by Chris Fox
36
Into the Storm
Blair guided the ship higher, keeping the prow aimed at the floating city as he circled Olympus. He could feel the wind along the hull, the hot breath of the approaching storm. It was getting closer, though he guessed they still had an hour or two before it arrived.
“Head for that platform.” Hades’s voice sounded muffled and distant. “Go in slowly. You’ll feel waves of energy washing over the ship. You need to match the slipsail’s modulation perfectly. Your beast can guide you.”
He is correct, Ka-Dun. Allow me, and I will guide us.
Blair relaxed his control, allowing the beast to surge through his mind. He studied what it did, feeling the strange pulses of energy from Olympus. They crackled blue as the slipsail entered, buffeting the ship far more than the wind.
He began to panic as the waves grew rougher, but the beast took action before Blair had to. The slipsail emitted a series of counter waves, a split second before the temporal field. Each wave grew closer to the pulse, until they were in perfect sync.
“Well done, Ka-Dun. Well done,” Hades said. Blair felt a hand on his shoulder, though it was far more muted than the senses coming from the slipsail. “Guide us to that dock, the white stone platform. We can set down there.”
Blair did as asked, feeling a strain as he forced the slipsail the last few feet through the field. There was a sudden lurch, then they were free. He gazed in wonder around him, though gaze might not have been quite the right word. He sensed Olympus from the slipsail’s perspective.
The city was perhaps a mile across, stretched across gentle, rolling hills. There were dozens of buildings, all shaped from the same white marble they’d glimpsed from below. Wide gardens stretched between them, or what had once been gardens. They were withered and brown, the skeletal branches of stunted olive trees dotting patches of barren soil.
Some of the buildings looked like they’d been through a war. Scorch marks dotted their sides, and a few were now rubble. Most of those that were not still had damage, ranging from a single singed hole to entire missing walls.
“What happened here?” Blair asked, guiding the slipsail into a landing. It hovered a foot or two above the platform, bobbing gently up and down. He released the vessel, returning to his own senses.
“War,” Hades said, sadly. He wept openly, and Blair wanted to look away. “I can imagine what happened. For the first years all was well, but once the conduit was cut the flow of time grew much closer to that below. Years became decades, and my brethren’s strength failed them. They likely drained their batteries and artifacts dry, siphoning strength to stay alive.
“When that failed them,” Hades said, voice cracking. He paused, mouth working for several moments before he could continue. “They turned on the last source of available strength: each other. The weakest probably died first, but in the end time claimed them all. The city is a graveyard. Osiris murdered my people.”
“What will you do now?” Liz asked, resting a hand on Hades’s arm.
“I’ll stay, and try to rebuild,” Hades said, clearing his throat. He wiped the tears away with the arm of his cloak, then turned to Blair. “My people are dead, but their sacrifice doesn’t have to be in vain. Convince Isis to ally with Ra. Tell her of Osiris’s evil. Do not let old loyalties trick her, or the world will pay a furious price. You have no idea the depths of Osiris’s depravity.”
Blair gave a sharp nod, moving to put an arm around Liz. “We’ll do our best. If you’ll debark we’ll be on our way. It looked like that storm was about to start.”
Hades gave Blair a guilty look. “I’m sorry, Ka-Dun. The temporal field is much weaker, but still potent. Hours have passed outside Olympus, perhaps days. The storm may have already passed, or it could still be raging.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Blair said, struggling to contain his anger. “We can’t change it. All we can do is get out of here. Let’s go, Liz.”
Hades gave another apologetic nod, then started for the ship’s hull. Blair ignored the old man as he rippled through the slipsail’s wall. He focused on the console, willing the ship to depart Olympus and head back into the storm.
37
Master
Hades waved at the departing slipsail, wiping at the tears on his cheeks. He watched as the vessel passed through the temporal veil, back into the boiling orange clouds on the far side. He hid his smile until it had disappeared.
