by Jared Stone
“You might wish to stand back,” she advised. Argus took three steps backwards, until he was standing pressed up against the wall behind him. He nodded toward the priestess. With a nod in return, Dareia yanked upwards and threw back the wooden hatch to the chamber beneath, simultaneously lifting her other arm in preparation to strike. As the light from the room flooded down to fill the space, Argus was shocked by what he saw.
There, crouching in the dirty hole in the ground, two older women huddled together close, staring terrified at the fierce huntress who was perched above them. Hugged tightly between these women, two young girls cowered with their faces covered by tiny hands, whimpering pitifully through their stifled sobs. All four were dressed in white servants’ garments, which stood out in stark contrast to their coal black skin.
“Oh pleas-a!” one of the women cried out in horror with her hand upraised. “Oh pleas-a, missus, don’ be killin’ us! We don’ know nuthin’! We jus’ da help!”
Dareia remained stone still, clawed nails still bared and face contorted into a scowl. Argus’ entire body was tensed, unsure of what to say and dreading what the priestess might do.
“Please, missus!” the woman in the hole repeated. “Please! Don’ kill us! Spes’ly da chillen’!”
Looking down at the tear-soaked eyes of the little girls, Dareia’s face seemed to soften. Slowly, she lowered her arm.
“Leave,” she suddenly instructed with a nod of her head toward the open front door. “Run as far as you are able, and never return to this place.”
The women in the hole hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of the sincerity of the priestess’ offer. But, believing after a few seconds that it was genuine, they began to stand up and crawl out of the pit. The older women hoisted themselves up first, then aided the younger girls in climbing out as well. Before they fled, the one who had spoken earlier turned to Dareia.
“Thank ya, missus!” she exclaimed, reaching out to almost touch Dareia with tears in her eyes. “God bless ya!”
With this, the four of them ran out the front door, and Argus finally breathed a sigh of relief. Dareia stood silently, watching them go.
“I am happy you did not harm them,” Argus admitted to the priestess, walking up to her side.
Dareia sighed. “Argus, I judge men by the choices they make and dole out consequences for those actions accordingly,” she stated. “Individuals ought to be held accountable for their wrongdoings.” After this, she paused, her gaze transfixed to the scenery outside the window. “However, to be deprived of choice entirely, stripped of free will…, well, that is not life. That is eternal imprisonment. That is the ultimate form of suffering.”
“I know how things are in this new country right now, but it does not mean that they will stay that way forever,” Argus stated hopefully. “Perhaps, one day, everyone will be able to see each other as equals and treat each other well. Love one another for our similarities instead of hating one another for our differences.”
“You and I have been on this earth far too long to ever believe a fantasy such as that, Argus,” Dareia responded somberly. “Since before recorded history, men have subjugated and enslaved other men for power and profit. No; there shall be inequality on this earth for as long as humans occupy it. Though the exact form of the enslavement may change and the physical chains eventually fade away to something less tangible, the masses shall always be subject to the machinations of a few. Even on this land, in this country, built on the false promise of freedom and equality, the injustices of history repeat themselves yet again. I fear that we shall never see an end to such barbarous tendencies, no matter how long you or I might live.”
Argus stood there silently, unable to find words to counter the priestess’ argument. He didn’t want to believe it was true, yet it seemed that he could find no evidence to the contrary from his own lengthy experience. He had indeed been beaten, enslaved, subjugated, and killed through countless lifetimes, simply because he had been born different than his oppressors. It seemed depressingly reasonable for him to conclude that this was just an inextricable aspect of human existence.
“Enough of this talk,” Dareia abruptly announced, striding determinedly from the room. “We have tarried here long enough. Let us check upstairs.”
Gracefully gliding across the foyer, the priestess quickly reached the wide, curved staircase to the upper level of the mansion and ascended each step as if she was floating rather than climbing, her hand just barely touching the wooden railing. Argus followed after her with none of the grace or poise. When they had reached the top, Dareia paused and looked in both directions down the long hallway lined with rooms.
