Rage of the Ancient Gods

by Craig Robertson

  The journey to Beal's Point refreshingly took only twelve hours sans Hemnoplop. We arrived right at dusk. In what I'd learned to be the custom, our posse gathered at a permanent campsite and lit a big fire. Damn I wished we had the makings for smores. Note to self: Next trip to Godville, bring marshmallows, chocolate, and grahams.

  Even from a distance I could tell the location had changed. What had to be guards were patrolling lazily. By the time we were up on the plateau itself, I could confirm there were several but not excessive numbers of monstrous-looking guardians. I didn't recognize them, but deferred asking anyone directly, not wanting to appear as foreign as I truly was. Dudes were impressive though. Ranging around three meters tall, they were built like the proverbial brick shithouse. They had to be at least four hundred pounds. They sported a pair of scaly arms in front and in back, each wielding a gigantic pike. I did not want to piss one of them off. I said that because, you know, I accidentally tended to do that a lot. Fortunately they paid us no mind whatsoever.

  A tray of meats and fruits was passed around along with pitchers of water. No intoxicants were allowed on the Point. No one was going to binge-drink themselves out of a proper suffering.

  I thumbed over my shoulder and spoke to no one in particular. “First time I've seen those jamokes up here.”

  Flaming shot a quick glance to Catalexa and Klioaw, then responded. “Er, this is the first time we've needed golems up here. You were at the egress, right?”

  Wow, these were not the alluring naked golems I knew and almost loved.

  “Front and center,” replied Sapale. “Got a big old dose of bad memories, thank you very much.”

  “Me too,” Catalexa said with a wince. “I was back home with my insane parents for ten long seconds. I would have chewed my head off if I could've.”

  We all gave a restrained chuckle. All but the cucumber. He looked at everyone and spat. “I saw a drought. A hot, dry drought and all the flowers dried up before they could produce seed, and there were no spring showers to soothe them. It was intense and I'm not laughing.”

  “We can all see that,” I had to observe. What a veggie baby.

  “I just hope the vandals who stole the intermixer don't return while we're here. There's no telling what they’d do to us in our sleep,” bemoaned Mosanosa as he rolled repeatedly over my last nerve.

  “What are the chances of that?” posed Sapale. “You guys are up here with desperados.”

  “Unimaginable,” added Toño. “I'd calculate the odds but they're too low to even guesstimate.”

  “I bet those pansy-asses'd piss their pants if they saw those hunks a clay.” I pointed to the nearest golem. “We're as safe as if we were in our mothers's arms.”

  Catalexa raised his hand. “Nearly fatal for me, so I think I'll pass.”

  He seemed to be all right. I was going to need to force myself not to befriend him. It's hard to kill a friend in cold blood. Best to keep it as business. Without Fool's Island to slow us down, our party completed the gauntlet that was Beal's Point the next afternoon. Thank the Maker. When we arrived at the main road I made it a point to head in the opposite direction from our temporary companions. That way we could get right to planning our assault and not waste time playacting.

  “How are we going to deal with those mean guards the size of small whales?” asked Toño when we stopped.

  “They're easy. Golems are as dumb as dirt, literally. They can perform the simple actions they are instructed to. They can't think independently,” I responded.

  “So, how's that make them easy?” asked Sapale.

  “A distraction. No way they were programmed to react correctly to one of those.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Still, taking out all those monuments would require they be pretty distracted pretty far away.”

  “Nah. We only need to take out thirty monuments. Let's not get greedy,” I replied.

  “Yes, Jon, you're correct. It shouldn't be hard to trick them into converging somewhere on one side of the Point. Blowing up the pedestals won't take long. A simple ram with a membrane and they'll crumble to dust.”

  “Releasing a world of hurt, I must add,” said Sapale.

  “Oh I should think we needn't be that close. If one of us does the distracting the other two only have to destroy fifteen each. That could be done from half a kilometer, more if the angles happen to be correct.”

