by Alex Raizman
Before she could begin to formulate a new plan, something rustled in the bushes within the park. The soldiers’ reaction was immediate. They whirled to face the sound as spotlights lit up, illuminating the area. The soldiers opened fire, repeated staccato bursts of five rounds each until the magazines were empty.
Then they waited, watching the patch of shredded bush. Athena waited with them, turning on her divine sight. There was definitely something in the bushes-
They rustled again. The moment they did, the soldiers launched an RPG directly at the source. Dirt, plants, and bits of flesh were thrown away in an explosion that set people in the surrounding buildings screaming.
Then there was no movement.
Stars of Olympus, Athena thought. They plan to keep out anyone and everyone, and then assume all motion inside is hostile and respond with extreme prejudice. It made a cold sort of sense. There were many creatures that could kill on sight or give minimal time to react if they became aggressive. It would mean the death of countless innocent animals, however, and if anyone was still in the park…
This is taking too long, Athena decided. I need to get inside.
She gave her nanoverse a squeeze, more for luck than the little power it had accumulated since she last drew from it and rendered herself intangible and invisible so she could ghost her way into the park, past the watchful eyes of the soldiers.
***
Athena had read up on El Ávila National Park as she left the city before she completely lost cell phone service. As much as she disliked the portable phones, she had to admit that they occasionally had their uses. She just wouldn’t admit it to Ryan. One thing she had found interesting was the park’s biodiversity: Wikipedia had informed her that it had over five hundred bird species, a hundred and twenty mammal species, twenty amphibians, and thirty reptiles, on top of eighteen hundred different plants.
As impressive as Athena found that factoid, she was reasonably certain that cockatrices were not a normal part of the local ecosystem. This beast was clearly a new addition.
Athena pressed herself against a tree, her heart pounding. She winced at the sound of the beast’s feeding, a sound like gravel being put through a woodchipper.
If I’d rounded the corner when it was looking up, that would have been me. A goddess was not immune to the cockatrice’s petrifying gaze. Being caught would be a disaster; since she wouldn’t technically be dead, she wouldn’t reform. Instead, she would stand frozen until someone found her or the world ended.
The shroud wouldn’t protect her, so she’d dropped it. The creature would easily see her even with the protection, and the fact that it was alive and hunting meant she was safely out of the military’s range. I’d trade a thousand armies to be rid of this thing, though.
The cockatrice raised its head to swallow some of its prey. That gave Athena a chance to look; so long as she avoided the creature’s gaze, she was safe. It was still an effort to make herself take the risk, but she needed to know more about what she was up against. Cockatrices came in a wide variety, some more dangerous than others.
This one was easily as tall at the shoulders as Athena herself, with thick, long legs that ended in wicked talons. Its wings looked too small to let the creature fly but would spread out for balance as it chased down its prey. Its feathers were the bright red and yellow of a creature that held no fear of any predator. It was as she’d feared: a Spartan Cockatrice. Stronger, faster, and with a particular taste for human flesh.
Athena whipped her head back behind the tree as the cockatrice finished its meal and glanced around. Stupid risk, looking for that long.
Sweat began to bead on her forehead. There were few monsters that could terrify Athena, but this was one of them.
Okay, she assured herself. You don’t need to fight this monster. You just need to move around it. She took a moment to roll her shoulders and steady her nerves. On the count of three. One. Two - just as she started to move, the cockatrice raised its head and angrily asked the forest “Boooooraaaaaaaaak?” Athena slammed herself back against the tree, stifling a gasp.
When the trees did not respond to its inquiry, the monster turned back to feeding. Now that it seemed again intent on its food, Athena started to move again. She was still terrified, but she hadn’t come here to cower behind trees all day.
“Kaaaawooook?” the cockatrice asked, popping its head up.
