Chapter 10
“Son of a bitch! I thought the jungle was hot,” Julie complained.
Edward exhaled loudly, annoyed by the fact that every time the group was forced to walk upon the sandy soil the blonde woman started whining. He did his best to keep in mind that her body wasn’t used to the rigors of nearly constant travel, especially since not so long ago she had been incarcerated on Cemetery Hill. Well, actually it was more like tortured and deprived of food. The emaciated girl she had been when Katie and her best friend had reunited was technically not very far into the past. Fortunately, Julie had rebounded nicely. Within days she had regained most of her previous appearance back, her sagging skin filling out quickly as she took in enough nourishment to feed a small army.
The group had made considerable progress over the past few hours, despite Skarr’s inability to maintain long periods of flight. The previously hard to distinguish anomalies on the horizon were now close enough that Edward could make out a bit more detail. One of these appeared to be an enormous stone spire, which rose so far into the sky it penetrated the clouds. By his calculations, it was likely the Throne of the Gods. “Can you keep it together for just a while longer, please?” He glanced at Julie, a scolding scowl upon his features. “If I’m right, we could possibly reach our objective by nightfall.”
Edward’s admonishment hurt like the barbed stinger of a giant wasp, even though Julie knew his words rang true. Her lips pressed together tightly and her eyebrows furrowed as she turned away shamefully. Julie let out a disparaged sigh while she pretended to run her fingertips over Skarr’s scaly hide like she was petting the family dog.
The wizard turned his attention to Katie. His aging comrade no longer seemed to have the energy to climb on and off the dragon’s back, so she remained seated on the ridged spine of the beast. As if she felt Edward’s gaze boring into her flesh, she craned her head in his direction. The expression on her face was haggard and weary, similar to what one might expect to see upon the countenance of an individual who was on their death bed, waiting for the sweet oblivion of the hereafter to make its claim upon their wrinkled and used up body. Technically, she wasn’t in that bad of shape yet, although by his estimation it wasn’t far from being accurate. The mere act of adjusting her position caused pain to shoot through her frame, like the debilitating agony of the advanced stages of arthritis. If Edward was correct in his assumption, she might actually survive the curse of the fairies long enough to make it to the Throne of the Gods. His biggest concern, however, was that once they got there the gods wouldn’t be able to reverse the effects, meaning she would be stuck in the shell of an old woman until she met her end. The possibility was depressing.
Skarr lifted her gaze toward the sky, calculating the position of the sun. “I think it best that we travel on foot until dusk,” she announced in a rumbling tone, turning her massive head in Edward’s direction. She spoke to the sorcerer, because he was the only member of the human party that could understand her speech. The ancient dragon saw an expression of dismay blossom on the wizard’s countenance. “I realize time is crucial, but I surmise that by dusk I should be able to maintain flight for the remainder of the journey. It seems more expedient than what we’ve been doing to this point.”
An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. He rotated his neck in wide circles, as if he was getting a headache and trying to relieve some of the pressure. While doing so, he noticed a large dust cloud to the north and stopped moving his head in order to study it. It was almost impossible to discern if the anomaly was naturally occurring. Although, there didn’t appear to be any wind to cause such a disturbance, certainly not enough to make the dust storm move in their direction, which it seemed to be doing. He made this determination based on the appearance of the cloud, because it looked like it was growing larger. Edward turned to face the dragon, lowering his head and eyes. “I mean no disrespect by disagreeing with you, mighty Skarr, but I have noticed an anomaly to the north, which I believe to be the army of machines heading toward us. I can’t say for certain, because I don’t know for sure what speeds our enemies can travel at, but I somehow think they are moving more rapidly than what your stride is capable of.”
The ancient creature regarded the disturbance for nearly a minute, then returned her blazing golden eyes to the wizard. “Perhaps you are correct, young sorcerer. However, if the rearmost member of your party can keep an eye on the approaching cloud, I should have sufficient warning to take to the air if they get too close. Does this sound like an acceptable alternative?”