  “So what's the distraction?” asked my mate.

  You have to know they both turned and looked at me.

  “What? I'm the one with his ass in harm's way?”

  “Would you feel better if we put it to a vote?” Sapale inquired with a gallows’ grin.

  “Why bother,” I said by way of concession. “You guys'd cheat if we did.”

  She leaned over and pinched my cheek. “Of course we would, love. Of course we would.”

  “So let's do this,” I announced.

  We made our way back to Beal's Point in the pitch black. One strategic advantage of a night assault was that we had great night vision, and lumps of clay had to have been blind as bats. I angled to the far left while my partners headed right. We agreed to attack in fifteen minutes. That gave everyone time to take up optimal positions. I skirted the steep slope that rose to my left and found a good spot. I was almost a kilometer from the nearest monument, and I had two options for retreat. Once the fishies took the bait I'd be able to disappear quickly.

  At the appointed time I sprung the trap. Of the many choices at my disposal, I picked the one the golems would be completely caught off guard by. Yeah, I started playing extremely loud disco music. I used my laser finger to generate a pretty fair image of a disco ball to boot. My selection of tunes was nothing short of brilliant. “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor followed by “Stayin' Alive” à la Bee Gees and concluding, if necessary, with the Jon Ryan national anthem, “Love Machine” starring Supermax.

  About ten seconds into Gloria's classic, a voice screamed in my head. What in the name of all that's holy are you doing? That would be Toño the Stick in the Mud.

  At eleven seconds came, You've pulled some real boners, Ryan, but this is numero uno of all time, you moron. That would be my blessed wife.

  Do either of you see a golem?

  Silence.

  No, because they're all lumbering as best they can to join the party. I think I'll hit 'em with a big cover charge. They'd pay anything to dance with me, dance with me.

  I actually had to cut it short. Near as I could figure all the golems were past the last statue and churning their chubby legs at yours truly. Dagnabit. I didn't even get to cue my theme song. Oh, those bozos were going to pay for that.

  As I started to run, one of those pikes thudded to the ground right where the foot I moved had been. I increased my respect-quotient for the guards. They were good. I was in deep doo-doo. I turned on the afterburners. Fortunately they were lousy as vectors—go figure. As a moving target they never came close. I started my descent from Beal's Point and heard two series of kabooms. Excellent. The deed was done.

  These guards are deadly accurate if you're standing still. Make haste, my friends. Be the wind, I said to them.

  Thanks, I think I see you now, responded Sapale.

  I'm behind Sapale, said Doc. I'll catch up at …

  At where, Toño? screamed Sapale.

  Oh bother, he replied. I seem to be pinned against the cliff.

  Pinned? I shot back. Pinned by what?

  One very large spear.

  Crapazoid.

  TWELVE

  Bram-fo pressed his body hard against the front of his foxhole. The soil was wet and cold and filthy with the carnage heaped all around its rim, but Bram-fo powered himself as close to it as he could. What approached was so horrific, he only wished he could meld with the dirt presently and not have to await his impending death to be buried.

  A soldier thudded to the bottom of the hole behind him. Bram-fo didn't or couldn't turn to see if it was someone who'd
leapt in or had been tossed mangled into his safehold. It mattered zero either way. To glance around would distance him from the front lip and its temporary cover. He heard a stirring behind.

  “Bram, that you?” asked a beaten voice.

  “Not for long.” Bram-fo's words were muffled as his lips were so close to the wall.

  “I share your lack of confidence, my old friend,” said the person rising and advancing to Bram-fo's location.

  Without looking back Bram-fo responded. “Srel-do, could you not let me die in peace?”

  “I could not let you die alone, you oaf. Eternal peace will be yours soon enough. But to die alone, that is beneath your dignity.”

  “Beneath my dignity? Srel-do, if I could save my hide by handing you, your mother, and all your kids to those monsters, I’d do it. I have no honor any longer.”

