5 Onslaught (13 page)

20

I find
Whipsnap thirty feet away, partially concealed by leaf litter. I don’t really
need the weapon now, but it’s kind of like a security blanket...with a
razor-sharp spear head on one side and a heavy spiked mace on the other. I
reach a hand toward the weapon. A gust of wind lifts it and flings it toward
me.
Luke Skywalker, eat your heart out
.

“It’s
him,” one of the warriors says. Given their black battle gear and square,
knotted beards, I believe they are members of the Sumerian clan. I quickly look
over their helmets and other distinguishing features.

“I’m
not sure who you two are,” I say, pointing the spear tip at the two Nephilim
closest to me. I redirect the spear toward the warrior behind them. He stands a
few feet shorter and is likely the lowest in status. “But he’s definitely
Ninhursag.”

The
giants attempt to contain their laughter, but fail. I’ve just called the small
one by the name of the Sumerian version of Mother Earth, which I’m pretty sure
is actually a bulbous breeder like Gaia, who played a disgusting roll in my
breaking. The small Nephilim tries to charge me, but the other two stop him.

“You
must go,” says one of the larger warriors, “Ophion must be told.”

The
smaller warrior doesn’t look pleased at all, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to
consent. Nephil has likely given explicit orders that he be told if my
whereabouts were discovered. Sadly for them, I have other plans.

“No
one is going anywhere,” I say.

The
smaller warrior unfurls his wings and leaps for the sky. With two quick
slashes, from a distance of fifty feet, I clip his wings. The giant shouts more
with surprise than pain as he plummets to the ground and lands in an unbecoming
heap behind the two other warriors. The toothy smiles, remaining from my joke
at their comrade’s expense, transform into sneers. They spin toward me, drawing
weapons.

The
first wields an axe large enough to chop through any of the giant trees
surrounding us with a single blow. It would make short work of me. The second
nocks an arrow the size of Whipsnap and draws it back in a massive bow. As the
first Nephilim closes the distance and brings his axe down toward me, the
second looses his arrow.

They’re
making this easy.

A
quick wind redirects the arrow into the back of the axe-wielder’s neck,
slipping between the massive vertebrae. I’m not sure if it will kill him, but
it drops him to the ground. The giant lands to my left and slides for a few
feet.

As
the smaller warrior struggles to his feet, his wings slowly regenerating,
the
bowman fires again and again, sending three arrows at me
before the first reaches his target. But not one of them reaches me. They’re
dust in the air.

The
bow dissolves in his hands, leaving him dumbfounded.

While
making the Nephilim army’s weapons all turn to dust would be fantastic, I doubt
I will be able to perform this feat on a grand scale. Reducing a weapon to its
various elements takes some serious concentration. But it definitely leaves an
impression. Despite being far from defenseless, the warrior staggers back,
perhaps realizing that this is a fight he cannot win. I turn my eyes to the
metal band covering his head. I hit it with a wind, confirming that it’s held
in place by spikes driven into the monster’s head. I focus on it, trying to
melt or disintegrate it, but the metal resists. It’s either not made from
Antarctic elements or it has some kind of supernatural protection.

It
doesn’t really change my current strategy. I just wanted to know, because it
will affect those fighting alongside me.

Before
the giant can recover, I swipe Whipsnap from left to right, using it to direct
the course of my wind-blade. A line of purple blood oozes from his neck. The
giant staggers and falls to his knees. But he doesn’t die. His head, which was
completely severed, didn’t fall away and has begun to heal. I swipe Whipsnap
from right to left, this time striking with more force and a wider blade. The
head comes free and falls away.
Dead.
For sure.

I
turn to the smallest of the three. His wings are nearly regrown and when he
notices my attention, he tries to fly away again. But the wings are
insufficient to carry him up and away.

Seeing
the giant beast struggle actually makes me pity him.

For a moment.

