by Chris Fox
There was a loud whirring and a sudden clunk as the plane’s landing gear suddenly extended. Was that useful over water? Steve must think so. The plane descended sharply. Blair glanced at the windows, which revealed a shadowed expanse of green on a low squat mountain. Mount Tam, a place he’d hiked dozens of times over the years. Clusters of coastal redwoods dotted the top shoulder, leading down familiar trails into Muir Woods.
The plane dipped to the side, revealing a thin strip of dark, dark blue. The unmistakably cold waters of the northern California coast. It bordered a thin strip of sand lined with clusters of buildings. Stinson Beach, the overpriced mecca so much of San Francisco fled to on the weekends. It was beautiful under the darkening sky, but growing closer at an alarming rate.
The plane dropped sharply, angled downward. The roar of the engines softened as they slowed, the coast still whipping by but much less quickly now.
“This is it,” Steve bellowed from the cockpit. Blair braced himself against the seat closest the emergency exit.
The plane shook as it impacted, tossing him forward as water sprayed up over the windows. He kept his footing, just barely. Bridget-wolf seemed unfazed, already shouldering the second duffle as she yanked on the long red bar labeled emergency. The plane had already begun listing to the rear, the sea visible through the windows in the back rows.
Then the door opened. Blair expected water to rush in right away, but found they were several feet over the soft swells lapping at the side of the plane. For just a moment it looked like a large boat, but steam rose from the engines, dispelling the illusion. Steve rushed towards them from the cockpit, sunglasses still affixed to his nose.
“Let’s get the hell out of here before this thing goes down,” he yelled.
Bridget didn’t hesitate, diving into the water in an impressive arc of fur and muscle. The duffels didn’t slow her at all. Blair hoisted his own, diving after her into the frigid Pacific. The shock of if washed over him as he went under, but he kicked powerfully muscled legs. The motion carried him into the moonlight, and he began to swim for shore.
Chapter 53- Sobek
The Mother leapt to the prow of the strange vessel, a truly massive craft shaped from forged steel. She landed on the rusted metal, balancing on the balls of her feet as she enjoyed the salty wind.
Such a marvel would have been impossible in her day. They’d never thought to construct things from so much metal. It seemed an incredible waste of a material that had been deemed precious in her time. Yet the people of this world used it everywhere. In buildings, conveyances, even toys.
The ship cut through the waves under a sky that boiled with harsh grey clouds. It had rained the last seven days and would rain again before the sun left the sky. The thickest patch of clouds had gathered above an expanse of black rock that loomed out of the ocean. She recognized it, of course. The place these moderns called Easter Island had been holy during her age, the wide cliffs encircling a deep crater hidden from view. It was there that she’d find the rock she needed.
They rounded the immense volcanic stone, which brought a beach into view. Stark blue waves crashed along the shore, but that wasn’t what drew her eye. Eleven rocks stood all in a row. They were too tall and thin to be natural, and though they’d been worn by wind and time they still resembled people.
“Rodrigo,” she called, turning back toward the bridge of the vessel behind her. The tall windows were obscured by a salty film, but she could see his form within. Could smell his apprehension. It was always there around her, that lingering fear. “What are those things along the cliff?
“Those are the Moai statues, Mother,” he explained, bobbing his head. “The natives erected them centuries ago. They claimed they were full of mana and that they could use the energy to smite their enemies.”
“So something of this place’s significance has survived the gulf of time,” she mused, directing her attention back to the tall man. “Make port. This is the place I have long sought. I would sup on the holy shore, winds willing.”
Yukon trotted to the rail she perched on, placing his hind paws on the edge so he could peer over the side. Such a simple, trusting creature. So unlike the mighty wolf, yet the dog was loyal and trusting, compassionate and forgiving. These qualities had no place in her world, but perhaps they were needed in this one. Yukon had much to teach her.