  Srel-do was close enough and slapped his commander on the back. “You have lived well and will die well. I wish the same could be said …”

  A blinding flash and chaotic explosive impact shook the pair. Clods tumbled from the hole they were in. Several clumps rolled in Bram-fo's face. A few came to rest on top of his head. He didn't bother to shake them off. They didn't matter.

  “Any word on G Company?” asked Rank Captain of the King's Foot Bram-fo Halorisian. It was one of ten under his command, and the last left standing as of an hour ago.

  “No, skip, I ain't seen a sign of 'em. They were in an advance position near Chaplain Hill when I ran past. But that was fifteen minutes ago. No telling now,” replied Second Captain Serl-do Klemperer. He was in charge of Easy Company while it still existed. But he was the sole survivor as of about an hour ago.

  “Lookin' pretty grim, old friend.”

  “Terminally grim, I'd estimate.”

  Serl heaved himself over the edge of the hole and fired off eight quick rounds. His click pinged out as he was diving back to cover.

  “D'ya hit anything?” asked Bram-fo with a dark chuckle.

  “Had to hit something, right?”

  “True that. Might have put a tree trunk through living hell.”

  “In the king's service. Don't forget that part.”

  “Yeah, but who's the king? The one you and I've served for thirty years was chewed in half on day one of the invasion. Soon after the next ten or twelve in the succession were subjected to a similarly gruesome fate.”

  “Hey, maybe it's you that's the king now. Didn't you once tell me your great great something was a bastard of a long dead member of the royal order?”

  “Technically true, but the practicality is hard to invoke. If the fifth cousin ten times removed of the Archduke Merryla-to is the current regent, I'd say the Kasholari Empire is pretty much history.”

  “Much like the citizenry of the Five Known World Coalition.”

  Bram-fo, who was still pressing himself against the foxhole wall, replied, “That Giaia was the last planet to fall gives me some small pride.”

  Serl-do harrumphed grimly. “If it had outlasted them by more than a few hours it'd have been even sweeter.” He grabbed Bram-fo's shoulder and firmly pulled him away from the dirt.

  Bram-fo roughly shook the hand off and pitched himself back to where he'd been.

  “I don't think your not seeing them's gonna slow them down in annihilating you, skip.”

  “If it doesn't matter then I'll stay put, assuming it's agreeable to you.”

  “Makes me no mind. I'd rather die shooting rather than trembling in the mud. But to each his own to be sure.”

  In any other setting, at any other time, Bram-fo would have killed a man for accusing him of trembling, even if it were the case. Of course it never had been before. But now he let the blood-insult bounce off his back and dissipate. In thirty years of serving the king, Bram-fo had fought with abandon and bravery and he had never once been afraid. What was he to fear? He was a strong warrior, serving a just ruler, and he had as picture perfect a family as any of God's creatures. But now, now was different. His family was dead. His king was dead. He had lost an arm and could feel the first kiss of a fever brewing from his festering stump.

  And he knew fear because he'd seen the enemy and he'd seen them in battle. Bram-fo had seen their atrocities, their destruction, and he'd seen their complete lack of morals. Worst of all he knew fear, in fact he was consumed by it, because he'd seen their faces. The ten identical creatures, the monsters who were ingesting, defiling, and ending his world, were the grossest malfeasances of all. They were the mockery the Five Known World Coalition was fated to end because of. Yes, Bram-fo would die with his face pressed against that wet dirt wall because he never wanted to see those ten little golden retriever puppies again.

  THIRTEEN

  If any of those golems gets a good look at one of us we're toast, I said quickly. Even if we take them out immediately, they might be linked to headquarters or something.

  I agree, replied Toño, but I haven't been able to budge this pike. If they get to me before I'm free there's basically nothing I can do.

  Sapale, you get back to Toño. I'll try and distract them again, hopefully draw them off.

  Roger that. I'm already sprinting back.

  If I try to draw them toward my present position it might cut off our escape route. I'll put up a couple full membranes and go for the far side of the plateau.

