5 Onslaught (10 page)

14

Within
the first thirty seconds of running, I realize that although Mira can run long
distances without any trouble at all, she can’t do it at a sprint. Or rather,
she can, but she’s just not very fast. Granted, she’s tired, beat up and
overwhelmed, so I should cut her some slack, but the shrieking berserkers not
far behind us aren’t going to go easy on her. Still, I can’t make her run any
faster. I turn to Kainda, who is ten feet to my left. “We need to slow down.”

“What?
Why?” she asks.

I
motion back to Mira.

She
glances back and sees Mira, twenty feet behind us, which is just about half the
distance to the nearest berserker. When I look back, I not only see the closest
berserker, but I see the fifteen others behind him, counting their number in a
flash. But that’s not all of them. I can hear many more as they hoot and scream
in bloodlust. I have little doubt the army behind them can hear the din as
well.

“She
sets the pace,” I say. “We’ll take care of anyone that gets too close.”

“Can
you do it?” she asks.

It’s
a vague question, but I know what she’s asking: can I kill?

My
reply comes without thought. There is no time for it. “Yes.”

She
slows and drops back.

Every
muscle in my body screams, “
faster
!” But I slow my
sprint, falling back with Kainda.

Mira
sees what we’re doing and grows angry. “Don’t wait for me!”

“Just
keep running,” I say back to her. “They won’t get past us.”

I
say it with such confidence that it surprises even me. And it’s true. A hundred
of these wild men wouldn’t make it past me and Kainda. They lack the skill and
cunning to prove a threat to almost any hunter worthy of the title, but I’m
also much more than a hunter. I’ve killed Nephilim. I’ve beat Ninnis, the best
of the hunters. And I’ve gone head-to-head with Nephil on more than one
occasion. These berserkers shouldn’t be a problem.

A
sharp pain erupts from my shoulder, spinning me with a shout of pain. I look to
my flesh first, worried I’ve been bitten, but the skin is just red. A shout to
my side warns of trouble, and I turn to find a frenzied woman charging in from
the side. She reaches back and whips a stone at me. This one sails past.

Just
a stone, I think with relief, and then I direct a gust of wind to carry the
woman away. She’s so stunned by being lifted off the ground that she simply
clamps her mouth shut and allows herself to be carried away. I cut the
connection and let her fall a moment later. By the time she lands, I can no
longer see her...or her fate.

“Uh,
guys!” Mira shouts.

I
face forward and quickly spot ten more crazed men and woman closing in from the
front.

We
didn’t come down
ahead
of the
berserkers, we came down
among
them!

“Kainda!”
I shout.

“I
see them!”

We
close in on either side of Mira.

“Just
keep running,” I tell her. “Don’t stop for anything.”

The
first of our attackers arrives a moment later, but he’s intercepted by Kainda
and clubbed to the side. The man is dead on impact, but I cringe as his body
slams hard into a tree trunk and then to the ground.

The
man who attacks on my side fares little better. I bend Whipsnap back and let
the mace end fly. The solid metal ball is covered in spikes, but even without
them, the man’s head wouldn’t have stood up to the blow. I turn away from the
man just before his life is ended and see that a third attacker is taking
advantage of the opening left by Kainda’s assault on the first.

I
have no choice. Leaping a full stride ahead of Mira, I pull the mace end free
of the berserker’s head and thrust the spear tip on the other end into the new
attacker’s throat. And I see every gory second of it. With a gurgle, the man
spins away and slumps into a stand of ferns.

Three
more rush at us from the front.
Too many to take on without
slowing down.
I reach out with the wind, scoop them from the ground and
launch them skyward. It’s a different kind of attack, but I’ve killed them all
the same. They’ll land in twenty or so seconds, as dead as the others.

It
doesn’t seem fair that the moment I come to terms with the idea of killing a
human being to save the world...or even another life, I’m forced to perform the
act over and over, but these aren’t just random men. They’re an army. And
they’re going to kill
us,
and everyone else in the
world, if I hesitate, maybe even once.

So
I don’t.

We
run. And fight. And kill.

Some
of the berserkers feel the tip of my blade. Others fall under the crush of my
mace. And even more are simply cast away into the trees, or the sky, by the
wind. These attacks become so natural that some berserkers are flung away as
soon as I see them, the wind acting as a kind of offensive reflex.

