Chapter 14

"There are those - you'll find this unbelievable, but have faith - There are those who believe they have the power of life and death. Well, I'll have you know it lies in my hands. Do you doubt? Shall I demonstrate?" Zeus face was reddening, and clouds were once more forming above Olympus.

In fact, he noted them. "Ah, well, yes, have to watch that. Let's not become perturbed. Oh, Heavens no. My boy, enjoy your scavenger hunt." He waved grandly.

"Oh, let me help you a little. Three sisters, and I'll not tell you their names, have the very objects for which you search. Lovely ladies, and I'm sure they'll do all they can to bring your search to a quick end. Very quick."

He found himself in the midst of a glade. And well it was, for rain was beginning to fall, and the trees protected him from the cold drops. Scissors, thread, and a spinning wheel. Why, he thought, I can get those from Mother.

Suddenly a shudder ran through him. He did not move. He knew. The unseen companion was there. Waiting, waiting - waiting for what? What event would trigger the inhuman hatred radiated by this strange creature. Always there. Never fully seen.

He rose slowly, glanced fearfully around the glade. "Come out, if you dare. I await your pleasure."

He thought he heard the rustle of leaves. Quickly he glanced upward. The leaves were indeed moving. This time they were stirred by a vagrant breeze. He shook his head.

He knew - though he knew not how - that the scissors, thread, and spinning wheel of his mother would not serve. These must come from the three sisters. The lovely ladies mentioned by Zeus. In the back of his mind he thought of stories he had heard. Perhaps, at some early age, he had heard of the three sisters. Sadly, he could not remember. Who are they, and where do they dwell?

Startled, he looked up. The leaves were again moving. This time, no breeze caused this disturbance.

A large bird, perhaps a white owl, flew rapidly through the forest and in its wake soft white down marked a trail. A trail he knew he must follow.

The skies darkened as he stalked deeper and deeper into the forest. In time the wooded vales grew even darker, and the sky no longer came to view. A thought formed in his mind, he knew not how. He knew for whom he searched.

The thought brought sweat to his brow. The Sisters of Night! How often had he heard the legends, the strange tales. How often had they spun the thread, how often cut it! It must be they. The Sisters of Night!

He was lost. The trail was no longer marked ahead, and behind was only darkness. Slowly he inched forward, hoping for a clue. A simple indication of which way to proceed.

He heard the sound and joy almost made him sing out. She has returned, he thought, glancing to his right. And then he froze. Indeed he had heard sound. And indeed was something there. Something huge and monstrous, too near to be imagination; too far to be clearly seen. The unseen companion! With him still!

He notched his arrow. It was too late. Even as he moved the rain fell heavy and he could make out, not even the trees before him. He waited. Only silence. No further sounds were heard. With a sigh he returned the arrow to its pouch.

A flash of lightning lit a rocky rise before him, and he noted the mouth of a huge cave. Slowly he inched up to the opening, slowing stared into its depth.

Though nothing met his eyes, yet there seemed a light, a small flickering light, somewhere in its deep within. Cautiously he moved forward.

"Welcome, Welcome, Young man! We've been waiting. What kept you so long? Hurry along now, The thread is growing short. Come along."

He blinked. She wasn't there a moment ago! Waiting for me? I don't understand!

"Madame, there is a mistake. You couldn't have been waiting for me. I don't know you. I had no intention of stopping here. I . . ."

She smiled. And though she were old and wrinkled, her eyes brightened like a happy child's. "Come along. You'll understand by and by. Come along."

She led him ever deeper into the cavern. The flickering light grew ever brighter, and seemed to flicker no more. Finally his companion motioned for him to stop. "Mustn't frighten them. 'Twould be terrible if they made a mistake. Terrible!"

"Clotho, he has arrived. Lachesis, welcome him. Come, my dear." She led him forward, and he bowed to the ladies who looked up from their labor, glanced at him without emotion or even interest.

"Girls, girls, are we that old! Look at him. Isn't he a handsome one. Ah, how sad. To die so young!"

"Atropos, your were always one to talk too much. Here are your scissors. Now get on with it!"

Clotho was busy spinning a thread. Her spindle moved slowly at times, then rapidly. Lachesis, bent forward, examining the thread, comparing its length to an unseen measuring stick. "Right about there, sister dear. Oh, give him another inch. No harm done. He is a handsome young man."

