Titan: An Epic Novel of Urban Fantasy and Greek Mythology (The Gods War Book 1)

by Daniel Mignault

  Twilight paints the horizon harsh red. Hell-red. The color of an open wound. The streetlights switch on. As we walk, the frantic traffic dwindles, each driver desperate to get home. The Night Patrol never comes out until after dark because monsters can't stand sunlight. The priests say that's because they were trapped so long by the Gods in Tartarus, where it's always night.

  A raven croaks from a streetlight above us. It's a large, black-eyed brute with a beak the size of a small knife. The bird cocks its head and flaps its wings, warning us to hurry.

  We quicken our pace, but it isn't long before it feels like we're being followed. Of course, that's crazy. It's not sunset yet. That means it can't be the Night Patrol… but it could be that weird girl.

  I stop and peer into the gathering gloom behind us. The street is empty.

  “What's up?” Mark says. “Why are you stopping?”

  “Nothing. Let's keep moving, only we better jog the rest of the way.”

  We pick up the pace. After several blocks, Mark is gasping. He slows, then stops to catch his breath.

  “I need a minute,” he says.

  “We haven't got one.”

  “I need one anyway.” He's sweating worse than in the gym, and the smell is acrid. It's fear, paralyzing fear, and it's coming from his pores in waves. “I don't think I can make it,” he says, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Maybe we should just hide somewhere? Hole up till morning?”

  “I'd rather not. Besides, hiding makes you look guilty. Not of breaking curfew, but something worse.”

  “What's worse than breaking curfew?”

  “Treason. Think about it from the monsters' perspective: only rebels and traitors would hide when they could use an amulet instead.”

  “Good point.”

  “Yeah, that's―” I let my sentence trail off because there's a loud flutter overhead. I look up in alarm, expecting a harpy, one of the hideous bird-women who haunt the skies after dark, but it's just another raven. Or maybe it's the same one.

  Mark laughs nervously. “Man, you really jumped! You thought it was a harpy too, huh?”

  “Come on,” I tell him. “It's just a few more blocks.”

  “More like ten.”

  “Fine, so it's ten. You ready?”

  He doesn't look like it, but he shrugs. “As ready as I'll ever be.”

  “We might have to run,” I warn, then add, “I mean, part of the way, but not if we get caught. If we get caught, stay behind me and let me do the talking.”

  We start jogging again. The sun is sinking lower now, the evening sky purpling toward black.

  “You ever talk to a monster?” Mark asks.

  “No. Have you?”

  “Once.”

  “Seriously?”

  “A harpy, when I was little. I'd left my favorite toy outside, and the monster must have heard me begging my mom to let me go get it, because she was waiting in the tree outside my window when I went to my room. The harpy told me it was safe for me to come outside. That she wouldn't hurt me, and that she understood the pain of having toys where you could see them, but couldn't touch them.”

  “What did you do?” I ask. “I mean, you didn't believe her, did you?”

  “Almost. I was pretty young, maybe ten, and I really wanted that stupid toy. It was a priest action figure. It represented everything I wanted to be, and I was worried if I didn't keep it near me all the time, my dream would never come true.”

  “So what'd you do?”

  “I asked the harpy to get it for me.” She did, but then she held it just out of my grasp. 'If you want something bad enough,' the harpy told me, 'you just have to reach out and grab it.' I almost did, but I knew if I put even one hand outside, I'd be breaking the law. And I didn't like the way she was looking at me. The way she snapped her beak and flexed her claws…”

  “What happened?”

  “I explained it was my dream to be a priest someday, so I couldn't break the law, not even for my favorite toy, not even because she said it was all right. She got mad and destroyed my action figure. And I never forgot what she told me right before she flew away. She said, 'You can't eat dreams, boy.'”

  “That's horrible!”

  “Yeah, but she was right. I'd just been dreaming about being a priest before. I didn't have a plan. I got one after that. I found out everything I needed to do to turn my dream into a reality.”

  “Oh, that's why you're so driven. That explains a lot.”

