The Piledriver of Fate (Titan Wars Book 2)

by Samuel Gately

  Van took a long drink, letting the beer wash down the filth in his throat, right down to the foamy dregs and handed the mug to Harlan for a refill. He stared at the pit. When Harlan passed him another full mug, Van asked, “How long was I down there?”

  “One week,” Harlan replied.

  A week. Van wasn’t sure if he’d thought it was more or less. He gestured towards the Patriot. “Harlan, that’s Jack. He helped me escape. Jack, Harlan.”

  The titans shook hands, then Harlan gestured down to Kyle. “Kyle is valkyrie. I did not know.”

  “Nope. Me neither.” He’d known there was something more to her, some hidden strength unlike anyone else he’d ever met. L’Harot’Ni’Set, the history buff among the crew of titans Van called friends, had said that valkyrie guarded the borders of the skylands and kept the great giants of the past from doing harm. Van had no idea how much of that was true, but some of the story the OverLord had told Van had matched the stories Harot had shared. The names of the three giants for example, one of whom the OverLord claimed to have spoken to.

  He looked down at her. Did being a valkyrie make Kyle some sort of guardian? Had she lived for generations? Or had she been born to a legacy, gifted wings she could hide to walk among men? A sour taste lingered in his mouth, one that even beer couldn’t wash away. He knew so little. She’d shown him kindness and believed in him when no one else had, but it didn’t change the fact they hardly knew each other. And he was stuck on something that bordered an obsession, the kind that led him to chase after her to the depths of the underworld. He’d felt like they two alone knew Empire City and the Headlock were rotten to the core.

  And the venture had proven them right. They did have a serious enemy to contend with, at a serious scale. Kyle had found and recovered the urn, the one potential vulnerability of the OverLord. And Van had helped free her from the trap that waited and got her out. Whatever happened next, he’d carried some weight here. When she woke, she’d be grateful. Whatever they faced, that thought was enough to make him feel a little better. He took another swallow of beer.

  The crowds at the cemetery gates were growing louder. Owen Grit appeared over the heads of the throng. He pressed the soldiers aside and walked through the gates, ignoring the guards’ protests. His injured knee seemed much better. His limp was almost undetectable as he strode towards them. He swept his chin-length red hair out of his face and smiled at Van.

  “That’s no way to celebrate a tournament victory, Beer Man,” he called out. “You go to parties. You bed lovely ladies. Maybe if things get crazy, you float in a pool filled with wine. You don’t jump into the Nether. You didn’t even wait for them to put the strap on you. Poor form.” He reached out and squeezed Van’s shoulders. “Good to see you, brother.”

  Van raised his mug in salute to his former rival turned friend. As Owen moved past him, greeting the Patriot and Harlan, Van watched the gates. Owen’s entrance had broken the seal at the gate and now a line of soldiers advanced slowly, polearms held nervously before them. The rest of the crowd hung back comfortably behind them.

  “Van, what happened down there?” Owen asked. He had knelt beside Kyle and gently reached out to check her breathing. His face was twisted in worry as he struggled out of his shirt to lay it across her.

  “A lot,” Van replied. “Probably most important is the OverLord has an army ready to roll. And I suppose they could surface at any time.” Everyone glanced at the pit and shuffled a few feet farther away. Van spat in its direction. “I’m half surprised they didn’t just follow us out. They were right on our heels.”

  Owen rose and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Van as they looked down at Kyle. Van said softly, “She did some damage down there, I think, but it wasn’t easy. She stole something he values very much. It kicked off a tornado, which was thrashing her around when I got to her. Some sort of trap to hold her until he could arrive. I dragged her out.” He knelt down beside her and brushed the hair from her face. She was so beautiful, and she was finally back by his side. “But she did the real—”

  A spear shot past Van’s hand, grazing his wrist and drawing an alarming gout of blood, then thwapping to the ground near Kyle. Van looked up to see the bottom of a slender boot. It slammed into his face and he toppled over backwards and crashed near the edge of the pit.

  And suddenly Van lay in the midst of a battle. Feet stamped all around him. Owen roared. Harlan fell to the side. Jack swung his board in a wide arc. Van looked around frantically. It couldn’t be the Nether. The pit was quiet. The soldiers were still near the gate. He pushed himself up, but Jack fell across him with an oath. Van heard a flurry of wings above them. Valkyrie, a whole flock, and they were attacking Van and his friends.

