I was hardly leading the way at the moment, but the War God's point was made. Some responded angrily to this challenge, and others ignored it. It seemed to me that a sizable majority of divinities took to their heels, fleeing through the air invisibly (as they hoped), or tried to hide in an effort to avoid the weapon they could not withstand. At the present rate of production, it seemed that hours or even days must pass before Vulcan's helmets would be available to all the gods who wanted them.
The fact that a great many gods were ready to delegate their fighting to a mere mortal like myself did not disturb me. I understood their necessity for doing what was necessary to protect themselves, at least until the enemy's most effective weapons could be somehow countered. If all my powerful allies should be wiped out, my own chances of success would vanish utterly.
And I thought I had yet to meet the Giant who could do me any deadly harm—I suppose my state of mind at the time could be generously described as the overconfidence of youth.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Battle
Seeing that I was trying to get out-of-doors and into the fight as quickly as possible, some goddess equipped with flying Sandals—to my embarrassment I could, not recognize her—effortlessly picked me up and carried me high into the upper reaches of the laboratory's vast interior.
I had entered Vulcan's laboratory through a door at ground level, but now came out through an opening high in the peaked roof. There my benefactor silently put me down and flew away. On emerging into the open air, I was much comforted to find that my new armor protected me effectively from the arctic blasts of cold wind; I had dreaded being frozen more than I feared anything a Giant was likely to do to me.
As when I entered the fortress, the sun was low in the sky; but now its light fell from a different direction, and I realized that a night had passed while I was inside.
As soon as I got outside I could see that not only was a bombardment in progress, but a strong force of Giants was approaching the island, advancing in a rough semicircle along the fog-shrouded shore a mile away, and out across the water.
Looking down from my high vantage point, it seemed to me that the tallest of the attackers might be closer to fifty feet in height than to a hundred. Even at a distance of half a mile, Alkyoneus was already recognizable, conspicuous among his fellows by his size and bulk. His appearance was also odd, this time, because his body gleamed, as if with metal, from head to foot.
To my further amazement I saw that some of the attackers were actually afloat in the choppy sea, in several kinds of ships and rafts. Even more astonishing, some, supported by enormous balloons, were airborne over the water.
"Don't tell me they can swim!" barked some minor godlet, hovering just over the sharply peaked roof where I was balancing. "I'd expect them to melt to mud with a good soaking."
I would have expected much the same thing, but that was not the case. Actually the attackers were approaching across and through the water, their weight partially supported by enormous balloons, their stony feet only dragging a little in the waves.
I brandished my new club and announced my readiness to fight.
As soon as I had my feet solidly planted on the peak of the roof, I could see how the outer walls of the fortress had already been damaged, great irregular peelings of stone spalled away by the bombardment, like bark splintered from a tree. Huge rocks were still flying toward us on curved paths out of the gray sky, some of them from clear over the horizon, one arriving at or near the laboratory every few seconds. While still at a distance some of these boulders seemed to float like giant snowflakes, or tufts of thistledown, but as they drew near I could see that they were actually hurtling faster than arrows. Some were so small and approached so swiftly that it taxed my mortal vision to catch sight of them at all.
"So, they are using trebuchets? Or catapults?" I demanded.
The head of the goddess turned in my direction. "I believe they are simply picking up rocks in their hands and throwing them, my lad. Giants can do that."
I was impressed.
Meanwhile, the actual invasion was steadily progressing. Those Giants supported by balloons came floating toward us almost entirely above the water, only dipping in their feet from time to time, taking advantage of an offshore breeze to stay on course to the island. Their massive feet were encased in bundles of hollow reeds that must have given them some buoyancy. It struck me at the time that our monstrous enemies must be very brave to risk the depths of the ocean thus; it seemed to me hardly possible that any of that earthy race could swim, but that rather they must sink like the stones they almost were, once plunged in without support.
Something, it might have been the day's first Arrow from Apollo's Bow, or a slung stone from Mars, punctured the supporting balloons of one advancing figure, and with a great bellowing cry the Giant fell into the ocean. He disappeared completely in a titanic splash, but moments later his head and shoulders surfaced. Plainly he found the water only chest-deep at his point of entry, and he managed to survive, his earthy body more resistant to melting than I had expected.
* * *
His fellow Titans were not discouraged by his fate. Anyway, comparatively few were depending on balloons. A majority were paddling enormous boats, approaching our fortress island from several sides at once. The nearest of this latter group were almost ashore now and had abandoned their boats to go wading in the sea, as if indifferent to its icy cold and to the pounding of the surf.
Meanwhile, other attackers continued hurling huge rocks at our fortress island, some from very far away. I was glad to see that the enemy effort was not well coordinated, so that the members of the landing party stood in some danger of being brained by their own side's long-range bombardment. At the same time I wondered how those distant throwers could ever know whether they had the proper range or not.
Even as I watched, the first of the invading Giants actually set his huge feet on the island. And now about a dozen more were just about to follow him. Their seamed and craggy faces loomed not far below me, some bearded and some smooth, all of them hard, all loathsome in my sight.
