Don't pay the ferryman,
Don't even fix the price,
don't pay the ferryman,
until he gets you to the other side.
Chris deBurgh
The pain was incredible. Each cell in his body fought against the transformation, but it was a lost fight from the very beginning. Thought the transformation lasted less than a second it seemed to take an eternity. First his feet were rooted to the spot, suddenly too heavy to move, then building a connection with the ground formed of solid rock. Then it moved upwards, his legs, his hips, his chest. His arms, still in the deadly embrace of the she-demon, turned to stone, his sword dangling useless from his hand.
In the last possible moment he tried to scream, but from a throat turned to stone no sound emitted. The eyes were the last to go and the last thing they saw was the triumph which showed on the face of the she-demon.
He had failed.
When he woke up again the pain was gone. Not even a lingering effect remained.
Surprised he sat up and found himself on the floor of a cave of unknown size. The ground was covered in a thick mist, which, as he could see as he rose to his feet, covered everything to the height of his calves. The ceiling wasn't very high, though still higher than he could reach with his arms outstretched. There was no light source in sight, but nevertheless he had no difficulties seeing everything around him. Everything was illuminated in a sickening pinkish light.
Where was he? What happened? This was not the cave he had tried to fight the she-demon in. But how did he get here?
Iolaus pondered the options he had, but in the end there was only one possible answer.
Lycus had said that the she-demon stole the souls of her victims and sent them to Hecate, Hera's sister, in the Underworld. But there was no Hecate -- or for that matter anybody else -- in sight. On the other hand this could very well be the Underworld, though it looked not quite as he imagined it be.
But then, he never had thought he would die -- which young men did? -- and so he never had given much thought to the interior design of Hades. And usually most of the people who came here didn't return to tell about it.
Okay, Hercules had managed to come back from the Underworld once, but he never had been the talkative type and, well, he never really said how it had been.
Hercules. This brought Iolaus' thoughts to his best friend. What was he doing right now? Did he go on that revenge trip Iolaus had suggested? Destroying Hera's temples would be just the thing that this monster of a stepmother of Hercules deserved. But on the other hand he wasn't sure if that would be the right thing for Hercules. Destroying everything Hera represented on earth would maybe make him feel better, but it wouldn't bring back Deianeira and the children.
Revenge usually wasn't Hercules' line. He was far better in helping people. Like the people who were killed by the she-demon.
Under normal circumstances Hercules would have been the first to react to the pleas of Lycus. He would have come to fight the she-demon and maybe even would have more success then himself, Iolaus. But in his pain the demi-god hadn't found it in himself to help others.
Iolaus was sure one day Herc would come out of this. Though Hercules had loved Deianeira and the children very much -- which man in his right mind wouldn't? -- he would get over the pain and then he would come back to what he could do best. Help people.
Well, all this didn't help him in this situation he was in. He was dead and nothing Hercules would do could change that. The son of Zeus was darn good, but not that darn good, that he could fight dead. At least Iolaus didn't think he could -- with Herc you never knew.
He looked around. To his right was a way which lead further into the cave and if he didn't want to repeat his performance from above -- that is, being turned into stone -- he'd better move.
The way led from one cave to the next and from there to the next and so on. One cave looked very much like the other and sometimes he asked himself if he made any progress at all or if he was walking in circles. But finally he came to the shoreline of a wide river. And as there was only one river he knew of which passed through Hades, it was a pretty good guess to dub the river 'Styx'.
He walked along the shoreline for a while, till he suddenly saw a large form move on the water, coming closer. The form resolved into a shallow, black boat with a dark clad man at the aft section pushing the boat forward with a pole.
"Hey, ferryman," Iolaus called out to the boat.
At first the man didn't react. He poled on, as if he hadn't heard Iolaus' hail.
"Hey, you, are you deaf?" If Iolaus had a bad trait, it was that he didn't like being ignored.
The man grumbled something into the folds of his hood, but still didn't move any closer.
"Hey, you, I'm talking to you, mister!"
