Chapter 16

"I rule this domain, ignored by the Gods, unknownst to mankind. This is the field of atonement. All pass through here. Some quickly. Some remain long. For a moment you have lifted the mists. Nevertheless, they shall return. I have halted all transitions until your coming. The souls who depart your world and pass through here would press on. And so shall they, in due time."

"What would you have of me, Sire?"

The warrior stood, pulled from its sheath a sword. "Vulcan did temper this sword with blood. And each who leaves your world must first feel this edge. It has proven strong and sharp. Still, time and usage take their toil, and it is now it is only a blunt instrument, useless for its purpose."

"Sire, I am no swordsmith."

The warrior held the blade in hand, extended the handle toward Demo. "Take it. Return it to Zeus. Tell him one whose name remains forever unspoken would have the broken sword of Cadmus. Let Vulcan fashion it and put thereon an edge that will not fail. 'Til you return, Clothos shall spin no more, nor Lachesis measure, nor Atropos wield her shears. And none shall pass through these portals to tomorrow."

The warrior held the blade high, brought it down flat against his knee, and the metal snapped. He handed the broken weapon to Demo. "The gate is there."

He pointed to the darker recesses of the cave. "Quickly, now, to Olympus. I wait impatiently."

Zeus listened in quiet amazement, the broken sword in his hand. In anger he tossed it down and it faded into oblivion. "You shall meet with it by the tarn, in good time. It is not given to me to know of this shadow land. Of its existence only am I informed. The Ancient Ones - they knew! Strangely, they told me nothing! Must even the Gods pass through those portals? I know not. Here, take it. The sword of Cadmus. It, too, was broken. Well, Vulcan has applied his skills. This edge shall never dull."

The warrior examined the sword with critical eye. "The craftsmanship of Vulcan leaves little to be desired. I see the break in the blade. It matters not. There is no weakness now. You have done well."

His visage reflected an expression that might be construed as a smile. "My broken sword lies by the tarn. It may well be of service, at the appointed time. Now, on your way. For I must return to my dreadful chore."

Zeus was morose. "It is a drear vision you bring to me. Still, let us live for today. If it were hidden from the Gods, then it concerns them not. Return to your own, my boy. The flowers bloom, soft winds blow, and spring creeps upon the land. And, I assure you, there will be no fog!"

22. The Escape

It is said that none enter, that none leave, the confines of Hades except they be conveyed by the ferryman. Yet, in time past, ancient time, one entered unattended that eternal prison. He entered in search of his own true love, and pleaded with his songs. So sweetly sung were they that Pluto, that stern master of the nether regions, granted safe passage to him, and to the one he loved. For Pluto, most hideous of living beings, yet within his monstrous form knew the pangs of love.

Yet did another depart those infernal regions with no aid from that dark ferryman.

This is the tale of that departure, of what transpired before. And here lie the tangled threads, and the first strange steps on the dark path to the Tarn of Eternity.

Legends relate the sad story of the kidnapping of Persephone, the story of the evil Pluto. And the legends tell true. But they ignore the role of Venus, and of Cupid. And they are not guiltless.

Persephone did dwell in the Vale of Enna, gathered there the wildwood flowers.

Pluto, master of Hades, dwelt alone in his nether kingdom.

Powerful, emotionless, dedicated only to his duty, this ruler of the dead traveled from time to time, his coach pulled by giant black steeds. And one such a trip Venus espied him. Angry because she had no power to move him she turned to Cupid.

"This one knows not of love, lives in serenity. I would he suffer the pangs of unrequited love. Loose your sharpest arrow. Let him suffer as suffer those mortals ferried through the portals of his empire."

Cupid grinned impudently. Ever pleased to show his skill he notched arrow to cord. True and straight it flew.

Pluto felt a yearning he did not understand. Disturbed, he flogged his steeds, flew tempestuously he knew not where, seeking he knew not what.

Wild, the horses flew. And in their flight they entered the Vale of Enna, paused to drink from the pond therein.

Carrying wildflowers in her arms, with laughter and song did Persephone approach the chariot, tossed in childlike simplicity flowers to the occupant. "Come, play with me. I have no playmate. I need a friend."