  Membranes, marveled Sapale. They could help if the big lumps of clay get within visual range. We could seal them in one.

  Excellent idea. Doc, if they show up near you, you’re in charge of that while Sapale works to free you.

  Understood.

  The path to the cliff edge was straight and I made good time. I could see all the golems. Many were headed toward Toño, seemingly aware he was hit. The rest were running around randomly. None were near me. I wished I had a few flares to draw them off with. I hated missions where I was unable to prepare properly. But what the hell? Improvise, adapt, overcome was the way I rode. As I skidded to a stop at the cliff, I dropped my shields. I targeted the closest golems closing in on Toño's position with my laser finger. I swear I must have looked like Harry Potter up there that night. I pointed at the bad guys and fire flared from my hand toward them.

  I focused on their legs. I probably couldn't kill them, but no legs meant they were down where they fell. I made short work of most of the guards. The ones in the lead began to notice their fallen comrades and searched for the source of the damage. They IDed me quick enough. Soon all the golems were lumbering as fast as they could toward me. I kept firing and held my position.

  How's it coming? I asked.

  I just got here. Not good. Toño's pinned right through the right upper chest. His right arm is useless.

  Can you free him?

  Yeah, hang on. Toño, push away from the rock as hard as you can. There, I cut the pole with my laser. Should I pull the spear out?

  Let me, replied Toño. There. Aside from my right arm all systems are fine.

  Okay, make like hell for the exit and I'll rendezvous with you there.

  I deployed two flat membranes and raced to join them. The Golem did notice I'd departed and kept closing in on my last position. I slammed on the brakes. If I could take them all out we’d be safer. One by one they arrived at the cliff edge and searched the area. They all looked over the edge too. Finally twelve big guards were basically standing at the margin, looking confused. I put up a membrane and pushed them all off the cliff. It was a long way down by any creature's standards. The less Vorc knew about what happened up here, the better.

  We made it to Gorpedder's abandoned house before dawn. That was another lucky break. If anyone saw the injury Toño sustained, they'd pretty quickly figure out where he received it. A blown cover in the land of the Cleinoids would be fatal. Sapale and I labored nearly eighteen hours to patch Toño back up. With only our internal repair kits and spare parts to work with, it was tough going. But in the end we even had his shirt sewn up and he looked good as new.

  I slump
ed back against a wall. “That's that. What a night.”

  “What a night?” responded Toño. “I was the one impaled by the spear. You just had to make me right again.”

  “Sure felt like it was me,” I sighed.

  “Such a drama wuss,” responded Sapale.

  “Ouch, husband responds when attacked by his forever wife.”

  “Shoe fits, put it on, fly boy.”

  “All right, both of you go to your rooms,” said Papa De Jesus.

  “You suggesting we're acting childish again?” I asked.

  “Put on the shoe,” he replied sternly.

  “Why can't anyone get the idioms correct around here? It's pathetic. Really it is.”

  “If the shoe fits, wear it,” came from behind me.

  I spun. Holy hemorrhoids, it was the irregular ghost. “You again, King Hamlet?”

  “I wish I knew why you kept saying that and why you make it sound like such a betrayal on my part,” he replied.

  Wow, what a vocabulary he'd developed in such a short time. What a form too. He looked like a set of cigars last time. Now, I couldn't say for certain, he looked like maybe articulated cigars. Yeah, one big central one and three or four, might have been five smaller cigars. The ghost of Philip Morris?

  “I say it because you come and go like a moron's attention span. I say it harshly because we need all the help we can get continually, not when the spirit moves you.”

  “But I've never left your side since the moment we met. We've been together forever.”

  “Forever? Not hardly. You mean since I arrived a few months back?”

  “What's the difference?”

  “Between a month and forever? Not much when we're talking about you. You're that tedious.”

  “Ah, Jon, do you think it's wise to antagonize him so directly?” asked Toño diplomatically. “We do benefit from his aid.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry, Casper. I'm under a lot of pressure.”