While
we are making good progress and no doubt distancing ourselves from the marching
army, we’re also making a racket and leaving the world’s most easy to follow
trail. I have no doubt that hunters will have found the first bodies by now.
But will they give chase like I would expect a hunter to do, or will they call
for help? Or worse, will they inform their masters?

When
there’s no more resistance ahead, I realize we’ve cleared the front line of
berserkers and now only have to worry about attacks from behind. In the
momentary reprieve, I reach out to the east. A half mile ahead I find our way
out.

“There’s
a river,” I say, pointing to the left. “Just over there. It ends at a
waterfall. They won’t be able to follow.”

No
one replies, but we adjust our course toward the river.

A
loud hooting draws my attention back for a moment. What I see is totally
unexpected despite the fact that I shouldn’t be surprised by anything any more.
There are at least a hundred berserkers.
Probably more.
They’re charging through the jungle’s thick growth without any concern for
their well being, oblivious to the thorns tearing at their skin, the sharp
stones cutting their feet or the branches lashing their faces. By the time they
reach us, they’ll be covered in infectious blood. Any contact with just one of
them could be serious trouble.

I’m
not sure we’ll make it to the river in time, so I start brewing a wind above
us. The trees hiss loudly, bending from the strength of the power I’m
unleashing.

“Careful,”
Kainda says, glancing up. She knows it’s me. “If Nephil sees it...”

She
doesn’t need to finish the sentence. If I use my powers in a way that’s visible
to the Nephilim hovering like giant hawks, they’ll know I’m here. Right now,
they might think the berserkers are having their way with some stray humans, or
cresties, or even a flock of turquins. The thick canopy hundreds of feet
up,
does a nice job of hiding us from the sky, but too much
wind will act like a flashing neon sign that reads, “Solomon is here!”

As
the wind dies down and the hissing fades, I hear a telltale thwack! An arrow
has just been loosed! I focus on the air, sensing its passage, and react
without looking. I reach to the side and shove Mira. Her head shifts to the
side.

The
arrow misses her by inches, but its blade still slices skin as it passes.

Mine.

No
one questions why I shoved Mira as the arrow stabs into a tree just ahead of
us. We just keep running.

I
ignore the sting and focus on the hunter behind us. A gust of wind, small
enough to go unnoticed, slams the man from behind and launches him from the
tree branch a hundred feet from the ground. He might be a skilled hunter, but
there’s nothing he can do to arrest his fall. To his credit, he falls in
silence, not fearing his death.

As
my arm begins to sting, I realize that I’ve just killed a hunter. It was as
quick and easy as killing the berserkers, but I know for a fact that the man
could have been redeemed. A single blast from the Jericho shofar would have
freed him from his breaking and corruption.

But
the shofar is not here. And we must live.

“Almost
there,” Kainda shouts and I can hear the roar of the river ahead.

“When
we get to the edge,” I say, “don’t stop. Just go over.”

We
break into the sunlight a moment later and run along the rocky shoreline of a
fast moving river. The air is fresh here, cleansed by water welling up from
some distant spring. As I step into the water, I can’t feel its temperature,
but I instantly detect it. I take a deep breath as I sense the foul pollution
flowing downstream. The river carries the filth and stink of the army following
its path. This whole landscape will be in ruins before the day is done. And a
part of me, whatever supernatural aspect of my being that is connected to this
land, revolts. It’s nearly enough to make me turn around and fight right now,
but Kainda’s urging keeps me moving forward, though I have to keep my feet out
of the water.

Mist
rises up ahead of us. A roar loud enough to drown out a shout announces the
presence of a powerful waterfall. Kainda goes off the side first. Then Mira,
who leaps without hesitation. I follow last, spinning around as I leap.
Taking a last look back.

The
horde of berserkers, and several hunters with short range
weapons, charge
along the river banks, through the river and through the
trees above. High above them, I note a few of the Nephilim warriors have
descended and are circling the scene. To my knowledge, the Nephilim have
eyesight similar to people, so I don’t think there is any risk of being
identified. That is, until what happens next.

I
complete the spin, and call the wind to me. Kainda, Mira and I are carried out
and away from the cliff, angling down toward the jungle below as though
hang-gliding. Despite our whipping hair, the passage down the two-hundred foot
drop to the jungle is smooth, and we are quickly concealed once again.

