Titan_Kingdom of the Dead_An Epic Novel of Urban Fantasy and Greek Mythology

by Daniel Mignault

  Gyges staggers sideways, all pretense at a charge done. Instead, it’s become an agonized stumble, then a drunken fall as he trips over the bones blocking his path and narrowly avoids impaling himself on one. Titans really can be hurt. And if they can be hurt, they can be killed. That is, once we free Hades and bring Death back into the world…

  Captain Nessus attempts to rally the demoralized horde of monsters. Gyges is rolling around on the ground, a tangle of thrashing limbs and kicking claws, and part of me dares to hope he won’t be getting up again. But to my horror, the long red wound in his chest is knitting shut. Slowly, probably painfully, but still, Gyges is healing.

  I let out a long breath. “I didn’t know he could do that…”

  “You don’t know a lot of things,” Ares says. “Let’s make sure you live to find them out.” He unfastens Hannah’s magic cloak and hands it to me. “You should go now. Hannah needs your help.”

  “What about you?” I ask as Captain Nessus leads his monsters toward us.

  “I’m the God of War,” Ares says. “Good odds, bad odds. Doesn’t matter. I live for this.”

  “I know you do,” I say, “and thanks for the save, but remember your promise to take care of Mark.”

  Ares nods. “I’ll do what I can. Go to the boulder; Shadow will be waiting for you. He’ll lead you to Hannah. And be careful when you decide to change out of fog form; the cloak only works three times a day and this is the last time.”

  My last view of Ares may be my last view of Mark. “Thanks,” I say, “to both of you… for everything.”

  The monsters close in, and as they do, I will myself to turn to fog. I float away to the clash of steel and cries of war.

  16

  INTUITION

  Being immaterial is beyond weird. It’s terrifying, yet also liberating, and I wonder if this is how ghosts feel. This seems a lot closer to what it must be like to be dead than being in Charon’s boat. Like anything, I suppose you get used to it after a while, but I don’t think I ever could. Not to this. I’d miss feeling connected to the Earth.

  Behind me, the battle rages, but it’s hard to focus on that. Every time I do, I stop moving, and if there’s one thing I need, it’s to move as fast and far as I can.

  Please, let Mark be OK…

  Please, let this not have all been for nothing.

  After seeing what Ares did, I wish I could have fought Gyges. I feel like I have something to prove… not to the giant, but to myself. That I am that powerful. That I can do this—and whatever comes after.

  When I get to the edge of the mushroom forest, Shadow is waiting. Hannah’s raven is perched in a tree overlooking the boulder and the tunnel I made. Enormous paw prints dot the mossy cavern floor. That’s going to be a problem. I know I shouldn’t transform back to flesh yet, but it won’t take long for the monsters to track Cerberus if I don’t do something about these prints.

  Shadow cocks his black feathered head as I turn solid as if to say, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to erase the tracks,” I tell the bird, hoping he’ll telepathically let Hannah know. Then, under my breath, I add, “If I can.” I’ve never tried to do anything like this before, and I know I don’t have much magic left, but just having my feet back on the ground is helping.

  I give it a minute, then kneel down and press my palms to the earth. It turns out erasing tracks is a lot easier than digging tunnels or breaking through enchanted stone walls. The depressions lift up, the earth restoring itself to its original, unblemished condition. Maybe learning to master my magic is as simple as intuition—knowing what makes sense for me and what doesn’t.

  “Did you see that?” I ask the raven.

  It bobs its head enthusiastically, then flies down from its perch to the next set of prints, pointing with its beak. I erase those tracks, and the next, but this seems like an inefficient way to do it.

  “You think I could erase a bunch of tracks all at once?” I ask the bird.

  It caws and opens its wings, as if to say it’s not sure, but it’s a good idea to try it. I concentrate, going deeper into the earth this time, going farther, reaching out… I shut my eyes and see the tracks in my mind. I will them to vanish.

