by R. E. Vance
The Yara-Ma-Yha-Who appeared on the back of a galloping sphinx, waving his signature knitting needles for swords. He nodded at me before joining the fight, his terrible battle cry booming ahead of him.
From above came the churning of air from Penemue’s wings. “We really must stop meeting like this,” he said.
“Like what?” I ducked under a FrogMan’s trident.
“You in the middle of a fight you can’t win, and me showing up at the last minute to save you.” Penemue picked up a FrogMan and tossed it away like a rag doll.
“I don’t see it that way.”
“Oh? And how exactly do you see it?”
I punched a FrogMan right in his cartilage-lined jaw, and he toppled head over feet. “I see it as me saving you and you, last minute, deciding to help. How did you convince them to come, anyway?” I motioned at the army of Others that were joining the fray.
“Not me. Miral. The Army wasn’t letting them out anyway, which meant that there was a fairly large congregation at the bridge. You know how angels love congregations? She merely pointed out how embarrassing it would be for a human to save Paradise Lot—twice—and suggested that should they join the fight, they could claim their part in the impending victory. In other words, she appealed to their pride. You know how they say, ‘Pride goeth before destruction.’ ”
“Ah-ha … and what about EightBall?” I asked, nodding at the kid.
Penemue landed next to me, putting down EightBall, who shakily held a baseball bat in his hands. “He insisted on coming.”
EightBall gulped. “I’m starting to regret some of my life choices.”
“Stay next to me, and we’ll survive this. I promise,” Penemue said.
EightBall forced a smile. “Just like you promised me a PlayStation?”
“You must have known that I was drunk when I promised that.”
“You’re always drunk.”
“Indeed.”
“And Sally?” I asked.
“You think I’d bring her to this? She already fears us. I dropped her off at the hotel. Figured it was the safest place for her to be, given everyone was here.”
“Oh, great,” I said, dodging a FrogMan’s trident.
“Indeed.” Penemue turned to an approaching pair of FrogMen. He burned a bit of time and released two daggers attached to metal chains that extended out from his forearm. I’d seen him do it before—it was the same weapon he used when he rebelled in Heaven, and it was damn cool seeing it again.
“Shall we?” he asked, and without waiting for my answer he threw his daggers at the FrogMen and flung his arms back. The two creatures flew in the air before splatting on the pavement a couple hundred feet behind him.
“Whoa,” EightBall muttered.
“ ‘Whoa,’ indeed,” I echoed.
I heard a pistol shot and looked over to see a human soldier standing in a shooting stance and pointing his gun at the FrogMen. He fired another shot. And a third. I guess seeing creatures of lore and legend attack the FrogMen must have woken something in him. He reloaded his magazine and continued to fire. Other soldiers joined him one by one until the entire division decided that retreating was not an option. And before I could swing my sword again, humans and Others were fighting side by side.
↔
Others and humans fought side by side against an invading army of FrogMen. In the fourteen years since the GrandExodus I had never seen the two fight against a common enemy—usually their common enemy was each other—and it would’ve filled me with a warm and fuzzy feeling if my legs didn’t feel like jello and my muscles didn’t burn with the hot fires of Tartarus.
Into the fray came several humans from the oil rig. They wielded unusual weapons—pipe wrenches, drill bits, flare guns. One particularly short man sprung on top of a FrogMan and beat him with the sharp end of a claw hammer. He screamed, “Azzah was my friend. MY FRIEND!”
We cut them down one after another until the beach was covered in the bile-colored, sea-foam blood of FrogMen. But it wasn’t just their blood that stained the sand. Others of all walks of life also bled, which meant that the earth was stained with every color of the rainbow and a hundred shades in-between.
I was beginning to think that we could win this one. It would cost us dearly, but we could win. And just as hope rose in me, one of Tiamat’s tentacles broke free, shaking off slates of stone like a duck shakes off water.
The tentacle slammed down, knocking dozens of FrogMen and Others alike, and with it my hope that the tables had turned. A FrogMan army we could handle. But the earth-shattering power of the Tiamat was well beyond anything we could ever hope to stop.
