They were not even halfway to the shelter of the ruins.
Carter stumbled. Pierce caught her arm and tried to keep her from falling but the relentless assault from above had him off balance. Instead of keeping her on her feet, he went down alongside her. For a moment, they were both exposed and vulnerable, but Pierce twisted around and got his shield up, covering himself and her.
The shield shuddered against him like a wild animal trying to wrestle out of his grip. Dozens of birds, their beaks caught in the bark, tried to wrestle free, even as more birds slammed into their midst. The number of holes weakened the barrier. It was only a matter of time—perhaps seconds—before it came apart.
Pierce felt something brush against his legs—not more birds but Lazarus, bloody and beaten, crawling to join them. His face was a bleeding mask of pain. “Go!”
“We’ll never make it,” Carter shouted back.
“I know.” Lazarus heaved his half-destroyed shield over them, leaving himself completely unprotected. “But you have to try.”
Pierce knew the big man was right on both counts. “Felice. Let’s go.”
But before either of them could move, a loud report—the sound of gunfire—cut through the thrashing of the bird attack. Pierce cursed under his breath. As impossible as it seemed, things were about to get even worse.
39
A commotion echoed across the treetops, filling the bottom of the sinkhole with the noise of flapping wings. Gallo scanned the sky, trying to locate the disturbance, but there were too many trees in the way. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere directly ahead, near what she guessed to be the center of the abyss.
Another noise, a low murmur of wariness and discontent, rippled through the Cerberus team. Rohn silenced them all with a withering glance. “Keep rowing,” he snarled.
They had been exploring the marsh for nearly an hour, using a small fleet of three-person inflatable rafts. Gallo occupied the center seat of one, bracketed by two guards. Dourado was in another, while Kenner and Rohn rode together in a third.
The boats were probably unnecessary since the water was shallow enough to walk through. But they granted some protection from possible attacks by amphibious and aquatic creatures, which might be lurking beneath the surface. That was the reasoning at least. Gallo doubted the inflatables would shield them from the poisonous breath of the salamanders, but thus far the strategy had worked. Aside from the buzzing of insects, they had seen no evidence of animal life since the attack on the shore. At least, not until the noise of not-quite-distant-enough wings was heard.
And now that’s where we’re headed, Gallo thought. The only upside to it all was that every deadly animal encounter brought them one step closer to the failure of Kenner’s plan.
The salamander creature, which she knew must be some kind of chthonic chimera related to the Hydra, was evidence enough that Kenner was on the right track, but the outcome of that initial attack indicated how ill-prepared the Cerberus team was. Hercules had been hard-pressed to defeat such beasts, and he had been nearly invincible.
As they rounded a copse of cypress trees, Gallo glimpsed movement in the sky. A strange rippling cloud hovered above a point several hundred yards away. After a few seconds, something changed, and the cloud became almost transparent, dotted with black specks. Then it solidified again. It reminded her of a fish shoal changing direction in unison. Or a flock of birds.
Dourado gave an uneasy laugh. “Angry birds.”
“No kidding,” Gallo muttered.
Kenner peered through a pair of binoculars for a moment then lowered them. He flashed a grin in Gallo’s direction. “Stymphalian birds, Augustina. That’s what those are. Think about it. The birds originally belonged to Ares. Hippolyte was the daughter of Ares.”
“I think you’re missing the point, Liam.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “We have guns.”
Gallo eyed the swirling mass in the distance. “But do you have enough bullets?”
Kenner made a hurt expression. “Give me some credit for knowing the source material. The sound of the shots will drive them off. That’s how Herakles defeated them.”
Gallo was not quite so optimistic about the strategy’s chances of success, but offered no further comment. If the birds did attack, it might present a chance for escape. She glanced over at Dourado and mouthed the words, ‘Be ready.’
Dourado just stared back at her, looking miserable.
Oh, Cintia, I’m so sorry. I bet you’re wishing you’d stayed at your computer.
“There!” Kenner’s hand shot out, pointing at something on the near horizon. “The city of the Amazons!”
Despite everything else that was happening, Gallo experienced a fleeting excitement. Mutant creatures from mythology were one thing, but this…this was something else. Her entire professional career, more than half of her life, had been spent pursuing the connection between ancient myths and actual history. Here before her lay the physical evidence of that connection, and in a place the academic world least expected it. It was a singular moment in her life, an unparalleled discovery.
And I won’t be able to tell a soul.
For the first time since accepting Pierce’s invitation, she understood just how much she would have to sacrifice to be part of the Herculean Society.
Probably doesn’t matter. I doubt any of us are getting out of here alive.
“They’re coming,” Rohn said, in a flat voice.
Gallo turned her gaze back to the sky and saw what looked like a dark finger reaching out from the cloud of birds, stretching toward them. In just a few seconds, the leading edge of the finger was close enough for her to see flapping wings, and then the birds themselves.
Kenner shifted in his boat, looking from the birds to Rohn and back again. “Shouldn’t we…ah…”
“Shoot,” Rohn said. “Now.”
