The Immortal Game (book 1) (32 page)

Ruby gasped.

A soul looked up and saw her. The rest looked too.

Ruby could see the desperation in their half-crazed eyes. They were shouting up at her and Ares.

“Help me!”

“God no.”

“I can’t breathe.”

The oubliette continued to fill with water and as the water rose, the shouts rose too. Then silence. Ruby’s hand came up over her mouth. She could see the faces, now covered by water, their eyes wide with panic. “Oh my god, we have to help them.”

She looked at Ares, but he didn’t respond. “We have to help them,” she repeated. Her fingers trembled against her lips. Her bow was limp at her side.

The water receded again. As the souls’ heads cleared the water line she heard frantic gasps, followed once more by sobs and pleas for help. She turned back to Ares, looking for an answer. But he only shook his head.

“We can’t help them,” he said. “This is their fate. Whatever their crimes were in life, this is their punishment now.”

“To be drowned again and again? What could their crimes have been?”

“I don’t know.” He looked at her again and something in his eyes made her feel that maybe he did know. He shrugged. “Torture?”

“Torturers?” She looked into the oubliette, at the screaming souls. The water rose again. “Like, medieval torture?” It occurred to her that these souls could have been here drowning in this pit for hundreds, even thousands of years.

“There are ways to torture people without using thumbscrews,” he said. “Their real punishment is the same as anyone’s in Tartarus. Knowing that their suffering will never end, and worse, that they have no one to blame but themselves.”

Ares stood and walked around the pit to continue on the path.

Ruby followed.

They walked slower, now aware there were dangers in the floor.

Ruby’s thoughts turned to dark matters—life, death, wickedness, and punishment. She was lost in these contemplations when Ares put his hand on her arm to stop her. It wasn’t until she looked up at him that she saw a brighter light burning beyond the flaming river, on the far side.

A large alcove had been carved into the rock across the burning river. In the alcove was a long steep hill that rose parallel to the water. About halfway up was a man in dirty rags that might have once been white. The man’s shoulder was pressed against a round rock the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. He grunted and pushed at the rock with his full weight behind him. His face glistened in the light of the torches set in sconces along the alcove as the rock scraped up the hill.

When the boulder finally rested at the small flat space at the top of the ramp the man straightened himself. His hand pressed into his lower back. He leaned against the wall and wiped his brow with the back of his arm.

The boulder teetered on the edge of the landing, and then began to roll back to the bottom. The man made no move to stop it. The stone hit the far side of the ramp with a deep, heavy boom.

Ares cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sisyphus,” he shouted across the wide, slow moving water and its flames.

The man turned in tired surprise. “Ares,” he said. His inflection was flat as he walked down the hill toward the gigantic boulder.

Ruby knew who Sisyphus was. She hadn’t read the story on Olympus, or even learned about it in her myth class. She remembered it from childhood: the man condemned to roll a rock up a hill only to have it slide back down again, on and on into eternity.

She wasn’t surprised Ares knew him, but she was surprised that Sisyphus would so easily dismiss the god of war.

She watched as Sisyphus walked around the boulder, got close to it, touched it, and then stepped away again. He clenched and unclenched his hands. A moment later his shoulder was pressed to the great stone again with his body driving it forward.

“Sisyphus,” Ares shouted again.

The man looked in their direction but continued with his task. “I’m busy,” he yelled.

“We’re looking for Persephone. Have you seen her?”

“I don’t look around much, warlord. The view has always been the same. If you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

“Zeus commands that you tell me. Your punishment can still be improved.”

Ruby stared at him, shocked by his bold-faced lie, but Ares kept continual eye contact with Sisyphus.

“I told you. I don’t see anything.” Sisyphus paused halfway up the hill. He stood straight and let the boulder slam against the far wall again. “But I do see you have a lovely young shade there with you.” He looked at Ruby. His eyes lingered.

His hair was a filthy tangle and he had a long scraggly beard, but he walked toward the edge of the river with the swagger of the hottest stud in the bar.

“How about this—you send the pretty little shade across to me, and I’ll tell you what, if anything, I know about a certain fair goddess being led away into the dark pit of Tartarus.”

