by Luke Romyn
Talbot heard a whoop from behind him, and turned to see Wes – sitting atop a saddle astride a majestic white horse – come racing out of the massive stables near the main gate. As the horse emerged fully from the stable, the twelve Olympians who had followed him also came into view, riding white horses identical to Wes’s. The entire group broke into a gallop and something extended from the sides of the horses, something which unfolded and spread like... like....
Wings!
The horses each opened a set of wings as wide as a bus and leaped into the air, wings beating heavily. Wes waved the sword of Chiron as they shot straight toward the gryphons, and Talbot finally realized what Wes was doing.
He was going to assault the gryphons on their own turf. The enormous part lion, part eagle, part serpent hybrids – one of which had withstood a missile from a Harrier jet back on Earth – were about to be attacked by a crazy Australian riding a flying horse.
A part of Talbot felt sorry for the gryphons.
***
Wes grinned as the winged stallion soared into the azure sky. Nothing he’d ever experienced had prepared him for the awesome rush of riding this beast, and he held Chiron’s sword aloft, calling encouragement to the Olympians riding along with him. These were the warriors Zeus had said were the most suitable for this task.
He wished he’d asked Zeus about some sort of system for an airborne attack earlier, but Wes had trouble remembering that in many ways the Olympians were far more technologically advanced than humans. They were a race of people who still used swords and arrows – albeit swords and arrows of power beyond anything he had seen before – and a part of Wes refused to believe they could be as highly developed, as these guys were. He had to keep reminding himself that Olympia was ahead of Earth in many ways; they just did things differently.
He was in the air now, riding the coolest thing he’d ever imagined. The winged horses expertly trained, responding to the minutest instruction of his legs, and Wes felt like he’d been born for this moment. He’d ridden horses from childhood, and this was merely a variation of that.
And it was super cool!
The wind rushed through his hair and straight up the leather kilt he wore, causing Wes to grin once more. The gryphons circled above, however, and the smile vanished, replaced with a look of such predatory focus it would make any man take a step back. Wes wasn’t facing men this time; he was facing creatures which looked like they could chew through him without even thinking about it. The sword in his hand felt like a battery-powered toothpick in comparison.
But he had no choice in the matter. These creatures would tear the Olympians apart before a single Titan reached the walls if they were left unchecked. The demonstration of their ability to blow fire at will terrified Wes more than he would ever admit to anyone, himself included, but he knew he had to be the one to face them. He was the only one who stood a chance against them.
Plus he got to ride a pegasus! He grinned maniacally once more.
Wes signaled the riders with him, and in unison they angled to the west of where the ‘flock’ of gryphons lazily flew in circles, gazing down at the battle below and waiting for a chance to attack. The huge beasts hadn’t seen the riders yet, and Wes swiftly formulated a plan.
The group flew away from the gryphons, always angling to the left and toward the beautiful red sun slowly dipping to the horizon. When they’d reached the appropriate distance and angle, Wes shouted an order to the Olympians, and they wheeled their flying mounts around –
And charged!
Thirteen winged horses bearing Olympian warriors shot through the air, dropping silently toward the unsuspecting gryphons. With the sun behind the attackers, they were virtually invisible in the open sky, even against creatures used to being the ultimate hunters in the sky.
But there was a better hunter in the skies this day, and his name was Wes.
Wes directed the pegasus with his knees, aiming for the largest of the gryphons. It looked up at the last moment, realizing the danger too late. A single slash with Chiron’s sword completely severed the beast’s right wing, and a reverse plunge scythed through the thick throat even before the gryphon began to fall, deader than dreadlocks.
Wes spun in his saddle. His fellow riders hadn’t been able to replicate his successful attack. White feathers – some flecked with red – fluttered down, and Wes followed their track to see six of the twelve riders and their winged mounts falling through the air, crashing into the Titan troops below.