She looked on his loathsome form with neither fear nor disfavor. To her he was merely a welcome playmate, though not of human form. She asked nothing of him, only that he share this little while.

He gazed upon her, and in his heart Cupid's poisoned arrow worked its magic.

The innocent beauty of that face, the warm and happy spirit shining through those clear eyes, brought to him feelings he had never known. He thought to hold her close, to stroke that soft hair, to caress with gentle touch her smooth skin.

And within him, too, aroused the desires of a man. For though her face was that of youth, her body was of sculptured beauty that Venus might envy.

When Pluto beheld her all thoughts save one departed his mind. This was to be his bride!

He tarried there, danced in parody of handsome prince, sang in voice marred and croaking. She mocked him not; rather, smiled.

Of flowers garlands she made, given to him in innocent pride. She sang sweet songs of light and sunshine, of crystal stars and mellow moon, of flowers that did not die, with blossoms that forever bloom.

He told her sad tales of a dark and lonesome realm, of those for whom hope was no more, and of a keeper who sat in solitude in mastery of that realm. A keeper who, more than all dwellers therein, was prisoner of that realm.

From her eye, soft flowed a tear. From her hand, a gentle touch. He thought not to ask for more.

They parted, though never long. Always his mighty steeds drove through time and space, returning once more to that quiet retreat. The love he felt for the innocent child grew ever stronger. Still, he approached her, not in courtship, but as a friend.

"Your arrow has flown true. It lacked the needed potency. He loves her as does a brother. Once more loose your bow, and into his heart drive desire, passion. And I shall open wide her eyes, that she may see him as the monstrous form he is. He joys in her presence, feels not the pain of unrequited love. As he has ignored me, she shall reject him!"

Venus caused once more Cupid's arrow to fly. An arrow not tinged with sweet love, rather poisoned with selfish lust. And even as the arrow flew she closed the eyes of Persephone, let her dream of handsome prince. Handsome prince, of looks far removed from those of this dread companion.

Pluto lurched back in alarm as desire mixed with tender thoughts, new and uncontrollable needs surfaced.

Persephone opened wide her eyes, saw him now in a new light. No handsome prince he, no proper comrade. With a scream she rose from beside him, rushed blindly toward the garden gate.

He seized her, dragged her to that golden chariot. Madly he lay whip on flesh, driving the mighty steeds as never had they been driven. Thus he carried her to his own domain.

She resisted not, for his was the greater strength. As his chariot reached the gates of the garden she sighed. In arms she held her kitten, a white small ball of fur. As they passed through the gate she set it free. "May the Gods grant you freedom and happiness, for mine is no more."

Pluto heard her words with deep remorse. Nevertheless, the spell cast of Venus overpowered the germ of kindness in his heart. And yet, though he desired her, his love was more powerful. "Only when the Gods have granted you to me in marriage shall you be mine."

In due time it came about. Still, Persephone was granted one wedding wish. Quickly, before it could be withdrawn, she prayed to be returned to her mother for half of each year. And so it was.

In time she accepted her exile with good grace. Yet, because Cupid had never used his arrows on her heart, she felt no love for her captor. At times, perhaps, pity.

Time as earthlings know it does not exist for denizens of the nether world. Those suffering suffer not by day or night, but by eternity. The Curse of Cronus, lifted from the Gods, still left its mark upon these sufferers, and age beyond age they carried.

And even Persephone, though shielded by the Gods, felt the power of Cronus, saw wrinkles gently forming. Invisible to Pluto, who saw only through the eyes of love, this aging process.

One innocent pleasure Persephone had.

The dread ferryman in his duties came ever to the kingdom's portals. And there he heard the happenings on earth, and fables of happenings in Heaven.

These tales he passed on to Persephone, for she longed to know of the world she had left behind.

And one day he brought to her a tale that left her heart cold.

Ceres, her mother, was nearing the end of her days. She prayed daily to the Gods that she might see, before her departure, her beloved daughter.

The bargain had been made. Six long months must Persephone dwell within the nether realm. The Gods would not relent.

Still, Persephone would see her mother. She pleaded with the ferryman. To no avail. He listened not to her pleas. He carried only passengers from the portal to deep within. None carried he to the portal.

