by Nathan Wall
“Do not mention that animal again if you wish to keep your head.” Maya drew her sword and held it to Charon’s neck.
“My apologies, Princess. I was only attempting to give context.” He stood completely still and she lowered the blade. “Before the end days, our Lord Zeus spoke with his wife Hera about holding to the course. He was convinced that the other Corners would come to his aid. As she mourned the loss of their many followers, she spoke of the first abomination; a King whom Zeus cursed to walk the planet as a slave to the moon for all eternity. She pleaded with Zeus to destroy the abomination and end the feud, but Zeus refused, saying that the decision wasn’t his alone.”
“Who is it you speak of and why would they do us any good?” Argus asked.
“The first abomination was what started the dispute between Zeus and Michael,” Maya replied. Charon nodded in agreement. “The first animal changeling, much like you, Argus. But the first abomination was said to be so evil, trapped in his own tortured shell, that he was unable to be tamed or reasoned with. Why do you bring him up, Charon?”
“I know every color combination among the many stars and this combination I know not of,” Charon whispered, standing up straight. “If these colors do indeed predate my time and the first abomination is the oldest living creature from Earth, then if anyone knew these colors it would be him.”
“The first abomination is a creature not to be dealt with. This much I know to leave alone,” Maya said, squeezing the stone once more as a beam of light washed over her. Aurascales formed over her body with a raspberry-purple sheen. The stone vanished inside her armor. “Charon, bring Argus and his soldiers to the river so they may bring me the impostors.”
Argus nodded and his bones grew. A grinding sound emanated from under his skin which split open to reveal a hair-covered brown layer of new skin. His muscles bulged as he enlarged twice his own height. His head morphed into that of a bull. The axe strapped to his back was now half the size of his torso. Charon put his hand to Argus’ body and the two vanished.
* * *
Jackson and Oreios sprinted along the riverbank. The drones flew above them, helping lay waste to the thousands of Crill that hunted the pair. Unable to keep up with the sheer numbers, the Crill overpowered the drones and dug their claws into them, ripping them apart. The three drones crashed into the trees. Jackson detonated them.
The explosion tore through a massive radius, knocking Oreios and Jackson to the ground. As the dust settled, the river boiled. Oreios raised his hand and formed the errant dust into spears. He chucked them at the few remaining Crill and impaled them.
“I think it’s time to make peace with your maker,” Oreios said as a pink vapor trail formed over the river.
Jackson stood, holding his snapped rifle in his hands and flung the pieces to the ground. The area was quickly swallowed up in a pink light. Several Satyrs and a massive Minotaur appeared before them. Oreios saw Charon. The Ferryman nodded before he vanished.
“Well, run to tell the bitch I’m here, why don’t you?” Oreios muttered to himself, exchanging blows with those around him.
Jackson ran up a tree and back-flipped over a couple of Satyrs. Lifting his left arm to block a strike, he crouched and stuck one of his wrist blades into the enemy’s stomach. He rotated the blade, sliced upwards, and pulled the blade out, releasing a gush of blood and guts. The Satyr fell to the ground, his body shifted back to human form.
Argus tapped the shaft of his battle-axe in his hand. Eyes locked, he lumbered to Oreios, huffing from his snout. Oreios manifested three rock creatures, but halfhearted one-handed strikes from Argus’ axe quickly disposed of them. Argus chopped. Oreios slid to the ground and manifested a thick shield with the dirt around him. The axe dug into the shield and the edge of the blade penetrated through, sitting inches from Oreios’ sternum.
Oreios blew the shield up, sending chunks of debris into Argus’ eyes. He sprung off the ground, leapt off his enemy’s large knee, and drove his mallet-formed hand into Argus’ face. Oreios lowered his other hand, forming a connection with the ground. As he made a fist, an arm-like formation protruded from the soil. The full force of the dirt arm laid into the Minotaur, sending him to his back.