The other six had managed minor wounds on the seven remaining gryphons, but none sported anything more serious than superficial injuries. Not a single one of their attacks had been enough to significantly slow one of the huge beasts down. As he brought his flying horse fully around, Wes saw a gryphon’s beak snap over the head of another pegasus, severing it with a wrench. The rider leaped forward valiantly, stabbing his Olympian sword deep into the eye of the gryphon who flicked its head to the left, causing the warrior to spin through the sky before falling, screaming, to the battlefield almost a mile below.
The gryphon soon followed, blood pouring from the wound to its eye. It flipped and turned through the air, its horrific screech warning the Titans below right before it crashed into the ground with an earth-shuddering thud.
Six more gryphons to go. And only four riders were left supporting Wes.
Four?
Wes glanced around and saw charred feathers drifting through the air. The charred and still burning remains of another rider and his pegasus, green flames hungrily eating through the few remaining feathers on its wings, spiraled downward, dropping like a stone.
“Fuck this,” growled Wes, angling his mount toward one of the gryphons to the left of the aerial battle and urging the pegasus into a flying charge.
Coming close to the huge beast, Wes sheathed Chiron’s sword and stood up in the saddle. As he came alongside the gryphon he leaped off the pegasus and onto its lower back, scrabbling for a handhold in among the combination of lion’s fur and eagle’s feathers. Wes managed to find a grip just as the enormous creature realized he was there and flipped midair, plummeting slightly in its attempt to dislodge him. Wes held on and when it righted itself he slowly clawed his way forward, heading for the creature’s eagle-like head.
It took Wes something of an eternity to reach the gryphon’s head, where he looped his legs around the thick neck and pulled the feathers on the side of its head, attempting to steer the creature to the right. Finally the creature responded to his rudimentary guidance and angled back toward the five other gryphons which were now closing in on the two remaining Olympian riders.
Wes angled his gryphon behind the rest of the pack. Once he felt he was close enough, he drew his sword and slapped the gryphon on the top of its beak with the flat of the blade. The first two tries resulted in the beast shaking its head, almost throwing him off, but the third caused it to open its beak and emit a shriek in protest.
The commando spotted it instantly – the large sack holding the flammable chemicals which, when mixed with oxygen, created the beast’s flammable breath. Wes jabbed down into the sack with the tip of his sword, and the gryphon instinctively convulsed and spewed out the liquid, spraying green flame straight ahead...
...directly over the gryphons flying in a rough line, blindly pursuing the remaining Olympians.
Wes hauled the creature’s head to the left and right, completely engulfing the five beasts in front of him in the flames. Screeching filled the air, and the huge beasts crashed into each other, clawing and snapping in a blind panic, tearing each other to shreds. Wes laughed out loud....
Until he realized what was about to happen.
With the gryphons no longer flying at full pace, the one he was riding swiftly caught up and Wes was forced to leap clear mere moments before it crashed into the whole snapping inferno. The gryphon he’d been riding was engulfed in flames as it smashed heavily into the entire group of beasts. All six of the enormous creatures instantly d
ropped from the sky.
Wes, however, had no time to enjoy the success of his improvised plan. He plummeted through the air, cursing the effectiveness of gravity, with absolutely no chance of survival. Falling from a mile up in the sky without a parachute usually ended up with something dead, and this time it would be him.
Wes frantically fought down panic and tried to think of something – anything – which might save him, but his mind came up blank. He was about to die.
Shit.
Just as Wes was about to give up, he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He twisted around just in time to throw his left arm out and grab a hold –
– of Talbot’s outstretched arm, riding atop Wes’s pegasus!
The beautiful creature swooped in, wrenching Wes’s arm out of the socket in the process, but stopping him from a fall which would result in Wes becoming much, much flatter. The commando scrambled up painfully until he was sitting behind Talbot, who was also cradling his right arm as through it had been put out of joint.
