Part 99

"You jest! What power is in your weapons?" once more Pluto speaks.

"I have followed you far, and your arrows have not found their mark. Do you not know, that nothing you can do will destroy me. I am immortal. I dwell in Hades, Master of that infernal region. Only the waters of the Tarn of Eternity can quench those flames."

He laughed, loud and harshly, without humor.

"Now stand up, tall and brave." he sneered, "I tire of this childish game, and you are about to die."

As Pluto lifted his huge fist Demo drew the bowstring. A threshing from the side of the pathway, distracted him.

He paused.

Before either he or Pluto could move another interfered.

From the brush a deep growl was heard, and in a moment Rough stood in the path of the threatening fiend. He crouched, eyes blazing.

And sprang!

Caught in mid air by a blow from the monstrous figure, Rough fell, rolled over, lay quiet. Demo released his arrow!

It struck, then fell blunted from Pluto's thick hide.

"I struck the animal only a light blow. I too had Cerberus, and of all creatures only he loved me. The dog shall live. But not you, earthling."

Pluto once more turned toward Demo, his deadly intention evident.

"No, Pluto, no more! I can stand no more of you, no more of your evil ways."

Persephone rushes by Demo, dodges by Pluto.

Frozen, Demo stands motionless. Still, there is one who acts. With a desperate lunge Pluto tries to stop the maiden.

Too late!

She flings herself from the edge of the cliff!

Down she falls, down, finally to plummet into the cold depths of the Tarn of Eternity.

Pluto turns, dives into those murky waters. Plummets downward to rescue her from their frigid embrace!

As the waves touch him he screams.

The waters roil and tear at him as though the tarn were a living creature, a beast of prey. Blood stains the roiled surface.

Demo rushes down the tortured pathway, his lungs and throat burning. A stone turns and he falls, slipping over the edge of the escarpment. The roiling waters of the Tarn of Eternity licks hungrily at the boulders below. They crash against the shore, waiting for their next prey.

Slowly, painfully, he regains the path, continues his precipitous journey. Finally arriving at the rock strewn shore, he throws himself down as the air rushes through his burning throat.

There is no sign of life on the Tarn. The water, never still, moves in chaotic pattern. Swirls and streams, whirlpools and rapids, never still.

Then it rises from the deepest, coldest depths. Pluto!

Pluto swims slowly, uncertainly, moving toward the shore where Demo now sits. Demo rises, defiant. A broken sword from some ancient war, lay on the ground, and he seizes it in desperation.

And then he remembers. The broken sword of the warrior! Unsullied by its mishap, the broken blade still shines. Holding the weapon in his hand he waits on the shore, watches the tumultuous waters of the tarn.