by Chris Fox
“You will become my vassals, living or dying at my pleasure,” Wepwawet rumbled, taking a step closer. The strange orange light from the storm played over his grey fur, giving him a hellish look. “I am a harsh master, but fair. Not so lenient as Trevor has been with this Jordan, but neither will I treat you cruelly as Irakesh does the whelp Steve.” Wepwawet spat at the last.
“Yep, looks like you’ve definitely met Steve,” Liz said, finally reappearing from the shadows. She was still in wolf form, but didn’t have her sword out. Ready to defend if needed, but clearly not interested in picking a fight. Blair followed her lead.
“It doesn’t look like we have a lot of choice, but I’ll warn you: If you try to make us betray Isis, you’ll be sorely disappointed. I’d rather die first,” Blair rumbled, trying to look fierce. He had a feeling he more resembled a yapping puppy.
“You have some fire, then,” Wepwawet rumbled, giving a toothy grin. “You remind me much of myself at your age. I was in a similar position, captured during the battle wherein my father was driven from the cradle.”
“Your father?” Liz asked, raising an auburn eyebrow.
“Set,” Blair supplied, folding his arms as he considered. “Brother of Osiris, also the enemy of Isis, Osiris, and Sekhmet.”
“You are well versed in our lore,” Wepwawet rumbled, clearly surprised. “Are you a lore-keeper of this age?”
“You might say that,” Blair said. There was no easy translation for anthropologist. “So what happens now?”
A fist erupted from Wepwawet’s belly. Before the wolfish god could react, a huge silver maw latched onto the back of his neck. A hail of teeth and claws rent his face and spine.
Liz moved protectively in front of Blair with her sunsteel drawn, ready should the fight require their involvement.
The foes moved so fast, Blair blurred in order to track the fight, and still it was more than he could take in. It ended as suddenly as it had begun.
Isis stood over Wepwawet’s broken body, her muzzle coated in his blood.
“Isis,” Blair said, wanting to cheer.
“Ka-Dun Blair,” Isis barked, eyes firmly fixed on her prey. “Take us into the storm. Quickly. Sekhmet approaches even now, and it will not take her long to deal with the distraction I’ve wrought.”
“What have you done?” Wepwawet rasped through a ruined throat. He seemed to be healing, but slowly. There was a lot of damage, after all.
“Be silent, nephew,” Isis snarled, leaning closer. “I’ve half a mind to end you right now, but in honor of the esteem your uncle holds for you I will not. For now. Do not make me regret my leniency.”
“If you are leaving, I ask that you return me to Ra,” Wepwawet pleaded.
“Liz, push him through the slipsail’s skin. Be gentle, if possible,” Isis said, turning back to Blair. “As for you, time is not on our side. We must be away, and quickly.”
Blair merged his senses with the ship, quickly assessing their surroundings. Absolute chaos had erupted outside. A titanic worm slammed down into the earth, crushing a large swathe of Ra’s army. The impact caused the ship to shake, and Blair urgently commanded it to rise.
That didn’t improve things. If anything it made the shaking worse, as they were buffeted by winds from the storm. “Hold onto something.”
Then all Blair could do was fight. The winds reached gale force. Stronger, if that was possible. He did his best to guide the ship into them, but it was like a leaf being tossed about by a hurricane. He had almost no control, and the only success he had was gaining a little altitude. Good thing, too. They passed perilously close to the ground more than once, and he had a feeling that kind of impact would destroy the ship as easily as it would a regular plane.
Chapter 43- To the Rescue
Trevor blurred, dodging around boulders and leaping over walking corpses as he evaded the worm’s titanic blows. Three times it had slammed its body into the earth, and three times it had crushed a large swath of Ra’s army. A couple more hits like that, and Ra wouldn’t have an army.
“Jordan,” Trevor roared, rolling past a rock and coming to his feet not far from the blonde werewolf. The golden collar caught the strange light of the storm that was nearly upon them, making it easy to find him. Even if that were not the case, Trevor could feel Jordan through the bracelet. “You’re with me.”