“Mother,” Rodrigo called back, moving from the massive wheel that guided the ship. His dark form passed behind the glass until he emerged into the sunlight, the bill of his strange black cap shading his eyes. “Lorenzo spotted something on the northwestern side of the island. He's not sure what to make of it.”
She whirled, scanning the cliffs. A bit of energy flowed into her eyes, sharpening the frothy waves dashing themselves against the porous black rock. Between a pair of outcroppings a small ship perhaps half the size of her vessel was moored to the base of the cliff. Several dark figures scurried down a rope dangling from the side with incredible speed, faster than any unblooded could track. They were blurring. The Mother did the same, expending more energy as she accelerated to many times their speed. Now the figures moved like falling feathers, while everything else around her appeared frozen.
A trio of green scaly creatures with menacing snouts, each with blood-red eyes. It couldn’t be. Only one god used such minions, but he was in the Cradle. How could he have arrived so soon? She’d not delayed for more than a few days and had much less distance to travel.
She dropped the blur, spinning to face Rodrigo, “Drop anchor, then get the other unblooded below decks. My foes have arrived before us. I may be able to barter with them, but your presence will inflame their hunger and they may not be able to control themselves. For your own safety you must flee.”
In her own time her servants would have died rather than leave her side, but Rodrigo had no such compunctions. He ducked back into the cabin, diving for the lever that released the anchor. Then he seized the microphone, his voice booming across every deck. “Attention, everyone, this is Captain Rodrigo. All personnel report to the fuel storage room on deck six immediately. Go now. Drop anything you are doing and run.”
Then he was following his own advice, dropping the microphone in his haste to scramble through the oddly shaped door at the rear of the cabin. Some might call the action cowardice, but the Mother was pleased by his obedience. He’d been an excellent servant, one worthy of the sacrifice.
A warm nose nudged her thigh. Yukon’s liquid brown eyes peered up at her. He sent no thoughts, despite his newly awakened intelligence. He merely waited expectantly for her will. She smiled, stroking his soft golden fur. “Yukon, you may wait here. They will sense our connection and shall not harm you. But do not attack, no matter what happens.”
Yukon laid down at her feet, licking an errant patch of fur on his hindquarters. Then he froze, hackles rising as he leapt to his feet.
“Calm, Yukon,” she said, gripping the fur at the back of his neck so tightly she nearly pulled him from the deck.
Her fears were justified a moment later when a figure blurred into place on the rail directly in front of her. A second appeared to starboard and another to port, but it was the one before her that she focused on.
“Hello, Sobek,” she said, slowly releasing her grip on Yukon. She straightened and took a slow step towards the reptilian god. “You’re a very long way from the Cradle.”
She was still horrified by his appearance, even all these millennia later. His once handsome visage had been twisted beyond recognition. He’d always been fascinated by the crocodiles that prowled the mouth of the River of Life where it spilled into the sea. They were patient, powerful killers that men had long feared. Even the occasional deathless had fallen to their jaws. Sobek had been so obsessed that he’d begged her and Ptah to shape him into their likeness, more reptile than man now.
“Yes,” he thrummed, voice low and deep. His mottled green snout split into a toothy grin. “I did not seek refuge there. I slumbered e
lsewhere, somewhere far closer to the Pole. You are not the only deity to understand the significance of this place, nor to seek position in this age.” His long tail swished across the deck, a languid reminder that he could strike at any moment.
“Do you really expect me to allow you to establish control over the Lesser Pole, a site so close to my own stronghold you could come upon me within days?” she asked, shifting as she spoke. By the time she’d finished the words were low and deep, possessed of a violence to match his own. It was time to remind him who he’d accosted.
“You mistake me, Isis,” he replied, chest rumbling out a low laugh. He dropped into a crouch. “I neither seek nor desire your approval. My master will have this island and it will aid him in dominating this new world. That does not mean I will attack you, but it does mean I will deny you this place.”
The Mother’s mind raced, thoughts and connections forming as she considered all she knew from her millennia with the man Sobek had once been. He valued no one outside himself, save in that they could help serve his agenda. They were nothing but tools. But in that she found her answer.