Argus, rising from the dirt, grabbed Oreios and squeezed. He slammed Oreios into the ground several times before finally throwing the mountain dweller into the middle of the river, skipping him off the surface of the water. Hundreds of Crill swarmed down, retrieving Oreios’ unconscious body. Argus turned his attention to Jackson who was busy exchanging blows with a group of Satyrs.
Jackson ducked a jab and snatched the arm mid-swipe, twisting it end-over-end, snapping the Satyr’s arm. He jumped, wrapped his thighs around the creature’s neck, and twirled him to the ground, breaking the neck. Just as he looked up, Argus towered over him.
He attempted to roll backwards, but Argus kicked him like a soccer ball, bouncing along the ground. Argus decimated several trees with one quick swipe of his axe.
The trees collapsed on top of Jackson. He tried to push his way out of them, but Argus smashed down with the flat end of the weapon, successfully incapacitating Jackson.
* * *
Jarrod slid on the ground and up behind an armored guard who walked along the entrance. He stood, wrapping his right arm around the guard’s face, taking him by the jaw, and twisted so fast the neck snapped. Lian put a finger to her temple and pointed at the other guard, freezing him in place. Jarrod approached the frozen man and sliced his throat with a wrist blade.
They started their quick descent into the smooth, carved tunnel underneath the river. Lined about every twenty yards along the walls were torches lighting the way. Lian’s back pressed to the wall. She could feel the slow drip of the water above them run along her palms. About every thirty seconds a dense rush of air blew through the tunnel. With it was a musky smell. The closer they got to the other side, the more prevalent the smoky stench became.
Two-thirds of the way through they stopped in place. Three more men dressed in rust-colored armor—each holding long spears in their hands and swords strapped to their backs—came walking along. Their armor was loose, making a loud clanging noise that echoed through the tunnel. They stopped to chat with one another.
Jarrod’s armor adjusted the light around the three men in his vision, allowing him to see in clear detail the slits in their armor. Lian nodded a him before watching down the tunnel for any more individuals who might join the group.
Jarrod rushed the three men, overtaking them before they knew what was happening. He rolled over the back of one guard, driving his foot into another’s face. He landed, twisted the first man’s arm, and drove his blade through the guard’s throat.
The second foe thrust his spear. Jarrod swirled to his right and yanked the weapon from the guard’s grasp with his left hand. Keeping the momentum of his rotation going, he swiped the blunt end of the spear across the assailant’s face, snapping the shaft in half. The guard’s jaw shattered, and he spun to his knees. Jarrod drove the blade of the spear through the back of the man’s neck.
The third guard stood and stumbled about. After gaining his composure, he drew the dagger from his left sheath and stabbed. Jarrod—time slowing down—stepped to the right and watched the dagger slowly move by his face. Every single drop of water in the cave was audibly distinguishable. Jarrod’s eyes moved along the man’s arm and up to the face. His aim locked on the guard’s elbow; his fist a drone strike. The rival’s arm snapped inward before he could withdraw his attack. Jarrod sank his wrist blade into the guard’s neck and slammed him to the stone floor, preventing his foe’s forthcoming scream.
Jarrod stretched for the guard’s falling dagger, watching helplessly as it bounced off the ground three times before coming to a stop. The crashing noise drew the attention of a few men in the distance. The clattering sound of armor made its way up the tunnel.
“There are fifteen of them,” Lian said. Jarrod grabbed a sword off one of the dea
d men and walked over next to her. She continued. “I can probably freeze a few of them.”
“Don’t.” Jarrod shook his head and smothered the torches which lined the walls near them. “When they engage me, head down the tunnel and find our friends. Use whatever means you have to...”
“I can help you.” She tugged on his arm. The aurascales retracted from his face, and she pleaded again. “I really can.”
“Our friends need you more.” His armor stretched back, bringing a terrifying glow to his eyes. He stood in the center of the tunnel.
The guards made their way to their dead friends, lighting additional torches along the way. Lian slipped past two guards, erasing herself from their minds, and ran to the tunnel exit. The commander of the group stumbled over a dead body and ordered a torch to be brought over. Upon lighting the scene, his eyes moved up to find Jarrod waiting. Jarrod’s Spartan kick sent the commander crashing into his fellow guards.