  “Yeah. I still get scared I'm not gonna make it sometimes, but when I do, I remember that harpy's hungry face, and her words, and that pulls me through. I don't think she meant to help me, but she really did. Crazy, huh?”

  “Not really. One thing they teach us in warrior class is your enemies make you stronger. They force you to do better, to think bigger. Defeating them brings you glory. Without them, you'd have no reason to push yourself.”

  “They teach us pretty much the same in priest class,” Mark admits. “Only they say our enemies are a test from Cronus, and also a gift.”

  “A gift?” I'm not sure I like the sound of that.

  “Yeah. You know, for sacrifice. The bigger the enemy, the better the sacrifice.” He makes a stabbing motion with his hand.

  “OK… I, uh, never thought of it that way, but change 'sacrifice' to 'glory,' and maybe priests and warriors aren't so different.”

  “Maybe,” Mark says, but doesn't sound convinced.

  I'm not sure I am either. There's a rivalry encouraged between the two groups, one I've bought into. But even before Axios, I'd never been fond of priests. They always creeped me out with their talk of magic and metaphysics, telling us to obey this, obey that, but never to question why. You never saw them in the streets helping people like warriors. You never saw them in physical contests or doing normal things. Just preaching and making blood sacrifices.

  I start to ask Mark if he knows what priests do for fun, but I never get an answer. That's when all the streetlights switch off. Which is a very bad sign. The lights only come on a half hour before curfew and once they're off, that means curfew has begun.

  “Run!” I shout to Mark, and I don't have to tell him twice. My breath rasps in my throat. The amulet bangs against my chest. Every muscle in my body is in motion. The slap of our sandals against the pavement is loud in our ears, but not as loud as the clatter of hooves behind us.

  6

  COWARD

  The main street is a death trap. There's nowhere to hide. Everything's dark, far darker than it should be, because the buildings block out the moon. It's a night-black forest of brick and stone. No neon, no lit up signs, nothing. Not just because monsters don't like light, but because they don't want anything to help curfew-breakers see where they're going or know where they are.

  The hooves behind us get louder. I know what that means: centaurs. Not the kind of handsome half-human, half-horse most people would have imagined before the Gods War, but vicious brutes: part-man, part-horse, part-ram. That means they're fast. It also means they're bad-tempered and stubborn. They carry long barbed harpoons in their clawed hands; each weapon tethered to their utility belts by a rope. They stick the harpoons into you, then break into a gallop, dragging you behind them. But that's just for fun.

  The centaurs are infamous for doing something far worse, and that's what gives them their other name: Skull-crushers. They're called that because centaurs have a nasty habit of grabbing victims by their necks, lifting them up to watch them strangle, then head-butting them to crack open the skull. That's their favorite way to punish curfew-breakers, and it's effective. One good head-butt and you're brain-dead forever.

  The priests say it's so when you see curfew-breakers wandering around with their brains spilling out, you'll know why you need to obey the law. I've seen a few people like this, and it's not pretty. They become “zombies” that wander around moaning, and no one's allowed to do anything to help. There's no way I want to end up like that, and I can't think of a worse punishment
for a guy like Mark.

  That's why I'm glad I've got the amulet. But what if it doesn't work? What if it can't keep Mark safe? Should I try to hide him, then confront the centaurs myself? I could lead them away, get them to escort me home, but that would leave Mark out on the street, still blocks from safety. It would have to be a good hiding place, one Mark could stay in overnight. Because if the centaurs find him…

  I glance around, panic rising. There are no cars to hide under because no one leaves them outside after dark. Anything outside a legal residence is fair game for monsters to attack: cars, bikes, pets, people. But not dumpsters. I mean, monsters could attack them, but why? They're big, heavy, and hard to roll over. They don't scream or explode or do anything fun. And they're full of garbage. I've never heard of one being ruined by monsters. A dumpster might be Mark's only chance.

  We need to find an alley fast. But there's nothing, just more tightly-packed buildings. I hear braying laughter behind us.

