Van couldn’t breathe. He pounded again desperately on the Overlord’s arms. This time the OverLord flinched and drew his arms back. Van fell to the ground. The OverLord stared at his arms like he’d never seen them before. He looked down at Van, his monstrous white eyes wider than Van had ever seen them. “Pain,” he whispered.
Sevendhi came flying in with a massive dropkick into the OverLord’s chest. The OverLord stumbled back. Sevendhi lunged at him, but got blasted by a massive fist in the chin. The OverLord picked Sevendhi up and slammed him to the wet ground. Van drew a ragged breath, stepped forward, and drove a hard punch into the OverLord’s shoulder. The OverLord flinched again. Van threw a straight right at the titan’s face, but the OverLord ducked it and delivered an uppercut that rocked Van’s chin and sent him sprawling on top of Sevendhi. Van looked up through weary eyes expecting a devastating follow-up blow, but the OverLord was staring at his knuckles, turning them over in the light of the scattered flames.
“Call the retreat,” the OverLord whispered down to Saint. “I must think on this.” He stepped over to the pit, then turned back to Van. “You have until the morning to live.” He swung his dead gaze up towards Kyle. “All of you.” Then he jumped into the pit and vanished.
Saint let loose an ear-rending screech. At the sound, the Nether army began surging back to the pit. Kyle flew higher to avoid the streaming enemies. Van threw himself on the ground and covered his head. The boots, feet, hooves, and claws of all manner of unpleasant and heavy creatures trampled over Van and Sevendhi in their frenzied rush to the pit. When Van lifted his head again, the Nether army was gone.
The cemetery was still and quiet but for the fires that had survived the rain. The downfall eased and the storm clouds floated off, carrying away a distant but powerful rumble. Van rolled off Sevendhi and sat up, feeling each and every one of his many injuries and studying what remained of his people. Dead bodies were strewn all about. The few soldiers still in the cemetery walked through blearily, looking at their dead comrades. Van’s army had been decimated. The few titans who remained standing were examining their injuries and glancing over at Van. The valkyrie landed to gather around Queen Aoleon, their backs to him.
Van shared a look with Kyle, his lungs aching and his neck throbbing as he drew heavy breaths. She had destroyed the urn and saved them. But for how long? The OverLord could now feel pain, but nothing else seemed to have changed. All that work and she’d merely bought them time.
Owen Grit approached Van and Sevendhi and plopped down in the mud beside them at the edge of the pit. “Guessing that wasn’t it, right?” he asked. Van shook his head, knowing all eyes were on him. “Well, fuck,” was Owen’s only reply.
To this, Van nodded, then he stood and walked away from the pit. Somewhere along the cemetery path, he passed the barrel of Kingsland he’d carried into the battle. It sat cracked and bleeding on the ground, the greedy dirt soaking up the wasted streams of foamy beer. A bloody, crushed helm lay beside it.
Chapter 21.
“Van, do you sleep?” Harlan’s soft voice drifted into the darkness.
“No,” Van answered. His tent had been trampled in the battle, so what remained of his headquarters had been moved to Moody’s Mourning Hole tavern. He lay stretched out on a wooden table, staring at ceiling beams. The only window in the dark backroom showed a starless night sky. The sun would be up in a few hours, what planning they could do had already been done, and Van should probably be sleeping. But he couldn’t.
“I bring a lantern. It is okay?” Harlan walked in, carrying a light with him. He pulled a chair over to the table and set the lantern on the floor. “I no longer care for the dark.”
Van suspected many of the other titans and soldiers felt the same way tonight. They lay quietly in their bedrolls, not sleeping, waiting for the darkness to fade. Morning would bring a new battle, surely the final battle given how poorly the first had gone, but at least the darkness would be washed away. If Van could have his way, he’d be standing in the midday sun, the world quiet around him. No one asking him to keep them safe. Kyle by his side, her bright eyes gently mocking him for his latest foolishness.
Harlan’s voice cut through the quiet. “I do not wish to bother you. But may we talk?”
“No bother,” Van replied.
Harlan seemed to relax, leaning back in the chair. “Today is a titan’s day, as we say where I am from.” He leaned forward again. “I could get you a beer.”