Atropos looked at the scissors handed her, sighed. "I would it were otherwise, young man. But we are duty bound. Nothing can stay us from our labor."

Wide-eyed he stood as the scissors opened, approached the thread. "Wait! Zeus, Zeus, He wants you. You must cease immediately. He eagerly awaits your company."

"Zeus! Olympus! Parties! Dancing! He wants us. Child, you can't mean it. 'Twas he who banished us to this cold, dank cave. And now he wishes our return? Well, he's plainly drunk too much of that nectar. I knew it would eventually get to him. Clotho, have you a thread for Zeus?"

"Oh, never. Well, I admit, I tried. After all, it wasn't at all nice of him to send us here. Anyway, it kept unraveling."

"Lachesis, give the boy another foot or two. Oh, give him an extra yard. Boy, we'll get dressed as soon as we've put away our tools. Zeus wants to see us!"

"Eh, please, don't put away your tools. He is extremely interested in your skills. You must bring them along."

"Learned to appreciate us, has he? My, how many eons has it taken! Oh, very well."

He led the way and in due time they arrived at Olympus. "Wait at the gate, I'll announce your coming." He smiled at their activities.

Clotho was practicing her curtsies, Lachesis her bows. Atropos smiled a broad smile, then a more reserved one, then tried a calm yet quiet visage.

"Zeus, sir, I have them. I have them."

"Well done. Amazing. No! Not really. I always knew you had the right stuff. Of course, to scavenge the items I fear you had to terminate the owners. It is sad. Still, what can one do? Bring them in, bring them in. Scissors, thread, and spinning wheel! Wonderful, wonderful!"

"Oh, no sir. I didn't have to terminate them. In fact, they're here. Come in ladies, and receive your welcome."

Zeus opened his mouth, closed it. He looked at the three Sisters of Night. He looked at Demo.

"Yes, brought them with you. Yes, very thoughtful of you. Thank you, my boy, thank you. Don't call me, I'll call you."

With that Demo found himself in his own home, in his own room, rolling off his own bed with a thud.

Rough barked joyously, leaped upon him in frantic welcome.

"Ah, that Zeus! I really wish he'd not do it that way," he said aloud. "Mother, I'm hungry!"

19. The Stables

"I'm delighted, my boy, that your chores are almost completed. Delighted!" Zeus didn't look delighted. Rather, he seemed put out. Jolly voice and all, but that scowl!

"Now, this next task. Represents a logistic problem, really. Time consuming, rather than difficult. Your qualifications are such that you'll have little trouble, I'm sure." Zeus smiled, as though at some secret humorous thought.

"I'm into some real estate deals. Brought a few places down on earth. Boy, was I taken on this one. Oh, was I taken. Shysters and developers! I must visit Pluto one day and see if he has room for any more. They are overrunning his place, I'm afraid." For a moment Zeus fell silent. His thoughts were evidently on his brother's domain, and the shysters and developers dwelling therein. A bright smile lit his face.

"To the matter at hand. I brought this ranch. Excellent property, very reasonable price. Closed escrow and all that. Then I thought to look inside the stables. Gad!"

"Poor suffering creatures. Horses, excellent horses. Unfortunately, locked in those stables for eons. Eons and eons. Maybe longer. To summarize, the place was not entirely sanitary. Now be off with you and get it cleaned up." He guffawed rather loudly.

"Oh, here. This may help." Zeus handed Demo a broom, a mop, and a clothespin. "For the nose, you understand."

Demo arrived unceremoniously at the stable doors. He was greeted by the local population, consisting of many and varied forms of flies. Black flies, white flies, colorless flies - all eager to make his acquaintance.

Shooing them away he slowly opened the stable doors, quickly closed them.

Impossible! No mortal could possibly clean up this mess. Still hadn't a hero, long ago, faced a similar problem?

Yes, yes indeed. And he had solved it. Solved it by merely changing the course of a stream. Simple enough. Now where might he find a stream.

There was one, and at not too great a distance.

Well, it is only a creek. Nevertheless, it's all I have. So let's give it a try.

He worked diligently, opening a channel to the very door of the huge barn. As night drew near he began to dam the creek, forcing its waters to divert to his newly dug channel.

The youthful civil engineer smiled.

