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

by Daniel Mignault

  The fifty hungry heads… forty-nine of men and beasts and mixtures of the two… and the one in his belly, the giant fanged “O” of leech-like horror ringed by spider eyes, black eyes, multifaceted and glittering in the firelight like gems. There is no sign of the damage I saw Ares inflict, except for the eye he kicked in, but even that has scabbed over.

  His hundred arms either bear weapons or are weapons, everything from tentacles to crab claws. And his feet are weapons too, monstrous eagle talons. Some of the weapons he carries in his human-like hands are boulders, some whale bones fashioned into clubs or sharpened into axes.

  I don’t want to fight Gyges, but I can’t run. There’s nowhere to run to.

  “Last time,” the giant scolds me, “you cheated! You ran, like a coward, and let the War God fight your battle.”

  “I also talked,” I tell him. “I tried to get you to side with me, against Cronus.”

  Gyges laughs. “And I told you, there is no future without a fight! So now you fight me, little brother. You fight and win, then we talk. You fight and lose…”—he shrugs his massive shoulders—“Nothing left to talk about!”

  “You’ve got a point,” I say, trying desperately to think of some plan to stall or defeat him. “I shouldn’t have run before.”

  The giant grunts. “I understand why you did… Gyges the Mighty! Gyges the Invincible!” At that, his other forty-nine heads snarl and roar. “Everyone runs from me, or tries. Even your little God ran in the end.”

  Ares takes a threatening step forward, drawing his magic blade, then checks himself. “This is your fight,” he says. “If you can defeat him, you can defeat any of the Titans.”

  “Even Cronus?”

  “You might need a little help with that,” Hannah says.

  I nod and walk to the bridge. Gyges’ animal heads drool and gnash their teeth in anticipation. “I’ll fight you, brother, but on one condition: Let my friends pass.”

  “Friends?” Gyges growls. “Friends! You call those things friends? They are traitors! The bad dream of our people. Why should I let them pass?”

  “Because you don’t want them to interfere in the fight, and because Cronus wants to see what I can do on my own.”

  Gyges narrows his eyes, but makes no reply.

  “Let the Olympians pass, then we’ll have a fair fight, you and I.”

  “A fair fight?” The idea seems to both amuse and delight the giant. “You think fighting me will be fair?”

  “As fair as it gets: Titan against Titan. There is honor in that, brother. Honor and glory!”

  “Now you speak the language of the brave, the true Titan! This pleases me. This pleases your father.”

  “So you’ll let them go? I can make them promise not to interfere.”

  “No!” Gyges snarls. “Gods have lied to me before. Gods always lie! I have many ears, but none that hear such treachery.”

  “What if they promise me instead?”

  “Andrus,” Hannah says, “you don’t have to do this…”

  “Yes, I do. It’s OK. Freeing your father is what’s most important. I want you to promise me you won’t interfere. You and Ares both. Swear it. Swear it and keep your vow, no matter what happens.”

  The God of War gives me a stern look. “What did I just tell you about diplomacy?”

  “I know. I have to try.”

  “Very well, it’s your decision. This is where your life has led you, and where it ends or begins. Nothing can change that now. Remember your training… and go for the eyes in his stomach. That’s his weak spot.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “Andrus,” Hannah tries again. “Be reasonable! We can take him together.”

  “No, I can do this… at least, I think I can. And if I can’t, how much good can I be to you later, when things get really tough?”

  “A lot of good,” she insists, “but I’ll swear.”

  And they do, loud enough for Gyges to hear. They swear by Zeus and Hades and everything they hold dear.

  “Well?” I call to the giant. “Does that satisfy you?”

  “Nothing from Olympus satisfies me,” Gyges sneers. “The question is, does it satisfy you?”

  “It does.”

  “Then it is on your head when the Gods break their promise! It stains your honor, not mine, and forever robs you of your glory if you defeat me.”

  “You mean when I defeat you.”

  Gyges laughs. “Such spirit, little brother! Tell the scum to pass… Pass me if they dare!” The giant steps sideways and mock-bows, gesturing with fifty of his hands for my friends to walk by, free from harm.