The Cerberus men opened fire with their pistols, shooting into the onrushing feathered mass. The first report startled Gallo, the noise deafening with its proximity. She clapped her hands over her ears, too late to silence the ringing noise.
In the sky above, the approaching swarm split apart, seeming to curl back on itself. Two of the birds simply dropped, mortally wounded by the random shots.
“It’s working,” Kenner shouted above the din. “Keep shooting.”
As if to embarrass him, at almost that exact moment, the guns fell silent. The men had shot out the magazines in their weapons and were now reloading. The lull was only a few seconds long, but it was enough for the Stymphalian birds to renew their advance. The firing resumed and the birds scattered again, but the flaw in Kenner’s plan was now obvious. Once the Cerberus men ran out of bullets, there would be no way to drive the birds off. Instead of frightening the creatures away, the shooting had merely advertised their presence.
Kenner seemed to realize this as well. He gripped Rohn’s shoulder. “We need to fall back.”
“It is too late for that,” Rohn answered. There was no dread in his tone, only a hint of disgust at Kenner’s foolishness.
Kenner flinched at the dire pronouncement. “Stagger your shots,” he cried. “Make every bullet count.”
The Cerberus men were already doing that, trying to work out a sequential pattern that would maintain the rate of fire and cover reloading periods, but the noise of the shots was no longer having the desired effect. More birds were being drawn off from the main cloud and despite the fact that some of the rounds were finding their marks, the swarm was closing fast.
Gallo felt like a spectator, watching a disaster unfolding, powerless to do anything to stop what had been set in motion. It took a moment for her to grasp that she was not merely an observer. When the birds finally attacked, she would be killed along with everyone else.
The realization hit like an electric shock, galvanizing her into action. She rolled over the side of the raft, not caring that doing so nearly capsized the little inflatable boat. The water was only about waist de
ep, shallow enough for her to walk, but she swam, striking out for Dourado’s boat.
Behind her, the Cerberus men assigned to guard her shouted for her to stop, but neither they nor any of the others attempted to pursue her. Dourado, however, had understood the earlier signal, and followed Gallo’s example. When Gallo saw the blue-haired woman splashing toward her, she changed course, angling in the direction of the ruins. “This way!”
Dourado stared at her in disbelief. “You want to go toward them?”
“Trust me!”
It was a spur of the moment judgment call, but Gallo was fairly sure that the birds would pass them by and attack the source of the noise. She was also certain that the birds and the salamanders were natural enemies, perhaps existing in a predator-prey relationship, and as long as they were in the water, she was more worried about things that swam than things that flew. They had encountered the salamander at the furthest reaches of the sinkhole, while the birds seemed to occupy the center, so it stood to reason that a denser population of birds would mean fewer salamanders. She did not have time to explain this to Dourado, and there was a very good chance that she was wrong about it, but the truth of the matter was that her decision had nothing to do with choosing the safest escape route. The only thing she really cared about was seeing the Amazon city.
The sound of flapping wings intensified as the flock’s leading edge drowned out the noise of sporadic gunfire. Then a scream split the air. Gallo glanced back and saw one of the Cerberus men, or rather what was left of him, topple over the side of his boat. A red mist hung in the air above the remains. The birds that had attacked him were already thrashing toward the other men in the boat.
Gallo heard the snap of bullets creasing the air right above her, then the splash as they smacked into the water nearby. Although the men were not shooting at her, the errant shots were as dangerous as the birds. Judging by the attack’s ferocity and the general pandemonium unfolding behind her, it wouldn’t be a problem for much longer.
Gallo turned her gaze back to the island and kept swimming. She chose a breaststroke, keeping most of her body underwater, hoping it would be enough to hide them from the winged attackers.
It almost was.
When she was just thirty yards from the island’s rocky shore, one of the birds noticed her. The flapping of wings announced the attack, giving her just enough advance notice to shout a warning to Dourado before plunging her head under the water. Then, her left leg seemed to catch on fire.
Because she had been prepared for an attack of some kind, she was able to clench her teeth and push through the pain. She kept swimming under the surface, clawing through the water with her hands, expecting more razor sharp beaks or claws to tear into her. There were no more attacks, but her leg was throbbing so badly that the mere act of trying to kick made her feel like throwing up.
Her hands scraped against something, and she looked up, cautiously raising her head. She had reached the island. “Cintia?” she gasped, barely able to get the words out. “Still with me?”
There was a splash beside her as Dourado broke the surface. Strings of cobalt hair were plastered to her face, but she seemed none the worse for wear. “We made it,” she said.
Gallo glanced up at the sky overhead. It was clear, with most of the birds fully involved in the attack on the Cerberus men, but she knew that could change at any moment. “Give me a hand, Cintia. I can’t walk.”
Dourado let out a low wail of dismay. “Ai! There are things stuck in your leg. Should I pull them out?”
Pull them out? Will that make me bleed to death? She couldn’t think straight. “Just get me to the city.”
Dourado nodded and put an arm around Gallo’s waist, helping her onto the rocky slope. She glanced down at her leg, which was not as badly swollen as she would have expected given the intensity of the ache. When she craned her head around, she could just make out something protruding from the back of her thigh. It looked like a meat skewer made of translucent fiberglass.