  “They've found us,” Mark whispers. “Skull-crushers!” To his credit, he doesn't sound half as scared as he should be. “Break out your amulet. We'll be fine, right?”

  “Um…”

  “You said it would work!”

  “No, I said I thought it might work.”

  “So it still could?” Mark asks.

  “Do you want to find out?”

  “Hell no! I mean, not if I don't have to. What's Plan B?”

  I see a shadow between two stores that's blacker than the rest. It has to be an alley. I grab Mark by the arm. “This way!” We veer off the sidewalk into a narrow, trash-strewn alley.

  “Slow down, I can't see!” Mark complains. He trips over a pile of debris and goes sprawling.

  “We hear you, humans!” one of the centaurs shouts, then laughs and adds, “You better run!” Soon, his bleating taunt is taken up by the rest of the Night Patrol: “RUN! RUN!”

  I help Mark up and half-lead, half-drag him deeper into the alley. There's a dumpster up ahead and I tell Mark to hide in it.

  “What are you going to do?” he asks.

  “The only thing I can do. The centaurs know someone is on the street. That doesn't mean they know there are two of us. I'm going to show my amulet and get them to take me home. All you have to do is stay hidden until the sun comes up. I'll meet you at the Harryhausen gym tomorrow, eight a.m.”

  Mark curses, but goes along with the plan. The stench of moldy food is strong as he opens the dumpster, climbs in, and closes the lid.

  I head out of the alley into the street. I take off my amulet, then bend down as if looking for something. Three monstrous shadows clop forward to surround me. The centaurs smell like wet dog wrapped in musk. Their shaggy-cheeked faces are gray, wild-maned, with glaring yellow eyes, sharp teeth, and long, curling horns set atop a high, hard-ridged forehead. Their hooves paw the pavement in anticipation.

  It's show time. I rise up and present my amulet. I hold it so the centaurs can see the symbol stamped on it. “My name is Andrus Eaves,” I say in my most confident voice. “By Cronus, and by the authority of the Temple of the Unblinking Eye, I request you grant me safe passage and escort home. That is your duty! That is the Titan's command.”

  The leader steps forward. He's larger than his fellows, meaner-looking, but hopefully not smarter. he introduces himself in a low rumble, “I am Captain Nessus of the Night Patrol. Give me that amulet. Is it yours? I want to see if it's real.”

  I start to hand it to him, then remember Mark's story about the harpy, and snatch it back before the captain can grab it. “It's real,” I tell him, “and it's mine, but if I give it to you, I won't have it anymore. The law says you can't attack me as long as the amulet is in my possession.”

  Nessus's black lips pull back from his ivory fangs in a sneer. “The law? Who are you to quote the law?”

  “I'm a student at Axios. I'm training to be a warrior.”

  “A warrior,” Nessus muses. “Perhaps you'd care to test your training against one of us?”

  That gets a round of enthusiastic grunts and growls from the other centaurs, but I know better than to accept.

  “No, thank you. As I said, I'm a student, and only human. It wouldn't be a fair fight, and I'm sure you would prefer a challenge.”

  “What we would prefer, coward, is to drag you screaming through the streets, to bash your brains in, and…” Nessus pauses to sniff the air, then looks over my shoulder toward the alley. His eyes narrow. “Democ! Ruvo!” He addresses the other centaurs. “Do you smell that?”

  The other monsters sniff the night, nostrils flaring.

  I step forward to draw their attention back to me. “No offense, you guys, but the law's the law. Are you going to take me home or not?”

  Nessus twists his mouth into something that resembles a smile: an awful, sinister one full of sharp teeth. “In time, human. First, we are going to search that alley for your companion.”

  “What companion?”

  “Do not lie to me, boy! We can smell him. His scent… is different from yours. He reeks of fear, while you…” Nessus sniffs again and frowns. “You smell familiar. Have we met before?”

  “I don't think so. I mean, I'm sure I would have remembered it.”

  “Hmm,” Nessus says. “Curious.”

  “What about the other human?” Democ interrupts.