  Restore the earth… Restore, and let no tracks remain…

  When I open my eyes, the tracks are gone. Of course, I can’t see how far ahead my magic has worked, but I’m happy with the result. Happy enough to try one more experiment…

  I rub dirt on the bottoms of my boots, and I imagine that it’s magic dirt, limitless dirt that hides my tracks, filling in my footprints as I travel. Then I get up and test it. It works!

  I cast a final look at the Garden of Bone. One last look at the battle I can’t tell who’s winning. I’d pray for Mark, but I don’t know who to pray to now that Cronus is my enemy and Zeus is dead. Mark had said maybe after all this, he’d become a priest of me, but it doesn’t feel right praying to myself.

  What God or Titan does that?

  That leaves Gaia, the Earth Mother. My mother. So I say a prayer to her. I thank her for my life, and my power. I thank her for protecting me and my friends.

  There is no divine revelation, no nurturing voice from on high or down deep, but I do feel better afterward, even more connected—not just to the Earth, but to myself. To what I am. The more I admit it, the more I accept it, the more powerful I become.

  Shadow flies up and flaps overhead.

  “OK, buddy,” I tell the familiar. “We’re done here. Take me to Hannah.”

  17

  THE LEDGE

  Far behind, I hear the cruel cry of harpies, the hoofbeats of centaurs. The sounds of my enemies ring in my ears, driving me on. Between the tree-sized mushrooms granting me cover and my magic erasing Cerberus’ tracks, I don’t think I’m being followed. Not yet, anyway.

  I’m glad Ares didn’t abandon me, though I understand why Hannah did. After everything we’d done to break Cerberus free, for her to charge back into the Garden would have been stupid. I can’t find Hades without the three-headed dog, and without her and Shadow, I’d be lost in Tartarus forever—or until Cronus and his minions caught me.

  The forest thins. There’s less and less cover. The ground gets rougher, the angle steeper, but the change in terrain means it should be hard, if not impossible, for the centaurs to follow. Then again, they’re part goat, so maybe that’s not as true as I’d like it to be.

  All I know is I better find some cover soon, or regardless of the centaurs, the harpies will be sure to spot me. I climb a hill to a high enough vantage point where I can see over the the top of the mushroom forest, but I can’t make out the Garden of Bone. What I should be able to see is Gyges towering over everything, but I don’t see the bastard anywhere. That’s a relief, and it isn’t.

  I haven’t known the giant long, but from our brief interaction, I know he’s a lot smarter than I initially gave him credit for. It’s hard to imagine anything that ugly could be intelligent, but after my dealings with Nessus, I know how cunning monsters can be. I’m guessing Gyges is either busy chasing Ares or has gone off to reinforce wherever they’re hiding Hades.

  For one brief, crazy moment, I consider doubling back to see if I can pick up Gyges’ tracks and follow him, but Hannah’s waiting. Besides, there are too many monsters combing the area, and if Gyges is anything like me, he’s probably erasing his footprints as well. So there’s no way to go except forward.

  The one way, the only way. Toward fate, toward destiny… As always, it’s the long way, the hard way, with not much room for error.

  The dog’s paw prints are gone now thanks to the hillside’s rocky terrain. I check the sky for Shadow, but the raven is nowhere in sight. The going gets tougher, but I’m at my best climbing rock, so I take a few vertical shortcuts. These take me straight up a sheer cliff, and for a moment, I can pretend I’m not in Tartarus. I’m back home, off for a weekend adventure without a worry in the world… It’s a nice fantasy, while it lasts.
>
  Above me is a ledge draped in corpse-white moss. I heave myself up and find myself face to face with Cerberus. The three-headed beast growls, but one sharp “Heel!” from Hannah shuts him down. The dog backs up, giving me room to clamber over the side. There’s a cave at the back of the ledge.

  I lay on my back panting while Hannah and Cerberus stand over me. One of the black-furred heads gives my face an experimental lick, then makes a disgusted face. I laugh and push the head away, then sit up. “Where’s your bird?”

  “Sent him to keep watch around the perimeter.”

  “Oh. I had to guess where you were.”

  “So? You guessed right.”

  I don’t have anything to say to that. The witch infuriates me sometimes, but there’s something I like about her.

  “Where’s Ares?” Hannah asks.

