Lyre (24 page)

The middle head was affected first.  He barked, the sound reverberating around the otherwise empty cavern.  His buddy on the left glanced towards him and blinked while the dog-head on the right stopped snarling and let out a small whine.  Oz didn’t let up.  Feeling bolder now that Cerberus appeared less likely to pounce on him and rip his body apart, his voice grew.  He started snapping his fingers, allowing the melody to take over.  When he spotted Cerberus’s tail wagging in time to the beat, he knew he was winning.

Oz started dancing, shuffling his feet first one way then the other.  He clapped his hands in the air and twisted.  Cerberus watched him carefully but the dog’s earlier malevolence had vanished.  In its place was an odd kind of doggie glee.  Without trying to appear too obvious, Oz kept the beat up but started moving closer and closer to the gate.  He danced round one side of the dog, then the other.  He wasn’t entirely stupid though; he still kept his distance from all three sets of dangerously sharp teeth.

Attempting to lull the beast into a false sense of security he maneuvered himself round its hindquarters so he was directly in front of the door itself.  He spotted a large bolt securing it shut but made no move towards it.  Instead Oz simply kept singing, raising his voice and speeding up the beat.  Cerberus awkwardly twisted round to face him, tail still wagging.  Three vast drooling tongues lolled from each head.  The reek from their individual breaths was almost overpowering.  Oz spun round again, heading in the opposite direction.  Cerberus followed.

This time, when he made it back to the door again, he reached up to grab the bolt while keeping a close eye on the dog.  Although the bolt wouldn’t budge, he timed it perfectly, raising his other hand in the air as if to signify he was merely performing another dance move, rather than sneak into the real depths of the Underworld.  Then, when he was sure all six eyes were facing him, he switched direction, jiving to his left.  He reached the end of the song but simply started up again from the first verse.  He also made sure that he increased the tempo.  Oz danced faster and faster until he was almost sprinting round the vast body of Cerberus.  The dog continued to mirror his movements, albeit several steps behind.  Steam was beginning to rise from its necks and each head was panting hard.  Oz kept pushing, picking up speed until, finally, when he was starting to think that his own legs and breath would give out long before the dog’s, Cerberus got its own legs twisted up and keeled over, crashing with a heavy thump to the ground.  The head in the middle tried to encourage its companions to get back up but they were having none of it.  Both lay their chins down, their eyelids drooping in exhaustion.  Unable to fight any longer, the middle head did the same.

Tamping down the desire to let out a whoop, Oz carried on singing and dancing.  He spun back to the door, grabbing the bolt yet again.  Cerberus was too tired to turn round but Oz knew that he needed to keep up the pretense or the beast might find a sudden new spurt of energy.  Therefore, as he struggled to yank the bolt across, his voice grew even louder.  A tiny part of his brain registered that the acoustics in this cavern were really rather astounding.  If nothing else, they helped mask the sound of the rusty bolt grating as he gave it one last mighty tug and it slid free.  Two sets of ears pricked up at the sound, but Cerberus wasn’t suspicious enough to turn round.  Oz shifted his weight and opened the massive door just enough to squeeze his body through.  He was half-expecting the beast to react and swing towards him with snapping jaws but, by the time he was safely on the other side, it was far too late.  Breathing heavily and overwhelmed with relief, Oz sank to the ground, pushing the door shut again behind him.  He’d made it past the gatekeeper and, once he’d recovered full use of his legs, he reckoned he’d be able to cope with whatever else was thrown at him.

It didn’t take a genius to work out that he was no longer in a simple cavern.  When Oz recovered enough to stand, and look at his surroundings, his stomach dropped.  The scene was vast.    Craggy rocks and black mountains lay in the distance to his right, several of them illuminated by dangerous looking fires and rivers of glowing molten lava.  Leading up to the mountains were dark fields.  Many had figures toiling in them, some of whom were so far away they were nothing more than little specks.  If he turned to his left, there was an impossibly long valley.  At its far end there was a faint sheen of gold that seemed to ripple and twist.  Oz nodded to himself.  Neither Medusa nor Sibyl had been able to tell him much about what to expect once he’d passed Cerberus but they did mention that in one direction would be Tartarus, where those souls who were destined to suffer would be found, and in the other would be the Elysium Fields, the golden heavens.  Oz wanted neither of those places, however.  His goal was to seek out Hades.  He could feel an alluring tug towards the soft light of Elysium but he forced himself to look away and focus on the path in front of him instead.  If Tartarus was to the right, Elysium to the left, and Cerberus behind him, then there was only one way to choose in order to proceed.  Drawing in a deep breath, Oz began to walk.

He’d been expecting the air to be foul and rank.  It was true that there was no breeze and that the atmosphere was still but it felt neither oppressive nor rotten.  Considering the now visible souls he passed, each one in various stages of degradation, that fact was surprising.  Oz was forced to avert his eyes from many of them.  The skeletons, who’d clearly been here for the longest, weren’t particularly bad; it was the others who had flesh hanging off their bones who turned his stomach.  None of them seemed to be in pain and they all appeared as if they had tasks to do.  One long line shuffled out in the direction of Tartarus, oddly reminiscent of slaves shackled to each other with heavy chains.  Nothing was holding these souls in place, however, other than the monotony of their situation. 

