“Interesting choice,” I said, intrigued by her weapon.
They both looked up at me, and Frigate switched on a small red LED light so he could see and still preserve his night vision.
“Yeah, I was surprised you had it, actually.” Sarah patted the gun. “I used one in the Fly Team as part of a test group, but it had the short barrel, not this long one. I really liked it.”
I was impressed. Maybe even a little turned on. She was perfectly at home helping Frigate sight in his weapons.
“That longer barrel makes using a suppressor easier,” I said. “Plus, it uses the same clip as the Glock twenty-one, so I suggest you pull that as a sidearm. The forty-five ACP round has good stopping power, too.”
She pulled the forty-five-caliber model Glock from the holster on her hip. “Done,” she said, frowning at me with one eyebrow arched as if I’d just insulted her. “I like to keep things simple.”
“How goes?” I asked Frigate.
“All good, Chief. We’re just waitin’ for the green light.” He gave me a thumbs-up.
“Well, once you’re done, head back to the shanty. As soon as Geek finishes his science project, we’re Oscar Mike,” I said, using military speak for “on the move,” feeling myself become more uptight. “I’m headed back.”
About halfway back to the shanty, heavy footfalls in the sand came up from behind me. They were too heavy to be Sarah, so I didn’t stop or turn around.
“What’s up, Frigate?”
“Chief, lighten up on Sarah, would ya’? She’s tryin’ real hard to impress you,” he said, holding the Barrett over one shoulder while the MK 13 hung from a strap from the other. “And she likes you, too.”
“I can’t lighten up. You know that. We got one speed on this, and it’s flat-out. She either keeps up, or we cut her loose. If we fail, we won’t be the only ones dying, you get that?”
“I get it, but she knows her shit, Chief. You just gotta give her a chance to show you. Plus,” he said, waggling his eyebrows, “she likes you.”
It was a pleasant enough idea. I let myself linger on it for just a second, but all the reasons why it wouldn’t work—my immortality, my job, putting her in constant danger—crowded in, along with the reality of the current situation. I’d have to deal with my feelings about Sarah later. If we lived.
Back at the shanty, Geek had set up an assembly line using every surface in the house’s only room and employing half a dozen Spartoi as helpers. Each one of the giant warriors worked on a different aspect of Geek’s radio reconfiguration project. When I walked in, things were humming along efficiently, although the sight of the imposing Spartoi hunkered over tables and working with tweezers, tiny wire snips, and soldering irons looked positively absurd. Geek moved purposefully from Spartoi to Spartoi, correcting or approving each one’s actions like a teacher in a lab.
Geek stopped what he was doing and came over with a smug grin plastered across his face. “Almost done, Demo,” he said proudly. “Won’t be more than two hours to wrap things up.”
I left them to it while I gathered my gear, methodically checking and double-checking it all. While it didn’t need it, I retaped the disk on my forearm, just to make sure it was secure, and put the magnets into a pocket on my vest. I was still determined to use that thing as payback for the two attempts on my life, and for all those people back at the museum. As I pored over my knives and swords, Sarah and Frigate came in and began to watch. Geek followed as soon as he noticed them gathered beside me.
“I take it those are special,” Geek said, referring to my swords. “Made by Hephaestus, or something?”
“Actually, they are. But that”—I half grinned back, pointing at my spear where it leaned against the wall near Ab’s hammer—“specifically, is the Pelian Spear.”
Geek’s eyes widened. He looked especially ridiculous with the stupid magnifying-lens goggles pushed back on his head. “Really?” he asked, reaching toward it. “Can I see it?”
“Sure, just be careful.”
“What in the Sam Hill is the Pelian Spear?” drawled Frigate.
“Achilles’s spear, given to him by his father and made by Hephaestus,” Sarah responded, smiling at me. “Was said to be able to penetrate anything.” She leered at me.
The knife I was holding slipped through my fingers. “Well, uh, almost anything in the right hands,” I said, trying to recover my composure as I grabbed the spear from Geek before anyone got hurt. The second I touched it, the spear virtually came to life, the metal of the shaft and head shimmering.