Jordan gave a tight nod, blurring a dusty path towards Trevor. Trevor turned and started towards the storm, where the strange silver ship had landed. It shuddered for a moment, then lifted off again. The ship had reached maybe a hundred feet up when a body came tumbling out of the side. Wepwawet’s body.
It impacted with a puff of dust, unmoving after the fall. Trevor blinked as the bronze skiff detached from the silver ship, zooming down to rest next to Wepwawet like a dog running to its master.
“What’s your plan?” Jordan roared over the wind, following Trevor as he made his way into the fringes of the sunstorm. The heat increased, and energy crackled all around him, though it wasn’t painful. He hoped that didn’t change. If what he’d heard of these sunstorms was accurate, they could be lethal. The way the wind already tugged insistently suggested it was going to get far worse.
“There,” Trevor said, nodding at a shape looming in the dust kicked up by the keening wind. Trevor blurred towards it, stopping next to the skiff Wepwawet had used earlier. “I’m pretty sure I can fly it if I have to.”
“You know who was on that ship, right? We could escape right now. There’s no way they could chase us,” Jordan roared back. “Let’s get the fuck out of here while we can.”
“Jordan, give me a hand with Wepwawet,” Trevor ordered.
Jordan remained where he was, slowly drawing a holstered pistol. He aimed it at Trevor’s face. “You’re not going to go, are you? You’re going to stay with Ra.”
“We can deal with that in a minute,” Trevor said, throwing Wepwawet’s body over his shoulder. He heaved himself to his feet, though it wasn’t easy. “Wep is in bad shape.”
“Not as bad as you’re going to be in,” Jordan said. The pistol boomed, and Trevor’s face exploded in agony. He tumbled backwards as several more shots found his gut. He tried to fight back, but Jordan seized his arm and broke it. A kneecap shattered.
The bracelet, my host. Use the bracelet.
Trevor felt a hot surge roll through him, and this time it wasn’t caused by the storm. Jordan had been placed in his care and, while he hadn’t wanted the responsibility, he’d done his best to protect the werewolf. Now Jordan was turning on him. It was just too much, after everything else the man had done to him. The ’65 Mustang still loomed in the back of his mind—three years of work wasted when Jordan had blown it up.
“Fuck you,” Trevor said, using the bracelet for the first time. He forced all the anger, all the resentment, into the gold band. Jordan’s back arched as if he were being electrocuted. He collapsed to his knees, then dropped face first into the dirt. Trevor staggered to his feet, favoring his injured leg. It was healing, but it and about a dozen other wounds screamed for his attention. “Now pick Wep the fuck up and carry him onto the god damned skiff. I’m about done with your insubordinate bullshit. You understand what a chain of command is; I know you do. You might not like it, but right now you fucking work for me.” Trevor was screaming by the end, completely overwhelmed by the rage. He didn’t care. “Get the fuck up.”
Jordan staggered to his feet, hatred in his eyes. He scooped up Wepwawet and carried him to the skiff, dropping the wolf-headed god none too gently aboard.
“You’re in control right now, you fucking traitor,” Jordan rumbled, glaring at him sullenly over the rail of the skiff. He watched as Trevor leapt aboard. “Sooner or later that’s going to change, and when it does I’ll be the one to put you down. Remember that.”
“Yeah, because you’ve had so much luck before,” Trevor snarled back. “You only survived the bridge back in San Francisco because I let you. Before that, I kicked your as
s in Panama. You want to try again? Give it your best fucking shot.”
Jordan lapsed into silence, and Trevor moved to what he took for a steering wheel on the center of the skiff. He placed his hands on it, wondering what the hell to do next.
Open your mind, my host. Allow the slipsail to bond with you. Your will join with it, and you can use it as an extension of your body.
So Trevor opened his mind. To his surprise, he found he could feel the skiff. Some quick experimentation allowed him to levitate a few feet off the ground. He stayed low, knowing that going any higher was an invitation to destruction. The storm was on them now, and the winds even more fierce. Something like thunder cracked above, making it brighter than day for just a moment. Then the light faded back into a muted dusk, the boiling orange clouds completely obscuring what had been noonday sun just a few moments before. Thankfully the clouds didn’t seem to be pure flame at the edge of the storm, though if the baking heat was any indication, the center of the storm was pure death.
