Author: Jason A. Cheek
Date: 2016-04-15 04:00:00+00:00
Description: Book Two of The Last Paladin Series. Dragged back to Irlendria after his battle with the Demon Knight, Startüm defeats the Priestess of Loviatar and the forces set against him, only to be left severely wounded and hunted by the Horde. To make matters worse, the Alliance of Aurenko lays in ruin and its member races are on the brink of war. Somehow Startüm must survive and discover what has happened to the Alliance during his exile. Back on Earth, the United States is still reeling from the aftermath of the Tuonellian’s raid. While at an archeological dig in Europe, an ancient secret is uncovere

From out of the Darkness

The air was forced from Megan’s lungs as she slammed hard into the ground, nearly passing out from the pain. Something cracked in her chest as Megan pushed herself up to her hands and knees. Seeing her assault rifle in front of her, Megan dove for the weapon without a second thought. Gripping the M4 with both hands, she rolled onto her back firing as soon as she saw the glowing red eyes. Armor piercing rounds slammed into the monstrous face at point blank range as Megan wordlessly howled emptying the entire clip in one long burst, but as soon as the bullets stopped, the shrieking creature batted the rifle from her hands with a swipe of its claws. Chunks of bloody skin hung from its nightmarish face as it rose above her. Megan’s scream filled her ears as the fang-filled maw open to rip her face off when the monster’s head disappeared in a spray of blood.

The scream died on her lips as Megan was blinded by a fountain of gore spraying from the headless corpse. The sounds of combat around her were incomprehensible as Megan struggled to clear the blood from her eyes. An involuntary scream escaped her lips as powerful hands effortlessly picked her up like a child. Before she could do more than flail around blindly, she was gently set on the ground a short distance away.

Using the sleeves of her MCCUU, Megan managed to wipe enough of the blood away to meet the eyes of her rescuer as her jaw suddenly dropped open in shock.

DESTINY

BOOK TWO

OF

THE LAST PALADIN SERIES

Copyright 2016 Jason Cheek

Published by Jason Cheek on Amazon

Cover Art by Leonardo Black

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Amazon.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Glossary

About Jason Cheek

Other books by Jason Cheek

Connect with Jason Cheek

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank a whole bunch of people for their continuing support, encouragement and tolerance: Patrick and Wendy Fields, Deanna Mitchell, Richard Webster; Allen Ashton and Leslie Atkins who endured endless discussions with me on the plot and the storyline, Leonardo Black (dleoblack) who make the incredible artwork for the cover and the concept I had come to life, Elliott Kay who kindly offered free advice on writing romance scenes, beta readers like Aharon Morgenstern, Nathaniel Heinicke and others who helped to tweak the story and make it better, along with the many others out there whom I have missed: the artists (of every stripe), fellow writers who have shared their work and creative inspiration with me and lots of others over the years, all the critics who have reviewed my work – even the most hostile reviews have provided valuable PR and feedback for improving the errors in my work, and, most importantly, everyone who took the time to give a positive review to let me know that they enjoyed my writing. Without those positive reviewers and fans, Destiny would never have been completed.

Most importantly to my family and their continued support and patience, since without them I wouldn’t be the man I am today. Also for Rowan and Kanchin (now dead) who have fill our home with so much warmth and love.

Chapter One

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

Hearing a warbling cry ring out behind us over the howling winds of the storm, I felt Frostbrand’s claws grip my shoulder even tighter as her tumultuous thoughts filled my mind.

<They’ve picked up our scent, Startüm>

As if in response to her mind-speak, the entire valley began echoing with answering calls from the various packs hunting for us below. Still staring intently down the slope, Frostbrand’s growl reverberated deep in her chest as her twin sister, Starfire, weakly lifted her head from my other shoulder. For a long moment, I felt Starfire’s small body tense in my arms as her glowing yellow eyes scanned the darkness behind us, before closing once again as she rested her feverish forehead against my neck.

Breathing heavy, I pushed on forcing my way through the deep snow. I was exhausted and growing weaker by the moment, but somehow I found the strength to put one foot in front of the other. Ever since the last battle I had been driving myself on pure willpower alone, because there was nothing else left. My hair and armor were encrusted with chunks of ice from the extreme cold and Loviatar’s hunters were closing in, but it didn’t matter.

Since my very first breath life had been nothing but a fight for survival. I had been called a perversion of nature due to the prejudice of my home world and was sentenced to death by the member races of the Alliance of Aurenko. Before the charge could be rescinded, my Father’s people had been destroyed along with my parents while I was left fighting for my life on Earth. Through it all, I had learned one profound truth about myself.

No matter what happened, I would never give up. I would never give in. Death would have to pry my stiff dead fingers from around its throat before it would take me.

Ice crystals coated my face as I leaned into the blowing wind climbing the frozen ridge. The storm was getting worse. In the time it took for me to reach the top of the valley the falling snow had reached my chest and wasn’t showing any signs of letting up. Initially, I had hoped the fresh snow would hide our trail long enough that we could escape without another fight, but that had proven to be impossible. Already the sounds of pursuit were getting closer.

Unfortunately, there’d been no way to hide the stench of demon blood left behind in the snow as we climbed. We were all covered in the vile stuff from head to toe and reeked so bad that even a human could have tracked us in the storm by scent alone. Feeling the sharp tang of the girls’ anguish suddenly flowing into me, I fell to my knees as the wild beast inside of my soul raged at their growing fear. The instinctual urge to protect temporarily overwhelmed all thought as my blood burned with the need to charge back down the hill and rend the creatures limb from limb.

Gasping for breath, I managed to slam my iron will back into place before losing control completely. Once again, my Klavikian’s logic had won out over my Werewolf’s instincts, but it had been close. As I grew weaker, the Werewolf inside of me was becoming harder to manage.

Concentrating on the girls held tightly in my arms I let my confidence and love flow into them. Immediately, I felt their distress lessen as the warmth of their love responded back searing my soul. I had shared a deep bond with my Grandsire before his death, but the connection hadn’t been anything like this.

I felt what they felt. I knew what they knew. Their emotions reflected my tortured soul like a mirror. It wasn’t the fear of being hunted down and ripped apart that caused them so much dread. It was the fear of not living long enough to make the Tuonellians pay for what they’d done to our people.

I remembered my Grandsire telling me the stories about bonded life mates. Long ago I’d accepted the fact that I would never have that kind of love. Now I found myself bound to two young girls and it was simply too much take in. Pushing the confusing emotions away, I struggled to focus my thoughts once more on the task at hand. There would be time enough later to figure everything out. First, we had to survive this night.

Climbing back to my feet, I followed Frostbrand’s gaze down the trail we’d left through the deep snow. In the distance, I could already make out the glowing red eyes of the creatures pursuing us farther back down the ridge. Now that the hunters had found our scent they were closing in fast. A low growl rumbled deep in my chest as my yellow glowing eyes met Frostbrand’s.

<They will not take us alive>

Turning around I hurriedly began plowing through the snow going over the plan once again with the girls. A second later, I heard the warbling cries behind us suddenly change to sharp barks of excitement as the pursuing Worgs saw us at last.

Even though I’d won the battles against the Demon Knight and the Priestess of Loviatar, we still had no choice but to flee. I had used up the last of my energy healing our injuries. That is, everything except for the ragged gashes running diagonally across Starfire’s face. My healing touch had closed the worst of the terrible wound, but even now it continued to ooze dark tainted blood. The demon’s venom had festered too long inside the lacerations before I could reach her. Even now my healing power wasn’t enough to completely nullify its otherworldly effects. The wound would scar her for life.

No matter how much I hated running from my enemies, there were simply too many for me to fight with any chance of survival. Magic could substitute for the lack of food and sleep for only so long, but I had run out of all three long ago. Even now, my body was feeding off itself to survive. Already I could feel the debilitating effects of the Fring consuming me from the inside out.

A quick look over my shoulder showed the hunters’ hairy forms surging through the snow in leaping bounds. Even from this distance, I could see their black lips curling back from yellowed fangs in anticipation as they growled out their bloodlust. By Earth standards the Worgs were humongous, easily dwarfing a terrestrial gray wolf by over a hundred pounds. Although they were only a third the size of a Shadowfang Werewolf, there were hundreds of them chasing after us in pursuit.

Using my last burst of strength, I made it to the base of the cliff that marked the edge of the valley barely ahead the gray wave. The icy cold air burnt my lungs as I reeled from exhaustion struggling to catch my breath. Thirty yards straight up was the top of the ridge and the path leading to the back way out of Winter Den. Behind me, I could hear the Worgs’ rasping breath growing louder as they closed in for the kill. Squatting in the deep snow Frostbrand’s thoughts came to me as I prepared to jump.

<I’m ready>

Leaping straight up with all of my might, I shot up the sheer cliff wall as the pursuing Worgs pounced a second too late. As I reached the top of the ledge, Frostbrand sprang out of my arms. Somersaulting into the air, she landed in a three point crouch as I hooked my now free arm over a protruding rocky outcrop. Coming to an abrupt stop, I hung from the edge of the cliff in exhaustion.

Seeing their prey escaping, the warbling howls of the Worgs rang out from below as the Alphas of their Pack began snapping out orders to the weaker males. Immediately hundreds of Worgs split off from the main group as they began searching for another way up the cliff.

Quickly Frostbrand pulled her sister out of my arms as I weakly clamored the rest of the way up the rocky ledge. Panting heavily my senses reeled from the effects of the Fring as I forced my body’s cramping muscles to respond. Climbing on my hands and knees, I ignored the wave of dizziness sweeping over me as I gently scooped Starfire’s limp form into my arms once more. Before I could rise to my feet, I felt Frostbrand’s clawed hands tenderly cup my cheeks as she pressed her soft furry forehead against my smooth skin.

<I saved this for you>

Instantly energy surged through my exhausted body as Frostbrand collapsed in front of me. Wrapping an arm around her, I caught her before she could hit the ground holding her tightly to my chest. Frostbrand’s small arms weakly clutch my neck as fresh power continued surging through my veins as the effects of the Fring receded from my mind.

Rising to my feet, I immediately understood what had happened. Frostbrand had given me the last of her remaining energy reserves. I also understood the why. In her mind, she was giving us the best chance to survive this night. The only problem was she had given too much.

Already I could see the black rings around her irises from the effects of the Fring growing inside her as I grimly hugged her to my chest. Unfortunately, I knew we would all be in dire straits soon enough if I didn’t find a safe haven for us to recover our strength. Temporarily recharged I surveyed the situation with fresh senses.

In the distance, I could see the outline of the misshapen bony carapaces of the Scourge as they broke through the snow in a wide swath heading directly for us. In a matter of minutes, the creatures would be scaling the cliff. Looking farther down the ridge of the valley, the second group of Worgs was already out of sight. Any time now they would be finding the back way up the ridge. We had to break free of the enemy now to have any hope of escape.

Taking a tighter hold of the girls, I took off heading further up the rocky trail. From my memories as a child, I knew the ridge wrapped around the backside of Winter Fang Rock. Further behind the mountain the path connected to a hidden rock formation that bridged the gap between this peak and the next on the opposite side of the Otso River. My Father’s people, the Klavikians, called the twin peaks ‘The Gateway’ while my Mother’s people called them ‘The Fangs’.

If we could make it over the archway in time, I could smash the causeway and stop the hunters from following after us, or, at least, force them to take the long way across the river. It would take many days of hard travel before they could reach the mountain. By then we would be long gone.

I knew the overwhelming power I felt rushing through my veins was a magic induced high, but I wasn’t complaining. Right now I’d take all the help I could get.

Similar to Terran Eskimos using food to supplement their lack of sleep during long hunting trips. Magic could be used to supplement the lack of food for Werewolves. The only problem was that once it ran out, we crashed hard. I had to break contact and find us food and shelter before that happened.

Pushing the pace as fast as I dared in the icy storm I ran along the twenty-foot wide trail, but as soon as I hit the backside of the mountain, I was forced to slow down once more. Where the mountain before had blocked the worst of the storm, I now was facing its full wrath unprotected. Even with my darkvision, the visibility dropped to nothing as the icy footing became truly treacherous, forcing me to slow to a careful walk as I followed along the winding path.

The snow had been stripped away by the blowing winds. All that was left was a thick icy sheath covering the entire path as the trail suddenly shrank to a width of three feet. The thin coating of ice covering the ledge made it look twice as wide, but that stability was only an illusion. Any weight and that ice would crack in an instant.

As I bent low to make a smaller target for the hurricane strength winds buffeting the summit, my armored shoulder dragged against the rocky side of the mountain rising above me in the dark. Only in this way could I make sure I stayed as far away as possible from the icy ledge and the dark gaping chasm that dropped to the churning Otso River far below.

It felt like the wind would rip me off the side of the mountain if I lost my focus for a second. If I could have found a protected alcove, this would have been an ideal place to make a last stand. If not for the lack of food and visibility, I could have held an entire army at bay since they could only come at me one or two at a time.

That was the crux. We needed food to replenish our bodies’ spent energy reserves, and the girls needed my healing. Don’t get me wrong, sleep would have helped too, but it was last on the list of priorities. If needed, I could go days without sleep, but the food issue was another matter altogether. Werewolves had to have large amounts of food to survive.

A Werewolf’s accelerated metabolism was our greatest strength. At the same time, it was our greatest weakness. We could recover quickly from terrible wounds that would kill most creatures and had super strength, but those abilities came at a heavy cost. Without enough food to power our supercharged metabolisms, our bodies would turn against us, literally consuming us from the inside out.

The massive amounts of power I’d been throwing around weren't helping any either. Channeling magic or holy energy was extremely hard on the body. Food and drink were the primary means that wizards, sorcerers and even paladins used to recover their body’s strength after channeling their powers while sleep was a close second.

I had long ago surpassed both my body’s physical and magical limits without food, water or sleep and I was hurting. The Italian sub I’d eaten yesterday felt like an eternity ago. The infusion of energy Frostbrand had gifted me had temporarily halted the effects of the Fring, but as soon as the power ran out. My body would once again start consuming itself from within.

Helplessly I looked down at the feverish girls held in my arms. Children were always more susceptible to the effects of the Fring than adults. They were both wasting away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. If I didn’t break free of the creatures hunting us soon, they were going to die.

The sound of claws scraping on the stone behind me was the only warning I had before the Scourge attacked. By instinct alone, I dove forward on the path before me as two misshapen shapes suddenly leaped over my head from out of the darkness.

Rolling back to my feet, I spun around catching the next Scourge rushing at me with a reverse crescent kick, knocking it clean off the ledge. Seeing another of the creatures rushing out of the darkness, I smashed my foot into the center of its chest. The powerful side kick shot the Scourge back down the path as angry screeches rose out of the darkness.

Spinning around at a loud screech of fear behind me, I was just in time to see one of the Scourge plunge into the chasm below as the icy ledge suddenly gave way beneath its clawed feet. While the second creature froze looking down nervously, I lunged without hesitation smashing my forehead into its bony carapace. As the Scourge staggered backward, I slammed my shoulder into the creature’s chest like a linebacker hitting a quarterback, blasting the Scourge from its feet. Not slowing down, I stomped a steel toed boot through its stunned face as screeches of pursuit rang out behind me.

Focusing on the frozen jagged path before me, I ran all out for the archway. As the wind fought to tear me off the side of the mountain, I bounced precariously off the rocky cliff face as I continued to climb. Around every bend, the sounds of raking claws on stone grew louder. If not for the twisting path and the terrible storm, I would have already been forced to fight. Although now I knew it was only a matter of time before the hunters caught us. Time was the one thing we didn’t have.

Suddenly the ridge before me leveled out as I ran out onto a wide plateau. A short distance away I could see the stones that marked the entrance to the archway between the two peaks when the screeching howls of pursuit erupt directly behind me. Flinging the girls out of my arms, I spun around reaching for the hilts of my katanas as a heavy weight slammed into my back from behind. Sharp claws ripped at my head and shoulders as I sprang backward sliding out of the creature’s grip. Twisting around in midair, I pulled my blades free. Slamming the hilts of my katanas into one of the eyes of the Scourge slashing at my head killing it instantly.

Crossing the katanas in front of my chest, I slammed into the ground just as the next Scourge leaped on top of me to clamp its jaws around my exposed throat. Instantly the tinnearlian metal sliced through the creature’s neck like a hot knife through butter as the Scourge’s head plopped on the ground next to me.

Shoving the dead bodies away, I rolled forward onto my knees as Frostbrand’s wail for help pierced my mind. Slashing out with both blades at waist level I cleaved a line through the next wave of Scourge charging onto the plateau. As the creatures crumpled into bloody pieces around me, I leaped to my feet when Frostbrand’s thoughts flooded my mind.

Suddenly it was as if I was seeing through her eyes. I felt the ice cracking under her clawed fingers as she clung precariously to the lip of the cliff with both hands. As the buffeting winds sought to tear her away, she sank her claws deeper into the ice calling forth the very last of her magic, barely thickening the ice around her hands.

The vision went away as quickly as it had come as Scourge begin streaming out from the ledge. We would have no chance to survive this if I couldn’t push them back down the trail. Charging forward, I felt Starfire’s feverish thoughts touch my mind. Taking a quick look in her direction, I saw the fear on her face as she watched the Scourge surging onto the plateau. Slashing into the wave of screeching monsters with both katanas, I flung myself into the boiling mass focusing my thoughts into a mental scream.

<Starfire, you must help your sister now!>

Sharp claws grated against my armor as I hammered at the Scourge like a whirlwind. Their charge faltered, but only for a moment. Slowly the screeching mass of packed bodies began forcing me back. Howling at the top of my lungs, I slashed and dodged again and again at the creatures flooding out of the mountain path with both of my blades, but I was quickly losing ground. As soon as I cut down one, another three would rush forward into the gap. I was being driven back step by step when all of a sudden the dam burst.

I screamed in useless rage as the weight Scourge numbers bore me to the ground. As I fought for my life, claws and fangs tore at my armor as the creatures sought for an opening to rip me apart. Triggering my Rök runes, I cried out a prayer to Ukko.

“Kanskje!”

As the air surrounding me suddenly lit up with a red glow, I felt the spell’s overwhelming power flooding through my veins as the katanas in my hands began burning with blue fire. Burnt pieces of Scourge flew through the air with every swing, but still it wasn’t enough. There were simply too many of the creatures. As more and more bodies piled on top of me, I felt the crackling energy surrounding me start to fade when Starfire’s fury suddenly washed through my mind.

Chapter Two

Location Earth / Larissa Evans:

“Fifteen meters … ten meters … five meters.”

Larissa Evans held her breath as Tony called out the closing range as CHARLIE approached the perfectly round eighty-meter diameter Geode in the center of the volcano. Normally the excited MIT CSAIL Robotics graduate couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes at a time, but now the young man was completely focused as he sat back in the control chair.

Excitedly Tony called out as the multimillion dollar machine touched down. “Nara, we have contact. I’m setting the anchors points now!”

With a sigh of relief, Larissa watched the Titan XI drilling robot spread its bulky quad legs to their furthest extension as Tony worked the force feedback controls. When hooked into the neural suit’s feeds and surrounded by the unit’s one hundred and eighty-degree virtual display, Tony operated as if he were one with his creation. The interface was so precise that he could’ve picked up an egg without breaking the shell or punched through a steel girdle, which was perfect for the level of precision this delicate drilling operation needed.

The riskiest part of the entire plan had been making sure Thera’s lava dome didn’t crumble during the breaching phase of the operation and crush one of the many magma chambers surrounding the circular rock far below. A surge of oxygenated air hitting the exposed magma would automatically trigger a pryroclastic blast, which would ruin the entire operation. Not to mention possibly destroying the entire island of Santorini.

Even if there wasn’t a breach of the magma chamber, at any time scalding hot gasses could fry their equipment in seconds. These ‘Hot Surges’ were naturally occurring in active volcanoes and typically ranged from a hundred degrees centigrade to one thousand three hundred degrees centigrade. They were similar in many ways to pryroclastic blasts, but without the explosive lava eruption.

The Titan had only been designed to handle a maximum temperature of about seven hundred degrees centigrade, so Larissa had made sure the lava dome had several hours to release any pent up gases before sending CHARLIE down into the hole. As the large machine settled into place, Tony triggered the grappling routine as CHARLIE’S onboard computer deployed its specially designed gel-anchors to the smooth rock face. Perched as it was atop the unnatural rock formation, the drilling robot looked like some giant spider hanging from a long thick thread, while perched atop a massive egg.

The “thread” was created from a carbon-graphite composite that had two primary functions. The first was to protect the data cable bundle that was the robot’s central nervous system. The second function was to lower the robot into the center of the volcano. The fibers were woven with a plastic resin that gave the cable an incredible strength-to-weight ratio and heat tolerance that was perfect for these extreme conditions.

“What’s the temperature looking like in there?”

“It’s hovering around four hundred degrees, Nara.”

Whipping her head around, Larissa glared at her longtime friend and subordinate, Sharon Wrigley. Studiously Sharon monitored the flat screens in front of her as she unsuccessfully tried to hide the smirk on her face. Looking around the small control room of the Triumph, Larissa saw the rest of her close-knit team trying not to laugh at the inside joke. Replying calming she ignored the comment.

“That’s well within our safety margins. Let me know if it gets above five hundred fifty centigrade.”

“Rodger that.”

Everyone on the team except Tony knew she hated being called Nara. Not that she hadn’t repeatedly wanted to tell the exuberant young man just how infuriating it was to be compared to that scantily clad video game bimbo everyone loved to compare her too. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much choice in that matter due to her current financial crisis. Simply put, she needed the money.

It pissed her off to no end that some bloody game designer had stolen her life’s story and made it into a popular video game series. They had shortened her name, given her a chrome automatic handgun and a matching Rambo style survival knife and had her gyrating throughout crypts around the world. At times, it was enough to make her want to scream!

It was hard enough for a woman to be taken seriously in the male-dominated world of archeology where the ‘Boy’s Club’ ruled the academic circles. Although being the daughter of Sir Arthur John Evans had helped to a point, it always felt like an uphill battle.

Unfortunately, her enhanced physique didn’t help matters either. Her naturally large bust had always made it difficult for men to take her seriously, but now after that video game Thomas Sterling had made of her, it was nearly impossible for her colleagues to even look her in the eye.

“At the very least the bloody buggers could have changed her looks!”

Unlike everything else, that was the one thing they hadn’t altered. While the video game company became richer and richer, her sponsors had dried up in the wake of the games growing fame. In one fell swoop, she had become the laughing stock of the academic world of archeology.

Archeology wasn’t something that you figured out one afternoon after working-out at the gym. It was something you mastered only after years and years of hard research and study. Unlike many armchair archeologists, Larissa had put the necessary time into being the best at her trade. Learning the many dead languages needed to unravel the mysteries of the buried clues left behind by ancient civilizations. Over time, she had become a world-renowned expert on translating archaic writings in her own right.

Early on in her career, she had learned not to trust the researchers who had gone before her to accurately document the literal translations left by these long-dead peoples. In her experience, researchers either translated what they believed the writers meant, or reworded the translation to fit their civilization’s current cultural perspective.

Closing her eyes, Larissa took a deep breath as she forced herself to calm down. If giving Tony his fandom dream of working a dig with his teenage heroine allowed her to find the discovery of a lifetime, then so be it. This would be the first time she’d received anything positive from her infamy.

“Nara, I’m ready to commence drilling.” Looking at the hero-worship shining in the young man’s eyes, Larissa forcibly held back a sigh.

“Proceed when ready Tony. Just remember to keep it slow and steady.”

“Don’t worry, I’m on it.”

Unbelievably she watched the suddenly serious young man get back to work. With steady precision Tony manipulated the massive drill shaft sticking out from the back of the large robot slowly into position. It was a side of him that she’d never seen before. It almost made her forgive him for his constant adoration whenever she was around. As the diamond-headed drill bit began to spin, Tony expertly applied steady pressure. The entire control room held their collective breath as the drill bit dug into the Geode’s smooth surface. This procedure was the second most dangerous part of the entire operation.

Tony’s father owned Bouygues Construction, which was an off-shoot of Caterpillar Inc. He’d paid for his son’s Titan drilling-robot concept initially out of his pocket until he could form a company to expand on the technology his son had developed. Lucky for her, they were both diehard fans of her life story, or, at least, the story as told by Enox Interactive. More importantly, they wanted to be her sponsor and prove their design concept. This was the break she’d needed.

For once things finally seemed to be going her way. Even though she had scored the most famous archeological discovery of the century, the money she had made from the treasures recovered from the site had barely covered the costs of finding the Phaeacian city of Scheria. It hadn’t even come close to scratching the tip of the iceberg of what would be needed to properly excavate the sunken ruins.

She had nearly given up all hope of salvaging the operation when she unearthed the Temple of Atlas. While headlines around the world argued the question if the lost city of Atlantis had been found, Larissa knew the truth. Unlike most of the ancient city that had been destroyed during its slide to the bottom of the sea from tidal waves caused by the Thera eruption around one thousand five hundred BC, the Temple was completely intact. In it, Larissa had found the clues she knew would lead her to the true Atlantis and the discovery of a lifetime.

The first clue etched into the temple’s walls depicted a complete map of the Caspian and Aegean Seas in relation to Athens of Greece and the Pillars of Herakles. On this detailed map, the location of Atlantis was clearly marked as the island of present day Santorini. Similar to the map from the famous Greek historian Herodotus, Atlantis was shown as being located at the center of the island. This location was not the same spot as the recently discovered city of Akrotiri in the late nineteenth century, but an area located on the volcanic island of Nea Kameni in the center of Santorini’s caldera lagoon.

The second clue buried in the temple’s deepest vault was a metallic disc that Larissa had named the Eteocretan Key. Unlike the clay Minoan Phaistos Disc that translated Linear A into a Euboean-derived alphabet after the Greek Dark Ages. The Eteocretan Key was made from a metal never before seen and translated an unknown but highly developed complex written language into Minoan and Euboean. Along with this disc was stored an entire vault of clay tablets. Once translated, these tablets recorded in detail a most remarkable story that ended with the destruction of Scheria.

Once she had reconstructed the unbelievable series of events that had led up to the most devastating volcanic eruption in known human history, the first thing Larissa did was contact an old friend of hers working at the Satellite Imaging Corporation. The company was the world leader in Geospatial Imaging Technology. At her request John Limerick took a Seismic 3D GSI image of the entire island of Santorini. One week later when John contacted her back with the results, he was screaming through the phone in excitement. After opening the satellite images he’d sent over to her in an email, she’d begun screaming excitedly right along with him.

It took them both several minutes to calm down enough to intelligently discuss the results, but once they did John immediately understood the magnitude of what they’d found. He’d readily agreed not to share the photos with anyone else. Without a doubt, Larissa knew that she’d found the discovery of a lifetime. Once the story broke, she knew it would change the world forever.

The volcano was unlike anything she’d ever seen before in her life. It wasn’t a rupture in the Earth’s crust caused by a magma chamber deep below the surface. Instead, it was a relatively shallow chamber of expanding magma with a perfectly circular rock formation approximately eighty meters in diameter sitting at its center. Directly below the magma chamber was what appeared to be the outlines of a massive buried city complex larger than the entire Nea Kameni Island. Logically, there was no way this shallow magma pocket could have created the largest recorded volcanic eruption in written history that completely devastated the ancient Mesopotamian valley. Scientifically, there was no way for it to even exist.

In a move that shocked the entire archeological world, Larissa sold the rights of the entire Scheria dig to her father’s longtime friend, Stefanos Thomopoulos Marinatos, current Keeper of the Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology. Next, she cashed in the last of her father’s famous fortune to fund her new enterprise. While the entire academic world called her crazy, Larissa flew to Peoria, Illinois.

Looking for the owner of Bouygues Construction, an innovator in the world of harsh environmental construction robots, Larissa was quickly introduced to Mr. Jonathan Rickshaw. To her amazement, he knew all about her. Jonathan and his son, Anthony Rickshaw (aka Tony), had been playing the Crypt Creeper series for the last fifteen years. They were both hardcore fans of the video game series and had even been following her real life exploits.

The meeting quickly evolved into a dinner at their mansion where Larissa was able to explain in detail what she needed for her next project. Together, the three of them had come up with a plan that, if successful, would make them all rich. Unbelievably, by the end of the night, Larissa had her new sponsor.

A sharp intake of breath from Tony broke her train of thought as the young man shouted over his shoulder. “Nara, we’re breaking through to the inner chamber!”

Suddenly, Tony’s body went ridged as he screamed in agony. Before anyone could react, the entire control room’s power grid went down. In the pitch black darkness that followed, Larissa strong British accent rang out loudly.

“What the bloody hell is going on?”

Chapter Three

Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

Even though Nessa slept, her soul began to shiver at the approach of the Thunderbird. Although its beating wings sounded like thunder rolling across the plains in the physical world, it was neither living nor dead, but a creature of the spirit realm.

The various tribes of the plains had many different names for the messenger of the God Luonnotar. The people of the Thunder Tribes named it the ‘Wakinyan’ or ‘Death Messenger’. As the Thunderbird’s black shadow fell across her sleeping form, Nessa trembled as she felt the biting cold of the grave seep into her bones. The creature’s otherworldly presence filled her heart with dread as she silently prayed to be free of this never ending nightmare.

How many times would the Wakinyan haunt her sleep?

How many times must she relive her brother’s death?

Tears began streaming down her face as she felt the Thunderbird’s massive claws fastened around her greater torso. With a ferocious shriek, it launched itself into the night’s sky with her soul held firmly in its bony grip.

Normally, the moonless night would have hidden the plains below in its cloak of darkness, but in the spirit realm, there was neither day nor night, just a white glow that removed all shadows. With grim acceptance, Nessa watched the rolling plains swiftly stream by beneath her dangling hooves as Wakinyan carried her towards the Great Forest at the edge of the plains.

Already in the distance, she could see her brother’s Patrol approaching the small group of Elves near the forest’s edge. Unconcerned, Tolnik held his bow upside down over his head in greeting as he approached the Forest Elf Leader.

For centuries, the Elves had been the Tribes of the Plains longtime allies. The two races shared similar beliefs of living with the land and regularly traded small goods whenever they met. Also, earlier in times of War, they’d fought together as allies against the Tuonellian hordes.

Many of the Tribe thought it a good omen to meet the reclusive forest dwellers. Good fortune or not, Elven goods held high value throughout the plains. Nessa could already see the warriors of the patrol quickly rifling through their packs in preparation for the intense trading session that always occurred at a meeting of the two peoples. Although, with ten Centaurs to every Elf, she imagined the trading would have been in the Elves favor.

This time as she relived her brother’s memories, Nessa studied the Elves closely as the Wakinyan soared directly overhead. Lower and lower it circled and still she couldn’t see anything out of place, wait … Nessa’s body went ridged as the realization hit her. Where were the Elves tinnearlian-wood bows? Forest Elves never went anywhere without their great bows!

Concentrating, she made a mental note of the odd fact as the scene continued playing on as always without stopping. This time, Nessa swore she would find the answer as to why the Luonnotar’s messenger continued to drag her soul back to this same point in time every night. There must be a reason other than her brother’s death gift!

She knew the tribes stories as well as any shaman. Never before in her people’s history had such an event been recorded in the ancient songs. As the Thunderbird carried her soul into her brother’s body, Nessa heard the cries of shock as the Elves brutally attacked her people. Immediately her brother went down as the Elven Leader shattered his front legs with one savage strike. All around her, Nessa saw Centaurs dying as the Elves nearest to them ripped out their guts before they knew what was happening.

Unbelievably, she watched the nearest Elf lift one of her Tribe brother’s high into the air as its arm stretched out to an impossible length. As the Centaur helplessly struggled in the iron grip, the Elf’s other arms grabbed a hold of one of the Centaur’s flailing legs. With a powerful yank, it ripped the limb out from the roots, before tossing it away gleefully. While the warrior screamed in agony, the Elf reached for the next flailing limb.

Dropping everything the rest of the patrol rushed forward to attack. Throughout all Irlendria, Centaurs were considered fearsome warriors. Their strength and endurance were legendary. Unlike many races where only the males fought, in the Tribes of the Plains, everyone was a warrior.

Whipping out their tinnearlian-wood maces, Nessa’s watched as her Tribe’s brothers and sisters raised their heavy two-handed weapons above their heads. With screeching war cries, they threw themselves at the Elves without hesitation. The two-handed maces were a perfect match for their powerful bodies. The thick tinnearlian-wood was nearly indestructible and had been her people’s traditional weapons for centuries.

In horror, Nessa watched the creatures’ shrug of her peoples’ assault as if it were nothing. At first, she thought the weapons were having no effect against the Elves, but slowly she realized that was not the case. Her people’s weapons were leaving terrible wounds, but the monsters were simply ignoring the ruinous injuries in their blood lust. Here and there Nessa saw an Elf go down, but it wasn’t enough. Her people were dying too quickly.

Flinging the dying Centaur away, Nessa watched the first Elf grabbed the next closest warrior. As the taloned hand locked around the young male’s throat, the creature’s other hand ripped the struggling warrior’s arm completely out of its socket.

Forcing herself not to look away, Nessa watched as the Elves viciously slaughtered her people. All around her, she saw the blood and guts of her Tribe’s warriors scattered across the plain. When the last member of the patrol had fallen, there were still seven of the abominations left out of the ten that had initially attacked her people. This time, she saw what she had previously missed. It was possible to kill these creatures!

Nessa watched as the Elves slowly approached where she laid inside her Brother’s destroyed body. She could feel Tolnik’s terror as the Leader looked down at him with a wicked gleam in its eyes. As it kneeled next to him, Nessa tasted her brother’s fear as he watched the Elf’s long fingers transform into sharp claws. A second later, she found out why.

Nessa’s screams joined that of her brother’s in agony as his pain became her own. To her growing horror, she felt her flesh slowly being ripped off of her hide in long strips as the creature began eating Tolnik alive. Again and again, she screamed out from her brother’s torment until her voice was a hoarse whisper and still she screamed. She screamed in darkness as the creature plucked out the eyes from her brother’s head and still the suffering did not end. Nessa didn’t stop screaming until her brother’s still beating heart was ripped from his chest. Only then did the terrible agony finally end.

Slowly the light returned as Nessa felt her soul soaring into the sky once more. As the Thunderbird returned her soul back to her cold body, Nessa forced herself to remember every detail of her brother’s grisly death. There had to be something she was missing! As Wakinyan rose to leave, Nessa froze as the realization suddenly hit her.

Above her, the Thunderbird’s massive head bend down to look at her as Nessa remembered the last thing she’d seen before the eyes were plucked from her brother’s head. The Elf’s face had been transforming into the likeness of her brother! Understanding flared through her as she met the Wakinyan steady gaze. This time, she knew the spirit creature would not be coming back for her.

Chapter Four

Location Irlendria / Tiberius Decius Lupus:

“LUPUS … LUPUS … LUPUS”

The roar of the crowd was overwhelming as the procession made its way into the Capital City of Gravida. As they passed through the Arch of Akras, the sound hit like a blast of thunder. Flicking an ear in annoyance, Tiberius paused before the capital’s cheering citizens.

It was normal for a city to welcome returning commanders from a successful campaign, but this was the first time a Legion had been sent against a city of the Imperium. Luckily, Tiberius had managed to resolve this situation without violence to its citizens, but if things didn’t change soon, the situation was only going to get worse. Tiberius had never seen such a clustered mess like this before. Everywhere he looked the causeway was chocked full of screaming people. As the bulls of his personal guard shift into a protective formation around him, Tiberius scanned the plaza over their heads flathoofed.

What was going on? Normally the First and Second Legions were in charge of keeping order in the Capital of the Imperium. It had been that way since the Imperium was formed. Now there wasn’t a legionnaire in sight! A sinking feeling hit Tiberius’ stomach; something was terribly wrong.

Looking over his shoulder, Tiberius gazed out at his Legion standing in formation before the massive city gates. Once again he wished they were marching at his back. With Paiva’s golden light reflecting off of their Lorica Segmented armor and their horned heads held high, Tiberius had to admit they were a formidable looking site.

The Thirteenth was his Legion. Each of his legionnaires carried a double-headed battle-axe slung across their armored backs, while rune powered Wolf Gauntlets covered their thick muscular arms to the elbow. Even though battle-axes were his people’s traditional weapon, the scutum shield wall and gladius blade built into the gauntlets had become synonymous with the Imperium’s Legions since the beginning of the Tuonellian War.

Flexing his meaty hands to release his building tension, Tiberius felt the comforting weight of his gauntlets. The Thirteenth deserved more thanks than this for quelling the rebellion in Tulskana. Not to be left standing before the city’s walls like honorless nafda. Not to mention, Tiberius would have felt better having them standing at his back when he met his father.

Unfortunately his father’s commands had been clear on that point. The Thirtheenth would wait before the city’s gates. Catching Commander Mettius Scipio’s eyes, the third in command over the Legion, Tiberius raised his fist silently overhead. In answer, the entire Legion immediately clenched their right fists as they thumped their chest in salute to the young prince. With his back straight, Tiberius faced the crowd once more as his tail lashed behind him with nervous energy. Squaring his broad shoulders, he gave Centurion Vitruvius Aquila, the Commander of his personal guard, a sharp nod to continue.

Immediately the two decanuses of Tiberius’ personal guards stepped out forming a protective wedge around him. Each decanus lead a contumbernium numbering eight bulls strong. Moving as one unit, they strode into the swirling press of people. The tumultuous sound became a deafening roar as it reverberated off the concrete buildings that lined the plaza as they headed for the great causeway leading to the heart of the capital. As they moved through the crowd, the city’s citizens pressed forward seeking to touch the tips of his curved horns for luck.

Tiberius’s legionnaires did a valiant job keeping back the young bulls, old cows and grizzly veterans that pressed in around them, but that was not the case for the buxom heifers that sought his attention. Before Tiberius knew what was happening, voluptuous heifers were hanging garlands of flowers around his neck as they pressed their soft bodies against his armored chest. One heifer, in particular, caught his attention.

Ducking under Centurion Vitruvius Aquila’s outstretched arms. She appeared to him as a vision of beauty with her curvaceous hips, tawny white and brown fur, small feminine horns and large brown eyes. Sliding her luscious body against him, she pressed her lips to his ear.

“Regulus Lupus, you must save your people!” Whipping his head back, Tiberius took a careful look at the beauty in his arms. In shock, he recognized the symbol of a Holy Seeress hanging around her neck.

“Your Father seeks to destroy the Imperium!” A look of anxiety crossed her beautiful face as the flow of the crowd began pulling her away. Clinging to Tiberius’s broad neck with both slender arms, she spoke in a rush of words.

“He is not what he seems; you must be …” With a scream of frustration, she was yanked from his neck as another young heifer thrust herself into his arms.

Tiberius tried to pull the Seeress back, but it was too late. She was instantly lost in the crowd. Feeling a wet kiss on his cheek, Tiberius turned around to perky breasts being shoved into his muzzle as the new heifer hung garlands over his horns. A second later she disappeared back into the crowd as more soft arms reached out for him.

The scent of females ready to breed was thick in the air as Tiberius felt his blood beginning to burn in his veins at the press of so much feminine flesh. The garlands of Tennessean blooms were aphrodisiacs for his people. Young heifers gave them to prospective males as a symbol of their readiness to mate.

Light headed, the urge to rut was nearly overwhelming as Tiberius focused his thoughts grimly on the task at hand. Around him, he saw the flaring nostrils of his guards as they fought their individual battles against their primitive desires. Like him, they knew now was not the time to lose control. There was too much at stake. Just when Tiberius thought he could hold out no longer, the flow of heifers began to fade as they reach the far side of the plaza. Entering into the main causeway, they began making their way to the heart of the capital as Tiberius sighed in relief.

Minotaur society celebrated their warriors. For his people, there was no higher calling than serving in the legions, and family herds were always looking to improve their bloodlines. A daughter capturing the eye of a returning legionnaire was an honorable way for females to find a new mate.

It wasn’t that Tiberius was against the impromptu orgies that occurred when legions returned from successful campaigns. Like any male, he enjoyed servicing the willing heifers as much as the next bull. More importantly, the tradition served to help his people recover their terrible losses from the Tuonellian War.

No, the problem was the missive Tiberius had received shortly before their arrival. The command had been short and to the point. “Under orders of the Emperor, Tiberius was to leave the Thirteenth Legion outside the city’s walls and go to the Emperor’s Square with utmost haste.”

Tiberius had felt a cold sinking feeling deep in his gut when he read the message. Ever since the breakup of the Alliance of Aurenko, his father had begun acting strangely. His mother had fought valiantly against her husband’s worsening condition, but to no avail. It seemed like nothing could hold back the people’s growing unrest that was slowly tearing apart the Imperium.

Following the mysterious death of Tiberius’s mother earlier this year, his father had gone completely insane. The decrees coming from the Imperial Palace only seemed to be making the political situation, even more, unstable. Just when Tiberius had thought it couldn’t get any worse, the Provence of Tulskana had risen in rebellion against the Emperor with rumbles of more cities threatening to follow.

As they entered the Emperor’s Square at the center of the capital, Tiberius thoughts were jolted back to the present as a callused hand gripped his shoulder tightly. Passing through a line of Praetorian Guards, the press of the crowds gave away as Centurion Vitruvius Aquila hissed urgently in his ear.

“Legatus, there are only the Emperor’s Praetorians left in the city.”

Scowling at the title, Tiberius followed the Centurion’s gaze. Aquila had been like a father to him for all of these years, but still the stubborn old bull refused to call him by his first name. As Tiberius scanned the troops standing in formation around the square, Aquila continued in a harsh whisper.

“What happened to the First and Second Legions?”

For a long second, Tiberius met the old bull’s alarmed eyes as they both considered the implications. It could only mean things were even worse than they had feared. Grimly, Tiberius gave the signal for the column to form up as Aquila’s brusque commands rang out in the plaza.

“Legionnaires form-up, lead first!”

As the column of bulls opened up, Tiberius moved forward to take his rightful place at the head of the column with Centurion Aquila at his side. Behind him, each of his two contuberniums of eight legionaries, led by a Decanus, formed up behind them a double column.

The first contubernium, holding his best soldiers, was led by Decanus Cornisus. The smallest and toughest bull Tiberius had ever met. Covered with a black coat of long, course fur, Cornisus was a natural born scrapper with a scarred body and broken horns that bespoke hardships that gave even the most hardened warriors pause.

Tiberius’s second contubernium held his next best warriors. Its leader, Decanus Marcellus, was almost the complete physical opposite of the first contubernium’s leader. Although Marcellus was considered a “pretty bull” with his fine light-tan fur and comely muzzle, he was a brilliant tactician and the youngest male ever to hold the rank of Decanus.

Focusing his thoughts once again on the group waiting at the center of the square, Tiberius noticed even more oddities. None of the Praetorian Guards wore tinnearlian gauntlets or Lorica Segmentata armor. Even stranger yet, they carried actual rectangular shields and heavy spears for their primary weapons and armor made from ironidium of all things. The Imperium hadn’t outfitted their warriors with that since before the Great War with the Tuonellians. Although the Golden Wolf of the Royal House and the standards of the Emperor’s Praetorian Guards rose above the sea of horns before him, oddly enough the pennant of the Imperium was missing. In its place was something Tiberius had never seen before.

Looking closer, Tiberius realized it was a carved image of his father’s bust. With growing apprehension, Tiberius came to attention before the Commander at the center of the plaza as he brought his fist across his chest in salute.

“Legatus Tiberius Decius Lupus reporting as ordered to the Emperor!”

For a long moment, the Commander looked Tiberius over with obvious disdain before addressing him with open contempt. “You were specifically ordered to leave your legionnaires outside the city walls. Why have you disobeyed the Emperor’s edict?”

Tiberius immediately felt the blood surge through his veins at the Commander’s informal address. Narrowing his eyes dangerously, he took a step close to the smaller male. Behind him, he heard the distinctive clink of metal as his personal guards tensed for action. “My legion was left outside the city’s walls as commanded!”

Waving a gauntleted hand at the men behind Tiberius, the Praetorian Commander snorted in contempt. “An obvious lie, otherwise you wouldn’t have legionnaires standing behind you.”

Looking down his long muzzle, Tiberius grabbed the obnoxious male by the front of his armored collar bellowing. “You witless nafda, they are my personal guards!”

Instead of showing fear, the Commander only laughed in contempt. “What a dumb beast, admitting you have broken yet another edict from the Emperor. You of all people should know ignorance is no excuse for breaking the law.”

“All private guards have been banned throughout the Imperium.” With surprising ease, the smaller bull effortlessly shoved Tiberius away from him. Raising his voice, the Commander continued contemptuously. “Your soldiers will lay their arms down and leave immediately, or I will have their heads put on spikes around this plaza!”

Tiberius had spent almost his entire life surrounded by his personal guards. Every one of his bulls had become a member of his household on the day of his birth when they took their oath of fidelity. Without looking behind him, Tiberius knew that they would fight to the death before relinquishing the means to protect his life.

“I am the son of the Emperor and next in line for the throne. The Senate itself has sanctioned the Royal Family to have their personal guardians present at all times. You will ...”

With a bellow, the smaller male overrode Tiberius words. “There is no more Senate!” Seeing the stunned look on Tiberius’s face, the Commander smiled darkly. “Nor will there be any more of these traitorous legions left running around the Imperium.” Before Tiberius could respond, a deep baritone cut them both off.

“I think that’s enough discussion, for now, Commander Brutus.”

Looking up at the sound, Tiberius froze as he saw the apparition of his father, Emperor Manius Decius Lupus, standing before him. Physically, it looked like his father, but at the same time, it was nothing like his father. The once white robes hanging from his gaunt shoulders were now filthy, stained with chunks of some unidentifiable rotting flesh while dried encrusted blood matted the course fur of his long muzzle. His father’s once bright brown eyes now looked like dark sunken holes burnt into the center of his skull. There was no longer the decisive proud bull Tiberius had loved and admired as a young bullock. Instead, there was only madness. Before Tiberius couldn’t find his voice, his father lips curled in disgust.

“You have been a great disappointment, Tiberius.” Slowly pacing back and forth, his father began ranting. “I sent you to quell the rebellion in Tulskana. Instead of killing the rebels as I commanded, you imprison my Praetorian Legatus and let those traitorous beasts live. Now, after bringing disgrace upon our house, these miserable creatures have the audacity to celebrate your return as if you were some returning hero.” His father stopped suddenly as his red-rimmed eyes bore into Tiberius. “Now I’m stuck cleaning up your mess!”

Infuriated, Tiberius voice began rising in volume. “What rebels are you referring to father? The Praetorian Legatus and his goons that were unjustly slaughtering whole towns full of our people and then began destroying the entire provinces’ crops by closing off the aqueducts? The same crops, might I remind you, which are needed to feed the entire population of the Imperium. Or, are you talking about the law abiding citizens defending themselves against the insane bulls slaughtering them without cause?”

Shaking his head, Tiberius’s father laughed out loud at his outburst. “Do you think I wasn’t aware of what my Praetorian Legatus was doing?” Gnarled hands suddenly grip Tiberius’s collar as his father lifted him into the air bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Nothing happens in the Imperium without my command!”

With a wordless cry, Tiberius was flung back into the bulls behind him as his father began frothing at the mouth. “Just in case you hadn’t heard, those pointy ear savages you call friends have just destroyed the First and Second legions on their way to Aosta as they passed through the Great Forest.”

Tiberius saw his father’s face harden into an unrecognizable mask of fury. “Your unnatural infatuation with the Elven Princess has placed the entire Imperium in jeopardy.” With a snarl, his father’s voice rose in fury. “You are no longer my son! You are nothing to me!”

Turning away from Tiberius, his father began bellowing orders to the Praetorian Guards in the square. “Commander Brutus, you are to escort this traitor to his residence and place him under house arrest.” Pausing next to the Commander, Tiberius’s heard his father’s whispered command from where he stood. “You know what to do.”

As a hundred bulls from the Praetorian Guard’s First Cohort suddenly surrounded Tiberius and his bulls with their weapons drawn, there was a growling rumble of dissent from the crowd of citizens at the far end of the plaza. Striding to the center of the plaza, the Emperor continued bellowing out orders. “Praetorians, on the order of your Emperor you are to clear the streets of the capital of these cattle by any means necessary!”

Around the massive square, there was a great answering bellow as four cohorts of the Emperors Praetorian Guards slammed their mailed fists to their armored chests. A second later, battle horns rang out as two thousand bulls began moving in unison. Forming up into battle lines, the Praetorian Guards faced the outraged citizens of the city with their spears held at the ready.

Tiberius staggered as a spear butt slammed across his back propelling him forward. Whipping his head around, he saw Commander Brutus’s cruel face daring him to fight back. “Get moving traitor!”

Seething inside, Tiberius began following the guard escort in front of him as he and his soldiers were led out the far side of the plaza. He heard the fearful screams of the citizens crying out behind him a second later as they entered the small avenue heading towards Tiberius’s residence deeper within the city. As they walked, Tiberius felt Centurion Aquila’s rough hands grip his shoulder as his mind reeled at his father’s insanity. The dissolution of the Alliance, his mother’s death, the war with the Elves and now even the slaughter their own people, it all made no sense! Hanging his head low, Tiberius struggled to make sense of his turbulent thoughts.

A year ago, Tiberius had been shocked when his mother had preordained her death at the hands of her husband. At first, he had refused to believe his mother’s warning, but when he found her throat ripped out and her guards disemboweled at the center of her residence in the heart of the Imperial residence. He knew then that something was terribly wrong. Switching to the Legion’s battle-speak, Tiberius began issuing orders in a low whisper.

“On my command, form up on me. Formation Beta, double-lined staggered!”

Without breaking stride, Decanus Cornisus passed the orders to the eight legionnaires behind him. In turn, they passed the message to Decanus Marcellus, who did the same for the legionnaires that followed him.

Grim-faced, Tiberius’ legionnaires began secretly preparing for battle as Centurion Aquila’s bushy eyebrows rise in consternation at the order. Without comment, the older bull loosened the shoulder strap to the large double-headed battle-axe slung across his back. Tiberius knew the order itself was treason, but he had no other choice left to him.

For the Imperium, the “Rule of Law” was sacred as any religion. Without laws and the order it brought to their civilization, there would be nothing to distinguish Minotaurs from the beasts that lived in the wild. It was the precepts of all civilization, and even the Emperor was beholden to its tenets.

Since his mother’s death, Tiberius had been forced into a deadly game of hunter and prey. Attempts on his life had become daily occurrences within the capital and the more he sought for proof of his father’s complicity the more death seemed to follow him at every turn. The mounting evidence had become a point of contention between the citizens of the Imperium and the Emperor. It was a delicate issue, but as long as Tiberius stayed within the purview of the law, his father didn’t dare openly move against him. Looking at the guards surrounding him and his soldiers, Tiberius knew now that everything had changed.

For his people, there was no greater crime than being a traitor, and yet in his heart Tiberius knew this was the path he must take to save his people. If left unchecked his father’s sickness would destroy everything around him. If he didn’t act now, the Imperium would be torn apart.

Rounding the curve, Tiberius saw his walled domus come into sight at the end of the avenue. As they approached the last intersection, he caught Centurion Aquila’s eye. Giving the old bull a sharp nod, Tiberius activated his Wolf Gauntlets as they both backhanded the nearest guards next to them. Within seconds, the gauntlet of his right hand formed into a yard long tinnearlian blade as Centurion Aquila whipped the battle-axe from his back in one smooth motion.

Punching out with his fist, Tiberius caught the guard nearest to him under the chin, effortlessly punching through the male’s thick skull as the Centurion completed his spin. A split second later, the wide blade of Aquila’s heavy battle-axe shattered the heavy shaft of the next guard’s spear, before slicing cleanly through the first guard’s thick neck. As the loud clanking sounds of heavy metal clanging into place reverberated throughout the narrow avenue, Tiberius’s bulls exploded into action as he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“Form up on me!”

“Form up on me!”

Turning around, Tiberius saw a guard rushing him with a heavy spear just as his left hand’s gauntlet completed its transformation. Lifting his arm, Tiberius blocked the strike with his scutum, which was a six foot tall and four foot wide tinnearlian shield.

KLANK

Bashing the guard in the face with his shield, Tiberius stabbed again with his right hand. The blow completely lifted the male into the air from the force of the impact as Aquila split another guard in half with a double-handed swing of his battle-axe. Taking up Tiberius’s call, both of his contubernium leaders began forming up a battle line to either side of him. With their gauntlet’s transformation complete, their bulls followed behind them like a deadly wave lashing out at any guard within the range of their razor sharp blades.

Everything seemed to be following Tiberius’s makeshift plan. There was enough confusion to give his soldiers the time they needed to get into their individual formations as he and Aquila worked on making the hole in the guards surrounding them even bigger.

Hearing the sounds of battle, the stretched out column of Praetorian Guards struggled to form up in the close confines of the small avenue, but the explosion of death at the center of their lines forced the separated ends to draw back far enough away to reform. Unused to moving in close quarters with their new weapons, the guards stumbled around like new recruits as their own Praetorian Decanus and Optios beat them into something resembling a formation.

Immediately Decanus Cornisus moved in front of Tiberius defensively. Raising a silver whistle to his lips, he blew out a shrill blast signaling his bulls to form up and ready for orders. Raising his scutum before him, Cornisus planted his hooves with his gladius held at the ready as his unit formed around him. Standing shoulder to shoulder, his soldiers lined their shields up with their leader creating a solid wall across the avenue as the last four bulls formed up behind them in a second rank with Centurion Aquila at the center. At the backside of the formation, Decanus Marcellus did the same. Within seconds, his contubernium had lined up shoulder to shoulder with their shield wall facing out the opposite direction.

Tiberius didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the absolute disorganized mess of the Praetorian formations around them. Unlike the clean-cut Praetorian Guards that kept order in the Emperors residence, Tiberius’s bulls were battle hardened veterans that had spent most of their life in armor fighting during the Tuonellian War. Even so, Imperium troops were expected to have a certain level of military proficiency. What he was seeing was a disaster of epic proportions if this was his father’s plan for the armies of the Imperium. Bowing his head, Tiberius gave a quick prayer to the Goddess Akras asking for forgiveness for what he must do next.

Looking at the smooth-faced young males surrounding them, Tiberius knew they would be forced to kill a number of the bullocks before their lines broke, but at least, the majority would live to see another day. For a moment, regret welled up inside of him for the path that the Akras had chosen for him to take until Tiberius heard Commander Brutus voice ring out around them.

“Praetorians, your orders are to kill these traitors to the Emperor. Now advance!”

Hate welled up inside Tiberius as his sorrow and rage found a focus for its outlet. One way or another he would find the answers to what was happening to his people, and he knew who was first on his list. As his blood surged through his veins, Tiberius raised his voice in command.

“Shields on me … single formation … advance!”

“Hhhooorrraaahhh!”

The explosive reply reverberated from the stone walls as Tiberius’s legionnaires leaped forward. Their ironidium-shod hooves struck the cobblestones with a metallic ring as they picked up speed. Moving as a single unit, Tiberius’s bulls launched themselves scutum first into the Praetorian phalanx like a battering ram.

Heavy ironidium spearheads crumpled on impact against tinnearlian shield walls as the front two ranks of the Praetorian Guards were blasted from their hooves into the ranks behind them. The entire front of the formation was suddenly thrown into chaos. As the first contuberniums forward momentum suddenly came to a stop, Tiberius realized something was horribly wrong.

Chapter Five

Location Irlendria / Lúthien Narmolanya:

Lúthien cringed as the old door’s hinges squealed loudly throughout the empty chamber. Carefully she peeked into the dark room beyond. It was just as she’d expected. At this time of the day, the Atrium of the Ancestors was deserted.

Slipping through the crack, Lúthien quickly closed the door behind her with a muted thump. Leaning against the smooth wood, she sighed softly at the sight before her. Looking out across the gigantic chamber Lúthien’s thoughts went back to her grandmother who always brought here to sit among the Tinnearlian trees when she was young. After all these years the natural beauty of the Atrium still stole her breath away.

On either side of the central aisle, silvery trees grew to form the walls of the chamber. Their delicate branches created a shimmering canopy high overhead while their jeweled leaves sparkled like stars in the low light. At either end of the atrium, the calcimite stone walls of the Fortress merged flawlessly with the ancient grove creating what her people called “living architecture.” Warden Morwen told her there was nothing like it in all of Irlendria.

Grinning mischievously Lúthien’s silken slippers whisked across the marble floor as she dashed across the silent chamber. Bounding up the dais at the far end of the room, she slipped behind the jewel throne at the very top of the steps. Going to the back wall, Lúthien studied the intricate inlaid designs depicting the history of Irlendria, searching for the secret lever Warden Morwen had pointed out on her hundredth birthday. Finding the image of the Elven God Tapio, she ran her delicate fingers to the top of the Bear King’s head. Spreading out her slender hand, she measured down Tapio’s face. One … two … three … stopping at the center of the god’s lichen beard, Lúthien felt the depression under her thumb and pushed.

CLICK

Silently the hidden door swung open as a cool breeze momentarily blew her long silver black-streaked hair away from her face. Pulling the silken shawl around her shoulders even tighter, Lúthien ducked into the damp corridor closing the panel behind her. As she climbed the stairs, Lúthien’s delicate filigree necklace chimed softly with each step as she headed back into the keep.

The secret passage was a little too cool for her silken attire. Already she could feel goose bumps rising on her smooth skin as she skittered down the corridor quickly. Her short silken halter top and thin loose pants were better suited for the hot midday sun then these dank passageways, but she would only need to be in them for a few short moments.

“Let’s see Argus find her now.” Argus sense of smell was phenomenal, even for a Wenci. He always won the princesses games of hide-and-seek. Normally, Lúthien hid with her cousin Enelya Tasartir, Princess of the Wild Elves, but Argus always seemed to find them first. Even though Enelya promised that he didn’t use their spirit link to track them down. Losing to a lesser species was intolerable, so this time, Lúthien wasn’t taking any chances.

From what Lúthien knew of the spirit link a Wild Elf and their animal companion shared, it wasn’t true telepathy. From what treatises she’d read on the subject during her studies it was more of an empathic sharing of emotions and feelings. Although some of the stories she’d read on the subject had hinted that there was more to the relationship than just the sharing of emotions, nothing more had ever been officially substantiated about the binding. Except for the hearsays and rumors listed in the margins of her tombs, there was no additional information she’d discovered in her research of the Sál Tengilinn affect.

Lúthien had tried to get Enelya to tell her about the link she shared with Argus, but her enigmatic cousin wouldn’t say anything more on the subject. Sometimes she could be so frustrating like that. Still, she didn’t comprehend how anyone could just turn off that kind of connection.

Even though Enelya wasn’t a High Elf, Lúthien still loved her cousin. Unlike many of her Clan, she didn’t hold the Wild Elves’ nature against them. Although, she wasn’t about to lose another round to that dumb beast either. Lúthien crept up the steps until the dark passage let out into a seldom used alcove on the keep’s third level near her father’s private library as her thoughts drifted to the current conflicts between the Clans of her people.

The first rift started when the Wild Clan first spirit-bonded with their Wenci companions. While this bonding had strained the relationship between the Clans, the true schism hadn’t come until after the battle of Daeron Fortress, when the High and Forest Clans had turned their focus into learning the arcane knowledge of the Klavikians and the power it held to fight the Tuonellian Hordes invading their world.

It was the Wild Clan’s refusal to give up their traditional spirit magic that had infuriated the other Clans and had made them social pariahs. No matter what Lúthien personally thought, the edicts of the Council of Elders were expected to be followed, especially after the deaths of so many of their people. Over the preceding years it was this continued refusal to follow the will of the Council on this one point that had allowed the conflict to deteriorate almost to the point of open warfare between the clans.

Still, Lúthien didn’t understand the intense animosity of her people on this subject. Before the invasion this would have never been an issue. The Wild Clan would have been allowed to follow the traditions of their people without question, but something had drastically changed within her people. Over the last eight years the essence of her people had begun to change in comparatively small but significant ways. Something typically only associated with the shorter lived races of Irlendria.

Studying the dusty old books that lined the shoves of the small alcove, Lúthien thought of her grandmother’s death. It was almost eight years ago to the day since she’d found her bloody half-eaten body. Over the preceding years, Lúthien had buried herself in her studies as she desperately tried to understand how and why her grandmother had been murdered in the heart of the Clan’s fortress. While most of the Elves she knew had focused their hate on the factions of the dissolved Alliance of Aurenko or the growing rift with the Wild Clan, she’d buried herself in learning the truth of the Tuonellian threat that everyone had suddenly forgotten. Nowadays, It seemed like the only time she ever had any real fun was when her cousins came to visit for their yearly Herra Samkoma. Thankfully her father had chosen to at least honor that tradition.

Silently popping the hidden door open, Lúthien slid into the room gently sealing the passageway behind her once again. The doorway stood opposite the single low window, which was perfectly positioned at this time of day for catching the midday sun. Standing in the middle of the alcove, Lúthien let the sun’s rays soak into her fair skin.

The relationship between the Council of Elders and the King of the High Clan was somewhat convoluted. Throughout her people’s long history, the High Clan had been the de facto rulers of all Elves. High Elves lived longer than the other Clans. Their magic was greater and their social structure more advanced than that of their forest dwelling brethren. But, over the millennium the individual clans grew to be unsatisfied with following the High Clan’s edicts and over time the Council of Elders had been formed. There were still conflicts, but at least the Council helped to mediate the disagreements between the clans and the King within Elven society. During this time the Herra Samkoma and Herr Samkoma had been formed. Yearly gatherings for the female and male children of the clan’s ruling families. The hope was that familiarity and education of the differences between the clans would help to ease the growing cultural tensions within their society.

Initially the yearly gatherings had helped to reduce the dissension between the clans to a degree. A prime example of this had been Lúthien’s and Enelya’s relationship. When they were young the two of them had been inseparable. Even though they only saw each other once a month out of the year, they’d always been there for one another. She didn’t know if it was the constant threat of annihilation from the Tuonellian invasion that had made them so close when they were younger, or just that they were growing apart as they aged. Sadly this last year seemed to have changed them all so very much. Even so, she still loved her cousin.

Creeping to the edge of the stairwell, Lúthien listened intently as her body warmed up from the rays of the sun. Hearing no one coming up the steps she plopped down near the entranceway. Reaching for her spell book, Lúthien stopped in midmotion feeling something wet and sticky underneath her hand. Holding up her palm, she looked at her hand in confusion.

“Why was it red?” Looking closer at the dark marble floor, Lúthien realized the stuff was everywhere. Twisting around, she followed the red trail down the corridor with her eyes sniffing her hand unconsciously. Freezing, she immediately recognized the metallic scent. It was blood!

Rising to her feet in a daze she trailed the smeared blood down the corridor. Rounding the corner, she followed the path into her father’s library as if in a trance. Entering through the doorway, Lúthien came to a sudden stop as she saw her mother’s blood-soaked face staring back at her. Rushing to her mother’s side, Lúthien dropped to her knees gathering the broken body in her arms. Ragged sobs shook her as she rocked back and forth silently screaming. Her mind numb from shock.

Lúthien could barely see through the tears streaming down her face as she gently turned her mother over. Her skin was cold to the touch and her body stiff and hard. It was her grandmother’s death all over again. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lúthien wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders rocking back and forth on her knees. “Ma’ma … Ma’ma … Ma’ma …” Lúthien tried to cry out for help, but only choking sobs came from her mouth, each one painfully racking her body more than the next as she moaned in anguish. In her heart, she knew no one could help. Her mother was already dead.

Lúthien didn’t know how long it took her mind to start functioning again. Wiping her tearstained face with the back of her hand, she froze suddenly realizing that most of her mother’s lower body had been ripped apart!

“Hhhuuurrrggghhh!” Turning green Lúthien heaved the contents her stomach as she saw the bloody gnawed pieces of her mother strewn across the marble floor in front of her when she became aware of loud feeding sounds filling the room. Eyes wide in fear, Lúthien looked up in horror.

“Aaaiiieee-“ Lúthien’s blood curling scream cut-off in mid-shriek as she fell backward over her mother’s mangled body, eyes bulging at the corpse-white creature covered in blood sitting before her. In the beast’s gory hands were the mutilated remains of her cousin, Princess Amaurea Celebrindal. Unbelievably, she watched the creature rip Amaurea’s still beating heart from her shredded chest. Again loud smacking sounds filled the still room as the monster shoved the bloody morsel with relish into its fanged maw. Finishing off the chunk of flesh with a loud slurping gulp, the creature’s guttural voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Ahhh, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to taste her succulent flesh.”

In terror, Lúthien crawled backward until her back clanged against an armored leg. Looking up in shock, she saw one of the King’s Ironidium Knights standing at attention. Lurching to her feet, Lúthien tugged at the Knight’s armored shoulders shrieking.

“Kill that monster!” Looking back once more at the humongous creature ripping her cousin’s face off with its teeth, Lúthien cried out in anguish as she screamed into the Knight’s shiny visor. “What’s wrong with you? That beast killed the Queen and is now eating my cousin. Why aren’t you killing …”

The words suddenly died on Lúthien lips as she noticed the full complement of the King’s Guards standing at attention around the room. Staring at the unmoving Knights a cold shiver ran down Lúthien’s spine as the creature’s grotesque guffawing laughter rang out behind her.

“Your mother’s screams of terror tasted so sweet.” Licking a leftover chunk of gore from its claws, the beast continued hauntingly. “You know she begged for me to spare your life until I ripped her heart out.” Standing to its full height of nine feet, the creature smiled wickedly. “How could I do that when I’ve waited so long to taste your sweet flesh? I just hope you taste as succulent as you look.”

Seeing the confused look of horror on Lúthien’s face, the monster’s guffawing barks of laughter echoed throughout the room. “What? Don’t recognize your loving father?” Still laughing, the creature’s corpse white face suddenly began transforming. A second later she saw her father’s reflection looking back at her atop the beast’s mutant body.

“Nnnooo!” Springing to her feet, Lúthien shook the shoulders of the Knight as the monster’s horrible laughter echoed around the room. “What’s wrong with you?” Running to the next nearest guard, she screamed into the Knight’s armored face. “Why aren’t you helping us?”

“You can scream all you want, but it’s useless. They only listen to me now.”

Spinning around, Lúthien backed up fearfully until she felt the cold stone wall of the library pressing against her back. Shaking her head in denial, she watched the beast close its long clawed hand into a fist of triumph.

“I now control the Ironidium Knights!”

With a shriek, Lúthien lunged for the doorway. Running as fast as her legs would go, she headed for the courtyard. She had to find Warden Morwen! Looking over her shoulder at the clanking sounds of armor, she saw two Ironidium Knights fly around the corner chasing after her. Lúthien knew if she could get to the secret passage she could get away. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Knight-Captain Valandil walked up the steps in front of her. Screaming in panic, Lúthien came to a sliding stop wrapping her arms around the Knight-Captain’s armored waist in relief.

“Knight-Captain Valandil, they’re going to kill me!”

“Princess, what’s wrong?”

“You’ve got to save me!” Seeing the approaching Ironidium Knights, Valandil drew his sword protectively pushing Lúthien behind him.

“Halt! What is the meaning of this?” Coming to a stop in front of the Knight-Captain, the knights sheathed their swords as the nearest spoke without inflection.

“The King has commanded that the Princess be brought to him in the library.”

Lúthien felt Valandil body suddenly stiffen at the guards words. Incredulously, she watched as the Knight-Captain sheath his blade. “What are you doing?” Brusquely shoving her in front of him, the Knight-Captain roughly grabbed Lúthien by the upper arm. As he began dragging her back down the corridor, she pleaded with him not to take her back.

“You’ve got to believe me, Valandil. These knights are traitors!” As the two Ironidium Knights fell in behind them automatically, Lúthien screamed trying to get him to listen. “Don’t let them get behind you, they can’t be trusted!”

Looking into Valandil’s eyes, Lúthien’s cries of protest died on her lips. The slacked jawed expression on his face made the blood run cold in her veins. Fearfully, she began struggling to break out of his powerful grasp. Inexorable Valandil dragged her back to the corpse-white creature in the library wearing her father’s face. The beast’s evil red eyes glowed in wicked glee as the Knight-Captain came to attention in front of him. Without batting an eye, Valandil saluted holding the Princess out for him to take.

“My liege, I have delivered the Princess by your command.” As the tears ran down Lúthien ‘s face, she looked back and forth between the Knight-Captain and the horrifying creature in despair.

“The good Knight-Captain cannot hear your cries, sweet Princess.” Seeing the stricken look on Lúthien’s face, the monster’s guffawing laughter filled her ears once more. “Oh, I’m sure somewhere the real Knight-Captain is trapped inside watching helplessly as his body betrays him, unable to do anything to stop himself from following my orders.” Lúthien watched in horror as the beast reached into the pouch at its waist. Carefully it pulled out a green glowing crystal shard between two of its long sharp claws cackling evilly.

“This, little Princess is what makes them mine.” Before Lúthien could react, the creature stepped forward in one smooth motion. Grabbing her by the throat with its long clawed hand, the monster lifted her into the air in one smooth motion.

Choking for breath, Lúthien beat her small fists against the beast’s muscular wrists as its long tongue licked the side of her face. In a low guttural purr the creature spoke tauntingly into her ear. “I’m going to enjoy ripping the flesh from your bones as you scream your pretty little head off.”

“Aaarrrggguuusss tooo meee!”

Hearing the screeching war cry echo throughout the room, Lúthien did the first thing that came to mind. Reaching for to the magic that she’d worked with her entire life, Lúthien grabbed the creature’s massive wrist with her small hands. Focusing her will, she gasped out a word of command with her last breath.

“Rafmagns Hendur!”

Chapter Six

Location Earth / Larissa Evans:

At first, they had all thought Thera had erupted once again, but slowly they came to the realization that the flaring discharge of crackling energy shooting out of the hole in the lava dome was not a new volcanic eruption, but something entirely different. The massive electrical discharge lasted for almost an hour and instantly shorted out every electronic device in the area.

For an eruption, normal emergency evacuation procedures dictated the Triumph pulling away from the island to a safe distance off the coast of Santorini, but with their current situation, that had proven to be impossible. Every electrical device on the ship was completely dead. Even the emergency lights were non-operational.

When Larissa had first found Sean MacRory, the Captain was bellowing at the top of his lungs at his Chief Engineer, Kane McDougal. At first, she thought the two men were going to come to blows over the dead ship, but Tony of all people suddenly diffused the argument. Oblivious to the danger, the young man interrupted Captain MacRory’s explosive tirade as they approached with a question that shocked the older men out of their tense standoff.

“What happened to all the lights on the island?”

Looking around, they all suddenly realized nothing had power. Not the capital city of Fira on the ridge above the lagoon, not the other cities that sat on the rim of the lagoon, not even the three cruise ships docked at the nearby port of Athinias. Even the battery of Larissa’s CX Swiss Army Dive Watch had completely lost its charge, and it was supposed to self-charge from her body’s natural motions. Everything around them was pitch-black except for the bright fountain of lightning shooting out of the Nea Kameni lava dome.

It wasn’t until an hour after the unnatural discharge had run its course that the crew, under the direction of Chief Engineer McDougal, were able to get the generators back online. The renovated World War Two cargo ship still had hand cranks in the engine room to manually recharge the batteries, which the Chief put to good use. They had been installed during World War Two to help ships recover after U-boat attacks. Unbelievably enough, even though they hadn’t been used for over half of a century, they were still fully functional.

Once the ships engines were back online, they were able to get the massive diesel generators that powered the Titan XI’s systems running once again. Initially, the plan had been to recover their equipment and fall back to a safe distance before making a decision on how to proceed, but once their systems came back online, everything changed. Tony was in the process of carefully strapping himself back into the Titan XI’s control harness when Sharon loud exclamation threw everything into chaos.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Furiously, Sharon began clattering away at her system’s keyboard as she yelled over her shoulder. “Sara, I need you to take a thermal reading from your terminal, NOW!”

Stopping in mid-tear down, Sara looked up in surprise. “I thought we were breaking down?”

Ignoring the question, Sharon turned back to her screen as Larissa came up behind Sharon’s station a second later. Scanning the data on the terminal before her, Larissa’s face froze in shock. The thermal reading of the volcano was now the same ambient temperature of the surrounding rock. Her mind whirling, Larissa looked up from the screen to see the rest of the team’s questioning looks. Considering the implications of the data, she came to a decision.

“We’re not breaking down people! Sara, I need those thermal reading now. Glenn, tell Captain MacRory that there has been a change of plans. We are not pulling out. I want the ship’s crew to set up a base camp at the lip of the lava dome here. Larry, I want you to get on the horn with Satellite Imaging Corporation. I need to speak with John Jones now.” Seeing the stunned looks on her team’s faces, Larissa slammed her open palm on the table in front of her with a loud smack. “Get moving now people, we have work to do!”

“Holy crap!” Tony’s exclamation cut Larissa off in midstride as she whipped around in surprise. During the entire time she’d been working with the young man, this was the first time she’d ever heard him swear. “Nara you’ve got to see this!”

Annoyed, she nodded for George Nordic to put Tony’s display on the main screen in the tiny control room as everyone on the team paused what they were doing to take a look. The screen momentarily darkened as Tony repositioned the robotic arm so that the light lit up more of the dark chamber, but a second later the fisheye camera lens was back in position. As light splayed out across the massive chamber, there was a low gasp throughout the control room as everyone’s eyes locked onto the large curved horns reflecting from the bull shaped heads on the humanoid shaped bodies far below. All of them recognized the inhuman creatures immediately. Minotaurs of legend perfectly preserved in what appeared to be a semi-clear quartz-like crystalline substance for all these centuries.

The Minotaurs were still frozen in place, locked in some titanic battle that must have started over three thousand years ago. In amazement, Larissa’s voice broke the stunned silence of the control room. “Bloody hell, we just hit the jackpot!”

Chapter Seven

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

Starfire’s first thought was to wonder why she felt so hot. It was as if she were burning up from the inside out. Her second thought was to wonder why she couldn’t breathe. Weakly lifting her head, she realized what was wrong.

Why would Momma leave her lying face down in the snow? Feeling light headed, Starfire sat on her knees bewildered. Her whole body felt terribly wrong. Looking down at her hairless arms and five fingered hands, she froze as the memories of the last twenty-four hours suddenly came flooding back to her. Tears streamed down her face as she remembered everything. The Pack slaughtered by demons. The sickening sounds of her littermates smashed to death against the rocks of Winter Heart. Mother hiding them under her ruined body as she slowly bled to death in the deep snow under the dead demon. The sadness was almost too much to bear!

For a second, Starfire felt like her heart must explode from the pain as she rose to her feet crying out in anguish, when her sister’s cry for help snapped her out of the feverish haze clouding her mind. Looking around quickly, Starfire’s eyes followed the gouge in the snow next to her all the way to the edge of the cliff where her sister hung precariously.

<I’m coming Frostbrand>

Running to the icy ledge, Starfire kneeled to help her sister when she heard the sounds of combat behind her. Whipping around, Starfire froze as she saw Startüm throw himself at the mass of Scourge charging onto the plateau after them.

<STARFIRE, YOU MUST HELP YOUR SISTER>

The urgency in Startüm’s mind-speak brought her thoughts into crystal clear focus. Crawling to the cliff’s very edge, Starfire’s matted silver hair whipped about her face in the blowing wind as she reached out for her sister. Hanging over the side as far as she dared, Starfire wrapped her small hands under her sister’s thick furry shoulders.

Using all of her new form’s strength she tried to pull her sister up to safety, but Frostbrand was simply too heavy. Her twin sister’s transformation had turned her into a Werewolf. Their peoples’ largest most powerful fighting form, while Starfire had only managed her people’s weaker humanoid shape.

Crying out in rage, Starfire felt an unbelievable fury welling up inside of her as the magic inside of her responded to her need. Suddenly, overwhelming power flowed through her veins as the ice beneath her began to crack. This time, when Starfire reached for her sister, she easily pulled her up the cliff’s ledge without hesitation as power thrummed through her small frame. Quickly, she carried her sister back onto the plateau just as the entire icy ridge broke free. With a loud crack, the ice plummeted to the Otso River far below.

Turning around with her sister still held in her arms, Starfire screamed as Startüm went down under a screeching gray wave of Scourge. With every swing of his glowing blue blades, Starfire saw him slaughter the terrible creatures by the dozen as bloody pieces of Scourge flew through the air in every direction, but it wasn’t enough.

From the bond that they now shared, Starfire knew Startüm was at the end of his energy reserves. Being a Paladin of Ukko meant that he could heal his injuries almost instantly, but that was only as long as he had the power to do so. Through their link, she could feel the terrible agony Startüm suffered fighting for their lives as if it were her very own. It felt as if she was repeatedly being torn apart. As more and more of the foul beasts charged onto the plateau, she knew it was only a matter of time before they killed him. There were just too many.

Crying out in fury, Starfire felt the magic of her birthright responded to her need as something exploded deep within her breast. As raw power poured into her veins, she felt the hair on her head begin to burn like fire as flames rose from her clenched fists. Letting her sister slide to the snow at her feet, Starfire screamed at the top of her lungs.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

Throwing her head back, Starfire howled as fire poured out of her eyes and mouth as she released all of her magic in one massive burst. The fiery blast swept out from her in a devastating wave of searing fire. Crossing the plateau, it incinerated everything in its path, before slamming to a stop against the side of the mountain with an earthshaking impact as Starfire collapsed to the ground.

Chapter Eight

Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

With a start, Nessa jerked wide awake on the grass mats of her wigwam. Her head still ached from last night’s souljourn, but for the first time since her brother’s death, she felt the terrible anguish of his passing bearable. Rolling to her hooves, she almost collapsed from the sudden movement. Splaying out her four legs, Nessa brace herself as she doubled over weakly.

Breathing heavy Nessa held her reeling head. It seemed to take forever, but slowly the ground stopped spinning. Looking down at herself, she was shocked to see how gaunt she’d become. The outline of her ribs stood out starkly under her skin, while her greater torso was emaciated from lack of food. No wonder she felt so light headed.

Slowly the memories of that fateful day came back to her. Nessa had collapsed in front of her father when the Wakinyan had first delivered the ‘Death Message’ of her brother’s passing. The horrendous torment of her brother’s final moments had made her delirious with grief, but the nightly visits of the Wakinyan had nearly destroyed her mind.

Several days later when her brother’s severely mutilated body had been brought back by the Raven’s Tribe still alive, Nessa’s father and Uzila, the Tribe’s Shaman, tried to console her with the good news, but their words had only driven her into a distraught frenzy. Weeks later when her brother came to visit almost fully healed, she’d attacked him without hesitation to the shock of her father and his guards. They had to forcibly restrain her to stop her from killing him.

Nessa’s stomach suddenly growled painfully as the smell of food came to her over the stench of her unwashed body. Near the entrance, she saw the grains and dried meats that had been left for her to regain her strength. Staggering with each step, she managed to cross the wigwam before collapsing in front of the open clay jars.

Feverishly, Nessa began stuffing food into her mouth with both hands. At first, the hunger cramps were unbearable, and Nessa thought she would puke, but slowly her stomachs settled down as she ate. Before she knew it, she had finished both jars as she collapsed onto her side in a comatose stupor.

Nessa’s mind floated as she stared at the skin covered entrance. She had to warn her father of the evil lurking within their midst, but her body wouldn’t move. As her eyes grew heavy, Nessa suddenly realized what was wrong. The food had benn drugged!

“There … there now my little one, I can see you’re doing much better.” Glassy-eyed, Nessa tried to focus on the face leaning over her, but she couldn’t move her head. “Rest my dear. You’ve been gone from us for quite some time.” After several moments, Nessa recognized the Tribe’s shaman’s wrinkled face leaning over her. Gently Uzila’s callused hands began washing the stench from Nessa’s skin as her craggy voice spoke on.

“For a time my dear, I worried that you had left us for good.” Seeing Nessa straining to speak, the old shaman clucked her tongue reproachfully. “The Alttash’s Tears I laced your food with is healing you nicely, but it requires all of your body’s energy reserves to work its magic.”

Hearing the old shaman’s words, Nessa froze in shock. Alttash’s Tears were extremely poisonous and grew throughout the plains. The Tribes used the roots as a last judgment. Legend had it that Alttash’s Tears were given to the Tribes as a gift from the Luonnotar, a gift that could only be consumed by Luonnotar’s chosen.

For a chosen, Alttash’s Tears accelerated the healing process and restored the body, but for anyone else. It was a quick and horribly painful death. Seeing the look of fear on Nessa’s face, Uzila cackled loudly before turning serious once again.

“Yes little one, it had come to that. When your father left for Mount Airy to ask Luonnotar to spare your life, Tolnik wasted no time in speaking to the council. As the only present representative of the family, he demanded that you be put out of your misery.” Thoughtfully, the old shaman began braiding Nessa’s long blond hair. “The council would not say no since they know the young buck will be Chief someday.”

“Cowards, the lot of them!” Spitting on the ground, Uzila swore vehemently. “I told them Wakinyan was visiting you nightly, and this was the domain of Luonnotar, but the fools would hear nothing of it.” Uzila voice cackled even louder. “But old Uzila showed them, didn’t she. I demanded that you be given Alttash’s Tears and let Luonnotar decide your fate. Now that put the whole Tribe in an uproar.”

Nessa’s eyes began to grow heavy once again as the old shaman stroked her forehead. “You can tell me when you next awake, but for now little one, you are in Luonnotar’s hands.” Gathering her legs underneath her sagging hindquarters, the old shaman pushed herself to her hooves using her staff as a brace. Muttering to herself thoughtfully, Uzila took her leave. “I must watch Tolnik. There is something wrong with that young buck.”

Again, Nessa strained to get the words of warning out, but her body betrayed her. Already it was shutting down as she was forced into the healing sleep of the chosen. Looking back over her shoulder, the old shaman spoke once more before the tent flap fell into place behind her.

“Hush now little one. You can explain to me what Wakinyan revealed when you awaken.”

Vision fading, Nessa felt sleep overtake her once more.

Chapter Nine

Location Irlendria / Marcus Tullius Cornisus:

SSSHHHRRRIIIEEE

SSSHHHRRRIIIEEE

Letting the whistle fall to his chest, Decanus Cornisus bellowed at his bulls. “On my command, clear the walls!” To either side of him, Cornisus saw gladiuses rise in the air. Lifting his blade above his head, Cornisus bellowed again. “Clear the walls!”

SSSLLLIIICCCKKK

As one the legionnaires slashed down in front of their scutas with their razor sharp tinnearlian blades, slicing through the ironidium spears hammering against their shields. Again Cornisus bellowed.

“Advance!” Striding forward, the battle line smashed their scuta into the phalanx, splintering more spearheads. “Clear the walls!”

SSSLLLIIICCCKKK

“Advance!” A blow slammed against Cornisus’ greaves as he felt a dagger skitter off his armor. Lifting his shield up Cornisus eyes widened in shock as he saw a young guard grabbing for his armored hoof. As the guard pulled his dagger back for another strike, Cornisus smashed his scutum at the male.

Ignoring the blood streaming down his ruined face, the guard weakly reached once more for Cornisus’ armored leg.

Cornisus felt his vision blur to red as he began hammering uncontrollably at the male’s ruined face. Again and again he slammed the scutum down with all of his might, but the guard simply ignored the terrible blows as he strained to reach Cornisus with his dagger.

Unbelievably, Cornisus felt more hands clutching at his shield. Stepping back, he ripped his scutum free, quickly assessing the situation with a practiced eye. It didn’t make any sense. Instead of falling back once they’d lost their spears as legionary tactics dictated. The Praetorians had thrown away their shields and were now attacking with only their daggers.

What in Akras name was wrong with them? They were throwing their lives away for no reason!

Hammering at the Praetorians with his scutum, Cornisus waded back into position using his gladius like a scythe. Every sweep of his blade sliced through the grasping hands and arms, but still the guards silently hammered at his shield wall with their bloody stumps as they sought to drag him down.

Heart pounding, Cornisus felt the touch of fear creep into his chest for the first time. Even during the Great War against the Tuonellians Hordes, he’d never witnessed anything as horrifying as this. It was as if they were fighting against the living dead! Bile rose in the back of Cornisus’ throat as he saw the legionnaire next to him go down screaming underneath a bleeding oozing pile of biting guards.

In a fear-driven fury, Cornisus began slamming his gladius into the slack faces pressing in on him as he bellowed in defiance. To his shocked amazement, the mutilated Praetorians began dropping to the ground unmoving. Clearing a space around him, Cornisus began dragging the creatures off of the legionnaire next to him, giving them the same headshot as he’d given the other ones.

A second later, Cornisus was pulling Legionnaire Quinctius Cato back to his unsteady hooves. The younger bull was visibly shaken as his wide-eyes bulged out from fear, but other than being covered in the blood and gore of the guards, he was otherwise unharmed. Breathing heavy, Cornisus pushed Cato back into formation as he took up position next to the younger male. As the entire line began to buckle, Cornisus blew a shrill blast on his whistle.

“Go for the heads, bullocks!” With a renewed fury, his contubernium tore into the guards. Slowly the line steadied once again as Praetorians began dropping to the ground dead around them. As the next rank of Phalanx began hammering against their shield walls, Cornisus blew three shrill blasts on his whistle.

“Clear the walls and fall back!” In one smooth motion, Cornisus’ legionnaires slashed with their gladiuses before falling one rank back, while the second rank moved forward into position. As a new shield wall formed around him, Cornisus blew a quick double blast.

“Advance!” Slamming his shield forward, Cornisus repeatedly struck at the heavy spears as he relentlessly lead his bulls into the teeth of the phalanx. The odds in front of them were manageable in the tight alley, but Cornisus’ blood still ran cold at the strange silence of the Praetorians formation they faced. Closing to melee range, the hackles of Cornisus’ mane rose under his armor as shrill whistle blasts began sounding from the backside of the formation.

Grimacing sourly, Cornisus knew that could only mean one thing. They had incoming from behind.

Chapter Ten

Location Earth / Sean MacRory:

Captain Sean MacRory watched the small police boat’s approach from the Ormos side of the lagoon in the predawn light of morning. Inside the flat-bottomed boat, he could see a group of men wearing the starched light blue uniforms and white jackboots of the local police force riding inside.

Thoughtfully, his bright blue eyes narrowed as he took note of the distinctive white broad gun belts and diagonal shoulder straps that each hard faced islander wore. It was something he would have expected from porting in a much larger city like Mumbai or Calcutta, not a small tourist island in the southern Aegean Sea. Either way, Sean knew what was coming next. Without looking away, he spoke in an even voice to the deck cadet at his side.

“Mr. MacSweeney, I need you to find Chief McDougal and have him join me on deck with Hans and Wolfgang at his earliest convenience.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Sean grinned at the young cadet as he came to attention. His name was George MacSweeney, and he was still wet behind the ears. Aunt Harriet had brought George to him the last time they’d dropped anchor in Belfast asking if he’d give the young man a chance to learn the trade. Grudgingly he’d agreed.

The MacRory family was one of the fifty-nine families that made up the Gallowglass Clan. Originally considered the warrior elite among the Gaelic-Norse Clans residing in the Western Isles of Scotland, they had been invited to settle in Ireland by the Irish Nobility. In return for their military service, they were given lordships across Ireland.

The local Irish had called them Gallóglaigh in old Welch because they were considered ‘foreign soldiers’ due to their Irish ancestors intermarrying with Norse settlers. Over the centuries, the Gallóglaigh became known as the Gallowglass Clan and had a major impact on Ireland’s culture and history. Unfortunately, that influence had waned in the last few decades, ever since the Clan had fallen on hard times.

It all started when the Harland and Wolff shipyards were destroyed in the great bombing of 1941 during World War II. In one strike the industrial powerhouse of Ireland was destroyed, setting the entire country back one hundred years and knocking the Gallowglass Clan to its proverbial financial knees. The Clans’ shipping empire had been a major player in the break-bulk cargo industry, shipping goods around the world before the invention of the modern-day container ships that had revolutionized the industry after World War II.

Unfortunately, after the war, Ireland’s shipyards were never rebuilt to their pre-war levels. Primarily due to the Clans terrible financial losses. Still, the families might have rallied their countrymen to the task if the Americans hadn’t taken over the bulk cargo industry almost overnight. Once it had become obvious that Ireland had lost its foothold on the oceans most of the Clans had sought new avenues to regain their wealth. A few of the families still owned their own ships, like the MacRory’s, and continued plying their trade on the oceans after the war.

At first, the shipping business had been good, and the families had prospered, but over the years that began to change. It happened slowly at first, but as the years progressed there were almost no shipping contracts left to be had. More and more the world’s non-bulk cargo was slowly taken over by the container industry, but still the family somehow managed to make ends meet.

Usually, that came in the form of smuggling and over the years the MacRorys had become the de facto experts. In his younger days Sean had run guns to the Congo and Nigeria, diamonds from South Africa and ivory tusks from Tanzania, while fighting off pirates from Somalia on his way to India and beyond. Although, unlike other smugglers, there were some things they didn’t transport. Most notably those exceptions were illegal drugs and human trafficking.

It was a dangerous life, but one that Sean had come to love. They all knew their luck couldn’t hold out forever. Most smugglers didn’t stay in the racket long due to the nature of the cut throat business, but he and his boys weren’t in it for the money so much as for the adrenaline rush. Through it all, his crew had become one tight-knit family.

The end of their run came unexpectedly in the busy South African Port of Durban. One moment, they were tearing up the Maydon Wharf and the next they were being dragged into the local lockup under heavy guard by SARS Customs Officers. Oddly enough they hadn’t even been running contraband at the time.

Sean had realized his mistake almost immediately. The last time they were in port he had refused a shipment of human cargo at the demands of the International Chinese Mafia that “taxed” all smuggling operations passing through their port. He and his crew were facing twenty years to life and the loss of everything they owned. If it hadn’t been for Larissa Evans timely arrival on that fateful day they might not have ever seen the light of day again.

Thinking of the past always brought a smile to Sean’s lips. While some things had dramatically changed over the years, others had stubbornly stayed the same. On the one hand, although they weren’t technically smugglers they still found themselves in some very unique situations as they assisted Larissa on her many archeological digs around the world. On the other hand, even after all of these years, the Clan still took care of their own. Hiring the lad had turned out to be a good decision. Over the last eight months, the hard working youth had earned his place amongst Triumph’s crew and was well on his way to becoming a Ukkodian.

“Sir, what should I say if he asks why, Sir?”

Pushing away from the boat's railing, Sean cracked his bony knuckles as he looked down at the cadet with a fierce grin. “Tell him it looks like Johannesburg all over again.”

The young man’s eyes slightly widened as he took a long look at the approaching boat full of men. Even now the crew still talked about the Malapa dig, and that was over ten years ago.

“Sir, yes, Sir!”

Before the cadet could turn around, Sean stopped the young man with one large hand. “Once you’ve talked to the Chief, find Doctor Evans. Let her know we have company coming.”

“Yes, Sir!”

This time, when Sean let go of the excited cadet, he took off like a bolt of lightning. With his shoes ringing on the metal stairs, Mr. MacSweeney took the steps two at a time heading down into the bowels of the ship. Keeping an eye on the police boat docking next to them, Sean picked up the weather deck’s voice powered phone. Punching in a two digit code, he held the receiver to his ear waiting. On the second ring, a strong baritone answered.

“Bridge here.”

Hearing his First Officer’s voice, Sean spoke quickly into the phone. “Mr. Dudek, we have trouble heading our way.”

“Where at Captain?”

“Directly starboard, approaching the docks.”

Sean heard a rustling of cloth as Adam adjusted his position. A second later the tall man’s crisp English was suddenly laden with a heavy Polish accent.

“How do you want to handle this Kaptain?”

Thinking quickly, Sean laid out the plan forming in his head. “I want you and Mr. Crosslander to pull the AK-47’s from the armory for the non-Ukkodians, but I want them kept out of sight. We’ll only pull them out if we need to get their attention. I’d rather keep the Islanders on their toes for the wrong reasons for as long as possible.”

“Yes, Kaptain.”

“Mr. MacSweeney should have found the Chief by now. I expect he’ll be heading up with his lads anytime now.”

“Give us five minutes to get into position, Kaptain.”

Eyeing the approaching boat once more, Sean spoke sharply into the handset. “You’d better get moving then Mr. Dudek.”

“Aye aye, Sir!”

Swing by his cabin, Sean grabbed his charging two-way radio and a pair of brass knuckles before making his way to the Triumph’s gangplank. If Sean was going to play the game, he might as well play it to the hilt. He made it to the railing just as the locals pulled up to the far side of the dock.

The clear night’s sky gave off enough light for Sean to get a solid count of the dark skinned men jumping off the small craft. There were eight including the driver, which was probably the entire police force for Fira and Ormos combined.

As he watched the Islanders rushing for his boat, Sean heard the approaching footsteps of men behind him. A second later, the gruff voice of his Chief Engineer, Kane McDougal, called out behind him.

“Captain, it looks like we’ll be introducing these lads to the South Limerick jig.”

Sean didn’t have to turn around to picture the Chief’s gapped toothed grin or to know that he had brought most of the crew with him. The small man was a scrapper. At one time or another, he’d been kicked out of every known port between Limerick and Shanghai. Actually, that was how he’d originally met the old seadog.

Without saying a word, Sean folded his thick biceps across his broad chest as he watched the men charge up the gangplank. As the lead officer reached the deck, the man came to a sudden stop as he saw Sean’s stern face for the first time, while his men bunched up precariously on the small gangplank behind him. Grinning menacingly, Sean stepped up close to the Lieutenant, forcing the smaller man to crane his neck to look up at him. Projecting his voice, Sean addressed the Islanders gruffly.

“I don’t remember giving anyone permission to board my ship.”

Sean had to hold back a smile as he heard his men chuckle behind him. Hate burned in the man’s dark eyes as he fought to catch his breath while clutching at the gangplank’s thin chain railing. Carefully, the Lieutenant stood to his full height. Tilting his head back, he placed a hand on his gun holster’s flap, while looked down his nose at Sean.

“Under the order of the Mayor of Santorini, your ship is to be confiscated and your crew arrested for trespassing on Nea Kameni without a permit. You will move this boat to Port Ormos under our direction where your boat will be impounded until further notice.”

The gangplank shook suddenly, making the Lieutenant clutch once more at the thin chain railing as he struggled not to fall into the lagoon as Sean slid his hands into his cargo pants pockets. Slipping his meaty hands into the solid brass knuckles, Sean smiled menacingly.

“I don’t think so lad.”

As the Lieutenant’s eyes widened fearfully, a woman’s commanding voice called out behind them.

“What’s going on here?”

For a long second, the tension could have been cut with a knife as the Lieutenant tried to stare Sean down, but he quickly looked away as soon as Doctor Evans walked up.

“The Mayor is under the impression that we are trespassing without a permit and has sent the Lieutenant here to arrest us.” Exasperated, Doctor Evans turned her focus on the angry dark-skinned man on the gangplank.

“Is that what this is all about? You’re interrupting my dig for this nonsense?” Sean almost laughed out loud at the stunned look on the islander’s face as Doctor Evans slapped a sheaf of papers into the small man’s chest as she laid into him. “Ioannis told me he would explain everything to Major Aixi.” Seeing the man’s startled look, she gave the Lieutenant a big smile as she asked innocently. “You do know who Ioannis Machairidis is?”

The small man choked for a second as he tried to get the next words out. “You mean Regional Governor Machairidis on Syros?”

Sean had to choke back a bark of laughter as Doctor Evans played him for a patsy. He knew as well as she did that the Mayor had no idea they were coming. The ink had barely dried on the papers by the time they’d arrived in port yesterday afternoon.

“Oh yes, that’s him.” Doctor Evans paused thoughtfully, breathing in deeply as her large breasts strained the fabric of her spaghetti-string halter top.

“You know, Ioannis personally signed the permits himself. He said something about wanting to make sure there was no confusion about his orders.”

The Lieutenant seemed to shrink in on himself as his face turned a greenish hue. Regional Governors in these remote locations had much more direct power over the people they governed than typical western countries. Enjoying the show, Sean slipped his brass knuckles back into his pockets as Doctor Evans smiled broadly at the Islander.

“I’m glad to see this simple misunderstanding was straightened out so easily. Please feel free to keep those copies if you’d like.” Smiling sweetly, she continued laying it on thick. “Ioannis said that if there were any questions that Major Aixi could contact him directly.”