Now Ares, reining in his black horses so that his chariot hovered in midair, was shouting at his colleagues, trying to convince them that the numbers made this a serious attempt to take the fort, and not just a harassing raid.
Zeus raised his voice and said: "Whatever their intentions may be, here they are, and we'd better start to fight them."
Mars began to roar out orders, but Apollo at the same time seemed to be commanding yet another course of action.
Impatient of watching and waiting, I decided to take the initiative. The way our leaders were contradicting one another, I could hardly fail to find myself acting in obedience to one chief at least, no matter what I did.
Wary about putting myself directly in the path of one of the huge incoming missiles, I impulsively tried catching a small splinter from one of the near misses. A head-sized fragment was arcing toward me slowly enough that I could get my hands in its way. Catching the heavy object spun me around with its velocity, but I was able to keep my grip on it while still retaining my balance on the peaked roof.
In another moment, I had hurled the fragment back, aiming for the spot on the horizon whence most of the big rocks were coming, and putting what I then considered to be nearly all my strength into the throw. Two or three such attempts were necessary for me to get the distance approximately right, as nearly as I could judge from the distant splashes of ice and snow; but it seemed unlikely that I would hit any of my targets, which were invisible to me with distance. I thought I had better direct my energies to matters close at hand.
By now, four or five of the Giants' invasion force were already ashore, looking about for enemies to smite, while an equal number of the enormous figures, with more following in the distance, were now wading knee-deep, or thigh-deep, in through the breaking surf.
And now the long-range bombardment ceased abruptly, as if some signal had bee
n given. I wondered if the throwers' sight was keen enough to see the situation from miles away.
Our enemies' willingness to immerse themselves yards deep in water proved to be a mistake when Poseidon, Lord of the Oceans, and some of his lesser associates entered the battle on our side.
I saw Neptune's bearded head above the waves, but only briefly. This first thrust of Poseidon and his forces into combat scored some success for our side. The waves erupted around the ships that were still carrying Giants, capsizing the oversize passengers into the almost frozen sea. Salt water seemed to boil around those wading ashore, and mammoth breakers pounded them against the rocks, bruising and tearing their hard bodies, spilling thick Giant blood into the sea.
Again I saw Neptune riding in his golden chariot, pulled by white horses, with his trident raised high, leading his forces into battle.
Unhappily the Sea God's head was still unprotected, and a Giant mind weapon soon disrupted his attack. He and his escort of lesser gods were driven off with failing memories.
With startling suddenness the huge waves died away, leaving the sea around our island almost calm. The natural sea creatures, killer whales and others who had been following Neptune's orders were left leaderless. Some who persisted in their assaults were scooped out of the sea in Giant hands and hurled against dry rocks.
Finding the surf a perilous place to be themselves, Giants hastened to scramble up onto the shore.
Now a few more of the gods, their noble heads newly ensconced in bronze helmets, came flying out of the fortress, some in chariots and some running like deer with flying Sandals, in a wild sortie.
Immediately several Giants' arms were lifted and pointed at them, blasting the deities with their special weapon. But this time our foes were confounded when the devices for the first time failed to work, or had only marginal effect, even at close range.
Roaring in triumph, our gods, using their own characteristic weapons, struck down a number of Giants, and the rest fell back in a disorderly retreat. The lightning of Zeus struck left and right, the Arrows of Apollo flew, the spear of Mars thrust again and again, with effective violence.
I saw more than one of the Giants' balloons explode into flames, flaring spectacularly when lightning struck, and dropping their weighty burdens on rock or into the sea.
One came down very close to where I stood. The gasbags that gave the huge body buoyancy were pierced by missiles. The Giant's huge frame tottered, and he stumbled on his massive, slow-moving feet. Missiles of his own, that he had not had time to throw, cascaded from his hands to crash hard on the distant ground, and his vast arms, with fingers spread, went groping blindly. More lightning bolts seared down, to right and left, each momentarily painting one side of his body a pure electric white.
His body hit the earth with a crushing impact. The frame of any Giant who fell for any considerable distance broke to pieces on contact with the ground.
The losses were not all on one side. I saw some lesser god, whom I could not recognize at that distance, struck down, mashed flat by a huge rock. The victim's god-Face came bursting from his head and went spinning away to fall into the sea. I believe the only human to witness that loss was myself, and I neither needed nor wanted whatever extra powers that Face might have conveyed. If the tales of magic that we all believed were true, then sometime, somewhere, it would be washed ashore where human hands could pick it up.
Meanwhile I still had taken no part in the fight myself and was frantically casting about for some way of actually getting into action. So far, none of our adversaries had come within my reach. (I knew that with a little exertion, I could jump for a great distance; but occasional practice sessions, early in life, had convinced me that I could never be exactly sure just where I was going to come down.)
Months ago, on entering my combat with Antaeus, I had expected a struggle not intrinsically different from an ordinary wrestling match. But now, having survived and profited from that experience, I had some idea of what I was up against. I could only suppose that the truly huge Giants would be vastly stronger even than Antaeus, their bodies tougher and harder to wound or break. I wanted to take full advantage of my new, bigger, heavier club, but I also vowed to tear my opponent apart with my bare hands, if that proved necessary.