Tiamat smashed her free tentacle down a second time, then a third. Each crash caused us to lose our footing and fall, as mounds of sand flew up and dispersed, filling the air with a mist of granular powder. The BisMark doubled his efforts. Slowly, the tentacle froze. Tiamat must have realized what he was doing because she crashed her massive appendage on top of him. He would have been lost, except he had that weird “Nothing can hurt me” thing going on—at the last minute the tentacle slipped to the side, striking the ground next to The BisMark, right where Stewart and Greg kneeled, turning the sand red with blood and sparkling with diamond dust … So much for the Sith and his gargoyle partner.
A FrogMan came at me. I struck him hard on the head. He wasn’t getting up again. His friends, on the other hand, turned on me. I never knew the croaks of a frog could be so terrifying. I was overrun by them. I swung and slashed, ducked and jabbed … Still, there was no way I could keep this up for long. It was only a matter of time until fatigue would put me out of the fight, put us all out.
Just when I thought I was done for, the FrogMan standing before me turned to stone. Then another, and a couple more.
Medusa appeared next to me, daggers at her sides. With a hissing roar she called to the FrogMen. They answered. A troop of them turned on her, charging with the coordinated efficiency of a well-trained unit. Not that their training did any good. Her lips curled upward as her snakes faced the advancing FrogMen and—FLASH!—turned twenty of them to stone. Medusa whirled around, speed and grace in every step. Again, her snakes hissed. Another FLASH! and sixty more froze where they stood.
Knowing that she was burning through time too fast, Medusa drew her daggers and strode through the FrogMen, slicing and slashing. A FrogMan crept up behind her. Before he could strike, Marty flicked around and bit him. Whatever venom the snake used was fast-acting and powerful—the FrogMan fell to his knees, frothy bile spilling over his lips.
And still the FrogMen came.
The BisMark cut through them, using the trident to impale, eviscerate and destroy a dozen FrogMen per attack. Michael blew his mighty trumpet, and a hundred FrogMen turned tail and fled back into the ocean. The Yara-Ma-Yha-Who bit FrogMan after FrogMan, cutting through them like a knife through jelly. Miral’s bright sword came down, splitting them in halves and quarters. Officer Steve reverted from four legs to two, headbutting three FrogMen at once. Officer Conner stood by his side, firing from his shotgun at their bellies.
Valkyries and bunyips, sara-hebi and banshees … each of them fought for their home.
And still the FrogMen came.
The citizens of Paradise Lot fought with their very souls, their very beings. I doubted a single one of them would have fought harder for the heavens and the hells that were once their homes.
And still the FrogMen came.
We all knew that no matter how hard we fought, we would never truly be able to take down Tiamat. Not until she had destroyed our home. But this was the home we were willing to die for, and so we fought on.
And still more FrogMen came.
↔
I thought it couldn’t get any worse. It did.
A giant tentacle struck the crystal vat and the laptop, destroying both. Without the talisman holding her in place, it was only a matter of moments until she was free to destroy us all.
Not that I could do
anything about it. I had my own FrogMen to contend with—hundreds of them. Swing after swing, slash after slash, I took down as many enemies as I could, but I was losing. I wouldn’t be good for much longer. What else was I going to do?
I resolved to fight until I could no longer lift my sword. A FrogMan came up behind me and stabbed its slimy, barnacle-laced sword in my back. I screamed in pain. Medusa rushed to my side, her daggers severing first the FrogMan’s arm from his body and then his head.
“Jean-Luc, are you OK?” she asked, and spun her face to the oncoming hordes, flashing her gorgon time. The shoreline lit up. A hundred FrogMen turned to stone as wrinkles lined her once youthful face.
“Stop,” I said. “You’ll run out of time. You’ll die.”
She put a hand over my wound. Her eyes glowed white, and my pain and fatigue left me.
“Stop,” I said. “Please. Don’t waste your time on me.”
Medusa smiled. “Oh, Jean-Luc,” she said. “In another life, I would have given you all my time.”
“In another life?” I said.