Sean clearly saw the seething rage in the officer’s hooded eyes as Doctor Evans patted the Lieutenant’s shoulder in a friendly manner. There were few things worse for a small time bully with a little bit of power then being suddenly shot down by a beautiful woman.

“Now if you would excuse me, I really must be getting back to my dig. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask Captain MacRory here.”

For a second, the small Greek man froze at Doctor Evans’ casual dismissal, but as she turned to go. His hand shot out, roughly grabbing her by the upper arm. “Excuse me, M … M … Doctor..”

Seeing Doctor Evans’ gray-blue eyes instantly turn into hardened steel, the Lieutenant released her arm like it was on fire. Before he could pull away, Doctor Evans caught his hand in her steel grip as she tilted her voice into perfect Oxford English. “Professor Larissa Evans.” With an icy smile, her stormy eyes bore into him. “Was there something further you wanted to say, Lieutenant?”

Sean’s brows furled as the small Greek man recovered smoothly, blowing low over Doctor Evans’ hand. He was up to something. “Please allow me to properly introduce myself, I am Lieutenant Aenixal and these are my men from the city of Fira and Ormos. I hope you will allow me to apologize for our mistake on this matter, Professor Evans. I’m sure Regional Governor Machairidis will explain everything to Mayor Aixi in the morning, but at the moment, this leaves my men and me in a delicate position.”

Releasing his hand, Doctor Evans placed her hands on her hips. “How so Lieutenant?”

Looking embarrassed, the small man gave her a chagrined look. “Being just a lowly Lieutenant, the Mayor is not likely to want to hear my simple explanations.” Looking at her slyly, he continued. “My men and I would be eternally grateful if you would be willing to explain your … status … given by Regional Governor Machairidis himself to the Mayor.”

“You mean Mayor Aixi is so crass that he would shoot the messenger?”

“Not in so many words, Ma’am, but in essence, yes.” Stepping to the side, the Lieutenant gestured at the men standing behind him nervously as his bushy black mustache twitched from his grin. “It would only take a moment. We could quickly escort you to the Mayor’s office in Fira and have you back to the ship in no time.”

Casually glancing over her shoulder, Doctor Evans hemmed and hawed as she caught Sean’s eye. Quickly, he held up one large hand with four fingers before she turned back to the Lieutenant. “I understand your predicament, and I would be more than happy to help you and your men out with the Mayor.”

“Thank you, Ma’am, if you would just follow me.”

“One moment Lieutenant, Captain do you have four men free from duty who could escort me?”

Seeing the Lieutenant mouth drop open, Sean smiled broadly. “Well, most everyone is needed for your dig Ma’am, but I’m free.” Looking back over his shoulder casually, he gave the Chief a nod. “With the ship docked, I believe Mr. McDougal is also available at the moment.”

Grinning, the Chief Engineer winked back at Sean. “I have two lads available for escort duty.”

Sean saw the Lieutenant trying to cut in as the Chief clapped a hand on the shoulders of the two largest men in the group standing beside him. “Hans and Wolfgang, would you care to join us with the Doctor?”

Smiling, both large blonde men spoke in their heavy German-accented English as they cracked their knuckles grinning. “Ja Chief, we are ready to go with Frau Evans when you are.”

Clapping her hands together happily, Doctor Evans gave the Lieutenant a huge smile. “I couldn’t ask your men go out of their way to bring me back to the ship after visiting with your Mayor. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s no trouble, Ma’am. My men would be ...”

“Lieutenant, I must insist. It just wouldn’t be proper to do anything else. If you want my help, you will respect my wishes.”

“B…B…But” The small Greek man stuttered as he looked back and forth between the towering men walking up behind Doctor Evans.

“Lieutenant, I am willing to break away from the greatest discovery of the century to help you and your men. The least you could do is not waste my time.” Pushing the Lieutenant gently down the gangplank, Doctor Evans continued talking. “We’ll be right behind you in just a moment, but first I have to get a couple of pictures for our meeting with the Mayor.”

Sean could see the Lieutenant wanted to argue, but at this point, there wasn’t much for him to say without sounding unreasonable. Unhappily, the islander men headed back to their boat as Doctor Evans turned to face the rest of the crew.

“Everyone else get back to work. We’ll be back in a jiffy.” Picking up her radio, Doctor Evans spoke quickly. “Sharon, I need you to bring me a copy of those pictures from the main chamber ... Yes, the first five of that series would be perfect … I need them as soon as possible … I’m by the gangplank … Hurry.” Doctor Evans hung her radio on her belt turning back to Sean.

“What do you think, Captain?”

“I don’t trust them, Ma’am.”

“Aye, they’re up to something. I’d bet next month’s pay on it.” Sean grinned at the old Chief as he joined in on the conversation. “Having the Regional Governor approve the permit was a stroke of genius, lass.”

Doctor Evans spat in discuss. “Ever since Spyridon Marinatos discovered the Akrotiri ruins in nineteen sixty-seven, no other archeologist has been granted a permit on Santorini.”

Looking out over the lagoon, Sean could hear the deep anger in Doctor Evans’ voice. “My father fought until he died to be allowed to search for Atlantis on Nea Kameni, but the governor of Santorini never approved the permit. If it weren't for the Kallikratis governmental reforms in two thousand eleven, we wouldn’t be here now.”

Sean knew the story well. In two thousand and six, the Cyclades Prefecture had been abolished. Instead of each island having its own governor and local representative in the Greek Hellenic Parliament, the islands were broken up into five municipalities and assigned a regional governor.

Looking after the retreating backs of the officers, Sean grinned. The islander’s local governments were still adjusting to the realities of the new reorganization. Sean’s thoughts were interrupted as Sharon Wrigley ran up with a manila envelope for Doctor Evans.

“I printed out everything you asked for Larissa.”

“Thank you, Sharon. The next thing I need you to do is write up a quick summary of what we found here. I want it sent out along with these pictures to The Associated Press Headquarters in New York City.”

“You want it sent out now? I thought you wanted to wait for the biopsy results to be finished first.”

“We’re out of time Sharon. Even with the Regional Governor’s permission, Son Aixi was governor of this island for over twenty years before they demoted him to Mayor.” Gripping Sharon’s arm tightly, Doctor Evans continued. “Unless the world hears about what we’ve found here, Aixi could still find a way to revoke our permit. Trust me, once those pictures hit the internet there won’t be anything he can do to stop us.”

Biting her lip, Sharon nodded before hurrying away as Doctor Evans faced him once more. “Let’s do this Captain.”

“After you, Ma’am.”

Chapter Eleven

Location Irlendria / Enelya Tasartir:

How could they have both lost her? Slipping off her moccasins, Enelya Tasartir studied the keep’s outer courtyard thinking furiously. Freed of the leather bindings, she sprang across the ramparts with a graceful ease in search of their prey. Agile as any Wenci, her hunter’s vision missed nothing below as she ran. Argus had followed Lúthien into the Atrium of the Ancestors, but he’d lost her there. Now the hunt was truly on.

With an impish grin, Enelya laughed to herself thinking about the argument she’d had with her cousin the day before. Lúthien had been right when she’d accused her of helping Argus find them. There was no way to close off the spirit link between the two of them. Although her cousin was better than most of the Elves Enelya had met outside Clan, knowledge about the spirit bonds was never spoken about to non-Wild Elves.

The other Clans always looked down on her people for their relationship with the Wenci. The High Elves under King Elerossë being the worst. None of them understood the true depth of the bond Wild Elves shared with their animal companions or the gifts they received in return. For those that chose to undertake the Sál Tengilinn, the link was a total sharing of body, mind, and soul. Their lives forever intertwined until death.

With the surefootedness of a Wenci, Enelya dropped off the ramparts. Using the tough grongor strips of hide wrapped around her forearms and calves, she slid down the rough calcimite stone until her toes gripped the six-inch wide lip running along the outside of the keep’s upper levels. With a dexterity that would have shocked her cousin, she scampered along the outer wall peeking momentarily into each window she passed. Enelya was just dropping down to the next level when she heard Lúthien’s blood curling scream. Immediately Argus’ concern flare through their link as she darted towards the sound coming from the far side of the keep.

Listening intently, Enelya began searching each window for her cousin, when the metallic smell of fresh blood came to her senses. Following the scent, she dropped onto the nearest window ledge coming to an abrupt stop at the sight before her. What she saw in that instant would haunt her dreams for many moons to come.

In a rush of adrenaline, Enelya took in everything at once. The ripped apart corpses of her cousin and aunt lying in a pool of blood at the center of the room. The humongous corpse-white creature strangling Lúthien against the wall. The Ironidium Knights standing rigidly at attention throughout the room obliviously ignoring the evil happening in front of them. The incomprehensible scene was almost too much for Enelya’s logical mind to take. Frozen in shock, Enelya watched the horrid beast lick her cousin’s face hungrily unable to move.

Unlike the herbivorous Elves, the Wencis were carnivorous predators of the forest that lived their lives by the law of tooth and claw. They hunted when they needed food. They fought when the need arose to protect their pack. There were no questions of right or wrong when they killed, no regrets. For life and death was the nature of their predatory existence.

Instinctively recognizing his soulmate’s danger, Argus reached out through their link helping in the only way he could. Focusing his wild essence, he let it flow into her. Instantly the soul of the predator filled Enelya’s mind. Where logic had failed her, animal instincts did not. Without hesitation Enelya drew the tambos from the sheaths across her back as she pounced for the corpse-white beast, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Aaarrrggguuusss tooo meee!”

Like a wild animal, Enelya focused the strength of her entire body into her attack. Swinging her arms together, she slammed the blunt ends of her tinnearlian-wooden staves through the creature’s forearm in one powerful strike. Using the momentum from her dive, Enelya swung her body underneath the beast’s thick muscular arm. Twisting her wrists apart, she heard the crunch of snapping bones as she somersaulted back into the air.

“Aaarrrggg!” With a bellow of agony, the beast swiped a clawed fist after her as Enelya heard her cousin gasp out a word of power.

“Rafmagns Hendur!”

Purple lightning suddenly ripped through the monster’s mottled skin as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air of the small room. Dropping Lúthien from its nerveless grasp, the savage beast staggered backward grimacing in lockjawed pain as leftover waves of energy rippled over its skin, before dying away seconds later.

Landing in a crouch, Enelya watched the creature shake off the shock spell’s effects as her cousin collapsed to the floor behind her grasping for breath. Unbelievably the strange beast’s ruined forearm begin knitting itself back together. Still wearing the High King’s face, the creature’s hate filled eyes focused on Enelya in burning rage as its loud voice rasped throughout the silent room.

“Wait your turn, Witch! I will deal with once I’m finished sucking the life from your cousin.” Turning to Knight-Captain Valandil, the beast’s voice rose in command. “Take her!”

Enelya’s connection to Argus was the only thing that saved her from freezing in shock. Incredulously, she watched the six Ironidium Knights around the room instantly lurch into motion as Knight-Captain Valandil lunged after her with an expressionless face.

Diving forward, Enelya slammed both of her tambos into the back of Valandil’s knees as she rolled between his opened legs. Springing to her feet in a flash as the Knight-Captain crashed to his knees behind her, she leaped at the next guard in one fluid motion. Bringing her tinnearlian weapons together, Enelya struck the sides of the knight’s ironidium helm a second before she slammed into the stunned guard’s head with her entire body. Hitting the ground rolling, she dove for the third knight. Crashing into the back of his armored legs, she knocked the surprised knight on top of Valandil with a loud clanking sound of metal. As the two Elves went down in a pile of flailing limbs, she rolled back to her feet in the center of the chamber.

Enelya felt as if she were on fire as the wild essence of Argus’ predator filled her senses. Spinning around in a tight circle, her hunter-vision missed nothing as it categorized the threats in the room. Coming to a stop facing the maggot-skinned monster once again, Enelya saw one of its massive fists shoot out at her in slow motion. As the arm stretched unnaturally across the small room in the blink of an eye, the sharp claws headed directly for Enelya’s heart, she dodged to the side at the last moment. Swinging her tambos together, Enelya slammed the hard tinnearlian wood into the creature’s forearm deflecting the shot.

“Ugh!” The sound was forced from her lips as she felt the razor sharp claws clip her bare shoulder. A second later, Enelya heard the loud crashing sounds of armor hitting the wall as the powerful blow slammed head-on into a pair of Ironidium Knights coming at her from behind. Ignoring the blood streaming down her side, Enelya sprinted for the monster as her vision narrowed turning red. As the last pair of Ironidium Knights moved to cut her off, she saw the beast’s other arm shoot after her like a slug hurled from a sling. Dodging to the side, she put the knights between her and the snake-like arm flying directly at her.

Another resounding crash filled the room as Enelya dropped to her stomach. She felt the brutal impact shiver through the stone beneath her as the knights were smashed from their feet. Missing its target again, the creature bellowed in rage as it pulled its misshapen arms back into its body. Jumping to her feet, Enelya grabbed the monster’s forearm with both hands as it raced by overhead.

“Aaaeeeiii!” Flying into the air Enelya wordlessly screamed as her arms were practically ripped from their sockets. Ignoring the pain she jackknifed her body around feet first. A split second before impact, Enelya saw the creature’s beady red eyes widen in shock.

CRACK

The force of the blow drove the hulking beast reeling backward as one of its eyes burst on impact. Arching backward, Enelya dove out of the way as a razor sharp claw slammed through the space she was couched in a split-second later.

Sliding in-between the creature’s spread legs Enelya slammed her tambos into its groin with all of her strength. As the beast howled out in pain, she struck hammering at the side of one massive knee. Enelya heard the joint shatter as she dodged another wild slash of the creature’s deadly claws. Springing forward, she slashed at the creature’s elbow, shattering the joint with another double-handed blow.

Bellowing in rage the monster’s spun around clubbing at her with its injured arm. Without thought, Enelya somersaulted over the flailing backhand a second before it smashed into Knight-Captain Valandil and another Ironidium Knight rushing back into the battle.

Landing back on her feet in one smooth motion, Enelya went on the offensive. Hammering at the creature in a flurry of blows, she weaved and dodged the lightning fast claw strikes in a deadly dance of death. Again and again, she attacked with blows that would have destroyed any other creature, but as the fight wore on, the reality slowly dawned on her. She was losing.

The monster was like nothing Enelya had faced before. Its injuries were healing quicker than she could inflict damage! Her lungs burned as she sucked in ragged gasps of air fighting to stay one step ahead of the creature’s crushing blows. Twisting around in a spinning attack, she saw several Ironidium Knights staggering back to their feet behind her as she flipped over another sweeping backhand.

Enelya knew her body couldn’t keep this pace up for much longer, but she couldn’t leave Lúthien to this monster either. Somersaulting away from another savage blow, she made a fatal mistake. Reaching the top of her arc, Enelya suddenly realized she’d fallen for a feint. Stopping in midswing the monster swung back in a lightning fast attack, batting her out of the air with a backhanded blow that sent her flying across the room. As the air woofed out of her lungs, everything suddenly flashed white.

For a second, Enelya didn’t know where she was. Struggling to sit up, she grimaced in agony at her ringing head. Why did everything hurt?

“Errrgurga!” Gasping for breath, Enelya felt a vice lock wrap around her throat as she was suddenly yanked into the air. Struggling weakly, she saw the white blotchy face in the shape of King Elerossë staring back at her. As the evil red eyes bore into her soul, Enelya screamed in terror as the creature’s voice rasped out triumphantly.

“I’m going to enjoy flaying the flesh from your bones and-”

“Rrreeeaaa!”

The sudden high pitched animal squeal cut the monster off in midsentence as a large silver streak pounced on top of its corpse-white back. With a savage fury long claws and terrible fangs tore deep furrows into the monster’s thick hide.

Landing hard on the floor, Enelya gasped in pain. Everything hurt. Her body felt broken as she struggled to push herself back to her feet, but she couldn’t even stand up straight. As soon as she tried her body doubled over in agony. Sucking in fresh air Enelya held her broken ribs as the maggot creature crashed around the room fighting to shake off the savage animal ripping at its back.

Enelya knew she had to help her cousin if they were going to any hope to survive, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the room began to spin. The next thing she knew the cold stone floor was pressing against her cheek as the howls of fighting began slowly fading away. As everything turned dark, Enelya held onto one thought.

“Argus had come.”

Chapter Twelve

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

“Aaaiiieee!”

I screamed as my eyes boiled in their sockets from the searing heat as the flesh melted from my face. I screamed until my lungs were turned into two blackened husks in the center of my chest as I was picked up and hurled against the side of the mountain from the force of the explosion. As the flames scorched everything in its path, Ukko’s healing light fought to keep me alive.

The agony felt like an eternity, but in actuality, it only lasted for a matter of a few seconds as the holy power flowing through my veins healed my scorched body. Drawing in a ragged breath as my lungs began functioning once more, I rose to my hands and knees as my eyes grew back in their blackened sockets.

Normally, I would have healed in the blink of an eye, but I was at the end of my energy reserves. With an iron will I ignored the agony coursing through my body, conserving my energy reserves to only focus on healing what was truly necessary to continue functioning.

Forcing my battered body to its feet, I sheathed my Katanas as I stepped over the blackened remains of the Scourge piled up around me. Staggering with each step, I made it to the edge of the cliff to where Starfire and Frostbrand lay unmoving on the bare stone as water streamed around them, flowing off the cliff in a small torrent. The thick ice sheet covering the entire plateau had been completely melted away from the fiery blast. Kneeling next to the girls, I could feel the spark of life inside of them as I gently gathered Starfire into my arm. They had simply pushed themselves too far.

Moaning softly, Starfire’s slender arms weakly tightened around my neck as her eyes fluttered painfully open. Her dilated pupils were almost solid back from the effects of the Fring. As soon as her eyes focused on me, I heard her gasp in shock as she saw my pain filled yellow eyes and ruined face.

<I’m so sorry, Startüm>

Stroking her silver matted hair, I gave her a lipless grin.

“Don’t be, you saved us all.”

Suddenly, I saw the mental image of how I looked through her eyes as the tears silently ran down her cheeks. If it didn’t hurt so much, I would have laughed. While some of my skin had regenerated, most of my face was still burnt to a blackened crisp from the intense heat, except for the places where the flesh had been completely seared away to the white bone underneath. I really did look horrendous, more dead than alive. As I watched, I saw the skin was already regenerating from the faint yellow glow surrounding me.

A large tremor beneath our feet broke the connection as I was once again looking through my own eyes. As the entire mountain began to shake, I felt Starfire lay her feverish head against my neck.

Scooping Frostbrand up into my other arm, I froze hearing the warbling howls of Worgs call out nearby.

CRACK

Turning around at the loud noise, I watched unbelievably as the stone of the archway began cracking with deep fissures running down its length. As another massive tremor shook the entire peak, a massive chunk of the archway suddenly sheared away from the mountain. With a loud roar the crumbling pieces plummeted into the Otso River far below.

Hearing the sounds of claws on the stone behind us, I turned around to see the Worg hunters from earlier spreading out onto the wide plateau. Nervously they stepped over the blacked remains of the Scourge until their large hairy shapes filled the rocky expanse. Standing shoulder to shoulder, the creatures faced us growling ferociously.

Shifting the girls to one arm, I drew a katana facing the Worgs head-on. My energy reserves were near empty. Still, concentrating on the runes engraved within the blade, I pushed a trickle of my precious power into the katana in my hand. At first nothing happened, but slowly a weak blue flame began burning down its length as red hate-filled eyes glared back at me. In the unnatural light around the circle, I watched as the Worgs’ black lips pulled back from their large yellow fangs. Slowly the hunters began stalking forward as their bloodthirsty growls grew even louder.

Suddenly the plateau heaved again as another massive tremor shook the mountain. A wide crack instantly formed beneath my feet as rocks and boulders began raining down around us as a loud rumbling sound filled the air. Yipping pain filled cries came from the Worgs as they scrambled to escape the destruction, but it was too late.

Falling to my knees, I slammed my blade into the solid rock at my feet as blue fire flared into the night around us. The mountain bucked like a wild beast as the rumbling sound grew into a deafening roar. Looking up into the stormy night’s sky, I saw an enormous avalanche plunging down the side of mountain heading directly for us as I bowed my head in prayer.

“Ukko, beskytte oss!” (Ukko, protect us!)

Gathering the very last of my power, I felt Ukko’s touch as I cried out at the top of my lungs. “Suoja!”

The sound was deafening as the falling rocks smashed into the plateau around us. I had pictured the shield in the shape of a wedge when I formed it, but even so, there was no way it could stop something like this. Unbelievably, the earth quaking wave washed over us destroying everything in its path. Boulders and dirt filled the air as a cloud of debris passed over us choking the air. The avalanche felt like it went on forever. As the worst of the rock slide slowly passed, there was another earth splitting crack. Suddenly I felt the ground give away beneath my feet as the entire plateau sheared away from the side of the mountain.

Sheathing my blade, I wrapped my arms protectively around the two unconscious girls pressed against my chest as we plummeted with the last of the rockslide down the mountain together. Closing my eyes, I prayed. Our fate was now in Ukko’s hands.

Chapter Thirteen

Location Irlendria / Norek Manitou:

Standing at the base of Mount Airy the Chief of the Thunder Tribe, Norek Manitou, eyed the path leading to the top of the mountain with a heavy heart. Like a fool he had ignored Luonnotar’s call for too long, but after five days of hard travel, he was finally here.

On the same night Nessa had delivered the message of Tolnik’s death, the first spirit messenger was already waiting for him inside his wigwam in the form of a Great Horned Owl. Norek knew well the call of the Great Spirit when he saw it, but in his grief, he’d ignored the summons. Even though he refused to meet the messenger’s eyes, Norek could feel the weight of the creature’s gaze on his soul as its great yellow orbs bore into him. Remembering the soul crushing desolation, Norek heavily sighed as he began climbing the trail up the mountain.

No parent should have to outlive the life of their child.

For seven days Norek had mourned his son’s death. During that time, he’d neither slept nor ate as the grief consumed him. In the midst of his anguish he’d even cursed Luonnotar for not protecting his son. On the seventh night, when Norek thought he could take no more, the screeching cry of the Great Horned Owl’s warning shattered the night as it suddenly flew through the hide covered door.

Lifting his tear stained face, Norek had screamed in rage as he rolled to his hooves. Whipping away the hide door, he lunged after the ethereal creature only to immediately stop in stunned silence. Standing before him was a group of warriors from the Raven Tribe. Held between them on a hidebound stretcher was the bleeding body of his son, Tolnik. From the light of the full moon, Norek could see his son still breathed. Or so he had thought.

For a time Norek’s thoughts were silent as he climbed, but mercilessly his self-loathing continued to flail at his soul. Since time immemorial, Centaurs from all of the Tribes had been called here to speak with the Great Spirit. Called both Sky-Father and Earth-Mother by the People, Luonnotar was the essence of nature in all of its forms. All life was interconnected and dependent upon one another in the great circle. Where there was life, there was death. Each form of existence gave meaning to the next for they were inseparably a part of one another. When Norek had denied this simple truth, he had put the entire Thunder Tribe in danger.

It took all of the strength of Norek’s upper body to pull his lower half up enough to hook one of his forelegs on the edge of the ridge. Still, it wasn’t until he got the second foreleg up that he managed to pull himself the rest of the way up onto the weather-beaten plateau at the very top of Mount Airy.

Standing up straight, Norek took in the breathtaking view. To the north and west, the plains disappeared into the horizon marking the lands of his people. To the south, the vast mountain range of the Fangs rose into the sky creating a natural barrier to the lush farmlands of the Imperium far away. Even from this distance, the impregnable walls of the Citadel could be seen on its lone vigil guarding the solo pass through the mountains, while the Great Forest towered at the edge of the plains to the east. Home to the Elves, his people’s longtime allies, and the place where Tolnik had lost his life.

As the wind whipped Norek’s long gray-streaked hair about his shoulders, a tear ran down his rugged face. What the Raven Tribe brought to him that night was not his son. Even though he knew that now, it still took everything he had to fully accept that soul crushing truth.

Initially, Norek had falsely accused his own daughter of lying about Tolnik’s death. Accused her of conniving to steal away Tolnik’s birthright for her very own. Ignoring Nessa’s wails of anguish, he had welcomed the creature that wore his son’s skin into their encampment with open arms. That is until he’d seen the truth for himself.

Remembering the harsh words of hate coming from his son’s lips, Norek hung his head in shame. Against all tradition, Tolnik had demanded the right of combat for leadership of the Tribe.

Hanging his head in despair, the pain in Norek’s chest refused to go away. Such a foreign thought, but that’s when he knew the creature standing before him was not his son. The People of the Tribes simply didn’t think in those kinds of terms. When the creature that wore Tolnik’s skin realized the seriousness of its mistake, the challenge had been immediately withdrawn, but the damage could not be undone.

Norek knew the truth. He now understood why Nessa had been so distraught. Why she’d continued to mourn over Tolnik’s death even after he’d been returned to the tribe. She’d seen the truth from Wakinyan. That realization was when the true horror of the situation had hit him. If the Raven Tribe had fallen under the control of these creatures, then how many other Tribes have been corrupted?

Focusing once again on the present, Norek looked down at the stone beneath his hooves. The place he stood was called the Council of the Ancestors by his people. This was where the spirit messengers had summoned him. This was where he would meet his fate. Offering a silent prayer to the Sky-Father, Norek went about the preparations necessary for the vision quest as he began humming a chant in the language of the ancients.

Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)

Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)

Jai om numah heyaho halne yohna. (Search for the truth and you will find.)

Tu nelyo chonga gohea yo choo yohnale. (The strength to fight the evil you have found.)

Using white kaolin clay paint, Norek first laid out the circle of calling on the weathered stone large enough for him to kneel inside. For the body of the Earth-Mother, he laid a heart stone from the plains at the bottom of the circle. For the Sky-Father, Norek removed the colored feathers from his hair. Gently he gently laid them at the top of the circle as his voice rose in volume.

Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)

Tu nalga chelne tolna mondo tae. (You will walk across the plains so wide.)

Oya tol tumma tilna helta hoea. (And up a mountain you will climb.)

Tonne Tohanna tu ulnay. (As a chosen you will find.)

Niza talch Wohano Tulnye tae. (The taste of Alttash’s Tears so fine.)

For death, Norek removed several broken hair-pipe bones from the bag at his waist. The pieces were from the necklace Tolnik had worn on the day he died. Carefully Norek arranged the bones on the left side of the circle as his strong voice was picked up by the wind.

Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)

Moviey Tolchae Lugcha ya. (Speak to the elders of your Tribe.)

Te cholg Wakinya til gal zya. (Or have the Wakinyan take your soul.)

Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)

Next, Norek took a thick lock of hair from the bag as the chant lowered to a deep, wordless hum. Cautious of the wind, Norek took the hair he’d taken from his daughter on the night he’d left the Thunder Tribe and placed it on the right side of the circle. This, he used to symbolize life.

For the next step, Norek removed the tinnearlian-wood mace from its sheath and the leather utility harness strapped across his chest. Keeping a hold of the bag, he tossed the rest of his gear to the ridge down below. Kneeling inside the circle, he pulled the last three items from the bag, two clay jars of kaolin paint and a small red root, never stopping in his humming chant.

The first color Norek chose was the yellow of the bixa plant. Yellow was for the realm of the Sky-Father and symbolized his reign over death. Slowly covering the left side of his face, Norek marked himself as an honorable warrior, promising his willingness to fight until death.

The second clay jar held a thick black-colored paint. Carefully Norek made the mark of the hand on the right side of his face. Black was the color of the Earth-Mother, symbolizing the realm of life. In this way, Norek showed his readiness for war and his promise of victory.

Lastly, Norek used a sharp stone to slice the palm of his hand open. With his own blood, he transformed the white kaolin into the last color needed. Stirring the mixture with two fingers until it changed into a bright red, he added the last color to his War Mask. The perpendicular lines painted down both cheeks was the call to war.

Finished with his preparations, Norek picked up the small red root, bringing it to his lips. His chant suddenly faltered as fear gripped his heart. Shocked at his lack of faith, Norek felt his whole arm begin to shake as he stared at the Alttash’s Tear in his hand. For the first time in his life, he understood the fear others had for the extremely poisonous root.

Even as a young colt, Norek had never feared the Trial of Luonnotar. Since his earliest memories he’d believed with every fiber of his being that he was a Chosen of Luonnotar, but after failing to kill the creature that had taken over his son’s body, his confidence was shaken. Would Luonnotar still consider him worthy?

In his heart Norek knew that something evil was silently taking over the Tribes. If he wanted to protect his people, then he must know what they faced! He must speak with Luonnotar. As the resolve hardened within his chest, Norek’s hand stop shaking. Standing up straight, he brought the deadly poison to his lips, consuming it with one bite. The needs of his people were too great.

Finished with the preparations, Norek looked to the sky raising his arms out wide to either side of him. Focusing his will he closed the circle. As the energy of the spell rippled closed around him, Norek raised his voice to the sky.

“Oh Great Spirit, I have come to Mount Airy at the behest of your messenger. I ask that you speak with this humble servant of your people.”

Norek could feel the poison of the Alttash’s Tear flowing through his veins. Light headed, he slowly sank to his knees inside the circle of calling looking skyward. With his last breath, he finished the ritual words for the Vision Quest.

“Your people have great need of your ancient wisdom, oh Luonnotar.”

Norek felt his consciousness begin to fade as he laid his head against the weathered rock of the plateau. Around him, the clear blue sky darkened as black clouds began spreading out above the mountain. The sound of his beating heart filled his ears as the heavens split wide open above his head as the spirit world took shape around him.

As the connection to his physical body grew faint, Norek felt his spirit form take shape around him. Slowly he pushed himself up to his hooves. Below him, he saw his physical body still lying atop the stone plateau below. Seeing his spirit form take shape, Norek breathed a sigh of relief. He was still a Chosen!

Hearing the sounds of rolling thunder, Norek looked to the sky once more. As far as the eye could see dark clouds blocked out the sun as the sky began to boil like a caldron. Lightning flashed in rippling waves as the wind began to shriek in its intensity. Norek’s long hair whipped about his head as the black mass began spinning around the mountain. Faster and faster it went until a whirling cyclone formed directly above his head.

As the thick black tentacle descended on top of him, Norek cried out in fear. It wasn’t the impending devastation of the storm that had suddenly turned his blood cold, but the realization that the black seething mass reaching out for him was actually the spirits of the dead. Only in the oldest songs of his people had he ever heard of such a sight!

As the galloping mass of warriors drew near, Norek clearly saw their ghostly faces were painted like his own. Bone breastplates protected their chests and hide armor their withers, while each dead warrior brandished a large two-handed mace high over their head.

The beating of their hooves was the sound of rolling thunder. The shouting of their voices was the blowing wind. Galloping at the head of the formation was the glowing form of the Sky-Father in all of his magnificence. Like a glowing beacon of light cutting through a dark ocean, crackling waves of lightning radiated out from his body throughout the host following behind. As the spirit War Party approached, Norek felt a growing dread forming in his heart.

Although Centaurs preferred to live in harmony with nature and were generally a peaceful people, once angered they were relentless berserkers in battle. Unlike the other races of Irlendria that fought each other in small skirmishes on a regular basis over minor disagreements. When you attacked one Centaur, you went to war with the entire Tribe.

When he was a young buck, such a sight would have made the blood rush in his veins from excitement and anticipation, but now as a grizzled veteran of many battles, Norek knew well the terrible costs that came with war. Seeing the Sky-Father leading the charge could only mean sorrowful times ahead for his people. As the War Party soared into him, Norek’s soul was swept up into the howling vortex. Formless rage tried to wipe out all thought, but somehow he didn’t lose himself to the mindless fury of his people.

In his spirit form, Norek realized he could see everything happening around him at once. The land of his people’s home was like nothing he’d seen before. Instead of a living sea of grass, there was now only blackened hard earth as far as the eye could see. Below his hooves Norek saw an endless stream of his people charging across the plains on their way to war.

To the east, the sky glowed red as the Great Forest’s ancient grove burned in a horrendous blaze. In its fiery depths, his people attacked the Elves in relentless waves. The bodies of his people littered the blackened and burned ground thick as fall leaves, but still they rushed onward in their berserker rage destroying everything in their path.

Directly south, Norek saw his people storming the Citadel. Since the massive fortress construction after Irlendria’s first Race Wars almost three thousand years ago, it had never been defeated, but now its thick outer walls burned where they’d been breached. Still, the Citadel’s inner walls held as the battle continued to rage on fiercely. Hundreds of thousands of his people lay dead in heaping piles that ran to the very top of the outer ramparts, but still his people rushed forward blinded by their insatiable fury.

Floating alone above the plains, Norek watched his people with growing horror. Something was terribly wrong. This was against every belief his people held as sacred! What could have driven his people to do such horrendous acts of violence? As he watched, Norek saw something odd he’d initially missed. Spread out amongst the hordes of Centaurs charging into battle were thousands of glowing red auras, leading his people onwards to death and destruction. Even this high above the battlefield the voracious evil radiating out from these creatures froze his soul.

Focusing on the nearest source below him, Norek at first thought there were two creatures standing on top of each other, but as he came nearer he realized his mistake. There was only one. The outer skin of the creature looked like a Centaur, but on the inside, it was a hulking corpse-white mutant standing on two legs. Norek’s eyes narrowed as he immediately recognized the beast. It was Tuonellian Hulk! All around the battlefield, Norek realized the Hulks were leading the Tribes. Unknowingly, his people were being used as pawns of Loviatar. Using cruel whips, they drove his people before them relentlessly.

In the skies above the battlefield, another deadly fight for existence was underway. Coming together in the heavens, the gods of the Alliance joined forces into a massive army of souls. Surrounding his people, they attacked as one. With Luonnotar at their lead, the Tribes fought for their existence as the spiritual world erupted in chaos. Everywhere he looked there was only devastation and war.

A bolt of pure energy exploded in front of him in a blinding flash of light as once again Norek found himself standing on top of Mount Airy. Heart thumping loudly in his chest, Norek choked back the terrible fear of the destruction he’d just witnessed as he looked up in shock. Floating in the air before him was the form of a massive glowing Centaur.

Immediately recognizing his God, Norek collapsed to the ground pressing his forehead to the cold stone of the mountain. Although he had seen the many crafted amulets depicting his god throughout his life, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw now. Squeezing his eyes shut Norek tried to block out the blinding white light, but the vision was seared into his mind

Luonnotar was a God with three aspects. The first was the Earth-Mother, who lived in the land beneath their hooves, representing birth and life. Her domain was that of the living. She ensured that the Tribes continued life and the abundance of the land, teaching her people to live in balance with the world around them. She was the mother of all Centaurs.

The second was the Sky-Father, who lived in the heavens and represented war and death. His domain was the Spirit Ream and the heavens. Watching over the souls of the dead, he guided the Tribes into tomorrow.

Norek had met both aspects during his time as Chief of the Thunder Tribe, but never before had he met the combined aspects, until now. Luonnotar was both beautiful and terrible to behold, representing the Spirit of Nature. The Tribes believed that all Centaurs were created equal. Both the male and female essences were essential parts of the same whole. One was not greater than the other since both were needed equally for the Tribes harmony and continued life. In this form, reddish-purple blooms of Alttash’s Tears grew around its body, while the rainbow-hued feathered plumes of the Great Thunderbird were woven into the long white mane cascading down its back. Before Norek could take in more, Luonnotar’s voice rang inside his head with an intensity that removed all thought.

“Norek, son of Manitou, Chief of the Thunder Tribe, heed my warning. If not, all that I have shown to you will come to pass.” Gripping the rock of the mountain with both hands, Norek’s whole body shook from the sound. “Your daughter must agree to undertake the Yatra if the Tribes are to have any chance of survival.”

Norek heart skipped a beat. His mind clinging to Luonnotar’s words as his thoughts raced. During the Tribes long history, there had only been eight questors and each had earned the Tribes greatest badge of honor, the mark of Nakutu. Any Centaur with the mark of Nakutu was beyond reproach, exemplifying the highest concepts of honor, bravery, and self-sacrifice that all Centaurs held sacred.

Questors left everything behind when they chose to accept the Yatra. No family, no friends, no Tribe, they gave up everything. Except for the Staff of Yatri and the mark of a questor, they owned nothing until the quest was complete.

Tribal laws were very strict when it came to questors. Anyone wearing the mark of the Yatra would not be questioned or stopped. Nessa would be able to go anywhere, and not even a corrupt Chieftain could challenge her right. For his daughter to be so honored nearly broke his heart with pride, but at the same time, his soul was deeply troubled. Being a questor always came at a terrible cost and Nessa had already lost too much.

“She must seek out the last Paladin of Ukko.”

Pushing himself to his knees, Norek cried out distraught. “Then all is lost, Great Spirit! The Klavikians were destroyed nine years ago. There are no Paladins left within the world.”

Instead of anger, there was only a deep sadness in Luonnotar’s next words. “There is one Paladin that yet lives, Norek, son of Manitou. Although he is not on Irlendria, he will be soon. Nessa must seek him in the Great Forest of the Elves.”

Surging to his hooves, every tendon stuck out of Norek’s body as he forced himself to meet Luonnotar’s blazing eyes yelling at the top of his lungs. He would not lose his daughter like he’d lost his son! “Take me in her place, Sky-Father!”

Floating back into the heavens, Luonnotar answered Norek’s plea calmly. “You already have your part to play in this, Thunder Chief. For the sake of your people, I hope you choose your next course of action wisely.”

Leaping into the air, Norek followed after Luonnotar. With every fiber of his being, he drove his soul after the slowly disappearing god. Higher and higher he flew willing himself back into the Spirit Realm when lightning suddenly crashed around him. In a blinding flash of light the Sky-Father was gone.

“Nooo!” For a long moment, Norek could only stare at the empty blue sky before him in shock when he suddenly felt it as if a massive hand was wrapping around his chest. A second later he was being pulled irresistibly back towards the ground.

Focusing his thoughts, Norek strained against the force with all of his might, but it was of no help. Suddenly the air gave away beneath his hooves, and he was falling back towards the mountaintop far below. As he fell, Norek realized what was happening. Now that the vision quest was complete his soul was being summoned back to his body against its will.

Normally, Luonnotar sent spirit animals to guide the chosen on their visions quests. If not, the Questor could go astray and lose where they had left their bodies and never return to the realm of the living. Never before had he heard of such a thing like this happening. Screaming in wordless rage, Norek felt his soul slam back into his body as his voice echoed in his ears.

“Nnnooo!” Eyes flying open, Norek sucked in a ragged lungful of air. Springing to his hooves, he looked around wildly searching for any sign of Luonnotar, but there was none. Once again he was alone on top of the mountain.

Tears streaming down his craggy face, Norek stood unmoving for a long time looking across the plains with a heavy heart. With grave resolve, he contemplated the message that he’d been given to deliver as the wind pulled at his long black mane. There was something about Nessa that Luonnotar believed could save the world, and he was expected to ask his last surviving child to undertake the Yatra in her current condition.

Thinking about the terrible grief Nessa was suffering from, Norek shook his head sadly. She was in no shape to take care of herself let alone undertake a Yatra. Searching the sky, Norek silently cried out in anguish.

“Tell me, Teshna, what should I do?”

No answer came. His wife had died long ago during the Great War, but he still talked to her daily. Even though she wasn’t here, he sometimes felt her loving hand guiding his decisions. Searching his heart, he felt her soothing touch on his soul. Once the Yatra was completed, he would ask Luonnotar once again to be allowed to join Teshna in the spirit realm.

Looking into the sky once more, Norek came to a decision. It would have to be him. Luonnotar would have to understand. Wiping his tears away, Norek climbed down from the Council of the Ancestors. Gathering up his discarded gear, he quickly began strapping everything into place.

Pausing to look at the runes of power running down the length of his great-great-great-grandfather’s tinnearlian-wood mace, Norek sighed heavily. He didn’t carry the Staff of Yatra, nor did he wear the mark of a questor. None the less he was a chosen.

Focusing his energy, Norek activated the runes carved into the nearly indestructible wood. For a moment, the ancient weapon glowed with blue energy. The chosen were battle leaders that could wield eldritch powers. Every chosen had the ability to energize the rune magic in the weapons of the warriors around them, which made them essential to the tribe. Releasing the power that energized his mace, Norek grimly smiled as he started the long climb back down the mountain. He didn’t need anything more from Luonnotar to complete the Yatra.

The descent went quickly, and before Norek knew it, he was once again standing at the base of Mountain Airy. Galloping to the nearest rise, he stopped as his eyes searched the holy peak one last time for some sign of approval from Luonnotar. Seeing none, he turned to the east where the Great Forest of the Elves lay.

He would find this last Paladin as Luonnotar commanded and return to the tribe. In his absence, Uzila would have to lead until his return. With a heavy heart, Norek turned to go. “Luonnotar would have to accept his decision-”

CRACK

Pure agony shot through Norek’s hind leg as he slammed into the ground blasting the air out of his lungs. Rolling with the force of the impact, he launched himself back to his hooves reaching for the mace strapped to his back, when a coarse voice called out behind him.

“Where do you think you’re going, Thunder Chief?”

Spinning around Norek’s good legs sprayed out as he fought to catch his balance. The remains of his shattered hind quarter flopped uselessly as another rough voice spoke, mockingly holding up his bloody limb.

“I’ve never tasted a Chief’s flesh before.” In horror, Norek watched the Hulk’s mouth stretch unnaturally wide as it bit off a chunk of flesh from his leg.

CRUNCH

“Hmmm tastes like hestur ...” Pausing in thought, the brute looked up at his partner speaking around the bloody mouthful of meat.

“Hey Tork, he’s not all white like the other ones.” As the creatures paused to look at him questioningly, Norek called out to Luonnotar for help as his berserker rage overtook him. He could feel his senses suddenly accelerate as everything around him slowed down. While his precious blood spurted out of the ragged stump with every heartbeat onto the ground, power surged through his veins as the runes of his mace flared to life. He could see the shocked faces of the two Tuonellian Hulks surrounding him as he lunged forward in a blur of motion.

The whole scene unfolded like he was standing outside of his body. The last time Norek had fought these beasts he had a Paladin of Ukko healing his injuries and was fully armored. He knew there was only a short amount of time before he bled to death, so he planned to make these last moments count. Lifting his mace high over his head, Norek brought it crashing down on the shoulder of the misshapen claw holding his bloody leg as he cried out his Tribe’s war cry.

“WwwaaaNnniii!” Norek felt the hulk’s entire shoulder shatter beneath the brutal strike. Without pause, he followed through on his next attack. Spinning around on his good hind leg, Norek clipped the second creature in the jaw as he swung the two-handed mace in a wide arc. As the Hulk spun away from him like a ragdoll with a crushed jaw, he power-drove the mace completely through the first Hulk’s neck, decapitating the beast with the single brutal strike.

“WwwaaaNnniii!” Spinning around, Norek cried out his war cry once again, lunging after the reeling Hulk as the creature’s face twisted in savage hate. With a wordless roar of rage, the Tuonellian’s clawed fist shot out from its body. Stretching out rapidly, the arm quadrupled in length as it sliced-off Norek’s front leg.

Ignoring the injury, Norek let his momentum carry him on top of the Hulk as it fell backward. Before he could crush the creature under his mass the Hulk’s other clawed fist struck deep, burying into his lower abdomen. With a cry of pain, Norek’s body spasmodically jerked as he hung suspended in midair. Swinging his weapon down with two hands, he shattered the creature’s shoulder with his mace as it jerked its misshapen head out of the way at the last second.

Gasping for breath, Norek grasped the Hulk’s thick bicep with his free hand. With a sharp jerk, he forced his body further down the misshapen arm trapping it inside his chest. Again and again, Norek grimly pulled himself forward until he rested on top of the struggling monster’s broad chest.

He had learned the move many years ago when the Alliance had stood against the Tuonellian Hordes at the Battle of Tothnell. Only this time, there were no Paladins to save his life afterward. Norek’s head swam as he struggled to lift the heavy mace with both hands. With a grunt of agony, he hefted the mace above the Hulk’s hate filled eyes.

The creature screeched in rage struggling to free its trapped arms, as its rasping voice spat in rage. “I will rip the flesh from your bones! I will-”.

Falling forward, Norek slammed the mace home with the last of his waning strength just as the blue glowing runes began fading away. With a satisfying crunch, the Hulk’s head exploded like an overripe melon as Norek collapsed atop the dead beast. Closing his eyes, he breathed in ragged gasps of air.

He was already dead; only his body didn’t know it yet. As his heart began beating slower, Norek heard heavy footsteps approaching through the long glass. When they came to a stop behind him, the harsh voice that spoke sent shivers down his spine.

“That was unexpected Thunder Chief, but ultimately useless.” Rough hands rolled Norek onto his back, before lifting him off the ground by his neck. Looking up, Norek saw another nine foot tall muscle-bound Hulk crouched over him hungrily as its eyes glowed red with malice.

“You’re wearing my face Thunder Chief!” Fear shot through Norek for the first time as the Tuonellian Hulk held up a long clawed hand before his face smiling wickedly.

CRACK … CRACK

Suddenly, two arrows shattered in the creature’s face as the Hulk reared upright in surprise, dropping Norek to the ground completely forgotten.

CRACK … CRACK … CRACK …

Immediately arrows began slamming into the monster’s face and chest in a steadily stream, each one smashing on impact against its stone-like skin. Throwing its head back, the Hulk screamed out a challenge. “Rrraaahhh!”

Norek knew he didn’t have much time. Tribal tactics were straight forward. He knew the attacking warrior would be charging into melee range within a matter of seconds. Once that happened, the fight would be over. There was no way he couldn’t let this creature steal his face. He had to do something!

Norek had been extraordinarily lucky to have taken out two Hulks by himself. Normally, it would have taken several experienced warriors and a lot of luck to take down one of the terrible beasts. If they hadn’t been overconfident and he hadn’t been willing to sacrifice his life, they would have slaughtered him in a matter of seconds.

Still, maybe there was a chance. Ever since the war against Loviatar, the Tribe’s Elders had commanded that all weapons were to be crafted with Klavikian runes, even arrows. Praying to Luonnotar for strength, Norek reached deep down into his soul calling forth the eldritch power of his birthright one last time. As the runes on his mace lying next to him flared to life, he heard the warrior’s galloping hooves nearing. Focusing his energy, Norek reached out for the incoming arrows.

THUNK … THUNK … THUNK

Norek heard the Hulk’s surprised grunts of pain as it staggered backward with three arrows protruding out of its chest. The rain of arrows suddenly stopped as, a second later, the warrior slammed into the beast with a loud crash mace first. Wide-eyed, Norek cried out in fear as he immediately recognized the Centaur’s markings.

“Nessa, no!”

Chapter Fourteen

Location Earth / Sean MacRory:

The ride over was uneventful enough. The Islanders had kept to themselves near the stern of the small boat while the crew of the Triumph had clumped together in the bow. The engineers had spent most of the trip across the lagoon talking about some strip club hidden in the old port of Ormos, far away from the tourist areas that made Santorini the gem of the Aegean Sea, while Doctor Evans stood deep in thought at his side.

The ride up to the top of the volcanic cliff, where Fira hung overlooking the lagoon, was silent except for the mechanical sounds of the heavy machinery of the pulley system. The small quarters of the cable car had been packed to overflowing as the two very different groups faced off watching each other warily.

When they had reached Fira, it was surprisingly quiet. All of the tourists had gone back to their cruise ships when the electricity had first gone out, and now the normally bright and crowded streets were dark and silent. As they walked down the narrow winding avenue, their footfalls echoed eerily on the uneven cobblestones. From behind the drawn curtains of the second-floor windows, Sean saw the locals fearfully watching them as they made their way to the town’s center. As they reached the main square, surprisingly enough the Mayor’s office was the only building lit up. Hurriedly, the officers ushered them inside.

Sean didn’t get a chance to see much of the plush office as the officers rushed them up the narrow stairway that lead to the second floor, but what he did see peripherally was expensive hardwood furniture and highly ornate, rich fabrics. They were symbols of great wealth on an island like Santorini. As they reached the back office, Sean heard a deep voice call out behind the closed door in what must be Greek, but in a dialect, he’d never heard before.

“Οι εν λόγω αιρετικοί κλειδωμένο?” (Are those heretics locked up?)

The Lieutenant responded immediately in the same language. “Μεγαλειότατε, υπήρξαν επιπλοκές. Πρέπει να μιλήσουμε.” (Sire, there were complications. We need to talk.)

An explosion of air shook the small room as the door was suddenly whipped open by a dark haired man yelling at the top of his lungs. Like most of the islanders Sean had seen, the man was short and broad, but still his body filled the entire doorway. Unlike Regional Governor Machairidis, Mayor Aixi was not fat.

“Τι επιπλοκές?” (What complications?)

For a long moment, everyone froze as they eyed each other in the sudden silence. Sean knew enough restaurant Greek to order a beer or get his face slapped, but that was it. Whatever strange dialect these islanders were speaking, he’d never heard it before tonight. The Mayor ignored them completely as his eyes locked onto the Lieutenant angrily.

“Γιατί έφερες τους αιρετικούς εδώ?” (Why have you brought the heretics here?)

Standing to his full height, Sean squared his shoulder. Looking down at the smaller man, he spoke in a clipped British accent that he’d acquired for just such occasions.

“I take it you are the Mayor of this tiny spec of rock?”

Seeing the burning rage in the man’s eyes, Sean hid his smile. There were few things more insulting than an overbearing, pompous British accent delivered in a perfect nasal pitch. Being and islander himself, he knew he’d just hit every one of the man’s buttons with that one short sentence.

Before the man could explode, he felt Doctor Evans brush past him. Holding out a hand, she introduced herself.

“Professor Larissa Evans at your service.” The Major slowly took her hand as his eyes immediately focused on her impressive chest. “I hope you will excuse the interruption, Magistrate Aixi, but we are only here because your Lieutenant Aenixal asked us to come along. I believe he thought we could better explain the circumstances as to our presence on Nea Kameni.”

For a long moment, the Mayor gave his subordinate a withering glare. Sean knew that look well, Lieutenant Aenixal was in for the ass-chewing of his life. Once again, the man focused on Doctor Evans’ cleavage as he reconsidered his words. With an exasperated sigh, the Major turned around. Heading back into the brightly lit office, he called out over his shoulder.

“You might as well come in.”

Following close behind Doctor Evans, Sean entered the elegant office. The space was filled with antique hand-carved cherry furniture and decorated with heavy rich fabrics that gave the room an old-world feel. Tastefully set around the room were the priceless artwork of painted frescos and archaic vases depicting simple scenes of daily Minoan life.

Although, the most impressive piece of the collection was a half-snake, half-human woman marble statue that stood life-size in the far corner of the room at what had to be at least a hundred and eighty-three centimeters tall. That is if you measured the thick snake coils holding up the statue’s human torso the same as you would measure a standing human’s height.

There was something emotionally powerful about the statue’s life-like humanoid face that looked towards the heavens that grabbed your soul. Even though the statue’s humanesque face was surrounded by hair-like tiny serpents, she was breathtakingly beautiful with her arms reaching out in supplication. It was as if the sculptor had perfectly captured the snake-woman’s beseeching request to the heavens.

Sean’s attention was suddenly pulled back to the owner of the office as the Mayor sat down heavily in the cushioned chair behind his oversized desk. As the man irritably inspected the group before him, Sean noticed the man’s crisp white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows and that his fancy tie was cockeyed to one side as if he’d hurriedly dressed. Ignoring Sean completely, the man focused his ire on Doctor Evans.

“I don’t know why Lieutenant Aenixal thought it necessary to bring you to me instead of taking you directly to prison.” Seeing Doctor Evans sharp intake of breath he continued speaking, cutting her off before she could begin speaking. “I really don’t care who you are Doctor Evans.” Straightening a stack of papers on his desk, the Major glanced at Sean before continuing. “Nor do I care about why you are here. As your Captains so succinctly pointed out, we are a small island with simple rules. Trespassing on Nea Kameni is one of them." Signaling at the officers in the room with a wave of his hand, the Mayor smiled unconcerned. “Now if you will excuse me, I have work to-.”

Cutting off the Mayor, Doctor Evans dropped her friendly façade abruptly. “We are not done here Aixi, at least not yet.” Ignoring the Mayor’s shocked face at the casual use of his name, Larissa laid into him.

“Actually, I’m only here to give you a message from Regional Governor Machairidis.” Pulling out a thick envelope, Doctor Evans tossed it onto the desk in front of the Mayor. “He said that if you had any questions in regards to his orders about my presence on Nea Kameni, that you could contact him personally.”

Not saying a word, the Mayor ripped open the envelope. Shuffling through the papers inside, Sean saw the man’s face turn beat red as Doctor Evans whispered over her shoulder in Welsh. “Gwnewch yn siŵr bod eich Bechgyn yn barod Capten. Os bydd unrhyw beth yn mynd i ddigwydd, bydd yn nawr.” (Make sure your Lads are ready Captain. If anything is going to happen, it will be now.)

Standing up abruptly, the Mayor slammed his fist onto the desk before him as Sean gave the signal to his men to get into position. “Haven’t you done enough to my people, Doctor Evans?”

For a second, the Mayor looked around the room at his audience, before locking once more onto Doctor Evans’ as he spoke in a barely controlled voice. “I am well aware of who you. What I don’t understand is why you are here? Why even bother with our tiny island after destroying our economy with your lies?”

Understanding suddenly who Doctor Evans was, the islanders around the room angrily pressed closer as Sean unobtrusively slipped his hands into his pockets. Sliding his fingers into the brass knuckles inside, Sean and his men let the police officers crowd to the front as the Mayor continued with his tirade. “From the beginning of time, the people of Thera have been called the children of Atlantis. Over the centuries, we have endured devastating volcanic eruptions and terrible earthquakes that have killed thousands of our peoples in service to our ancestors. Through all of this, our civilization has survived for almost four thousand years by our dedicated service, and yet …” The Mayor’s eyes bore into Doctor Evans as his voice rose in volume. “In one stroke, you have corrupted that simple truth with your lies!”

Shoving the angry officers crowding around her back with a savage twist of her shoulders, Doctor Evans screamed back at the Mayor. “I never once said that I’d found Atlantis!” Forcing herself to calm down, Doctor Evans spoke evenly. “The armchair archeologists that run the Royal Society of London came up with that bloody dumb thesis. As a matter of fact, I never once agreed with them.”

Stepping forward, Doctor Evans leaned in until she was face-to-face with the Mayor. “The only reason I came here is because the island of Scheria was not a Phaeacian city, but an outpost of Atlantis. When I leave your island, the world will not question the facts that the people of Santorini are the children of Atlantis.”

Flecks of spittle hit Doctor Evans in the face as the Mayor screamed, flailing his arms angrily. “It doesn’t matter what you do or say! You will never leave this island alive!”

Sean didn’t exactly know what he had been expecting, but having the Santorini Mayor dive for his boss was not one of them. "Battalia-abu!" Bellowing his family’s ancestral war-cry, Sean MacRory lunged forward. The action was quick and brutal. One second everyone was listening to the Mayor and Doctor Evans argue, and the next everyone was swinging and yelling.

Sean’s first haymaker slammed into the back of the islander’s head standing on his right. As the man dropped like a sack of fish, his next swing was already heading for the man’s mate. As the man whipped around, his eyes had a split second to widen in fear before Sean’s meaty fist caught him solidly on the jaw.

Sean did bother watching the man hit the ground. He was already heading for his Boss. Out of the corner of his eyes, Sean was peripherally aware of the battle unfolding around him as the Major lunged across the massive desk. The man’s face twisted in hate as he grabbed Doctor Evans by the shoulders. To his left, Kane McDougal had already laid out one man and was in the process of leaping head first into another for a Limerick Kiss, while on his other side the blonde German lads were going to town.

Sean heard frighten screams as Hans lifted the two closest police officers next to him into the air by the back of their necks. Stretching his arms out wide, the large man brought his hands forcibly together with a resounding clap as the islanders immediately went limp. While on the far side of the room, Wolfgang held one of the police officers on the ground, while pummeling him unconscious with his fist.

The blood rushed in Sean’s ears as he saw Larissa fall back out of sight with the Mayor on top of her. As they disappeared, he raced to her aid just as the Lieutenant jumped in front of him blocking his path. Without slowing down, Sean hit the smaller man like a rugby forward retrieving a ball from the scrum. One second the Lieutenant was crouched in a wrestler’s stance and the next he was bouncing off the far wall of the office as Sean effortlessly battered him aside with a bellow.

“If that pompous ass hurt Larissa, he was going to …” Skidding to a stop, Sean swore under his breath at the sight before him. In stunned amazement, he laughed out loud in relief as the Mayor shrieked in agony.

“Bloody hell, Larissa … “, stuttering for a second Sean quickly recovered. “ I mean, bloody hell, Doctor Evans.”

On the ground before him, Doctor Evans held one of the Mayor’s arms isolated between her muscular thighs. Using both arms, she forced the screaming man’s elbow backward to just before the point of breaking. Sean heard several gawfing laughs as his lads walked up behind him. A second later, he felt a rough hand grip his should.

“We should do this more often.”

The Chief Engineer’s gruff words brought a smile to Sean’s hard face as he looked around the destroyed office. Scattered in small piles across the room were groaning or unconscious men. As scraps went, this had been relatively tame. In these smaller ports, the law wasn’t always so cut and dry. Being legal was more about who you could bribe or being strong enough to fight off the local thugs dressed up in uniforms.

Sean gave a nod of thanks as the Chief Engineer used his boot to push a moaning Lieutenant onto his back. He was a good man to have in a fight. Kane had grown up on the streets of Limerick’s Southside with a reputation for having a hard head and a big mouth. A self-taught mechanical genius, the young boy learned his trade working on the old cargo ships left over from the last World War. Nowadays, the old Seadog was pushing fifty, but he was still good to have in a fight.

“Would someone get this crazy bitch off of me?”

“Aaarrrggg!” The Mayor screamed in agony as Doctor Evans twisted the man’s arm near to the point of breaking. “Not before you explain why you want us dead.”

“I don’t have to answer any of …”

“Aaarrrggg!”

“Next time, I’ll break it. Now talk!” Sweating profusely, the Mayor stubbornly kept his mouth shut as his body strained against the submission hold’s intense pain. Calmly, Doctor Evans continued. “On the count of three, I will break your bloody arm if you do not answer my question.”

“One …”

Kane squatted next to the Mayor to look into his beet red face. “Lad, I don’t think you want to piss the Lady off anymore. If I were you, I would tell her what she wants to know.”

“Two …”

“Thr …”

“WAIT!”

Looking down at his feet, Sean was surprised to see the Lieutenant weakly pushing himself up to his knees. Looking at Doctor Evans and the Mayor, he spoke haltingly. “Don’t hurt Father Aixi. I will tell you what you want to know.”

“Xion-” The Mayor’s exclamation cut off before he could say anything more by Doctor Evans as she caught the young Lieutenant’s eyes. Locking gazes with the young man, Doctor Evans spoke evenly.

“Continue.”

Looking back and forth between the two of them nervously, the young man slowly started talking. “It is because Nea Kameni is a sacred place for my people.”

Sean scoffed loudly. “Hundreds of tourists visit the island every day during tourist season, and you’re not trying to kill them.”

“That is because the Labryaden Guardians always escort them.”

Sean was about to laugh again at the young man’s words when Doctor Evans spoke quickly. “Labryadens are the guardians of the Goddess Britomartis.” For a long moment, Doctor Evans froze deep in thought when her eyes suddenly snapped towards the Lieutenant as she spoke sharply. “Show me your chest!”

Sitting on his knees, the young man hesitantly unbuttoned his white linen shirt and slowly bared his chest. Tattooed over his heart was a stylized double-headed battle-axe with a large tree stretching across both heads.

“That is the symbol of the Order of the White Moon.”

Sean was surprised to hear the awe in Doctor Evans’ voice. “Your order has guarded the Crypt of Britomartis for all of these centuries?”

Not waiting for the Lieutenant’s response, Doctor Evans released the Mayor. Rolling quickly to her feet, she ripped open his torn dress shirt. Tattooed across his broad chest was a matching tattoo.

Sitting up painfully, the Mayor moved his arm tenderly as he spat at Doctor Evans. “There is no such thing as a Crypt of Britomartis.”

Reaching behind her, Doctor Evans threw a thick envelope at the Mayor that she’d pulled from her back pocket. “Really, then what do you call that?”

Tearing open the envelope like a crazed man, the Mayor sucked in a sharp breath as he flipped through the pictures inside. Looking up at Doctor Evans in horror, he leaped at her screaming.

“You must stop what you’re doing.”

Moving quickly, Sean caught the Mayor by his collar, yanking him back to the ground hard. “Why don’t you just sit down and tell us calmly why we should stop what we are doing before someone really gets hurt.”

The Mayor’s eyes took on the gleam of a fanatic as he met Sean’s gaze squarely. “There is nothing you can do to hurt me without the entire island of Santorini rising up against you. Leave now while you still can.”

Doctor Evans cut off the Mayor speaking harshly. “We’re not going anywhere. By now those pictures have hit every Associated Press Office around the world. By tomorrow afternoon this island will be crawling with reporters, biologist, archeologists and Atlantis fanatics and there is nothing you can do-”

The absolute look of horror in the Mayor’s face brought Doctor Evans up short as the man suddenly cried out terror. “You have doomed us all!”

Chapter Fifteen

Location Irlendria / Tiberius Decius Lupus:

SSSHHHRRRIIIEEE

SSSHHHRRRIIIEEE

Turning around at the shrill warning, Tiberius took one look at the situation and began bellowing commands to the bulls around him.

“Brace the rear!”

“Brace the rear!”

Throughout the formation, legionnaires spun around to face the new threat. Grabbing the hooks on the back of the armor in front of them the bulls locked their elbows bracing for impact. A second later the other half of the Praetorian phalanx slammed into their formation at a fast trot.

SSSHHHRRRIIIEEE

SSSHHHRRRIIIEEE

The clanging sound of metal on metal was the only noise from the Praetorians attack as Tiberius felt the whole formation rock backward from the force of the impact. Straining with all their might, the legionnaires slowly slid to a stop as Tiberius heard Decanus Marcellus bellowing orders to his contubernium.

“Clear the walls at will!”

Hacking sounds of blades slicing through metal and flesh filled the air as Tiberius saw his rearguard slam their shields into the compact, silent wave coming at them. Following standard tactics, the legionnaires punched through the gaps in their shield walls with their gladiuses.

Instead of falling back like any sane enemy would do. The Praetorians simply threw themselves atop the shield walls. Ignoring the blades piercing their bodies, they clutched at the legionnaires’ scutas in a death grip as the next wave began climbing over their shoulders in an overwhelming mass.

Seeing the entire rear of the formation suddenly collapse into a chaotic melee of struggling bulls, Tiberius triggered his gauntlets once again. At once the tinnearlian metal of his scutum began reforming into a second gladius as the next rank of his legionnaires was bore down by the silent wave.

Tiberius’ vision narrowed as adrenaline began pumping through his veins. Squaring his shoulders, he bellowed new commands.

“Legionnaires to me … Attack formation Omega!”

Triggering their gauntlets, the legionnaires still standing rushed to Tiberius’ side as the next silent wave leaped at them. Crossing his gladiuses across his armored chest, Tiberius prepared to strike.

“Head strikes only!”

“Hhhuuurrraaalll!” Tiberius’ legionnaires answering shout echoed off the walls around him as a bull charged past his shoulder. The berserk cry was the only warning Tiberius had before Centurion Vitruvius Aquila charged past him. Swinging his battle-axe with the force of his entire body, Aquila slammed into the wave of Praetorians blade first slaughtering all in his path.

Oblivious to the carnage before them, the next wave of guards leaped forward only to meet the old Centurion’s deadly backswing. Once again the great battle-axe cleaved through the Praetorians’ wave as bloody chunks flesh flew through the air. As the old bull leaped atop the pile of fighting Minotaurs, Tiberius’ bellowed to be heard over the raging battle.

“Legionnaires advance!”

Striding into the melee Tiberius’ glowing blades flashed as he struck the heads off the nearest Praetorians. Next to him, his legionnaires followed suit as they fought to help their embattled comrades fighting for their lives. With battle-axe leading the way, Aquila threw himself at the next wave of guards with a wordless bellow of rage as Tiberius struggled to catch up with the old bull. Scrambling over the pile of grappling Minotaurs, he called out to the legionnaires behind him.

“Legionnaires to me!”

Before Tiberius could catch up to Aquila, the enraged Centurion slammed into the last Praetorian formation. Blinded by his berserker rage, Aquila waded into their ranks with his battle-axe as ironidium spears slashed at him from every direction. At first, the old bull’s fury seemed to drive the Praetorians back, but it was only an illusion. A second later the packed guards bore Aquila to the ground in silence.

Going to the rescue of this long time mentor and protector, Tiberius charged into the fray as his legionnaires followed in his wake with their blades slashing around them in a deadly wave of death. Within moments, they surrounded the old Centurion in a defensive ring. As his legionnaires stopped the last Praetorian rush, Tiberius slaughtered the guards piled atop Aquila with precise strokes. Clearing the last of the dead Minotaurs from atop the old Centurion, Tiberius heard the shrill call of Decanus Cornisus’ whistle suddenly cut off as a rasping voice rang out behind him.

“You dumb animals disgust me.”

Turning around, Tiberius froze at the sickening sight of Centurion Brutus’s misshapen maw tearing off the head of one of his legionaries. Somehow the Centurion’s muzzle had stretched to encompass the bull’s entire head! A gasping murmur ran through Tiberius’ soldiers as the headless corpse was casually tossed aside without a second thought.

“Worthless meat sacks can’t even follow the simplest of orders.” Bile rose in the back of Tiberius’ throat as he watched the Centurion finish his grizzly meal with a loud slurping gulp. Pointing his oversized jagged sword at Tiberius, Brutus spat on the ground in contempt. “You will learn the consequences of defying the Emperor’s comm-.”

The grating tirade cut off suddenly as Decanus Cornisus rushed forward with two bulls of his contubernium at his side. With a guttural shriek, the Centurion’s arms shot out from its body.

“On your knees worms!” The great two-handed sword smashed into the legionnaires shield walls with a resounding metallic clash that blasted the bulls off their hooves. Bouncing off the wall behind them, Cornisus and his soldiers crumbled to the ground unmoving from the force of the impact.

Swiveling around, Centurion Brutus suddenly grew another foot taller as his entire body began to swell into a misshapen muscular mass. As his glowing red eyes focused on Tiberius, the Centurion began striding forward.

“I’m going to rip your still beating heart from your chest, prince meat sack!”

Ignoring the Centurion’s threats, Tiberius’ powerful voice called out to his legionnaires.

“Attack formation Alpha … shields on me!”

Alarms went off in Tiberius’ head as the Centurion began growing larger and larger. He had seen this before, but he just couldn’t remember where. The loud clanking sounds of metal plates shifting into place rang out around Tiberius’ as his legionnaires triggered their Wolf Gauntlets. Immediately their second gladiuses began transforming back into scutas once again. Before Tiberius could trigger his gauntlets, the Centurion’s clawed fist shot out as if fired from a ballista.

Tinnearlian blades crossed instinctively across Tiberius’ chest as the deadly missile impacted his heavy armor. There was a bright flash of light as the world suddenly spun out of control. The next thing Tiberius knew he was lying on his back against the hard stone of the alley.

Rolling to his knees with a wordless grunt, Tiberius gasped for breath as the battle raged around him. With growing horror he realized his veteran legionnaires were being slaughtered as the jagged blade brutally tore gaping holes in their ragged formation when it suddenly dawned on him. The creature was a godforsaken Tuonellian Hulk!

Leaping to his hooves, Tiberius raised his gauntlets before him charging in a blind rage. Pivoting suddenly, the Hulk immediately turned to face him as a wicked smile spread across its distorted face. A part of Tiberius’s mind registered the fact that the creature seemed to have difficulty holding its mask in combat when its clawed fist launched at his chest at almost point blank range.

Ready this time for the attack, Tiberius drove his fists forward, punching out with both gauntlets. The impact reverberated through his whole body as an earsplitting shriek split the night. A split second later Tiberius was yanked off his hooves as the Tuonellian’s fist whipped away blood sprayed across his muzzle as he was flung to the ground. Rolling with the motion, Tiberius leaped back to his hooves only to be slammed into the nearest wall by the creature’s spinning backhand.

Instead of being blasted off his hooves, the Hulk’s ruined fist yanked Tiberius into the air and slammed him against the wall of the alley. Coughing up blood, Tiberius watch weakly as the creature drew its jagged sword back for the killing blow when Aquila’s great battle-axe cleaved through the Hulk’s arm holding Tiberius.

Dropping to his knees, Tiberius watched the enraged Hulk pummel Aquila to the ground with the pommel of its blade. As the Tuonellian raised the jagged sword into the air to split the Centurion in two, Cornisus appear from out of nowhere leaping onto the Hulk’s broad back with his gladiuses flailing.

Spinning around in confusion, the creature roared in agony as Tiberius lurched to his hooves. Staggering forward, he slammed his blades deep into the center of the Tuonellian’s chest. With a screeching roar, the Hulk smashed Tiberius back into the wall, but before the creature could jam the blade down his throat, Aquila’s battle-axe was in motion once again.

SCHLICK

The Hulk’s second arm went flying away as the Centurion’s battle-axe hewed the malformed limb off at the elbow. Spinning around to face the old bull, the Tuonellian staggered as Cornisus’ blades hammered into its spine. With a howling shriek, the Hulk collapsed to the ground.

Limping forward, Aquila’s lifted his great battle-axe once more above his head with both hands.

With one last mighty bellow, the old Centurion cleaved through the Tuonellian Hulk’s thick, misshapen neck.

***

Location Irlendria / Gaius Vitruvius Aquila:

“They are all dead.” Centurion Gaius Vitruvius Aquila silently stood by his Prince as silent sobs racked the larger bull’s frame. “It makes no sense!”

Older than the prince, Aquila knew well the terrible fury that was building inside Tiberius’ heart. Aquila had lost his entire family herd at the onset of the Tuonellian War when the Horde first invaded the city of Garrona. Throughout the long war, Aquila had held out hope that somehow his family had survived the invasion. It wasn’t until the Tuonellians had been driven back into the Scar that the true horror of what happened to the cities’ inhabitants had come to light.

On that day, Aquila’s nightmares were given life. When the Legions had entered the first freed cities, they had learned that most of their people had been slaughtered in cold blood like cattle to feed the Horde’s armies. By the time the Legions had driven the Tuonellians from the cities like Garrona, which had been taken first, there was no one left alive to be freed.

After holding out hope for so many centuries, Aquila had nearly lost his mind from grief. His only prayer to Akras was that his young bullock and beautiful wife had a quick death, but later on even that small solace had been lost to him once it had become common knowledge that the Tuonellians consumed their prey alive. If not for his duty of guarding the young princess Aquila would have gone insane from grief, but over the last twenty-five years, Tiberius had become a son to him.

Looking around the blood-soaked courtyard, Aquila gripped Tiberius’ shoulder firmly. “We must go, Legatus.” Aquila saw Tiberius’ shoulders flinch at the title, but it had the desired effect. Slowly Tiberius seemed to pull himself back together. Rising to his hooves, Tiberius wiped the bile from his black lips as he looked around the courtyard of his walled domus before his voice croaked harshly.

“So the Tuonellians have returned to Irlendria.” The words were not a question, but a statement of fact.

“It can mean nothing else, Legatus.” There were no reports of Tuonellian Hulks having the ability to transform into other creatures, but unlike most of the younger bulls under his command, Aquila had faced the savage creatures in battle. He could, at least, identify the creature’s true form.

“I don’t think they ever left.” Aquila and the Prince both jumped hearing Decanus Cornisus voice come from behind them. Seeing their hard looks, Cornisus snapped to attention, fist hammering chest. “Troops bandaged and ready to move out, Sire.”

Waving away Cornisus’ formal response, Tiberius’ eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Explain yourself Cornisus.”

Seeing Cornisus’ nervous glance, Aquila nodded for the smaller bull to continue. “Sire, I had always wondered why the Alliance of Aurenko fell apart before we completely destroyed the Tuonellians.”

Aquila saw Tiberius’ sour look as he spat angrily. “Because my father tried to wrestle control over the Alliance after the Klavikians were destroyed.”

Seeing Cornisus bit back his words, Aquila rested a calloused hand on the Decanus’ shoulder. “Go on son, tell us your thoughts.”

Struggling with the words, Cornisus tried once again. “Everyone talks about the Emperor’s madness, but it never made sense to me.” Looking back and forth between Aquila and Tiberius, Cornisus spoke passionately. “After everything that happened to our people, why did the Emperor not wait until after the Tuonellians were destroyed to drive a wedge between the races? I can’t stop thinking that maybe the Klavikians were not the only ones betrayed.”

Aquila felt the hackles of his mane stand on end as Tiberius gave the Cornisus a quick nod. “Form up the bulls, we’re moving out.”

Giving a quick salute, Cornisus took off at a quick trot as Tiberius met Aquila’s eyes incredulously. “That would explain everything! The Alliance, my Mother’s death the insane laws coming from the Palace! If this has been a Tuonellian Plot all along …”

Aquila cut Tiberius off in midsentence as the enormity hit him. “It could mean only one thing …” Aquila’s mind rocked at the implications as Tiberius finished the sentence for him.

“There’s another Tuonellian invasion coming.”

“We must get you out of the city, my Prince.”

Savagely, Tiberius slammed his fist into his palm. “We’ll get the Thirteenth and slaughter this imposter.”

Grabbing Tiberius by the shoulders, Aquila bellowed. “You will do no such thing!”

Seeing the rage in Tiberius’ stare, Aquila continued in a rush of words. “Where will the invasion come from? What must be held at all costs?”

Tiberius rocked back on his hooves as Aquila’s words penetrated his anger. “By Akras holy sickle, it was never about the rebellion in Tulskana, but taking control of the Citadel!”

Aquila’s fist thumped against his chest as he saluted stepping back. “Now you are thinking like an Emperor!”

Seeing Tiberius’ confused look, Aquila explained. “If an imposter has replaced the Emperor that means …”

Tiberius slowly finished the older bull’s sentence in a shocked whisper. “I’m now the Emperor.”

***

Location Irlendria / Tiberius Decius Lupus:

It took longer than Tiberius would have liked to make it out of the capital, but they could only move so fast with their injured. Keeping to the shadows of the outer defensive walls, they made their way towards the main gate and the safety of the Thirteenth Legion waiting outside.

Fires burned out of control throughout the city, while dead Praetorian Guards and citizens littered the streets everywhere. In the distance, the city growled as rioters and guards fought in the streets. Passing the dead, broken bodies of the females and young strewn about the city’s streets, Tiberius felt the rage growing inside of him. He couldn’t begin to understand what had happened to the Praetorians to make them slaughter their own people.

It was madness beyond comprehension! The Imperium was built upon the beliefs of civilization and the precepts of law. Wholesale slaughter such as this went against every moral fiber of his people. It was as if the entire world had been turned upside down.

Moving through the dark streets of the city, Tiberius mind churned over his conversation again and again with Aquila. He knew the old bull was right. It was the only thing that made sense. The imposter that had taken over his father had successfully destroyed the Alliance for a reason. Now he was trying to destroy the Imperium’s war machine. No matter what, Tiberius couldn’t let that happen.

The Tuonellians must have realized that even with the destruction of the Klavikians, the races of Irlendria could still destroy them. The knowledge that Ilmarinen Ironwolf had shared with the Alliance ensured the races still had a fighting chance. Aquila was correct in his belief that the Citadel must be protected at all costs, but that was only the first step. The Imperium could not defeat the Tuonellian’s alone. If there was going to be any chance of stopping this evil, the races of Irlendria had to fight together as one.

Tiberius thoughts were yanked back to the present as another Praetorian patrol came into view. Scrambling into the dark shadows, he and his bulls hid until the guard patrol passed out of sight once more, while, in the night’s sky, Romulus’ red evil light gave the dark streets a sinister glow.

The patrols were becoming more numerous the closer they came to the city’s gates. Coming around the last bend, Tiberius and his bulls suddenly ducked for cover. Standing guard in the plaza before the gates stood two cohorts of Praetorian Guards blocking their escape.

Looking back at the seven legionnaires left from the nineteen that had originally entered the city with him earlier that morning. Tiberius saw the smoldering rage burning in their eyes at the senseless carnage they’d witnessed throughout the capital. Fighting back his urge to accost the Praetorians responsible for his people’s senseless deaths, Tiberius led his bulls further back into the alleyway. Finding a darkened corner they silently debated what to do next until Decanus Cornisus held up a heavy coil of rope. Moments later, they were scaling the defensive wall surrounding the capital making their escape before Remus could join his smaller brother in the night’s sky and give their position away.

The city hadn’t been attacked in over two decades and few guards, if any, looked down towards the base of the wall they guarded. Moving quickly, Tiberius and his legionnaires sprinted from shadow to shadow making their way towards the massive gates of Gravida. Tiberius hated feeling so vulnerable. The hollow between his shoulder blades itched as he waited for a bolt from a crossbow that never came.

As they reached the entrance to the city, there were no signs of the Thirteenth’s camp anywhere to be found. Moving farther out onto the rolling grasslands before the city, they spread out in search for any signs of the Legion. About a half-mile out Tiberius found what he was looking for, the scuffed earth of a hurriedly packed camp and tracks of several thousand bulls headed north at a quick trot. Hanging his head in frustration, Tiberius forced himself to finally accept the truth he had been fighting so hard to disbelieve. The Legion was gone.

With a harsh whisper, Tiberius called for his legionnaires to him. As the males gathered around, Aquila’s experienced eyes took in the trampled earth thoughtfully before addressing Tiberius. “Commander Scipio wouldn’t have left if there’d been any other possible choice for him to make.”

“I realize that, but it doesn’t change the situation.” Looking towards the North Tiberius spoke sourly. “You know as well as I do that the Thirteenth is being led to their deaths just like the First and Second Legions.”

Aquila’s face hardened at Tiberius’ concern. “It doesn’t matter. The Thirteenth is on their own now.”

“The Thirteenth doesn’t matter?” Sputtering in outrage Decanus Marcellus lunged for the old Centurion as his fellow legionnaires grabbed him by the shoulders pulling him back. “Has guarding the Prince rotted your feeble mind old bull?”

“The Tuonellians have returned you stupid cow!” Shoving legionnaires out of his way in outrage, Aquila lunged for Marcellus’ heavily bandaged face only to be held back by more hands. “Would you jeopardize the entire Imperium for just one Legion?” For a stunned heartbeat, everyone froze at the old Centurion’s words as Tiberius stepped into the middle of the altercation.

“Enough!” Tiberius bellowed under his breath. “We are not going to leave the Thirteenth to their fate.” Seeing Aquila suck in air to argue, Tiberius overrode the older male. “Nor are we going to let the Citadel fall into the hands of the traitors.”

Seeing that he now had everyone’s attention, Tiberius continued in a low whisper. “Aquila, Decanus Marcellus and the rest of the second contubernium will head back to Tulskana and begin reactivating the Legions. Your primary objective will be to reinforce the Citadel while the rest of us head after the Thirteenth.”

“You would place the entire Imperium at risk for just one Legion?” Tiberius heard the betrayal in Aquila’s voice as he tried to comprehend the young Emperor’s reasoning.

“Did you raise me to be a sentimental fool such as that, Centurion Gaius Vitruvius Aquila?” Seeing the seething anger in the old Centurion’s eyes, Tiberius' voice tore into his longtime mentor. “If all of Irlendria falls, how long will the Imperium be able to stand against the Tuonellian hordes alone?”

“The Citadel has never fallen!”

“Then tell me something.” Tiberius shot back fiercely. “How long will the Citadel stand if there is no Imperium left to reinforce it or even to feed it?”

Seeing the sudden doubt in Aquila’s eyes, Tiberius hammered the point home. “Don’t you get it? We need the Alliance if there’s going to be any hope for the future of our people.”

“Who is the only person that can make peace with the races of Irlendria in the name of the Imperium?” Grabbing the old bull by the shoulders, Tiberius shook the Centurion as he spoke. “Tell me who?”

His voice filled with dread, Aquila reluctantly answered the Prince’s question. “Only the Emperor of the Imperium.”

Chapter Sixteen

Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

This time when Nessa awoke, she felt whole. The terrible despair that had tortured her soul had finally left her. Not completely, she could still feel the grief from the loss of her brother, but it was bearable for the first time.

Nessa’s stomach growled painfully. Rising to her knees she could smell the food that had been left by the entrance. Crawling to the clay jars, she began ravenously shoveling food into her mouth. At first, her thoughts were solely on quenching the terrible hunger that burned in her belly, but slowly as her stomach began to fill, a plan began forming in her head. Emptying the last jar, Nessa closed her eyes as she remembered Tolnik’s last thoughts before he died.

Nessa knew what she had to do. Springing to her hooves, she quickly began preparing for battle. Going to the armor stand, she began strapping her gear into place preparing for battle. First came the barding for her hind quarters, which fitted over her flanks in interlocking panels. The incredibly tough leather was taken from the chukka that grazed across the plains in massive herds. Each piece of hide was double layered and boiled into hardened shapes that were further reinforced with bone.

For her torso, Nessa strapped the chukka bone breastplate that her Father had made for her coming of age ceremony six years ago. The breastplate attached directly to the leather equipment harness that crisscrossed her ample chest. The white pipping bones were made from the cylindrical foot segments of the six-legged Chukka. After much preparation, the bones were sewn together at a slight angle in two columns with colorful beads and strands of braided intestine to create the chest piece.

At the top of her equipment harness, Nessa attached boiled leather shoulder pads into place. Lastly, she wrapped thick leather bracers over her wrists. Lacing them tightly in place, Nessa reached for the clay jars that held her spirit paint as she hum-chanted wordlessly to the Sky-Father.

The first color Nessa chose was the white kaolin paste. Using both hands, she spread the thick substance on her face and down her neck. White was for sorrow, symbolizing the spirit world and the realm of the Sky-Father. What she did now was for her brother Tolnik.

Dipping her hand in the yellow paint, Nessa pressed her palm against her left cheek. This was her oath. Death to the enemies of her people and the creatures that had murdered her brother. Her promise to the Sky-Father that she would fight to the death, that she would see Tolnik avenged.

The last clay jar held a red paint made from the bloodroots that grew like weeds across the plains. Using two fingers, Nessa drew the sign of a mace across her opposite cheek. Red was the symbol of war and the color of strength. It was a warning to all that stood against her. It was her promise to the Sky-Father. Wiping the excess paint from her hands, Nessa reached for her weapons.

First grabbing the long bow and heavy quiver on the weapon stand, Nessa strapped the gear into place on her back harness. Next to them went the two long daggers she used for close in fighting. Lastly, she picked up the extra-long tinnearlian-wood mace that she used as her primary weapon.

Hefting the heavy wood in both hands, she traced the inlaid Klavikian runes that ran down its length with her black eyes. The two-handed mace was named Zula. It had been crafted by her great-great-great-grandfather, Cree Manitou, nearly a millennium ago. Cree had made the weapon during the War against the Hordes of Loviatar with the help of the Paladin Ilmarinen Ironwolf. It was Ilmarinen that had taught her people the secret of harnessing the forces of nature. With Luonnotar’s blessing, on that day the first of the chosen were born.

Focusing her power, Nessa sent energy coursing through the runes. At once the mace began to burn with blue fire. Closing her eyes, she prayed silently. “Great Sky-Father, I pray that you give me the strength to fight the evil within our midst.” As the last words left her lips, Nessa felt a calming peace come over her. There was only one more thing she needed to do. Trotting out of her tent, Nessa went immediately to the old Shaman’s wigwam. Calling out, she pushed aside the hides covering the entrance.

“We must speak Uzila.”

Not hearing a response, Nessa stepped all the way inside looking around. Except for the white bones of various creatures hanging from the walls and numerous clay jars of ingredients, the wigwam was empty. Walking thoughtfully across the skins strewn across the hard packed ground, she considered where the Shaman might be. Near the fire pit in the center of the wigwam, Nessa paused as she saw the bundles of fresh cut Tuppalnins.

Uzila must be gathering them from the field of Torne nearby! Bursting from the Shaman’s wigwam in a rush, Nessa galloped heading for the south side of the Thunder Tribe’s encampment. The Centaurs she passed stopped with looks of consternation as they saw the colors of her painted face and her gear. By the time she made it onto the open plains, the entire Tribe was abuzz with rumors.

Ignoring everything, Nessa headed for the small copse of trees growing near the Otso River’s banks where the field of Torne lay.

Tuppalnins could only be harvested for a short time during the year. Most of the blooms here had already been picked over, but on the far side of the clearing, there was a patch that was still partly left. As if someone had stopped in the middle of gathering the precious blooms.

Inspecting the damp earth, Nessa recognized Uzila’s tracks following the curve of the river a short distance out. They were fresh and very shallow. Uzila must have been trying to move silently.

Keeping low, Nessa followed after the old Shaman’s trail at a quick trot, her hooves moving silently in the deep grass.

The water moved slower here due to the width of the river, but farther out into the plains the river turned into rough rapids and was the only water for miles around. Nessa’s father had told her the Otso River began somewhere deep in the Shadow Fang mountains on the other side of the Great Forest. It was there that it started its long journey. Along the way, it passed through most of Irlendria on its twisting trek to the far ocean. Several miles later, Nessa was studying the ground deciding how far she should follow this trail when a bright flash of light caught her attention.

KKKAAABBBOOOOOOMMM

The shock wave of the blast shook the air around her as light spots danced in front of her eyes. Blinking furiously, Nessa’s version came back just in time to see Uzila flying through the air over the rise of the next hill. As the old Shaman landed hard in the tall grass, Nessa saw her brother top the rise chasing after her. Even from this distance, she could see his face wasn’t right. His mouth gaped open half again the size of his face and his arms stretched out from his body in long grotesque mutant like claws.

Uzila struggled to roll back to her hooves, but not before Tolnik was on top of her. In a flash, his sharp claws pierced her body as he effortlessly lifted her weakly struggling mass in the air. Throwing his head back, Nessa heard Tolnik’s triumphant cry as she shouldered her mace and unlimbered her bow in one smooth motion as she charged.

THUNK … THUNK …THUNK

Tolnik’s misshapen head jerked back in shock as Nessa’s arrows began slamming center mass in his chest in a steady stream. With a shriek, Tolnik threw Uzila to the ground hard as his arms drew back protectively covering his face.

Arrows stuck out from Tolnik’s muscular arms at odd angles as blood chilling hisses came from his grotesque lips. As the distance closed, Nessa jinxed to the side as the creature that had stolen her brother’s body lashed out in sudden fury.

Razor sharp claws flew past her in the blink of an eye as they passed through the spot where she’d been just a moment earlier. Continuing to close, Nessa ignored the misshapen arms stretching around behind her as she whipped the bow onto her back harness. Whipping out her mace, she closed to melee range calling forth her energy. As blue fire flared along the length of the shaft, Nessa suddenly felt herself flying through the air.

“OOOFFF!” Unconsciously the sound came from Nessa’s dry lips as she crashed hard into the ground on the other side of the monster. Vaguely she remembered seeing the flashing blow as the creature’s misshapen arms slammed into her from behind. Lurching to her hooves, Nessa froze as she saw the cruel look on the grotesque aberration that wore her brother’s face.

For a long moment, they sized each other up. Nessa’s withers burned from where the monster’s claws had torn through the armor protecting her flanks, gouging bloody rivulets into her flesh while the creature bled from the arrows piercing its arms and chest.

Tolnik’s twisted lips formed into a wicked smile as he gathered his long misshapen arms back into his body. “Aren’t family reunions so much fun?” Ignoring the bait, Nessa raised her mace up defensively as she shifted her weight preparing to spring. Mockingly, the voice continued taunting her. “You look much tastier than your brother.”

Ignoring the creature’s words Nessa pressed her lips together as she waited for the attack. She knew the monster was trying to goad her into making the first move. Out of the corner of her eye, Nessa saw the old Shaman’s hands suddenly clutch at the dirt near the creature’s feet as her heart skipped a beat. Uzila still lived!

“I shall enjoy making you scream like I did your brother!” With a shriek, the creature’s grotesque arms shot out impossibly fast heading straight at her face. Prepared for the attack, Nessa threw her weight to the side swinging the mace with all of her strength.

The sounds of crunching bones rang out around her as Nessa felt the mace connect. Faster than eyes could follow the monster whipped its arms back to its chest screaming in wordless rage as the mace was wrenched from her clenched fists.

Searing fire ran down the side of her face from the hit as Nessa shook the flashing stars away from her eyes. With grim determination, she drew the long daggers from her back sheaths. Laying the blades against her forearms, Nessa wiped away the blood running down her cheek with the back of her hand as the blue runes etched within the blades glowed to life. Facing-off with the monster, she brought her arms up defensively as the creature slowly licked the blood from its claws with a long tongue.

“Like any dumb beast, you stubbornly refuse to admit the simple truth.” Laughing evilly, the creature clinched its hands into oversized fists. “You’re already dead!”

This time, the monster’s blows struck quicker than the eye could follow as Nessa fell back slashing wildly. As the blood flowed into her eyes blinding her, Nessa fought to protect herself as best she could. Closing in once again with the insanely strong beast, she gritted her teeth as the creature’s rock hard fists drove into her mercilessly.

Air whooshed out of her lungs, and Nessa felt her ribs snap as the creature’s powerful blows rained down upon her torso and flanks. Even though her body was racked with pain from the brutal onslaught, she drove herself forward, slashing at the creature with her blades.

At one point she severed through one of the monster’s stretched limbs, but it didn’t stop the savage beating. Unfazed, the beast continued pummeling her with its bloody stump. With growing horror, Nessa realized the truth. The creature wasn’t trying to kill her. The assault was too purposely targeted for that. The creature wanted to keep her alive!

Staggering heavily as she took a hit to the back of the head, Nessa felt herself falling. A second later her body slam into the ground as the creature’s fists continued to hammer at her head and face. When the blows finally stopped, Nessa saw the corpse-white monster towering over her through swollen half-closed eyes. A second later she heard the ragged screams of her own voice as the creature’s long claws dug deep trails down her flank. In horror, Nessa watched the monster bring a bloody chunk of flesh to its lips slurping in ecstasy.

“Your fear is so succulent! I will enjoy feasting on-”

KKKAAABBBOOOOOOMMM

Strobing bright light blinded Nessa momentarily as the ground shook from the blast. As if far away she heard the sound of an explosion ripping through the air around her as soothing darkness washed over her consciousness. A couple of seconds later, Nessa awoke with a jerk as she heard the old Shaman’s craggily voice calling out to her.

“Nessa, can you hear me, my child?” Everything hurt as Nessa pushed her upper torso off the ground. Rolling to her knees, she wiped the blood from her eyes searching for the creature that had stolen Tolnik’s face. Unbelievably he was nowhere to be seen.

“What just happened? Uzila, where did Tolnik go?” Nessa turned back to look at the old Shaman as her voice suddenly caught in her throat.

“Thank the Sky-Father you live!” Hacking blood from her lungs Uzila continued weakly. “There is little time, young one. I drove him off with Luonnotar’s blessing, but he’ll be back soon enough.” Following Nessa’s look of horror, Uzila grimaced shuddering in agony. “You must go now!"

Bloody guts trailed across the trampled ground to the old Shaman’s barrel chest from where she’d crawled to Nessa’s side. As Nessa begin shaking her head no, Uzila eyes hardened. “Child, you must go to Mount Airy and find your Father!”

A look of horror crossed Nessa’s face. She tried to yank her arm free, but the old Shaman’s held her fast. “You must heed my words! I am done for child. Only your Father can save us now.”

Nessa stopped struggling as Uzila was overwhelmed by another fit of racking coughs. By the time Uzila recovered enough to talk, blood was running freely down her chest in rivulets.

“The beast that wears Tolnik’s skin has sent others like him to kill your Father.” Grabbing Nessa by the shoulders in a death grip, Uzila lifted her torso up to look directly into Nessa’s eyes. “You must not let your Father be taken!” With her last breath, Uzila tried to make Nessa understand. “The Elders must be told of the Tuonellians return!”

Sudden pain racked the old Shaman as her muscles clenched in agony. Eyes bulging out, Uzila strained to get her last words out. Nessa watched in horror as Uzila’s eyes rolled into her head. Her body went rigid one last time as the life fled her ruined body. Closing her eyes, Nessa bowed her head.

“Sky-Father, I pray that you watch over Uzila as her soul rises to your embrace. She has been a true Spirit Mother to the People of the Thunder Tribe.”

For a long moment, Nessa could only stare helplessly at her old friend’s stiff body. Carefully she pried the old Shaman’s stiff fingers away from her shoulders. Laying Uzila gently on the ground, Nessa folded the old Shaman’s arms across her chest as she kissed the wrinkled forehead tenderly.

Tears slowly streaming down her face, Nessa contemplated Uzila’s words. She remembered the Tribes gruesome stories from the Tuonellian War and of the fearsome Hulks that had slaughtered so many of the People during the invasion. There was no way father could hope to fight these terrible creatures alone. She had to find a way to save him!

Pulling out the pouch of herbs from Uzila’s back harness, Nessa found the Tuppalnins the old Shaman had gathered earlier in the day. Crushing the delicate yellow blooms in her hands, she worked quickly pressing the crushed pulp onto the worst of her wounds. The pedals and roots of the weeds were used by her people to make poultices that enhance healing. Although it worked better when it was distilled, the quick poultices she’d applied would help to ease the pain of her wounds.

Finished, Nessa forced her battered body to her hooves. Gathering up her lost weapons, she sheathed them on her back harness before taking one last look at Uzila unmoving form. The old Shaman had been like a mother to her. After her mother’s death, Uzila had raised her as her own foal. Showing her the ways of the spirit walk and how to commune with Mother-Earth, Nessa had become a chosen of Luonnotar.

The emotional pain of loss felt worse than the physical wounds that covered her body. Wiping her tears away with her knuckles, Nessa spun around heading towards the Southeast. Using all of her willpower she pushed her abused body into a slow trot. Although a trot had nowhere near the speed of a fast gallop, it was a pace she could keep up for days, and Mount Airy was, at least, three days of hard travel away.

If the stories of the Hulks were true, it would take every ounce of strength she had to make it to Mount Airy ahead of the creature in time to help her father. Gritting her teeth, Nessa pushed herself hard ignoring her screaming muscles. Slowly the stiffness left her limbs as her hooves began striking the ground in a steady rhythm.

Focused on the dark shadow of the lonely mountain towering above the horizon, the golden rolling hills of the plains flowed by as Nessa’s pondered over Uzila’s warning. Although she had never seen a Tuonellian Hulk before now, the songs of her People were filled with stories of the terrible creatures that had slaughtered so many during the onset of the War. The surviving warriors from that time all carried gruesome battle scars from those earlier days.

When she was a young foal, Nessa had loved hearing about the deeds of valor from the War, but as she’d grown older that interest had waned. Massive armies of the Alliance fighting desperate battles against endless waves of the Tuonellian Hordes, terrible demons standing over a hundred hands high met head-on by the Paladins of Ukko as the entire world burned, it was simply too much for an experienced warrior such as herself to accept. But now, after facing the incredible strength of a Tuonellian Hulk for the first time, all the old stories she’d heard suddenly came flooding back to her.

What if they were all real?

A foreboding dread filled Nessa’s heart as she watched the golden orb of Paiva sink below the horizon. It was almost as if the turn in her thoughts had brought on the growing darkness like some terrible omen. The feeling only intensified as the dry plains around her suddenly turned bloodred.

Looking behind her, Nessa saw the Demon Moon rising into the night’s sky behind her. Remember her father’s words, Nessa mentally corrected herself. Its true name was Romulus, but nowadays it was called the Demon Moon.

In the past, Romulus had always risen after its larger brother Remus, but during her grandfather’s time, almost seventeen hundred years ago, that suddenly changed. On the first night, Romulus had risen ahead of its brother, the invasion of the Tuonellian Hordes had begun.