I contemplated jumping, or falling, to the ground and attacking one of the advancing Giants at foot level. But Fate provided a more promising opportunity. From the high roof of Vulcan's enormous dwelling I could look right down on the shaggy head of one of the taller Giants as the huge intruder tried to break his way in through what looked like the laboratory's front door.
The business was slightly complicated by the fact that he was actually wearing a kind of helmet, which appeared to be made of several thicknesses of tough leather. But I thought that ought to make little difference to my club.
Boldly I leaped onto my adversary's head, and with my free hand I clutched a handful of his coarse, shaggy hair to keep myself in position. Then with my club I belabored his padded skull.
In such a position I could strike only awkwardly, so it seemed to me that I was only tapping. Still my victim screamed and fell to his knees; his skull was thick, but it was not hard and thick enough.
I had been expecting my gargantuan opponent to collapse as soon as his head was severely damaged, but the collapse was not as quick or as complete as I had hoped.
I pounded him some more, and then leaped free when his body crashed face-first along the stony shore.
* * *
Several Titans, having identified me as the mortal who was causing them huge problems, surrounded me with the obvious goal of trying to finish me off. They pounded at me with giant clubs, actual tree trunks stripped of branches, whose impact on the island rock I narrowly avoided.
Others came balloon-skipping across the half-frozen sea, carrying oil-soaked tree trunks as great burning brands. Quite a sight in the gray, near arctic twilight, but a poor choice of weapon with which to assault Vulcan's stony stronghold.
But these special weapons were not meant to breach the walls. They were intended to kill me.
Almost the only real pain I had ever felt in my life had come from internal causes—the common bellyaches and toothaches of childhood. The peculiar blister raised on my hand during my fight with the centaurs was a notable exception. I did have good reason to believe that my skin was much more heat-resistant than that of any ordinary human, but whether it could withstand prolonged exposure to fire I did not know, and being reluctant to put it to the ultimate test, I did all I could to avoid the burning tree trunks.
Now the voices of several gods were raised in excited cries, sounding a familiar name. I turned to see that the enemy champion was at hand, and I recognized him as the Giant who had shot down Apollo's chariot with me aboard. Alkyoneus had come ashore and was standing on one rocky tip of the laboratory island. The archenemy of the gods was leading the other invaders.
This was my first really good look at Alkyoneus, and I stood stunned, for he was even more impressive when seen at close range. He was clad from head to toe in some kind of metal armor, or at least in a net of chains, the lower links dragging on the earth.
Apollo brought his chariot to a sudden stop beside me, and in a few terse words proposed that we attack this Giant together.
Gripping my club, I stared at the enemy champion. He differed from the others in being not only larger, but more powerfully built. Just as a wrestler is easily distinguished from other men at first glance, so Alkyoneus stood out from his fellow Giants.
"Anytime you're ready, Jeremy Redthorn," I said, over my shoulder.
But before Apollo and I could agree on a plan for our attack, the chariot of Mars came hurtling past us at full speed. The War God was charging directly at our common enemy, howling a challenge and raising his mighty spear.
Alkyoneus struck out with one mighty arm, and I gasped in surprise as the rushing chariot of Mars was knocked aside before the god could thrust with his spea
r.
And in the next moment, the Giant moved in our direction with amazing speed. Before I realized what had happened, Apollo, too, had been somehow beaten to the ground, where his horses lay tangled in their harness; his chariot spun its wheels in the air.
In the next instant my Titanic opponent had somehow spotted my tiny figure and had turned on me with arms outstretched. Perhaps my fame had spread even among Giants, and he knew me by the club I carried. All of his enormous fingers were pointing at me, and he was obviously using the exotic weapon that his kind used against the gods—whether or not the word of my invulnerability had spread among our enemies, he wanted to try for himself whether the special weapon had no effect.
Mighty Alkyoneus was not stupid enough to persist with his useless magic after he saw that it was ineffective.
I ran toward him, but he moved away—not out of fear, I was sure. Rather he was intent on rallying, in a voice of thunder, some of his fellow Giants who were obviously contemplating a retreat.
Another, lesser Giant came at me and repeated another of my earlier opponent's mistakes by trying to step on me, like a man killing a beetle or a mouse. But I was a different sort of mouse than this creature had ever seen before. Bracing the butt end of my club on the ground, like a soldier's pike, I gave him a punctured foot.
The enormous body of my most recent opponent took a long time falling, like a tall tree. The arms were extremely powerful, and by no means clumsy, but still ineffective in breaking the fall. The heavy impact on rock took a lot out of him, and I suspect it cost him a few broken ribs, with likely internal injuries. But he was a fighter, and his fingers kept spasmodically attempting to grab me up. I had to disable most of the fingers before I could get inside the reach of his arms, close to his body, and finish him off.
Just as I did so, gods brought down another Giant only a short distance away. One outflung arm splashed into the ocean. The vast head split open like a melon when it came down hard on a sharp outcropping of rock, and blood and brains spilled out.
The Arms Of Hercules Page 35