  “Don’t know. Told me to run. Guess he wanted all the glory for himself.”

  “More like he wanted to save your ass. I’ll take my cloak back now, if you don’t mind.”

  I hand it over and she fastens it around her shoulders. “Thanks, I felt naked without it.”

  “Not big on sharing, are you?”

  “Not really. I was an only child.”

  “Come on! I find that hard to believe.”

  Hannah snorts. “I am now. Hades had other children, of course. You can’t be alive as long as him without fathering a few. They’re all dead. It was the war… The damned war.”

  “So you’re the last?”

  She nods, staring out at the gloomy horizon. “Ares, son of Zeus, and Hannah, daughter of Hades. We’re the last of our kind, the legacy of Mount Olympus and all it stood for…”

  “You think Ares made it?”

  “He’s tough.”

  “Tough enough to beat Gyges?”

  Hannah shrugs and turns away. “We should get some rest and stay out of sight. Shadow will keep watch.”

  I follow her and Cerberus into the cave. She hands me an energy bar and water bottle from her pouch. We eat in silence.

  “You think Mark’s going to be all right?”

  “Andrus,” Hannah says, “worrying about your friend, worrying about anyone or anything beyond the quest won’t help. Believe me, I know.”

  “So you’re not worried about Ares?”

  “I’m worried about the quest. If it fails, then all the things we care about won’t matter. So go ahead and care, but don’t worry. Worry only gets in the way. Now get some sleep; we’ve got a long day ahead.” She turns away and snuggles into Cerberus, using the monster dog as both pillow and blanket.

  I sit there a while, watching her while Cerberus watches me. Eventually, the dog closes its big red eyes and I close mine.

  18

  THE LABYRINTH OF DREAMS

  When I open my eyes, I’m not in the cave. Not with Hannah, or Cerberus, or Shadow. I’m alone in a vast underground labyrinth. Stone walls fence me in, angling down, funneling me toward the center. But the center of what? The maze? The Earth? Tartarus, or somewhere beyond?

  The walls are wet and mossy, dripping with slime, and it’s cold here, the cold of the grave, but it’s getting warmer with every step. I hit a few dead ends and have to turn around. I think I hear a voice, no more than a whisper, calling my name.

  “Andrus… Come closer!”

  The voice is both familiar and unfamiliar. One part welcoming, one part mocking. Daring me to find its owner. Daring me down, into the depths…

  “Andrus…”

  I hit another dead end, and this time, the voice laughs. There’s a skeleton embedded in the wall, half-buried, and more than that, half-melted into the stone. No, not melted. Digested.

  I back away, followed by the laughter. The next path I pick takes a steep downward grade, and the stone floor beneath me becomes a ramp too slick to stand on. I start to slide, then fall. Desperately, I reach out, extending the crystal daggers from my knuckles. Punching them into the floor. I stop falling and hang there.

  “Who are you?” I yell. “What do you want?”

  The laughter gets louder. The floor cracks and crumbles. I’m falling again, falling into darkness with nothing to catch or break my fall. It reminds me of the many dreams I’ve had—dreams of climbing Mount Olympus, only now it’s in reverse. I’m falling from a great height, falling into Tartarus, falling into punishment. And maybe it’s one I deserve for failing to protect my parents, and Lucy, and Mark…

  A spot of red and orange light appears below. The air grows hot. I’m falling into the labyrinth’s molten core. There’s no escape, nothing I can do. I splash down into fire, blasted by heat, baked by lava. I struggle to swim up and when I break the surface, I see I’m not in the center of the Earth or Tartarus or anywhere else. I’m in the center of an enormous stomach and the “lava” is acid. Agonized half-living corpses thrash and scream in the vile orange soup.

  I’m inside Cronus.

  I’m inside the place that gave me my power.

  When I look down at my hands, I see rock. When I look at my arms, I see rock. Every part of me is rock. And I’m not being digested, like the other victims bubbling beside me. I’m absorbing power. This is both my prison and my womb, the long slow process of my birth, forged from nothing, fed on hate.

  Hate and magic.

  I feel the rage of Cronus, I feel his hunger.

