The Haunting of Guaritori Diolco, Part 16

A Trip to the Ultimate Dungeon

Need an earlier part?

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Chronos (not to be confused with Cronus) (david.costa.art/Shutterstock)

“We must ponder what Nyx has told us,” said Persephone. “If we respond too hastily, we could make our problems even worse.”

“I know what you are thinking, Wife,” said Hades. “But ‘Guaritori must die,’ doesn’t leave much room for interpretation.”

“Regardless of what Nyx said, I thought we agreed that we could not kill Garth without corrupting the process through which I might be restored to life,” said Hermes. This was one time I wasn’t going to object to his borrowing my mouth.

“Circumstances are different now,” said Hades. “We must kill Garth to prevent an event even worse than the Catastrophe.”

“The conditions we must meet to prevent such a thing sound like the work of Ananke,” said Zeus. “If so, we are powerless to change them or to disregard them.”

“Ananke?” I asked Hermes.

“Necessity or Inevitability,” said Hermes. “She is said to be the consort of Chronos, present like him at the beginning of creation. While he brought movement, she ensured the development of order. Like him, she is inaccessible, even to us.”

That wasn’t encouraging—but how could I expect encouragement at this point?

I’d faced death many times since I’d awakened from a coma to find myself in this twisted, post-Catastrophe world. And I’d been willing to take those risks. But it was one thing to know death was possible. It was completely different to know it was inevitable.

“Yet Hermes also makes a valid point,” said Hecate. “We need him restored in order to heal the balance of this plane. If we make Garth into a human sacrifice, a practice we all abhor, then we risk losing Hermes completely.”

“What do you suggest?” asked Zeus. “Garth must die if we are to save this plane and the human one.”

Hecate nodded her head slowly. “He must. But Nyx’s prophecy said that he must die, not that he must be killed. The only way we can ensure that we don’t curse ourselves or do further damage to the universe is if he voluntarily sacrifices himself.”

All eyes focused on me in a way that made me wish I could simply disappear. I felt as if I were tearing into two pieces, one of which would bravely do what needed to be done. The other would run like hell for the nearest exit. But both of them would end up bleeding, regardless. My future was an ocean of blood in which I would drown.

“Garth will do what needs to be done,” said Hermes. “But Nyx did not indicate that the three events she mentioned had to occur in a specific order. We must allow Garth to prepare himself if we expect him to agree. And there is no point in having him sacrifice himself before the other two conditions of success have been fulfilled.”

“There is wisdom in that,” said Demeter. “We will need to figure out what paradoxes need to be resolved. And as for Iskios, he hates us all if I recall correctly. He is currently Zeus’s prisoner. If there is a quick and easy way to make him one of us, I fail to see what it is.”

“Another good point,” said Hera. “Husband, Garth has done much service for us in the past, not the least of which was defeating Iskios. Surely, he is entitled to a little time to reconcile himself to his fate. We owe him that much.”

Zeus wrinkled his forehead as if owing a mortal something was a completely alien concept to him. But after a moment, he seemed less confused.

“We still need to visit Tartarus to verify that the titans remain in prison,” he said. “That will give us all time to reflect.”

He didn’t look at me, but I knew the reflection part was directed mostly at me. I didn’t respond. What could I possibly say? Even Hermes was speaking of my death in terms, of when rather than if.

That didn’t mean I had to be happy about any of it—and I wasn’t. But my chances of doing anything about it were about as good as a mouse escaping from a cat’s mouth after being partially chewed up. The more I thought about the future, the more my mind darkened. I’d be better off if I could find a way to stop thinking about it.

The other gods nodded to indicate their approval of Zeus’s proposal. Zeus nodded to Hades, who opened a chasm with his bident and led us downward for a long time until we came to a region of utter darkness, relieved only by Hestia’s fire and the glow of power from the other former gods.

“Is this Tartarus?” I asked Hermes.

“No, this is Erebus, the realm of primal darkness ruled by Nyx’s consort. It is also where the shadows of mortals go after death. We will only stay here long enough for Hades to find the way forward. Erebus thinks much more like Tartarus used to than like Nyx does. He allows only the briefest journeys through his realm—and only as long as they are infrequent. He neither seeks nor wants contact with the world outside his own realm.”

I wasn’t surprised when Hermes turned out to be right. Hades found the outer barrier of Erebus, struck it with his bident, and opened yet another long tunnel.

“How much distance is there between these places?”

“Since they aren’t really physical, it’s not a question of distance in the way that you’re thinking about it. But human language lacks terms for spiritual distance.

“Visualize four levels, with an equal and vast spiritual distance between each one and the one below it. The highest level is Earth, realm of the living. The next level is the Underworld, then Erebus, and finally Tartarus. Earth is the most open. The farther we descend, the harder the level is to reach, even for the most powerful among us.”