“How the hell did you do that?” asked Wes, glancing around and seeing the remaining two riders swooping down into flanking positions on either side of them.
Talbot gritted his teeth, obviously in pain. “This thing landed without you, and since you hadn’t splattered on the ground I figured you must still be up here. I jumped into the saddle – something which I might add was a lot of fun, right up until my arm almost got torn off – and I got up here just in time to see you fall.”
“I tell you what, Talbot,” said Wes. “If I was into man on man lovin’, you would be the first on my list.” He planted a huge kiss on Talbot’s cheek. “Now do you reckon you can land this bitch, or what?”
Talbot grinned despite his obvious pain, hauling the pegasus around to land behind the Olympian wall. Wes’s own grin immediately disappeared as he glimpsed the first of the giants approaching the wall. The giant picked up a huge boulder from the ground and hurled it at one of the catapults, smashing it to pieces as though it were made of straw.
“Oh shit,” Wes muttered. “I’m gonna need a bigger horse for that bastard.”
***
Talbot jumped down off the pegasus and stared up at the head of the colossal figure, just visible, approaching the outside of the wall.
“Hang on,” said Wes, leaping down from the stallion and gripping Talbot’s left arm with his right. “This is going to hurt.”
The commando wrenched his arm, and Talbot howled in agony as he felt the joint pop back into position. Tears streamed down his face, and he almost fell to his knees.
“Okay, princess, you can stop crying,” said Wes. “We don’t have time for you to feel sad. Crack mine back in, would ya?”
Talbot bit back a curse and gripped Wes’s dislocated shoulder, replicating the wrenching movement and hearing the joint snap back into position. He was also rewarded by a groan of pain from the commando. A distinct tear glinted in the corner of his eye.
“No time for crying, remember?” said Talbot, grinning maliciously.
“Yeah, laugh it up, chuckles. But don’t forget about the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man there.” Wes pointed toward the first giant approaching the wall. It was still perhaps a hundred yards away, but Talbot could see the malevolence etched upon its features as it pushed onwards, ever closer to the wall.
“Come with me,” said Wes. He led Talbot swiftly toward the stable, shouting out to Olympians as he went. Two-dozen warriors ran toward him.
Once inside the stable, the air heavy with the odors of livestock, it took Talbot a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, and when they did, he audibly gasped. Toward the front of the stable there were stalls housing the ordinary horses, such as those the Olympians had ridden when they’d escaped Tartarus. Beyond these, however, were separated areas within the stable where rows of larger stalls lay, each containing either a pegasus or –
Unicorns!
The huge, one-horned beasts stood proudly, seeming to appraise Talbot as he stared, mouth agape, in the shadows of the stable. The unicorns appeared almost twice the size of the largest pegasus – which in turn resembled a big horse from Earth. The unicorns were saddled and ready, with Talbot noticing stable-hands securing the reins to a final one. Wes must have ordered them to prepare the huge beasts when he’d ridden out on the pegasus.
“Saddle up, boys,” shouted Wes, in a horrible parody of John Wayne’s drawl – something which was completely lost on the Olympians anyway, who simply stared at him as though the commando had lost his mind. “Just get on the horny horses, okay?” he snapped.
Talbot moved swiftly to one of the mighty unicorns, a beautiful mare, checking to make sure his sword was still in the scabbard at his hip and accepting the boost from the stable-hand. He needed a lift in order to reach the stirrup, which hung some six feet off the ground. A part of Talbot was perturbed when he glanced around and saw the Olympians and Wes leaping nimbly into the saddles of the enormous beasts, but he shrugged the feeling aside. Now was hardly the time to worry about his pride feeling bruised.
Outside, Talbot heard the crash of a catapult projectile smashing into what he assumed was the closest giant – which must now be terrifyingly close, judging by the sound. How the hell were they going to stop such huge creatures?