“Whoa! Brilliant. Hey, was Achilles really killed by an arrow to his foot?” Geek asked, unfazed by me snatching the weapon away from him.
“No, he wasn’t.” I checked to make sure the clips for my sidearms were loaded. “Paris did shoot him with an arrow, but Apollo guided it, and it stuck him in the chest, under his arm. By the time we got to him, he was dead. However, the little prick did shoot me in the foot once. Paris, not Achilles. Then he ran away.”
“Paris, not Achilles,” Duma threw out, partly to poke fun at my long-standing irritation with Achilles’s fame.
“Yeah, the punk,” I replied, ignoring Duma’s goading.
Geek led them in a barrage of questions about mythology and the Trojan War, and I indulged them for about thirty minutes because some of what they were asking might actually serve to prepare them for the coming fight. Still, after a while, I had to throw my hands up in surrender. Luckily, one of the Spartoi came over before I had to get violent, and announced that they were finished with the radios. It was close to midnight.
“Let’s move. Gear up and reassemble out front in ten.” I grabbed my vest, and everyone scattered.
Three minutes later, a dozen Spartoi were gathered along the beach in front of my shanty, grouped into two squads of six soldiers. They stood stock-still in formation, two rows of three each.
The Spartoi were dressed in an odd combination of gear, sort of Marine Corps meets the Middle Ages: desert camo fatigues, metal breastplates, and what have become known as Illyrian helmets. One of them even had a red crest of horsehair down the crown, probably to distinguish himself as the leader now that his face was covered. It was like watching the clones from Star Wars meet 300 and Black Hawk Down. They were armed with swords, shields, and a variety of assault rifles and machine guns used by modern militaries.
The rest of the group gathered off to one side. Duma leaned against the shanty wall next to Ab, whose arms hung over the hammer across his shoulders. Neither had their helmets on yet, but they were in full armor.
Ab’s armor consisted of full-plate adamantine arm coverings connected to a breastplate made of layered titanium plates sandwiched between ceramic and Kevlar. For good measure, he’d added a layer of dragon scales. Similar plates covered his thighs. His adamantine helmet resembled an oversized skull with a long black plume of hair from a manticore’s mane.
Duma’s armor consisted of a hauberk of some kind of black-scaled animal hide and was topped with a leather cuirass dyed in the traditional red-and-black diamonds of the harlequin character he used to play. He wore long black leather gloves and boots and had a helmet that resembled a highly stylized laughing skull, half-red and half-black, with a black Mohawk from its crown to its base. While I felt their armor was too showy and archaic, I knew part of their visage was to inspire fear on the battlefield.
Frigate sat on his heels, holding the Barrett, while Geek knelt on his good leg next to him using an M4 rifle for support. Sarah was the only one standing, shifting from one foot to the other. She was also the only one already wearing her pack, but all three of them wore PT Special-Ops body armor.
Spear in hand, I addressed my team stiffly. I had gotten used to working alone again over the last few years, and I wasn’t used to giving motivational speeches. “Everyone needs
to make sure to grab at least one thermite and one white phosphorus grenade each. Flash bangs and frags are up to you. Just remember, we’ll be in tight quarters. We leave together, we come back together, but once we arrive, you all know where to go. Geek has explained the radio relay system, and each group has forty relays. Use them. We do not know for sure what we’re going up against in these caves. I’ve seen Ifrit, ghouls, and a variety of mutant humans. There will certainly be Phonoi, Androktasiai, and at least one witch of immense strength. There may be others, but the witch is our main objective. Spartoi, your secondary objective is the Fawaz family. I will recover the Cup and chain. Anyone with an opportunity to take Medea out, take it. Do not hesitate. We do not know her full capabilities, nor do we know numbers. Make no mistake—we will be grossly outnumbered, and this will be difficult, and we will get bloody. We take no prisoners and do not expect to be afforded that dignity in return. I will offer no quarter; you do so at your own risk.”