Trevor zoomed the skiff towards the ruins dotting the area underneath Olympus. Gobekli Tepe, the place was called. That had been where Ra was making for, so that was where she was likely to go next. Assuming she survived her battle with the worm. He brought the skiff to a halt near one of the more intact buildings, then spun to face the worm.
I know what you contemplate, my host. It is foolish in the utmost. Ra does not need your help.
“Fuck you,” Trevor muttered under his breath. He turned to Jordan, raising his voice to a shout. “Take Wep into that building and wait there. If I’m not back shortly it means I’m dead, which ought to make your day.”
Jordan didn’t reply, instead scooping up Wepwawet and carrying the unconscious deity off the skiff. What the hell had kicked his ass so thoroughly that he was still out of it? Trevor could only think of one god capable of that and, given that he’d been adopted into Ra’s court, that meant Isis was now an enemy. He sure hoped he didn’t run afoul of her anytime soon.
Trevor commanded the skiff to rise, then zoomed towards the worm in a spray of dust. He’d finally figured out what Ra was trying to do. Her attacks were designed to annoy, not kill. They’d agitated the worm into following her, and she’d led it away from the battle. Now it was chasing her, but even as fast as she was, he wasn’t certain she could evade it forever. It simply moved too fast, and didn’t seem to tire.
If we must do this, my host, then I will aid you. The skiff possesses weaponry. It can focus your energy into a more potent blast, one that might get the beast’s attention.
Trevor considered that as the skiff shot closer to the worm. There was something very close to a cannon strapped to the underside of the skiff, and he could somehow feel the weapon. If he fed his energy into the skiff and commanded it to fire, the weapon would apparently amplify the blast.
“All right, let’s see what this thing can do,” he muttered, though the words were torn away by the wind. Trevor shot skyward, battling the wind as he raced for the worm’s head. Most of the attacks Ra had leveled had been aimed at the softer flesh inside the worm’s mouth. He decided to do the same.
Trevor increased speed, circling up and away from the worm. Then he dove, curving earthward in a tight arc as he approached the thing’s mouth. It was beyond colossal up close, the largest thing he’d ever seen. This creature could probably devour entire skyscrapers whole, and had the breath to match. The stench was awful.
He fed some of his energy into the craft, firing a quick trio of blasts into the creature’s open maw. A bellow, even louder than the wind or the cracks of thunder above, split the air. Trevor resisted the urge to clap his hands over his ears, instead twisting the craft in midair as the creature’s mouth snapped shut where Trevor had just been.
It hurled its body at him, but he dodged to the left and poured on more speed. Jesus, the thing was just so damned massive. He urged the craft to maximum speed, biting his lip as the shadow grew larger over him. An instant before it struck, he juked left, narrowly avoiding the beast. Unfortunately, there was no way to escape the wake.
The creature sent a roiling wave of debris in his direction, rocks and dust and bodies all bouncing off the skiff. Something heavy struck him in the back, and he was knocked from the craft in a split second of absolute terror. There would be no way to escape the worm without the skiff.
Then a hand seized the scruff of his neck. He was back on the skiff, slammed down against the railing. Trevor clung to it instinctively, gazing up at his savior. Ra’s scarlet mane fluttered in the wind, dancing around her like a forest of tiny snakes. She seized the skiff’s control wheel, urging it up and away from the worm.
“Clever,” she shouted over the wind, pivoting the craft until it was in front of the worm. “You’ve enraged the worm enough that we can lead it away from the others. Once it’s far enough away we’ll take to the skies, assuming we survive the storm. Then we can circle back.”
“Won’t the worm just come back?” Trevor yelled.
