Sorry that this chapter took several days to write, but I wanted to be sure that it was real enough and free of holes and contradictions. I know that most of the Greek myths concerning Charon describe him as a shaggy, unkempt figure but I wanted to show him as taking pride in his appearance. (Hence, the clean-shaven face and tidy hair) I confess to forming his personality partially from the character's portrayals in Hercules: The Animated Series and Hercules: The Legendary Journeys. Other than that, the Charon depicted in this story is almost entirely my own. As always, I DO NOT own the Greek myths or any of the characters within them. Except for the ones that I create, of course.
CHAPTER 10
The tunnel is cold and extremely damp. I can feel the wet loose earth crumbling under my sandaled feet, which feel so painful that I fear they might fall off. No doubt they will be covered with bleeding calluses by tomorrow morning.
It is very difficult to not think longingly of my warm and comfortable bed in Medusa's room. It is equally hard to not just turn around and leave the darkness and the cold behind me. It is only the thought of Karmê and what terror she might be experiencing that keeps me resolutely on my course. I have no desire to be a hero- I only want to help find Karmê and bring her home if I can.
I hold out my lamp before me, not just to light my way but also to reassure myself that no fiends are lurking in the dark to seize me. It is utterly ridiculous for a goddess to feel fear of something as insignificant as the dark, but I cannot help it. Most likely the presence of my own mortality has heightened whatever paranoid fears I may have had before undergoing this accursed metamorphosis. Not for the first time, I find myself silently cursing my brother Ares for this injustice. (I also inwardly blame my father Zeus, although I do not dare go any further than that.) If Ares had just kept his detestable mouth shut, I would not be in this situation. Instead I would be going about my daily routine- attending my temples, answering my petitioners, and weaving my beautiful tapestries and garments. For a time I amuse myself with derisive thoughts about what sort of toil Ares is currently enduring as a mortal. Maybe he is being forced to do something utterly humiliating like tending swine or mucking out a stall. The amusement I receive from these thoughts makes me feel less frightened of the darkness for a time, and then my paranoia resurfaces.
Keep going, I urge myself sternly. Just because you are now mortal does not give you an excuse to act like a hysterical damsel-in-distress. I continue venturing down the dark tunnel, feeling as though eons pass before I finally come to the path's end- a rickety old pier. This structure, which looks as though it has been here since the Titans were finally relieved of their swaddling clothes, overlooks an opaque swollen river. The thick fog that forms over the river makes it impossible for me to see what is on the other side. The only upside to this environment is that the underground cavern is no longer quite so dark. I feel confident enough to blow out and tuck away my lamp once I catch sight of the bracketed torches that adorn the various crevices in the rocky walls. These light sources cast a slightly greyish light over the entire area, making it look like it is enveloped by a light-colored thick cloak.
Suddenly, the prow of a boat emerges through the fog, followed shortly by the rest of the craft. Standing in the back of the boat is a tall figure shrouded from head to toe in shadowy robes that contrast sharply with the greyish atmosphere.
The boat floats closer and closer until it finally bumps up against the pier. I can now see the figure's face beneath his hood. His face is not skeletally gaunt with tightly-stretched skin, but it does have a narrow shape with prominent cheekbones. His eyes are deep black and might even look soulless if not for the faintest flick of light surrounding the pupils.
I hesitate a little before opening my mouth and asking, "C-Charon?"
My voice is usually low and even whenever I speak, but now it goes up an octave or two. I suddenly sound like a terrified little girl, and am appalled by it. The creature whose name I have just uttered nods in confirmation of his identity and stares at me with surprise.
"What is a live mortal girl like you doing down here? This is a station for dead souls, not live bodies." Charon's voice is deep but not gravelly.
"I need to speak to Hades." It is quite a surprise how quickly my voice has returned to its normal contralto pitch.
Charon reaches up and pulls his hood back until it hangs down his back. Now that I can see all of his face more clearly, I note his high forehead with thinning grey hair. His face is clean-shaven, giving him a spare but tidy appearance. He shakes his head at me. "The rules are clear- no live mortals in the Underworld."
"Not even in an emergency?"
"Look, whoever you are, I do not make the rules. My job is to simply row the boat and drop off the cargo." He looks expectantly around me as though hoping to see a queue of recently deceased souls standing behind me. His face contorts with visible disappointment when he realizes that I am the only other person in the vicinity.