She wandered though Hades with sad mien, searching for a path to the other side. She found none.

While in her search, she met the shades of the departed. On one such meeting she heard the name, Orpheus.

Suddenly her eyes widened. Orpheus! The only living man to enter Hades without the attendant ferryman!

Slowly, from tormented souls, from the ferryman, even from Pluto himself, she gathered details of that entry. How he came, singing his songs, and melted even the heart of Pluto.

Ah, how did he enter? What secret way, unknown to any other, had led him into this Stygian realm?

The heights of Taenarus! Earthly legends told of a path, a path of unknown origin. Through terrain unlike any known to man it twisted its uncertain way. Boulders coughed from deep within the earth's core blocked its passage. Edged stones marred its surface. And the path winds into a cave, whose very mouth is enshrouded in darkness.

From its mouth sulfurous fumes rise, and dark clouds of noxious gases besmirch the sky. Bones of man and beast lie scattered midst pools of murky water.

It is thought that this fissure penetrates the very bowels of earth. Even into the domain of Pluto, the fearsome kingdom of Hades.

Through this portal creatures of the afterworld are unleashed on earth's dwellers. Ghosts of those long gone, strange beings never dreamed of by human kind, spirits weird, and other creatures lacking even a name.

Orpheus must have entered through this portal. Through the cave of Orpheus may I escape to my world!

Thus thought Persephone. And she planned her escape. Each day she wandered through the dark domain, mapping its drear geography in her mind.

She waited.

In due time Pluto was called to an accounting at Olympus. In his absence she began the ascent, up through the dark and evil passages. Ever upward with uncertain step and only hope to guide.

Guardians did cross her path, challenged her passage. But when informed that she was queen, and in Pluto's absence master of that dread domain, none dared stay her way.

She reached the portal, followed the rough and strenuous path leading downward from the heights of Taenarus. Always she gazed fearfully behind.

He would come!

23. The Extra Task

"Well done!," Zeus roared. "Every task completed!"

He paused. "Hmmm! I've lost count. Every task . . . . Well, I'm sure you won't mind just one more to, eh, help me out."

"Yes, yes, every task, that is, except one, a minor one I overlooked."

Chagrined he listened as Zeus stated the Final task.

"Perhaps you have noticed, in your sojourns, that you have had a companion. An unseen watcher. A sneaky follower. A sly, disreputable creature! Destroy it! That is your final task. Now, begone!"

Imperiously he waved his hand, and as it fell he faded slowly into oblivion. Why was he smiling so happily?

It happened so quickly that Demo had not time to complain, not even time to think. He stood on the mountain path once more, alone.

Or, perhaps, not alone. The wind gusted, leaves rustling along the pathway. Above the tree tops bowed in obeisance to the intermittent breeze. The smell of rain was in the air. And a sulfurous smell. One he had noted to often before.

He sensed, rather than saw, the unseen companion. In anger he raised his bow, but could not decide where to dispatch the arrow. With a shrug he lowered it, returned the arrow to its pouch.

"In due time I will succeed. I must!" he breathed.

He felt tired. He had labored mightily through the twelve tasks. Rest was delayed for their completion. And now a further task lay on him.

For a moment he leaned against the trunk of a tall pine, his eyes closed. His arms ached, his back and neck, and his felt the need to lie down, to rest.

But he dare not! Somewhere, waiting, his nemesis. And when and how he might strike he knew not.

He trudged disconsolately along the mountain path. In the distance the howl of a wolf broke the silence. The quivering wail was answered quickly from neighboring hills. The pack was assembling for some nightly raid. A dust devil traveled a crooked path on the trail ahead, ended with leaves falling on the floor. A deer stopped at the edge of the trail, sniffed at the air, then retreated.

Demo moved cautiously forward, each step a chore. Strong though he was his energy seemed to be waning. Startled, he remained motionless. This is not right, he thought. I have gone days without rest, and still felt stronger than today. Am I ill, have I eaten something that has weakened me.

He felt a vertigo, nearly stumbled. He shuffled forward, each foot scuffing along the pathway.