Initially, the races of Irlendria had been overwhelmed by the terrible onslaught invading their lands. Even the People of the Plains had been slaughtered in the tens of thousands, but the Klavikians had changed all of that. With their Holy Paladins of Ukko, the Klavikians were able to hold back the invasion long enough for the races of Irlendria to band together to form the Alliance of Aurenko. Sharing their eldritch knowledge the Klavikian’s taught the Alliance the way of crafting rune weapons strong enough to fight against the invaders.

Nessa’s thoughts began to wander as fatigue from the battle settled into her limbs. Around her, the blood red of the plains began to fade as Remus’ blue light grew around her. Reaching into the pouch at her waist, Nessa removed a small piece of Alttash’s Tears. Chewing slowly on the bitter root, she focused on putting one hoof in front of the other.

Chapter Seventeen

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

Jagged bolts of lightning shattered the stormy night as we tumbled into the dark chasm with half the mountain raining down around us. I felt the shock waves through my bones as the thunderstorm roared in fury around us. Finishing my prayer to Ukko, I opened my eyes quickly wiping away the ice plastered to my face. The force of the wind’s passage rippled across my cheeks as I watched the strobing flashes lit up the Otso River far below. There were only seconds left before impact.

Gathering my strength, I held the unconscious twins protectively to my chest as the falling plateau slammed into the river ahead of us. As a massive plume of water shot into the air, I activated the Rök runes tattooed into my skin and engraved into my armor as we dropped into the center of the churning mess, focusing on the one thing that mattered more than anything else.

For the first time in my life, I was not alone. The feelings of love and protectiveness welling up inside of me were like nothing I’d ever known before. In that instant, I knew I would do whatever it took to keep my girls safe. Breathing in a lungful of air, I screamed out my prayer to Ukko.

“Suoja!”

I felt my protection aura snap into place a second before we plunged into the depths of the Otso River. The impact stole my breath away as the icy cold water ripped through me like a knife. Hitting the water was the most excruciating physical pain I’d ever felt in my entire life. It was as if every bone in my body had ruptured on impact. By Ukko’s grace alone I managed to hold onto consciousness as we plummeted into the depths of the river.

Massive boulders rained into the water around us as the rest of the avalanche crashed into the river like an unstoppable force of destruction. Using my darkvision, I was able to dodge the largest pieces that would have crushed us instantly to death as they hurling past us into the deep, but that still left the majority of the mountain to batter my broken body.

I don’t how many times I was forced back into the depths, but as the mass of falling debris finally let up, we reached the surface. Thick sheets of snow still fell from the storm clouds overhead as thunder rocked the heavens, but the avalanche had run its course. Breathing a sigh of relief, I released my Rök runes laying back in the water when I realized my armor was floating. Lifting the girls higher onto my chest to get them out of the freezing water, I let my head sag back in exhaustion as the current carried us away.

I was sure that the seething river was the only thing that saved our lives from that height. If the avalanche hadn’t broken the surface tension of the water, we would have died on impact. Not even my Rök runes could have changed that. As it was, it felt like every bone in my body had been broken.

Gathering the very last of my power reserves, I pushed a trickle of healing energy into Starfire and Frostbrand. As their condition stabilized once more, my eyes rolled back into my head as the Fring began raging through my depleted body once more. Semi-conscious, I felt the water around us gathering speed as we began hitting rough pockets of rapids, but my breastplate supported us like a lifejacket. Mentally I patted myself on the back for using synthetic water-resistant padding for my armor so many years ago. In truth, the side effect had been an unintentional part of the design. I felt my thoughts begin to drift as I held the girls tightly in my arms.

Loneliness is a powerful emotion. Still, I couldn’t believe how important the girls had become to me in such a short amount of time. Except for my connection to Ukko, for as long as I could remember I’d always been alone. Even though I’d been born a member of the Shadowfang Pack, I had never been truly accepted as part of the Pack, which was just another wonderful aspect of being born a half-breed. Later on, when my parents died defending Irlendria from the Tuonellian invasion, my Grandsire had done his best to raise me. Unfortunately, he’d never truly understood me.

I had thought the feelings of isolation would have gone away as I grew older, but even after teaching thousands upon thousands of humans the Ukko Method of Self Defense, and starting a movement with over one and a half billion followers, my feelings of loneliness had only intensified. Since the death of my father’s people, I never stopped to have a life. Every second was spent working towards the goal of ending the evil that was Loviatar, never once questioning the path that fate had chosen for me to follow. When, on my twenty-first birthday, I’d had enough.

I’m sure some people would accuse me of losing faith and abandoning my followers, but that was not the case. By then my students were already well on their path to Ukko and my absence caused them no harm. I would love to say that the change allowed me to explore new options for fighting my people’s ancient enemy, but the simple truth of the matter was that I wanted more from life. I hadn’t given up the fight, but there had to be more to life than just duty and suffering.

My thoughts came back into focus as a loud roaring sound began getting closer. Water splashed violently over my head as I weakly looked around for the source of the noise. At first, my fuzzy mind couldn’t figure out what was happening, but when I saw the heavy spray of mist quickly approaching. My heart skipped a beat.

We had reached Ashima Falls! It was the highest waterfall in all of Irlendria. Also the unspoken dividing line between the realm of the beasts and civilization, it was the beginning of the Great Forest and the realm of the Elves.

How had we traveled down the Otso River in such a short time? I knew I’d faded out, but … Spinning around in the water I scanned the bank on either of the river searching for an escape, but it was too late. Even if I’d been at full strength and alone, the embankments would have still been too far away me to reach in time. Even half submerged in the icy-cold water my head burned with fever. In my present physical condition, the river banks may as well have been back on Earth.

My consciousness continued fading in and out as my body fought the ravaging effects of the Fring. Still, I had enough strength left to gather the twins in my protective embrace as we approached the drop-off. Ahead of me, I saw the dark horizon disappeared into a white snowy haze. We were so high up that if it had been a clear day I could have looked out onto the rolling grasslands of the Imperium.

Raising my eyes to the heavens as the roaring sound filled my ears, I prayed as we fell into darkness once again. “Ukko beskytt oss.” (Ukko protect us.)

Chapter Eighteen

Location Earth / Larissa Evans:

“The next slide is the most up to date map of the Crypt of Britomartis we have so far.” Clicking next Larissa displayed the map of the geode’s main cavern. “If you will take particular note of the unique condition of the biological specimens in the main chamber, you will notice that they are perfectly preserved with no signs of decay. Carbon dating has positively identified the tridymite crystalline shells to be three and a half thousand years old.”

Clicking through the next several slides, Larissa used a light glow pen to highlight the semitransparent crystals encasing the biological specimens like bulky, oversized sarcophagus. “From what we can discern at this early stage is that somehow the entire chamber was instantaneously coated with this crystallization material. As far as we can discern, there has been no significant biological decay of the specimens. Seeing the electronic hand in her webinar toolbar, Larissa looked up from her notes. “Yes, Doctor Marinatos?“

Doctor Stefanos Thomopoulos Marinatos, Keeper of the Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology, was her only friend in this digital inquisition of her academic peers, which had been convened within hours of her discovery hitting the international media. The man was like a father to her ever since her real father had died when she was twenty-three.

“From the pictures you have shown us, it seems like the crystalline matrix covering your specimens is shrinking rapidly.”

“From what we have observed so far, your astute observations are precisely correct, Doctor Marinatos.”

Flipping back to the first pictures, Larissa slowly went through the series once more as she noted, this time, the decreasing thickness of the crystalline shells in each frame over the last twenty-four hours. “Initially, when the crypt was opened, the crystalline sheaths were three meters thick, but as you can see. In just one day’s time, the crystalline structures are now only a meter and a half in depth and still rapidly shrinking.”

Without raising his electronic hand Doctor Georgios Marinatos, Head Curator of the Herakelion Museum in Greece, butted in abruptly. “That is scientifically impossible! Tridymite crystals do not shrink when exposed to air. What kind of cockamamie story are you trying to give us, Doctor Evans?”

Quickly, Larissa forwarded to the next slide. “Actually Doctor Marinatos, the report was prepared by Doctor John Hempshaw. I am sure you are aware of his reputation from his work as Head Geophysicists at The American Geosciences Institute in Virginia? On this slide, you can see Doctor Hempshaw’s estimated timeline for the crystalline structures’ decay.”

Not waiting for any further interruptions, Larissa continued her presentation. “Next we will discuss the various biological specimens found within the crypt’s vault. In this next slide, we will discuss the biological specimens I’ve designated Minotaurus.“

Clicking to the next slide, Larissa used her light pen to highlight multiple locations on the map of the crypt’s internal layout. “You will notice the majority of Minotaurus are clustered near the center of the chamber in what appears to be military formations. I ask that you pay special attention to each specimen’s weapon position. I believe it is important …”

A jumble of roaring voices suddenly erupted in outrage from her computer speakers as the virtual conference reacted to the picture on the current slide. Stopping her presentation, Larissa looked directly into the video conference’s camera unflinchingly as the angry roar of her academic peers increased in volume. They would forever hate her. Covering her face, Larissa messaged her bloodshot eyes as she waited for the commotion to die down to a level where she could once again be heard.

The problem was as simple as it was complex. All of the physical sciences like anthropology and archeology were especially sensitive to anything that did not follow the acceptable rule of terrestrial scientific theory. When discussing the evolution of humanity, professional academia only accepted theories that were based on terrestrial evolution. If a professor presented a theory that did not follow this one stringent guideline, they found themselves instantly and irrevocably discredited from the realm of professional academia. Forever considered a fringe theorist.

Even then, new scientific theories had to survive the political gauntlet associated with the pre-existing power structure in place that directed most scientific research and discovery. Only in extremely rare occasions throughout history had a discovery manage to breach the current power structure in place to actually see the light of day.

Smiling to herself, Larissa popped her knuckles. This discovery was going to be one of those rare occasions. The physical evidence alone that she possessed would ruin many of the academic professors aligned before her in today’s call by calling into question the scientific theories that had made them famous in the first place. In one fell swoop, she would change how the world looked at the development of human history and open up new theories about the ancient civilizations of humanity’s past that had never before been allowed to be openly discussed.

Looking at the angry faces of her academic peers, Larissa grinned in satisfaction. She had long ago been written off my most of these men for simply being a woman in a male-dominated field. When they’d discovered she wouldn’t sit idly by as they brushed her aside under the heel of their authority, they sought to discredit her academically. Through it all, she had still managed to make a name for herself. Now she had them by the balls, and there wasn’t anything they could do to stop her. Already the evidence of her discovery of Atlantis was blowing up the airwaves.

Suddenly, a barking laugh cut through the indignant buzz of conversation. As silence returned once again, Larissa recognized the voice of her hated nemesis Doctor Ian Barnes, head of the British Association. Sneering into the conference camera’s pick up, the pompous ass addressed her smugly.

“Minotaurs, how droll can you be? Doctor Evans, did you really think you could show something as ridiculous as this and expect not to lose your fellowship within the Royal Society?” With a wave of his hand, he casually dismissed her evidence. “Who do you think will bother listening to your absurd claims now? Do you expect anyone of us to believe you’ve truly found the lost city of Atlantis?”

Bernard Thomas, head of the Society of Antiquaries, chimed in from his office in Berkshire with his own witty comment. “How can you possibly find something that never existed in the first place? Doctor Evans, if your father could see you now, what would he say?”

Screeching in rage, Larissa picked up the video camera. Striding across the tent, she flung back the flap with a sweep of her arm. Panning the video camera across the island of Nea Kameni, she focused on the flood of news reporters and scientists arriving by the boatload. Holding the video camera with two hands, she flipped it around so that she was yelling directly into its video pickup. “You pompous buffoons! You wouldn’t recognize a scientific discovery if it hit you in the face!”

Taking deep breaths to control her temper, Larissa walked back to her desk. Setting the video camera back into its holder, she broke down the basics of her find. “Just so that you know, I have the perfectly preserved biological specimens of a small army of Minotaurus frozen in the middle of some great battle. Not to mention, the uncovered remains of what appears to be a Gorgones near the center of the main chamber. On top of it all, I have the remains of a mostly intact city that is named Atlantis in Minoan.“ Leaning onto the desk in front of the camera, Larissa put her face right up to the video camera. “How dare you accuse me of being a fraud.”

Pushing away from the small desk, Larissa began pacing as she began listing off her points. “Right now, I have the leading biologist in the world, Herr Friestmann, preparing to take tissue samples for genetic testing of the specimens in the crypt as we speak. I have experts from around the world flying in to be a part of this discovery of a lifetime. Lastly, I have the associated press from around the world arriving daily to documenting the entire unearthing of the dig in high definition on live TV. “

Pointing at the camera once more, Larissa yelled at the top of her lungs. “As far as I am concerned, you can all read about my discovery in the London Times and go to bloody hell!”

You could have heard a pin drop as most of the video conference’s attendees stared back at her seething in indignant rage. The taboo was suddenly broken by a cruel sneer. “Larissa … Larissa … Larissa, you will never learn.” Instead of addressing her points, Doctor Ian Barnes shook his head as if he were dealing with a petulant child before breaking his connection. As the automated meeting operator announced the doctor's departure, the rest of the meeting attendees began exiting as well. Doctor Marinatos gave her a quick thumbs up with a promise to talk more later, but once he left, Larissa was the only one in the virtual meeting room.

With a strangled cry Larissa slammed her mouse down as she broke the meeting’s connection. Just brilliant! For a long moment, she stared at the video image looking back at her from the conference’s main welcome screen. Coming to a decision, she strode out of the tent with a burning purpose heading for the crypt.

Larissa’s hollow footfalls echoed around her as she climbed down the metal stairway that had been temporary erected where the Titan XI had initially penetrated the now dead volcano. Across the inner crypt, there were teams of archeologists hard at work as they went about the arduous task of documenting every aspect of the historical dig. Walking to the very center of the perfectly round chamber, Larissa stood before the central dais once again. With a heavy frown, she studied the tridymite crystalline shell encasing the specimen inside.

The emotional intensity radiating out from the inhumanly beautiful face still stole Larissa’s breath away if she gazed at it for too long. Rising above the entire chamber exactly two point sixty-five meters in height, the Gorgones’ body had been frozen, while reaching out above towards the heavens with what could only be described as a look of supplication. Even though the Gorgones’ humanoid torso sat atop a pile of thick snake coils, Sharon calculated that normally the snake-woman would only have been around one point seventy-seven meters tall, which was only slightly taller in height than the human average.

The Gorgones was overwhelmingly female. Although she didn’t depict the concepts of twenty-first-century beauty, there was something of a matronly supermodel meets Mother Teresa vibe that radiated out from the snake-woman even in death. Larissa almost choked at the thought as she pictured her long dead Catholic father’s reaction to such a heretical statement since the woman was completely nude. The pieces of decorative jewelry and utility belt the Gorgones wore wouldn’t have been misconstrued as clothing anywhere in the world. None the less Larissa wouldn’t have retracted the statement. To her, the Gorgones didn’t look naked frozen as she was in her holy entreaty.

From the waist down, the woman’s lower half merged into the thick coils of a brightly colored constrictor snake where the legs of a human woman would normally be. Instead of hair, she had a headful of very fine, hair-like, red setaceous antennae that cascaded down her back, each with multiple segments and joints that were equally distributed down the antennae’s entire length. Oddly enough, this only added to the woman’s inhuman beauty. She could easily see how primitive man would have thought the woman’s hair were living serpents. When alive, her waving antennae must have been quite a sight.

Normally Larissa had no particular love for reptiles or insects, but there was something oddly comforting about being in the Gorgones’ presence. More and more she found herself coming here to think. Frowning for a moment, Larissa suddenly realized she’d seen an almost identical looking statue in Major Aixi’s office. Between the dig and dealing with the Mayor’s treachery, she’d been too busy to think about it, but now that more of the Gorgones had become visible. She knew she was right. Tabling that for a later discussion with Sean, Larissa thoughtfully bit her lip.

Initially, the crystalline block had been too thick to make out any exact details of what was held within, but within hours that had quickly changed. While the other specimens were losing their crystalline shapes at a nearly identical rate of speed, the Gorgones‘ shell was shrinking slightly slower. When she’d first entered the crypt. The crystalline structures had been mostly a shapeless semi-opaque block, but over the last day that had changed dramatically.

Sharon had placed a rushed order for enough hermetically sealable bags for all of the specimens in the crypt, but the company didn’t think it would have enough of the specially ordered body bags made up within the timeline she needed. Sharon had said she would take the first three as soon as they were produced and the rest in increments of five as they were made available. Still it was going to be tight.

Looking out across the cavern, Larissa knew she was missing something important about these tridymite crystalline shells. It was there if only she could see what she was missing.

“LARISSA … LARISSA!”

Turning around at Sharon’s urgent call, she looked at her friend worriedly. Larissa knew her well enough to know that Sharon only used that tone when something was terribly wrong. “What is going on Sharon?”

“God, I have been looking for you everywhere.” Grabbing her arm, Sharon pulled her at a half run back to the stairs. “You’re going to have to see this to believe it.”

Following after Sharon, Larissa took the stairs two at a time. “What is going on? Is the Mayor giving us problems again?” Getting no response Larissa swore loudly. “Bloody hell, Sharon, tell me what is happening!”

A hundred steps later Larissa caught up to Sharon at the top of the stairs. For a second, she couldn’t hear anything due to the blood pounding in her ears. Forcibly controlling her breathing, she turned Sharon around by her shoulders.

“Tell me what the bloody hell is going on!” Wide-eyed, Sharon silently pointed over Larissa’s shoulder with a shaking hand just as she heard heavy chopping sounds coming from behind her.

“What the bloody hell ...?” Whipping around, Larissa’s froze as her mouth hung open.

There was a loud boom overhead as a trio of United States fighter jets did a low flyby over the island at supersonic speeds, while an entire wing of Cobra Attack helicopters took up positions at the edges of the lava dome. Turning around slowly, Larissa saw armored landing vehicles already climbing the rocky shores of the island, while hundreds of soldiers began deploying into defensive positions along the outer rim. Off-shore in the distance, she could make out the outlines of many warships of what looked like the entire American’s Mediterranean Sixth Fleet.

Hearing a rush of heavy footfalls behind her, Larissa turned around just in time to see a small group of black-suited men in full battle gear rushing towards them at a fast sprint. Pushing Sharon behind her, Larissa faced the men silently as they came to a stop in front of her.

With silent efficiency, the combat group spread out to either side of their point man, warily scanning the area for any threat. Holding up a picture, the point man compared her to the image for a long moment, before addressing her directly.

“We need you to come with us, Doctor Evans.”

Chapter Nineteen

Location Irlendria / Lúthien Narmolanya:

“Her Mother and Father were dead!” The realization of that simple truth finally cut through the maelstrom of emotions overwhelming Lúthien’s thoughts. With a prayer to Tapio, she pushed the terrible grief to the back of her mind. There would be time enough later to mourn their loss. For now, she had to focus on the present.

“RRREEEIIII!” Argus’ bestial cry of rage galvanized Lúthien into action as her analytical mind kicked into overdrive. Looking around the chamber, her gray eyes took in the nightmarish scene playing out around her.

Knight-Captain Valandil and the rest of the Ironidium Knights were strewn across the room like broken rag dolls while Argus savagely tore into the mutant creature in wild fury with claws and fangs. At first, Lúthien thought the Wenci was winning the ferocious battle, but almost immediately she realized that wasn’t the case. As the creature’s injuries began closing before her incredulous eyes, she knew they had to get out of here, while Argus distracted the monster.

Scrambling on hands and knees to her cousin’s side, Lúthien paused in horror seeing Enelya’s extensive injuries for the first time. White bones stuck out from her partly crushed chest, and blood ran from her nose and mouth. For a second, she wondered if her cousin was dead, but seeing the rise and fall of her chest. Lúthien breathed a sigh of relief. She still lived! Slipping an arm under Enelya’s shoulders, she struggled to lift the smaller Elf to her feet.

“Enelya, you have to wake up.”

Bracing against the wall behind her for leverage, Lúthien managed to lift her cousin up next to her. For being so much smaller, Lúthien couldn’t believe how heavy Enelya weighed. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Lúthien stepped away from the wall only to be immediately dragged to the ground by her cousin’s mass as she pitched forward. Tears of frustration streamed down Lúthien’s face as she shook her cousin by the shoulders.

“Wake up Enelya!”

“Rrriiieeaaa!” Looking over her shoulder as Argus’ shrieking cry rang out behind her, Lúthien was just in time to see the Wenci fly through the air. A second later, there was a thunderous crash as Argus caromed off the calcimite bookshelves at the far end of the room. Rolling back onto three clawed feet, Argus faced the corpse-white creature growling deep in his chest.

The long silver fur bristling out from the Wenci’s lanky body was stained dark red with blood and gore as his long smooth tail curled protectively next to his body. Holding a wounded front paw close to his chest, he moved with a pronounced limp stalking just beyond the reach of the creature’s long reach looking for an opening.

Argus’ black eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as the heavy clanking footfalls of more Knights approaching at a fast trot from deeper inside the keep started echoing around the room. Instead of feeling a wave of relief at the sound as she normally would have in the past, Lúthien’s heart began beating fearfully in her breast.

“Rrriiieeaaa!” With a shrieking cry, Argus pounced like a striking snake.

Quicker than eyes could follow the creature’s clawed fist shot out from its muscular body. Stretching across the room, the blow struck the Wenci midair slamming Argus back into the wall with bone jarring force. As the monster’s long claws sank deep into his furred chest, Argus shrieked mortally wounded as Enelya jerked upright screaming in agony.

Dread filled Lúthien’s heart as she suddenly recognized the corpse-white creature for what it was, a Tuonellian Hulk. As a young Elf, she had spent many years studying every tomb of learning she could find on the Horde’s races. The implications of were staggering. If the invaders were back, she had to warn her people. Not waiting to watch the outcome of the savage fight, Lúthien dragged her screaming cousin to her feet rushing for the doorway.

“Enelya, we have to go now!” They made it to the top of the steps before Enelya dragged her to a stop. Swinging around, Lúthien slapped her cousin across the face with an open palm screaming at the top of her lungs. “Stop fighting me! There is nothing we can do to save Argus’ life, but we can warn the Council of the Elders about the Tuonellians’ return!”

In a cold rage, Enelya shoved her away. Blood matted hair fell across her face as she staggered into the wall behind her. White-lipped with pain, she glared at Lúthien through black dreadlocks, the tribal tattoos of her face giving her features an almost menacing look.

“Then go, warn the clans!” Hacking uncontrollably, Enelya doubled over in pain retching blood, the spasms lasting for several long moments before settling down once again. Wiping the blood from her lips with the back of her hand, Enelya met Lúthien’s gray eyes speaking in a harsh whisper. “I will not leave my soulmate to die alone.”

Incredulously, Lúthien watched her cousin shove herself away from the wall. On unsteady feet, Enelya staggered back down the corridor heading for the library when a blood-curling screech rang out down the hall. Almost immediately after Argus flew through the doorway. Bouncing off the calcimite walls, he slid to a stop on the smooth marble floor at Enelya’s feet streaming blood. Falling to her knees, Lúthien watched her cousin drape one of Argus’ forearms over her shoulder as she struggled to help the mortally wounded Wenci to his feet.

“God, she’s such a savage!” Swearing in annoyance under her breath, Lúthien ran to Argus’ other side. Looping his bloody arm over her shoulder, she helped Enelya lift the Wenci to his hind legs. As she began dragging them both down the corridor, Lúthien heard the Tuonellians’ voice ring out behind them.

“Sound the alarm. I want the gates locked, and those animals dragged back to me in chains!” There was a loud crash as the monster bellowed in rage. “Now go!”

As the clanking sounds of heavy armor echoed throughout the corridor behind them, Lúthien glanced over her shoulder to see the Ironidium Knights charging around the corner in pursuit. Reaching the top of the stairwell Lúthien took a firm hold of Argus. Not bothering to slow down she pulled them down the stairs after her at a fast run.

The plan almost worked. At the bottom of the steps, they wiped out from the momentum as soon as the floor leveled out. Sprawling to a stop, Lúthien leaped back to her feet. Running back to the bottom of the stairwell, she was just in time to see their pursuit reached the top.

Ignoring the guards racing down the steps, Lúthien urgently searched for something that would slow the knights down. Seeing an old spider web at the base of the lowest step, she knew what to do. Scooping up the sticky material, Lúthien stood directly in the path of the armored mass of Ironidium Knights. Spreading her fingers, she called forth her power.

“Kónguló Vefur!” Energy flowed through Lúthien‘s body as she pictured the spell in her mind. Immediately thick gossamer strands spewed forth from her open hand in an explosive wave. Spreading out across the opening, the webbing completely filled the stairwell before coming to a stop in front of her.

The knights on the stairs were instantly caught in the spell’s grasp. Lúthien was just breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the runes on the magically enhance armor the Ironidium Knights wore flare with runic power. Grimacing, she raced back to Argus’ side. The spell didn’t need to stop them, just last long enough to allow them to escape.

Quickly Lúthien lifted the Wenci to his feet with Enelya’s help as they quickly began making their way to the exit. Looking once more over her shoulder, a cold shiver ran down her spine as she watched the knights attacking the mesh in utter silence. Already they were breaking free of its sticky embrace. Reaching the far end of the chamber, Lúthien flung open the wooden doors to the great hall, when suddenly an armored fist shot out of the corridor.

“Aaaeeeiii!” Lúthien’s scream was cut off sharply as she was jerked into the air by her long hair.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a silver streak pounce atop the knight reaching for Enelya as Argus’ battle shriek rang out around them. Slamming into the back wall of the corridor, Lúthien’s eyes focused on the cold metal of the tinnearlian visor staring back at her.

Pain laced through Lúthien’s scalp as she wrapped her hands around the cruel guard’s armored wrist. Not bothering to struggle against the magically enhanced strength of the spellforged armor, Lúthien blocked out the feeling of her hair being ripped out of her scalp as she called forth her power once more.

“Galdur Eldflaugum!” Starbursts of light suddenly shot from Lúthien’s chest. Flying around her like an angry swarm, they slammed into the Ironidium Knight’s breastplate in a series of mini explosions as the Klavikian runes engraved in the metal flared with defensive energy against her magical assault. Lúthien felt her feet touch the ground for a moment as the guard’s body shook in agony. Still focusing her thoughts, another light burst of stars flared into the air around her when blinding pain racked her body.

For a second, Lúthien didn’t know what had happened. Her face ached like nothing she’d ever felt before. As her vision began to clear, it was just in time to see another balled up fist slamming into her face as the knight slugged her again.

The sound of the wet meaty impact was cut off as bright lights flashed before Lúthien’s eyes. Immediately the starbursts streaming from her faded away as the pain of the physical blow broke her concentration and the connection that linked her to the magical power of her birthright.

As her consciousness began fading in and out, everything seemed to happen all at once.

Lightning fast, a thin arm snaked around the knight’s plate mail elbow. In a blur of motion, Lúthien dropped to the ground as the guard was suddenly propelled into the opposite wall with a resounding metallic crash that was instantly muffled by a swirling gray shadow.

Falling to her hands and knees, she saw Argus sail through the air with her swollen eye as the Ironidium Knight he was battling lurched back to its armored boots. Immediately a caterwauling shriek rang out as Enelya launched herself through the air at the armored guard. As Enelya wrapped her hidebound legs around the knight’s thick waist, Lúthien flinched at the loud scream of grating metal as Enelya slammed her tinnearlian daggers through the shiny helm’s thin horizontal eye slit.

Immediately every muscle in the guard’s body went ridged as blood began gushing down its runic faceplate. For a second Lúthien’s eyes widened in shock that her cousin had managed to kill one of the infamous Ironidium Knight’s by herself when the guard suddenly staggered backward stopping its fall. Terribly wounded and very much alive, the knight smashed Enelya violently to the ground with a brutal strike to her head.

Time seemed to slow as Lúthien struggled to push herself back to her feet. The entire side of her face throbbed with pain as the blood pounded in her ears in time with her beating heart. Helplessly she watched the knight shamble after Enelya on unsteady feet. As the armored boots reached her side, a swirling gray cloak suddenly flew through the air blocking Lúthien’s vision.

Immediately the knight was thrown to the ground with a loud crash. Floating back into the air, the cloak rippled again flowing directly for her. As the rippling shape came to a stop directly in front of her, Lúthien shrank back in fear as a leather gloved hand pulled the cowl back from the shadowy face underneath.

“Please forgive me, Princess. I was held up by traitors.” Hearing the strong familiar voice of her guardian relief flooded through Lúthien as she saw the battle-hardened face looking back at her in concern.

“Warden Morwen!” Wrapping her arms around the Warden’s broad shoulders, Lúthien sobbed into her armored shoulder. “Mother and Father are dead!” Wiping the tears away with the back of her hand she spoke haltingly. “I don't know when it happened, but a Tuonellian Hulk now sits on the High Throne and wears my father’s face like a mask.”

Feeling Morwen’s shoulders tense, Lúthien blood suddenly ran cold. Remembering Knight-Captain Valandil’s betrayal, she fearfully began pushing away from the Warden, when Morwen’s ironidium grip stopped her. In one swift motion, Lúthien was pulled to her feet.

“The Ironidium Knights have been compromised, but I have not.” Dragging her to Enelya’s side Morwen spoke quickly. “Trust no one Princess. I do not know what has happened to our people, but whatever it is. It holds even the most steadfast of our people in its powerful grip. We must find Princess Amaurea and get the three of you out of Daeron Fortress immediately.”

Lúthien felt the blood drain out of her face remembering her cousin’s mutilated corpse. “Princess Amaurea is dead.” Morwen’s face was unreadable as she gently lifted the Enelya to her feet.

Lúthien had always heard Wild Elves were resilient to physical injuries, but that didn’t explain how her cousin stood before her now. Her injuries would have killed a normal elf. Blood ran from Enelya’s nose and mouth with each painful breath, but somehow her cousin ignored the worst of her terrible wounds as she followed the Warden to the Wenci’s side.

“Help Enelya get Argus moving.”

Hearing the clanking sounds of armored, Lúthien looked over her shoulder with a start. Still covered in sticky fibers, the guards she’d immobilized in the stairwell were rushing into the chamber behind them. As Lúthien’s heart began pounding in her chest, she hissed in frustration.

“We don’t have time for this. The guards are going to be here any second!”

Enelya glowered angrily back at Lúthien as she looped Argus’ arm over her shoulder, but it was Morwen who responded. “Do you want your cousin to die?” Seeing the confused look on Lúthien’s face, Morwen spoke harshly. “What do you think soulmated means to a Wild Elf? Do you think the Wenci is just another beast of the forest?” Not waiting for an answer, Morwen answered her own question. “If Argus dies, your cousin will too!”

Coming to a stop, Lúthien’s mind raced as her thoughts made the connection her books had only hinted. Suddenly it all made sense! Morwen’s rough hand on her shoulder snapped Lúthien out of her reflection as the Warden’s hard gray eyes bore into her soul. “Wait for me at the entrance to the courtyard. With or without me, be ready to seal the doors at my command.” With a hard shove, she pushed them towards the door at the end of the corridor. “Now go!”

Not waiting to see if they followed her orders, Warden Morwen spun around. Her cloak flapped behind her as she charged into the chamber throwing herself headlong at the Ironidium Knights. Drawing her slim runic sabers, she somersaulted into the air. Lúthien could only watch in amazement as Morwen slammed into the lead knight feet first. As the guard pitched backward from the force of the impact, the Warden rode the armored chest into a forest of deadly blades.

The dance of death was like nothing Lúthien had ever witnessed before. In the blink of an eye, four knights dropped dead as Morwen slid her sabers underneath the gaps in their overlapping armored plates in a wild spinning attack. Tears ran down the Warden’s face as her blades flashed into the armored waves like a whirlwind as the knights forced her back by their overwhelming numbers. Before Lúthien could see more, her cousin began dragging her away down the corridor. Glaring at Enelya, Lúthien snapped angrily.

“We can’t just leave her.”

Gritting her teeth in pain, Enelya spat back in anger. “If you want to help her, then just do as she says. Otherwise, you may as well have killed her yourself.”

Giving her cousin a sour look, Lúthien took more of Argus’ weight. Quickly they began dragging the Wenci down the corridor as the sounds of combat rang out louder behind them. The ringing sounds of metal on metal were coming so fast that it was almost a steady noise. Glancing over her shoulder, Lúthien saw Morwen forced back into the corridor as the knights poured into the corridor behind them.

Morwen had been called the Mistress of Blades during the Tuonellian War and was a living legend throughout Irlendria as a swordmaster beyond compare. That she could stand against the spell powered armor of the Ironidium Knights, even for a short time, was a testament of her incredible skills, but no matter how good Morwen was, Lúthien knew there was no way she could hope to hold back the force boiling forth from the bowels of the keep.

Reaching the doorway, Lúthien skin crawled as she faced the unnatural silence of the terrible battle. Her heart caught in her throat as one of the knights hooked a gauntleted fist in Morwen’s flapping gray cloak. With a ferocious jerk of its spell powered strength, the knight slammed the Warden into the nearest wall with a loud crash.

Bouncing back to her feet, Morwen’s blades sliced the cloak away from her shoulders as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. Swinging her blades up before her defensively, Morwen fought on with grim determination as the knights pushed on over their own dead without pause.

Leaving Argus with Enelya, Lúthien closed the doors just wide enough for a single Elf to fit through as she screamed to be heard over the crashing sounds of combat. “Morwen, we’re ready!”

For a second, Lúthien thought the Warden hadn’t heard her as she threw herself into the advancing charge once more, but the attack was a feint. Breaking away with a spinning backflip, Morwen turned and sprinted down the corridor as the Ironidium Knights surged after her like water bursting from a dam. As Morwen dove through the opening, Lúthien slammed the doors shut calling forth her power. The spell took shape in her mind as she released the energy flowing through her body with a word of command.

“Galdur Blokk!”

The entire doorway suddenly glowed red as the magical barrier shot across the entrance a second before the doors shivered under the force of a massive impact. Immediately, loud booming blasts began hammering at the doors as Lúthien slowly backed away from the archway. Seeing Morwen unmoving on her knees, she rushed to the Warden’s side speaking quickly.

“Morwen, I don’t know how long the spell will hold against …” Seeing the Warden’s tear stained face and haunted eyes, the words died on Lúthien’s lips as she silently sank to the ground next to the Warden. Finding her voice once again, Lúthien gently put her arm around her guardian’s shoulder speaking softly as Enelya and Argus approached from behind. “What’s wrong Morwen?”

Shaking Lúthien’s arm from her shoulder, Morwen stood up wiping the tears away breathing in ragged gasps. “What’s wrong? Do you not know?” Covering her eyes with the back of her hand, Morwen pressed her gray eyes shut. “I’ve dedicated my entire life fighting against the Tuonellians that slaughtered so many of our people, only to be forced to kill the same people I’ve sworn to protect because of their trickery!”

For a long moment, Morwen’s jaw clenched shut as her body shook in silent rage when the call to arms gong began ringing from the topmost tower. With a start, Morwen lifted Lúthien to her feet snarling. “We must leave now.” Putting her arm under Argus’ shoulder, Morwen headed for the courtyard urgently speaking as they passed in-between the smaller buildings outside the central Keep.

“No matter what happens to me, you are to head through that gate. You must reach the Forest Clan and let King Elladan know that the Tuonellians have returned.” Gripping Lúthien’s shoulder, Morwen pulled her close. “Make him understand what has happened to our people!”

“I don’t understand why you can’t tell him yourself?”

Morwen ignored her question as they passed between the last buildings before the central courtyard, when Lúthien’s breath suddenly caught in her throat as she saw the ranks of Ironidium Knights arrayed in formation before the main gate. Without stopping Morwen headed directly for the middle of the formation turning to Enelya.

“Have you passed the test of Ilmatar?” Seeing the looks of shock in young Wild Elf’s eyes and Argus’ furry face, Morwen smiled grimly pressed her forefinger and thumb together spreading out her hand. “I am Torrakusan, little sister.”

Surprise changed to reverence as Enelya lowered her gaze. Grimacing from the pain, she gasped in short breaths. “Spirit Mother never spoke of your honored status among the Clan, Gray Mother.”

Meeting the Warden’s eyes, Enelya answered the question as Lúthien listened intently. She had never heard of her cousin’s Clan accepting an outsider into their midst, let alone giving them a title of honor. This was a side of Morwen she never knew existed.

“Ilmatar has accepted me as worthy.”

“I need you to perform the Vindbylur?”

Enelya’s eyes flashed towards Lúthien questioningly as Morwen spoke quickly. “You understand what I desire?”

Looking towards the silent line of Ironidium Knights blocking their escape, Enelya nodded her head slowly. “I understand, only I have no spear for the spirit dance, and my body is broken, Gray Mother.”

“Just do your best. A pure heart and a true need are all that Ilmatar requires. Have faith and he will heed your call.”

Reaching the halfway point across the courtyard a shattering explosion suddenly ripped through the air from the direction of the Keep’s main doors as a rasping metallic sound rang out across the courtyard. Fearfully Lúthien watched as the Ironidium Knights drew their massive two-handed swords. As the entire armored line began to advance as one, Morwen hissed urgently.

“Now little sister!” Lúthien staggered as Morwen forcibly pulled her to the Wenci. Quickly they changed position as Argus mewed in agony as his arm was draped over Lúthien’s shoulder. “When I charge, grab your cousin and head for the gates. No matter what happens to me, do not stop.”

Before Lúthien could speak, Morwen had already turned away. As the Warden drew her curved blades from across her back, Enelya began stomping her feet in a quick double-step. At first, her cousin clutched her ribs as she swayed from side to side, her faced beading with sweat from the pain of her internal injuries, but slowly her movements became more fluid.

A moment later, Enelya cried out in agony raising her arms above her head. Spinning around in a circle, she flung her open hands at the center of the Ironidium Knights’ line, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Vindbylur!”

Incredulously, a whirling vortex of air shot forth from her cousin’s outstretched arms. Like a massive hammer, the blast flung the knights in its path into the air, cutting a wide swath clear through the middle of the armored formation. It was like no spell she’d had ever read of before. The magic was different than her own, but none the less powerful. As the power stopped surging through her cousin’s small frame, Lúthien’s first thought was that of shock. Everyone knew Wild Elves couldn’t perform magic. That simple fact alone was the central cause of discrimination most Elves had for their Wild cousins.

Before Lúthien could consider the implications further, Morwen charged as Argus lunged after Enelya, pulling her with him. Before Enelya collapsed to the ground, his silver-furred arm scooped her to his chest. A second later Lúthien felt herself lifted into the air as Argus gathered her up in his other arm. Using the last of his strength, he leaped through the gap as Morwen’s battle cry echoed behind them.

***

Location Irlendria / Morwen Telemnar:

A part of Morwen Telemnar’s mind registered her charges passing through the Fortress’s massive gate as she battled the trickle of Ironidium Knights chasing after them from where they’d been scattered across the courtyard. Her blades cut the guards down before they even knew what was happening.

To either side of her, Morwen saw the separate wings of knights reforming as the King’s Guards from the keep approached the courtyard at a fast jog. Within seconds, she would be overwhelmed from their sheer numbers alone if she couldn’t come up with a working plan. Looking quickly over her shoulder, Morwen saw the girls entering the edge of the forest. Once more Argus hung limply in-between them as they struggled underneath his heavier weight. Without a shadow of a doubt, she knew there was no way the girls would escape if any of the knights made it past her.

Taking a deep breath, Morwen cleared her mind preparing for what was to come. Stepping back until she stood in the Fortress’s massive entrance, Morwen held her sabers at the ready. At least, she could take away their advantage in numbers by fighting from inside the archway.

The Ironidium Knights she killed had been fighting as individuals taken by surprise. Only her skill with the blade and knowledge of the spell forged armor’s weaknesses had allowed her to kill them so easily. This next attack would be different. Prepared for battle with their fellow knights backing them up was another matter altogether. Arranged in formation their armored lines would be nearly invincible.

Morwen’s heart ached again as she recognized the individual emblems imprinted on the chest of knights heading for her. She’d fought side-by-side with many of these warriors for most of her life and knew each and every last one of them by name. For many centuries these Elves had been her only family in a world full of death and destruction. Seeing the knight with the symbol of a double crosshatch through a mountain leading the charge, Morwen felt the bitter sting of anguish bite her soul as she recognized Field Commander Rogaulse, her sometimes lover. Throwing her head back, she cried out in grief.

“Great Tapio, give me the strength for what I must do.”

Tears streaming down her face, Morwen leaped forward. Deflecting the larger sword’s swing with a deft twist of her blade, she slammed her booted foot into the center of Rogaulse’s armored chest. Morwen felt the jarring impact all the way through her body as she flipped into the next knight. Using her momentum, she swung around the guard’s neck in a tight circle, redirecting him into his battle mates as she sprung from his back in one smooth motion.

Metal rang out as Morwen knocked the next knight’s swinging sword wide. Leaping over the top of the guard’s head, she looped her forearms around the armored neck as she jacked knifed her feet to the ground. Her momentum ripped the knight off his feet and over her head into the guards on the other side of the formation with a terrible crash. Spinning around, Morwen swept her slim blades out to either side of her. With a twist of her wrists, she deflected the overpowered swinging blades effortlessly as knights tried to flank her in a pincer attack.

Seeing a blade plunging for her unprotected head, Morwen threw her weight backward. Flipping into the air, she dodged the attack a split second before it crashed into the ground where she’d stood a second earlier. Before she could land on her feet, Morwen saw Rogaulse lung for her. In a blur, his armored fist last out. There was a flash of light as the air whooshed from of her lungs.

Vaguely Morwen remembered bouncing off calcimite stone of the archway as centuries of training and combat took over, her body continuing to function even as the air blasted from her lungs. Rolling to her feet, Morwen swung her blades up in a defensive block just as another gauntleted fist crashed into her. The terrible blow blasted her from her feet, before slamming her to a stop against the opposite wall.

This time, Morwen felt the blood running down the back of her neck as she instinctively landed on her feet. Defensively she arched both blades above her head as Rogaulse’s great sword sought to split her in half once again. Without thought, she drove the blade into the ground beside her as she saw another armored fist heading directly for her.

The next thing Morwen knew, she was lying on her back looking up at the top of the archway. Slowly her eyes focused on the taut chain to the Fortress’ massive portcullis as she breathed in labored breaths. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The scraping metallic ring of the knight’s approaching footsteps sounded as if from far away as Field Commander Rogaulse’s armored form swam into her field of vision.

With a single-mindedness of a well-aimed thrust, Morwen focused her thoughts on the plan forming in her head. The cost of her life was worth having her people warned of the traitors within their midst. Peace settled over her as she watched Rogaulse’s two-handed sword rise for the killing blow. At the last second, she rolled out of the way and sprang to her feet in one smooth motion. As she’d expected, Rogaulse’s armored fist was already in motion.

Ducking low, Morwen dodged the blow as stone fragments exploded above her head from the force of the impact. Tossing her blades high into the air, she grasped Rogaulse’s armored wrist with both hands as he whipped his arm back. Effortlessly the spellpowered strength of the runic armored suit lifted her with it. Before Rogaulse knew what was happening, Morwen swung herself into the air above his head. Twisting around in a twirling flip, she bent her knees landing lightly on the opposite wall.

With all her strength, Morwen sprang out across the archway. Reaching out, she caught the hits of her sabers as she soared across the gap. Spinning around Morwen wrapped her legs onto the thick ironidium segments of the chain holding the portcullis.

Immediately, her sabers began burning with a blue fire as she called forth the rune magic forged into the tinnearlian metal of her blades. Pushing all thoughts away, Morwen hammered at the thick links with all her might. Sparks flew from each impact as the weaker ironidium metal of the chain shivered under the impact of the superior metal. She hacked through the large chunks in a matter of seconds as the knights below her rushed for the opening.

There was a loud twang as the first half of the link sheered apart with a sudden jerk as Morwen felt Rogaulse’s blade scrap her ribs as he sought to kill her before she could slice through the link completely. Without a second thought, Morwen flung one of the glowing sabers at his armored head as she grasped the hilt of her remaining blade with both hands. Using the strength of her entire body, she shattered the link with one last blow as the world exploded around her.

***

Location Irlendria / Morwen Telemnar:

Morwen’s came back to consciousness as an armored fist lifted her bloody head up by her long silver hair. Unbelievably she was still alive. Dead knights were strewn across the ground around her where the thick coils of ironidium chain had snapped from the gate’s broken mechanism. On the other side of the entrance, she saw Rogaulse’s armored body lying against the far wall with her saber sticking out his helmet’s bloody eye socket. She’d killed him and hadn’t even known it.

In front of her, the armored ranks of the Ironidium Knights split open as a humongous maggot-white monster wearing King Elladan’s face slowly stalked towards her. Morwen recognized the nightmarish creature immediately for what it was. A godforsaken Tuonellian Hulk. As the creature’s bloated face bent down close to her own, she almost retched as she felt the monster’s long tongue slowly lick the blood from the side of her face. Lunging forward, she tried to sink her teeth into the Hulk’s disgusting flesh, but her body didn’t move in the Ironidium Knights’ powerful grip.

Clucking its tongue reproachfully, the grotesque creature’s rasping voice taunted her as it long claws stroked her cheek. “Warden Morwen, I had looked forward to consuming your flesh like I did your mother’s, but …”

“You!” Twisting against the gauntlets holding her tight, Morwen shrieked frothing at the mouth in rage as she suddenly recognized the Hulk standing before her. After all of these centuries of hunting down the savage beasts during the Tuonellian War, she was once again face-to-face with the monster that had murdered her family before her very eyes. “I will kill you with my bare hands!”

SMACK

Morwen could taste the blood in her mouth from the brutal backhand as her ears rang from the impact. Continuing as if she’d never spoken the Hulk waved a misshapen hand towards Rogaulse’s dead body. “You have forced me to reconsider the taking of your life at this time.” Reaching into the pouch hanging from its waist, the Tuonellian extracted a tiny crystal shard. Gingerly it held the pulsating green sliver before her eyes. “Like the Ironidium Knights that now serve me, you will become my new Field Commander, gladly slaughtering your own people at my command.”

Seeing the look of horror on Morwen’s face, the hideous monster laughed wickedly as its claws firmly gripped her face. Her screams were cut off abruptly as the Hulk slid the burning shard into the base of her skull. As her body went rigid, the creature waved its clawed hand at the knights holding her down.

“Release her.”

Slowly Morwen rose to her knees. Looking up into the Hulk’s grotesque face, she spoke in a voice devoid of emotion. “How may I serve you, Master?”

Chapter Twenty

Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

The darkness of night gave away to the pale gray of dawn and still Nessa kept to her grueling pace. Waking nightmares came to her in waves as her forehead burned with fever. Every now and then Nessa stumbled as her consciousness faded in and out, but every time she caught herself as she continued stubbornly on.

The Alttash’s Tears were healing her battered body, but the hallucinations it brought made her break out in cold sweats. Every time she closed her eyes she saw her people dying in droves around her. Although some of the visions that came to her were stories from her people's past, most of what she saw were new as if they were premonitions of a future yet to come.

One time Nessa woke only to find herself surrounded by darkness except for the pale lights of Remus and Romulus high above her. The shock almost made her crash into the ground, but once again she staggered, catching herself at the last moment. Stumbling in a daze, she trotted on.

The next time she awoke, the yellow light of Paiva was shining behind her. Ahead of her, Nessa saw the peak of Mount Airy rising out of the early morning mist. Relief flooded through her heart. She was close, at this pace she would be there by noon! Amazingly enough, Nessa felt stronger than ever. Sometime in the night, her fever must have broken. The lightheaded feeling that had been plaguing her for the last two days was all but gone.

Cresting the small ridge that ran up to the base of the mountain, Nessa’s mouth suddenly went dry. In the distance, she saw an albino white shape far ahead of her racing across the plain. The creature looked little more than a deformed Chukka, but Nessa knew better. Even hunched over on all fours the loping gait was like nothing she’d ever seen before. It could only be another Hulk. Uzila had warned her about the Tuonellian’s natural form.

Focusing on her target, Nessa put another chunk of Alttash’s Tears into her mouth as she pushed herself into a gallop. Immediately the wind began roaring in her ears as her brown mane and tail streaked out behind her. As the minutes ticked by and the distance slowly began to close, Nessa suddenly realized she didn’t know how to kill the beast.

Quickly she thought back to her father’s old stories. In groups Tuonellian Hulks were devastating. At the beginning of the War, her people had died by the tens of thousands trying to stop the invasion before the Paladins of Ukko had joined the fight. If she remembered the songs correctly, rune arrows only hurt the creatures, but couldn’t kill them. They simply healed too quickly for that. Her father’s tactics had always centered on attacking in overwhelming numbers, or surrounding the creatures and smashing their limbs from a distance, before closing in for the kill. Not once had she heard of a lone Centaur taking on a Hulk in single combat!

Ahead of her, the monster disappeared over a small hillock. Without even realizing it, Nessa unlimbered her bow following after as her heart began thumping loudly in her chest. Reaching the top of the rise, Nessa froze in sudden shock. Below her, the Hulk she’d been following had already come to a stop. In one of its large fists, it held her father’s bloody broken body by the throat.

“Rrraaahhh!” With a wordless shriek, Nessa charged down the small rise. Raising the bow to her cheek, she began sending arrow after arrow streaking at the Hulk in a blur. Unbelievably, Nessa watched the arrows shatter uselessly against the creature’s rock hard skin as it threw her father’s broken body to the ground. Rising to its full height, the Hulk roared out a challenge whipping its muscular bulk around with a speed the belied its size, preparing to strike as Nessa entered melee range.

In the process of throwing her bow away, Nessa suddenly stopped as a blue glow began radiating from her father’s ruined body. A part of her cried out in relief as she realized he yet lived, but the tactical part of her mind immediately realized what her father was doing.

In the blink of an eye, Nessa let loose a flight of arrows firing center mass. She heard the meaty thunks as the shafts found their mark slamming deep into the Hulks chest. As the creature staggered back in surprise, Nessa flung her bow away as she unslung the mace from her back.

The runes on its shaft glowed with blue fire as she lifted the two-handed weapon high over her head. Vaulting over her father’s body, Nessa slammed into the Hulk mace first with all of her might. She felt the mighty blow sink into the monster’s chest a second before the weapon was wrenched from her grasp as she bounced off the creature a second later, her head ringing from the impact.

Staggering back to her hooves, Nessa saw the Hulk collapse to its knees. Embedded halfway through its chest was the head of her still glowing mace. Unbelievably she watched the creature reach up to grasp the weapon’s haft sticking out from its chest with both of its long clawed hands. As it started to yank the embedded head free from its shattered ribcage, Nessa sprang forward.

Unsheathing the blades from her back, Nessa struck at the Hulk’s thick arms as it tried to block her strikes. Instead of shattering against the beast’s stone skin, her glowing daggers sliced out chunks of flesh like an axe chopping at a tree.

Already the Hulk’s shattered chest was starting to regrow around the shaft of the weapon. Nessa could feel the monster’s blows becoming more powerful with every passing second as the Hulk’s wounds began healing before her eyes. Slowly it was driving her back!

“NESSA!” Looking quickly over her shoulder, Nessa saw her father’s mace flying at her perpendicular to the ground. Dropping her daggers, she snatched the glowing weapon out of the air. Grasping the thick shaft tightly with both hands, she pivoted. Spinning around, Nessa used the mass of her entire body to swing the weapon aiming for the creature’s oversized head.

Raising its arms up, the Hulk tried to block the powerful blow, but her father’s glowing mace blasted through the Tuonellian’s defenses before slamming into the side of its head. There was a wet crunch as the Hulk’s misshapen skull partly caved in.

Incredulously, the Hulk still struggled to climb to its feet as Nessa wheeled around once again slamming the mace with all of her might into the other side of the creature’s head. This time, the Hulk’s head snapped sideways from the force of the blow as its body pitched forward to its hands and knees as the solid hit caved in the other side of its misshapen skull.

Unbelievably, the Hulk still struggled to rise. Slowly the crumpled head rose up to look up at Nessa. Bone fragments stuck out from its crushed skull at odd angles as its beady red eyes glared at her filled with hate. Raising the mace high above her head, Nessa cried out to the Sky-Father as she struck at the gaping hole on the side of its lumpy skull. Like a ripe melon, the Hulk’s head exploded from the impact as its corpse crumpled lifeless to the ground.

Staggering backward, Nessa eyed the monster to make sure it was truly dead, before rushing to her father’s side. For a second she didn’t know where to touch his body, everywhere she looked was covered in blood. Seeing his staring eyes, Nessa gently cradled his blood stained head on her folded knees.

Slowly Nessa stroked her father’s matted hair as she silently rocked in grief. She had come too late; he was dead. With his death, she had lost the last of her family. As the pain of her loss filled her soul, Nessa felt the song of sorrow come to her lips. Closing her eyes, she raised her voice to the heavens in a wordless chant as she awaited Wakinyan.

In the distance, she heard the heavy beating wings of the approaching Thunderbird. As Luonnotar’s messenger drew overhead, Nessa bowed her head in acceptance, waiting for her father’s last words. Except for her own life, there was nothing left for her to lose. There was no longer the overwhelming grief that had gripped her heart from Tolnik’s death. Everyone she had ever called family was dead. Even the Thunder Tribe was lost to her now.

This time, when Nessa felt Wakinyan’s claws grasp her soul and lift her into the spirit realm, there was no fear. Around her the golden plains were gone, in their place was only ash and death. Rising higher into the sky, Nessa saw the world around her burning. This time, it was her people that carried death and destruction across Irlendria as the shadow shapes of Tuonellian Hulks drove her people forward in berserker hordes. Tears began flowing from Nessa’s eyes as she felt the touch of her father’s soul next to her. Looking away from the death and destruction surrounding her, she met his pain filled eyes as his voice reverberated in her head.

“Nessa, you must undertake a Yatra or all that you see will come to pass.”

In the spirit realm, communication was not verbal, but concepts wrapped in emotions that carried whole ideas. Nessa understood that her father had tried to protect her from becoming a Questor and had paid the price for the decision with his life. Bowing her head, she gave the ritual answer.

“I offer my life to Luonnotar.” Meeting her father’s gaze, Nessa continued. “How might I serve so that what has become of our people never comes to pass?”

She felt her Father’s sadness as he delivered the Yatra. “Head east to the Great Forest of the Elves, there you will find the last Paladin of Ukko. You must bring him to the Council of Elders.”

Nessa’s head jerked up in consternation. Her father’s spirit must be mistaken. The Klavikians had been destroyed almost nine years ago. There were no Paladins left on Irlendria.

Confused, Nessa looked to her father for answers when she felt the Wakinyan’s claws tightened its grip on her soul. Nessa saw the anguish on her father’s face as she reached out to him one last time, but no more words came as her soul plunged into darkness.

***

Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

Waking with a start, Nessa opened her eyes wincing from the brightness. Shading her eyes from the light, she studied Paiva’s position in the sky above. Maybe half a day’s light was left. Pushing her torso up, Nessa realized she was on her knees with her father’s head still lying in her lap. Her legs numb from sitting in one position for too long.

Looking at the ground next to her, Nessa froze as she saw the dried blood on the trampled ground next to her. It was, at least, a day old. Looking at her father’s body once more, she saw that rigor mortis had set in. She must have been passed out for a day if not longer.

Nessa’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the bleached white skin of her arms. With difficulty, she climbed to her hooves checking out the rest of her body as the memories came flooding back. It was the Mark of the Yatra, proof that she was a Questor of Luonnotar. Although it looked like paint, the color of skin could never be washed off. It would never leave her until she completed the quest that had been set before her or died.

In the grass next to her was the Staff of Yatri. Black in color with Klavikian Runes running down its length, the staff was a gift from Luonnotar and the only weapon a Questor was allowed to carry during their trials. Bowing her head, Nessa gave a fervent prayer.

“Sky-Father, I pray that you give me the strength to carry out your will.”

A Questor could only be chosen by God. There was no higher calling for her people. Nessa didn’t know if she was worthy of such a sacred trust. She could only do her best to save her people from the vision of doom that had been shown to her.

By the time Nessa built a stone cairn over her father’s remains in a small clearing near the base of Mount Airy, Paiva was already setting in the north. Bowing her head, she took a moment to give her respects. Although Uzila had basically raised Tolnik’s and Nessa’s after the death of their mother, her father had always done his best to spend time with them. Only that time had been limited during the end of the Tuonellian War. Nessa had understood the need for her father’s absences in her life, especially when the Imperium tried to wrestle control over the Alliance of Aurenko after the Klavikians’ destruction.

Unfortunately once that the Alliance fell apart, many of the old prejudices had returned to Irlendria. Unconcerned about the other races as always, the Centaur Tribes had returned to their isolation on the plains. Forbidding all but the Elves of the Great Forest passage into their domain, her people distanced themselves from the rest of the world’s incessant squabbling.

Uzila, Tolnik, her mother, and father, they were all gone, killed by the evil that had invaded their lands. Now the very future of her people was in jeopardy. Hanging her head low, Nessa let the tears stream down her face. Racking sobs shook her body as she let out the grief inside her soul. Never in her life had she felt so alone.

Remus was high in the night’s sky before the tears finally stopped falling. Slowly Nessa felt her hands clench into fists as she felt her heart come to a decision. She would do whatever it took to make the Tuonellians pay for what they’d done!

Standing up, Nessa quickly began removing her gear. Armor, weapons, equipment harness, everything was dropped to the ground until all that was left was a water skin and a small pouch of Alttash’s Tears. Picking up the black Staff of Yatri, Nessa looked to the heavens.

“Luonnotar, I only ask that the deaths of my family not be in vein. Guide my steps so that I can bring an end to the evil plaguing our people!” As if in answer, thunder and lightning rolled across the dark sky as the first drops of rain splattered on her upturned face. As the water ran down her cheeks and soaked her mane, Nessa took one last look at her father’s cairn before taking off at a trot heading east.

Chapter Twenty-One

Location Earth / Sean MacRory:

Sean had just sat down at the small table in the bridge with a copy of the Book of Ukko and a steaming cup of hot tea when he suddenly froze with his head cocked to the side listening intently. For a second he was unsure if it was his imagination or not. The sound seemed to be just on the edge of his hearing.

Seconds ticked by as Sean sat there unmoving as his eyes slowly drifted towards the cooling cup of tea sitting on the table. Almost imperceptibly he felt the throbbing steadily increase through the soles of his boots as his sixth sense began screaming out in warning. He could feel it in his bones. Something wasn’t right.

Rising to his feet troubled, Sean was unaware of the small metal chair skittering across the floor as he grabbed up the binoculars next to him before moving towards the front of the bridge. Standing in front of the thick windows of the deckhouse he slowly lifted the eyecups to his eyes scanning the horizon.

The males of his lineage always had a predilection for sensing trouble before it happened. A trait that had helped his mercenary ancestors throughout the ages, if the family history of the Clan could be believed. Normally the premonitions came with only seconds to spare, but in most situations that was usually enough to survive.

Some said the MacRory’s carried the luck of the Irish. Sean grimaced silently at the ironic phrase. The only luck his people ever had was bad luck, especially when it was in the disguise of something good. It was told that his great-grandfather had survived the blitz of nineteen forty-one when he suddenly awoke in the middle of the night from a sound sleep. Grabbing his family, he’d dragged them to the closest bomb shelter just as the first bombs fell on Belfast. Although the family survived that fateful night, his great-grandfather had died at the end of the war by drinking himself to death from depression due to the loss of the family fortune and the failed economy that never recovered.

His grandfather had a similar story. After escaping death time after time while fighting with the Seventh Armored Division against the Germans in the North Africa Campaign during World War Two. He’d returned home only to lose everything for supporting Fianna Fáil during the Irish general elections in nineteen forty-eight.

Although his father had fought hard against the Irish curse, his story hadn’t ended much better. In the recent history of the Clan, father had done better than most of his relatives to improve their lot in life. While most of the Clan refused to believe that a curse had been laid against their lineage, Sean knew better. He’d felt its touch his whole life growing up as a Protestant in Catholic controlled Belfast. Even though is childhood had been hard, it paled in comparison to the troubles he’d experienced as a young man after the Social Democratic and Labor Party took control of Ireland in the late nineties. Unlike his grandfather, Sean didn’t lose the shirt off of his back, nor did he drink himself into a grave. Instead, he faced it down as his father had refusing to give in. Those times had been hard, but he was a born survivor. What didn’t break him only made him stronger.

Unbelievably enough, things had started looking up for both him and his Clan. Even in these tough economic times when there seemed to be no money to be made, they were surprisingly prospering. Thinking about the book he’d left on the table, Sean couldn’t help but smile. Ever since the entire Gallowglass Clan had converted to Ukkodians things had started changing for the better. Still, he was always wary of the luck of the Irish rearing its ugly head.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Sean jumped as three sonic blast waves shook the heavy windows of the deckhouse in quick succession as a formation of fighter jets flew low across the length of the island. One glance told him they were armed to the teeth. A second later he heard the distinctive chop of approaching helicopters as the ships radar suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree with the thick yellow bands of multiple contacts approaching from the air and sea. He swept the binoculars towards the ridge of the island as four separate wings of sleek Cobra attack helicopters screamed over the top of Santorini in a tight combat formation.

Like a pack of deadly wolves, they hit the lagoon at a height of about twenty meters above the water’s surface on a fast approach path. Nearing the edge of the island, they suddenly split off into four separate wings as they quickly fanned out around Nea Kameni, before coming to a stop in what was obviously predestinated control points.

A moment later, Sean’s eyes were drawn back towards Santorini once again as an even louder throbbing sound filled the air. Hugging the contours of the island a large wing of slower moving helicopters crested the ridge. He easily recognized the familiar incoming shapes of the much slower Sikorsky Seahawk assault helicopters as they spread out into tight V formation headed towards the lagoon. Looking like something right out of the movie Apocalypse Now, the birds bristled with mounted machine guns and missile pods that protruded from their rounded sides as they speed towards Nea Kameni twenty strong.

For a long moment, Sean could only watch in stunned amazement as the Seahawks took a shortest approach path before settling down on the island. Within seconds squads of combat marines were pouring out across the island. Focusing his binoculars on the shoulder patches of the soldiers, Sean immediately recognized the familiar red, white and blue of the Americans. Dropping the binoculars to his chest, Sean swore loudly.

“What in the bloody hell are the Yanks doing here?”

Sean was just turning around at the loud roar of heavy diesel motors coming from a small fleet of amphibious assault vehicles entering the bay, when his eyes took note of two Seahawks breaking off from the landing operations heading towards his ship. For a second, he thought the birds were going to pass overhead, but as they slowed down to take up hovering positions above bow and stern of his ship. He felt his Clan’s infamous temper flare through his veins.

Slamming his fist down, Sean triggered the alarm for action stations as the ship's klaxon began ringing throughout the ship. Instantly the automatic recording began broadcasting its warning. “All hands to action stations, all hands to action stations. Assume Damage control state one, condition Zulu.”

Leaping out of the deckhouse, Sean hooked his legs over the railings of the stairs as he quickly slid down to the lower deck in a move befitting a much younger man. Already he could see black, combat fatigue soldiers repelling down onto the deck of his ship. Heading towards the bow, Sean passed by his First Officer without slowing down. Not waiting for instructions, Mr. Dudek fell in behind giving his report as he held his walky-talky down by his side.

“Chief McDougal has secured engineering and is warming up the engines. Captain. Mr. Crosslander is requesting orders.”

“Tell the Chief to stand fast and have Mr. Crosslander head towards the stern of the ship with Hans and Wolfgang to repel boarders.”

“Aye aye, Sir!” Except for a slight widening of the eyes, Mr. Dudek passed on the orders without comment. Seeing the fast approaching Black Ops teams headed their way he quickly sheathed the radio at his waist as he murmured softly under his breath. “This should be interesting.”

The soldiers were heavily armed and moved with quick efficiency as they fanned out across the main deck. Aiming their weapons at the two unarmed sailors the point men began screaming at the top of their lungs. “Get on your knees and place your hands on your heads now!”

Ignoring the commands both men called out a prayer to Ukko, continuing forward as power began flowing through their veins. “Suoja”

Instantly a gray glow surrounded them as their tattoos flared red with power. Without slowing down, Sean bellowed at the top of his lungs at the approaching men. “Your illegal trespassing on a ship of the Republic of Ireland is an act of piracy. Lower your weapons and return to your craft or face the consequences of your actions.”

Completely ignoring Sean’s words the Black Ops teams closed in on them still screaming for them to get on the ground. A split second before they closed the distance, Sean saw the point man’s look of shock as he suddenly realized they really weren’t stopping.

In the blink of an eye, Sean closed the distance as his fist slammed into the man in front of him like a wrecking ball, the force of the blow knocking him off his feet into the soldiers behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his First Officer plow into the second team on the right as a Mr. Dudek simultaneously exploded into motion.

For a long moment, the leader of the third combat team could only look on in shocked horror as his platoon mates were taken out of commission by two unarmed men in officer uniforms. The flowing martial art moves looked like something right out of the Matrix. Almost faster than the eyes could follow lightning fast strikes effortlessly flung men through the air like ragdolls to bounce off of nearby bulkheads. Within seconds, the fight was over.

Turning around to face the remaining Black Ops team at the bow of the ship, Sean spoke in a level voice. “You have illegally trespassed on a ship of the Republic of Ireland. Drop your weapons and get on your knees with your hands behind your head or face the consequences for your actions.”

The only answer to his orders came in the form of the team leader aiming his deadly carbine towards Sean and his First Officer. Without hesitation, the soldier triggered a three shot burst at the center of Sean’s chest.

***

Location Earth / Larissa Evans:

“What are you doing? I’m a British citizen!” Larissa grunted in indignation as a black, gloved hand unceremoniously shoved her from behind. Swearing and screaming, she stumbled trying to catch her balance. “Get your bloody hands off of me you wankers!”

Sharon’s shriek of fear galvanized Larissa as another black-clad soldier roughly grabbed her friend by the back of the neck. Manhandling Sharon with his free hand, the man propelled her ahead of him, cursing under his breath as she suddenly plowed face-first into the hard ground. That’s when something snapped inside Larissa. The soldiers hadn’t given a word of explanation as to what they wanted. Instead of answering their questions, the hard-faced men had simply began dragging them away from the dig.

Larissa hated resorting to something as crude as violence, but she refused to be carted away like some helpless twit. Sean MacRory had been teaching her how to fight for years now. Although she was nowhere near the expert in hand-to-hand fighting that he was, she could handle herself in a row when needed.

Using the forward momentum to her advantage, Larissa rammed her elbow through the back of the soldier’s head that had just thrown Sharon to the ground. The strike must have hit true because the large man instantly dropped like a rock as she smiled to herself in satisfaction.

Whipping around, Larissa knocked aside the hand that reached for her from behind. Locking her fingers around the soldier’s wrists she yanked with all her strength, slamming her open palm into the man’s face. She saw the complete look of shock a second before she flattened the man’s nose with the brutal blow. As the soldier staggered back in agony, Larissa dodged another pair of arms lunging for her. Stepping back a pace she snapped her foot into the side of the man’s knee, before giving him a hard push. Crying out in pain, the soldier nosedived into the ground as his legs suddenly gave out.

Turning around looking for Sharon, Larissa saw a blur of motion in her peripheral vision as her mind registered the large fist flying at her face a split-second later. Throwing herself backward, she tried to dodge back as she raised her hands to ward off the blow, but it was already too late. There was a bright flash of light just before everything went dark.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Location Irlendria / Tiberius Decius Lupus:

Cresting the last rolling hill before the Great Forest, Tiberius signaled the bull’s behind him to stop and drop before diving into the long grass. Focusing intently on the field below, his eyes searched for any signs of movement as Decanus Cornisus crawled up next to him.

Lying stock-still, they studied the silent battlefield intently. Thousands of butchered legionnaires were strewn across the trampled ground all the way to the tree line of the Great Forest. Directly below them were the broken standards of the First and Second Legions and the largest concentration of dead. This was the spot where the Legion’s shattered ranks had come together to make their final stand. Across the battlefield, the caws of crows at their grisly feast were the only sounds as his eyes took in the slaughter. Ten thousand of his people were dead. Unconsciously, Tiberius course hands clenched into tight fists as he swore a silent oath.

“They would be avenged!” Lifting his heavy head, Tiberius rose to his cloven hooves, signaling the bulls behind him in legion hand-speak as he freed the massive battle-axe from his back.

<Attack formation Theta>

Quietly his legionnaires rose up behind him. Unlimbering their battle-axes, they spread out in a spearhead formation with Tiberius at their lead looking towards the forest warily. Silently Tiberius made his way down the slope his senses alert for danger. Not that there was much five Minotaurs could do against a force that could wipe out two full-strength legions. The best chance they had was to keep their presence secret until finding the Thirteenth.

Carefully stepping over torn limbs and shredded bodies of both Elves and Minotaurs, Tiberius made his way to the center of the battlefield and the largest concentration of bodies. His eyes narrowing as he took note of the battle damage. What he saw made no sense. The gaping wounds were like nothing he’d seen before. Most of the legionnaire’s thick tinnearlian shields had deep gouges running down their length while their lorica segmentata breastplates were shredded almost beyond recognition. It was as if some powerful creature had ripped through the soldiers’ chests.

Remembering Centurion Aquila’s old battle stories about the beginning of the Tuonellian invasion, Tiberius stopped suddenly. Kneeling down next to the nearest legionnaire at his hooves, he inspected the terrible wounds thoughtfully as his bulls formed up around him in a protective circle. A large hole had been ripped into the center of the young male’s chest. Looking closer Tiberius realized that the heart was missing from the chest cavity. Getting down onto his hands and knees, he stuck an arm into the gaping hole as Cornisus looked away turning green.

Tiberius bit back the bile rising in his throat as he searched inside the legionnaire’s bloated corpse. The implications alone made him shiver, but he had to know if he was right or not. A second later, he nervously sat back on his haunches. It wasn’t just the heart that was missing. All of the young male’s internal organs were gone. Sucking air in labored breaths he fought to control the rising fear in his chest.

Going to the next Minotaur, Tiberius rolled the legionnaire over repeating the same search. Again the corpse was stripped of internal organs. A quick search of the next three bodies gave the same results. Moving about the field of battle in a daze, he searched through the piles of dead until he finally found what he was looking for, the lithe form of a Forest Elf. Long strides brought him to the archer’s side as he quickly flipped the small body over.

Tiberius froze at the sight of the gaping hole in the center of the Elf’s chest as his blood turned to ice in his veins. Standing to his full height, Tiberius flexed his shoulders scanning the piles of dead once more. This time, he could better piece together the course of events. This was no battle between the Elven Clans of the Great Forest and the Imperium. There were no signs of arrow storms hammering at the Legions ranks. No gaping wounds left from the Ironidium Knights two-handed swords. No, this was classic Tuonellian Hulk tactics.

Following the tree line with his eyes, Tiberius studied the scattered bodies lying across the open ground. There must have been enough Hulks to catch the majority of the Legions while they were strung out in double column formation for traveling. His experienced eyes easily followed the clumps of dead to where he now stood.

General Lentulus Porcia had managed to get a portion of his Legions formed up, but obviously, it wasn’t enough. Turning in a circle Tiberius studied entire slope. Not when the Tuonellian force was large enough to completely surround the survivors. The size of a force that large would have smash through the defensives lines with relative ease. Once the battle was over the monsters would have consumed the dead to recover from their strength. Hulks would eat anything, but they were known to prefer the internal organs of their prey the best.

Striding to where the broken Pennant of the Imperium lay atop a pile of corpses, Tiberius began digging through the dead as his bulls kept a lookout. Tossing bodies aside, he went about his grisly task until he found what he was looking for, General Lentulus Porcia’s blood-soaked body.

Pulling the general to the top of the pile, Tiberius laid his battle-axe down to search the dead general’s body with both hands. He stopped when he felt the smooth messenger cylinder. With a quick jerk, he ripped through the leather bindings holding the tube in place. Unrolling the scroll quickly, he scanned through the contents of the Emperor’s orders. Snorting derisively, Tiberius spat tossing the scroll to Cornisus.

“The First and Second Legions were never sent to Aosta.” As the smaller bull read the missive, Tiberius continued searching for more clues when Cornisus looked up incredulously a moment later. “Their true mission was a preemptive strike against the Elves? That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, Sire.”

Tiberius grimaced at the title, but it was better than being called Emperor or Lord every time he spoke to one of his bulls. “You’re looking at it the wrong way. Remember General Sergius Aquilus sixth treatise on the Art of War?”

Wide-eyed, Cornisus chose his words carefully. “The Art of What, Sire?”

“You know, if your enemy’s forces are united, separate them.” Taking the scroll back, Tiberius hid his grin as he tucked the messenger tube into his belt. “Think of it as if you were a Tuonellian. You’ve been winning every battle as each race struggles to fight you individually when the Klavikians appear and bring your enemies together into one overwhelming alliance, before you know it your easy prey is on the verge of wiping you out. That’s when you come up with a plan to annihilate your strongest enemy, but after the battle, you are too weak to fight the rest of the races. Follow me?

Suddenly unsure of himself, Cornisus pitched his voice so that only Tiberius could hear. “I earned my rank on the battlefield. I never attended the War University, Sire.”

Seeing the Cornisus’ nervous face, Tiberius gripped the smaller bull’s shoulder to put him at ease. Raising his voice, he spoke loud enough so that all of his legionnaires could hear him. “Think of it as a bar fight. You have a group of five bulls surrounding you. One of them is a great big monster while the other four are your size. Who do you attack first?”

Cracking his knuckles, Cornisus gave a gap-toothed smile. “I always go for the big’ems first, Sire. You can always take the little guys out one at a time once he’s down.”

With a grim face, Tiberius met Cornisus’ solemn eyes. “That’s what the Tuonellians are doing to Alliance now.”

The sudden call of Imperium War horns deep in the forest stopped further discussion. Whipping around in horror, Tiberius heard the first Elven war drums deep thrumming reply answer back a second later. At first, it was only one or two drums, but within moments, the entire forest began echoing with the rumbling call to war.

It had to be the Thirteenth! Bolting down the slope with a wordless cry, Tiberius took off running for the sounds of battle as his bulls sprang after him. Calling on his people’s heritage, Tiberius forced his legs to pump faster as the wind of his passing blew his long mane and red cape flaring out behind him. Somehow he had to stop this catastrophe!

Chapter Twenty-Three

Location Irlendria / Lúthien Narmolanya:

Lúthien’s head jerked up as she heard Imperium war horns echoing throughout the forest. A second later she swore under her breath as explosions rang out ahead of them. “What in Tapio’s name was happening now?”

Worriedly she glanced at Enelya struggling under Argus’ weight. Her cousin’s face was ghostly white from pain as she gulped air in wheezing gasps. Glassy-eyed, she returned Lúthien’s anxious look croaking hoarsely. “Smoke!”

Lúthien tried to stop as Enelya began hacking uncontrollably, but her cousin stubbornly drove them forward with a sharp shake of her head as blood ran down her chin. Frustrated, she followed Enelya’s unspoken command taking up the lead once again as Argus’ head lolled back and forth on his shoulders. He’d collapsed unconscious after helping them escape from Daeron Fortress. Lúthien didn’t know if the Wenci still lived or not, but if Warden Morwen’s understanding of the Sál Tengilinn bond was correct, Enelya’s life was connected to the animal’s. The Wenci must still live.

Lúthien understood the need to reach the city of Bel Arbre Ciel before the Ironidium Knights, but not if it killed them in the process. Slowing down, she looked at Enelya anxiously. “We have to stop. You have to rest before you kill yourself!”

This time, Enelya glared at her. Struggling to speak, she spat blood from her mouth. “Listen.”

“I’ve had just about enough of this; you’ve got to …” Lúthien’s voice died away at the sounds of clashing weapons and the screams of combat. Turning around, she froze as the distinctive stench of smoke came to her on the wind, before rushing forward again wide-eyed with Enelya in tow.

As they neared the Forests Elves’ capital, the visibility dropped to almost nothing. Coughing from smoke inhalation, Lúthien pushed on until she broke free of the heavy foliage. Stopping in horror, she saw the entire grove of Bel Arbre Ciel was aflame. Already the flames had reach the enormous boughs of the Mother Tree high overhead making it look as if the heavens were on fire. This close to the grove the sound of the roaring blaze was deafening.

Staggering half-blind through the smoke, Lúthien made her way towards the grove as the shrill screams of the dying filled the air as shadowy figures fought around her. Bolts of pure energy streaked through the haze as the Forest Clan’s runic bows lashed out at their attackers leaving pulsing trails of light through the heavy smoke. Burning bodies rained around her as the Elves trapped high overhead chose to plummet to their deaths rather than be burned alive, while the deep thrumming call of war drums thundered around her as the defenders of Bel Arbre Ciel warned the neighboring communities of the Imperium’s horrific attack. Making her way towards the struggling lines of warriors, Lúthien stopped as a large burning branch slammed to the ground blocking their path. Through the burning flames she saw Prince Galdor go down under a rush of armored Minotaurs.

“Nnnooo!” Screaming in denial, Lúthien backed away from the searing heat as more fiery branches crashed to the ground in front of her.

Galdor was a long time childhood friend. Although he’d always wanted to be more to her, Lúthien had always begged off his advances saying she needed to focus on her studies, but, in truth, she’d always been more interested in his younger brother. Still, she cared for him greatly. As Lúthien saw a humongous Minotaur with large curved horns lift its battle-axe over Galdor’s bloody head, she raised her hand shrieking out a word of command.

“Eldur Ray!” A searing ray of light shot from Lúthien’s palm as tears ran down her cheeks. Instantly the spell blasted the Minotaur full in the face with its scorching magic fire as the bull’s massive head jerked up from the unexpected assault. Staggering backward, the Minotaur bellowed in rage as its beady red eyes focused on her from across the burning blockade. For a second, the bull’s face melted away until she was staring at the corpse-white features of a Tuonellian Hulk before its hate-filled face reformed into that of a Minotaur once again.

“Save the Prince!” The call rang out across the grove as Lúthien saw King Elladan lead a small force of Elves into the teeth of the attackers. For a second, the Minotaur line was pushed back as the smaller forms of the Elves threw themselves sword first into the advancing ranks. Swarming over the lead Minotaurs in an enraged frenzy their runic blades pierced in-between the gaps of the legionnaires’ armor as they bore the line to the ground.

“Get him to the safety of Ciel Lieu!” Leaping to his feet Kind Elladan held back the Imperium’s advance with his house guard as more Elves carried Prince Galdor away to safety. Around him, flashing streaks of rune arrows blasted into the Minotaur ranks from overhead with devastating results.

Lúthien was still urgently dragging Enelya and Argus with her as she searched for a way around the fire to King Elladan when a loud crack reverberated through the air. Her head whipped around just in time to see the Mother Tree’s central trunk crumple in on top of itself near the base. In horror, Lúthien watched Elves catapult into the ground as the disintegrating Mother Tree jerked to a sudden stop. Her breath caught in her lungs as the central trunk tilted at a precarious angle as the Daughter Trees of the Grove held the weight of their dying Mother.

For a second the Imperium line of legionnaires wavered as they looked up at the impending fiery doom above their heads. Shrieks of terror rang out from Elves still trapped high up in the burning branches as the entire grove was engulfed in magical fire when suddenly the deafening sound of snapping timber drowned out all sound. As one side of the grove collapsed under the weight of the Mother Tree’s enormous trunk, Lúthien dove to the ground in terror as flaming chunks of wood blasted through the air as the Daughter Trees suddenly exploded.

Lifting her head, Lúthien gaped at the firestorm raging where Bel Arbre Ciel had stood just a moment before. Gritting her teeth she rose to her feet weakly helping Enelya clear Argus of burning splinters, when a strangled cry came from nearby. Looking over her shoulder, Lúthien froze as the Tuonellian Hulk rose to its feet with King Elladan gripped in its clawed fist. She couldn’t hear what was being said over the sounds of the roaring flames, but before Lúthien could think of what to do, the Hulk ripped the Kings face off with one bite of its misshapen maw.

Lúthien screamed in terror as the creature threw its head back howling in triumph. She immediately stopped as the monster’s beady red eyes focused on her from across the flames and burning debris. As the Hulk blinked its eyes in sudden recognition, she saw a look of pure hunger cross the monster’s grotesque face. With a savage growl, the Hulk threw King Elladan’s broken body away striding directly for her. Ignoring the roaring fire the monster effortlessly began tossing aside the burning branches blocking its path with its clawed fists as the Hulk made its way towards her.

Staggering backward in fright, Lúthien felt herself roughly propelled away from the grove as a callused clawed hand suddenly gripped her upper arm. Whipping around in fright, Lúthien immediately settled down as she saw Argus’ furry face looking back at her. His whiskers fearfully twitched as he stared wide-eyed at the burning forest fire raging around them with instinctual terror, but somehow he managed to keep his fear in check. Hunched over in agony, Argus guided her away from the grove pulling Enelya close behind him.

“Where are we going?” Lúthien lungs burned from the heat and smoke as she hacked uncontrollably, but Argus simply ignored her question pushing her forward. “Dammit Argus, where are you taking us?” Tears streamed down her face from the thick haze as she caught Enelya’s hoarse answer.

“We head for the Otso River.”

Lúthien’s thought’s raced; that was nowhere near one of the Forest Clan’s cities when she suddenly realized what Enelya meant to do. “Morwen told us to go to the Forest Clan. What can the Wild Clan do to save us?”

Enelya’s face hardened as she met Lúthien’s imperious gaze. “More than King Elladan can do to help us now.” They all looked back at the sudden loud crash behind them as the Tuonellian Hulk smashed through the last burning barrier between them and the grove. With a look of terror, Enelya shoved them all forward yelling.

“Now run for your lives!” With a strangled cry of pain, Argus suddenly scooped them both up in his arms leaping for the river.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

Water pounded my head and shoulders like giant sledgehammers as we plunged deep into the turbulent river at the bottom of the waterfall. Immediately the whirling undercurrent seized us in its powerful grip driving us through an underwater forest of boulders hidden in its depths. Clutching the girls protectively to my chest, I felt my battered body repeatedly pummeled by the swirling vortex as I fought to free us from its sucking grasp.

My lungs felt like they were going to burst by the time I finally broke the surface. Gasping for air the deafening sound of the pounding waterfall roared in my ears as the rushing river swept us down stream. Consciousness came in flashing waves of lucidity as I strove to reach the bank speeding past. I couldn’t have said how much time passed before I became aware of my steel-toe boots dragging in the soft sand of a sandbar. My head reeled, but somehow I managed to crawl on my knees out of the waist deep water as my vision faded in and out, before collapsing once again on the cool, wet sand. Laying there burning with fever, I heard the girls’ weak fluttering heartbeats in my ears. They were dying.

The modicum of energy that I regenerated naturally was being fully consumed to keep my own body functioning, but even if I could have saved up enough energy to heal them, it wouldn’t have been enough to stop the effects of the Fring consuming them from the inside out. The only thing that could help them now was food. Without it, they were going to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt the useless rage of my Werewolf half welling up inside of me as my life slowly drain away. Out of everything we'd survived, our fight couldn't end here. There had to be something I was missing.

Gathering my thoughts, I prayed to Ukko for guidance. As the holy presence of my God filled me, my eyes suddenly focused on the pulse beating in my wrist when the idea hit. With a wordless grunt, I push myself upright using my forehead until I was sitting back on my knees. Unsheathing the dagger at my waist, I pulled back a leather armor gauntlet before cleanly slitting my wrist. As the blood welled up from my vein, I gathered Starfire into my arms pressing her lips against the wound.

At first, Starfire didn't respond, but as the blood began running down her chin, I felt her body suddenly stiffen. Our Werewolf's predatory nature makes us survivors. Even at this young of an age, our bodies are instinctively drawn to the scent of fresh blood. Within seconds Starfire unconsciously began drinking my life's essence. Closing my eyes, I sighed in relief as my thoughts began to wander once more as I gave thanks to Ukko.

Faith is a strange concept. During my time on Earth, the Humans I’d encountered during my travels always spoke of faith in their gods, but as I came to learn more about the various religious beliefs of their world. I realized that for most humans, the definition of this concept was very different than the actual dictionary meaning of the word. Most of the religious groups I met espoused a doctrine called monotheism. I’d initially believed that meant their religion had only one deity that they worshiped, but that was not the case. The precepts for these religious followers meant that there existed no other gods except for their own, which they called the one and only true God. This ideaology would have made more sense to me if there were only one belief worldwide, but that was not the case. Numerous religious groups typically surrounded these religions with their own different god that also denied the existence of any other religion’s god. It was as if in denying the truth before their very eyes, these followers could make these other religions cease to exist.

I guess it did make sense on one level. Faith was used by many of these religions as a weapon to deny the existence of anything contrary to their religious beliefs. By converting or killing the followers of another religion, you, in essence, made their God cease to exist. It was the same general tactic that Loviatar was using against Ukko.

Still, even after all the time I spent living on Earth among them, I still found Humanity’s precepts of faith difficult to comprehend. No matter what you believed in, the truth was the truth. Denying what was before your eyes made absolutely no sense to me. What someone believes or doesn't believe in shouldn’t change what you believe is right and wrong. The only time a person’s differing religious ideas become an issue is when there is a question in your own heart as to what you believe is the truth.

Maybe I found the acceptance of such reasoning so difficult to comprehend because of my relationship with Ukko. My status as his Paladin afforded me a unique perspective on the metaphysical realm that most people searching for the truth never experienced. Whenever I gave my classes on Self-Defense and Healing, I also taught the precepts of Ukko. Instead of lying to people that their suffering was a part of some greater good, I told them the simple truth. The universe was not a perfect place, and bad things happened to good people all the time. Tragedy and evil were a part of everyday life, but it was up to us as individuals to take the responsibility of creating the world we wanted to live in.

Nothing in life was a guarantee. Ukko didn’t have all of the answers, nor was he all-powerful. What he did offer was help in facing the everyday challenges of life and the strength to make the world a better place. Surprisingly enough, the Humans I'd met on Earth had flocked to my teachings of Ukko. Before I knew it, my precepts had become a movement that had begun a ripple across the world.

My thoughts were interrupted as a feeling of lightheadedness washed through my body. Thankfully, I caught myself before keeling over in exhaustion. It took me several tries, but finally, I was able to focus my mind enough to send my senses flowing into Starfire.

Immediately, I could tell that my blood had made a difference. Already Starfire’s fever was receding, and the effects of the Fring had lessened dramatically, but still her body was struggling to fight off the ravaging effects of the demon’s venom. Taking a shuddering breath, I realized for now that would have to do. Pulling my wrist from her mouth, I laid Starfire aside before scooping up her sister into my arms.

Unconsciously, Frostbrand’s fangs immediately sank into my wrist at the scent of blood as my eyes rolled back in my head. I tried to fight my body as it began shutting down, but I’d pushed myself too far. There was nothing left to give. I felt my body pitch forward as everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Location Earth / John Ferguson:

“What a complete clusterfuck!”

The words rolled off of Lieutenant John Ferguson’s lips as he ducked through the last hatch to Seal Team Six’s locker room. His boots rang sharply down the metal corridor with each forceful step reflecting his annoyance as he ran a calloused hand over his smoothly shaven skull. The eight men of Foxtrot squad wisely kept quiet as they followed close behind their operations OIC.

The pits of his khaki naval service uniform were soaked through from the stress of losing contact with his squads shortly after they’d boarded the refurbished cargo ship that had been docked at the island of Nea Kameni. If that wasn’t bad enough, his assistant officer in charge, junior grade Lieutenant Shawn Thompson, had just informed him that medics had been notified to be on standby for incoming wounded. One of which was the infamous Doctor Evans, Alpha Team’s designated target to be picked up for the mission. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen once Admiral Wright got wind of this disaster. Not bothering to slow down, Ferguson slammed open the solid metal door with a resounding smack from his open palm swearing under his breath once again.

“I don’t have time for this shit!”

Striding through the door, Ferguson immediately heard the surprised calls of “ten-hut” and “officer on deck” yelled out around him as SEALs in the middle of stripping out of their gear suddenly snapped to attention. Looking for the source of his irritation Ferguson’s steely eyes swept the room as he bellowed like a Drill Sergeant, while the SEALs behind him quietly bunched up in the doorway.

“Chief Riggs! Explain to me why there is a medic with Doctor Evans?”

Not seeing the Chief Petty Officer in his line of sight, Ferguson stopped in mid-blast looking around for the missing squad leader. Before he could question where the Chief might be, he noticed the men around him shifting uncomfortably from side-to-side as they tried not to meet his gaze, while unobtrusively blocking the entrance to the weapons storage lockers towards the back of the room. Something was definitely up. Grinning coldly Ferguson began pushing his way through the SEALs standing in his path, but before he reached the door, it swung open a SEAL and Marine piled out in front of him. At the sight of his angry face, they both immediately snapped to attention.

For a long moment, Ferguson didn’t say a word as he took in the Marine sergeant’s disheveled uniform and her beet red face. She was a large woman. Not fat, but big boned and muscular, pushing, at least, six-foot-two. Attractive even with her Marine buzz cut. Smiling, he remembered the first time he’d been caught in a compromising position with a certain Corporal Mendez by his Commanding Officer.

“Sergeant First Class Driscoll, I thought Captain Nicoara was forming up the Marine Raiders in cargo bay three.”

Still at attention, the sergeant met his gaze unflinching. “Yes Sir, I was on my way there now.”

“I thought the call to form up came, at least, five minutes ago sergeant?”

Although his words made her unconsciously flinch, she answered his question with a steady voice. “Yes, Sir, it did. I needed to finish up with Chief Petty Officer Riggs about an issue my squad has been experiencing with our M203s before heading out.”

“I hope the Chief was able to offer you some insight into the problem. Although I would love to discuss the issue with you further, I would hate for you to be late for Captain Nicoara on my account. Carry-on sergeant.” In spite of himself, he felt his anger dissipated as a grin pulled at his lips. As the Marine sergeant shot for the door, Ferguson raised his voice once more. “Sergeant Driscoll?”

“Sir?” Coming to a stop in the doorway, the sergeant looked back at him hesitantly.

Waving a finger up and down the front of his own shirt nonchalantly, Ferguson somehow managed to hold a straight face as he busted her out in front of everyone. “You might want to straighten out the buttons of your MCCUU’s before reporting to the Captain.” The sudden look of embarrassment on her face was classic as the attractive sergeant quickly ducked out of the room with a muttered, “Yes Sir.”

Turning around Ferguson’s face hardened once more as he got back to the business at hand. “Gentlemen, about the time Alpha squad was returning with Doctor Evans, the CIC lost all contact with the squads assigned to take control of the cargo vessel within minutes of the initial boarding.” Seeing the concerned faces of his team, he quickly continued. “Even though all four squads were captured, we believe there have been no deaths so far.”

Ferguson heard the muttered whispers around him as he saw the surprised disbelief that met his words in the faces of his SEALs, but no one openly addressed their concerns as he began issuing orders. “As of this time, both Alpha and Foxtrot squads will begin preparations for hostage recovery operations. The Army Rangers already on the island will move into position for fire support while the Marine Raiders take over the Rangers’ defensive positions.” Ignoring the questioning looks, he continued in a flat voice that offered no room for discussion. “I want everyone geared up and ready to go by zero nine hundred hours. Now move out!”

Noticeably subdued, his men began getting geared up once again as Ferguson stepped in front of Alpha squad’s Chief Petty Officer before he could turn away. “Not you Riggs, you’re coming with me.” Ignoring the man’s scowl, Ferguson began walking back the way he’d come. “I’ll let you explain to Admiral Wright why there is a medic with Doctor Evans.”

Riggs caught up to him a moment later swearing. “Dammit Sir, that crazy bitch took out two of my operators.” Seeing the Lieutenant’s dark look, Riggs talked fast. “She jumped us on our way back to the chopper. Shapley is so busted up that med won’t release him for duty for at least a week, and Bean might never walk right again. I don’t know what the hell kind of doctor she is, but it was either knocking her ass out or shooting her.”

Ferguson rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Seriously Chief?”

“I’m telling you, Sir. She wasn’t down with coming quietly.”

Not bothering to argue the point, Ferguson pressed his lips together in a frown as they walked in silence. They hadn’t made it halfway down the next corridor before the Chief sided up next to him. “Sir, why aren’t the Marine Raiders going in with us? Hell, for that matter, why is the Army even here?”

Scowling, Ferguson didn’t bother to hide his annoyance at the situation. It wasn’t that the Army Rangers weren’t a solid unit, it just rankled him to use another branch’s forces when their own were readily available for the operation. “Admiral Wright is old school.” Seeing Riggs’ raised eyebrows he explained further. “He can’t accept that his Marine components’ Commanding Officer is led by a woman. This whole concept of integrating women into combat has the old man frothing at the mouth.”

Riggs’ pursed his lips in a low whistle. “I’d bet all of next week’s pay that Lieutenant Colonel Griffith gave the Old Man a piece of her mind.”

"Have you served with her before?”

“Yea, in Afghanistan.”

“Well, I wasn’t there when they went at it, but I saw her face leaving the Old Man’s office.” Ferguson grimaced at the memory. “If looks could kill we’d have a new Admiral.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to be on that woman’s bad side.” Snorting at Ferguson’s questioning glance, Riggs kept on talking. “She’s hardcore. The last time I served under her was during Operation Enduring Freedom. She was the Commander in charge of Special Operations to secure the Kabul province, and you know what kind of shit storm that turned out to be.”

“Yea, I remember that story. I was still working with AFRICOM, but we heard about that Blackwater contractor fiasco all the way down in Tanzania.”

“Yea, we’ll she was the Commander that got stuck cleaning up that mess, and you know how those Haji act towards female officers.”

Heading down the last corridor the conversation instantly died as Ferguson switched back into officer mode. Shooting the Chief a hard look he growled under his breath. “Don’t open your mouth unless ordered to.” Not waiting for a response, Ferguson came to a stop in front of the Marine sentries guarding the room, but before he could reach for the handle, the closest Marine stepped in front of him.

“Hold up, Sir.”

“The Admiral is expecting us, Sergeant.”

“Sorry Lieutenant, but I need you to wait here. The Admiral’s orders were very specific.” Before Ferguson could respond, the Sergeant was already knocking lightly on the door. Hearing a muffled response, the Sergeant quickly slipped inside the room as voices in a heated discussion momentarily floated into the corridor. Catching the second Marine’s eye, Ferguson nodded towards the closed door. “Who’s all inside, Private?”

For a split second, the Private weighed his orders against a direct command from an officer before snapping out a response. “Sir, only the Admiral and the Doctor.” Before the Marine could say more, the door popped opened wide enough for the sergeant to motion them through. A quick glare and nod from the Admiral got them both seated at the short table across from Doctor Evans.

Seeing the auburn haired beauty for the first time, Ferguson’s jaw dropped open. She was the splitting image of Nara Evans from the Crypt Creeper Series. Speechlessly he watched her enormous breasts bounce as she half-rose to yell into the video conference screen hanging on the wall at the end of the room.

“There is nothing you can bloody well do to change my mind. You think you can steal my discovery out from underneath me without a fight? This isn’t the United States, Agent Kurwoski. I’m a British citizen. International law is very specific in regards to hijacking, kidnapping and theft just to name the worst of your crimes. I have no doubts my attornies will tack on a whole lot more to shove down your officious throats, let alone the embarrassment your government will face once Prime Minister Cameron gets the press involved in this fiasco.”

Annoyed, Admiral Wright leaned forward raising his voice. “Doctor Evans, I’m sure no one will be aware of your current situation until we allow it, so you might as well sit down and listen to Agent Kurwoski before you end up in even more trouble.”

“Shut your bloody mouth wanker!”

Ferguson’s jaw audibly snapped shut as the Doctor’s head whipped around to focus on the Admiral. From this angle he could see the whole side of her face was seriously bruised and her eye half-swollen shut. Trying to ignore the impressive shiner, he tried to look anywhere but at her face, only to find his eyes locking instead on the Doctor’s impressive rack as he cringed inside. It was never a good thing to be in the same room when a high ranking officer was being chewed out.

“I would appreciate if you would allow me to handle this, Admiral Wright.”

Unabashed, the onscreen woman cut the Admiral off as Doctor Evan’s suddenly looked their way for the first time. Seeing Riggs sitting next to him, the Doctor’s eyes suddenly blazed with hate.

“What the bloody hell is that imbecile doing here?”

