The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm (16 page)

“And this is Cerberus?” Gordie asked, nodding at the three-headed canine.

“This is Cerberus,” Hades said.

“Before you referred to . . .” Gordie paused, searching for the proper form of address:
He? She? Them? It?
So he safely went with, “Cerberus . . . in the plural. Is . . .” another pause, “Cerberus a girl, or a boy, or more than one?”

“Well, they are quite clearly more than one entity. Your question of gender is interesting. They are not gendered, in the ordinary sense. They are more manifestations of mentalities,” he said. “But they do all have names and, as you have doubtlessly already learned, their own personalities and identities as well. On the left you have
Lysson
.” Crazy Eyes let out a proud bark like he was responding to roll call. “In the center is
Bion
.” Bion let his stoicism speak for him, conveying the extreme difference between his brother and himself. “And this,” Hades patted Violet’s neck, “is
Eleoa
.”

Gordie walked up to Eleoa and she craned her head down to give him another kiss while he stroked her neck. “Do you mind if I call you Violet?” he asked, and she gave him one more approving tongue bath.

“Violet?” asked Hades. “I suppose this is a good name. My wife would love it.” He chuckled. “Come, Gordon. Let us walk together.” He motioned Gordie toward the side of the house that had an enormous cattle gate, which, Gordie realized with amusement, was for Cerberus.

The great dog pounced towards the gate, Violet’s face displayed indifference, Bion’s eyes actually rolled with contempt, while Crazy Eyes’s look of insanity was compounded while he anxiously waited for his master to unlatch the gate. When Hades pushed open the gate, Cerberus sprang away, running through the field, and was chased by the giggling gaggle of children who had been playing tag.

“He’s not gonna hurt them?” Gordie asked.

“No. They love children—even Bion, whether or not he shows it.”

“Couldn’t they hurt them by accident?”

“No. These souls are not capable of being hurt in this place. These are the fields of Asphodel, and they are under my protection.”

They began to stroll through the meadow. Hades adopted a slow gait, probably to allow Gordie to keep up with his gigantic strides. They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Not far away was a man sitting under a tree, gazing at the stars and laughing hysterically.

“Is he okay?” Gordie asked, pointing at the maniac.

“Oh yes. That is Sir Philip Sidney. Do not worry about him . . . he just really appreciates poetic irony.” Gordie’s eyebrow lifted and his face twisted in confusion. He decided not to question further.

They resumed their silent stroll through the flowers. Gentle hills rolled lazily here and there, the great black sentinels stood guard, still and silent—the effect was almost pleasing.

“Why is this place so nice? Shouldn’t there be more fires and scary stuff?” Gordie asked.

“Death is frightening enough, don’t you think? Why should these souls suffer on in eternal fear?” Hades’s question was reasonable, but it so contradicted Gordie’s fundamental expectations.

“Then why is this place always depicted so terrifyingly? Where did that come from?” This clearly vexed Hades, so Gordie said, “I’m sorry. I just thought it would be different.”

“It was,” Hades sighed and stopped walking, staring off across the plains, “before Persephone came. In my youth I was rash, angry, vengeful. I hated this place and I hated my brother for sticking me down here. But I could not punish him, the King of the Gods, so I punished my charges. Demons terrorized the newly dead from the second they stepped off of Charon’s ferry; the harpies constantly pecked at them, skeleton hordes chased them, even Cerberus relished in their torment. Mainly Lysson—Eleoa was not a willing participant. And I,” another deep sigh, “I sat back and looked on with debased zeal.”

Gordie was looking up into his ancient, lined face as Hades shook his head, looking down at his hands like he was questioning them, asking them how they could have allowed him to be such a monster.

“For millennia I tormented innocent souls because I was angry about not getting what I wanted, what I felt I deserved. I wanted to be the King of Olympus and lock my brother down here. I wanted gold, ivory, marble, bright splendors and no responsibility—as if I even performed
my
responsibilities with a shred of integrity.

