Beyond Hades: The Prometheus Wars (45 page)

Talbot nodded and strode immediately to the adjoining room, containing the gate controls. His hands began touching the odd symbols, moving with increasing speed. Once, he almost faltered as the roar of the neades jolted through the Hall, but he continued until a loud clap sounded and the rift burst open.

Talbot turned to call out to Zeus, but a disturbance in the surface of the rift caught his eye, making him pause. Cautiously, he approached the swirling nexus.

In the center of the rift was a distinct imperfection which drew Talbot's attention. It was like a ripple upon a lake caused by an insect flitting across the surface, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was.

Talbot stepped closer, peering at the ripple.

He squinted, leaning further in for a better look.

It was almost as though....

Something burst through the thin film, and Talbot leaped backwards in terror, but he was not fast enough. Whatever it was that came through, it landed on top of him, and he fell to the ground, striking blindly and yelling out at the top of his voice. He was forced to his belly, and his arms were swiftly pinned to his sides, restraining him effectively.

Footsteps came running, and Talbot heard several gasps.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he heard Wes shout.

"It's a long story," grunted the figure atop him, a familiar-sounding voice. "And I don't like the welcome much. Not when the one with the power of the Elder-tongue decides to attack me after everything I did to aid him; when I finally make it back through to my home world."

Talbot was lifted to his feet, and he spun around.

"Heracles!" he gasped. "How -?"

"Explanations will have to wait," said Heracles. "I assume the Titans are attacking?" The question was directed at Zeus, who stared at his son in wonder before moving to embrace him. The leader of the Olympians stepped back, staring once more at his son before he nodded mutely, tears glistening in his eyes.

"I bring aid," said Heracles, gesturing toward the rift.

As if on cue, the rift shimmered and a figure emerged.

It seemed to Talbot as though time had been reversed and they were back in Hades. Heracles stood beside him and before him was a figure bearing a hideous visage. Flesh hung in strips from a skull more dead than alive. The thin gray cloak the entity wore was not enough to hide the emaciated and rotting corpse beneath.

It was the Ferryman of the river Styx.

Kharon.

CHAPTER 18

"Is this some kind of joke?" snapped Wes. "That fucker
ate
you! And he tried to kill us; him
and
his boyfriend, Hades."

"It was not my lord," hissed Kharon, his eyes malicious. "It was the Titan named Prometheus. After you both escaped through the rift into Tartarus, I witnessed the image of my master blur and change, re-growing its arm and shifting into the figure of Prometheus. I was unsure of what had actually happened, and before I understood fully and was able to challenge him, he fled. I found my master's body soon after...what was left of it, anyway."

"And now they want revenge," said Heracles. "That's why Kharon released me."

"
They
want revenge?" asked Wes. "Who the hell are
they
?"

As if in answer, the rift shimmered and row upon row of figures stepped clear. All appeared in various stages of decomposition, each bearing different features, some even appearing to be other than human, walking on four legs or even six. Bestial features all portrayed the same look of malice which the humanoid ones bore. The vengeance glowing in the eyes of the hundreds of figures which poured through the rift was the same, and Talbot instantly knew who they were, or rather
what
they were.

Keres!

The race of beings which could not be killed - at least not by conventional means. Documented throughout history as spirits craving death, Kharon himself had explained them to be kinds of parasites, albeit ones of incredible power.

Talbot suddenly realized he was holding his breath.

"What do you want?" he gasped, staring at the rotting features of Kharon.

The corpse-skull grinned. "We want to be set loose upon the ones who destroyed our lord, the kin of the one named Prometheus: the Titans."

"Will you absorb them?" asked Talbot fearfully, remembering the horrific moment when Heracles had been absorbed by the Ferryman.

Kharon shook its head. "Even if we wanted to, we cannot without their consent."

"Then what will you do?" asked Wes.

"We shall destroy them. Every last one."

"Sounds good," said Wes chirpily. "But what happens when you're done?"

Kharon glared at him, disdain at his tone obvious. "We shall leave. You needn't fear. This is not our home."

"Well, that's good enough for me." Wes glanced around at the Olympians, staring at the door momentarily as it cracked and buckled under the strain of yet another howling attack from the neades outside. "I think our options are limited at this point anyway. I vote we point these inbred fuckers at the Titans and step out of the way - no offense intended," he said to Kharon. The Ferryman pointedly ignored his comment.

Zeus wasn't convinced, but the fate of his race was in the balance and, as Wes had pointed out, his options were severely limited. Finally he nodded.

The Keres poured smoothly out of the rift, across the floor and into the large Council Hall. Several walked like men, some prowled like tigers, others slithered across the floor like giant snakes. Several gasps could be heard from the Olympians huddled in the Hall, but Zeus and Heracles moved out and assured them all was well - they were not the target.

The hundreds of Keres gathered together, facing the damaged doors.

The neades howled again, its terrifying power causing the very foundations of the building to shudder, and finally the doors exploded inwards, sending up a huge plume of dust. The Titans surged forward... only to grind to a halt seconds later as the dust began to clear and they saw what stood before them.

