Post by James on Oct 7, 2009 19:27:48 GMT -5
Sailing to Hades
“See I told you this was a good idea,” Mark muttered, watching Ashley’s bikini clad form.
“Are we still talking about the raft?” Craig replied, seeing where Mark’s eyes had lingered.
The two students stood on the edge of the riverbank in only swimming trunks, staring at their friends pushing the raft into the river. Mark had offered to supervise although Craig now believed that his motives weren’t entirely pure.
“Huh?”
Craig chuckled as he moved down to help with the raft that the group had made from scratch. They were all students at Edinburgh University who had decided to celebrate their summer break in the sunny vineyards of Greece. However after two weeks of partying, drinking and tanning, the group went looking for a new adventure. They moved inland from their resort and rented out a small cottage in the middle of Epirus. A day later they stumbled across the river that was only a few minutes away from their cottage.
When they first found it, it was a great site to relax and swim around. Eventually though Mark had come to the decision that they needed a proper adventure and proposed building a raft and sailing it down the river. At first no one was interested, but as Craig quickly found out, there was only so many hours that could be spent reading by the riverside.
“You know I did some research,” Claire squeaked as the raft slipped into the river and Craig dived in to keep it steady.
“Of course you did,” David muttered, Craig hearing Rob and Ashley’s quiet burst of laughter.
“And apparently this river is meant to be the River Acheron,” Claire finished.
“As in the river to Hades?” Craig asked, once again thankful that the river was so warm.
Claire nodded just as Mark ran down to the river and jumped onto the raft causing it to creak under the strain.
“Excellent, sailing to Hades sounds far more fun than sailing to the coast,” Mark said, picking up his makeshift oar.
“That didn’t sound good,” Claire muttered, watching their stuff getting tied down onto the raft.
“Don’t worry love, it won’t have to put up with the fat man jumping on it again,” Craig said as he lifted Claire onto the raft and then climbed aboard himself.
“Who’s this fat man?” Mark asked as he began to row down the river, taking them away from their landing point.
The river was smooth and the current slow as they drifted downstream, the group of six enjoying their trip. Mark had once again started his continuous flirting with Ashley, trying to win over the blonde’s attention. David and Rob were playing some sort of card game and Craig had his head resting in Claire’s lap, eyes closed, tanning in the sun that slipped between the trees that covered the course of the river. Claire was already stroking his hair, Craig enjoying the pure relaxation that Greece had to offer.
“Whoa!” came Rob’s voice, breaking the silence that had settled across the raft.
Craig knew something was wrong before Rob had said it, the light that had been pressing against his eyelids evaporating in a second. His eyes darted open to see that darkness had settled over the raft, the gaps within the canopy of the trees revealing tumbling grey storm clouds.
“Mark, I thought you said the forecast was clear?” Craig questioned, sitting up slowly to avoid overturning the raft. Already the current of the river had grown stronger, Craig able to feel the raft being knocked around by the river.
“It was,” Mark said, reaching for the oar once more as the heavens opened and rain began to fall in large drops, a roar of thunder echoing down the river.
What on earth was going on, Craig thought. Not even in Cornwall did the weather change this abruptly. One minute dazzling Greek sunlight had filtered through the trees and now they were being bombarded with huge pelts of rain. Wind rushed around as the water turned, the raft threatening to overturn as a flash of lightning for a second illuminated the blackening sky. Craig knew that they needed to get off the river yelling at Mark to row them to the bank.
Claire’s scream punctured the message as a shrill cry escaped her lips, her arms pointing erratically at the river. Craig could she why she was screaming. The clear blue water had changed to total blackness, the opaque liquid lapping at the edge of the raft. The liquid bubbled and churned as the smell of death and decay hung over them like a vulture.
“Swim for it,” David bellowed, leaping into the river trying to reach the bank. Craig watched in terror as he screamed and gurgled as watery hands rose up all around him and pulled him beneath the surface.