It happened almost quicker than Ferguson could follow. One second the Doctor was yelling at the Admiral and the next she was lunging over the table with her clenched fist pulled back. Either way, Riggs was laid out on the ground, which seemed to calm the Doctor down a bit. It took a good ten minutes to get everything straightened out. By that time Riggs was back in his chair holding the side of his face, while Agent Kurwoski and Doctor Evans went toe-to-toe with each other as the three men watched the action in silence.

“Doctor Evans, again I apologize for the misunderstanding of the men that were assigned to pick you up. Just to be clear, your dig now falls under a unique clause under the umbrella of global security and Prime Minister Cameron is well aware of NATO’s presence here. While there will be modifications to the overall security of the site and the dispensation of any artifacts that are recovered, we are not taking over your dig per se. On the contrary, we will not only validate the claim of your discoveries to the international community, but I believe we can offer you some very important assistance with a relic that you’ve already discovered. Something I believe you’ve named the Eteocretan Key.” The noise of paper feeding into the small room’s fax machine momentary filled the silence as Agent Kurwoski grinned knowingly at the Doctor’s stunned face. “If you would just take a look at the printouts I’m sending over now, I believe that will help clarify some of what we have to offer.”

Angrily Doctor Evans snatched the first sheet of paper that the printer spit out. Almost immediately her face lost the angry snarl that she’d held during the entire discussion as her eyes intently studied the symbols on the page before her. With an incredulous look back to the video screen, the Doctor snatched out the next page. Once again her eyes quickly scanned the images before her deep in thought. This time, when Ferguson saw the Doctor’s eyes all signs of hostility were gone as she looked up incredulously.

“Where did you get this?”

Agent Kurwoski’s eyes seemed to twinkle as she answered enigmatically. “All that I will say at this time is that these pages were scanned from a very special book that was left in my care. The rest will be explained in detail once we arrive on site, but in the interim, I would like to clear up this misunderstanding and get you and Ms. Wrigley back to your dig. If that’s alright with you Doctor Evans.”

Sitting back in her chair, the Doctor scanned the room with calculating eyes as a matching smile slowly came to her lips. “If you are willing to discuss the remuneration of certain costs associated with the first phase of the dig and assist in furnishing the necessary equipment needed for the next phase. I believe we might be able to come to an agreement.”

“Excellent. Admiral, please have Ms. Wrigley brought in. We have work to do.”

***

Location Earth / Ryan Moss:

Breaking off the video teleconference connection, Agent Moss leaned back in his chair studying the dark haired woman on the other side of the worn conference table. Deep in thought she intently flipped through the pictures from the archeological site on the massive HDTV screen mounted on the wall at the far end of the room. Even now it still amazed him how much he’d come to trust this capable woman in the short time they’d come to know one another. Who would have imagined after their rocky introduction at the CTA Headquarters that they’d wind up working together just weeks later for the National Clandestine Service in Washington?

Reading the blocky print through the frosted glass on conference room’s door, Ryan mentally shook his head once again at the name, Extracurricular Action Group. Above the letters were the seal of the United States Central Intelligence Agency and the name of their organization, Special Activities Division, better known as SAD to the covert agencies around the world.

It could have been worst. The powers that be could have chosen to call their newly minted subdivision the Extraterrestrial Action Group instead, which would have removed any chance for them to have been taken seriously by the other Department of Defense organizations. Ryan took it as a good sign that they were associated with such a highly respected group. It meant someone high-up was actually taking this new threat seriously. The CIA’s Special Operations Group personnel were selected from the various top tier combat mission teams such as Delta Force, DEVGRU, and MARSOC that were responsible for dealing with most of the high-level military threats and intelligence operations around the world.

Although unlike the other special operation agencies, their operatives had the additional requirement of being Ukko qualified. Surprisingly enough, they were finding there were plenty of operatives amongst the various Joint Special Operation Command organizations that could fulfill this last qualification with ease, which was causing an uproar of sorts among the upper brass in Washington. Probably due to the fact that it signified a dramatic shift in the Judeo-Christian ethical belief structure that many Conservative Republicans in Congress took for granted as the de facto religious standard for most soldiers serving in the various branches of the Armed Forces.

Looking around, Ryan held back a grin as he took in the manufactured press wood throughout the room. Like most of the organizations he’d worked for during his time as a Federal employee, the office emanated a purely functional design that seemed to be a common trait for governmental buildings contracted from the lowest bidder. Faded pastel colors marked the furnishings as obvious leftovers from another era, which was a sharp contrast to the shiny black and silver plastic of the state of the art technology that had been brought in a few days ago. Just another sign of how quickly the EAG Headquarters had been thrown together.

A sharp elbow to his rib brought Ryan’s thoughts back into focus. Sitting up abruptly, he nodded a quick thank you to Cindy as Doctor Gina Robinson, their resident physicist, addressed the EAG’s Director of Operations, Sharon Strafford. “So far I’ve identified four distinct new species.” The screen flipped to an almost solid wall of slate gray creatures as Ryan involuntarily shuddered. “Although the thick bone plating, boney spikes and fangs are noticeably different than species zero-one from the incursion in Florida, I would put these creatures within the same family. I’ve designated this newest species as zero-one-A. Since the average height, mass and features of these specimens are well within the ranges of species zero-one, I would expect their general capabilities to be similar in nature. At the last count five hundred of these creatures have been uncovered at the site.” The screen flipped as a massive bullheaded humanoid creature wearing heavy armor reminiscent of a Roman Legionnaire appeared on the screen as the biologist momentarily struggled with some internal conflict before continuing her spiel.

“I imagine we are all familiar with the obvious physical characteristics of species zero-seven. These creatures average height ranges from six to eight feet in height. Although their weapons and armor look primitive, they have the markings of being enhanced by quantum mechanics.”

Species zero-seven and quantum mechanics, Ryan covered his mouth as he momentarily choked back a laugh. The new creatures were obviously Minotaurs. Leave it to scientists to refute the obvious. The brainiacs on the team were still struggling with the alien concepts. As a group, they’d refused to use terminology such as Rök runes, which was the name of the writing given to the markings that were used to access the eightfold structure of each element, a component in what Startüm’s people referred to as metaphysical science. Instead of using this simple terminology the scientists on the team grouped the new discoveries as a previously unknown aspect of quantum mechanics. Using a modified periodic table they broke down each known element into three parts. The first was the composition that made up a physical object’s typical elemental state on a normal periodic table, while the second was the four distinct properties that supposedly made up an object metaphysical composition.

Together the four properties formed the last part of the equation, which was being called the fifth element. The chart was still mostly blank since they’d only been able to identify a few earth elements to fill in the blanks from Startüm’s notes. Still, this meant that every known element had an enhanced state that could be combined in new ways to fabricate material structures that had never been seen before in nature. They were already using what they’d learned to begin research on new weapon systems, but even he could understand the possibilities this opened up for the development of future technologies. Once again Ryan focused on Doctor Robinson’s report as she began discussing the Minotaurs’ possible threat level.

“Due to this fact alone I have marked species zero-seven as extremely dangerous.” The screen changed again as another mythological creature was displayed before them. “Lastly, we have species zero-eight. Although the reptilian lower half is similar in certain respects to species zero-two, the similarity between the two ends there. As you can see from these pictures, species zero-eight’s upper torso appears almost perfectly humanoid in shape, except for the hair-like projections of the upper epidermal structure that are Ophidian in appearance.”

Once again Ryan bit back a smile as the Doctor droned on. Like most people he’d seen the movie Clash of the Titans enough while growing up to recognize a Gorgon when he saw one. He did roll his eyes when she listed the unknown threat level as highly lethal and possibly on par with species zero-two. Every race they’d met so far from this other world was freaking off the charts deadly!

The night of invasion had left Ryan Moss a changed man. He was painfully aware of just how powerful the enemy truly was, and he was sure the smash and grab force they’d fought against weren’t the enemy’s heaviest units by far. All that humanity ever had going for them was their advance technology and their ability to adapt, but, at present, not a single high-tech weapon had proven effective against this new threat. If they were going to have any chance of surviving their next encounter, Ryan knew they had to get their act together fast. The only thing they had to help them get stronger was the Book of Ukko and the Ukkodian religion left behind by Startüm before he was dragged back to his world. Unfortunately, no self-respecting scientist or physicist wanted to touch the book with a ten-foot pole no matter what truths it held. The hubris of it all made Ryan want to scream in frustration.

No matter how much everyone wanted to ignore the issue at hand, the simple facts of the matter were that Humanity was behind the eight ball. Whatever world these races came from, it made them physically more powerful and tougher than anything on Earth. This archeological site, even though it was almost thirty-five hundred years old, could hold the key to unlocking the basis for these creatures’ technology. As the physicist completed wrapping up her presentation, Director Strafford addressed the room.

“Thank you for your detailed analysis Doctor. Does anyone else have anything to add to the current situation report?”

Looking hard at the Doctor, Ryan leaned forward aggressively addressing the Director. “I don’t have anything to add to the SITREP, Ma’am. What I do want to know is the status of the research and development teams’ progress in translating Startüm’s Rök rune concepts into something that will work with modern weapon systems.”

Sitting up abruptly, Doctor Robinson huffed out loud. “The religious drivel in that book you love to go on about has nothing to do with actual science. My team has been assigned the task of understanding the actual quantum physics behind this mumbo jumbo you’ve brought to the government’s attention. It will be years before we can translate these mystical theories into hard-science and actual production-”

The thunderclap of Ryan’s open palm slamming onto the conference room’s table made everyone jump as he cut the Doctor off in midsentence. “This religious drivel as you like to call it can turn an ordinary stainless steel blade into a weapon that can slice through modern Chobham armor like a hot knife through butter. The Book of Ukko has detailed formulas already developed for many of the heavy metals that are currently being used in weapon production. It should be relatively simple to develop some of our existing weapon platforms to use for-“

Shooting to her feet, Doctor Robinson screeched in indignation. “You can go to hell if you think I’m going to develop weapon systems that can only be powered by a bunch of crazy cultists!”

Shaking off Cindy’s warning hand, Ryan struggled to keep his voice under control. “Lady, I don’t really care what you think one way or another about Ukkodians. Right now my only concern is that my combat teams are not practicing with modern carbines, but rune covered samurai swords to prepare for the next invasion that comes to our world. We don’t even have the tech to use bows and arrows. All that I care about is that my people have weapons to fight with that aren’t based on eighteenth century technology.”

Raising her voice to be heard, Director Strafford cut them both off. “You can both sit down and shut up or get the hell out of my HQ!”

For a long second, Ryan and the Doctor glared at each other over the conference room table, when Kurwoski’s sudden exclamation broke the tension. “This just doesn’t make any sense!”

Annoyed, the Director snapped at the dark haired woman next to her. “What doesn’t make any sense?”

“The attached CIC analysis states this battleground is evidence of a previous invasion of Earth. They’re questioning the validity of any assistance we received from Startüm. This conclusion is plain wrong. Just because Startüm believed the portal he passed through on Irlendria was the only connection between our worlds doesn’t make him the enemy. The only reason I sent Doctor Evans a copy of the Rök runes was because I wanted to know if they matched the symbols on her Eteocretan Key. I figured if the Rök runes matched then Doctor Evans might be willing to hear us out after that fiasco with the SEALs picking her up. It was a shot in the dark that worked. I wasn’t trying to say this was proof that Startüm’s people couldn’t be trusted. We wouldn’t be where we are now if it hadn’t been for the knowledge he’s given us so far.”

“I’d have thought the proof that these runes are a match would have just strengthened the CIC’s threat analysis.”

Seeing where Beth was going, Ryan caught the EAG’s Paramilitary Operations Officer’s steely blue eyes. “Just because the runes on the Minotaur’s armor and weapons are a match, it doesn’t necessarily mean these forces were here to invade Earth, nor does it explain how or why these forces ended up on Earth thirty-five hundred years ago in our past.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Taking control of the presentation computer’s mouse, Beth flipped back to a top down image of the entire dig. “When I first saw this battle scene something about it just didn’t seem to fit with the CIC’s analysis. I mean seriously, did any of them really take a look at these Minotaurs?” Quickly Beth began highlighting the areas she thought were relevant to her analysis. “This isn’t an invading force coming to earth, but a ragtag group of survivors fighting for their lives. Their formations are positioned to hold the Scourge in a bottleneck and their equipment is a torn-up mess.” Flipping through the various warriors, Beth drew arrows on the images to make her point. “You can see these lines here were starting to be overrun when something just sealed the entire chamber.” Quickly she zoomed in on a figure in one of the crystalline tombs. “Look at this Minotaur’s face. This crystalline structure didn’t form slowly. Whatever happened must have occurred nearly instantaneously.”

No one spoke as Director Strafford went through the images once again on her own. Sitting back thoughtfully in her chair, she came to a decision. “Agent Kurwoski, I have to say your analysis makes more sense of the actual physical evidence we currently have, which makes me question how the CIC’s came up with their threat assessment. For now, the EAG needs to have boots on the ground at the site. Since you’ve obviously made a connection with Doctor Evans, you might as well take the lead on this. Agent Moss, you will be in charge of the team’s security. Plan on taking along two of your enhanced combat teams.”

With a pained look on his face, Stonebridge spoke up. “Ma’am, Task Force Sixty is already on-site. Do we really need more security than that for an ancient tomb?”

“As Agent Moss so succinctly pointed out, if the proverbial shit does hit the fan none of the forces present are equipped to deal with the situation. I’d rather have our teams in place and not need them then wish I’d sent them along.” Looking back at the group the Director kept on talking.” Go ahead and head out now. I want your team wheels-up within the hour.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Beth joined Ryan heading for the door when the Director's voice stopped him in the doorway.

“Agent Moss?”

“Ma’am?”

“While you’re away on the mission, I’ll be working with Doctor Robinson about getting that heavy rifle design you came up with into production.”

Ryan almost laughed out loud as the physicist’s face turned beet red at the Director’s words. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

Nessa’s lungs burned as she made her way deeper into the Great Forest. Time was hard to determine in the dense foliage, but her best guess was that the first war drums had begun beating around midday. Since then, the entire forest had reverberated with the thunderous rumble as more and more drums picked up the call, while all around her the woodland was slowly being enveloped in a smoky-white haze that covered everything. Trees began rising out of the murky mist barely ten feet in front of Nessa as the visibility dropped to almost nothing, forcing her to move carefully through the woods at a plodding walk least she kill herself.

It had taken nearly a week of hard travel to reach the outer edge of the ancient greenwoods. Nessa had heard stories of the extensive destruction the Elven homeland had suffered from the Tuonellian invasion, but this was the first time she’d seen the devastation with her own eyes. Over the last forty-seven years, a new growth of young trees had spread across the hundreds of square miles covering the worst of the forest’s scars. Unfortunately, it would take several centuries before the land’s terrible scars were completely healed.

Although the Elven Clans were her people’s longtime allies, ever since the Great War they had become violently aggressive to any intruders entering into their domain uninvited. The High Elf Clan had most notably enforced this hostile stance, but from the rumors she’d heard on the plains, the Forest Elves were not much better. The only hope she had for completing her quest lay in making contact with the Wild Elves first. If anyone would grant her safe passage through the forest and help her find this last Paladin Luonnotar had sent her to seek, it would be her childhood friend, Enelya.

Nessa’s pulse quickened as she remembered the touch of Enelya’s soft hands and the taste of her lavender lips. It happened so very long ago, when her mother lost her life leading the counterattack that drove the Tuonellians from the Elven homeland. It was also the first time Wakinyan had come for her.

The young of the Elven Clans and several Centaur Tribes had been hidden deep within the heart of Daeron Fortress as the Alliance forces rallied to King Elerossë’s banner. She still remembered how the thick walls of the Fortress had shivered from the Hordes’ constant bombardment while the sky burned from the raging forest fires. As the Tuonellians were driven back to the open plains, her mother’s Death Gift had come.

The anguish, at first, had been unbearable. Nessa had thought she would die of heartache as she cried out in her grief. She’d never felt so alone in her life. That is until Enelya had come to her aid. As the blood raced through her veins at the memory of Enelya’s burning touch, Nessa’s eyes closed as her body shook with the intensity of the emotions flowing through her. Sometimes it felt like that first kiss had changed her forever.

Opening her eyes once again, Nessa forced those memories away. She hadn’t seen Enelya again since that first time. It made no sense for her to hope the small Wild Elf still felt the same way about her after all this time. Even if her blood still burned from the memory of their time together.

Unlike the fillies of her tribe, Nessa had never taken a mate. While unusual, it was not unheard of for young female warriors to choose other paths than motherhood. Although, in her case, the simple truth was that she’d never been attracted to males.

Nessa became aware of the gurgling sounds of the river a moment before she stumbled down its sandy bank. As her hoofs splashed into a shallow rivulet, she noticed that the mist seemed to be clearer here. Kneeling at the river’s edge, she splashed her face before drinking deeply of the icy cold water. After plodding for so long in the smoky haze, this was the first time her lungs didn’t feel like they were burning from within. Closing her eyes, Nessa listened to the sounds of the forest as she prayed to Luonnotar for guidance.

Slowly the thunderous sounds of the drums faded away as Nessa focused her thoughts on the river and the path she should take. Minutes passed as the natural rhythms of the forest slowly came to her, when she suddenly heard the faint sounds of combat carried on the light breeze. Her long ears automatically pivoted, individually seeking out the direction of the ruckus when she heard a distinctive shrill cry she remembered all too well from her childhood.

Nessa’s eyes shot open as she sprang to her hooves in one fluid motion. Without a second thought she took off at a reckless gallop heading upriver. Slipping and sliding on the moss covered rocks her heart pounded in her chest as she raced to reach the battle in time. She knew the sound of a Wild Elf death cry when she heard one!

***

Location Irlendria / Tiberius Decius Lupus:

Tiberius' lungs pumped like a smith’s bellows as he charged through the dense woods towards the distant sound of horns. His long curved horns led the way as his bulls followed close behind him, their lorica segmentata armor clanking loudly in the unnatural silence of the forest as they ran. Unlike the rolling grasslands of the Imperium, they were constantly forced to duck under the many low hanging tree branches or leap over the knobby roots that rose up out of the uneven ground.

Steam rose from Tiberius’ flaring nostrils as his body struggled to release the excess heat building up in his system, but still the edge of his vision was tinged with the red telltale signs of berserker rage. Extreme physical exertion always held the risk of bringing with it the mindless fury of his people. Nevertheless, he drove his legionnaires onwards at the merciless pace.

Barreling through the thick foliage blocking their path, they passed by a Nightclaw hunched over a fresh kill, but before the dangerous beast could do more than roar out a warning. They’d already left the predator far behind as Tiberius led them in a straight line towards their goal. The tactical side of his mind screamed in warning at his blind flight after the Thirteenth, but at the same time, he knew if there were going to be any hope of reforming the Alliance of Aurenko, the surprise attack had to be stopped before it was too late.

The distinctive sounds of combat rang out ahead of them as Tiberius saw black smoke billowing into the sky. His ears flattened against his helmet at the burning stench of death. Visibility quickly dropped to only a few feet as they approached the thick smoky-white wall that marked the outer limit to the raging battle. From somewhere deep inside came the shrill whistle blasts of the Legion’s Centurions as the battle lines began to advance. Slowing down to a quick walk, Tiberius held up a gauntleted fist. Using the Legion’s hand-speak, he communicated silently with his bulls as the Elven war drums began pounding out their warning high overhead.

<Form up on me, attack formation Alpha >

As the loud clanking sounds of metal plates shifting into place rang out around them, Tiberius motioned Decanus Cornisus to his side. Leaning close to the smaller male’s ear, he spoke quickly. “Under my direct command, you are to take orders from no one else but me. I want your bulls to be prepared for anything.”

The only sign of surprise Tiberius saw was a slight widening of Cornisus eyes as the small male saluted smartly without hesitation. “Yes, Sire”

All around them the heavy throbbing cadence of distant war drums began answering the city’s cry for help as he saw the blazing grove for the first time. Tiberius’ breath caught in his lungs as he recognized the burning Mother Tree. It was Bel Arbre Ciel, the Forest Clans capital city.

An overwhelming feeling of dread took hold of Tiberius’ heart as soon as he saw the burning bodies plummeting to their deaths from high up in the trees. Hundreds were dying, many of them small children. All hope for peace fled Tiberius’ mind as his hands unconsciously clenched into fists in futile anger. Still, Tiberius had to do what he could to somehow salvage this disaster for his people.

Listening to the orders being called out, Tiberius could guess where the command group would be located for this type of attack. Quickly he guided his bulls in search for the general leading the battle. As the rage flowed through his veins, Tiberius fought to control his mounting fury, his mind reeling at the culmination of events that could have led to such and unimaginable attack being possible. The plan must have been decades in the making. His strategic mind knew that this could only end with the start of another Tuonellian invasion. Only, this time, there were no Klavikians left to bring the Alliance back together.

The first rule of war taught in the Imperial War Academe was to know your enemy. Typically that was not meant in the literal sense. In most one-on-one confrontations the obvious foe standing in front of you was typically your enemy, but when it came to empires battling one another, the true enemy was not always so simple to deduce. Now that Tiberius knew what was happening, he could find a way to stop it. His people wouldn’t be used as scapegoats for the destruction of the world!

The screams of the dying filled the air around them as Tiberius saw the Thirteenth Legion’s Silver Wolf next to the pennant of the Imperium rising out of the hazy smoke ahead of him. The symbol of Akras’ silver sickle on a golden field filled him with hope. Coming in range of the command group, he saw the Commander directing the battle.

“Commander Scipio, you will stop this assault at once.” As one, the Thirteenth’s Command Group turned around in shock at the sound of his deep bellow. Incredulously, Mettius Scipio looked at him as if seeing a ghost. Quickly the Commander pushed his way to Tiberius side grasping him by the shoulders.

“Legatus, you’re alive! General Volturcius told us you had been assassinated by the Elven Clans during the celebrations.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tiberius saw Cornisus warily move in closer as he corrected the Commander harshly. “Is that how you speak to your new Emperor?”

Laying a callused hand on Cornisus’ armored shoulder, Tiberius spoke sharply. “That will do Cornisus!” Seeing Scipio’s look of shock, Tiberius slung his arm over the gruff Commander’s armored shoulders looking grim. “It’s a long story best told when we have more time, but trust me when I say that the report of my demise was part of a nefarious plot against the Imperium.”

Turning Scipio towards the sounds of combat, Tiberius spoke with authority. “I’ll expound on the specifics later, but first I want the Bucinator ordered to signal the Legion to stop all hostilities and pull back. The recall point will be southwest of the forest, where the First and Second Legions fell.”

With a curt nod, Scipio gave the order. Immediately the buglers began signaling the Legion’s recall as Tiberius scanned the smoke around them speaking urgently. “The Imperium has been betrayed. This General Volturcius is not who he claims to be. He is to be found and …”

Turning back around, Tiberius froze as he saw Scipio’s eyes light up with an eerie green glow at the mention of the General’s name. Instantly, the Commander’s face turned into a savage mask of hate. With a cry of shock, Tiberius fell back as the old bull lunged at his neck teeth first.

Tiberius fought to keep the gnashing teeth away from his exposed throat as the yellowed tips of Scipio’s aged horns gouged deep furrows down both of his black furred cheeks. Blood streamed down his muscular neck in rivulets as he fell to the ground with the Commander on top of him. As they rolled around in the dirt, Tiberius heard the stomp of hooves as the clash of melee combat suddenly erupted on either side of him. Focused on his own fight for survival, Tiberius couldn’t spare a second to look at what was happening around him.

The old bull’s strength was incredible. Straining with his entire body, Tiberius arched his back to escape Scipio’s gauntleted fists clawing blindly at his face. In the back of his mind, Tiberius realized this was the same type of mindless fighting they’d faced during their battle against the Praetorians inside Gravida’s fortified walls. Still, it just didn’t make any sense for Scipio to attack now. They’d just been talking as if everything was fine. What in Akras’ name was going on?

At any time, Tiberius could have triggered his Wolf Gauntlets to end the fight, but for the love of the grizzled commander, he kept his tinnearlian blades sheathed. Capturing Scipio’s armored wrists in his powerful grip, Tiberius locked horns with Scipio as he pushed the Commander back with all his might. Just as he managed to push the old bull away from him, Tiberius saw Cornisus coming up behind the Commander with his bloody gladius raised for a killing strike. Gasping for breath, Tiberius bellowed urgently.

“Don’t kill him!” Seeing the confusion on Cornisus’ blood splattered face, Tiberius held the Decanus’ eyes explaining the order. “We need him alive!”

Quickly strong hands pulled the insane Scipio from on top of him as Cornisus gave him a hand up. All around him, wide-eyed legionnaires moved about quickly to secure the safety of their Legatus. It took an entire contubernium to subdue the old bull until they managed to bind him with thick ironidium shackles.

Unbelievably, Scipio still frothed at the mouth struggling to break free as his vacuous black eyes bulged in their sockets from whatever had driven him insane. Cornisus assigned four legionnaires to hold Scipio as Tiberius inspected the five dead bulls laid out on the ground nearby. The bodies were hacked up bloody messes. Even in death, each male’s face was twisted into a frozen mask of hate. From what Cornisus had witnessed of the attack. Whatever had happened to them had occurred simultaneously.

Silently Tiberius thanked Akras that there weren’t more deaths this time. Taking one more look at the dead, he shook his head in silent consternation. There had to be a logical explanation for what was happening to his people. None of this made any sense. How could six Minotaurs suddenly turn into mindless creatures that attacked their own people?

Whistles blew as Centurions began giving new commands to their centuries as buglers around the grove relayed the order to withdraw. When over the roar of the mounting forest fire, Tiberius heard the sounds of combat. Looking towards the base of the burning Mother Tree, Tiberius saw a group of Minotaurs slaughtering a ragged line of Elven defenders. Even from this distance, he could see the battered Elves wore the insignia of King Elladan’s House.

The lightly armored Forest Elves fought desperately with swords and daggers to hold back the advancing Legion’s heavy armored lines to protect the handful of injured that had escaped the burning flames. Bright flights of powered arrows slammed into the advancing bulls from around the grove, but without the Ironidium Knights to hold back the legionnaires advance, they were being cut down like wheat before the sickle. Flaring his nostrils, Tiberius took a step forward focusing on the legionnaire leading the advance. With a loud bellow, he called Scipio’s second-in-command to him.

“Centurion Secundus!”

A second later Secundus’ fist thumped against his breastplate with a metallic clang as he snapped to attention behind Tiberius. “Legatus?”

Looking back over his shoulder, Tiberius pointed towards the base of the Mother Tree. “Who are those legionnaires advancing against my orders?”

Squinting through the smoky haze, Secundus met Tiberius’ eyes grimly. “Legatus, that’s General Volturcius and his personal guards.” Before he could say more, a resounding crack reverberated through the ground as the base of the Mother Tree suddenly crumpled upon itself.

For a moment, it looked as if the forest was falling in on itself. The massive trunk was as thick as a town’s Coliseum and the canopy of its limbs stretched out across the top of the forest a quarter mile in every direction while its crown rose above the forest a good hundred yards.

Open mouthed, Tiberius watched the humongous tree’s sudden collapse stop as it leaned precariously against the rest of the grove. Screams of terror filled the air as thousands of Elves plummeted to their deaths when the Mother Tree came to an abrupt stop. Tiberius’ heart sank as he realized those were the lucky ones.

With an unnatural speed, the roaring fire began spreading throughout the living city. Trapped in their homes high above the forest, the survivors were faced with the horrific option of being burned alive or leaping to their death. As the entire grove flared into a fiery inferno, Tiberius heard the tremendous sounds of splintering wood as the Mother Tree suddenly plummeted to the ground, crushing the smaller trees that had caught its initial decent.

After pushing the Tuonellian invaders from the Imperium’s overrun cities towards the end of the Great War, Tiberius knew well the destructive power of bursting wood. Yelling out a warning he pulled Secundus to the ground activating his Wolf Gauntlet.

“Delta Formation!” Heavy horned heads whipped around in shock at the urgency in Tiberius’ voice as his shield wall began deploying. Immediately his legionnaires’ combat experience and training took over. Triggering their gauntlets they dropped to their knees into defensive positions as a thunderous explosion ripped through the air.

Tiberius ducked behind his Wolf Gauntlets as the heat wave from the firestorm washed over the entire grove. With it came the deadly explosion of razor sharp splinters of tinnearlian-wood blasting through the air. Even though his scuta hadn’t fully deployed, enough of the scutum had formed to offer his body some protection from the burning chunks of wood slamming against his helm as the air was sucked from his lungs.

Slowly the pressure of the scorching blast dissipated as the fire rose higher into the air. Gasping for air, Tiberius staggered to his hooves pulling Secundus with him. Turning around, they both stared at the nightmarish scene before them. Looking around in shock Secundus spoke haltingly.

“What in Akras name just happened?”

“The trees of the grove shattered from the weight of the Mother Tree’s collapse.”

Thick billowing clouds of smoke stung their eyes from the roaring forest fire as burning ash choked their lungs. Smoldering splinters covered everything, some even piercing the legionnaires’ heavy armor. Across the clearing his legionnaires bled from numerous wounds, many withering in agony on the ground from the intensity of the explosion, except for the handful of bulls from his personal retinue who were already rising to their hooves. Except being battered and bleeding, his guards were otherwise unhurt. Like him they had used their gauntlets as a shield to protect them from the worsts of the flying shrapnel.

“About ten years before you joined the Thirteenth, we were deployed to help the Elves hold the Great Forest with the Eleventh and Twelfth Legions under my command. Retracting his shield, Tiberius met Secundus’ grim eyes. “The miles of devastated forest you saw on your march in were destroyed during the Battle of Daeron Fortress. The Tuonellians would use their fiery artillery rounds to shatter the trees above our heads as they drove to break our defensive lines.” As the haunting memories came back to him, Tiberius’ eyes took on a faraway look. “They almost succeeded. Our losses were so horrific during the invasion that we were driven back to the walls of the Fortress. If it hadn’t been for Ilmarinen Ironwolf coming to our aid, our lines would have never held.”

Shaking the memories away, Tiberius focused once more on Secundus. “It wasn’t until after the forest had been destroyed around us that we were able to drive the Tuonellians back.” As fresh legionnaires from the reserve century began moving around the grove to help the wounded, the rest of the bulls took up a defensive position around them as a grisly Centurion came to attention in front of Tiberius.

“Legatus, your orders?”

“Centurion Horatia, gather up the dead and wounded and pull back to the recall point.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

With a quick salute, the Centurion took off after his legionnaires calling orders as Tiberius turned to Secundus. “I want you to complete the Legion’s withdraw from the Great Forest and ...”

“Hhhuuurrraaalll!” The bellow of rage cut Tiberius off before he could complete his sentence as Commander Scipio leaped to his hooves. Blood streamed down his shredded face as he swung his horns in a wide arc with his powerful neck, goring the legionnaire helping him up. As the male fell back clutching his gut, Scipio's head whipped around head butting the second legionnaire holding him. As the bull fell backward stunned, Scipio charged blindly towards the roaring fire bellowing in rage.

Tiberius was the first to react. Leaping after the insane Commander, he ran as fast as he could. He couldn’t let the old bull escape. This was his chance to discover what was happening to his people! Tiberius managed to tackle Scipio to the ground near the base of the fallen Mother Tree as Cornisus made it to his side a second later. Together they dragged the enraged Scipio to his hooves as Secundus and Centurion Horatia came running up with a group of legionnaires a moment later. Breathing heavy, Tiberius bellowed to be heard over the raging forest fire.

“Do not let Scipio out of your sight and get my Legion to safety!”

Tiberius released Scipio to Centurion Horatia’s contubernium as the sounds of combat suddenly rang out behind him. Turning around in consternation, he froze as he saw General Volturcius lift a struggling Elf high into the air with a long clawed hand. From this distance, he could see the Elf was none other than King Elladan. Taking a closer look at the General’s face, Tiberius realized it was no longer that of a Minotaur, but the bleached face of a Tuonellian Hulk. He felt Cornisus tense at his side as they heard the creature’s guttural voice shout in triumph.

“Die knowing your people will be slaughtered for the Horde like cattle!”

In horror, they both watched the Hulk’s jaws open wide as its fangs tore the King’s face off in one bite. Throwing the body away, the Hulk howled as it began wading through the burning debris with five contuberniums following close behind.

Pausing for a moment, Tiberius watched the legionnaires sharply as his logical mind warned him something wasn’t right. There was a wrongness about the bulls’ movements that screamed out to him as he watched the five contuberniums fall in behind the Tuonellian in a disorganized mass. He’d never seen trained legionnaires move like that. Imperium Legions moved in precise formations at all times. Their tight formations moved as a single unit on the battlefield and were the trademark of the Imperium’s armies.

Squinting through the smoke Tiberius could see the creatures’ target. Two Elves and a beast on the far side of the clearing. Immediately Tiberius froze as he recognized the closest Elf before she turned away, disappearing into the smoke. It was Princess Lúthien of the High Elf Clan. Looking over his shoulder, Tiberius saw that Secundus was withdrawing the Legion. Already they were entering the woods at the far end of the clearing. Only Tiberius and his personal guard were close enough to follow after in time to help.

The firestorm was quickly spreading to the rest of the forest. If he went after Lúthien to rescue her, they would be cut off from the Legion. Tiberius’ thoughts churned as he watched the Hulk heading off in pursuit after the Princess. Lúthien had once been a close friend. If he could get her to listen there might be a chance to salvage the Alliance yet!

Five legionnaires against fifty monsters being led by a Tuonellian Hulk, it sounded like the start of a terrible saga. Meeting his bulls’ questioning looks, Tiberius’ eyes hardened as he came to a decision. The clanking sounds of his Wolf Gauntlets reforming were drowned out by his bellow.

“Legionnaires of the Imperium, follow me!” Spinning around, Tiberius charged after the Tuonellians.

***

Location Irlendria / Enelya Tasartir:

“Stop Argus, you're killing yourself!”

Grimacing in pain, Enelya buried her face into Argus' neck as she clung to his coarse fur for dear life. Between the pain pouring through their shared link and her broken ribs, she didn’t have the strength to swing up onto his broad back.

Lurching precariously from tree to tree, Argus descended the steep side of the mountain towards the Otso River at breakneck speed with Lúthien and Enelya clutched tightly in his arm. Blood matted his fur from numerous wounds and his broken chest heaved with strain. Still he launched himself heedlessly towards the next tree further down the slope without slowing down.

“Tell me what’s wrong!”

<The Zgon comes>

The terrible feeling of dread that flooded through their link made Enelya’s blood run cold as the mental image of a maggot-white mutated face took shape in her mind. Instantly she understood the fear that drove Argus’ reckless flight.

<Aaarrruuuggg>

Enelya almost lost her grip as Argus’ mental cry ripped through their bond. By the tip of one clawed hand, he managed to angle their fall towards the next tree tumbling uncontrollably. With a knelling cry, Argus wrapped them both in his bloody arms protectively as they hit the trunk with a bone-jarring impact, before plunging uncontrollably down the slope. Normally Enelya rode on Argus’ back when they traveled. At full health, he could have easily carry her for miles, but between his internal injuries and Lúthien’s added weight, the physical strain of the jumps was simply too much in his weakened condition.

Enelya’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as they bounced off another tree. Pain lashed through her like burning fire as Argus’ scream echoed through her mind. Again and again, her body was racked with his agony when suddenly there was only soothing darkness.

***

Location Irlendria / Enelya Tasartir:

“Wake up Enelya! You have to wake up!”

Disoriented, Enelya struggled to lift her head from the cool, wet sand as Lúthien’s hands shook her urgently. Shooting pains in her chest forced Enelya to breathe in shallow gasping pants as the nauseating agony that had overloaded her mind receded to a dull ache. Anxiously she pushed herself up looking for her soulmate.

Seeing Argus’ broken body lying a couple of yards away. Enelya shook Lúthien’s hands away as she fearfully crawled to his side. Tears streamed down her face as she lifted his bloody head into her lap. Crying wordlessly, she stroked the silver star on Argus’ forehead as his glassy black eyes weakly flickered open.

<We are dying sœur>

Fighting back her choking sobs, Enelya laid her head against Argus’ forehead speaking softly.

“We are too close to the Pack for you to give up now my love.”

<There is no time. The Zgon comes little sœur>

Argus’ long ears suddenly swiveled up the slope as Lúthien tugged on her shoulders urgently. “We have to keep on moving Enelya!”

Anger flared inside her as she turned on Lúthien screaming. “Then go, I’m not leaving Argus!”

Ignoring her words, Lúthien relentlessly pulled Enelya to her feet. “I didn’t say anything about leaving him. I need your help carrying him. We can’t be far from your Clan now.”

Wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, Enelya stumbled to Argus’ side while Lúthien waited impatiently. “Hurry up, we don’t have much time!” Painfully Enelya squatted down grabbing Argus’ forearm with both hands. Giving Lúthien a sharp nod, they lifted together.

Argus cried out in distress as they lifted his upper body off the ground. The pain of his injuries were almost too much for him to bear. Doing her best to ignore the waves of agony pouring through their bond, Enelya focused on putting one foot in front of the other as Lúthien led them further up the river. If they could make it to the hidden passage behind Ashima Falls they might be able to escape the Tuonellians chasing after them.

Pain flared through Enelya’s body with every step as Argus’ agony beat at her thoughts. As it worsened the primitive side of Argus’ animalistic mind began taking over. The instincts flooding through her were overwhelming in their intensity. The need to find a dark hole to die pulsed through her veins. With every step Enelya fought back with her resolve to live, even though there was no logical reason to go on. Their lives were linked together. If Argus died, she would too. Even if Argus somehow managed to survive his terrible wounds, she knew he would be crippled for life. Argus’ injuries were beyond the skill of her people to heal.

Still, looking at Lúthien’s sweat stained face straining under Argus’ weight, Enelya suddenly understood the why. Although her cousin could be a pompous ass, she was still family. Lúthien could have run and left them alone to die, but instead had chosen to stay. They had to fight. Otherwise, all they loved would be destroyed. Focusing her thoughts, Enelya sent an urgent message that cut through the waves of agony flooding through their shared link.

“What will happen when the Zgon finds the Pack?” Argus’ head jerked as if she’d physically hit him. With an effort of will, he lifted his head, looking at her through blood-filled eyes as her thoughts hounded him mercilessly. “How many of our people will die because they know not what they face?”

Neither one of them had forgotten the horrors from the Battle of Daeron Fortress. The Wencis’ name for the terrible beasts were the Zgon. The Sál Tengilinn were the traditional protectors of the Wild Clan. It was the name given to the Wencis and Elves that were spirit-linked to one another. During the initial invasion of the Great Forest, it was the Sál Tengilinn that had held back the teeming hordes, slaughtering the invaders by the thousands until the rest of the Clans could organize a defense. It was the Sál Tengilinn who’d led the charge, driving the Tuonellian Hordes back again and again, while the rest of the Clans held the line with the help of the Alliance. That is until the Hulks were brought forth. Enelya felt a cold shiver run through as she remembered the stories. The monsters were nearly indestructible.

The death toll had been horrendous for the Elven Clans, but the Sál Tengilinn had suffered the most. They had been at the forefront of the assault against the Hulks. Whole Packs had been lost taking down one Hulk. Their spirit-link meant that for every death blow, both halves of the pair-bond died. By the time the Tuonellians had been pushed back, the Sál Tengilinn had been decimated with only one out of every twenty surviving the battle. It was called the Time of Tears by both of their peoples, when the Hulks had nearly annihilate their peoples.

Having a Tuonellian Hulk chasing after them meant that their brothers and sisters of the Sál Tengilinn were in jeopardy once again. Pushing away the waves of pain, Argus dug his hind legs into the wet sand of the riverbank dragging them to a stop. Leaning heavily on Enelya, he stood on his hind legs arching his neck until he could meet Lúthien’s eyes.

<Tell her she must go! We will guard her back as long as we are able>

White-lipped Enelya felt the resolution in her soul as she turned to her cousin. They would die together making the beasts pay with their last breaths. “You must go on alone to warn the Clan.”

Incredulous, Lúthien tugged uselessly on Argus’s strong forearm exasperated. “I am not going to just leave so you both can die for me!”

Speaking harshly, Enelya tore into her cousin. “You’ve wanted to leave Argus behind this whole time. Now you have your chance.” Angrily she pushed Lúthien away. “Just go!”

Tears streamed down Lúthien’s face as she spoke in a horrified whisper. “You can’t mean that! How was I supposed to know he was your soulmate?”

“What is there to know?” Incised, Enelya screamed. “Your Clan has never understood the sanctity of life!”

<She did not know> The mental reprimand from Argus brought Enelya up short. <Her Clan’s ways are different from our own. Even now she tries now to understand what she did not know before>

Enelya felt Argus’ long claws grip her shoulder as he drove his point home. <Your anger should not be directed at her. She did not cause this sorrow. We chose it of our own free will>

Hanging her head Enelya knew in her heart that Argus was right. Even though Lúthien was a product of her Clan, she had always tried to do right. In truth, her anger was not for her cousin. Facing her fears, Enelya tried again.

“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me.” Enelya felt Argus impatiently shift as she met Lúthien’s eyes. “In Meliki’s name look at us, we are dying! The Clan must be warned before they are caught unaware by the Hulk. You are the only one of us whole enough to travel ahead of the monster to warn the Clan.” Seeing her cousin’s hesitation, she spoke urgently separating her words as she struggled to keep her voice calm. “You … must … go … now!”

Enelya saw the uncertainty leave Lúthien’s eyes as she suddenly came to a decision. Stepping to Argus side, she forcibly hooked his arm around her shoulder. Dragging them both forward, Lúthien snapped angrily. “If you want to make sure the Clan gets there warning then you’d better stop wasting time and get moving.” Lúthien’s face hardened momentarily. “I’m not leaving anyone behind.”

The sounds of crashing pursuit seemed to spread out behind them as they hobbled up river in the direction of Ashima Falls. The smoke from the forest fires quickly began pooling above the river as they blindly made their way through the thickening haze heading towards the distant roar. The terrible stabbing pain in Enelya’s chest was becoming worse as she gasped for breath with each step, but somehow she continued putting one foot in front of the other.

In Enelya’s peripheral vision, she saw Lúthien’s head twist around behind them searching for pursuit while Argus’ head lolled on his shoulders. His mind fought to keep conscious, but his body had been pushed beyond its limit. Enelya worried that the spurt of energy he’d used to carry them down the side of the mountain had been the last flash of life before the soul left the body. Silently she prayed to Meliki she was wrong. Enelya screamed in agony as she was suddenly dragged to the ground by Argus’ greater weight. Rolling painfully to her knees, she heard Lúthien’s shriek over the sound of the roaring waterfall.

“Galdur Eldflaugum!” Enelya saw an angry swarm of bright purple stars slam into the face of a legionnaire as it surged out of the forest behind them. Impossibly, the Minotaur was running on all fours as the magic missiles slammed into its chest and face, burning searing holes into its flesh. The shriek coming from its lips was cut off instantly as it crashed to the ground dead. Already more legionnaires were charging out of the forest as Lúthien drew her glowing fists back over her shoulders. Purple fire flared from her fingertips as she screamed in rage.

“Galdur Eldflaugum!” Again purple stars flared through the air as two more of the huge Minotaurs dropped to the ground with burning holes in their chest. It was as if their tinnearlian breastplates were not even there. Warning bells rang in the back of Enelya’s head, but she didn’t have time to listen to them as more legionnaires began pouring out of the forest all around them. If they were going to have any chance of surviving this Enelya knew what she had to do. Ignoring the pain of her body, Enelya reached out with her spirit. Plunging her hands into the ground, she called to the forest around her.

“I call on you Meliki, goddess of the forest. Help your children in their time of need.” All around her Minotaurs died as Lúthien lashed out with her glowing fists, but there were simply too many to fight. As the overwhelming wave of legionnaires charged in for the kill, her cousin open hands shot above her head as she shrieked at the top of her lungs.

”Galdur Blokk!” Immediately a semitransparent glowing dome flared around them as the legionnaires charge was suddenly thrown back at the last second. Screeching howls of rage cried out around them as the Minotaurs surrounded the magical barrier.

For a second, the legionnaires seemed confused when a guttural voice called out behind them. “Quid nafda est? Et confundantur in oppositum!” (What are you nafda waiting for? Crush the barrier!) Without hesitation, the lead bulls threw themselves at the glowing barrier. As one, they began assaulting the dome with their metal gauntleted fists.

Lúthien cried out as the powerful blows began raining down upon her shield. Coruscating flares of purple energy rippled across the barrier as the dome shivered under the powerful assault when Enelya felt the spirit of the Great Forest answer her call. While the other Elven Clans had concentrated on mastering the arcane knowledge of the Klavikians, her people had continued focusing on expanding their understanding of the spiritual energy that was inherent to all life. Her people believed that everything had its own vital life force, which was bound and interconnected with everything around it.

A shaman’s mystical abilities were not based on arcane power, but the individual shaman’s ability to commune with the vital life force of the energy surrounding them via their conduit to the spirit realm. Although Meliki was the Goddess of the Forest to her people, the concept didn’t mean a deity in the way most races deemed the concept of God, but the spiritual manifestation of the combined vital life essence created from everything that was a part of the Great Forest. The rocks, the earth, the trees, the animals, the insects … it was all part of the circle of life and the goddess Meliki.

Although Enelya was a Shaman of the Dusza Pack, she was a fledgling Spirit Seeker among her people. Still the spirit of Meliki thrummed through her body as all around the barrier thick tendrils burst from the ground. Like fingers of a massive hand, Enelya could feel the corded roots as if they were a part of her own body. Opening her fingers in the soft earth, she saw the thick tendrils arch into the air like striking serpents over the Minotaurs’ heads.

For a split second nobody moved. The legionnaires froze in their assault as they eyed the thick tendrils warily while Lúthien looked down at her in pure shock. Meeting cousin’s gaze with her white glowing eyes, Enelya clenched her fist together as everything seemed to happen at once. As one the thick tendrils shot through the nearest Minotaurs, completely piercing through their heavily armored bodies. Bone chilling screeches of agony rang out around them as rest of the legionnaires attacked the corded roots. Spreading her fingers out once again, she lashed at the Minotaurs flinging bulls into the air, but already the packed legionnaires were on the move.

Quickly they used the press of their bodies to bear the writhing roots to the ground. Within moments, they were able to tear the roots from the ground. As the bulls turned their attention back to the magical barrier, the challenging roar of a Nightclaw suddenly rang out behind them. In a shimmering blur of sleek black muscles, the enraged predator was among them. Minotaurs flew through the air with every sweep of its long sharp claws. As the Nightclaw roared out in rage, chaos erupted in the legionnaires compressed ranks.

Feeling her communion with Meliki vanish, Enelya eyes immediately changed back to normal as consciousness returned to her body. Staggered to her feet, Enelya was just in time to catch Lúthien as her cousin’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. As the High Elf’s body went limp, Enelya eased her cousin to the ground speaking urgently.

“Wake up Lúthien! You’ve got to wake up!” Groggily Lúthien’s eyes flicked open when she suddenly bolted upright in shock looking around fearfully. Seeing the savage battle around them, Lúthien met Enelya’s gaze incredulously. “Was that you?”

“Meliki chose to answer my call, but there is no time to explain. We must go quickly. Already the hunter weakens.” Climbing unsteadily to her feet, Lúthien quickly helped Enelya gather Argus up between them as they once again raced towards the thundering waterfall. They’d only gone a few steps when there was the mortal shriek of a large animal dying as the sounds of combat suddenly ceased behind them.

Catching Argus’ weight Enelya lowered her soulmate gently to the ground as Lúthien spun around to face the enemy once again. She was just raising her arms to form another magical barrier when a white fist shot out of the smoke. Instantly, Lúthien was blasted from her feet screaming as long claws slashed across her chest, opening her abdomen from waist to sternum. As the misshapen white hand whipped back into the smoky haze, Enelya stepped in front of Argus protectively. Drawing her tambos she faced the Tuonellian Hulk as it confidently strode into view.

Quick as lightning, the creature’s clawed fist shot out again across the distance. Slashing out with all her might, Enelya heard the meaty impact of her weapons and the crunch of bones as she knocked the creature’s strike aside. Smiling evilly, the Hulk drew its misshapen arm back. Holding its shattered wrist up for Enelya to see, she gasped in despair as she watched the wound instantly heal before her eyes.

“Pathetic meat sack, do you think you can stand against me?”

Before she could respond to the Tuonellian’s taunting words, the Hulk lashed out at her with both fists. Striking out defensively Enelya tried to block the flurry of blows coming at her. She managed to ward off the initial attack, but she’d already pushed her body as far as it could go.

The first hit that made it through numbed her arm to the shoulder, while the second set her head spinning. Bringing her tambos together two-handed, she spun around hammering at the incoming strikes when there was a dull crack. After that, her defenses crumbled. Enelya lost count how many times the cruel blows pummeled her body. The next thing Enelya knew she was on her hands and knees with her long mane of brown dreadlocks hanging before her eyes. Somehow she’d managed to hang onto her tambos throughout the beating.

Gasping in pain, Enelya pushed herself to her feet. Bloody bruises covered her body as her arms hung uselessly at her sides. White pieces of cracked bones protruded from her chest as her breaths came in whistling gasps. She was in no condition to fight, but still she refused to simply lay her head down and accept her fate.

Facing the cruel beast once more, Enelya whimpered unconsciously. Struggling to lift her tambos before her once more, she watched dully as the Hulk crossed the distance between them. From the smoky haze behind the creature came the legionnaires that had been chasing after them. Subdued, the Minotaurs followed at a respectful distance. They were all bloody and battered, but still thirty bulls strong. Tauntingly the Tuonellian sneered at her.

“Your race is nothing more than meat sacks, herd animals for the Master Race’s consumption.”

Enelya’s stomach turned at the Hulk’s words as bile rose in her throat. They had all heard stories of the Tuonellian brutality of eating the dead and wounded after a battle, but what had happened in the Imperium had been an atrocity. Entire cities slaughtered like beasts to feed the Horde’s hunger. Those deaths could just have just as easily been her Clan. Seeing the Minotaurs’ cowed heads, she couldn’t for the life of her understand why the Imperium had chosen to align itself with that same evil. In her heart, Enelya knew there was no hope of survival. Still she refused to bow her head to this abomination. Lifting her chin defiantly Enelya spat blood into the Hulk’s beady red eyes.

“Master Race? You and your spawn are nothing more than nafda to the Tuonellian Highborn you serve.” Seeing rage flash in the Hulk’s eyes, she laughed into the creature’s deformed face. “No matter what happens to me, you are still nothing more than a beast lapping at your Master’s feet.“ Enelya cried out as the Hulk’s clawed fist backhanded her in rage. The force of the blow sent her sprawling to the edge of the Otso River as the creature raged in anger.

“I will rend the flesh from your bones before your eyes, and you will beg for death before I’m finished with you.” Enelya’s eyes rolled back in her head as the Tuonellian lifted her into the air by her long mane. As the Hulk’s gaping maw opened to rip a chunk of her face off, she heard a bellowing war cry as the sounds of combat rang out around her.

“For the Imperium!”

The Hulk threw her broken body aside as it turned to face the new threat. Lying on the wet sand confused, Enelya watched a line of legionnaires attacked their own people as the Tuonellian rushed forward roaring in fury. Before the Hulk could reach the battle, a howling white shape slammed into it from the side. In a tangled pile of flailing limbs, the creatures went down as her mind dully registered what she was seeing.

Still, no matter what happened it was too late for her and Argus. Enelya’s only prayer was that her Clan would be warned about the Tuonellian threat before it was too late. Numbly Enelya reached out with her small hand searching for her soulmate. She wanted to hold Argus in her arms one last time before she bled to death. Feeling rigid leather under her palm, Enelya lifted her head bewildered as her eyes focused on an armored figure lying next to her in the wet sand, when her heart caught in her throat.

“Klavikian!”

Hope flared in Enelya’s heart as she hurriedly crawled to the warrior’s side. Touching the battered face with her bloody hand, she froze as man’s yellow glowing eyes suddenly snapped open.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Location Earth / Sean MacRory:

Stepping out onto the main deck, Captain MacRory took a swig of from his steaming mug as he nodded to the armed crewman standing guard at the gangplank. The reddish glow of the man’s Rök runes were clearly visible on his muscular arms and gave the razor-sharp edge of the Sparth axe held in his hands an ominous gleam in the early morning light. Across the breadth of the ship, Sean could feel the presence of the other three guards keeping watch for intruders; their active runes made them appear like beacons in his mind. Shifting his tight shoulders, Sean unconsciously adjusted the claymore strapped to his back as he made his way to the ship’s gunwale.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Sean eyed the troops that had taken possession of the small island. He hadn’t slept in over forty-eight hours, twenty-four of which the ship had been at general quarters. Once the black ops team had carried away Doctor Evans and Ms. Wrigley, they’d been forced to move quickly to secure the ship. While taking care of the boarding party had been easy enough to handle, the company of pissed off Army Rangers and brigade of Marine Raiders with their air support was another matter altogether. Thankfully the situation hadn’t escalated beyond what they had, or things could have gotten dicey.

Cracking his knuckles Sean’s face took on a stern look as his large hands gripped the Triumph’s railing. If it had turned into a fight, the old girl would have taken a pounding, but she’d been built to take the abuse. Trying to stop a tramp freighter with a hand-weapons was like trying to drop a bull elephant with a twenty-two. Meaning, it wasn’t going to happen.

Taking a deep breath, Sean released the tension building up in his shoulders. Even though the soldiers had returned the women relatively unharmed to the ship hours ago, he wasn’t willing to take any more chances with their safety. The only changes he’d made was to release the three combat teams they’d taken into custody and to assign rotating shifts to keep everyone’s energy pools as charged up as possible. Better to have his crew ready to go at a moment’s notice than to be caught off-guard by their new so-called “allies.”

Sean snorted at the word. “Allies,” what a bloody joke that was. Below him, the whole island was lit up in a harsh bluish-white glare by the Marine Expeditionary Force’s metal halide lighting towers that had been deployed during the night. Several companies of Marine Raiders had flown in at dusk and was still in the process of setting up camp as a forest of tents slowly began taking shape around the ship. By now there had to be at least five hundred soldiers on the island. In a way, he was thankful they were here. At least, he didn’t have to worry about policing the hordes of arriving scientists, news crews, and Atlantis nuts that were showing up at a steady rate.

For a moment, Sean glowered as he caught sight of the men in black fatigues guarding the entrance to the dock. Officially the SEAL teams had been assigned to coordinate the security needs of the archeological site, but he knew the real reason they were here was to keep a watch over the Triumph and her crew. He almost laughed out loud remembering Lieutenant Ferguson’s face when he explained to the man that he and his men were not welcomed onboard his ship. He thought Riggs, the Chief Petty Officer who’d come with the Lieutenant, was going to jump him in a fit of rage, but a couple of choice words from Doctor Evans took the wind out of the cocky soldier’s sails.

Sean immediately knew what the problem was. Top combat teams were used to thinking of themselves as being the best of the best. Being taken out by a bunch of unarmed merchant marine sailors must have seriously hurt their professional pride. Wrapping a large callused hand around the hilt of his claymore, Sean let the strength of the metal seep into his soul as he gave a quick prayer to Ukko. There were some odd looks from the soldiers at the axes and swords that the crew now carried and a few crude jokes about the ship being manned by a bunch of SCA rejects, but no one tried telling them they couldn’t wear the weapons. A wicked grin spread across Sean’s face. If they only knew just how dangerous the blades were in his peoples’ hands, they would be having an entirely different conversation altogether.

The claymore strapped to Sean’s back was named Morthwyl Gelyn and had been a part of the Gallowglass Clan for over five hundred years, a relic from another age that had been passed down between father and son throughout the generations of his family. To his people the worked metal had a life of its own. Taken from the womb of the earth that was its mother and crafted into a blade by the smith who became its father, the soul of the sword grew from the blood of the warriors that wielded the blade and from the purpose for which it was used. For centuries, this venerable weapon had been a protector of his Clan and a symbol of their strength and honor, until modern technology turned it into a shadow of the past. The last time the claymore had been carried into battle was during the First World War, when his great-great-great-grandfather had carried the blade with him during his time serving with the Ulster Division as a Loyalist. Since then, Morthwyl Gelyn had hung on the wall like an ancient hero that had been laid to rest; an all but forgotten tribute to the once greatness of his people.

A hard smile turned up the corners of Sean’s lips. It was really no surprise that the Clans had become enamored with the Ukkodian religion upon its introduction to the British Isles. It was as if the druidic ‘All-father’ had returned to the Isles. Honorable warriors fighting with rune forged blades and charged with upholding justice. How could his people not fall in love with this new religion? Whether it was his Clan’s traditional Norse heritage or that of the Celtic Tribes that were native to the Isles, runes and blades had been an integral part of their religion and culture long before there was a written language.

Hearing hurried footfalls behind him, Sean looked over his shoulder to see the large Pollok that was his First Officer striding towards him. The blonde man’s rough-cut hair blew in the wind as his intense green eyes took a quick survey of the island. Coming to a stop behind Sean, he snapped to attention.

“Captain.”

“At ease Mr. Dudek.” Grinning, Sean nodded for Adam to join him at the gunwale. “If you keep addressing me like that they’re going to think we’re military.”

With a boyish grin that belied his age, Adam joined him at the railing in his study of the island. “You know what they say in Poland, Captain. You can take the man out of the GROM, but you can’t take the GROM out of the man.”

For a long moment, Sean considered his words before speaking. “Mr. Dudek, I would appreciate it if you could escort Doctor Evans and her crew while they are on the island. I’d like you to take Hans and Wolfgang with you for support.”

Arching an eyebrow the First Officer looked at him questioningly. “You’re expecting that much trouble from the Americans?”

“No, not the Americans.” Seeing Adam’s askance face, Sean explained further. “Oh don’t get me wrong. The bloody bastards have pissed me off rightly enough, and if that Riggs character lays a hand on the Doctor or anyone else in the crew I expect you to break it off and beat him to death with it, but that’s not what has me going. It’s more of a feeling in the pit of my stomach that just won’t go away.”

“You mean like a message from Ukko, Sir?” Most non-Ukkodians would have thought his First Officer was making fun of him if they’d overheard the conversation, but that wasn’t the case. They were both warriors of Ukko and had been blessed by the light, but that didn’t mean Ukko actually communed with them on a regular basis.

For a second, Sean was at a loss for words as he tried to describe the foreboding feeling he had. Once you were accepted as an Ukkodian, you could feel the presence of Ukko inside your soul. It was the feeling of never being alone. Over time, the intensity of that touch somewhat faded, but it never completely went away. What he was feeling now though was something completely different.

“Do you remember the story of when John asked Startüm about communing with Ukko? We all laughed when he described it as trying to learn physics from a mime.”

“Yea, I remember. We had a pretty good laugh about it at the time. Especially when John tried to pantomime the day’s lesson. But you know what? Later on, the more I thought about it, the more it made a certain kind of sense. In all the videos and stories I’ve ever heard of Startüm, he never claimed to be the Prophet of Ukko or saying that his teachings were the word of God. He always emphasized that what he taught was his interpretation of Ukko’s will and that each of us would have to find our own path to understanding.”

Looking at Sean closely Adam searched his face. “Why, is Ukko miming his wisdom to you now?”

Meeting his First Officer’s eyes, Sean spoke suddenly serious. “Hard to say. It’s like having something on the tip of your tongue. I have this overwhelming feeling that something terrible is about to happen, but no matter how hard I try to understand what it is, the feeling just slips away.“ Gripping the gunwale with both hands, Sean’s muscles tensed as he looked out at the brightening horizon. “I want you to keep close to Doctor Evans. Make sure that either you or Frank are with her at all times whenever she’s off the boat.”

Snapping to attention, Adam gave him a stiff salute speaking with a heavy Polish accent. “I vill guard her vit my life, Kapitan.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dudek. I know you will.” Seeing Doctor Evans and her team piling out onto the deck with their gear, Sean clapped his First Officer on the shoulder. “Let’s go talk to the good Doctor so that I can get some shuteye while things are quiet.” He pulled Adam in close emphasizing his next words, “If anything comes up I want you to radio Mr. Crosslander immediately.”

“Of course, Kapitan.”

***

Location Earth / Larissa Evans:

“Well, that’s a load of bollocks!”

Larissa felt her gut unconsciously tighten as a squad of six black fatigued soldiers suddenly appeared from the shadows as they neared the end of the docks. Seeing Chief Petty Officer Riggs at their lead, Larissa spoke in a hushed whisper to her team without turning her head. “No matter what that bloody bugger says, we are not stopping.” Squaring her shoulders, Larissa muttered out loud to herself as a mountain of muscle stepped up beside her. “I am not about to start asking for permission every time I want to enter my own bloody dig.”

Without saying a word, Larissa eyed the large First Officer walking beside her as he gave her a knowing wink. A second later Hans and Wolfgang moved up behind them as she was suddenly surrounded by three of the biggest men she’d ever met in her life. Feeling suddenly more confident she returned the man’s easy smile.

There was no question First Officer Adam Dudek was easy on the eyes and from the gossip she had heard from the women on her team, the First Officer was quite the ladies’ man as well. With those rugged looks and broad shoulders, the man could have been a professional actor. She had never heard the story of how he had ended up as a member of the Triumph’s crew, but she was glad he was here now.

Focusing once more on the black squad spread out across their path, Larissa's voice took on a hard edge. “Riggs, you can either fall in with my people or go back to your tent, but get the bloody hell out of my way!” She held back a smile as the small man’s jaw clenched in anger at her words, but before he could respond a deep baritone called out behind him.

“Good morning, Doctor Evans. I’m glad to see you’re doing well this morning.”

“Lieutenant Ferguson, I wish I could say the same for you and your men.” This time, she did smile at the Lieutenant’s uncomfortable scowl. “Agent Kurwoski assured me that your men wouldn’t interfere with my peoples’ work.”

“That she did Doctor. My men are here for your peoples’ safety.”

“Safety from what, thirty-five hundred-year-old corpses? This is an archeology site, not a game of Crypt Creeper, Lieutenant.”

“Ma’am, you said it yourself that this discovery is going to rock the world and throw into question everything known about ancient civilizations and the evolution of humankind. Have you even bothered to follow the religious controversy that your pictures have already ignited around the world?”

“I do not see what that has to do with my dig one way or another, Lieutenant. I am here to uncover the truth, not to worry about what a bunch of religious fanatics think about my discovery.”

“That’s exactly my point Doctor. Do you think all of these visitors flooding the island are coming with your peoples’ goodwill in mind?” Seeing her grimace the Lieutenant knew he’d scored a point. “We’re here to watch out for your peoples’ lives against those fanatics that would do anything to keep your discovery hidden.”

“And we thank you for your protection.” Stepping up to Riggs like she was going to walk right through him, she paused in midstride giving the Lieutenant a questioning look. “Now if you do not mind, we have work to do.”

For a moment, the Lieutenant said nothing as he ground his teeth in frustration. “Riggs, let them through.”

Larissa started forward just as the First Officer stepped in front of her slamming his shoulder into the Chief’s chest as Hans and Wolfgang followed suit behind him widening the sudden hole in the line of men blocking their path. With a snarl of rage, Riggs tried shoving the larger man out of his way, but it was like trying to move a mountain as his men started forward angrily.

“Enough!” Lieutenant Ferguson’s bellow stopped the SEAL team in their tracks as he caught the collar of Riggs’ BDU’s.

“Let’s go people. We don’t have all day.” Unconcerned, Larissa started forward calling out over her shoulder. “Lieutenant, I expect not to have this discussion again or I will be forced to ask Agent Kurwoski for assistance.”

As the archeology team headed for the entrance to the dead volcano, Lieutenant Ferguson snapped out a reply as he held Riggs’ eyes with his own. “Yes, Ma’am. I’m sure WE won’t have any more problems with this.”

***

Location Earth / Beth Kurwoski:

“Staff Sergeant Walker, I understand this is an unusual request, but I need those local nationals escorted to the AMC Departure Terminal immediately.” Looking around the cabin covertly Beth tried to ignore the aggravated looks they were getting from the flight crew who’s C-17 they’d just hijacked as Agent Moss argued with the Ramstein Airbase’s local security force desk Sergeant. She could clearly hear the annoyed airman’s reply on the speaker phone.

“Sir, as I’ve previously stated, without proper authorization I cannot allow unauthorized personnel access to this facilities, especially armed local nationals, Sir.”

Rolling his eyes in frustration Agent Moss forcibly kept his voice calm. “Staff Sergeant Walker, who is your Commanding Officer?”

“Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Troy Austin is the 86th Security Forces Squadron’s Commander, but he’s already left for the evening. You can speak with the Watch Officer, First Lieutenant Spencer, but she’s going to tell you the same thing I’ve already told you, Sir.”

Waving his hand for her cell phone, Agent Moss growled into the phone as soon as Beth handed it over. “Hold for a moment.” Cradling the receiver in his neck, Ryan quickly typed in the Special Activities Division on-call desk. “Code Alpha Tango Foxtrot Zulu three five one.”

A crisp clear voice answered immediately. “Code confirmed, how can I assist you, Agent Moss?”

“I need the Ramstein Airbase Commander to have his subordinate, Lieutenant Colonel Austin, directed to have Staff Sergeant Walker escort my four local assets immediately to the AMC terminal for Operation Crater.”

“One moment, Sir.”

After a short pause, the operator came back online. “Agent Moss, Brigadier General Thomas said that he’s personally taking care of the situation and to give Mrs. Strafford his regards. Your assets will be delivered within ten minutes to the flight line. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“No that will be all.” CLICK, Ryan gave her cell phone back without a word. A minute later there was a loud clatter from the speaker phone as tense voices spoke hurriedly in the background. The ruckus ended with the slamming of a door as a female voice suddenly spoke into the receiver.

“Sir, First Lieutenant Spencer. I’m sorry for any confusion by my subordinate. Staff Sergeant Walker is on the way and will have your assets delivered to the terminal in five minutes. Is there anything more I can do to assist you at this time, Sir?”

“No, Lieutenant that will be all. I appreciate your assistance in expediting this matter. I will await Staff Sergeant Walker’s arrival on the flight line. Please have him deliver my assets to the C-17 at terminal one. ” Without waiting for her reply, Agent Moss hung up the phone. Turning around with a knowing smile, he addressed the Flight Chief standing next to them as the airman’s eyes bulged in his sockets. “Chief, tell the pilot to be ready for takeoff in ten minutes.”

“Sir, yes Sir!”

With a questioning look after the airman, Beth followed Ryan out of the plane. As soon as they reached the bottom of the boarding ramp, Beth leaned into him to be heard over the C-17’s engines that suddenly roared to life. “Who are we picking up? I thought it was just going to be the two of us working with the Marine Raiders from Sixth Fleet.”

“Obviously, you haven’t spent any time in the field with a group of combat Marines. Orders aside, we’ll be needing more than just the two of us to deal with just the testosterone levels alone.”

“I know how to handle myself, Ryan. You don’t make detective on the Force without knowing how to deal with that kind of shit on a daily basis.”

Looking away thoughtfully, a wry smile turned up the corners of Ryan’s lips as his eyes studied the heavy military transport plane’s top-mounted raked-back wings. “It’s the same with every combat team that I’ve ever worked with. The fight to see who has the biggest cock.”

Meeting her eyes once again, Ryan continued talking. “Director Strafford asked if I could make some inroads into the Europe and Asian Ukkodian communities for future projects, and Susan has been hinting that there’s been a lot of interest from both groups in meeting you and the rest of the U.S. Branch.” Seeing her eyebrows rise at the term ‘U.S. Branch’, Ryan held up his hands defensively. “Hey, it’s better than Team U.S.A., which is what Herr Krüger called us when we first talked.”

“You’ve already talked to the European Ukkodians? When the hell did you have the time to do that?”

Beth smiled to herself as Ryan visibly grimaced. “Look, I spoke to him while you slept on the way over.”

“And you couldn’t have told me when I woke up?”

“Hey, I’m telling you now. Not that there’s much anything to tell really. Krüger said he would see what he could get together at such short notice.”

Before Beth could say more three military police Humvees raced onto the tarmac. Within moments the small convoy pulled to a stop at the foot of the ramp. Stepping out of the lead Humvee, Staff Sergeant Walker snapped to attention with a salute.

“Sir, your assets as ordered, Sir!”

Stepping forward Ryan took the lead as Beth watched four men in black fatigues and modern combat armor exit the middle Humvee. Similar to their own uniforms, each of the men had a sword strapped to their back and a pistol riding at their waist. The leader was a broad-shouldered older man with a shiny bald head that looked to be at least in his late forties, while the three muscular blonde youths that towered behind him had to be in their early twenties. They all exuded an air of capable confidence as they took up a position next to the Staff Sergeant who eyed them nervously.

“At-ease, Staff Sergeant.”

“Sir, if I could just get your signature on the release forms I’ll leave these men in your care.” As soon as the Humvees took off Ryan held out his hand to the older man. “Herr Krüger?”

"Jawohl!" Beth had to hold back a laugh at the harsh guttural German accent that was at odds with the broad smile that stretch across the German man’s weathered face. “Call me Klaus.” With a click of his heels he gave them each a half bow before offering his hand. “Herr Moss, Damen Kurwoski.”

Beth took the swarthy hand smiling. “Beth will do just fine.” The reverence in the man’s two-handed clasp made her somewhat uncomfortable before he stepped back to next to the other men.

“If you’d allow me to introduce my Polish colleagues.” Starting off with the nearest youth standing next to him, “I’d like to introduce you to Kai Yurek, Janusz Lipowski, and Ivan Bartkowski.”

As the three men quickly stepped forward for their introductions, Beth would have sworn they were all brothers if not for the obvious different last names. Chiseled faces, sky-blue eyes, blonde Euro-styled hair and muscular whip-cord frames, they could just as easily filled the role of runway models. When Ivan stepped back, Klaus continued talking.

“I afraid there wasn’t much time to get more people organized within the time constraints of your mission, but I’ve already heard back from those that were close enough to meet up in time for the flights to Santorini. Two of the Italians leaders have agreed to join us in Naples, and eight Maniots Greeks are driving up from Kalamata to meet us at the NATO Forward Operating Base in Aktion. We can pick them up and refuel for the last leg of the flight. With you and the lady that puts us at sixteen altogether.” Klaus’ boisterous voice and grin was catching as his glinting eyes swept over their small group. “I’m sure we’ll be more than enough to handle any unexpected surprises that might come up.”

“Excellent.” Before Ryan could say more, a voice called out behind them.

“Agent Moss, the Captain say’s you’ll have to have your people load up now if you want to make the takeoff window the tower has available for us.”

Giving the Flight Chief a thumbs up, Ryan started for the loading ramp calling out over his shoulder. “You heard the man, let’s load up!”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Location Irlendria / Tiberius Decius Lupus:

Tiberius pitched backward as a large black shadow soared past him in the flick of an eye. For a second, he almost lost control of his hazardous sliding decent as his eyes nervously followed the Nightclaw’s sleek form. With a hunter’s grace, the beast caught itself on a ledge further down the slope. Corded muscles rippled effortlessly as it silently disappeared below leaving him and his bulls behind with a flick of its long tail.

Nightclaws were the single most dangerous natural predators of the Great Forest. They were solo hunters that weighed anywhere between four hundred to five hundred pounds, ranging from six to six and a half feet high at their crown and seven to eight feet in length. Armed with eight-inch fangs and half-foot long claws, they could kill an unarmored bull with one bite of their powerful jaws.

Watching the beast go Tiberius breathed a sigh of relief. Even with his lorica segmentata armor and Wolf Gauntlets, he wouldn’t have wanted to face one of the dangerous beasts alone. Nightclaws typically kept to their large territories except during mating season, which was still far off. Seeing another one of the beasts so soon could only mean that was the same hunter they’d passed earlier. Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, Tiberius considered the implications. Why would the beast have left a fresh kill behind uneaten?

Jamming his gladius down Tiberius leaned sharply to the side as rocks and dirt shot away from his hooves to slide past another tree. Quickly, he regained his precarious balance before crashing through more of the thick underbrush that clung to the side of the mountain. Behind him came the sounds of his bulls struggling to keep up as he saw one of them go down in his peripheral vision. Grimly looking away, Tiberius kept focused on his own descent. The trick wasn’t to fight the momentum, but to move along with it.

The Tuonellian Hulk and the creatures that followed it had descended the slope on all fours, moving similarly to the Nightclaw. It didn’t matter how much they looked like legionnaires; no Minotaur had ever moved like that. Breaking back into the open Tiberius saw the slope ahead of him suddenly drop away. Scanning further ahead, he saw the ground leveled out about twenty-five feet below. Timing his approach Tiberius flexed his knees leaping at the last instant. Activating his second gladius, Tiberius spread his arms wide as he flew through the air. Gauging his landing, he smoothly sank to his knees slamming his fists into the ground ahead of him.

Instantly Tiberius came to a bone jarring stop as legionnaires began hitting the ground with metallic clangs to either side of him. Cornisus was the first bull to join him. The Decanus landed lightly on his hooves just as Legionnaire Cato came crashing to the ground with a belly whopping flop in front of them. A second later there were two more loud metallic twangs as Legionnaires Aulus and Opiter came to a stop on either side of Cato. Freezing in place, they listened for any cries of alarm. Tiberius’ heart thudded loudly in his ears for several long moments. Hearing nothing, he gave the signal to form up.

Immediately the two males retracted their blades to help their battle-brother to his hooves as Cornisus moved to Tiberius’ side. Quickly they formed up into a tight battle line with Tiberius in the lead as their ears pricked forward at the sudden sounds of combat coming from farther ahead within the thick smoky haze. Hearing nothing close by Tiberius silently signaled his bulls.

<Formation Alpha>

For a moment the clanking sounds of gauntlets reforming rang out hollowly around them, drowning out any other sounds until the transformation was complete. Hearing no change in the sounds of combat ahead of them, Tiberius gave his legionnaires a visual once over before warily starting forward. Leading the way with his scuta held before him, Tiberius thought back to the first time he’d met Lúthien.

Unlike the long life spans of Elves and Klavikians, Minotaur lives were short in comparison, half that of even a Centaur’s. Typically bulls average between two hundred and fifty to three hundred years if they were very lucky, while heifers died even younger due to the strain of their numerous childbirths.

Tiberius had met Lúthien when he was a young bull of twenty-four years, while leading his first command in a desperate battle of survival against the Tuonellian Hordes seeking to destroy Daeron Fortress. Initially, he’d been shocked to learn that the child riding happily between his horns had just turned sixty-one years old, but that surprise had been quickly replaced by one of wonder.

Normally his people had difficulties understanding the mentality and driving forces of the longer lived races. Before the Tuonellian invasion, Minotaur and Elves had coexisted with little problems. True, a few Emperors in the Imperium’s past had sought to take control of the resources within the Great Forest, but the Elves had fought back every intrusion into their domain with a level of skill that had garnered respect for their fighting abilities within the Imperium. While this was ancient history to his people, for the Elves those invasion were still fresh in the minds of all but the youngest generations, which had initially caused serious problems during the formation of the Alliance. Tiberius’ Legions defense of the Elven Homeland during Battle of Daeron Fortress had initially gone a long way to improving the Imperium’s relations with the reclusive forest dwellers, but the deep-seated mistrust the Elves held for his short-lived kind was always just under the surface whenever they met.

The only time Tiberius had truly felt free of that prejudice was with Lúthien. From the moment his eyes first saw her, Tiberius had been amazed at her alien beauty. Lithe, exciting, and full of life, she was nothing like the heifers of his people. Silver sparkling hair surrounded her glowing, vibrant face, and stormy gray eyes while her sweet sparkling laughter was like music to his ears. He had been infatuated with the young princess the same as she’d been with him.

While the freedom Elven culture gave to their female left many of his older and more traditionally minded males somewhat uncomfortable, younger bulls like Tiberius found their capable nature exotically attractive. True, Elven females did have the flattened face of their kind and lacked the small curved horns of heifers. Even more unsettling, they didn’t have a decent coat of fur, but instead were smooth skinned. Still, there was something incredibly alluring about the strong-willed females. Maybe it was a taste of the forbidden, but no matter which side of the pasture a bull stood on the topic, there was plenty of speculation on the skills of the Elven females in the pen. Although, Tiberius did find Lúthien’s nature a refreshing change to the females of his own kind. Contrary to some of the jealous rumors that had spread throughout the camp, their relationship was not of a sexual nature.

Unfortunately, no matter how much Tiberius might have wished it were otherwise, she only thought of him as an older brother. Still if that were as much of her that he could have, he wouldn’t complain. Their friendship meant that much to him.

Smelling the stench of burning flesh, Tiberius held his gladius up signaling his bulls to slow their advance. Moving warily into the clearing ahead of them, he saw the bloody form of the Nightclaw that had passed them by earlier. Around the great hunter were the strewn remains of many dead legionnaires.

Tiberius’ nostrils flared as the hackles of his mane stood on end. There was something wrong with the scent of blood. Confused he continued forward scanning for any signs of Lúthien when there was a wounded cry of agony ahead of him in the smoke. He hadn’t taken three steps when he heard the guttural speech of a Tuonellian.

“Your race is nothing more than beasts, herd animals for the Master Race’s consumption.”

Rushing forward, Tiberius felt the blood pumping through his veins begin burning like fire as his vision turned red. He couldn’t make out the words in the pain filled response, but as the bank of the Otso River came into view. He saw the Hulk’s clawed fist backhand a small Wild Elf to the ground. Further away was the outline of his precious Lúthien. Her delicate ivory skin covered in blood as she gasped for breath futilely trying to hold her gaping bowels closed.

“For the Imperium!” Tiberius bellowed out his war cry as the berserker rage took hold of him. Charging forward, he punched his gladius through the creatures blocking his path in mindless fury. Around him, Tiberius’ bulls drove into the legionnaires ahead of them before the creatures could react. Their first blows catching the enemy by surprise as they attacked from the rear. Tinnearlian blades flashed in deadly arcs as the first line of legionnaires hit the ground dead at their hooves when suddenly everything happened at once.

The screeching cry that rang out was confirmation of Tiberius’ growing fear that these weren’t the same mindless legionnaires they had faced earlier in the capital, but something else entirely different. No matter what they looked like, they were not Minotaurs. Spinning around on all fours, the creatures sprang at their attackers in a feral wave. Clambering over the legionnaires shield walls within seconds, they slashed at the Minotaurs with their long, razor-sharp claws in savage fury.

Still charging forward, Tiberius drove the edge of his scuta into the creatures before him like a scythe as his gladius swung in deadly arcs. Bloody limbs flew through the air as he fought to reach the hated Tuonellian before him when he suddenly realized he wasn’t going to make it. Slowly Tiberius staggering to a stop as more and more of the creatures piled on top of him. Several clung to his armored back while even more held onto his arms and legs. Looking around the battlefield, he saw his bulls being overwhelmed one by one.

In spite of the berserker fury coursing through him, he was slowly being dragged to the ground. Thrusting his gladius repeatedly into the creatures attacking him, Tiberius watched in vain as the Hulk disappeared from view as still more and more of the creatures piled on top of him. Landing heavily on his back, Tiberius tucked his shield in close to his chest as he fought for his life like never before. As the terrible claws began raking his body to bloody ribbons, he cried out in despair.

“Akras help us!”

***

Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

Nessa’s hooves dug deep into the moss covered earth as she plunged through the Great Forest heading towards the distant sounds of combat. Mindless of any thoughts for her own safety, she crashed through the thick underbrush before her without hesitation as tree branches snapped from the force of her passing. Her heaving flanks already bled with numerous wounds from the headlong flight, but still she refused to slow down. In her heart knew the scream had to have come from Enelya’s lips. Picturing the Wild Elf’s broken body lying dead on the ground, she drove herself even harder.

Flaring nostrils struggled to keep up with the demands of her laboring body as she passed Ashima Falls. Still, she had no idea how long she’d been running when the sounds of battle suddenly stopped with a knelling howl.

“Nnnooo!” Crying out as fear gripped her heart. Nessa whispered a quick prayer as memories of Enelya flooded through her mind. “Please, Luonnotar don’t let me be too late.”

For a long moment, there was only the muffled drumming of pounding hooves to offset Nessa’s beating heart as her long ears strained forward, searching for more sounds of fighting. She had just about given up hope when she heard Enelya’s defiant voice coming from further up ahead as her blood ran cold.

“No matter what happens to me, you are still nothing more than a beast lapping at your Master’s feet.“

Enelya’s sudden cry of agony pierced Nessa’s heart a second later as pain flared through her chest. Staggering in mid-gallop, she barely stopped herself from plowing into the ground, before recovering her balance once again. Semi-shocked Nessa forced her legs to keep moving as she realized nothing had actually hit her. Shaking the sensation away, she raced around the bend in the river as the combatants suddenly came into view.

Immediately, Nessa felt the battle rage of her people rising within her as she saw Enelya dangling by her neck in the grip of a Tuonellian Hulk, while further in the distance stood the silent ranks of Imperium legionnaires impassively watching. Incredulously she realized the Oathbreakers were going to do nothing to stop the atrocity happening before their very eyes as the evil creature raged in triumph at the dying Elf held in its grasp.

“I will rend the flesh from your bones before your eyes, and you will beg for death when I’m finished with you.”

Still too far away, Nessa was helpless to stop the horror unfolding before her eyes. Time seemed to slow as the misshapen fanged maw of the Hulk opened towards Enelya’s bloody face, when a bellowing war cry suddenly changed everything.

“For the Imperium!” The entire rear of the Minotaur formation seemed to collapse in on itself in chaos as five battered legionnaires’ suddenly attacked the force from behind. Unbelievably, Nessa watched the remaining bulls instantly drop to their hands and hooves. The unnatural position made the creatures look like a misshapen caricature of true Minotaurs. As one, they threw their heads back in a bone-chilling screech that rang out across the river before attacking in a living wave.

Cutting a wide bloody swath of death through the savage creatures, the five legionnaires fought a desperate battle against their attackers as the Hulk spun around in shocked surprise. Batting Enelya’s broken body away, the Tuonellian began striding towards the newest threat as Nessa charged into the fray. Gripping the Staff of Yatra before her with two hands, she had only a split-second to consider the ramifications of her decision to fight as she called forth her power.

Luonnotar had entrusted Nessa with saving the future of Irlendria and that of her people. If she failed, the world and everything she knew would be turned into a burning inferno for the Tuonellians to reap at their leisure. Everyone she’d ever known or loved would be destroyed by their rampaging hordes. How could she selfishly risk the future of her people by throwing her life away trying to rescue her first love?

For a heartbeat, Nessa almost turned away from the battle as the implications of her decision weighed on her soul. Still, no matter how much logical sense it made for her to focus solely on completing her quest, she couldn’t leave Enelya’s fate in the hands of these abominations. Doing so would betray everything that made her who she was. Focusing on the creature’s hate filled face. Nessa threw herself at the Hulk yelling her Clan’s battle cry.

“WwwaaaNnniii!” Nessa’s first blow caved in half of the Tuonellian’s skull as she bodily crashed into the Hulk at full gallop with a bone crushing crash. Slamming into the ground in a tangle of arms and legs she nearly lost her weapon in the chaos as they came to a sliding stop. Rolling onto her knees, Nessa recovered the Staff of Yatra before springing back to her hooves.

Screaming out another the war cry, Nessa slammed the black glowing wood through the center of the creature’s chest as the Hulk roared in agony. Pulling the smoking tip free she lifted the weapon high overhead for the death blow as the Tuonellian’s red glowing eyes focused on her in pure hate. Crying out with an undulating shriek, Nessa slammed the Staff of Yatra down with all of her might for the finishing strike, when the Hulk’s clawed fist batted the tip aside at the last moment.

Smoke rose from the creature’s seared flesh as the glowing wood gouged a large chunk from the Tuonellian’s neck like a hot knife through butter, but before she could raise her staff to strike again. The Hulk ripped the glowing wood from her numb fingers as the monster’s other clawed fist slashed open her belly.

Crying out in pain Nessa threw herself at the evil Tuonellian’s hate filled face with her flailing fists as the creature’s arm whipped back quick as lightning. Wrapping its clawed fist completely around her throat, the Hulk caught her in its overpowering grip. With her failing strength, Nessa hammered at the Tuonellian’s arm as her flailing hooves tore gaping holes in the Hulk’s chest. Just as she was breaking free, a gut-wrenching agony shot through her lower abdomen

Looking down in shock, Nessa’s eyes bulged out as the Hulk’s clawed fist ripped out her innards with a sharp jerk. Holding its bloody fist before her eyes for her to see, the creature’s bone-chilling laughter filled Nessa’s ears as her eyes began rolling up into her head from lack of air. Around her, she saw the legionnaires being ripped to shreds as her consciousness began to fade.

Grief filled Nessa’s heart as she realized they were all going to die. Still, she wouldn’t have chosen differently if she had the chance to make the choice all over again. As tears ran down her face, Nessa looked towards the sky whispering out in anguish with her last breath.

“Luonnotar help us!” As if in response to her prayer, Nessa heard the Hulk’s sudden shriek of terror.

***

Location Irlendria / Startüm:

I knew I was in trouble when came aware of my surroundings once again. My head burned with a raging fire as the Fring consumed me, but I was too weak to do anything except writhe in pain. From the stories I’d heard from my Grandsire, once a Werewolf succumbed to the effects of the consumption they normally didn’t recover, which was a direct result of our bodies regenerative ability. Without enough food to fuel our hyperactive metabolisms, our bodies’ began consuming themselves from the inside out until the ravaging sickness killed us.

The pain was excruciating. A small part of me just wanted to curl up and let the sickness drag me down into blissful oblivion, but that simply wasn’t who I was. With an effort of will, I fought against the agonizing pain when my feverish thoughts were suddenly slammed into focus as an ancient spirit reached out and touched my soul.

With crystal clarity the foreign thoughts slashed through my mind like nothing I’d ever experienced before. There were no spoken words assigned to concepts, but more a flow of sensations that held meaning. It was like the wind swishing through the trees, the feeling of rain hitting my face and the warmth of the sun against my skin … it was all these things and more. Just as my thoughts adjusted to the sensation, I felt my perceptions suddenly shift. The feeling was akin to being stuck in a close-up street view of Google Maps. Even though I was looking down at my own body on the bank of the Otso River, I could still feel Starfire and Frostbrand held in my arms.

For a moment, I struggled with the dual perspective, but quickly my mind adjusted to the alien perspective. As if I were riding an old house of horrors amusement ride, I felt my focus zoom in onto the battle for survival raging around us. Closest to us were two small Elves and an ivory-white Centaur dying at the hands of a Tuonellian Hulk. Further out were the bulky forms of Scourge swarming over a small band of Minotaurs, a shaggy brown-haired Wenci and the bloody remains of a Nightclaw surrounded by more dead bodies. I had the impression that there was more happening just outside of my field of vision, but it was beyond my reach.

The spirit’s touch wasn’t anything like my communion with Ukko. The contact was more like a community of voices that had one voice with its own consciousness. Although the concepts being communicated were alien to my logical Klavikian mind, I felt the Werewolf inside of me stir in understanding. For the first time in my life, instead of fighting the primitive instincts welling up inside of me, I fully opened my soul to the ferocious nature that was my birthright.

In a flash, the spirit of the Great Forest came alive around me. Savage and untamed, I felt the call of the wild rush through my veins as the beast inside my soul fought for life. Instantly my golden eyes snapped open, focusing on the mangled body of the beautiful Elf lying next to me. In that instant we were connected by the same spiritual link that had awakened me. I felt the vitality of her life force rush through my soul in a sharing of emotions and intent that took my breath away, before her small hand weakly fell away from my cheek.

Tearing my gaze away from the fierce brown eyes staring back at me, I shivered from the intensity of the contact as I focused on the life and death struggle happening around us. It was obvious the Hulk had won. Already the Centaur filly’s eyes were rolling back into her head as she weakly hammered at the clawed fist wrapped around her throat. A part of my mind registered the barbaric beauty of the female Centaur as my eyes momentarily locked on her heaving chest. Slick with blood and sweat, her full breasts jiggled with each shudder of her body’s final death throes as her eyes began bulging in her head.

What in Ukko’s name was wrong with me? How could I notice something like that at a time like this? Shaking my head in disgust, I fought to clear my thoughts from the powerful instincts and raging hormones surging through my body, sickened in part at my own physiological reaction. Tearing my gaze away, I focused instead on the bloody gash in the side of the Tuonellian’s neck.

Once again, I felt my primitive urges take over. I wish I could have said it was the need to save the filly’s life that drove me forward at that second, but in truth, I knew it was the smell of fresh blood as a voracious hunger rose up inside of me demanding sustenance. The Hulk’s cruel guffawing laughter filled my ears as I drew near. Although my katanas were still strapped to my back, I didn’t even think about using them as I reached my hand over the Tuonellian’s scraggly head. Hooking my fingers, I rammed them through the creature’s eye sockets as I yanked the misshapen head back and to the side baring its throat, while my other hand captured the Hulk’s flailing arm. Pulling my body up, I sank my teeth into the Tuonellian’s neck ripping out a bloody chunk of meat.

Instantly power flowed through my veins as the evil creature cried out in terror. Its body bucked like a wild bronco in my iron grip as I struggled to rip the grotesque head from its shoulders. I felt the skin of my face grow taut as the bones of my jaws began elongating, stretching into more of a muzzle like shape, while my eye-teeth started growing at the same time. Curving-out over my lips, they quickly formed into oversized fangs with each bloody chunk of flesh I gulped down as the savage beast raged inside of me.

The gruesome act of feeding was unsettling enough to my Klavikian sensibilities, but even worse was the ravenous craving that I felt as the energized blood’s corrupt warmth filled my senses. For a second, bile rose in the back of my throat as I fought back the urge to purge the revolting filth from my mouth. Ignoring the feelings of disgust, I drove my fangs even deeper into the Hulk’s neck until my jaws closed around the creature’s spine. With a resounding crack, I ripped the Tuonellian’s head from its shoulders as my canines cleanly snapped through the bone.

I watched the blood-covered Centaur collapse onto the ground as she weakly ripped the clawed fist away from her throat. Wide-eyed she stared in shock at her entrails strewn across the ground as the Tuonellian’s foul blood began spouting into the air around us like a fountain. Numbly I knew what I had to do. With calm deliberation, I clamped my jaws onto the creature’s headless corpse drinking deeply.

From the many stories I’d heard from my Grandsire, I had a good idea why the Hulk’s blood was affecting me the way it did. The creatures had a predilection for feasting off the life forces of the prey they consumed. My old teacher, Luthar Feltalc, had always believed Tuonellians acquired their power through the pain and suffering inflicted to their prey during feeding. So as I fed on the Hulk, I wasn’t just getting the needed protein for my starved body, but also a supercharged powerade of torment energy for my metaphysical reserves.

Although distasteful in thought, when it came down to the basics, energy was energy. With a Werewolf’s practicality, I sucked the bleeding corpse dry. Corrupt or not it didn’t matter, I needed the sustenance for what I planned to do next. Rising to my knees, I heard a keening screech ring out from the surviving Scourge as I raised my arms in supplication to the sky. Calling forth my power, I called out to Ukko.

“Gi meg styrke til å helbrede disse krigerne, slik at de kan kjempe mot dine fiender.“ (Give me the strength to heal these warriors so that they may fight against your enemies.) Drawing every last ounce of power left in my devastated body, I spoke my prayer.

“Helbredende bølge!” Immediately my body began convulsing uncontrollably as the holy symbol of Ukko lit up on my chest like a glowing beacon. Even after sucking the Hulk’s corpse dry, I knew this was going to be close, but there just wasn’t any other options left if I was going to save us from our enemies. I’d never tried such a complex spell before in my life. I fought to clear my mind of all thought as I pictured the bodies of the wounded around me.

In general, I knew the principle was the same as any individual healing spell. My father and the rest of the Klavikian Paladins had regularly performed more incredible feats during the Great War against the Tuonellians, raising thousands of warriors as they lay near death on the battlefield with a wave of their gauntleted hands. If it weren’t for their abilities and the grace of Ukko, the Alliance of Aurenko would have collapsed at the onset of the war. In comparison to a Paladin like my father, I wasn’t much more than a cheap substitute, a wannabe compared to the real thing.

All at once the healing energy exploded out of my body in a massive wave as the glowing light enveloped each being that the Great Spirit had shown me in the vision. Concentrating on each individual with my senses, I tried to direct the energy where it was needed most, but that proved to be beyond my ability as I screamed in agony. As if in a dream, I felt my consciousness begin slipping away as I was borne to the ground by a screeching wave of Scourge when the darkness enveloped me once more.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Location Earth / Megan Driscoll:

Flipping her night vision goggles up in disgust, Sergeant First Class Megan Driscoll scanned the shadowy mass that suddenly loomed up out of the darkness with her bare eyes. The only thing that showed up clearly was the red dot from the laser scope attached to her M4, which didn’t show dick in this murky darkness. A quick check of the personal navigation system strapped to her wrist confirmed that the target area was just ahead. Unfortunately, nothing was looking like the pictures they’d been given in the briefing.

Snapping on the maglite attached to her barrel, Megan swept the focused beam of light across the indistinct shapes, swearing under her breath. She still couldn’t see jack! Even with the additional light, she could barely make out the indistinct outlines of the individual crystals that reportedly made up the massive formation. Checking her navcom once again, Megan came to a stop signaling the Marines behind her to set up a perimeter. Without waiting for the “all clear” signal, the science team they were escorting hurriedly pushed past her without waiting for the all clear signal.

It took an effort of will for Megan to hold back the grin that instantly sprang to her lips as Doctor Holdgate purposely ignored her as his team began silently unpacking their equipment. She wanted to yank is ass back into line. Instead of giving in to her urges, Megan unhooked the handset attached to her webbing and called their status into command.

“Raider, this is Hunter two Charlie, over.”

“Hunter two Charlie, this is Raider, over.”

“Hunter two Charlie to Raider. We have reached the target area. Commencing operations now, over.”

“Raider to Hunter two Charlie. Affirmative, next radio check in thirty, over.”

“Hunter two Charlie to Raider. Gotcha Lima Charlie, out.”

A year ago such a transgression would have had her swearing up a storm, but now Megan just rolled her eyes at the needless drama of it all as she mentally reviewed their tactical situation for the zillionth time. Even though Captain Griffith had ordered a full quarter of their metal halide lighting towers to be deployed inside the “Pit” as her Marines were now calling the dig, there was still barely enough light to walk around the chamber without a flashlight. If anything, the powerful floodlights just made the visibility that much worse. Besides making their night vision goggles almost useless, the heavy shadows cast by the numerous rock formation placed large portions of the Pit in pools of darkness that were almost impossible to illuminate.

They’d all heard the scuttlebutt about the impossible creatures discovered inside the ancient tomb. It had sounded absurd. Perfectly preserved Minotaurs dressed as legionnaires fighting against hordes of nightmarish monsters. Megan wouldn’t have given the rumors any credit if not for the hordes of scientists, press, and crazies flooding the island. By the end of the first day of their arrival, Admiral Wright had been forced to close the local airport indefinitely. While that had helped the immediate chaos, it hadn’t stopped the flow of people. From what she’d been hearing boats of all shapes and sizes had been arriving in a steady stream throughout the night.

Second Company had been ordered to set up guard points around the island to deal with the new arrivals, but that was only a temporary fix. The USS Wasp had been detached to the Task Force for amphibious and air assault landings for subduing an aggressive enemy, which was a completely different mission parameter then policing the large crowds of noncombatants that were flocking to the island. The Navy was struggling to set up a secure perimeter five nautical miles out to deal with the problem, but the Task Force just didn’t have enough hulls to stop the flow of boats into the area.

The incredible story sounded like something straight out of a Crypt Crawler title than an actual archeological dig. Still, the rumors flying around about the Pit had most of the Marine Raider Company jumping at shadows, which was just plain stupid. Even if the stories were one hundred percent true, it wasn’t like anything was going to be left alive after thirty-five hundred years of rotting in a sealed hole.

Frowning, Megan sighed at the useless mental exercise. It wasn't like she had a squad any longer to worry about. To deal with the changing mission requirements, Command Sergeant Major Thompson had broken First Company up into individual fire groups for guard duty. Why the hell the Lieutenant Colonel wanted a Marine escort with every scientific team entering the Pit was anybody’s guess, but it was causing havoc with her soldiers. Standing guard for hours at a time with nothing to do but stare at the dark shadows was going to be bad enough. Mix in a handful of pompous cockbite professors as team leads and it was a powder keg waiting to explode.

