Odysseus swims ahead or around the boat, occasionally shouting directions up to Eurylochus. It's a strange scenario as Odysseus couldn't technically be captain again, given that he can't actually be on the boat. Still, he's happy that he's at least earned the trust of his friend, who was willing to carry out his commands and relay them to the rest of the people on board. Before leaving Ogygia, some of the crew suggested keeping Odysseus in a large tank or basin on board the boat. Still, there was nothing that they had available that was large enough to hold a hippocampus, and they lacked the tools to secure a suitable receptacle in place.
The former captain confirms to Eurylochus that the next thing needed to be done on their journey was to return to the Underworld and go to the fields of Asphodel, retrieve the soul of Astyanax, bring him back to the world of the living, and then the rest of the journey on his back. This part was particularly rough for Odysseus to explain to the crew, as it was something he didn't want to talk about at all before the mutiny. The whole crew witnessed the deed but did not want to bring it up at the time, and collectively felt awful that their captain was faced with such a choice before they even took sail to head back home. Eurylochus feels a bit of relief knowing that it wasn't something that his friend had done unprovoked, but at the same time a tad guilty because that was the moment when a seed of doubt was planted about his captain's judgement. Nevertheless, he tries to be supportive and while Odysseus still feels awful, it was good to know that Eurylochus had his back now.
Odysseus braced himself as he swam, leading the boat into the great dark maw of the Underworld's entrance, feeling the gloom from the souls in the river Styx cling to him like chainmail. he tried keeping his head high above the water as every part of his body that was submerged started feeling so heavy, like the dead were trying to pull him down. He remembered what Circe told him about the underworld, how the place would mess with their minds and wear down on their souls if they let their guard down. It was bad enough when he was still human and in the safety of the boat, so this was a hundred times worse. The weight of all the lives lost because of his mistakes was heavier than ever, and it was a struggle to keep moving forward. It was almost enough to make him want to curl up and cry; he was just so tired and full of pain. He wished desperately for the nightmare to end, to end the screams that wracked his mind.
The boat soon began to overtake Odysseus, and the crew was alarmed to see their former captain visibly struggling to continue forward, trying to shout words of encouragement down to him. Eurylochus grew afraid that his friend would be lost to the Styx, and ran across the deck and grabbed a rope, and tossed it into the water.
"Odysseus! Grab the rope, we'll pull you up!" the second-in-command shouted down. Odysseus tried grabbing the rope with his teeth, splashing his tailfin and paddling with his front legs desperately as Eurylochus and the crew hurriedly pulled up the slack. Petros tied another rope around his waist and tried to rappel down the side of the boat to toss another rope, in an attempt to have something to lift Odysseus up by his middle, out of the water. However, the gloom emanating from the river hit him much stronger when he got close to the water, nearly losing his grip. The crew scrambled to secure the older crewmate, and Odysseus knew that it was too risky for them to try to pull him out.
"It's too dangerous! I can't risk one of you losing your lives to save me, not when we've lost so much already! I'll press on!" He shouted up to his men. The crew, helpless to do anything else to aid their captain, shouted and cheered for their captain like never before.
"You can make it, Captain!"
"You're strong enough to get through this!"
Their words helped to steel his resolve somewhat, but his muscles ached and strained against the pull of the gloom with each stroke of his tail. He panted raggedly as he focused on the river sprawling ahead of them, knowing that it was still a long way until they reached Asphodel. Slowly but surely, he could feel himself sinking further and further down beneath the ethereal green waves filled to the brim with damned souls and misery.
"Gods, he's not going to make it!" Perimedes blurted out, pulling on his hair as he watched Odysseus's strength wane. The crew grew more fervent in their shouts, urging their captain on, but Odysseus's head was barely above the water now. Eurylochus gripped the railing on the boat helplessly as he looked down at his friend being pulled slowly under, in utter fear and disbelief that his friend would be lost again so soon.
The water was now nearly at eye level, the tears spilling out of his eyes barely making a ripple. Odysseus grunted with each sidestroke of his tail, growing feebler and feebler. He could feel the trapped souls in the Styx trying to pull his head under, pulling him by his medallion. He could hear them screaming at him about every horrible thing he ever did. He tried to focus on the shouting from his crew that was getting louder and louder. Actually, it was getting so loud that it sounded like there were more people than there should be. A LOT more. And these additional voices were coming from behind the river bend? He turned his head towards the sound and was greeted with a familiar yet unexpected sight.
There they were again. The 558 men who have died under his command, all gathered by the riverside, unable to be ferried on by Charon without a coin buried with their bodies. Again, they called out to their captain. However, what was strange was that they were not despairing or vengeful like the first time he had seen them. Instead, they were...cheering him on?
The shades chanted, calling to him. They whooped and hollared, trying to guide Odysseus towards the bank, encouraging him like the men on the boat, the ones who were still alive. How could this be? They were so angry last time; it was his fault they were dead. Nevertheless, seeing the lost lives trying to reach out to him, not to drag him down but to bring him to safety, was enough to give him a second wind. He strained against the heaviness weighing him down like sacks of bricks as hard as he could, gasping from the effort. He must have been about twenty meters away from land. Would he even be able to make it that far?
Just then, Polites emerged from the horde of spirits and knelt down as close to the water as he dared, extending both arms out towards Odysseus. "Remember my song, my friend!" he called out, his eyes still bright and still smiling. Oh, how he dearly missed the brightness that Polites brought wherever he went. Seeing Polites reaching out and beaming, along with the entire crew cheering him on, reignited his determination. He certainly can't give up now, knowing that the men who have passed are rooting for him to succeed.
He cannot let them die in vain.
He must finish what he set out to do.
Shaken out of the deep pit of despair that was doing its fair share of weighing him down, figuratively and literally, Odysseus screamed out as he gave a final dash towards the riverbank. As his muscles felt like they were tearing apart and the wails of the damned souls in the Styx were ringing in his ears, he poured every last ounce of energy he had until finally, FINALLY, he felt Polites' hand touch the top of his head. He used the last reserves of energy left in his body to PUSH, raising his head up above the water. Polites leaned forward as far as he possibly could, a line of men anchoring him down, and wrapped his arms under Odysseus's head and tugged back. The shades heaved until they finally dragged the exhausted hippocampus onto the shore.
The living crew back on the boat cheered as jubilantly as the ghostly shades surrounding Odysseus, but even the celebratory mood was not enough to keep away the wave of sheer exhaustion that came over him. He ungraciously flopped over on his side, utterly spent and unable to move a muscle. His eyelids grew heavy when he tried to look up at Polites with a weary yet grateful smile.
Before Polites could respond, Odysseus's eyes shut, and he instantly was out cold.
hooray for undead reunions!
read more about my HippOdysseus au here!
