So, in a gesture of goodwill and humble apology, I would like to give you all a peek at my current WIP. (Work-in-Progress for everyone who thought I left out the 'h' and things were going to get a little wild here. Sorry to disappoint yet again. ;-)
Anyway, if I'm lucky, Toothless will cooperate over the weekend and I'll make up the missing installment. Until then, enjoy this chapter from PROMETHEUS' LANTERN.
Chapter 8
The
hallways and passages of the Underworld twisted and turned, labyrinthine in its
architecture. Without her guide, Hera would soon be lost among the denizens of
the dead.
“It’s
much larger down here than I thought,” Hera said, trying to strike up a
conversation with Macaria.
“The
space suits our purposes. Our numbers grow daily but never dwindle.” The girl
never stopped walking as she spoke. When she pointed out a feature or landmark,
it was with a brief gesture and explanation as they passed it. This was not the
guided tour Hera had been expecting.
“How
long does it take to learn all the passages?”
“I
don’t know. There are passages and rooms still unexplored by many of us. Father
gave over portions to be ruled by faithful servants. We have limited knowledge
of the paths in their chambers as they have limited knowledge of our tunnels
and chambers. There are far too many for anyone person or deity to know.”
“Doesn’t
your father worry they might turn on him? They could plot and plan against him
and he’d never know.”
“Unlike
you, Father inspires trust and loyalty in his servants,.” Hera ignored the
biting remark.
“How
can he be so sure? Anyone can pretend to be loyal to get what they want. Once
they get it, what use do they have for the one who gave it to them?”
“Because
if they overthrow my father, who will they trust enough to serve them? Trust
must go both ways or it ceases to exist. Without trust, a ruler cannot reign
fairly and justly. They become tyrants who inspire fear.”
“Fear
is good. It keeps your subjects in line.”
“True.
It will create fear in your people, but fear will also turn on you. You fear
for your throne, your kingdom and your life. What you provide to those below
you, they provide in turn for you. It is an important lesson my father taught
me.”
“Your
father is a fool. He could have so much more, yet he fears to go after it.”
“It
is not fear that keeps him here, but commitment and duty. His responsibility to
all of the souls is more important to him than his own happiness. Keeping chaos
at bay and performing his duties makes him happy.”
“Your
father is a strange deity. No wonder he ended up down here. Duty and honor are
words we use on mortals to get them to do our bidding. Such things don’t apply
to us.”
“That
is your view. Father’s is different. If you don’t mind me making the
observation, his way appears to have worked better for him than yours.”
“Maybe
for a little while, but over the long term it will wear him down. At some point
he’ll learn and see things the way the rest of us do.”
“Perhaps.
Although should that time come, it wouldn’t be for many more years.” Macaria
stopped walking. There was nowhere else for them to go. In front of them was a
river, the water dark as ink. No ripple moved through it and no current pushed
waves up on the bank. It shone in the gloomy light, a darkened mirror.
“This
is the end of our journey this way. In front of us is the River Styx, which
only the dead may cross. Let us return to Mother and Father. Dinner will be ready.”
Macaria turned, walking back the way they had come. Hera gazed out across the
water, making out the lone figure of Charon, ferryman to the dead. Far out
across the river, he poled his boat and its passengers on their final journey.
Even his motions caused no movement on the water.
The
return trip brought them through tunnels Hera was certain they hadn’t traversed
before. If she lost her guide, she wouldn’t be able to rely on memory to find
her way back. The different routes had been planned on purpose, keeping her
from learning her way around.
Running
water sounded to their right. The River Styx hadn’t made any sound, so this
must be another source of water for the underground kingdom.
“Tell
me, Macaria, what runs alongside us to the right?”
“The
River Lethe. Its waters help the dead forget their pain. I carry a vial on my
belt when I assist Thanatos in our duties. The relief it brings the dead helps
ease their transition into our realm.”
“Interesting.
Do the souls need to drink of the river’s water for its powers to take effect
or do they simply need to touch it?”
