The Piledriver of Fate (Titan Wars Book 2)

by Samuel Gately

  Van’s strategy appeared to be working. He jogged back into position behind the readying third wave. Jaygan the Dragon climbed out of the pit and gathered the Nether troops into a defensive line. He spotted Van looking at him and his face split into an oily grin. Van felt an unsettling flutter in his stomach. The third wave of titans began their charge. The line of Nether defenders was thin. Too thin to be an accident, Van thought. Still the titans, led by Kir the Attraction, his eyes and teeth gleaming brightly, rumbled forward. As Kir and his titans came upon the Nether line, the black-masked titans and white-eyed men all dropped to the ground. The charging titans tripped over them and slid across the muddy ground. Van watched as both Neiman No-Neck and Wreck Riley fell into the pit, screaming and clawing at the air as they went.

  Van looked over at Jaygan again; the stupid fuck was still smiling. He nodded cheerfully at Van, then vanished behind a new surge of Nether beasts, dogs with snake heads, a bull with gleaming metal horns, big fat birds that, if Van could believe his eyes, shat fire down on the battlefield. Van approached at a measured pace. His strategy hadn’t survived two minutes of battle. He needed to break the waves apart into smaller groups and hope that worked better.

  As new Nether monstrosities joined the battle, titans squared off into scattered battles. The front line of soldiers marched into the thick, driving their polearms into a pack of hissing snake-dogs. The valkyrie flew down from the grey sky, skewering the fire-shitting pigeons with their spears.

  Van looked for something big to hit. A black-masked titan with a forked beard grabbed hold of him and they raged across slippery grass, trading blows. Van ducked a left hook and countered with a jaw-shattering uppercut. The titan fell to his knees, and Van crushed his skull between his hands, sending a cloud of black dust into Van’s face. Van spit the ashy remains of the titan from his mouth.

  Alkylis splashed down into the mud next to Van. She flung a spear at the metal-horned bull as it raced across the field, and set her back against his. Van grunted. “Why fight beside me? Shouldn’t you be in the air?”

  “Flying in the rain sucks,” she growled. “Plus, you tend to be where the action is. That’s what I’m after.”

  Van pushed a jobber back and glanced up. The rain spattered down in his eyes. “Where’s Kyle?”

  Alkylis grunted as she buried a spear in the neck of a shambling orc. “She’d be beside you if she could. She asked to be your shadow, keep you safe. But she’s still weak. The Nether and the destruction of the urn were costly for her. We don’t all heal as fast as you, titan.”

  “Huh,” Van said, squaring up to a pair of approaching stone golems. “So I get stuck with you instead.”

  Alkylis laughed. “This is a nasty fight, titan. You need a nasty lady by your side.”

  “I want Kyle by my side,” he said slamming the golems together, then brushing their dust off his hands.

  “Then win,” Alkylis replied.

  The two fought back-to-back for a while as the cemetery grew thick and clotted with layers of mud, blood, and ash. They paired well, Alkylis’s scorpion-like strikes complimenting Van’s raw and unhesitating attacks. As they cut down their attackers, he kept one eye on the titans on his side. The battle hinged on them staying alive and swinging. The Patriot continued to chase Jaygan the Dragon relentlessly across the battlefield, bellowing his name every couple of seconds, which probably helped Van’s defenders by keeping the Nether titan from organizing further mischief. Sevendhi and Owen fought side-by-side, smoothly dispatching the ugly horrors the Nether threw at them. Harlan had found the Bearhugger again. They traded blows on a patch of grass between a large lion monument and an oak tree. None of the titans was as dangerous as the Landshaker, who stamped around causing the earth to tremble and enemies to scatter. But the Nether troops kept coming as the battle stretched on.

  Wave after wave flowed from the pit. A pack of shadowy wolves. Goblins with nets. Armored dragons with demonic weasels clinging to their sides. Hundreds of jobbers and men, all following the orders of black-masked titans.

  The Empire City troops holding the edges of the cemetery, trying to keep the Nether creatures from entering the city, were getting too banged up. Parts of the cemetery fence had been trampled and broken. Skirmishes entered the muddy streets. The valkyrie ranged farther and farther out to try and seal the leaking lines of defense. As more of Van’s titans were dragged down, the inner part of the cemetery fell into patchy circles, mobs of Nether attackers surrounding wearied defenders who fought to stay upright in the face of the horde.