  The sun, before so comforting to Van, now blinded the titans. The valkyrie used it as cover, throwing wild shadows across the cemetery grass as their wings spread and folded. Spears rained down from the sky, and the winged women darted in and out of the fray, thrusting their sharp spears and bloodying the titans. It was chaos. The fighting was fiercest close to Kyle. Owen straddled her protectively. He had grabbed one of the spears and used it to hold back four valkyrie. Harlan waved his hands wildly around his head, batting thrusting spears from his face. On the other side, Jack chased a valkyrie who had fallen to the grass, board held threateningly over his head. As he readied to swat her into the ground, two valkyrie swooped down and snatched the board from his hands.

  A spear flew at Van. He pulled his leg out of the way just in time. He glared at the valkyrie who’d thrown it, then pushed closer to Owen. He didn’t know why they’d attacked, but now was not the time for questions. He saw his barrel from the corner of his eye. Saint was still in there, no doubt enjoying the struggle. This would be a highlight of his report back to his Master. Let them know everyone above was tearing each other to pieces. Softening each other up for the titan army invasion. What a waste.

  This had to stop. Van grabbed a spear from the grass near Kyle and broke it in half with a loud snap. “Knock it off!” he hollered. To his surprise, the struggle slowed for a moment. Then an angry-looking valkyrie with long, jet-black hair flung her spear right at Van’s chest. He leapt aside and the fighting picked up where it had left off.

  Several of the Valkyrie had taken hold of Kyle and were trying to lift her into the air, but Owen pulled at their wings and arms, hampering their efforts. One of the valkyrie grazed his neck with her spear. Owen howled and bent over. Blood dripped onto the grass. Van ran at him, took a huge step onto Owen’s back, and launched himself up into the air. Van crashed into five or six valkyrie trying to abscond with Kyle and tackled the entire mass down onto the grass in a ball of flesh and feathers.

  “Valkyrie, hold!” A woman’s commanding voice cut through the noise of the struggle. Then a titan’s voice cried out, “Titan friends, halt this nonsense.”

  The titan Sevendhi, one of Van’s closest friends from the Headlock, bounded down the cemetery path, his arm still in a sling from the tournament. Just above him, Queen Aoleon of Kisket flew on feathered wings, a spear clutched in her hands, dark skin shining in the sunlight. So she was a valkyrie too. Van began to feel it might be safest to assume every woman he’d ever met was hiding a pair of wings and a spear. Queen Aoleon wore a silvery uniform, similar to the other valkyrie. The pair were an impressive sight as they raced towards the fray.

  The combatants settled into an uneasy truce as Sevendhi and Queen Aoleon drew closer. The valkyrie disentangled themselves from Van and formed a defensive line, most of them on the ground, a few hovering overhead, wings beating, spears ready at their shoulders. Van counted ten of them. They’d won the fight for Kyle’s slumbering body. Several of the winged women stood between her and the titans. One had knelt down with Kyle and was checking her for injuries.

  The titans were grouped loosely closer to the pit. Sevendhi strode to the center of them. “Friend Van,” he called out delighted. “You have conquered the Nether as you conquered the Headlock.” H
e folded Van into a generous hug with his uninjured arm. “You inspire limitless faith in the ability of a mopey titan who smells of yeast to reach great heights.”

  “It’s good to see you, Sevendhi.” Van squeezed him tight.

  Queen Aoleon floated to the ground between the two groups and fixed a regal gaze on the titans. She cleared her throat. Sevendhi whipped his head around at the sound. He stepped forward and knelt before her, bowing his head. “Yes, my Queen. What is your will?”

  “An introduction,” she replied dryly as her glare peeled Van apart, lingering on his bloody wrist.

  “You’ve met Van before, my queen. He is a mopey titan who smells—”

  “A formal introduction, Sevendhi.”

  Sevendhi cleared his throat. “Queen Aoleon, Ruler of Kisket, valkyrie, and unapologetic beauty, may I introduce Van the Beer Man, Titan of Headwaters, Champion of the Headlock of Destiny?”