“The
water must be imbibed. The touch of it leaves nothing more than a cold
sensation, an impression of something lost but nothing more.” The throne room
came into view, its interior brightly lit for the occasion.
“Thank
you, Macaria. Your tour has been most informative.”
“I
hope you learned about more than our realm’s structures during our walk, though
I fear this is not the case.”
“My
dear, everything you’ve said has been…enlightening. Shall we join your parents
at the table?” Hera placed a hand on Macaria’s hip, guiding her across the
chamber. The younger woman broke free from Hera’s touch, but it was too late.
Concealed in the palm of her hand was the prize Hera sought. As long as the
girl didn’t miss it too soon, Hera now held the key to taking over the realm of
the dead.
“Sister,
come sit by me.” Hades indicated the large wooden chair beside him, at the
other end of the table from Persephone.
“Thank
you, but I would prefer to sit by your bride. Have some time to talk away from
men. The two of us never manage to have time to speak, just the two of us.
Besides, it will make it easier for me to know what is safe to eat.”
“As
you wish.” Hades returned to eating, his daughter taking the seat declined by
Hera. At her end of the table, Persephone gave her husband a look of
bewilderment and anger. Hera was the last being she wanted to sit next to at
dinner.
“I
should thank you for your hospitality. Both you and Hades have been more than
gracious hosts.”
“You’re
welcome in our home any time.” The reply passed through tight lips trying not
to scream. Persephone knew she needed to be a good hostess, but the nearness of
the other goddess unnerved her. Hera was up to something and it wouldn’t result
in anything good.
“Again,
I thank you. The spread you have is marvelous. I never thought the food down
here would be so varied and wonderful. It is no wonder you were tempted by that
pomegranate all those years ago.” Hera picked over the trays laid in front of
her, loading cheeses and olives onto her plate along with fruits and cuts of
meat.
“All
the food comes from the surface. It is the only food we serve while I am down
here so as not to accidentally lengthen my stays.” Persephone poked at her
plate, her appetite gone.
“Wherever
it comes from, it’s lovely. Wines, too? Why don’t I pour us each a glass and we
can raise them to ourselves? A drink to friendship and more visits together?”
Hera took Persephone’s cup before she could protest and filled both their cups
with rich red wine. In the girl’s, she tipped some of the contents of the vial
she stole from Macaria. Persephone’s attention had been on her plate and she
missed the goddess’ addition.
“I’m
not very hungry or thirsty,” Persephone said when Hera returned her cup.
“Nonsense.
We must drink to us. This wine is much too delicious to waste.” Hera lifted her
glass and motioned for the other woman to do the same. With a sigh, Persephone
picked up her glass and together they drank.
A
glass clattered to the floor and Hera smiled over the rim of hers.
“Oh.
What’s happened to me? Where am I?” Persephone put the palms of her hands on
her forehead and rocked back and forth in her chair.
“My
love? Is something the matter?” Hades stopped eating and stared at his wife.
Her eyes traveled up, seeing him at the far end of the table, and widened.
“Who
are you? What do you want?”
“Persephone?
What’s wrong?” Jumping from his chair, the heavy seat falling over in his
haste, Hades ran the length of the table and grabbed Persephone’s hands. She
yanked them away, screaming and pushing him back.
“Get
away from me. Go.”
“It’s
me, my love. Don’t you recognize your own husband?”
“You’re
not my husband. I would never marry you. I don’t belong here. Let me go.” Persephone
broke free from Hades and went to run, only to realize she didn’t know where
she was. Doorways opened all around her. All of them led to dark tunnels she
couldn’t see down. Unable to get her bearings, she backed up against a wall.
Sliding down to the floor, her body convulsing with sobs, Persephone huddled,
trying to make sense of her surroundings.
“What
have you done to her?” Hades’ voice thundered through the cavernous space as he
grabbed his sister by the shoulders and spun her, still in her chair, around to
face him.
“Done?
Nothing. Clearly she isn’t as happy down here as you led us all to believe.”
