by Chris Fox
A hairy arm emerged from the trees, slashing angrily at the water. The blow fell less than ten feet from their canoe, and Trevor caught sight of the beast’s brutish face through the rain. The stench was overpowering. Another mapinguara slapped the water, then a third. Their shrieks reached a crescendo where the river was narrowest, but their reach fell short.
Trevor guided the canoe closer to the southern shore, gaining them another dozen feet. It still felt like the creatures were far too close—close enough to be a real threat.
“I really don’t like the look of those things,” Trevor said. He turned to face Jordan in the rear of the canoe. “Do you think we should ground the boat and chance going on foot?”
Before Jordan could answer, a thick, furry arm burst from the trees on the southern shore. It thumped against the side of the boat, but found no purchase. The force of the blow pushed the boat toward the middle of the river, safely out of reach. The failure seemed to drive the mapinguara insane, and it leapt into the water in pursuit of the canoe.
“Oh, shit,” Trevor said. He squeezed off a trio of shots, but the bullets glanced off the beast’s hide. “That thing is a lot bigger than the one we killed. I think mama is pissed.”
“She’s gaining on us,” Anput said. The vampire squeezed off a shot from her boomerang, but the green energy washed harmlessly over the mapinguara’s thick hide. The stench of burnt hair filled the air, so strong that not even the rain could dampen it.
The water around the mapinguara began to thrash and churn. Trevor caught sight of silver bodies, and sharp fins. They were big fish; even the smaller ones were at least a foot long. Some of the larger ones were closer to three feet.
They swarmed around the mapinguara, which seemed to ignore them—at first. Then one of the fish leapt from the water, latching onto the mapinguara’s lip. Trevor caught a flash of white fangs, and then the fish tumbled back into the water. A piece of the mapinguara’s tough skin was missing, blood flowing freely from the wound.
The mapinguara stumbled, toppling into the water. Fish swarmed around it, tearing into the sensitive flesh around its eyes and mouth. Red froth filled the water. The mapinguara gave a pained shriek, disappearing below the surface. When it reemerged, patches of its face had been eaten away, and a fish tail jutted from its mouth.
More and more fish filled the water, and then something jerked the mapinguara from its feet. This time, the creature stayed under the water. Red-brown water frothed around the point where it had disappeared, and the thrashing reached a crescendo.
Then the water stilled. The surface sat unbroken. The only evidence that anything had happened was a slightly darker hue to the water, but that faded quickly.
“What the hell were those things?” Trevor said in a low, reverent tone.
“Piranhas,” Leti said, “but not like any I’ve ever seen. They were larger and faster than the ones I’ve heard tales of. I do not know how they pierced the mapinguara’s hide, but at least we know why the beasts fear the water.” She shuddered. “It is a bad way to die.”
“Let’s hope those things don’t suddenly decide they like the taste of boat,” Jordan said. He used his oar with long powerful strokes, propelling them further from the carnage.
48
Report
Hades strode through the corridors of Olympus, smiling as he stared down through the balcony’s glass floor at the Ark below. Tendrils of electricity crackled along the containment vessels the grey men had provided, feeding power into Olympus.
Not all the power, of course. The grey men kept the bulk for themselves, but had been willing to share scraps. A proud man would turn such scraps away. A smart man took them graciously, with an eye for how he might acquire more.
He studied the three identical crafts, each a floating black pyramid surrounded by a green nimbus of power. They looked like miniature Arks, but were clearly far more advanced. Those crafts could leave the planet and journey into the cosmos. Who knew what other feats the grey men and their Builder masters were capable of?
Hades folded his smooth hands under his golden robes, making his way past the dozens of demonic courtiers he now employed. He left them very little free will, and they universally cast their eyes to the ground as he passed. Some might argue that there was little point in ruling a mindless army, but Hades disagreed. None of his minions were decent company, but there was no chance they’d betray him. His servants with more free will, on the other hand, were an ever-present threat.
“Speaking of which, it’s past time we received an update from Nox,” Hades mused. The horned demons he’d just passed nodded enthusiastically, though it was doubtful they knew what they were agreeing with. Hades breezed past them, crossing several golden platforms until he reached the Orb of Vulcan.
The swirling globe of blue light was suspended over a golden disk, both objects crafted by Vulcan in the primordial days before Olympus had been constructed. Three such artifacts had been created, and two still survived. They allowed the bearer to communicate over vast distances, a feat that most had considered miraculous during his day.
Today such communications were more common, but that only made the orbs more valuable. So far as Hades knew, they were one of the few means of communications that the grey men were unaware of. They’d never seen the orbs, and he’d made doubly sure that Nox knew he needed to keep the sister orb a secret. Fortunately, Nox understood and practiced discretion. Nox reminded Hades a great deal of himself, though Nox had inherited some troubling moralities from his upbringing in this strange new world.
Hades sat gracefully on the golden throne, willing it to rise. It floated into the air, bobbing comfortably next to the orb. Through the transparent floor, he caught sight of a wild bolt of lightning, darting from the Ark toward one of the orbiting ships. The lightning was less frequent than it had been in the beginning, now that the Ark was essentially drained of power. Keeping it that way was one of his primary motivations, at least until he was able to obtain the key to that Ark.