Then
I remember what they are, what they did to me, and Kainda, and Em, and Luca,
and the billions of people now dead because of their evil, twisted
machinations. Without any further flair or desire to show off, I remove his
head and his presence from this world forever.

A
wet slurp turns me around. The warrior with the axe is kneeling and pulling the
arrow out of his throat. Once it’s out, the wound heals quickly and he’s back
on his feet. With just one Nephilim left, I decide to implement the last part
of my attack plan, which is the part that might get me killed. But a little
R&D is sometimes necessary, especially before the beginning of a battle
that might determine the fate of the human race.

The
plan is this: no elemental powers. No wind blades. No chucking rocks, or
dropping trees, or tossing the giant around like a ragdoll. This fight will be
man to man-demon. That’s not entirely true. I
am
going to use my abilities, but in a very different way. If I can
really control my body, the way I control the elements of Antarktos, I should
be able to pull this off. If not, well, I’m not above cheating.

I
let the warrior pick up his axe. He’s grunting and angry, eyeing me carefully.
This one’s not going to be big on the pre-fight banter, which is fine by me.
This isn’t a
Spider-Man
comic book. But,
I do perform the classic challenge to fight barehanded by tossing Whipsnap to
the ground and raising my clenched fists. Sure, the giant hasn’t ever seen a
movie in which such a scenario plays out, but I’m pretty sure he understands.

He
glances from me to his fallen brethren. He was too busy choking on the business
end of an arrow to see how they died, but it’s enough to convince him that
throwing away his axe would be folly. He lets out a battle cry, punctuating it
with a spray of spittle, and leaps toward me. His wings beat the air once,
lifting him up, but also propelling him forward. For his size, he’s quick.
But not quite quick enough.

As
his feet touch down and he swings hard with the axe, I sidestep. I don’t have
to use any special abilities to dodge the blow. Any hunter worth his while
could have. It was an obvious attack meant to bring us in close, because once a
human being is within
arm’s
reach of a Nephilim, the
fight is pretty much over. Avoiding the axe is just the first part of my plan.
The second part comes next.

Before
the giant can heft the oversized blade from the earth, I turn toward it, draw
my fist back and punch. As my fist covers the few feet to the axe, I focus on
my arm, bunching the molecules more densely, pulling in atoms from the
surrounding air and powering my knuckles with the kinetic energy that fills the
very earth of Antarktos.

My
fist connects with the six-inch thick base of the metal blade where it
intersects with the handle.

There’s
a loud
clang
, like when a blacksmith
hammers a blade.

A
throb of pain moves up my arm like a shockwave.

And the axe...

It
launches from the warrior’s grip as though shot from a catapult. It sails away
into the jungle, lost in the trees until it strikes something solid with a
distant
bong
.

The
warrior is disciplined and wastes no time wondering what just happened. He
raises his fists into the air, laces his fingers together and then brings the
joined fists down like a mace. The effect of the strike would normally be like
a human punching a rotten banana.

I
lift my hands up, repeating my focus from the punch and intensifying it,
filling my body with all the power I can muster, if only for a moment. The
warrior’s boulder-like hands land in mine.

And
stop.

I
feel the force of the strike vibrate through my body and out into the ground
beneath my feet...which is technically part of me. The impact presses my bare
feet into the earth, and I feel the connection to this continent, and all its
vast power, like never before.

The
warrior is far bigger than my human body, but what he doesn’t know, and what
I’ve just realized, is he’s fighting a force more ancient than the Nephilim and
larger than the United States.

Actually,
I think he’s starting to figure it out. He separates his hands and looks down
at me. Seems even Nephilim can sometimes have the ability to speak with facial
expressions, because this big guy has “how?” written all over his face.

A
blur of movement streaks out to my right.

The
confused face was a ruse!

No
time to move.

Focus!

Whack!
The scorpion tail strikes my side. A
single sting would have caused me intense pain, and eventually death. Instead,
it strikes my ribs, and shatters.