  “We'll find him,” Nessus replies, “and when we do…”

  “We'll crack him open like an egg,” Democ cackles. “Crack him! Scramble his brains.”

  Ruvo raises his harpoon and shouts, “Crush him! Drag him through the streets!”

  “Enough, brothers!” Nessus motions his fellow monsters to be silent. “Democ, go around back to close the trap. Ruvo, you seal off this end. I shall remain here to 'protect' this strange-smelling coward. When you flush out his friend, be sure to bring him to me.”

  “In one piece or two?” Democ asks with a sadistic edge in his voice.

  “One, but save enough fight in him so there's something left for me.”

  Democ and Ruvo start toward the alley. Not fast. The centaurs want to take their time. After all, they have all night.

  My fists clench. “I'm no coward.”

  Nessus snorts. “So you say, yet here we stand while you do nothing. I assume your friend is not fortunate enough to possess an amulet, or he would be with you. Correct?”

  “OK, yeah. You're right. He doesn't have an amulet, but it's my fault he's out past curfew. He missed his bus. He's under my protection. Doesn't that count for anything?”

  “For one so fond of quoting the law, you know little. Your amulet protects you, not him! Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless you'd care to give the amulet to your friend. That would spare him.”

  “But not me?”

  “No, not you. Giving your friend the amulet would prove you are no coward. Then we could fight! Such blood! Such glory! What do you say? Will you trade your friend's life for yours?”

  When I don't say anything, Nessus shakes his shaggy head. “You disappoint me, like all your kind. You humans hiding behind your priests and amulets! You think you can command us? We are the true children of Cronus! We are his blood. And you, you are nothing! A miserable, half-formed wretch born of dust and clay. There is no magic in your bones, no might! If we cannot punish you, then my brothers and I will take it out on your friend while you watch.” He levels his harpoon in my direction. “Unless you dare to stop us?”

  At the mouth of the alley, Ruvo turns back to watch me, and I get the crazy idea that if I can distract him and Nessus long enough, maybe Mark can slip past. Maybe. So I take a step forward.

  The captain's eyes widen―not in fear, in hope. The hope I will break the law by attacking him. My amulet won't do me any good then.

  I take another step forward, my face set in defiance. Out of the corner of my eye, I can tell Ruvo is still watching me, not the alley. This is a stupid plan. Reckless. What if Mark already got away befor
e Democ could get in position? But I can't back down. Not yet. Every second I buy gives Mark another chance to escape.

  “Come, little man!” Nessus says. “Fight me!”

  I take a third step. The barbed tip of the captain's harpoon pokes my chest. We lock eyes and stare at each other for what seems like forever. There's a rage building in me, vast and deep. I want to fight. I want to prove how brave I am. But slowly, painfully, I remind myself that no, that's not why I'm doing this. This is a front, a stall, a bluff.

  Come on, Mark. Run!

  But Mark doesn't run, and Ruvo remains where he is. At the far end of the alley, I don't hear Democ shouting an alarm or galloping after Mark. Either he's already gone, or he's still in the dumpster.

  “You going to stand there all night?” Nessus taunts. “Is this all you've got?”

  I step back and hold up my amulet. “You're trying to goad me, captain. First, into giving you my amulet, then giving it to Mark, but you said the amulet only protects me. If I give it to my friend, it won't protect him, will it?”

  “I said it would spare him,” Nessus answers, but his tone is evasive. He glances over at Ruvo, noticing his brother is paying attention to us instead of his duty. “Ruvo! Do you think I can't handle this human?”

  “No, brother!”

  “Then watch that alley, not us!”

  Reluctantly, Ruvo turns away. Whatever chance Mark had is gone.

  I see Nessus about to bark another order, so I stop him by saying, “You meant the amulet would only spare my friend until you finished with me, right? You wanted to get our hopes up, only to dash them one after the other. That's what monsters do.”

  Nessus laughs. “It seems you are neither fool nor coward, but I think you've delayed our fun long enough. Ruvo!”

  The other centaur snaps to attention. “Yes, brother?”

  “Get in that alley and catch us our dinner!”

  7