Wiping sweat from his moist brow he hurried to ready himself for his audience with Zeus.

Prometheus waited.

With Vulcan's departure he slipped into the celestial foundry, inched ever closer to the heart of that huge factory. The furnace glowed from the fire within.

Prometheus entrance was noted.

He knew not of the guard.

Vulcan had led a life of abuse, mistrust, and rejection. He himself trusted no one. Though crippled he remained agile and able, and used his skill with fire and metal to fabricate an object of strange shape and size.

The object was formed of the strongest metals. Its joints were cunningly hinged to allow motion. Its appearance was that of man - rather, that of giant. For it was huge. Huge and ma.s.sive.

Silently it stood guard in the empty foundry. A dead, useless metal statue, a scarecrow for the vagrant birds that might pa.s.s by.

It had one more characteristic.

It lived!

Vulcan had withdrawn from the huge furnace a heart of fire, ensconced it in the body of his creation. That burning, beating heart gave it an existence of its own.

Prometheus' entrance was noted.

Noted by Vulcan's metal monster!

Prometheus stalked quickly to the fiery confines of Vulcan's furnace. Opening the door to its sizzling interior, he flinched back from the blast of flames and heat.

Quickly he picked up the long shovel, thrust it into the midst of the flames. Slowly he withdrew it, the very heart of scorching ma.s.s centered in the scoop.

Vulcan's creation struck!

The metal monster, moving silently, steadily, had positioned itself behind Prometheus. Even as he captured the heart of the furnace its arms enfolded him.

Prometheus dropped the shovel!

The white-hot ma.s.s of fire rolled onto the floor, began to melt the stones that supported it.

Prometheus threw himself backward, tipping over his attacker!

They rolled on the floor. The creature dug its iron talons into Prometheus stomach.

Prometheus screamed!

The memory of the eagle engulfed him!

Once again he was chained to the crag, the eagle coming ever closer.

Now it struck!

Its talons, tearing, ripping . . . !

He seized the metal arm, bending and ripping at the fingers!

One by one they gave way to his strength.

Even as the last finger gave way, the other arm now enwrapped his throat! His breathing grew ever more difficult. And Vulcan's monster wrestled him closer and closer to the deadly ball of scorching fire.

He felt the heat on his skin, burning and charring! Now his chest was barely inches from the fire! It touched his skin!

Abruptly he reached out, seized the burning ma.s.s in his huge hands!

He lifted the deadly cargo above his head!

Burning through skin and flesh, charring bone, it lit the h.e.l.lish scene!

With an effort he loosed the deadly ma.s.s behind his back!

If fell on the head of Vulcan's creation.

The struggle was over!

A molten ma.s.s, the metal monster lay inanimate upon the floor!

With crippled hands Prometheus once more shoveled the burning heart of the furnace. Without a backward glance he rushed from the site of battle.

Arriving on earth he deposited his burden in the bowels of Mt.

Vesuvius. There would it ever burn. And from that burning ma.s.s man once more distributed fire to hearth and kiln.

"My boy, you handled that quite well. Certainly left Vulcan's foundry in a mess, though. By the way, I sent Aesculapius over to care for Prometheus' hands. It will take time, but Aesculapius works wonders. Gad, his rates are high! Do you know how much he charges for house calls! Never mind, it's enough, I a.s.sure you!" Zeus grumbled to even think of the cost.

"Stay healthy." He growled morosely.

16. Wading in the River Styx

Odor of dying algae, of rotting plants, of stagnant waters - all drift above the long, dark stretches of the river Styx. No beauty here.

And in these waters lived creatures not of this world, but of Hades, round which the river flowed, and flows forever. Doomed through eternity to these putrid stream, they had yet one recompense.

Who dared wade the River Styx, he was their prey.

"My boy, take this package over to the guardshack just across the Styx. They are expecting it; by the way, be sure to get a receipt. They hate to sign receipts. Still, it messes up our accounts if we don't have them. The boat is anch.o.r.ed right by the pier, and the oars are stowed beneath the seat."