I focused on the human contingent of my team pointedly as I said the last part. Geek and Frigate’s expressions remained unchanged, but the muscles of Sarah’s jaw tightened for a second before I continued.
“We fight to the primary target at all costs. If we do this right, no human but those fighting with us will ever know it was done. If we fail, the consequences for all races and creatures could be incalculable. We must not and will not fail. I bid you all strength and honor.” I crossed my arm over my chest with a closed fist and bowed my head briefly.
“Hooah!” yelled Frigate, and the Spartoi began a primitive and chilling war chant. Duma and Ab just glanced at each other and shook their heads. Sarah was a bit pale, even in the moonlight, and her eyes were wide, but there was resolve in them.
“Ab, get us to the jump point,” I said and then walked next to Duma. “I need you to take Sarah on a special trip first and then meet us at Alvand,” I whispered. I quickly explained what I needed.
He just laughed. “She’s gonna kick your ass, you know that?” Sarah scowled at both of us. “Let’s go, little lady. You and me got a hot date.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
She reluctantly fell in with him, flashing a confused look at me as they left the group trekking into the mangroves for the Ways. Duma was right. I was going to pay for this one, but it was mission critical.
It had been a while since I’d led any kind of team into any sort of skirmish, but this one had the potential to do some serious damage. I’d pit us against any human force on the planet, but I still had my doubts about facing Medea. If my team could just give me a small window of opportunity, it would be all I needed—me being humanity’s fist and all.
As I walked behind the group, I again got that odd feeling in the pit of my stomach that someone, or something, was watching me. Over on the beach, a squat figure walked up out of the water. The moon was behind his body, so I couldn’t make out any details—except a garish Hawaiian pattern on a shirt. Surprised and pleased, I told everyone to continue along while I walked down to meet him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
“Dude, bad news I thought you’d want to know,” Ned said, his eyes anxious, though the full expression was hidden behind his bushy beard.
“What’s so important you came here to tell me in person?”
“Perses disappeared from the other side,” he said quietly, leaning in. The “other side” he was referring to was their home plane, the plane that all Protogenoi normally existed on. “He’s here on this side now, but I hear tell it wasn’t his idea. That ain’t cool, man. That dude is all about bad vibes, destruction, and chaos, and if he ain’t here of his own will… shit, I don’t even want to think about it.” He shook his head.
“Dammit. Medea has the, ah, Ally-whosits Prometheus…” I couldn’t remember the freakin’ chain’s name.
“The Alysideus Prometheus? You screwin’ with me, dude?” came Ned’s response. His eyes widened and his body stiffened. “Don’t even joke about that, man. That’s like that green rock stuff for that super dude in them comic books to us, man.” He suddenly appeared drawn.
“I’ll stop her and whatever it is that she’s doing to or with him. I’m leaving now, so is there anything else I should know?”
“Nah, ain’t that enough? Oh, some dipdunk did run into your boat down at the dock, though,” he said, snapping his fingers.
“What? Are you kidding me?” I screamed, surprised and pissed off all at once.
“Nah, I’m just messin’ with ya, dude. You know I keep an eye out for your boat, man. No worries.” I could see the twinkle return to his eye as the moonlight glinted off his broadly grinning teeth. Nothing kept Ned down long. “Hey, you got any beer in that shack before I leave?”
“No, you know I don’t, old man.”
“Wishful thinkin’, I guess.” He shrugged, waved, and strolled back down the beach.
He held up his fist with his pinky and thumb extended and shook it as he walked.
I gazed out over the flat at the moonlight reflecting off the shallow water. The world was peaceful and serene. Things were going to get nasty with Medea in her caverns, probably the worst mess I’d been in in a while. I hoped I was making the right decision bringing Geek, Frigate, and Sarah—mostly Sarah—into my world and into this mess. Mostly, I just hoped we’d kill the bitch.
I listened to the waves lap along the beach. If we survive, I gotta let Sarah know how I feel.