That made me wonder how Eriopis had ever gotten close enough to Tartarus to be able to communicate with him. She’d never mentioned Erebus, so perhaps there was a short cut. Hermes never had a reason to travel lower than the Underworld, but Hecate, who had once trained Eriopis, might have needed to descend farther.

After what seemed like forever, we found ourselves in another long corridor. The three Hecatoncheires, with their gigantic bodies, fifty heads and a hundred arms each, stood menacingly at the far end of the corridor, directly in front of an adamantine door even more enormous than they were. They bowed to Zeus as he approached.

“There has been a successful escape,” said Zeus.

“Impossible!” the three massive brothers replied in unison. “We have not left our post, and even if we had, the door hasn’t been breached.”

“You are not to blame, valiant guardians,” replied Zeus in the most positive tone I’d heard him use so far. “The escapee must have gotten out through one of the supposedly impenetrable walls. We are here to examine the prison and determine what repairs need to be made.”

“Of course, Majesty,” they said, bowing again as they unbolted the door, which swung open soundlessly. The interior looked as dark as that of Erebus.

“You will follow us in,” said Zeus. “And be on your guard. There is a possibility that other prisoners are loose in here.”

“We will do as you command,” the Hecatoncheires replied as they led the way into the most depressing place I had yet visited.

Through the various lights provided by the gods, I could see that Tartarus, much like the Underworld, was an enormous cavern. The stone that made up the floor and walls was rough, and the darkness beyond the light radiated by the gods was absolute.

I noticed the glitter of adamantine chains that hung from the walls at various spots. Most of them were empty, but a few restrained captives who squinted at the light with terror etched on their faces. Zeus and the other former gods ignored these wretched prisoners as they moved quickly forward.

“I sense nothing unusual,” said Hecate.

“Do not be too hasty in your assessment,” said Poseidon, his voice sounding like the roar of the sea. “This place is vast, and if Tartarus wishes, I’m sure he can mask any unusual activity from us.”

“Yes, this could be a trap,” said Hestia. “We must be wary.”

On and on we went, making me wonder if the place was infinite. No physical location could be, but in more spiritual realms, anything was possible.

The ceiling seemed to be getting higher as we went along, reinforcing the feeling of infinite space. But the place seemed much more cramped as I got close enough to see giants chained to the walls. From the magnitude of their power, constrained though it was, they could only be Titans.

“I thought there were twelve of them, six men and six women.”

“There were that many Titan children of Uranus and Gaia,” replied Hermes. “But one of the sons—Oceanus—and all of the daughters either sided with Zeus or remained neutral. As far as the daughters are concerned, I think Cronus’s tendency to eat his own children was probably a key factor in their decision. Most of the Titans’ children followed their mothers’ example, except for the three sons of Crius, whom you see here, and Atlas, son of Iapetus, who is elsewhere.”

“Look, brothers!” said the largest titan, who had to be Cronus. “The almighty Zeus has come to grace us with his presence.” His tone could hardly have been more sarcastic. Thousands of years of being chained up had not broken his spirit. Looking at the hatred in his glaring eyes, I wished his spirit had been broken. No wonder Zeus would not consider releasing his father, uncles, and cousins from bondage. I had no doubt that they would immediately attack him.

“Say what you will,” replied Zeus in a neutral tone. “You are chained up, and I am not. Mere words will not change that.”

“And yet you are here,” said Cronus. “You would not be here unless you were worried about something—perhaps about this!”

One moment, Cronus and his kin had all been chained securely. The next moment, the stone in which the chains were anchored pulled away from them, freeing the Titans’ arms and legs. The shackles somehow unlocked and then fell to the ground with enough force to shake us. The unlocking released the Titans’ power.

They had magic more than equal to their physical stature. A protective aura sprang up around them so rapidly that they must have been preparing the magic before they were free to actually use it.

They had known they would be released from their chains. That answered the question about Tartarus—he was definitely their ally.

At least, they weren’t the only ones who were ready. Zeus lashed out with a burst of lightning that strained their newly cast shields. A second or two later, Hades launched a volley of death magic at them, and Poseidon flung a tidal wave in their direction. Even the titans seemed doomed to fall quickly before such a spectacular assault.

But Tartarus wasn’t done aiding them. Abruptly, I felt myself weighed down as if the darkness above me had become an enormous boulder. The former gods sagged as if they felt the same weight. A second later, the darkness blinded me. Neither my ability to see magic nor all the divine light sources around me helped at all. Some of the others cried out. Even the former gods had been enveloped in this amplified darkness.

Less stunned than I was, Hermes started conjuring protective magic around us, and the weight eased slightly, but I still couldn’t see. I heard gigantic footsteps echoing in the cavern. They were coming closer.

Maybe the former gods didn’t need to worry about killing me to mend Hermes. The titans could easily do that for them.

“Philosopher’s Stone,” said Hermes.

