Page 87 of Made

It was hard to tell if his repetition of what Araxinthe had said about their expected condition was sarcastic or not. But it sounded that way to Keir.

“One thing,” Kagan went on. “Do we have your assurance that the barge will be waiting?”

Araxinthe raised her chin. “Of course. The barge will dock until there’s reason to believe you won’t need a round trip.”

“One more thing,” Kagan said.

“Well? What is it?”

“I’d always believed the Land of the Unworthy Dead is set aside for the unworthy. I do no’ think we qualify. So, does being turned away suffice for fulfilling the challenge?”

The overseer smirked. “You’re expected. Unworthy or not.”

When it seemed that was all he would get out of her, Kagan checked in with Keir and Killian. “Ready?” he asked.

They indicated agreement with nods.

“Ready,” he told Araxinthe.

With a wave of her hand and no further word spoken, a doorway was opened. What appeared on the other side was dark and foreboding, but, of course, they were prepared for that. None of the sephalia were naïve enough to think the Land of the Unworthy Dead was a happy place with rainbows and colorful flowers.

Kagan walked through without hesitation, followed by Killian and Keir. Since Killian was tipsy, Keir was deliberately choosing to bring up the rear. He and Kagan would’ve preferred a stone cold sober Killian, but they knew it would get them nowhere to suggest their brother put a pause on whiskey for the duration of their quest.

Just before he went through the portal, Keir had an almost uncontrollable impulse to look back and reconsider. He couldn’t get his wife’s pleas out of his head. But he took a deep breath and began mentally chanting,Trust your brothers. Trust your brothers.

Once the portal had more or less slammed shut behind them, they each did their own survey of the surroundings. It looked remarkably similar to every report they’d ever heard about the River Styx. They supposed it’d been created in darkness and cursed to remain so forever. The water was black. The sky was black.

With their exceptionally keen eyesight, they were able to make out the barge and the boatman dressed like everybody’s notion of a grim reaper. The absence of light was relieved by lamps, one at either end of the barge. Since no fuel source was evident, it was logical to conclude the flames originated in magic.

“What’s the plan?” he whispered to Kagan.

Kagan dug into his pockets and pulled out handfuls of gold coins. He gave one to Keir and one to Killian. “They say the boatman treats you right for a gold coin. I figured, if he can be bought for gold coins, I’ll bring gold coins.”

Keir laughed. “Where’ve you been hiding this genius all our lives?” He didn’t expect an answer. Nor did he get one. “So, is there more? To the plan?”

“Rule is I’m supposed to enter and return. I’m thinkin’ I’ll keep one foot on the boat, touch the other foot to the shore, and we’ll be done.”

“Easy breezy,” said Killian. “Why put yourself in danger when you can just outsmart the woman?”

“Aye. That,” answered Kagan.

Plan in place, the three approached the barge with as much confidence as it warranted. After boarding the barge, they each gave the boatman one gold coin. It wasn’t possible to make out the boatman’s face, but after seeing the long skeletal fingers outstretched to receive the coins, they were just as glad the thing was hidden.

The barge shoved away from shore and was picked up by the river’s current. Since none of the three were especially interested in relaxing, they made the journey standing up. And in silence. The macabre atmosphere of the river seemed to ask for silence.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. It could’ve been a few minutes or a half day. As reported by legend, time ceases to be of importance in the underworld.

When the barge moored at shore, Kagan looked back at his brothers as if to say, “This is it.”

Keir looked up. They were facing a slickrock wall face that seemed to stretch upward to infinity. Directly in front of them was a black hole. Literally. A cave mouth that screamed sinister intent. Torches were set into the stone on either side of the opening and, right in the center, blocking entrance to the cave was Cerberus.

“Gods preserve us,” said Killian. “It’s just as ugly as they say.”

Cerberus was reported to be a three-headed dog. It was the size of a large, pointy-eared Great Dane, but three heads equal more mass, so it looked bigger. Its coat was so slick it looked more like shiny black skin than fur, stretched over a dense, muscular body. Its eyes were aglow with red flame, fangs so thick and long it couldn’t close any of its mouths completely. In short, the sight of it would definitely discourage a lost soul from voluntarily wandering into the depths.

The monster wasn’t growling. Nor was it straining against the heavy chain that held it. The thick links split into three sections about two feet away from the creature’s head and were affixed to corresponding collars. It stood calmly staring at them. Perhaps it was wondering why three lions who didn’t register as unworthy had arrived at the worst part of the Underworld.

Kagan readied himself to execute his plan by leaning into the boat, putting more weight on his right side, but when his left foot touched the shore, he was instantly sucked away, helpless as a piece of lint in the presence of a powerful vacuum. The boatman had the audacity to laugh out loud. The tworemaining passengers both turned their heads toward him at the same time. Most creatures would have the good sense to be bothered by that, but not the boatman. His laugh was so discordant and disconcerting that Keir’s furry hackles reflexively raised to standing. A millisecond after his vocal cords produced a deep, gravelly growl, Keir lunged at the boatman, but the thing disappeared, leaving nothing but an empty barge and two sephalia. Keir’s partial shift evaporated as quickly as had his target.

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