Chapter 17
Slowly, painfully, he regains the path, continues his precipitous journey. Finally arriving at the rock strewn shore, he throws himself down as the air rushes through his burning throat.
There is no sign of life on the Tarn. The water, never still, moves in chaotic pattern. Swirls and streams, whirlpools and rapids, never still.
Then it rises from the deepest, coldest depths. Pluto!
Pluto swims slowly, uncertainly, moving toward the shore where Demo now sits. Demo rises, defiant. A broken sword from some ancient war, lay on the ground, and he seizes it in desperation.
And then he remembers. The broken sword of the warrior! Unsullied by its mishap, the broken blade still shines. Holding the weapon in his hand he waits on the shore, watches the tumultuous waters of the tarn.
Even in his torture, Pluto swims in desperate search for Persephone. But the dark green waters hide their prey.
And then he sees her!
Quickly, thrashing his way to the drowning girl, Pluto dives beneath the murky depths. He lifts her from the water's deadly embrace. Cradled in Pluto's arms, her face white above the dark surface, she seems more dead than living. Thrashing the deadly waves Pluto brings her to the shore.
Demo raises the broken sword high, waiting!
Pluto stalks onto the shore carrying her like a doll, gently, in his huge arms. Turning to Demo, Pluto growls in the angry voice he could not renounce, "Save her." He lays her softly on the ground, lays her gently on the sandy beach.
Throwing aside the sword Demo falls to his knees beside the child.
Demo turns her on her stomach , ministers to her. And finally he is rewarded by the slightest movement, a sign of life. Soon she begins to cough, to breathe.
Pluto stands quietly, watching. What on another creature might have been a smile touches his lips. On his cheek a trickle of liquid. Water from the Tarn of Eternity?
"She lives." He utters, half question, half statement.
"Yes, she lives."
There was no question now. The tears were real.
For a moment Pluto turns away, then turns once more to look at her. "I grant you your life, earthling. Care for her. Help her, human. For this I spare your life. Quickly, now, for as I forecast, the Tarn of Eternity is quenching the fires of hell, and quenching the very life from me. Yet I pass on willingly, that she may live."
He pauses, looks out toward the center of the Tarn.
"These waters, as foretold, have destroyed me."
Though Demo had paid attention only to Persephone, he had still noted the horrible oozing of Pluto's blood from a thousand wounds.
"It is over. I go to my fate. Tell her this. With her departure, what hope in Hades dwelt no longer lingers. And tell her, that in my own way, I loved and love her still."
He turns.
With a dignity born of valor he wades into the dark waters, marches stolidly into the ravenous waters that swirl and froth and tear at his body. Their waves lap ever higher until, silently, he disappears beneath the surface, into their clouded depths.
And, though he were a denizen of Hell, one could but think, 'True love deserves better.'
Quickly Demo turned to the maiden. In those few moment her breathing once more has ceased. Loosing her bodice he turns her over, lets the dank water seep from her lips.
Almost he gives up hope. And then she once more stirs, moans.
She moves, half sat, wide-eyed. Gently he holds her hand.
She looks wildly around.
"Where is he? Is he gone?"
He told her of Pluto's last words, of how Pluto died - evil, misshapen, cast out from the heavens. Of how he knowingly cast himself into the deadly waters of the Tarn of Eternity for her sake.
Hated by all. Destroyed, though, not by any of these, not by the power of his enemies. Destroyed by the one small touch of goodness left in him, the ability to love.
Bemused she looked at the now placid surface of the tarn.
Pensively she gazed at the quiet, dark waters. And though she is silent he noted the quiet tears upon her cheeks. Then she rose slowly, walked to the water's edge, and reached out to a green weed growing there.
"Mother, grant me beauty." She whispered the words.
And as she touched the plant a white flower bloomed, fell into her outstretched hand.
"As you have died for love, oh Pluto, I pity you. And though you will be remembered for the evil of your ways, and as master of the infernal regions, one consolation you shall have."
She tossed the flower with its large white petals out on the now still waters.
"When the water lilies bloom, you shall be remembered, not for your vices, but for your one saving grace.
"You will be remembered for this, that you gave up eternity to save the one you loved." She paused, a sob in her voice.
"Rest well, Oh Prince of Darkness."
A tear trickled down her cheek, and her voice was tremulous.
Even as she spoke the face of the pond rippled, and the white beauty of the water lilies spread. Quickly they carpeted the waters along the shore. Gently rocking with the ebb and flow of the ripples they spread their beauty ever farther.
She sat by the quiet waters, stared vacant-eyed toward its farther shore. Turning, she glanced at Demo.
"I remember, when I was a little girl, a poem. It was of a brave warrior, and the woman he loved."
She spoke the stanzas, not to him; softly to herself. Her voice, partially choked by emotion, blended with the soft wind and the rippling waves of the tarn.
"For love of maiden fair,
"He walks untrodden ways,
"And fights with dragons in the air,
"And evil ogres he slays.
"For love of maiden fair,
"He sailed on unknown seas,
"And dared the demon in his lair.
" 'Mongst haunted, ghostly trees.
"For love of maiden fair,
"He lay him down to die,
"And asked a token only there,
"A teardrop from her eye.
"For love of gallant youth,
"More than a tear she gave,
"She would not live with constant ruth -
"Slept by him in his grave."
"There will be no poem for him!"
As she spoke a break occurred in her voice, and a sadness. Perhaps she had not loved Pluto, but surely she had pitied him.
"He was ugly, hated, feared. I, who knew him best, held him in awe. And yet, for all his faults, he was gentle. Though master of that dark domain, he wept for those within. Though he had power, he had not the power to set them free.
"He loved me. A strange love, perhaps. When I returned for that brief moment to my mother, he wept. And when I returned to him once more, his face was radiant.
"Did I love him?"
She was silent. Yet, tears flowed from her eyes.
"Love? What is Love?"
She walked restlessly by the tarn, breathed deeply.
"Mother, I would rest. Take me home." She sobbed.
Demo listened silently, head bowed. Though a tragedy had now ended, still there was tragedy. How strange indeed this life, where evil destroyed did not bring happiness. Where maiden rescued did not bring joy. Where task performed did not bring triumph.
He picked up the broken sword, gazed at it musingly. With a half smile he shook his head, tossed it aside.
Finally he turned to comfort her, but she was gone. Where she had stood a rose bush grew. Its single blossom, one deep red rose, hung low in sorrow. A vagrant wave gently kissed its soft petals.
With a sigh Demo turned to climb again the mountain. Above its peaks a lone white cloud drifted. Sun's rays lit the tree tops.
The final task was done.
"Rough, you've come back . . . , alone! Oh, and you're hurt." She dropped to her knees beside the dog, felt of his legs, ribs. "At least there aren't any bones broken."
She stood up, thinking.
"You wouldn't have deserted him if he were in danger. I'm sure of that. So he sent you home. I only wish I knew that he is safe. Well, come, boy, I have some food for you."
She patted the dog, took him inside. After feeding him she stood in the open door.
A tear formed in her eye, and she wiped it away.
"Athena, if you truly love him, protect him."
24. Finale
The flutter of wings broke the silence, and she was there beside him. Athena! She reached out her hand, and he held it. This time neither Zeus nor Pluto intervened. In moments they were flying upward, ever upward, to far off Olympus.
He glanced back to the tarn below. The water lilies had covered its surface. The waves lapped gently at the sandy shore, washed tenderly the wild rose.
A few red petals fell softly into the quiet waters, mingled with the white waterlilies floating there.
Worldwide Book Rights (C) 1995 Frank Tymon