10-29-2026, 02:04 AM
The passage Hades opened from the palace delivered him into a chamber of black stone, where the air was cold enough to sting the lungs. He stepped between the columns and the conjunction closed behind him, leaving only the empty space between its pillars.
A Ker waited. Her porcelain mask bore the three crescents of Nyx, their arrangement matching that of the one who had come to the Mnemeion. She inclined her head silently as he approached, then turned to lead him onward.
Hades followed without speaking. The labyrinth surrounding Tartarus extended far beyond the portions he had adapted for the confinement of the Titans. Its original builders, whomever they were, had left behind an extraordinary arrangement of tunnels, chambers, moving fortifications, and mechanisms whose purposes were not always apparent. The Pylai Hades had subsequently installed made the approach more difficult still. A traveler might find a perfectly functioning pair, pass safely through its conjunction, and emerge somewhere from which no passage led onward. Others could not be activated at all. Some required sequences known only to those entrusted with their operation.
He had taken particular satisfaction in making the route toward Tartarus all but impossible to navigate without his permission. Now someone was trying.
The Ker led him to a gallery overlooking the labyrinth. Its passages stretched away beneath them in immense terraces of rough stone, interrupted by gulfs and towering walls whose upper reaches disappeared into darkness. Here and there, a distant light illuminated the face of a column or the edge of a platform, revealing fragments of architecture otherwise concealed by shadow. Some belonged to the systems Hades had installed; others were remnants of the original prison, still functioning after eons of neglect. Farther still, the labyrinth continued into depths that no eye could follow.
A wind moved through the depths below, rising and falling in long, uneven breaths. An occasional gust reached their gallery, cool against his face and strong enough to stir the folds of his coat. Somewhere in the ancient passages, wind storms would be making their eternal circuits. Their courses varied with the shifting architecture, sometimes little more than a restless stirring of air and at others gathering into a violence capable of scouring the passages clean. Hades had never found reason to interfere with it.
Nyx waited near the gallery's edge.
She wore darkness as naturally as another goddess might wear silk, her figure discernible against the stone less by the light surrounding her than by the absence of it. Hades had known her for centuries without ever becoming entirely accustomed to her presence. There was something about a goddess that predated the Titans that made ordinary measures of age and authority seem inadequate. Zeus had once shown a healthy reluctance to provoke her. Hades had found cooperation considerably more rewarding.
Nyx regarded him with mild curiosity, the uncertain light tracing her high cheekbones and the fine angles of her face. Her dark hair was drawn away from her face, emphasizing the severe beauty of features that centuries of familiarity had rendered no less striking.
"Your daughter said there have been four unauthorized alignments."
"Four were attempted. The fifth remains open."
"Where?"
Nyx gestured toward a distant region of the labyrinth, where the immense walls descended through successive levels before disappearing into darkness. Hades knew the Pyle she meant, though it lay far beyond their sight.
"The first attempts failed almost immediately. Each endured a little longer than the last."
There was a note of genuine interest in her voice. Hades did not share it.
"I shall close it."
"I expect you shall."
Nyx's attention returned to the labyrinth. He inclined his head and departed, and she made no move to accompany him.
The route beyond the gallery descended through a series of passages built into the walls of the gulf. Hades knew them well enough to proceed without consulting their markers, though he paid close attention to the movements of the surrounding stone. Sections of the labyrinth shifted often. A passage that stood open at one hour might be concealed at the next, and a stairway might withdraw into the wall while a traveler was still upon it.
He passed through an arch as the corridor behind him began to turn. Heavy masonry moved with the rough grind of stone over stone, closing the opening through which he had come. Hades continued, untroubled by the movement. Another route would become available farther ahead.
Something disturbed the upper edge of the wall. He instantly stopped.
A dark shape stirred within the fissure, then a long, sharply tapered limb eased into view, nearly the length of a man's forearm. It swept slowly from side to side, probing the darkness beyond the opening. Behind it, something armored began to emerge, its flattened body sliding over the masonry as overlapping plates separated and settled into place. A Skelith. Hundreds of narrow legs found purchase against the wall as the creature drew its immense length from a crevice scarcely wide enough to admit a man's hand. Its armor was mottled in irregular shades of black and gray, so nearly matched to the surrounding rock that its outline vanished whenever it became still.
Hades carefully stepped into the shelter of a recessed doorway.
He had encountered Skelith before. No one knew how long they had inhabited the labyrinth, or whether their ancestors had been present when its original builders first occupied the place. They possessed no Dynamis, but their strength, armor, and remarkable ability to exploit the shifting architecture made them formidable predators. They remembered the movements of the passages, anticipated where prey might be trapped, and could remain motionless for hours against the stone.
This one was large enough that killing it would require some effort. More importantly, the disturbance would likely attract others. Skelith were sensitive to the smell of blood and an injured specimen could bring several of its kind out of hiding.
Hades waited for it to pass.
It paused near the opposite wall, flattened itself until it seemed impossibly thin, then vanished over the upper edge.
Only when the faint rasp of its movement had ceased did Hades continue.
He advanced through a succession of narrow passages until he reached an opening whose ceiling disappeared into darkness. Several scattered Pylai occupied the floor at irregular intervals, their columns rising from separate platforms connected by short stairways. Some had been abandoned when Hades constructed the final defenses. Others remained functional but offered destinations of little use to anyone attempting to escape.
Two mortals stood near one of the dormant pairs. They wore dark, close-fitting garments of durable woven fabric, reinforced at the seams and joints, with short, fitted jackets secured at the waist. Narrow pockets and straps kept their equipment close to their bodies, while soft-soled boots suggested an effort to move quietly. One studied a slender technema while the other examined the Pyle columns.
So mortals had succeeded in opening a conjunction after all.
Between the columns, the conjunction stood open. Hades studied it for a moment, searching for some sign of how the mortals had accomplished the impossible. Everything appeared as it should, save that the passage existed at all. He had taken considerable care to ensure that it could not.
The men spoke quietly. Their movements were efficient and practiced. They appeared accustomed to working together, and neither showed any particular concern at the movements of the surrounding walls. Evidently they had encountered enough of the labyrinth to regard its changes as ordinary hazards. That suited him.
He could have killed them where they stood. A sufficient exertion of Dynamis would have crushed the technemata, collapsed the conjunction, and left little of either mortal worth examining. But he needed one of these men alive. Preferably both.
He studied their positions and the passages surrounding them. The man with the smaller technema stood nearest the active conjunction. His companion had moved several paces away to examine an adjoining platform. Beyond that platform lay a dormant Pyle whose paired destination Hades knew intimately.
It would serve.
Hades drew upon Dynamis, directing it into the sleeping columns. The response was immediate, and a stable opening appeared. Its destination remained precisely where it had always been, but nothing in the chamber indicated who had initiated the connection. Both mortals turned toward it.
One of the men approached the newly opened conjunction, studying the Pyle with the technema. He called something to his companion, who remained beside their original, then gestured for him to join him.
Hades allowed them a moment before drawing upon Dynamis and setting a nearby wall in motion.
A great section of stone began sliding out from the side of the chamber, advancing slowly across the open space between the two platforms. The mortals glanced toward it without alarm. The labyrinth had rearranged itself around them before, and neither appeared particularly troubled by another movement of its walls.
The man beside the newly opened Pyle stepped away from the advancing stone, leaving his companion on the opposite side. Only when the partition passed the midpoint of the chamber did he seem to realize that it would cut them off entirely. He called out, gesturing for the other man to come around.
His companion hurried toward him, but the space between the moving wall and the opposite masonry was narrowing rapidly. He approached the gap, hesitated at the tremendous weight of stone sliding toward him, then retreated.
The two men shouted to one another across the remaining opening. Before either could find another way through, the partition met the opposite wall with a deep, reverberating impact.
Hades watched from concealment as the nearer mortal approached the new obstruction, calling to his companion through the stone. This one presented little immediate difficulty. He remained beside the Pyle through which they had entered, and Hades knew every passage leading away from it.
The other was a different matter. The newly opened conjunction lay on his side of the partition, offering him a route into a completely different region of the labyrinth. If the man ventured through it, he might be lost before Hades could reach him.
Hades withdrew from his vantage point and entered a narrow corridor behind him. The passage descended through several turns before reaching a stairway that appeared to end against solid stone. He continued without hesitation, slipping through an opening in the masonry that revealed itself only briefly as the surrounding walls changed position.
Beyond it, a gallery overlooked an immense gulf. Far below, a pair of columns stood upon a narrow platform, their pale surfaces barely distinguishable in the gloom. Hades descended to them and drew upon Dynamis, opening the conjunction. He passed between the columns and emerged elsewhere in the labyrinth, behind the great partition that had separated the intruders.
He closed the conjunction and continued through a passage concealed among the surrounding walls. The route was one of countless shortcuts he had preserved when adapting the labyrinth to his purposes, inaccessible to anyone who did not know precisely where to look.
Ahead, a voice echoed faintly through the stone. The mortal was calling for his companion again, and Hades quickened his pace. He reached a narrow recess overlooking the isolated platform and found the man standing beside the open Pyle, his apparatus hanging at his side.
The mortal called once more, listened, then turned toward the conjunction. A faint scraping sound came from the chamber beyond the columns. He raised his apparatus and approached the opening, peering into the darkness on the other side.
Hades knew that sound.
He had intended to take both men alive. Their accounts could be compared, and each might possess knowledge the other lacked. The mortal was within easy reach, and there were ample ways to subdue him before he could resist.
Another faint scrape reached him from beyond the Pyle.
The man leaned closer, apparently trying to determine what had moved within the chamber. Hades watched him for a moment, struck by the peculiar confidence of someone who had penetrated the defenses of Tartarus and still believed its mysteries could be uncovered through patient examination. He had entered a place forbidden to him, tampered with protections laid down over centuries, and now stood on the threshold of a danger he could scarcely imagine.
Hades considered the man a moment longer. He could take him alive, certainly. But the mortal had come to Tartarus seeking its secrets, and Hades found himself disinclined to deny him this particular discovery. He stepped out of concealment and crossed the distance without a sound.
The man became aware of him only when Hades seized a fistful of his jacket between the shoulders. He cried out and twisted, attempting to see his attacker, but Hades drove him toward the columns before he could turn. His free hand caught the man's wrist, wrenching his arm aside as he struggled to regain his footing.
A narrow edge of mageia opened the skin along the man's forearm. Blood began to run down his fingers. He cried out as Hades shoved him through the conjunction.
The mortal stumbled into the darkness and fell heavily to one hip. His apparatus struck the stone beside him, scattering several small components. He scrambled upright, clutching his bleeding arm, looked around the unfamiliar chamber, and turned back toward the gateway.
Hades stood on the other side. Recognition spread across the man's face.
"You came to learn about the Underworld. Then learn."
The mortal stared at him, bewildered. Then something struck him from behind.
An enormous shape lifted from the darkness against the wall, its armored body unfolding in a violent rush of articulated legs. It came over him before he could turn, driving him face-first into the stone. A scream tore from his throat as the creature's limbs closed around his body, their hooked ends finding purchase in his clothing and flesh.
The Skelith dragged him backward with astonishing speed. He clawed at the floor, his arms and legs scraping uselessly against the stone as the creature hauled him toward a narrow fissure. His cries grew frantic when its flattened body began forcing itself into the opening, taking him with it.
Hades watched the struggle, then let his gaze travel beyond it. The surrounding darkness was moving as the walls came alive.
Overlapping ridges along the walls began separating from the masonry. Armored segments lifted, revealing hundreds of narrow legs beneath them. Skelith uncoiled along the ceiling, their immense bodies emerging into the light. Farther back, still more shapes stirred among the stone.
The mortal's screams continued from somewhere within the fissure, growing muffled as the creature dragged him deeper into the bedrock. The others were already converging upon the disturbance, following their meal.
Hades closed the conjunction. The cries ended abruptly, leaving the empty space between the columns. He regarded the silent Pyle for a moment, then wiped the blood from his fingers.
He turned toward the adjoining passage.
He still required a living prisoner.
He hurried back the way he had come. The route soon delivered him to his original vantage point overlooking the chamber where he had first discovered the intruders, and the surviving mortal was still there.
He had abandoned his measurements and was examining the partition that had separated him from his companion. He pressed his hands against the stone, searching for some indication of movement, then leaned close enough to place his ear against it. Twice he called out. When no answer came, he struck the wall with the heel of his hand and shouted again.
At last he stepped away and surveyed the remaining exits as if weighing his options. His attention settled upon a narrow passage. He hesitated as though choosing at random, looked back once more, and entered it.
Hades followed.
The corridor descended through a succession of turns, its walls broken by recesses deep enough to conceal a person. The mortal stopped frequently, listening at intersections and examining passages before committing himself to them. At one he called his companion's name. The echoes returned it several times, each repetition fainter and less distinct than the last.
Hades remained beyond his sight.
He needed the man alive, and that required some care. The Atharim at the Nekromanteion had managed to poison himself before they could stop it. This one likely carried the same precaution, and a sudden confrontation would give him precisely the opportunity Hades wished to deny.
Beyond the next bend, the corridor ended at a massive stone doorway. The mortal stood before it, examining the seam between its panels. He braced one shoulder against the door and pushed, but it refused to move. He tried again, then stepped back and searched the surrounding masonry for some means of opening it.
Hades watched from a recess twenty-five paces behind him. Folds of mageia deepened the shadows around his position, obscuring the outline of his figure without disturbing the light elsewhere in the passage. From here he could see the mortal clearly enough, and the narrow corridor offered few places for the man to conceal his movements.
A low roar traveled through the corridor behind him.
Hades turned his head. The sound was distant but unmistakable, a continuous thunder that seemed to come from somewhere deep within the labyrinth. He felt its approach through the floor before the first movement of air touched his neck.
The Black Breath of Tartarus.
Ahead, the mortal paused beside the sealed doorway. He had heard it too, though he appeared uncertain of its source.
Hades knew better. The corridor was narrow, the door impassable, and the roar was growing louder. Of all the passages the fool might have chosen, he had managed to find one with no escape from the approaching Breath. Hades felt a sharp irritation at the prospect of losing another prisoner before a single useful answer could be obtained. He abandoned his concealment and ran.
The first gust struck his back before he had covered half the distance, driving his coat against his legs and lifting dust from the floor. Ahead, the mortal turned toward the sound. He had scarcely raised an arm before the wind slammed him against the doorway.
The roar gathered strength with astonishing speed. Hades drew mageia around himself as he ran, forcing the worst of the current aside. Grit streamed past him in furious sheets, and fragments of loose masonry rattled along the stone. A jagged piece struck his protection near the shoulder and shattered in a spray. He could divert the Black Breath into the deeper passages, but not before it overtook the mortal. For now, he needed only to reach him.
The mortal crouched against the door, his arms locked over his head. His clothing snapped violently around his body, and blood ran from a cut above his brow.
Hades was nearly upon him when a spray of gravel burst down from above. He swept it aside with Dynamis, scattering the fragments against the opposite wall, and reached the doorway as the wind rose to a deafening pitch.
He spread his protection around them both.
The man sagged against the stone. His face remained buried beneath his arms, and he seemed unaware that anyone had reached him. Hades stood between him and the corridor, holding the rushing debris at bay while the Black Breath gathered around them. Then the roar diminished.
The change came so suddenly that Hades heard the faint patter of dust settling upon his coat. The wind slackened, the loose fabric at his knees fell still, and the corridor emerged from the darkness in fragments as the airborne grit began to clear. The eye of the breath had reached them. Hades knew its passage would be brief; a few seconds at most. The Black Breath gathered into vast churning currents, and this pocket of calm would last only until its opposite side swept overhead.
Behind him, the mortal lowered his arms. He was gasping, his face streaked with dust and blood, his eyes streaming from the grit that filled his eyes. He tried to draw a deeper breath, coughed, and wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. Only then did he seem to notice someone was standing between him and the corridor.
Hades paid him little immediate attention. The brief calm was already passing, and he felt the Black Breath gathering beyond it, the great turning wind swept back toward the doorway with a violence far greater than before. The first grains of dust began to rise from the floor. He spread his arms and drew upon Dynamis, preparing to meet its return.
Wind struck the corridor with such force that the stone trembled beneath his feet. Hades divided the oncoming current, sending half tearing along the wall to his left and the other half to his right. Between them he preserved a narrow refuge extending back to the doorway, where the mortal remained crouched against the stone. Dust and gravel streamed past on either side, and fragments of masonry shattered against the walls as the Black Breath hurled them through the passage.
He held his ground. The currents pressed against his control, their combined force sufficient to scour flesh from bone. He widened their separation, forcing the violent streams farther apart even as the pressure built around him. A jagged fragment of stone came hurtling through the darkness. Without disturbing his hold upon the wind, Hades caught it with splintered focus mageia and sent it spinning harmlessly into the passing current.
Then his ears began to ache. The pain settled behind his eyes and deep within his skull. He attempted to inhale and found the air strangely inadequate. His lungs expanded, but there was scarcely enough pressure to draw breath. Moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes, and a sharp sting beneath his nose made him wonder whether it had begun to bleed. He resisted the impulse to touch his face.
Behind him, the mortal's weight shifted against the protection Hades had extended around them. He glanced over his shoulder and found the man on his knees, one hand clutching his throat while the other tore at his collar. His mouth opened in desperate attempts to breathe, but no air seemed to enter his lungs.
Hades understood his error at once. In diverting the wind, he had deprived their refuge of the pressure needed to sustain a breath. An oversight, and one that would shortly cost him the only living witness to the intrusion. His irritation sharpened into alarm. He turned back toward the storm and reached for the air gathering in the adjoining passages.
He extended another exertion of Dynamis into a neighboring passage, gathering a volume of air and enclosing it around them. With it, the pressure rose. His ears cleared with a painful release, and he drew a deep, satisfying breath. A glance confirmed the man behind him could breathe.
Hades felt a measure of satisfaction. He had been obliged to save an intruder from the very defenses intended to destroy him. The irony might have amused him more had the circumstances been less inconvenient. At least the man was breathing.
On either side of their refuge, the Black Breath still raged, its immense currents pressing against the narrow space he had preserved. Hades reached into the labyrinth's depths, finding the familiar passages through which he had so often directed their violence. He had no intention of extinguishing the Breath. It had served him faithfully for centuries, and would again.
He began turning its course, guiding the separate currents away from the corridor. The task should have demanded considerable concentration, particularly while maintaining the air around his prisoner. Yet Dynamis answered with an abundance that made each adjustment almost effortless. He found he could manage the immense forces with a delicacy ordinarily reserved for far lesser endeavors, separating one current from another without diminishing his hold upon either.
The discovery pleased him. A smile touched his face as he drew more deeply into his divine power, savoring the precision with which the Black Breath yielded to his command.
He spread his arms farther, and the divided torrents swept away through the adjoining passages. The roar receded into the depths, leaving only scattered grit drifting through the corridor. Small stones rattled against the floor and settled.
Hades maintained their refuge until the air had recovered, then released his hold upon it.
Silence settled.
He lowered his arms. His coat was disheveled and coated with pale dust, the wind having torn his hair from its customary order. His eyes still watered, and the sharp sting in his sinuses lingered. He wiped his face with the back of one hand, satisfied to find no trace of blood. Then he turned.
The mortal remained on his knees against the doorway. He slowly looked up at Hades with an expression of stunned gratitude, apparently unable to comprehend how he had survived. The expression lasted only a moment. Recognition came slowly, then all at once. His eyes widened. He recoiled against the stone, the relief draining from his face as he understood who stood before him.
Hades regarded him with mild amusement. A moment ago the mortal had looked upon him as a deliverer. Now he recoiled as though the Black Breath itself had returned. Hades supposed the change was understandable, though it seemed a poor acknowledgment of the trouble he had taken to preserve his life.
"Killing your companion may have been rash," Hades said, voice cold. "I shall exercise better judgment with you."
Hades closed the distance in an instant, seizing the mortal by the jaw and forcing his head back against the doorway. The man struggled, throwing his weight against Hades and reaching for his arm, but the god scarcely yielded. Lashes of mageia sprang from around him, catching the mortal's wrists and drawing them against the stone. Another secured his shoulders, leaving him straining uselessly against the restraints.
Hades caught the movement of something small pressing against the inside of the man's cheek. He tightened his grip upon the mortal's jaw, forcing his mouth open before his teeth could meet.
"I have seen that trick before."
The man struggled to close his mouth, but Hades held him fast. With considerable distaste, he inserted two fingers between the mortal's teeth and hooked the small pellet from his cheek. The unpleasant warmth of the man's saliva against his skin only deepened his disgust. He withdrew his hand, holding the pellet between his fingertips as though it were something particularly foul.
Hades examined the pellet. The man's resistance faltered at the sight of it, his breathing still ragged from the ordeal. Only then did Hades loosen his grip and withdraw his hand. The lashes of mageia remained, holding the prisoner securely against the doorway.
”You and I will speak again,” Hades said. A faint movement sounded behind him. He did not turn. The soft approach was familiar, and he had sensed her presence before she emerged from the darkness.
The Ker came forward without announcement, her porcelain mask pale against the black of her robes. Hades extended the pellet toward her, and she accepted it between two gloved fingers, examining it briefly before concealing it within her garments.
The prisoner watched the exchange. His eyes followed the Ker as she approached, and what little composure he had recovered began to desert him.
"Keep him alive enough to talk."
The Ker inclined her head. At a gesture from Hades, the lashes of mageia released the mortal into her custody.
Hades watched them disappear into the darkness. He brushed the last of the dust from his sleeve and turned toward the deeper labyrinth. There was still a conjunction to close, and the approaches to Tartarus required further examination.
A Ker waited. Her porcelain mask bore the three crescents of Nyx, their arrangement matching that of the one who had come to the Mnemeion. She inclined her head silently as he approached, then turned to lead him onward.
Hades followed without speaking. The labyrinth surrounding Tartarus extended far beyond the portions he had adapted for the confinement of the Titans. Its original builders, whomever they were, had left behind an extraordinary arrangement of tunnels, chambers, moving fortifications, and mechanisms whose purposes were not always apparent. The Pylai Hades had subsequently installed made the approach more difficult still. A traveler might find a perfectly functioning pair, pass safely through its conjunction, and emerge somewhere from which no passage led onward. Others could not be activated at all. Some required sequences known only to those entrusted with their operation.
He had taken particular satisfaction in making the route toward Tartarus all but impossible to navigate without his permission. Now someone was trying.
The Ker led him to a gallery overlooking the labyrinth. Its passages stretched away beneath them in immense terraces of rough stone, interrupted by gulfs and towering walls whose upper reaches disappeared into darkness. Here and there, a distant light illuminated the face of a column or the edge of a platform, revealing fragments of architecture otherwise concealed by shadow. Some belonged to the systems Hades had installed; others were remnants of the original prison, still functioning after eons of neglect. Farther still, the labyrinth continued into depths that no eye could follow.
A wind moved through the depths below, rising and falling in long, uneven breaths. An occasional gust reached their gallery, cool against his face and strong enough to stir the folds of his coat. Somewhere in the ancient passages, wind storms would be making their eternal circuits. Their courses varied with the shifting architecture, sometimes little more than a restless stirring of air and at others gathering into a violence capable of scouring the passages clean. Hades had never found reason to interfere with it.
Nyx waited near the gallery's edge.
She wore darkness as naturally as another goddess might wear silk, her figure discernible against the stone less by the light surrounding her than by the absence of it. Hades had known her for centuries without ever becoming entirely accustomed to her presence. There was something about a goddess that predated the Titans that made ordinary measures of age and authority seem inadequate. Zeus had once shown a healthy reluctance to provoke her. Hades had found cooperation considerably more rewarding.
Nyx regarded him with mild curiosity, the uncertain light tracing her high cheekbones and the fine angles of her face. Her dark hair was drawn away from her face, emphasizing the severe beauty of features that centuries of familiarity had rendered no less striking.
"Your daughter said there have been four unauthorized alignments."
"Four were attempted. The fifth remains open."
"Where?"
Nyx gestured toward a distant region of the labyrinth, where the immense walls descended through successive levels before disappearing into darkness. Hades knew the Pyle she meant, though it lay far beyond their sight.
"The first attempts failed almost immediately. Each endured a little longer than the last."
There was a note of genuine interest in her voice. Hades did not share it.
"I shall close it."
"I expect you shall."
Nyx's attention returned to the labyrinth. He inclined his head and departed, and she made no move to accompany him.
The route beyond the gallery descended through a series of passages built into the walls of the gulf. Hades knew them well enough to proceed without consulting their markers, though he paid close attention to the movements of the surrounding stone. Sections of the labyrinth shifted often. A passage that stood open at one hour might be concealed at the next, and a stairway might withdraw into the wall while a traveler was still upon it.
He passed through an arch as the corridor behind him began to turn. Heavy masonry moved with the rough grind of stone over stone, closing the opening through which he had come. Hades continued, untroubled by the movement. Another route would become available farther ahead.
Something disturbed the upper edge of the wall. He instantly stopped.
A dark shape stirred within the fissure, then a long, sharply tapered limb eased into view, nearly the length of a man's forearm. It swept slowly from side to side, probing the darkness beyond the opening. Behind it, something armored began to emerge, its flattened body sliding over the masonry as overlapping plates separated and settled into place. A Skelith. Hundreds of narrow legs found purchase against the wall as the creature drew its immense length from a crevice scarcely wide enough to admit a man's hand. Its armor was mottled in irregular shades of black and gray, so nearly matched to the surrounding rock that its outline vanished whenever it became still.
Hades carefully stepped into the shelter of a recessed doorway.
He had encountered Skelith before. No one knew how long they had inhabited the labyrinth, or whether their ancestors had been present when its original builders first occupied the place. They possessed no Dynamis, but their strength, armor, and remarkable ability to exploit the shifting architecture made them formidable predators. They remembered the movements of the passages, anticipated where prey might be trapped, and could remain motionless for hours against the stone.
This one was large enough that killing it would require some effort. More importantly, the disturbance would likely attract others. Skelith were sensitive to the smell of blood and an injured specimen could bring several of its kind out of hiding.
Hades waited for it to pass.
It paused near the opposite wall, flattened itself until it seemed impossibly thin, then vanished over the upper edge.
Only when the faint rasp of its movement had ceased did Hades continue.
He advanced through a succession of narrow passages until he reached an opening whose ceiling disappeared into darkness. Several scattered Pylai occupied the floor at irregular intervals, their columns rising from separate platforms connected by short stairways. Some had been abandoned when Hades constructed the final defenses. Others remained functional but offered destinations of little use to anyone attempting to escape.
Two mortals stood near one of the dormant pairs. They wore dark, close-fitting garments of durable woven fabric, reinforced at the seams and joints, with short, fitted jackets secured at the waist. Narrow pockets and straps kept their equipment close to their bodies, while soft-soled boots suggested an effort to move quietly. One studied a slender technema while the other examined the Pyle columns.
So mortals had succeeded in opening a conjunction after all.
Between the columns, the conjunction stood open. Hades studied it for a moment, searching for some sign of how the mortals had accomplished the impossible. Everything appeared as it should, save that the passage existed at all. He had taken considerable care to ensure that it could not.
The men spoke quietly. Their movements were efficient and practiced. They appeared accustomed to working together, and neither showed any particular concern at the movements of the surrounding walls. Evidently they had encountered enough of the labyrinth to regard its changes as ordinary hazards. That suited him.
He could have killed them where they stood. A sufficient exertion of Dynamis would have crushed the technemata, collapsed the conjunction, and left little of either mortal worth examining. But he needed one of these men alive. Preferably both.
He studied their positions and the passages surrounding them. The man with the smaller technema stood nearest the active conjunction. His companion had moved several paces away to examine an adjoining platform. Beyond that platform lay a dormant Pyle whose paired destination Hades knew intimately.
It would serve.
Hades drew upon Dynamis, directing it into the sleeping columns. The response was immediate, and a stable opening appeared. Its destination remained precisely where it had always been, but nothing in the chamber indicated who had initiated the connection. Both mortals turned toward it.
One of the men approached the newly opened conjunction, studying the Pyle with the technema. He called something to his companion, who remained beside their original, then gestured for him to join him.
Hades allowed them a moment before drawing upon Dynamis and setting a nearby wall in motion.
A great section of stone began sliding out from the side of the chamber, advancing slowly across the open space between the two platforms. The mortals glanced toward it without alarm. The labyrinth had rearranged itself around them before, and neither appeared particularly troubled by another movement of its walls.
The man beside the newly opened Pyle stepped away from the advancing stone, leaving his companion on the opposite side. Only when the partition passed the midpoint of the chamber did he seem to realize that it would cut them off entirely. He called out, gesturing for the other man to come around.
His companion hurried toward him, but the space between the moving wall and the opposite masonry was narrowing rapidly. He approached the gap, hesitated at the tremendous weight of stone sliding toward him, then retreated.
The two men shouted to one another across the remaining opening. Before either could find another way through, the partition met the opposite wall with a deep, reverberating impact.
Hades watched from concealment as the nearer mortal approached the new obstruction, calling to his companion through the stone. This one presented little immediate difficulty. He remained beside the Pyle through which they had entered, and Hades knew every passage leading away from it.
The other was a different matter. The newly opened conjunction lay on his side of the partition, offering him a route into a completely different region of the labyrinth. If the man ventured through it, he might be lost before Hades could reach him.
Hades withdrew from his vantage point and entered a narrow corridor behind him. The passage descended through several turns before reaching a stairway that appeared to end against solid stone. He continued without hesitation, slipping through an opening in the masonry that revealed itself only briefly as the surrounding walls changed position.
Beyond it, a gallery overlooked an immense gulf. Far below, a pair of columns stood upon a narrow platform, their pale surfaces barely distinguishable in the gloom. Hades descended to them and drew upon Dynamis, opening the conjunction. He passed between the columns and emerged elsewhere in the labyrinth, behind the great partition that had separated the intruders.
He closed the conjunction and continued through a passage concealed among the surrounding walls. The route was one of countless shortcuts he had preserved when adapting the labyrinth to his purposes, inaccessible to anyone who did not know precisely where to look.
Ahead, a voice echoed faintly through the stone. The mortal was calling for his companion again, and Hades quickened his pace. He reached a narrow recess overlooking the isolated platform and found the man standing beside the open Pyle, his apparatus hanging at his side.
The mortal called once more, listened, then turned toward the conjunction. A faint scraping sound came from the chamber beyond the columns. He raised his apparatus and approached the opening, peering into the darkness on the other side.
Hades knew that sound.
He had intended to take both men alive. Their accounts could be compared, and each might possess knowledge the other lacked. The mortal was within easy reach, and there were ample ways to subdue him before he could resist.
Another faint scrape reached him from beyond the Pyle.
The man leaned closer, apparently trying to determine what had moved within the chamber. Hades watched him for a moment, struck by the peculiar confidence of someone who had penetrated the defenses of Tartarus and still believed its mysteries could be uncovered through patient examination. He had entered a place forbidden to him, tampered with protections laid down over centuries, and now stood on the threshold of a danger he could scarcely imagine.
Hades considered the man a moment longer. He could take him alive, certainly. But the mortal had come to Tartarus seeking its secrets, and Hades found himself disinclined to deny him this particular discovery. He stepped out of concealment and crossed the distance without a sound.
The man became aware of him only when Hades seized a fistful of his jacket between the shoulders. He cried out and twisted, attempting to see his attacker, but Hades drove him toward the columns before he could turn. His free hand caught the man's wrist, wrenching his arm aside as he struggled to regain his footing.
A narrow edge of mageia opened the skin along the man's forearm. Blood began to run down his fingers. He cried out as Hades shoved him through the conjunction.
The mortal stumbled into the darkness and fell heavily to one hip. His apparatus struck the stone beside him, scattering several small components. He scrambled upright, clutching his bleeding arm, looked around the unfamiliar chamber, and turned back toward the gateway.
Hades stood on the other side. Recognition spread across the man's face.
"You came to learn about the Underworld. Then learn."
The mortal stared at him, bewildered. Then something struck him from behind.
An enormous shape lifted from the darkness against the wall, its armored body unfolding in a violent rush of articulated legs. It came over him before he could turn, driving him face-first into the stone. A scream tore from his throat as the creature's limbs closed around his body, their hooked ends finding purchase in his clothing and flesh.
The Skelith dragged him backward with astonishing speed. He clawed at the floor, his arms and legs scraping uselessly against the stone as the creature hauled him toward a narrow fissure. His cries grew frantic when its flattened body began forcing itself into the opening, taking him with it.
Hades watched the struggle, then let his gaze travel beyond it. The surrounding darkness was moving as the walls came alive.
Overlapping ridges along the walls began separating from the masonry. Armored segments lifted, revealing hundreds of narrow legs beneath them. Skelith uncoiled along the ceiling, their immense bodies emerging into the light. Farther back, still more shapes stirred among the stone.
The mortal's screams continued from somewhere within the fissure, growing muffled as the creature dragged him deeper into the bedrock. The others were already converging upon the disturbance, following their meal.
Hades closed the conjunction. The cries ended abruptly, leaving the empty space between the columns. He regarded the silent Pyle for a moment, then wiped the blood from his fingers.
He turned toward the adjoining passage.
He still required a living prisoner.
He hurried back the way he had come. The route soon delivered him to his original vantage point overlooking the chamber where he had first discovered the intruders, and the surviving mortal was still there.
He had abandoned his measurements and was examining the partition that had separated him from his companion. He pressed his hands against the stone, searching for some indication of movement, then leaned close enough to place his ear against it. Twice he called out. When no answer came, he struck the wall with the heel of his hand and shouted again.
At last he stepped away and surveyed the remaining exits as if weighing his options. His attention settled upon a narrow passage. He hesitated as though choosing at random, looked back once more, and entered it.
Hades followed.
The corridor descended through a succession of turns, its walls broken by recesses deep enough to conceal a person. The mortal stopped frequently, listening at intersections and examining passages before committing himself to them. At one he called his companion's name. The echoes returned it several times, each repetition fainter and less distinct than the last.
Hades remained beyond his sight.
He needed the man alive, and that required some care. The Atharim at the Nekromanteion had managed to poison himself before they could stop it. This one likely carried the same precaution, and a sudden confrontation would give him precisely the opportunity Hades wished to deny.
Beyond the next bend, the corridor ended at a massive stone doorway. The mortal stood before it, examining the seam between its panels. He braced one shoulder against the door and pushed, but it refused to move. He tried again, then stepped back and searched the surrounding masonry for some means of opening it.
Hades watched from a recess twenty-five paces behind him. Folds of mageia deepened the shadows around his position, obscuring the outline of his figure without disturbing the light elsewhere in the passage. From here he could see the mortal clearly enough, and the narrow corridor offered few places for the man to conceal his movements.
A low roar traveled through the corridor behind him.
Hades turned his head. The sound was distant but unmistakable, a continuous thunder that seemed to come from somewhere deep within the labyrinth. He felt its approach through the floor before the first movement of air touched his neck.
The Black Breath of Tartarus.
Ahead, the mortal paused beside the sealed doorway. He had heard it too, though he appeared uncertain of its source.
Hades knew better. The corridor was narrow, the door impassable, and the roar was growing louder. Of all the passages the fool might have chosen, he had managed to find one with no escape from the approaching Breath. Hades felt a sharp irritation at the prospect of losing another prisoner before a single useful answer could be obtained. He abandoned his concealment and ran.
The first gust struck his back before he had covered half the distance, driving his coat against his legs and lifting dust from the floor. Ahead, the mortal turned toward the sound. He had scarcely raised an arm before the wind slammed him against the doorway.
The roar gathered strength with astonishing speed. Hades drew mageia around himself as he ran, forcing the worst of the current aside. Grit streamed past him in furious sheets, and fragments of loose masonry rattled along the stone. A jagged piece struck his protection near the shoulder and shattered in a spray. He could divert the Black Breath into the deeper passages, but not before it overtook the mortal. For now, he needed only to reach him.
The mortal crouched against the door, his arms locked over his head. His clothing snapped violently around his body, and blood ran from a cut above his brow.
Hades was nearly upon him when a spray of gravel burst down from above. He swept it aside with Dynamis, scattering the fragments against the opposite wall, and reached the doorway as the wind rose to a deafening pitch.
He spread his protection around them both.
The man sagged against the stone. His face remained buried beneath his arms, and he seemed unaware that anyone had reached him. Hades stood between him and the corridor, holding the rushing debris at bay while the Black Breath gathered around them. Then the roar diminished.
The change came so suddenly that Hades heard the faint patter of dust settling upon his coat. The wind slackened, the loose fabric at his knees fell still, and the corridor emerged from the darkness in fragments as the airborne grit began to clear. The eye of the breath had reached them. Hades knew its passage would be brief; a few seconds at most. The Black Breath gathered into vast churning currents, and this pocket of calm would last only until its opposite side swept overhead.
Behind him, the mortal lowered his arms. He was gasping, his face streaked with dust and blood, his eyes streaming from the grit that filled his eyes. He tried to draw a deeper breath, coughed, and wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. Only then did he seem to notice someone was standing between him and the corridor.
Hades paid him little immediate attention. The brief calm was already passing, and he felt the Black Breath gathering beyond it, the great turning wind swept back toward the doorway with a violence far greater than before. The first grains of dust began to rise from the floor. He spread his arms and drew upon Dynamis, preparing to meet its return.
Wind struck the corridor with such force that the stone trembled beneath his feet. Hades divided the oncoming current, sending half tearing along the wall to his left and the other half to his right. Between them he preserved a narrow refuge extending back to the doorway, where the mortal remained crouched against the stone. Dust and gravel streamed past on either side, and fragments of masonry shattered against the walls as the Black Breath hurled them through the passage.
He held his ground. The currents pressed against his control, their combined force sufficient to scour flesh from bone. He widened their separation, forcing the violent streams farther apart even as the pressure built around him. A jagged fragment of stone came hurtling through the darkness. Without disturbing his hold upon the wind, Hades caught it with splintered focus mageia and sent it spinning harmlessly into the passing current.
Then his ears began to ache. The pain settled behind his eyes and deep within his skull. He attempted to inhale and found the air strangely inadequate. His lungs expanded, but there was scarcely enough pressure to draw breath. Moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes, and a sharp sting beneath his nose made him wonder whether it had begun to bleed. He resisted the impulse to touch his face.
Behind him, the mortal's weight shifted against the protection Hades had extended around them. He glanced over his shoulder and found the man on his knees, one hand clutching his throat while the other tore at his collar. His mouth opened in desperate attempts to breathe, but no air seemed to enter his lungs.
Hades understood his error at once. In diverting the wind, he had deprived their refuge of the pressure needed to sustain a breath. An oversight, and one that would shortly cost him the only living witness to the intrusion. His irritation sharpened into alarm. He turned back toward the storm and reached for the air gathering in the adjoining passages.
He extended another exertion of Dynamis into a neighboring passage, gathering a volume of air and enclosing it around them. With it, the pressure rose. His ears cleared with a painful release, and he drew a deep, satisfying breath. A glance confirmed the man behind him could breathe.
Hades felt a measure of satisfaction. He had been obliged to save an intruder from the very defenses intended to destroy him. The irony might have amused him more had the circumstances been less inconvenient. At least the man was breathing.
On either side of their refuge, the Black Breath still raged, its immense currents pressing against the narrow space he had preserved. Hades reached into the labyrinth's depths, finding the familiar passages through which he had so often directed their violence. He had no intention of extinguishing the Breath. It had served him faithfully for centuries, and would again.
He began turning its course, guiding the separate currents away from the corridor. The task should have demanded considerable concentration, particularly while maintaining the air around his prisoner. Yet Dynamis answered with an abundance that made each adjustment almost effortless. He found he could manage the immense forces with a delicacy ordinarily reserved for far lesser endeavors, separating one current from another without diminishing his hold upon either.
The discovery pleased him. A smile touched his face as he drew more deeply into his divine power, savoring the precision with which the Black Breath yielded to his command.
He spread his arms farther, and the divided torrents swept away through the adjoining passages. The roar receded into the depths, leaving only scattered grit drifting through the corridor. Small stones rattled against the floor and settled.
Hades maintained their refuge until the air had recovered, then released his hold upon it.
Silence settled.
He lowered his arms. His coat was disheveled and coated with pale dust, the wind having torn his hair from its customary order. His eyes still watered, and the sharp sting in his sinuses lingered. He wiped his face with the back of one hand, satisfied to find no trace of blood. Then he turned.
The mortal remained on his knees against the doorway. He slowly looked up at Hades with an expression of stunned gratitude, apparently unable to comprehend how he had survived. The expression lasted only a moment. Recognition came slowly, then all at once. His eyes widened. He recoiled against the stone, the relief draining from his face as he understood who stood before him.
Hades regarded him with mild amusement. A moment ago the mortal had looked upon him as a deliverer. Now he recoiled as though the Black Breath itself had returned. Hades supposed the change was understandable, though it seemed a poor acknowledgment of the trouble he had taken to preserve his life.
"Killing your companion may have been rash," Hades said, voice cold. "I shall exercise better judgment with you."
Hades closed the distance in an instant, seizing the mortal by the jaw and forcing his head back against the doorway. The man struggled, throwing his weight against Hades and reaching for his arm, but the god scarcely yielded. Lashes of mageia sprang from around him, catching the mortal's wrists and drawing them against the stone. Another secured his shoulders, leaving him straining uselessly against the restraints.
Hades caught the movement of something small pressing against the inside of the man's cheek. He tightened his grip upon the mortal's jaw, forcing his mouth open before his teeth could meet.
"I have seen that trick before."
The man struggled to close his mouth, but Hades held him fast. With considerable distaste, he inserted two fingers between the mortal's teeth and hooked the small pellet from his cheek. The unpleasant warmth of the man's saliva against his skin only deepened his disgust. He withdrew his hand, holding the pellet between his fingertips as though it were something particularly foul.
Hades examined the pellet. The man's resistance faltered at the sight of it, his breathing still ragged from the ordeal. Only then did Hades loosen his grip and withdraw his hand. The lashes of mageia remained, holding the prisoner securely against the doorway.
”You and I will speak again,” Hades said. A faint movement sounded behind him. He did not turn. The soft approach was familiar, and he had sensed her presence before she emerged from the darkness.
The Ker came forward without announcement, her porcelain mask pale against the black of her robes. Hades extended the pellet toward her, and she accepted it between two gloved fingers, examining it briefly before concealing it within her garments.
The prisoner watched the exchange. His eyes followed the Ker as she approached, and what little composure he had recovered began to desert him.
"Keep him alive enough to talk."
The Ker inclined her head. At a gesture from Hades, the lashes of mageia released the mortal into her custody.
Hades watched them disappear into the darkness. He brushed the last of the dust from his sleeve and turned toward the deeper labyrinth. There was still a conjunction to close, and the approaches to Tartarus required further examination.