She blurred, far faster than even Sobek could track. A direct strike at him would avail her nothing, as even her mighty claws would find difficult purchase on that scaly hide. So she took one of his two thralls, grabbing the vassal around its wide neck. The other arm encircled its chest, pinning the beast’s arms.
“Will you, now?” she asked, grip tightening still further on the beast’s neck. Bones popped. “How many such servants do you possess, Sobek? I see only two. You’re a cautious god. If there were more they’d be with you. I can kill this one and be on the other before you take a step.”
“Isis,” Sobek said, extending his hands in a placating gesture. The long gray claws ruined the effect, but she paused to hear his words. “Surely we can come to some accord. This island is only valuable for its stone. I will quarry and deliver some of it to you. You must need it, or why journey here so soon after waking?”
“Do you think me a fool, Sobek?” she hissed, claws drawing pinpricks of black blood upon the servant’s scaly neck. “You would betray me in the first century. The first decade, even. You’d be a dagger to my throat, one thirsting for my blood. To say nothing of this master you serve.”
“Not so,” Sobek said. He licked the lips running the edge of his snout, reeking of apprehension. She’d chosen a wise tactic. He extended an arm, his hand beginning to vibrate as light flared in the palm. The Mother’s eyes widened as gold pooled there, flowing into a gleaming golden staff that she recognized instantly. It was tipped with a winged scarab, a large sapphire set in its belly.
“Where did you get that? Sekhmet would never have given it up willingly,” she said, grip slackening slightly.
“Who says she gave it up? I took it while she wasted time picking her pantheon, then fled for distant shores to secure my passage to this age. I know how strongly you desire it, for you better than any know the true worth of a Primary Access Key. Hear my offer, mighty Isis,” he said, bowing his head in supplication. His gaze shifted back and forth between his minions, as he seemed to weigh their relative value. “I will give it to you as a sign of goodwill, a proof that I intend no animosity between us. Surely parting with such a magnificent weapon shows I intend no confrontation. You would flay the flesh from my bones with such a weapon.”
“Why part with it?” the Mother asked, eyes narrowing. Then it occurred to her. There was only one way Sobek would part with such a treasure. Self-preservation. “You know Sekhmet will come for it. You want to rid yourself of it rather than risk her wrath.”
“She hates that name, you know. Any who use it are flayed alive. I’d rather Ra focus on you, and you can make use of such a potent artifact. Besides, my master would not take kindly to Ra visiting war upon these lands. I would suffer mightily for such a slight. We both gain, Isis,” he rumbled, as close to embarrassed as a reptile could be. “I need time to build my strength, to recruit new followers. My master will rule the land this world calls Australia, across the great sea. Away from you. I require this place only that I may build weapons with which to secure his new empire.”
“Very well, I will give you a decade. Ten years to mine and build,” she said, cocking her head to the side. She hurled the reptile from her, the beast tumbling into its companion against the bulkhead with a hollow boom. Both rolled into a crouch, ready to attack if called upon to do so.
A low growl came from Yukon. She reached down to stroke his muzzle, turning back to Sobek. “In exchange, you will fill this vessel with stone. You will give me the Primary Access Key. You will send no vessels to my continent, or to the continent to the north. Have we an accord?”
“I’d also have a mutual pledge that we will not attack each other during that time,” Sobek rumbled. He gave throaty growl as he extended the staff. “Do you agree, Isis?”
“We have an accord,” She said, nodding resolutely. Then she took a step closer to Sobek. “If your mind should turn to betrayal, I would counsel otherwise. I sense an unseen hand jerking us about like puppets. A threat to both of us, to your master as well.”
“What do you mean?” Sobek said, eyes narrowing as a troubled rumble burbled up.