  And then I’m being vomited up. I don’t want to go, yet I must. I didn’t have a choice asking to be made, just like I don’t have a choice asking to be born.

  I land in a puddle of sickly goo on a hot stone floor. My body is no longer made of rock, at least not the kind you can see. I look human. I feel human, or however I think being human feels. I’m in a cave, beside a lake of fire.

  Cronus is watching. Cronus is here!

  The King of the Titans towers over me, wearing a crown of horns. His skin is red, covered in black-tinged scales, each as large as a warrior’s shield. His mouth is wide, his teeth fanged. The eyes are the worst. There are three of them, each one a blazing ring, with the intensity of looking into the sun. Cronus reminds me of a dragon, of man and dragon merged into one, grown to nightmare size. He has no wings though, no tail, no forked tongue. His powerful arms and feet end in claws. He lunges forward, a living volcano screaming hate and fire.

  I take the blast and stand before him, undamaged. Adrenalized, but not unafraid. “Hello, father,” I say as bravely as I can.

  Cronus’s black lips twist into what can only be described as a smile—the most hideous one I’ve ever seen. “Andrus, my son! Home, at last.”

  “I’m here to stop you.”

  Cronus laughs, the same laughter I heard before. “You can try. All my children try, and all my children fail, because they are only a shadow of my power.”

  “I’m more than a shadow!”

  The blazing trio of eyes narrow. “So you are, son! That is why I talk to you. That is why you must listen…”

  “Listen? Listen to what?”

  “To my offer. You have come far, but you are still young, still foolish, still too much a man, when you could be so much more.”

  “You mean a Titan?”

  “Yes! Accept your place among us. Do not put your trust in the Gods. They will use you, betray you, as they have ever done to our kind.”

  “So I should trust you instead? But you want to kill me!”

  Cronus smirks. “I want to kill the weakness in you. I want to test you, to see the true you, the glorious you! I want to see the Titan in you, and the son who can stand at my side.”

  “Why? Why not kill me like Zeus and all the rest?”

  “Because you are different, Andrus. Special. Your mother, Gaia, is my mother too. She wanted you to be born. To make peace. Peace between the Titans and the Gods. And there can be…”

  “How?”

  “How else can we have peace? The Gods must die! Kill them, Andrus. Kill the Gods and let the war be done. Prove your worth! Prove you are truly my son, my prince, my heir. Pro
ve you are a Titan and all this can be yours!”

  Cronus’ eyes flare into blinding arcs, and I see portals in them, portals to other places, other worlds. Worlds untouched by Gods or men. Beautiful worlds, terrible worlds, and worlds beyond imagining. A universe full of possibilities.

  “But how? Why do you need me?”

  “Because you are the bridge, Andrus. The Bridge Between Worlds! It is true you were formed from rock, but not a rock of Earth, or even Tartarus. You were a rock that fell from the sky—a meteor. A union of Earth and Sky, forged in my heat. That makes you my son, my brother, and my hope!”

  “Hope for what?”

  “For new worlds to conquer! You can open that door, Andrus. You can open it and travel through as my emissary. Take whatever mortals you want with you: your foster parents, Mark, Lucy. I will give them to you, and I can give you so much more!”

  “But only if I side with you?”

  “You are a Titan,” Cronus says. “Blood calls to blood, family to family, father to son. I am not your enemy unless you make me one.”

  “But you’re evil…”

  “Evil? What do you know of evil? You have not suffered as I have, have not known the pain of a thousand betrayals! You do not wear the scars of a thousand battles, nor the despair of eternity. It’s true, I turned on my other children, the same way my father turned on me. But they wanted my world because they could not have another! You… You aren’t like them. You can have your own world, dozens of them!”

  “As long as I rule in your name?”

  Cronus nods. “Yes, for only I can show you what must be done! Only I can teach you. And I will teach you, Andrus. How hard the lessons are is up to you.”

  “What about Hades? You don’t want me to free him?”

  “On the contrary, I want you to do what you think is best, and see the result.”

  “But I thought you wanted Hades imprisoned? Without Death, the human sacrifices would last forever…”