Medusa nodded. “You know what Chry said to me when he died? My little boy was an old man, still being held by his loving mother who hadn’t aged a day in his whole life. I cried and begged all the forces I knew not to take him from me. You know what he said to me? ‘I spent my time well.’ I think I’d like to do the same.” She smiled, her gorgeous dimples digging into her olive cheeks. “Just promise to bring me flowers. That would make me very happy. Very happy indeed.”
And before I could stop her, she stood. The wondrous, selfless Medusa looked back at me long enough to wink at me before she walked toward her chosen fate. Flash after flash shot forth, each one freezing hundreds upon hundreds of FrogMen. More came from the ocean’s depths, yet as soon as their heads surfaced, Medusa let out another flash and they froze in the water, stone lily pads that would forever be a testament of her sacrifice. And still more came, meeting the same fate until she built a wall of stone FrogMen that blocked their advance.
Singlehandedly Medusa stopped Tiamat’s army.
↔
Medusa, old and feeble, fell to her knees. I came to her side and held her tight. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Did I stop them?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, my tears falling from my cheeks to hers.
“Good,” she said. “Help me up.” I nodded and pulled the Queen of the Gorgons to her feet. “Thank you. I think I have just enough time left.” She closed her eyes. There was a soft white glow beneath her lids. She burned through the last of her time and turned herself young. Not like she was when she came to the GoneGod world, but young like she must have been before there were gorgons and angels, when the world was new and still trying to figure out what it would be. Her snakes left her, slithering down her body as lush black curly hair grew in their place. Her dress was no longer the gown she wore to the gala but a beautiful flowing toga from an era long gone. She looked so young, so vibrant. So hopeful. “Human Jean-Luc,” she said, capturing me with deep brown eyes. “I do hope you’ll keep your promise and bring me flowers.”
“I promise,” I said, crying now. “I will.”
“Good,” she smiled, and with an outstretched hand pointing to the sea, she burned the final dregs of her time. There was one last flash, and Medusa’s skin turned hard and solid.
Medusa—the beauty-magazine obsessed, nail-polished happy gorgon with two perfect, smile-induced dimples—turned herself into stone.
And as life left her, I became consumed with a misery I had felt only once before. A sadness that I vowed, then and there, to never feel again.
I got to my feet, leaving my sword by Medusa’s stone body, and walked over to Tiamat. I didn’t care if the FrogMen attacked … by the GoneGods, I wished they would. I wished they would end my pain … I didn’t care if one of the beast’s tentacles crushed me. I just didn’t care. Not anymore.
I was done. This was it. I was ready to die.
Yet even in my misery, I knew I couldn’t just let Paradise Lot fall. There were too many left. Penemue, EightBall, Miral … Astarte, TinkerBelle, CaCa … hell, even Judith. There was one last thing to try, one last attempt—with it, I would have my wish for death granted.
I approached Tiamat and cried out the one word I heard Enkidu cry out when Astarte shared her memories with me with that kiss. The word he used when he begged the Bull of Heaven not to destroy all he loved: Enough.
Enough, enough …
“ENOUGH!”
Chapter 4
Worst … Day … Ever
“Enough!” I screamed. I wasn’t just screaming the word, I was screaming my anguish. “Enough!” I cried out again and again. Each time I uttered the word I released pieces of me that were overflowing with grief and misery. This wasn’t the fleeting misery that sometimes strikes the heart, only to be lessened in the morning. This was the misery that would stay with me for the rest of my days, never dulling, never subsiding, never diminishing. My soul was crying, and it would cry for as long as I drew breath. Of that I was sure. And now—all these years later—I can say that I was right.
I walked toward Tiamat, who had freed another tentacle from The BisMark’s spell. I figured that I was worthy enough to beg for her to stop. After all, I had fought with Astarte, and I had defended Atargatis—according to Other law, that made me their Champion. And using Astarte’s memories from her kiss, I knew that Champions were allowed to sacrifice themselves for their masters. Atargatis may have been out of the running, but Paradise Lot and all the mythical creatures that lived within its limits were not. There may not have been one creature powerful enough to send Tiamat back, but the Champion of hundreds of them … that was another story.