Not all of them were at work, of course.  More than once, Oz caught sight of bodies hunched over small tables, as if involved in matters that required great concentration.  It wasn’t until he passed a pair who were barely three feet away that he realised they were playing with dice, whiling away the long unrelenting hours of eternity.  Oz couldn’t help wondering if this would be how he ended up – not good enough to make it to Elysium nor bad enough to be punished with Tartatus and instead, caught in limbo between the two.  It wasn’t a particularly exciting prospect.  There wasn’t a single shadow of a doubt which direction Yuri would be bound in, of course.  Oz smiled grimly to himself and continued plodding forward.

After what seemed like several hours, there was an odd break in the landscape.  Close to the path he was treading on, a steep hill loomed up ahead.  Oz could spy a figure straining to move up it. He walked a little faster, curiosity getting the better of him.  When he realised what was going on, he gnawed at his lip in confusion.  It was a man wearing nothing more than a loincloth.  He was straining to push a vast round boulder up to the top of the hill.  As Oz watched, his muscles bulged, veins popping out across his arms and forehead. His feet dug into the ground while he inched upwards where the hill got impossibly steeper.  He was barely halfway up when his foot slipped and he was forced to spring out of the way as the boulder slammed back down, gaining momentum and filling the air with a dull rumble.  It wasn’t until it hit the flat ground that it began to slow, eventually coming to a rest a few feet in front of Oz.  The man trudged back down, head hanging.  Without even flicking a glance in Oz’s direction, he moved round to the back of the boulder, which was so large it reached his collarbone, and began pushing it again.  Oz forced Yuri out of his mind.  He could afford to lose a few minutes.  Down here time seemed irrelevant anyway.

‘Hey!’ he shouted. 

The man didn’t turn.

‘Do you need any help?’

Still, he was ignored.  Sweat dripped off the poor fellow’s forehead, landing in a series of steady drips onto the smooth stone.  Oz bounded over to his side.

‘You’re trying to get this to the top of the hill?’

He received a grunt in response.  Unfazed, Oz nodded to him.  The reason behind the action was completely inexplicable but then so was the entire existence of the Underworld in the first place.  ‘Two pairs of hands will be better than one,’ he said, insisting.

The man grunted again but he did, at least, shift over slightly.  Oz joined him, choking slightly as he realised just how heavy the damn boulder was.  After a moment or two, however, he managed to adjust his position enough to make it seem possible.  He found a rhythm, using the edges of his shoes to find purchase in the ground below, and, together with the silent man, rolled it slowly back up. 

The higher they got, the harder it became.  It wasn’t long before Oz’s clothes were soaked in sweat and he started to appreciate how effective it would be to wear nothing more than a strip of fabric to cover his modesty.  He considered himself fairly fit; he certainly spent enough time at the gym, but his arms still screamed in painful protestation.  Oz gritted his teeth and continued to push.  The hilltop wasn’t too far away.  They’d make it.

Unfortunately, just as the man next to him started blinking as if unable to believe how close they actually were, the boulder hit some kind of rut.  Oz cursed and pushed harder, trying to lift it up slightly to get it over.  He used everything he had, confident that between the two of them they could get it past the tiny obstacle.  His hands were so slick with sweat though that he began losing his grip on the stone.  He huffed, straining with every ounce of energy that he had to give.  Sadly, it wasn’t enough.  Just when he thought they’d make it, some sort of invisible force seemed to push back against them.  Oz’s hands slipped further and then he was falling away as the boulder shot past him and all the way back to the bottom.  Frustration filled him.  He clenched his fists and hot tears rose to his eyes.  Damn it all to hell.  He wasn’t going to fail.  He
couldn’t
fail.

Something hot and heavy landed on his arm.  The man, with a look that could be described as nothing other than resignation, grunted again.

‘Just give me a few minutes,’ Oz gasped, struggling to maintain any kind of equilibrium.  ‘Then we’ll try again.’

‘No,’ the man said, surprising him.  His voice was rough and grating as if he’d not used it for a long time.  ‘I will try again.  You must continue on your own journey.’

‘But…’

‘You are a lifer.’  It wasn’t a question.

Oz nodded.

‘Persephone.  Focus on her and you shall have more luck.’  He raised his pained, exhausted eyes.  ‘Thank you for your help.’

‘Really,’ Oz said, ‘I can help you again.  I’m sure…’

‘No.  It is pointless.’

His brow furrowed.  ‘Then why do you do it?’

‘We all have our burdens.  Some are merely more visible than others.’  He turned and began trudging down the hill.

Oz watched him for a moment, unsure about what to do.  Eventually, he made a decision.  Whoever the man was, he was right.  Oz had to deal with his own burden first.  He joined him on the slope, patting his shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie.  Then he continued on his own journey yet again.  Weariness was beginning to overtake him and he had moments where he wondered whether he was actually in the middle of some bizarre nightmare rather than wide awake.  But then he thought of Yuri and his resolve always stiffened.