I should have thought of that myself. I shot out a burst of pure light from the stone, and it cut through the darkness all around me, surprising both my friends and my enemies.

“Again!” yelled Zeus.

I did my best to make myself a continuous light source. The stone’s power wasn’t quite the same as God’s, but it was closer than anything anyone else in the party could do. I could feel Tartarus trying to swallow the light into his darkness, but for the moment, the light from the stone resisted the pressure.

The Titans were almost upon us, and I couldn’t bring the light to blinding intensity under these circumstances. But Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, and Hecate all lashed out with their magic specialties, filling the air around me so much that I almost thought I could feel small electric shocks all over my body. Their intended targets must have felt an immensely greater impact, yet not one of them cried out in pain. They were nothing if not tough.

Switching from defense to offence, Hermes started flinging sleep magic at the Titans. By itself, it wouldn’t have done much, but in conjunction with all the other magic, it made some of them stagger.

Hera took the opportunity to use her authority as queen of Olympus to forbid the Titans to advance further, creating a barrier somewhat like what Charon had invoked in the Underworld. Hestia used her hearth fire to burn away some of the nearly solid darkness. Persephone and Demeter didn’t have the kind of power that could be used easily for offense, but they filled the rest of us with life energy in somewhat the same way that the Philosopher’s Stone filled me. As long as they could keep that up, we would be less likely to tire, and any injuries would quickly heal—unless we got squashed under a Titan’s foot.

Now able to see again, the Hecatoncheires finally managed to engage the titans directly. Each of their hands held an adamantine blade, and they sliced relentlessly, drawing blood with most of their strokes. Powerful as the Titans were, they were neither armed nor armored. And since each Hecatoncheire had fifty heads, the titans couldn’t easily knock them unconscious. Before very long, the floor of the cavern was slick with Titan blood.

But the Hecatoncheires didn’t have much magic beyond their combat abilities, and the titans struck with what spells they could. The darkness also made a concerted effort to slow the guardians of Tartarus down, heaping them with shadowy boulders that would have crushed me. Zeus and the others fought back with their considerable power, though the fact that the Hecatoncheires often stood between them and the Titans hindered their efforts.

I tried to find another way to help, but every time I sought to divert the power of the stone to doing something other than producing more light, my light flickered. Even the stone’s capacity was finite.

Not that it mattered much. My attempts to do something like using alchemical power to melt the ground beneath the Titans’ feet did nothing. As far as I could tell, Tartarus’s grip on the rock from which this place was fashioned was so strong that even the power of the stone couldn’t change it from one form to another.

I thought about trying to draw banestones from the air, but even if I’d succeeded, those would hurt my side as much as the titans’ side. And in their gigantic forms, they were far more physically formidable than the former gods.

I also thought about making an escape route, but that hope also proved empty.

“Nothing remotely like a portal can open in Tartarus,” said Hermes. “Even if one could normally, you can be sure that Tartarus would strangle that ability now.”

The tide of battle gradually shifted toward the Titans, particular when two, identified by Hermes as Pallas, the titan of warcraft, and Perses, the titan of destruction, struck the Hecatoncheires at full force. Even unarmed, Pallas’s combat skill made him hard to beat. He punched with fists like solid stone and then dodged back before his target could launch an effective counterstroke—with any of his hundred arms. Perses might must have been a powerful fighter as well, but he relied more on magic. His power was so immediately corrupting that it rotted the Hecatoncheires’ skin, strips of which fell to the ground, green and twitching. It took every ounce of defensive magic the former gods could muster to prevent the magic from disintegrating the loyal guardians completely.

We needed a winning strategy, but no one seemed to have one. Part of the problem was that we had no way to tell what Tartarus might do next. Unfortunately, that question was answered when a rock wall appeared behind us, cutting off any possibility of retreat.

We now had only two choices—win or die. Maybe the former gods still couldn’t perish in battle. There was no way to know until one of them was mortally wounded.

But I didn’t need to wait for a mortal wound to know about my situation. The Philosopher’s Stone made me ageless if Paracelsus had been correct. In a sense, that would make me immortal—but not invincible. The regenerative nature of the stone could heal me, but if I sustained enough damage to exceed the stone’s immediate capacity to heal, I could die.

The nature of the battle shifted again as I noticed myself slowing down. I managed to turn my head enough to see that the others were slowing as well. Or were the Titans just speeding up?

Instead of pressing what looked like an advantage, they backed away as we all froze in place. What could possibly have happened?

“What did I tell you?” Cronus asked the other Titans. “It was worth investing so much time in trying to connect with primal Chronos. Now we can keep Zeus and the others imprisoned here while we round up the gods who are still at liberty.

Cronus had done it—he’d found a way to freeze us in time. For some reason, my thoughts continued to flow, but everything else around me, including my own body, might as well have been a statue.

All the Titans had to do now was walk out and close the door behind them. We couldn’t escape, and there was no one who could come to our rescue.

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