The Tarn of Eternity Part 17

Demo started to ask more questions, when he found himself, drawn bow in hand, once more in his hunting pose. He sighed, released the arrow.

Fresh venison, a new mission, and Cronus!

He cleaned the game carefully, working from habit without thinking. His mind was far away. The Curse of Cronus - I must lift the Curse of Cronus!

"Oh, yes, of course I know of Cronus," his mother appeared peeved. "I may be a country girl, but I want you to know, I am well read. Cronus was, of course, Zeus' old man. My, how they quarreled! Some thought Zeus would be banned. And well he might have been, if he hadn't moved first."

She sighed, added a touch of herbs to the soup. "Mmmmm," she commented. "It is tasty indeed. Not the ambrosia I'm sure Zeus serves, but quite tasty. Here, give me your bowl."

"There was a curse, mother?"

"Yes, that there was. Zeus drove them out - his father, Cronus; his mother, Rhea; all of the t.i.tans. He stood by the wayside, lightning bolt ever ready." She paused, her eyes seeing a prior time, a time when the G.o.ds were seen by man.

She filled the bowl with the warm soup, placed it before him.

"Now try some of that. Cronus indeed. This will take the years off. And a slice of my bread."

She smiled as he began to eat, watched in pleasure as he attacked the food with the zeal of hungry youth.

"Cronus stumbled, and Zeus raised his arm to cast the thunderbolt. And then Cronus stood straight and tall and majestic. He repeated, three times I think, with his arms extended upward, 'The Curse of Cronus'. Doesn't it have such a melodramatic sound to it? Especially if you pause between the words." She once more intoned, "The Curse of Cronus", pausing dramatically between the individual words.

"And the curse, mother, what was it?"

"That the G.o.ds, for whom 'til now time did not exist, would now - like other beings - age. Zeus laughed. Still, there are rumors, and I understand he laughs no more." She lowered her voice. "I'm told that, even now, he walks with a cane. Have you seen it? Can this be true?"

Demo ignored the questions. "Mother, how would I find Cronus?"

"My child, you do not find Cronus. He finds you. It is inevitable. It is from his touch that we pa.s.s from child to man or woman, from youth to middle age, from middle age to an elder estate. It is a process you would not desire to compress. No, search not for Cronus. He is not well met!"

Demo pondered her words, the story she had told. Fable, or fact? At one time he would have thought the former. Now he was completely unsure. His simple world had turned strange.

Demo began his trip, knowing not the way, knowing not the guise of him whom he sought. The fates were kind, and he found aid along the way.

"Earthling, attend me!"

The voice was soft, yet commanding.

He breathed deeply as he gazed upon her. The beauty of Athena, of Medusa, he had thought, could not be surpa.s.sed. He was wrong.

The diaphanous gown accentuated, rather than hid, the exquisite form of the maiden who addressed him. The face was beautiful not only in its own right, but in its every response to her thoughts. Now with a slight blush, now calm and serene, now smiling and happy - always with an innocence that beguiled and attracted.

"I am Venus. It is for my sake that Zeus has dispatched you on this dreadful sojourn. And dreadful must it be for you, for when Cronus looks upon you the bonds of time will lock you in their embrace. Yet there is no other way." She sobbed.

"Take this. When you tend Cronus, tell him from whence it came.

Then ask him, must the beautiful blond hair of Venus turn gray.

Once he loved me, a grandchild who was his pride. Perhaps he still remembers. Give to him this mirror, for in it he shall see my visage. And as I age, so shall indeed the image on which he gazes. It is his curse. Let him reap its reward."

She expected no reply, and was gone so swiftly none was possible.

He glanced at the mirror from the side of his eye. He blinked.

Truly, it was not his own image, but hers. He carefully placed the mirror in his pouch. Perhaps, after all, Cronus would relent.

One might think that, to reach Tartarus, the path would be first through Hades. And having pa.s.sed through that monstrous domain Tartarus would lie ahead.

Indeed, Tartarus lies far below even the inferior regions of Hades. Solitary, neighborless - there is no common border, no entry or exit. Tartarus stands alone. None may enter. None may leave. To those who live therein its bounds are endless. To those who dwell without it is but a speck, lacking depth, lacking width, lacking height.

Demo searched. He found not Tartarus. He found not Cronus. And so he slept. And as he slept, Cronus found him!

Each night he lay down to rest, tired from his travels. Each morning he awoke, unrested, the weight of pa.s.sing years pressing down upon him. Yet, the sun had made its own journey, and it was but the start of a new day. He felt in his bones aches he had never known. The muscles that served well afore now weakened, gave way under exertion.

The dreams began. A white bearded patriarch, severe of mien, stood nightly at the foot of his bed, gestured over his p.r.o.ne body.

And with that gesture he felt his very bones grow tired. The smooth skin of youth wrinkled, and his sharp eyes dimmed and lost their l.u.s.ter.

"Return to Zeus. Tell him that the Curse of Cronus shall never be lifted. Give up this quest, for on it you shall age each day as though it were a year. Only the kindness of Cronus prevents you from withering and dying before the dawn." The deep sonorous voice ceased, the vision faded.

He touched his cheek, his forehead. Indeed wrinkles formed and furrows! Beneath his chin a dewlap hung. His eyes grew tired, and his voice weak. Nightmare, or visitation from Cronus?

By day his travels became ever more onerous. The pain of arthritis attacked his joints, his breath was short, and at times he wandered over his earlier trail unknowingly.

Demo noted, looking in the mirror of a calm pond, his thinning hair, now turning gray. Dark pockets formed under each eye, and his eyes were themselves bloodshot.

Perhaps, he thought, it is time to return home, there to rest.

Perhaps, there to lie down to an eternal rest.

Each night Cronus came. Each day Demo was left with a body weakened and tired from the visit of Cronus.

His appearance had become so wretched that he avoided the quiet ponds, that he see not his image. In desperation he called on Zeus, then sighed. Even Zeus, mightiest of the G.o.ds, labored under the Curse of Cronus.

On a certain day, in a certain glade he walked, knowing not where to turn. His thirst grew, and he noted water trickling down the hillside ahead. At the base of the hill a small spring formed a placid pool, and he leaned forward to drink of its water.

"Not me! Let it not be me!"

The gaunt, ancient creature reflected in the still waters screamed out the words.

He would turn away, and yet he could not. Fascinated he noted the wrinkled face, the gnarled hands, the tired eyes.

My youth, to have fled so quickly! The Curse of Cronus indeed!

Night shadows were fast enveloping the land. He cut soft limbs and foliage to make his bed. It mattered not. All beds to him were hard. Emptying his pouch he nearly dropped the mirror of Venus.

He caught it before it struck the ground. I need no more bad luck, the thought crossed his mind.

The image of Venus brought tears to his eyes. The beauty reflected in the mirror but days before had disappeared. Now was seen but an old crone, straggly hair, wrinkled face, bent back.

Still the eyes tore at his soul.