  Before she goes, Hannah tries to hand me her magic cloak. “For luck,” she whispers.

  “You mean in case I lose. No, Hannah, I can’t accept it. Not this time. This fight… it has to be fair. It has to be to the end. One way or another.”

  Reluctantly, Hannah refastens the cloak around her shoulders. “You’re an idiot,” she says, then kisses me hard on the mouth. “A beautiful idiot! Maybe that’s what I love about you.” Before I can think of a clever response, she follows Ares, calling for Cerberus and Shadow to join them.

  “See you soon!” Gyges taunts the Olympians as they pass him on the bridge. The giant and I both watch until they are safely on the other side, then Gyges turns to me with an enthusiastic growl.

  My friends stand at the opposite end, but I wave them off. “Go!” I shout. “Don’t wait for me!”

  They move off, disappearing behind a curtain of smoke. From above and behind me comes the furious flapping of wings as the remaining harpies shoot overhead, racing across the bridge in pursuit.

  I have no idea how I’m going to beat Gyges, I just know I have to. I do some stretches, both to prepare my body and buy my friends some time. I have no idea how long this fight is going to last, and if I lose, I want them to get as far away from here as possible.

  The giant waits on the bridge, watching me with hungry amusement. “Is it fear that delays you, little brother?”

  “No, I just want to give you the best fight I can. That is what you want, isn’t it? What Cronus wants?”

  Gyges nods, the casual motion of so many heads moving in unison is as disconcerting as anything the giant does. “I will tell the story of how I defeated the son of Cronus many times! I will tell of your doom to my children, and my children’s children. I will tell it to the winds, and the rain, the smoke, and the fire! All shall know it was Gyges who crushed you this day on the Bridge of Burnt Souls. A glorious victory for me, a glorious fate for you!”

  I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I draw my sword—glad I have one of Ares’ golden blades—and step onto the bridge. The fused skeletons in the guard rails are even more gruesome in closeup, and I hope I won’t end up like them, or worse.

  Gyges stomps a taloned foot impatiently, then gestures me to come at him. “Come, little brother! Come to Gyges! Come to your doom…”

  29

  TITAN AGAINST TITAN

  I charge.

  Gyges is fast. He hurls boulders at me. I dodge one, slice through another, and use my free hand to reach out to a third with my magic. The boulder is slapped aside as if it weighed no more than a paperweight. It sails over the side of the bridge, becoming a distant splash in the lava below. I’m stunned I did it, but I don’t have time to dwell on my success. Gyges sends more boulders my way. Again, I dodge. Again, I slice, and slap another aside.

  Gyges roars and hurls the last boulder at me. It’s a big one, the biggest yet, and he hurls it with perfect accuracy. It can’t be dodged. Slicing seems risky; I’ve never tried to chop through anything this bulky before, and besides, I’ve got a better idea. I’m going to try something new. I’m going to turn his own weapon against him.

  Summoning all my will, I reach out to the rushing rock. I reach out with my magic, my courage, my birthright as the son of Cronus, the son of Gaia. I reach out with everything, everything I have and everything I imagine I have.

&n
bsp; I am the mountain.

  The mountain is me.

  Together, we fight!

  The boulder slows, the boulder stops, and I hold it there a moment, suspended in mid-air while I work up its momentum again. Spinning it, building up force, energy.

  When I release it, I send it snapping back at the giant with all my anger, all my hatred. It tumbles with the rage of loss, the fury of the righteous. And it strikes Gyges, plowing into him, pulping at least a dozen of his fifty heads in a violent fountain.

  Gyges screams, staggers back, then falls, thrashing in pain. The bridge shakes. The bridge cracks. A hot wind blows up from the river below. I’d meant to hit his chest dead center, but Gyges ducked—he just didn’t duck far enough.

  I have to keep moving. I need to press my advantage while I still can. I race toward the thrashing giant, and as I do, I leap onto the railing. I get a terrifying glimpse of the molten river below, then focus my full attention on the giant.

