Beyond Hades: The Prometheus Wars (39 page)

Scrambling to his feet, Talbot felt hands aiding him and glanced up to see Wes already standing, his eyes darting around for any signs of danger. The rift had opened up on the outer edge of the large, open plain behind the Olympian citadel. The soaring rear wall - the only protection from this side of the city - rose far off in the distance. Craggy peaks encircled the entire top of Mount Olympus. Off in the distance Talbot could just make out the main hall of Zeus, glinting high on the mound in the middle of the city, like a lighthouse overlooking all that the leader of the mythical Greek gods cared for.

Dusting himself off, Talbot nodded thanks to Wes and looked behind him. The rift from Tartarus remained constant. It wasn't closing. With nobody on the other side to shut it down, and no controls on the Olympian side, the rift was now open permanently - or at least until the Titans decided to close it, which probably wouldn't be soon.

Talbot heard heavy hoof beats approaching and Wes spun around, Chiron's sword up and ready to defend as a dozen Olympians warriors - in full battle armor of bronze, including greaves, breastplate, helm and pleated leather kilt - came riding toward them across the plain from the distant city. Within seconds Talbot and Wes were surrounded by a dozen spears buzzing with the same power as Chiron's sword.

"What have you done?" gasped a familiar voice. Talbot's gaze shot over to see Zeus approaching atop a magnificent white steed, his eyes fixed upon the rift shimmering behind them. "Where is Heracles?"

"Oh shit," murmured Wes, shifting the sword slightly in his hand, adjusting his grip. "Here comes daddy."

"Heracles gave his life for us," said Talbot, aware of the savage drop in Zeus's expression. "As for this," he waved his hand at the rift. "This is a catastrophic problem, and I'm not sure how much time we'll have before the Titans get here."

The look of sorrow on Zeus's face was instantly replaced by one of intense focus. "Tell me everything," he said, waving the soldiers away. The soldiers rode off in a cloud of dust and took up defensive positions, aiming themselves toward the huge rift.

Talbot told Zeus the entire tale of their journey from the point when they'd left Olympia through the rift with Heracles. The Olympian leader's expression hardly changed when Talbot recalled how Heracles had sacrificed himself to Kharon in order for them to cross the river Styx, but Talbot sensed a deep pride within Zeus. When Talbot reached their escape from Hades, Wes interjected with his severing of Hades's arm and Prometheus's miraculous powers of regeneration before allowing Talbot to continue through to the present.

Zeus released a heavy breath and ran his hand through his thick, lightly-graying hair. Not since their first meeting had this figure of legend seemed so fragile to Talbot, and he was reminded again of how exaggerated the legend of the Olympians had become.

"Damn," he heard Zeus mutter. Louder he said, "I thought it was over, I thought we might finally find some peace."

"How long do you think we have?" asked Wes.

"Mere hours," replied Zeus. "The Titans are phenomenal war makers, and while your guessing their plans and escaping would have put a glitch in their tactics, they will swiftly recover and begin to prepare. Every moment they delay gives us more time to prepare our own defenses."

"Well, begging your royal pardon, but shouldn't you be getting ready for a war rather than standing here counting daisies?" snapped Wes.

His words had the desired effect. Zeus glared at him intensely, but barked an order to one of the soldiers. The Olympian saluted, and then wheeled his horse away, speeding off toward the city. Wes and Talbot were given mounts, and they rode with Zeus and the rest of the soldiers back to the city.

The soldiers rode through the gates in perfect formation, Wes matching their grace. Talbot hadn't ridden a horse in years, but he somehow managed to find his rhythm on the ungainly mount and followed the rest of the riders into the city. Alarm bells were being sounded throughout the Olympian citadel, and as soon as they were within the thick white wall surrounding the city, huge gates swung closed, a massive crossbeam dropping into place to secure them.

Zeus dismounted, Talbot and Wes following his lead. One of the soldiers collected their mounts and rode off toward the stables. Activity was everywhere, and Talbot was reminded yet again that these people had only recently survived a devastating war. Homes were swiftly shuttered and weapons were brought swiftly through the streets toward the walls.

"Looks like we're gonna have a hell of a shindig here, baby," said Wes, grinning wildly.

Zeus rounded on him. "How many troops would you estimate the Titans had?"

"We only saw a token group. They were attempting to look like a defeated race, and as such showed us only family groups and the infirm or elderly. If I had to guess, I'd say they could potentially have between twenty to thirty thousand warriors. They tried to keep the city looking empty, but there were too many houses in good condition for the number of people they displayed to us. Their barracks halls alone could have easily housed twenty thousand soldiers, not including the ones who had homes dotted throughout the city. How many troops do you have here?"

Zeus frowned, looking away before responding. "Just under a thousand."

"Oh shit," murmured Talbot.

Wes, however, seemed to take the news in his stride. "This place is well constructed and fortified, even against a force like the Titans. Your outer walls have crenellated parapets, which are great for defense -" Wes pointed to the craggy, cut out portions to the wall which defenders could take cover behind "- and your weaponry is fantastic. How many arrows do you have?"

"Only around three thousand," replied Zeus.

"Then that's three thousand dead Titans," said Wes. "More if they work as well on those big bastards as they did on those bird things the centaurs attacked under Ayers Rock. Do you have any other assets? Talbot told me about that big fucker with a billion arms. Any more of those guys hanging around?"