  She nodded solemnly. “We welcome your return, titan, and your news of happenings in the Nether. Before that, however, a question.” She glanced back at the array of valkyrie behind her. “Why do you do battle with the Rain of Spears?”

  The dark-haired valkyrie who’d nearly killed Van stepped forward. “That creep—”

  Queen Aoleon cut her off with a glare. “I asked the titan, Alkylis. And I would hear his answer.”

  The cemetery fell quiet as everyone stared at Van. “Uh,” he stammered, rubbing his bloody wrist. “They started it.” He looked around for help, but the other titans suddenly seemed to find the grass very interesting. He looked back at the queen and shrugged.

  There was a long pause in which Van deeply pondered the inadequacy of his response. Why was it his job to talk to a queen? He was just a mopey titan from Headwaters. When it was clear Van had no more to offer, Queen Aoleon shared a look with Sevendhi. “Fine,” she said. “And what is your recounting of the events, Alkylis?”

  Alkylis stepped forward, wings folded behind her, and pointed her finger at Van like a spear. “This creeper captured a naked and helpless valkyrie and was getting ready to—”

  “What?” Van protested. “That’s not at all—”

  “I’ll have your eyes for touching my sister, you—”

  “Children!” Queen Aoleon shook her head. Sevendhi quietly chuckled behind her, ignoring Van’s sullen look. Alkylis glared at Van, holding her tongue with visible effort. She fluttered her wings angrily and twirled her spear. Van rubbed his injured wrist on his uniform, smearing the dark blue shirt with blood.

  Queen Aoleon sighed. “We will find a time to speak when heads are cooler.” She spread her wings. The other valkyrie immediately followed her cue and readied for departure. Four of them gently picked up Kyle. “Until next time, Van the Titan.”

  “Wait,” Van called out, one hand reaching out towards Kyle. “She’s… will you keep her safe?”

  “Far safer than you did, titan,” the queen replied. Her wings began beating the air.

  “But I saved her,” he protested.

  “And you want to keep her?” Alkylis snarled. “She’s a prize to wear, like a belt?”

  “I never said anything like that…” Van trailed off as, in a flurry of feathers and wingbeats, the valkyrie took to the skies without looking back. Van stared after them, feeling heavy and useless, his fists tightly clenched at his sides.

  The ensuing silence was broken by a clatter of metal as the soldiers who had been lingering by the cemetery gates finally mustered the courage to approach. One thick, sweaty man with long mustaches parted the line of polearm-wielding soldiers to step forward and loudly clear his throat. “I’ve been charged with the security of—”

  Van rounded on Sevendhi, who was unsuccessfully fighting a grin. “What the fuck was that?” he shouted, gesturing at the distant valkyrie. His good mood lay shredded on the bloody grass.

  “Calm down, friend Van. Sometimes you win. Other times you lose.”

  “They barely even talked to me,” Van said. “I saved her.”

  “They came for their sister, Van. Once they had what they came for, they left.” He shook his head. “They have a long history of secrecy. This is the most public appearance they have made in decades. No doubt they’ll arrange that future conversations occur in private… And speaking of privacy,” Sevendhi looked around, “perhaps we should discuss your news over a beer. You must tell me your story so I can relay it to my queen. Perhaps I may find an opportunity to enlarge my own role within it. Would it be a stretch to say I rescued you both somehow? Through some application of wisdom or good looks? Perhaps both?”

  The self-important soldier who was seeking their attention removed his helm and cleared his throat again. His wide eyes bounced back and forth between the titans. “I’m Captain Jahrom of—”

  Van continued to ignore the man. “The only rescuing that happened was when I rescued Kyle. Now they’ve taken her away. And why did that one want to blind me?” The valkyrie were now just a few dark shapes on the horizon. Van stared after them. Kyle still had the urn. They’d better understand how important that could be.

  “The valkyrie are newly reunited,” Sevendhi explained. “Some held true to their roles as defenders of this land over the years, my queen and your lovely Kyle Vair perhaps being principal among them. Some of the others come late and with shitty attitudes. Those who allowed their duties to lapse were proven quite incorrect when the OverLord surfaced. I have spoken with the Rain of Spears many times over the past week, often about you and the lovely Kyle Vair.” His grin widened. “Alkylis has threatened to blind me more times than I could count, and I am exceptionally talented at counting.”