  The ground grew littered with bodies. Van stumbled over the broken body of Kir the Attraction. Lying next to him, Hugo Marky looked up at the sky with cloudy, dead eyes. Van felt a bolt of terror, followed by a painful wave of guilt. He’d led them here, to their deaths. And more would join them, were joining them all around. Van fought on.

  Over near the pit, the OverLord was directing troops in the other direction. The gloomy storm clouds breathed down on the battle, watching. The earth trembled under Van’s feet as the Landshaker ran past chasing the metal-horned bull. The ground kept shaking behind him, making Van nauseated and confused. Van gritted his teeth and charged a dragon snapping its jaws at a company of soldiers. He punched it in the eye. It hissed at him and refused to back away. Van punched its other eye. It staggered off in search of easier prey.

  The ground was still vibrating under Van as he watched the dragon flee. Van stumbled and fell to his knees. He wasn’t the only one falling. Eagle sat on the ground not far from Van, holding a set of armored spikes and weeping, his hand trailing in the dust below them. A valkyrie lay near Van, her white wings stained red with blood. The Patriot lay lifeless on the wet grass closer to the pit, face buried in a dirty puddle, his bloody, ash-covered board beside him. Van watched as Jaygan the Dragon stumbled away clutching the back of his head, only to collapse and melt into dust.

  The world shook again, so violently Van was bounced into the air. Soldiers toppled to the ground. Grappling titans swayed and tumbled into the mud, carrying on their fight in the splashing puddles. Valkyrie flew about frantically over the flailing, crawling mass. The rainfall ceased suddenly and the clouds seemed to fall back beyond the edge of the cemetery, leaving the sky overcast but bright.

  Van heard a loud snap and looked across the battlefield. Harlan was pounding a limp Bearhugger into the wet earth. The Nether titan flopped wildly, his spine broken Van guessed, and then melted to dust. The ground shook even more forcefully than it had moments before. No one was left standing as Van gripped the earth with both hands, mud squelching between his fingers, and waited for it to pass. As the trembling ceased, a deep shadow spread across the battlefield. Van looked up at the sky. A giant, as large as Empire City itself, stood over them.

  Chapter 23.

  Van stopped breathing and lay motionless in the mud. He gaped up at the massive figure looming above the cemetery, looming above Empire City, looming above the world. The giant had a rocky hue to its thick, grey skin, as though the mountains themselves had found legs. Sturdy legs, thicker around than the cemetery itself, many times the height of the buildings the giant stood over. Massive hands dangled nearly to the ground. The giant seemed to have no neck, just a boulder of a head atop thick shoulders that seemed to reach the clouds. A craggy brow jutted over brightly glowing golden eyes that swept across the battlefield.

  “WHAT IS THIS?” The powerful voice sent vibrations through the silent battlefield. In the slight pauses between the slowly uttered words, Van felt a pressure, a compulsion to scream out answers, to do whatever he could to appease the giant. The feeling warred with a deeper desire—he wanted to bury himself in the mud, to hide trembling from those terrible eyes until they went away. Until the nightmare passed and the storm blew over and sanity returned to the world.

  The giant’s bright eyes swung slowly upwards and he stared at the low storm clouds across the battlefield. He waved his hand, and wind whipped across the cemetery, pulling at
Van. The clouds retreated. As they fled, a second giant was revealed. This one was huddled over, intent on watching the battle closely. The other giant turned his white eyes up to look upon his brother.

  If the legends were to be believed, and now seemed like a foolish time to question them, Van was looking at Jugor and Malachisin, the only remaining giants in this world. After generations of hiding, they had chosen this moment to reveal themselves. Van’s heart sank into the mud. Both the rain and the battle had stopped. The lives of everything below hung in the balance as these two mountainous creatures of legend stared at each other.

  Jugor spoke again. “SO MANY LITTLE BROTHERS DIE. TO WHAT END?”

  Malachisin was thinner, an angular slant to his craggy face. He remained on his knees and restlessly shifted his hands on the ground, tearing great rents into the earth. “DO NOT BOTHER YOURSELF.” His words boomed across the cemetery. When Jugor answered only with a long frown, Malachisin slowly straightened, causing the land to tremble below him as he did. He stood looming above Empire City. “THERE IS ONLY ONE END.”

