The Haunting of Guaritori Diolco, Part 38
Condemned to Repeat History?
Need an earlier part?
“You did something like this before, remember?” asked Medea. “When you tried to tear Francesca’s spirit away from Gwynn ap Nudd. That angered Gwynn even though the actual disruption of reality was slight. What do you think will happen if you defy the elder powers of this plane in such a way?”
“I’ll die,” I said, realizing that was probably the best I could hope for. I had a hard time breathing. “But it might be worth it.”
“If this plane collapses, everyone, including Iskios, may be destroyed,” said Medea in a gentler tone than I had ever heard her use. “You will have lost much and gained nothing.”
The former gods were strangely silent during this exchange. I looked around to see if they were even paying attention. Tartarus, still impaled by rays of light, seemed to be pretending his confinement didn’t matter. The darkness where I could sense him remained more or less motionless. Nyx and Erebus continued to shield themselves behind Eros, who looked on with no trace of emotion as Iskios crafted a new prison.
Zeus, though equally silent, was not as detached. His eyes were fixed on me the way an eagle’s would be fixed on its prey. At this point, he needed Iskios far more than he needed me. I had no doubt that he’d blast me to ashes if I tried to interfere with what my son was doing.
I’d seldom faced a more hopeless situation. I knew I couldn’t stop Iskios now even if I wanted to. And as I watched him work, I doubted he’d thank me if I stopped him. He wasn’t exactly smiling as he created a new dungeon, but the light in his eyes suggested that he enjoyed having a purpose, a sense that he was part of the universe rather than an annoying aberration in it. That sense of belonging might be almost as important to him as his new body.
In the end, it was the look in his eyes that convinced me to stand down.
Very soon after that, he finished, and we stood in a prison as dark and ominous as Tartarus had been.
“Goodbye, Father and Mother,” he said, looking down at us he managed the facial expression with which he’d had the least practice. He smiled, and at that moment, he looked truly happy.
A heart-rending second later, he faded away, soaking into his creation and leaving no trace behind.
No, that wasn’t quite true. The stones had a dark gleam they had never had in the original prison designed by Tartarus. They looked almost as if they had been infused with the light from Iskios’s smile.
There was another, considerably more morbid trace. Iskios’s body lay motionless on the floor. Tartarus had no physical body, so he could move in and out of his prison as he pleased. Iskios had designed a similar prison without taking his own physicality into account.
“Do not fear,” said Eros as I moved toward the body, my face heavy with the overwhelming grief I felt. “The body will not decay. It may be that Iskios will reoccupy it from time to time. We will see that it is kept safe until he needs it.”
In a flash of gold, the body vanished. I couldn’t tell if Eros had put it somewhere for safekeeping or if he suspected I intended to use it as a way of prying Iskios’s soul out of the prison walls. The thought had crossed my mind, though I probably wouldn’t have risked it with this plane still unstable. It would have been nice to have been able to make an attempt later, though. Eros had denied me even that hope.
I couldn’t even express my frustration to him. He had gone, as had Nyx and Erebus, without another word. Tartarus, no longer speared by Iskios’s light, left as well. Where he had gone, I didn’t know and didn’t care.
“We will see Iskios again,” whispered Medea. “I am sure of it.”
I wished I could share her certainty, but my heart throbbed with an emptiness I hadn’t felt since I first learned Francesca was dead. I knew Medea was trying to be kind, but I felt myself weirdly nostalgic for the days when she hated me and wanted to kill me.
Dangerous times, yes—but at least then, I knew who my enemies were. Now, my enemy was cruel but invisible Necessity—Ananke herself. Or perhaps it was something even more faceless, even more inflexible.
I wanted to leave this plane, but I knew I couldn’t, at least not before Hermes and Zeus were both back safely in their bodies. Reuniting Hermes with his body might require finding a way to pry his borrowed magic out of mine without killing me.
I’d lost my fiancée. I’d lost my son. It was hard to avoid the chilling thought that I would soon lose my life.
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Nice cover, Bill!