And judging from how her loose limbs no longer attacked the beach, I knew I had figured right. “Take me,” I said. Tiamat’s free tentacles recoiled and then stretched out, like she was considering my sacrifice. She struck the beach with each arm. Thuwamp! Thuwamp! Thuwamp! Each strike sent sand up into the air. I walked through the haze of beach and stood underneath one of her arms. It was about to fall on the earth and with its mighty sweep crush me to nothing. It swung down, and I cried out, “Can’t you hear me? Enough! Take me!” The tentacle froze inches from my face, hovering in the air as if deliberating whether to kill the puny human or accept the offering.
Astarte came up behind me, Enkidu by her side. “Jean-Luc, what are you doing?” Her words were heavy with anguish. “She consumes you and you’ll stay within her, never dying, never aging—alone forever.”
Enkidu looked from Astarte to me and then back to Astarte, and as he did, he wore a look of confusion. It seemed to me that he didn’t comprehend what I was doing, but he was more confused by why Astarte cared.
“I know,” I said. I pointed at Tiamat. “She understands that I accept all this. I am sacrificing myself … fully, completely. I am going to end all this now.”
“No,” Astarte said. “We need you.”
“You don’t. Not anymore. And what’s more, I want to,” I said. I was surprised at how calm I was … how certain. I wanted this to end. But moreover, I wanted to end.
“But—”
I put a hand on Astarte’s cheek and let hot tears run over my fingers. “I can’t do this anymore. Don’t you see? I just can’t.” I looked up at Tiamat and cried out, “Come on … take me.”
The FrogMen, who still numbered in the thousands, stopped climbing over Medusa’s wall, watching the deliberation. Tiamat’s tentacle hovered until it eventually lowered next to me, finally resting on the beach with a heavy thump. I hoisted myself up and onto the tentacle and waited for it to carry me to Tiamat’s mouth for an eternity of suffering.
↔
I thought Tiamat would toss me into her mouth like one might a peanut. Instead, the creature—the world-breaker, the ender of all—lifted me to her eye and looked at me, her black pupil larger than a hot air balloon. If it weren’t for the hard shell of cornea
over her eye, I might have been able to walk into that dark tunnel.
She stared at me, and I at her. What is the expression about the eye again? The window to the soul. I cannot tell you how or why, but I did see into Tiamat’s soul. Of that much I’m sure. Looking into the essence of her being, I saw confusion—just like in so many Others and humans. She was confused by the gods’ reckless abandonment of their children. I also saw duty to fulfill certain promises, even if those promises were made before the world had fully formed.
And I saw remorse.
“It’s OK,” I said. “I’m ready.”
Tiamat seemed to hesitate at my admission to being ready to die. How could anyone ever be ready for that?
“Come on,” I said impatiently. “Enough stalling. Let’s do this.”
Again, she didn’t move. In anger and fear, I cried out, “What are you waiting for? Come on! What do you want? A confession? Fine! My name is Jean-Luc Matthias, and here is my confession. I could’ve saved her. If only I’d been faster, smarter, better, I could’ve saved her.” I pointed at Medusa and at the sky. “I could’ve saved them both. But I wasn’t good enough. And because of me, the world suffers for their loss.”
I looked down at the denizens of Paradise Lot and the city that lay beyond. A city that was a paltry excuse for paradise, but it was all we had.
My eyes swept over the creatures who fought for this land. I saw Miral and Penemue, EightBall and Michael, the Yara-Ma-Yha-Who and The BisMark. And Medusa, her lifeless stone figure standing proudly on the sandy beach, one hand outstretched. Medusa, who sacrificed herself to save me. All I could think of was that there was more blood on my hands, more death for which I was responsible.
“Even if I’m wrong, even if Bella was here instead of me, and her presence didn’t change much, it would’ve changed one thing—Medusa would’ve never died trying to save me. It might seem like a little thing to you, but that’s everything to me. She’d be alive. But because of me, she’s dead.”