If we survive…
CHAPTER 33
The path we took through the Ways to arrive on Mt. Alvand in western Iran was deliberately obscure, just in case. Alvand was an energy nexus, and my guess was that Medea had tapped right into its power—I would have done the same thing in her position. She’d probably even chosen the location for its energy. We could have just opened a Way right into her living room, but that would have made Custer’s plan at Little Bighorn seem like genius by comparison. Of course, that would also assume she didn’t have some sort of lock preventing that particular Way from being opened, too.
The roundabout trip took us less than an hour, and with the time change, that had us arriving in Iran at midmorning. We might have made it a little faster, but Geek and Frigate still had trouble adjusting to traveling the Ways. Fortunately, like motion sickness, their trouble only lasted while they were in transit. A few moments after they stepped out of the Ways onto Alvand, they were okay.
We exited at a snow-covered, mountainous ridge about eight thousand feet above sea level because I wanted a safe staging area as high as was prudent. At that altitude, a relatively thick layer of icy, frozen snow covered most of the uneven and rocky terrain, making footing treacherous enough without also requiring us to dodge potential wandering sentries the minute we emerged. I had purposely chosen to come through the Ways on the windward face of the mountain because I figured it would be less patrolled. It was below freezing, and the wind whipped around the mountain so fiercely at times that we had to scream to communicate face-to-face. Still feeling the surge of Athena’s power, I was pleasantly surprised not to be bothered by the weather conditions at all.
Once we reached our rendezvous point, we had to wait about thirty minutes for Duma and Sarah to catch up to us, and when they did, Duma was right: Sarah was pissed. But she realized I’d sent her off with Duma to get something we would need and, short of the brief glare she gave me when they first arrived, she handled her anger stoically. She crossed to her team silently, without meeting anyone’s gaze, her face intense as her hair whipped around. Duma was all smiles.
“Get it?” I asked, speaking into his ear once he was close enough.
“Of course,” he screamed over the wind, patting a small leather satchel at his waist. “And so will you… later.”
I faced the group to address them. All eyes were on me, and everyone acted impatient and eager to move. There were no signs of
the fatigue or illness associated with altitude sickness in the human operators, which was encouraging.
“This is rendezvous,” I said, pressing the sending switch for my throat mike to speak more easily to the group. I took my Way Stone and stuck it in among some rocks along with some food and ammo. “In the event everything goes sideways, those who know how can use this key. For those who can’t or don’t want to use it, head down the mountain to the town of Hamadān. Athena has a contact there.”
They all nodded at me, their faces showing no emotion.
“From here we break up. Each team leaves in twenty-minute intervals. My team will take final position. Radio when you’re in place, and I will give the go. If you run into sentries, take them out as quietly as possible and keep moving. If you encounter issues, fall back to the nearest team, or call for backup. You three,” I said, singling out the humans again, “white out, and move out first. Sniper team is designation Nest. And remember, there is no radio contact until you’re in position. Report what you see at the main entrance. Frigate, watch out for Medea—she is primary Tango. If you see her, do not hesitate to take the shot. Other targets are at your discretion. Otherwise, you are strictly support until you move in.”
Next, I turned my attention to the Spartoi. “You are Eagle One and Eagle Two,” I said, pointing at the two squads, “and my team is designation Talon. Clear?”
Everyone nodded.
“Let’s move.” I gathered my gear and pulled on a pair of goggles.
Like me, the entire team was fitted with LASH II throat-mic headsets, and each group had a bag full of Geek’s modified radios. Frigate’s team pulled out ponchos patterned with white-and-gray camouflage, covered themselves, and took off up the mountain. Frigate took point, carrying the MK 13 with the heavier sniper rifle slung over his back, followed by Sarah and then Geek. They’d all fitted suppressors to their primary weapons. Despite Geek’s prosthetic leg, he managed to keep up. His extreme-duty prosthesis was damn impressive and would have made Steve Austin jealous. I tried not to be too obvious as I watched Sarah disappear up the mountain.
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