The other man looked up. Now Iolaus could see that the guy was incredibly ugly. Pale skin which looked as if it never had seen the light of the day, stretched over a deformed skull. Deeply sunken, red rimmed eyes studied the man on the shore and when the thin lipped mouth opened Iolaus was offered the view of two rows of rotten teeth.
"What do you want?" the ferryman asked unfriendly.
"How about a lift to the other side?" Iolaus stood his hands on his hips. "Dummy," he muttered under his breath.
"I heard that!" Slowly the boat moved closer, till the underside scratched onto the small beach. The ferryman -- Iolaus recalled now, that his name was Charon -- put his pole into the boat and lifted his lantern to get a better look at Iolaus.
"Hey, what are you doing here? You have no business being here."
"Excuse me," Iolaus lifted a eyebrow. "What do you mean with me not having any business here? This is Hades, or isn't it? And I'm dead, ain't I? "
"Yes. And no."
"What is that with this yes and no business? Do you mean I'm not dead, or do you mean this is not Hades?!?" Iolaus looked around. If that is not Hades he had to speak a word or two to the responsible interior decorator.
"This is Hades all right, don't worry," Charon explained to him all the while sounding as if he was speaking to a child. Or somebody very stupid. A feeling Iolaus didn't like a bit. "But you are not dead. Though I don't know every time if somebody is dead or not, in your case I'm 100% sure."
"I'm not dead?!?" Iolaus couldn't believe his own ears. But he remembered dying. Quite clearly! He shook his head. "If I'm not dead, what am I doing here?"
"This is a very good question," the ferryman said and picked up his pole again, intending to push away from the shore again.
However before he got more than half a meter away, Iolaus decided that if he wasn't dead he'd like to speak to somebody responsible for his being here and finding out what was going on. And he would never find the responsible person on this side of the Styx.
He jumped into the boat, nearly overturning the vessel. For a second he and Charon fought for their balance until the boat had calmed again.
"Hey, what are you doing?" The ferryman complained loudly, lifting his pole as to fight off Iolaus.
"I said I needed a lift to the other side and this still stands," Iolaus explained while settling on the small bench in the middle of the boat, ignoring that the bench looked as if it was made out of bones.
"But I can't get you to the other side. That is against the rules. Only dead people are allowed to cross the Styx." He lowered the pole so that the dripping tip pointed at Iolaus' head. He looked as he was willing to help along with the dead part.
With his right hand Iolaus pushed the pole aside. "What about making an exception to the rules?" He grinned his most disarming grin -- which as truth to be told, could be very disarming.
Charon said nothing, but the pole wavered a little.
"Listen, buddy, I don't like being here as little as you do. But if I want to find out what's going on, I'll have to go to the other side and find somebody who can tell me the truth."
For a moment Charon pondered the idea then he lowered his stick. "Okay, but you have to pay for the fare. Now!"
Iolaus gulped. He had no money with him. All his money was in the sack he had left behind with Lycus when he entered the cave of the she-demon. Anyway, he wasn't that sure if the pack would have made it with him to Hades to begin with. Usually, to pay the ferryman of the Styx, somebody got a coin in the mouth when he was buried or burned. But he didn't have a coin in his mouth. He was very sure of that.
"Ehm, how if I pay you when we are on the other side? I'm willing to spend twice as much as you would get now." He grinned at Charon.
"Hmm," the ferryman made. "Okay." Without a further word he put the pole into the water and began to pole across the river.
It was an eerie ride. Mist covered large areas of the water. The ceiling was maybe three meters high and several stalactites hung from it. From their tips water drops constantly fell into the lake and this dripping sound and the noise Charon made with his pole was all there could be heard.
Again Iolaus lost all perception of time. Maybe they traveled five minutes, maybe it was five hours, it was difficult to tell. After some time the silence got onto his nerves. He studied the hooded form at the aft of the boat. Even if the wide coat covered most of his form the ferryman somehow had something familiar, as if Iolaus should have known him. This puzzled Iolaus, for he was sure, he never met him, or somebody like him, before in his life. And, traveling with Hercules, he had met a lot of strange creatures.
"How's it being the ferryman on the Styx?," he asked when the silence got too much for him.
Charon looked up surprised. Obviously he wasn't used to his fares asking questions of him. Considering that his fares usually were quite dead this was no big surprise.
