A
gain the landscape of the Netherworld changed. Guided by Pepan, Horatius entered a billowing desert striated by different colors of sand, ranging from ochre to yellow to a strange, burning white. A hot wind blew continually, stirring up clouds of sand.
At first a few pinnacles of eroded stone were the only landmarks, but these eventually merged into a wall of low, rugged cliffs pierced by occasional dark defiles. Pepan found the sullen atmosphere of the region disturbing, the scenery of nightmare.
Horatius felt differently. “I must admit, I miss green,” he remarked to Pepan. “My eyes are hungry for green and blue and clear, cool colors. But this is a remarkable place all the same. The Netherworld contains more wonders than I ever imagined on earth.”
“I doubt if you're aware of a fraction of the wonders that exist on earth,” Pepan replied. “Only when you enter the Otherworld and leave human limitations behind
do you fully appreciate the beauty of the Earthworld. To hear the music of a living spirit ⦔
“Of course, you spoke of this before. The music of her soul, you said. But I don't understand what you mean.”
“How do you think I am following Vesi? Every
hia
sings a song unique to itself that cannot be heard in the Earthworld, but is clearly audible once you leave.”
“You can actually hear my mother? Can I?”
“Perhaps. Listen for the particular song of her human spirit, a single pure note, tempered by experience and age, altered by pain, heightened by love. Open your heart and listen.”
The young man shrugged the ax off his shoulder in order to concentrate more fully. “I think I hear ⦔ Sudden alarm leaped in his eyes.
Accompanied by a curious, gobbling noise, a dozen or more grotesque beings came into view making their way among the sand dunes. Standing smaller than an average man, each possessed one head, two arms, and two legs but there any resemblance to humankind ended. Their skin was the color of rust and composed of innumerable small bubbles. They traveled with an awkward, loping gait, and as they moved the bubbles lost cohesion and burst so that bits of their surface continually sloughed away, leaving a sluglike trail in their wake.
“What are those things?” asked Horatius with disgust.
Pepan shook his head. “I have no idea and no desire for a closer look. Let's head for the cliffs, there at least we have a chance of getting away from them. Out here on the desert we're too exposed.”
Trying not to call attention to themselves, the two set out for the cliffs at a brisk walk. The creatures immediately changed direction and followed them. At this ominous sign Horatius and Pepan broke into a run, but by
the time they reached the cliffs the pack was closing fast. Their smell preceded them on the hot wind. They stank like the bowels of someone in the last stages of disease. A momentary wave of nausea doubled Horatius over, retching.
The pack swiftly caught up with him then. The leaders flung themselves upon him, clinging to his torso and arms like lichen on a tree. The rest encircled him to keep him from running away. They had no faces other than thick-lipped mouths in the center of their heads from which poured a foul-smelling, yellowish drool. Their slobbering mouths held curving fangs, their two-fingered hands ended in long talons that they could use either as claws or as crablike pincers. The bubbling skin was too slimy to grasp; Horatius could get no hold on them to tear them off. Against so many the shield was merely an impediment on his arm. Neither were his weapons of any use, for with the creatures crawling over him he could not swing the ax nor even get to the knife in his neck pouch.
When they discovered they could not tear through Horatius's breastplate they turned their attention to his head. They attempted to gnaw his ears from his skull, their talons slashing for his eyes. He tried as best he could to fend them off but there were too many of them.
Pepan was dismayed. To come so far and risk so much, and then fall victim to this loathsome horde ⦠“No!” cried the Lord of the Rasne. Unarmed, he threw himself on Horatius's attackers and dragged the young man free. Pulling him by the straps of his breastplate, he hauled him into the mouth of a narrow defile. Then tossing Horatius behind him into the shadow, he stood squarely in the mouth of the defile and faced the creatures.
His fists sank from sight in slimy bubbles, he could find nothing solid to hit. But he screamed and kicked and flailed his arms, driving them back with the sheer fury of his attack. The creatures hesitated momentarily
to regroup. “This is your chance, Horatius! Run for it, go through the defile to whatever is on the other side. I'll hold them here until you can get away. And listen for your mother's music!”
“I can't leave you alone!”
“I told you they are dangerous to life, but you forgetâI'm not alive,” Pepan argued. “Run, I tell you. Run!”
The young man staggered to his feet. “I cannot desert you.”
“And I will never desert you,” Pepan lied. “Now go!”
Horatius ran.
Sooner or later
, Pepan thought as the young man disappeared into the cleft in the rock,
he will remember my telling him that I am vulnerable here too. But by that time he will be safely away.
I do this for you, Repana. So that he can save your daughter.
The creatures attacked. Their curving talons cut through the air with an unnerving, scythelike motion, or closed into pincers attempting to rip his flesh from his bones. As if they knew how unmanning their breath was, they deliberately belched great waves of gaseous stench in his face.
There were too many to attack him all at once. Half their number were clinging to his body while the rest capered around him, gobbling hungrily, mouths opening and closing, the jaws and chests wet with noxious saliva. Pepan had no illusion about their plans for his flesh.
If only he had a weapon.
He ruefully recalled lending his favorite ebony-handled knife to Repana, so long ago. There must be some weapon he could use now; anything! But as he looked frantically around he saw nothing but sand.