The orb began to pulse, and Hades gestured. A signal burst from his hand, establishing the link. The orb flared bright blue, then the brilliance dimmed. Nox’s head and shoulders were displayed within. He wore the garb that had been popular among the nobles of his world, a black suit with a white shirt. The tie around his neck looked confining. Hades would never understand how a man could willingly bend to such obtuse fashions.
“I hope for your sake that you have something of worth to report, vassal,” Hades demanded. Dealing with Nox always angered him, and he struggled to master himself.
“I do, my lord.” Those words were delivered through gritted teeth, but they were delivered. “Camiero’s forces have engaged the champions along the entire eastern border of the Amazon. We’ve made seven incursions, and Camiero’s forces are getting the worst of it. My projections suggest he’ll have no choice but to pull out within three weeks. Less, if the werewolves get more aggressive.”
“That should be plenty of time for you to accomplish your task, yes?” Hades asked. He raised both hands, adjusting the heavy golden crown. Sometimes he longed to set it aside, but he’d never willingly deprive himself of the strength and clarity it offered.
“I believe so,” Nox said. His steely eyes grew even harder. “You realize the danger this puts us in, right? You sold me on opposing the Builders from the inside, but if we give them the Proto Ark we’re as good as handing them the Arks themselves. They’ll be able to make more keys, Hades. Is that really the kind of power you want to hand over?”
“I promised the masters that I would secure the Proto Ark,” Hades said. All humor was gone now. He stared hard at Nox. “You know what they will do to us if they think we are stalling. Their forces are limited, but if they wanted to destroy Olympus they could do it. If they wanted to destroy the satellites you commandeered they could do it. The opportunity for us to betray them will arise, but until it does we have no choice but to capitulate to their wishes.”
“
Of course we have a choice,” Nox snapped. It was a rare lapse of emotion, and Hades drew back in surprise. “I’ve learned that Ark Lord Blair has returned, along with his Ka-Ken. We could work with them, come up with a plan to wipe out the grey men. We could resist.”
“We could,” Hades agreed, “but we will not.” He recovered his composure, straightening. “I sometimes forget how young you are. Tell me, Nox, what do you think the Ark Lords will do to us after the grey men are defeated? Both of us are demonically tainted. Both of us have already conspired with their enemies.”
“They’d wipe us out,” Nox said, “or try to at least. But they wouldn’t do that until after the grey men had been dealt with.” He shook his head, eyeing Hades as if he thought him a fool. “If we throw in with the grey men, we won’t survive the arrival of the Builders. They’re coming to wipe us out, and you know it. If we throw in with those resisting, we have a chance. If we work with the grey men, we guarantee our destruction.”
“Not so,” Hades countered. He gave Nox his most condescending smile. “We are a dagger at the belly of the grey men, and we know they bleed just as we do. The time will soon come for us to reveal ourselves, but until that happens we share a common goal. The thing most desired by the grey men is a Primary Access Key, yes?”
“Obviously.”
“What you, in your youth, do not see is how desperate that makes the grey men,” Hades explained. He urged his throne a little closer to the orb. “They will do anything to obtain a Primary Access Key, including making me an Ark Lord. Do you begin to see?”
“You’re hoping they’ll use the key you create to make you Ark Lord of the Cradle.” Nox’s eyes widened slightly, the only concession to his apparent surprise. “You really believe they’ll honor their bargain, don’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Hades asked. He gave a roaring laugh. “They need allies, Nox.”
“How so?” Nox asked dubiously.
“Ark Lord Blair was not the only one to return. You recall your friend, Commander Jordan?” Hades asked. “I’ve received word that he has returned, and is also the bearer of a key. Three Ark Lords have been sighted in total, one of them at the Ark of the Cradle itself. Your former companions are back, Nox. The grey men have larger problems, for the moment at least.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Nox said. “I will head into the jungle tonight. Once I’m in position, I will activate the beacon. You have until then to get me the materials to construct this key. Have them sent to my forward operating base in Brasilia.”
The orb went dark. Nox often terminated the connection first. It probably made him feel some semblance of control, which Hades was happy to allow him.
Soon, Hades would have the means of securing himself an Ark. If the plan failed for some reason, he’d simply sacrifice Nox as an offering to appease the grey men. Either way, he’d emerge stronger.
49
The Song
Jordan caught himself with a jerk, throwing his hands out to grab the sides of the canoe. He must have nodded off. At some point the rain had stopped, and a low mist had risen over the water. It was otherworldly, like sailing on clouds.
He looked over his right shoulder, then the left. The jungle loomed silently on both sides. There was no sign of pursuit, and there had been no other mapinguara. After the big one had gotten eaten, they’d apparently had enough.
He couldn’t much blame them.
“How long was I out?” he asked groggily.
Leti was curled up on her bench, snoring softly. Trevor and Anput were conversing in low tones, but the conversation trailed off when he sat up.
“Maybe two hours?” Trevor called back softly. “All we’ve been doing is steering the canoe. No sign of pursuit.”
“I miss anything interesting?” Jordan asked.