As Demo proceeded he noted a shadow on his path. The sitting sun limned the figure of a young girl sitting on a log by the path, rubbing her ankle. Plainly she was suffering, and with the approaching night, in dire circumstances. Exhausted though he was, he could not ignore her plight.

"My lady, you are in pain. Can I help you?" he inquired.

"No! No. Begone, handsome youth! I carry with me dangers you cannot understand. Even to talk to me invites disaster. Go quickly on your way!"

Her voice was taut with emotion, with fear. Her breath came in quick pants, and her face was distraught. She bowed her head in hopeless resignation.

He started to turn, noted the tears in her eyes, and so remained.

"Here, I have medication for your ankle. It will ease the pain."

He rubbed the ointment on the red swollen skin, and her eyes widened as the pain began to recede.

"Oh, sir, I am fleeing from a most horrifying creature. There are no words that can describe it. Should it finds you with me, it will destroy you. Please, go on your way. You have been very kind, now leave quickly. Let me climb down the mountain alone."

For a moment he hesitated, took a step away from her and down the mountain. If I stay to help her it will endanger my chances of completing the final task. I must go on now!

His thoughts said leave. His heart said stay. The sad face of the hapless maiden held his eyes. He could not walk away.

"I too have known fear and loneliness. I cannot leave you thus. I will help you, no matter what pursues. And should it overtake us, I shall leave my mark on it." He touches his arrows for reassurance.

They slowly descend the mountain, and she leans heavily on him as she hobbles along the rock-strewn path. At times winding steeply, narrow. Then leveling and wide. When they reached a precipice overlooking the site of a beautiful, dark pond they paused.

A gnarled pine grew on the crag, leaning outward. In time the wind and rain would loosen its roots and would plunge off the overhang. For now a swallow nested safely within its branches.

Demo looked down at the tarn so far below. For a moment he closed his eyes, drew a deep breath. This is the place. The wait is over. He sighed.

There are ponds where birds sing in happy summer frolic. Where nests are built in bordering bushes, and eggs laid. Ponds where the fish leap, and frogs sing their merry songs of night. Here lightning bugs brighten the surface, court the light of reflected stars. Here the waters are clear and cool. The farmer stores milk here to keep it cold. Children play along its banks with happy laughter. By summer day they swim in its depths. Here by night lovers sit 'neath honey moon and whisper soft words of adoration.

And there are ponds of rougher nature where the fisherman plies his trade. Ponds where flowering plants hide snakes that glide upon the waters and feed on the creatures swimming below. Where turtles wait for unsuspecting geese or ducks and drag them to their death in waters deep. Here young men come to gig frogs, to seine for bait for tomorrow's fishing, to joke and carouse and wrestle man to man.

There, too, are tarns hidden in dark recesses and grottoes. Tarns deep and still where legends grow and strange stories are whispered. Here in the eventide one sees the will of the wisp. At times the call of the loon breaks the evening air. Stories better left untold are found here. Of strange sights in the dark of night. Of spirits of those gone. Of evil incarnate, and hate incessant.

Such a one was the tarn that lay below. Tales were told of blood mingling with the murky waters. Tales of bands of evil note frequenting its shores. Tales of bodies weighted with stone, resting forever on the bottom.

The escarpment extended outward from the mountain, formed a lookout overlooking the dark waters. The escarpment, of solid rock, attracted those despondent, invited them to end their woes with a plunge into the waiting waters. Too many responded to that fatal invitation.

"Here is the land of my mother, Ceres. I am Persephone, her only daughter. And I have been away so long." She sobbed.

Ceres. He knew the name. Where had he heard it? Ah, his Mother. A nursemaid, long ago, and a weak and sickly child. Was this then the needed task, to protect her daughter from a ruthless enemy? How strange the fates! Every move seemed programmed, every action preplanned long ago. And the results? Were they too preprogrammed? Our lives it seems are in the stars, and we neither control nor understand our fate. There was now no question in his mind. This is the Tarn of Eternity! It is here all shall be resolved!

"Finally, now I am getting closer to home. I shall see her once more before she dies. The trip has been long. Soon it is over."

He felt the sadness in her words. And felt something else, something more foreboding.

A hint of a strange odor, a scent that he knew too well. The unseen companion was close, very close!