“I suppose I shall search in this direction,” she said blithely, as if this game of cat and mouse had begun to bore her.
They both split up once again, with Argus carefully creeping his way down the opposite corridor. Within a minute, Dareia had already disappeared around a corner, leaving Argus alone in his search of the rooms. As he moved forward, he listened carefully for any movement which might indicate a surprise attack. At each door, he carefully grabbed hold of the handle, slowly twisted, then threw the door open, prepared to fight. But there was nothing. Argus had gone through three rooms in this fashion with the exact same disappointing result.
“RAAHHH!”
Argus heard Dareia’s battle cry thundering down the hall. Realizing that the priestess must have found what they were looking for, Argus bolted out of the room and went tearing down the hall in the direction of the scream. He had passed the top of the staircase within seconds and came careening around the corner of the hallway like a….
SMACK!!
Something very hard collided with Argus’ forehead the moment he had made the turn, and he found himself toppling backwards through the air. He hit the ground hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him and shaking the floor so badly he feared he might crash through. Argus lay there stunned for a few seconds, knowing that he had to get back up immediately but having significant trouble doing so. Laying his palm upon his forehead, he lifted his head up and saw two men standing before him. As his vision came back together again, he realized it was only one man, wielding the blunt butt of a shotgun like a club.
“Yer stupid if ya think yer walkin’ outta here ‘live” the man spat, flipping the weapon around to point the hollow end of the barrel directly in Argus’ face. “You an’ dat pretty thang ya brung wit’chya”
As Argus stared into the instrument of death before him, he felt his head clearing and his breath coming back to him. The man took one step closer toward him.
“Pity ima hafta blow yer brains ‘cross da floor,” the man snarled, putting his finger on the trigger. Before he was even able to squeeze, Argus kicked upwards, catching the tip of the rifle with the toe of his boot and shoving it toward the ceiling. The gunpowder exploded in the base of the barrel, blasting a hole into the white painted boards above them and showering them with dust and wood chips. This gave Argus the opportunity he needed to arch his back and spring back onto his feet. Once standing, he rushed forward and landed a blow with his palm against the sternum of his attacker. The man staggered backwards, dropping the rifle onto the ground. Argus quickly picked it up and threw it down the hallway in the other direction, just barely getting it over the railing of the top of the stairs to land with an echoing thud on the hardwood floor below.
“Ah, so that’s how ya wan’ it, eh?” the man growled, reaching to his side and pulling out the knife which hung at his waist. “A’right!”
Without hesitation, he charged at Argus, slashing his new weapon through the air viciously. Argus pivoted backwards, dodging the blade as it slid just inches by him twice. Before the man could swing it a third time, Argus stuck his right arm out to the side and made contact with his assailant’s forearm. Twisting around in a fluid motion, Argus wrapped his own arm underneath the man’s and pulled him in close, jerking up his knee at the same time. As Argus’ knee made contact with the man�
�s elbow, a sickening crack could be heard.
“Ahhhhhhh!” the man cried out, dropping the knife and grabbing onto his now-dangling, limp arm. He stumbled into the wall and sank down against it, moaning.
“I am sorry that it had to come to that,” Argus stated with regret, looking down in pity at the man. He briefly considered stooping to help, but he decided he should instead go to check on Dareia. Turning around, he began walking down the hall to the room at the far end.
“Arrrrrrrr!”
Argus heard the scream from behind him just in time to whip around and see the injured man charging at him once again with the knife raised in his other hand. The brute was already so close that Argus was taken completely off guard. He watched as the blade sliced down toward him….
Just then, Argus felt something whiz by his ear. Before he could figure out what was going on, the man who had once been charging at him collapsed to the ground with a dagger lodged into his eye socket.