The first seeds had been planted, but a wise farmer scattered many, knowing not all would bear fruit. Schemes were much the same, and even if the Ka-Ken and her Ka-Dun convinced Isis to attack Osiris there was still work to be about.
Hades cackled to himself as he made for the ruins of the central amphitheater. He knew his brother well, and if Zeus had met his end it would have been there. Eventually Hades would need to return to treat with Ra, but first he needed to recover the crown. It would be drained of energy, but that hardly mattered. He would expose it to the Well, and eventually it would brim with the power he needed to stand on equal footing with the Ark Lords.
He cast aside the staff he’d been using. It was an effective prop, but he wouldn’t need it again until he returned to the surface to meet Ra. Gone too were his quavering steps, replaced with sure and powerful strides. Hades had been careful to retain his bedraggled appearance, knowing it would cause others to underestimate him. He could have bent light to achieve the same appearance, but there was too much chance that such shaping would be detected.
Better not to cloak his true form, lest a powerful shaper pierce his illusion. He could labor as an old man for a few years more until his schemes were mature and his power unquestioned. Then he’d return to youth and vitality, when it wouldn’t matter what any thought of him.
He trotted along the charred road, weaving around the worst of the pitted surface. It took only moments to reach the archway leading into the amphitheater, though he knew much more time was passing outside. There was nothing to be done about that, save being as quick as he could here.
The archway was shaded, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. He stepped over someone’s ribcage, probably one of the last to assail Zeus. Aphrodite, maybe. Or Poseidon. Hades couldn’t help but grin as he emerged into the amphitheater itself, rows of stone seats overlooking a simple stage.
A single white marble chair dominated that stage, and his pulse quickened when he saw the flash of gold atop the skeleton’s brow. “Oh, brother, you poor fool. You waited here until the last, withering away until there was nothing left.”
Hades trotted down the walkway, leaping atop the stage. He paused before the throne, grinning widely as he stared down at the slack-jawed skeleton. Zeus had been the mightiest. The most handsome. The most charismatic. He’d easily commanded their brethren, none of whom respected Hades. They’d feared him of course, but that was different.
Now they were all dead, and only Hades remained. He plucked the crown from the skull and dropped it over his own brow. It settled there, instantly resizing to fit him. He felt the stirring of power within it, though it wasn’t enough to accomplish much.
It would be enough. Hades took a deep breath, focusing on the energy he’d been gathering for the last several weeks. It would tax him to his limits, but he had little choice if he wished to escape the tomb Olympus had become.
Hades concentrated, willing his strength to fill the crown. He tapped into one of its many abilities, envisioning his destination. There was a crack of thunder, then he stood in a wide cavern.
“I’ve done it,” he cried, thrusting a fist into the air. The Ka-Dun had enabled him to recover one of the mightiest artifacts from the previous age, all without alerting anyone that he’d done so. Not even his master would know.
He turned his attention to his surroundings. Most of the ground was covered by a bubbling cauldron of thick, viscous, black sludge. That sludge was equal parts oil and water, and it held a portion of the Well’s trapped energy. It was here that most of his more
powerful workings took place, for without access to Olympus or an Ark it was the only means of achieving his mightiest shaping. Hades knelt next to the water, peering carefully at the far end of the cavern before beginning his work. The corridor on that side led to Vulcan’s forge, and thus far his compatriot was still ignorant of Hades’s true loyalties. The time was coming when he could end that deception, but for now it was still useful.
A particularly vile bubble burst near Hades’s feet, splashing his dark boots with the noxious liquid. He could feel the horror and loathing in the boots, which brought a smile to his face. He’d shaped them from a man who’d once offered him insult.
He knelt next to the sludge, thrusting his right hand beneath the dark surface. Deep within him the last reserves of stored energy surged, linking with that contained in this tiny pool of the vast Well. Hades created a swirling vortex around his hand, which rippled outward as it greedily drew in more power. It flared an unnatural green, easily the size of a man now.