During her two years at Purdue University before joining the Marines, Megan had initially thought graduate students were assholes. Most were nothing but full-time students with their education and living expenses paid for by mommy and daddy. Then she met her first tenured professor who’d given new meaning to the word, but her current charge, world renowned Biologist Doctor Stuart Holdgate, took being an asshole to a whole new level. The Doctor had been under the mistaken impression that he could treat her soldiers like he did his personal staff. This time, Megan did smile remembering the man’s shocked face at the ass-chewing she’d given him.

Needless to say, he didn’t speak to anyone in her squad again. Not that it mattered to Megan, she got along with the rest of the Professor’s team just fine. As far as she was concerned, she hadn’t gone through two tours in Afghanistan to put up with that kind of crap. Holdgate would treat her Marines right, or she’d put a boot in his ass.

“Aaaiiieee!” The blood curling scream that rang out across the chamber snapped Megan back to the present as a deafening burst of rifle-fire roared nearby. Instinctively dropping into a crouch, she whipped the barrel of the M4 towards the sounds listening intently. After multiple combat zones, the response was without thought as her hand slapped the AN/PVS-14 monocular night vision scope attached to her helmet back into place. Biting back a curse at the MNVD’s fluctuating display she switched to “light infrared” searching for the source of the commotion once again.

Immediately Megan saw three glowing man-forms slam into a fourth around twenty feet out as the rifle burst came to a sudden stop. Looking back over her shoulders to her team, Megan barked out orders. “Lance Corporal Jordan is with me. The rest of you keep your eyes on the package.” Signaling for Jordan to follow. Feeling Lance Corporal Jordan’s large hand grip her shoulder, Megan headed towards the commotion at a quick walk scanning the immediate area for enemies. Taking in the situation sourly as they came to a stop near the struggling men, she signaled Jordan to hold position swearing.

“What a Charlie Foxtrot!” Although she wished she didn’t, Megan immediately recognized the hysterical Private fighting to keep his carbine trained on the massive crystal before him as one of her own as the rest of his fire team fought to wrestle him to the ground. Pitching her voice to be heard, Megan cursed loudly. “Private Gordon, what the hell is going on here? Lower your weapon and report.”

The large man’s white-rimmed eyes suddenly whipped around to focus on her in surprise as he began screaming frantically. “Sarge … Sarge, it’s gonna fucking kill us all!” Before Gordon could say more Lance Corporal Porter grabbed the larger man by the waist, body-slamming him to the ground in a ju-jitsu throw. “I ordered you to stand down Private!”

Ignoring the physical punishment, Gordon kept on screaming. “Dammit, look at it … just fucking look at it! We’ve gotta stop it before it fucking kills us all!”

Annoyance flickered across Megan’s face as she studied the ridiculous scene before her. She didn’t have time to deal with this stupid shit. The last thing she needed was Captain Nicoara getting wind of this. Striding forward with a purpose, Megan felt her Drill Sergeant’s mask slip into place as she projected her voice.

“Lance Corporal Jordan, I want this mess cleaned up now. Gordon, we’ll deal with this back at base, but for now, I want you to-.“ Megan’s voice suddenly died in mid-blast as her eyes locked onto the scaly fanged maw frozen within the cloudy surface of the crystal Gordon had been firing at. The Private’s maglite cut-off a second later as another Marine slammed his combat boot down on Gordon’s M4, but not before the blood turned to ice in her veins.

For a long moment, Megan stood frozen in place as some primal instinct in the back of her mind gibbered in terror. Trancelike she walked past the struggling soldiers shining her torch at the large crystalline rock. Physically it wasn’t noticeably different than any of the other crystals that filled the cavern. Panning her light to where she’d seen the fanged maw the breath caught in her throat as red glowing eyes suddenly appeared deep within staring down at her. Behind her, Megan heard Lance Corporal Jordon’s startled gasp as he followed the maglite’s beam.

Even though logically she knew it was only an optical illusion from the bright light hitting the creature’s dead eyes, it still took an act of will not to run away screaming for the exit. Breathing deeply, Megan ran her maglite over the scaled horror studying it carefully. The ferocious creature was like nothing she’d ever seen before. It looked like a mutant crossbreeding experiment between an Alien and a gorilla gone horribly wrong. Thick grayish bony plates covered portions of its head and torso while overlong muscular arms with long clawed hands hung like gruesome cleavers at its sides. Even more unbelievable, the creature trapped inside the crystalline rock wasn’t some desiccated mummified corpse like she would have expected after so many centuries. No, if anything, the glistening scales shimmering in the light made the creature look as if it were almost alive, so much so that …

Backing up slowly, Megan swept her maglite at the crystals to either side of the first in growing horror. Within seconds she identified the same eerie effect, even without the maglite. The creatures’ eyes in both were growing red! Pivoting slowly in place Megan began studying the shadowy cavern as a sinking feeling began forming in the pit of her stomach. Everywhere she looked the inky blackness was turning into a sea of glowing red pinpoints. Coming to a stop facing Lance Corporal Jordon’s horror-filled face, her voice cracked as she addressed Lance Corporal Porter.

“Release, Private Gordon.”

“Sarge?”

As the rest of fire team three looked up at her questioningly, Megan jerked out of her trance barking orders. “I want everyone locked n’ loaded! We’re gathering up the science teams and getting the fuck out of here now!” Seeing the shocked look on Porters’ face, she roughly shoved the Lance Corporal ahead of her bellowing. “Move out!”

Before they’d taken a dozen steps, the loud clattering sound of falling rocks began echoing around the chamber as low-rumbling animalistic growls suddenly filled the darkness. The deep resonating sounds that began calling out around the chamber reminded Megan vaguely of her time in Southern Botswana and Zimbabwethe, but unlike the combined sounds of the large beasts of the Africa Bushveld at night, this sent shivers down her spine.

Looking around nervously, Megan kept her Marines moving as she pulled out her handset. “Hunter two Charlie to Charlie squad. Gather up your chicks. We’re RTC. I say again, gather up your chick and return to base, over.” As the scattering reply of affirmatives began answering back, Megan saw the Lance Corporal’s science team suddenly come into view. Huddled together a tight group they looked ready to bolt as they fearfully stared out at the darkness. Seeing their approaching group the lead professor leaped to his feet grabbing Megan’s shoulder urgently.

“What in God’s name is going on Sergeant?”

“No idea Professor. Maybe your dead aliens aren’t so dead after all.” Before the man could scoff at her words, Megan kept talking. “Whatever it is we aren’t staying around to find out.” Putting her arm around the professor’s back, she propelled the man ahead of her. “Let’s move out!”

“But our gear. We can’t just leave everything here.” Twisting around in her grip the professor tried to head back to aluminum boxes stacked at the base of the nearest crystal, but Megan wasn’t having any part of that. “Everyone leave your gear. We’ll come back for it later.”

Raising his voice indignantly, the professor struggled against Megan’s grip. “Our research and data. We have to take it with us.”

Shoving the man forward, Megan snapped harshly. “Seriously people, is this worth your lives?” Swinging her gaze to the other scientists on the team Megan’s voice rose in a harsh whisper. “We’ll come back for the data if we can, but right now my job is to keep you safe, and that’s what I’m doing. Now move out!”

Megan didn’t give them a chance to think as she physically dragged the professor behind her. Following her lead, the Marines hurried the rest of the team after Megan as her radio began to crackle with static. The white noise coming through her headset was suddenly replaced with the sounds of muffled voices arguing. “I do not care what your Sergeant ordered. We are not going anywhere.” There was more scratching static noise and then Private First Class Pierson’s urgent voice came through loud and clear. “Sarge, Professor Holdgate is refusing to leave the target area.”

Looking back at Lance Corporal Jordan in annoyance, Megan shook her head as the large black man rolled his eyes. “Pierson, this isn’t a democracy. I didn’t ask if the Professor wanted to leave. You are to gather up the science team, willing or unwilling, and head to my location on the double.”

“Sarge, that’s not currently possible.”

“Private, enlighten me as to the WHY in five words or less.”

“He’s chained to a crystal.”

“Repeat that Private!”

“Sergeant, Professor Holdgate chained himself to one of the crystals as soon as you ordered the EVAC.”

Shaking her head angrily Megan’s voice rose in command. “Private, you are to use any means necessary to drag that pompous-.“ A terrified scream cut her off in mid-blast as a burst of automatic fire roared to life up ahead. Although the sounds were only about twenty yards away, a line of crystals completely blocked their view as to what was happening. Dropping the professor’s arm, Megan took off at a running as a bestial roar reverberated through the cavern. As another assault rifle began firing on full automatic, Megan began calling urgently into her MIC.

“Pierson, what is your status? Pierson, I need an update. ” Still running Megan screamed into her MIC. “Talk to me Pierson … PIERSON!”

Sprinting around the crystalline rocks, Megan whipped her M4 up as the rest of her Marines followed after her. Flashes of automatic fire lit up the shadowy line of crystals as the screaming white coated shapes of the science team came streaming towards them hysterically. “Lance Corporal Porter, make sure they don’t run off into the cavern.”

Immediately Porter’s voice began barking out orders. “Prat, Rodriguez, Gordon, get on it!" Tuning out the commotion around her, Megan focused on the pain filled screams of her Marines as she swept into the line of crystals. Throwing her back against the hard stone next to the opening, Megan watched Jordon and Porter get into position across from her as another burst of rifle fire ripped through the air. Her head jerked up as the roaring sound cut off a second later with a wet choking gurgle and the clattering sound of a rifle skidding across stone.

Giving the order with a sharp slash of her hand, Megan sprinted between the massive stones as a wordless battle cry ripped from her lips. Instantly the sound died as Megan came to an abrupt stop. Hanging in midair before her was Private Wilson. His eyes bulging out in horror as he weakly grasped at the gore covered claws sticking out of his chest.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Wilson’s hot blood spray across her face. The metronome sound of Megan’s beating heart echoed in her ears as she stumbled back in shock at the grizzly scene. Above Wilson’s head was the same fang filled maw and glowing red eyes she’d seen frozen inside the other crystals, but before she could react the abrupt roar of assault rifles shattered the moment.

The sound was deafening in the enclosed space as the creature flung Wilson away with a flick of its thick arm. Although Megan registered the sickening crunch of Wilson’s body slammed to a stop, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the nightmarish beast straight out of hell towering above her. Grayish reptilian-like scales covered its naked body, except for its head, chest, and back that were protected by bony misshapen growths. Throwing its head back screeching in rage, the creature spun around to face its newest attackers as Johnson and Pierson emptied their clips into the beast’s hide at point blank range.

The deafening roar of automatic fire abruptly cut off as the creature attacked in a blur. Johnson exploded in a spray of blood, his body cleaved in two, as Pierson was swept off his feet in one smooth motion with a clawed fist through his chest. Megan’s scream was drowned out as the carbine roared in her hands spitting out superheated tungsten carbide rounds. As burst after burst hammered into the monster’s head, and shoulders, Jordan and Porter opened fire next to her. Bright specs of light flared from the creature’s skin in her night vision scope as their rounds slammed home, but instead of killing the monster, their bullets just seemed to piss it off even more.

Backing up uncertainly Megan’s team was forced to hold their fire as the monster turned to face them with Pierson flailing body still impaled on its bloody fist. As the creature’s burning red eyes swept over them, incredulously Megan saw Johnson push himself up with his bloody arms. In a white-knuckled fist, he gripped a cherry-shaped device. By the focused pain-filled look on his face, Johnson knew he was already dead, but that didn’t stop him from pulling the pin with the last of his strength and wrapping his arms around the beast’s clawed feet. As the safety handle flipped into the air, Megan dove for cover with Jordan and Porter a step behind her as Johnson screamed out with his last breath.

“Fire in the hole!”

Tears momentarily blinded Megan’s eyes as she rolled to her knees, ears ringing from the concussion of the explosion as the cold realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d just lost a quarter of her squad. Pushing the bloody images away, Megan staggered to her feet forcing the grief away. She’d deal with the loss later, but first she had to get the rest of her soldiers clear of this shit storm. Even half deaf the nightmarish creature’s screeching cries still pierced her ringing head. Whatever the fucking thing was it didn’t die easily. She just hoped they had the firepower to stop it. Taking a quick scan of the horrified faces looking back at her, Megan pulled Jordon and Porter to their feet hollering.

“Everyone back the fuck up now!” At the scraping sounds of claws on stone came from behind them, Megan began waving everyone away holding her own grenade up. “Go … go … go!” Turning around, she threw the grenade through the gap in the crystals.

“Fire in the hole!” The ground shook as Megan shoved Johnson and Pierson ahead of her. Reaching the waiting teams she began bellowing. “We are getting out of here now! Rodriguez, report our status to command. Tell them the target area is hot and we are pulling out.” Pushing her way through the terrified scientists, Megan took up point calling over her shoulder. “Everyone follow me!”

They hadn’t taken three steps when all hell broke loose. From every direction sounds of automatic fire roared as bestial howls began screeching out in the darkness. As the sound of a small avalanche drew her eyes to the nearest crystal, it burst open like an overripe melon as another nightmarish creature struggled to rise onto its hands and knees. Wide-eyed Megan sent a burst at the disoriented beast screaming over her shoulder. “Don’t stop, just keep on moving.” Swatting at the bullets slamming into its misshapen face, the monster fell back in confusion as the rest of her squad let loose with their carbines as they took off after her. Within seconds they were pass the creature.

Unfortunately, that did little to stop the knot of terror forming in the pit of Megan’s stomach as more glowing red eyes began appearing down the dark row of crystals ahead of them. Pressing her lips together, she swore silently. They were running out of time. Slamming a fresh clip into her rifle, Megan’s lungs pumped in a steady rhythm as she mercilessly led the scientists and combat team through the maze of crystalline rows at a dead sprint, which was somewhat of a misnomer. The extra eighty pounds of gear each member of her squad carried greatly reduced their top speed. Still, listening to the ragged gasping breaths coming from the civilians behind her, she knew they’d have to stop soon. They just weren’t trained to take this level of physical punishment.

Coming to a wide gap at the center of the cavern, Megan brought the squad to an abrupt stop, her eyes sweeping the cavern between them and the exit intently. Even though Megan’s body shook from the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she didn’t let it sap her strength as it ran its course. Instead, she rode the high like a surfer, using the excess energy to increase her body’s perception and speed as the dark shadows began crawling with movement around them.

They were too late. Megan’s initial plan had been to disengage and get the noncombatants to safety, but after listening to the cries for help coming from her headset and the mass of glowing red eyes growing in the darkness, there was no question in her mind that escape was no longer possible. Especially when most of her civilian charges were collapsed on the ground gasping for breath in exhaustion. Not that their response was unexpected.

For most people an ‘Adrenaline Rush’ only lasts for about twelve seconds. After that, the body collapses from the depletion of nearly all of its available muscle energy. Interestingly enough, this survival instinct of twelve seconds must be the average time programmed into our hypothalamus needed for most humans to survive disasters in general over the ages. Meaning that if you could survive a life or death situation for at least twelve seconds, you probably have a fifty-fifty chance or better to survive.

Who knows, maybe this response was longer in our cave-born ancestors and this twelve-second physiological response is more of a modern phenomenon. Just enough time to get out of a modern-day life and death situation, but like anything else there are always exceptions to the rule. People that pop culture tagged as ‘Adrenaline Junkies’. Individuals like combat Marines or extreme sports enthusiasts who learned to stretch those twelve seconds out into minutes or even hours.

Psychologists liked to say this reaction in humans was not an instinct, but a learned survival response to a perceived threat. A built-in mechanism of the body’s fight for life mechanism. Pressing her lips together, Megan swore softly. Idiots the lot of them. That same response was called an instinct in every other animal on the planet. A typical institutionalized bullshit response to hide the fact that humans were animals too.

The thoughts flashed through Megan’s mind in the blink of an eye as dust and smoke choked the air while explosions shook the cavern. Around them, Marines fought for their lives in small groups as more and more of the nightmarish creatures rose up out of the darkness. Like a gear shifting into drive Megan’s tactical mind suddenly came to a decision as her eyes dilated. There really wasn’t a better option. Except for the large single crystal in the center, this was the only space she’d seen with a clear field of fire. This was it. This was where they would make their final stand.

Changing the settings on her personal navigation system to broadcast, Megan picked up her MIC broadcasting to the surviving fire teams in the Pit. “Hunter two Charlie calling all surviving Hunters in the Pit. All units are to fall back on my coordinates. I repeat, all units are to fall back on my coordinates, over.”

Slamming her handset back into its cradle, Megan began bellowing out orders. “Up! Get your asses up!” Pulling civilians to their feet, she shouted to the rest of her squad. “Everybody to the middle crystal. We’re digging in!”

Once they got everyone moving in the right direction, Mega pull Rodriguez to her side. “Get Command on the horn. Tell them we need the heavy weapons squads down here now!”

“On it, Sarge.”

“Lance Corporal Porter, I want the squad spread out covering every approach. Work with Jordon to get the surviving fire teams spread out as they come in.”

Feeling a presence at her back, Megan turned to see Lance Corporal Dion Jordon’s grim face. This was the first time she’d ever seen the large black man shaken. “What the hell are we doing Megan? You saw how effective our weapons were against those things.”

Frowning at the familiar use of her first name, Megan grabbed the larger man by the collar of his MCCUU’s hissing under her breath. “Lance Corporal Jordon, I expect you to act like a Marine!” Cocking her head towards the frightened civilians, Megan laid into him. “If you can’t then go ahead and sit your ass down with the civilians, because I don’t have time for this pussy-ass bullshit.” Ignoring the angry look spreading across Dion’s face she hammered her point home. “Our weapons might not have killed these things, but we sure the hell can hurt them. If they can be hurt, then by God we can find a way to kill them. Does that make sense to you Lance Corporal?”

“Yea.”

“Yea? Yea what, Lance Corporal? Yea like I need to stick a boot up your ass?

“Hoo-rah!” Looking straight ahead, Jordan snapped to attention answering smartly. “Yes Sergeant, I’m glad to be a United States Marine and to have this opportunity to send these fuckers back to whatever hole they crawled out of!”

“Excellent, now get your ass on the perimeter.” Megan’s eyes lingered for a moment on Dion’s back as the Lance Corporal quickly got into a prone position a short distance away. Anger was the surest way to keep him on track. Turning back around at the scraping sounds of boots on stone, Megan saw the first bloody fire team come running out of the darkness. The surviving group of Marines were from three different squads and looked like they’d been through hell. Without waiting for orders, Porter got them into position as more and more of third company’s Raiders began streaming out of the darkness.

Dion was angry, but that was okay. Megan could work with angry, but not that helpless bullshit. That shit just pissed her off. You’d think by now she’d have learned never to get wasted around her soldiers, but that’s what you got for shitting where you ate. Dion would never have back talked her if she hadn’t fucked him. Unfortunately, Megan liked alcohol and big men, especially large, broad-shouldered ones like Dion. Normally she would have handled his freak-out with a little more privacy, but there just wasn’t time to treat him with kid gloves. Right now she needed him to be a Marine.

Studying the massive crystalline shape that dominated the center of the clearing. There was no question in Megan’s mind that the snake-woman frozen inside was a Gorgon. The serpent-like tail clearly marked her as the monster of legend from Greek mythology. A creature of whose look could turn a human to stone, and cursed by Athena to live an immortal life of loneliness for having the misfortunate of being raped by Poseidon. Poor woman, Megan had always felt like the Gorgon had gotten a bad rap throughout history.

Looking upon that inhumanly beautiful face frozen in its silent plea to the heavens, Megan could almost believe this was the same creature of legend. The bright thick snake coils that made up the woman’s lower body were brightly colored like a coral snake’s, while long claws visibly protruded from each outstretched finger. The woman’s full breasts hung free of restraints, her only clothing being an intricately crafted metal utility belt strapped around the line where the human-like body met serpent-like scales. It was kind of like the Queen of Blades meets Mother Teresa, but without the misshapen purple humanoid torso and bat-like wings. She should have been scared shitless and doing her best to see if anyone had C-4 to blow the rock to pieces before it let loose the alien in the midst of their defensive formation, but something stayed her hand. Before she could reconsider the roar of assault rifles forced her eyes back to the situation at hand as screeching howls of pain and rage blasted her eardrums.

Whipping her assault rifle up, Megan’s M4 kicked in her hands as she added her fire to the stream of bullets hammering the nightmarish creatures that suddenly strode out of the darkness into the open. Purple blood sprayed from the bullet holes that punctured the beasts’ chests and arms as round after round slammed into the advancing monsters, but although they were obviously hurting the creatures, they weren’t going down. At first, Megan had hoped that the weight of their combined firepower would drive the creatures back amongst the crystals at the edge of the clearing, but as she swapped out her empty magazine for a fresh clip, she realized that wasn’t going to happen. Already more and more of the nightmarish beasts were pushing their way into the open spaces between the outer rings of crystals, surrounding them in a solid wall of bodies as their screeching animalistic howls rose in unison like a hungry pack of wolves. There was no way this could be good.

Hollering to be heard, Megan called out her orders. “Hold your fire.” As the roar of the assault rifles stopped, her voice rang out again. “M-67 grenades on the count of three. One … two … three, fire in the hole!”

Ducking low Megan waited for a count of three seconds for the multiple concussive blasts, before bouncing back to her feet. What she expected to see was a bloody mass of mauled creatures reeling from the explosions. What she saw was a frenzied screeching rush of bleeding enraged monsters charging across the gap as everything went to shit. Without a thought, Megan’s grenade launcher barked in her hands almost at point blank range for the weapon. The explosive round blasted the nearest creature directly in the chest as the concussive backblast blew her off her feet. After that everything got fuzzy.

Megan rolled to her hands and knees coughing up blood. The ringing in her ears muted the screams coming from the soldiers around her as Megan scrambled after her assault rifle in slow motion. She was just reaching for the rifle’s handgrip when her face was driven into the rocky ground as the air whooshed out of her lungs. Immediately she was wrenched into the air. The straps of Megan’s backpack dug into her shoulders as her entire body was shaken like a rat in the jaws of a giant terrier. Megan felt the helmet rip from her head as flashes of bloody faces and screaming men fighting nightmarish creatures whipped past her face in a blur. As her helmet tumbled away, Megan slapped at her chest for the quick release clips. Gripping the smooth plastic in a death grip, she released the straps as the backpack was torn from her back.

The air was forced from Megan’s lungs as she slammed hard into the ground, nearly passing out from the pain. Something cracked in her chest as Megan pushed herself up to her hands and knees. Seeing her assault rifle in front of her, Megan dove for the weapon without a second thought. Gripping the M4 with both hands, she rolled onto her back firing as soon as she saw the glowing red eyes. Armor piercing rounds slammed into the monstrous face at point blank range as Megan wordlessly howled emptying the entire clip in one long burst, but as soon as the bullets stopped, the shrieking creature batted the rifle from her hands with a swipe of its claws. Chunks of bloody skin hung from its nightmarish face as it rose above her. Megan’s scream filled her ears as the fang-filled maw open to rip her face off when the monster’s head disappeared in a spray of blood.

The scream died on her lips as Megan was blinded by a fountain of gore spraying from the headless corpse. The sounds of combat around her were incomprehensible as Megan struggled to clear the blood from her eyes. An involuntary scream escaped her lips as powerful hands effortlessly picked her up like a child. Before she could do more than flail around blindly, she was gently set on the ground a short distance away.

Using the sleeves of her MCCUU, Megan managed to wipe enough of the blood away to meet the eyes of her rescuer as her jaw suddenly dropped open in shock. The large dark brown eyes staring down at her over the protruding brown furred muzzle were like nothing she’d seen before. There were no whites to the iris, dark brown filled the entire eye instead except for the black pupil at the center. Megan had no doubts as to what her rescuer was as her eyes goggled at the large curved horns protruding from the top of the beastman’s triangle shaped head. Her first thought was Tauren, but almost instantly the word was replaced in her mind with Minotaur as her eyes took in the ornate overlapping breastplate that covered the man’s … the male’s … the bull’s broad chest.

The Minotaur squatting before her should have terrified her, but something in those dark brown eyes calmed her fears without a saying word. The expression on the bullish face staring down at her wasn’t one of a brute wild animal or a ferocious beast, but one of empathy and intelligence. As the bull’s head turned away, Megan saw more of the anachronistic warriors fighting around them. Individually they completely devastated the nightmarish creatures with ease.

For a moment, Megan wondered if she were hallucinating. The power of the Minotaur warriors was incredible. Using large shields and curved glowing fist blades, the small group of warriors pushed back the wave of monsters with nothing but their brute strength. Megan nearly jumped out of her skin as the Minotaur’s head turned back to regard her once again, especially when one of his large gauntleted hands gripped her shoulder urgently.

“Ego Decanus Sestius Natalinus et nonam quidem legionem. Auxilium conservi bellantium hoc suis certare.”

Although the words made no sense, Megan blinked in surprise at the sound of the cultured intelligence in the Minotaur’s deep bass. It was almost as if she could make out the strange words. Before she could stutter out a reply of her own, a much large male suddenly strode into view.

Immediately, Megan’s mind labeled the new warrior as an officer. The ornate armored breastplate and fur-lined billowing white cape were obviously of a different quality than that of her rescuer’s simple gear. The Minotaur looked like a Centurion right out of the movie Gladiator. Without preamble the large male raised a spiked gauntleted fist into the air bellowing in a deep rumbling voice.

“Legionis veniat ad me … Legionis veniat ad me, Fratres, qui venerunt a somno defendere debemus et facerent sacerdos tutum!”

Megan instantly recognized the determination in the dark brown eyes of her rescuer as he released her shoulder with a grim nod. She recognized the look of honor in the bull shaped face. It was the look of a soldier prepared to die for a cause they believed in. In that split-moment, the Minotaur bending over her wasn’t just a dumb beast or animal in her eyes, but something more. Without another word, her rescuer rose to his hooves with the clanking sound of metal on metal. Hefting a massive double-headed battle-axe in his muscular arms, he strode towards the combat formation taking shape around the officer as the large bull bellowed out orders.

“Una formatio!”

Incredulously, Megan’s head jerked up in sudden comprehension. It was from her time stationed in Italy that helped her make the connection. She’d studied Latin in high school. Even though it’s a dead language, it formed the basis of most European languages. She couldn’t make out French the same as a native Spanish speakers could, but she was fluent in Italian. Thinking back, Megan translated the words the Minotaur had first spoken to her. Ego Decanus Sestius Natalinus et nonam quidem legionem … I am Legionary Sergeant Sestius Natalinus of the ninth legion … Auxilium conservi bellantium hoc suis certare … Help your fellow warriors, this is our fight ... Legionis veniat ad me, Fratres, qui venerunt a somno defendere debemus et facerent sacerdos tutum … legionnaires to me, we must defend our brothers coming out of sleep and keep the priestess safe.

Watching the handful of Minotaurs face the horde of nightmarish creatures rushing out of the darkness, Megan realized they weren’t in much better shape than her own Marines. Every one of them was injured. Most of their weapons and gear were obviously battered and worn. If they were worried about being horribly outnumbered they didn’t show it, except for the same grim determination that had been in her rescuer’s eyes. As the savage wave broke against the warriors’ line, Megan pushed herself to her feet. At first, she couldn’t have put into words exactly what drove her. Picking up her assault rifle, she loaded a fresh grenade into the launcher. There was no question that the Minotaurs had saved their asses. That they were a better choice than the savage creatures that were trying to rip them apart with their teeth and claws was an obvious yes.

Still, Megan didn’t believe in the saying “The enemy of your enemy is your friend.” That proverb had been disproved again and again throughout human history, but what stood out in her mind was the honor that Legionary Sestius Natalinus and his squad had shown her. They could have done nothing and let her people be slaughtered. It wouldn’t have cost them. If anything, it would have removed a possible enemy at their backs, but instead, against all reason, the Minotaurs had put their lives on the line to save her people. That, more than anything, had shown her the character of these creatures and it was something a Marine like her could respect.

Looking towards the seething darkness and the advancing red-glowing eyes between them and the exit, Megan gripped her assault rifle grimly as her mind focused on one thought. These Minotaurs was the single best chance she had of getting her people out of this alive. Locking n’ loading a fresh clip into her M4 she began pulling the soldiers around her to their feet screaming.

“Get your asses up Marines, we’re not out of this fight yet!”

***

Location Earth / Beth Kurwoski:

The six-hour flight to Naples was relatively uneventful. Most of Beth’s time was spent in silence due to the roar of the jet engines and the lack of sound insulation inside the cabin. On boarding, each of them was issued duel-ear noise cancelation headsets for the trip, which made talking nearly impossible.

They all received questioning looks from the combat soldiers already seated as they secured their weapons and prepared for takeoff. Klaus’ monstrous Zweihänder earned the most looks and a few derisive chuckles. The hilt and blade together had to be at least five feet long, which meant the sword was almost as long as Klaus was tall. Unconcerned about the soldiers’ sneers the native German stowed his gear away, lifting the great two-handed sword as if it weighed nothing.

Naples, on the other hand, was another story altogether. The excitement started shortly after landing. Meeting up with the Italian Ukkodians went much smoother. The two dark haired men waiting for them at the foot of the C-17’s ramp were quickly signed over to Ryan without comment, even though the men’s gear looked like something right out of a Matrix movie.

Although both men wore heavy black leathers, their styles were completely different. Fabio Lombard, the first man to introduce himself, was lean and tall with long wavy black hair that fell down his back that nearly blended in with the rune-covered, high-necked leather coat that hung down to his ankles. The buckles from the waist down were open, showing his knee-high boots and skin tight leather pants. The butt of a chrome-plated forty-five automatic hung from his waist, matching the intricate chrome-plated design on the hilt of the saber bobbing over his shoulder.

During the introduction, Fabio studied her intensely. His black eyes never leaving her face even as he was introduced to the rest of the team. The man radiated an animal-like magnetism that held her gaze. At least, until Marco Bruno stepped forward to take his place. Only then was Beth able to pull her eyes away from the man’s haunting looks.

Where Fabio was tall and sleek like a panther, Marco was short and heavily muscled with close-cropped hair and no-nonsense blue eyes. His chest was so broad that he hadn’t bothered to buckle his jacket closed, so Beth could see the silver-tooled wolf’s head worked into the leather breastplate that covered his chest and parts of the heavy pauldrons that encased his shoulders. Plain black forty-fives hung from his hips and gun-metal sword hilts with round knobbed ends stuck-up diagonally from his back on either side of his head. Everything about the man was no-nonsense, but, like Fabio, Marco’s blue eyes never left her face during the entire introductions.

While Beth had felt Klaus and the young Polish men studying her covertly during the trip, the reverent intensity from the two Italians was almost unnerving. Ryan helped defuse the edginess she felt as he got them all moving for the two V-22 Osprey’s that Mrs. Strafford had requested to be on standby for their arrival. The Marine Raiders trying to catch up to their deployed Expeditionary Unit were less than happy about the holdup. As soon as the Shore Patrol Humvees dropped them off at the waiting birds, the shit hit the fan.

“What the hell do you mean you have sixteen passengers? We’re not a civilian transport service. These are military aircraft assigned to deploy needed troops to the field. Command Sergeant Major Thompson has already ordered us to be in the air by zero three hundred hours with or without your group and it’s already zero two hundred fifty.” Turning around the Sergeant called out over his shoulder as he headed for his squad waiting at the base of the Osprey’s ramp. “It looks like you’re going to have to catch another flight out to Santorini for your people. This one’s already booked.”

Immediately Beth felt her temper flare. The man was purposely being an asshole. Before she could snap out an angry reply, Ryan’s voice lowered warningly. “Sergeant Carlucci, you will get your ass back here and follow orders, or I will hold you personally responsible.” Without turning around the Sergeant shot double birds over his shoulders as his men laughed out loud. Unamused, Ryan closed the distance in five quick steps. Slamming his hand down on the man’s shoulder, he spun the Marine around to face him.

“I’m not done talking to you Sergeant!” As soon as the words left Ryan’s lips, Carlucci moved. Spinning around the Sergeant swung a forearm at Ryan’s face. Quicker than the blink of an eye, Ryan stepped back and caught the man’s attack as his other hand came up under the Marine’s underarm. In a blur the Sergeant flew up and down into the air, slamming hard to the ground at Ryan’s feet. Immediately the two squads of Marine at the Osprey’s ramp launched themselves at Ryan.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Beth’s training took over as she sprang into action with the rest of the Ukkodians at her back. It was seven against twenty-four, not that it would have mattered if it were seven against forty-eight. The fight was over in a matter of seconds. As if they’d been working together for years, the men formed a wedge on either side of her as they crashed into the oncoming soldiers.

Beth straight-armed the lead Marine in the throat with an open palm punch as her elbow smashed into his jaw a split-second later with the entire weight of her body. As the man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, Beth threw herself at the next soldier. Dodging a strike to her face, Beth grabbed the man’s forearm with both hands. Throwing her weight backward, she yanked the Marine off-balance as she swung legs up and around the man’s neck. With a twist of her hips, she took the soldier down in a flying armbar. As the man plowed into the ground head first, Beth used the momentum of the throw to roll onto the soldier’s back looking for another target, but none of Marines were left standing.

The sound of yelling voices came from the Osprey next to them as armed Marines came pouring down the ramp. Whipping their assault rifles up at the sight of their brothers in arms incapacitated on the runway, they surged forward angrily as the lead Corporal began yelling orders.

“Get your asses on the ground now!” As the two squads began spreading out around them in a tense half circle, Beth rose to face the Corporal head-on as the runes engraved into her combat armor began to glow. The use of her runic power wasn’t even a conscious thought. The threat of imminent danger triggered her defensive abilities automatically. In her peripheral vision, Beth saw glows from the other Ukkodians around her as they rose to their feet beside her while Ryan kept the Sergeant pinned to the ground.

“Corporal, I suggest you and your men stand down before someone gets-“

Cutting her off in midsentence, the Corporal stepped forward thrusting his M4 into her face. “I said to get your asses on the ground- .“ The Marine never finished his sentence. As soon as the barrel was aggressively shoved into her face, Beth’s temper flared. Stepping forward, the heel of her foot swept the Corporal off his feet as her fist slammed into the side of the man’s head. As the Corporal went down hard, she ripped the M4 from his numb grip before he hit the ground as the Ukkodians around her exploded into action.

Like something out the Matrix, Beth saw the two Italians flip unbelievably high into the air as their black leather coats flared around them. In one smooth motion, the men’s weapons left their sheaths as they landed in the middle of the Marines’ lines, their flying dropkicks dropping a pair of soldiers each. Coming to a stop Fabio’s automatic swept up to press against the temple of the nearest soldier’s head as his saber came to a stop pressed against the throat of another, while Marco short blades whipped out in a sweeping arc under the chins of another two Marines.

At the same time, Klaus and the three Polish men blurred into action. As the point of the massive two-handed sword was shoved into the nearest Marine’s face by the German, the Poles spread out in three different directions. Coming to a stop to either side of the half circle, Janusz and Ivan had their automatics and swords pressed to the eyes of the two closest Marines on either side of them as Kai came to a stop in front of the second Corporal. Sweeping his legs out from under him, Kai ripped the man’s rifle from his frozen hands. As the Corporal slammed into the ground, Kai wordlessly pressed the barrel of the M4 against the man’s head smiling.

“I would follow the Lady’s orders if I were you.”

The sudden silence was almost palpable as Ryan, still holding the Sergeant’s forearm locked in an armbar behind his back, addressed the man at his feet. “I said we weren’t finished talking yet, Sergeant.”

Craning his head around to take in the situation, Sergeant Carlucci snarled to his men. “Stand down.” Seeing the hesitant looks from his men, he pressed his forehead against the concrete bellowing. “I’m ordering everyone to stand down!” As the Marines slowly lowered their weapons, Beth flicked the M4’s safety switch to on, before dropping the rifle next to the Corporal laying at her feet. As the adrenaline rush left her, the glowing runes on her armor started fading to black as the rest of the team sheathed their weapons and began helping the Marines they’d subdued back to their feet.

The one overwhelming display of force was all that was needed to snap the combat teams back in line. Once Ryan explained the need for a total of sixteen spots for his people, Sergeant Carlucci had his men pull the seats out of both Ospreys’ cargo holds, which gave them enough room for sixty-four troops. All the space that was needed for their entire team and the four squads of Marines. The reconfiguration took about ten minutes per bird. By the time, they took off from Naples they were only twenty minutes behind schedule.

The planes were unlike anything Beth had ever flown in before. The Ospreys were built for speed and function. Cables and struts were clearly visible along the inner hulls of the planes. Without seats, stowing their gear and finding a place to sit was interesting to say the least, which didn’t help much when the pilot took off like a bat out of hell. Otherwise the flight was uneventful, but after seven and a half hour flying, the stopover at the Aktion Forward Operating Base in Greece was a welcomed relief. Beth’s entire body felt battered and beaten. Even with noise canceling headsets, the intensity of the sound was physically wearing. As soon as the planes jolted to a hard stop on landing, Beth focused her healing ability to remove the weariness from her aching body. Looking around the tight quarters of the Osprey she could see faint glows around the cabin as the other Ukkodians of her team followed her lead. By the time the plane taxied to a stop, she was fully recovered.

The Marines stiffly exited the plane glancing sullenly at Beth and her team as they realized her people were unaffected by the long flight. Grinning to herself, Beth ignored their appraising looks. It was just another cock measuring contest to see who was tougher. The only thing her healing didn’t seem to help was the ringing in her ears. Seeing Ryan heading towards a Greek security detail stopped at the edge of the runway, she fell in behind him as Sergeant Carlucci’s voice bellowed out over the roar of the engines.

“Okay Marines, you have thirty minutes before we load back up and leave these goatbangers behind.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Beth saw the Greeks working the fuel pumps pause to give the Marines an ugly look before continuing their work. “You’d think that man would learn to keep his mouth shut.”

Seeing the annoyed look on her face, Ryan gave her a wry grin as Klaus clapped a calloused hand on her shoulder with a laugh. “Welcome to the world of Special Ops, Kleine.” Nodding towards the waiting Greeks, the old German spoke in a hushed whisper. “I just hope this meeting goes well. Even all these years after the war and the current financial crisis, the Greeks still hold little love for Germans or Italians.” As they neared the large group of Greek soldiers at the edge of the field, Beth cocked her head to the side in confusion. Most of the men were wearing the typical combat fatigues you’d expect to find on a military installation, but a small group of eight standing in the middle was dressed very differently.

“Are those soldiers wearing skirts?”

Ryan’s head jerked up at her words as Klaus laughed heartily. “Those soldiers are the famed Evzones. That is the elite combat uniform of the Hellenic Army’s infamous mountain unit.”

Beth’s mouth hung open in surprise as Ryan eyed the men speaking in a low voice. “Their Special Forces units wear dresses?”

“The skirt is traditionally called a Foustanella.” Seeing their blank looks, Klaus quickly explained. “Think of it as the Greek version of the Scottish kilt, but made from silk. Whatever you do don’t make any despairing comments about their traditional garb. These mountain Greeks from Kalamata are a proud people who take offense easily.”

Glancing back over her towards Sergeant Carlucci, Beth grimaced. “I don’t see this working out well.”

Belly laughing Klaus released their shoulders. “Don’t worry Kleine, I’m sure the Sergeant will learn manners on this trip one way or another.” Stepping ahead of them, Klaus took the lead as they approached the Greek soldiers. Coming to a stop in front of a tall older man, the German snapped his heels together coming to attention. “Kirios Thanos Karaiskakis?”

Standing up straight the Greek’s light blue eyes studied Klaus for a moment, before nodding his head respectfully. “Herr Krüger.”

“I wanted to thank you once again for you and your men being available on such a short notice. Please let me introduce the Americans I told you about.” Stepping back, Klaus nodded towards Ryan first. “Agents Ryan Moss and Beth Kurwoski.”

As Beth stepped forward to shake hands, the Greek bowed low, reverently taking her hand in a two-handed grip. “It is a great honor to meet a Cleric of Ukko.” Unsure of how to respond, Beth returned the half-bow before stepping back next to Ryan.

With a big smile, Klaus began making introductions to the rest of the team as Beth realized all the Greeks were watching her intently. Covertly she studied them back in return. They were all large men over six feet tall. To the last man, the Greek’s wore a light khaki, long-sleeved tunic vest and a similarly colored silk skirt that flared out at mid-thigh. White stockings with black garters at the knees covered their legs while thick leather-like moccasins with black pompoms on the toes protected their feet. On their heads, each dark skinned man wore felt red cap with a long black tassel. The soldiers were equipped with a black-flapped holstered pistol, a small metal shield slung over their back and a long curved sword that hung from their waist. As soon as Klaus introduced the last member of their team, Beth’s eyes were pulled away from her visual inspection of their uniforms as the swarthy man introduced himself, before nodded towards the rest of his men standing at attention.

“I am Thanos Karaiskakis and these are my men: Demetrius Mavromichalis, Alexander Doxaras, Andreas Diakos, Manos Botsaris, Stelios Anagnostakos, Nikos Gerakaris and Marios Tzannetakis.” The introductions were quick, and Beth almost forgot the foreign names as soon as they left his mouth. As soon as the introductions were finished, Thanos called over the officer of their escort who immediately snapped to attention along with the rest of his men.

“Captain, I thank you and your men for the escort, but I believe we are in good hands now. Until our return.”

“Yes, Sir. It was our pleasure to be of service, Colonel.”

As soon as Thanos returned the Captain’s salute the Greek soldiers began loading up into their vehicles. Ignoring Klaus’ raised eyebrows at his rank, Thanos waved them towards a small rickety table with sliced meats, olives, peppers and feta. “I would be honored if you would join us for a quick meal and coffee before the flight.”

The meeting between the very different teams went inordinately well. Unsurprising since they were all Ukkodians, but Beth could respect Klaus’ concern. Between the recent financial crisis and the memories of World War Two, many European countries still didn’t fully trust the Germans, but time heals most wounds. Thankfully, most of the Greek soldiers were of similar age to the Polish contingent, and the young men hit it off together immediately as Thanos and his Sergeant, Stelios Anagnostakos, discussed the current situation in Santorini with the rest of them. Beth explained all she could while munching on the fresh olives and stuffed red peppers, slices of lamb meat, coarse grained bread and sipping the amazingly flavorful coffee from a tiny ornate cup. Taking the last sip in a gulp, Beth suddenly gagged spitting out a mouthful of grinds as Klaus laughed slapping her in-between the shoulders. “Don’t drain your cup like an American Kleine, that’s where all the coffee grinds go.”

Spitting out the last mouthful, Beth grimaced. “Thanks for warning me ahead of time.” Everyone began laughing as Beth hacked to clear her mouth, but before she could give Klaus a hard time, Sergeant Carlucci gave a shout from the ramp of their Osprey.

“Agent Moss, we’re loading up.” With a couple of sharp commands in Greek, Thanos got his men moving as the rest of them headed for the planes. As soon as Sergeant Carlucci got a good look at the Greeks joining them, he shook his head in disgust. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the other Osprey, the Sergeant raised his voice to be heard. “Alrighty then, you goatherders are in the other bird. Corporal Fergusson will show you where to store your gear.”

Thanos’ face perked up as he proudly clapped the older man next to him on the shoulder with a grin. “They must have heard about your goats all the way back in America, Stelios. Everyone always says Stelios has the best goats in the region.” As the Greeks heartily laughed with one another, they missed Agent Moss catch the Sergeant’s eyes. Without saying a word he silently pointed towards the cargo hold, before turning back to the conversation.

“If anything comes up we’ll radio you on the way, Colonel.” Holding out his hand to the rugged Greek, “I just wanted to thank you and your men for making yourselves available at such a short notice once again.”

Stepping in close Thanos opened his arms wide pulling Ryan in for a two-handed hug, before kissing him on each cheek. “It is our honor to be of service to our Ukkodian brother and sister from the Americas.”

Beth choked back a laugh at the shocked look on Ryan’s face in time to return the older man’s friendly hug with a straight face. With a fierce slap to their backs, the Greek Colonel led his men to the second plane as Beth breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing the look on her face, Klaus raised a questioning eyebrow. “I thought we were going to have another confrontation with Sergeant Carlucci and his men for the goatherder comment.”

Grinning in sudden understanding Klaus clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Amongst other things, Thanos and his men are goatherders. A respected profession in the southern Peloponnese region. Most of the Greeks who live there raise sheep and goats.” Glancing at the proud backs of the Greek men, he grinned. “Even a dummkopf like the Sergeant has to get lucky sometimes.”

Heading up the ramp for the last leg of the flight to Santorini, Beth gave an inward sigh. She wasn’t looking forward to being stuck for another eight hours in the cramped military transport, but there wasn’t anything that could be done about it. Before the ramp fully closed behind them, Beth felt the Osprey lurch as it began rising into the air.

Chapter Thirty

Location Irlendria / Lúthien Narmolanya:

Sinking to her knees in exhaustion, Lúthien looked around in stunned amazement as Argus’ fangs ripped out the last Scourge’s throat. The near-death experience and subsequent battle for life were almost too much for her logical mind to take in all at once. Closing her eyes, Lúthien shivered in horror. Although most of the battle was just a blur to her now, she could still remember with crystal clarity the feeling of the Hulk’s claws tearing through the bone and flesh of her chest. The surreal touch of the wet sand against her back as her life’s blood pooled on the ground around her, while she lay helplessly watching the grotesque Hulk strangle her cousin to death was a memory that would never leave her.

Until now, Lúthien had never fully understood the hushed reverence the Elders of her people held for the Paladins of Klavika. Throughout her life, she’d grown up with the incredible tales of how the Holy Klavikian Paladins had allowed the beleaguered Alliance Armies to hold against the endless hordes invading their lands, mostly from her brother whenever he came home to visit from the war. For the greater part of her life, Lúthien’s dreams had been filled with the heroic deeds of the Paladin Ilmarinen Ironwolf and his She-Wolf companion, Novastar.

Nevertheless, even though she’d repeatedly heard about the incredible feats of healing that had saved the armies from annihilation time after time. Nothing could have prepared her for the emotional impact of being brought back to life from the brink of death until she’d experienced the sensation for herself. It felt as if a part of her had been reborn.

Taking deep, ragged breaths, Lúthien held her eyes squeezed shut as she heard the heavy clopping tread of approaching hooves and the familiar loud clanking sounds of Wolf Gauntlets transforming. Her body stiffened as thick muscular arms gently wrap around her torso. For a moment, Lúthien thought her beating heart was going to explode out of her chest as she fought to control the overwhelming emotions running through her heart, when the dam suddenly broke with a soul-wrenching cry. Burying her face in the fine soft fur she remembered so well, Lúthien’s small hands held the powerful biceps with a death grip as her body shook with each ragged sob. Slowly she felt the strong arms tenderly gather her up, before crushing her against the hard tinnearlian breastplate as Tiberius’ deep rumbling baritone spoke softly into her ear.

“Everything is going to be good, Boo.” The thudding of her heart slowly began to settle down as he gently rocked her back and forth. “I gave you my word I would always do everything within my power to protect you. That will never change.” Pushing back to look up into Tiberius’ dark-brown eyes, Lúthien felt her lips quiver as she regarded his regal ebony face. Tenderly she ran her delicate fingers over the open slashes running down either side of his prominent muzzle. His strong face was so different than that of her own kind.

Lúthien had always felt so safe in his arms. Her xenophobic people couldn’t see the nobility behind the bestial features of his race, but she knew well the honorable heart that beat in his chest. It still pained her when she remembered the dishonorable treatment Tiberius received in her father’s court after he and his legionnaires had given so much to stop the Tuonellian invaders from overwhelming Daeron Fortress. While the accusations of impropriety leveled against him had been groundless and irrational. It showed an ugly side of her people that she’d never realized existed. Although she had never looked at Tiberius sexually, she had to admit the prince was beautiful in his own right.

Throughout their time together, Tiberius had never treated her with anything less than respect. Before the charges, Lúthien had never thought of him as a “male” per say. Simply because that had never been the nature of their relationship, but now blushing in his strong arms, she suddenly realized things were distinctly different between them. Unlike her wild cousins, High Elves were forbidden to intermingle with other species, but, taboo or not, she couldn’t deny the raw emotions running through her beating heart.

From the very first day they’d met Lúthien had been drawn to him. It was the first time in her life she’d met someone that wasn’t an Elf beside a Wenci. Without hesitation, she had questioned him relentlessly about his homeland as she gawked openly at the large curved horns protruding from his head. To the shock of the entire court, he had laughingly swept her off her tiny feet to place her on his massive shoulders, so she could inspect the horns for herself. From that moment on they were inseparable, to the chagrin of her mother and father, she would follow him wherever he went. Always he was her “Tibus” and she his “Boo”, at least until her peoples’ betrayal.

Unfortunately, Lúthien had never been allowed to tell her side of the story, before he was banished from their land. She knew the lies had hurt Tiberius deeply. Leaning against his chest Lúthien couldn’t stop herself from shaking. For some reason, her father had used the lie to widen the gap between their two peoples, but even now, after all that had happened, she could never believe her Tibus was here to harm her. Choking back her tears, Lúthien spoke urgently pushing him away.

“You can’t be here my sweet Tibus. My people will kill you on sight.”

Feeling Tiberius’ thick fingers gently comb through her long hair, Lúthien’s heart ached at his sad smile. “Even so Boo, I still must speak with the leaders of the Elven Clans.”

Confusion warred against Lúthien’s emotions as she suddenly remembered the Scourge in legionnaire dress as her words unconsciously turned hard. “Why have you come? Why are Scourge in your ranks? Is the Imperium now aligned against us?”

Unflustered, Tiberius answered calmly. “My people are not your enemy, nor has the Imperium joined the Horde, but…” Lúthien breath caught in her throat as she saw the raw anguish rise in his eyes. “The Emperor is long dead. In his place now sits a Hulk that wears my father’s face like a mask.”

Before she could begin speaking of her own tragedy, a sharp exclamation of excitement from one of Tiberius’ Bulls cut her off. “Sire, the Paladin yet lives!”

Immediately, Lúthien was swept off her feet as Tiberius effortlessly rose to his hooves. In three great strides, he reached the mutilated body that his legionnaires stood around in a half circle. Warily they stood back out of the range of the angrily Wild Elf and Centaur that stood protectively over the injured warrior. As soon as they broke through the circle, Lúthien heard Enelya’s hiss of anger as Argus’ rumbling growl sounded behind her. For a second she was taken aback by the savage look on her cousin’s face.

“I said stand back!”

“Enelya, these Minotaurs are not our enemies!” Springing out of Tiberius’ arms Lúthien launched herself at her cousin emphasizing her words with her hands waving excitedly. “The Emperor has been replaced by a Tuonellian Hulk. Don’t you realize what that means?” Seeing Enelya’s hesitation, Lúthien spoke in a rush of words. “He has come to ask our people for help.”

For a long second, no one around the circle spoke. Surprisingly enough, even the Centaur seemed to pause to consider Lúthien’s words instead of blindly attacking as her kind were prone to do when threatened. Before they could respond the discussion was suddenly put on hold by a weak moan at their feet. Her mistrust momentarily forgotten, Enelya dropped to her knees in consternation beside the Paladin’s ruined body as Lúthien and Tiberius silently joined her.

To Lúthien’s shock, the Klavikian’s face looked little more than raw shredded meat. How anything could survive such severe injuries was beyond her comprehension. Looking sidelong at Tiberius, she could see the same thoughts reflected in his wide eyes.

When the holy energy had washed across the battlefield in its healing wave, the Scourge had immediately charged the wounded Paladin in a blind rage. Before the rest of them could come to the Klavikian’s aid, the Scourge had ripped the warrior to shreds, or at least, that is what she initially thought had happened. Now as Lúthien focused her senses she could feel the weak aura of energy emanating from the ravaged body before her. Unbelievably he still lived.

“Aaaiiieee!” Lúthien screamed falling backward in shocked surprise as one of the warrior’s hands shot out to grip Enelya’s shoulders firmly. Incredulously, the Paladin’s ravaged face turned towards her cousin as his voice rasped out in a hoarse plea.

“The girls, you must save them!”

***

Location Irlendria / Enelya Tasartir:

It took an inordinate amount of Enelya’s remaining strength to hold herself erect on Argus’ back as they slowly led their charges back to the Clan’s domain. Through their shared link she felt her soulmate’s bone weary exhaustion as Argus stolidly put one clawed paw in front of the other showing no outward signs of his fatigue. Looking back over her shoulder, Enelya saw the same weariness reflected in the different faces of their party following behind. Bloody and bruised they were a sorry sight; not that she and Argus looked any better. Still, like any predator, neither one of them wished to display their weakness in front of the others.

Directly behind her came Tiberius with Lúthien gently cradled in his thick muscular arms, silently plodding along with her cousin’s head resting against his broad chest as she moaned semi-conscious in a feverish haze. Enelya knew in time her cousin would recover, but for now, she just needed food and rest for her body to mend from the massive amounts of energy she’d expended during the battle.

Behind Tiberius limped a small black-furred bull struggling under the weight of a much larger legionnaire. Although both Minotaurs were injured, it was the smaller one that bore the brunt of the burden. Dark blood matted the male’s black fur from deep gouges where the Scourge had managed to rake their claws under his breastplate during the vicious fighting. Older scars crisscrossed his prominent face and broad neck marking him as a veteran of the Great War against the Tuonellians. Ignoring the painful wounds the bull silently supported his injured companion as he followed his liege. Further, behind them came the strained faces of the last two Minotaurs. Bloody and torn the legionnaires numbly followed carrying the battered body of the paladin hanging in-between their armored shoulders.

Unbelievably, Enelya still felt the breath catch in her throat as she looked at the Klavikian’s shredded face. Angrily she tried to push the intense emotions from her mind. By Clan law, she and Argus owed him their lives, but not this. It was unconscionable that her heart responded to him in the way it did, but that didn’t change the truth of what she felt. In that endless moment the Great Spirit had linked them together, Enelya had tasted the terrible beauty and loneliness that was the very essence of his soul. Obviously, that brief touch had affected her in more ways than she had ever thought possible. With an effort of will, Enelya forced her eyes away from the Paladin, focusing instead on Nessa’s alert face bringing up the rear of their impromptu group. The Centaur was the only one of them that seemed unaffected by the day’s events. Effortlessly she carried the two unconscious girls that had been with the Paladin strapped to her bare back as she continuously scanned the forest around them wary of pursuit.

Although she was older now, Enelya had immediately recognized Nessa from the moment she’d seen her charge the Hulk. Like a ghost from the past, the Centaur’s shockingly beautiful face uncovered old wounds Enelya had thought were long buried. Not ready to face the past either, she began turning away when Enelya felt the weight of Nessa’s stare.

Meeting those dark, sensual eyes Enelya shivered at the storm of confused memories that came flooding back to her. Even after all of this time, it was as if she could still read Nessa’s thoughts. Although they’d never had much time together as lovers, she would never forget the heat of that first sweet kiss. Even after all of these years, it was as if she could feel the power of that spiritual connection as if they’d never been truly apart. Tearing her gaze away from the beautiful filly, Enelya forced her eyes to the trail ahead of them. Still, against her wishes, Enelya’s mind returned to that dark place and time so many years ago when she’d first met Nessa.

During the onset of the invasion, the terror had been overwhelming. They had all heard of the gruesome fate that had befallen the Gorgoneans and the mass slaughter of civilians within the cities of the Imperium that had fallen to the invaders. Nessa’s Tribe had been cut off from the rest of her people and had been forced to flee before the oncoming Tuonellian advance. The gates of the Daeron Fortress had barely closed when the first wave of the Horde broke against the outer defenses. Throughout the terrible siege, the Elves had hidden the young of both races deep within the bowels of the ancient fortress as the entire Alliance rallied to their aid.

Day and night the walls had shivered from constant bombardment. After the first week, Enelya had thought she would go mad from the confined space closing in around her. She was used to the freedom of the forest and the open sky high above her, not the oppressive confines of a dark dungeon. Quickly the lifeless walls had become a never ending nightmare to her. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, Nessa had tenderly gathered her up into her strong arms. It was as she instinctively knew how to make the fear go away.

Maybe it was the horrors of the war that had made those intimate moments so precious beyond compare, but, whatever it was, she had never wanted to let Nessa go. The soft curve of her breasts, the taste of her lips … Grimacing, Enelya pushed the intruding thoughts away. Even now she could clearly remember the reaction of the Elves that had been assigned to watch over them once they’d learned the truth of all that had transpired. To say it was scandalous didn’t even come close to describing the gaping rift that had instantly formed between her people and the rest of the Clans.

For centuries, Enelya’s people had followed their divergent path to the disdain of the other Elves, but her one act of intimacy with Nessa had brought everything from the past bubbling to the surface in a xenophobic explosion of boiling hate. Her peoples’ lack of prejudice against the other races of Irlendria had only made the situation that much worse. To Enelya’s horror, even the most open-minded of their brethren had accused her Clan of being little better than the savage beasts they spirit bonded with.

Unfortunately, the incident had only further served to cut the bonds between the Clans even further. Not that Enelya’s Spirit Mother had particularly cared one way or another by the time the Council of Elders had met to discuss the issue. The Clan’s outrage at the treatment of their princess had nearly started a war. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if they hadn’t been fighting for their lives against the invading Hordes striving to destroy their homeland.

Sadly, Enelya never had another chance to talk with her first love after they’d been discovered. Nessa’s father had whisked her back to the plains of their people shortly after the Tuonellians had been driven from the Great Forest. Even then, Enelya had still felt the connection between them, but over the years, the spirit bond had slowly faded away. By the time she’d bonded with Argus, those feelings had become all but a distant memory.

Taking a deep breath Enelya was finally able to lock the overwhelming emotions away once again. Obviously, she still had strong feelings for the beautiful filly, but no matter what she might have wished could have been, there was no time to explore those feelings now. Her unspoken vow to the Klavikian came first. Enelya’s thoughts were suddenly brought up short as a mental voice rang in her head.

<We are being followed>

Focusing once more on her surroundings, Enelya realized they were already passing through the totems that marked the outer boundaries of the Clan’s lands. Normally she would have breathed a sigh of relief upon entering her people’s territory, but in the fading light she felt little comfort from the grim visages looking down at her as the first sounds of pursuit came to hear hypersensitive ears.

A quick glance behind her let Enelya know that no one else was aware that they were being followed. Not that it came as a surprise to her. If not for her spirit link with Argus and the shared abilities it gave her, she would have been just as ignorant of the threat as the rest of their party. As the wind shifted direction, Enelya’s eyes dangerously narrowed as she picked up the scent of many hesturs from further up the trail. Feeling Argus’ muscles suddenly tense from where she sat on his back, Enelya gently laid her hands on his sleek neck sharing her growing concerns with her soulmate. Trespassing with such a large force could mean only one thing.

Although the finer subtleties of Elven politics were usually incomprehensible to the direct minded Wenci, being apex predators they intuitively understood the complexities of territorial challenges from other packs. Growling deep in his chest, Argus came to an abrupt stop as Enelya smoothly slid off his back next to him. Rising to his hind legs Argus arched his neck calling out a series of high-pitched chirps. Barely louder than a birdcall the sound radiated throughout the forest around them. After repeating the call for a third time, he slowly lowered himself into a crouch next to Enelya as the hackles rose along his spine.

No translation was needed as Enelya’s charges abruptly stopped behind her in consternation. Although, she was surprised a second later when Tiberius stepped up beside her without hesitation as his legionnaires immediately took up a defensive stance around the two of them. Flaring their nostrils with each breath, the Minotaurs warily scanned the silent forest as the loud clanking sounds of their Wolf Gauntlets transforming into shields and blades echoed around them.

At first, they heard nothing, but faintly the approaching sounds of clomping hooves and creak of leather harnesses began to come from every direction. Enelya’s eyes scanned the dark woods guardedly waiting for visual confirmation of the intruders she knew where there. A moment later the dark shapes of hesturs began materializing out of the darkness in groups of ones and twos. Within seconds a solid wall of the creatures surrounded them. On their backs were the dark hooded Rangers of the Forest Clan with their energy bows bent and ready to fire.

Standing with her back ramrod straight, Enelya’s eyes took on the fierce look of a predator whose territory had been suddenly intruded upon as her gaze coldly swept the wall of mounted Rangers. In a ringing voice, she addressed the group of Elves directly before her stepping forward.

“You are trespassing in the domain of the Wild Clan. By the command of the Spirit Daughter of Arien Tasartir, lower your weapons and –“

A wordless shriek of rage cut her off as the lead Elf drove his mount at Enelya screaming in hate. “You betray your own people and have the audacity to issue threats when caught red-handed in your treachery? Shut your beast loving mouth before I end your miserable life!” Feeling Argus’ blinding rage through their link, Enelya placed her hand on his shoulder as his muscles tensed to spring.

<We need more time. I will handle this>

Quickly Enelya strode towards the advancing hestur effectively blocking Argus’ path. They both knew if he attacked the Rangers would cut him down without hesitation. Unknown to the Elves, that brutal response would be the end for the only daughter of the Wild Elf Clan’s Spirit Mother. She didn’t need to look up at the Forest Elf’s face to know that it was Dorthonion Celebrindal, the second son of King Elladan, who now accosted her. To say she wasn’t going to enjoy what she was about to do would have been a lie. There was enough bad blood between the two of them to last an Elven lifetime. The young prince openly hated her people with a passion, considering them nothing more than abominations that corrupted the essence of the Elven Race. To end this quickly, she had to act decisively.

In the blink of an eye, Enelya vaulted into the air. Clearing the horn centered in the hestur’s forehead she slammed both feet into Dorthonion’s chest, instantly knocking the obnoxious prince to the ground. Out of control Dorthonion’s hestur plunged headlong into the Minotaurs’ shield wall whinnying in fear and confusion as Tiberius stepped forward unconcerned. Swinging his gauntleted fist, he met the large beast head-on with a resounding crack.

The sudden silence was deafening as the prince’s mount bounced off of Tiberius’ chest before crumpling to the ground in an unmoving heap. For a shocked second, there was only uncomfortable silence as the rest of the Rangers shifted in their saddles unsure of how to react. Every bent bow was now intently focused on Enelya ready to fire as she stood unmoving with her hands by her side. The flurry of action had ended almost before it had begun when Prince Dorthonion pushed himself up to his knees shrieking.

“You dare strike me!” Cradling his broken arm the prince sputtered in rage struggling to stand. “Enelya, you only live now so that I can bring you to justice before the Council of the Clans for your part in my father’s death!”

Unconcerned, Enelya looked down at the obnoxious prince at her feet. “And you Dorthonion only live now at my sufferance for your stupidity.” Seeing his incredulous look, she spat on the ground before him. “These beings standing before you are under my protection. Leave now with the others or face my wrath.”

Scrambling backward fearfully, Dorthonion pointed his shaking finger at Enelya like a weapon still screaming. “One word and my hunters will cut you down where you stand!”

Before she could respond, Enelya felt silk brush by her as Lúthien rushed past. Kneeling next to Dorthonion, she hugged the angry Elf to her chest trying to calm him down. “My love there is more at stake than you know. Tiberius did not attack your people; he tried to save –“

SLAP! The resounding crack echoed throughout the clearing. “Don’t touch me!” Dorthonion’s open-handed smack rocked Lúthien back on her heels, before crumpling to the ground. “Did you actually believe I loved you?” Dorthonion’s blood speck lips formed into a remorseless sneer as he spat in disgust into Lúthien’s shocked face. “I only agreed to marry you at the behest of your father.”

Instantly Tiberius was at Lúthien’s side wrapping her up protectively in his arms as his nostrils flared in anger. Abruptly he froze in disbelief at the familiar scent coming from the Forest Elves around them; it was the same odd stench he’d smelt during the battle in Gravida. Before he could consider the implications, Dorthonion’s cruel laughter rang out across the glade.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I never kissed you? Did you believe any Elven male would want you after being disgraced by that dumb beast?” Jerking his chin towards Tiberius, Dorthonion continued spouting his hate. “If you weren’t a Princess you would have been exiled long ago for an animal loving whore!” Meeting Enelya’s hard eyes, Dorthonion’s lip curled into a sneer. “Surrender or my Rangers will cut you down where you stand!”

Dorthonion knew he was issuing a death sentence with his words. Unlike the other Clans, Wild Elves didn’t surrender or give up. Their warriors always fought to the death. That didn’t mean they didn’t fall back and regroup when necessary, but they never surrendered. Unlike the many other races of Irlendria, they didn’t hold to the same precepts of honorable warfare. Although Wild Elves greatly respected the physical prowess of individual hunters, they derived no enjoyment from battles or fighting. The Clans focus centered on gathering food, protecting the young and defending their territory from intruders. Otherwise, combat was never sought after for personal gain.

Glancing back over her shoulder, the predator inside Enelya’s soul recognized the resolve held in the various eyes of her companions behind her. With a sharp nod to his bulls, Tiberius rose to his hooves as the loud clanking sounds of his gauntlets transforming into shield and blade rang out as the rest of the Minotaurs formation quickly shifted into a circle with Nessa, Lúthien and the wounded Paladin at the center.

The movements would have looked more impressive if the legionnaires didn’t look so battle worn and bloody. Still they stood facing the overwhelming force without hesitation as their nostrils flared expectantly with their weapons held at the ready. There was no question as to the message their stance conveyed. If it were going to be a fight to the death, they would make it a fight to be remembered.

Even after everything they’d been through none of them was willing to give into Dorthonion’s demands for surrender. Enelya saw the triumphant grin on Dorthonion’s face. It was as if she could read his hate-filled thoughts. In one fell swoop, he would have the war against the Wild Clan and the revenge that he’d so long desired against Arien Tasartir while slaughtering the Prince of the Imperium. As a sharp chirping bird call broke the silence around them, Enelya felt Argus’ exhilaration flow through their link. A split second later she saw Dorthonion’s look of horror at the predatory grin spreading across her face. Before he could order his hunters to attack, Enelya leaped after him screeching a warbling war cry.

Energy bolts sizzled through the air around her as the surprised hunters released their shots a second too late as everything happened at once. Around the glade the trees erupted with snarling black forms that streaked out from the shadows in leaping bounds. Within seconds, they were among the Rangers as bodies went flying, while riderless hesturs whinnied in fear as they took off in panic into the surrounding woods.

The few Rangers that found themselves on the ground still in possession of their bows struggled to form a defensive line, but they were blasted off their feet like rag dolls before ever bringing their weapon to bear on their attackers. In short ordered the tattered and torn Forest Elves were quickly thrown haphazardly together in a frightened heap near where Enelya held Dorthonion’s face planted into the soft earth. Around the perimeter stalked snarling Wencis as more of her Clan’s warriors bound the intruders to be hauled away.

Numerous Wild Elves wearing skin hides and armed with long spears practically filled the grove as a small Pack of Wencis quickly rounded up the stragglers. Although she recognized most of the hard-faced Scouts, Enelya didn’t fully relax until she heard the hail of a familiar voice from nearby. Turning around, she unconsciously grinned as soon as she saw the mischievous face of the young Elf striding towards her.

“Enelya Tasartir, only you could cause a commotion like this.” Enelya saw Tathar’s steps suddenly falter as he made the sign of the Goddess. His face instantly turning serious at the sight of Dorthonion Celebrindal’s hate filled face glaring back at him. The much larger Elf was white-faced in pain from having his broken arm twisted behind his back. “What in Meliki’s name is going on? Have the Clans finally turned against us?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Enelya met Tathar’s concerned gaze. Like her, he was a shaman, but being soulmated to Argus’ littermate Anon made him more than just a friend. “I don’t know Tathar. I think it’s more complicated than that. I must speak with the Spirit Mother before I say more, but-” Seeing the warriors beginning to surround the Minotaurs warily, she spoke quickly nodding to the Forest Elf at her feet.

“Can you watch after Dorthonion?”

“With my life!”

Gripping the young shaman’s shoulder firmly, she wordlessly expressed her thanks. “I need to find the Scout Leader before this turns into a disaster.” Tathar’s sudden grimace brought her up short.

“Dínendal Telrúnya currently leads.” Seeing Enelya’s confused look, he explained in a rush of words. “No one knows what happened to Gwindor, but once we heard Argus’ call, there was no time to debate why he was left in charge.”

Enelya felt a cold sinking feeling begin to form in the pit of her stomach as the full implications of what Tathar said sank in. It made no sense for Dínendal Telrúnya to be leading the Scouts in any capacity. She readily understood the unspoken warning he was passing along. Her disapproval of Dínendal was well known throughout the Clan.

The problem was that once combat ensued Wild Elves did not question those that led until the threat was over, until then warriors followed their designated leaders single-mindedly. Although this was confusing to outsiders, it was the only way her people were able to deal with the competing aspect of their predatorial nature during warfare. Theoretically, only a higher ranking Clan Leader could challenge a Scout Leaders decision but rarely had such conflicts occurred throughout the history of her people. Her status as a Shaman made her exempt from many of these rules, but being exempt didn’t mean she had any direct authority to act either.

Looking at the circling Wenci, Enelya thoughts raced. The current crisis facing her people was too important for Dínendal’s petty differences to play a role in what needed to be done. She would do whatever was necessary to warn the Clan.

“How many shamans are with you?”

Understanding the meaning of Enelya’s question Tathar pitched his voice low as his gaze nervously swept the glade. “Lranel and I were the only Shamans in the range of Argus’ call. We picked up Terus’ small hunting group along the way.”

Watching the Elven warriors surround her companion, Enelya thoughts raced. No matter what happened she had to keep the Klavikian safe, but there was no doubt in her mind that eight Wencis and three shamans wouldn’t be enough if things went bad. “Let’s us hope they are enough of a deterrent for Dínendal’s blundering stupidity.” Grasping the young shaman’s shoulders in thanks, Enelya heading for Lúthien when Dínendal’s voice boomed out across the glade.

“Lay down your arms or be destroyed!”

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, Enelya came to a stop before her companions raising her voice.

“Dínendal, I thank you for your timely assistance, but these beings are under my protection. I’m taking them to–“

“So, you readily admit to the crime of bringing the enemies of our people into our lands.” The outrage in his voice stirred the warriors around the circle as they looked at each other in confusion. Ignoring the Scouts questioning looks Dínendal continued blithely. “Surrender or be slaughtered where you stand.”

“Dínendal, there is no time for your ineptitude! I already told you these beings are here at my request. We were on our way to the Spirit Mother when Dorthonion acco-“

“Shut your mouth traitor!” Enelya’s head snapped back as if she had been physically slapped. Never in her life had a fellow Wild Elf spoken to her with such blatant disrespect! Behind her, she felt the Wenci hunters shifting closer behind her in consternation as they smelt Argus’ anger.

Unconcerned, Dínendal continued spouting his hate. “You shamans always walk around acting as if the rest of us are less than nothing.” With a wave of his hand towards Enelya, Dínendal gave his orders. “Chain the traitor and her cohorts. If they resist, kill them all.”

This was insanity! For a long moment, Enelya could only look incredulously at the Scouts stiffly shuffling towards her in shocked silence. By the look on their faces, they obviously didn’t agree with the orders they’d been given but were unable to fight the compulsion of their assigned leader. Raising her voice, she addressed the Elves around her.

“Dínendal has no authority here. As a shaman of the Clan, I order you to stop your advance. Seize Dínendal and bring him before the Spirit Mother for her judgment in this matter.” Unbelievably the Scouts continued their advance ignoring her words. Seeing her good friend Aliya in the lead, Enelya hissed sharply. “Can’t you stop this?”

With a sharp shake of her head, Aliya spoke haltingly. “I’m sorry Enelya.” Apologetically she raised her spear towards Enelya. “You need to drop your weapons, or I will be forced to kill you.” Backing up with her hands raised, Enelya focused her thoughts.

<Argus>

She felt her soulmate’s barely controlled rage fill her mind as he answered one step ahead of her.

<The hunters are confused, but they will help>

Effortlessly leaping over the advancing Wild Elves, the two eldest Wenci sprang for Dínendal growling deep in their chests as the rest of the hunting group stepped in front of Enelya, placing themselves between her and the advancing Scouts. Clearly the Hunt Leader’s thoughts broadcasted around the glade.

<Pack law will be followed, or I will call Áskorun>

Around the glade the Scouts froze where they stood. A disagreement of Benda Heimild between classes was one thing, but the right of challenge between Wenci and Wild Elf was another matter altogether. Disputes of that nature fell only within the domain of the Clan’s Shamans.

There was only eight Wencis present compared to the twenty Scouts under Dínendal’s command, but that wasn’t the issue. Beyond any shadow of a doubt, he knew no Wild Elf would go against the Sáttmála. To challenge the accord would remove any chance he had for satisfaction, that knowledge alone gave pause to the insanity overwhelming Dínendal’s conscious thoughts. Still noxious thoughts clouding his mind drove him to try.

“This traitor is my prisoner!”

<The little sister and her brother are none of your concern. Only the Spirit Mother has the right of judgment>

Dínendal’s face contorted in rage as Terus’ mind-speak broadcasted around the glade. Standing stock still ready to spring the Wenci Hunters watched the Scout Leader with slitted eyes as a palatable tension of impending violence suddenly filled the air, while the Elven Scouts shifted where they stood nervously eying their Wenci Brothers. The situation was diffused a moment later as Dínendal forced his mask of sanity back into place while his thoughts raced. Maybe there was a way to salvage this yet.

“What of these trespassers?”

<If they give up their weapons freely, they will be escorted to the Pits unharmed for the Spirit Mother to decide their fates>

“No!” Every eye turned to Enelya as she met the Wenci Hunter’s almond shaped eyes. “Terus, I charge you with my companions’ safety. You will wait here for my return with the Spirit Mother.”

For a long moment, the large Wenci’s only reaction was the whip-like flick of his long tail. Coming to a decision Terus unfroze bowing his elongated head.

<We will guard them until your return, little sister>

Raising his voice, Dínendal played his trump card. “I demand that these enemies of our people be chained until the Spirit Mother can determine their fate.”

In her peripheral, Enelya saw her companions flinch in understanding as around the glade Dínendal’s words caused a stir amongst her people. His grin said it all. Both Minotaurs and Centaurs were known for their extreme hatred of any confinement. To be chained like an animal was the gravest insult to both species. Enelya’s entire argument against Dínendal was based on the principles of Clan Law. Looking into Terus’ eyes, she already knew what his answer would be.

<The request is within the Scout Leaders rights>

Enelya’s body visibly sagged as Dínendal glared back and forth between her and the Wenci Hunters. Stabbing his spear towards her companions menacingly Dínendal addressed the Elven Scouts under his command. “Chain them! If they resist, kill them!”

Moving ahead of the Scouts, Enelya ran to Tiberius’ side. Gripping the Minotaur’s gauntleted wrist she met his dark brown eyes recognizing the seething rage that was barely contained within them. Tearing her gaze away from the large male, Enelya looked towards Nessa seeing the same fury reflected in her eyes. At their feet Lúthien lay unconscious of her surroundings with the Paladin moaning beside her, both of them burning with fever. For a moment, Enelya didn’t know what to say. They all knew what was at stake. Looking into the deadly Prince’s regal face, she could only pray to Meliki that her cousin was right about this unusual bull. Urgently she tried to soothe their anger.

“If we are going to have any chance of saving our people from the Tuonellians, you must lay down your weapons and wait for my return.” Seeing the distrust reflected in her companions’ faces as their eyes flicked towards Dínendal, Enelya dropped her voice low enough so that only they could hear her speak. “I know Dínendal has no honor, but in this, you must trust me. The Wenci will ensure your safety as long as Clan Law is obeyed. You must not resist!”

The internal struggle going on in Tiberius’ mind was self-evident as his great horned head swung aggressively from side to side at the Scouts approaching from every direction. Around the defensive circle, the legionnaires raised their shields preparing to fight. If they didn’t listen to her now, it would be a bloodbath. Almost pleading Enelya tried one last time. “You said you wanted to speak with my Spirit Mother about saving our peoples. Only in this way will your wish come to pass.”

Warily the Minotaur’s head slowly came to a stop as the Prince looked deeply into her eyes. The weight of his gaze felt as if he were weighing her soul. “Do I have your word Wild Elf?”

Standing up straight, Enelya met that intense stare with one of her own. “You have the word of Enelya Tasartir, Shaman of the Wild Elf Clan and daughter of Arien Tasartir.”

Hearing the name of her Mother, Enelya saw the Minotaur’s eyes widened in surprise, suddenly understanding who stood before him. As Tiberius looked over his shoulder, Enelya watched the Minotaur’s gaze sweep the glade for one long second before turning to face her once again. Raising his voice in command, Tiberius snapped a sharp order to his legionnaires.

“Arma ponere!” (Lay down your weapons!)

The resounding clanking sounds of metal were the only response as the Minotaurs’ Wolf Gauntlets began folding in on themselves. Immediately the bulls began dropping their gauntlets to the ground as Enelya spun around. Raising her voice, she addressed the Wenci Hunt Leader as Argus came swiftly to her side.

“Terus, I place my honor in your claws.”

<I will guard your Heiður with my life, little sister>

Springing to Argus’ back, Enelya gave Dínendal one last look of warning before racing off into the forest.

***

Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

Nessa’s chest felt like it was going to explode from the conflicting emotions running through her as she watched Enelya disappear into the forest astride the sleek Wenci’s back. Turning her gaze once again towards the approaching Wild Elves with their ironidium chains, she fought against the burning rage building up inside of her.

To be bound like a beast was beyond intolerable. Nessa’s people never surrendered! Not even during the onset of the Great War when the Hordes had slaughtered tens of thousands before the Klavikians had shown them how to fight the invaders. Unlike the Minotaur cities whose populations had been enslaved and butchered as food for the invading armies, the Tuonellians had been forced to kill her people to the last warrior in every engagement they’d won.

Nessa’s entire body shook as she unconsciously recited from the codex of the warrior. “Only when fighting to the death could defeat have honor.” Clinching the Staff of Yatri in both hands, Nessa forced the thoughts of dishonor away looking into the Scout Leader’s hate-filled face. Using the power of her spirit, she focused her perceptions like Uzila Moonsong had taught her so many years ago.

Immediately Nessa froze as her stomach twisted at the wrongness inside the Elven male. There was a black corruption wrapped around his soul like a tentacle that faded off somewhere into the distance. Inside she could see the Elf’s soul was screaming in agony. The vision was enough to stop Nessa in her tracks. Even though this evil was different then the Hulks that had worn the skin of her people, she could still see that it was destroying the Elf from within. Somehow she knew this was an important part of the Tuonellians’ plans.

Nostrils flaring, Nessa looked over the Minotaurs standing around her. Although they were in the process of dropping their weapons to the ground, she could see they were just as enraged as she. There was no love lost between their people. The Citadel that blocked the passage from the Plains of Nurothtorn to the rolling hills of the Imperium was a testament to the bloody history of warfare between their two peoples, but during the Great War the Boneheads had grudgingly earned her people’s respect as warriors. Looking at the massive horns heads, she snorted in derision. Whoever had come up with the phrase had the right of it, Boneheads was an apt description of the Minotaur’s thick skulls.

Nessa’s head suddenly whipped around as the bull Enelya had called Prince Tiberius gave a sharp hand signal to the males around them, within seconds the legionnaires had her completely surrounded. Wounded as they were there were too many of them for her to fight at once even with her superior strength. Still she might have a chance to defeat them if she struck first, but something in the Prince’s dark brown eyes made her hold back her attack and listen.

“Just so there is no misunderstanding, Centaur. I don’t know who or what you are.” Nessa saw the Prince’s eyes taking in her white skin as he spoke, “but I will do whatever it takes to stop the Tuonellians from destroying my people. And that means rebuilding the Alliance of Aurenko.” Looking pointedly at the staff gripped tightly in her hands, he continued speaking. “Make no mistake about this, I will not allow your pride or hate for my people to destroy the only chance I have to accomplish this objective. There is simply too much at stake.”

Drawing a deep hissing breath, Nessa fought the berserker fury rising up inside her that was the birthright of her people. The blinding rage that made her people so dangerous. Doing her best to ignore the overt threat the legionnaires represented, she focused instead on the words the Prince had spoken. Thinking back to the vision Wakinyan had showed her, Nessa remembered the last message from her father’s spirit. No matter what the Prince was, his words rang true to the essence of the Yatra Luonnotar had tasked her to seek out.

Bowing her head, Nessa dropped the Staff of Yatri to the ground. For her people, there was no greater crime than accepting defeat. Praying for forgiveness from her ancestors, she held out her empty hands to the Prince as she looked into his surprised eyes. Around the circle, she could feel the shocked disbelief ripple through the legionnaires surrounding her as she relinquished her weapon. Never before in the history of the Imperium had a Centaur yielded to an enemy. Immediately the Prince’s hand shot up commanding his bulls to stop as he whispered sharply under his breath.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Drawing forth her power, Nessa let the terror of all that she had seen in the vision of the future flow through her. As the spiritual energy of her aura crackled unseen around her, Nessa grasped the Prince’s armored shoulders with both hands as her musical voice rose hauntingly.

“I too am on a quest to stop the invaders that seek to destroy our world. Look through my eyes, Prince Tiberius and see the horrors that I have seen.”

Every muscle in the Prince’s body went rigid as Nessa’s vision took a hold of him. Wide-eyed Tiberius lived the future that had been shown to her by Luonnotar. The apocalyptic devastation that awaited their world if the Tuonellians could not be stopped and the quest that brought her to the Great Forest. In that shared moment they were no longer enemies or even members of different species, but fellow Questors fighting to save their world from an unimaginable evil.

Around her, the legionnaires shifted uncomfortably as tears of sorrow began running down their young leader’s face, but before they could intervene Nessa stepped away, releasing her hold on the Prince. Instantly the vision stopped as Tiberius staggered back away from her, his heart filled with dread from everything that had been shown to him. Incredulously Tiberius met her eyes, but before he could speak, the Scouts began moving amongst them clapping ironidium chains onto their wrists. Nodding to the Paladin moaning on the ground, Nessa silently mouthed her fear.

“The Klavikian must be protected.” At all cost, he had to be protected.

The only overt sign that the Prince gave that he’d understood Nessa’s message was the slight widening of his eyes. Immediately he turned to the small bull next to him, his large hands flashing quickly. Although she didn’t understand the secret language, regardless Nessa recognized the legionnaire’s hand-speak for what it was. She only hoped they could keep the Paladin safe until Enelya returned. Around them, the Wencis took up positions in-between their two groups as the two shamans nearby watched the proceedings with guarded eyes. Looking down at the chains now binding her arms and legs she silently prayed to Luonnotar for the strength to endure, when she heard an angry bellow that made her blood boil.

“By Akras sickle, you don’t have to chain her up! It’s not like she can hurt anyone in the shape she’s in. Just leave her be.” Steam rose from the Prince’s nostrils as he bellowed at the Scouts binding Lúthien’s arms and legs, but they ignored him with at the sharp nod from Dínendal as the rest of the Wild Elves tensed. Keeping his rage in check, the Prince waited until the Scouts had finished before gathering the High Elf protectively into his muscular arms.

Next they began chaining the Klavikian where he laid as they removed his weapons from their sheaths. Nessa held her breath as she saw the shimmering runic blades in the receding light. Although she’d never heard of a Paladin using such small weapons before, there was no question as to the origins of those blades. Except for Ilmarinen Ironwolf, who’d been gifted the Hammer of Vasara, the holy warriors of Ukko had always wielded massive two handed swords whenever they’d led the Armies of the Alliance into battle.

The Wild Elves around her froze as the Minotaurs suddenly jerked to attention before dipped their horns as one towards the unconscious Paladin. Nessa almost swore out loud at the obvious reverence the legionnaires showed towards the unconscious Klavikian. Although it seemed impossible after everything Ilmarinen Ironwolf had done for the races of Irlendria, none of the Scouts seemed to recognize who or what lay before them.

Unobtrusively, Nessa observed Dínendal’s reaction to the Minotaurs’ simple act as the Wild Elves began heading back to the edge of the glade. The evil she’d seen wrapped around the Scout Leader’s soul made her leery of showing anything of importance. She was just letting out a sigh of relief when Dínendal’s glowing eyes focused on her back.

“Aliya, why have you not bound the creatures on the Centaurs back?”

“I did not see them Scout Leader.” With a quick command, Aliya had her Scouts head back for Nessa. “I will do so now.”

Backing away at the evil glint in Dínendal’s eyes, Nessa began speaking in a rush of words. “Your restraints are not needed. The children are already strapped down on my back.”

Seeing Aliya’s hesitation Dínendal barked at the top of his lungs. “Chain the disgusting beasts now!”

Aliya visibly flinched at Dínendal’s words, but the rest of the Wild Elves came on without hesitation. Deadly spears brought Nessa to a stop as the Scouts dragged the semi-conscious girls off her back. Aliya voiced her anger at the rough handling of the sick children. Unconcerned, Aliya’s companions ignored her words slamming the struggling girls to the hard ground. There was a sudden flash of light and the smell of burning flesh as one of the males suddenly shot to his feet screaming. Clutching his face in agony, the Elf looked at the small disoriented girl pushing herself to her knees in shocked disbelief.

Looking at the Elf’s face, Nessa could see the wound was not serious, but a second later embarrassment and pain turned into rage as the Elf stomped back to the girl’s side. Before anyone could stop the enraged male, he slammed a booted foot into the small girl’s face.

The savage growl was the only warning any of them had before the small werewolf launched herself at the girl’s attacker. Claw and fangs ripped into the surprised Elf as the nearest Scouts rushed to his aids. Striking with the butts of their spears, they began pummeling the young werewolf into submission, when the world exploded around them.

Later, Nessa would put the series of events together in chronological order, but at the time, she could only watch in shocked horror at the unimaginable violence. The scouts beating the girls were suddenly ripped apart in a spray of blood and savage fury as a bestial growl reverberated across the glade freezing everyone in their tracks.

Chapter Thiry-One

Location Earth / Larissa Evans:

Yawning, Larissa slowly rotated the strange metal disk on her research bench studying the glyphs intently as she compared the paper Agent Kurwoski had sent her during their video teleconference meeting onboard the USS Abraham Lincoln. At the age of thirty-two, Larissa knew she was the foremost expert on ancient Mediterranean civilizations in her field. Whether or not her peers wanted to admit it, over the last decade she’d become the de facto expert at translating Babylonia, Iran, Hatti, Egypt, Syria-Palestine languages and was the only anthropological linguist fully versed in Assyriology, Hittitology, and Sumerology Cuneiforms.

It was her diverse skills in cultural, physical and linguistic anthropology that allowed her to accurately piece together the various stories of the past that had led her to the sunken island of Scheria. Uncovering the Temple of Atlas and now the city of Atlantis was the discovery of her time and the undeniable proof of her skills. Finding the Eteocretan Key was arguably greater than that of even the infamous Rosetta Stone. For the first time the Minoan Linear tablets could be translated in their entirety, but not only that, they referenced a previously unknown written language that was more advanced than anything she’d ever seen before. Also, the temple and key had led to the remains of creatures that had until now only been thought of as myths. So where in the bloody hell had they gotten these translations from?

Flopping back in her chair, Larissa closed her eyes as she tried to relieve the tension that was slowly building into a major migraine. Even though Agent Kurwoski had turned her world upside down the work wasn’t going anywhere. Similar to her father’s discovery of the Minoan civilization, going through all of this data would take the rest of her life. Taking one last look at the Eteocretan Key, Larissa set the metal disk aside for later. She’d promised Captain MacRory to get some sleep before digging through this mountain of data. Yawning again as she pushed herself to her feet, Larissa was just powering down the lab when bright flashes of light on CHARLIE’s video feed caught her eyes.

“What the bloody hell?”

Angrily Larissa studied the unfamiliar controls swearing under her breath. Finding what she was looking for Larissa zoomed the camera on the bright flashes of light hitting the record button. “If those ignoramuses were destroying her archeological site she would have somebody’s ass!” As the video camera adjusted for the low light and came into focus on the screen, Larissa rocked back on her heels.

For a long second, Larissa could only stare in shocked disbelief at the figures on the screen fighting for their lives. Massive bullheaded warriors with glowing fist blades fighting alongside combat Marines against hordes of nightmarish creatures rushing out of the darkness. The scientific part of her brain reeled from seeing the impossible come to life. To not have only found and proved the existence of such mythical creatures, but to have a chance not just to guess at what had happened in the past, but to have living breathing representatives that could confirm and deny her speculations. To for once know the truth of everything she had ever theorized about the past. It was almost too much to grasp mentally.

Larissa didn’t know how long she stared the screen before the cerebral fascination of what she saw gave away to true horror. Snapping out of her trance, Larissa slammed her fist down on the klaxon for the ship’s emergency stations.

***

Location Earth / Larissa Evans:

“I said you’re not going with us, and that’s final!”

Shrugging into his long leather coat, Captain MacRory glowered back at her as he buckled the front of his jack of plates closed and roughly shoved the heavy vambraces sewn into the sleeves into place. As Sean turned for Morthwyl Gelyn hanging on the wall, Larissa screamed at his back.

“You wouldn’t have said that to my father!”

Larissa could see the tension in Sean’s hunched shoulders as he finished belting on the massive two-handed claymore diagonally across his back. Turning around slowly, Sean’s hurt bright-blue eyes bore into her soul as he spoke in his native Irish brogue. “An bhfuil cóireáilte mé riamh tú cosúil le beag íogair bláth, eirigh? An bhfuil cóireáilte mé riamh tú níos lú ná comhionann?” (Have I ever treated you like a wee delicate flower, lassie? Have I ever treated you less than an equal?)

For a long moment Larissa refused to listen to Sean’s words, but slowly the emotional intensity of what he said penetrated her burning rage. Hanging her head tears ran down Larissa’s cheeks as she answered grudgingly. “No, you’ve always treated me as an equal.”

In a hoarse whisper, Sean gripped her shoulders with his meaty hands. "Ná cad a dhéanann cheapann tú anois a bheadh aon éagsúla. Ba mhaith liom a dúirt do athair stubborn an rud céanna Tá mé ag rá leat. Nach bhfuil tú ag dul. Féach ar dom eirigh." (Then what makes you think now would be any different. I would have told your stubborn father the same thing I’m telling you. You’re not going. Look at me lass.) Lifting her chin, Larissa met his eyes as he shook her for emphasis. "Cosúil raibh sé d'athair, is é mo phost a choinneáil beo tú." (Like it was for your father, my job is to keep you alive.)

Sweeping his arm in a wide arc towards the door, Sean’s voice rose in intensity. “Ní raibh tú a fheiceáil na créatúir? Níl aon bhealach raibh mé in ann a ráthú ar shábháilteacht d'athar sa poll, díreach cosúil nach bhfuil aon bhealach is féidir liom a ráthú mise. Ba mhaith liom a rá mar an gcéanna leis go bhfuil mé ag rá leat anois. Is féidir leat a dóiteáin dom uair amháin go bhfuil sé seo níos mó ná más rud é go cad ba mhaith leat, ach nach bhfuil tú ag dul agus go bhfuil deiridh.” (Did you not see those creatures? There’s no way I could have guaranteed your father’s safety in that hole, just like there is no way I can guarantee yours. I would have said the same to him that I’m saying to you now. You can fire me once this is over if that is what you want, but you’re not going, and that’s final.) Larissa wanted to scream in frustration, but instead she expelled the air from her lungs in exasperation.

“Then go!”

Gripping her hard to his barrel-like chest, they shared a moment before Sean spoke, switching back into English. “We’ve gotta get moving if we’re going to help those lads.” Slamming a steel open-faced helmet over his curly red hair Sean headed for the corridor pulling her after him. “Now that the power’s back up, I’m taking everyone with me except for George and four of my best deck hands.”

“Seriously, you’re leaving me only George.”

“Don’t worry. Kane said the engines are ready to go and the lads I’m leaving George know what they're up to. Even if the ship loses power again and this all goes to shit, they’ll get you back to Syros in one piece.”

“Kane?”

Without slowing down, Sean blasted through the hatch to the main deck chuckling darkly. “Aye, Chief McDougal is always Kane in a fight, lass.”

As they neared the gangplank, Larissa stumbled to a stop as Sean heartily greeted the Chief Engineer along with Hans and Wolfgang standing at the older man’s sides. She’d fought with them all before in practice, but there was something different about them now. They reminded her of hungry wolves waiting for the hunt. The two Germans looked especially grim. Like ancient Vikings, they wore scaled armless vest made from steel over their bare chest and rounded capped helmets with spectacle eye guards to protect the face. Each man carried a gokstad shield and a large two-headed axe. Unlike the Germans, Kane carried no shield, helm or armor. Instead, the old man’s thick bare chest was covered with Celtic runes tattooed into his skin, while he carried yard long axes with hooked heads in each of his hands.

A shout behind her tore Larissa’s gaze back the way she’d just come as First Officer Dudek and Second Officer Crosslander came jogging up with a wide-eyed Cadet following close behind. Both Officers still wore their heavy dark-blue uniforms, but now with steel cuirasses covering their chests. In their hands’, they carried a long saber and small metal shield. Coming to a stop, both men snapped to attention flourishing their sabers in salute.

Sean gave both Officers a solemn nod as George came to attention before him. “Cadet MacSweeney, you will take your orders from Doctor Evans as if they were my own in the operation of this ship.” Looking back and forth between them both for emphasis, Sean continued. “You both know the drill. Batten down the hatches and pass out weapons to everyone who knows how to use one. Who knows how bad this is going to get before it’s over, but ...” Coming to an abrupt stop, Sean eyed George sternly. “Cadet MacSweeney, at the first sign of trouble I expect you to get the Triumph out to sea no matter what’s happening with us. Do you understand, lad?”

Clicking his heels together, George saluted smartly. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Take good care of them lad and may Ukko protect you.” Returning the young man’s salute, Sean swept his gaze to his waiting men as Jonathan Rickshaw, Tony’s father, burst onto the deck yelling urgently. “Larissa, you’ve got to see this …” Stumbling to a stop with eyes big as saucers the words died on Jonathan’s lips as he took in the gathered armed crewmen. With one last look at Larissa, Sean called to his men, “Let’s do this!” and moved out at a fast trot heading for the cavern. Watching the crew head out, Jonathan lowered his voice.

“What’s going on Nara?”

Silently stepping up to the railing with Jonathan trailing at her heels, Larissa saw the squad of Navy Seals guarding the pier turn away from the sounds of gunfire coming from the dig. All but one man began backing up nervously as the runes on the Triumph crews’ skin and armor began to suddenly glow. Even from this distance, Larissa could clearly see Chief Petty Officer Riggs’ smirking face. As the rest of his men brought their assault rifles up nervously, Riggs’ voice called out mockingly.

“Seriously, you’re bringing a bunch of axes and swords to a gun fight?”

Riggs’ smirking face suddenly changed into an angry frown as Sean’s voice bellowed over the water. “There is no time for games, son. Move aside or join us.”

Whipping his assault rifle up Riggs’ aimed the weapon at Sean’s head. His face a frozen mask of rage as the clunking sounds of heavy machine guns firing began filling the air. For a long second Larissa was sure Sean was going to have to kill the bloody bastard, but, at the last second, the Chief Petty Officer lowered his weapon and fell back. Without a second look at the soldiers, the Triumph’s crew passed through their ranks and headed up the hill. As the last man passed, Riggs fell in with them ordering his men to follow. Forcing herself to look away, Larissa went to work.

“Mr. MacSweeney.”

“Ma’am?”

“Have the lines loosened in case we need to leave in a hurry. I want three armed men on deck and one in the engine room at all times. Otherwise, stay on the bridge and keep an ear on communications. If you hear anything important, let me know immediately.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

As George headed off at a run, Larissa turned to Tony’s father whose eyes were still wide as saucers. “Jonathan, what’s up?”

Shaking himself out of his trance Jonathan’s eyes were bright with hero worship as he took in the automatic and bowie knife that he and his son had gifted her strapped to Larissa’s waist. Gripping her arm excitedly, Jonathan started pulling her back the way he’d come.

“Nara, you’ve never seen anything like this before.”

Ripping her arm free, Larissa forced Jonathan to stop. “What are you talking about?”