  Van glared in the direction the valkyrie had gone. “Will they take care of her?”

  Sevendhi placed a hand on Van’s shoulder. “I assure you, they will. No doubt they could have led with conversation rather than spear thrusts, but old habits die hard. I would have recommended handing her over, threat of eyeball-skewering or no. What do you know of healing a valkyrie?”

  “It’s not fair,” he muttered. The cemetery returned to quiet. Captain Jahrom cleared his throat again, this time so aggressively that he fell into a coughing fit. The titans finally turned their attention to him and waited for it to pass.

  Saint, however, chose that moment to weigh in from the barrel. “Don’t worry about injured feelings, Beer Man, you’ll all be dead soon.”

  The Patriot Jack Hammer screamed and kicked the barrel over with a boot. Then he looked up apologetically to Van. “Sorry, Van, I forgot.”

  Van stared at the barrel. “No, I forgot. He doesn’t need to hear this.” Blood began pounding in Van’s head as he strode over to the barrel. He picked it up with one hand, lifted it over his head, and smashed it on the ground.

  Saint writhed among the broken boards a moment, then Van fished him out of the wreckage by his neck. Captain Jahrom hustled out of the way as Van walked past him to the pit, holding the thrashing demon in his grip.

  Van held the demon out over the pit. “Saint,” he said quietly, pulling the stinking creature close. Nearly a week stuck in a barrel had done little to help the demon’s stench. “Tell your Master there’s nothing left for him up here except a serious beatdown. He knows what we have. Tell him to lick his wounds down there. The tournament’s over and Empire City and all the Open Nations are closed to him. And if he comes knocking, army or no, we’ll be waiting. We’ll remind him what it’s like to feel pain again.”

  The demon choked and spat.

  Van gave him a good shake. “Got all that?” Without waiting for an answer, he threw the demon as hard as he could into the pit, driving the foul creature’s head into the far wall. It made a satisfying thud against the tightly packed dirt. Saint hissed and cursed and plummeted down into the Nether. Van looked down after him, then wiped his hand on the grass. When he stood again, all the titans and Captain Jahrom were staring at him wide-eyed. “What?” Van asked. “He was a dick.”

  Sevendhi walked over and nudged Van�
��s arm. “Time for that beer, yes? Much to discuss.” Van nodded.

  As he and Sevendhi walked away, Captain Jahrom asked them, “Um, can I come?”

  Sevendhi leaned down and threw his arm over Captain Jahrom’s shoulders. “I don’t see why not. Someone must buy.”

  “Uh, okay.” Jahrom joined the titans, his little legs scurrying to keep up.

  For a moment the Patriot lingered at the edge of the pit, staring down and scratching his head. “That little fucker was in there the whole time? I thought it was just a magic barrel.” He exchanged glances with Harlan and Owen, who simply shrugged, then the three titans turned and followed the others towards the nearest tavern.

  Chapter 14.

  The titans didn’t have to go far. Moody’s Mourning Hole was just across the dirt road from the cemetery. They had no titan-sized furnishings, but with almost no one in a large common room built for funeral crowds, the titans were able to spread out. Owen and Sevendhi perched on tables. Van put two chairs next to each other and sank into them. Harlan and Jack leaned against the bar. Once settled, they began the business of running up a serious tab for the increasingly sweaty Captain Jahrom. As the waitress brought the first round, he asked for a receipt.

  “What the fuck is a receipt?” she countered.

  The ensuing conversation ran into numerous dead ends before Captain Jahrom scurried off to find the manager. He came back in a far better mode, tossed his helm on the table, and proclaimed he would be able to expense everyone’s drinks. His expression promptly soured when Owen switched his order to a titan-sized mug of top-shelf whiskey.

  It took Van the better part of five Crater Ales to get through the story of his journey in the Nether. He shaved down the telling of the painful memories and skipped everything about the urn. The Patriot’s side of things took another couple brews, the titan constantly rising to demonstrate the action with big swings of his board which led to a broken lamp and a shattered bar mirror. Captain Jahrom paced the titans on beers, something Van suspected was a bad idea. However quickly the man managed to sweat them out, he’d clearly gotten very drunk. He staggered off briefly to confer with some of his guards.