Anput eyed him suspiciously from the front of the canoe.
It was Trevor who answered. “We’re talking about the viruses Isis created—specifically, how to modify them. Anput has some theories on how the different strains vary. It’s all theoretical stuff, for the moment at least. We’d need access to an Ark, and a fair amount of time, to test any of her theories.”
“It’s good that someone’s thinking about this stuff.” Jordan dipped his oar in the water, propelling them forward with a powerful stroke. The mist swirled away from the boat as they drifted in near silence. “You’re welcome to use my Ark when we’re done here. I’d be happy to set you up with a lab, and I imagine Roberts could find a way to fund it.”
“Wait, did you just ask me to be your roommate?” Trevor asked. He pulled his oar from the water and twisted to face Jordan.
“Crap, I guess I did.” Jordan couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not asking you out for beers or anything. But you get the job done, and so far as I can tell you’re fighting for the same reasons I am. I can’t say we’ll always be allies, but for now we need each other.”
“And a bromance was born,” Anput said. She gave a musical laugh. “While I’m glad that you two are working together, don’t you think we ought to focus on why we’re here? If you weren’t so distracted you’d already feel it.”
“Feel what?” Trevor asked. He turned to the jungle, scanning warily.
Jordan reached out experimentally with all senses. At first there was nothing, but after a moment he realized he could hear a rhythmic pulse, so faint it was almost imagined. “What is that?”
“What is what?” Leti rose sleepily to a sitting position. She stifled a yawn.
“That pulsing,” Jordan supplied. “I can feel it, almost like a heartbeat. It’s coming from the jungle—to the southwest, I’d guess.”
All sleepiness vanished. Leti sat fully erect, frozen as she stared in the direction Jordan had indicated. Lines tightened around her eyes as the hope bled away. After several moments, she turned defeated eyes on him. “I feel nothing, but I am familiar with what you describe. The ancient texts describe the city as singing. The song grows louder as the city approaches.”
“Approaches?” Anput asked. She wore her skepticism openly. “The city comes to us?”
“Yes. It sounds impossible, but every one of my brothers and sisters have told the same tale. We do not find the city, the city finds us.” Leti stared a challenge at Anput—one the other woman seemed ready to meet.
“It doesn’t matter whether the city finds us or we find the city,” Jordan snapped. Both women turned hostile gazes his way. “We’re going to follow the sound of that pulsing. If the city finds us, great. Less cutting a path through that jungle. Trevor, can you beach us on the southern shore?”
Trevor nodded, using his oar to guide them toward the dark mass of trees. Mist parted as they glided forward, finally stopping with a thump against the trunk of a fat, squat tree with about a million roots.
Anput was the first out of the boat, blurring into a crouch against one of the trees. Trevor followed her, moving to a trunk on the opposite side of the canoe.
Leti rose slowly, and Jordan braced the boat as she leapt out. She transformed in the air, nine feet of dark fur disappearing into the shadows near the apex of her jump.
Jordan hefted his pack, using his telekinesis to stabilize the canoe. He hopped out, kicking off the tree and landing in a crouch. A wall of vegetation blocked his path.
Jordan sighed, then reached for the machete strapped to the side of his pack. He began hacking at the jungle in broad smooth strokes, cutting a rough path.
“What are you doing?” Leti’s disembodied voice came from somewhere above. “That will take forever, and it will anger the jungle.”
“You have a better idea?” Jordan asked. He slid the machete back into his sheath.
“We have already offended the land,” she said. “We may as well take to the trees. We can move far more quickly, without damaging the jungle. There are many spirits here, and they do not take kindly to strangers—much less strangers who harm their jungle.” Leti’s voice was already growing more distant a
s she leapt from tree to tree. He could hear the trees creak as she landed, each time further away. “The faster we move, the more chance we will avoid them. We would do well to be away from here quickly. Do not worry about the deathless. I am sure they can keep up.”
“Guess we’re Tarzaning this bitch,” Jordan muttered. He leapt into the air, kicking off a trunk to gain altitude. He used his telekinesis to extend the jump, then kicked off another tree. He caught a limb fifty feet away, then swung to another.
Well done, Ka-Dun. Do you not feel it? The exhilaration? We were meant to travel like this, masters of this place.
Jordan did enjoy the feeling of swinging through the trees. He lost himself in the motion, gliding through the jungle as fast as any monkey. After the first few jumps he shifted to warform, and the jumps became larger. He guessed he was moving at twenty-five to thirty miles an hour, which was great given how dense the jungle was. He could increase that speed, too, if needed. Blurring would easily allow him to top three hundred miles per hour.
Unfortunately, that kind of shaping would risk revealing their position. It was likely that natives already knew they were here, but no sense making it any easier for them.
Especially if Leti was right about the city finding them.
As they made their way through the jungle, the pulsing grew stronger. Jordan moved toward it, but kept an ear out for his surroundings. He heard the low squick, squick of insects, the occasional caw of a macaw. They did pass a single pack of spider monkeys, who gave a few curious calls as they passed.
There was nothing resembling a predator, no eerie supernatural presence oppressing the jungle around them. It all felt a little too easy.