“But then Persephone came,” he repeated softly. “Of course, she did not come of her own accord. Selfish as I was I kidnapped her . . . imprisoned her . . . forced myself upon her—like a true Olympian.” He scoffed, while Gordie felt a sense of disgust grow inside him. “Though I took her as a prize—a trophy—I came to love her. She is beautiful, but her exterior beauty cannot compare to that within. Despite her suffering at my hands, she did not try to flee. Seeing the horrors that the dead endured here, she made it her mission to protect them from me. Time and again she threw herself in front of the innocent, submitting herself to unspeakable torture at the hands of the harpies, the Furies, and countless other monsters. After such insolence, I would punish her myself—” a sharp intake of breath halted his recount. Gordie’s jaw clenched.

“In time she began to reason with me, beg me for mercy on the dead. She said she knew I was capable of doing good.” He paused again. “I don’t know how she saw it in me when I could not see it in myself. I began to question my practices, began to wonder if it were possible to be a kind ruler—a caretaker, not a warden. Slowly, the monsters shrank back into the pit of Tartarus, as if responding to some light within me fighting to overcome the dark. Or maybe it was Persephone’s greatness that drove them away.

“She began planting flowers . . .” He smiled in a gentle reverie. “Such a simple thing. But true beauty began to bloom here. The souls that came across the river were not coming to a land of eternal horrors, but to a new home. Maybe they are not happy here,” he waved a long arm at the wandering souls, “but I believe they are no longer living in fear and sadness.”

Gordie’s feelings of contempt towards Hades evaporated, mollified by the compassion that dripped over every word.

“They look happy to me,” Gordie said.

Hades looked down on him with a broad smile, great joy and great sadness reflected in his eyes. “I thank you. I hope you are right.” He kept his gaze on Gordie for a while.

Feeling uncomfortable, Gordie bent down and plucked a flower. “So, Persephone planted these, huh? I mean they’re okay, but they’re still a little gloomy, don’t you think?”

Hades chuckled. “You are quite right, but these are not her flowers. This is my own attempt at horticulture. Persephone is in Sitaria at the moment. She goes to her mother every spring so they can bring the plants of Earth to life, and she returns to me after the harvests. Of course, she has been gone for sixteen springs, but when she is here, the world has no more beautiful place. This realm glows with every color of the rainbow, and then some. I think my residents miss her when she is gone. The children come beckoning at my door upon her return every year, like it is your All Hallows’ Eve.” He smiled again, looking off into the distance. 

“Well, I hope I get to meet her,” Gordie said.

“And I hope you do not for quite some time,” Hades responded.

Gordie gazed up at the stars, silently agreeing with this last sentiment.

“Did she make those stars too? Or are they really the stars?”

“A complicated question—they are certainly the real constellations, but they do not dance across the sky here, as they do on Earth. It is eternal night in this realm. After all, there must be some drawback to this place, or everyone would be clamoring to get in. But the stars are quite a new feature indeed. There was a professor who passed to this realm not long ago. He told me that the very ceilings of his former educational institution conveyed the heavens above! How marvelous?” he boomed.

“So he deserves the credit for this.” He waved his hand at the night sky. “But it is also for him that I have not recreated the moon. If I had, things could get quite
hairy!
” he guffawed, his laughter echoing over the fields. “Forgive me,” he choked, coming down from his high. “I have had no one to joke with since Persephone left. That is one of her favorites.” He fell back into a blissful reverie.

Gordie shared his silence for a moment before asking, “Where do the evil people go? Do they all end up here?”

“They do not,” Hades said, becoming solemn again. “They go to the pit of Tartarus. In fact, you had a brief glimpse of it yourself, if I am not mistaken.”