The water was beginning to flow. Quickly he hurried to the stable, dared the flies, and threw wide the doors at both ends of the edifice. Fortunately he wore the clothespin.

The water was moving ever closer. The chore was indeed a simple one.

He looked up, and frowned.

The sky had darkened, and even now huge raindrops began to fall. The mild creek was rising higher and higher. The dam, built to withstand that creek, was faced with an ever deepening, ever angrier river.

The water reached the top of the dam, flowed now heavily through the channel, washed at the very entrance to the stables.

Suddenly the dam began to move, at first slowly. A crack appeared in the middle. It widened.

Water began to seep through the crack.

Water began to pour through the crack.

The crack was gone!

The dam was gone!

Demo sat down, stared in disbelief.

In moments his hours of work destroyed! The rock, the mud, the good green sod - all gone.

And the stable, fly infested, standing as before.

Even as he looked a swarm of flies rose, moved in his direction.

Quickly he retreated.

This required rethinking! Not so simple a chore as he had thought!

Back to Olympus! I must talk to Zeus! No way!

He arrived at Olympus. Zeus was absent. "He is on a . . .," his gardener smiled, ". . . on a hunting trip." He winked.

Suddenly a loud screech disturbed their ears.

"Oh, dear!" The gardener wrung his hands. "That's Hera! The flowers are growing so poorly. I've spent hours tending them. But they will not grow in this kind of soil. I've told Zeus a thousand times. Olympus is just too pure!"

Hera entered.

"I will not have my flowers drooping, my bushes wilting! I may well have my gardener in that condition if he tends not to my garden!"

The gardener cringed.

"What are you doing here. Did not Zeus send you out on another of his ridiculous chores. Begone, then, for I am not fit company today!" She stomped back to her patio, giving one last angry look at the gardener.

Demo frowned. "Well, I wish I could help. Anyway, I'm not much of a gardener. I know we use fertilizer on our plants. Mostly we use . . . ." He paused. A thought had entered his mind.

"Sir, perhaps this is your lucky day!"

"This boy, eh, the one who sold you the fertilizer for the vinyard and for Hera's garden," Zeus paused, a slight frown on his face. The clouds above Olympus darkened, and a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. "This boy wasn't too smart, you say?"

"Oh, no! Smart? Ha!"

"At first he wanted ambrosia, wine, women - for fertilizer! Ridiculous! He talked! And talked. The more he talked the less he decided to charge. We waited quietly." The gardener smiled.

"His charges dropped?"

"His charges dropped!"

"Still we waited! Aha! Finally he agreed that it was all ours, if we would give him just one bottle of wine and agree to move everything within 3 days! Oh, he was a cute rascal! We just outwitted him. Yes, eventually, he came our way. Merely a matter of waiting." The gardener's smile broadened.

"Yes," Zeus mused. "A cute rascal, indeed!"

"So, this callow youth, this dunce from the barnyards, practically gave away his, eh, merchandise?"

"And did you, eh, move all this fertilizer? Within 3 days?"

"Oh, yes, sire. Indeed we did. We didn't want to give him the chance of changing his mind. I had to call on all the Gods - save yourself, Sire - to get the job done. Such dedication. Even Hera carried her share. Lovely wife, Sire, lovely!"

The gardener smiled. Zeus nodded somewhat glumly.

"And we gave him 5 bottles of wine to insure he gave no further thought to the fertilizer or the stables."

"What! What is this! Stables! Did you say Stables!" Zeus brow was dark, and the clouds above Olympus now roiled and flashes of lighting lit the dour sky.

"Why, yes, sire. It seems that, through negligence, the stables had not been cleaned in - well, in a long time. One might say they were a bit ripe."

"And the horses! Poor things! They were indeed in need of washing and curry-combing."

"But, to the matter at hand. Yes, stables they were. And full to the brim with excellent fertilizer. Oh, such gardens as we shall have this spring! I'm sure you will be well pleased."

Zeus sniffed the air. Zeus seemed to be not well pleased. He was muttering to himself.

"Callow youth? Stables? Fertilizer? I will have his head . . .! Buying it from him with my own goods! Inconceivable!"

"Had all the Gods and Goddesses hard at work. That's something I've never accomplished. Ah, perhaps he might fit in well at Olympus!"

Dionysius sat quietly in the prow of the boat. The ferryman was silent, merely guided the craft on its way. The craft moved of its own volition.