"They've got that 'Oh shit!' look on their faces," Wes murmured to Talbot with a chortle.

Talbot stared at the Titans, and despite the excitement pounding through him, he grinned upon seeing that Wes was correct. Within their open-faced helms, the Titans wore uniform expressions of terror.

The Titans at the front tried to retreat from the approaching Keres, but they were too tightly packed. The invaders further back had no idea what was happening and their bloodlust was still heightened, so they continued to press forward, trapping those in the front rows who sought to flee.

The Keres pounced.

They attacked silently, and were all the more terrifying for it. Their rage at having lost their lord to the deceit of the Titans was unleashed in an instant. The front three rows of warriors were simply shredded as the enigmatic race attacked. There was no other word for it; one minute Talbot was watching the Titans trying to retreat from the threat of the Keres, the next they were lying in bloody ribbons upon the ground, their armor proving useless.

Panic spread through the Titans like a tidal wave and within seconds the thousands of warriors who had only a moment ago sought blood were fleeing in blind terror. Wes, Talbot, and most of the Olympians moved outside after the Keres, watching in amazement.

The Keres were merciless. They hunted with brutal efficiency and vicious speed as they chased the fleeing Titans through the city streets of Mount Olympus.

"You guys are gonna have one hell of a mess to clean up after all this," murmured Wes to Zeus, who merely glanced at him oddly. Wes chuckled and turned back to watch the chase.

The hunt was spectacularly effective, and within an hour the Titans were either dead or fleeing across the field toward the rift. The Keres pursued them without mercy, tracking them down wherever they hid and shredding them pitilessly. The ones who had scrambled through the gap in the broken Olympian wall did not escape for long either. The Keres pursued them across the battlefield, cutting them down where they caught them, chasing the disheveled army all the way to the rift, even following them through it.

The Olympians watched in silent awe, unable to believe they were still alive. The entire populace of Mount Olympus, along with Talbot and Wes, had moved to the shattered wall and were now standing, amazed they'd somehow survived when all had seemed lost.

Moments after the last of the Keres had disappeared through the enormous rift, it seemed to swell slightly. A noise like a deep gasp flowed out across the plain, before it snapped shut with a huge thunderclap, causing several people to jump and a couple to shriek in shock.

Wes turned to Talbot, Heracles and Zeus and smiled amazedly. "How the hell did we live through
that
?" he asked incredulously. Talbot grinned in return and went to reply when something golden flashed from the corner of his eye.

The metallic flash shot across through the air, heading directly for Zeus. Heracles's arm shot out like lightning, snatching the shining blur, preventing it from hitting the leader of the Olympians in the head. A shrieking squawk elicited from Prometheus's bronze eagle, writhing and desperately seeking escape from Heracles's vice-like grip. The huge Olympian grabbed it with his other hand and tore the eagle in two, wrenching it apart with the sound of a tin can peeling open echoing through the air. He contemptuously threw both pieces of the destroyed eagle to the ground.

Theatrically slow clapping sounded across the open plain, and from the shadows of one of the side-streets stepped Prometheus. He was fully garbed in the Titan armor - jet-black metallic chest plate and shoulder guards linked with full chainmail armor covering the rest of his body. An open-faced helm sat atop his head.

"So, the mighty Heracles has returned," snarled Prometheus scornfully. Wes drew his sword, but Heracles placed an arm in front of him, barring him from attacking.

"This fight is mine," the Olympian said softly, drawing his own sword.

"How do you plan on killing me, Heracles?" mocked Prometheus. "Even the mighty Keres were unable to completely kill me only moments ago; do you think to do better than they did?"

"You talk too much," growled Heracles.

Prometheus chuckled and drew his own sword, a five-foot blade as black as his armor. Whereas Heracles's blade glittered with power, Prometheus's sword seemed to suck the light from the very air around it.

"I have longed for the day when I could cut you to pieces, you arrogant peacock," growled Prometheus.

"Your yapping is like that of an annoying puppy," returned Heracles, "but I find it much less threatening."

The Olympians spread out, away from the two combatants, several now holding burning torches as the red sun slowly set. Soon a ring was formed, flickering shadows cast as the two warriors circled.

The combatants sized each other up as they moved. Heracles was by far the bulkier of the two, muscles bulging from his hulking frame, and he looked every inch the hero from legend. Prometheus was more slender and athletic; his movements smooth and sure whereas Heracles was like a solid wall in comparison, unyielding and immovable.

The Titan towered over the Olympian warrior. At around fourteen-feet-tall, Prometheus dwarfed Heracles, who stood slightly less than seven-feet. As massive as Heracles was in human proportions, he suddenly appeared stunted and miniscule opposite the lanky Titan wielding the dark-bladed sword.

Added to this was the fact that Prometheus was virtually invulnerable.

The Titan grinned maliciously, confident in his strength. Heracles merely snarled silently.