The men charged, forming a circle around Jarrod, but he was far too fast for them. He dodged one sword swipe. The errant strike slashed through another foe’s skull. With deadly precision, Jarrod unleashed jab after jab, uppercut after hook, into the bodies, legs, faces, and kidneys of those who attacked him. Jarrod swung a guard like a baton, knocking two more in the face. He tugged the guard’s arm out of its socket before shattering his skull with a haymaker.
The commander of the group took two swings, missing both times. An unsuccessful third strike was snared and broken like a twig. Jarrod’s left foot slid behind his right, with a heel pointed at a guard’s chest. His right knee hugged his sternum before launching his foot and crushing the guard’s ribcage.
Two remaining guards discarded their shields swords. They slowly stepped backwards toward the entrance of the tunnel, eventually turning to flee completely.
“Really?” Jarrod grumbled, shaking his head at the futile attempt. He leapt three times, almost soaring after them.
Within a second he was driving a knee into one of the men’s spine, snapping it as he drove the guard’s face into the ground. He leapt, grabbed the last guard by the head, spinning midair, lifting the guard off his feet. Jarrod landed and—in one fluid motion—he threw the guard into the wall, knocking him out.
Jarrod turned his focus down the end of the tunnel. His vision adjusted quickly, allowing him to see Lian arrive at the tunnel exit. He sighed with relief, seeing she was fine, and sprinted to catch up with her.
* * *
Oreios sprung to consciousness. He was on his back staring at a ceiling. Stalactites pointed back at him. His still damp and weak body was more malleable than before. His command over the earth and rocks around him waned as moisture dripped from his fingers.
Argus, still in his full Minotaur form, picked Oreios up and wrapped his full hand around his skinny and squishy body. He slammed Oreios into the wall and drove his axe into his midsection, pinning the mountain dweller to the stone. His feet dangled a good four feet off the ground.
Oreios slumped forward. His head titled sideways. Jackson was on the floor with his armor completely rescinded, naked. To Oreios’ left, a vivacious figure walked steadily toward him. Maya came into focus. Her crimson hair buoyantly swayed back and forth. She stopped to return his gaze, staring into his eyes.
“The prodigal son returns home,” she said, her voice almost moaning as she licked her lips. Her eyes rake their enticing fingers over Oreios. Standing over Jackson, Maya began her inquisition. “And I see you are running with the wrong sort. If the informant would have told me you would be among them, I might’ve rolled out the real welcome wagon.”
“So you’ve missed me, have you?” Oreios grinned, but was smashed in the face by Argus’ massive fist. His head was misshapen, but slowly formed back to a recognizable structure. He looked at the giant Minotaur and smiled, his mouth sideways on his face. “I missed you most of all, Scarecrow.”
“What are you doing with these heretics?” Maya glared at Oreios, her dress gliding over Jackson’s limp body as she stepped over him. She nodded at Argus and he pulled the axe out of Oreios’ chest. He fell to the floor, bowing at her knees. “Did we really mistreat you so?”
“I’m a free agent, you know that.” He coughed with little spurts of mud dripping out of his mouth. He tried to sit up, but Argus laid his foot onto his back. “I have nothing, you guys. I’m just looking out for number one.”
“Yes, now that all your kind is dead,” Maya mocked, standing up. “So you decided to take up arms against your creator now that you’ve failed to protect those you loved.”
“They’re all dead?” He grunted as Argus dug a heel even further into his back. “You’re not my creator. I just go where the money is...”
“Is human life appealing to you? Is that why you masquerade as one of them?”
“A lot has changed since you’ve been to the surface last.” Oreios took in several deep breaths as the massive foot was lifted off his back. “It’s amazing how far gone humans have become. It’s truly an age of decadence out there. Everywhere you go there is wonderful, filthy sex, murderous tyrants, and false prophets. You know; your kind of people.”