“Hold on!” Rob yelled, just as the raft smashed upon a rock, tearing through the wood like it was a strip of paper. Craig was thrown into the water head first as he struggled to thrust his head about the water. His eyes broke the surface and he saw the others vainly bobbing above the blackness before he felt something claw at his legs, yanking him downwards, and everything went black.
***
Splash, Splash, Splash,
Craig felt his senses flooding back to him, his body lying upon something stiff and hard and a dull thumping echoing throughout his head. He realised he was cold, still only in his trunks.
Splash, Splash, Splash
He felt droplets of waters splattering across his body, the sound of breathing reaching across his ears. Someone else was alive.
Splash, Splash, Splash
Craig’s eyes shot open as he searched for the source of the breathing, his eyes widening further as he took in his surroundings. He was in a dank dark cave, water dripping from the roof of the tunnel. He noticed that he was in some small rowboat as he sat up, looking over the side to see the same black water staring back at him.
“Ah, you’ve finally woken up,” a voice said from behind him.
Craig spun around to see a large man standing behind him, a ferryman’s pole clenched within his hands that was driving through the water. He was dressed in rough untidy reddish-brown clothing and his hair was a tangled mess, wet and unkempt. What drew Craig in though were the greyish-blue eyes staring back at him. He couldn’t look away from the eyes and Craig suddenly felt as if his soul was on displayed to the ferryman.
“Wh-wh-who are you?” Craig stuttered out of fear and the cold.
“Charon, or Kharon if yer want to be traditionalist,” the man replied, still rowing the boat forward.
“Th-the ferryman of H-H-Hades?” Craig asked, remembering his Classical Studies lectures.
“The one and only,” Charon replied, his voice both deep and comforting.
“But you’re not r-r-real? I’m dreaming, I must be dreaming,” Craig muttered to himself, pinching his arm only to be rewarded with a stab of pain.
“Don’t be saying that,” Charon sighed, watching Craig below him. “Unless yer want to die, of course.”
“Wh-wh-what? I’m not dead? But what about the river? What about the others?” Craig chattered.
“Calm down boy, you’re rocking the boat,” Charon said, kneeling on one knee to avoid scraping his head as the cave became smaller. “Now look, if yer behave and listen to what I tell ya, you’ll live alright? Same fer yer friends. You lot are no good to us dead anyway. Now just be quiet, would ya? The lake is always the trickiest part of this.”
Craig gasped as the river widened and cleared into the inky black lake. Above them the rocky cavern’s roof could hardly be seen, little white lights speckling in the air. Charon once again stood up rowing the ship quickly across the smooth surface of the lake, the water not even rippling as the pole slid into the water.
“Brekeke-kex-brekeke-kex,” voices began to call out.
“Will yer great goons, shut up,” Charon called, the voices disappearing as quickly as they appeared. “Sorry ‘bout that, there’s some restless troublesome spirits that like to have some fun. I tell yer what, I nearly killed Aristophanes when I had to ferry him ‘cross.”
“Why?” Craig asked. He still felt cold from the cave itself, but the fear was slowly slipping from his body.
“Fer coming up with that line ‘Brekekex’, the spirits love it but after two thousand four hundred years it gets bloody annoying,” Charon answered.
Craig was just about to renew his questioning when his blood went cold, his eyes catching sight of a huge three-headed dog sitting at the mouth of the next river. Its fur was nearly as unkempt as Charon, black and tangled as each of the three heads of the great dog looked up to stare at the incoming boat.
“Lie down again boy,” Charon said, watching the dog intently. “He’s not use to the living being sailed across and he has a liking for live meat.”
Craig collapsed to the bottom of the boat immediately causing it to rock dangerously for a second. He heard Charon say something angrily but he couldn’t hear, the fear consuming his body once more. He was in Hades, the underworld where spirits came to rest. He was being ferried by Charon, a slightly ill educated giant of a man. And now he was about to be eaten by a three-headed dog. He had to be dreaming, Craig thought, silently urging himself to wake up.