Athena threw herself to the ground behind a low shrub and bit back a curse. Really? She asked herself, fear turning to fury as she made sure no part of her body was exposed to the creature. What is it sensing? Cockatrices were not known for being easily distracted from their meals. In fact, Athena could only think of two things that would distract them more than once: a mate in heat, or a predator it actually feared.
She shrunk back further into the trees as the bushes began to rustle in front of the creature. Looks like I’ll be getting an answer soon. She took a deep breath, readying herself for whatever might be emerging.
A staff burst out of the brush and slammed into the soil. Grey tendrils began to creep from the point of impact, withering nearby plants. A gnarled hand, wrinkled and covered in warts and liver spots, clutched the stick in a violent grip. It shook slightly as it supported its owner, who began to follow the staff out of the dense underbrush.
Athena’s entire body tensed. She pressed her body further against her cover and deliberately suppressed her reflexive breathing. Moloch, she thought with a mixture of anger and dread. She was perfectly motionless, rooted to the spot, her eyes glued to the monstrous god.
If anything, Moloch looked even more hideous than when Athena had last seen him. His sunken eyes were deeper, blacker pits. His skin seemed leatherier and more worn. His lips cracked into a horrific smile, and Athena was sure his teeth were even more yellow, rotten and twisted to the point of being sickening. His smile sent a chill down her spine. Had he seen her?
Her mind raced, forming plans in case Moloch had spotted her. In a straight fight, she could trounce him. Most gods could, as Moloch rarely practiced direct combat. However, this wouldn’t be a straight fight. They were deep in a natural habitat that Moloch had controlled for weeks. There was no telling what variety of monsters he’d summoned or created to aid him.
The forest covered Moloch’s back with shadows, and in those shadows, Athena saw a thousand imagined horrors. Gorgons coiled around trees, fangs glistening with petrifying toxins. Minotaurs hunching behind brushes, their breath steaming even in the tropical air. Namean lions crouching in the deepest recesses of shadow, ready to pounce. Moloch was a threat because of everything that could be behind him, and in terrain he had taken as his own, anything could be behind him.
If he had seen her, he didn’t give any immediate sign. Instead, he studied the cockatrice. Athena felt an irrational surge of anger. The creature had popped its head up every time she’d tried to move, and here it was calmly eating with Moloch behind it.
Moloch licked his blistered lips with his pale white tongue. “Well...what do we have here?”
For a moment, Athena was convinced that Moloch was speaking to her. She prepared to do one solid twist of reality and engulf herself in enough flame to burn her body to ash in an instant. If she got lucky, the fire would spill over into immolating Moloch as well. If she didn’t, she would at least avoid being taken-
“Kaaaaaaaaarrrrrkkk!” the cockatrice screamed. After a second, rational thought overrode blind panic: Moloch was talking to the monster, not to her. She hadn’t been spotted.
Yet.
She relaxed slightly as Moloch began to circle the cockatrice. It kept its head and eyes focused on the malformed god, but he kept his head moderately bowed, watching the cockatrice out of the top of his vision without making actual eye contact.
Athena wondered if this is what other gods felt watching her wield a sword, seeing someone move with the absolute competence of a seasoned master. Athena had no idea how he was managing to keep the cockatrice in his periphe
ral vision without triggering its petrifying gaze, but the motion seemed as natural to him as drawing a blade was to her. There was a reason that Moloch was the god of monsters. At that moment, she could almost have respected him if he hadn’t been so loathsome.
“You’re a beautiful creature. Such a pity.” Moloch rasped.
The noise the cockatrice made in response was unlike anything Athena had ever heard: a sort of defiant whistling, mixed with overtones of gravel being run through a blender. The cockatrice began to turn slowly, keeping its eyes fixed on Moloch. When its target stubbornly remained flesh and blood, the cockatrice cocked its head like a confused dog. Athena could almost hear its thoughts. This has always worked for me before, but you’re not turning into bone, which is damned rude of you. Can you please freeze in place so I can eat you?