Stooping, Pepan snatched up a handful of sharp grains and hurled them deep into the nearest open mouth.
The creature choked, clawed at its throat, fell writhing to the ground. To Pepan's disgust the others promptly turned upon their companion and devoured it alive, shoving chunks of bubbling flesh into their mouths even as they resumed the attack on the Rasne lord.
Since his death Pepan had learned much about the laws that controlled the three disparate planes of existence. But he did not know how much damage a Netherworld body could suffer and still host a living spirit. If his body was destroyed his
hia
would be set adrift alone and unprotected in this dreadful place. He would surely fall victim to the predators of the Netherworld long before he could find his way to sanctuary with Veno. Only the gods themselves knew what he would become.
Pepan fought to control his fear, but he was tiring. One of the creatures behind him took a terrific swipe at his back. A pain like a bolt of lightning drove him to his knees.
Repana,
he thought again as he struggled to his feet.
He did not know if he spoke aloud.
His attackers were tumbling over one another in their eagerness to destroy. The pain rose to a dazzling crescendo.
So this is how it will end. What sort of destiny is this for a prince of Etruria?
Claws slashed his chest, pincers ripped flesh from his shoulders and thighs. The creatures were grunting with excitement at the prospect of a kill. In another moment they would overwhelm him with sheer numbers, but he was determined to go down fighting.
Then at an invisible signal the entire pack flung itself upon him at once. Pepan fought back with fists and elbows but the outcome was inevitable. Under their massed weight he staggered and fell sideways. He managed to get to one knee only to be knocked down again, sent sprawling by a crashing blow to the back of the head.
He could not get up again. Curling into a ball, he attempted to shield his head with his arms for as long as possible.
As he lay huddled on the ground memories flickered through his mind like a brilliantly colored ribbon. Images of his childhood, his gentle and affectionate mother, his aloof and lordly father. He recalled his youth, his first love, the taste of her lips. His initiation ceremony into manhood, his leadership of the Rasne. Wife, children.
Repana.
Above all others, Repana.
So many people, so many faces. Many of them now safe in the Kingdom of the Dead, whereas he â¦
So many images, so many lives and loves, so few regrets â¦
Repana.
When the other faces had vanished into the pain, Repana's remained. He struggled to hold onto that memory to carry with him into the darkness. Perhaps if he could take her image with him into the night, it might sustain him.
Then through the gobbling and grunting of the creatures tearing at him he heard a single sound: a rich and melodious note that went straight to his heart. Twisting around, he managed to peer through the legs of the creatures in time to see two figures appear out of the shimmering heat.
One was a woman dressed in an Etruscan gown.
Behind her, hulking huge, loomed the shadowy form of a massive bear.
The woman â¦
Pepan tried to focus on her face but he was swiftly losing consciousness. Gray mist swirled through his head. He squinted, struggling to see for just one heartbeat longer â¦
⦠as the great bear launched itself upon the creatures, roaring in righteous fury as it savaged them.
“My lord, can you hear me?” She bent closer until her face was almost touching his. “Open your eyes and speak to me.”
Pepan made himself ignore the excruciating pain in his back long enough to lift his eyelids.
A face appeared. A beloved face. Younger than he remembered it, bright with youth and alive with love.
“Repana?” His voice was very faint.
“Yes, yes, my dear one.”
“But I thought ⦠you were safe with ⦔
“With Wulv? I was. Together he and I made our way to Veno. We faced many hazards on the way but he overcame them all for my sake. At last the Protectress opened her arms to us and we were safe in a realm of delight. But then we heard your call. And here we are.”
“You left the security of Veno's realm for my sake?” Pepan asked incredulously.
“Just as you eschewed it for my sake, and Vesi's. I know what you did for us. Even in death, you remained with us, watching over us. But don't waste strength talking now. We must get you away from here before any more harm can come to you.” Raising her voice, she called, “Wulv! Is it over?”
“Almost,” came the reply.
The immense bear shambled into view, holding a torn body in his paws. From the body streams of tiny bubbles ran onto the ground, forming a puddle that emitted a nauseating odor.
“Get rid of that,” commanded Repana, “and help me carry Pepan.”
“Carry me!” the wounded man retorted indignantly. “Where?”
She smiled down at him. “To Veno, of course, where you will be forever safe with us.”
Pepan tried to sit up. “But your grandson needs me.”
With a firm hand, Repana pushed his shoulders back
onto her lap. “You have done all one could possibly do to help him.”
“How do you know?”
“Veno allowed us to watch from our sanctuary.”
“You took a great risk by coming to save me.”
Repana laughed, the warm, low laugh he remembered from long ago. “Ah, when one is with the redoubtable Wulv, one is in little danger.”
At the sound of his name Wulv, in human form, came trotting up. There was yellowish ichor on his hands and soaking into the tunic of skins he wore, but his eyes were very bright. Pepan noted that his face was no longer ridged with scars. He was almost handsome.
“Best battle I've had in ages,” the Teumetian commented happily. He bent down and helped Pepan to his feet.
“You do not have to carry me,” said the Rasne lord with a hint of his old authority. “I can walk.”
“Of course you can,” Repana replied. “You always were a strong man. We will each take one of your arms, though, just to steady you.” She smiled into his eyes. “Come, my love. It is time to go home.”