“Perhaps.” Hades shrugged in nonchalance, willing her palms not to sweat. “But I carry little concern for any traps the likes of them can conceive. If it is, this is a final desperate act effort to save their skin, and after the defeat they faced yesterday, they are exhausted and sorely beaten. Their weakened bodies could never withstand us. No, this is a suicide. He is hoping you end him quickly.”
“Should I grant his request?” Minotaur asked her. “Or are you going to beg I spare him?”
“Why would I beg for that?” Hades asked coldly. “He means nothing to me. He is a weak man and not worthy of breathing the same air as you, my King. He has been sitting on the throne of the Underworld in my stead, calling himself king of what is mine by birthright. His death brings us closer to victory.”
“Then come, my child.” Minotaur grinned, extending his arm for her to take. “Watch as I flay your imposter. I will slaughter him for you, but I will not make it swift. He will regret challenging me.” Hades swallowed the revulsion rising in her throat and slipped a small hand around Minotaur’s bicep. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the three-eyed god’s mouth flapping open in attempted protest.
“But we best heed your mother’s warning,” Hades said before the old woman could speak. “If they foolishly attempt an attack, perhaps we all should descend to earth. If they all lie in wait, it will work to our advantage. It will be as if they are serving themselves up to us on a feasting platter.”
“Until they descend to Hell, making a fool of us,” the three-eyed god muttered under her breath.
“No,” Hades said unfurling her dark power around her body, “Not this time.” And with a sinister glint in her eyes, she dropped from the mountain.
The web of dark power writhed through the air to encircle the field, and as Hades stood stoic before her husband, she saw Alkaios understood. Her power was as much a trap for the Olympians as the blood runes were for Minotaur and his foul brethren. This day would end with the destruction of a race of gods, although which had yet to be determined.
Not a soul moved in the morning light. The host of Old Ones hovered just beyond the snare’s reach, the Olympians concealed within the protection of the mountain. Alkaios stood tense in the grass, the sacrificial bait, and with one last glance at the woman he loved beyond words, he pounded his fist against his chest and roared.
“What are you waiting for?” Alkaios bellowed, his voice ricocheting off the mountain.
“I will revel in the sound his bones make when they crack,” Minotaur menaced low for only Hades’ ears as if he knew the bile that rose within her throat. Hades forced her features to remain motionless, desperate not to show a single sign of vulnerability. “I will flay the flesh from his skeleton while he yet lives.” Minotaur looked down at Hades, eyes boring like blistering worms into her skin. “This is my sacrifice to you, my Omega. Then you will be free of his weakness.” And at his words, Minotaur strode forward.
Hades held her breath as his feet crossed the runes’ threshold. She knew he would take his time with Alkaios, torturing him until he begged for death. She prayed to the universe her husband would be able to withstand Minotaur’s viciousness and beseeched for her own resolve. What was at stake was more significant than them, and she could not break… not even as Alkaios’ body did.
A raging bellow ripped the air wide with its flaying lash, and Hades flinched as Alkaios launched himself across the grass. His voice snarled, powerful legs hurtling him forward, and as his form leapt through the air on a collision course with the horned god, Minotaur raised his fist. The blow landed on Alkaios’ jaw, sending a spew of dark blood flying from his mouth, and Alkaios’ body plummeted backward. The dirt gave way beneath him as he skidded to a limp halt, and Hades bit her tongue to keep from screaming.
Not waiting for him to recover, Minotaur stalked forward and hoisted Alkaios’ drooped mass above his head. With a savage crack, he brought Alkaios down hard upon his knee, and all who heard the snap knew Alkaios’ spine had been severed.
“I will not be free of his weakness until they are all dead,” Hades said to the Old Ones beside her, forcing her panic down her throat. She had to get her remaining ancestors to step within the rune, and she looked upon the three-eyed god’s face. “The rest lie in wait on the mountain.” The old hag gazed back at her, justified her concerns were valid, but also as if she suspected Hades of treachery. Desperate to control the situation despite her consuming fear at the scene of torture before her, Hades lifted the pitchfork and shot a bolt of inky smoke from its prongs. The blackness hurtled for the ridge, colliding with the stone in a cacophony of destruction, and the face of the mountain crumbled in an avalanche of dirt.