“Study this world’s history. Look especially to the land they call Egypt,” Isis replied, finally giving voice to thoughts that had troubled her for some time. “For thirteen thousand years we slumbered. The world should know almost nothing of us, just vague scraps and myths …”
“Yet our names survive,” Sobek finished after she trailed off. He’d never been the smartest of their band, but that didn’t make him stupid. “They survive exactly as they were. Even genetic memory couldn’t do that. Someone woke early, and their hand guided this culture. Perhaps others”
“Or that someone never slumbered at all,” Isis countered. She raised a hand to forestall his protest. “I know, such a feat would have required an incredible store of energy, one we assumed could only be found in an Ark. What if we were wrong? None of us knew Set’s whereabouts when we entered the Arks.”
“Set died in another age. There must be some other explanation,” Sobek replied, giving an agitated rumble. Still, she had placed the seeds of doubt. Enough that his attention would be divided in the coming years.
Isis had chosen a dangerous course, but Sobek’s eventual betrayal was nothing beside the power of the staff. Now she could meet Sekhmet in battle on equal footing, could control any Ark in the world. She was once again a true Ark Lord.
Chapter 54- Permission Denied
Jordan tensed as the elevator doors slid open to reveal a wide auditorium with three rings of seats facing a massive screen. Every figure was focused on that screen, which showed a man of indeterminate age with blonde hair and the beginnings of crow's feet. He had a hard jaw and even harder eyes, the kind of eyes that broke anything lingering too long under their oppressive stare. That stare shifted to Jordan, giant eyes narrowing.
“Commander Jordan. The prodigal son returns to the fold,” the Old Man said. It was Panama all over again. Could he never escape this guy? The Old Man smiled, and it chilled Jordan to his very core. “Please, have a seat. You’re relevant to this discussion and I want your input. Director Phillips seems to think I should give you a squad and send you after a creature that’s the closest thing we know of to a god. He’s demanded I give you Object 2, what’s more that I should put it in the hands of Ms. Gregg, a woman who hates us with the intensity we cannot possibly fathom. Tell me, what do you think?”
Jordan swallowed, sifting through the different approaches he could take here. Fuck it. It was time for honesty. He strode boldly down the stairs and past the first two rings, the heads of the most powerful organization left in the wake of the apocalypse swiveling in his direction. Section chiefs and their top aides whispered quietly, clearly surprised by his arrival. Interesting. The Director must have kept his return quiet.
“The Director is right. If we don’t stop Irakesh
, he’ll seize control of a pyramid just like the one in Peru. It’s designed to harness the power of the sun and will amplify his powers,” Jordan explained, jaw set. He kept his posture rigid and looked the bastard right in his digital eye. If he was going to be crucified, he’d do it with dignity. “His powers are already immense. If we let him get a base of operations, he will become our primary competition on this continent. It will lead to war and that’s a war we aren’t equipped to win. Our infrastructure is critically damaged. Our communications with survivors near nonexistent. That isn’t the case for Irakesh. He can control the dead and hurl them against us in near limitless numbers while we struggle to save survivors. His army is endless. We have a chance to stop him …” The Old Man met his gaze, expression unreadable. “If we take the hit and succeed, we’ll have eliminated our primary competition. If we fail, we’ll have risked nothing.”
“Nothing?” Mohn snapped, eyes smoldering. Then he struck, spittle flying at the screen as his face twisted. “You want us to deliver one of our most potent artifacts into his hands. To alert him to the fact that humanity still has a technologically advanced stronghold. Are you insane or just reckless? He cannot know about us, Commander, not until we are strong enough to defend ourselves. Right now we have the power of anonymity, a power you’d casually discard. We saw how things turned out on your watch down in Peru. What makes you think you’ll have any more success now?”
“Because,” Jordan roared, beginning the shift. It came swiftly, his clothing shredded in the blink of an eye as blonde fur exploded around his expanding body. His voice boomed through the room now, bestial and immense. “We have the forces capable of taking him down. Werewolves were created to fight his kind, the deathless. You have two of them. Give us a plane, a squad, and Object 2. We’ll take Irakesh down and end this. It’s worth whatever risk that might mean.”