*

Oz couldn’t have said whether it was morning, noon or night when he finally caught sight of the large castle.  It was made of dark stone and, as a result, had been concealed against the dark backdrop of the mountains.  He knew once he saw it, however, that he’d finally reached his goal.  He stood stockstill, staring at it for one long minute.  Then he started to run.

There were no guards on the gates.  There was no-one to greet his entrance and no-one to bar his way.  He supposed it was because Hades had no need for such fripperies.  His rule over the Underworld was absolute.  The thought of what Oz was about to ask for made him shiver.  He’d been so focused on getting to this point that, now he was actually here, he felt absolutely terrified. 

Slowing to a walk, he made his way through a long hallway.  It was lit on either side with torches of flickering flame, throwing shadows across his path that rose up and then subsided with every step he took.  He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but the walls seemed to be narrowing as he plunged deeper inside.  He wasn’t particularly claustrophobic but his throat was starting to constrict and his skin felt prickly.  Oz squared his shoulders and told himself to stop being so skittish.  He was here.  There was just one final obstacle standing between him and Yuri.  And he was damned if he was going to let it stop him.

At the far end of the hallway, there was a plain oak door.  Oz looked at it for a moment then, with one deep breath, pushed it open.  His eyes were greeted with a scene of absolute warmth: a roaring fire, a long table laden with food, and two grand thrones where a couple were seated.  The man, wearing a burnished crown and with one heavy leg thrown over the armrest, raised his bushy eyebrows at Oz as he entered.  Presuming it was Hades himself and, unsure about the etiquette he was supposed to follow, Oz stopped and bowed.  There was booming laughter then invisible hands propelled him forwards.

‘A human!’  Hades rubbed his palms together and nudged his wife.  ‘Let’s make a guess, shall we dear?’

The woman next to him rolled her eyes.  Her hair was long and golden.  Oz had spent a great deal of time around perfectly groomed women and he’d never seen anything of its like before.  For good measure he bowed in her direction also.

‘I’m thinking lover,’ Hades continued.  ‘Ripped from the world above far too soon.  Cancer?  Car crash?’

His wife tutted.  ‘He’s the singer.’

‘Ah.  Of course.  Antaeus has already joined the queue for Charon, you know.’

Oz started.  He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or annoyed that Medusa had made good on her word and dealt with Poseidon’s son on her own.  Part of him had wanted to take that revenge for himself.  It meant there was no-one to expend his anger on.  He reminded himself that it wouldn’t matter once he had Yuri back in his arms.

‘I’m here for Yuri Tateno,’ he announced in a clear voice, tilting up his chin and daring to meet the god’s eyes.  ‘She was killed by an Olympian and therefore should be returned by one.’

Hades shook his head.  ‘Dear boy, it doesn’t work like that!  Persephone, I swear they get more naïve every day.’

Oz ignored the insult. ‘We’re in love.’

‘As are many.  What makes your love so different?  Why are you so special?’

‘It’s not me who’s special,’ Oz said.  ‘It’s Yuri.  She deserves better.’

Hades’ eyes gleamed.  ‘Everyone dies.  Whether she is here now or here later, it makes little difference.’

Oz stood his ground.  ‘It makes every difference.’

Persephone leaned over and whispered something in her husband’s ear.  He looked at her speculatively, before nodding.  ‘Bring the girl in question here.’

Oz held his breath.  Surely it couldn’t be that easy? 

‘Because I’ve heard good things about you, I will allow you a moment to say goodbye.  It is more than most receive.’

‘No!’  Oz took a step forward.  ‘That’s not fair!  Release her.  I demand you release her!’

Hades got his feet, a thunderous look on his face.  ‘You demand?  Who are you to demand?’

‘Love, he’s grieving.  Allow him a little leeway.’

‘He’s taking too damn much,’ the god growled.

‘Your Majesty,’ Oz began, before a small voice interrupted him.

‘Ozzy.’

He spun round, catching sight of Yuri’s tiny frame.  He dropped all pretence of bravado and rushed towards her.  Tears streamed down her cheeks and she reached out for him.  He stretched his hands forwards to touch her and brushed against nothing but ice cold air.

‘No,’ he shook his head.  ‘Yuri!’  He twisted back to Hades.  ‘Let me touch her!’

‘I cannot.’

The dull ache in Oz’s chest expanded.  He returned his focus to Yuri, moving as close to her as he could.  His eyes raked her face and for a long moment he was unable to even speak.

‘I know.’ She smiled sadly.  ‘I feel the same.’

‘It shouldn’t have happened.’ He choked.  ‘He shouldn’t have done that to you.’

‘At least we had that one perfect afternoon,’ she soothed.

‘No.  You shouldn’t be doing that.  You shouldn’t be trying to comfort me.  You’re the one who…’ He couldn’t even finish the sentence.  He gazed back at Hades and Persephone.  ‘Release her,’ he pleaded.

‘No.’

Oz stared imploringly at Persephone.  ‘Please.’

She shook her head, although her eyes were filled with empathy.  ‘It is not my decision to make.’

He opened his mouth, ready to launch into song but Hades held up a palm, forestalling him.  ‘No singing.  I think we can take it for granted that your music is powerful.  That does not mean I want to hear it.’