Authors: Greg Curtis
“Just lying there for no reason? Tired maybe?”
Out of the corner of his eye Harl could just make out the orange paws of a cat. The cat who wasn't a cat. And he wondered. How could he be here in the underworld? But it didn't really matter, and he didn't answer him. He just concentrated on his breathing – for as long as he could.
“Fine – then I guess I'll just have to do everything myself!”
The cat seemed annoyed about something, but Harl didn't know what. And with the pain tearing through him he didn't really care. He just wanted to lie still until he died. Was it too much to hope for a little peace at the end?
Abruptly the burning sand beneath him vanished. Disappeared in the blink of an eye, and what replaced it was grass. Long, perfectly green and healthy grass. Soft grass. And strangely with it there was air he could breathe. Air he actually wanted to breathe. Air that was as soft and gentle as the grass, and as fragrant too.
It didn't make a lot of sense to him just then. But not a lot did. Certainly it was better than the air he had been breathing a few heartbeats before.
“Cat?”
“Call me Maynard. It'd be nice if someone remembered my name for a bit. Now close your eyes and I'll see about getting you out of that armour.”
It was a strange name for a cat Harl thought. Though of course he knew the cat was no ordinary cat. And it was a strange thing for a cat to say. But just then he couldn't help but think that it was good advice. Let his eyes close. Let the soft darkness take him away. It seemed like a very good idea.
Chapter Sixty Eight
When Harl woke up he was naked. Not that that bothered him. It had happened too many times before – especially of late. Besides, when he could see the armour he'd been wearing lying on the soft grass not ten feet away, still looking every bit as solid as it had when he'd been locked in it, it was probably a good thing not to be wearing it. Of course since it was still solid with not a sign of where it had been opened up to let him out, he was a little confused as to how he wasn't still trapped inside it.
He felt well, physically at least. His heart was in pieces, so many emotions coursing through him at once, and most of them not making sense. In large part he was just numb. He knew there was pain beneath the numbness and the reason for that pain. Just then however he was unable to face it. No doubt that would come with time. If he had time. And the strange thing was that as he looked around he suddenly realised he did. Where this was he didn't know. But he knew it wasn't the five kingdoms. It wasn't anywhere in the world where he had been. Because there was nothing like this in the world he knew. Endless flat lands of long grass and endless blue sky above.
Naturally the only one who could tell him what was happening and where he was was the orange cat. The cat that was curled up on top of his old armour, sleeping.
“Cat? Maynard?”
The cat opened an eye and stared at him when he called. But he didn't seem inclined to do much more than that. Maybe he'd been dreaming when he'd heard the cat talking to him? But if he had been, why was the cat here? Wherever “here” was.
Instead of asking the cat any more stupid questions that cats surely couldn't answer, Harl concentrated on the simple things. Like standing up. And looking around. And belatedly when he remembered that he'd been badly injured he checking for injuries. For blackened skin and broken bones. He was sure some of them had been smashed when that dirty black blade had hit him. But there weren't any. He felt fine. He looked to be intact. He even felt alert and well rested.
“Decided to get up then?” The cat wasn't doing the same. In fact he seemed completely unperturbed by where he was or anything else. He was still lying there curled up on his old armour. Pretending to be a cat. Or maybe he actually was a talking cat? It was hard to be sure.
“Ahh ... maybe. How did I get here? And out of the armour?”
“I brought you here of course. Maynard the Irrepressible. Master of Summoning and Dimension. But everyone seems to forget the dimension part for some reason. It's very disrespectful.”
“I opened up a gate from Tartarus to bring you here. And a second gate in your armour to remove you from it. You can thank me later if you like.”
“Maynard?” It sounded a little like him. Maybe. But Harl hadn't seen enough of him to be certain. It had been years ago after all and at the time the man had been talking to himself at the time – or alternatively to his damned cats. But what he truly didn't understand was how the wizard having been condemned to Tartarus and been killed, could be a talking cat. “You've changed.”
“Don't get cheeky with me boy! I may have been forced to live in this ridiculous body, but I am still a master wizard and not to be spoken to like that. Even here like this I can summon a plague of wasps to teach you a lesson you'll not soon forget!”
“Ah, sorry. Where are we?” Harl was curious, but mostly just because it was a strange place. Where it was didn't really matter as much as where it wasn't. And it wasn't home.
“Don't know. I don't think anyone knows. Not really. Some I think call this the meadow. The river by the way is that way if you're curious.” He half heartedly pointed with his nose at somewhere behind Harl. Harl didn't look although if he had he suspected he would see only more grass and sky. Besides, he had already crossed the river. He'd been to Tartarus, and that was on the other side along with the rest of Hades. So somehow he'd come back across it. And he hadn't paid a ferryman on either trip.
Still, he could almost believe that this was the meadow. The place where the dead travelled to for their eternal rest! It made sense in a way. But Harl couldn't see any dead people around. Then again the priests said that the meadow was only the first point in the journey. That it was from here that the dead would choose their final resting place. That they would travel on across the river to Hades, and then to Elysium – if they were worthy – or to Tartarus if they weren't. Did that mean he was dead? He wondered about that. He didn't feel dead. And if he was dead why was the cat wizard with him? Was he dead too? Eventually he found the wit to ask.