“Just before we lost power I saw it. The Gorgones, she’s alive, and we have the video to prove it!”

***

Location Earth / Beth Kurwoski:

Beth jerked suddenly awake as someone hurriedly pushed their way through the narrow aisle heading to the cockpit of the plane. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Beth momentarily looked around confused as she took in the cargo hold and the men prepping their gear until she remembered once again where she was. Wiping the drool off her cheek, Beth sat up looking for Ryan only to find the seat next to her empty. Alarmed she rose unsteadily to her feet, bracing herself against the turbulent flight as Klaus looked up at her in surprise. Clearing her dry throat, Beth yelled to be heard over the roar of the engines.

“Where’s Ryan?”

“What?”

“I said, where’s Ryan?”

Nodding his head in an exaggerated headshake Klaus pointed towards the cockpit mouthing his answer as he yelled back. “Something’s wrong. Agent Moss went to find out what.”

Giving him a thumbs up Beth began making her way towards the cockpit using both hands to brace herself. Coming up behind Ryan, she realized he was holding a radio headset to his head with both hands over his ears screaming into the MIC. “Rear Admiral Wright, you are not rerouting our flight to the USS Abraham Lincoln or the USS Wasp. You will order these pilots to deliver my team to the Island of Nea Kameni.”

Flipping the dial on her headset, Beth found the channel they were talking on as she heard a pissed off older man dressing down Ryan. “You are out of line Agent Moss. SAD holds no authority over this Task Group. I make the decisions of where you and your team will be going. For right now your base of operations will be the USS Wasp until this situation has been resolved.”

Seeing Beth’s questioning look, Ryan leaned forward covering the MIC with his hand as he quickly brought her up to speed. “Reports started coming in that the dig was under attack by an unknown force when our flight was rerouted to the USS Wasp. I’m trying to get Rear Admiral Wright to let us land onsite to deal with the situation, but he’s refusing.” Ryan’s voice suddenly lowered to a harsh whisper. “Honestly, from the combat chatter we’ve been hearing it sounds like another incursion.”

“They can’t confirm the enemy?”

“No one has been able to confirm Jack, except that the attack originated from inside the central cavern of the dig.”

Coming to a decision, Beth pulled Ryan’s MIC to her lips reaching for the small envelope inside her BDU’s that Doctor Strafford had given her before leaving Washington. “Rear Admiral Wright, this is Agent Kurwoski. By order of the Secretary of Defense, U.S. Strategic Command has furnished our team special dispensation in regards to this operation and Task Force 60.”

“Special dispensation?”

“I believe Agent Kurwoski meant special orders.”

Ripping the envelope open Beth began reading out loud. “The authorization codes for Operation Forward Defense are as follows: Alpha-Tango-Charlie-Zulu-Three-Uniform-November-Niner.” Ignoring the sudden swearing in her headphones Beth continued speaking calmly into the MIC. “Once again, the authorization codes for Operation Forward Defense are Alpha-Tango-Charlie-Zulu-Three-Uniform-November-Niner.”

“Operation Forward Defense?” There was a pregnant pause of silence as Rear Admiral Wright had his people verify the special order’s codes as the pilots studiously avoided looking at them both. Cocking his head to the side Ryan's eyebrows rose questioningly at the small envelope held in her hand. “When did Strafford give you that?”

“We came up with this option when you were working out the travel details in case this turned into a complete clusterfuck. I didn’t want to pull this out unless I had to, but Wright’s refusal left me no choice. We have to know what’s going on down there. If this is another incursion-”

Following her train of thought, Ryan completed her sentence. “We need to know now before it’s too late. It’s not like we have Startüm to bail us out this time …” Ryan’s voice slowly died away as he saw the look of anguish that suddenly cross her face. “Hey there, I didn’t mean anything by that. I know he did what he could for us. I know … I’m sure he’s okay.”

Holding up a palm to shut him up Beth sucked in a ragged breath as she struggled to push down the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her from within. It wasn’t Ryan’s fault. He’d been neck deep in that rollercoaster of horror right along with her. It was just everything that had happened that night. The dread of not knowing if Startüm was dead or alive, the terrible feelings of guilt whenever she thought back to that final battle … Startüm had saved them all.

If they’d only have had a little more time together, maybe she could have … Wiping the tears of frustration away with the back of her hand Beth’s hard eyes held Ryan’s as her soul screamed out in anguish. Whatever it took she would find him. Wordlessly Ryan gripped her shoulder as the crack of static snapped her thoughts back to the present. “Agent Kurwoski, Northern Command has confirmed your authority and Operation Forward Defense. How can Task Force 60 assist your team?”

There was no question that the Rear Admiral was pissed. Ignoring the man’s hostile tone Beth proceeded as if nothing had changed. “If you can direct your Marines to deliver our teams to the entrance of the dig we’ll handle it from there.”

Biting off each word Rear Admiral Wright addressed the Osprey’s head pilot. “Captain Scott, you will deliver your combat teams to Nea Kameni and then report to Major Jensen for further instructions.”

“Lima Charlie, over.”

“USS Abraham Lincoln, over and out.”

As the radio went dead, Beth leaned her head against the steel frame breathing a sigh of relief. For a long moment, the only sound was the roar of the twin engines. Opening her eyes, she suddenly realized everyone was looking at her expectantly. At first, she didn’t understand what they were waiting for when suddenly she stood up straight. Digging out her smartphone, Beth gave the coordinates to the pilots.

“We’ll be on-target in fifteen, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Captain. Would you have the pilots in the other Osprey inform my team of our ETA?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Please inform them that we will be going in hot.”

“Roger, Ma’am.” As the plane began banking sharply for the new course, Beth followed Ryan back into the cargo hold to gear up.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Location Irlendria / Tathar Cúthalion:

“Pull your scouts back now Dínendal!”

Ignoring Tathar completely, Dínendal pushed past the young shaman calling out orders to his Elven warriors. “Chain the disgusting beasts now!”

Pulling a strand of long blond hair from his face Tathar stalked after the insane scout leader as his temper began to flare. Being one of the youngest shamans of the tribe, he was used to the disdain from the older warriors, even though he had completed the Trial of Na'ii'ees almost a year ago. For the veterans of the Clan, the ones that had fought in the Great War, the trials weren’t enough to prove his place amongst the warriors of the tribe. For them only the trial of battle would attest his worth in their eyes, but no matter what they thought of him, they were going to follow his orders now.

Tathar had promised his clan sister that her charges would be protected until she could return with the Spirit Mother. There was no way he was going to let their arrogance make an oath breaker out of him.

<We are with you Tathar. Do what you must to stop this travesty>

Lranel’s mental voice sounded in Tathar’s head as he felt his spirit sister come up behind him. Silently he gave thanks for her support. When they were this close to one another, the link was so strong that he could almost read Lranel’s thoughts as if they were his own. A silver flash to his right marked Nixus, Lranel’s soulmate, moving into position as the warmth of Anon’s confidence flowed through their link. Now was the time for action.

Immediately Tathar sprang in front of Dínendal. Before the Scout Leader could react to the Wenci’s presence, Anon’s front paw smashed the Elf to the ground at Tathar’s feet. Meeting Dínendal’s enraged face, Tathar’s voice held the promise of violence.

“Call your scouts back now Dínendal!”

“You dare to threaten me, pup? I’ll gut you where you stand.”

Without saying a word, Anon’s six-inch claws sprang from their sheaths. Quicker than the eyes could follow the large paw slammed Dínendal flat on his back as a low growl began rumbling deep within the Wenci’s furry chest. Smiling grimly into the Elf’s fearful eyes, Tathar studied the fresh blood oozing from the Scout Leader’s neck where the deadly claws had broken the skin.

“Call your scouts back now Dínendal or Anon will decide the Áskorun before the Spirit Mother comes. Have I made myself clear?”

Before Dínendal could answer a scream of rage and agony rang out behind Tathar. Spinning around towards the prisoners, the young shaman watched in horror as the scouts began pummeling the small children they’d pulled from the Centaur’s back with the butts of their spears.

Immediately everything fell apart in the flick of a tail. Bellowing in anger the unarmed Minotaurs and Centaur tore into the Wild Elves surrounding the girls as the rest of the scouts rushed forward. Before the prisoners could make it to the children, a bestial roar rang out across the glade freezing everyone in their tracks.

A split second later blood sprayed across Tathar’s faces as the Elves that were pummeling the children were suddenly thrown into the air. The scouts blood curling screams of fear and pain were cut off abruptly as they slammed to a stop near the edge of the clearing. Rising up in their place was a massive armored warrior.

Broken chains clanked where they dangled below the long bloody claws that flexed in rage as the warrior’s glowing yellow eyes menacingly raked across the clearing. Even though the male’s face was horribly battered, the feral ferocity radiating out from the warrior hit Tathar like a physical force as the weight of that gaze settled on him a moment later.

Through his link with Anon, Tathar felt his soulmate’s terror as she instantly recognized the creature standing before them. Throughout the eleven years he’d been spirit-bound to his Wenci sister, this was the first time he’d ever known her to be afraid. Although the meaning in the Wencis’ language was different than the Wild Elf’s, none the less Tathar understood in essence what stood within their midst.

If Anon was correct, the creature was a Werewolf, one of the beasts from the deep forest to the far west whose immense power and ferocity were legendary. Rarely did the monsters leave their territory high in the mountains, but if the old stories held any truth, the Werewolves were extremely protective of their young. A prepared war party might be able to defeat one of the monsters, but not a small scouting patrol.

Tathar had never heard of Werewolves wearing armor like a civilized race, but some psychic premonition deep within his soul warned him that the lives of his people within the glade were at risk if he didn’t stop this insanity. Meeting those ferocious yellow eyes, Tathar held up his open palms in a sign of truce as he called out to the Elven warriors around him.

“Scouts, I command you to sheath your weapons and step back to the perimeter.”

Behind him, Tathar heard Dínendal scream in anger as he sprang to his feet. “Kill them all! I am your leader, not this untested youngling –“ Tathar’s backhand lifted Dínendal off his feet in mid-shriek as the force of the blow flung the Elf to the ground several feet away.

“Áskorun has been called by the Wencis making this a point of Benda Heimild.” Tathar felt Lranel stand next to him giving her physical support as his eyes swept the scouts around them. “As shamans of the Clan, we have the right of predominance.”

Unflinchingly Tathar met the dark looks from his clan mates. “You will not engage further unless I command it.” Pausing for emphasis Tathar addressed the Elves facing off with the captives. “Is there any further questions assistant scout leader Aliya?”

Tathar could see the distress warring in Aliya’s eyes as she took in the injured Elves scattered around the clearing being helped by her comrades after the brief fight. “You’re going to protect these beasts even after they attacked our people?”

Before he could respond Tathar heard Anon’s thoughts reverberate in his head as his soulmate broadcasted her thoughts around the glade.

<The agreement was broken the moment your scouts attacked the unconscious pups>

Ignoring the angry glares Anon’s mind-speak continued without remorse.

<We would have forcibly removed the Nafdas ourselves if the Werewolf hadn’t done the deed for us>

Urgently Tathar focused his thoughts trying to get Anon to shut up. It wasn’t that he was surprised at his soulmate’s words. The Wencis’ protectiveness of their young was well known throughout the Clan. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the best time for that discussion.

“Anon, that’s not helping.” Raising his voice in command Tathar hurriedly overrode his soulmate’s mind-speak. “Sheath your weapons and withdraw to the perimeter now!”

Holding his eyes for a second longer, Aliya finally spat in disgust. If she had caught the exchange between him and Anon, she ignored it. Turning away, she began ordering her scouts back when she froze as a shriek of rage rang out behind Tathar.

Instantly pain exploded in Tathar’s chest as he suddenly lost control of his body. He could taste blood in his mouth as everything seemed to tilt. A second later the ground slammed into his face. In his peripheral vision, Tathar could see Lranel collapsed next to him unmoving with a stunned look on her face. On the opposite side, he felt Anon’s shock as she fell mewling in agony next to him.

Leather boots strode past Tathar’s face before Dínendal’s bloody hands came into view. The Scout Leader was screaming and waving his arms, but Tathar couldn’t make out what was being said as darkness washed over him.

***

Location Irlendria / Enelya Tasartir:

Enelya struggled to hold on to Argus’ sleek coat as he raced through the trees heading back to their companions. She felt his exhaustion radiating through her limbs as if it were her own body being pushed past its limits, but still Argus drove himself relentlessly onwards. Following close behind was Enelya’s mother riding astride the silvery-black coated Eila. With her gray-streaked dreadlocks streaming behind her in the wind, mother looked like a shaman half her age. If not for the hard-faced Blood Guards surrounding her in a protective ring an outside observer would have never guessed she was Arien Tasartir, the Clan’s Spirit Mother.

Slightly ahead of her mother rode the serious faced Ohorn sitting atop a sable coated Wenci named Unar as his piercing blue eyes scanned the growing shadows missing nothing. Although not soulmated to one another like shamans, every Wenci and Elf that took up the mantle of the Blood Guard were bound to one another as close as packmates. They served for life protecting the Clan’s Spirit Mother.

Looking ahead once more, Enelya laid her body against Argus’ neck whispering encouragements as her thoughts drifted back to their meeting with her mother. When Enelya had first entered the wigwam where mother was meeting with the Tribe’s Council of Elders, she hadn’t needed to say a word. One look at her face and all conversation stopped around the tent. Even though she knew mother would demand to know everything, there simply wasn’t time to go over their entire plight, so Enelya did the only thing she could think to do. Standing up straight, she addressed her mother formally.

“Spirit Mother, I require your immediate presence to stop an impending disaster threatening the future of the Clan.”

Her mother’s head had snapped back at the formal address. Concern for her daughter’s wellbeing instantly formed into an impenetrable mask as she considered the words carefully. There was no question in Enelya’s mind just how bad she and Argus must have looked in her eyes. Damaged leathers without any sign of obvious injury, furs and coat encrusted with dried blood and the overall stench of death that clung to them like a second skin as they both swayed on their feet from exhaustion ready to collapse.

Enelya was sure mother was going to demand an explanation, but the slight stiffening of her body told her that mother was in the middle of a discussion with her Wenci counterpart. For a long moment, mother held Eila’s eyes from across the room as they privately argued. When the silvery-gray Wenci rose to her haunches, Enelya felt Argus’ anxiety through their link, but his eyes never left his Pack Leader’s as her long claws dug deep into the pile of skins beneath her paws. Enelya knew he was catching grief for the terse response she’d given to mother, but they’d both agreed ahead of time that this was the only way. Just when Enelya was about to give up any hope that they’d get moving quickly, her mother came to a decision. Striding across the wigwam mother began calling out orders to the Elves and Wencis around them as Eila sprang to her side. Within moments, they were underway.

Enelya’s thoughts were ripped back to the present as Argus sprang out onto the main trail. For an instant he lost control of his headlong flight as a bestial howl of rage shattered the silence around them. Scrabbling for traction Argus bounced off the nearest tree before getting his paws under him once again as the rest of the party caught up with them looking around warily. The resonant metallic sounds of tinnearlian blades leaving their sheaths rang out around them as the Blood Guards drew their long curved knives at a signal from Ohorn.

Ignoring the questioning looks Enelya urged Argus down the trail towards where the sounds had come from. As they rounded the bend in the trail, Enelya suddenly screeched in anger as she saw the bodies of Tathar and Lranel lying on the ground bleeding from their backs. To either side of them laid the unmoving forms of Anon and Nixus, their bodies’ twisted and rigid from the agony of their soulmates’ death. Enraged Enelya scanned the clearing taking in the scene before her in an instant.

Warily watching the rest of the scouts inside the perimeter of the circle were Terus and his Wenci hunters stalking back and forth, ears laid dangerously flat against their skulls, long tails swishing back and forth as they agitatedly guarded her companions at the center of the glade. A group of injured were being cared for near the edge of the forest, while the Rangers huddled together nearby watching her approach with sullen apprehension.

Although a part of her mind peripherally noted Nessa and the injured Minotaurs standing guard over Lúthien, her focus was drawn to the enraged bloody Paladin hunched protectively over the two young girls lying unconscious at his feet. Thick, broken, ironidium chain links hung from his wrists while feverish yellow glowing eyes watched her approach. Even from this distance, she could see he was ready to collapse. Sliding off Argus’ back, Enelya came to a stop next to Aliya.

“What in Meliki’s name is going on here?” Seeing the troubled looks of the scouts, she addressed Aliya directly. “What happened to Tathar and Lranel and why were my companions chained?”

Not meeting her gaze, Aliya’s grief-laden voice spoke hesitantly. “It was Dínendal. He killed them after commanding your companions to be bound.” Before she could say more, Terus stalked forward cutting her off.

<The Scouts attacked the Werewolf’s young>

Flinching at the accusation Aliya slowly met Enelya’s eyes. “The children attacked our people first. My warriors were only defending themselves-.”

A deep growl from Terus cut Aliya off in midsentence.

<Your warriors were beating the injured children to death>

Meeting Aliya’s eyes she saw her friend turn away in shame from the truth of the Wenci’s accusations. Confused she focused on Terus’ fur covered face. “How did they get past your hunters in the first place?”

<We thought it simpler to allow the sick one to chain your companions then be forced to attack your packmates>

The dark coil of evil that Enelya had seen wrapped around Dínendal’s soul should have been warning enough. She should have pushed the point of Benda Heimild first, before seeking mother’s help with this mess. Enelya swore she wouldn’t make that mistake again. Placing a reassuring hand on Terus’ shoulder, she walked past the Wenci staring once again into the Klavikian’s eyes. “Thank you for keeping them alive Terus.”

<The Werewolf hasn’t moved since the attack against his young, but something isn’t right>

She could hear the hesitation in Terus’ mind-speak.

<He stinks of rotting flesh>

A ripple went through the gathered Elves as wordlessly the Blood Guard spread out in a defensive circle apprehensively. The soft padded footfalls of Eila came to a stop next to Enelya as her mother spoke her thoughts out loud.

“Dínendal is responsible for this? Where is Gwindor Helyanwë?”

“I do not know. Dínendal was in charge when this started. I tried to stop him, but he was beyond reason. I’d hoped your presence would stop the needless deaths of our people.”

They both ignored the muffled groan from the Elf in question as Aliya dragged him roughly to his feet at a slash from the Spirit Mother’s hand. Seeing her arched eyebrow at the gag in Dínendal’s mouth Aliya lowered her head in distress.

“He wouldn’t stop spouting his hate, Spirit Mother.”

Sliding from Eila’s back Enelya’s mother came to her side with Ohorn and another Blood Guard close by eying the injured warrior warily “It’s good you came to me first. An attack on a Werewolf and his pups within our territory can only lead to trouble with the eastern wolf packs. Ohorn, we must leave no trace that they were ever here.”

“No! That is not why I asked you here Spirit Mother.” Urgently Enelya faced her mother, cutting her off as she spread her arms out wide. “I needed Dínendal stopped, not the Werewolf. With the Great Forest’s blessing, I touched this warrior’s spirit when he saved us all from being consumed by a Tuonellian Hulk and its small army of Scourge not far from our borders. I owe him Skuldir Líf.”

Ignoring the sharp intake of breath from the Elves around her, Enelya backed up until she was standing directly in front of the feverish Klavikian. The ‘Skuldir Líf’ was a life debt. A promise to guard and protect until the debt had been paid back in full. For a shaman, this meant two lives instead of one. Not that any of that mattered now. Only she and Argus truly understood just how dire the situation had suddenly become for them all.

In the brief touch, Enelya had shared with the Paladin as the life force was fleeing from her shattered body by the Otso River. She’d seen the Klavikian’s entire life. The horror of his parent’s death, the pain and loneliness of his life, the bravery and selfless sacrifice that made up the core of his being and most importantly what was yet to come. The vision had shaken her soul, awakening something deep inside of her that she’d never felt before.

Even though the decision had been instantaneous, the reality of following through with what Enelya knew she had to do was another matter altogether. The decision would change her and Argus’ lives forever. Although Argus had agreed without hesitation, they both knew the Klavikian’s quest would change their lives, but none the less it was something they had to do.

Turning around Enelya placed her palm on the armored chest before her. Fearlessly she met the golden eyes speaking loud enough for all to hear. “This warrior is more than just a Werewolf. He is the son of Ilmarinen Ironwolf.“

A ripple of shock ran through the Elves around the clearing as they grasped the meaning of Enelya’s words. Even her mother froze at the mention of the legendary Paladin’s name that had almost singlehandedly saved their world from annihilation. That this could be his son standing before them boggled the mind.

“The prophecy will never come to pass!”

Spinning around at Dínendal’s scream, Enelya was just in time to see the fighting spear flying straight for her heart. Stepping backward she tried in vain to whip her arms up in time to deflect the heavy triangle-shaped head, but there wasn’t enough time as her back slammed into the armored chest behind her. Before she could do more than scream a large callused hand swept her aside.

Rolling back to her feet, Enelya saw Dínendal slammed to the ground by the Blood Guard as she heard the sickening thunk behind her. Turning around she could only stare in horror at the thick wooden shaft sticking out of the Klavikian’s chest. The tinnearlian head had effortlessly punched through the armored breastplate like it was made of paper.

Unbelievably, even mortally wounded the Paladin somehow managed to stay on his knees. Blood ran down the front of his armor from the jagged hole in his chest as his white-knuckled fists gripped the spear shaft. The shriek of metal filled the air as his arms suddenly flexed to full extension. Incredulously everyone watched as the Klavikian’s hands slide further up the bloody shaft. Taking a solid grip with both hands once again, he yanked with one mighty pull as the barbed spearhead ripped free from his chest.

Tossing the gore-covered spear on the ground the Klavikian’s feverish eyes held Enelya’s gaze as the large hole in his chest began to glow with a golden light. Within seconds, the wound closed of its own accord. As the light began to fade, his eyes slowly began rolling back into his head.

Springing to her feet, Enelya rushed to the Paladin’s side as he fell backward. Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders she tried to hold him up, but he was simply too heavy. Crying out for help, she fell on top of him as he collapsed unconscious to the ground.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

For the longest time I was only aware of pain, conscious or unconscious it followed me lashing at my very soul. Even though a part of me logically knew the torment I felt was from my body’s fight against the consumption eating me from the inside out. In my weakened condition my feverish thoughts began to take on a life of their own. Time passed in a never ending series of nightmares as memories of the past and present hounded my mind like a relentless beast.

Peace only came in short spurts, when the cold cloths bathing my burning forehead lowered the fever enough to make me semi-lucid. During those brief moments, I was aware of my surrounds … of the soft fur beneath my back, the gentle hands that worked to keep my body from overheating and the soft lips that pushed chewed food into my mouth for sustenance. I was weak, too weak to open even my eyes, but every time I felt the warmth of that touch my heart raced in my chest.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard I fought to hold onto that soothing presence it always seemed to slip away, disappearing with the first waves of pain as the sickness returned. As my back arched from the hunger spasms rocking my body, tears rolled down my face as I gasped for breath. It was always worse just after I ate.

The agony that racked my body was unlike anything I’d experienced before, which in itself was a shock. I was used to being hurt. For as long as I could remember pain had been a steadfast part of my life. A constant companion thrust upon me at birth. I was familiar with its many forms. I knew its terrible embrace, but this … this was something horribly different.

“I must be dying.”

The crystal clear thought shot through my mind as the darkness rose up inside of me again. It disappeared a moment later as waves of agony began crashing through my body. Almost as if they’d been lying in wait the nightmares followed returning in strength. In a feverish haze, I once again relived my early years on Earth as I cried out in pain.

Being trained by my Grandsire as I grew up meant that I was thrashed on a regular basis, usually to the brink of death on most days. My combat lessons usually ended with my body lying broken in a bloody heap on the floor as I waited for my injuries to heal. Again and again, the brutal beatings would repeat. Stopping only when my energy pool had been depleted to the point I could no longer heal my injuries anew.

Only then did the pummeling stop. I’m sure Grandsire and I would have had a much healthier relationship over the years if the lessons had stopped there. Not to mention, I probably wouldn’t have freaked out so bad five years earlier about my life, but at the time we both thought we were doing what was necessary to prepare me for the upcoming war against the Tuonellians. Unfortunately as with any two Alpha males, we always pushed each other too hard. Only calling it quits when I had nothing left to give.

Afterward, Grandsire would prepare something for us to eat, while I writhe on the floor in agony until I’d built up enough energy to repair my shattered body. After being hurt so many times over the years you’d think I would’ve become numb to that level of physical abuse, but it never worked out that way. No matter how many times your hands are crushed or your ribs are broken, your body never gets acclimated to that level of pain.

Although the old wolf’s methods would have been considered inhumane by Human standards, they were normal for members of the Pack. If anything, young Werewolves had a much harder time with combat training since they didn’t have the ability to heal their injuries in the blink of an eye. Usually, it took a day or two for a Werewolves’ body to recover from a beating like mine. Learning a lesson could take young Werewolves weeks or even months, while my God-given powers allowed me to learn the same lesson in a matter of days if not hours.

Through it all, the constant pain had taught me one very important truth that nothing else could have. No matter what happened to me on the battlefield, no matter how badly my body was beaten or broken, the secret to being a Paladin of Ukko or Werewolf was having the will to endure. The will to endure all the shit that life threw at you and still remain standing.

I would never give up.

I would never give in.

Simple mantras that I’d learned from the Humans during my time on Earth. Whereas an outsider would’ve expected me to have only hatred for my Grandsire from the daily beatings, I’d received while growing up. For me, it had the exact opposite effect. I understood the lessons he’d been trying to teach me in a way few others could have ever comprehended.

To have the ability to heal any physical injury and continue fighting would sound like a miracle to most people. In truth, it was exactly just that. But like anything given by the divine, it came at a terrible price. A horrendous responsibility that would never go away, but none the less must still be endured. It was the gift to live through the agony of a thousand deaths. The curse to know firsthand the pain that must be endured, yet still be willing to fight for what was right. It took special kind of fortitude. One that Grandsire had struggled to help me build over the years. The physical and mental abuse he’d inflicted upon me while growing up was his way of giving me the strength and inner conviction needed to face the destiny that had been chosen for me since before my birth.

In my mind’s eye, I rose to my knees. Facing the hurricane of pain beating at my soul, I howled in defiance as something snapped inside of me. My thoughts tumbled again as I awoke to being dragged through the forest between two hulking Minotaurs, before being dumped to the hard packed ground half-dead.

Unmoving, I listened numbly to the sounds of battle erupt around me, when the mental screams of the twins suddenly ripped through my thoughts like a tinnearlian blade. Lifting my feverish head, I felt my own body being pummeled as the Elves attacked Frostbrand and Starfire. In that instant, a burning fury reared its terrible head up inside me like nothing I’d ever felt before.

I’d always feared of losing control of the monster that lived just beneath my skin. The savage Werewolf waiting to rear its ugly head at a moment’s notice. Throughout my entire life I’d struggled against it, holding the rage in check with an iron fist. Any momentary lapse and I could have slaughtered countless of innocents on Earth. But now, functioning on instinct alone with injuries so severe that I was knocking on death’s door, I had nothing left to fear. I did the only thing I could to save the girls.

Reaching deep into my soul, I released the raging beast within me. Immediately the Werewolf side of my soul howled to life. The thought should have horrified the Klavikian inside of me, but instead, I gave a prayer of thanks to Ukko for the burning fire growing inside of me. The Fring devastating my body should have made such a physical response impossible, but somehow I managed to lift myself up. As a primitive roar ripped from my lips, I smashed into the Elves attacking the girls shattering their ranks in seconds.

Nothing would be allowed to jeopardize the future of the Pack! My thoughts were suddenly jolted back to the present in a flash as icy water splashed on my face. My head lolled weakly from side to side, but even that little bit of exertion seemed to exhaust me.

For a second, I didn’t know where I was, but as the water was wiped from my face, the anxiety seemed to lessen. Lying still, I listened to the sounds of water being rung out in a shallow bowl next to me as my mind struggled to piece together my scattered thoughts. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt better. My head was clear and the pain that had been racking my body was all but gone. The fever must have finally broke.

Once again I felt the cold, soothing touch brush against my skin as soft hands gently moved down my body washing the sweat away. My eyes felt like they weighed a ton, but after what seemed like an eternity, I managed to crack them open. For a second everything was blurry, but my vision cleared a moment later as my eyes adjusted to the low light as I focused on my benefactor.

The first thing I noticed was the brown mane of hair that cascaded around the small woman as she worked. The crimped dreads hung teasingly across a bronze shoulder, barely covering the slope of small breasts that rode high on her chest. Sitting on her knees as she was, I at first thought she was naked, but as she moved around to clean the grime from my body, I noticed the hide loincloth hanging from her slim waist. My breath caught in my throat as I watched her work. It was as if I were suddenly aware of her nakedness in a way like I’d never noticed a woman before. The sudden desire rising up inside of me was shocking in its intensity as my thoughts reeled.

During my time growing up on Earth, I’d never been interested in female companionship, other than in teaching new students the word of Ukko. Not that I wasn’t aware of the attraction the females I taught felt for me. My single female students were always throwing themselves at me, trying to get me alone in the back room or getting handsy with me in one-on-one sessions. Normally it was subtle. Most cultures around the world tended to frown on women being too forward about their sexual advances, but in places like South America, more than one woman had expressed their desire for me in no uncertain terms.

I’m sure the truth would’ve surprised most of my students, but for the most part it never crossed my mind one way or another. Don’t get me wrong. There were times I wondered if something was majorly wrong with me. I mean, shouldn’t I have been struggling like any other horny teenager growing up on Earth having to learn how to control their hormones? By Ukko’s light, I should’ve had some sort of a sex drive going on, but there was nothing.

At the time, I’d just figured it was for the best. It wasn’t like I had any kind of a future to offer a prospective mate even if I had wanted to be with one of the many women who’d expressed their interest. So for the most part, teaching and helping those in needs became my focus outside of training and learning to control my powers. Grandsire wasn’t exactly pleased with my decision, but it wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter. Ignoring the pain and suffering of innocents was not an option for a Paladin of Ukko. Not to mention, I needed the meaning it gave to my life.

For this reason any level of intimacy was foreign to me, which was part of the reason I was unsure at first who was more surprised when my body began to respond to the small hands gently stroking my skin. As the hardness began growing between my legs, a part of me realized I should be embarrassed at my body’s physiological reaction, but as the girl crouching near my feet looked up with a hungry grin, those concerns flew from my mind.

The savage intensity of the girl’s beauty held me captivated. She almost glowed in the flickering light. Her skin was decorated only by a primitive rawhide necklace with a row of large fangs that hung between the soft valley of her breasts, flawless except for reddish-black stripes that marked her cheeks and forehead. Studying the wild eyes that watched me closely, I suddenly noticed the pointy ears peaking out of the dreads on either side of her face as something inside of me snapped in recognition.

She was a Wild Elf! The sound of my beating heart thrummed in my ears as the implications hit me. Immediately the dam burst as memories of the last several days came flooding back to me. Grandsire being killed, the Tuonellians coming to Earth, the battle with the demon knight, rescuing Frostbrand and Starfire and our flight down the mountain, the Fring, and the Elves … gasping for breath my eyes darted urgently around the large tent looking for Starfire and Frostbrand. Seeing them nowhere in sight, I felt the panic welling up inside of me as one single thought reverberated in my mind. I had to save the girls!

Fear, rage, loss … the complex emotions assaulted me as I struggled to roll onto my hands and knees, only nothing happened. Except for my arms flailing uselessly at my sides my body refused to move. My first response was to reach for my power, but instead of feeling the familiar strength surging through my veins, nothing happened. My energy pool was bone dry as if I’d been fighting for my life. How could that even be possible?

True panic hit me then. Instinctively I searched inside my battered body as I fought to lift myself up. From somewhere deep inside I felt the power given to me by Ukko still flowing into my body. Instead of pooling into a reserve like it normally did, it was feeding directly into my body. Without a second thought, I redirected the flow, brutally forcing it into my muscles.

The scream that ripped out of my parched lips only came out as a low rasping moan, but that didn’t lessen the severity of the pain or the convulsions racking my body. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as abused muscles clenched in agony, exemplifying just how sick and injured I truly was.

Instantly soft hands gripped my face as a musical voice urgently whispered in my ear. “Be at peace Klavikian, all is well with your charges. You have the word of Enelya Tasartir. You must let your body fully heal if you are to recover your strength." More soothing words followed, most of them lost in the haze of pain, but gradually the tension drained from my aching body.

Slowly I once again became aware of my surroundings. This time, the small Elf was lying on top of me. Her small breasts were pressed against my chest as her hands steadily stroked my face. Feeling me stir beneath her, she lifted herself up to straddle my chest as she reached for a bowl by her knee.

The movements of the girl’s lithe body made me intensely aware of her nakedness as she pulled out a strip of meat to chew on. There was definitely nothing under that loincloth but bare skin! Pushing the thought away, I mentally shook my head ignoring my body’s reaction.

With a ghost of a smile, the Elf girl’s dark brown eyes watched me closely as her small mouth worked the meat for several minutes. Leaning forward she pressed her soft lips against my own, firmly pushing the food into my mouth as her dreads splayed across my chest while the scent of wild blossoms filled my senses.

For a moment, I froze at the shared intimacy that passed between us, before weakly swallowing the sustenance without question. She touched my body with a familiar ease like I was some lost lover. Almost as if she knew me on some deeper level, but the thought slipped away a second later as my hunger returned with a vengeance. I was starving. Thankfully without hesitation the Elf girl continued feeding me the entire bowl, her lips lingering longer with each pass.

Although this primitive level of care was unneeded in most places on Earth, on Irlendria this was how many healers cared for the injured or sick. Even so, by the time the bowl was empty, there was more kissing going on than actual feeding, which wasn’t something I’d ever heard of healers doing from my studies.

I know I should have questioned what was happening or at least wondered about the why, but like any other male, all that I could think about was the burning heat rising up inside of my loins. It was my first kiss. Even weakened as I was my body responded to the tender pull of those urgent lips without hesitation; the intensity momentarily wiping away all thought. I’d never felt desire like this before in my entire life.

Maybe it was the near death experience or simply the emotional trauma from everyone I’d lost, but with everything I’d been through the “why” didn’t seem important at that second. There was no question that the Elf girl had saved my life and obviously that of Frostbrand and Starfire. How could I turn down her simple request?

I’m not saying it wasn’t hot, because it was. It was just the whole experience was outside my normal realm of understanding. Not that there’d been much of a choice in the matter, but then again maybe that’s how things like this went.

Either way, no matter how intense the make-out session was becoming as soon as the food stopped flowing I was done. Almost before I realized what was happening my eyes began closing of their own accord. A moment later, I felt those same small hands pull a thick fur over our bodies as the Elf girl once again rested her head against my chest before the darkness overtook me.

***

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

The next time I became conscious of my surroundings again, I realized the agony that had been tearing at my soul apart was all but gone. Even though I lay motionless, I could tell my body was still very weak. Hearing movement nearby, I groggily opened my bleary eyes looking towards the sounds.

For a long second my mind failed to comprehend what I saw as my mouth gaped open in surprise. It was dark again, but the flickering light from the fire gave off more than enough light for me to see what was happening. Possibly a more accurate statement would have been to watch the action that was going on. Whoever the Centaur was from the battle by the river, she definitely knew the Wild Elf. Lip-locked the way they were it was obvious they were more than friends.

Casual sex had never been an option for me. Not because Paladins were prudes or that Ukko frowned on the sexual promiscuity of his religious warriors. It might sound like an odd question to ask, but it was amazing how many times the subject was brought up by new converts. Probably because so many religions on Earth had issues with sex and intimate relationships between unwed men and women. Most just automatically assumed Ukkodians would have similar hang-ups. I’m sure my own lack of intimate relationships caused some of the confusion, but that wasn’t a Ukko thing. I’d just never been interested in sex one way or another while growing up, but now watching the scene before me, it was like I couldn’t look away.

“He wakes!” The sharp hiss made my blood turn cold. For a split second, I felt like a teenager caught peeking into some girl’s bedroom window. The Centaur’s angry black eyes suddenly bore into me as the Elf girl untwined herself from the filly’s arms. Hurrying to my side, the Elf girl began pulling me into a propped-up position while speaking over her shoulder.

“Nessa, can you bring the bowl of meat that mother prepared?”

Obviously irritated the Centaur rose to her hooves in one smooth motion as my breath caught in my throat. Embarrassingly my eyes focused on the bounce of her impressive breasts. From the scars that marked her body, there was no question that she was a warrior. Forcing my gaze away from her bare chest, I studied the color of her lean and heavily muscled body. Except for the roan-colored mane of hair flowing from her head and down her back, her skin was completely white. There was something important about the color, but whatever it was my mind couldn’t seem to recall the forgotten memory as she angrily clopped towards the tent’s flap.

What was wrong with me? It was like I couldn’t stop ogling every female I saw!

With one last angry glare, the Centaur left the tent as I tried not to stare at the nearly nude Elf girl that suddenly plopped into my lap. Still only dressed in a loincloth, she straddled my legs pressing a wooden bowl to my dry lips. “Drink.” Seeing my nose quiver at the terrible odor she smiled fiercely. “I know it smells horrible. It tastes even worse, but it will help your body heal. Now drink!”

For a moment, I thought about arguing, but that made little sense. If they’d wanted to poison me, they wouldn’t be working so hard to keep me alive. Not that I had any choice in the matter as the bowl was suddenly upended into my mouth. Grimacing, I gulped the foul tasting liquid down until the bowl was empty. Almost immediately a warm heat began spreading throughout my emaciated body as the Elf girl’s slim arms immediately wrapped around my neck. Leaning forward without hesitation, she pressed her lean body against my chest kissing me softly. Without conscious thought my hands ran up her muscular thighs, thankfully stopping just short of her loin cloth as I spoke in a hurried rush with my voice cracking from disuse.

“Whoa, time out for a second. What do you think you’re doing?” Seeing the surprised look on her face, I suddenly felt self-conscious as we both became aware of my body’s obvious reaction to her nearness. Stuttering, I tried a different track. “You don’t need to do this. I mean, you don’t even know me?” Before she could answer the flap whipped open as the Centaur came striding back into the tent. Taking one disgusted look at us, she tossed a large bowl to the Elf girl before storming back out with a flick of her tail.

Giving me a playful smile, the Elf girl adjusted her hips to slide more fully onto my groin as she began feeding me. This time, she let me chew my own meat as she spoke in her musical voice. “Nessa is an old friend.” Seeing my raised eyebrows she blushed slightly. “Well more than just friends, but that was a long time ago. I was just explaining to her why there couldn’t be anything more between us when you woke up.”

She said that matter-of-factly like the explanation should have been obvious. Unfortunately, it didn’t help to explain anything about what was going on. Grandsire had covered the various Elven Clans and their ways during our lessons, but he had only limited knowledge of the Wild Elves and their animal companions. I knew that most of their tribe had been devastated protecting the Great Forest during the Battle of Daeron. Dying by the thousands they’d held back the Tuonellians Hordes long enough for the Alliance to come to the Elves rescue, but doing so had almost destroyed the Clan. Nearly one in twenty hadn’t survived the battle. Afterward the Wild Elves had pulled back from the rest of the world, so little was known of their ways.

Seeing my confusion, the girl continued explaining. “You saved our lives by the Otso River and in doing so stopped an invasion that would have killed many of my tribe had they been caught unaware by the Tuonellian deception. The Clan owes you Skuldir Líf. It is my honor and duty to repay the life debt owed by my people.”

For a surreal second, it felt like the blood suddenly froze in my veins as my voice hardened in barely controlled rage. To say that I was angry would have been an understatement. During my time on Earth, I had ran into many cultures that paid their debts with the lives of their women and children. It was as if these members of their society were considered less than human, but mere property to be traded without a second thought or concern like cattle. In each culture the name was different, but ultimately the practice was the same. Always for the honor of the family or the tribe and approved by society at large or condoned by the ruling religion, but slavery none the less.

“Your clan owes me nothing for my help. There is no debt that needs to be repaid.”

Bowing her head, the Elf girl spoke without hesitation. “None the less, my life and that of Argus, my Wenci brother, is yours.”

Sitting up, I shoved the Wild Elf from my lap speaking harshly. “I am a Paladin of Ukko. To accept such payment would go against every principle my God stands for. I do not sanction slavery, nor do I tolerate the practice in my presence.”

Looking up at me incredulously the Elf girl rose to her knees. “You would discard my people’s gift after they have come to the aid of you and your charges?”

My anger gave me the strength to rise shakily into a crouch as the tattoos on my skin began to glow red, lighting up the insides of the tent with heavy shadows. “I would fight to the death before accepting such a gift. Your Skuldir Líf has been paid in full. You are free to do as you please.”

“You say that I am no one’s slave and am free to do as I please?”

Already the exhaustion from my energy discharge was beginning to take its toll on me. I had no idea why the Rök runes tattooed into my skin had activated, but in doing so, they had used up the minuscule pool of energy that had built-up while I’d slept. Logically I knew it wasn’t the Elf girl’s fault, but that of her people’s. Still the whole idea rubbed me wrong. Forcing myself to calm down I spoke firmly.

“Yes, I free you to live as you please.”

Grinning happily the girl excitedly jumped into my arms, easily pushing me down into the sleeping furs as she straddled me once again. “Good, then I choose to serve you!”

Needless to say, the argument didn’t end there. We argued well into the night, but it’s hard to stay angry when a beautiful naked Elf keeps throwing herself at you. Then again, I was always pretty stubborn. Just ask my Grandsire. Not that I’d ever had problems saying no before now, but, this time, it was different. Something about the Elf girl tugged at my heart.

The discussion ended up being much more intense and completely different than what I had initially expected. The Elf girl’s name was Enelya Tasartir. As a spirit shaman of the Wild Elf Clan, she had very distinct ideas of what was right and wrong. In her own words, she explained what had occurred when we first met. During the time I’d been communing with the Great Forest, a connection had formed between us. At the time, it was the only way the spirits could awaken me. The link was completely different than what I shared with the twins, nor did it function like her connection to Argus either. It was something altogether different. For that brief moment, Enelya had connected to me at the level of the spirit, capturing the very essence of my soul. The experience marking her with the love she now held for me.

Even on Irlendria, the spirit shamans were unique unto themselves. From what I remembered of my lessons about the Wild Elves, unlike the magic that fueled a wizard or sorcerer, a shaman’s power came from the life force of the world around them. Their abilities were derived from communing with the oneness of the universe. Following a path called “The Way,” they began learning at a young age how to use their power to manipulate the world around them. The one specific thing I did remember was that the eldest were supposed to be able to commune with the dead. The point had stood out in my mind at the time as being a pretty cool ability. Unfortunately the rest of whatever Luthar had taught me so long ago was gone, but at least, it gave me a context to somewhat understand her cultural perspective.

Enelya was here in part due to her belief in the concepts of Skuldir Líf. From our discussion, I realized it was not the practice of slavery as I had initially thought it to be. If anything, it was a personal decision to give one’s life in the service to an individual the Wild Elf deemed worthy of their honor. The belief was more complex than just the simple repayment of a life for a life. It was the ultraistic concept of giving one’s life for the greater good. Akin to a samurai offering his life to a master he deemed worthy of his honor or a soldier giving their life in defense of their country. Only this conviction, I would learn a short time later, ran even deeper than those simplistic comparisons.

With one word Enelya had trumped our argument and opened my mind. The definition of love was such an elusive concept. For me, it was something I’d always believed would never be a part of my life. Perhaps because of this simple belief the word had always held a certain mystery for me, drawing me like a moth to a flame. Throughout my travels on Earth, I’d studied its effects on the numerous humans I’d encountered while teaching the word of Ukko. From my observations, there was no one true meaning that fully encompasses the ideals of that simple word. Although physical attraction certainly played its part, love didn’t mean lust. I had heard a theory promoted by some human scientists that believed love was simply a set of chemical responses to animal pheromones within the brain, but that didn’t encompass the numerous forms of love I’d witnessed. True love was so much more than a set of chemical reactions. It was the self-sacrifice to take the pain of another, it was the willingness to protect the ones you loved with your life, it was a connection and sharing at the level of the soul, it was all of these things and yet so much more.

I don’t know if the Enelya just wore me down or if what she was saying truly made any since, but suddenly her lips were pressed against mine, and those questions didn’t seem to matter. She smelled of fresh wild flowers and tasted sweet and clean. Although the kiss started off soft and gentle the urgency inside us both quickly built as we explored each other’s lips. This time, I was more of an active partner compared to the first time we kissed as my hands ran down her bare back of their own accord to grip her firm muscular thighs. I would have felt self-conscious for my lack of experience, but she didn’t give me anytime to think of such things as her insistent hands moved further down my chest. Only, this time, they didn’t just stop there.

***

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

Jolting upright I awoke to an ugly roar. Even though the sound came from far away, my instincts scream out in warning. Something was terribly wrong. Rolling to into a crouch, I blinked the sleep from my eyes listening intently as I took stock of my surroundings.

Breathing deeply, I fought the dizziness that rose up inside of me from the sudden movement. Although the Elf girl was nowhere in sight, I was still in Enelya’s tent. Her flowery scent filled my senses as I took in the brightness filtering through the stretch hide. Judging by the strength of the light, it was well past morning.

Even though the Fring was gone, my ravaged body still bore the scars of the emaciating sickness. My ribs were clearly visible through my skin, while much of my muscle bulk had been eaten away from the inside out to keep my body alive. Now that I was awake the hunger was already beginning to rise up inside of me. Looking around the tent, I found some leftover food from the night before that I quickly shoved the pieces of meat into my mouth like a starving man. Even though I had a decent size pool of energy built up, the nature of the damage was such that not even my healing ability could instantly repair my injuries. While my power could reform severed limbs, it couldn’t add to my body’s base mass. Not that it was a concern now that I was over the hump of the sickness. As long as I had enough sustenance my system would recover within a few days.

Once again the sound carried over the wind, but this time, it came with Enelya’s distinctive voice screaming to be heard. “Don’t just stand there … break them up! What’s wrong with … they’re killing each other!” Enelya’s voice suddenly cutoff as Frostbrand’s howl of fury rang out a second later causing the blood to surge in my veins.

Concentrating on my body, I blinked slowly taking stock of what I had to work with. It was an old meditation technique I’d learned during my time in India, a way to bring into focus the body and mind. Ignored the shaking in my arms and legs, I prayed to Ukko that my body would be strong enough to take the strain. Rising to my feet, I called forth my power.

“Acelerar.” Instantly the green glow of my speed aura surrounded me as I took off in a blur of motion ripping out of the tent. In the blink of an eye, I passed the surprised faces of Wild Elves as I sped through the camp at super speed. Stiff muscles throbbed in agony from the extreme physical demands of the aura, but with an iron will I buried the pain pushing myself onward. Approaching behind an angry crowd of Wencis and Wild Elves I saw what was happening. Three of the Minotaurs I’d seen earlier were standing protectively over two of their injured as they went toe-to-toe with an angry mob of Forest Elves in some sort of holding area. Enelya, the Elf girl that had been taking care of me earlier, was fighting along beside them. As I approached the holding area, she went down kicking and screaming under a pile of bodies fighting for her life as Frostbrand and Starfire leaped after her. Slipping past the combatants, the girls threw themselves at Enelya’s attackers with the savage ferocity of their birthright.

There was a lot more of the Elves present than I remembered from our first meeting in the woods. The holding area was packed full with the press of their bleeding bodies. Frostbrand moved like a white streak as her fangs and claws tore into the pile of attackers on top of Enelya, but almost like a living organism, the crazed mob gobbled the small Werewolf up, burying her under the press of their bodies as Starfire screeched in helpless rage. Leaping after her sister, Starfire tore at the writhing pile with her human-like nails and teeth trying to pull the attackers off Frostbrand, when a backhanded blow slammed her to the ground.

Without slowing down, I followed after them plowing through the crowd in front of the pen. Bodies flew out of my way as I blasted through everything blocking my path, but I was too late. Still too far away to help, I saw Starfire’s hands burst into flames. With a shriek of fury, she leaped back into the fight swinging with her fiery fists.

Everywhere she struck flames began spreading over the attackers as if with a life of its own as I made it to Starfire’s side. The stench of burning flesh filled my nostrils as I pulled Frostbrand’s battered and bloody body from where she clung to the neck of a dying Elf with her fangs in a death grip. Releasing my aura, I clutched her to my chest pouring holy energy into her small frame. Not stopping my frenzied search I found Enelya a second later. Pulling her out of the pile of dead and dying I gave her the same treatment as her wide eyes stared at me in shock.

A high pitched growl was the only warning I had before blistering heat seared my back. Turning around, I saw Starfire strike out with her fists as flames engulfed two Forest Elves rushing me from behind. As the twin pillars of fire whooshed into the sky, the sudden silence surrounding us was almost palpable. Everyone froze where they stood as the backblast of heat washed over the entire area.

Fire still blazed from Starfire’s small hands as I pulled her close to me. I’d come too late. The appearance of a sorceress at any time was a cause for alarm for most races since few understood the difference between Darmariens and rogue casters. I’d planned on keeping the girls’ talents a secret, but looking at the grim faces around us, I knew there was no way this was going to turn out good.

As one, the mob of Forest Elves rushed us in a solid wave of bodies, except for a handful of Elves standing near the leader that had accosted us several days ago, while Frostbrand and Enelya staggered to their feet. Pushing the disoriented girls behind me I faced the onslaught head-on lashing out with my fists. Biting and clawing the mob swarmed over me in a crazed rage, but without weapons there was little they could do to actually harm me as I threw them back with a guttural growl. Even so, there was something about the mindlessness reflected in their dull eyes that made the hackles rise on the back of my neck.

<What’s wrong with them>

Frostbrand’s frantic mental question echoed my own thoughts as I pummeled the incoming waves. This time, Starfire held back her flaming hands, understanding from our link that I didn’t want to kill any more of the Elves if possible as Enelya and Frostbrand staggered back into the fight struggling to keep my back free. Like reaping grain, each swing of my fists blasted wide swaths in the mobs’ tightly packed mass, but no matter how many times I hurled them back, the Elves rose back to their feet undaunted. Breaking arms and legs didn’t make a difference. Biting and scratching like rabid zombies they ignored the pain throwing themselves at us again and again.

My Rök runes were keeping me from being harmed, but the constant drain on my energy reserves was starting to wear me down. Looking at the sea of bloody faces, I felt the frustration rising inside of me. I’d been caught up in a whirlwind ever since the Tuonellians had found me on Earth. Confronted with one emergency after another there hadn’t been time to formulate any kind of plan, I was running blind. The thought left a sour taste in my mouth.

Sudden movement in my peripheral vision caught my eye as two of the wounded Minotaurs limped-up taking defensive positions to either side of me. Both bulls were solid black and covered with bloody wounds; their pitted battle-worn armor looked like something right out of the movie Gladiator. The larger of the two had to be close to eight foot tall, if you included the tip of his horns and looked almost human with his close-cropped fur, while the smaller male was much shorter with a long scraggly coat and deep scars that crisscrossed his meaty, muscular body.

Pushing to my side, Enelya leaned against me out of breath nodding towards the larger Minotaur. “Lúthien and I came to talk with the Emperor when the Forest Elves just went insane. Lúthien was hurt in the first attack.” Seeing my questioning look, she gestured with her chin towards the unconscious silver-haired Elf girl covered in blood next to the wounded Minotaurs.

With a dip of his curved horns the large bull cut Enelya off before she could say more. “Paladin, Decanus Cornisus and I have seen this before. Many of our people have been afflicted with this same madness.”

Taking a second to study his unwrinkled face, my voice dripped with sarcasm. “You look well-preserved for a bull past his prime, Emperor.”

Immediately the bull’s nostrils flared in indignation. “I am Tiberius Decius Lupus, not my father!”

“Obviously.” I sighed remembering once again that Irlendrian’s didn’t understand sarcasm. Another bad habit I’d picked up during my time on Earth. It made sense, though. Manius Decius Lupus was well over three hundred years old by now, which was ancient for a Minotaur. I had heard stories of the Emperor’s son from my grandsire. He’d considered the young bull to be a powerful and honorable warrior, which was high praise from the old wolf. Holding a hand up to stop Tiberius’ outburst I spoke quickly. “I meant no disrespect; please explain.”

Slightly confused at my words the large bull’s horns dipped in acknowledgment before continuing. “On our return to Gravida, we found a Hulk sitting on the Imperial Throne wearing my father’s face like a mask.” Rolling the tension from his massive shoulders, the bull glared menacingly out at the mob. “I fear this is a part of some greater design by the accursed Tuonellians to drive my people even further from the alliance.”

“Further from the Alliance? Has something happened to the Alliance of Aurenko?”

Looking at each other incredulously both Minotaurs spoke at once. “You do not know?” Seeing the perplexed look on my face, Tiberius began explaining as we drove the Elves back once more. “When the Klavikians fell, my father sought to take control of the Alliance to the Imperium’s downfall. Although there has been no open warfare between my people and the rest of the Alliance, there has been no friendship either. Now with this latest Tuonellian trick, I fear there will only be war.”

For a long moment, I said nothing as I processed the new information. The situation was even worse than I’d thought possible. Enelya and I had talked some about what was going on, but obviously not enough. As if reading my thoughts Enelya spoke up. “I sought answers to these questions and others while you slept. There is much for us to discuss.”

Nodding my head thoughtfully, I remembered to address the Minotaur by his last name. “Lupus, how did your people stop this sickness?”

The grimace that crossed the bull’s bestial features spoke volumes as his voice rumbled heavily. “There was no helping those afflicted by the madness. We were forced to kill many of our people before escaping the Tuonellians that held the city.” With a visible wagging shake of his upper body, Tiberius pushed his grief away nodding towards the small group of Forest Elves watching impassively near the entrance. “Unless the Wild Elves agree to bind these diseased Elves, we will be forced to kill them all. Young Prince Dorthonion will just use their deaths as another excuse to further persecute my race and block any chance for the Imperium to rejoin the Alliance.”

Answering my unspoken request Enelya’s voice spoke harshly. “Nowadays there is little love for the other Clans amongst my people or for the Imperium. The Forest Clan is especially hated.” Looking pointedly towards the gathered tribe outside of the holding area, she continued forebodingly. “They would gladly watch those they consider enemies throw their lives’ away before intervening.”

Staring out at the sea of rabid faces closing in on us, I had an idea. Focusing my thoughts I opened my mind to the holy power within me, looking at the mob with my sight. Immediately I clamped my mouth shut, fighting against the sudden urge to puke the contents of my stomach onto the trampled ground. Swallowing hard, I forced the bile back down my throat. Every Forest Elf stumbling towards us had a blackish-green pulsating tentacle embedded in the back of their skulls. Small secondary barb-like suckers writhed along the ends with a life of their own, their gaping mouths hungrily burrowing underneath the skin to feed off the life energy of their victims’ souls. In my sight, the faces before me were not vapid and mindless but etched in horror as they screamed in silent agony. Like a dark cloud the evil pulsating mass formed into a massive coil that stretched off over the top of the trees towards the peak of the nearest mountain.

For a second, I couldn’t figure out why that would be when the realization suddenly hit me. Whipping around in disbelief, I stared at the unconscious silver-haired Elf girl as my mind began putting the pieces together. Following my thoughts, Frostbrand’s claws dug into my skin where she gripped my bare thigh as the flames around Starfire’s hands began burning even brighter. The Tuonellians showing up on Earth, the building hate and distrust between the Elven Clans, the destabilization of the Alliance, a Hulk disguised as the Emperor, the gambit to instigate a war between the Imperium and the Forest Elves, it all began making a certain kind of sense.

The tall mountain rising up in the heart of the Great Forest was called Mount Haldamir. It was the seat of the High Elves power, where King Elerossë Narmolanya ruled over the clans from Daeron Fortress. It had been one of the primary targets of the Tuonellian Hordes during the invasion. The destruction of the Elves’ ancestral home would have thrown the Clans into disarray, effectively removing them from the Alliance. Only timely intervention from the Imperium with the help of my mother and father had stopped the disaster.

The sound of an undulating war cry snapped my thoughts away from the unholy vision before me as the Centaur filly from early crashed into the holding area swinging a long black staff as if she were reaping grain. Screeching like an insane banshee she clearing a path to us within seconds. Coming to a stomping stop, she roughly slammed me away from Enelya with her lower chest. Rearing up on her hindmost legs her red-rimmed eyes glared balefully at the mob of Forest Elves as she shrieked another bloodcurdling war cry.

Ignoring the Elves clawing at my back, I lunged forward stopping the battle staff’s down-swing one-handed, while my other hand caught the Centaur’s leading forearm stopping her cold. As both Minotaurs warily stepped back from the enraged filly, Enelya leaped onto the Centaur’s back. Slipping an arm around the filly’s long neck she held her dagger ready to strike crying out urgently.

“Nessa, don’t make me choose his life over yours! You know I will do what I must to protect him.”

“Get back and let me handle this Enelya.”

“No! She will kill you where you stand if you get in her way.”

Feeling the Alpha’s essence rising up inside of me, I growled more than spoke. “She will not harm me! Now step back and let me handle this.” Enelya’s eyes momentarily widen in surprise at the power of command within my voice. Sliding back to the ground, she watched in shock as the berserker rage dissipated from her friend’s eyes.

Although the Alpha-effect as I liked to call it could momentarily overpower the weak-willed or grab the attention of a comrade, it wasn’t mind control nor did it work in every situation. There was something about the power that affected the subconscious part of the brain on a primitive level that made submissive personalities open to my influence. Continuing to speak I held the filly’s stunned gaze. “You will guard our charges while I deal with this evil.” Seeing the hesitant nod of agreement, I released the Centaur.

Turning back around, I took three steps into the middle of the insane mob as chaos erupted around me. Ignoring the clawed hands that sought to drag me down, I picked up the nearest infected Elf focusing my sight on the pulsating tentacle embedded in the back of the victim’s skull. Pooling holy power into the palm of my hand, I used it to grab a hold of the writhing evil that held the Elf. My first thought was simply to rip the tentacle out, but as soon as I began pulling the young Elf’s eyes bulged out of his head as every muscle in his body went rigid. After several tries, I realized this was going nowhere. He’d die before I could free him by force, but maybe there was another way.

Pooling my holy power again, I sent healing energy pouring through the Elf’s body. Again nothing seemed to help. As soon as I’d ripped one sucker from his soul another would simply take its place. Sweat beaded on my forehead from the strain as I sought for the key that would break the evil that held the Elf’s soul in its grasp. Splitting my power on a hundred different fronts I tried to remove the tentacle’s hold simultaneously, but nothing I did seemed to work. The problem was that I was fighting the symptoms and not the root of the disease.

Swift as thought I changed my tactics. Instead of fighting against the evil I used my power to follow the infection to its source. Instantly I found the wrongness. It was anchored to something physically embedded in the base of the Elf’s head. Using my fingers, I quickly withdrew a slim glowing-green shard implanted in the back of the skull. The thing was around six inches long. How the implantation didn’t simply kill its victim was another mystery all together, but as soon as I pulled the sliver free the pulsating tentacle faded away. Immediately the Elf went limp in my hand as tears began running down his white face.

Holding the splinter fragment up to the light, I recognized its origins immediately. While I might not remember every boring lesson Luthar had ever taught me, I’d never forgotten anything he’d explained about the demon realm. There was no doubt in my mind that the sliver was from a Chaos Shard. Demon Lords used the shards to control their victims across dimensions while feeding off the life force of their souls. The shards never stopped growing once implanted in a victim. It was a slow and hideous way to die. Helpless to control their actions the victims were slaves forced to do the demon’s bidding as the shard grew into a crystal inside of their head. Upon reaching full growth, the crystal would split. To their horror the victims were forced to infect their closest loved ones first, furthering the demon’s power and influence. Unless the shards were physically removed, the results were always death. Even though survivors of the infection used words like crystals and gems to describe the chaos shards, their biology was more like that of a living parasite. Luthar believed they were true entities from the demon realm and not magical constructs.

Either way, it didn’t matter what they were to me. There was only one way to deal with demons. Closing my fist, I crushed the sliver into dust as the blood rushing through my veins roared in my ears. Dropping the Elf I reached for another victim as my deft fingers quickly ripped out the next chaos shard. Destroying it between my fingers, I picked up the next Elf trying to rip my throat out.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t quick. There had to have been close to a hundred infected Forest Elves in the holding area. The horror and sorrow of surviving an infection were overwhelming enough, but the life-threatening wounds many had were just as terrible. As the last infected Elf dropped to the ground, I collapsed to my hands and knees, emptying my guts onto the hard ground. Not that there was much left in my stomach, mostly just green bile. I felt dirty as if the fetid stench of death and decay of the Chaos Shards had soaked into my skin. Breathing in deeply, I slowly became aware of slender arms wrapped around my shoulders.

Looking up, I saw the concern in Frostbrand’s and Starfire’s glowing yellow eyes. Viewed with my sight, they literally pulsated with power. Hugging them to my chest, I buried my face in their shoulders as I felt their energy slowly filling my empty reserves.

Releasing my focus, I willed my vision back to normal once again as thoughts and memories filled my mind through our link. Mostly it was the grief of the girls’ pain and loss. The gruesome death of their mother and the Pack weighed heavy on both their minds along with the fear they’d had of losing me to the Fring. The emotional trauma of it all had scarred them deeply. I saw flashes of Enelya along with another Elf girl and the Centaur filly nursing the girls back to life, but the images were indistinct and blurred from the intensity of their emotions. Feeling the girls’ tears wetting my cheeks, I held them tight sending love and confidence back through our shared link.

<I’m okay. Enelya fixed me up good>

Feeling the tension in their body lesson somewhat at my mind-speak, I suddenly realized that they had both noticeably grown larger. Carefully hiding the thought, I lifted the girls into my arms.

<I love you both. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere>

“What in Meliki’s name was that?”

Hearing the anxiety in Enelya’s voice, I looked up in surprise. “You saw the power of the Chaos Shards?”

“By Akras’ holy sickle, I saw …” For a moment, Tiberius was at a loss for words as he tried to make sense of what he’d just witnessed. “When you grabbed that Elf … the tentacle appeared out of nowhere. It was … it was eating him!” Staring at me wide-eyed the large bull spoke in a hushed voice filled with dread. “Is that what’s happening to my people?”

Taking in the stricken faces staring back at me, I realized everyone had seen the effects of the Chaos Shards’ evil. Somehow my holy power must have made the energy visible when I’d fought. There were no more hate-filled looks being directed towards the Forest Elves or Minotaurs. On their own accord, the Wild Elves began moving into the holding area to help the wounded. Even Prince Dorthonion and his Rangers seemed to be caught up in the spirit of the moment.

Making my way to the unconscious silver-haired Elf girl, I caught Enelya’s eye. “We need to talk.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Location Irlendria / Tiberius Decius Lupus:

Clenching his fist slowly, Tiberius watched the Wolf Gauntlet shimmer before his eyes as the runic metal conformed to his body’s movements like a second skin. Shaped by his thoughts the metal flowed like water along his muscular forearm. The innate power of the gauntlets made him feel invincible as if there were nothing he couldn’t do. Unfortunately, Tiberius knew all too well that the feeling was only an illusion. While the gauntlets were incredibly powerful, at the end of the day they were still only tools. It were bulls that brought the weapons to life. It were bulls who paid the cost in blood and with their lives.

Sighing deeply, Tiberius let his fist drop to his side as he leaned back onto the sleeping furs they’d each been given. It was a relief to have his weapons back. After so many decades of fighting with the legion, he felt naked without the comforting presence of the cool metal against his skin. It was a war child’s curse. Like most born during the Great War, he had never known a moment of peace. His whole life had been spent learning the art of war or battling the hordes of the Tuonellians. It was almost impossible to imagine any other life.

Trying to shake away the pensive thoughts that weighed down his soul, Tiberius watched his legionnaires work to field repair their damaged equipment. While the Wolf Gauntlets were nearly indestructible, the same couldn’t be said for the Lorica Segmentata armor each of them wore. The breastplates could take an immense amount of damage, but without regular maintenance, the tinnearlian bands tended to start locking up after extended use. A sure a way as any to end up dead on the battle field. As his old instructor always said, agility on the hoof was just as important as the edge of one’s blade. Feeling the weight of his gaze, Decanus Cornisus looked up meeting Tiberius’ eyes. No words needed to be spoken. The wry grin that split the smaller bull’s broad black lips said it all. With a dip of his horns, Cornisus went back to work as Tiberius shook his head smiling ruefully.

By Akras’ holy sickle he still couldn’t believe the sudden change in their fortunes. They had been very fortunate that the Paladin had shown up when he did. Otherwise things would have gone very differently. Tiberius knew that when he’d first made the decision to chase after Lúthien that some of his bulls must have thought he was risking everything for the sake of their forbidden love, but there was more to it than just that. It had been a calculated risk that, in Tiberius’ mind, had to be taken. Even though the Elves had forbidden his people entrance into their domain on the pain of death, he’d hoped that saving Lúthien’s life would give him dispensation to plead his case before the council of the Clans. That was until he’d seen the hostility between the Elven Clans first hand, but by then it was too late to reconsider his decision.

Obviously, the situation had changed dramatically since Tiberius’ exile at the end of the Great War. Even so, when it came down to it, there was never really any choice in the matter. One way or another he had to speak to the Elves. Saving Lúthien in the process only gave him stronger position to argue his case. Whether or not his people died first or last, the end result would be the same. If he couldn’t get the other races to reform the Alliance of Aurenko his people wouldn’t have a future. None of them would once the Tuonellians overran their world. Whoever was left would just be fodder for the Horde. Not that reforming the Alliance equated to victory, but at least, it would give them a fighting chance.

Feeling white hot rage surge through his chest, Tiberius’ large hands clenched into fists as his nostrils flared in fury. With a major effort of will, he forced the blood rage away. His people understood well the horror of what would happen if they failed more than any other race. It had been the cities of the Imperium that suffered the worst of the Tuonelllians’ depredations. To this day, he would never forget the horrendous sights he’d borne witness to when they’d freed their people from the invaders. Cities like Garrona that had their entire populations butchered like cattle. It was those nightmares which had driven him to take this course of action.

How a Paladin suddenly appeared from out of nowhere to save their hides after Klavika had been destroyed over eight years ago, only Akras knew how, but Tiberius took it as an auspicious sign. The Klavikian’s intervention had made the difference, that and the demonic tentacles sucking the life force from the Elves before the Tribe’s very eyes. That terrible sight alone had been enough to shock the entire Clan into action, but the discussion afterward was what had truly set everything into motion. On her own accord, the Spirit Mother had given Tiberius and his bulls their weapons back and made them honored guests, while Prince Dorthonion and his Rangers had sworn their lives to stopping the Tuonellians.

Bowing his head in his gauntleted hands, Tiberius breathed in ragged gasps as his innards churned with conflicting emotions. He should have been happy. The results had been everything he could have hoped for and more when he’d first made the decision to go to Lúthien’s aid, so then why wasn’t he happy. The Paladin’s holy touch had healed her injuries, and she was safe and sound, but even now he felt the old pain pierce his heart. After all of these years, he still hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with her alone … he still hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her of his love.

***

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

<I still don’t understand why you can’t just heal yourself>

Smiling, I held my arms out for Starfire to see. “But I am healed.”

<No you’re not>

With a scream the silver-haired girl leaped at my chest as I caught her easily in my arms, letting her bear me down on the pile of sleeping furs. A growl rang out behind her as a white streak leaped on top of us both.

<Leave him alone Starfire, he said he was fine>

Laughing and tickling I fought my attackers for several minutes to a storm of growls and screams until I had them both secured in my arms, but by then we were all out of breath. Lying on my chest both girls’ yellow eyes focused on me in concern.

<He’s still too thin, Frostbrand. You know that as well as I do>

Stroking my cheek with a delicate hand, Starfire looked into my eyes.

<I just want to understand why you’re not completely healed>

“I have to admit I’m curious about that too.”

Sitting up suddenly, I felt the girls stiffen in my lap as I met Enelya’s almond-brown eyes stuttering slightly. “Y … y… you’re back.” It was suddenly very warm in the tent as the smiling Wild Elf sat crossed legs at my feet. Thankfully she was wearing her leathers this time, but in some ways, it was almost worse than having her walking around topless. It wasn’t that she was well endowed, but she didn’t need to be. Her sleek, muscular frame just made her chest look that much larger and the leather, fur-lined crop top she now wore pushed everything together in such a way that it made it difficult to look away. I was just finding my voice when Frostbrand spoke-up coldly.

<I thought we agreed this was to be our time to be with him>

I saw the same look of possessive anger reflected on Starfire’s face as Enelya watched the girls closely on my lap, before nodding her head in respect. Behind her the tent’s flap opened as Nessa the Centaur strode silently in except for the soft clop of her hooves. “I intended no disrespect. I just wanted to check on Startüm’s health and give an update on the preparations for the morning.” Focusing her gaze on me, Enelya studied my body intently as she continued speaking thoughtfully. “You were able to heal everyone that was injured today, but not the sickness of the Fring, explain.”

For a split second my mind went blank. What do you say to a virtual stranger that you happened to accidentally mind-meld and then slept with the day after in mixed company? Was it something that just happened because she was taking caring of me or did the promise of “Skuldir Líf” somehow come into play with what we’d shared together? The conflicting emotions were playing havoc with my mind. I could tell by the twinkle in her eyes that she was enjoying my obvious discomfort, but her comfortableness with the situation didn’t make it any easier either. For some reason, I felt hesitant to share what had occurred between us with the girls present, so I did my best to keep my thoughts to myself.

“My healing power doesn’t register the weight loss as being an actual injury.” Seeing the blank faces of everyone in the tent suddenly looking back at me, I realized that further explanation would be necessary.

“Look, being too thin isn’t the same as having a severed limb. The body doesn’t register weight loss or gain as actual physical damage. I just can’t will myself to be suddenly larger and stronger. My magic doesn’t work that way.” Rolling my eyes at the dubious looks, I growled in annoyance. “Trust me it makes sense. As long as I have enough to eat, I’ll recover quickly enough over the next few days.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to make sure to fatten you up until then.” Fighting back a grin Enelya’s tone turned suddenly serious. “Otherwise, the Tribe will be ready to move out by morning. Runners have been sent out calling the Clan to war. The young and old will head deeper into the forest to Tenue Sûre, while the rest of us travel with the Spirit Mother and Prince Dorthonion to address the matter of the Tuonellians and the High Elves with King Galdor.”

I grimaced in spite of myself at hearing the words coming from her lips, even if I was just as guilty of coming up with this insanity. Especially after hearing everything that had been happening since my absence, I believed more than ever that the Tuonellians were close to completing their plans, but if I thought the Wild Elves were a tough audience, the Forest Clan would be a nightmare. To put in into perspective for me one day, Grandsire had called the Forest Elves the rednecks of the Great Forest. They were proud, prejudiced and just had their King slaughtered by Tuonellians wearing the faces of Imperium legionnaires. To make matters even worse, the Hulk had tricked an entire Legion into attacking Bel Arbre Ciel, the Forest Elves’ capital city, along with them. Now I was going to enter the Forest Elves’ domain with an army of their most despised Clan at my back along with the new Emperor of the Imperium and a squad of legionnaires to tell them it was all a Tuonellian trick. No matter what, I didn’t see this going well. Still, there wasn’t anything more to be said. Bowing my head slightly, I held Enelya’s eyes.

“Thank you for the update and for everything you’ve done for us.” Nessa frowned deepened at my words, but Enelya just smiled gracefully rising to her feet as I continued. “Words cannot express my thankfulness for everything you have done for me and my ladies.”

Laying a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders, Enelya leaned forward kissing me lightly on the lips. Again the scent of wild flowers was overwhelming as her dreads brushed against my cheeks. “Until morning.” Stepping back without another word she took Nessa’s hand exiting the tent.

Immediately, I felt the girls relax in my arms as I laid back on the furs once again. “Either of you want to tell me what that was about?”

Yawning sleepily, Starfire nuzzled my neck.

<Enelya saved your life and ours>

Cuddling to my other side, Frostbrand chimed in softly.

<We can feel the love she has for you>

Starfire piped up dreamingly.

<She fell in love with you when the Forest Spirit touched your soul and brought you back from the edge of death>

<So we agreed to share you if she would help us make you understand>

Their unison thoughts sent a cold shiver suddenly running down my spine. “Help me understand what?” I felt both girls smile into my neck at the question.

<Not now silly. Even Enelya agrees you’re not ready to hear the truth>

My mind spun at the implications as I quickly tried another tack. “So if you’re now willing to share me, then what was up with the jealous posing when Enelya was here?”

I could actually feel their mental probing combing through my mind as they sought to understand the context of my words. With a loud mental snort, Starfire answered for them both.

<We are not posers. We had agreed this was to be our time to have with you>

Frostbrand’s claws lightly dug into my chest.

<She was supposed to stay away for tonight, but instead of adhering to our agreement, she decided to come by anyway. Necessary or not, we had to mark our territory>

I wasn’t used to having people truly close to me except for Grandsire, nor had I particularly spent any time around children or women I was intimate with. At the same time, neither Starfire nor Frostbrand struck me as being particularly childish. Besides their sibling interplay, both girls’ thoughts seemed very mature for their age. I didn’t know if that was because of the link we shared or simply the difference of a Werewolf’s upbringing. Stroking their backs soothingly, I held them close.

“Tomorrow will be a busy day, how about we get some sleep for now.”

The girls couldn’t settle down immediately. They were just as exhausted as I was, but now that they were safe in my arms the tears began falling. I don’t know how long it was that they cried, but I finally managed to calm them down after a time. While there was much that needed to be said between us, none of it was pleasant. There wasn’t a part of their lives that hadn’t been left untouched by the devastation, so instead of talking about their mother and father, the Pack or the nightmare that had been my childhood, I entertained them with wondrous stories of Earth. The horrors of what had befallen our people could wait for another day. For now, it was our time to share and get to know each other. Before I knew it, they were fast asleep in my arms.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for me. For the longest time, I stared into the darkness beyond the dying embers of the fire. You’d think I would have been deep in thought with how best to handle the coming convocation with the Forest Clan or figuring out what the Tuonellian’s next move was going to be. While those things did weigh on my mind, it was nothing compared to the focus I had on the maelstrom of emotions filling my heart and the physical need I had to take Enelya again.

I felt so out of my depth it wasn’t even funny. I couldn’t call myself a virgin anymore either. Enelya had quite thoroughly taken care of that. While I was still coming to terms with what we had shared, there was no doubt in my mind that Enelya was comfortable with the intimate nature of our physical relationship. It wasn’t “Skuldir Líf” that drove her to be with me, but her own desire. The kiss she’d given me before she left earlier had made that abundantly clear.

Grandsire had on more than one occasion mentioned the casual regard Wild Elves held towards sex. A topic that I had never thought to question him further on until now, when it was too late. Obviously, the old wolf had some stories he’d managed to keep to himself even after all of these years.

The overwhelming problem that I now faced was that I couldn’t stop thinking about sex. Instead of keeping my distance and being oblivious to the physical charms the Elven girls so readily displayed, I suddenly found myself focused on the curve and shape of every pair of breasts I saw. What made matters even worse was that the girls were just as interested. To say that I was horny would have been an understatement. I would have ripped Enelya’s leathers off and taken her as soon as she entered the tent if the girls hadn’t been present.

Immediately I chided myself for the uncharacteristic selfish thoughts as I fought against my hormone infused mind. The situation with Starfire and Frostbrand was another matter altogether. The girls’ needed me now more than ever. Even though the feelings I had for them was very different then the burning desire I had for Enelya, the intensity of those complex emotions were just as overwhelming to my heart. It was more than they were Pack. I loved them with the core of my being. Within a few days, hours if you wanted to count the actual waking time we’d spent together, we shared an understanding and connection that few life mates ever reached and already the connection was growing stronger. That thought alone blew my mind and left me thinking for hours until sleep finally found me.

***

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

<Wake up Startüm>

Hands pulled at me urgently as the emotionally charged thought shot through my mind.

<You’ve got to wake up>

Instantly my eyes snapped open as the years of constant training kicked in. Before I was fully conscious, my body was already in motion as I sprang to my feet. Starfire’s sudden shriek was enough of a warning to change my spear strike into an elbow hook as I quickly scooped the girl out of the midair before she could hit the ground. Around me, the night lit up with the familiar warm and cool colors of my darkvsion as I took in the scene around me.

Standing in a low crouch at the entrance to the tent, Frostbrand growled warningly as she looked out anxiously into the night. Her entire body was tense and ready to spring as her eyes and ears scanned the night. Striding up behind Frostbrand in three steps, I joined her lookout with Starfire clutched fearfully to my neck.

<The Wild Clan is under attack>

As if to confirm her words, the excited barking calls of the Wencis suddenly filled the air as Elven war horns began calling out in alarm. All around us, Wild Elves rushed about strapping on weapons and armor at a run, before leaping onto the back of the nearest Wenci. There was no formal uniform like on Earth; each warrior was an individual. Their armor was handmade from whatever was on hand, consisting mostly of bone breastplates and boiled-leather hide adorned with colorful feathers and spirit beasts, while weapons were a hodgepodge of bone-carved daggers and tinnearlian-wood spears.

For all their lack of formal military training, their response time was phenomenal. Within two minutes of the first horn calls a ferocious wave of warriors, at least five hundred strong, were high-tailing it across the small meadow when a shimmer wall of metal appeared at the edge of the forest. Standing up beside me, Frostbrand’s clawed finger pointed in the direction of Mount Haldamir.

<There, at the edge of the tree line>

I didn’t need to switch my sight to know what the hundred or so warriors were. The massive platemail armor covering the intruders from head to toe was a dead giveaway, but the corrupt evil of the Chaos Shards radiating out from them was what truly made my blood run cold. “Ironidium Knights.”

Feeling my tension Starfire studied the advancing Knights confused as the mounted Wild Elves formed up to attack.

<How tough can these Ironidium Knights be? They’re outnumbered ten to one>

Setting Starfire next to her sister, I began donning my armor. “We have to stop this now, or they’re all dead.” Feeling the girls’ confusion through our link, I spoke quickly. “After the Battle of Daeron Fortress, the Wild Elves were nearly wiped out. They didn’t take part in the rest of the war that pushed the Tuonellians from the Alliances’ lands, so they don’t truly understand the danger they now face.”

<Are these warriors really that dangerous?>

Catching Starfire’s stray thought, I answered grimly. “Yes, they really are that tough, but that’s not the worst of it. They’re infected.” The sudden look of horror on her face said it all. “Exactly, now we need to find Enelya!”

Looking over her shoulder, Frostbrand’s thoughts rang in my head.

<I see her. She’s with that silver-haired Elf arguing with the Spirit Mother>

My armor was a mess from the earlier battles I’d fought with the Demon Knight on Earth and the Horde here on Irlendria, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it for now. Strapping on my gear, I scooped the girls into my arms exiting the tent at a run.

“Where is Enelya?”

“Paladin!” Whipping my head around at the deep bellow, I saw Tiberius and his legionnaires running up behind me at a fast trot. “What’s the situation?”

“Emperor, we have a phalanx of Ironidium Knights a hundred strong inbound, and they’re infected.”

Rippling emotions played across the Minotaur’s bestial face as the large bull considered my words. “Tiberius is adequate Paladin.”

Meeting the bull’s eyes, I shook his gauntleted hand. “Then call me Startüm.”

Frowning deeply Tiberius’ grave eyes scanned the mounted Elves forming up before the tinnearlian line. “They’re planning to charge the Knights?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

I saw the incredulous looks of the legionnaires at Tiberius’ words as the large bull sidled up next to me. “You must stop them from using this strategy or our plans will be destroyed before they’re begun.”

“Agreed. Frostbrand, where is she?”

<Over there Startüm>

Following Frostbrand’s outstretched arm, I saw Lúthien screaming at the Spirit Mother as Enelya and Nessa argued with the Blood Guard that struggled to hold the silver-haired girl back. “Follow me.” Immediately I took off running as the Minotaurs fell in behind me.

Unlike the young Emperor, I’d never seen the Ironidium Knights in action, but I’d heard enough of the stories from Grandsire to recognize the danger we faced. From my understanding, the platemail functioned like magic power armor. The suits were nearly impervious to physical and magical attacks and were designed to increase the wearer’s speed and strength. There had never been more than a thousand Knights at any one time. The hundred Knights aligned before the Wild Elves were a substantial portion of their total number. One that the mounted warriors were ill prepared to face. As I approached the group around Enelya, I heard the Spirit Mother’s shriek of outrage as she sprang to the back of the graying Wenci standing next to her.

“I will not flee from any enemy within my own domain!” Whipping her mount around, the Spirit Mother drew a long dagger. “Blood Guard to me!” As one, the Blood Guards sprang to the backs of their Wencis’ following their Clan Leader. Across the meadow, Wencis came rushing out to join in the battle against the Knights.

Coming up behind Enelya, I dropped the girls to the ground before grabbing her as she leaped for Nessa’s back. “No, you must help me stop this!

Whipping around in my arms Enelya beat at my arms half crazed. “I must go to her!”

Hearing Enelya’s distress, Nessa’s upper torso twisted around to snatch her lover from my grip, but I was quicker. Catching Enelya’s the slim wrists I held her fast.

“No!” I felt the power of the Alpha rising up inside of me as I held Enelya’s frenzied eyes with my own. “Use your heads, if we don’t stop this now all hope for rebuilding the Alliance will be lost!”

For a moment longer both women fought against my grip until Lúthien snapped at them angrily. “Stop fighting the truth, you both know he’s right.”

“But the Spirit Mother …”

Cutting Enelya off, Lúthien completed the sentence for her. “Will die if we don’t stop this stupidity along with the rest of her people.”

Whipping around in rage, Enelya’s eyes flared as she scowled at Lúthien for a long moment, before nodding to Nessa that it was okay. Giving up on her struggles Enelya turned to glare at me coldly through the dreads hanging in front of her face.

“What do you command Maître?”

Understanding the implied insult, I released them both with a snarl as Enelya glared at me fiercely. Whatever, she could call me Master if she wanted to. If Enelya hadn’t wanted me to give her orders, then she shouldn’t have sworn Skuldir Líf to me. The blaring call of bone horns suddenly rang out as I saw the Spirit Mother reach the mounted warriors below. Without slowing down, she charged through the formation as the whole battle line surged forward around her.

“By Tapio’s beard, no one charges a line of Ironidium Knights!”

I immediately recognized Prince Dorthonion’s voice as the group of Forest Elves from the day before ran up to us, when I noticed a familiar silver-haired face peering at me from behind Enelya’s shoulder. I’d never met Argus, but the memories I’d shared with Enelya gave me the Wenci’s name as his large almond brown eyes studied me closely. Even though I felt drawn to the Wenci, I couldn’t tear my eyes from the impending disaster unfolding below as the tribe charged across the meadow in leaping bounds.

***

Location Irlendria / Ohorn Tastagard:

With a sharp bark, Ohorn ordered his Blood Guards in tighter around the Spirit Mother as their Wencis bounded in front of the tribe’s rough line of mounted warriors. His piercing blue eyes silently studied the shimmering formation of Ironidium Knights in the moonlight as he tried to make sense of Lúthien’s warning. It didn’t matter how much armor they wore. They were on foot, outnumbered and armed with only oversized two-handed sword. How could they be a threat to his Clan? It was absurd.

Still the ominous words refused to leave him. Ohorn’s thoughts were brought back into focus when he noticed a Wenci beginning to outpace his Unar. Instantly he recognized the short-cropped dirty blonde dreads.

“Tiernan!” The young Elf’s head whipped around baring his teeth as his fierce green eyes met Ohorn’s blazing with excitement. “Back into position now!”

For a moment, Ohorn was sure Tiernan was too far gone with the hunter’s lust to follow his command, but with a visible shake, the young Elf cleared his head. Reigning in his Wenci, Tiernan fell back into position.

Shaking his head in annoyance, Ohorn once again questioned the wisdom of accepting the young Elf into their ranks. While Tiernan had more skill than most of the warriors he’d trained, that didn’t mean anything if the youth lost himself to the wild fury of the hunt. That lack of control was something they all had to fight. It was from the Sál Tengilinn. The price the Clan paid for being joined to their Wenci brothers and sisters, but its effect was always worse in the younger warriors.

Ohorn’s doubts were forgotten as the Spirit Mother let loose with an undulating war cry. Rising onto her Wenci’s back, she spread her arms wide as the tribe charged across the meadow. The feathers tied to her tinnearlian spearhead flapped in the wind as the Spirit Mother crossed her arms overhead. In response, the tribe’s bone horns blew up and down the line as the ends of their formation suddenly leaped forward in an all-out sprint. Racing in front of the main body the two wings suddenly cut diagonally across the battlefield. At once the warriors armed with spears, javelins and arrows let loose with a massive volley.

Readying his spear, Ohorn crouched low on Unar’s back. As the entire force leaped forward into an all-out sprint, his eyes searched for the enemy through the ranks of the thinning attack waves. The tribe’s tactics were simple but effective. While the first waves curved around to attack the enemy’s flanks, the main force would charge down their throat.

Ohorn howled with his Clan’s brothers and sisters as they sprang through the widening gap directly in front of the Ironidium Knights’ line. Gripping Unar’s long fur tightly, Ohorn felt the tension in her body suddenly release with a snap as the first row of Wencis leaped over the enemy’s heads. Landing on her long clawed hands Unar spun around quick as lightening, while the flowing rows of Wencis behind them crashed headlong into the armored line with a resounding crash. Without hesitation, Unar launched them into the rear of the knights’ formation as Ohorn sprang from her back. Hurdling over Unar’s head, Ohorn howled slamming his tinnearlian spearhead two-handed into the nearest knight’s defenseless back.

Ohorn wasn’t aware of his spearhead shattering as his legs locked around the armored waist. As the line of Ironidium Knights was buried under the weight of the tribe’s attack, he clung to the armored back mindlessly hacking with the broken shaft of his weapon as Unar’s claws slashed at the winged helm.

It was the shrieks of the dying that finally broke Ohorn out of the hunter’s trance. Around him, Wencis and Elven warriors were being slaughtered as the knights they were attacking began rising back to their feet unharmed. Unbelievably he stared at the shattered shaft in his hands as the reality hit him.

Tinnearlian was the hardest known substances on Irlendria. All of the races built their weapons from the incredibly tough metal. Even the Tuonellian Hordes had been vulnerable to their attacks, but this-. Ohorn’s eyes shot open in horror as the Knight beneath him suddenly rose to its feet backhanding Unar into the air.

***

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

The edge of the tribe’s encampment sat atop a small rise, which gave us a perfect view of the assault unfolding below. While the brutal efficiency of the tribes’ tactics were impressive, it was ultimately useless against the Ironidium Knights. The Klavikians armorers had designed the suits to be able to withstand the massed attacks of the Tuonellian Hordes. Unless a lucky strike made it through an eye-slit, the knights were nearly invulnerable.

Almost immediately the triumphant howls turned into shrieks of pain as swaths of Wenci and Elven warriors were suddenly flung back. Across the battlefield, armored shapes began rising out of the writhing press of bodies as the knights’ massive two-handed swords began cutting and slashing in great sweeping arcs. Tearing my eyes away from the bloodbath, I urgently spun Enelya around to face me. Whatever anger she had held for me disappeared from her eyes as soon as she saw the nightmare unfolding below.

“If I can pull the Spirit Mother out of that mess can the shamans slow the knights down long enough for us to escape?”

“We can try, but I don’t think our spirit magic will be enough.”

Pushing up next to me, Lúthien spoke urgently. “I can do it, but they must be clumped together.”

“Paladin, if you can get the Wild Elves to pull back my Rangers can manage that.”

Clapping Lúthien and the blonde hair Prince on the shoulder, I looked confidently into their stricken eyes. “Get your Elves into position. I’ll –“

<I can freeze them in place>

<And I can boil them in their armor>

Looking down in shock, the realization hit me like a brick between the eyes. I’d completely forgotten about Frostbrand and Starfire. “No!” The force of my shout made everyone, but the Minotaurs jump as I scooped the girls into my arms. “It’s too dangerous. You’re going to … to …” Where in Ukko’s name could I send them that they would be safe? Enelya’s raised chin suddenly caught my eye as she silently mouthed the answer I was looking for. “You’re going to Tenue Sûre, and that’s final.”

<You can’t make us go>

<We’re not going anywhere>

“This is not open for discussion. You are going, and that’s final!” The words ripped out of me with all the force I could muster. Ignoring the emotional pleas beating at my mind and the tears that filled their eyes, I turned away as the shrieks of the dying began to grow. Already I could feel Ukko’s will demanding that I help those in need. There was no way I could keep them safe and face this enemy when Enelya’s small hand urgently gripped my arm.

“Go! Nessa will take them to Tenue Sûre and watch after them until our return.”

I immediately saw the enraged look that crossed Nessa’s face as her head jerked up in shock at Enelya’s words. As her eyes darted back and forth between us, Nessa stomped her hoof angrily. “I’m not taking those two anywhere!”

Hearing the sullen anger in the filly’s voice I felt my own rage rising up in response, but before I could lay into her, Enelya smacked the Centaur with a resounding whack hard on the rump. “If you want to be a part of my life this is how you will do it!”

Wincing, Nessa sucked in a deep breath as she turned to face me. Squaring her shoulders stiffly, the Centaur spoke with a brusque formality. “Paladin, I give my oath. I will guard them with my life.”

For a moment, it felt like time had slowed around us as I looked into the filly’s eyes weighing her soul. Around us, I heard the gasps of the Rangers as mortal death cries rose from the battle raging below. The nervous shuffling of the Minotaurs’ hooves as they listened to Emperor Tiberius screaming plans with Prince Dorthonion and Lúthien while Enelya called to the shaman stragglers back that had come to a stop half way down the hill. As Enelya’s turned to look back at me, I realized there was something she wasn’t telling me about her and Nessa, but from our link I could tell it held no evil, of that I was sure.

The grief rolling off the girls was almost palpable as I buried my face in their necks hugging them tightly. “Nothing will stop me from coming back to you.” Their small arms clutched urgently at my neck as I shoved them towards the Centaur speaking gruffly. “Get them out of here.”

Ignoring the tears welling up in my eyes, I spun around sprinting towards the slaughter house below calling out over my shoulder.

“Enelya, Lúthien, Dorthonion, prepare yourselves!”

***

Location Irlendria / Ohorn Tastagard:

“Aaaiiii!”

The shrill screams of the dying reverberated in Ohorn’s ears as he rose unsteadily to his bare feet. Pain lanced through his chest as he wiped the blood away from his eyes with the back of a dirty hand. Gripping the leather-wrapped shafts of his tambos, Ohorn choked on the stench of death that filled the air. Everywhere he looked the lumbering forms of the Ironidium Knights could be seen rising to their feet across the battlefield amongst the bloody remains of his people. It was the Battle of Daeron Fortress all over again!

For a moment, Ohorn didn’t know where he was or what was happening as the warring images of the past and present overlapped in a confusing living nightmare. Memories of fighting atop piles of the dead and dying as they struggled to hold back the endless tides of the Tuonellian Horde filled his head. Gasping for breath Ohorn pushed the horrific memories away as he forced his thoughts back to the present. By Meliki’s will, that wasn’t going happen again!

Seeing Unar unmoving on the ground, Ohorn rushed to her side. Quickly he pulled the wounded Wenci to her hind legs. She was hurt badly. The white bones sticking out of her chest at odd angles was evidence enough of the severity of her wounds, but at least, she still lived. Around them, the rest of the Blood Guards were just rising to their feet when Ohorn saw the Spirit Mother crawling to Eila’s unmoving side as a trio of Ironidium Knights rose up behind her. There was no time to call out for help, no time to think. As the middle knight reached for the Spirit Mother, Ohorn released Unar as he rushed forward. Taking three quick steps he leaped into the air.

Flipping over the winged helm in front of him, Ohorn hooked an arm around the lead knight’s neck. Using it as a pivot point, Ohorn swung his feet as hard as he could into the next knight’s head. The force of the impact caught the second knight off-guard, sending him reeling as Ohorn used the momentum to pull the lead knight off his feet. As soon as Ohorn’s feet touched the ground, he leaped at the last Knight. Grabbing the tips of the helmet’s wings he threw his body backward, pulling the knight off-balanced as he yelled.

“Protect the Spirit Mother! Protect the Spirit Mother!” Flipping around Ohorn kicked the knight in the head with both feet as the surviving Blood Guards rallied to his side.

***

Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:

Quickly I mentally reviewed everything Grandsire had ever said about the rune-powered armor. Although the suits greatly increase the wearer’s speed and strength, those enhancements came at a steep cost. The armor was powered by the wearer’s life force. Only long-lived species could wear the suits for any length of time. In theory, my rune blades should be able to penetrate the thick tinnearlian metal that the suits were made of, but like the infected Rangers, I didn’t want to kill them if I didn’t have to. We would need them all if we were going to have any chance against the next Tuonellian invasion.

Ahead of me, the tribe’s warriors began reeling in disarray as the armored line started regaining their feet. Shrugging off the terrible blows raining down on their heads and shoulders as if they were nothing, the knights’ fought back with their overwhelming strength and power as their great sweeping blows smashed through Elves and Wencis alike with the force of a wrecking ball. As I leaped into the fray, hot blood sprayed across my face as a Wenci exploded in front of me.

Quicker than thought my body responded. Ducking under the bulky metal arm that burst through the Wenci’s chest, I slammed my open palm into the armored chest before me using all of my strength and momentum. The force of the blow threw the knight back into his squadmates, slamming the whole group to the ground in a mass of confusion. Pulling the shocked rider out of the way, I yelled hammering my fist into the armored back of the knight on the other side of me.

“Fall back now!”

The knight I’d hit plowed another armored group to the ground as I leaped over the confused mass hammering my steel toed boot into another armored chest. As the knight flew backward, I used the momentum from the jump kick to power drive my elbow into my next target. Without slowing down, I spun around, my backhand sending another knight flipping head over heels as I pulled a wounded Wenci to her feet. Helping her packmates up, I pushed an unconscious Elf into her clawed hands whispering a silent prayer to Ukko. Instantly healing glows surrounded the Wencis as I roughly shoved them towards the hill.

“Fall back to the encampment!” Without waiting to see if the Wencis followed my order, I threw myself headlong into the next group of knights howling in fury.

My initial goal had been to sow confusion and to save what warriors I could as I hunted for the Spirit Mother, but I was quickly running out time. Already I could see the Ironidium Knights were beginning to reform around me. There was no question that I was now the knights’ focus. The nearest ones I’d attacked were completely disregarding the trickle of survivors heading back up the hill as I slammed through their ranks like a bull in a china shop.

Around the battlefield, bone horns began blowing for the Clan to fall back when I suddenly found what I was looking for. A sole group of Blood Guards fighting for their lives near the center of the line. Although bloodied and broken, they managed to keep the Ironidium Knights at bay working as a team. The Elven warriors were parrying the massive two-handed blades while small groups of Wencis used their combined mass to knock the knights back. Even though the tactics were working, the haggard look on Ohorn Tastagard’s face said it all. There were simply too many knights for them to keep this up for any length of time.

With a silent prayer to Ukko, I rushed the squad of knights’ unprotected backs. Crouching low in my attack, I hooked an elbow under the first knight’s groin. Gripping the back neck guard, I heaved sending the knight flying high back over my head. Quickly, I did the same with the next two knights before they knew I was in amongst them. Even though the remaining knights spun around bringing their great swords to bear, I still had the advantage of surprise.

Not slowing down I ducked under the first two-handed blow. Letting the blade whistle overhead, I popped back up slamming my open palm low into the knight’s gut. The impact blasted him off his feet as I lunged for the next knight. Stepping inside the reach of the two-handed swing, I wrenched the great sword from the gauntleted fists as I scooped the surprised knight over my head in a tight arc, before face-planting him hard into the ground at my feet. Hearing the crunching sounds of metal on metal, I turned to face the last two Knights pushing my precious energy into my runic armor as I caught their descending blades on my crossed gauntleted wrists.

Staggering backward from the force of the impact, I jolted to a stop as bluish-red energy exploded around me in a spray of searing sparks as the Rök runes inscribed on my armor began glowing with an eye-searing light. Instantly a high-intensity hum filled the air as bright bands of pure energy arced between armor and swords. This was the first time I’d gone head-to-head against the direct power of the Ironidium Knights. I couldn’t breathe. My entire body strained with all its might as muscle and sinew fought against the magic power of the armored suits.

