Eric Flint: This Rough Magic

Marco was unprepared for the tears streaming down Benito's face.

"I'm going to Hades," said Benito grimly.

"Hades?"

"Apparently where this cult sent Maria to."

"You mean Hell?"

"They say it isn't the same at all. Just the Kingdom of the Dead. Except that she is alive in it. I want to bring her home."

"Are they telling you the truth?" Manfred asked doubtfully.

Benito shrugged. "It's a chance I'll take. I'll try anything. The nymphs seem quite earnest about it. The entry is on the Greek mainland. The Byzantines are nominally at least in control, but I can get a fishing boat to take me across without causing any upset, I reckon."

"I will accompany you," Erik said firmly. "For two reasons, Benito. One is that you've come with me, and been my spear carrier, and borne me away on my shield when I needed that. The other is that I also lost someone precious. I would give anything to see her again. Anything at all."

Benito took a deep breath. "I don't know, Erik. I don't know if they'll allow it. And even if you do find Svanhild… she is dead, my friend. Maria is somehow alive down there. They tricked her into this. I'm going to get her back if I can."

Erik smiled sadly and put a hand on Benito's shoulder. "I know this. But you must understand. Even if the chances are tiny, we must take them. Even if I can only speak to her, I will accept that. The loser must accept what terms he can get. And Svan… there were so many things I still wanted to say."

Manfred lumbered to his feet. "Well, I have to tell you this. This time, you're not-either of you-going off on this without me."

"I cannot permit it. It is too risky," said Erik, automatically.

Manfred squeezed his shoulder. "Erik, you are my bodyguard and my friend. But the dangers of the halls of the dead don't relate to the body. The dead don't touch the body. They can't. What they can damage and destroy is the mind and the heart. To be honest with you: Your mind and heart are a lot more fragile than mine."

"You don't have a mind to damage, above your belt," said Erik grumpily, a spark of his old self asserting itself. "But I cannot take that chance."

"I'm not actually giving you the choice, Erik," said Manfred with simple finality.

Benito realized, then, just what power rested in the House of Hohenstaffen. The Emperor ruled millions in the Holy Roman Empire… but it wasn't just because of being in line to the throne that Manfred could speak so. Erik had always seemed to order Manfred around. For his own safety and good, of course. But when he wanted to exercise it, ultimate authority rested with Manfred. It always would.

"We'll have to do this quietly," said Manfred. "Or I'll have to go through this pointless argument with everyone. Organize it, Benito."

"The Acheron? You want the Nekromantio Arheas Efiras?" asked Spiro. "Don't do it Beni'," he said, for once in earnest. "That's a bad lot of fakes that. They prey on the fact that if you've lost someone-you're miserable. Easy victim. They're parasites, bloodsucking ticks. Once someone's time comes; they're gone." He put a hand on Benito's shoulder. "Come and have a drink with me and talk it out. I'm buying this time."

Benito was touched. Spiro's ability not to pay for wine was as legendary as the fact that he would never be serious. Now he offered to do both.

"Thanks, Spiro. Not this time. And I'm not going to the Nekromantio. Maria was taken before her time. I have talked to the nonhuman waterfolk. They say there is a way that I could go, on a lake called Acheroussia. And neither you nor anyone else can stop me. Apparently if it isn't my time, the Lord of the place can't touch me. Of course, he might not help either."

"Well, we'll take you. Land you quietly. The truth is the Byzantine officials aren't locals and the locals aren't about to tell them about a fishing boat from Corfu. A Venetian galley would be another matter."

Benito nodded knowingly. "Exactly what I thought. So: Can I hire a passage over?

Spiro nodded. "Taki will say yes."

Manfred spent the trip over-polishing his armor. Polishing it to a mirror-gloss. Manfred was methodical about weapons and armor, without the fanaticism that characterized some Knights. This was excessive and unlike him.

Finally Erik asked why he was doing it.

"Cleanliness is next to godliness. And where we're supposed to be going to… I thought I could use a bit of help."

Erik snorted. "In your case, I think it is futile."

"My nurse used to tell me about the gray hosts when I was a gossoon," said Manfred. "Bright steel was supposed to banish 'em. I thought it might be useful."

From the hilltop, they could see the lake. Its dark waters were long and narrow, and a patch of cold mist clung to the middle. But it looked depressingly like a very ordinary lake.

They walked down to the edge where the limnaiad awaited them with a bag of old, old coins. She pointed at a seemingly ordinary boat rowing toward them. "Charon. You will need the obols for the ferryman. Don't expect the other side to be anything you recognize."

Erik shrugged. "I can see the other side from here. It looks very much the same as this side."

"There is more than one other side to the Acheroussia," said the limnaiad, in a cool voice. "You'll see."

Benito opened the bag and counted the coins. "Three is not enough," he said, sternly. "I want eight."

The limnaiad pouted. "They said you wouldn't know."

"The more foolish them, whoever they were."

"The Crenae."

"I wonder how well they do in dry fountains. I saw some ways of draining this lake, on the way here."

"Don't pay the ferryman until you get right across," said the limnaiad hastily.

The beach of black sand seemed to stretch to the far horizons. The only mark on it was the keel of the ferryman's boat. And looking back they could only see mist.

"You won't need the rest of that," grumbled the ferryman, as Benito put the purse away.

"Return fare."

The ferryman snorted. "I've never had one."

"We'd still hate to get back here and find you weren't going to take us because of it," said Manfred cheerfully.

They walked onward, in toward the gray gloom of the interior of Death's country. The way ahead was funneled by tall, glassy black cliffs. And then they came to an end point, a place where only three trails led on. One steep, rocky and draggled with straggly thorns, and seeming to peter out a few hundred yards on. The second, wide and well cobbled, went on into the middle distance. The third seemed to lead off into a valley winding up toward the cliff-top.

"Where now?" asked Benito, looking at the three trails.

Erik took one look. "The narrow one. The hardest one. Mortals are not supposed to pass."

"It would be," said Manfred with a groan. Climbing a steep path in armor was pure misery.

Upward and ever upward the trail wound. Eventually they came out at a misty gray plain.

"Do we have any idea where we're going next?" asked Manfred.

"To look for the dead, I suppose," said Benito.

"We're already among them," said Erik slowly.

Benito realized that the gray mist around them was full of shifting forms, almost seen…

Out of the corner of his eye he could see faces. He could also see the expression of eagerness on Erik's face.

Benito took out a small crock sealed with wax from the bag he'd carried with him. He opened it and poured the contents into a dish.

"What's that?"

"Colyva. Taki insisted I bring it. He said it feeds the souls of the dead and they'd be more likely to leave us in peace." Taki had had no trouble in believing they were coming to visit the dead. The captain had stayed sober the whole trip and Benito had seen him crossing himself and fingering an amulet repeatedly.