"How come I here? Who are you? And what is this body of water on which we float?"

The ferryman stared at him in steely silence.

Dionysius glanced around, studied the ferryman, the boat, the dark liquid on which they floated.

"I was condemned, and the execution was for tomorrow. I had venison for supper - stupid cook burned it badly, gravy was tasteless. Then I slept. Someone roused me and we went to the execution chamber. They readied me for the blade. I remember cursing them soundly, one and all. I was bound and the executioner made ready. Did I faint? Did you rescue me, or was it another? What pay do you expect for this service? I am a poor man, so don't expect too much!"

Although the air was dark and gloomy Dionysius was beginning to feel cheerful.

"However it was done, I am thankful. And you shall all be rewarded. Before I stabbed the old priest I learned from him the location of the temple's treasure. I saw it with my own eyes. Jewels, money, golden goblets and silver. Yes, indeed, you shall be rewarded."

He smiled.

He sniffed the air.

"The sewers must lead into this stream, the smell of burning sulfur irritates my eyes. How much farther until we reach shore? There is a strangely unpleasant odor about this place. I like it not. Will you speak, or shall I toss you into this filthy stream!"

He rose, stepped toward the silent figure.

Suddenly he stopped.

The ferryman neither shrank from his approach, nor responded. His face was hidden by the hood he wore. Yet his eyes shone from beneath that hood.

The look from those eyes froze Dionysius in midstep.

"No! No! It is a bedtime story to frighten children. What are you telling me . . . ."

His gaze shifted from stream to boat, from boat to ferryman, from ferryman to stream.

"It is a fairy tale, nothing else. Take me to the shore!" His voice was once more threatening.

Suddenly he sat down, held his head between his two hands, sobbed quietly.

"It's true, isn't it? This river - Styx is its name. You are the ferryman. This gloom is not the dark of night. It's all true!"

Suddenly a thought came to mind.

"Then you are . . . You are Charon. And I must have - yes, here it is. Your toll. Take me then to the Elysian Fields. Quickly, take me away from this dreadful place."

He extended Charon's toll.

The figure made no move to accept.

Rather, a deep and melancholy voice responded. "Your stop is not the Elysian shore."

Dionysius gazed at the dark figure, at the coin. Reluctantly he let the coin fall, watched it disappear into the depths of the murky water.

He was silent.

What more was there to say!

20. The Demon's Lair

There are dark grottoes in the high mountains. And tarns, deep and cold, bottomless pits of murky water. And in some few favored spots, dark grottoes and murky tarns together.

Such was the site at which Demo stood.

Here dwelt one whom even Olympians fear. This was the Demon's Lair.

The village folk had long remembered legends. Hoary legends, whispered around campfires during winter storm. Used to frighten children to mind their manners. But only legends. Or so Demo had long believed.

Something - no one spoke a name - there was. Or something there had been. Something that preceded even the Titans, that ancient race from whom the Olympians were descended.

The Titans, so the tales went, had not conquered it. Rather, they had duped it, deceived it, and encaged it in bars not of this world. Bars that, until now, had held. Bars that, perchance, were weakening with the passage of eons.

Whispered conversations on earth, whispered conversations on the pristine streets of Olympus, told of an ominous presence. Not seen, nor heard - still dread of this unknown creature stalked the night as might stalk even the creature itself.

Idle chatter of fearful children? Old wives tales from the back woods? Or something else, something evil. Something so powerful that even the gates of Olympus stood not against it.

No one knew.

And that was why Demo stood at the gate to the demon's lair. Zeus would know what manner of creature was there imprisoned. Zeus would know what manner of prison held such a creature in throe.

Who better to send than Demo? If he succeeded, another task marked off. If he failed, one less concern as Athena chose another.

Demo gazed into the still water of the tarn, touched its surface with his hand. He gasped at the chilling cold that seized his entire arm.

Was this then the tarn of which he had been forewarned? Would here the strange tie between himself and the unseen companion be severed - or brought to its inevitable conclusion?

It seemed fitting!

No drearier spot had he seen. No gloomier grotto existed in these mountains. If doom hung over his head, it could not choose a place more suitable than this!

He resigned himself to the inevitable!

The sun slipped swiftly behind the western peaks, and cool night breezes stirred the leaves. Swallows swooped in the darkening sky, and night creatures called one to another as day ended.

