Roel spun about and with shield and sword took on the first of the horde, and even as he struck and fragmented the enemy, the portals began to fade. Celeste flew blunt arrows into the throng to bring down corpse after corpse.
Heracles waded in and smashed left and right, Achilles and Ajax charging after. And then the remainder of the heroes reached the mob, yet-lo! — Heracles’
fists and the champions’ weapons did not break the undead apart, though the squalling foe fell to the blows.
Only the weapons of Celeste and Roel seemed to deal death to the undead. Mayhap it was because, unlike the weapons of Erebus, the arrows were from Faery and the sword was from the mortal world; yet whatever the reason, wherever they struck, the wailing undead fell slain.
Yet it seemed the frigid grasps of the living corpses had no effect upon the heroes of the Elysian Fields, whereas in the midst of the melee whenever one touched Roel he felt the dreadful cold.
On went the battle and the portals closed and no more undead Cymry came through. And soon all the corpse foe lay stunned or shattered, depending on who or what had dealt the blow.
With the fight now over, laughing and slapping one another on the back, Heracles and the men began gathering up the defeated, and they bore them out to the crevice to Tartarus and without ceremony cast them in.
Likewise, they took up the splintered remains of those slain by Roel and Celeste and cast those to Tartarus as well. Then they unstopped wineskins and passed them about, hailing one another as well as Celeste and Roel.
And Philoctetes said to Celeste, “Those arrows of yours: quite deadly,” and he helped her reclaim them from the floor.
“Thanks to the Fates,” said Celeste.
“Ah, yes,” said Philoctetes, “they do work well,” and he glanced toward Achilles, who was sharing a wineskin with Ajax.
Chiron joined them, and Celeste said, “We did not intend to bring enemies into your domain.” Chiron smiled and said, “Princess, I believe the men enjoyed it.” Heracles laughed and said, “I haven’t had that much fun since I performed the twelve labors.” He handed his wineskin to Roel.
As Roel started to tip it up for a small swallow, Celeste said, “No, love. Mayhap ’tis like unto the Elf King’s domain in Faery, and we should forgo food and drink.”
“Ah, oui,” replied Roel, and he passed the skin to Odysseus.
After drinking, Odysseus said, “Did you find that which you went for?”
Celeste nodded and pulled the gray arrow from her quiver and held it up for all to see. From across the hall Achilles looked, and tears sprang into his eyes, and Ajax threw an arm about him in comfort. Celeste sighed and put the arrow away.
Roel turned to Chiron and said, “We cannot tarry and celebrate with you, for our mission is urgent, and it’s to the mortal world and Faery we must go.” Chiron frowned. “Charon will not ferry you back across the Styx and the Acheron; his trip is one-way only. I’m afraid once in the underworlds you cannot return.”
Odysseus shook his head. “Are you forgetting about me, about Aeneas, Theseus, and others?”
“Nay, Odysseus,” replied Chiron. “Yet Lord Hades himself has closed those ways out of Erebus.” A debate broke out among the men, and Celeste called for quiet, and when it fell she said, “Lord Thoth himself told us how.”
“Lord Thoth?” asked Chiron. “Oh, yes, I remember.
You did tell us that he had helped you to come unto Erebus, yet not how you could return.” And so Celeste told the way it was to be done, and the men and Chiron clapped and laughed and saluted her cleverness, for it was worthy of Odysseus himself. Roel merely shook his head in admiration, for such means had not occurred to him.
Celeste and Roel took their leave of the heroes, and out from the hall they strode. Mounting up, across the plains they fared, out from sunlit Elysium to come once more under the leaden skies of the Asphodel Fields.
On they rode, and at last in the distance ahead they once again saw the great dark dwelling they had seen as they had ridden opposite less than eight candlemarks prior. Toward this massive palace they went.
Up out from the plains it towered, its ebon stone rising in tiers toward the somber vault o’erhead. Toward a wide entryway at ground level they fared, the opening yawning darkly wide.
“We must take our horses with us,” said Celeste as they came upon black basalt pave.
“Oui,” replied Roel.
Now they rode into the enshadowed gape, and Celeste turned to Roel and said, “Oh, my love, I do hope Lord Thoth is right.”
Roel grimly nodded but said nought.
Dark stone pillars lined the way, and hooves rang and echoed from the gloom-laden surround.
Following the directions given by Chiron, they came to a broad stair climbing up into darkness; dismounting, they led the horses clattering upward.
Into a long ebon hall they emerged, torches in sconces lighting the corridor with eternal flame, or so Chiron had said.
Rightward along this hallway they trod, their horses trailing after, to come at last to a wide archway.
Across a polished black marble floor they went and toward the far wall, where before ebon curtains sat two thrones, a beautiful maiden upon one, a dark male on the other.
This pair was in deep converse and did not look up even as Celeste and Roel came to stand before them.
Celeste cleared her throat and said, “My Lord Hades, my Lady Persephone.”
Now the pair looked toward the two, and rage crossed Hades’ features, and he shouted, “Mortals!
Again! Will this never end?”
And with a bellowing shout, he swept the back of his hand outward, and as if from a mighty blow, into roaring blackness Celeste and Roel hurtled.
42
Desperate Run
When the great rush of blackness subsided, Celeste and Roel found themselves and their horses standing in sand before the great stone Sphinx outside the City of Meketaten’s Tomb. And in that moment the first rays of the rising sun struck the face of the Abulhol, and it looked down at them and smiled, rock grinding on rock with the grin.
“Ah, summarily ejected by Hades, eh?” it asked.
“Oui,” said Celeste. “Just as Lord Thoth said Hades would do.”
“Did you find what you sought?”
“Oui,” replied Celeste. “The gray arrow is ours, and for that I say merci, my lord, for your aid; without it we would have failed.”
With a grating of stone upon stone, the Abulhol inclined its head in acknowledgment.
Roel frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the morning sun. “I do not understand, Lord Sphinx. It was just after dawn when we went into Erebus. Have we come back the same dawn we entered?” Slowly the Abulhol shook its head. “Nay, Chevalier.
Two days have elapsed since you first broached the realm of the dead.”
“Two days?” exclaimed Roel. “We spent but ten candlemarks at most therein.”
“Time marches at a different pace in the netherworlds,” said the Sphinx.
Celeste gasped in dismay and said, “Oh, Roel, that means there are but three days left ere the dark of the moon, and we have far to go.”
“Then I suggest you set out,” said the Abulhol.
After a quick glance at her map, Celeste pointed sunwise and said, “Yon.”
“South it is,” cried Roel, and he and Celeste sprang to their mounts and rode into the dunes, the Sphinx murmuring after, “May the smiling face of Atum be turned your way.” Then it closed its eyes and went back to sleep.
Across the sands they fared, stopping now and again to feed and water the horses as well as themselves. It was at one of these pauses when Celeste remarked that during the time they were in Erebus, even though two days in the world had elapsed, they had not felt the need for food or water.