty whoosh of air that stirred the long hairs of his beard. “Hades let me bring it with me when I died, even though it won’t work for me anymore, to stop anyone from stumbling on the smithy. Without the horn, only gods could find it—it lives in the between places, not in any physical reality.”
“The between places?” That was a new one on me.
“Like the underworld, and Olympus itself. Places that can’t be reached by normal means—at least not by normal people. There are a few around. Once you’ve found the star-metal, blow the horn again and it will return you to where you started.”
Though it would no longer work for him, he still looked a little sad as he watched Jake tuck it safely in his pack. I guess when you’d been alive for millennia it took longer than a year to get used to being dead.
“Good luck.” Hephaistos gave us both a nod, then turned and went back inside his cottage.
“Not much for goodbyes, is he?” I settled my pack more comfortably on my shoulders. It was lighter than before, since we’d eaten most of the food we’d brought with us. Hephaistos said the water from his well was safe for us to drink, so we’d refilled our bottles. A good thing, since we faced a full day of travel. But we’d got what we’d come for—kind of. We were on the right track, at least. The horn would open a gate to the hidden smithy, and then we’d be on the home stretch.
“He’s never been the social type. He probably spoke more in the last few hours than he has in the last year. Even his own priests call him the Silent One.”
We fell into step together, following Cerberus’s black butt back across the fields towards the low range of hills that separated Elysium from the centaurs’ plain.
“Shame we can’t blow that horn here and save ourselves a walk.” I wasn’t looking forward to meeting up with the centaurs again. My left foot still tingled with pins and needles as a reminder of our last encounter. The sooner we got back to Apollo with a key for his collar, the happier I’d be.
“Yes.” His expression was calm as he gazed at the hills, but he had to be feeling some kind of apprehension, surely? He was the one who’d been nearly drowned by that eel thing. At least this time I’d be prepared, though I still couldn’t do anything about those damn centaurs. I’d have to rely on him and Cerberus to get us through that. “If Hades were here he could open a gate from anywhere in the underworld, but since he’s not, we’ll have to get ourselves to one of the official gates.”
“If Hades
were here, a lot of things would be easier,” I said. “I hope he’s okay.”
“Maybe he’s back by now.”
“Maybe.” I sure hoped so. His unexpected absence made me nervous. There were too many things going wrong lately—I couldn’t help feeling that something bad had happened. Had the shadow shapers managed to find him somehow?
“If he is, you’d better hope he hasn’t noticed that his Helm of Darkness is missing.”
“Why? He wasn’t using it.”
I’d nearly forgotten about the Helm, still tucked away in my backpack. Could I use that to evade the centaurs? I considered the problem as I followed Jake through an orchard bearing pink fruits of a kind I’d never seen before. I had no objection to getting up close and personal with Jake—far from it!—but even so, there didn’t seem to be any way for both of us to wear the Helm at the same time. I had a vision of trying to balance a baseball cap between our two heads and couldn’t help smiling.
Jake chose that moment to look back at me. “What?”
I shooed him on with a wave of my hand. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
Hades had said that wouldn’t work anyway—there were no “two for one” deals. The cap could only be worn by one person at a time. If we couldn’t both be invisible, there didn’t seem much point. For a brief moment, I considered trying to rip the Helm in half somehow. I could almost hear Syl yelling at me at the very thought. Maybe that was a little risky even for me. It was far more likely to destroy the magic of the Helm than to double it, even supposing I could do it. Just because it currently looked like a baseball cap didn’t mean it really was. Magic artefacts wouldn’t be much good if they were that easy to destroy.
We left the orchard of the tasty-looking pink fruit and began to climb the first of the low hills, my stomach rumbling in regret. Breakfast had been an apple and half a stale bread roll. Really, I’d have to talk to Hades about that map in the library when I saw him again. It had honestly looked like a couple of hours’ walk to get to Elysium. I hadn’t expected to be gone this long. Syl might be worried—or perhaps she hadn’t even noticed, given her current mood. Apollo probably didn’t care. A little warning about Eel Swamp and the spear-toting pony boys wouldn’t have gone astray either. A notation on the map would have done, even if “Here be Centaurs” didn’t have quite the same ring as “Here be Dragons”.
Rivers of Hell (Shadows of the Immortals Book 3) Page 7