It was my own fault. Grandsire had warned me repeatedly to take every threat seriously, but the ease at which I’d toss the earlier knights aside had left me overconfident. Probably because I’d never truly believed him in the first place. I’d gotten so used to being the biggest and baddest fish in the pond on Earth that I’d let the power go to my head. I tried to push the swords away, but I couldn’t move. It was as if my muscles were locked in place by the waves of pulsating energy flowing through my body. Even the Demon Knight’s otherworldly power hadn’t affected me like this!

The pressure suddenly released with a loud pop of air and the smell of ozone as furry shapes slammed the Knights away from me. Staggering from the sudden release of the rune feedback, I felt hands urgently gripping my shoulders as I was suddenly looking into the strained blue eyes of Ohorn Tastagard.

“Quickly, the Pack Mother needs your healing!”

As Ohorn urgently pulled me into the middle of the Blood Guards’ defensive ring, I instantly understood what had him so upset. On the ground before me was a blood splattered Spirit Mother cradling the head of her mortally wounded soulmate. Even though the silvery-black coat of the Wenci was covered in gore, I recognized Eila immediately.

“I should have headed your wisdom Paladin, but my pride …” The old Elf’s words were suddenly cut off as she hacked blood from her lungs. Kneeling next to them both, I met the Spirit Mother’s grief-stricken eyes as she spoke haltingly. “Can you save us?”

Taking a deep breath, I ignored the growing weakness in my limbs. Although my body still wasn’t fully healed from the effects of the Fring, I still had my duty to perform. Laying my hands on them both, I whispered a prayer to Ukko. “Helbrede.” As soon as the words left my lips a golden glow enveloped them both, healing their wounds almost instantly.

Ignoring the gasps of shock from the Blood Guards behind me and the dizziness in my head, I rose to my feet speaking urgently. “We must get the mothers to safety if we are to turn this defeat into a chance at victory.” Seeing a look of horror suddenly cross Ohorn’s stern face, I heard his shocked exclamation of “Torrakusan” as I shoved the Spirit Mother and Eila at the Blood Guard Commander just as agony shot through my back and chest.

The force of the impact nearly drove me to my knees as I activated the Rök runes inscribed on my armor and tattooed into my skin. Following Ohorn’s bulging eyes I saw two sword points sticking out from the front of my breastplate. White agony shot through my chest again as the blades began to twist in place as my attacker tried to open the wounds up further. Sucking in a ragged breath, I hissed urgently to Ohorn through clenched teeth.

“I’ll take care of this, get them to safety!”

Burning rage filled my veins as I snapped my arms back over my shoulder, grasping for my attacker. Instantly the blades were wrenched free from my back as a kick slammed into my open wounds. Staggering a step forward, I spun around reaching for my Katanas as agony shot through my chest again. This time, the points entered my body through the gap in my defenses under my arms. The one place there were no Rök runes tattooed into my skin. Gritting my teeth from the pain, I drew my Katanas in one motion smashing the blades from my body.

The skill of the brutal attack was scary. I’d taken two mortal blows in the time it took me to draw my swords. Backing up warily, I caught a blur of silvery-blonde hair and the scent of a female Elf as the dark hooded attacker’s blades knocked my Katanas further apart. Without pause, they plunged for my chest. Metal screamed as the blades pounded against my armor probing for weakness. I struggled to keep up with the flurry of attacks as healing energy surged through my body, but again and again, the razor sharp blades cut furrows into my face and neck as I fought to keep pace with the blurring strikes.

This close the reeking stench of the Chaos Shard controlling the swordmaster was overpowering, clinging to her shoulders like a shroud of death. Whomever this Elf was she was supernaturally good, even while under the influence of the demonic power. A point which was staggering in and of itself. Normally the infected skills were severely hampered by the effects of the mind control. I’d managed to hit the Elf woman several times as we fought, but every time she’d shrugged aside the blows as if they were nothing. It was the first time since I was twelve that I’d faced a swordmaster that was better than me. As we fought, I knew I was in serious trouble. It was taking everything I had just to keep her at bay, and I was still losing. The only thing that had kept me alive this long was my healing power and that one advantage was disappearing fast.

I was surrounded, and my energy reserves were nearly depleted when the reality hit me. If I didn’t come up with a plan fast, I was going to die here and now. All the rage, all the power, it meant nothing if I couldn’t hit my target. Again I felt the anger welling up inside of me as I fought with my pride while the sweat poured down my back. How could I be losing to a female not even half my size?

Springing backward, I took my eyes away from the flashing blades as I spun around looking for an escape route. On every side the Ironidium Knights had closed in on me in an ever-tightening circle, until they’d formed a solid ring. There was nowhere left to run!

Sudden agony flaring through my neck brought my mind racing back into focus as the swordmaster’s blades slipped under my helm’s neck guard. Immediately, the last of my reserves disappear in a flash of energy as my body tumbled out of control. Coming to a flopping stop on the ground, I realized my arms and legs were completely useless. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Elf woman flow back into a ready stance with an elegant flourish as her dull gray eyes studied me impassively. With jerky, puppet-like movements, the swordmaster approached slowly with her blades held high ready to strike as her voice rasped in an inhuman chuckle.

“You are no Paladin. You are barely even a child. And to think that my Masters have such fear of you.”

Thinking quickly, I focused on the being that controlled the swordmaster. If I could just buy a little more time, I might be able to get out of this yet. Pitching my voice with as much condescending arrogance as I could muster lying flat on my back, I spat at the Elf’s booted feet.

“If I’m a child, you’re nothing more than an honorless dog sent to fetch me to your master. You don’t even dare face me on your own. It’s just like a Tuonellian to hide like a coward behind their puppets.” Already I could feel my body beginning to recover as the healing energy began building up inside of me. I just needed a little more time.

Hate flared in the Elf’s eyes as her blades pulled back to strike. “Dog or not, it will be your corpse that I fetch back to the Priestesses of Loviatar.”

The evil presence that filled the Elf woman’s voice made my skin crawl. There was no question that I was now speaking to the Tuonellian Hulk that possessed the Chaos Shard controlling this swordmaster’s body. Unconsciously my lips curved into a sneer as a golden glow began surrounding me.

“Corpse? I thought Loviatar wanted me brought to her alive.”

Again the blades paused. “Unlike my brethren, I know better than trying to take a Paladin alive. Now it is time for you to die.”

Straining with all my might I felt my arms and legs begin to twitch with feeling once again as the blades swung at my neck, but in my heart, I knew it was too late. Before I could cry out, the Elf woman was suddenly bowled over by a large furry shape. A split second later Enelya was at my side, her hands’ urgently pulling me to my feet as everything happened at once.

I got my legs underneath me just as Argus snapped to a stop. With a piercing shriek, the Wenci’s hind legs heaved the swordmaster high into the air over the armored lines as the circle of Ironidium Knights surrounding us surged forward.

I wanted to scream at them both for coming after me. They’d just thrown away their lives for nothing, but instead of yelling out my frustration, I stepped in front of Enelya as Argus’ hiss of rage rang out behind me. Once again my body was responding.

Facing the rune-powered armor, I ignored Enelya’s screams for me to run as she whipped out her tambos. The situation was hopeless, but I refused to give up or to leave them behind to die in my place. Not that it was even possible for me to choose otherwise. As the golden glow faded away from my skin, I gave thanks to Ukko. Facing the enemy, I raised my Katanas into the air when suddenly the meadow erupted around us.

Immediately I understood what was happening. Spinning around, I tackled Enelya and Argus to the ground, protecting them with my armored back as the wave of destruction washed over us. The detonations were deafening. As the dirt and debris blasted into the air, I felt the animalistic terror of my charges as they tried to escape the terrible sound, but I held them fast. Hearing the fury of the noise beginning to fade around us, I sheathed my blades and sprang to my feet dragging Enelya and Argus after me.

Overwhelmed by their insane fear, Enelya and Argus fought clawing and biting at my armored arms to break free of my grasp as I dragged them through the cloud of choking debris. There was no time to calm them down. In the hazy light, I saw the irregular shapes of the Ironidium Knights scattered across the ground from where they’d been blasted from their feet. While the barrage would have killed a squad of Tuonellian Hulks, the Knights were relatively unhurt. Many of them were already beginning to rise back to their feet. We only had a few seconds to get away in the confusion.

Coming out of the thick haze, I saw the Rangers lined up on the hill above us with their runic bows bent back ready to fire. Gathering up Enelya and Argus under my arms, I sprinted for the hilltop as the clanking sounds of pursuit rang out behind us. A moment later the hulking armored forms of Ironidium Knights started appearing behind us.

Immediately flaring shafts of light leaped from the Rangers’ bows. I had heard about the weapons from my Grandsire, but this was the first time I’d seen them in action. The glowing arrows were made up of pure energy. The air sizzled as they shot overhead to rain down on our pursuers. Again the ground heaved, detonations reverberating behind us as the Ironidium Knights were once again blasted off their feet.

A ragtag line of Wild Elven survivors waited behind the Rangers with Lúthien as I ran up to Tiberius and Prince Dorthonion. Enelya and Argus were still shaking off their shock as I set them on the ground as power began thrumming through the air. As soon as I turned around, a loud ripping sound rang out as thick roots shot up from out of the ground across the meadow. Rippling into the air like tentacles from a massive sand creature, the roots wrapped themselves around the knights as Lúthien stepped forward. Thrusting her hands out with her fingers spread wide, the High Elf yelled out casting her spell.

“Palmure!”

Thick web-like strands shot out from Lúthien’s fingertips across the field. The substance instantly thickened into fibrous cords that spread out even further from the magical power of the High Elf’s concentration, until it looked like a massive fishnet had been thrown across the knights below.

The power Lúthien was pushing out was unbelievable. I could feel the energy pulse draining her body as her back arched in agony from the effort of casting the spell. Before I could stop her from pushing herself too far, Tiberius was at her side speaking softly.

“That’s enough, Lúthien. You can release the spell.” The Elf girl’s body began to shake as her mouth opened in a silent scream, but still the spell kept on growing. Urgently Tiberius shook her shoulders. “Lúthien your killing yourself, release the spell! Lúthien!”

The webbing stopped as Lúthien suddenly collapsed, releasing the spell as she fell back into Tiberius’ waiting arms. Below us, the entire force of Ironidium Knights was blanketed in the thick white mesh. You could see areas where the webbing pulsed with movement as the trapped Knights fought to break free of the sticky mess, but for now, they were stopped.

As I helped Enelya and Argus to their feet, movement next to me caught my eye as an anxious Tiberius strode up with the unconscious High Elf cradled in his muscular arms. The Minotaur’s dark brown eyes were filled with consternation as I gripped his shoulder firmly. “Don’t worry. She’s fine, just exhausted.” The tension visibly drained from his wide shoulders as a musical voice called out behind us.

“Paladin, those spells won’t hold the knights for long.”

Meeting Prince Dorthonion’s clear blue eyes I couldn’t help but smile back. Even though the Forest Elf had to be over a hundred years old, the rakish grin on his lips made him look much younger. “I know, which is why we’re moving out. Get your Rangers ready.”

Turning to the injured Wild Elves and Wencis, I searched the distraught faces looking back at me until I found the one I was looking for. Striding up to the Spirit Mother I spoke quickly. “There is no time left. We must go to King Galdor now!”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Location Earth / Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus:

“Sustentaret scutum murum!” (Brace the shield wall!)

“Sustentaret scutum murum!” (Brace the shield wall!)

Bending with his knees, Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus leaned forward putting his mass solidly behind the scuta held before him as the legionnaire behind him gripped the ring on the back of his Lorica Segmentata armor. Throwing his head back, Lar bellowed in defiance as the wave of claws and fangs crashed into their line.

The crunching impact of the enemy against their shield wall was deafening as the screeching howls of the Tuonellian assault filled the air. Long-clawed hands fought to rip his scuta away as Lar dug his hooves into the stone while punching over the top of scuta with quick, deadly strikes of his gladius.

For a long moment, the whole line shivered as they fought to hold back the enemy that fought to overpower them. Any break in their line and the Tuonellians would overrun them. Straining with all of his might, Lar fought to hold back the press of bodies, when a wave of deafening explosions on the other side of the shield wall lit up the darkness with blinding white light.

Instantly Lar felt the line around him stabilize as the overwhelming press of the enemy faltered in confusion. As the legionnaires around him gave thanks to Akras, Lar glanced over his shoulder at the ragged human line behind them.

These humans looked nothing like the dirty half-naked savages that had first welcomed them through the gate. Most notably these new humans appeared to be wearing some type of greenish brown uniform and armor. As he watched, the short redheaded female he’d saved earlier began calling out orders to the humans around her. At her command, they threw small gray objects over the shield wall into the screeching mass of Tuonellians. Once again the air shook as brilliant flashes of light lit up the darkness to the sounds of the enemy screeches.

Immediately Lar felt the momentum of the battle shift as the press of the enemy advance suddenly lost momentum. As the strange black devices in the humans’ hands roared spitting yellow fire, Centurion Quintillius raised a wolf gauntlet into the air. The tinnearlian blade glowed with blue runic power as his deep bass rose over the din of combat.

“Cum evocatio deficit salvandum oportet fratres nostros antequam iugulant pecudes. Purgare murum ad nutum et progredi!” (When the evocation fails we must save our brothers before they are slaughtered. Clear the wall at will and advance!)

Slamming his shield into the screeching creatures in front of him, Lar’s gladius took the head off the nearest of the putrid beasts as the front rank of the Legion ferociously drove into the packed mass. Purple blood sprayed across his muzzle and armor as his blade repeatedly thrust and slashed through the creatures’ thick bony armor. Lar’s nostrils flared as the familiar berserker fury began welling up inside of him. Throwing his horns back he bellowed in defiance.

“Ad nonam quidem legionem!” (For the Ninth Legion!) Up and down the line legionnaires took up the chant as they trampled the fallen enemy under their ironidium shod hooves. “Ad nonam quidem … Ad nonam quidem!” (For the Ninth … for the Ninth!)

Claws and fangs lashed out at him in a wild frenzy as Lar advanced lockstep with his brothers in arms. Together they began pushing the packed mass of Scourge back towards the outer ring of crystals with brute strength alone. Initially, the shock of their attack was enough to throw the Tuonellians in disorder, but about three-quarters of the way to the outer ring their momentum started to give away as their ranks thinned to a thin double-line of legionnaires.

Lar’s fists clenched in frustration. Every time his gladius ripped through a Scourge three more were waiting to take its place. Sweat soaked his torso and coursed down his back in rivulets, mixing with blood from the jagged wounds on his arms and neck from where claws had found gaps in his armor. Ignoring his wounds Lar fought on.

For any warrior exhaustion was the ever present enemy. Even for the Legions of the Imperium renowned for their strength and endurance, it was a serious problem. Imperium battle tactics were structured to ensure legionnaires remained fresh by having their front ranks fall back to the rear at regular intervals during a fight. A tactic that could be held for a day or two without a Paladin, but only if the bulls were veteran warriors. The Ninth had been fighting nonstop for over a week straight. An amazing feat in and of itself. But, whether or not he wanted to admit it, in his heart of hearts Lar knew the Ninth was no more. They’d simply lost too many of their brothers. Their Centuria was all that was left of the once mighty Legion. The rest had fallen defending the Gorgonian’s capital during the invasion.

They were only a few yards away from the outer ring when the press of Scourge brought their advance to a complete stop. Fury burned in Lar’s chest. There was no way they were going to reach their brothers in time. There simply were not enough of them to fight their way to the outer ring.

In horror, Lar watched the evocation spell fail as the stasis crystals began crumbling open before his eyes. He was going to be forced to watch his brothers be slaughtered, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, when suddenly Centurion Quintillius’ deep base bellowed over the din of combat.

“Una formatio … una formation, progredi!” (Single formation … single formation, advance!)

For a split-second Lar couldn’t believe his ears as the shrill battle whistles passed the order up and down the lines. Single rank? Legions never fought in single ranks! Around him, the Centuria responded without hesitation as the entire front line opened up for the rank behind to enter into the battle. In an enraged charge, the fresh legionnaires threw themselves at the enemy, ripping through the packed masses like a scythe through wheat. Hope blossomed in Lar’s chest as he once again forced his body to fight, throwing himself into the melee with a last burst of strength. Even though every muscle in his body screamed in agony, he slashed and punched with his gladius and scuta after his brothers like a rampaging bull, forcing the Scourge before him to fall back or die.

In the blink of an eye, they’d made it. As the exhausted first rank pulled the newly released legionnaires to their hooves, Centurion Quintillius gave the order to fall back and reform. Staggering from his many wounds, Lar made his way to the rear of the formation with his contubernium and the rest of the warriors that had taken the brunt of the assault.

Kneeling down on his haunches in exhaustion Lar proudly looked over his fellow legionnaires. Even though the Centaur barbarians of the plains might be the most numerous, the Forest Elves and Gorgonians the most powerful, it was the Legions of the Imperium that were the backbone of the Alliance of Aurenko. It was their strength and discipline that held the line during the Great War while the other races wrought their destruction upon the hordes of the enemy.

The Klavikians had been correct in bringing the Alliance together. Without their eldritch knowledge in weapons and tactics none of the races would have survived the initial invasion. Even a lowly Decanus like him could see that simple truth. Their current situation was an exemplary example of this fact.

The Ninth Legion had been the only force close enough to assist the Gorgonean Republic when they’d come under attack from the Tuonellians, but the Legion alone hadn’t been enough, even with the Gorgoneans’ magical weapons. Ilmarinen Ironwolf was leading a force to come to their aid, but the Horde managed to overrun the capital before the reinforcements could arrive. Their only chance of escape had been through the gate to Terra, but that haven had been short lived. The Tuonellians had used their magic to follow them through the portal.

Hanging his head tiredly Lar prayed to Akras. Sometimes it felt like even their combined might wasn’t enough to stand against the Tuonellian Hordes. A gentle hand on his shoulder brought Lar out of his brooding. Lifting his head in exhaustion Lar looked into the intense emerald green eyes of the human he’d first saved upon waking. Again he was taken aback by her size and beauty. Although thin, she was almost as large as a heifer with meat in all the right places. He was just pushing her away when unbelievably she haltingly spoke in his people’s language.

“Et est nomen meum Sergeant Classis … inquam medium Decanus Driscoll. Oportet operari simul ad superesse. (My name is Sergeant First Class … I mean Decanus Driscoll. We must work together to survive.

Lar’s ears perked up in surprise as he re-evaluated the exotic looking female with fiery hair. “Vos loqueris lingua mea?” (You speak my language?)

“Modicum.” (A little.)

The human female’s voice sounded odd to his ears, but Lar could make out what she was trying to say if he focused. “Ita.” (Indeed.)

“Militibus meis sanabo populum tuum … sed … oportet ergo eamus illuc. Compluresque milites … nos simul pugnare.” (My soldiers will heal your people … but … we must go there. Many soldiers … together we fight.)

Following her small leather-gloved hand Lar eyed the opening high in the rocky ceiling. In the shaft of sunlight, his eyes easily followed the fragile-looking metal contraption that ran from the lip of the opening down to the ground. “Illi gressus angustus est populus meus, sed nos obligari ad populum tuum. Saltem possis inque peditus effugere. (Those steps are too small for my people, but we are obligated to your people. At least, you can escape.)

Understanding his meaning, the female shook her head from side-to-side. “Non, vires suppetebant ad omnes.” (No, strong enough for all.)

Lar wanted to laugh when the female’s furless face scrunched up in denial, but remembering the ferocity of the last female warrior he’d pissed off in the Great Forest, Lar kept a straight face. He must think of her as a Decanus for her people. No matter how ridiculous he found the idea of a female legionnaire, he must remember that these new human warriors appearing suddenly out of nowhere could be a sign from Akras. Either way, these humans gave them a chance to possibly survive this battle yet.

”Vestra Populum tuum auxilium meum tauri. Nos ineat mecum simul et effugium. Bonum consilium, sed nos oportet quod expectes quia sanctus.“ (Your people help heal my bulls. We fight together and escape. Good plan, but we must wait for the holy one.)

After several tries, it took Lar pointing to the priestess still locked in stasis before the human Decanus Driscoll finally understood what he meant. Again Lar watched the unreadable expressions crossing her furless face as she replied thoughtfully. “Deinde videmus speramus.” (Then we wait.) Turning around, she called out to the other humans dressed in green. “I need medics to get these legionnaires fixed up now!”

Lar didn’t understand the language, but immediately the human warriors began moving to the injured bulls of his contubernium as Decanus Driscoll reached for a green pouch with a red cross strapped to her waist. “Da mihi brachium tuum. Hoc tenebit vulnus nam simul quia nunc.“ (Give me your arm. This will hold the wounds together for now.)

Rolling his shoulders Lar inspected the females work. The herbs were very different than the healing salves of his people, but the bandages were similar in nature. Whatever was in the little tube was worth its weight in gold. Although the not completely healed, the bleeding had stopped, and the wound was sealed. Rising to his hooves Lar inclined his head to Decanus Driscoll. “Gratias tibi . Nunc ut perspiciatis nostrum concordes respondissent meum Centurion.” (Thank you. Now I must explain our agreement to my Centurion.)

Lar made his way towards the red-plumed helm at the center of the battle line where the Scourge were pressing the hardest. Pushing his way through the struggling ranks Lar gripped the large bull’s shoulder. “Centurion, we must speak. There is a change in the tactical situation.”

Removing his gauntleted hand, Lar waited as the Centurion called back to the legionnaire behind him. “Decanus Carus, take my place at the shield wall on my mark.” Immediately the large bull began slaughtering the Scourge in front of him with a flurry of blows. “Mark!”

At the barked order, Decanus Carus slide smoothly into the Centurion’s spot as Quintillius stepped back from the line breathing heavily. As the battle rage left his eyes, Quintillius stepped forward gripping Lar’s shoulder warmly. “You did well recovering our legionnaires back there Decanus Natalinus, but I’m afraid the rescue will be short lived.”

“I thank you, Centurion. I know our brothers would rather have the chance to fight then be slaughtered like nafda, but our rescue might not be so short lived. There is another option.” Seeing Quintillius’ raised eyebrows, Lar quickly gave him a rundown of the situation with the humans. Standing up straight, Quintillius looked over Lar’s head to eye the human female and her troops.

“Decanus Driscoll you say.”

“Yes, Centurion.”

Quintillius grunted thoughtfully. “They are nothing like the half-naked savages that met us when we first arrived in this world. They fought well, even if their weapons were useless.”

“Like the Imperium was before the Klavikians shared their knowledge.”

“What’s your impression Decanus, do they have honor?”

“I find it fortuitous that these new humans have suddenly appeared at our greatest time of need. I keep asking myself if Akras hasn’t intervened on our behalf.” They both made the sign of the sickle at Lar’s words. “Instead of cowering behind our lines with their useless weapons after being bloodied, they fought the best they could and freely gave aid to our wounded. Both of which are honorable in their own right. We can fight to the death or give them a chance to prove their worth.”

At Quintillius’ snort of assent, Lar studied the Scourge attack clawing at their wavering shield wall. Although the Centuria had driven the Tuonellians back once, the enemy had struck back with renewed fury. The battle lines were buckling at three ranks deep from the press of the enemy and every second that went by more of the nafda were being released from stasis. For now, it had been only Scourge, but what happened when the first demon was set free?

“What do we have to lose Centurion?” As if Lar’s words were the trigger, blue energy exploded from the center of their defensive formation as the Gorgonian Priestess stasis crystal blasted apart.

***

Location Earth / Megan Driscoll:

As Sergeant First Class Driscoll watched Decanus Sestius Natalinus push his way to the front line to discuss the new tactical situation with his commander, she tried to get a read on how these Minotaurs thought. When the Centurion’s massive head swiveled around to face her, Megan met the bull’s measured look head-on as his intelligent eyes studied her intently.

The Minotaur Commander looked like something right out of a superhero comic book with his flaring white cloak, ornate breastplate, red-crested helmet and blue-glowing fist blades. Even compared to the non-commissioned officers like Decanus Sestius Natalinus who she’d befriended, the Commander’s presence was larger than life. He radiated authority and brutal competency in his every movement. Just as they seemed to be coming to a decision, Megan heard Lance Corporal Jordan’s accusatory voice hiss in her ear.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Whipping around angrily, Megan shoved Dion back hard as she overrode his words. “You want to check that attitude, Lance Corporal?”

For a second Megan wasn’t sure if he was going to snap out of it, but training took over as Dion got his emotions back under control. Holding up his hands apologetically he lowered his voice.

“Look, Sergeant, no disrespect intended, but …” Glancing around warily, Dion spoke in a rush of words. “What the fuck is going on? Everyone is freaking. Out of nowhere you just start speaking these aliens language. Now you’re following these primitives orders and …“

“Alien language, what the hell are you talking about? They’re freaking speaking Latin.”

“Latin …” Megan could see Dion struggling with the concept as his mouth gaped open in surprise. “You speak Latin?”

Seeing the pissed off look on her face Dion’s voice died away as Private Rodriguez suddenly piped up. “Excuse me, Sergeant First Class Driscoll, do mean ‘Latin’ like what the priests speak at my church on Sundays?”

Glancing around Megan silently swore as she saw the crazy looks that some of the jarheads were sending her way. They all probably thought she was somehow being mentally manipulated by these creatures. She’d have to nip this in the bud and quick. She couldn’t have her soldiers second guessing her every order if they were going make it out of this alive. Speaking loud enough to be heard, Megan addressed the new Marines she’d taken under her command during this emergency.

“First off, these Minotaurs speak Latin and so do I.” She saw several of the scientists’ heads jerk up at her words as they suddenly realized the truth of what she was saying. Immediately several furious debates broke out as Megan continued her impromptu speech. “Secondly, for anyone else who’s wondering why we are following these primitives lead I’ll make this as simple as I can or you. If these primitives weren’t protecting us, we would all be dead by now.”

Seeing the chagrined faces around her, Megan repeated that once more for emphasis. “That’s right, we would all be dead if it weren’t for these ‘primitives’ good will towards us.” She paused for a moment to let that sink into their meat-heads.

“For those of you who are throwing out that ‘primitive’ word so easily. Did any of you notice that these ‘primitives’ are wearing liquid metal gauntlets that can slice through these monsters with one hit? Gauntlets, might I add, that are being charged with some type of power source that I’ve never seen before. Our assault rifles with armor piercing rounds can barely even scratch these things!”

Seeing the sudden understanding in the eyes of the men and women under her command, Megan wrapped up her little speech. “Luckily one of their sergeants is willing to work with me on getting us out of this pit and back to the surface. Where I hope the rest of the battalion will be able to help us fight these creatures and destroy them. So, unless you speak Latin and can help translate, I need you to shut the fuck up and follow orders. Is that understood?”

The chorus of “Hoorah!” was mostly drowned out by the battle, but Megan could sense the sudden shift in moral. Having a weapon suddenly jam in the middle of combat was enough to make any soldier freak out, but having your weapons be completely useless against monsters straight out of a horror movie was another matter altogether. The utter desperation of their situation had been given a sliver of hope. It was even visible in their body language as she pointed at the crystal behind her.

“Now we’re just holding out until this crystal pops their priestess before we get the hell out of here. Until then, I want you to keep these guys patched up. Rodriguez, I want you on the radio with Command. Give them an update on the current situation and-.“ Megan’s words were cut off by an explosion of blue energy that rippled through the air in a visible wave of energy as she was suddenly blasted off her feet.

Slamming her hands over her ears, Megan rolled back and forth on the ground in agony. All around her, a pulsating strobe light lit up the darkness as an undulating blaring shriek filled the air. Through the piercing pain, Megan saw the pitched battle brought to a screeching halt as Human, Minotaur and monster alike dropped to their knees from the overwhelming sound. A part of her mind equated the terrible noise to the warning siren that would always blow on Saturday mornings when she was growing up as a child, only a hundred times worse. The pain was so intense that it felt like her teeth were going to burst from their roots from the intensity.

Hands still covering her ears Megan pushed herself to her knees with her elbows searching for the source, when her eyes were drawn to the rippling blue lightning crackling behind her in a towering column of pure energy as her mouth fell open incredulously. At the center of the rippling electricity was the Minotaur’s priestess. She’d momentarily forgotten the priestess wasn’t a cow, but another mythological creature from out of legend.

Megan’s mind immediately labeled the creature a Gorgon as snippets of Greek mythology and modern day movies began running through her mind in a convoluted mess of Hollywood magic and superstition as she stared wide-eyed at the humanoid creature stretched out before her. A part of her mind was terrified that she was staring straight at the extremely feminine and beautiful face, but even if she’d wanted to, Megan couldn’t have torn her eyes away from the breathtaking sight.

It wasn’t the crackling energy rippling around the snake-woman’s body or the fact that she was hovering several feet off the ground with her arms arched over her head. It wasn’t even the radiant colors of the thick serpentine coils that made up the lower half of her body. What held Megan’s gaze was the selfless plea of holy supplication frozen on the human-like face. For that split-second, the pain in her head seemed to lessen as the ethereal beautify hit Megan in her heart and soul. The utter humility and acceptance transcended the bounds of race, culture and even religion in its universal humaneness.

As Megan watched in awe, the snake-woman’s body convulsed before her eyes as the crackling energy and blaring sound disappeared in an explosive wave that washed over the entire chamber. There was a screeching hiss of electricity as the metal halide lighting towers died in showers of burning sparks.

Spots swarmed across Megan’s vision as her eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness. A thin beam of light still shined in through the small opening high above in the ceiling at the far end of the chamber, but the long drill shaft did little to spread the light out around the immense cavern. Holding her aching head, Megan looked around numbly trying to make sense of what happened to the power, when a soft soprano spoke weakly in front of her in a shivering voice.

“Akhras, gratias ago tibi quoniam audisti vocem meam.” (Akhras, I give thanks to you for hearing my plea.)

The loud thud of a body hitting the ground seemed to jumpstart Megan into action. Pulling out her mag-light Megan tried to find out what had happened to the priestess only to discover her batteries were completely dead when she pressed the switch. Putting the mag-light back into her pouch, Megan pulled a glow stick from a pocket in her uniform, snapping the plastic tube one handed. The light was much weaker than the mag-light, but it was better than nothing. Crawling towards where she’d heard the voice Megan shook the stick in her hand to get the chemicals mixing faster as she began calling out orders.

“Private Rodriguez, get on the horn with HQ and find out what the fuck is going on now.” As Rodriguez began fumbling with his equipment, Megan called out to Dion. “Lance Corporal Jordan, give me a quick inventory of what munitions we have left. Lance Corporal Porter, I want you to get the wounded ready to move out.”

If the Minotaurs believed this priestess was so important that they were willing to defend her with their lives, then maybe she’d better make sure her holiness actually survived whatever had just happened. Behind her in the pit, two blue blades suddenly glowed to life as a deep bellow shattered the eerie silence.

“Super ungulas tuas ponam, reformabit testudinem!” (On your hooves, reform the shield wall!) Across the clearing blue glows began flaring in the darkness as more and more bulls took up the call as nightmarish screeching cries began howling out in the darkness across the pit. “Reformabit testudinem! Reformabit testudinem!” (Reform the shield wall! Reform the shield wall!)

Sweeping her arm in front of her in an arc, Megan’s hand brushed a scaly coil. Hurriedly she pulled herself up to the unmoving body searching for any signs of life. Seeing the rise and fall of the priestess’ chest in the weak light made Megan breathe a sigh of relief, but the icy cold skin beneath her gloved hand gave her a new concern. Megan didn’t need to know snake-woman physiology to recognize the danger. First aid one-o'-one listed icy cold skin to the touch as a primary symptom of hyperthermia, which was life-threatening for humans and probably even worse for a theoretically cold-blooded creature like a snake-woman.

Doing the only thing she could think to do, Megan began shrugging out of her gear quickly removing her uniform’s outer jacket. Using it as a makeshift blanket, Megan wrapped the priestess’s upper body as she pulled the snake-woman to her chest. There was no thought as to the oddness of her actions. Combat training made a Marine insensitive to the sex of a comrade in need on the battlefield. At least to a point. Men or women were expected to assist the wounded as needed. If it required stripping down to use your body heat to help a comrade, then that’s what you did. It was the same as carrying an unconscious battle buddy to safety or patching a bleeding wound. No thought was given to skin or body fluids.

Using a combination of her own body heat and friction, Megan tried to warm the priestess’s as Rodriguez’s voice called out urgently. “Sergeant First Class Driscoll, none of my equipment has power. Everything’s dead!”

“What do you mean everything’s dead, Rodriguez?”

“Sarge, anything that requires power. My radio, my night vision scope, even my fucking mag-light, it’s all dead!”

As glow sticks began lighting up the darkness around Megan, she did a run-through of her gear. Nothing was showing a charge; even her five-eleven Tactical Field Ops watch was dead. Quickly Megan cycled a round through her M4. Catching the casing one-handed she breathed a sigh of relief. At least, their weapons were still working, so whatever was happening only seemed to be affecting electronics.

A groan of pain brought Megan’s eyes back to the priestess lying in her lap as the snake-woman mumbled weakly tossing and turning. “Debemus relinquere locum istum simul.” (We must leave this place at once.) Unsure of what more to do, Megan looked anxiously around for one of the Minotaurs as the words became more urgent. “Debemus relinquere locum … daemones venire!” (We must go … the demons come!)

Megan froze as she translated the priestess’s last words, her thoughts churning at hyper-speed. On the one side, her logical mind wanted to dismiss the warning as primitive superstition, but on the other hand … A cold shiver went down her spine. On the other hand, she was sitting in the middle of a dark pit holding a naked snake-woman, while around her Minotaurs battled nightmarish monsters in the dark around her. The reality of it all boggled the mind.

Unsure of what to do next Megan anxiously looked around for her Minotaur friend, when she heard Dion's voice speak up behind her. “What the hell did that thing say, Megan, something about demons?”

“Shut your mouth Dion, that’s the how rumors get started. “ Megan’s voice died away as the priestess’s slit-like golden eyes weakly slid open to meet her gaze. Even though the look of rapture was gone, the snake-woman still exuded an aura of peace and serenity. For a long moment, nothing happened as the inhuman eyes intently studied her face, when suddenly a slit in the center of priestess’s forehead slowly opened revealing a third eye.

“Oh shit!”

Megan heard Dion’s swear as he quickly backed out of the snake-woman’s line of sight, while the Marines around her shifted their weapons nervously in their hands. Not breaking her gaze with the priestess, Megan held up an open palm to her soldiers behind her silently ordering them to stand fast as she studied the murky blue orb.

Although the third eye was freaky to look at in a human-like face, the orb itself reminded her of a parietal eye. The only striking difference was that there was an eyelid, something she’d never heard of before. On reptiles and fish, the third eye was associated with the pineal gland and was used in regulating circadian rhythmicity and hormone production for thermoregulation. Megan had the distinct impression the snake-woman used hers for much more than just body regulation as the priestess’s long red hair began crawling up her arms with a life of their own.

“Sergeant Driscoll!”

No looking away from those golden orbs, Megan whipped her palm out again behind her back. “I said to hold your position, Lance Corporal!”

“What the fuck Meg-?”

“I ordered everyone to hold their fucking positions and keep back.” Megan snapped angrily cutting Dion off in midsentence. “What part of that didn’t you understand, Lance Corporal Jordan?”

Before Megan could say more the priestess’s hair touched the bare skin of her arms making her jump from the contact. Her emotions were a confused whirlwind as the thick strands continued creeping higher and higher up her body. The smooth articulated appendages felt nothing at all like the hair they resembled. As they reached her face, Megan heard a shocked bellow behind her as a jolt suddenly ran through her mind.

<My name is Britomartis>

“Per Akras sanctum acutam, Ipsa nos infirmi fuerimus quia!” (By Akras holy sickle, she is too weak for that!)

Megan’s head throbbed as the feminine voice began to chant, mentally filling her mind.

<I know what you know …. I feel what you feel>

Again and again, the words reverberated in Megan’s head. It felt as if her entire life were flowing from her like an open book as the golden slit-eyes grew to encompass her entire vision. Just as Megan thought her mind was going to break the chant changed as the flow of information reversed directions.

<You know what I know … You feel what I feel>

Images of a strange world and alien creatures filled Megan’s mind as the words reverberated through her head. At first, it felt like she was drowning in a flood of information, but slowly the intensity of the mental presence began to fade until it slipped away entirely. Coming back to her senses, Megan felt the feelers slip away from her face as High Priestess Britomartis went limp in her arms.

“What the fuck did that thing do to her? Look at me … I said to look at me motherfucker! What the hell did that thing do to her?” Looking around disoriented Megan saw her squad squaring off against the Minotaurs with Lance Corporal Jordan at their lead. “Get the fuck back furface or I’m gonna light your ass up!”

As her mind began to clear, Megan instantly recognized Lar, the legionnaire sergeant that had saved her life. Her mind shortening the Minotaur’s name without even realizing the change in her thoughts. Somehow she knew Lar was trying to reach the priestess in her lap, but every time he tried to approach Dion was there, getting into his face and screaming insults. The warning signs were all there, like two sides of the same coin.

Flaring nostrils, dilated pupils, the lowered horns, Megan could clearly see the signs that the bulls were struggling to hold in their rage just like her own people, but like always her shit talking Ex was blind to the danger. There was going to be bloodshed if she couldn’t get everyone to calm the fuck down.

“Lance Corporal Jordan, stand down and let the sergeant through!”

“What the fuck!” Backing away from the legionnaire, Dion hurriedly looked back and forth between her and the Minotaurs nervously gripping his assault rifle with both hands. “Is that you Megan?”

“What do you mean, is that me?”

“When that fucking creature touched you that freaky eye started glowing all blue and stuff and then your eyes rolled up into your head. I … I thought-“

“Well, you thought wrong.”

Misunderstanding the Lance Corporal’s body language, the Minotaurs started forward as Dion spun around with his assault rifle first like a madman. “I said to get the fuck back, furface!”

“And I said to stand the fuck down, Lance Corporal!”

As Dion swung around wildly to face her, Megan saw the whites of his eyes. He was in full freak-out mode.

“How do I know it’s really you?”

“Because if you don’t stand the fuck down in the next three seconds, I’m going to kick your ass myself!” For some reason, the harsh words seemed to reassure Dion. Stepping back away from the Minotaurs warily he made a path for them to Megan.

“My apology Lar. My people didn’t understand what was happening.”

Striding up next to her, Lar quickly scooped the priestess up into his thick muscular arms. For a long moment, Lar said nothing wrapping the snake coils around his broad shoulders and waist as his big eyes studied her intently. Holding a hand up to his breastplate with his fore, pinky, and thumb fingers extended, Lar reverently dipped his head.

“Although the mens-miscere is a blessing from Akras, it is not for the faint of heart, even for those who are privileged to witness the ceremony.”

Megan’s mouth fell open at the Minotaur’s words. Images of the horned god Akras suddenly filling her mind as if she’d seen the statues in real life. Pressing her palm to forehead, Megan’s panicked eyes focused on Lar’s face.

“What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Nothing, it is all a part of the ceremony.”

“Ceremony …?” Megan’s thoughts were a jumbled mess. “The mens-miscere is-,“ Megan’s voice dragged the “is” out as the Minotaur finished the sentence for her.

“A sharing of the mind used to help two peoples in gaining understand of one another.” Leaning forward, Lar urgently gripped her shoulder with an armored gauntlet. “You must tell me. Did the High Priestess say anything when she first awoke?”

“Um …,“ the sound dragged out as Megan tried to remember when her eyes locked onto the Minotaur’s strong face. “She said something about leaving this place before the demons come.” The sudden look of dread on what she’d come to think of as the Minotaur’s normally stoic face made Megan instantly alert. “What?”

“I fear it is already too late, but …” Standing to his full height with the priestess gathered in his arms the Minotaur eyes searched the darkness speaking grimly. “If we are going to have any chance of survival, we must leave this place now.”

Standing up hurriedly, Megan grabbed Lar’s arm pointing towards the boiling mass of nightmarish creatures between them and the exit. “How? That hole is the only way out.”

Pressing his lips together the Minotaur’s brown eyes swept over the enemy thoughtfully. “Prepare your people and have them stay close to my squad, Decanus Driscoll.”

Megan’s black gloved hand stopped him as he began to turn away. “Wait, what are these demons?”

“Decanus, you would already know the answer to that question if you’d only use the gift that was given to you.”

“I don’t understand-“

Clank … clank … clank … The sounds of metal plates sliding into place cut Megan off in midsentence as the Minotaur’s gauntleted fist holding the priestess to his chest began expanding. Within seconds, a metal shield almost the size of the Minotaur’s body had completely formed as his free hand brought a curved bone horn to his lips.

The echoing blast of the war-horn momentarily drowned out the sounds of battle as Centurion Quintillius’ horned head rose above the legionnaires fighting around him that were striving to hold the line. Seeing the priestess in Lar’s arms Quintillius’ voice bellowed thunderously.

“Centuria, reform on Decanus Sestius Natalinus! Wedge formation!”

The sound was deafening in the enclosed space as more and more war horns took up the call as the legion’s formation shifted around them. With a combination of silent tactical hand signals and brute force, Megan managed to get her people into position behind Lar’s squad as the Minotaurs began striding towards the exit at the far end of the chamber. As the lead ranks formed into a tight wedge, Lar called out to the Minotaurs around him lifting his blue-glowing blade over his head.

“Legionnaires advance for Akras!” Immediately the Minotaurs bellowed back as one. “For Akras!”

Megan felt the impact through the soles of her combat boots as the wedge drove into the enemy’s formation like a wrecking ball. The brutal up-and-close combat was like nothing she’d ever witnessed before. The screeching animalistic howls, the bellowing cries of the bulls, the clash of shields and blades against claws as the Minotaurs drove a hole into the enemy’s writhing mass was beyond belief.

Slipping and sliding in the blood and guts raining around them like a spraying fountain of death, it took everything Megan had not to puke out her guts as they blindly followed behind the towering Minotaurs. Even though the legionnaires were slaughtering the enemy in droves, they were dying too. Calling out orders Megan did her best to have her people check the fallen for signs of life, but between the darkness, pools of blood and carpet of body parts covering the slippery ground, it was difficult to distinguish the living from the dead. Most of the fallen were butchered beyond recognition from the jagged claws of the enemy. Still they managed to save some, dragging the wounded legionnaires along with them as they made their way towards the exit.

Reaching the stairwell, Megan threw her back against the metal railing as the Minotaur formation flowed around the base into a defensive circle. Automatically checking the clip of her M4 Megan began shouting out orders.

“Porter, have your squad get those civilians out of here on the double! Jordon, I want those wounded up top now.” Seeing Dion’s incredulous face as he looked back at the injured Minotaurs, Megan snapped angrily. “Yes Lance Corporal, that means all of the wounded. Now move out!”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

Focusing on her footing Nessa slid down the slope of the mountain hugging the two girls tight to her chest with one arm as she braced herself against her staff with the other. Leaning back on her haunches, she used the brace to steer her decent into the valley below. Rocks and dirt sprayed into the air around them as her hooves dug deep troths into the soft earth.

The undergrowth was surprisingly light, except near the bottom where a thick bramble of dark berries grew. Timing her jump Nessa gracefully vaulted over the obstruction landing lightly on the mossy floor of the valley. Without slowing down, she moved out at a quick trot as she eyed the steep trail back up the mountain. With a heavy sigh, she came to a decision. Now was as good of a time as any.

Twisting around abruptly, Nessa set her struggling charges on her broad back eying them severely. “If you give me your word that you will not run away again, I won’t strap you down like a fresh kill.” Meeting her gaze sullenly Starfire’s brusque words echoed in Nessa’s head.

<If you don’t touch us again I won’t be forced to sear the skin from your blackened bones>

Slowing to a stop, Nessa considered the wolf girl for a moment. Although she was a child, her haunted eyes held a depth unlike any Nessa had seen in one so young before. The ferocity in her face and words were only enhanced by the jagged claw marks running down her cheek. As reddish-yellow flames began crackling in her hair, Nessa cooled her temper choosing her words carefully.

“Understand, I am just as annoyed by this situation as you, but I have given my word to keep you both safe until the Paladin returns. The least you can do is give me the respect deserving of your guardian.”

For a long minute, the wolf girl didn’t speak as Nessa held her eyes unflinchingly. She could feel the building heat through the thick skin of her back as the girl’s anger continued to grow. Although very much aware of the deadly power the small wolf girl could wield, Nessa refused to back down at the implied threat, even as the intensity built to an uncomfortable level. She had to deal with this now if there were to be any peace between them. The tension was suddenly broken as her sister, Frostbrand, sadly placed a clawed hand on her sister’s shoulder.

<Let her be Starfire. This situation was not of her choosing>

Although the frustration and anguish were clearly visible in the little Werewolf’s yellow eyes, Frostbrand sought to soothe her sister’s pain.

<Look at her face. Her distress is equal to that of our own>

For a long moment Starfire gave no indication that she’d heard her sister’s words, but slowly the magical fire began fading away. When all of a sudden the wolf girl sagged against her sister crying softly.

<He left us to die alone>

Confused, Nessa reached out for the young wolf girl’s shoulder speaking softly. “He sent you away so that you would live, not die.”

Wrenching her shoulder away from the empathetic touch, Starfire shrieked in anguish as the tears ran down her scarred face.

<He promised we would fight together as one. He’s going to die without our help>

For a second Nessa didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected a response that so closely matched the heart of her own people. The first thing a new foal learned once they were able to stand was how to hold a mace. Although they tried to keep the young safe, in a tribe everyone fought. A fact of life ever since the Great War. Thinking quickly, she tried another approach.

“He has a small army with him. I’m sure he will be fine. Death does not come to a Paladin so easily.”

The words died on Nessa’s lips at Starfire’s glare, even though it was Frostbrand that spoke.

<We share Startüm’s thoughts, so we know what he faces. He’s not even close to being recovered from the Fring, and now he must fight again>

Immediately Starfire picked up where her sister thoughts left off.

<He might die saving those idiots from their own stupidity. It’s not right>

Frowning, Nessa felt the weight of her fears weighing down her heart as she silently agreed with the young wolf girl’s words. The internal conflict in her own heart was almost too much to bear. Finding Enelya after all of these years and then being forced to serve her “Skuldir Líf” by Luonnotar. It was almost too much to bear.

Looking in the direction of the Wild Elf village Nessa fought the urge to race back to Enelya. It made no sense to return now. Besides breaking her promise by the time she made it back up the mountain, it would be too late to make a difference in the battle one way or another. Closing her eyes, Nessa focused on the link between them. Something in her heart told her that Enelya was still alive, but for how long only Luonnotar knew. At the sound of rustling bushes nearby, Nessa’s head jerked around just in time to see a Wild Elf stepping into the path ahead of them.

“Excuse me, ladies, I am Dínendal Telrúnya. The Spirit Mother sent me to guide you to Tenue Sûre.”

Warily Nessa studied the Wild Elf’s familiar face as she gripped her staff with both hands. “I know you. You’re the leader of the scouts that attacked us in the glade.”

Holding his hands up open-palmed Dínendal approached talking quickly. “True enough, but please understand I was under the Chaos Shard’s influence at the time. I had no control over my actions.”

A dark shadow momentarily crossed the Elf’s smooth face as tears welled up in his eyes. “I pray that you never know the horror of watching your friends die by your own hand and being helpless to stop it … it’s worse than death.”

Nessa’s flattened ears slowly lifted from her skull as she focused on the Elf’s pained filled face. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the anguish he must be going through. Pain such as that would never go away. At a loss for words, Nessa waited for the Wild Elf to regain his composure.

Wiping the tears away, Dínendal met her eyes gruffly pointing towards the far side of the valley. “Our path lies there. We’ll be in Tenue Sûre by midmorning.”

Confused, Nessa’s eyes traced the path Dínendal pointed out. “Enelya said we should pass over the next rise and look for the valley there.”

“That’s the direct route if you don’t know where you’re going, but it leaves us vulnerable to eyes of the enemy. Following the path through the valley is somewhat longer, but none will see our passing.”

Looking back at the sullen girls thoughtfully Nessa considered Dínendal’s reasoning. Coming to a decision, she nodded for the Elf to lead the way. Although their passage went quickly, the valley was longer than she’d first thought. Surprisingly Dínendal’s pace kept her at a steady trot, which held their conversation to a minimum. The heavy foliage of the forest kept the mountains around them mostly hidden from view. By the time she realized they were on the wrong side of the ridge, they’d already passed completely out of its shadow.

Coming to the crest of the valley, Nessa stopped abruptly looking at Dínendal in confusion. “Why are we heading towards Mount Haldamir? Enelya said Tenue Sûre lay on the opposite side of the ridge behind us.”

The sinister smile that suddenly appeared on the Wilf Elf’s face brought her instantly alert as Dínendal slowly faced her drawing his tambos. “That’s because you wouldn’t have come if I’d told you our true destination.”

Nessa’s ears flattened against her skull as Frostbrand’s warning growl reverberated up her spine. At the same time, Starfire’s thoughts rang in her head.

<He’s infected>

Thinking back on the previous day, Nessa suddenly realized that Dínendal hadn’t been among the Elves that Startüm had cleansed in the holding area. If the Tuonellian Hulk had found the Wild Elf village by the infected, he must know they were here now.

There was no time to hesitate. Springing forward, Nessa smashed the weapons from the Elf’s hands. Dínendal tried to jump out of the away, but she was too quick. Within seconds she caught him one handed, lifting him into the air by his throat.

“We’re heading back the way we came, and you’ll be coming with us.“

Instead of trying to fight her grip, Dínendal began laughing like a maniac. Nessa’s felt the hackles rise on her back as the Wilf Elf’s hate filled voice rasped in glee.

“Oh, that won’t do at all. In fact, my slaves will make sure you join me in Daeron Fortress.”

The loud clanking sound of metal on metal around her made Nessa’s heart jump. Backing up, she reared on her hind legs swinging around in a tight circle. Stepping out of hiding there had to be at least twenty Ironidium Knights surrounding her! How had they approached that close without her knowing it? Without looking over her shoulder, Nessa called out to the girls on her back.

“Hold tight. We’re getting out of here!”

Still balanced on her hind legs with her hair streaming behind her, Nessa leaped into the air slamming her front hooves into the chest of the nearest knight. The force of the blow blasted the knight from his feet as she threw Dínendal into the next knight with all of her strength. Grasping the black Staff of Yatri in both hands, she followed up the attacks with a full body swing that drove the second knight staggering backward. Flowing with the motion, Nessa threw herself at their attackers.

Quickly Nessa learned to respect the strength of her enemy as the knights’ great swords hammered at her staff. Within minutes, her hands were numb from meeting the power of their blows head-on. Jumping and leaping about the rough circle Nessa fought the ever tightening line of armored suits that sought to entrap her.

Blood streamed down her heaving flanks as some of the blows made it through her defenses. Ignoring her wounds, Nessa screeched in rage as she threw herself at the enemy again and again. Fire and ice lashed at the knights from the girls on her back, washing uselessly against the runes of protection etched in the suit’s tinnearlian metal. As she spun around and fought, it slowly dawned on her that it didn’t matter how many of her hits made it through the knights’ defenses. Every time she knocked a knight to the ground they simply rolled back to their armored feet and rejoined the battle.

Even though Nessa had seen the unbelievable strength of the magically crafted suits during the Great War, it was another matter altogether to be facing that power alone and outnumbered. She had to come up with a plan if she was going to honor her promise to the Paladin.

Rearing into the air on her hind legs Nessa’s slammed her front legs into the knights before her, raising her staff two-handed above her head to strike. The force of the kicks jolted the knights in front of her to a stop. As they brought their two-handed swords up to block the attack, she was already moving. Spinning around Nessa raced for the edge of the valley.

Only three Knights were blocking the slope. With an undulating war cry, Nessa slammed into the lead knight with her entire body. Batting his sword aside with a two-handed blow of her staff, she drove him into the ground without stopping, springing for the gap as the last two knights struck. The first blow she deflected, but the second blade struck true, biting deep into her flank as she leaped down the ridge to the valley.

Pain lanced through Nessa’s side as she struggled to keep balance, but the strength fled from her hind leg like the wind. As Starfire and Frostbrand clawed at her back for balance, Nessa went down in a sprawling mass of arms and legs. She felt more than saw the girls catapult over her head as she tumbled down the rocky slope out of control.

Coming to a jolting stop, Nessa hit the bottom of the valley hard scrabbling to a stop with her thick nailed fingers in a cloud of dirt and debris. Blood ran into her eyes as she shakily rose to her hooves on three good legs. Seeing the Ironidium Knights sliding down the slope almost on top of them, Nessa rushed to the stunned wolf girls. Yanking them to their feet, she shoved them towards the deep woods screaming.

“Run!”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Location Earth / Jerry Truman:

Fighting the Super Hornet’s flat spin, Jerry Truman swore nonstop as his fighter jet plummeted towards the ground. G-forces plastered him to the side of his cockpit as he tried everything in the book to get the dead fighter jet to respond, but the electronics were completely dead.

It had all happened so fast. As soon as he’d seen the explosion of blue energy radiating out from the island, Jerry had known they were in trouble. Ordering AFLACK to stay on his six, Jerry went into a vertical climb punching the afterburners as the energy wave blossomed beneath them, but it was too late. The explosion caught AFLACK before he’d managed to even pull the nose of his fighter up, while Jerry’s engines had cut off a few seconds later.

Those few seconds had meant the difference between getting some altitude and maneuvering room and going into a flat dive close to the ground. Still, the extra altitude hadn’t been enough. He’d just been reaching for the eject lever, when the engines stuttered to life as the twin General Electric turbofan engines suddenly kicked in.

Power hummed through the fighter once again as the stick came alive in his hands. Immediately Jerry felt his wings bit air as he brought the Super Hornet out of its spin. The rocky island shot by beneath him as his electric systems began booting back up, which didn’t make any sense. Military planes just didn’t lose power like that unless hit by an EMP blast.

Snapping the Super Hornet into a wide bank around Santorini, Jerry’s eyes searched for his wingman and enemies as he fought with the fighter jet’s sluggish controls. Most of his electronic systems were still nonfunctional, but he had enough manual control for now to at least stay in the air.

Standard operating procedure dictated that he return to the USS Abraham Lincoln, but seeing a fiery explosion near the Marine base camp, Jerry decided instead to loop back around for a second look. He couldn’t return to the carrier until he’d confirmation that AFLACK’s fighter was truly down.

***

Location Earth / Harris Thompson:

Staggering to his feet Command Sergeant Major Thompson’s pain filled eyes scanned the rocky hillside below as the ringing in his ears slowly began fading away. Instantly his eyes locked onto the Seahawk helicopter dropping out of the sky near the base camp. At first, Harris thought the pilot was going level out in time to land, but at the last second the Seahawk flip sideways, slamming into the ground in a fireball of exploding fuel. As the shock wave from the crash washed over him, Harris snatched up his shoulder-mounted handset.

“Raider, this is Raider five over.” Hearing no response Harris looked at his handset confused, clicking the MIC on and off he tried again. “Raider, this is Raider five over.”

Not hearing even static from the headset, Harris pulled the flap back on his radio checking the digital screen. It was completely dead. Hurrying to the nearest heavy weapon team struggling back to their feet, Harris quickly checked their radios and gear. It was the same, everything electronic was dead.

Scanning the base camp once again, Harris, this time, took note of the silence. Except for the whipping wind and the excited voices of Marines calling out to one another, there were no sounds of motors or generators running in the distance. Everywhere he looked there were stopped Humvees and Abrams tanks when understanding dawned on him. They must have been hit by a EMP blast!

Harris’s head jerked us as a loud blaring noise rose from the opening of the pit. The sound was coarse and nothing like the ear blasting siren that had brought them all to their knees. As the echoing call came to an end, the private manning the fifty caliber next to him looked up confused.

“Master Sergeant, was that a hunting horn?” Before Harris could answer more horns began blowing, until it sounded like an army of hunting horns were ringing out just below them.

“What in the hell is going on?” Looking over at the gunners guarding the entrance to the pit, Harris could see their growing anxiety as his Marines hunkered down around their heavy weapons. He couldn’t blame them for being skeeved out by the noise. The echoing calls were unnerving to say the least. Even more disturbing was that it didn’t make any sense. Harris was debating whether or not to head down into the pit and check the situation out for himself when the blaring horns suddenly stopped.

The silence was complete. No one said a word as they all waited with weapons lock ’n loaded trained on the opening. As the minutes clicked by with nothing happening, Harris could see the growing unease of his soldiers as they whispered sharply to one another, when a new sound came to his ears. Holding his arms out, he hissed out sharply. “Everyone shut the hell up.”

Listening intently, Harris heard a deep rumbling that was slowly growing louder by the second. Catching Sergeant First Class Truman’s eye, he pointed at his eyes with two fingers and then waved his hand at the pit. Getting a thumbs-up in reply Harris wrapped his rifle strap around his arm, before stalking warily out onto the metal walkway leading to the pit. It wasn’t until he was directly above the drill shaft that he could make out the animal-like growls and the distinctive sounds of a massive brawl, when the platform suddenly began vibrating with the thuds of many feet.

Falling back, Harris signaled incoming to his men. Kneeling down at the front of the walkway, he held his assault rifle at the ready as the ringing sounds of boots on metal neared, when a shout brought him up short.

“Don’t shoot! Lance Corporal Porter from third company, second platoon … don’t shoot I’m unarmed.”

Holding up a hand, Harris called out to the soldiers behind him as soon as he saw the empty hands coming up the stairwell. “Everyone hold your fire, we have survivors.” The command echoed behind him as he gave Porter the all clear. “Come on out son, we’ve gotcha covered.”

“Let’s go people. We’ve gotta move.” Climbing to the top of the stairs, Lance Corporal Porter stopped to help the civilians behind him up the last few steps. Looking at the terrified blood-soaked scientist scrambling for safety, Harris called out over his shoulder.

“Sergeant First Class Tealer, have your squad get these civilians down to the field hospital. And Sergeant, let them know we need medics up here.”

“Right away, Command Sergeant Major.”

Harris spun around at the sudden commotion behind him. Confused at the unnerved Marines backing up in shock around him, he strode to the front of the group switching to his drill sergeant voice.

“What in Sam Hill is going on here?”

Instantly Harris’ jaw dropped open in shock as he took in the haggard looking Marines coming down the walkway and the severely wounded creature hanging between their shoulders. The bull-shaped head and curved horns, the hastily wrapped blood soaked bandages and gore covered breastplate, his mind just locked up at the unbelievable sight.

“Command Sergeant Major … Command Sergeant Major!” Harris forced his eyes to focus on Marine bee-lining straight for him. The familiar face snapping him out of his trance as he caught Lance Corporal Porter by the arms, bringing the out of breath marine to a stop.

“Calm down son. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”

Wide-eyed and gasping for air Porter gripped Harris’ utility belt by the shoulders with both hands. “We need the entire brigade up here, and we need it now!”

***

Location Earth / Curtis Davis:

“Hoorah!”

The entire CIC gave a cheer as the lights suddenly blinked back on as computers started booting up all around them. The elation turned into groans a second later as loud error beeps filled the room as technicians scrambled to get the systems up and running. Meeting the questioning eyes of Rear Admiral Timothy Wright, Captain Curtis Davis picked up the inter-ship DSN telephone.

“Engineering.”

“This is the Admiral, get me the Chief.”

“Aye, aye Sir!”

There was a short pause before a stressed bass answered hurriedly. “O.H. here.”

“Help me understand what the hell is going on here, Chief.”

“What do you mean, Sir?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Chief. You and your engineers are doing a bang up job of getting the ship back online, but how the hell are we getting power after having our systems fried by an EMP blast?”

There was a pregnant pause as the Chief chose his words carefully. “Captain, that’s because I don’t think the ship was hit by a true EMP blast.”

“Explain.”

“Well Sir, make take on it is this. That energy wave that took out our systems didn’t react anything at all like a typical EMP blast. Even with hardened systems, if our electronics had been knocked out by a true EMP we’d still be down. The E1 and E2 parts of the wave alone would have fried every digital component on this ship that lost power, and the following E3 blast would have taken out everything else, but that’s not what happened. As soon as the ship passed through the energy wave, the generators started recharging from the turbines that were still running. It wasn’t that our systems were fried, so much as it was that every battery on the ship was drained of power.”

“Any ideas on what might have taken us down, O.H.?”

“Not a clue, Sir. It shouldn’t even be theoretically possible.”

“Fair enough.” Thoughtfully Curtis processed the information as his eyes studied the blinking screens before him. “I need tactical, and communications made a priority, Chief. Along with Air Wing two.”

Curtis could hear O.H.’s annoyance in his next words. “Captain, we have a lot of equipment to replace and only so many engineers to do it with. Many of the console units are plug and play. If I have my engineers leading work crews.”

Curtis jumped in finishing the Chief’s train of thought. “Then we can get more units up that much more quickly. I’ll tell the CMC to send down as many work crews as he can to assist.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t thank me, just get my ship operational!”

“Aye, aye Sir.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Location Earth / Megan Driscoll:

Rrrroooaaarrr

Sergeant First Class Megan Driscoll’s head jerked up as a bloodcurdling roar blasted through the cavern. The terrifying noise sent uncontrollable shivers down her spine as all around her combat came to an abrupt stop as a jarring impact shook the solid stone beneath their feet. Immediately a cacophony of shrieking cries rose from the enemy’s throats as the ferocious monsters began backing away from the Minotaurs uncertainly.

Again the rock beneath their feet shook from a massive blow as another terrible roar blasted through the pit. Whipping their bony heads around fearfully, the enemy’s hesitation turned into a full route as they scattered in mass. Unbelievably Megan watched the creatures flee like cockroaches towards the cavern’s curving walls.

Scanning the darkness around them uncertainly, the legionnaires looked to one another nervously as the ground began vibrating beneath their hooves from what felt like a continuous barrage of muffled impacts as more angry roars filled the air. Pushing his way to Lar’s side, Centurion Quintillius whispered harshly.

“What new Tuonellian evil is this?”

Megan heard the dread in Lar’s answer as a massive fist broke through the rocky ground in front of them.

“Demons!”

Centurion Quintillius’ focus felt like a palpable force as his massive body turned towards Megan. His hard eyes bore into her as if he were looking into her soul. Without saying a word, he turned to Lar raising his voice.

“Decanus Sestius Natalinus, you are in Command.”

“Centurion-”

The slash of Quintillius’ fist blade left no room for discourse as he overrode Lar’s words. “Get the Priestess and what’s left of the Ninth to safety.” Brotherly the massive bull gripped Lar’s shoulders with both hands. “We will join you if Akras wills or meet you in Lintukoto.”

Standing up straight with the priestess still held against his chest, Lar met Quintillius’ eyes head-on. “Strength and honor, Centurion.” Slamming his armored fist against his breastplate, Quintillius saluted back. “Strength and honor, Decanus.”

Incredulously Megan watched Centurion Quintillius rise to his full height as he strode towards the rear of the formation. Facing the surviving legionnaires, Quintillius’ deep voice called out in command as another massive clawed fist burst through the rocky ground.

“First and second contubernia will follow me. We will be the shield for our brothers!”

“Strength and honor!” The chant was instantaneous as eighteen legionnaires strode after the Centurion without hesitation. Quickly they formed into a new battle line as an armored spiked-head rose up from the rubble. Within seconds the monster Lar had called a demon broke free of its rocky tomb, rising to its clawed feet as Megan’s heart caught in her throat.

The entire head was armored except for slits for its glowing red eyes. Thick chains crisscrossed its chest and shoulders that held a thick beaten-metal breastplate to its chest. More beaten-metal sheets covered its legs and shins. Along each arm more chains strapped over its rhinoceros thick hide to metal blades that ran the entire length of the creature’s monstrous forearms. As its humongous head swept over the shocked legionnaires, more clawed fists began smashing through the rocky ground behind its tree-trunk sized legs.

Looking at the horrifying monster, Megan could understand why the Minotaurs called the things demons. The gigantic creature was a living nightmare come to life. It had to be at least fifteen feet tall. Bending forward, the monster roared shaking the cavern.

“We must go now!”

Megan let herself be propelled forward as Lar urgently drove her towards the metal stairs. Climbing quickly, she reached the second platform when she heard Quintillius’ enraged bellow ring out below. Looking over her shoulder, Megan saw Minotaurs being tossed aside like ragdolls as the giant demon waded into the defensive line unhindered. Quintillius’ cloak billowed about his shoulders as he leaped onto the demon’s armored back with his glowing blades flailing.

Before Megan could see more the gruesome scene was blocked from her view as Lar stepped up onto the platform behind her, his voice gruff with emotion. “There is no time for this, Decanus Driscoll. We must reach the surface and warn your people before the Scourge break free.” Following Lar’s gaze Megan’s head whipped around in horror as she saw the black swarm of creatures crawling across the ceiling towards the hole in the cavern.

“Oh my god, they’ll slaughter everyone!”

Turning around Megan ran up the stairs, her mind racing as the clanking ring of the Minotaurs’ hooves echoed behind her. The progress of the skittering screeching black horde across the ceiling was easy to follow by their glowing red eyes. It was going to be close. By the time she reached the long drill shaft the monsters were right behind them.

Reaching the top of the platform, Megan vaulted over the railing. As soon as her boots clanked against the metal, she was off racing for the group of Marines at the end of the walkway. It wasn’t until she was almost directly on top of them that Megan realized her soldiers were in a heated argument with the rest of second platoon. Without slowing down, Megan yelled at the idiots.

“What a goddamn clusterfuck!” Everyone turned to face her as Megan leaped in-between the two groups. “Porter get those wounded Minotaurs down the hill. Jordan, why is everyone still standing around with their thumbs stuck up their asses? We have incoming!”

“Belay those order!” Megan grimaced as she saw Command Sergeant Major Thompson red face. “Sergeant First Class Driscoll, you’re going to tell me what in the hell is going on-.“ The Command Sergeant Major eyes sudden grew wide as he saw Lar and the rest of the legionnaires in full battle regalia tromping up behind her.

“Son of a motherless goat!” Drawing his forty-five the Command Sergeant Major swore aiming his weapon at the large Minotaur, before he could pull the trigger Megan slapped the barrel aside.

BOOM

Ignoring the horrified look on her superior’s face as the shot went ride, Megan gripped his collar laying into him. “There’s no time for this stupid shit. I can’t possibly explain everything that’s happening. Just trust me, we have incoming like you’ve never seen before, and they’re going to be here any second. If you want to bust me back down to a private you can, after this is over!”

Megan’s spiel gave Lar’s squad enough time to get off the walkway and spread out behind her. Jerking her head towards the Minotaurs, Megan continued. “For now, we have a strategic alliance of sorts until something more detailed can be arranged.” As the sounds of combat suddenly rose from the pit, Lar interrupted the discussion as he eyed the Command Sergeant Major and his men warily.

“Sumus de tempore. Est superior concordat cum dispositione?” (Decanus Driscoll, we are out of time. Is your superior in agreement with our arrangement?)

Somewhat calmed down Command Sergeant Thompson met the Minotaur’s steady gaze as Megan relayed his question. “Command Sergeant Major, Decanus Sestius Natalinus asks if you will honor the agreement we made earlier of mutual assistance?”

Before Thompson could reply, a monstrous bellow blasted from the opening of the pit like a roar from a giant T-Rex in one of those Jurassic Park movies. As one, the Marines of second platoon began backing away fearfully at the sound of rending metal filling the air as the entire walkway began tearing away from the edge of the drill shaft. Stretching and twisting the metal groaned under pressure as if something massive were trying to rip the entire structure down into the hole.

Ignoring the commotion behind him and the Minotaurs rushing to hold onto the end of the walkway as their brethren raced to safety, Decanus Sestius Natalinus held the Command Sergeant Major’s blue eyes as he studied the man’s black face intently. Seeing Thompson’s eyes looked her way Megan spoke up urgently.

“My command would have been slaughtered to the last man without-.“ Thompson cut her off with a raised hand as he eyed the Minotaur’s blood splattered face and armor. “Tell him the agreement stands.”

Megan breathed a sigh of relief. “He agrees, Lar. He agrees.” The Command Sergeant Major was old-school and a hard ass, but she’d always known him to be fair. Still, a situation like this could have gone either way.

Warily the Command Sergeant Major eyes studied the Minotaurs struggling to brace the walkway as it whipped back and forth. “Don’t get me wrong, Lance Corporal Porter and Jordan both explained that these new allies of yours saved your bacon down there in the pit, but honestly, I don’t really see how much help they could be in a firefight. Whether or not you feel like there is enough time, I think it’s time you explained what the hell is going on, Sergeant.”

Looking at him wide-eyed Megan’s mouth clamped shut as she tried to think of where to even begin, when the walkway suddenly ripped away from the Minotaurs hands in a shriek of rending metal. All of the remaining legionnaires but one disappeared as the entire stairwell, platform, and walkway disappeared into the black hole before everyone’s stunned eyes. As the surviving Minotaurs were pulled to safety, Lar faced the pit triggering his gauntlets bellowing.

“They come!”

Command Sergeant Major Thompson’s eyes grew wide at the clanking forest of noise that erupted around him as the surviving legionnaires triggered their gauntlets. Within seconds, each Minotaur stood with a massive metal shield and fist spike as Lar began bellowing out orders.

“Circulus circa formationem humans!” (Circle formation around the humans!)

Looking around the volcanic mound with a strategic eye, Lar pointed to the heavy weapon emplacements spread out around the pit and the soldiers approaching from the direction of the camps below. “We do not have enough legionnaires left to stop them from gaining the high ground. We must have the Tuonellians focus their attack on our defensive line, or they will slaughter your people.”

Understanding what he meant, Megan began calling out orders to the Marines around her. “We have incoming! I want everyone to take up positions behind the legionnaires’ formation. We want the enemy to concentrate their focus on our group. Everyone else hold your fire-“

Angrily the Command Sergeant Major yanked Megan back by the collar bellowing. “Belay those orders. Heavy weapons squads, prepare to open fire on my command. Everyone else spread out. We’ll catch these yahoos in a crossfire that will rip them to shreds.”

As the main body of Marines began spreading out into a wide-spaced firing line beyond the legionnaires formation, Lar’s head snapped around in consternation, but as soon as he saw the situation between Megan and her superior, the look on his face said it all. Spinning around, Megan opened her mouth to rip into her boss just as the nightmarish horde began pouring over the rim of the pit in a screeching black wave of fangs and claws. Before she could get out a word, the Command Sergeant Major was backpedaling and swearing out orders.

“Holy mother of mercy!” Slashing his arm forward, Thompson yelled out at the top of his lungs to his Marines. “Open fire! God dammit, everyone fire!”

The Minotaurs’ formation staggered back under the impact of the charging Scourge as the loud thumping sounds of the heavy weapons squads’ M2 fifty caliber machine guns began filling the air, their armor piercing rounds slamming into the horde from a crossfire of four different directions. As the creatures whipped around in confusion and pain, the Marines of second platoon opened fire with their assault rifles in static controlled bursts from either side. Megan heard Thompson’s sharp intake of breath as he swore under his breath.

“Sweat mother of mercy. What in the hell are those things, Sergeant Driscoll?”

Purple blood sprayed in every direction as the wall of superheated tungsten carbide tore into the soft tissue covering the Scourges’ bony carapaces. For a second it looked like the heavy machine guns were working as the rear ranks of the massed horde reeled from the assault, but the confusion only lasted for a few seconds. Instead of cutting the creatures down or driving them back, the rounds just seemed to enrage the monsters further. Shaking off the superficial damage the Scourge in the rear turned their hate on the enemy within reach.

Megan felt her stomach drop as the entire rear of the horde suddenly split away from the main attack. Screeching in rage, the new group charged the Marines. Turning to her superior, Megan swore in disgust.

“Command Sergeant Major, you’ve just killed us all.”

Like a horror movie running in slow motion Megan and her handful of surviving Marines watched helplessly as the slavering creatures crashed over the rest of the platoon in a bloody wave of death. The heavy machine gun squads were the first to be slaughtered. Within seconds the Scourge overran their positions, only to immediately turn their hate-filled gaze onto the individual firing squads still hammering into their ranks at near point blank range. The screams of the dying were drowned out by the screeching cries of the Scourge as they tore the humans apart in front of their eyes. From there the situation only grew worse.

Further down the hill, the rest of Hunter Company that had been ordered up as reinforcements earlier by the Command Sergeant Major opened fire. Within seconds, half the hilltop erupted in explosions as the Marines sent 40mm grenade rounds raining down on the heads’ of the black horde pouring out of the pit as individual assault rifles and light machine guns began hammering at the enemy.

Immediately the small group of Scourge turned towards the source of the newest threat, when three of the four Abrams Main Battle Tanks that had been strategically spaced around the base of the volcanic mound opened fire. Explosions ripped through the packed ranks of Scourge as black bodies and volcanic rock blasted into the air. As the ground reverberated from the impact of the 120 mm rounds, the tanks’ heavy machine guns opened up with everything they had.

The main cannons managed to hammer the Scourge with two more volleys before the creatures were able to pull themselves back together. Bloody and battered the Scourge dropped onto all fours, screeching as one thy raced down the mound like a black torrent in a flash flood. As they ran three smaller groups split off for the heavy armor, while the rest rushed the main body of Marines.

Megan swore helplessly as she watched the nightmare unfold. It was going to be another blood bath all over again. Many of Marines down there were friends and colleagues that she’d come to know over the past two years.

It wasn’t that there was a huge horde of Scourge rushing down the hill in comparison to the massed attack throwing themselves at the Minotaur lines. There might have only been around fifty of the creatures between the four groups, but without any effective weapons for her people to fight back with, the attack was going to be nothing but a bloodbath.

Helplessly Lar met Megan’s anxious gaze as together they watched the Scourge approach her peoples’ spread-out formations when his head jerked up suddenly. “By Akras holy sickle, are those Paladins of Ukko?“

“Paladins of what?” Following Lar’s eyes, Megan immediately saw what the Minotaur meant, even though she hadn’t understood his question. Charging through the center of the Marines’ formation down the hill were six glowing men armed with swords and axes. Their leader was a giant of a man wielding a massive two-handed claymore that burned with a fiery blue flame.

Unbelievably Megan’s jaw dropped open in shock. “What in the hell do they think they’re doing?”

***

Location Earth / Sean MacRory:

It wasn’t that Sean MacRory lacked faith in the All-Father. In many ways, his belief in Ukko was easier to come to terms with than the Protestant upbringing of his youth. Some might simply say it was because it followed the beliefs of his Clan’s Viking heritage, but in his heart, Sean believed there was more to it than just that.

Although he had been brought up on the stories of the Saints and the Bible, he had always loved the legends about the Druids and Norse gods of old. It wasn’t just a Gallowglass Clan thing either. Stories of runic powers and warriors of god had been a part of every human cultures’ history around the world at one time or another. Even in this modern age of technology, this belief in the old ways had never truly died out.

Even though Christianity had dominated Europe for over a millennium and a half, runes from the old gods could still be found in most villages and cities throughout Europe. Critics might argue that the continued use of these symbols were more due to tradition than any actual belief, but Sean would have disagreed with that convenient reasoning. If anything, this continued resurgence of the old ways in modern day pop-culture, movies, and video games were more of a reflection of some primal racial memory that humans carried with them on some fundamentally deeper level than modern science could explain.

Still, watching the nightmarish bone plated beasts tearing apart the Marines in the pit had been a spiritual transcendence of sorts for Sean. It was like seeing the demons of his religion come to life before his very eyes. The Book of Ukko had gone over the servants of Loviatar in great detail, but never in Sean’s wildest dreams had he truly believed they were real. He’d always treated the references like Catholics and Protestants would when they talked about demons. The terrible denizens of the nine levels of hell were treated more as symbols of evil than actual living entities.

Those judging Sean’s actions later might consider him insane for risking his life for soldiers he didn’t even know, but something inside of Sean told him that he had to help. These Minotaurs and Marines were fighting for their life against Ukko’s enemies. In his heart he knew that having Scourge show up here and now was the harbinger of something far more terrible, so he answered Ukko’s call.

Sean was no Paladin like Startüm Ironwolf, the Prophet of Ukko as many Ukkodians called him, nor was he a Guardian like Roy MacGregor who had brought the word of Ukko to Ireland and the Scottish Isles. He was simply a Protector, but none the less he knew what he had to do. These were the thoughts that churned through Sean’s mind as raced up the rocky slope with his men following close behind him.

“Battalia-abu!" Howling his Clan’s battle cry, Sean felt the power of Ukko flowing through his veins as he lifted Morthwyl Gelyn over his head. As if responding to his will, the runes of the ancient claymore burst into flames with a blinding blue fire as he led the charge into the fangs of the enemy.

“Kanskje.” Instantly a red glow surrounded Sean and his men as soon as the word left his lips. Swinging Morthwyl Gelyn at the lead Scourge, he silently prayed to Ukko that the aura of strength would be enough to meet the power he’d read that these creatures possessed.

Sean felt the jolt through his entire body as the burning blade cleaved through the four Scourge leading the charge as two of Kane’s throwing axes flashed over his shoulder. As the axe heads slammed into the following two beasts, Hans and Wolfgang threw themselves at the next two creatures, slamming into them shield first.

With a strangled cry both Germans were blasted off their feet as the Scourge’s dead bodies plowed through where they’d been standing. Sean only had a split second to contemplate what had happened to his men as he planted his front foot and swept Morthwyl Gelyn up in a backhand swing through the Scourge’s massed ranks. As the blade cleaved another burning swath through the enemies in its path, Sean heard Kane’s hurried yell of warning just as he learned firsthand what had happened to his men, when the charging Scourge smashed into him like a runaway freight train.

The shock of the impact almost made Sean black out as he flew back through the air. Landing hard on the volcanic rocks, he tumbled to a stop gasping for breath as he rolled onto his hands and knees swearing.

Being a large man all his life, it was an easy mistake to make. Mentally he’d known the Scourge were much stronger than humans, but he hadn’t carried the logic over to what that had meant physically, especially in a head-to-head collision. The creatures were so strong because they were so bloody dense! Add-in the basic physics calculations of mass and velocity and he should have figure out the rest.

Hacking up blood, Sean flailed about for Morthwyl Gelyn as his healing energy automatically kicked in. The sharp pain in his chest probably meant broken ribs and his right leg wasn’t working right, but Sean ignored the pain as the screams of dying men and screeching Scourge filled the air around him. Seeing his claymore several meters away, Sean dove for the blade hurriedly scrambling over the rocks on his hands and knees. Half way to his goal the sounds of talons on rock rang out behind him, giving him a split-second warning before a massive weight slammed onto his back.

Sean’s head bounced off the rocks as claws tore at his body. In seconds, the runes on his jack of plates were shredded as he struggled to throw the Scourge off his back. Twisting around to loop his arm around the creature’s bony chest Sean heaved with all his might with absolutely no results, except to twist his body around to face his attacker head-on. A roaring sound filled the air as the creature raked with animalistic fury at the runes of protection tattooed into his skin. Razor sharp claws ripped at his chest and arms when suddenly the attack abruptly stopped.

Shuddering once the Scourge’s lifeless body fell away from his chest. Wiping the blood from his eyes, Sean saw a raven haired woman in black fatigues standing over him with a glowing samurai sword gripped in her hands.

***

Location Earth / Beth Kurwoski:

Beth kicked the headless corpse away as the two V-22 Ospreys heavy machine guns opened fire above her head from where they hovered over the battlefield. The loud thumping sounds of the fifty caliber machine guns were a constant roar as the Pols and Italians dropped the sixty feet to the ground from the back of the hovering transports. As soon as the men hit the ground around her, Beth began calling out orders.

“Kai, Ivan, Janusz help those soldiers holding the Scourge back. Marco, Fabio after those stragglers headed for the Marines.” As the men took off at a run, she called out urgently.

“Remember don’t go head-to-head with these creatures, they’re too strong for a direct assault!” As Thanos and his men landed next to her in two groups of four, Beth quickly sent them chasing after the Scourge ripping apart the tanks at the bottom of the hill. Kneeling down next to the injured man at her feet, Beth instantly recognized the runes of power tattooed into the man’s skin as she hurriedly ripped away the shredded remains of his shirt and armor. Although blood was everywhere, Beth breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she saw the gaping wounds were already knitting themselves back together. Concentrating, Beth added her own power to speed up the healing process as she called out to Ryan and Klaus.

“We need to get these men healed up and get an update on the situation. This is looking like another incursion.” Beth heard the sound of zip lines as Marines began repelling to the ground around her in fast succession. Seeing Sergeant Carlucci land next to her, Beth grabbed his arm with her free hand. “Sergeant, have your men help the wounded. My team and I will handle these creatures.”

“Are you freaking insane? I have to find my Captain or Command Sergeant Major and-“, the Sergeant’s voice died away as he tried to yank his arm away from her, but it didn’t budge an inch. Beth’s knowing smile only added to the man’s hesitation as he suddenly remembered that her whole team just free-jumped down from the hovering Ospreys sixty feet up.

“Now that my feet are on the ground I am in charge, Sergeant.”

With a little more respect in his voice, Sergeant Carlucci forced himself to calm down and explain. “That might be the case Ma’am, but you are still not a part of my direct chain of command. I still have my duty.”

“How about we compromise Sergeant? How effective were those tank rounds against these things in comparison to my team’s weapons? How effective do you really think your team is going to be at fighting these things?” Seeing the Sergeant’s mouth open and close several times as he considered and reconsidered his answer, Beth continued releasing the Marine’s arm. “Trust me, Sergeant, if this is a new incursion we have a much bigger problems to deal with than just these creatures here. Detail your men to help the wounded and find me whoever is in charge. I need to speak with them now!”

Looking at the raging battle at the top of the hill and the nightmarish monsters pouring out of the ground, the Sergeant snapped to attention. “Yes Ma’am, I’ll get my Marines on it.” As he turned away, Beth stopped him. “And Sergeant, I need a radio setup to coordinate with Admiral Wright.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

This time, Beth let the Sergeant go as she turned back to the wounded man who was already trying to sit up. “Take it easy there. You were torn up pretty bad.”

Shoving her hand away the large man rolled to his hands and knees. Recovering his sword, he used it as a crutch to push himself to his feet. “My men-,” Beth overrode his words, “are fine.”

Meeting her gaze, he looked to where she nodded. The tension visibly left his shoulders as he saw his people being helped to their feet. “My thanks for your timely rescue, but who are … Klaus is that you?”

Beth saw the old German’s head whip around in surprise as he shouted out happily. “MacRory you old wolf, what are you doing out here?”

The two men clapped each other on the back in a bear hug as Beth raised a questioning eyebrow to Ryan “Larissa had a major dig going when these Yanks suddenly showed up. You?”

“I was invited along by these Amis.” There was a twinkle in the old German’s eye as he introduced them both. “I’d like you to meet Agent Ryan Moss and Beth Kurwoski, from the American Ukkodians.”

With a sheepish look, the large man gave her a small bow. “Captain Sean MacRory of the Triumph.”

Beth snapped her fingers as she remembered the report about the Special Ops teams being captured when they boarded the archeologist’s ship. It all started making sense. “Captain, we were on our way out here to speak with Doctor Evans when the proverbial shit hit the fan. We need to know what’s going on and coordinate a response with whoever is in charge.”

Nodding behind them, Sean pointed towards the main battle still in full swing at the crest of the volcanic mound. “The Special Ops team that followed us from our ship said that the Marine’s Command Sergeant Major took direct command of the operation once everything went south. He’s probably the man you want to talk to.”

Turning as one, they all stopped to stare. From where they stood on the irregular curving slope, they had a perfect shot of the action. The Minotaurs had created a strong defensive position by backing up to the very edge of the mound. The sides of the slope were too steep for direct attacks, so the Scourges main assault was focused on the front arc facing the pit. It was like watching a thin wall holding back a growing tsunami.

Klaus deep voice suddenly broke the silence. “Das ist ein scheißesturm!”

Tearing her eyes away from the teeming hordes’ main attack, Beth noticed another group of Scourge heading their way. Dragging Sean with her, Beth ran for the Pols and Triumphant’s crewmembers that were already starting to form a defensive line yelling over her shoulder.

“We have incoming!”

Calls of “Incoming!” echoed around them as Ryan and Klaus followed her with the two large men they’d been helping a step behind. As she slid to a stop, there were only seconds left before the new wave of Scourge were on top of them. Looking into the burning red eyes and fang-filled maws rushing down on them, terror momentarily gripped Beth’s chest as doubt clouded her mind. There was no way they could stop this many of the creatures!

Remembering the fear she’d felt during the first invasion, Beth forced her mind to focus as she prayed to Ukko. As if a veil had been removed from her eyes, she immediately knew what to do. While the Ukkodians around her scrambled into a rough line, Beth reached deep into her soul for the power that Startüm had shown her, visualizing her need.

Immediately a coruscating blue shield of pure energy rippled closed around them just as the ground exploded underneath the front wave of the charging Scourge. The jarring impact knocked everyone to the ground as rocks and debris fountained into the air like a volcanic eruption. A part of Beth’s mind registered the shockwave as the Ospreys exploded midair above her head in fiery balls of flames as shrieks of terror and agony filled the air. Again and again, the earth shuddered as the slope above them was blasted away in large chunks with every impact.

Just as Beth thought devastation was finally over, her blood turned to ice as a chorus of inhuman bestial roars rang out in challenge from inside the massive hole that had suddenly appeared in the slope above. Horrified, she met Ryan’s eyes as they both screamed in unison.

“Demons!” Beth could only watch in dread as a black-clawed hand three times the size of her head grabbed ahold of the hole’s crumbling rim. There was a loud metal clank as a second hand joined the first on the opposing side. Strapped to the underside of each thick forearm were black chunks of sharpened curved metal with glowing red runes. Effortlessly the demon lifted itself out of the gaping back opening. As soon as its taloned feet touch the rocky slope, the massive armored head turned to face her crackling blue shield of power.

“Oh shit.” The words left Beth’s suddenly dry lips as she released the energy shield she’d been holding onto. As soon as the demon’s glowing red eyes swept over them, the feeling of pure hopelessness washed through her soul. Beth heard the shuddering gasps of despair from the men around her as they too fought their own internal struggles against the demonic aura of evil. Focusing her thoughts Beth gave a silent prayer to Ukko for strength.

Instantly the overwhelming feeling of dread cleared from Beth’s mind as Ukko’s power flared through her veins like fire. Taking a two-handed grip on her katana, she studied the otherworldly creature before her with a tactical eye. The differences between this demon and the one that she and Ryan had faced with Startüm in the swamp were immediately apparent. It was only about half the size, but without the other demon’s wings or battle-axe. Although it was still terrifying, the comparison gave her hope as the monster threw its head back and charged.

Spinning around Beth shoved Ryan and the Captain away as the demon struck. In a blur, its armored fist slammed into the ground where they’d just been standing a second earlier. Pushing power into the runes of her katana, Beth lashed back. Spinning around her katana cut deep into the demon’s arm.

Ignoring the wound the demon ripped its arm back yanking Beth with it. Arching her back, Beth twisted her blade free as she was pulled off her feet. Turning her fall into a tumbling roll, Beth rose into a crouch as she was forced to dodge another deadly swing of the glowing red blades. Springing back, Beth tried to put distance between her and the demon, but the creature stomped after her relentlessly swinging its massive weapons in a slashing flurry.

Losing her footing on the loose rocks, Beth slide down the slope out of control. Flipping around, she slid to a stop as the massive demon came barreling after her. It was just about on top of her when Ryan dragged her back to her feet. Hollering in her ear, he shoved her after the Captain shouting.

“Run!” Turning around Beth took off down the slope as fast as she could, while Ryan followed after her as everything happened at once. Roars of rage rang out behind them as Beth quickly glanced over her shoulder only to instantly wish she hadn’t. More demons were pouring out of the hole as her team, and the new Ukkodians threw themselves at the otherworldly creatures.

The helpless of it all should have stopped Beth in her tracks, but she was too busy trying to survive to be scared. Their flight was quickly approaching the destroyed Marine camp and the injured soldiers searching for survivors, when Beth caught up to the bare-chested Captain at the base of the slope. Seeing the terrified faces of the Marines looking up in horror at the nightmare headed their way, Beth urgently yelled back to Ryan.

“We’ve got to kill this thing and get back to our team!”

“I know! Captain MacRory, if Beth and I can distract the demon can you take off its head?”

In answer, the runes of the great two-handed sword in the large man’s hand flared with power. “Aye lad, if any blade can cut through that demon’s hide it’ll be Morthwyl Gelyn.”

Seeing Beth’s quick nod of agreement, Ryan continued. “On the count of three, we’ll distract the demon until you can get into position.” Taking a deep breath Ryan reached for his own power beginning the count. “One … two … three, break!”

Curving around in opposite directions she and Ryan charged the demon as the runes of their latanas glowed with blue fire. Beth heard Ryan’s wordless battle cry as they both threw themselves to the side of the charging demon at the last second. Beth felt her blade bit deep into the demon’s leg as it barreled past; the impact nearly ripping the katana from her hand as she dove into a roll.

Ramming one of its black blades into the ground the demon slid to a stop as it immediately reoriented on her. Obviously, she was its intended target. Flexing her knees, Beth waited as the demon rushed her swinging its heavy wrist blades. Before it could reach her, Ryan was there slashing at the back of its knee as Beth threw herself out of the demon’s path once again.

Sliding to a stop the demon roared in fury as it whipped around to face them both. Not waiting for the monster’s next attack, Beth lunged forward with a two-handed slash at the weakened arm she’d struck earlier. As the katana cleaved through the demon’s forearm, Beth saw Captain MacRory leap past her shoulder with his blazing claymore held high above his head bellowing.

“Kanskje!” The greatsword cleaved half way through the monster’s thick neck as the demon reared back in rage and surprise. With a bellow, it backhanded the Captain away, sword and all, with its bloody stump.

Attacking from the opposite side, Ryan’s katana bit deep into the demon as he used the strength of his entire body for the strike. Ripping the blade free Ryan threw himself at the demon once again, only the demon was too fast to repeat the same attack two times in a row. As Ryan’s rune-charged katana struck at the weakened arm, the demon twisted its wrist bringing its glowing black metal blade in-line with the strike.

The results were spectacular. As soon as the opposing runes connected, the air lit up like a blown transformer. Red and blue rune-power arced between the blades as Ryan’s entire body jerked upright like he’d touched a live wire. The pulsating shower of conflicting eldritch energies ended a second later as Ryan was blasted off his feet.

With a wordless shriek, Beth lunged at the demon, striking a two-handed blow at the damaged forearm. She felt the blow through her entire body as the blade cleaved through the demon’s thick bone. Leaping back, Beth snapped into a guard position, bringing her katana up diagonally before her body as the demon lashed back.

Beth didn’t have a chance to react. One second she was standing on her feet and the next she was being pummeled into the ground. All that she could clearly remember seeing was the oozing stump leaving her face as the air whooshed out her lungs. As the arm pulled back to pound her again, a bellowing war cry rang in her ears.

“Kanskje!” Blue fire flashed over her head in a flaming arc as Captain MacRory’s claymore severed the demon’s armored head from its massive shoulders with one mighty swing.

***

Location Earth / Kane McDougal:

As the seventh demon leaped from the hole in the side of the mound, Kane shoved Hans and Wolfgang towards the beast slinging his axes through the air as once again the Ukkodians’ makeshift defensive line split like a well-oiled machine. With a yell, they charged the hulking piece of meat before it could decide on a target to charge.

Grimly Kane grinned at the loud double bong that rang out as the axe heads bounced harmlessly off the demon’s black metal helm. It was an old tactic his ancestors called ‘ringing the bell.' While the attack did nothing to hurt the demon, it had the intended result Kane wanted as the massive head swiveled in their direction. His boys split their attack to either side of the demon hacking low as Kane slid between the tree-trunk sized legs like he was going for a slide tackle scooping up his fallen axes.

Bellowing in rage the demon’s fist blades flailed at his boys in a twisting flurry of blows. As Hans and Wolfgang leaped out of the way, Kane launched himself at the demon’s back with a wordless shriek.

It didn’t matter that the demon was five meters tall or that Kane was only a little over a meter and a half on his best day. Most people were taller than Kane. Not that size had ever mattered. Being born on the bad side of town in South Limerick, Kane had been fighting larger opponents all his life, but through it all, he’d never frozen up in a fight. At least not until that first demon had looked him in the eyes. Letting the rage flow through him, Kane swore he would never let happen that again as he clambered up the demon’s back using his axes like a mountaineer’s pikes.

Planting one axe into the top of the demon’s muscular shoulder, Kane pulled himself all the way up while hacking at the thick corded neck one-handed with his second axe. Unbelievably, the glowing blade barely left a mark on the demon’s thick hide. Hooking his knee around the axe head buried in the creature’s shoulder, Kane shifted to a two-handed grip as he began raining down blow after blow on the monster’s thick corded neck. Chunks of oozing gray flesh spat out with every chop as he howled in fury. Just as it felt like he was beginning to make progress, a clawed fist backhanded him off his perch, slamming him into the ground ten meters away.

Rising to his hands and knees, Kane felt the healing energy flowing through his battered body as he staggered back to his feet. Within seconds, the blood streaming down his face slowly stopped as the jagged wounds on his forehead began closing shut. Spitting out a mouthful of blood Kane flicked the enraged demon off.

“You’d better hit harder than that if you want to hurt an Irish banger, ya bloody wanker!”

Ignoring Hans and Wolfgang slashing at its legs the demon hate-filled eyes locked onto Kane. As it lowered its head to charge, Kane blanched as another demon leaped out of the hole behind his boys. Before he could shout out a warning, the new demon’s black metal blades cut them both down.

For a second Kane couldn’t believe his eyes as the demon pounded the unmoving bodies again and again. Around him time seemed to stop as he took in the small groups of Ukkodians fighting for their lives. The original defensive line had been forced back step-by-step, splitting into smaller fighting units with each new demon arrival, until the fifth creature had clawed its way free of the hole. Thankfully the Greeks had arrived in time to catch the mob, but they too had been forced to split their ranks when demon number six joined the fight. Without Hans and Wolfgang, Kane didn’t see how he was going to stop these newest demons from overwhelming them all when the disparate plan suddenly came to him.

Taking a quick look over his shoulder to judge the distance, Kane launched himself at the charging demon as he threw his last axe at the monster that had slaughtered his boys. As the bong rang out, Kane slid between the first demon’s legs. Dodging around the second demon, Kane threw himself at the next demon climbing out of the pit. Drawing his daggers he pounced on the armored face slamming the thin blades into the demon’s red glowing eye slits. As the demon’s thick club like fingers pawed at its face, Kane back-flipped off the creature’s chest into a roll as he snatched up Han’s and Wolfgang’s large double-headed axes in each of his hands.

Spinning around Kane raced up the slope. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that all three demons were chasing after him as he headed for the black horde at the top of the volcanic mound. As he neared the raging battle, three bloodcurdling roars blasted out behind him. The reaction was instantaneous as the entire backside of the horde suddenly whipped around in fear. The glowing red eyes that turned towards him didn’t even register Kane as they focused on the three massive demons barreling down on top of them. Immediately the black mass split open in front of Kane as the horde scattered before him shrieking and clawing at each other’s backs or leaping off the volcanic plateau in their fear to get away from the oncoming demons.

Praying to Ukko for strength Kane lifted both battle-axes over his head as a red glow began radiating from his body. Holy power flowed through is veins as the engraved runes of each bearded axe head erupted in blue fire. With a howling shriek, he threw himself at the retreating backs of the horde. Again and again, Kane tore into the bony carapaces before him swinging both battle-axes like a crazed man as he drove deeper and deeper into the packed bodies. Purple blood splattered his body with every hit as grayish-black bodies dropped to the ground in front of him with every strike.

The crunch of splintering bones and the shrieks of the dying filled the air as the horde went insane around him. Kane heard the physical concussion as the demons slammed into the horde’s compact mass behind him. Like wrecking balls, the massive red glowing blades killed indiscriminately in bloody sweeping paths of destruction as the demons chased after him in their fury.

Justified retribution thrummed through Kane’s soul as the gore and chunks of the enemy rained down around him. It was only a shame that he wouldn’t be able to take down the demon that had slaughtered his boys. Even so, Kane swore he would make these monsters pay for killing Hans and Wolfgang, even if it were the last thing he did.