“You could be – if you choose to be. Or you could be alive. It's all up to you. And that's rare. Very few get to choose that. I certainly didn't the first time I was here. It was chosen for me.”
“You've been here before?” That seemed odd to Harl.
“I did die you know!” The cat stared at him intently with his big green eyes open wide. “And I was happy to be dead. I fought bravely to the end. Elysium awaited me. But the gods had other ideas for me. A purpose. And because I was a summoner who'd spent so long with my thoughts inside the flesh of those I'd summoned, they decided to have a little fun with me as well.”
“It's not that much fun you know!” The cat wizard raised his voice and fixed him with an irritated glare. “Anyone who ever thought that cats have it easy has never had a fur ball in his gut! And mice don't exactly taste good either! And don't even get me started about fleas! The damned things are a curse! So don't even think about any more childish comments about how “
I've changed”
boy!”
“Sorry!” Harl apologised, vaguely realising that his comment could have been upsetting. “Maybe they could change that?”
“They could yes. But they won't. I'm stuck as a cat for however long I remain in the world. That much they were clear on.”
“You could be dead.” After all being a cat seemed better than being dead. Didn't it?
“I'm not dead. And I'm not allowed to be. They were very clear on that too.” Maynard sounded grumpy about it for some reason. “I'm just visiting. Here to ask you what you want. But no matter what you choose or where you go I still have to go back to the world and live my life out in this flea ridden body.”
“What I want?” That didn't seem right to Harl. People didn't get to choose life or death. The gods decided that. Didn't they?
“You did your duty well, and the gods are pleased with you. The thirteen mostly of course, a few others too, and Artemis and Lyssa especially so. The demon who annoyed them and killed their followers has been killed. The truth of the Circle has been exposed. The wizards have all been dealt with. And the world can return in time to how it should be. So they're grateful. They will offer you a gift.”
“A gift?” It was probably a little churlish to be suspicious, but he was.
“Of life,” The cat clarified. “When your precious tree mother and the child in her belly were attacked by the harpies Prometheus foresaw the chain of events that would follow. He knew then that you would accept the Goddess of Fury into your soul and that with her rage and your knowledge and a little divine help you would be able to bring the demon king to justice and end this time of suffering and sacrilege. Above all Prometheus knew why you would accept the rage. And he knew your acts would be righteous. So he took steps. The others did too.”
“The gods are slow to anger. The events of the mortal world mostly pass them by. But when their anger is aroused, beware. Xin should have known that.”
“They are also just – when it suits their cause. Themis says that this does. Your acts were on behalf of the divine, therefore they should be judged in accordance with the principles of divine justice. You were owed.”
“Nemesis sent one of his daughters to help Nyma. To bring her to safety. Nyma is here, somewhere. Like us in the meadow, neither alive nor dead. Waiting. If you accept the gift of the gods she will be returned to you so that you may live out the rest of your lives as you chose. But there will be a price.”
Alive! She was alive? Or whatever this was? And they could return. Harl almost screamed at the cat before he thought twice about it.
A price? Harl asked though he didn't really know why. He didn't care about the price. He would pay it no matter what. Just the understanding that she was not forever beyond him was everything! Surely the cat had to know that. He had been human once – sort of.
“First, you will accept the markings and the service of one of the thirteen, so that you may be watched over. You have been taught too much of your craft. What you know now is more than should be known by a mortal. It is not yours to reveal, nor to use again without their permission. You will be watched and restrained to make certain it is never used or revealed.”
“Next you will leave the five kingdoms. Your name is too well known. And it is never to be known that you were the one clad in the ascendant metal. So you will leave the five kingdoms and live a quiet life. You will not speak of what happened here. Your life will be quiet.”
“Last you will never again try to make any of the ascendant metal nor the hunting bow of Artemis. You will not teach others of the craft.”
“Agreed.” There was no thought needed. “I choose to follow Hera.”
Should he have said it? For an instant Harl didn't know. But he knew it was too late to wonder when he felt the skin of his entire chest and back suddenly burn, as the Goddess placed her mark on him. It was a less than pleasant experience.
But the pain went away quickly. All pain did. He didn't even care that there were black markings across his entire chest that he knew were the brands of the Goddess of Home and Hearth. Only one thing mattered. Only one thing had ever mattered. “Can we go to her now? Please!” He had to see her! To be with her!
“In a bit.” The cat yawned as if there was no urgency. “Time doesn't pass the same way here as it does in the living world and she isn't in the meadow any longer. Besides, I was enjoying my nap!” Then he proceeded to go back to sleep while Harl stared at him in disbelief.
Harl stared at the cat for a little bit longer, wondering if there was any way of getting him to do something a little faster. Of whether he should try to wake him up. He also idly wondered if it would be wrong to beat the annoying cat to a pulp. But they were just that. Idle thoughts. He understood little of what was happening. He wanted to understand even less. But he knew that the cat, Maynard, was apparently his way out of here. Beating him up him would not help him get out of here any faster. No matter how much he wanted to.
But at least as he sat there he had hope again. Hope that Nyma was alive. The baby with her. And that he would see her again. Against that he could endure anything. Even waiting.