Gordie knew immediately what he was talking about—the abyss that he had pulled Cerberus out of was a place that must be like Hell. He remembered the screams emanating from there and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

They both remained silent for a short while, watching Cerberus romp with laughing children. Just then, a pertinent question came to Gordie’s mind, “Am I dead?” He thought he knew the answer, but he needed to be certain. When Hades broke into raucous laughter again Gordie was reassured.

“Olympus, no!” he said. “You are very much alive! Granted, that was quite a tumble you took. I am not sure that it was necessary, but Hermes has always been a joker.”

“Yeah, freakin’ hilarious,” Gordie snapped. “Uh, sorry,” he muttered, looking at his shoes.

“No need for apology. I am sorry for the cold reception you received. Cerberus does not take kindly to intruders, but you seem to have made quite an impression on them already . . . and on me for that matter.” Hades eyed him. “You are your father’s son.”

Gordie’s head snapped around to meet his gaze.

“You know my dad? Is he here? Can I see him?” Wondrous joy exploded inside him, and he started looking around to find his father.

“He is here, but,” Hades looked at him sadly and put a massive hand on his shoulder; a sense of disappointment and sorrow filled Gordie, “I don’t think it would be wise for you to see him. You see, when departed souls pass from your world to this one, they entirely forget their lives on Earth.”

Gordie did not need him to finish the thought. He looked down to hide the tears welling in his eyes.
If I saw my dad, he wouldn’t even know who I am
.

Anger started to consume him as he turned on Hades. “Then why did you even mention him? What do you even want from me anyways?” Gordie’s chest heaved.

“I am truly sorry, Gordon.” His lugubrious yet pacifying voice worked its magic on Gordie. “I did not mean to upset you. And, as we have now broached the subject of what I want from you, suffice it to say that I wish to help you.”

Gordie looked up at him with piqued interest. “You mean, you’ll help me fight—

“No!”

—Zeus?”  Gordie finished his question, which was now twofold because he didn’t understand why Hades had had such a violent response.

Thunder suddenly blared overhead. Gordie whipped his head from side to side, noticing the people milling in the field were having a similar, but more terrified reaction. Before he could process any of this, he was hoisted into the air and tossed over Hades’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just keep your mouth shut, and whatever you do, stay in the house!”

Hades sprinted across the landscape, little gray flowers blurring through Gordie’s vision as if he were watching them from a bullet train. When Hades had grabbed him they had to have been at least a half-mile from the house, but in a matter of seconds they were skidding to a halt as Gordie saw Cerberus bounding up from behind them. Hades heaved him off his shoulder and tossed him into the open door.

“Just stay here and do not make a sound!” he repeated.

As the door slammed shut Gordie heard Hades address Cerberus. “Stay right here and let no one near the house.” An obeisant bark responded to this command.

More thunder ripped the sky as Gordie crouched next to the door with mingled curiosity and fear. He looked around the interior of Hades’s abode, surprised to see that it was only one room. The ceilings were twenty feet high with intricately crossing beams of charcoal colored wood. An enormous hearth spanned from floor to ceiling in the center of the room with a proportionately large table facing it. Gordie could see the edge of a bed around the hearth, which he could only assume was also King-of-the-Underworld size. A bookshelf to his right caught his attention, housing a number of trinkets that he could not begin to identify. Most notably was something akin to a fish tank, but the liquid inside looked like radioactive grape jelly. A little black blur zoomed around inside it, disturbing the viscous fluid.

And then fear consumed Gordie’s curiosity as a new voice rumbled over the landscape. It was even amplified inside the house as though it were coming through a demonic PA system. He tucked his head between his knees like he was awaiting the nuclear holocaust, desperately trying to keep the tyrannical voice from assaulting his ears.

“Why did you call me, Brother?” The disembodied voice shook the woodwork around Gordie.

“Forgive me, Brother. It was a mistake. I was only cursing your name.” Hades’s voice reached Gordie from outside the door. His normal amplification was dwarfed by the power in the first voice, but there was no fear in his speech.