"Why do you ask? Want my job?" He asked Iolaus distrustingly.
"Oh, no, I would never want your job. No, thank you, I'm quite happy doing what I do." Which was, hopefully, being alive. "I only ask, because I wonder how somebody, handsome as you are, would take a job in a hole like this." He pointed around.
"Don't kid me, buddy. I know what I am. Do you think it's that simple to get a job, when you look like this?" He removed his hood, which was definitely no improvement on the view. "The rejections I got when I tried could fill all of this cave. Oh, often enough I was called for an interview. But the moment I showed up at the door, all of them discovered suddenly that they had other candidates more suitable."
"So you became the ferryman of the dead."
"And once in a while a living person ... though usually they are far more trouble then the dead. Well, Hades was the only one who didn't put me down and, you know, beggars can't be choosers." For a moment he looked longingly into the distance.
"What would you do, if you could?" Suddenly Iolaus found that he was really interested in the topic. He considered himself as reasonable handsome and had never any problems with finding a job when he wanted one. Now, there was somebody, who hadn't been that lucky, who by nature looked like a monster and thus was treated like one. On the other hand the she-demon had looked like a very beautiful woman, and see what she had made with her looks. It was unfair -- and seeing something unfair, Iolaus could do nothing but try to help.
Charon looked at Iolaus as if he expected being mocked, but found only honest interest in the other man's face. He sighed. "I ... well, if I really could be what I want ...." he stammered. "Well, if I really ... I think I would like to be an actor." Suddenly he looked away, as if he knew that Iolaus could do nothing else but laugh at the notion that somebody like him, somebody looking like him, would want to be in the show business. He gave the boat another fast shove.
Iolaus' eyes widened. An actor -- who would have guessed? Though he felt tempted to laugh at the idea, he nevertheless gave it an earnest thought. "Well, I see where this could be a problem. But as long as you don't go for the role of the lover, why not."
Charon stopped pushing the boat and glared at his passenger. His red rimmed eyes suddenly started to glow. "Don't mock me, mortal. I've seen myself often enough reflected from a polished surface to know that I'm no Adonis."
"No, no, I'm serious. I can see that you do not really qualify for being the most handsome guy around. No offense intended. But, that doesn't mean, that you have to give up your dream completely. Listen, you just have to be careful what roles you pick."
Charon still glared but at least the glowing of his eyes did stop. "Like?" he inquired.
"Well, I can see you as the mysterious stranger, somebody who had been treated badly by life and now doesn't want to come out anymore. This is very popular right now. The women love it. Or, if you have fun with it, just play the monster. I always thought the monster parts are more fun anyway."
"What do you know of being a monster?" Charon still wasn't persuaded, but at least he took up poling the boat along again.
"You would be surprised. I've played around being an actor once as well. And with the right make-up and the right clothing I think I even could look like you. And playing the bad guys always had been more fun." He didn't mention that his stint of being an actor lasted less than a month and that in the whole time he only once played a monster. He quit when he figured out that being an actor was hard work after all and this was something he wasn't that fond of.
Before Charon could say anything on that, they had reached the other side of the river. The boat stopped at a wooden and rather rotten looking quay.
"We've arrived," Charon growled, somehow sounding as if he was on one hand glad they did, on the other hand, as if he had enjoyed the company and wanted it to last a little longer. "About your payment ..."
"Listen, Charon, I'm sorry, but ..."
"It's okay. You don't have to pay. Your company had been enough."
Iolaus looked surprised, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse into the mouth. He scrambled out of the boat and onto the quay. "Thanks. It has been ... quite interesting."
"The next time you're around, you'll have to tell me more," the ferryman said and pushed the boat away for the quay.
"Let's hope this will be a long time from now. I'm not that fond of dying," Iolaus muttered and turned away.
"Oh, it will be a long time for you. But very little for somebody like me." The voice of Charon carried over the water. Then the ferryman and his boat vanished into the mists.
How Iolaus now managed to get by the three headed guardian of the gates of hell and how he found Deianeira and Hercules' children in the Elysian Fields is another story and will be told at another time ....
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