Argus backhanded Oreios. Chunks of his mud-like body splattered in all directions. Oreios laughed as Maya held a hand up to stop her giant centurion. She turned her attention back to Jackson and ran her hand along his face.
“It does not take much to see this one is an impostor. The trails of change are lined in his face.” She glanced at Oreios. “What is wrong with him?”
“I don’t know.” Oreios shook his head while his body slowly pulled itself back together. He leaned against the wall and held his hand up, pleading with Argus to stop. He then looked at Maya. “I don’t think it’s meant to last. I’ve fought with him several times and recently he’s not been the same. The change is killing them all slowly.”
“They are not pure?” Maya dropped Jackson to the ground and circled around his body. She walked over to a weapon stand and picked up a large golden sword. She spun it around in her hand as it glistened in the faint torchlight. “Do you recognize this?”
“It’s the weapon of Troy.” Oreios nodded, his face still shifting together. “Given to your father—”
Maya’s nostrils flared and her eyes sent an evil look toward Oreios. He added some colorful commentary to his words in order to appease her.
“—your father, that no good, lying rat bastard. Given to him as a weapon by Zeus to help shepherd a new era and life for your people.” He coughed and slowly stood up. “Might I say, you look ravishing holding it.”
“When I took this sword from my father, driving it into his belly as I watched him squirm, I saw my destiny flash before me.” Her eyes scanned the edges of the blade and took notice of her own perfect reflection. “Are the other Corners involved in this scheme to mimic our Master and Lord?”
“No.” Oreios watched as she pointed the blade at Jackson. “They’ve not been heard from. These humans know nothing of our history. To them, this all some sort of science. A game of evolution, not of angels.”
“Who is this blue adorned soldier the Crill spoke of? How do they remake our Lord in such a manner? Where is the other half of his star?” She raised the sword and swiped down toward Jackson’s head, but Oreios yelled for her to stop.
“If you kill him, you won’t get any answers.” Oreios stepped forward, raising his hand. As his skin to took shape, he continued. “These people… they’re not loyal to a god, but to an ideal. Their leaders aren’t feared, but agreed upon. Life is so much different. A god like Zeus could reign supreme over them in the absence of a belief system to corral in their immorality. A queen, given godhood, to sit at his side after she frees him. Think of it.”
Maya pulled the sword away from Jackson’s neck, looking at the ground. Her eyes quickly scanned oblivion, turning her face toward Oreios. She grinned mischievously .
“Do you have the other half of the star?” he asked, walking toward her. She nodded, st
anding straight as he moved around her. “Give it to me and I’ll free our creator. I’ve felt his presence. He was close.”
“How am I to trust you?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him. “You work with these scum.”
“No. I am a prisoner to them, just as I am to you,” he replied, pointing at the device around his neck. “I’ve got a job to do and when I finish it I will bring you our god. After gazing upon your beauty, surely he will take you as his new wife.”
“You make it all sound so appealing, but I am not convinced.”
“You said it yourself, I have no one.” Oreios fell to his knees and grabbed her hand, kissing it. “I only ask that once I complete this mission for you, you forgive my past sins and let me return to be with my people... my Corner. Surely, Lord Zeus would be amicable in helping recreate my kind.”
“As his Queen, I am sure I could arrange that.” She nodded at Argus, instructing him to retrieve the other half of Zeus’ starstone. “What of this other remake? The one in blue aurascales?”
“I am not so sure he is a remake.” Oreios looked up at her. “He is one of them. Of that much I am sure, but... he has the sight.”
* * *
“I’ve failed you all,” Hershiser cried, curled up in a ball on the floor of the small, dingy cell. Three other men, including Travis and Christian, sat in the confined space with him. “I couldn’t help it. I... wasn’t in control. I told them everything. Our enemies and allies...”
“It’s ok.” Travis pulled Hershiser into his grasp. “Everything is going to be fine.”
The massive stone door cranked open and the four men turned their gazes to the entryway, wondering who would be next to undergo the tortures of this place. When the door swung all the way open, the guard in the entryway fell forward. Behind him stood Jarrod and Lian.