“No, I’m fine,” Van said softly, watching the lantern light play off the ceiling. “What’s on your mind?”
Harlan leaned back in his chair again, nodding gently. “I saw the Bearhugger today. He slipped away from me. So I cannot sleep.”
“Why’s that bothering you?” Van asked.
Harlan cracked a grim smile. “To kill Bearhugger is why I came to Empire City.” Silence fell between them for a long moment. Then Harlan said, “Perhaps I can tell you the story. Take your mind off of—” he waved a hand over his head “—whatever is so interesting on the ceiling.”
“Tell me.” Van welcomed any distraction from the worry that gnawed at his guts and the thoughts wrestling for space in his cluttered mind.
Harlan removed a thick cigar from his pocket. He raised the lantern from the floor, delicately opened one side, and thrust the cigar in to carefully light its end. The smoke made the light shift across the ceiling. He took a large puff as he slid back in his chair. Then he spoke through the grey smoke. “The titan who called himself Bearhugger was from the Southwoods. North from here, nearly as far as my own homeland. A place very different from this. Wild.” Harlan glanced around at the walls that held them in. “Little order. Less law. I grew up in a village on the northern ranges. It was named Tehmura. A beautiful place on a river with high bluffs in the distance. I traveled around the northern ranges, but my trips always ended and began at Tehmura. It was my home.” He took a long pull on the cigar. The smoke dissipated in the dim light. “Still, I was not there so much. I was not there when a traveling show came to town boasting of a great strongman, a titan who called himself Treesnapper. For that was what he did. They would pitch tents at the edge of the forest, and his show was the highlight. The whole town gathered when he performed. He would find the thickest trees, wrap his arms around their mighty trunks, and snap them in his grip. The crowds cheered as the massive trees fell to the ground. But he was never careful.”
Harlan folded his arms, gripped his biceps, the burning cigar hiked between his thick lips. “And so in Tehmura, with a great crowd gathered, the Treesnapper did his trick. But he judged wrong. The tree crashed into the crowd, killing ten and injuring many more. The show packed up and left before even the last corpse was pulled from the wreckage and the dead counted. Many of my people tried to stop them, to make them help or account for their carelessness, but the show had strong, armed men who held them off. And Treesnapper, of course, who was said to have laughed uproariously when he saw the destruction he had wrought. The following day, a party from Tehmura caught up to the show’s caravan. Fifteen men, armed with pitchforks and farm tools, ready to have words with Treesnapper about the deaths among their families and friends. None returned. The town was forced to swallow the great injustice. They never received any amends. But word spread of the Treesnapper’s destruction of Tehmura. Their business went away. On my return to Tehmura, I sought to find the show. Learning it had scattered, I sought to find the titan Treesnapper. He had vanished, escaping the vengeance I wished to bring to him.”
“And changing his name?” Van asked quietly.
“Yes. But not yet to Bearhugger. Next he is named Looden Gorge. And he changed more than that. He was no longer a showman. He became first a bandit and then a warlord. Towns no longer gave him their coin for snapping trees, so instead he snapped necks. He formed an army and rampaged across the northern ranges, picking off isolated towns and draining them of wealth. Murder, rape, and destruction upon their people. Bearhugger learned the ways
of a warlord. He learned to leave no enemies behind. And so one day, when I was in Corliss, wrestling in a tournament for meager coin, he returned to Tehmura. He killed everyone and burned the town to the ground. Among the dead was my betrothed.”
The chair creaked as Harlan leaned forward again. “You would quickly see in her what I loved. Her name was Magda but everyone called her Maggie. She was strong, stronger than me. The neighboring town buried her and the other dead by the time I learned the news and traveled back home. I walked through the ash-covered streets among the ruined buildings. It looked something like the battlefield of today. A place of death. During that long afternoon, I pledged my life to vengeance. But Looden Gorge was hard to find. His army moved at night, in secret, and left no survivors to point in the direction they had gone. They left false trails to confuse trackers. But eventually they broke apart, and Bearhugger took his present name.