“Our primary targets are those big fuckers,” shouted Wes. “Try to take out their Achilles’ tendons from behind, and when they fall to the ground chop the fuck out of their necks before they realize what’s going on. The main host still hasn’t reached the walls yet; they’re probably hanging back waiting for those giants to smash apart the walls first. So at least we have a bit of room to move for the moment. Any questions?”
The only issue was confusion about the Achilles’ tendon; none of the Olympians understood that this actually referred to the tendon at the back of the heel. The irony of Achilles being part of Greek mythology was lost on everyone else, and Wes swiftly explained where the tendon was.
“Try not to die, okay?” Wes called to them all before leading the way out of the stable, riding high atop his own horned stallion.
Talbot, along with the Olympians, followed the Australian out, kicking their unicorns into a trot to keep up. Talbot felt the contained power within the beast he rode, and was momentarily awed that he should be carried by such a thing.
And then he looked up and saw what was in front of him.
Looming high above the huge outer wall of the city was the upper torso of the first giant. It carried a rough club the size of a full-grown oak tree in its gnarled right hand, which Talbot guessed would make short work of the wall if the giant were allowed to approach unhindered.
They had to hurry.
Wes shouted an order to the Olympians manning the gate and they – apparently having been advised to obey the strange Australian – swung the colossal gates open wide enough to allow all the riders to exit.
Wes kicked his unicorn into a gallop, and Talbot copied the action, grabbing the saddle pommel just in time to stop being thrown backwards by the power of the beast as it surged forward. He adjusted his grip and drew his sword, noting the glimmering power running along its edge.
Talbot followed Wes, and they shot across the open ground beyond the city walls, directly toward the right leg of the nearest giant. He could hear the pounding of hooves as the Olympian riders followed closely behind. The SAS commando darted in close to the giant. At precisely the same moment, Talbot saw the monster raise its right foot as Wes tried to attack the tendons at the rear of its heel. Seconds later, the enormous, uncovered foot came crashing down right behind Talbot. Riders hauled on their reins and some veered away, but two were just not quick enough, the sound of crushing bones sickening to hear.
Talbot dragged his mount’s head around to the right, the enormous unicorn responding brilliantly and practically spinning on the spot. The huge foot was now directly in front, the heel facing him, and he urged his mount into a run, angling to the left of the heel, his sword tightly gripped i
n his right hand. Talbot felt excitement coursing through him as he envisioned what he was about to do; he would topple the giant with one sweep and be a hero.
He swung the blade.
It bit deeply into the heel of the giant – too deeply.
He was holding the blade too tightly.
The next moment, Talbot was on the dusty ground, winded. He glanced around, first noticing his unicorn still running forward, and then becoming aware of the fact his sword was quivering, embedded in the heel of the giant standing directly above him.
The enormous creature roared in outrage and pain as Talbot leaped to his feet, rushing over to the heel and climbing the rough skin of the giant’s foot in an attempt to retrieve his sword. The blade lay embedded around twelve feet up, thanks to the height of the unicorn he’d been riding.
Just as Talbot’s hand closed around the hilt of the sword, he felt himself rising. The entire foot was lifting impossibly high into the sky while Talbot gripped the hilt of the sword helplessly, praying it didn’t come loose. He saw the giant’s hand coming closer at the same time as the foot reached the height of the giant’s waist, and Talbot realized what was about to happen.
The giant was going to swat him like a mosquito!
Talbot looked around for some method of escape, but nothing was forthcoming. The ground would kill him just as surely as the giant’s hand if he decided to drop, and there was nothing he could reach by jumping.
He was going to get squashed like a bug.
Just as Talbot contemplated trying his luck and letting go, the giant’s hand paused and it roared once more before Talbot felt himself falling. The giant’s other leg seemed to have collapsed beneath it, and the ground rushed toward Talbot with sickening swiftness. He scrambled to the other side of the ankle – the side facing away from the ground – and pushed his body flat against the rough skin of the giant, hoping it would be enough to cushion the blow.