We
pause in the shadows to catch our breath. I look back, craning my head up
toward the waterfall, and the unthinkable happens.

The
berserkers, lost in frenzy or just uncaring, pour over the side of the cliff.
Some are in the water and will land in the river. But others, the majority of
them, crash to the ground below, broken by tree limbs or slapping wetly against
the large flat stones lining the river. Like lemmings, they keep flowing over
the side, dying one on top of the other.

Maybe it’s their last bit of free will?
I wonder. They’ve lived in nightmares
for so long, maybe now that they have the chance to end their lives, and
suffering, they’re eager. Or maybe they really just have no minds left.
Whatever the case, it sickens my stomach.

Kainda
mutters a curse in Sumerian. I turn to her, but she’s not watching the river of
death. Her gaze is turned higher, to the sky. I follow her eyes and see them.
Three winged warriors circle toward the ground, no doubt attracted by the scent
of blood and the sight of so many berserkers committing mass suicide.

I
take hold of Mira’s arm, but before I can speak, she says, “You’re bleeding.”

I
look down at the arm and see a one-inch slice. It’s not horrible, but it’s not
going to heal without attention either. Still, there’s no time to worry about
that now.

“Doesn’t
matter,” I say. “Remember when I said things were going to get harder? That
hasn’t really happened yet. But it’s going to. We need to run again.
Faster this time.
Can you do that?”

In
response, she runs. Kainda and I follow, glancing at each other to communicate
the same unspoken fear:
they’re going to
find us.

15

Mira is
getting tired. She hasn’t slowed down yet, but I can see the signs. She’s not
raising her arms as high with each step. Her breathing sounds shaky. And she’s
leaning to one side. It’s slight, but I’m willing to bet she’s running through
a cramp, which isn’t easy, even for a hunter. Our pace is not sustainable.

On
the bright side, the Nephilim pursuing us from the skies above have yet to find
us. The jungle canopy has done a good job at hiding us. They’ve also split up,
widening the search, a fact I learned by sensing the air above. Nephilim
warriors, with their thirty-foot tall bulk and giant flapping wings, displace a
lot of air. Once I found them, tracking their movements became as easy as
feeling someone blowing on the back of my neck.

On
the not so bright side, the lone warrior still behind us is dropping down
toward the jungle. I don’t think he’s spotted us, I just think he’s tired of
trying to see through the endless curtain of green leaves. Either way, once he
punches through the canopy, we’ll be far more exposed. With most of the direct
sunlight blocked in this stretch of jungle, the floor is relatively free of
growth. We can run faster, but the tree trunks are our only cover. We could
head underground again, but I don’t feel any natural tunnel systems heading in
the direction we need to go, and using my connection to the continent to create
miles of subterranean passages will sap my energy to the point where I might
need to be carried.

Unless
we can channel our inner ninjas and disappear, this is probably going to end in
conflict, which shouldn’t be too bad. I can handle a lone warrior. But the
scent of his blood, as well as his disappearance into the jungle, might garner
further attention. I might normally open up a pocket of earth to hide in, but
I’m still feeling spent, and I really don’t want to exhaust my abilities, just
in case they’re needed for something even more urgent later on.

“Behind this tree!”
I shout, catching Mira and Kainda off
guard. Kainda reacts quickly, diving behind the tree, which is eight foot in
radius with rough bark, like
its
something out of the
forest of Endor. Mira stumbles, but I catch her arm and yank her hard to the
side.

She
shouts in complaint, but I slap my hand over her mouth a second before the
canopy a hundred feet behind us explodes. Leaves shake free. Branches shatter.
And then, as the Nephilim lands hard, the ground shakes. He’s a big one.

Loud
sniffing fills the air.
Then a booming voice.
“I can
smell you, humans. Reveal yourselves and your suffering will be short.
Exquisite, but short.”
That last bit is followed by a laugh.

Kainda
leans in close, cupping a hand around my ear. “I know his voice,” she says.
“Ares.”

Ares!
Great.
Of all the Nephilim that had to chase us into
the jungle it had to be Ares, the Greek god of war. He’s not only known for
being ruthless and bloodthirsty, but he’s also a very skilled fighter. I’m
going to have to make this as unfair a fight as possible.

More sniffing.
A branch cracks. He’s getting closer.