It’s a feather, she realized, or rather the shaft of a feather with the barbs removed. She tried to grasp hold, intending to pull it free, but even light pressure sent a current of pain through her leg. She cried out and would have collapsed if not for Dourado’s support.
“Come on,” Dourado urged. She pointed forward, and Gallo remembered what it was that had brought her here. A high-walled structure with a colonnaded porch and a doorless entryway stood directly ahead. Gallo nodded, and gritting her teeth against the pain, she hobbled toward the entrance.
The beat of wings grew louder behind them. They’d been noticed. Dourado glanced back, then quickened her step, all but dragging Gallo along. The porch and the doorway beyond could not have been more than twenty yards away, but it seemed like a mile. Gallo knew she should tell Dourado to leave her and find safety, but she didn’t have the strength—physically or emotionally—to say it out loud. Dourado would probably refuse anyway. A waste of breath for both of them.
Still, if they didn’t make it…if they both died, it would be her fault. The thought made her angry, and anger provided the motivation that desperation could not. She straightened her back, bit her lip until it bled and started to run.
The noise of flapping wings built to a fever pitch as Gallo and Dourado reached the porch, but as they passed through the arched opening and threw themselves sideways into the shadows beyond, it was like someone had hit the mute button on the world. Not a single bird pursued them inside.
Disbelief gave way to relief, and while neither was a particularly good painkiller, Gallo got to her feet unassisted and limped close to the doorway’s edge. She peeked outside. The swarm had returned to the sky, or possibly gone back to their roosts.
The attack was over.
“Are we safe?” Dourado asked from behind her.
Gallo nodded. “For the moment. Eventually we’re going to have to run the gauntlet again, but for now, I think we can breathe.”
She turned back and took a look at their new surroundings. The door opened into a long hallway with several doorways leading to other parts of the building. Gallo shuffled toward the nearest opening and peered inside. The floor was covered with a thick layer of dirt, and lichen growth streaked the walls. There was no sign of a human presence aside from the structure itself. Though it was impossible to see what lay in the shadowy corners, Gallo felt certain that the room contained nothing that would shed light on the mystery of the city’s builders. This might once have been the home of the Amazon warriors, or the Sea Peoples, but it had been abandoned long ago. The former occupants had taken everything of value with them.
She moved to the next door and the next, but found only more of the same. But the doorway at the end of the tunnel was different—wider, like the entrance, and covered with something that might have been an actual door, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. Gallo extended a hand to probe the dark barrier, and felt her fingers sink into something the consistency of peat moss. She yanked her hand back, but her touch was enough to collapse the rotted wood. As the damp pungent pulp fell away, dim light filled the hallway.
Gallo looked through the newly created hole and out into a vast plaza, surrounded by buildings like the one in which she now stood. In the courtyard, a series of stone terraces descended to a wide canal that surrounded an elevated mound, upon which had been built a structure that rose up higher than any of the other buildings in the city. The building was rectangular, with a gently sloping roof and decorative pediment held aloft by tall columns—the classic design of a Greek temple.
Gallo could only imagine what the courtyard and the temple might have looked like in the days of Queen Hippolyte and her Amazons. She wondered if the ancient Alexander Diotrephes, posing as Herakles, had stood where she now did. Was he the cause of the culture’s downfall? Did seizing the Queen’s belt with its map of the world, the key to the Amazons’ power, undo them all?
Whether or not that part was true, their society had survived, in
some form, at least long enough for Orellana and Carvajal to have their encounter with the fierce warrior women for whom the river was named. The advance of European conquerors, with their guns and germs, had dealt the final death blow. There was only a memory of the city’s former glory now. Nature had reclaimed much of it. The terraces were thick with vegetation, and cypress trees had taken root in the canal.
“We need to get to that temple,” Gallo said. “If we’re going to find anything, it will be there.”
Dourado did not question this assessment. “Can you make it?”
“I have to.” She took a breath then faced the other woman. “Thanks for trying to help me. I didn’t get a chance to say it before. I was really surprised to see you.”
“I’m sorry. I thought I could… If I had known this would happen...”
Gallo took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Dourado returned the squeeze with a wan smile. “I guess I am, too.”
“Ready?”
Dourado nodded and together they began tearing away the rotted planks until the hole was big enough for both of them to walk through. Gallo leaned against Dourado every time she had to put weight on her injured leg, but the pain had finally subsided to a dull ache. She suspected that the quills had not penetrated very deeply and that the discomfort and inflammation was merely her body’s way of telling her to pull them out, but that would have to wait until she was ready to deal with the wounds. Right now, the quills were acting as stoppers, minimizing the flow of blood.
As they moved out into the open, a rustling sound came from above them. Gallo looked up and saw hundreds of white bird heads looking down at them. The creatures were everywhere, perched along the edge of the rooftops that ringed the plaza. Many of them stood with their wings fully extended, plumage puffed up in a display of ferocity. Dourado started to turn back, probably intending to bolt for the refuge of the building they had just exited, but Gallo held her back.
Herculean (Cerberus Group Book 1) Page 24