  Gyges is struggling to rise, his bent and broken heads flopping grotesquely. But it’s not them I care about. It’s the central face, the leech-like horror in his belly with the spider eyes. I’m aiming for that. That’s why I’m running along the wide stone railing, trying to get enough height so that when I jump, I can reach my target.

  Go for the eyes, Ares told me. Go for his weak spot.

  I jump. Sword raised in both hands, blade pointed down. Gyges is getting up fast, so I miss the top ring of eyes and have to settle for the ones below. My blade strikes home, my blade strikes true. The black eye pops, bursting like an overripe grape. Again Gyges screams, and again I jump, this time away from the giant.

  I hit the stone bridge and roll. Just like gym class. Just like Mr. Cross taught me, but my victory is short-lived. A tentacle slams down, coiling around me with bone-crushing force, the grip of a python. I’m lifted up. Ten, twenty feet off the ground, then thirty, then it doesn’t matter because a crab claw is coming at me, pincers snapping like a madman’s scissors.

  I have one arm free. My sword arm. I swing the glowing blade down, hacking through the tentacle’s rubbery flesh. I’m falling then, but timed so the pincers snap shut on empty air.

  I drop to the bridge, losing my sword in the process. It goes skittering away, glowing gold, and I’m scrambling after it when another tentacle slips around my ankles. This time, I have both hands free, but no blade, and I’m hanging upside down, all the blood rushing to my head, all the adrenalized horror pumping through me as Gyges lifts me toward his leech mouth. Rows and rows of needle-like fangs gleam between purple gums, and the stench of rotten meat wafts past them.

  I extend the crystal daggers from my right hand and aim for one of the spider eyes. Mother Gaia, guide my hand! I fire the missile, and am rewarded by the sickly wet pop of bursting eye-juice, then by being let go. Unfortunately, not dropped. Hurled. Hurled hard, hurled fast. I’m going over the guard rail. Into the the River of Flame…

  I have one chance, and that’s to grab onto the railing. It’s a close call. Very close, but I manage to hold on. I hang there, the wind knocked out of me, the magma below boiling and churning as if calling me to join it…

  Gyges is hurt, he’s crashing around, bellowing, lashing out in all directions. He had eight working spider eyes before Ares took one in the Garden of Bone. Now I’ve taken another, but I only have one crystal dagger left. More cracks appear in the stonework. I pull myself up and haul my aching body over the railing, back onto the bridge.

  Gyges sees me and charges, giant eagle legs pumping, talons scratching furrows in the bridge floor.

  I see my sword, just a few feet away. I see the bridge rail, and make my decision. I rip a chunk out of the railing and send it skittering across the bridge floor, directly in Gyges’ path. The Lesser Titan trips over it, and in his wounded condition, stumbles and falls.

  I’m already in motion, picking up the golden blade, and running toward Gyges, then leaping up onto him, chopping through the hairy head of a wild boar, dodging the fangs of a snake head, then I’m on his back. It’s a struggle to stay moving because Gyges is moving too. He’s twisting around, trying to get at me with fifty feet of fury. Fifty feet of primordial rage.

  Claws click.

  Tentacles writhe.

  I do my damage, ripping into his hairy back, plunging the sword in, plunging it deep and riding the buried blade down the same way Ares did. I push out when I hit his hip, somersaulting to the bridge below.

  A bone axe whizzes toward me.

  A club crushes down.

  Rather than crippling the giant, I’ve only made him angrier. There’s too much going on, too many hands or things that pass for hands. Too much everything, and all the time, the horrible sounds, the shrieks and shouts from dozens of heads.

  My crystal armor takes a glancing blow—an axe blow that knocks me back but not out of the fight. The armor kept the edge away, but only blunted some of the force. I can’t let him hit me again.

  I lash out with my sword where I can, and leap away when I can’t. Fighting Gyges isn’t easy, even with all my power. Not that I thought it would be, but some brave, reckless part of me—the boy, not the man—thought I might have won by now. A glorious victory, and proof I have what it takes to beat Cronus.