With furrowed brows and a tight-lipped expression, Edward inhaled and exhaled loudly through his nostrils. “Indeed, that does sound like a plausible scenario.” He glanced toward the others with a questioning look, momentarily forgetting they could only understand one side of the conversation. However, Katie appeared less than interested. In fact, she almost seemed to have fallen asleep. Trying not to wake the weary woman, Edward approached Brian and Julie. He spoke in hushed tones when he relayed the details of the conversation. Although the young blonde woman seemed anxious when she heard the news, she tried very hard not to let her worry show. After glancing over her shoulder toward the encroaching maelstrom of dust, keeping her expression neutral became impossible.
“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Julie nearly shouted, the panic obvious in her voice. Her eyes darted from one face to another. It was difficult to read Edward, but if she were to hazard a guess she would say his expression was not laced with concern. To her it appeared to be more like annoyance. Brian, on the other hand, seemed almost nonchalant about her outburst. His pale blue eyes didn’t show the slightest bit of worry.
“Calm down, Julie. Are my eyes glazed over?” The red-haired shaman crossed his arms over his scrawny chest as he waited for her reply, hoping she would realize things weren’t as bad as she thought.
“No,” she admitted, hanging her head like a scolded child.
“Then obviously we have no cause for alarm just yet,” he stated in a tone that was perhaps a bit more short than he intended. Brian closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus his mind on patience and forgiveness as he’d once done in a former lifetime. Those days were nothing but a distant memory now, and it seemed unlikely that he would ever return to them. Not that he had any desire to be back on Earth during an apocalypse filled with zombies, fighting for the privilege to draw breath on a daily basis.
“Can we please focus on more pressing matters?” Edward inquired, worried that the delay in travel might actually allow the machines to gain enough ground to be a serious threat to their well-being. When he had their attention, the wizard began to issue orders. “Julie, climb to the position directly behind Katie. I want you to hold on to her and keep her steady so she doesn’t fall from Skarr’s back.”
The blonde woman glanced up at her friend, who barely seemed conscious … let alone strong enough to maintain her seat once the dragon started moving. Without a word, she nodded at Edward to acknowledge her role.
“Brian, I would appreciate it if you took the rearmost position behind Julie. I think it best to have your exceptional ability as close as possible to the approaching army in order to give us an earlier warning. If the machines are traveling faster than us it will give Skarr a fighting chance to elude them.”
The faint hint of a smirk appeared on the shaman’s face. “And what will you being doing, oh fearless leader?” With a sweeping gesture, he bowed comically, eliciting a chuckle from the wizard.
“I will keep Skarr on track, and communicate any changes to our plan to her as becomes necessary,” Edward replied with a grin. “I’ll also be surveying the area surrounding the Throne of the Gods to determine a proper course of action. We have no idea what the dark forces of this world have in mind to thwart our mission, and we have to be ready for anything they throw at us.”
Brian briefly contemplated a smart ass comment, then thought better of it. The strange, smoke-like haze in the distance didn’t seem
to be anything naturally occurring. In fact, the anomaly was probably something far worse than any of them could imagine. The jovial expression melted from his face as he locked eyes with Edward, along with any thoughts of giving the sorcerer grief about being a glorified jockey.
Chapter 11
A quiet murmur passed amongst the throng of white-robed men and women as they ascended the spiral staircase. Their journey toward the heavens seemed to be taking much longer than any of them had anticipated. Some had already voiced concerns that Ares might have led them astray by promising them an audience with their deity. The fact that the stone steps they climbed appeared to stretch on for eternity only served to bolster their apprehension. A disgruntled few had already turned around and begun to descend, fully intending to confront Ares and possibly even accuse the god of deceiving them—provided that at least one of them had the temerity to give voice to their displeasure once they exited the structure and were face-to-face with him. Gently pushing their way through the upward current of their friends and neighbors, the men and women who had given up hope of meeting Zeus in person eventually made it to the rear of the climbing masses. Within minutes the hollow resonance of their footfalls faded into the distance.