Ruby saw the tendons and muscles in Ares neck strain. “You don’t want her,” he said without a glance at Ruby.

“Oh, but I do.” The king in tattered robes leered at Ruby.

“She would be …
missed
,” Ares said. “If you get my meaning.”

Sisyphus turned back to his rock. His hand reached out to touch it. He looked at Ares again. “Well, I need a trade. Few people of means come by this way. I have seen Persephone, but what can you offer me to tell you which way she went—and with
whom
? You’ll want to know with whom, trust me there.” He smiled a brown-gray smile that made Ruby’s empty stomach pitch.

“We have water. From Olympus.” Ares said it with the crafty voice of a street hawker.

“Good. Very good.” Sisyphus turned back toward them. “What else?”

Ares’s breathed out in frustration. They couldn’t afford to give Sisyphus anything. They barely had what they needed for themselves.

“An olive branch,” Ruby said before the thought was fully formed in her mind. Both men looked at her, surprised.

“An olive branch?” Sisyphus repeated as if he were dealing with a demented child.

“From Athena’s garden. From
The
Olive Tree. Grown from the will of a goddess and raised in the sun and rain of Olympus. It’s enchanted. It will never die.” She had no idea why an arrogant king from two millennia ago would want such a thing, but it was all they had.

Sisyphus’s gaze fell to the endless black water of the fiery river. Ruby took the branch out of the leather purse that hung from her waist. She had put it there when she thought she was going back to Earth with Helios. It was still as perfect as the day Athena had cut it from her olive tree. Its silvery green leaves were lush. Its flawless white flowers were still delicate and slightly fragrant.

Sisyphus’s face went slack. He looked across, not to Ruby, but to the branch she held out in her palm. She bent toward the water. A smiled curved at the edge of Sisyphus’s mouth.

“Where’d they take her?” Ruby’s voice was soft as she leaned forward, poised to send this precious gift across the black water to this king she did not like. “Who was she with?”

“That way.” He tilted his head in the direction they had been headed. “She’s hidden deep. Aegaeon was with her.”

“How was she?” Ruby asked.

He took his eyes from the olive branch and looked at her. “The queen of the Underworld commands a certain level of respect, even from the foulest monster of Tartarus. Whoever’s hiding her must care for her, even if they would condemn her to this place, or else they would have sent her with Cottus.”

“How long ago?” Ares asked.

“I can’t say. I may have rolled the boulder ten times or a thousand since then. No one will ever know.”

Ruby dropped the branch into the black, slow-moving water. Sisyphus watched it as it floated to him, untouched by the flames. He picked it out of the water and held it in his cupped hands. He turned from them as if they no longer existed.

Ares started up the path again, untouched by the humanness of wanting to see something beautiful, to hold it, to own it.

Ruby allowed herself a glance back. Sisyphus placed the olive branch on the ground where he could see it. His shoulder once again pressed to his labor. The boulder rolled and scraped its way up the slope. Not one thing had changed since they came upon him, except for the faraway look in Sisyphus’s eyes.

“We have to put on the helmet,” Ares said, as soon as they had gone around the next bend.

“It’ll slow us down,” Ruby said.

“Aegaeon is no one we want to meet without at least the element of surprise.” He pulled the dark metal helmet from his pack while Ruby held the torch.

“Who are they? Aegaeon and Cottus?”

“They’re more whats than whos.” He shrugged the pack into position on his back.

She swallowed. “Okay,
what
are they, then?”

“Hecatonchires. Giants with fifty heads and one hundred arms.”

“Huh? What does that even look like?”

“I hope you’ll never have to find out. If we do run into them, hiding is our best option, though it’s almost impossible to escape their fifty sets of eyes. They have immense strength, they could easily crush both of us, and they can wield a weapon in each of their one hundred hands.”

Ruby felt the blood drain from her already nutrient-starved brain. She felt faint. The creatures themselves sounded horrible, but it was Ares’s wanting to hide instead of fight that really frightened her.

“And there are two of them?” she managed to ask.