“Down Cerberus!” Charon yelled, the stench of the dog’s breath easily reaching Craig’s nostrils. “Down, boy. I said down! He’s not fer eating. He’s fer remembering.”
Craig was left wondering what that meant as the growling stopped and he felt the boat passing under the dog’s watchful eyes. His purpose was to remember? What did that mean?
“Yer can get up now, boy,” Charon said.
What greeted Craig’s eyes when he sat up shocked him and caused him to gasp once more. The river they were now on was in the middle of a rolling green meadow stretching as far as the eye could see. The meadow was covered in thick green plants and all around there was people walking back and across the grass. But Craig noticed there was something wrong. Colours were dulled, what should have been bright green was a greyish colour and the expressions of the wanders were nothing but neutrality.
‘This is where yer would be going if yer were actually dead,” Charon said. “The Asphodel Meadows, the home of the plain. No good or evil resides here, only the neutral. Those too lazy to do anything with their lives. When yer arrive, yer drink from the river Lethe, yer lose your memories and identity, everything that makes yer. Yer just become a machine. When yer come back here I ‘ope you’ve done more with yer life so that yer can get into Elysian Fields, most of those that we pick do.”
“What?” Craig managed to utter, his mind completely turning at what he was being told. He had never been more confused in his life.
“Guess it’s ‘bout time I tell yer why yer here,” Charon said, placing the ferryman’s pole inside the boat and taking a seat next to Craig, the boat still moving slowly downstream. “Yer see, yer here to remember.”
“I don’t understand,” Craig replied, remembering the comment that Charon had given to the dog.
“Yer know the saying ‘If no one believes, it doesn’t exist’?” Charon asked.
“Yes,” Craig answered slowly, a hint of realisation dawning upon him.
“It’s true,” Charon said. “If no one believes in something, it disappears. Completely. And due to this new religion of Christianity, well I suppose its not too new now, that’s what been happening to the Pantheon. They’ve been disappearing cause no one believes anymore. They disappear from earth and turn up in my boat, ready to be ferried to Hades.”
“What does that have anything to do with me?”
‘Well yer see, its not too much of a problem them disappearing, really,” Charon muttered, checking over his shoulder as if to make sure no one was listening. “Most of the gods don’t do nothing anymore, I mean Athena disappeared last year, came down to Hades in nothing but a robe, and who noticed? No one. Cause she not involved in war no more. Humans have learnt to fight without her. But the bigger gods, the important ones, them disappearing would cause problems.”
“You mean like Zeus?” Craig asked.
“Zeus, Poseidon and of course, my boss, Hades. Yer see, Zeus, he is of course damn important, even if he does less than he use too, he still keep yer lot safe, mostly. Luckily fer him there’ll always be some crackpot who will believe in Zeus,” Charon answered, before lowering his voice. “Now, Poseidon, he does nothing no more, but he still sticks around because he’ll always have little kiddies believing in him. Not really important fer him to stay alive though, fact he’s probably more of a nuisance than a help.”
“And Hades?”
“Ah, yer see now Hades is the important one, always knew he was but no one would listen ter him but me,” Charon boasted. “Cause what happens if Hades disappear? The Underworld goes with him, all of these spirits have nowhere ter goes, no Hades to lock them in, no Cerberus to stand watch and no Charon to ferry them across. If Hades disappear then the upper world is in fer a nasty surprise.”
“But why do you ne…” Craig began.
“Hold up, I should show yer this, meant to be an incentive,” Charon said, pointing to the right of the boat. “The Elysian Fields.”
Craig was once again left speechless at what he saw. Where the Asphodel Meadows felt as if the colour was drained out of, the Elysian Fields were overly colourful. Pink, red and yellow flowers dotted across the bright green grass, their delicious scent wafting down to the boat. Spurts of blue erupted into the sky from the many fountains laid across the field and people, dressed in rich and wonderful clothing, conversed in animated tones. As the boat passed down the river, Craig struggled to turn his attention back to the situation at hand.