“Do you see what misplaced compassion gets you, Argus?” he heard Dareia’s voice inquire from behind him. Turning, he saw the priestess standing in the doorway, her dress now completely covered in blood and chunks of something he did not care to identify. She began walking toward him.
“It shall eventually result in a knife to your face,” she scolded, waving one forefinger at her companion. Once she reached him, she patted him lightly on his chest. “Come now. Our work here is done. It is quite evident that James Richardson is no longer here. We shall have to clean all this up and rest here for the night, then continue our search in the morning.”
Argus nodded as the priestess passed by him. As she walked past the dead man on the ground, she shook her head.
“I must say, Argus,” she began, “the past was much more fun. All of the adventures we have had, battling gods and demons and sorcerers. Now…, well, we cannot even find a worthy adversary anymore!” She shook her head disdainfully. “Things in this world are simply not as they once were.”
Argus saw Dareia reach the end of the hallway in front of him, turn the corner and stop. From off to the right, he saw a great flash of light.
BANG!!
The shot from the weapon hit Dareia directly in the abdomen, sending shrapnel spraying all around her. Standing there silently for a moment, the priestess glanced down at the giant hole with singed edges now in the front of her dress, exposing the bare olive skin lying untouched beneath. She then shot her vengeful glare up into the wide eyes of the unlucky enemy who stood before her.
“You shall wish you had not done that…,” she stated coldly.
* * *
“I believe that I shall keep this estate as my own,” Dareia announced as she gracefully strode across the living room floor and looked about her in dazzled appreciation, “for one never knows when one might need an additional place of refuge in a distant land.”
Argus simply laughed from his position on the grand, ornate couch in the center of the room. “And how many ‘places of refuge’ does one truly need when one is immortal?” he inquired.
“As many as one desires,” Dareia answered with a wink. Gliding over to the back of the couch and running her long index fingernail along the top ridge as she walked by, the priestess twirled around when she had reached the end and effortlessly landed on the soft cushion next to Argus. She let out a short, spontaneous giggle as she did this, and the man by her side could not help but genuinely smile at this rare, unguarded glimpse of her. Argus recognized and appreciated the fact that he was very likely the only living being with whom Dareia felt free to be herself.
“Is this not wonderful?” the priestess continued, putting her arm out and laying her hand upon Argus’ shoulder. “The world at our fingertips. Anything we desire immediately accessible to us. Unrestrained by mortal mandates and norms. Subject only to the destiny we forge. Together.”
Argus looked deep into the priestess’ emerald eyes. She tilted her head to the side to rest it upon her outstretched arm and gazed back wistfully.
“It is indeed,” Argus agreed.
The two sat and stared at each other for a prolonged period in silence. It was the kind of look that could only develop between two individuals who had spent a lifetime – or several – together: filled with mutual, unspoken understanding and free of any awkward-ness for want of words. After a minute of this, Dareia broke the silence with a pat on Argus’ shoulder.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, pulling her hand back and rising from the furniture with a dignified air. “I had forgotten to show you what awaits our good friend, James, once we have located him!”
Argus furrowed his brow. “It was my impression that we were simply expected to kill him,” he said in clear confusion.
Dareia shook her head as she strode over to the mantle of the large, oak fireplace. There, in the center, she carefully took down the satchel she had brought with her. Reaching in, she removed a sizable metallic box and began carrying back toward Argus.
“No, no,” the priestess stated with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Death would be too good for him. He has broken the laws of the gods. For this, more suitable retribution must be exacted.”
The priestess held the container out in front of Argus, who slid forward on the couch to sit up straight and get a better view. As she slowly cracked open the lid, the light from the chandelier above them cleaved into the darkness and revealed what lay within. Argus could not believe what he saw.
“Wha…,” he stammered. “What is…?”
“It is beautiful, is it not?” Dareia asked softly. “This is the dreaded gadfly of the goddess Hera. Upon whispering the name of its intended target, it shall seek him or her out indefinitely, stinging them unceasingly until they are driven mad…, and, even then, it shall continue. A truly fitting punishment for those who disobey the Mother Goddess.”