“Three.” His blue eyes were dark in the dimness of Tartarus. “Aegaeon, Cottus, and Gyges. We need to be under the Helm of Darkness. We need to put out the torch. There’s enough light from the river to see if we’re careful.”

“Why did Sisyphus say Persephone was lucky they didn’t send Cottus?” Her head was pounding.

“He has the worst temper. Cottus the Furious they call him.”

“And Aegaeon?” Somehow she knew it wouldn’t be Aegaeon the Amiable.

“Aegaeon the Vigorous. The third brother is Gyges the Big Limbed. They have no quarrel with me or any other gods. We fought together in the Great War to overthrow the Titans, but if Hades has commanded them to guard Persephone, they won’t back down from their task.

Ares put on Hades’s helmet and disappeared. Even though she knew he was still standing there, the thought of being in that place without him scared her. The torch winked out and she jumped.

…

Dim light came from branching paths along the way, but Ruby and Ares stuck to the main. A wet dankness permeated the air and occasional screams or moans came down the passageways to them. Mostly they ignored them, arm in arm, invisible.

More shades, enduring their eternal punishments, were stationed along the path. Some were alone, others were in groups or pairs. One pair was in the middle of the path. The first shade stood on the head and shoulders of the other and reached for a golden ring. The shade beneath then threw off the first. The shade lay on the rocky ground, bleeding and bruised. He got up, and was climbed on by the shade that had thrown him off. The second shade then reached in vain for that same elusive treasure.

Ruby and Ares skirted around them. Ruby’s foot hit a stone that thudded against the side wall of the passage, but neither shade looked up. They only wanted the treasure.

Later, Ruby was lost in thought when movement on the river caught her eye. She turned to see a man chained to an island of rock in the middle of the flames. Ares slowed and removed the Helm of Darkness, making them visible again.

The man on the rock took no notice. His attention was focused on a cluster of grapes above him. He reached up, straining his body as far as he could, and almost touched them. He couldn’t reach though, and he fell away from the effort.

He gave up trying to reach the grapes and instead bent to drink from the river. As he stretched down with his cupped hands the water receded out of his grasp. He soon gave up and returned to reaching for the grapes above.

Ruby could relate to this torture more than the others. Touching Ares gave her strength and dulled her hunger. But now she looked to the juicy red grapes hanging from the large leafed vines above, and her stomach growled. She wished again for the hardtack Cerberus had eaten. She looked away from the grapes and caught sight of the water. She imagined drinking the whole river.

“Tantalus,” Ares yelled.

The man looked up and then stood. He peered across the river.

“Where is Persephone?” Ares shouted.

“Oh! Ares!” Tantalus was unsteady on his feet. His voice shook with relief. “Can you help me?” He pointed to the grapes. “I just need a boost. Then I’ll be able to reach them.”

“Persephone,” Ares repeated. “Have you seen her?”

“I think if you lace your hands together I can stand in them to reach. I only need an inch or two.”

“Did you see Aegaeon?” Ares tried a different tack.

“And the water,” Tantalus kneeled down, also approaching the conversation anew. “Do you have a cup?”

Ares looked at the half-crazed man for a long minute. His knees were scraped and bloody from reaching for water he could never get.

“Let’s go,” Ares said, as he replaced Hades’s helmet on his head. His bodiless voice finished his thought, “He can’t help us.”

Ruby glanced back to the starving man. She locked her arm with Ares’s and disappeared.

“No! Help me!” Tantalus screamed. “They’re right
there
. I can get them.”

But they were already gone.

…

The occupants of Tartarus were clustered closer together now. The river flowed away behind the rocks. It was darker and the going was slower.

Soon after leaving Tantalus, Ruby and Ares came upon a row of shadowy cells carved into the rock. Black metal bars made up the front of each cell. There were no doors. Ruby shivered when she saw them. It was colder here and something, maybe the darkness, or the foul smell, made her want to pass by quickly.

Ares quickened their pace, as if he had read her mind.

Her heart beat faster with each step. Her breath came quicker. The passage narrowed where the rocks jutted out. There was a cell on each side of the constricted path. Ruby’s head pounded. She wanted, she
needed
, to be past this place.