With a battle cry that shook the world, Zeus and Poseidon launched themselves through the cloud of settling dust, their muscled forms plummeting with the collapsing mountain to earth. The skies rained Olympians as each and every one fell to the field with brandished weapons, unsettling screams upon their lips. Both Hydra and Keres strode from the crumbling debris. Snakes as giant as a man entwined Hydra’s torso and limbs and cascaded behind her like a magnificently embroidered train. Chimera followed, a host of furies at his flank, and at the sight of them, Minotaur halted his battering of Alkaios’ broken body. He observed the charging gods with disinterest before returning to his prey.
“Kill them,” the three-eyed god ordered, her wrist flicking in a command. It was all the encouragement her vicious brethren needed as they barreled into the fray led by the gnashing teeth of the fanged god, and just as Hades was about to breathe a sigh of relief, her grandmother raised her gnarled hands once more. The Old Ones still behind her ground to a halt, sending the icy grip of dread groping down Hades’ spine.
“No need for all of us to step within their ambush,” the hag cooed as the waves of gods crashed together, and Hades’ stomach turned. Flicking her eyes to Alkaios, she knew he was not long for this world. His mottled flesh seeped his life’s blood in spewing rivers onto the dirt, and judging by the screams of pain, the Olympians were not far behind him in their departure of this life. Hydra’s snakes lay scattered in bloody tangles about the battlefield, her skin unable to birth them as rapidly as they died. Chimera and Keres fought back to back; the lion’s jaw unhinged as his fangs shredded flesh, and Keres’ bloodlust feeding the frenzied furies. Hades could see by the grotesque angle of Chimera’s rear paw, that the bones were shattered. The battle had barely begun, and already the Olympians outnumbered ranks were faltering.
Lighting erupted from the heavens, slamming with fire and smoke upon the blood-riddled field. Through the blinding light Zeus stepped, brandishing his bloody thunderbolt. The sky reeked of burnt flesh as he crushed the singed bodies beneath him until he settled over Alkaios’ destroyed body. His weapon lifted to challenge Minotaur, and the monstrous horned god abandoned the dying king of death for a greater prey. He bellowed as he bolted for Zeus, and with speed unnatural for such a hulking size, Minotaur bent his head and slammed his horn into Zeus’ thunderbolt. The metal wrenched itself free of its master’s grasp, and before Zeus could even bring his brain to acknowledge its absence, Minotaur shifted his horn and rammed it through Zeus’ chest. Blood burst from Zeus’ mouth as his ribs shattered under the piercing blow, and Minotaur rose to his full height, hoisting the skewered god into the air; his gore painted horn protruding from Zeus’ muscled back.
Hades froze, mind numb. Her lungs rejected every breath she tried to suck down. Her throat constricted in horror as Zeus’ blood ran in torrents down the horn and into Minotaur’s eyes. Her brain began to spin, her stomach in upheaval. Hades thought she could hear the gratuitous cheers of the Old Ones beside her, but she could not be certain. Her ears blocked out all noise. Her heart refused to beat, and before she knew what she was doing, Hades opened her mouth and roared.
Her voice shattered the field with her anguish, a bellow that frightened even the Old Ones. Her scream ripped through her in terrifying desperation, the sound a raw pa
in, and when her breath finally ran dry, and her lips fell silent, Hades lifted the pitchfork and swung.
The head of the Old One closest to her rolled across the grass, blood spewing from severed arteries in stark contrast to the dull green. Hades lowered her gore-streaked weapon and turned her venomous stare to the three-eyed god. The old woman seethed a startled hiss, but that was all the response Hades allowed before she barreled into her. The women collapsed, and Hades forced herself atop her cursed grandmother. She lifted a fist and pounded it so harshly into the hag’s forehead, the third eye popped like overripe fruit. The Old One screamed in fury, clawing at Hades’ cheeks, nails gouging her soft flesh, but she was no match for the rage of the Omega. His mother’s screams drew Minotaur’s attention, yet Hades paid his blood-soaked shock no mind as she grabbed the woman’s head and slammed it into the ground. Over and over again, she smashed it, and when the fight had left the hag’s body, Hades gripped her face and pushed. Her two remaining eyes were the first to give way and then her skull. As the king’s mother lay seeping into the earth, Hades stood up and pointed her pitchfork at Minotaur. Wrath emanated from him as he dropped the sputtering Zeus from his horn. Outrage at his mother’s slaughter welcomed Hades’ challenge. His incense at her betrayal fueled his anger as he stared down the field to the tips of her bident.