Running
isn’t a choice now.

“You
smell weak,” Ares says, sniffing deeply.
“Untainted.”
He laughs again, like he’s just heard a great joke. “You will taste
delightful.”

Kainda
tenses,
and I sense she’s about to charge the giant. I
take her hand and squeeze, mouthing the word, “Wait,” to her.

Ares’s
own personal brand of Nephilim stink, which I note includes the scent of human
blood, reaches us. He’s not far now, maybe twenty feet from the far side of the
tree.
Does he know we’re here?

No
, I decide. I can hear him shuffling around, looking in all
directions. He smells us for sure, but can’t pinpoint our location. To make it
harder on him, I shift the natural breeze some, pulling our scents upwind. He grunts
with the wind shift, no doubt thinking we’ve begun to move. When he does, I
slide to the side and slowly peek around the tree.

Ares
is massive. Perhaps one of the largest Nephilim I’ve seen, both in height and
in muscle tone. He’s dressed simply, wearing only a tunic, but its blood red
coloration, which matches his ponytailed hair, reveals he is one of the
commanders in charge of ten thousand troops. Killing him will help disrupt the
Nephilim ranks, though not drastically.

His
body is facing me, but he’s got his head craned to the side and his nose
raised. Despite the simple garb, he is intimidating. He carries a thirty foot
long spear in his left hand and a shield in his right. I have never seen a
Nephilim use a shield before. They generally prefer to absorb blows with their
regenerating bodies. The pain suits them. But perhaps war is different,
especially when the enemy—modern humans—have things like anti-tank missiles.
Then I see the gleaming, razor-sharp edge of the shield, and I realize it’s not
just a defensive weapon. But the most dramatic statement is his red crested
helmet. At first I think that the hair is either his own, or from a feeder, but
then I see it move, as though on its own, and I realize the brazen god of war
has decorated his helm with behemoth hair.

I’m
so entranced by the thirty foot tall warrior dressed like a Spartan
Hoplite, that
I forget to pull back when his head swivels
forward again. But Kainda is still thinking and pulls me behind the tree.

“Ares
is no ordinary warrior,” she whispers in my ear. “He is not to be trifled
with.”

A
metallic zing rings out from the other side of the tree. A loud clang and a
snap
follows
. I duck instinctively, but nothing
happens for a moment. When I look forward, I see Ares’s shield embedded in a
tree directly across from us...which means...

I
look up at the tree giving us shelter. The line of bark has burst outward.

He
threw the shield through—a tree! A sixteen foot wide tree! It hasn’t fallen yet
because the branches high above are thickly mingled with those of other trees.
It will likely stay almost upright for a long time to come, or until the
behemoths make their way through.

The
exploded bark is just a few feet above us. Had he aimed a little lower, we’d
all be dead. Thing is, I don’t think he wants to kill us. I think he wants to
toy with us first.

Which isn’t going to happen.
I step out from behind the tree. He
sees me, but I don’t give him time to react or even recognize me. A compressed
column of wind strikes his side and lifts him off the ground. The giant’s body
slams into a large tree trunk, folding around it backwards. Several loud cracks
issue from his spine.

The
wind lets up.

His
body falls.

And
then, he heals. Each vertebrae that cracked pops back into place, one by one.
And with each pop, the Nephilim warrior moans in ecstasy, relishing the pain. I
really hate that these guys enjoy pain so much. Kind of takes away any pleasure
I might get out of beating them up. Then again, his attitude will change when
he realizes he’s going to die. For the soulless Nephilim, death means
nonexistence.
A permanent end.
It’s the one thing they
fear.

Kainda
rushes in, fueled by bloodlust. But Ares has mostly recovered and never let go
of his spear, even while his spine was shattered. He sees her coming and
growls, “Betrayer!”

Ares
thrusts the spear at Kainda, but she rolls around the sharp tip like a football
running back and continues her charge. Ares’s massive wings give one big flap
and he’s carried up onto his feet, bringing his head out of Kainda’s range, but
I think that’s what she expected him to do because she’s already diving
forward, bringing the her hammer hard against his kneecap. I see the bone
swivel to the side, making the leg momentarily useless.

Ares
shouts in pain, but he’s got a big grin on his face. Pleasure, pain or both, he
drops to his knees, while the bone repositions itself.