"Briareus was an experiment of the Titans - much like many other creatures from that realm. Their race was always violent, given to atrocities such as we could not comprehend. They poisoned their world in such a way as to make the very air warp creatures into horrific parodies of life -"

"Yeah, yeah," interrupted Wes. "That's really very sad, but what about big fuckers who can help us kill our enemies. Have you got any of them?"

Zeus controlled his temper with effort. "Briareus has so-called 'brothers' such as the giant which attacked your companion, but he is the only mutated creature which allied himself to our cause. I managed to clone him twice, however, during the last war using methods known only to us."

"That was such a difficult way of telling me there's three of them. Where are they?"

"Kottos and Gyes are being summoned, along with Briareus, as we speak," replied Zeus, ignoring Wes's rudeness. Talbot felt certain if the situation were different the king of the Olympians would have an entirely different reaction to Wes's insolence.

"What about big-ass weapons?" asked Wes. "Do you have any cannons or rocket launchers?"

"We have several catapults, but they will be useless unless we place them outside the walls."

Wes glanced around, staring up at the huge walls. "Not necessarily," he murmured.

***

"Come on, you gigantic bastards!" yelled Wes from the battlements.

The three huge Hecatonchires hauled the massive catapult up the wall. The weapon was at least a hundred and fifty tons of steel and stone, but the multi-limbed and headed creatures carried the immense weapons up the hundred-foot walls like they were feathered pillows. The most difficult thing they encountered was avoiding damage to the huge machinery, so while two of the giants pulled from the top, one hung precariously from a thick rope and stopped the catapult from bashing and scraping against the high wall.

There were already three other catapults placed in strategic positions upon the high wall, a massive pile of glowing projectiles beside them. The container-like basket loaded the projectiles as soon as the gigantic arm of the catapult was drawn back. Talbot had wondered about this, knowing that the power contained within those projectiles was similar to electricity and as such would harm anyone who touched them. In answer, he witnessed Olympians wearing thick, rubber-like insulated gloves loading the baskets. For such primitive-looking machines, the catapults seemed incredibly efficient. Several test shots had resulted in incredible explosions. Talbot began to like their chances more and more.

And then he remembered what they faced.

He strode atop the battlements, a hundred feet above the rocky ground which stretched towards the rift from Tartarus a mile or so distant. The huge rift shimmered, and colors swirled upon the inky surface, reminding Talbot once more of oil on water.

Soon, a host of alien creatures would surge through that gate between the realms, intent upon destroying the people here in order to take over this realm. Talbot had never witnessed a battle before, not even on the television back home. Now, however, he was garbed for war, a solid bronze helm upon his head, the nasal bar pushing down slightly, the cheek guards pressing onto his skin.

The leather kilt with bronze reinforcing strips was difficult to get used to as well, though Wes strode the walls in his like he had been born to wear it, the shining bronze greaves on his shins glinting in the bright blue sunlight. It was like they had stepped back in time to the days of ancient Greece, but an ancient Greece whose weapons were almost futuristic in their power. Even the armor, though made from bronze, was apparently strong enough to withstand a bite from the jaws of Cerberus itself! Not that Talbot wanted to put this theory to the test....

The final catapult swung into place, and Wes slapped the huge Hecatonchires brother, Kottos, on the rump. Talbot was amazed at the easy manner Wes had around the lumbering creatures, and they in turn had swiftly come to respect the rough-talking Aussie, despite - or maybe because of - his sometimes strange behavior.

Wes had organized the defenses of the city efficiently and without embellishment. They were designed to be functional and devastating against an enemy which they were estimating would be more than thirty times their number.

Thirty. Thousand. Titans.

If Wes's estimation proved correct, they would soon be under siege from an astronomical contingent, along with whatever assortment of creatures available at the Titans' beck and call. Creatures like the horrific Cerberus.

Suddenly the hundred-foot high walls didn't seem so secure.

Horns sounded, echoing off the mountains encircling the plain. Talbot looked at the summits, wondering if those peaks might be the only witnesses to the end of Mount Olympus. Suddenly Talbot was hit by the realization that if he died here, there would be nobody left alive to close off the Syrpeas Gate, leaving it uncontested to expand and absorb the entire universe.

He shrugged. As Wes would say:
Who gives a shit?
If they were dead, it wouldn't worry him anyway.

The horns sounded again, and Talbot snapped his gaze forward, staring out toward the rift. It shimmered and swirled, disgorging rank upon rank of Titan troops, each warrior covered from head to toe in malicious-looking, black armor. Talbot swallowed as the troops spread out, swiftly filling the entire valley as more poured through the rift behind them. He lost count, but quickly realized that Wes had been almost conservative with his estimation of the enemy's numbers.

And then the beasts came through.

We're all going to die,
thought Talbot.

CHAPTER 16

Eight gryphons circled overhead. They occasionally swooped down to attack, but were generally kept at bay by the Olympian archers. The arrows sliced deep into the flesh of the huge winged beasts, and after their initial attempts to get within range to use their fiery breath were repulsed, they retreated to a safer distance. Now they seemed content to wait for an opportunity to attack which didn't involve such direct risk as flying through a hail of Olympian arrows.