Chapter Four

The passage was long and arduous. The walls narrowed and widened and often Demetrius felt as if he could get caught there. Left to die and be reduced to bones without a soul knowing what had happened.

Except perhaps Pasha and Ceta, who would laugh and allow it to pass them by without a care. There were always other ways to obtain their desires.

He was starting to think he would never see the end of the pitch black when a soft light pierced the tar-like atmosphere, growing larger as his strokes intensified.

Shale and shingle formed the floor below and Demetrius suddenly found his feet touching the ground, just as they would above.

Breathing a sigh of relief he took a moment to adjust to his surroundings.

The room was small and empty except for an opening leading to another long and unlit passage. Cold air flowed from it and his skin prickled at the sensation.

There was something eerie about the place. As if the walls had both eyes and ears.

'I need to get out of here,' Demetrius thought, looking around earnestly for what he was seeking. 'With or without what I want. But I'd best grab something for Pasha and Ceta. I know their ways, someone will end up dead trying to succeed.'

A glimmer of gold reflected in the corner of his eye and he turned to see where it came from. A wooden chest sat nearby, a chest he swore hadn't been there before, and the light came from the brass hinges.

Demetrius hesitated, knitting his fingers together nervously, his mouth dry.

'Leave it.' His common sense whispered in his ears. 'This isn't right. Feel the air around you, something is wrong.'

But if he left without anything, he'd never live it down. A coward, that's what they would say, taunt him about not having the nerve to dare the depths.

Or worse. Accuse him of finding what he wanted for himself and snubbing them. An action that could lead to serious repercussions if they felt so inclined.

"Grab it and go." He whispered aloud. "I can just take the whole thing, sort it out when I'm out and toss it back."

He darted forward and reached out the seize the chest, only to have his fingers go through. He tried again, feeling stupid as he did so.

A mirage? Reflection?

Trick?

As that realisation dawned on him, throbbing music echoed down the corridor, surrounding him as though he was trapped in a palpating heart. Even the walls seemed to heave and sway and the shadows, if they really were shadows, formed into tangible beings and moved in tandem.

'They're not shadows...'

The knowledge came too late and before he had a chance to straighten up, cold, clammy hands grabbed hold of him. Their long fingers wrapped easily around his biceps, and nails dug into his skin. Yet they left no mark, it was if they were penetrating a ghost.

"Let me go!" Demetrius arched his back, pulling with all his might. His hair flew over his face and gave him the appearance of a madman to any who saw him. "I'll leave! It wasn't my damned idea anyway! Why not harangue the ones who sent me here?"

He didn't expect a response and he didn't get one. Instead, the black forms dragged him down the corridor, gliding with ease despite his struggles as if he were a feather.

The corridor was badly lit but harsh chords broke the darkness and made him glad he could barely see.

They were approaching a solid wall and Demetrius tensed, fearing they were about to smash his skull and paint the mottled stone with red petals. But as he prepared for the impact the wall faded and revealed a long winding staircase.

Strange lights floated in the air, carried by strange fish or just simply there, like stars in the night sky.

Midway down, standing as still as a statue, was another figure, a glimmering staff held in its gloved hand. It turned as the opening widened and Demetrius felt his heart seize in his chest.

Sunken eyes stared up, set in a face that was grey from lack of light, skin so taut and shrivelled it appeared to be a skull alone.

Clothing hung loosely, covering a withered body and a stale odour emanated from him.

"You found the intruder. I congratulate you," chapped lips lifted in the hint of a smile but its voice was monotone and lacked emotion. "Eyes and ears everywhere, even in silence."

"You're Calder, aren't you?" Demetrius's voice echoed about them and the figure's smile widened. "The guardian of the rocky waters and the taker of souls lost to them."

"And so many others," Calder gave a slight bow. "Lord Karanos's orders for me and wide and far-reaching. Another duty is dealing with those wretches who dare infiltrate our world unbidden. Why, even for riches, one would dare the lair of the wandering dead, is beyond my reasoning."

"Riches. Or because they've been tricked into doing so," Demetrius huffed, his shoulders beginning to hurt under the icy grip. "I have people who will look for me, you know."

Calder gave a croaking laugh. "Family worry too much," he said airily. "I see it all the time. I suppose that's why you lose your empathy after a few hundred years. Heck knows the master has. Even music and excess don't seem to have much effect anymore..."

He often wondered whether the loss of ability to get drunk made that worse. Over time alcohol lost its power. Although not its appeal.

He flashed a smile, showing an unpleasant glimmer of yellow teeth.

"Perhaps you ought to meet him. He ought to know about this and his will is our command. I am not in charge of your fate, only leading you to it."

Demetrius paled. Feeling the blood drain from his face until he was almost as pale as Calder.

"Take him onward!" Calder ordered, stepping aside to allow the wraith-like shadows past. "Maybe you will find the master in fair mood?"

"Is anyone that lucky?" Demetrius muttered with an air of sarcasm.

He didn't receive a reply. Not that he was expecting one.

--

The gates and path to the land of the drowned were treacherous. Hellish for the soul that was sent there and, if any living person dared to be foolish, fatal.

It wasn't the land for the living, it was a land for those deemed unworthy of Paradise and other pleasures that the afterlife offered.

Did some redeem themselves? Most likely, but that wasn't really important. If they did, they did. If not? Well, that was that.

Demetrius barely breathed as he was taken further down and then into a narrow chamber. Hollows were etched into the walls and low snarls emanated from within them.

The mist was cold, encompassing the surroundings like a ghoulish shroud. Clammy and stifling at the same time, creating a very peculiar sensation on the skin.

The sound of wandering souls was prevalent when one managed to get past the fearsome guards. Deformed creatures that resembled wolves but with scales instead of fur. Stocky, muscular and with maws and teeth that could crush bone.

Foam flecked on the muzzles as they strained on the chain, one look from those blazing eyes enough to send the hardest heart fleeing.

One of the shadows paused, gesturing, and the beasts reluctantly drew back. But not before Demetrius had felt the heat of their breath and the ghost of their teeth on his skin.

"I will take him now." Calder's voice came as a surprise. He hadn't heard the man follow but there he was, grinning grotesquely with his hand on one of the elongated muzzles. "I'm sure you'll be a good boy, won't you?" He cooed. "The chains won't hold them if they are told to pursue."

Feeling the eyes upon him, Demetrius nodded.

What choice did he have?