The remainder of Zeus’ faithful continued the ascent quietly, their demeanor subdued by those who had left the ranks. Their loss, probably in more ways than one. Surely the King of the Gods would not look upon their desertion favorably, and might even take their lives as payment for their insolence. Approximately half an hour had passed when the spiraling staircase started to grow lighter. At the very least, it meant they were approaching a window or room within the tower. Anything different at this point would be a welcomed sight.
An excited whisper began to pass among the individuals in the front of the formation, which was followed by a reverent gasp a few moments later. One by one, the men and women filed from the staircase into the massive, brilliantly lit chamber. It took only a matter of seconds for the wonderment of the ornate decorations of the huge room to be overshadowed by the presence gazing upon them from across the expansive alcove. The white-robed men and women quickly fell to their knees and lowered their heads, lest Zeus find their actions disrespectful.
As the last man entered the chamber and joined his comrades in a position of supplication, the only sound that could be heard was the soft whisper of Zeus’ golden sandals as he moved across the marble floor toward them. He stopped a short distance from the congregation. “What brings so many of you here?” Although his inquiry was uttered in a gentle tone, the sheer depth of his voice caused the floor to vibrate beneath his followers. The statues which adorned the area, life-sized sculptures of every Olympian god worshiped by man, rattled against the marble as if they were dancing.
A lone, female voice spoke out. The dark-haired woman raised her head slowly and locked her pale eyes on the countenance of her deity. “Ares—” It was the only word she could manage before Zeus interrupted her.
His eyebrows drew together in an angry scowl and his lips twisted into a snarl. “Why do you speak the name of that traitor?” Zeus demanded in a deafening voice, the force of which caused every statue in the chamber to tumble from its place and shatter upon the floor. Even the thick, stone pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling cracked.
The woman trembled, fearful that she would provoke Zeus’ wrath if she opened her mouth again.
“Speak!”
“He told us that you requested our presence,” she squeaked.
Before Zeus could manage a response, the sound of clanging weapons echoed from the stairwell. There were gurgled screams bubbling up from below as well. Intertwined with the other noises, the resulting cacophony which rose from the depths of the tower belched into the throne room like the masticating sounds of a hungry demon. The white-robed faithful cringed, half expecting to have hot, foul breath spewing forth from the stairway to wash over them. Instead, they scurried from their kneeling positions to get behind their god for protection.
The air surrounding the god crackled with electricity. The formerly bright chamber began to grow dark as storm clouds swirled just outside the tower. Zeus strode purposefully to the stairway entrance, but went no farther. The main objective for him was to keep his worshipers from harm. As long as he could keep the threat rising from below in a single, small column and not allow them access to his chamber, the rabble should be easily dispatched. By blocking the top of the stairs he prevented himself from being caught by surprise in the darkened corridor, and at the same time kept a source of energy to draw from nearby. He could thereby use the thunderheads swirling outside to rejuvenate the lightning bolts he would use to defend the tower.
The sounds of battle subsided, and for a short while all seemed quiet. So much so that Zeus began to ponder the possibility that the threat had withdrawn. He had nearly lowered his guard to turn toward his faithful, intending to comfort them and perhaps get more information, when the faint scuff of footfalls carried to his ears. He had no idea why his treacherous son would gather his followers and send them here, unless he meant to dispatch anyone and everyone associated with Zeus’ name in one final act of defiance. There was only one way Ares could succeed in harming Zeus and surely he had already thought about it. What Zeus was unsure of, however, was if his son was aware that Asclepius wasn’t available to heal any wounds he might sustain. If Ares knew Zeus had nobody to aid him, the situation could deteriorate rapidly.