“He remained difficult to find. It took years for me to make the connection between Looden Gorge and the wrestler Bearhugger. And he still traveled about on an unpredictable course. I would seek him out at one tournament only to learn he was at another. Then the Northwoods announced his name as their Headlock of Destiny champion. For once, I knew where he would be before he was there. I came to Empire City. But I was foolish. I asked too many questions before his arrival. If I was smart, I would have known he can sniff out enemies before him as well as behind him.”
Van heard heavy footsteps approaching the backroom, and Owen Grit appeared in the doorway. Seeing the titans talking, he came over to the light, dragging a chair behind him. Van stared at him as he settled. He expected Harlan to stop, but the titan puffed on his cigar and pressed on with his story.
“I was taken by Judge Cage before Bearhugger ever set foot in Empire City. I thought on my mistakes long and hard as I rotted in my cell, how I announced my presence rather than waiting in the shadows.” He pulled the cigar from his mouth to chuckle, then stuffed it back between his lips. “I’ll tell you something crazy, Van the Beer Man. I chased the Bearhugger across the Open Nations and beyond for seven years. And never once did I see him myself before tonight.” Harlan leaned back, shook his head and blew smoke at the ceiling. “I failed tonight. Perhaps not so tomorrow. But I would still be rotting in that cell, rotting in that dark, if not for you. Instead I have another chance. Vengeance for my betrothed and for my home. Even if we die before the sun sets again, I may still have a chance to pay that debt on my soul first. I am grateful, Van. You have led us to a great battle.”
Van raised his eyebrows. “Seven years?”
“Love makes us do strange things, my friend. Sometimes impossible things.” He smiled sheepishly. “Like your love of the valkyrie.”
Van snorted. “It’s that obvious?”
“No one believes that you jumped into the Nether to save the Patriot. Except perhaps the Patriot. You risked everything for her. And nothing is wrong with obvious. Why should you not love her? She is strong, beautiful. A good match. Though I do not know much of valkyrie.”
“Who does?”
Harlan shrugged. “Maybe Sevendhi. He loves his queen.”
“You see more than you say, Harlan.”
“None of this is a mystery. That you would have feelings for the valkyrie is no mystery. She is a leader, like you.”
“I’m no leader. Just a bum meant to be slacking off in a brewery.”
Harlan waved his hand dismissively, sending smoke across the room. “Bah. What is meant to be? You often speak of the past, of a titan I have never met. If it helps to speak of doubts, go ahead. But I have never met this titan who is meant to be small. The titan I met tore my cell door from its hinges and did not even wait for my thanks. He moved forward through his enemy’s stronghold to free others trapped in the dark. I do not see this titan lose. This titan sits before me with golden eyes, leads the defenses of a great city that is not his own. The strongest titans in this world, those of true strength, not just oiled muscles for show, are those who did not flee this place. And you are our leader. Not for having the most coin or royal lineage or even for being the toughest in the circle that is squared. You are the leader because there simply could not be another who has done what you have done.”
Owen chimed in. “He’s right, Van. You might have to lose this whole fish-out-of-water act. It’s looking more and more silly by the day.” He smirked as Van looked at him. After a moment, he shook his head and added, “Damn, those eyes are unnerving. I’ll bet this was what it was like talking to the Grand Reffe guy.”
Van lay back again and looked over at the dark window on the back wall. Was the sky already getting lighter? “I’m no Great General Grand Reffe.”
Owen softly punched one hand into the other. “Who knows? If we survive tomorrow, you may become a legend like him. They’ll conveniently leave things out, like that you were scared and filled with doubt. And that your beard looks like a rat’s nest and your nose looks like a potato as of a couple hours ago. They’ll just remember that when the world needed him, Van the Beer Man, with his golden eyes blazing, faced down the OverLord and ended the Titan Wars.”
Van watched the light move across the ceiling, the brightness of the wooden beams and the shadowy recesses. He hadn’t had time to think much about why his eyes remained golden. If he was a son of Jugor or somehow linked to Grand Reffe, he didn’t know what that meant. But the OverLord sought to erase this world and kill everyone in it just because he hoped it would somehow draw the attention of the giants. And that left Van little choice on where to stand.