Moloch did not oblige the cockatrice’s request, much as Athena wished he would. Instead, now that the cockatrice had turned a full one hundred and eighty degrees, Moloch’s form began to run like hot wax. He straightened, and his emaciated form filled out and expanded to become taller, with broad shoulders and solid muscles. His dirty grey hair brightened to gleaming silver. In less than a minute, he had changed from a withered, disgusting creature to the ideal image of a god.
Transformation complete, Moloch held his hand out towards the brush. “Send the Aspirants forth.” His voice had changed to a resonant baritone full of power and authority.
He’s disguising himself in front of his cultists, Athena realized. He knows that people are more likely to follow someone attractive. Clever.
Two men and one woman emerged, carrying primitive weapons. Moloch’s symbols covered their naked bodies, tattooed on their faces and drawn in blood on their limbs and torsos. Athena’s mouth went dry, and she wondered how many new horrors would await her. Moloch’s cults had taken many forms over the millennia, but they’d always included warriors like these. Stripped of all vestiges of society, monsters in their own right. Athena had never faced them herself, but she’s seen the aftermath of their raids: blood so thick on the ground it turned the soil to mud and viscera arranged into mockeries of divine sigils. She’d heard of them breaking phalanxes and making berserkers turn and flee.
He called them Godslayers.
While Athena couldn’t take her eyes off the new arrivals, the cockatrice didn’t notice them. It was transfixed on Moloch’s outstretched hand, waiting for him to make a move.
Moving his hand slowly back and forth to keep the cockatrice’s attention, Moloch began to speak to his followers, using the gift of the Primordial Speech, the language all of mankind once spoke. Although no mortal mouth could form the words anymore, gods could make use of it, and be understood by all mortals. “You stand here, willingly outcast from the society that rejected you. You stand here, clothed as newborns, wearing naught but viscera. You stand here, with weapons you have made with your own hands, so they are extensions of your body. Are you prepared to forsake all you had been, and be fully reborn as my children?”
All three gave a slow, deliberate nod.
“Good. Then prove your worth.” He snapped his fingers and twisted, vanishing from the cockatrice’s vision.
It gave a confused coo as it turned back towards its meal, only to find three more humans there. Either because it knew they were only human or because it was frustrated by Moloch’s disappearance, it didn’t display the cautious curiosity it gave Moloch. Instead, it immediately lunged forward.
The woman had a pair of stone hatchets, one gripped in each hand and held low to her side. The man on her left had an enormously thick stick slung over his shoulder with a rock so large it could almost be called a boulder, and the man on her right held a spear wrapped in thorny vines.
Athena watched the fight with disgusted curiosity. The cockatrice lunged towards a man wielding an enormous club, but it was cut short when the other man slashed at its neck with a spear wrapped in thorny vines. It spun to face the new threat, giving the woman an opening to cut at its eyes with one of a pair of stone hatchets. The three worked together so well it looked almost choreographed.
The cockatrice reeled back, one eye ruined and leaking blood. It took a couple of steps back, but the humans pressed the attack. The spear-holder waved his weapon in its face, drawing its attention, as the club-bearer swung at the monster’s feet. There was a sickening crunch as one the hammer blows landed, crushing delicate bones. The cockatrice gave a sound of agonized fury and turned to run. But the woman had been circled the monster while her companions attacked and struck its face with full force.
Athena didn’t want to watch the remainder of the fight but found herself unable to look away. The Aspirants took turns, pummeling the beast. At least twice, Athena saw them deliberately avoid killing blows. They wanted it to suffer. The cockatrice’s motions became increasingly panicked and erratic. It gave a few more screams and clawed and bit with every ounce of energy it could muster, but with each attempt, those attacks became weaker. Fainter. Its strength was failing, and it knew it.
Finally, it became too much. The cockatrice collapsed, and with a triumphant scream, the woman buried both her stone hatchets in its head.