“No,” Ra said, shaking her head as they raced away from the worm, away from Gobekli Tepe. “It is incredibly powerful, but not very intelligent. Once there is no obvious threat, it will return to its hunting grounds, back at the Ark of the Cradle. A good thing, too. The Kraken is the most potent of the Ark’s defenses. Isis plays the game well. She knew I couldn’t let it die, but also that I couldn’t allow it to crush my army. So she delays me, and I can do nothing save follow the course she has led me down.”
Trevor didn’t reply to that. Maybe he’d done the right thing after all. He’d proven his usefulness to Ra, but hadn’t interrupted Isis’s plan. Blair and Liz had probably made it to safety, though he had no idea where they’d go now. That was probably for the best. If he didn’t know their destination, he couldn’t betray them.
Chapter 44- Power Armor
Jordan clenched his fist, growling as Trevor sped away. He watched as the skiff gained altitude, totally unsurprised when it began firing at the worm. The worm that had been crushing Ra’s army, but that was now chasing Trevor. The fucker had just saved their enemy from total destruction.
“Gahhh,” he bellowed, shattering a nearby rock with his fist. He felt so damned powerless, not just because the collar prevented him from shifting. It was also because he couldn’t stop Trevor, whose loyalties were quite obviously shifting to Ra. That would make him an enemy again, one that even Jordan had to admit was damned formidable.
“What troubles you, Ka-Dun?” a voice came from behind him.
Jordan spun, reaching for the gun belted at his side. Except his gun was gone, knocked away during the fight with Trevor. He was unarmed, for the first time since he’d become a werewolf. An old man with long, stringy white hair and a sun-weathered face stood before him—hardly a threat, though, at least not an obvious one.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jordan shot back, slipping into a combat stance.
“I could provide a litany of names, but I suspect you are a man of little patience. Please, call me Hades,” the old man said, giving a friendly nod. He leaned heavily on a simple wooden staff. “How are you called?”
“Name’s Jordan,” he growled back.
Be wary, Ka-Dun. This one is old, and very powerful. A sorcerer who styles himself a god.
“Well, Ka-Dun Jordan, I can see you have a problem. One I may be able to assist with,” the old man said, delivering a warm smile. It was somehow predatory.
“What problem might that be?” Jordan asked, narrowing his eyes behind his sunglasses. Thankfully they were wrap-around, which was the only reason the violent winds hadn’t tugged them away. A particularly violent gust knocked him a step closer to the old man.
“You’re wearing a collar of shi-dun. That means you are locked in human form, and are the plaything of the collar’s owner,” Hades said, shaking his head sadly. “If you pick up your companion and carry him below, then I will free you from the collar’s limitations.”
Jordan looked back at Ra’s army. T
he worm was distant now, still chasing Trevor’s skiff. That meant Ra and her troops would be here soon.
“All right, lead the way,” Jordan said, leaning down to scoop up Wepwawet’s unconscious form. The wolf-headed god gave a groan of pain, the first sign he’d exhibited that he might be returning to consciousness.
Hades turned without a word, walking quickly into a neighboring building. He moved like a much younger man, the pretense of age falling away as he quickly gained ground. Jordan struggled to keep up. He hadn’t rested well in days, and it had been over a week since he’d seen the moon. That made his burden heavier than it should have been.
They made their way deep into the earth, passing down stairways carved into rock caverns. It reminded him of a trip he’d taken to the Oregon Caves a few years back, the wet stone illuminated by a very modern flashlight Hades had withdrawn from his bedraggled robes.
“How far is it?” Jordan grunted after a particularly treacherous stairwell. It was growing hotter, and he’d begun to sweat.
“Not far,” Hades said, threading through stalactites as he crossed a wide chamber. He emerged into a room unlike any they’d passed thus far. This one had clearly been worked by human hands, far more than had been used to create the simple stairs they’d used to get down here.
The walls were smooth and flat, seamless granite extending hundreds of yards into the distance. Below was a hellish vista, huge iron cauldrons full of molten metal. The air stank of sulfur, and Jordan’s eyes stung from the heat. Dozens of uniformly black figures moved about the room. Some worked at anvils that could have come from medieval Europe, while others worked on the type of machinery he’d have expected to see at a Mohn facility.