At last he released the energy, now that it was strong enough to be self-sustaining. Hades guided it, forcing the vortex to establish a link with a far away part of the Well. This distant part was in the far north, beneath the First Ark. It resonated as someone on that far end joined with the energy. Hades could feel that person, knew their resonance as well as his own.
“I have news, my master,” he intoned, sinking to his knees in genuine supplication. The day might come when he could overthrow the mighty Set, but Hades doubted it. Not that it concerned him overmuch. He’d spent millennia in servitude to his brother Zeus, quietly gathering strength while Zeus dealt with the mind-numbingly dull minutiae of ruling. It was much the same now. Hades paid Set nominal tribute, and in exchange was left alone to rule his own kingdom.
“Speak, vassal,” the voice rumbled back, thick and powerful. More powerful than when last Hades had heard it, which stirred a bit of fear. How had Set grown so much stronger so quickly?
“I have spoken with the emissaries of your sister by marriage. Isis now believes the conquest of the underworld is the work of her husband. She is yet ignorant of your survival,” Hades explained, bowing his head.
“Excellent. You have done well, vassal. What else have you to tell?” Set asked, voice tinged with dark pleasure.
“Ra approaches Olympus even now. I shall sow further seeds of discontent. She will believe that Osiris is the true evil, and that Isis seeks to be in league with her husband. War will come, weakening those who might oppose you,” Hades explained, smiling in spite of himself. Oh, how he loved sowing discord. So much more effective than direct combat.
“This is to the good, my vassal,” the voice said, still more pleased. “I would have you plant one further seed. Tell Ra the forces that drove you from the underworld have fallen back. You fear they are massing for an assault, and if she hastens to the First Ark she may find it undefended.”
Hades immediately grasped the plan. Make her think Osiris controlled the First Ark, that he was taking his army to assault someone, thus leaving his stronghold undefended. “It shall be as you say, master.”
“When Isis and Ra are disposed of, you will have the first of many rewards,” Set said, voice thrumming with power. “Tell me, mighty Hades, what would you wish of me?”
“The Ark of the Cradle will have need of a new lord, my master,” Hades said, cautiously. Only those with a Ka had ever served as Ark Lord. He was only a lowly shaper, a sorcerer who’d grown strong through artifice and ingenuity.
“Interesting,” Set replied, then was silent for a long moment. “And what of Olympus? When first you came to my service you desired to reign there. Is this no longer so?”
“By cutting off the conduit to that place I have murdered my brethren. I would rule over a dead city, my master,” Hades offered, again cautiously.
“True,” Set said, silent for a long moment. “I will grant you the Ark of the Cradle, the moment Ra is dead. You will have her key, and you will rule the vast desert continent.”
Hades rejoiced inwardly. Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven.
38
Big-Ass Worm
“So that’s a sunstorm,” Trevor muttered, leaning out of the howdah’s flap to peer at the northern horizon. It was a wall of billowing orange clouds, like a dust storm that stretched from the ground to the tip of the sky. It blotted out everything in that direction, as if the very air had ignited.
“Forgive me for speaking, mighty deathless, but will Ka-Dun Jordan and I survive the sun’s fury?” Steve’s ingratiating voice came from behind him. Trevor turned around immediately, eyes narrowing.
Steve had his head bowed deferentially to Irakesh. Trevor had assumed Irakesh was too cunning to fall for Steve’s crap, but it appeared he was wrong. Irakesh ate up the dutiful servant routine, acting as if it was only right for someone of his station.
“You will survive it, as will the mammoths. Ra will erect a bubble of force over our camp,” the deathless replied, settling more comfortably atop his small mountain of pillows. He swirled the contents of a golden goblet, staring disdainfully at Trevor. “Trevor is a yokel, with no knowledge of such things. Let him gawk, but you needn’t fear the sun’s coming fury. It will be unpleasant, but it will pass over us quickly.”
“You’d better hope so,” Jordan muttered from his place on the wall opposite Irakesh. He tugged absently at the golden collar, and Trevor gave a wince of sympathy. He hated what had been done to the man, and he hated his unwitting role in it even more. “If we’re going to buy it you can be damn sure we’re taking you with us.”