“Well done, my Children,” Moloch said. More people, dressed in black robes and bearing the same facial tattoos, stepped out of the bushes. Athena realized that if she had taken refuge on the other side of the clearing, she would have been trying to hide among Moloch’s followers.
The newcomers presented the victorious Aspirants black robes, and Athena took a moment to study them. It was a diverse group. Twenty people, counting the three Aspirants, thirteen men and seven women. She saw a variety of nationalities, and other than the tattoos and robes they had little in common.
The entire group moved in a practiced silence as they began attaching ropes to the cockatrice’s corpse. Once it was secured, they turned as one and dragged the body along the forest floor. Moloch strode after them with the bearing of a king being preceded by his retinue.
Athena waited a good while before daring to move. If nothing else, she now knew better what Moloch was doing down here. Once Moloch’s followers had taken the cockatrice back to where they were holed up, they would feast upon it.
It explained so much about his feared Godslayers: their inhuman strength and durability, the way their weapons could penetrate divine resistances, and their own unnatural defenses. If fighting a human or mundane animal, Athena could snap her fingers and stop their heart with a simple twist. Gods and monsters couldn’t be impacted that way, and neither could mortals who had consumed enough monstrous flesh.
Moloch was building an army.
Athena decided that was enough reconnaissance. There might be more she could discover, but further solo investigation would be too risky, and Ryan and Crystal needed to know that Moloch was preparing for war.
Behind her, someone cleared their throat.
She whirled around, feeling hopelessly exposed and unprepared. A handsome man in camouflage tactical gear, including a Kevlar vest, was aiming a gun directly at her chest.
“Pallas Athena,” he said, “It has been some time.”
Then she noticed the stylized falcon symbol over his chest and took a closer look at his features.
“Horus,” she said, keeping her tone carefully neutral, despite her racing heart. She was almost positive that Horus would never work with Moloch, but these were strange times, and his appearance here was odd. “It definitely has been a long time. I’m surprised to see you here. Would you mind pointing that gun somewhere else?”
His gun did not waver. “I suppose you may be surprised. I cannot say the same, Pallas Athena. I have been looking for you. How our reunion goes will depend on your answer to one simple question.”
“And what might that be?” Athena was already shifting to a defensive stance. She’d been ready to immolate herself, but that had been against Moloch and unknown monsters, and before she had vital information. If she had to fight Horus, the odds were much bette
r.
“Simple. Where. Is. Bast?” Horus snarled, and Athena realized he was half-crazed with...hope? Fear? Some strong emotion, but she wasn’t sure which. This meant she couldn’t know what answer he wanted, leaving her only the option of telling the truth.
“I haven’t seen her since I killed her.”
Horus took a long time studying her face, looking for evidence of a lie. When he saw none, he lowered the gun.
“Tell me everything.”
Chapter 6
Drip
Bast hadn’t seen the desert in hours. Or was it days? Time still lacked meaning. I slept. Bast focused on that fact, held it in her mind, a tiny sliver of hope. The exhaustion had finally won out against the discomfort. She’d fallen asleep, she thought, although it might have been an accumulation of small naps, drifting in and out of the desert. She didn’t remember sleeping, but so much of her time was static...It doesn’t matter, Bast told herself firmly. What mattered was that she had slept. Now there was no more sleep. No more dreams.
No more distraction from the raw scraping of her tongue in her mouth.
Her thirst was omnipresent, overwhelming hunger and loneliness. Overwhelming most rational thought. She imagined she could hear water everywhere. The gentle rush of fabric as the last of the researchers left reminded her of rainfall. The rush of air from the air conditioner sounded like a distant waterfall. The greatest torment was the pipes above her. Sometimes they rushed with water, right over her head. Every time they did Bast stared at them, transfixed, trying to will them into disgorging their contents. Everything made her think of how badly she wanted something to quench that thirst, how much she needed some relief.
Even the blood she heard in the researcher’s veins.