I can tell that Charon is preparing to row back to the Underworld alone when another of these infrequent brilliant ideas hits me. I smooth my clothes down, stand up straighter, and fix the ferryman with what I hope is a severe and official look. "I have a message for Lord Hades from his niece, the Lady Athena. The message is so important that she insisted I deliver it to him in person."
Charon pauses in the act of lowering his rowing pole into the water and turns back to stare at me incredulously. "If that is so, then why is the 'illustrious goddess' not here herself?" As he speaks, Charon deposits his pole in the boat and makes a strange air gesture with the two centermost fingers of each hand at the words "illustrious goddess." It is clear than he is mocking me (although he is unaware of my true identity) and I feel my patience beginning to wear thin.
"Look, Charon," I say while at the same time trying to check my irritation, "I just work for the goddess, all right? Like you, I have a job to do and I would very much like to get it done fast. Once my task is complete, I can get out of your way and you can continue doing your job."
Charon by now is looking less sure of himself but I decide to strike the final blow that will move him from uncertainty into complete insecurity. Pursing my lips, I remark, "I was under the impression that the Lord of the Dead expects swift service and prompt message delivery from his employees." At the same time, I turn away from the ferryman and pretend to begin my journey back to the tunnel's entrance.
I am barely off the pier when I hear Charon's voice ring out behind me. "All right, you win! Come back here and I will take you to Hades."
I feel triumphant as I turn back and step into the boat, careful to put a fair distance between myself and the now-fuming ferryman. I make sure to press a coin into his outstretched palm before I sit down facing him and soon we are on our way.
"You are lucky it is a slow night, "Charon mutters darkly as he rows us away from the pier. The structure is soon swallowed up in the thick fog that surrounds the boat.
"You got anything to eat in that bag?" he asks in a slightly different tone, nodding at the satchel hanging from my right shoulder. For a moment I think of asking what he normally eats, but force myself not to behave so impishly. I am not familiar with this wave of mischievous behavior that has recently come over me, but I cannot afford to allow it to consume my character. It is very crucial for me to stay on Charon's good side otherwise he might just hurl me into the river and leave me at the mercy of whatever predators inhabit this area. I unfasten my satchel and take out a newly-made loaf of bread and a flask of wine. I then lean forward and place the nourishment on the seat just in front of Charon. He gives me a dirty look (probably for not handing him the food) and bends down to pick up his meal, halting the boat's progress as he does so.
His sour expression changes to one of delight as he begins devouring the bread. I cannot blame him; Aspasia probably has the best cook in the entire city. It is a wonder that more murders do not occur for want of the best servants. The rest of the journey is spent in silence, save for Charon draining the wine flask. Finally we arrive at what seems to be an enormous underground island fortress surrounded on all sides by the river. Looking up, I can see the faintest outline of dark stalactites on the heightened cavern ceiling. Once my head has returned to its normal position, I take note of the elongated sharp-looking thorny fence that surrounds the fortress. The fence makes it hard to get a good look at the structures within. A high stone gate stands between the two visible sides of the fence, giving no impression as to what might be on the other side. Once Charon docks the boat at a nearby pier, he walks me to the gate and places his hand on the latch. Almost immediately, the latch unfastens and the gate swings open before me. Peering inside, I am disappointed to see only pitch-black darkness ahead of me.
I turn back to look at Charon uncertainly but he only nods toward the open gate. As I prepare to step through the archway, he puts his hand on my shoulder. This causes me to look up at him in shock. Despite his rough exterior, there is a look of slight concern on his face.
"You are on your own from here on in, mortal," he says in a hoarse whisper. "Be careful to state your name and business to anyone you might encounter. If you are turned away, do not let them know I had anything to do with you being here. This job is far from being the best in the world, but it is the only occupation I have. No one will stop you leaving due to you being a live mortal. Then make your way back here and I will return you to the soul station. From there, you simply make your way back the way you came and you will soon be back in the upper world. Good luck."
And with that, he turns away and makes his way back to the dock and his boat. I watch him board his craft and then turn back to the gate and its dark interior. Pushing all further thought out of my mind, I take a deep breath and step over the threshold.