“My queen,” a voice bellowed, so loud that Trevor was forced to clap his hands over his ears. He recognized the jackal immediately. “Wepwawet has found prey. In the skies above. A slipsail has emerged from Olympus, and is fleeing north.”
A trumpet blew and the mammoth stopped. Trevor briefly debated asking Irakesh what was going on, but his former master was unlikely to give him a truthful answer. Instead he nodded at Jordan. “Let’s go see what this is about.”
Trevor leapt through the flap, landing in a crouch nearly forty feet below. The stench of the mammoth was thick, making Trevor gag. It overpowered even the rotting army of undead that trailed in their wake. Jordan’s muscled form landed next to Trevor a moment later, his landing sending up a puff of dust. He was still in human form, and other than the golden collar looked exactly like the same man who’d blown up Trevor’s house back in San Diego. The camo pants and skin-tight black t-shirt were sweat-stained and dirty now, but they still belonged on the man more than any other uniform.
“Looks like that’s what’s causing the commotion,” Jordan said, donning his sunglasses as he nodded at the horizon.
Trevor turned to face that way, spotting the trouble immediately. The storm batted a silver ship all over the place, knocking it around like a plastic bag in a tornado. A bronze skiff had risen from the area near Ra’s howdah. It made its way cautiously into the air, much less affected by the growing storm. Wepwawet’s white-grey form hunched low over the skiff, which was slowly gaining on the silver vessel.
The caravan had halted, a small cluster of figures gathering at the head. Trevor recognized Anubis, who towered over the others. Ra was unmistakable as well, her scarlet hair a spot of bright color in a sea of white clothing. Trevor began trotting in that direction, Jordan falling into step beside him. He hadn’t insisted Jordan follow his orders, or done anything to make his situation worse. Yet the man’s already sizable animosity was clearly growing. Trevor doubted that would ever change, nor was he sure he wanted it to. Even now part of him wanted to kill Jordan.
Then do so, you’ll never have a better time to strike. It might deprive you of a tool, but it will also prove your strength to the other deathless.
“Hang back a little,” Trevor told Jordan, slowing as he reached the knot of figures surrounding Ra. Anubis eyed him balefully, but none of the rest seemed to notice his appearance.
“It seems c
lear Hades dispatched the slipsail,” Ra was saying, her attention focused on the vessel landing in the distance. “The question is why? He clearly saw our approach, but I cannot think he would abandon Olympus. If he desired to, he’d have fled to the underworld. So why dispatch so precious a tool into the maw of a sunstorm?”
None of the figures surrounding her answered, but Trevor found himself speaking. “Because he wants us to pursue them.”
Ra turned to face him, glittering green eyes sizing him up for long moments before she spoke. “And what makes you think you have the slightest inkling of the motivation of a god you’ve never met?”
“I don’t have to know him to guess at his motives. If you’re right and he knew we were coming why else would he have sent the ship? If he wanted to hide someone, couldn’t he have them flee into the underworld? We’d never even know they existed. Sending them out in a ship he knows for sure we’ll see seems pretty stupid,” Trevor argued.
“Obviously. Yet, sadly, you are the only one among my retinue to see it. You are one to watch, Trevor Gregg,” Ra said, giving a tight nod. “Anubis, make ready for battle in case this is some kind of trap. The rest of you….”
The ground bucked wildly, knocking Trevor to the dust. Jordan fell as well, though the rest of the gods somehow kept their balance. A deep rumbling sounded somewhere deep beneath them.
Trevor shifted into a cloud of energy, drifting a few feet off the ground in a cloud of crackling green motes. It was the best defense he could muster without knowing more. He peered around them. Ra’s army was in chaos, zombies flailing to regain their footing with little success, as the ground continued to quake. Only the mighty Anakim kept their footing.
“No. No, no, no,” Ra wailed, spinning in place as if searching for something. A moment later, Trevor knew exactly what she’d been searching for, and why she seemed so disturbed by it.