Owen interrupted his train of thought. “If we’re going to keep philosophizing, I need a beer. Probably we all do.” Van nodded, sat up, and pointed to a barrel in the corner. Owen grabbed mugs and shambled over to it, his limp more pronounced since the battle. A few beers before the sun rose and they all again faced their deaths.
The first taste was exquisite enough to be almost painful. Van suddenly longed to be home in Headwaters. The post-Headlock calm would be wrapping up and full shifts starting again at the brewery. The Marjum Slope hops would soon come into season and the gathering crews would borrow Van to haul the huge, fragrant baskets back to the carts. The cool mountain air made the task an easy one for Van, and the pickers would tease him about loitering in the sun. Van wondered if he’d ever feel that ease again, ever even see his home again, and if he did, could he be happy there?
It was impossible for him to picture Kyle being a part of that life, and a life without Kyle suddenly seemed like a joyless slog, no better than what he’d clung to before he left Headwaters. But she would never sit back with him and be content to while away time in a quiet corner of the world. She was drawn to the fray. Harlan had painted a picture of Van confronting the dangers of the world, but Kyle had led Van every step of the way. She’d dragged him to the Headlock and drawn him to the Nether. The idea of fleeing before the Nether army had never been a real thought in his head, but a large part of that courage had grown from seeds she’d planted. And now he could no longer imagine life without her.
He took another swig, wishing he had the luxury of drinking himself into oblivion. He was weary of leading and following both. None of it mattered anyway. He was pretty confident none of them would survive the morning.
Chapter 22.
Van held a barrel at his hip and waited. Sunrise would come soon, muted by the grey clouds hanging low in the sky. The landscape was something out of a nightmare. The cemetery grass was coated with ash. The trees had all burned. Twisted and blackened, they stood over scattered crypts that had been reduced to rubble, toppled monuments, and tombstones that lay shattered on the ground, adding to the already treacherous footing. The ONWC stood ready, as did the valkyrie. Captain Jahrom’s troops returned to show their mettle again, their faces grim, their polearms steady.
At last, the light burst forth from the Nether pit and lit the colorless sky. Dark storm clouds surged forward on the horizon. A titan’s hand gripped the lip of the Nether ga
teway. The Brutalizer clambered out of the pit, his eyes white.
Van glanced at the ranks of titans around him, then took a measured step forward. He lofted his barrel into the air. The world seemed to stand still as it crested, then crashed down directly onto Brutalizer’s head and shattered in a foamy spray. Brutalizer’s arms pinwheeled as he tried to avoid tumbling back into the pit. Van let out a hearty laugh as the titan fell. Who said they couldn’t have a little fun at the last stand before the end of the world? The other titans stepped up behind Van, and for a moment their laughter helped Van forget that ultimate doom was moments away. Then the clouds began to spit rain, and the Nether attackers started boiling over the lip of the pit.
Van loosed a roar and led the first attack. He’d organized the titans into three waves, instructing them to pin the Nether attackers around the pit with rolling charges and drive them back without getting drawn into the chaotic free-for-all that had favored the Nether in their last rumble. One of the soldiers had called it a classic cavalry rolling attack with titans in place of horses. Van had no idea what that meant, and less idea if it would work, but they needed to try something different.
A few handfuls of jobbers and titans from the pit formed lines to protect the forces who followed them up, many of them unpleasant and unrecognizable. Van charged forward to the Nether’s front line, lowered his shoulder into a pair of stony golems, and drove them careening back into the pit. He dodged a lasso and gripped a spidery creature by its spindly limb. With a vicious swing, he slammed it into an enemy titan. Both crashed to the muddy ground. Van fought his way to the side to let the next wave of titans attack.
The Landshaker led them, his eyes still fiery red, his arms spread wide. He smashed into the line and sent black-masked titans and bat-winged lizards flying in all directions. Beside him, Owen bashed his way into the fray despite his limp. Sevendhi, the Patriot, and Harlan were just behind them, pummeling white-eyed men and swarthy goblins into the ground.
The Piledriver of Fate (Titan Wars Book 2) Page 18