Hades opened her lips and loosed a bone-chilling scream as she bolted across the trodden sod. Her feet pounded the earth with a jarring force as she bore down on the horned god. She would kill every last one of them with her bare hands if she had to, and lowering her shoulders, she braced for impact. Her smaller frame barreled into Minotaur’s chest, but unlike all the Olympians before her, her blow sent him crashing backward. His hulk burrowed into the ground as he fell, yet Hades did not delay. Landing gracefully in the trampled grass, she pulled back her arm and let the pitchfork fly. True to aim, its twin prongs buried themselves into her uncle’s thigh as he struggled to stand, the demand behind her strike sending him sprawling once more.
Hades knew she had a split second before Minotaur wrenched the weapon free from his thick muscle, and her heart screamed to go to Alkaios, whose crumbled body barely resembled a man, yet Zeus’ heaving form lay only steps from her feet. Desperately, Hades whirled on her heels and dove for the blonde god and slammed her palms against his gaping wound. Power poured from her, and the dark tentacles plunged into his flesh. Instantly Zeus’ tissues began to knit together cell by sinew, staunching the river of blood.
“Hades!” Zeus warned weakly below her. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled, and Hades ducked. Her own weapon grazed the top of her head as her forehead slammed into Zeus’ crimson-soaked chest, and as soon as the blow swept past, she shot her hand out. Hades grasped the pitchfork and rolled over the Olympian king in one graceful move before she bolted to her feet out of Minotaur’s reach. Zeus’ blood dripped from her fingers and face, a sacrifice for his people and their world across her skin’s altar.
“Get out of the way!” Hades screamed, but Zeus was already moving, his feet scrambling beneath his almost fully restored chest.
“A traitor just as your father,” Minotaur growled as Zeus lurched across the terrain toward the pulverized Alkaios. The whole field momentarily froze save Zeus’ fleeing form as they watched the Alpha and Omega hover on the precipice of bloodshed.
“Better than a mad king,” Hades spat, twirling her weapon, and as Zeus lifted her husband out of harm’s way, she leapt. Their bodies crashed together with a resounding clang that shook the earth’s plates. Their blows fell with vicious brutality, Hades a glorious match for the deformed Alpha. She blocked Minotaur’s every move, countered his every blow, and as if terrified by their clash of power, the Old Ones began to drift outward, driving the Olympians back from the trap.
“Hold them!” Hades heard Poseidon bellow as she threw herself to the dirt and slid beneath Minotaur’s thighs. The pitchfork’s sharpened prongs sliced his thick flesh, and his howl rang painfully in her ears. Hades’ eyes flicked to the god of the seas despite Minotaur’s rage ringing in her skull. A fresh wave of terror washed over her as she watched the horde slowly seeping from the trap’s circle. The Olympians tried to force their enemies back within, but it was no use. Blow by blow the Old Ones bled through the runes. Poseidon’s face was a mangled disarray as he desperately fought. Athena and Ares could barely lift their broken limbs. Dead snakes littered the ground, and Chimera’s mane had been all but ripped from his massive neck.
Hades watched in desperation as the Olympians wavered on the verge of falling, the Old Ones escaping their trap. She had shown her hand, betrayed her true allegiance for nothing. Hardly any remained within the blood runes, and the chance of driving them back was lost.
With a sudden crack, Hades’ head exploded in pain, sending her sprawling. Minotaur hovered above her prostrate form. Wickedness spread across his lips as he bent and captured the front of her dress, hoisting her into the air. She coiled her arm for a devastating blow, determined not to be skewered like a hunted boar upon his horns, but before her fist could fall, a roar unlike anything she had ever witnessed shook the sky. Its sheer power thundered through the earth, and Hades tilted her sight heavenward and swore. What fresh hell was this monster?
XXXII
Minotaur dropped Hades at the sight of the beast descending upon them. Its wingspan stretched so wide it blotted out the sun, and its elongated tail swept below it in search of prey to feed his sword length claws. It shrieked into the air, its voice a cross between a lion and an eagle, and all who heard it were struck with terror.