The priestess let out a short, sadistic laugh, but Argus remained completely silent. He stood up on shaking legs, his eyes fixated on the accursed creature which darted around with twitching anticipation inside the box. Trying to move to the side and put as much distance between himself and the nightmare he saw before him, he stumbled and leaned against the couch for support.
“Argus, are you alright?” Dareia asked him, looking concerned as she closed the lid. “Are you not feeling well?”
Argus stared in horror at the priestess. “How…. How could you?” he muttered, reaching out to feel his way around the corner of the couch.
Dareia wore a baffled look. “Argus, I do not know what –”
Suddenly, her mouth dropped open and she stood there, aghast. “Argus,” she said slowly, reaching her hand out toward the man. “Let me explain. It is not what you think.”
“How could you?” Argus whispered in shock from behind the couch. “It was you all along? It was YOU? How could you do that to her? To me?”
Dareia took another step forward. “It was not I,” she asserted. “I was not yet even born when the fly was first sent for her. I did not learn of the fate which befell Io until the night before you and I met.”
“But you knew!” Argus countered forcefully. “You knew the whole time! And yet you played me for a fool! Made me run errands for your goddess! Made me believe I could trust in you!”
“Argus, no…, please…,” Dareia pleaded, nimbly sidestepping the furniture barrier between them and coming ever closer to the man. Argus continued his backstepping retreat to the exit as she did so. “You said yourself just earlier today: those who knowingly break the law must face the associated consequences. Io betrayed a sacred vow to the Mother Goddess to remain faithful and celibate in her service to Her. She understood the choice she was making when she chose to be with you. You cannot hold me at fault for such a thing.”
Argus’ eyes remained wide, and he shook his head in disbelief. “No! Get away from me!” he shouted, his face contorted with pain and revulsion.
Dareia, however, continued to desperately pursue him in his retreat. “Argus! Please!” she cont
inued. “Try to understand!” Tears had begun to well up in her eyes, which was an uncomfortable sensation that she had not experienced in close to two millennia.
“I said get away from me!” Argus repeated even more adamantly. “I cannot tolerate the sight of you. I never want to see you again!”
Dareia ran up and grabbed onto Argus’ arm, but the man pushed her away again roughly and turned toward the door. As he opened it, the priestess behind him sobbed, “Argus, no! Do not leave! You cannot leave me! You are all I have! I…, I love you!”
Pausing briefly to look behind him, Argus beheld Dareia with tears openly pouring down her face. She was bent over, with one arm across her stomach as if in pain and the other reaching out toward him desperately.
“Argus…. Please…. I beg of you…,” she whispered, almost incoherently.
Argus, taking one last look at his betrayer, turned around and stormed out through the door, slamming it behind him.
“Aaaaargusss!” Dareia called out after him through her sobs. She dropped to her knees in the middle of the hardwood floor, now completely alone in the cavernous, empty house.
14 - Sloth
???
Lucian held his breath as he stepped through the gray vortex and onto the other side of the gate, fearing whatever might be awaiting him there. Once the shimmering veil of energy had faded from his vision, however, Lucian felt very relieved by what he saw.
Stretching out before him as far as he could see, beautiful red flowers dotted rolling green hills bathed in bright sunshine. Puffy white clouds floated around gently in the sapphire sky above them, and the colors which coated the entire scene appeared more vibrant than anything Lucian had ever experienced before. Looking beside him, Lucian noticed that Schuntz and Blake were already there atop the hill with him, and a sandy road stretched beneath them from the portal at their backs to another portal quite a ways off in the distance. Though almost too far away to discern for certain, Lucian squinted his eyes and thought he saw this other portal glowing brightly with an emerald hue, matching perfectly the flora which blanketed the landscape around it. Overall, Lucian was reminded of the setting of a movie he always used to watch as a child, and this put him at ease in a way nothing else could have.