  Jugor looked upwards with golden eyes. “YOU STILL CHASE THE SKIES. THE WAY IS CLOSED.” He lowered his head with a sense of finality. “LEAVE THE LITTLE BROTHERS BE. THIS IS NOT OUR WORLD.”

  “TRUE. THIS IS NOT OUR WORLD. AND I WILL DESTROY IT IF ONLY TO DRAW THE GAZE OF THOSE ABOVE. THE PRICE HAS BEEN PAID AND MORE.”

  “WHAT DOES THEIR GAZE MATTER? WE SHALL NEVER RETURN.” The words carried a deep, resonant sorrow Van felt in his bones. He recalled the vision, the sense of plummeting from a great height away from a dearly loved home, that he’d suffered through when Kyle blew the dust into his eyes. “FIND YOUR PEACE AS I HAVE MINE.”

  Malachisin laughed, but it was filled with pain and malice. “NEVER. YOU ARE WEAK AND YOUR WEAKNESS INFECTS YOUR CHILDREN.” He looked down upon the suspended battle, a carnage of fallen titans. “AND HERS.”

  A long silence followed. Tension crackled across the battlefield like lightning. If these two fought, they wouldn’t leave a single breathing soul behind. Van summoned his courage and clambered to his feet. He looked around. Only a few titans were standing. One was the OverLord, his unreadable face turned upwards to Malachisin.

  Jugor slowly shook his head. “THIS HAS BEEN TRIED BEFORE. IT BROUGHT NAUGHT BUT DEATH.”

  “DEATH IS WELCOME. THIS TIME I WILL END THIS WORLD.” Malachisin looked upwards. “THEY WILL SEE.”

  The battlefield remained still. The Nether troops looked to the OverLord for direction but he ignored them. And, Van realized with a start, the defenders of Empire City and the world were looking to him. He found himself wishing Kyle were by his side. She would nudge him in the right direction, even if it were merely to silence him in the face of a struggle he couldn’t hope to shape or even survive.

  Malachisin looked down at the silent armies, scattered titans tall among them. “LET OUR CHILDREN PLAY, JUGOR. OR COME AT ME.”

  Jugor clenched his massive fists, his golden eyes blazing. “YOUR GAME IS STALE, TRICKSTER, AND I KNOW WHERE IT LEADS. CHOOSE YOUR CHAMPION. LET THEM DECIDE ITS FATE.”

  Malachisin smiled. The giant reached down and used a massive finger to draw a circle in the air above the OverLord’s head. The OverLord gave a solemn nod.

  Van looked up at Jugor. The giant was staring directly back at him. The giant leaned in and breathed heavily through his nostrils. His golden eyes widened, grew brighter. He moved slowly closer. He seemed to be shrinking somewhat, coming down towards Van. Before he’d been the size of a mountain, the size of the city, and now he was about ten times Van’s height. A ten-man of ten-men. “INTO BATTLE, LITTLE BROTHER,” Jugor said. His voice carried the power of compulsion, a sense of inevitability that would brook no refusal; nevertheless, he awaited Van’s response.

  Van stared at the sad, grey face looking down at him. They shared a bloodline. But more than that, they shared a simmering and sorrowful outrage at the destruction all around them. Van took a deep, shaky breath, then he nodded to the giant.

  Jugor reached down and seized Van. Stony fingers wrapped around him, and he was picked up like a doll. The Landshaker looked up at him with blazing red eyes as Van soared over him in the clutch of Jugor’s fist. In the blur below him, Van saw the watching titans, soldiers, and Nether troops. He saw the bodies of Kir the Attraction, the Patriot, and many others he failed to recognize. Kyle raced along with Van through the air, yelling something he couldn’t hear, her face worried. Then Jugor dropped him in front of the OverLord.

  Jugor took his knees, causing violent tremors which drove Van and the OverLord to the ground. Jugor looked across at Malachisin. “ERGOTH’S SOUL WATCHES.” He scowled down at the two titans. Then he reached out to the side and gripped the black wrought iron fence that surrounded the cemetery. With a furious wrench, he tore the fencing from the earth. Clots of stone and dirt rained down as he pulled it loose and gave it a shake. He slammed the fencing down around the two titans below to trap them in a square of iron.