“You
lie!” Hades pressed his face into hers, the heat from his breath warming her
neck.
“She’s
erased her memory. Water from the River Lethe.” Macaria straightened, holding
the cup Persephone recently dropped. “There’s still some residue clinging to
the cup.”
Hades
took the cup from his daughter, a faint chill creeping up his fingers where
they touched the water. He turned, shoving the cup into Hera’s defiant face.
“Is
this your doing? Poisoning my queen? Is this how you repay our kindness and
hospitality?”
“No,
this is how I get what I want.”
“What
can you gain by taking away Persephone’s memories? All you have done is terrify
her and anger me. It has not changed my stance regarding the war you wish to
wage above.”
“It
might if I were to tell Demeter and Zeus you made Persephone drink the water
yourself to try and make her forget her life on the surface. You wanted her to
stay forever with you, but the plan backfired.”
“I
would never do such a thing.”
“Going
to be tough for you to prove that. It’s your word against mine. Oh, and
Persephone’s, but I don’t think she’s going to be a very reliable witness do
you?”
“You
bitch.” Hades slammed the back of Hera’s chair into the table. Against the
wall, Persephone whimpered.
“Resorting
to name calling? And violence? Come now, I thought you were better than that.”
“I
will tear you apart, limb from limb, and let you sink into the River Styx for
all eternity.”
“Such
threats. But, yes, please do keep them coming. After all, you want to impress
your wife. Show her what a big, strong, brutal man you are. I’m sure that will
win her back over.” Hades let out a scream and turned his back on Hera. She had
won. After everything he said and all he had done, she managed to find his
weakness and turn it against him.
“I
want her back.”
“We
can work something out. I’m sure Zeus will be more than willing to restore her
memory if I ask him nicely. We can tell him there was a mix up with a water
pitcher. Or she fell and slipped into the river while on a walk. So many
excuses we can come up with, if you help me.” Hera stood behind her brother,
one hand on his shoulder.
“What
do you want?”
“An
army. I want all of the souls you reign over to join with me.”
“What
kind of army would that be? The dead don’t fight. They have no motivation. They
simply exist.”
“The
dead can’t be destroyed by mortals. They are the perfect soldiers. As they kill
our enemies, our own numbers will grow.”
“How
do you propose to make them fight? The souls of the dead float around
aimlessly. No purpose or direction to what they do.”
“I
will give them incentive. Have them ready in three days’ time and I will have
the means of making them warriors.”
“If
you promise to return Persephone to me, I will do as you request.”
“Good.
I will see myself out. Remember, not a word about anything that happened today
or our deal is off and your queen will be lost to you forever.”
“I
will keep my end of the deal. You best keep your end.” Hera made no reply, disappearing
down the tunnel she arrived through. Curled up on the floor, Persephone watched
her go, springing to her feet suddenly as the goddess vanished from sight.
"Take
me with you. Please don’t leave me here.” Hades wrapped her up in his arms as
she tried to run past him. She struggled against him, the palms of her hands
slapping against his chest. “Let me go. Let me go.” Her struggles slowed and
she dissolved back into tears. Macaria approached her parents, sadness
overtaking her beautiful features.
“This
is my fault. I never should have told her about the River or my use of it. I
will go and secure Hypnos’ help. Allowing her to sleep during this time would
be best for us all. Less despair for us when she doesn’t recognize us and less
trauma for her.”
“Thank
you. A peaceful sleep will alleviate her terror. Until things are set right,
dreams are her only friend. Please don’t blame yourself. Your mother didn’t
trust her and neither did I. If we followed our instincts, this would not have
occurred. Go, quickly and fetch Hypnos. I don’t wish for your mother to suffer
longer than necessary.” Macaria bowed her head and headed towards the chambers
where Hypnos resided. Behind her she could hear the echo of sobbing. Sobbing
born of terror and the frantic sobbing of wanting this nightmare to end. It was
the only time she ever heard her father’s cries. She hurried down the path,
hoping for something to soothe her parents’ anguish.
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