The Tarn of Eternity Part 59

Clad in the armor of a warrior, with face stern, marked by steel and fire, the old man projected a sense of authority.

Demo stepped forward slowly.

"Sire, I know you not. Yet you have awaited me?"

"One who has traveled far with you forecast your arrival. In due time you shall know him. Much will be revealed - by the tarn. But that another day, another world."

The unseen companion! He had been here, spoken to this one.

What strange fate forever brought their paths together? And what was the secret of the tarn?

Demo shook his head.

"I rule this domain, ignored by the G.o.ds, unknownst to mankind.

This is the field of atonement. All pa.s.s through here. Some quickly. Some remain long. For a moment you have lifted the mists. Nevertheless, they shall return. I have halted all transitions until your coming. The souls who depart your world and pa.s.s through here would press on. And so shall they, in due time."

"What would you have of me, Sire?"

The warrior stood, pulled from its sheath a sword. "Vulcan did temper this sword with blood. And each who leaves your world must first feel this edge. It has proven strong and sharp.

Still, time and usage take their toil, and it is now it is only a blunt instrument, useless for its purpose."

"Sire, I am no swordsmith."

The warrior held the blade in hand, extended the handle toward Demo. "Take it. Return it to Zeus. Tell him one whose name remains forever unspoken would have the broken sword of Cadmus.

Let Vulcan fas.h.i.+on it and put thereon an edge that will not fail. 'Til you return, Clothos shall spin no more, nor Lachesis measure, nor Atropos wield her shears. And none shall pa.s.s through these portals to tomorrow."

The warrior held the blade high, brought it down flat against his knee, and the metal snapped. He handed the broken weapon to Demo. "The gate is there."

He pointed to the darker recesses of the cave. "Quickly, now, to Olympus. I wait impatiently."

Zeus listened in quiet amazement, the broken sword in his hand.

In anger he tossed it down and it faded into oblivion. "You shall meet with it by the tarn, in good time. It is not given to me to know of this shadow land. Of its existence only am I informed. The Ancient Ones - they knew! Strangely, they told me nothing! Must even the G.o.ds pa.s.s through those portals? I know not. Here, take it. The sword of Cadmus. It, too, was broken.

Well, Vulcan has applied his skills. This edge shall never dull."

The warrior examined the sword with critical eye. "The craftsmans.h.i.+p of Vulcan leaves little to be desired. I see the break in the blade. It matters not. There is no weakness now.

You have done well."

His visage reflected an expression that might be construed as a smile. "My broken sword lies by the tarn. It may well be of service, at the appointed time. Now, on your way. For I must return to my dreadful ch.o.r.e."

Zeus was morose. "It is a drear vision you bring to me. Still, let us live for today. If it were hidden from the G.o.ds, then it concerns them not. Return to your own, my boy. The flowers bloom, soft winds blow, and spring creeps upon the land. And, I a.s.sure you, there will be no fog!"

22. The Escape

It is said that none enter, that none leave, the confines of Hades except they be conveyed by the ferryman. Yet, in time past, ancient time, one entered unattended that eternal prison.

He entered in search of his own true love, and pleaded with his songs. So sweetly sung were they that Pluto, that stern master of the nether regions, granted safe pa.s.sage to him, and to the one he loved. For Pluto, most hideous of living beings, yet within his monstrous form knew the pangs of love.

Yet did another depart those infernal regions with no aid from that dark ferryman.

This is the tale of that departure, of what transpired before.

And here lie the tangled threads, and the first strange steps on the dark path to the Tarn of Eternity.

Legends relate the sad story of the kidnapping of Persephone, the story of the evil Pluto. And the legends tell true. But they ignore the role of Venus, and of Cupid. And they are not guiltless.

Persephone did dwell in the Vale of Enna, gathered there the wildwood flowers.

Pluto, master of Hades, dwelt alone in his nether kingdom.

Powerful, emotionless, dedicated only to his duty, this ruler of the dead traveled from time to time, his coach pulled by giant black steeds. And one such a trip Venus espied him. Angry because she had no power to move him she turned to Cupid.

"This one knows not of love, lives in serenity. I would he suffer the pangs of unrequited love. Loose your sharpest arrow.

Let him suffer as suffer those mortals ferried through the portals of his empire."

Cupid grinned impudently. Ever pleased to show his skill he notched arrow to cord. True and straight it flew.

Pluto felt a yearning he did not understand. Disturbed, he flogged his steeds, flew tempestuously he knew not where, seeking he knew not what.

Wild, the horses flew. And in their flight they entered the Vale of Enna, paused to drink from the pond therein.

Carrying wildflowers in her arms, with laughter and song did Persephone approach the chariot, tossed in childlike simplicity flowers to the occupant. "Come, play with me. I have no playmate. I need a friend."

She looked on his loathsome form with neither fear nor disfavor. To her he was merely a welcome playmate, though not of human form. She asked nothing of him, only that he share this little while.

He gazed upon her, and in his heart Cupid's poisoned arrow worked its magic.

The innocent beauty of that face, the warm and happy spirit s.h.i.+ning through those clear eyes, brought to him feelings he had never known. He thought to hold her close, to stroke that soft hair, to caress with gentle touch her smooth skin.

And within him, too, aroused the desires of a man. For though her face was that of youth, her body was of sculptured beauty that Venus might envy.

When Pluto beheld her all thoughts save one departed his mind.

This was to be his bride!

He tarried there, danced in parody of handsome prince, sang in voice marred and croaking. She mocked him not; rather, smiled.

Of flowers garlands she made, given to him in innocent pride.

She sang sweet songs of light and suns.h.i.+ne, of crystal stars and mellow moon, of flowers that did not die, with blossoms that forever bloom.