“So why do you need me?” he asked.
“Haven’t yer been listening?” Charon replied. “We need yer so that yer can remember! We need people to believe in Hades fer him to survive, fer me to survive. It was all Hades idea to begin with; we occasionally take the living into underworld and then throw them back out. They go back to their normal lives, but they know about the underworld and we survive.”
“What about if they tell their story?”
“Then they get thrown in a mad house,” Charon answered. “It’s no concern of us though, as long as they still believe then they can do whatever.”
“And what if they think its just a dream or something,” Craig asked, already deciding that it was.
“Oh don’t worry, we came up with a solution for that problem a long time ago,” Charon said, a sad smile playing across his lips.
“What?”
“You’ll see,” Charon said, standing back up, reaching for his ferryman’s pole once more. “You’ll see.”
Craig sat in the boat as Charon reverted to silence, thinking about what he had just heard. Surely what he was seeing must be a dream? But it was so vivid, Craig thought. It couldn’t be real, could it?
“And here’s the main reason why we need yer,” Charon said, pointing directly in front of the boat.
The river was branching out into another lake again although this time it was not the smooth placid lake of the last trip. Within the middle of the lake swirled a giant whirlpool, which was threatening to suck in anything that came near it. Craig went cold as they neared it, a dark mist floating out of the whirlpool, a mist that felt evil.
“Tartarus,” Charon whispered, struggling to hold the boat away from the whirlpool. “Perhaps you would recognise it as Hell?”
Craig nodded, unable to speak as the black mist settled over the boat trying to pull it into the whirlpool. His throat closed, his hands became clammy and his forehead sweated as the boat neared the angry swirling mass.
“And that’s why we need yer,” Charon growled, battling against the whirlpool and the mist. “Every evil in this world is in there. Cyclopes, The Titans, monsters and demons, they’re all in there. Even some humans are bad enough to be thrown in there. These two moustached fellows were both thrown in here ‘bout half a century ago.”
“Hitler? Stalin?”
“Those are the names,” Charon said. “Yep, pushed them out of the boat, myself. And if no one believes in Hades, then all of them are free to haunt the earth. Their spirits, sometimes their bodies, will make it back to the upper world and cause havoc. And that’s why we need yer.”
“B-b-but what if I think it’s a dream,” Craig asked again, his resolve shattering.
“Yer won’t,” Charon said, running his ferryman’s pole out of the water, the end glowing red as if it had been bathed in flames.
Charon brought the pole down in a cut, the end slicing into Craig’s arm causing him to scream in complete pain. All other feelings escaped him as the pain wracked through his body; the cut going from shoulder to wrist before Charon finally pulled the pole away. Tears stung Craig’s eyes as he looked down at his arm, the cut already healed but an ugly scar lingered on the raw flesh.
“I’m sorry,” Charon said. “But yer need to know this happened. I mean yer can look at that cut and say it was from the raft, but deep inside yer know that’s a lie. And that’s all we need. Anyway, we couldn’t have yer getting out of that crash without a scratch, could we?”
Charon didn’t even give Craig a chance to reply before pushing him out of the boat and into the black lake. Craig got one final look at Charon’s apologetic eyes before everything went black again.
***
“Craig! Craig!”
Craig eyes flittered open, light swarming into his vision causing him to blink rapidly. He vaguely took in the surroundings, the green of the trees and the sound of the river gently flowing next to him.
“Oh thank G…oh Craig, you’re alive!”
Craig blinked once more and saw the form of Claire swim in front of him. She was fine, no cuts or bruises across her beautiful face and the tears from her eyes were sliding down only smooth skin. Smiling, Craig sat up and wrapped his arms around her slender form, holding her close.
“I think I’m alive,” Craig whispered in her ear, holding her tightly to him. And then he saw her scar between her shoulder blades. Neatly formed and already healed. His eyes flickered to his own arm seeing the long scar that laid down it.
It had actually happened.
And he believed.