  We fight in a clash of wrath, Titan against Titan, knowing there can be only one. The good news is I’m able to get by him, so I head to the far end of the bridge. I want to be sure I’m on the right side if this thing crumbles… But why should it be ‘if’ since I can make it ‘when’? Why not use my magic to crumble the bridge myself?

  Gyges thunders after me. I whirl, drop to one knee and point my fist at the charging giant. One crystal dagger left. Make it count! I fire. Watch it punch through a spider-eye. Gyges screams. The wound slows him, and I use those precious seconds to slam my fists down on the bridge.

  I am the maker of mountains and the breaker of stones!

  The bridge shatters. Gyges falls. He falls into the Phlegethon, sinking below the fiery ooze and out of sight.

  I watch the river, waiting to see if the giant surfaces, but he never does. I’m glad he’s gone, glad I won, but there is sadness in my victory. However monstrous Gyges was, however alien or evil, he was still my brother. I mourn his loss and what might have been.

  A new rage rises in me, a red anger at the way the world is, the way it’s always been, pitting brother against brother. Father against son.

  “Are you watching, Cronus?” I yell. “Are you happy?”

  The King of the Titans makes no reply. I am left with nothing—nothing but smoke and ruin. The way back is gone; the way forward filled with doubt.

  30

  NO EASY ANSWERS

  Walking in Tartarus alone is different from being with friends. The last time it happened, I’d been pursued and hadn’t had time to think. Now I do. I think back on my life, my present, my future. They stretch before and behind me, cast like shadows on the ground.

  I’ve come down the other side of the Cliffs of Pain into a low valley. I’m within sight of the Phlegethon, the boiling current smoking along as it must have for millions of years.

  I witness a group of penitent ghosts lining up by the river bank. Unmindful of the heat, they disrobe and wade into the lava. Some submerge themselves completely, others kneel, some squat, and some stand at various depths. Some scream, some cry, while others pray, and some say nothing at all as they burn and burn…

  I’ve heard about this before, in one of those rare times I wasn’t daydreaming in Mrs. Ploddin’s history class… These ghosts are suffering, each according to their “sins” by how far they submerge their bodies. I’m not sure how much is punishment and how much is spiritual cleansing, and I don’t stop to ask. The crazy thing is no one is forcing them into the lava; they’re doing it to themselves.

  It’s a choice. A choice we all have without even realizing it.

  How many sins have I committed?

  Abandoning my family and Lucy? Check. Cheatin
g on her with Hannah? Check. Fratricide? Check, now that Gyges is gone. Soon, I’ll add patricide to the list. If I can find Cronus, and if I can kill him.

  ‘Some things are forever,’ Gyges had warned me. ‘Some things are not. Who are you to say which is which?’

  Who am I?

  That’s a good question. Before I found out I was a Titan, I worried I was a monster. Now I worry if I’m a hero. Is it all just a point of view? There are no easy answers. There’s only me—here, now.

  Alone.

  I’ve been following Cerberus’ tracks for about a mile when I come across the bodies of two of the five harpies that had flown in pursuit of my friends. They’re not dead, of course; nothing can ever die completely while Hades is imprisoned. Instead, the bird-women lie in bloody, broken heaps. Still twitching. Forever twitching, wishing they were dead, yet knowing they will never find release, never fly again or find an end to their torment.

  I step around them, and as horrible as they are, I almost wish I could put them out of their misery. One of the harpies snaps her beak at me, the other just glares, neck bent at an impossible angle. The ground is littered with black blood and feathers.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell the harpies. “It will all be over soon… For you, and for all the others caught between life and death.”

  They don’t thank me, and I’m not sure they would if they could. But I know they’ll be grateful when the pain stops. I know a lot of people will.

  31

  TOO FAR TO TURN BACK

  I find my friends a few miles later. They’re standing at the edge of a flaming moat—a moat that surrounds a volcanic island. The lava snakes off and away, back toward the cliffs, a tributary to the River of Flame.

  Two things stop me dead in my tracks: One, Cerberus is drinking from the moat, lapping lava like it was water. Second, the last three harpies are diving to attack. I open my mouth to shout a warning, but there’s no need.