A quick look behind let Kane know the desperate plan he’d come up with on the fly was almost up. If he were going to die, he might as well take as many of the evil cocksuckers with him that he could. At least, his sacrifice might give his people a chance to survive this day.

Leaping onto the back of a dying Scourge in front of him, Kane kept driving deeper into the packed mass, hacking the creatures down before they even knew he was there. Another quick jump brought him to the top of a mound of dead bodies as he turned to face the trio of demons. His energy reserves were almost spent, but he still had enough power for one last bout. As the runes of protection tattooed into his skin blazed to life, Kane held his glowing battle-axes at the ready.

“He wasn’t going out as a cladhaire!”

“Legionis procursus!” Kane almost jumped out of his skin as the words bellowed out behind him. As shrieking whistles rang out around him, the same voice bellowed again. “Cuneum formate!” Immediately a wedge of armored Minotaurs began flowing around him.

For a second Kane could only watch in shocked awe as the massive armored warriors suddenly charged, until the demons struck. With broad hacking sweeps, the demons blasted the Minotaurs aside as if they were toy soldiers. Even so, some managed to get through. Bellowing in fury, the survivors threw themselves at the demons hacking with their glowing fist blades.

Kane had been saving his last bit of juice for a killing blow before he died, but seeing the Minotaurs fighting for their lives, he used the energy for the aura he’d learned upon becoming a Keeper. The effort would drain him, but if they could take down these monsters, it would be worth it.

Concentration to share the aura with the horned warriors around him, Kane prayed to Ukko. “Kanskje.” As the red glow of the strength aura radiated out from him, the Minotaurs fighting for their lives began to glow as they received Ukko’s blessing.

Seeing the hated demon that had killed his boys stagger to its hands and knees before him, Kane dropped one of his bearded axes as he took a two-handed grip on the weapon still in his hands. With a wordless shrieked of rage, he leaped into the air as the axe head flared like a glowing beacon of wrath.

The impact drove the demon into the ground face first as the axe blade cut deep into the monster’s meaty neck. With a single-mindedness driven by loss, Kane ripped the axe-blade free and hacked again. This time taking the head completely off as the demon’s body collapsed lifelessly to the ground. Exhaustion weighed down Kane’s arms as he staggered back from the demon looking around. To either side of him were the headless corpses of the other two demons and the Minotaurs that had brought down. With a nod of thanks, Kane met the bulls’ unflinching eyes.

“Appreciate the assist, lads. What’s the plan now?”

The clank of metal behind him caught Kane’s attention as he turned around to see a large bloodstained Minotaur approaching him. Immediately he saw the sound was coming from one of the Minotaur’s fist blade that was slowly shrinking to reform into a gauntleted fist. Even more strange was the snake-like naked woman held in the bull’s arms. Coming to a stop before him, the Minotaur slammed a closed fist to his chest in salute.

“Fortitudinem, et honorem, Paladin. Et nesciebat Klavikians fecisset in terra.” (Strength and honor, Paladin. We did not know the Klavikians had made a place on earth.)

Wide-eyed, Kane hesitantly returned the fist salute. “You know, I didn’t catch any of that except the word Paladin.” As the lead bull’s head jerked back in surprise at his words, Kane saw the other Minotaurs tense around him. Studying Kane’s face intently, the large bull tried again.

“Tu es Paladin es Ukko an non? (Are you or are you not a Paladin of Ukko?)

There were only seven words and he even recognized two of them, but still Kane had no idea how to answer the large bull. Before he could think of something smart to say, a redheaded female sergeant stepped up with two other Marines at her back. All three of them looked like they’d been through the ringer. Covered in blood and dirt, they gripped their assault rifles in both hands surveying the carnage. As the female sergeant placing a callused hand on the lead Minotaur’s forearm, Kane read the name Driscoll on her uniform as she gave him an appraising look.

“Permitte me ut auxiliemini transferendum, Decanus Natalinus.” (Allow me to help translate, Decanus Natalinus.)

“I just wanted to say that was pretty impressive. Especially for an old man.”

Kane frowned as he tried to place the tone of her voice. The sergeant’s meaning was obvious as she nodded towards the pile of dead creatures behind him, but it was sometimes hard to know with Americans.

“Let me buy you a drink sometime and you’ll see I’m not all that old, lass.”

The large black Marine behind the sergeant gave Kane a warning glare as he angrily tried to shove past her to get at him. “Just answer the question you Mick-“

“Enough, Lance Corporal!”

Kane could see the man wanted to say more, but instead of pushing past her outstretched arm, the Marine stepped back with a sullen frown. Looking back at Kane a smirk played across the sergeant’s lips as she jerked her chin towards the large Minotaur on her other side.

“The big guy here wants to know if you’re a Paladin of Ukko. How about you start explaining what the hell that means and how you managed all of that by yourself?”

Frowning, Kane looked back down the slope. Already he could see a new line of demons taking up defensive positions in front of the hole. “There’s no time for this blarney.” Grumbling under his breath Kane turned back around to meet the sergeant’s emerald green eyes. “Name’s Kane McDougal, Chief Engineer of the Triumph that’s docked below. To answer your large furry friend’s question, most of the crew are Ukkodians of one level or another. I am just a humble Keeper. Only the leader of our order is a true Paladin of Ukko.”

Looking back at Kane incredulously the black Marine glared him accusingly. “Oh shit man, you mean you’re one of those crazy cultists everyone’s been talking about on the news?” While the man was obviously upset and confused, Kane noticed the Sergeant Driscoll’s startled look as if she were putting two-and-two together as the older man behind her nodded silently to himself.

Although most news agencies around the world still referred to their religion as being a dangerous extremist cult. In truth, by membership alone Ukkodians already ranked as being the third largest religion in the world, which was unbelievable when you considered the fact it had only been around for a decade.

Unfortunately, that fact only made the dominate religions that much more aggressive in their attacks. Politicians around the world were reeling at the dramatic shift of power. While the poor flocked to the teachings of Ukko, the rich fought harder and harder against their spreading influence with new legislation and official news reports that strove to discredit their teachings as extreme fanatics. Thankfully the internet and social media were their greatest tools for spreading the truth.

“One person’s cult is just another person’s religion.” With a grin, Kane met the excited Lance Corporal’s round eyes. “At what point does a cult earn the right of being called a religion? When it’s the fourth largest religion in the world … the third, or is it simply the age of a religion? Tell me Lance Corporal, which is it?”

Turning to Sergeant Driscoll Kane continued without pause meeting the lead Minotaur’s dark brown eyes. “As for the how, I can only say it’s my belief and the Book of Ukko that gives me the power and knowledge to fight these creatures.”

With his head held high Kane held the sergeant’s eyes as he waited for her response. He could see she wanted to question him more, but the Minotaur beside her was through waiting patiently. Urgently the bull turned her to face him.

“Quid dixit?” (What did he say?)

Sergeant Driscoll’s face screwed up as she looked back to Kane trying to make up her mind. Coming to a decision, she spoke quickly to the Minotaur beside her.

“Dicit enim dux Ukko Paladin, dum est humili gradu Keeper.“ (He says that his leader is a Paladin of Ukko, while he is just a low-level Keeper.)

Kane watched the interaction between sergeant and Minotaur as they spoke. Surprised that she could communicate so naturally. As he listened to the words, it was almost as if he could make out they were saying, so he was partly unsurprised when Sergeant Driscoll suddenly turned to him.

“He wants to know the name of the true Paladin that teaches you.”

Although Kane never had the honor to meet their Leader of their Order, he, at least, knew the man’s name. “He is called Startüm Ironwolf.”

Immediately he heard the legionnaires begin whispering excitedly as the name “Ironwolf” ran through their ranks like a wildfire. Before Sergeant Driscoll could think to translate, the lead Minotaur stepped up to Kane and knelt before him on one knee as the rest of the bulls around them followed suit.

“Ut per tractatus Alliance of Aurenko, Ego Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus auxilium petitum pro mea Legionis et superstite Gorgonians fugerent Tuonellian Turba ex Paladin Startüm Ironwolf. (As per the treaty of the Alliance of Aurenko, I Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus request aid on behalf of the Imperium and the surviving Gorgonians fleeing from the Tuonellian Hordes from the Paladin Startüm Ironwolf.)

Kane could see the disbelief in the sergeant’s face as she numbly translated the Minotaur’s words as the two Marines behind her stared at him in shock. Not that he was any less stunned by the sudden turn of events, but still he had to smile at their incredulous looks.

It was not unusual for mainstream monotheistic religions to look at Ukkodians as if they were some upstart cult of evil. Negative reactions such as hate and fear were just notably worse when these religions were intertwined within the geopolitical fabric of modern society. Especially when these religious institutions felt like they were losing their grip on the reins of power they’d held over the masses for so many centuries. For Kane, it was just another validation of the path he’d chosen.

Before he could reply bellowing roars rang out from the slope below as an offensive line ten demon strong began advancing down the slope with their weapons held at the ready. Kane could see his people backing away as they looked at each other worriedly trying to figure out what to do next when he heard a low roar of an approaching jet engine growing closer.

Following the sound, Kane looked skyward at a lone fighter jet coming in low over the island. As the F-18 came into range, a loud ripping roar filled the air as the Super Hornet’s main guns let loose with a long burst. The red streaks of tracers lit up the air as round after round slammed into the advancing demons, when the ground suddenly shook with a crump of displaced air as the fighter’s spread of air-to-ground missiles impacted in an exploding fireball.

No one said a word as smoke and debris vomited into the air. For a second, Kane wondered if the fighter jet’s weapons had managed to take down the creatures when suddenly a clawed foot strode into view. Within seconds of one another, the demons came striding out into the open without a scratch on their gray hides.

Turning back around Kane took in the numerous eyes watching him, before facing Sergeant Driscoll and the lead Minotaur once again. “Tell him I accept and will furnish him and his people the aid they need to the best of my ability, but-. How about we worry about this crazy shit after we get the fuck out of here?”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Location Earth / Jerry Truman:

Sending his fighter into another sharp turn around the island, Jerry Truman watched unbelievably as the creatures waded into the fleeing Marines. From this height, he couldn’t make out exactly what was happening below, but it looked as if the strange creatures were gathering up the survivors in massive sacks slung over their backs.

Taking a tighter hold on his stick, Jerry swore hammering his fist into the cockpit as he tried to think of something more he could do. He’d blown all of his armor piercing twenty-millimeter rounds for his Vulcan Cannon and his entire payload of Maverick missiles, but none of it had any effect. He might as well have been shooting spitballs for all the good it had done.

A glance at his fuel gauge told him he should be heading back now to look for the USS Abraham Lincoln if he wanted to find it with communications down before he ran dry, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the nightmare below.

“Unidentified fighter, I say for the last time. Identity yourself immediately or be destroyed.”

“What the hell?” Jerry jerked back on the stick in his hands as the words crackled over his headset. Looking behind him to either side, he saw two AV-8B Harrier jump jets tailing him as he sputtered into his MIC. Where the hell had they come from?

“This is Lieutenant Commander Jerry Truman of Strike Fighter Squadron 147 from the USS Abraham Lincoln, over.” Coming out of his bank, Jerry leveled out repeating his words praying that the radio was still functional.

It had been hit or miss with many of the Super Hornet’s onboard systems. Things like his ATFLIR (Advanced Targeting Forward Looking Infrared) were completely nonfunctional, while other systems like his MIDS-JTRS and digital flight control systems seemed to be mostly working. Not that he could complain. Even though the fighter jet hadn’t been hardened against electromagnetic attacks, he was at least still in the air, which was a freaking miracle in itself at this point.

“Unidentified aircraft, you will come about to course two-two-one to be escorted to the USS Essex Wood where you will be-.”

“Unidentified aircraft? We’re from the same Task Force you FNG. What the fuck, over?”

“Unidentified aircraft, until your identity can be confirmed you will follow the given flight plan or be shot down. Understood, over?”

“Are you jarheads a bunch of freaking morons? My IIF is out because a freaking electromagnetic blast hit my jet. Most of my systems are Red-X’s. What command channel are you using, over?”

“Unidentified aircraft, that information is classified-“

Ignoring the man’s words Jerry swore under his breath as he suddenly remembered the command channel the Marines were supposed to be using for the operation. “Never mind, I’m moving this conversation to your command channel now.” He had to set the channel manually since his internal HUD still wasn’t responding. As soon as he heard the flight chatter, Jerry triggered his MIC.

“Packrat from Strike Fighter Squadron 147 to Iron Gator, over.”

“Iron Gator to Packrat, go ahead.”

“Packrat to Iron Gator, I need to speak with the CAG, over.”

There was a slight pause before Jim heard a familiar voice over the radio. “Iron Gator to Packrat, is that you Truman? What the hell is going on out there, over?”

“Yea it’s me, Captain Peterson. Not sure what’s all happening since the EMP blast knocked out most of my systems, except for what’s been happening here on the island, which is a major shit storm and a half. I’m flying CAS with a bird that’s tango uniform only to have your boys threating to blow my ass out of the sky if I don’t follow them back to the boat, over.”

Immediately Jerry heard Peterson speak off MIC “Petty Officer Jenson, order Hammer and Smokey to disengage.” A moment later he was back. “Truman, I need a SITREP update, over.”

“Sir, those Marines down there are being slaughtered. If you don’t order an immediate evac now, you’re going to lose the entire island and the half battalion you’ve deployed.”

“We’ve got nothing on radar. Who’s attacking, the Russians, the Chinese, ISIS? What’s their troop strengths and strategic deployment? I need more information before I can make that kind of decision, over.”

For a long moment, Jerry thought over what to say about the nightmarish creatures he saw slaughtering the Marines. It wasn’t like he could ask the Air Wing XO if he’d ever seen the movie DOOM to give them both a mutual reference. He could see the conversation in his head. “Yes Sir, it looks like a portal was opened to hell, and we have hordes of demons pouring out killing Marines.” Still the comparison stuck in his mind as he let out a nervous breath. This was just like seeing a UFO while on patrol. You could talk about the radar contact, describe it, but you could never ever say the word UFO.

“Sir, it’s not the Russians or the Chinese. So far, I’ve only seen the enemy use ground-to-ground short ranged weapons. I had direct hits on the bogies I engaged with my Mavericks, direct hits on multiple targets, but their heavy armor shrugged off the missiles and my armor piercing rounds like they were nothing. Whatever they’re using, conventional weapons have little to no effect. I may as well have been shooting spitballs for all the good it did, over.”

There was a long pause as Captain Peterson chewed over the data. Jerry just hoped it was specific enough to get Air Wing XO to take his warning seriously. They’d been friends since the academy, but that didn’t mean talking crazy shit over the air wouldn’t end his career in a heartbeat, even if he were proven right in the end. Thankfully, protocol meant Peterson would send a high-speed flyover for visual confirmation that would be directly fed into the Marine Carrier’s CIC, but at least, Jerry wouldn’t be the one trying to explain what he’d seen over the radio.

“Truman, you’re saying these hostiles have no anti-air offensive capabilities, over?”

“None that I’m aware of, Sir. My strafing runs were simply ignored by the enemy, over.”

Jerry heard orders being given in the background before Captain Peterson got back to him. The shift in the Air Wing XO’s tone told him he was finished with discussing the situation.

“Trumann, I want you to lead a flyover with Hammer and Smokey, so we can get a visual on what’s going on down there, over.”

“Lima Charlie, Sir. In route now, Packrat out.”

***

Location Earth / Beth Kurwoski:

Staggering to a stop with Ryan’s arm around her shoulders Beth swore at the chaos around them. Everywhere she looked Scourge, Marines, and even Minotaurs were fighting, dying or fleeing for their lives. On the slope above the surviving Ukkodians were in full retreat as an assault line of ten demons swept towards them in a tight formation. Further up the volcanic mound, she could see another demon line was already forming. Throat tight with fear Beth turned to the two men beside her.

“We need an exit strategy.”

Still injured Ryan wearily lifted his head up to look over the situation as Captain MacRory hoarse voice spoke up from Ryan’s other side. “The Triumph is ready to sail. If we load her down to standing room only, we might be able to get four or five hundred Marines squeezed onto her deck before we’re forced to run for it.”

Meeting the Captain’s hard blue eyes, Beth snapped angrily. “You’re just going leave the rest of the Marines to die at the hands of demons?”

“Mrs. Kurwoski, my first concern is getting my people to safety, which now includes you and your team. My second is helping anyone else that we can. If throwing all my people at the Tuonellians right now would make a difference, I would do it in a heartbeat, but look at us. One demon took everything we had to stop it. Our people took out another four or five demons, but at what cost?” The Captain’s red beard fluttered in the wind as he studied the battlefield. “We’ve lost almost half of our people, and that was before the demons took the field in force. We’ll lose the rest if we don’t cut and run while we still can.”

Beth knew he was right even if she didn’t like it. Seeing the stubborn look on her face, the Captain’s eyes softened. “We’ll fight them, lass, but at a time and place of our choosing.”

Bringing two fingers to his lips Captain MacRory signaled his people with a piercing whistle to head back to the ship. Within seconds, all the surviving Ukkodians were headed down the slope at a fast run as the large Irish man let Ryan go taking the lead. Every time they passed a Marine Captain MacRory would shove them towards the Triumph bellowing. “Head to the ship in the harbor for evac, pass the word.”

Even though Beth knew he was right, it still upset her to run from these creatures. Their battle with the demon had been closer than even she wanted to admit. Healing her shattered body after being nearly pummeled to death had taken the last of her energy reserves. Not that Captain MacRory was in much better shape after being healed from two near-death experiences in the same day. Unfortunately, that meant Ryan had to heal his injuries all by himself. Evan after using his entire energy pool, he could still barely move. As they approached the pier, Captain MacRory began hurrying towards the docked ship calling over his shoulder.

“I need to get to the bridge before Mr. MacSweeney decides it’s time to leave without us.” Seeing Beth’s confused look, he waved the comment away. “I’ll explain later.”

Beth was surprised at the large man’s energy, before realizing that the Captain wasn’t pouring all of his regenerating power into healing someone else. Struggling up the gangplank, Beth eyed the stern-faced armed crew standing at the railing as she found a free place to set Ryan down, before collapsing beside him.

Everywhere Beth looked the deck was covered with injured Marines with more arriving every second. As she watched, Beth recognized some of the people helping the wounded as members of the archeological team from the briefing they’d received back in Washington, when she saw the rest of her team trudging up the gangplank. Before she could get up the energy to wave them over, Beth heard her name called out.

“Agent Kurwoski?”

Turning towards the voice Beth saw a familiar face headed her way. Although the archeologist looked nothing like what Beth would have expected of a professor with multiple PhDs, especially not with the large chrome-plated forty-five and the foot long blade hanging from her well-used weapon’s belt. It reminded Beth of someone she’d seen before … “Nara Evans?” As Beth struggled to her feet to take the proffered hand, she noticed dark grimace that crossed the other woman’s face. Instantly realizing her mistake Beth held up her hands apologetically.

“Sorry about that, I meant Doctor Evans.” Waving her free hand towards the weapon belt, “Have you ever heard that you look a lot like the hero in Crypt Creeper?”

“Asks the Agent in black body armor with two samurai swords strapped across her back.”

Rocking back on her heels at the venom in the Doctor’s voice, Beth held her hands up defensively. “Whoa, what just happened here?”

“Never mind, I just get that a lot.” The Doctor’s apologetic eyes suddenly hardened as the corner of her lips turned down into a frown. “Agent Kurwoski, this task force wasn’t sent to take over my dig by accident. I think it is time you started explaining what the bloody hell is going on here?”

Before Beth could answer, battle horns began blaring near the end of the pier. Turning towards the shore, they both watched in horror as the demon’s formation began forming a ring around the end of the pier, when Beth heard the Doctor’s harsh exclamation.

“What are those things doing now?”

Beth’s heart caught in her throat.

“They’re blocking the only escape route off the island.”

***

Location Earth / Lar Sestius Natalinus:

“Attack formation Omega, advance!”

Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus’ nostrils flared as the shrill cries of battle whistles passed along his orders up and down the line, while the Legion’s horns blared in defiance at the demons arrayed against them. Immediately the clanking sounds of Wolf Gauntlets transforming into blue glowing spikes of tinnearlian death filled the air as the battle lines shifted around him. Again Lar’s voice bellowed out orders as their hooves pounding on the rocks turned into a low thunderous roar.

“Open melee formation, double time!”

In response, the demons roared back as the runes of their black metal fist-blades began glowing with a wicked red light. Fighting back the instinctual fear that welled up in his soul, Lar prayed to Akras for fortitude as he ran. Out of all of the Tuonellian Horde, these soul eaters were the worst.

Holding the coils tightly to his chest one-handed, Lar struggled under the heavy weight of the priestess as he brought up the rear. Although he knew Decanus Atius Furia had been correct when he said that Lar’s needed to protect his charge first and foremost, it still galled him not to be leading his bulls on this last run.

Still this was their only chance. Even the surviving humans that had been fighting along beside them had understood that simple fact when the second line of demons began advancing down the slope behind them. Most of the human warriors had armed themselves with battle-axes from the injured or dead. Lar wasn’t sure how effective the weapons would be against demons. Traditional ironidium blades had difficulties penetrating even the Scourges’ natural armor, but anything was better than those puny little black things they used for weapons. Maybe the odd human Paladin’s red glowing aura would be enough to make up the difference. Next to him the human woman he’d come to respect, Decanus Driscoll, looked up at him fearfully yelling to be heard.

“Tell me again we’re not all going to die.”

Barely controlled rage burned in Lar’s eyes as he met the human Decanus’ unflinching gaze. “Many of us will die, but some will live to make it through. Just remember we have one chance. No matter what happens don’t stop running until you reach the ship.” Looking back to the demons, Lar raised his gladius into the air bellowing at the top of his lungs.

“For the Imperium!” As one the legionnaires echoed his battle cry, “For the Imperium!” as the front of the charge slammed into the demons’ formation.

Almost instantly the first two ranks were smashed into bloody pulp from the demons’ great sweeping fist-blades as each hit scattered bull body parts into the air like chaff in the wind. As the blood and guts rained down on the legionnaires’ lines, the rest of the survivors threw themselves at the hulking beasts with wordless bellows of fury.

Unlike a normal enemy the demons didn’t feel pain nor did they tire. Their incredible strength wasn’t something born from bone and muscle but was an aspect of their magical construction. Except for being much more powerful and remotely controlled by eldritch energies, the demon bodies themselves weren’t much different than remote controlled drones, only much more powerful. Ignoring the physical blows tearing into their bodies the demons hammered their fists down onto the embattled Minotaurs like hyperactive King Kongs.

There was no Legion to back him up. None of their allies had survived the invasion to fight beside them, except for the lone Gorgones priestess held in his arms. Neither had any of the vaulted Klavikian Paladins made it in time to help fight against the Priestesses of Loviatar. All that Lar had to uphold the honor of the Imperium were four ragged contuberniums, a handful of human warriors and a single human Paladin in training.

Up and down the line Lar watched helplessly as his brothers paid with their lives. Even mortally wounded they fought on slashing and clawing until their last dying breath to make a hole in the demons’ formation, but it was taking too long. Even though the demons were being whittled down to useless lumps of flesh, their wrecked bodies still effective blocked any chance of escape. The demons didn’t have to kill them all to win. If they didn’t break through in the next few seconds, the battle was lost.

Glancing over his shoulder at the approaching wave of demons nearly on top of them, Lar made a critical decision. Looking at the anxious humans around him, Lar saw the fear in their eyes, but at the same time, he saw the raw determination of warriors in them too. Meeting Decanus Driscoll’s grim face, he spoke urgently.

“If Akras wills it, I’ll see you on the other side.” Hefting his glowing gladius into the air, Lar bellowed his pent up rage. “Strength and honor!”

“Hoorah!” Lar didn’t need to speak their language to understand the human warriors’ yell. As one, they charge the demons together.

Ahead of him, Lar saw his close friend, Decanus Atius Furia, lead his contubernium into the center of the storm. Instead of trying to hammer through the demons’ heavy armor, Furia had his bulls hack the demons’ limbs, focusing mainly on their lightly armored legs. Within seconds, the Minotaurs’ glowing fist-blades had taken the center down to legless stumps as their numbers were decimated to a just handful of bloody survivors. As Furia threw himself at the lead demon, Lar saw the human Paladin clinging to the demon’s back one-handed, while his other hand swung a two-handed axe at the demon’s thick neck.

“Hhhuuurrraaalll!” Lar’s glowing blade took off the lead demon’s arm at the elbow as its black blade split Decanus Atius Furia in two. Lar watched his friend’s body collapse to the ground as the humans swarmed the last two demons blocking the gap on either side of him, most using the weapons they’d acquired from the legionnaires. As the lead demon fell forward onto its oozing stumps, Lar looked into the creature's glowing red eyes as his gladius cleaved the demon’s head from its shoulders.

A ragged cheer rang out around him from both Minotaurs and humans throats alike as Lar climbed atop the demon’s headless corpse. “Ad navem!” (To the boat!) Before he could take a step towards the dock, the ground shuddered violently beneath his hooves.

Slamming his gladius into the demon’s hide for balance, Lar road out the shockwave watching unbelievably as the entire mound at the center of the island collapsed into itself. All around him demons, humans, and Minotaurs alike were thrown to the ground. Lar couldn’t have said how long the earth shook under his hooves. It could have been a minute or five, but however long it was it didn’t seem to be going away.

SSSHHHRRRIIIEEE

Lar’s head whipped around at the loud whistling shriek that suddenly came from the harbor. As the strange whistle shrieked into the air again, the human Paladin yelled out urgently in his strange language waving for them to follow him as he stumbled and staggered towards the pier. Although Lar didn’t understand the words, the meaning was clear enough. They were about to lose their ride. Calling out to his brothers to follow Lar ran after the human.

On the dock the swaying, jolting motion was even worse. The gangplank had been pulled, but some sort of thick mesh was draped over the side of the massive ship as the humans on deck called out urgently for them to hurry. Lar didn’t understand why the ship was starting to pull away if they wanted them to come aboard, but whatever the reason was it must have something to do with the quaking ground.

Gripping the last pylon Lar and the Paladin worked together to get their people, humans and Minotaur alike, across the ever widening gap between the moving ship. There were still stragglers headed up the dock when the Paladin urgently began pulling at Lar’s arm. A quick look over his shoulder showed Lar that the tail end of the ship was quickly approaching. The distance seemed to have noticeably grown between the pier and the ship from than when they’d first arrived. Without a second thought, Lar scooped up the skinny human into his arm and leaped.

Somehow they made it across the gap to the fast moving ship. Lar’s hooves were dragging in the water, but he’d still managed to reposition the human and priestess to hook one arm through the netting before they all plunged into the water. The meshing was the oddest thing he’d ever seen. If his arms hadn’t been full Lar might have been able to get his hooves to balance on the thin strands that made up the strange material, but as the great ship picked up speed even that became unlikely. Luckily by then strong hands were already pulling them up onto the deck.

Both familiar and new faces greeted him as Lar climbed over the railing still guarding his precious cargo. While many of the new faces looked to belong to more of the human Paladins, the rest were from his legionnaire brothers that had made it aboard the ship.

Quickly uncoiling the priestess from his body, Lar gently laid her against the bulkhead before starting to count. One, two … five … twelve. Standing up straight Lar’s eyes searched the deck as he slowly began to realize that this was it. Out of the six thousand bulls of the Ninth Legion that had made their way to the Gorgonean Republic, only twelve survivors were left.

For a long moment, Lar could only stand in shock looking at his brethren’s stricken faces. Many of his bulls openly wept, while others stoically refused to give into the pain of their loss. Strange un-Minotaur faces stared back at him as the exhaustion and wounds seemed to overwhelm him. Falling back against the railing Lar’s head spun as he focused on breathing in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth. All in all, it was almost too much to take in.

Lar flinched at a touch on his bare skin of his arm. Whipping his head up sharply Lar belatedly realized he recognized the old human soldier talking at him. It was the human Centurion. Although he didn’t understand what the human was saying, he did understand one word, “Driscoll.”

Standing up straight Lar gripped the human Centurion’s shoulders looking around the deck for his human translator. “Ubi est Decanus?” (Where is the Decanus?)

Again Lar didn’t understand the string of excited words. Why this race didn’t speak at least basic Irlendria was anyone’s guess. The male’s waving arms and excited voice was starting to draw a crowd when the human finally gestured back towards the pier. Looking out across the water Lar was surprised to see the pier hanging in midair.

“Quod in nomine Akras” (What in Akras name?) Arching his heavy brows in surprise Lar studied the unusual sight. The water level was several yards above the waterline, yet the rocks below the hanging pier were still wet. Instantly he realized what was happening. The island was rising up around them.

Staring down at the water on the side of the ship, everything started making sense. The quaking earth. The fleeing ship not waiting for the survivors. The why wasn’t as important, Lar knew nothing was impossible where magic and gods were concerned. Again the insistent hand tugged at his arm as the word “Driscoll” was repeated urgently. Squinting his eyes, Lar looked again. This time, he noticed the group of Minotaurs and Humans struggling to escape their demon pursuers far below where the water level had previously been. Immediately he recognized the shock of red hair that could only be Decanus Driscoll in the lead.

“Lar!”

The urgency in the familiar musical voice rocked Lar back on his hooves. Recovering from his surprise, he quickly squatted next to the priestess by his hooves. Behind him, Lar heard the surviving Minotaurs excited whispers as he dipped his horns in respect to the Gorgonean Priestess, while holding his spread index and middle fingers up to his chest facing out.

“Priestess, you must rest after your ordeal.”

“No, you must listen to me.” Weakly her clawed fingers gripped his armored wrist. “You must save the human woman called Driscoll.” Seeing the confused look on his face, the priestess leaned her head back against the bulkhead. “Akras has shown me that she is one of the keys. Promise me you will go to her!”

“Priestess, you don’t understand. She is beyond our help-.”

“By Akras holy sickle, promise me!” The Gorgonean’s entire body shook from the effort to speak as she gripped his arm in a vice. Bowing his head in respect, Lar spoke gravely.

“I promise. I will save her or die trying.”

As soon as the words left his black lips, the priestess’s arm fell away from his wrist as her head lulled to the side and her eyes closed. Standing up abruptly, Lar met the Minotaurs’ shocked faces behind him. Catching Decanus Carus’ wide eyes Lar nodded towards the unconscious priestess.

“Decanus Carus, you are in charge during my absence. Attend the Priestess and watch over our people.”

Standing to his full height Decanus Carus’ fist saluted Lar. “Strength and honor, Centurion.” Stepping forward Lar gripped the other bull’s shoulder. “Strength and honor, my brother.”

Turning away abruptly, Lar pushed his way through the gathering crowd of humans as he stalked along the railing towards the front of the massive ship, his eyes studying the nearing coastline intently. Coming to the narrow bow of the vessel Lar saw the shrinking mouth of the inlet close at hand. Further beyond was simply open water. It was now or never.

Ignoring the buzz of excited voices behind him, Lar sprang over the railing one-handed. There was a loud splash as he plunged deep into the water. Quickly Lar kicked his way to the surface as he began swimming towards the rocky coastline. Almost immediately three loud splashed rang out behind him. Craning his head around while he swam Lar saw the three surviving legionnaires of his contubernium surface behind him. Turning back around, he focused on swimming as he called out over his shoulder.

“The three of you were supposed to stay back on the ship where it's safe.”

“What, and miss out on all this fun?” Legionnaire Garilianus’ deep chuckle followed his words as Legionnaire Viridio spoke up.

“Yea, who doesn’t love wet armor?” A groan further back from the last legionnaire made them all laugh.

“For the love of Akras, this is salt water. Do you know how long it’s going to take to clean my armor?”

“Liberalis, if we make it through this mess I’ll clean your armor myself.” As Garilianus and Viridio began complaining that they deserved, at least, the same treatment, Lar began feeling better. Akras will or not, they all knew that there was no chance for them to survive, but even so, being amongst his shield mates made certain death easier to face.

***

Location Earth / Larissa Evens:

“What in the bloody hell was Captain MacRory doing?”

Gasping for breath Larissa clutched at the ship’s railing for support as her eyes took in the wounded soldiers and Minotaurs sprawled out across the deck in exhaustion. In the distance, she could still hear the screaming cries coming from the dock where the majority of the survivors had been left behind to die when the Triumph suddenly began steaming for the mouth of the caldera.

Thanks to Cadet MacSweeney’s quick thinking and help from Agent Kurwoski and her team, it was a miracle they were able to save as many of the survivors as they did. Slowly she unlaced her hands from the heavy cargo netting that they’d used to drape over the side of the ship. Flexing her fingers, Larissa let the stinging pain from the rope burns clear her mind.

“Who in the hell made that bullshit decision?” Meeting the Agent Kurwoski’s angry green eyes, Larissa thoughtfully frowned as she gave the Agent a helping hand up. Before she could answer Cadet MacSweeney snapped to attention in front of them.

“Sorry Ma’am, Captain MacRory didn’t give me any reasons. He just ordered me to find you as soon as possible and bring you to the bridge.”

Next to her, Agent Kurwoski’s boiling anger instantly changed into shocked surprise. “Captain Sean MacRory did all of this?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The confirmation seemed to rock Agent Kurwoski back for a moment. Quickly the woman turned to Larissa speaking urgently. “Something’s not right. We need to get to the bridge now!”

Larissa would have smiled at the Agent’s sudden change of heart if she weren’t so worried herself. As they headed for the stairs, Larissa grabbed the young man’s forearm dragging him after her.

“Cadet MacSweeney, while we go to the Captain. I want you to break out supplies for the wounded. They need food, water, bandages and blankets.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am.”

The Cadet headed off at a run as Larissa raced for the bridge with Agent Kurwoski on her heels.

When Larissa saw Captain MacRory standing bare-chested over the navigation console with Morthwyl Gelyn still strapped to his back, she knew something was seriously wrong. First Officer Dudek didn’t look any better. Both hands gripped the ship’s massive wheel in a white-knuckled grip as the Captain called out course changes every few seconds while equipment all over the bridge beeped in alarm. As soon as the ship neared the mouth of the caldera, MacRory slammed his fist down on the ship’s internal alarm. As the ship’s klaxon began ringing throughout the ship, the Captain immediately switched off the automatic ‘action stations’ recording as he snatched up the loudspeaker’s handset.

“This is the Captain speaking. All hands brace for impact. I repeat, all hands brace for impact.”

Larissa traded a shocked look with Agent Kurwoski before they both dove for the bulkhead. She’d just clamped a hand down on the nearest handhold when the entire ship lurched violently. The terrible vibrations felt like they went on for an eternity. For a long moment, Larissa was sure the ship was going to split apart, but then it was suddenly over as the ship surged into the open sea. Larissa was just breathing a sigh of relief when Captain MacRory began urgently shouting.

“Hard to starboard … hard to starboard!”

As the entire ship leaned into the sharp turn, Larissa’s mouth opened in a silent scream as the ocean before them erupted with a massive rock formation that stretched across the entire bow of the ship.

***

Location Earth / Lar Sestius Natalinus:

The water was getting shallower by the minute. By the time they made it to the dry land of the island, they could already see the bottom of the small bay. Hurriedly climbing onto the rocky shore, Lar took off at a quick trot as his legionnaires fell in behind him. The ground still shuddered beneath their hooves, but the intensity of the quaking had noticeably lessened.

Searching the coastline ahead of him, Lar caught flashes of the survivors fighting for their lives, but the uneven terrain made it difficult to see exactly what was happening. At least, he knew they were headed in the right direction. Cresting the nearest rise Lar’s ears rotated forward as they honed in on the sounds of battle. Triggering his Wolf Gauntlets Lar took off at a flat run as he heard his legionnaires following close behind him.

Lar’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as they raced past the bloody broken bodies strewn over the rocky ground. Something wasn’t right. There were no human corpses among the dead. Sprinting over a low rocky ridge Lar slid to a stop as the ground fell away before him. In the shallow basin below the end of the route was already playing out.

Immediately Lar recognized Decanus Driscoll’s shock of red hair next to one of his legionnaires struggling to fight off three ragged demons with a handful of human survivors. Not that it was much of a fight. Legionnaire Trebellius Angelus was obviously seriously injured, but he kept on fighting against the impossible odds like a true warrior of the Imperium. As the nearest demon fell to its hands and stumps, Angelus moved with a speed and strength born of desperation. Lunging for the vulnerable demon, Angelus’ gladius cleaved monstrous head from its shoulders in with one mighty blow. As the lifeless body collapsed, the closer of the two surviving demons slammed its clawed foot down atop of Angelus’s head. Even from this far away, Lar felt the force of the impact shiver the ground beneath his hooves. Biting back the bellow of rage that rose up in the back his throat Lar raced down the slope as the demon continued stomping the downed Minotaur.

Lar could have possibly saved Angelus by bellowing out a challenge, but in doing so, he would have put them all in jeopardy. Once the humans ran, they’d have one chance and one chance only to catch these demons by surprise and take them out. Lar just prayed that these humans were worth the life of his bull when the unexpected happened. With Driscoll at their lead, the humans charged the two remaining demons.

In horror, Lar watched as the human warriors swarmed over their enemy in desperation as their borrowed battle-axes flailed uselessly against the demons’ natural armor. Still the humans drove on fighting with everything they had as if by will alone they could beat their enemies down.

Even as a new respect for the human warriors welled up in his chest, there was no doubt in Lar’s mind that Driscoll was going to die before he could close the distance. As if reading his mind, the stomping demon suddenly snatched Driscoll up in a clawed fist, but instead of squeezing the life from her soft body and consuming her soul, the demon roughly shoved the woman into a large sack at its waist.

Lar didn’t have time to consider the implications. His one thought was that he still had a chance to save her. As the demon snatched up another human for its bag, Lar launched himself at the creature’s broad back as the blades of his Wolf Gauntlets blazed with runic power.

“For the Imperium!”

The black armored head left the demon’s neck as Lar’s hooves slammed the lifeless body into the rocky ground. Whipping around with his duel gladiuses at the ready, Lar saw Garilianus and Viridio standing astride the last demon’s lifeless body with Liberalis at the ready behind them.

“Liberalis, look to Legionnaire Trebellius Angelus. Garilianus, Viridio help the wounded humans the best you can.”

Rolling the demon corpse over Lar recovered the bulging sack strapped to the creature’s waist. Quickly slitting the side from top to bottom as he knelt, Lar retracted his blades as he gently pulled the unconscious human woman into his arms. Blood ran down her face from a scalp wound. Applying pressure to the gash on her head, Lar hurriedly ran his hands over the woman’s body searching for injuries, when he heard an angry shout as something heavy slammed into his armored shoulder.

“Get your stinking hands off of her you dirty cow!” Turning his head around Lar saw the angry black male from earlier threateningly holding one of his people’s battle-axes over his shoulder ready to swing. Again the human yelled at him angrily. “I said to get your stinking hands off of her!”

Lar’s black lips spread into a wide grin as he studied the fear in the human’s eyes. He didn’t need to understand the words to comprehend their meaning or the implied threat. The males of his people were known throughout Irlendria for their rage duels. Even more humorous, the male obviously thought he held some claim over Driscoll, but from her interaction with the man, Lar doubted Driscoll would agree to that claim.

Still, a fight between them would be without honor, nor would it help their current situation. Lowering his voice, Lar sternly spoke pointing a tinnearlian encased finger at the human.

“Summitte armis et adiuva me aut pedem movere.” (Lower your weapon and help me or step back.) Seeing the man’s hesitation Lar tried again pointing to the ground next to Driscoll. “Sedere!” (Sit!)

Slowly the black man lowered the battle-axe and knelt next to Driscoll. As Lar went back to his visual inspection of the head wound, the human pulled a flask from his belt and began to dab water at the wound with a piece of green cloth ripped from his uniform. Once the wound was clean, he saw the man’s unsure look as he called out to the handful of human survivors around them.

Immediately several of the humans gathered around them talking loudly, but it was obvious none of them had any healing poultices to offer. Even so, Lar still had the gift of Akras and a partial flask of elixir ignis. Ignoring the bickering humans standing around him, Lar lowered his head and began cleaning the oozing wound with his thick tongue.

“What the hell … I think I’m going to be sick.”

Lar didn’t understand the words, but he could hear the disgust loud and clear in the black man’s voice. Fools! Had the idiots no concept of treating injuries on the battlefield? Lifting is head Lar checked the wound again. Already the blood had stopped flowing. Fishing the flask from inside his armor Lar pulled the top open with his teeth and carefully pressed the opening to Driscoll’s lips. It shouldn’t take much.

“Uuuaaaggghhh!” As soon as the dark liquid slid down her throat, Driscoll bolted upright coughing and hacking, while the humans around them backed up swearing. Slowly Driscoll caught her breath enough to meet Lar’s eyes. “

“What the hell is that stuff?” Seeing the confusion in his eyes, Driscoll repeated the words again, this time in common. “What the hell is that stuff?”

Smiling, Lar bowed his head slightly. “Decanus Driscoll, it is good to see that you yet live and that you experienced your first taste of the elixir of fire.” Seeing the blank look she gave him, Lar swallowed a laugh clapping her roughly on the back. “The elixir is a common drink amongst the Legions of the Imperium. It renews strength, gives warmth and helps the healing of any wound.”

“It tastes like vodka and red bull. God, I think I’m going to be drunk.”

“Do not worry. Although the elixir of fire is a powerful drought, it is no fermented wine.”

“Whatever.” Shaking her head, Driscoll pushed herself shakily to her feet as she looked at the demon corpses. “How are you here? I thought you made it aboard the ship?” Unsteadily she gripped his upper arm to stop herself from swaying.

“Careful Decanus Driscoll, you took a sharp blow to the head.” Lar put an arm around her for support as Driscoll gripped his bicep even tighter. “We made it to your people’s ship, but the priestess sent me back to find you.”

“That was stupid. Why the hell would she have done something like that?”

“For some reason, she believes that our fates are intertwined together.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Pressing a hand to her forehead Driscoll glared at him as she jerked out from under his arm. “Seriously, who the hell even talks that way?” Seeing the evident confusion on his face, Driscoll held up her hand cutting off his response. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. What I need is help recovering my soldiers. Those creatures have been dragging anyone they find back to the pit. Any idea why?”

“This cannot bode well.” Tugging on his braided goatee Lar frowned thoughtfully at Driscoll. “Demons are soul eaters; they do not take prisoners.”

“Obviously, they do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been stuffed in a sack!”

“I’m not questioning the evidence we have both seen, Decanus Driscoll. The fact that they sought to capture you is not what I dispute. I just do not believe they are taking your people as prisoners. If anything, it is for something much direr.” Looking back towards where they’d climbed out of the pit, Lar could only see what looked to be the rim of a massive crater. Quickly he came to a decision. “Show me what you have seen and I promise to help your people if it is at all possible.”

For a long moment, Driscoll just studied his face with a hard frown planted on her red lips. So similar, yet so different. Looking at her like this, Lar was taken back with just how much she resembled a heifer of his people. Human females were much more attractive than the spindly Elven females of the Great Forest. Standing up, Driscoll gave him a quick grin.

“If we’re going to do this you’d better start passing that flask around to the rest of my people.”

Surprisingly enough they were moving out within a matter minutes. By the time Lar had Viridio and Liberalis got Angelus into a two-bull carry, Driscoll’s had her people organized and ready to go. Taking up the lead with Driscoll at his side, Lar headed for the crater.

Loud echoing roars rang out in the skies above them as the humans’ strange flying machines repeatedly passed by overhead at amazing speeds. Explosions shook the ground beneath Lar’s hooves as fire and smoke flared into the air at the far side of the crater. Although they saw small demon patrols in the distance, none were close enough to be a threat as they climbed the ridge.

Reaching the rim, Lar looked back at his charges. Humans and Minotaurs alike clung to the side of the rocky crater like shadows. Although the stark fear was obvious on the hairless faces of the humans, they still performed their duty without complaint like a legionnaire. If they could work out an alliance and arm them, Lar could see these humans being strong allies. Maybe that was why the priestess had insisted on Lar returning to aid the survivors.

Making sure the rocky rim was clear Lar used legion battle-speak to call Legionnaire Garilianus to his side. Seeing a startled jerk out of the corner of his eye, Lar turned to see Driscoll looking at him oddly. With a shake of her head, Driscoll began flashing similar hand signals to her warriors as the humans quickly and silently moved up into position behind them.

This time, it was Lar’s turn to give Driscoll an evaluating look. Once again he chided himself for comparing these humans to the savage primitives that he’d first met upon their arrival through the portal. From everything he’d seen from these warriors’ skills and professionalism it shouldn’t have surprised him, but sometimes it was hard to change a first impression. He’d have to work on that. Meeting Driscoll’s hard eyes with a sharp nod Lar crept to the edge of the rim.

Instantly Lar froze at the grisly scene unfolding below. The cavern where he’d awoke was completely gone. All that was left was a massive gaping hole. At its flattened bottom, the portal to Irlendria pulsated with an eerie green light reflecting off the twenty demons that stood unmoving along the outer edge. Inscribed on the stone before their clawed feet were the glowing glyphs of a greater circle of power. Huddled on the rocky ground before them where at least a hundred ragged humans cowering in fear. At the very center of the pit, standing atop a pile of bloody corpses, was a black cloaked figure holding a choking blonde-haired woman by her throat in a white scaled fist.

“Who in the hell is that?” The sharp hiss from Driscoll pulled Lar’s eyes away from the horrific nightmare.

“My people’s greatest enemy.” Dread filled Lar’s voice as he met Driscoll’s enraged face. “A Dark Priestess of Loviatar!”

***

Location Earth / Helice:

High Priestess Helice’s burning red eyes bore into her helpless victim’s face as she held the dying female aloft in her clawed hand triumphantly for all to see. Her long tongue tasted the red gore that dripped down the white scales of her arms as the soul power of the dead beasts thrummed through her body. Throwing her head back, Helice shrieked in holy fervor.

“To Loviatar’s everlasting greatness!”

Around the circle the demons that she and her dead sisters had summoned held out their sacrifices to be slaughtered. None of the otherworldly beings contested her will. Even though they were born of the Abyss, the demons knew their true master.

Again Helice threw back her head, but this time, the laughter rolling from her forked tongue was of pure evil. She was the avatar of Loviatar. No other High Priestess in Tuonellian history had ever held so many bound demons at one time. Just more proof of the glory of Loviatar.

None of her dark sisters had survived the Gorgonean invasion. It didn’t matter that out of all of the lesser races the Gorgons were the closest match in power to that of her own people, the Echidna. They were failures the lot of them. She alone had survived to rain down Loviatar’s retribution!

Lifting the kicking female high overhead Helice prepared to cast the spell that would bind Irlendria to this new world. Just as she was drawing her clawed fist back for the killing strike, several hard objects suddenly slammed into her face.

Helice’s eyes jerked away from her sacrifice in outrage. Who dared to disturb her ceremony to Loviatar? Whipping her glowing red eyes along the high walls of the portal chamber, Helice saw the small group of Minotaurs and Humans that dared to attack her. They must have escaped the demons earlier sweep.

“Vepxhal!” Helice heard the scrape of claws on the stone behind her as the demon leader approached at her summons.

“Dark Mistress, how-?”

“Adflictio!” Instantly the gravelly voice roared in agony from her seal of punishment. As soon as the demon collapse to its knees behind her a cruel sneer spread across Helice’s scaly lips. Obviously, even the Abyss had their failures to contend with.

”Vepxhal, if you cannot even gather up these lesser beings as commanded, then what use are you?” With a wave of her clawed hand, she released the seal.

“Dark Priestess-“

“Silence! Go and do my bidding. If you fail me again, I will send you back to the Abyss without your share of souls.”

Turning her focus back on the blonde haired female choking to death in her grip, Helice plunged her fist into the animal’s chest as the twenty demons around the circle drove their fists into the chests of their blood sacrifices. Immediately power thrummed through the air as the glyphs within the circle consumed the soul energy in a crackling blaze.

“At last, it is time!” Tossing the lifeless carcass to the ground Helice lifted her arms above her head when a sudden movement behind her back broke her concentration. Why had Vepxhal still not left to do her bidding?

Before Helice could confront the demon, its clawed fist slammed through her spinal column and burst through the front of her chest. Looking down unbelievably, Helice saw her own beating black heart clutched in the demon’s clawed fist. As her eyes rolled back into of her head, she heard the demon’s guttural voice roar in her ear.

“Now that you’ve completed charging the circle for me, I will bind this portal to the Abyss so that my Master can consume the souls of this world!”

Coughing up blood Helice spat into the demon’s face with her last breath. “Even in death, I serve Loviatar’s will!”

***

Location Earth / Demon Vepxhal:

Clenching his fist closed Vepxhal crushed the still beating heart in his clawed fist, before tossing it and the High Priestess’s body aside with a flick of the wrist. It took his entire focus to deny the urge of consuming her soul. Instead, Vepxhal pulled Helice’s life force to him, wearing it like a mantle.

“The sacrifices one must make for one’s Master.”

The circle of power was complete and the glyphs fully charged. All that was left for Vephxhal to do was complete the binding, and this world would be opened to the void. Raising his arms to the sky, Vepxhal called upon the memories of Helice to complete the ritual.

Urgent shouts from the surviving worthless beings that inhabited this world cried out in fear as they fled the circle running for safety. Vepxhal grinned hungrily. Little did they know that soon there would be no place safe for them to run. All would be consumed. As the swirling power of soul energy infused the portal, Vepxhal called out as his voice reverberated off the stone walls of the pit.

“Oazuaxahl, Dark Lord of the Abyss, this world is yours for the taking!”

***

Location Earth / Megan Driscoll:

Racing down the slope Sergeant First Class Driscoll half carried one of the wounded Marine survivors under her arm as fighter jets screamed overhead. Repeatedly the ground bucked beneath their feet as massive explosions pounded the pit behind them. Still, no matter how much ordinance the fighters threw at the demons the eerie green light only seemed to be getting stronger.

Stopping for a second Megan eyed the Harrier Jump Jets roaring overhead, immediately recognizing the black Ace of Spades marking their wings. Why in the hell were the flights coming from the USS Essex Wood? Where was the USS Wasp squadrons?

“Decanus Driscoll, we’re being hunted.”

Looking over her shoulder, Megan saw Lar headed in her direction as his eyes scanned for pursuit. “How many and how long before they catch up to us?”

“Two patrols, three demons strong. If we keep everyone moving, maybe ten minutes.”

“Dammit!” Turning back towards the eighty or so wounded survivors struggling across the slippery wet rocks of the now empty lagoon, Megan burned with helpless rage. No working radios, their weapons were useless, and now they were being hunted like dogs. Gripping the shaft of the battle-axe in her hand until her knuckles turned white, Megan grimly met the large Minotaur’s grave eyes.

“Decanus Driscoll, we must keep moving.”

“Why? It’s not like we have anywhere to go. We’re on a freaking island.” Sweeping the battle-axe towards her broken battalion Megan’s strained voice snapped harshly. “What hope do we really have to give them? What are we going to do once the demons corner us?”

Lar pursed his thick black lips together thoughtfully before answering. “Like you, my Legion was shattered by the enemy we now fight. My shield-brothers slaughtered nearly to a bull by this great evil. Still, I believe their deaths were not in vain. Even now, I pray to Akras that their loss will pave the way for an alliance between our two peoples.” Shifting the wounded Marine he carried, Lar gripped her shoulder firmly. “My people have a saying. Where there is life, there is hope.”

Again Megan was amazed by the Minotaur’s honor and humanity. Feeling the pressure in her chest lessen Megan returned Lar’s solemn nod speaking softly. “Thank you.” Raising her voice, Megan began calling out orders. “Listen up Marines, we have incoming headed our way! We have ten minutes to reach that ridge if we are going to have any chance of surviving. Now move out!”

Surprisingly they made decent time across the lagoon. They’d just started climbing the stairs that led to the top of the island’s ridge from the port when they caught sight of the enemy half way across the dried lagoon. Even though she’d known they were coming, Megan’s heart still skipped a beat when she saw the terrifying creatures. She was so focused on the enemy that she didn’t hear the fighter jets’ strafing runs until they were right on top of them.

KABOOM

“Hoorah!” Weak cheers rang out around her as massive fireballs erupted on top of the advancing demons. As everyone stopped to watch, the Minotaurs around them began bellowing urgently.

“Vado … vado … vado!” (Go … go … go!)

Shaking herself into motion, Megan began calling out her own orders. “Come on Marines, we need to reach that ridge if we’re going to get out of this alive. Now go … go … go!”

A quick glance behind her showed the demons already striding out of the fiery cloud unharmed. Swearing Megan ruthlessly drove the survivors on screaming and yelling, while Lar and his bulls helped wherever they could. Tirelessly they carried the wounded that had collapsed from exhaustion and loss of blood to the top of the cliff. Below them, the lagoon was a continuous fireball as fighter jets laid down the heat in a massive wave of attacks.

Reaching the top of the Karavolades stairwell, Megan eased the wounded Marine she’d been carrying to the ground before collapsing in exhaustion beside him. All around her Marines simply collapsed where they stood. The explosions had stopped sometime during the climb, but by now the heat from the blast waves was making it difficult to even breathe. Unfortunately, that could only mean the demons were not far behind.

Sucking in ragged breaths Megan knew she had to get back up, but everything hurt, it felt like she’d been running and fighting nonstop for a week straight. She just needed a second to catch her breath. She was just closing her eyes when the clanking sounds of thudding hooves on concrete forced them back open. Looking back towards the stairs, Megan saw Lar and his bulls moving into a defensive position at the top of the steps. Even Legionnaire Angelus, who'd been beaten nearly to death, was there propped up against the handrail.

For a long moment, Megan could only stare at Lar’s armored back. Taking a deep breath, she called on the last of her willpower forcing her battered body to move. Climbing slowly to her feet Megan heaved the heavy battle-axe to her shoulder using both hands, before joining the Minotaurs for their last stand.

Even though the sun was shining the visibility was down to a hundred feet or less below the horizon. All around them, thick clouds of smoke billowed into the air from the fires. In the distance across the caldera to Nea Kameni, Megan could clearly see the eerie green light still shinning into the sky from the pit. As she watched portions of the green turned into shafts of pulsating blackness. Shaking her head Megan muttered grimly to Lar.

“That can’t be good. Any idea what those things are doing?”

Lar paused thoughtfully before answering. “All that I know of demons is from what I’ve learned facing them on the field of battle. In the stories of my people it is said that they are soul-eaters and the bane of all life, but more I do not know. Like you, I trust them not.”

Sudden movement below caught Megan’s eyes as the demons hunting them came into view climbing the stairs two abreast. Immediately the clanking sounds of the Minotaurs’ gauntlets shifting into blades echoed across the plateau as they prepared for battle.

“So I guess this is it. We’re going to die here, aren’t we?”

Looking over her shoulder at the sound of Corporal Porter’s voice, Megan saw the Corporal standing behind her with the rest of the Marines that could still fight. Some like her carried battle-axes that they’d taken from the battlefield while others were armed with nothing more than their survival knives. Baring her teeth, Megan turned back towards the approaching demons.

“You can fight to the death or die like a dog. It’s your choice, Corporal.”

“Semper Fi, Sergeant.”

Megan smiled grimly as the Marine Corps motto echoed through their ranks. Turning back towards the humans, the Minotaurs looked at one another in surprise. With a nod, their fists clanked against their breastplates as one in salute.

“Semper Fi.”

For once Megan didn’t need to translate the Minotaurs’ words to her people. There were no questions in any of their minds about fighting to the death. Most of them had already faced the horror of what awaited any of them if they were taken alive. As an animalistic roar from the stairway below shattered the moment, she heard a familiar throbbing sound fill the air.

Looking up incredulously, Megan saw four V-22 Ospreys roar into a hover above their position. Without fanfare the Marine transports began setting down in a tightly grouped formation on top of the ridge. This was the chance she’d been silently praying for. Spinning around Megan began calling out orders as the ramps started lowering on the still moving birds.

“Everyone help the wounded and load up. We’re getting the fuck out of here. Now go … go … go!” Megan was half way to the nearest Osprey setting down when she realized the Minotaurs hadn’t moved. Turning back around, she switched to her Drill Instructor voice bellowing at the wide-eyed bulls.

“Decanus Sestius Natalinus, get your legionnaires moving towards the transports. This is our ride out of here.” Seeing their questioning looks to one another Megan shouted the first thing that came to mind. “Stop standing around gawking like a bunch of dumb cows and get your asses moving. Now go … go … go!”

Lar’s black lips broke into a wry grin. “Spoken like a true Decanus.” With a quick look back down the stairs, Lar got his bulls moving. “Viridio, Liberalis, get Legionnaire Angelus to the transports. Garilianus, you’re with me.”

Turning back around Megan saw her people already loading up as Porter caught her eye with a wave from the ramp of the nearest Osprey. Giving him a ‘thumbs up’ she got the Minotaurs moving. As they approached the ramp, Megan heard Jordan yelling at the gunner nervously eying the approaching bulls through the sights of the M240 machine gun.

“If you don’t get your motherfucking hands off of that trigger, I’m going to beat the living shit out of you!”

The tense standoff turned into an all-out brawl between the flight crew and the surviving Marines as soon as Viridio and Liberalis started up the ramp with Angelus slung between their shoulders. Megan didn’t have time to watch the outcome. She was too busy dragging Lar and Garilianus back to the Osprey when the demons strode onto the plateau. Almost as one the four M240 machine guns opened fire.

Between the engines revving up and the machine guns firing nonstop, the intense noise was like a physical force beating at her ears as Megan shoved the bulls up the ramp ahead of her. As she passed the machine gun, Dion gave her a thumbs up from the gunner’s seat as the pilots gave full power to the engines, immediately the Osprey surged into the air.

For a second chaos reigned in the cargo hold as everyone scrambled for a handhold from the g-force of the full power liftoff. Megan felt herself tumbling uncontrollably back down the still open ramp when a thick muscular arm snagged her out of the air. A heavy musk scent surrounded her as a familiar deep bass spoke urgently into her ear.

“I’ve got you, Driscoll!” Sagging in relief, Megan looked out at the fading island when suddenly thick bolts of green lightning began shooting into the sky around Nea Kameni.

Open mouthed Megan stared in horror as dark clouds laced with green fire began billowing into the air like a volcanic eruption. In the middle of the fiery mass, a massive archway began taking shape, towering above the island in just a matter of seconds. As soon as the swirling black doorway to the arch solidified, dark winged shapes began shooting into the sky as a massive winged demon stepped out into the middle of the pit.

Behind her, Megan heard Lar’s sharp intake of breath. “Akras protect us!”

The End … until Book three.

Glossary

Abyss -

A dimension that is the home of Demons.

Acelerar aura -

Paladin aura that gives increased speed in an area and is green in color.

ACU -

Airforce airman combat uniform

Adam Dudek -

Triumph’s first officer, Ukkodian, Polish, ex-GROM Officer from Krakow.

Adflictio -

Spell used to punish demons trying to break their agreement with conjure.

Advectio -

Spell of transportation through portals used by Priestess of Loviatar.

Agent Beth Kurwoski -

Ex-detective brought to Washington to be a part of the new CIA, SAD group, Ukkodian Priestess. Is now a Paramilitary Operative.

Agent Randy Wilcox -

Ex-FBI special operations operative from the CTA (Counter Terrorist Agency headed by the FBI) brought to Washington to be a part of the new CIA, SAD group, Ukkodian. Is now a Paramilitary Operative.

Agent Ryan Moss -

Ex-FBI special operations squad leader from the CTA (Counter Terrorist Agency headed by the FBI) brought to Washington to be a part of the new CIA, SAD group, Ukkodian. Is now a Paramilitary Operative.

Agent Sean Walker -

Ex-FBI special operations operative from the CTA (Counter Terrorist Agency headed by the FBI) brought to Washington to be a part of the new CIA, SAD group, Ukkodian. Is now a Paramilitary Operative.

Akhras -

Is the Gorgons spelling of Akras. Same God, which is part of the special relationship Minotaurs and Gorgons share.

Akras -

God of Minotaurs, god of fertility, The White Goddess, female, uses sickle, hand symbol used is “peace symbol/rabbit ears” to signify the horned goddess.

Alex Tommeski -

Ex-Florida Ranger brought to Washington to be a part of the new CIA, SAD group, Ukkodian. Is now a Paramilitary Operative.

Alexander Doxaras -

Greek Ukkodian.

Aliya Aitdra -

Wild Elf and Assistant Scout Leader that tries to explain to Enelya why they must follow Dínendal’s orders.

Alliance of Aurenko -

An Alliance made up of most of the races of Irlendria to fight the Tuonellian invasion that was formed by Ilmarinen Ironwolf. The Alliance was fractured after the Klavikians were destroyed.

Alttash’s Tears -

A root considered a gift from the gods. Unique properties speeds up healing or causes a quick death, red in color.

Amaurea Celebrindal -

Princess Forest Elf.

Andreas Diakos -

Greek Ukkodian.

Anon -

Wenci that is Soulmated to Tathar Cúthalion and littermate of Argus.

Anthony (Tony) Rickshaw -

Assistant, young tech kid, good with robots on Triumph, designed the Titan XI quad drilling robot named CHARLIE. A graduate robotic genius from the MIT CSAIL's (Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Laboratory) Robotics Department, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, MA. MIT CSAIL's Robotics graduate.

Antistita Britomartis -

Gorgoneans' High Priestess that opened a portal to Earth for her people to escape the Tuonellian invasion. She sacrificed her life to hold the portal with the invasion force closed.

Aosta -

City were 1st and 2nd legions were destroyed near the boarders of the great forest.

Arch of Akras -

Main entrance to the capital of Gravida.

Archers -

Marine Raiders 1st Company.

Argus -

Wenci soulmated to Enelya.

Arthur John Evans -

Born Nash Mills, Hertfordshire, England. Father to Larissa Evans. Famous for discovering the Minoan civilization.

Ashima Falls -

A great water fall that borders the mountain range between the Werewolves domain and the Great Forest of the Elves. Also is the path that leads to the Wild Elf Domain at the base of the falls.

Áskorun -

A challenge, possibly to the death, between a Wenci and a Wild Elf.

Assistant Deloule E. Sparks -

Assistant to Dr. Gurioli Vougioukalakis.

Athinias -

Primary port of Santorini.

Barbed Antitheus -

Barbed devil, 11 feet tall, reds scales and yellow tiger like stripes.

Battle of Daeron -

Famous battle where Alliance pushed the Tuonellians back from destroying the Elves of the Great Forest.

Battle of Tothnell -

Great battle of the alliance where the Tuonellians were stopped, this is the fields of the Citadel. Many of the Alliance races refer back to this great battle. It was the turning point in the war against the Tuonellians.

BDU -

Battle Dress Uniforms

Bel Arbre Ciel -

Forest Elf capital city.

Benda Heimild -

Point of authority between classes, managed by Shaman/Wenci pairs.

Beth Kurwoski -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko. Was an undercover detective working for the Riviera Beach Police department and is now working as a SAD agent.

Boneheads -

Centaur name for the Minotaurs due to the horns on their heads.

Britomartis -

Priestess of (Minoan goddess of mountains and hunting and mistress of animals. Also priestess of the Order of the White Moon.

Brokenfang -

Worg werewolves that are not pureblooded. Have two forms.

Bucinator -

A bugler to send signal commands for legion's troop movements.

Bullock -

Young Minotaur male that has not mated or is under age in Imperium society.

calcimite -

Natural occurring rock used in the construction of Daeron Hold.

Captain Alex Nicoara -

Commanding Officer of the 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, female. Call Sign: Hunter Two

Captain Frank Peterson -

Air Wing 2 (CAG) on USS Essex Wood

Captain Otis Halls (O.H.) -

Chief Engineer of the USS Abraham Lincoln

Captain Peter Wojcik -

Operations department officer of the USS Abraham Lincoln.

Captain Rick Young -

Engineer officer of the USS Abraham Lincoln.

Captain Tony Latandresse -

Air Wing 2 (CAG) on USS Abraham Lincoln

CAS -

Close air support for attacking ground targets close to friendly units.

Centaur Warrior codex -

Code of conduct expected of all Centaurs in the face of the enemy.

Centuria -

A centuria consisted of 80 Minotaurs under the command of a Centurion and his Optio. Six centuria formed a cohort.

Centurion -

Similar to a Command Sergeant Major, leads a cohort.

Centurion Caeso Lulius Horatia -

Commander of the reserve century of the Thirteenth during forest attack against the elves.

Centurion Gaius Vitruvius Aquila -

Leader of house Praetorian Guard of Prince.

Centurion Gallio Cantilius Quintillius -

Centurion of the Ninth Legion, most of legion was destroyed trying to protect the Capital City of Unamiznante from the Tuonellian Hordes initial invasion, leads cohort of the Ninth Legion, now on Earth.

CHARLIE -

Titan XI quad drilling robot. Built from a combined effort between Bouygues Construction and Caterpillar Inc. It looked something like a cross between a JIM suit (ADS - atmospheric diving suit) and an alien robotic spider.

Chief Petty Officer Eric Hogan Beta -

Beta squad, Navy Seal.

Chief Petty Officer James Riggs -

Alpha Squad, Navy Seal.

Chief Petty Officer Sean Turner -

Charlie Squad, Navy Seal.

Chukka -

Large mammal that grazed the plains with six legs.

CIC -

Combat Information Center.

Ciel Lieu -

Forest Elves city, means sky city, Mother Tree.

Cindy Ross -

Ex-FBI Computer Analysis from CTA (Counter Terrorist Agency headed by the FBI), now working for SAD as a Computer Analysis.

Cladhaire -

Coward.

CMC Gerald Olson -

Command Master Chief of USS Essex Wood.

CMC Henry Morgan -

Command Master Chief of the USS Abraham Lincoln.

Cohors -

A cohort consisted of 480 Minotaurs. The most senior ranking centurion of the six centuria commanded the entire cohort.

Colonel Andrew Christian -

Colonel of Marine Expeditionary Unit aboard the USS Essex Wood

Colonel Kirios Thanos Karaiskakis -

Leader of Greek Ukkodians.

Command Sergeant Major Harris Thompson -

Marine Raiders, Battalion Landing Team Command Sergeant Major, Call Sign: Raiders Nine.

Commander (Primus Pilus) Mettius Scipio -

Master Sergeant of the Thirteenth Legion.

Commander Greg McMillan -

Navy Seal Team Six Commander

Commander Quintus Caepio Brutus -

Leader of Emperor’s Praetorian Guards and Tuonellian Hulk.

Commander Richard Gohmann -

XO of the USS Abraham Lincoln.

Contubernium -

The smallest organized unit of soldiers in the Imperium Army. Composed of eight Minotaurs lead by a Decanus. Ten contubernia formed a centuria.

Corporal Chuck Batey -

Fire team leader 3 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, Call Sign: Archer Four Alpha-three, picked up in Italy.

Corporal Jeromy Fergusson -

Fire team leader 3 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 2nd Company, 2nd Platoon, Call Sign: Swift Two Alpha-three, picked up in Italy.

Corporal Tony Torino -

Fire team leader 2 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, Call Sign: Archer Four Alpha-two, picked up in Italy.

Coruscum -

Spell purple lightning.

Council of Elders -

Leaders of each Elven Clan that makes decisions for the Elven people.

Cree Manitou -

Great great great grandfather of Nessa Manitou.

Daeron Fortress/Hold -

Seat of power for High Elves and a fortress/castle, located on Mount Haldamir, in the heart of the great forest.

Darkvision -

Vision that shows warm and cools, not of infrared but of life energy radiating from all objects.

Deanna Mitchell -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko.

Debra Henny -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko.

Decanus -

Sergeant in the Imperium Legion.

Decanus Appius Lulius Marcellus -

Leads second Contubernium of eight assigned to travel with prince.

Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus -

Leads fifth Contubernium of eight Minotaurs of the Ninth Legion, now on Earth.

Decanus Marcus Tullius Cornisus -

Leads first Contubernium of eight assigned to travel with prince.

Decanus Mergus Atius Furia -

Leads second Contubernium of eight Minotaurs of the Ninth Legion, now on Earth.

Decanus Spurius Vassenius Carus -

Leads fourth Contubernium of eight Minotaurs of the Ninth Legion, now on Earth. Takes leadership of the surviving Minotaurs on the Triumph during Lar’s absence.

Demetrius Mavromichalis -

Greek Ukkodian.

Demon Vepxhal -

Is a demon currently serving a Loviatar Priestess on Earth and services Demon Baron Oazuaxahl.

Dínendal Telrúnya -

Scout of Wild Elves, part of warriors sent to stop the intruders entering domain. He took over leadership after killing Gwindor Helyanwë. Corrupted by Chaos Shard.

Doctor Stuart Holdgate -

World renowned Biologist that came to Santorini for dig.

Donna Jensen -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko.

Dorthonion Celebrindal -

Prince Forest Elf. 2nd son. Sent after the Minotaurs that attacked the Forest Elf capital and is the leader who drove his Elven Rangers into the Wild Elf Domain.

double-headed battle-axe -

Secondary weapon of Minotaurs. Battle-axes are Minotaur traditional weapons made from Ironidium.

Dr. Gina Robinson -

Physicist working with SAD to understand new rune science.

Dr. Gurioli Vougioukalakis -

Director of Santorini Geological Studies London Physicist

Dr. John Hempshaw -

Head Geophysicists at The American Geosciences Institute in Virginia.

Duratus aura -

Paladin aura that does cold damage and slows opponents and is blue in color.

Echidna -

Priestess race of half snake half women. They are the Priestesses of Loviatar.

Eieci vos creaturam inferiorem mundos -

Spell of banishment

Eldur Ray -

Spell scorching ray.

Elerossë Narmolanya -

King of the high elves.

elixir ignis -

A Minotaur Legionnaire Drink that is a powerful non-alcoholic drink that helps to energize and heal.

Elladan Celebrindal -

King Forest Elf.

Elves -

Life span for Forest/High Elves are around 1000 years. Wild Elf life span is around 600 years. Three Clans: Wild, Forest and High Elves. Lives in the Great Forest. Each Clan have their specific traits.

Emperor of Imperium -

Manius Decius Lupus.

Enelya Tasartir -

Also called Spirit Daughter. Princess Wild Elf, Spirit Shaman of the Dusza Pack. Soulmated to Argus (a male Wenci). Barely 100 years old.

Enox Interactive -

Video game company that published Crypt Creeper Series.

Eteocretan Key -

A metallic disc that translates Klavikian, Minoan and Euboean languages.

Fabio Lombard -

Italian Ukkodian.

Field Commander Rogaulse Tornelya -

Field Commander of Ironidium Knights, symbol on armor is double crosshatch through a mountain. Sometimes lover of Morwen Telemnar.

Fira -

Capital of Santorini.

First Lieutenant Samuel Carlson -

Of the 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, Call Sign: Hunter Two.

Forecastle (Berth Deck) -

Crew quarters near front of ship.

Foreign Geals -

Vikings who married Scottish settlers and was invited to Ireland to be guards for the Kings and Princess of Ireland.

Forest Elves -

Life span around 1000 years. They follow the Klavikian rune magic. Primary weapons is a ranged rune energy powered bow gifted to them by the Klavikians. They bend nature to their ways.

Fragor -

Spell that explodes target.

Frank Crosslander -

Triumph’s second officer, Ukkodian, born in London.

Fring -

Werewolf sickness where the body doesn’t have enough fuel to function and starts consuming the Werewolf from the inside out.

Frostbrand Feltalc -

Half Damarion, half Werewolf. Born with the sorcerer’s power of Cold. Daughter of Luthar and Moonglow Feltalc.

Galdor Celebrindal -

Prince Forest Elf. Becomes King of the Forest Elves when his Father is killed in the Minotaur surprise attack.

Galdur Blokk -

Spell lock.

Galdur Eldflaugum -

Spell magic missile, looks like a swarm of shooting stars.

General -

Same rank as Legatus for a Legion.

General Galius Sergius Aquilus -

Famous general wrote the treatise of the Art of War.

General Gnaeus Hirtius Volturcius -

Name of Tuonellian Hulk that was made General of the Thirteenth legion while Tiberius was disposed of in the city.

George Foster -

Agent In Charge of CTA in Southern Florida.

George MacSweeney -

Triumph’s deck cadet, Ukkodian in training.

George Nordic -

Tech assistant three on Triumph.

Georgios Marinatos -

Head Curator of the Herakelion Museum in Greece

Golden Wolf of the Royal House -

Standard of the Emperor’s Praetorian Guards.

Gorgonean Republic -

Group of cities that were destroyed shortly after the start of the Tuonellian invasion.

Gorgoneans -

Race of half-snake, half-humanoid people. Individually called Gorgones.

Gorgones -

Race of half-snake, half-humanoid people. Individually called Gorgones.

Gravida -

Capital City of the Imperium.

GROM -

Polish Special Forces.

Grongor -

Monstrous lizards that the Tuonellian High Born ride.

Gwindor Helyanwë -

Wild Elf Scout Leader, killed by Dínendal Telrúnya.

Hans Rottheim -

Triumph's chief engineer assistant, Ukkodian, German.

Heiður -

A point of honor.

Heifer -

A young Minotaur female that has not had her first calf.

Helbrede -

Paladin spell used for direct healing.

Helbrede aura -

Paladin aura that heals in an area and is yellow in color.

Helice -

Dark High Priestess of Loviatar caught on Earth and frozen in time.

Herra Samkoma -

Yearly get together that lasts for a month were each Elven Clan sends their princess.

hestur -

Name of horse-like creatures on Irlendria.

High Born Lord Nardak -

Tuonellian Commander whose forces are hunting down Startüm Ironwolf in the Winter Reach of the Shadow Fang mountains.

High Elves -

Life span around 1000 years. They follow the Klavikian rune magic. Primary weapons is rune blades and armor gifted to them by the Klavikians. They change nature to their will and have diverted away from their traditional path. Generally considered the ruling Clan of the Elves.

Hoorah -

Marine and Minotaur soldiers’ battle cheer.

Horn of Aquilus -

Horns used by Minotaurs for battle calls.

Hostus Gaia Corvus -

Assistant Leader of house Praetorian Guard of Prince.

Hunters -

Marine Raiders 3rd Company.

Ignis Percusserit -

Spell fire ball.

Ilmarinen Ironwolf -

Klavikian Paladin and Father to Startüm Ironwolf. Famous Klavikian Paladin that formed the Alliance of Aurenko. Also brought the technology of rune weapons to the races of Irlendria. Lead the races against the Tuonellians for 1500 Irlendria years (3500 Earth years).

Imperium -

Name of the Minotaur Empire.

Ioannis Machairidis -

Thira Regional Governor on the island of Syros.

Ironidium -

Second hardest metal on Irlendria. This was the traditional metal used prior to Tuonellian invasion.

Ironidium Knights -

Armored force of High Elves that wears run-magic combat armor that is nearly indestructible.

Ivan Bartkowski -

Polish Ukkodian.

Janusz Lipowski -

Polish Ukkodian.

Jerry MacKay -

Florida Senator that gets Army and Airforce units moving for invasion.

Joan Islas -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko.

John Jones -

Tech that works at Satellite Imaging Corporation.

Jonathan Rickshaw -

Tony’s father and owner of Bouygues Construction

Julie Frost -

Geologist assistant working with Doctor Stuart Holdgate’s team.

Kai Yurek -

Polish Ukkodian

Kane McDougal -

Triumph’s chief engineer, Ukkodian, born in South Limerick, Ireland.

Kanskje aura -

Paladin aura that gives strength in an area and is red in color.

Kanskje strike -

Paladin special attack that increases attack's strength and power and is red in color.

Klaus Krüger -

German Ukkodian, brought elements of the European Ukkodians together for Agent Moss and Agent Kurwoski, wields a great two handed sword called a Zweihänder.

Klavika -

Capital of the Klavikians that was destroyed during the Tuonellian invasion.

Klavikians -

Called children of the gods. Life span is semi-eternal. It is said that ancient Klavikians fade away, but no know time span is known. Individually are physically very powerful. Main force are Paladin Knights that are given great powers from their God Ukko. They were wiped out in a surprise attack by the Tuonellians.

Kónguló Vefur -

Spell web.

Labryaden -

Labryaden (guardian of the White Moon – or tree of life) – double headed axes are holy, priest of Delphi were called Labryaden, "the double-axe men" that have taken over guarding the Crypt of Britomartis.

Lance Corporal Dion Jordan -

Fire team leader 3 of C Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, 2nd Platoon, Call Sign: Hunter Two Charlie-three.

Lance Corporal Eric Porter -

Fire team leader 1 of C Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, 2nd platoon, Call Sign: Hunter Two Charlie-One.

Lance Corporal Eric Porter -

Fire team leader 1 of C Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, 2nd Platoon, Call Sign: Hunter Two Charlie-One.

Larissa Evans -

Born and lives Youlbury, Oxfordshire, England, Ph.D. in Archeology, Anthropology and Linguistic. She is a Ukkodian in training. Father Arthur John Evans - born Nash Mills, Hertfordshire, England who is dead. Currently searching for the lost city of Atlantis.

Larry, Glenn -

Tech assistant two on Triumph.

Laura Brent -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko.

Legatus -

Rank given to Legion's overall commander.

Legatus Tiberius Decius Lupus -

Prince of Imperium, son of Manius Decius Lupus, Legatus to 13th Legion.

Legion -

Armies of the Imperium, 13 in total.

Legionnaire -

Warrior of the Imperium that serves in the Legion, Minotaur species.

Legionnaire Cincius Garilianus -

A legionnaire of the Ninth Legion, now on Earth.

Legionnaire Hostus Avitus Liberalis -

A legionnaire of the Ninth Legion, now on Earth.

Legionnaire Quinctius Cato -

Under the command of Decanus Cornisus.

Legionnaire Sidonius Viridio -

A legionnaire of the Ninth Legion, now on Earth.

Legionnaire Trebellius Angelus -

A legionnaire of the Ninth Legion, now on Earth.

Lieutenant Colonel Logann Griffith -

Battalion Landing Team Commander of the 1st Marine Raider Battalion, female Marine, Call Sign: Raiders five.

Lieutenant Commander Jerry Truman -

Call Sign Packrat Super Hornet, F/A-18E, from the carrier USS Abraham Lincoln.

Lieutenant John Ferguson -

OIC for Blue Squadron Assault Team for Navy Seals.

Lieutenant Max Tate -

Call Sign AFLACK Super Hornet, F/A-18E, from the carrier USS Abraham Lincoln.

Lieutenant Xion Aenixal -

Santorini police lieutenant is also a Labryaden

Lintukoto -

Minotaurs heaven. Considered the farmland of milk and honey.

Linwë Gelmir -

Grandmother of Princess of High Elves.

Lisa Tourney -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko.

Lorica Segmentata armor -

Armor strips were arranged horizontally on the body, overlapping downwards, and they surrounded the torso in two halves, being fastened at the front and back.

Loviatar -

Evil God of the Tuonellians that seeks to dominate all races. Dark Lady, Goddess of Death, Mother of the nine diseases, which are her children.

Lranel Melwasúl -

Young female Spirit Shaman that comes to Enelya's aid. Soulmated to Wenci male named Nixus.

Luonnotar -

Centaur Spirit of Nature. Also known as Ilmatar (spirit of the air), god is androgynous. Has three forms: Sky-Father its male aspect, Earth-Mother its female aspect and Luonnotar its androgynous aspect.

Luthar Feltalc -

Race of people called the Damarion that wield magic like a sorcerer, but are not insane. Father of Starfire and Frostbrand. Husband of Moonglow Feltalc. Died protecting his children.

Lúthien Narmolanya -

Princess of high elves, wizard. Young approximately 110.

Major Bjorn Jensen -

Battalion Landing Team XO of the 1st Marine Raider Battalion, Call Sign: Raiders four.

Major Terri Lanner -

Marine Raider field doctor.

Mangecoat -

Brokenfang Pack Worg Leader.

Manos Botsaris -

Greek Ukkodian.

Marco Bruno -

Italian Ukkodian.

Marine Attack Squadron 231 (VMA-231) -

Is a United States Marine Corps fixed wing attack squadron that consists of AV-8B Harrier (V/STOL) jets from the USS Essex Wood. The squadron, known as the "Ace of Spades",

Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU) -

Is the smallest Marine air-ground task force that can be deployed for combat or rescue operations at a moment’s notice.

Marine fire team -

Is the basic element of the GCE. It consists of four Marines.

Marine squad -

Is made up of three fire teams, in addition to a Corporal or Sergeant as squad leader.

Marios Tzannetakis -

Greek Ukkodian.

MARSOC -

United States Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command and are Marine raiders.

MCCUU -

MCCUU Marine Corps Combat Utility Uniform.

MCSU -

Marine Corps Service Uniform.

Meliki -

Goddess of the forest and the hunt – God of the Werewolves, same as Wild Elf God.

Mens-Miscere -

Gorgones mind meld.

Mentem-loqui -

Werewolf mind-speak.

Michael D. Higgins -

President of Ireland.

Minotaurs -

Life span around 250 to 300 years. Herd based race that used to roam the plains as nomads until they formed the Imperium.

Moonglow Feltalc -

Mother of Starfire and Frostbrand, married to Luthar Feltalc. Died protecting her children.

Morthwyl Gelyn -

(Foe Hammer) Captain MacRory great claymore, family heirloom with runic power.

Morwen Telemnar -

Warden of high grey elf princess – amazing swords woman. Mistress of Blades during the Tuonellian War and was a living legend throughout Irlendria.

Mother Tree -

Each Forest Elf city is centered around a massive Mother Tree where the main city is located. The Mother Tree is surrounded by daughter trees in a grove that are also used as part of the city.

Mountain Airy -

Sacred Mountain used to commune with the Centaur ancestors, place of Council of the Ancestors.

MV-22 Osprey -

Is an American multi-mission, tiltrotor military aircraft with both a vertical takeoff and landing (VTOL), and short takeoff and landing (STOL) capability.

Nafda -

A small rodent and insult used to on Irlendria to signify a lack of honor or an honorless creature.

Nakutu -

Centaur’s highest badge of honor. Given by Luonnotar after completing a Yatra. Black markings on the palms of each hand.

Nea Kameni -

Volcanic island in the center of Santorini's caldera lagoon.

Nessa Manitou -

Thunder Tribe female centaur warrior who is sent on a quest to find the last Paladin.

Niebo Miasto -

Nearest Forest Elf city to capital, means sky city.

Nienna Celebrindal -

Queen Forest Elf

Nightclaw -

Powerful catlike predators of the forest.

Nikos Gerakaris -

Greek Ukkodian.

Nixus -

Wenci soulmated to Lranel Melwasúl.

Norek Manitou -

Thunder Tribe Chief

Novastar Ironwolf -

Mother of Startüm Ironwolf. Married to Ilmarinen Ironwolf. She is a werewolf of the Shadowfang Pack.

NWU -

Navy working uniform.

Oazuaxahl -

A Dark Lord of the Abyss.

Ohorn Tastagard -

Wild Elf Leader of the Blood Guard, rides a Wenci named Unar (female), but not soulmated.

Optio -

One per century as second-in-command to the centurion. Could also fill several other specialized roles on an ad hoc basis.

Optio Centurion Juventius Gregorius Secundus -

Second in command of 13th legion.

Ormos -

Old port of Santorini.

Otso River -

Main river that traverses all of Irlendria on its path to the sea.

Paiva -

Name of the yellow sun, rises in the South and sets in the North on Irlendria.

Pennant of the Imperium -

Akras holy silver sickle on a golden field.

Peter Johnson -

Florida Ranger that fought against Scourge and Demons in Flight.

Petty Officer Alan Shapley -

Navy Seal’s Alpha Squad operators.

Petty Officer Fred D. Beans -

Navy Seal’s Alpha Squad operators.

Plains of Obidium -

Where the First and Second Legion was slaughtered near the edge of the Great Forest.

Poop deck -

Housing on top of the main deck.

Praeuro -

Spell of green flames.

Prime Minister Cameron -

United Kingdom's Prime Minister

Primus Pilus -

Commanded the first cohort and was also the most senior Centurion in the legion.

Private Butch Harris -

Fire team 3 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private Earl Thompson -

Fire team 2 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private Early Higgins -

Fire team 1 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private First Class Frank Malone -

Fire team 1 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private First Class Frank Marot -

Fire team 3 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private First Class Jerry MacDill -

Fire team 2 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private First Class Jim Gordon -

Fire team 1 of C Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, 2nd platoon, Call Sign: Hunter Two Charlie-One

Private First Class Patrick O’Connell -

Fire team 3 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 2nd Company, 2nd Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private First Class Rick Pierson -

Fire team 3 of C Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, 2nd Platoon

Private Greg Burge -

Fire team 1 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private Hank Wilson -

Fire team 3 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 2nd Company, 2nd Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private James Wilson -

fire team 3 of C Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, 2nd Platoon

Private Martina Rodriguez -

Fire team 1 of C Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, 2nd platoon, radio operator, Call Sign: Hunter Two Charlie-One

Private Sean Davison -

Fire team 3 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 2nd Company, 2nd Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private Tim Prat -

fire team 1 of C Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, 2nd platoon, Call Sign: Hunter Two Charlie-One

Private Timothy Jones -

Fire team 2 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Private Tony Johnson -

fire team 3 of C Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 3rd Company, 2nd Platoon

Private Willson Anderson -

Fire team 3 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, picked up in Italy.

Quarter Deck -

Captain, Officer and passenger quarters.

Quomodo audes -

Spell green bolts of energy.

Rafmagns Hendur -

Spell shocking hands.

Rear Admiral Timothy W. Wright -

Task Force 60 leader for the 6th Fleet's force on the island of Santorini.

Remus -

Large moon of Irlendria with bluish color. Traditionally rises first before Romulus.

Rök runes -

Rune magic based on the fifth element science developed by the Klavikians.

Romulus (demon moon) -

Small moon of Irlendria, red color. When rises it signifies foreboding omen, currently rises first since the Tuonellians invaded.

Roy MacGregor -

Ukkodian who brought Startüm Ironwolf’s teachings to the Scottish Isles.

Ryan Moss -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Paladin of Ukko in training. Was a special operative for the CTA in Florida and is now working as a SAD agent.

Sál Tengilinn -

Merge/spirit link between Wild Elf and Wenci or an animal companion. Commonly referred to a soulmate.

Sáttmála -

Wild Elf / Wenci agreement between species that allowed both Pack and Clan to live as one.

Sean Harris -

Florida Ranger that fought against Scourge and Demons in Flight. Leader of the Leon Rifles, D Company of Florida irregulars.

Sean MacRory -

Triumph's captain, Ukkodian,

Second Lieutenant Shawn Thompson -

Assistant OIC for Blue Squadron Assault Team for Navy Seals.

Semper Fi -

Semper fidelis is a Latin phrase that means "always faithful" or "always loyal" used by Marines.

Sergeant First Class Derek Truman -

Marine Raiders, a D heavy weapons squad leader for second platoon

Sergeant First Class Ivan Tealer -

Marine Raiders, a rifle squad leader for second platoon.

Sergeant First Class Megan Driscoll -

Marine Raiders, C Rifle Squad of the Second Platoon, Call Sign: Hunter Two Charlie

Sergeant Stelios Anagnostakos -

Greek Ukkodian

Sergeant Vito Carlucci -

Fire team leader 1 of A Rifle Squad of 1st Marine Raider Battalion, 1st Company, 4th Platoon, Call Sign: Archer Four Alpha-one, picked up in Italy.

Shadowfang -

Shadow Fang Werewolves Pack. Pure blooded werewolves with three forms.

Sharon Strafford -

EAG Director of Operations

Sharon Wrigley -

Tech assistant one on Triumph and longtime friend of Larissa Evans.

Skuldir Líf -

A life debt given for service by a Wild Elf.

Son Aixi -

Local Mayor (Magistrate) of Fira

Special Activities Division (SAD) -

Is a division in the United States Central Intelligence Agency's (CIA) National Clandestine Service (NCS), EAG Extracurricular Action Group newly formed to deal with current threat to the United States.

Spirit Mother -

Clan Leader and High Spirit Shaman of the Wild Elf Clan.

Starfire Feltalc -

Half Damarion, half Werewolf. Born with the sorceress’s power of Fire. Daughter of Luthar and Moonglow Feltalc.

Startüm Ironwolf -

Main hero of the story. Born a Paladin of Ukko. Child of Ilmarinen Ironwolf and is half Klavikian and Werewolf. The first combination of a race species and animal species on Irlendria. Was exiled on Earth and is now back on Irlendria. The Alliance of Aurenko sentenced him to death for being a mix bread before the fall of the Alliance.

Stephanie York -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko.

Sœur -

Sister.

Suoja aura -

Paladin aura that gives protection like wearing armor in an area and is gray in color.

Surma -

Demi-god of violent death, guards gates of Tuonellians. Worshiped by Worgs.

Susan Tominski -

Ukkodian from Florida who is now a High Priestess of Ukko in training.

Swift -

Marine Raiders 2nd Company

Sypan -

Scourge Horde Leader

Tambo -

Wild Elf short staff weapon, used in pairs of two, about 18 inches long, made from tinnearlian-wood.

Tapio -

God of the hunt and bear king, wife is Meliki, goddess of the forest, he has a beard of lichen and eyebrows of moss and worshiped by the High and Forest Elves.

Tasna -

Wenci female that carries Tiernan Mogwa to battle.

Tathar Cúthalion -

Young male Spirit Shaman that comes to Enelya's aid. Soulmated to female Wenci named Anon and littermate of Argus.

Tenue Sûre -

A Wild Elf safe hold deeper in the forest used to hold the young and old of the Clan during times of war. A network of natural caves.

Terry Banks -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko.

Terus -

Wenci Leader for small hunting party that comes to Scouts aid at the Shamans request.

Teshna Manitou -

Wife of Norek and Mother of Nessa, died 50 years ago.

The Scar -

Where the Tuonellians retreated at the end of the First Race War on Irlendria. The Scar was formed when the Tuonellians first transported to the world of Irlendria. This is also the home of the Scourge, which the Tuonellians turned into slaves.

Thira -

Ancient name of the island of Santorini.

Thomas Sterling -

Video game developer that stole Larissa Evans' life story and created the series Crypt Creeper Series.

Thompson Stonebridge -

EAG Paramilitary Operations Officer

Tiernan Mogwa -

Young male Blood Guard, rides Wenci named Tasna who is female.

Timothy Darden -

Riviera Police Chief in Florida that helped to bring all the components together to fight the Scourge on Earth.

Tinnearlian -

Hardest metal on Irlendria. Can be picked up by trees that form a tinnearlian-wood that is nearly indestructible. Its discovery was passed to the races of Irlendria by the Klavikians.

Tolnik Manitou -

Centaur, Nessa’s brother of the Thunder Tribe whose is killed and his skin used by a Tuonellian Hulk to infiltrate the Thunder Tribe.

Torrakusan -

Name for an outsider that has been made part of the Wild Elf Clan. Only given to an individual that has given great service to the Clan. Sign if hand signal with forefinger and thumb touching.

Torrakusan (Grey Mother) -

Name given to Morwen Telemnar by the Wild Elves, gives special status to the Clan. Sign if hand signal with forefinger and thumb touching.

Trial of Na'ii'ees -

Rite of passage for a Wild Elf’s coming of age ceremony.

Triumph -

Cargo ship that is Captained by Sean MacRory and is owned by Larissa Evans. Base of operations for Atlantis dig.

Truestrike -

Rune powered spear.

Tuonela -

Capital city of the Tuonellians.

Tuonellian Hulk -

Seven feet tall, agents/shock troops/field commander of Scourge, shape changers, constantly hunger for blood, extremely strong, rare mutant strand of high born, considered insane by the rest of their society.

Tuonellians -

Invaders from another world. Males 6 1/2 feet tall, females 5 1/2, corpse white color, consumes life force to eat, evil, stronger than a normal human, but not super strong. Dominates other races after destroying their civilizations and uses them for warriors in their hordes or for food. Worship the Goddess Loviatar.

Tuppalnins -

A plains bloom that was good for healing, yellow in color.

Ukko -

Klavikian God and Ukkodian God, one and the same. God of the sky and father of Klavikians.

Ululate-loqui -

Werewolf howl-speak.

Unar -

Wenci female that carries Ohorn Tastagard to battle.

USFLTFORCOM -

The United States Fleet Forces Command. The command is based at Naval Support Activity Hampton Roads in Norfolk, Virginia and is a supporting command under the U.S. Strategic Command.

USS Abraham Lincoln -

Is the fifth Nimitz-class aircraft carrier in the United States Navy and flag ship for 6th fleet's task force at the island of Santorini.

USS Essex Wood -

(LHD-2) "The Iron Gator", is a United States Navy Wasp-class amphibious assault ship, part of 6th Fleet's Expeditionary Strike Group.

USS Wasp -

(LHD-1) Is a United States Navy Wasp-class amphibious assault ship, part of 6th Fleet's Expeditionary Strike Group.

Uzila Moonsong -

Thunder Tribes Shaman

Valandil Dorthonion -

Knight Captain of the High Elves' Ironidium Knights

Vanessa Guzzo -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko.

Vindbylur -

Vortex wind spell of a shaman.

Wakinyan (Thunderbird) -

Messenger of the God Luonnotar – Delivers the “Death Gift” from Centaurs who have died.

Wenci -

Pack predators of the Great Forest that live amongst the Wild Elves and even soulmate to the Wild Elf Shamans. Look like giant weasels.

Wendy Dean -

Ukkodian from Florida who is a Priestess of Ukko. Dies in book one.

Wigwam -

Centaur hide tents.

Wild Elves -

Life span around 600 years. They follow the traditional magic of the Elves which is based on nature and spirits utilized by Spirit Shamans. Shamans are soulmated to Wenci animal companions, which shortens the Wild Elves lives, but gives them the Wenci strength and skills. They are focused on living with nature and following their traditional ways.

Winter Reach -

Mountain range of the Shadow Fang Werewolf Pack winter den.

Wolf Gaunlets -

Imperium Legions' primary weapon and shield. Rune powered tinnearlian metal gauntlets that form like liquid metal into either a gladius (a Katar style punch/slash weapon) or into a scuta (large square shield).

Wolfgang Jagermann -

Triumph's chief engineer assistant, Ukkodian, German.

Worg -

Werewolf pack creatures that are not considered pureblooded werewolves.

Yatra -

Centaur Questor for the God Luonnotar. During the Yatra a centaur's body is completely white except for the hair.

Zgon -

Wenci word for Tuonellian Hulks.

Zula -

Name for Nessa Manitou's two-handed mace.

Zweihänder -

Is a two-handed sword primarily from the Renaissance period in Germany.

About the Author

Jason A. Cheek lives currently in Germany due to his current job assignment. He lives with his wife and daughter, along with their two dogs Rowin and Kanchin. Originally from West Palm Beach, Florida, Jason was born in Florida.

Interested in martial arts, swords, archery, Dungeon & Dragons, SCA, reading Sci-Fi and Fantasy, Jason became a Computer Gamer after leaving the Army. Paying his own way through college while working as a waiter, he studied to become an Occupational Therapist Assistant.

Teaching himself computers and networking on his own time. Jason changed career paths, becoming a Regional Systems Administrator several years later. During this time, he played many hours of first person shooters and strategy games at LAN parties around the United States or logged into Anarchy Online and World of Warcraft leading his guilds in Raids.

Excelling in his career as an Information Technology Specialist, Jason became a Certified Systems Security Engineer and VMware Certified Professional, furthering his knowledge by learning new technology whenever possible.

Interested in extreme sports and traveling, Jason found a job that allowed him to travel around the world. During this time he taught himself German and Polish.

Always interested in writing, Jason began his first novel called Flight, Book One of The Last Paladin Series, in 2013 and self-published the next year in 2014.

You can find out further information about Jason Cheek at his web site: http://www.thecheekyfellow.com/

Other books by Jason Cheek

Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by Jason Cheek.

The Last Paladin Series

Book One Flight

Book Two Destiny

Book Three (Coming Soon)

Connect with Jason Cheek

I really appreciate you reading my book! Here are my social media coordinates:

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Table of Contents

- Table of Contents
- Acknowledgements
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Glossary
- About Jason Cheek
- Other books by Jason Cheek
- Connect with Jason Cheek