Goddess of Spring (Goddess Summoning 2)

He shrugged nonchalantly, and then turned his back to her, closed another hammer within his shaking fist and resumed his rhythmic pounding. He didn't need to see her leave, he felt it. Soon sweat poured down his face, mixing with his silent tears, and stil he kept on beating against the unspeaking metal until the ache in his arms mirrored the pain in his soul.

"I don't belong here." Lina's lips felt bloodless, and she spoke her thoughts aloud to assure herself that they could stil form words. It didn't do any good to tel herself that Demeter had been right, that Hades' treatment of her was the norm for one of the immortals. She wasn't real y a goddess, and so it was her mortal soul that grieved, and her mortal soul that couldn't understand. Lina fled the forge without caring where her feet led her. She just wanted to be away. She skirted the stables and passed quickly between rows of ornamental shrubbery, but instead of keeping to the paths in Hades' gardens, she plunged into the surrounding woods. Final y, through the tumult of her mind, she recognized that she was retracing the path to the firefly meadow, and instantly changed direction. Her mind cringed away from the sweet memories of that night. She couldn't bear to go there.

She didn't notice the spirits of the dead except as vague, distant images that might have whispered her name. Her eyes were too blurred with unshed tears, leaving her vision as unfocused as her thoughts. Somewhere in her mind she realized that she was grateful that none of them approached her. She couldn't be their Goddess today.

As she passed, the dead paused. Something was wrong with Persephone. Her face had lost its color. Her eyes were glazed and she did not seem to be able to hear them. She moved with the numb steps of the newly dead. Concern for their Goddess began to flicker throughout Elysia. Lina kept walking. She'd be al right. She'd make it. Time would help it not to hurt so badly. The three sentences were a familiar litany. They had become her mantra when her husband had left her for a younger, more perfect woman who could bear him children. They had helped her through the shattered dreams and the sleepless nights that had fol owed. They had kept her strong through the series of disappointing relationships afterward. And they had soothed her when she had realized that she probably would never love again.

She'd be al right. She'd make it. Time would help it not to hurt so badly. A mischievous breeze brought with it the intoxicating fragrance of narcissus blossoms and she winced, recoiling from a bed of flowers in front of her. She changed direction, picking her way around the beautiful blooms, choosing her path according to which way led past fewer flowers. Her hand rose to her chest where the amethyst narcissus dangled from its silver chain. What had his gift real y meant? It wasn't a token of his love, his speech at the forge had made that painfully obvious. Lina blinked her eyes rapidly. In her mind she stil heard the echo of his uncaring words. Her fingers caressed the beautifully wrought outline of the narcissus. Payment for services rendered; that's al the gift had been. Hades - a different kind of a god? Her self-mocking laughter came out like a sob. Her hand closed over the jewel and she tugged, snapping the delicate chain.

"Demeter was right. I should have known better." Lina hurled the necklace to the ground and kept walking. She didn't look back.

She'd be al right. She'd make it. Time would help it not to hurt so badly. The only notice Lina took when the landscape began to change was to feel relief that there were no more narcissus blossoms to avoid. There were also fewer spirits of the dead hovering in the periphery of her vision, and that, too, brought her relief. Vaguely she acknowledged that it was growing darker, but the trees were very tal and dense. They could easily be shutting out the pastel light of the Underworld's day. And she had been walking for quite a white -  at least she thought it had been quite a while. She didn't feel tired. Actual y, she didn't feel much of anything. The thought almost made her smile. Demeter needn't have been concerned. The gods underestimated the resiliency of the mortal spirit.

She should probably start back to the palace. Eurydice would be waiting to show her the sketches. She would enjoy the upbeat company of the little spirit, and then she would take a long bath. Not a shower on the balcony - her mind skittered away from the thought - just a long, relaxing soak. For the time that remained to her in the Underworld, she would simply avoid Hades. That shouldn't be difficult. He had made it clear that he was too busy to bother with her. Instead of pining over the God, she would spend time with Eurydice, but she'd be up-front with the spirit about the temporary nature of her visit. She'd also warn her to be careful about fal ing in love with Iapis. He seemed trustworthy, but so had...

Her mind shied from the rest of her thought.

She would ride Orion into Elysia and let the spirits see the Goddess of Spring. But she would be more careful with them, too. They deserved to know that hers was only a temporary visit. She could tel them that Persephone would continue to care for them from the world above, and then al she could do was hope that the real Goddess of Spring would fol ow through with her word. Deciding on her course of action felt good and she was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she did not notice that she had come to the forest edge until she stumbled from the tree line. Confused, she looked around her, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The trees had ended, as had the grass and the ferny ground cover. The land was barren; the cinnamon-colored ground cracked and eroded. Directly in front of her flowed a river of seething flames, perfectly silhouetted against a background of inky darkness.

Lina stopped breathing. Tartarus - she had stumbled into the edge of Hel . Turn around. Retrace your path. Her mind knew the logical thing to do, but her stunned body would not obey her.

And then she heard it, the whisperings from the blackness beyond the river of fire. Like threads of hate they cal ed to her, weaving a net of dark remembrances: every mistake she'd every made, every lie she'd ever told, every time her words or actions had caused others hurt. Her mortal soul cringed. Lina whimpered and staggered under the weight of her own misdeeds. She fel to her knees.

The oily darkness leaked from the bank of the blazing river. It licked at her with tendrils of hate. She wasn't a goddess. She was a mortal woman -  middle-aged, plain of appearance -  a failure in relationships. No man loved her. Why would anyone? She couldn't even bear children. She was a failure as a woman and a wife. Being alone was what she deserved. Slowly her soul began to peel away from Persephone's body and Lina felt herself begin to disintegrate.

"Hades, you must come." The daimon had to shout over the incessant pounding to gain the God's attention.

Hades straightened and wiped the sweat from his face. "Whatever it is, you must deal with it. I do not wish to be disturbed."

"It is the dead. They ask to speak with you."

Hades' expression was dark and dangerous. "Then they can petition their God when I hold court."

"I do not believe you wil want to wait for court to hear what they have to say," Iapis insisted.

"Leave me in peace! What they have to say could not interest me today," Hades snarled. Unmoved by the God's show of temper, Iapis met his eyes. "They say there is something wrong with Persephone."

Hades was pulling on his tunic when he burst from the forge. The sight before him brought him to a sudden halt. Spreading down the landscaped tiers of his formal gardens were countless spirits of the dead. They stood quietly, side by side: young girls, maidens, mothers, matrons and crones. An ancient crone and a maiden Hades recognized as one Persephone had danced with in the meadow, detached themselves from the forefront of the group and approached him. The women curtsied deeply. The crone spoke first.

"Great God, we come to you because of our love for the Goddess of Spring. Something is amiss. The Goddess is not herself."

"We saw her walking through the forest," the maiden said. "We cal ed her name, but she did not hear us, nor did she see us."

"It was as if she were dead," the old woman said.

A dagger of fear pricked the God's heart. "Where was she last seen?"

"There," the crone and the maiden turned, raising their hands to show the direction. They were pointing toward Tartarus.