Even as she spoke a dark form emerged from the heavy bushes beside the path.

Unthinkingly he knew. This was the unseen companion!

Demo's mother slept fitfully throughout the night. Dreams, rather, nightmares, repeatedly aroused her. She saw, again and again, her son. And something else.

Something huge and grotesque, evil and deadly. Something with an unreasoning hatred for her son.

She arose before sunrise, sat on the edge of her bed in deep thought, spoke aloud to herself. "I could try to go to him. Sadly, I am old, weak. I would be but a further burden.

Rough sat at her feet, licked her hand. She reached down absently, patted his head. Her eyes widened.

"Rough, go to him. What I cannot do, you can. Protect him with your life. Quickly now! Find your master! Go!"

The dog whined as she opened the door, looked up at her. Then turning, with a low growl, Rough loped quickly toward the high mountains.

Whatever danger threatened Demo, he would share. Whatever enemy imperiled his master, he too would face.

She sighed, whispered, "Perhaps, perhaps . . . "

Misshapen head, twisted body, covered with hide plated with metallic scales, it stood tall above them.

But he is not the only one to recognize the creature.

Beside him Persephone starts, cries out. "No, let me be free of you!"

A gasping chortle issued from the swollen lips of the creature. "Ah, princess, it is fit we meet here by the Tarn of Eternity. Only its waters can still the fires of Hell. And even they cannot still my love for you."

The words, meant to express deep feelings, were grotesque when voiced in a broken, harsh whine by the monstrosity. And yet Demo noted, the eyes held a devotion that was real.

"Pluto, go back to your world. Leave me to live in peace with my mother. I will never return to Hades. Better a short life on earth than eternity in Hades."

"Persephone, I will never release you. My love for you is without an end. You will be mine forever."

This travesty on words of love, voiced by a creature totally devoid of humanity, brought tears to the eyes of the young maiden.

The final task! Destroy the unseen companion! Pluto! Brother of Zeus! More powerful than any save Zeus himself!

A tear came to Demo's eye. No mortal could accomplish this task! Yet, though he die in the struggle, he was committed. Athena, remember me, for I have loved you!

He was no longer tired. He drew strength from the imminent danger.

He took a deep breath, drew an arrow from its pouch, notched it to the string.

"You jest! What power is in your weapons?" once more Pluto speaks.

"I have followed you far, and your arrows have not found their mark. Do you not know, that nothing you can do will destroy me. I am immortal. I dwell in Hades, Master of that infernal region. Only the waters of the Tarn of Eternity can quench those flames."

He laughed, loud and harshly, without humor.

"Now stand up, tall and brave." he sneered, "I tire of this childish game, and you are about to die."

As Pluto lifted his huge fist Demo drew the bowstring. A threshing from the side of the pathway, distracted him.

He paused.

Before either he or Pluto could move another interfered.

From the brush a deep growl was heard, and in a moment Rough stood in the path of the threatening fiend. He crouched, eyes blazing.

And sprang!

Caught in mid air by a blow from the monstrous figure, Rough fell, rolled over, lay quiet. Demo released his arrow!

It struck, then fell blunted from Pluto's thick hide.

"I struck the animal only a light blow. I too had Cerberus, and of all creatures only he loved me. The dog shall live. But not you, earthling."

Pluto once more turned toward Demo, his deadly intention evident.

"No, Pluto, no more! I can stand no more of you, no more of your evil ways."

Persephone rushes by Demo, dodges by Pluto.

Frozen, Demo stands motionless. Still, there is one who acts. With a desperate lunge Pluto tries to stop the maiden.

Too late!

She flings herself from the edge of the cliff!

Down she falls, down, finally to plummet into the cold depths of the Tarn of Eternity.

Pluto turns, dives into those murky waters. Plummets downward to rescue her from their frigid embrace!

As the waves touch him he screams.

The waters roil and tear at him as though the tarn were a living creature, a beast of prey. Blood stains the roiled surface.

Demo rushes down the tortured pathway, his lungs and throat burning. A stone turns and he falls, slipping over the edge of the escarpment. The roiling waters of the Tarn of Eternity licks hungrily at the boulders below. They crash against the shore, waiting for their next prey.