Now
the giant is truly stunned. And before he can recover, I leap up, propelled by
wind, covering the thirty feet to his head. I grab hold of the metal ring
protecting him. Standing on his shoulder, to the side of his face, I pull. He
roars in pain and spins his head, trying to bite me with his double rows of
sharp teeth, but I’m gone before his jaws close. And I’ve taken the ring with
me.

Purple
blood flows from four deep wounds on the sides of his head where the spikes
held the crown in place. As the skull and skin knit back together, I wander
over to Whipsnap, pick it up and take aim. One good throw and this is all over.

But
before I can kill the warrior, something huge roars and pounds out of the
jungle shadows. I see a flash of green.
And teeth.
And
then, blood.

21

I flinch
back,
surprised by the violent new entry into the fray, but then
I recognize the green-bodied, maroon-striped dinosaur as Grumpy. He’s got his
powerful jaws locked over the warrior’s head and is thrashing him back and
forth. To make matters worse for the Nephilim,
Zok,
has just stomped out from behind a tree and taken hold of one of the warrior’s
legs.

The
giant doesn’t stand a chance against these two, the largest and most powerful
of the cresties, now loyal to me. They must have tracked our scents through the
jungle since we left them by the river. I’ve heard of dogs crossing countries
to find their masters, but I’ve never heard of a dinosaur doing that. Of
course, they’ve probably never had the opportunity before.

As
the gnawing, tearing and crunching becomes sickening, I turn away. Nephilim
blood has no effect on the dinosaurs. They’re natural enemies—opposing giants
of the underworld, and the cresties relish the chance to feast on the purple
flesh. I suspect they might get some sort of kick from the blood, like an
energy boost or euphoria, which would explain their hankering for Nephilim, but
if they experience any adverse symptoms from eating the supernatural meat, it
can’t be more substantial than gas, which for a dinosaur, is
always
bad.

With
the chewing and slurping behind me, I look down to clip Whipsnap to my belt.
A pair of bare feet stop
in front of me. They’re feminine,
but strong, lacking any decoration beyond scars.
Kainda.
I smile and finish clipping my weapon in place.

I
look at Kainda and see a facial expression I wasn’t expecting. I look beyond
her and find Em, Kat and Mira just behind her and to the sides, all wearing the
same expression—a one sided smile and a cocked eyebrow that says, “Showoff.”

“I
had to know what I could do,” I say defensively.
The eyebrows
inch higher.
“Seriously.”

“You
almost killed us,” says Kat. Her words make me see the blood trickling down her
face from a gash on her forehead. I look at Em. She’s holding her side. Mira
has a hand on her opposite arm. They’re all wounded because of me.

My
smile slips away as I remember the darkness that had consumed me. I became a
monster, and not for the first time. With a gasp of dread, I reach for my hair
and pull it in front of my face, inspecting it like an OCD chimp mother
checking her baby for flees.

“You’re
fine,” Kat says. “Your golden locks are back.”

When
I confirm this for myself, seeing no trace of red remaining, I look up at my
four friends and find them smiling. “Was that—? Were you all teasing me?”

Kainda
claps a hand on my shoulder, and I haven’t condensed any atoms or anything like
that, so it hurts. I wince, but smile when she says, “You fought well.”

From
Kainda, that might be the highest praise ever.

Em
says, “Nicely done, Sol.”

My
smile widens.

“Wright
would be proud,” Kat adds, trying to make this sap of a leader tear up.

But
Mira rescues me, saying, “I think he’s a freak of nature, but that’s just me.”

We
all have a good laugh, letting the tension of the past days seep away. “Are you
all okay?” I ask.
“
Really
okay?”

“We’re
fine,” Mira says, and if it had been any of the other three, who are more
battle-hardened, I would have doubted it, but Mira doesn’t have the same kind
of tough pride that can’t admit injury. She’d say something.

I
hear a particularly gruesome bite and swallow behind me. