21. Underworld, Here We Come #2
"Oh? A potential for grovelling and penance!
I do like to strategize. Come, tell me how you plan to win her back, and I might even impart a few words of wisdom.
We must hurry though, Azael. Aken is waiting for me and I'm already late for the ferry.
You'll never find him without my help. And you cannot travel to Duat when you are still alive. Unless of course accompanied by a god."
All of us step forward, but Ra screeches at us, "Only Azael. The rest of you can wait here."
"We all go together, Ra." Azael announces resolutely.
"What do I get in return for allowing you all to pass?" Ra studies us with a calculative gleam in his eyes.
Baz whips out the 'Sunscroll of Ma'at' that has Ra taking a step toward us, his raptor's gaze immediately drawn to it.
"If you let us all through and on the boat with Aken, we'd offer you the 'Sunscroll of Ma'at', benevolent Ra. It'd reveal all hidden cosmic truths to your divine eyes."
Ra impatiently waves his hand, "Yes, yes, no need to butter me up. Now come along all of you and give me the scroll."
"Only once we are aboard the ferry, Ra." Azael stands firm.
Ra studies him for a long moment, then about-turns, heading into the dark pathway beyond the pillars. "Follow me immortal septet. Ferryman waits."
Rhazien
We traverse several unlit labyrinths. As Ra walks ahead, the torches set in scones along the walls light up.
But the maze-like pathways are difficult to keep track of.
We arrive at another timeworn archway of stone, etched with runes.
This portal swirls like liquid glass, the surface catching flickers of light, as if moonlight trapped in ink.
Ra steps through, undeterred. We follow him to the other side, one by one.
An instant chill settles in my bones, with the sudden temperate drop.
I look back at the gate we came through.
This side seems to be made of obsidian and bones.
Ra catches me trailing behind and remarks, "Underworld aesthetics. Chop chop!"
This damn god needs an attitude adjustment!
We head toward an inky black river. Small waves lap at the shore made of smooth black sand.
"Aken." Ra screeches and a moment later a heavy mist swirls above the water. I hope Archie, Baz and Silas still retain their hearing after we’re through with this Ra.
A papyrus boat materializes out of the mist. Aken wears a white linen kilt held together by a cerulean waist-band. He carries a long wooden oar in his hands.
"You're late!" He complains in a deep voice.
"Yes, well, I picked up a harem on the way." Ra responds flippantly and climbs aboard. I can hear several sets of teeth grinding including mine.
Aken silently regards us, then extends his hand.
"We need to pay our way through, right?” Ifrinn mutters to Baz.
"I can't let the living aboard unless you offer something invaluable in exchange." Aken states the terms.
Baz takes out a single piece of dragon gold. Aken's eyes shine. Ra looks interested too.
"There are seven of you." Aken points out.
Baz clenches his jaw and shells out six more glinting pieces.
"Welcome aboard!" Aken offers a jovial smile.
The papyrus boat is actually sturdy and glides smoothly over the mirror-like surface of the river as we sit around Ra who makes a 'give' motion toward Baz.
"Where did you find it, dragon?" He asks as Baz hands over the scroll, albeit reluctantly.
"The source of a dragon's treasure must remain hidden." Baz hedges.
"Hmm. How mysterious! Now tell me about your mate."
So we describe all that is Aleiraah. Her beauty, her kind yet sassy nature. The way she loves us unconditionally, and how we love her more than our life. It hits me out of nowhere––how badly we misjudged her.
Guilt is my constant companion. I'm always careful with her even in the throes of passion. Never failing to heal my bites. I don't allow myself to gorge on her delicious lifeblood. She's too precious for the likes of me.
No matter how much I consume, I always hunger for her blood and that scares me unlike anything. That one day, I'll not be able to control my bloodlust and simply drink her dry.
That my Aleiraah would cease to exist because I'm a monster like the vampire who sired me.
I feed from willing blood-sluts now and then to keep my hunger in check, but their blood pales in comparison to Aleiraah’s.
Each time, a sense of wrongness settles in my gut and lingers for days.
Still, I force myself to feed so I don’t drain the one I love.
And to my eternal shame, there are moments I give in to my baser nature—bite without care, leave the wounds unhealed. They seem to relish it.
Lately, Aleiraah has been watching me when I return from a feeding, her gaze sharp and assessing.
It makes me uneasy, so I avoid her eyes, afraid she’ll notice the change in mine.
I can only hope she isn’t keeping track.
But blood-drinking is where I draw the line.
I’ll never cheat on Aleiraah. She’s my mate, my heart's blood.
It worries me that if she ever finds out about the blood-sluts, she'd never let me get close to her again. Yet I can't stop. So I hide my faults. She must never discover my transgressions. Because life without Aleiraah is unimaginable.
"Hmm. Unusual. But you messed up. Big time. No wonder she escaped!" Ra breaks into my spiral as he slaps his knee. I guess he got a brief summary of the night of the Veilmoon.
Hearing the word 'escaped' doesn't sit well with any of us though, and it shows on our faces.
Aken whistles 'La Vie En Rose' as he steers the boat.
"Do you know Charon?" Ifrinn asks abruptly, interrupting Aken's whistling.
"Why, yes! He's my twin brother. Sometimes I moonlight as the ferryman on the Styx when Charon is vacationing. He returns the favor when I need a break." Aken chirps, then mutters, "Since gods apparently don't know how to steer boats, no matter the culture."
For a ferryman of the dead he sure has a cheerful disposition. And Ifrinn seems to have leveled up, brimming with knowledge and curiosity at every turn.
"Yes, yes, fascinating!" Ra says in a bored tone, then adds, "And I heard that last bit, Aken. So tell me, what do you plan to do once you see her?"
Aken shoots him a sour look but then watches us keenly.
"We were hoping you’d impart your wisdom to us, great Ra." Azael reminds him. I detect a hint of sarcasm, but with Azael you can never gauge.
Ra studies his nails and says in a presumptuous voice, "The mortal, Shakespeare, once said, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' I would like to amend that. Hell hath no dearth of fury for fools who malign their mate. And this is Hell, you fools." He glances up, eyes gleaming with menace.
"Turn the boat, Aken." Ra commands.
Before we can react, the papyrus boat lurches violently, dumping us into the river. The once placid surface churns violently with water currents.
Dark water plunges over my head, and eerie, hollow moans fill my ears. I try to swim to the surface, but I can feel the souls of the deceased pulling me down into the murky depths.
The river is colder than ice, and water floods my lungs as I struggle, frantic to break free. I thrash, slashing my daggers blindly at the swirling dead with gaping maws circling me, but they drag me down even further.
Screaming, I fight their grip on my limbs and torso, when a brilliant white light illuminates the surroundings. It’s followed by a torrent of blue fire that spreads across the river's surface. They scatter, screeching, as I'm lifted out of the freezing water.
Azael is gripping me by my arms, hovering midair, dripping wet. A luminous halo surrounds his head. Huge feathery white wings flare behind him.
He flies me to Baz who's in his colossal dragon form, roaring at the souls who have finally stopped emitting that eerie moan of eternal agony.
Azael dumps me on Baz's back and flies to Silas and Ifrinn who are still struggling in the water.
He reaches them just as Ifrinn disappears below the inky surface.
I try to stand up but lose my footing, making a grab for Baz's tail.
Archie helps me climb back up. Both he and Alistair are hanging onto Baz's back as he flaps his leathery ivory wings to stay airborne.
Azael lets out another burst of angel flare and I cover my eyes. The light emanating from him is blindingly bright. He flies up a few moments later, clutching both Silas and Ifrinn. Baz lets out a volley of fireballs and glides forward with Azael keeping pace.
The papyrus boat with that fucker Ra and his lackey Aken is nowhere in sight. The fierce water currents have died down to smaller eddies.
"Ra tricked us. Fuck! I've got dead bathwater in my mouth!" Archie coughs while thumping his chest, and spits out more water.
"And where did all those souls come from? They were nowhere in sight when we were traveling down the river. The surface was perfectly calm." Alistair remarks with wary eyes, still scanning the surroundings.
"I’ll show that fucker, what fury means!" Ifrinn yells in anger.
‘Gods are tricky by nature.’ Azael remarks, directly speaking into our minds. He’s the only one with that ability. Beating his wings occasionally to fly above Baz, he uses the drift to glide.
"Didn't know that the souls of the dead would be under the water's surface." I spit with disgust.
"They’re the sinners condemned to roam the depths of the Underworld in eternal damnation. Their sins are far too great for them to pass on peacefully." Azael comments matter-of-factly.
"Perhaps that's where I belong." Silas's hollow whisper reaches us amid the sinister calm surrounding us that feels oppressive all of a sudden.
"We. Silas." Azael adds solemnly.