While
he’s down there, I direct a gust of wind toward his head. The helmet is knocked
free and cast aside, revealing the golden ring protecting the weak spot at the
center of his forehead.

The
giant’s laugh becomes sinister.
“The prodigal son.”
He
knows who I am now.

“I’m
not sure you fully understand the message of that story,” I say, walking toward
the giant. Mira lingers behind, staying by the tree, which is a good choice.

Ares
spits purple blood. The wad lands near my feet. I stop. No need to put myself
at risk for the sake of bravado. “You should have stayed in Tartarus.”

He
frowns at this. I’ve actually managed to strike a nerve. “We all have to live
with our choices,” he says,
then
he glances at my arm.
“How are you feeling, Ull?”

I
glance down at the arm. The wound looks the same. I ignore the question, and
focus on the earth around Ares’s legs, willing it to rise up and lock him down.
But he’s quick and leaps back into the air before I can catch him. For a
moment, I think he’s going to flee and get help, which would be a serious
problem, but this is a Nephilim warrior. He’s proud, like a hunter. He won’t ask
for help, he’ll—

“Solomon,
watch out!” Kainda shouts.

The
tip of Ares’s spear resolves in my vision. I drop down and feel the blade pass
over my head. A blond tuft of cut hair tickles my back as it falls. The spear
slams into the tree, just feet away from Mira who had already leapt to the
side.

But
how did I not see the spear coming?

How
was I not aware he was going to attack?

He
couldn’t have been moving too fast. Both Kainda and Mira reacted before I did.
It’s me
, I think.
My perceptions are slow
.

To
punctuate the realization, Ares swoops down, lands in front of me and backhands
me. I slide across the jungle floor, cushioned by leaf litter and mud. Had I
struck a tree, like Ares did, I’d be dead. Of course, I’m now in so much pain
that death might have been a mercy.

I
fight against the pain and get to my feet, happy to find everything working and
no bones broken. As Ares stalks toward me, Kainda throws her hammer at his
head, but the weapon just clangs against the metal ring and falls to the
ground. The ring should have come free.

Ares
laughs,
and my anger surges. I leap into the air,
carrying myself up with the wind and tug Whipsnap from my belt. I arc up above
the warrior and as I drop down, a focused burst of air strikes the metal ring
from below. The plan was to remove the ring and plunge the spear tip into
Ares’s head, but the ring does not come off. Instead, it simply moves a little.
But in that motion, I catch a glimpse of what’s happening.

The
metal rings worn by Nephilim warriors typically rest on the head, like a metal
headband. It’s goofy looking, like the headbands worn by some basketball
players, but it protects them. That is, unless you knock it off,
which isn’t too hard to do if you know what you’re doing.
But this metal band is held in place by four spikes that have been
driven into Ares’s head.
It’s not coming
off.

A
second gust of wind carries me up and over the warrior. As I pass by, his
scorpion tail, which was concealed by a long red cape, lashes out and nearly
strikes my chest. But I don’t see it until it’s already retracting for another
strike. I survived by dumb luck alone.

What is wrong with me?

I
land beside Kainda and stumble.

“Are
you all right?” she asks.

“The
crown is nailed to his head,” I say. “I can’t get it off.”

“Then
you’ll have to remove it,” she says.

“I
just said—”

“Not
the crown,” she says.
“His head.”

My
eyes widen. How am I going to do that? Whipsnap’s blade isn’t nearly long
enough to do the job. Sure, if Ares
laid
down and
patiently waited, I might be able to hack through his neck, but he’s going to
heal just as fast as I can swing.

A
wave of dizziness swirls through my body. I grunt and stagger.

“Damnit,
Solomon,” Kainda growls and then leaves my side. When I look up, I see her
charging out to meet Ares, who is headed toward us. She dodges two blows and
manages a strike against his shin, but he merely kicks her away. I reach out
with the wind, catching her before she strikes a tree. Nausea tears through my
body as I lower Kainda to the ground.

When
she’s safe, I fall to my knees and vomit.
Hard.

“Feeling
ill?” Ares says, stomping closer.

I
know he doesn’t want to kill me. Nephil will want me alive. I am his vessel,
after all. But that’s a fate worse than death.

“Shut.
Up!”
I
scream,
my voice more
of a roar. I’m filled with a rage so intense that I wonder if my Ull
personality has once again taken over.