As it closed in on them, the beast angled its wings as if to herd the Old Ones against the mountain, and at that same moment, the tall grass of the field beyond quaked. Hades knew who it was before she saw, and with the snarl of massive throats, Kerberos leapt from the grass. His razor fangs lowered as he sailed over the Old Ones instructed to remain steadfast and removed from the conflict by the three-eyed goddess. With a snap of his jaws, he separated three heads from their bodies. Their decapitated forms fell in a tangled heap, yet the dog charged onward, blood streaming down his chest as he followed the winged beast into the fray.
“Fall back!” Zeus bellowed as the Old Ones barreled past to escape the monster. “Fall back!” And with sudden realization, Hades understood. The beast had come to corral the deformed gods into the trap, her god-killer following him to punish those who did not heed Griffin’s warning.
“Get out!” Hades screamed, arms gesturing wildly for the Olympians to flee as the Griffin swooped down and seized an Old One in his beaked mouth. With an incredible force, he bit down, splitting the body into two and letting the cleaved parts plummet to the grass. “Get out!” Hades pushed her legs as fast as she could, frantic to escape the onslaught of Old Ones barreling against her.
The Griffin soared overhead, doubling back to renew his attack, and Hades’ eyes landed on Zeus desperately trying to pull both Alkaios’ and Artemis’ limp forms from the runes trap. She surged forward, forcing crazed gods from her path, and snatched Alkaios from the king’s hands, refusing to slow. Hades poured her power into her husband, willing life to return to his destroyed flesh as she flung him over her shoulder. Kerberos caught her eyes among the sea of thrashing bodies and bolted for her, howling into the air with a vengeance. Chimera answered the dog’s call, and together they flanked their queen as she ran through the oncoming throng.
Minotaur swung his gaze heavenward as the Griffin circled for another assault, the wind beaten beneath his wings. Minotaur stood motionless among the chaos as the beast bore down upon his brethren; claws and fangs poised for a massacre. Minotaur’s eyes tracked the heavy beating of the wings, the feathered mass dipping low to the ground, yet still the horned god held. Feet pounded behind him as the gods scattered, but he remained a statue, listening to one whispered footfall that sharply contrasted the stampede.
The Griffin’s beak parted in a macabre display, and Minotaur bolted into action. H
e twisted and shot out a brutal fist just as the master of those soft footsteps raced past. Athena coughed a strangled gasp as his blow cracked her ribs. Her body collapsed to the carnage-soaked grass, her grip on her weapon a lost cause as her shattered bones struggled to allow breath into her collapsing lungs. Minotaur plucked Athena’s falling spear from the air and turned from her struggling form, abandoning her choke to death as she crawled to escape him, her ribcage trampled by the fleeing masses.
The Griffin’s tail dove for the earth and carved a furrow into the soil. Minotaur grimaced as the beast hurtled for his next kills and spun on his heels. Athena’s spear flew from his hands, its momentum hurtling its blow for the creature’s exposed chest. With blinding speed, the holy weapon vaulted through the air. The Griffin’s breast would be splayed out before he even saw his death coming.
“Below!” Athena’s garbled voice rang out. Blood bubbled on her lips as she yelled, her words made unintelligible by her punctured lungs, but her alarm was all the warning the Griffin needed. His eyes shot forward and widened at the spear driving for his chest. Pitching violently, the beast heaved sideways. His claws snagged the ground as he moved, but the warning had come too late to save him from all harm. The spear ripped through the flesh at his shoulder and embedded itself deep into his muscles. The Griffin’s shrieks shook the sky as his wings bore him heavenward, and his blood rained upon the battlefield like a crimson thunderstorm.
The fanged god licked his lips at a chance to sink his teeth into the reeling giant above, the torn wound his invitation to victory; an opportunity to taste such legendary flesh. The Old One angled his racing legs and launched himself off the shoulders of a lesser god. His dark mass flew into the air, rows of teeth bared for the kill as he crashed into the winged beast. His fangs sank into the Griffin’s soft throat and ripped, and the Griffin screamed, his flight faltering. For a moment all below feared they would fall from the sky atop them, but with a shriek of anger, the Griffin lowered its jaw and plucked the deformed figure from his chest. Holding the black-scaled body firm in his mouth, the Griffin picked up speed as he careened toward the mountainside. The fanged god writhed and pitched, but the Griffin held fast and slammed the Old One between his beak and the rock, leaving nothing but a sinewy stain upon the stone.
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