Come morning and he would search further. For now, a fire, food, and a night's rest.

The flames reflected from the precipice's base, their warmth welcomed as cool night crept in. Beyond the fire light nightsounds rose and fell, now near, now far.

He added wood to the fire, wrapped himself in his Eddie Bauer mummy bag. Ah, how pleasant to sleep after a long day's journey.

It was a sleep beleaguered by dreams. Dreams of he who dwelled in the deep tarn. In the dreams the creature came forth, looked down on the sleeping youth. It's eyes were cold, held deadly enmity.

Yet, it did not strike. Motionless it observed him, turned, and descended once more into the frigid waters.

Morning came early. Demo sat up, wide-eyed. From the tarn's brink to his resting place he saw footprints. A great weight had pressed them, even into the dryer ground. They turned back, led once more to the tarn.

Demo closed his eyes, breathed deeply. What manner of creature, and why had it turned away, doing him no harm? The footprints, though huge, seemed hardly those of some monstrous being capable of frightening even the Lords of Olympus.

Demo stirred the ashes to reveal hot colds beneath, fed twigs and breathed gently on them to kindle a fire. As he placed larger branches on the flames he heard behind him the sound of measured footsteps.

With a start he turned.

The man looking down at him loomed tall and ominous. He showed no emotion. Rather, his face was calm, nor did his demeanor suggest threat. Slowly Demo rose, glanced toward his bow and quiver.

The man smiled.

"It would avail thee not. Rest easy. I mean you no harm. You, in turn, may be of aid to me. Why am I here, summoned from an age yet to be, a world far removed? Did you summon me? I think not. You are only a child! What can you tell me of this place, and of that one who stole from the cold waters in the dark of night?"

"Who are you? You were summoned? How so? From an age yet to be, a world far removed? I understand not your words. Still, if you were summoned I can think only that it was the work of Zeus. No, perhaps not. Athena may have brought you here to provide succor for me on this strange sojourn."

The tall man squatted before the fire, warmed his outstretched hands. "Strange names, these. Zeus? Athena? I know them not. And how might I, Beowulf, provide succor to one such as you, when I seem unable to even help myself. I sit here, lost, knowing neither north nor south, east nor west."

He spoke quietly, calmly. For all the strangeness of these proceedings, his face showed no fear, his eyes reflected only constant vigil.

"I can tell you why I am here. Zeus sent me to find what creature is imprisoned beneath these waters, and what manner of prison it be. It is plain, from your words; and from the prints upon the shore, it is imprisoned no more."

Beowulf responded musingly. "I walked 'neath moonlight across the moors, alone. The sound of wings, and huge white owl flew by. And then the moors were gone, moonlight faded, and I stand upon this forsaken shore of some strange pond. I feel overcoming me a dread that once before I felt, only once before. And that when I fought 'neath murky waters with the mother of Grendl. Is there no end? Have I come here once more to meet a fiend in mortal combat? And each more powerful than that which went before?"

Demo eyes lit up. "It was Athena. She knew of you, though you had never been. And if she has brought you here, it is with good cause. Grendl, and the mother of Grendl. Who, or what, are these of which you speak?"

"Fiends, creatures of night and corruption, that prey on good folk, weak and helpless. Alone I have met them, and that in their own lair, and brought upon them such destruction as they had sown. Monstrous though they were, yet did I feel not dread as I feel in this dark cove. What manner of creature dwells in yonder tarn. In my mind my thoughts are dark, and Wyrd himself peoples them."

"Wyrd? I know of Zeus, of Pluto, and of others of like ilk. I know not Wyrd."

For a moment Beowulf sat silent, eyes on the ground before him. "Wyrd is he who awaits us. Before all, he was. When all has faded and passed on, he will be. Though I fear him, I shall not bow to his power. Strangely, I believe he dwells here. I know not why."

Demo spoke now, glancing at the tarn in apprehension. "Legends have it that, before the Titans ruled, another walked this world, held it in a grasp of iron. Then the Titans beguiled him in some strange manner, and with fetters formed of dreams entangled him. After that, that he might never again escape they locked him away in caverns far beneath Tartarus' depths."

He gazed at Beowulf, back at the tarn.

"It is said he once more walks the earth, and he is not a stranger even to the streets of Olympus. Nameless among us, perhaps Wyrd is the name he bears."