When an eerie bluish light started to appear in the darkened stairwell, steadily growing in intensity with each passing moment, Zeus knew that whatever force was arrayed against him had weapons that could injure and even kill him. This meant there was no room for error on his part. When he did deploy his arsenal of lightning, he must be absolutely certain that his targets were destroyed. One tiny miscalculation could spell doom for him and his followers. He wished now that he’d never sent Asclepius back to Earth, believing there was no threat to his well-being, primarily because he could not summon the god’s aid without traveling to his old home world.
As the stomp of footfalls grew louder, the front section of the column of warriors came into view. Their weapons gleamed with a blue radiance that confirmed Zeus’ fears. The blades they possessed were god killers! When they caught sight of the white-haired figure at the top of the stairs, they uttered a deafening war cry and rushed forward. The King of the Gods reacted with the quick ferocity of a jungle cat. In a fraction of an instant the walls of the stone path lit up with blinding illumination. Streaks of lightning flew from his outstretched palms, passing through the first rank of men like a hot knife through butter and bouncing in a zig zag pattern from warrior to warrior as the bolts of electricity continued downward. Some of the men burst into flames when the current struck them, while others turned to blackened husks. The stench of cooked flesh quickly rose to where Zeus stood. He could hear the wretched sound of his followers behind him, coughing, gagging, and vomiting.
Zeus let out a long breath and carefully scrutinized the staircase, still illuminated by the eerie hue emanating from the swords scattered on its surface. Nothing appeared to be moving anymore, not even the sound of footfalls to indicate he might have missed a portion of the death squad. Pleased that he had thwarted his son’s assassination attempt, he spun around to face his followers. Every one of his white-robed faithful were kneeling before him, bent at the waist with their heads firmly pressed to the floor and their hands thrust toward him in reverence. Before announcing his victory to them, Zeus projected his thoughts toward Ares. “Your arrogant attempt on my life has failed. If I were you, I would leave this world before I destroy you for your insolence!” The response from his son was not at all what he expected. The sound of demented laughter filled Zeus’ head.
“Me, arrogant? Perhaps you should glance in a mirror, Father. You are foolish to think you’ve defeated me.”
The argument with Ares distracted Zeus. He was so focused on the bold words of his son that he failed to hear the fai
nt scraping noise coming from the stairwell behind him. The mistake could prove to be his last. One of the warriors had somehow managed to survive and had crept up the stone steps through the debris of smoldering bodies. He didn’t dare try to get too close to Zeus, sure that the King of the Gods would hear him before he made it that far. Instead, he stopped a short distance away and rose to his knees. Cocking the blade behind him like a major league baseball pitcher, he flung the glowing sword toward Zeus. Before the god could react, the tip of the blade pierced into his back. His retort to Ares died in his throat, only managing to produce a blood bubble from his lips as he sank to the floor.
The Black Knight had assumed his father would continue the argument, so when the King’s reply didn’t come his mouth twisted into a deranged sneer of victory. For the first time since the battle began, events seemed like they were turning in his favor. With demonic speed, he rushed toward the tower and sped up the winding spiral staircase. He slowed upon reaching the scorched bodies of the men he’d brought from Greece, temporarily infuriated that so many of his worshipers were no longer among the living to fuel his rage. The Black Knight was suddenly unsure of himself because he found himself to be in the same dilemma as his father now. Without the power he drew from his followers, he would be weakened in the same manner as Zeus. Even in his depleted state, his father would still likely be able to best him. As much as it pained him to think it, retreating and regrouping appeared to be the most prudent course of action.
***
Zeus raised his head from the floor. A small pool of blood had already formed beneath him, conjoined from the crimson fluid seeping out of the wound in his back and from the claret dripping off his lips. His followers gazed upon him intently, hoping to see a sign from their deity that would ease their worry. Many of the men and women had tears staining their cheeks. Mustering what little strength he had, Zeus attempted to rally his faithful.
Desolace Omnibus Edition Page 97