  Malachisin leaned in as well, taking his knees. Van panicked as the giant’s shadow fell over him. His heart raced. Malachisin ripped loose another stretch of the cemetery fence and laid it over the top of the other. Jugor reached out and for a moment the two giants worked as one, their hands moving powerfully and skillfully across the structure, and Van saw in them the builders of worlds. In moments, the iron bands of the fences had been formed into a cage, a tightly-joined lattice work of bars that allowed the sun to filter through. The OverLord and Van were trapped inside.

  “YOU FLATTER YOURSELF,” Malachisin replied as both giants peered into their creation eagerly. “I THINK ERGOTH’S ANGER WAS SUCH, SHE WOULD MERELY WISH FOR BOTH TO DIE.”

  Chapter 24.

  Van struggled to breathe as the walls pressed in like living things. He saw Kyle at the bars, her face pale. Empire City’s defenders, the soldiers, titans, and even a few men with pitchforks and scythes, had lined up with her around one side of the cage. The Nether forces, masked titans and white-eyed men—most of their beasts were dead or retreated to the pit when the giants arrived—stood at the other. Looking out on them, a sharp, painful longing for the cool air of the mountains burned in Van’s throat, and he yearned to break free of this ugly place, to find an open vista and wash the stench of death from him under the sky.

  The OverLord stared across the cage at Van. He doffed his hat and tossed it to a corner. His fiery red hair was swept back. His white eyes glowed. The grim memory of Van’s encounter with Billy Blades, likewise in darkness, flitted across his mind. This would also end with death. He could feel the land tremble as the giants shifted, see the glow of their yellow and white eyes peering through the bars and painting a grid on the dirt below. They waited on the outcome not unlike children who watched bugs fight on the ground between them.

  The OverLord laughed. “Time to die, Beer Man. I gave you many chances to come to the right side. You refused, and now it is too late. I do not like to destroy fellow titans. But I think I will enjoy this.”

  Van met the OverLord’s white stare. “Why should we play their game? What have they done for us?”

  The OverLord began slowly pacing back and forth, keeping his shoulders square to Van. “Our world is their game. Why deny that you and I are their playthings or pretend we can do anything but what we were put in here for? I’ve seen the way this world has treated you. I seek to end it. You wish to prolong your own suffering.”

  Van ignored the tired appeal to his self-pity and began moving his weary legs. The two titans circled each other. “The valkyrie destroyed the urn. Malachisin doesn’t control you anymore.”

  “He never did.” He looked up to the white-eyed giant above him. “Malachisin planted me like a seed and let me grow. I matter no more to him than a single stalk of wheat matters to the farmer. The urn merely returned a spark of life to me and anchored me to the Nether. It kept me safe in my unfeeling torment. But I don’t need help to end the likes of you.”

  “I
t didn’t keep you safe. It kept you trapped,” Van said.

  The OverLord raised his hands to grapple, and Van followed suit. “Yesterday I felt its destruction. Again I felt the great pain and loss I suffered ages ago. I passed the evening with my memories. When the sun rose again and the gate presented its chance to rise, I decided nothing had changed. The death of my family is still on the hands of this world. Urn or no, I have strength enough to tear you apart, son of Jugor. And I will.”

  “He cares nothing for you and still you fight for him?”

  The OverLord scoffed. “Does the wheat care for the farmer any more than the farmer cares for the wheat? I do nothing for Malachisin. It is all for her. Her and my sons. Soon this whole world will learn what it means to bury everything they ever loved.”

  Van shook his head. “It won’t bring your family back.”

  “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the Great General Grand Reffe. While any humans draw breath, my vengeance is not complete. They shunned her for her love and she died in my arms. Your willingness to defend them is as sad and pointless as Jugor’s presence here today. Once I have defeated you, your absent father will weep in the hills alone while the rest of the world dies.” The OverLord’s fingers curled into hooks. “So let’s begin, shall we? We keep them waiting.”

  The OverLord charged Van, and the titans traded blows as they circled inside the cage. A few tombstones lay half-hidden by dust and ash, and Van slipped on one and fell to a knee. The OverLord pressed forward. He locked Van into a clinch and forced him back. His fingers dug into Van’s shoulders as he shoved Van against the iron bars. The OverLord released Van’s shoulders, hunched into Van’s body, and drove two thunderous punches into his gut. Van folded over, and the OverLord blasted an uppercut to his chin, smashing his head back into the unyielding cage. Van slid sideways from the OverLord’s grip and stumbled across the ground.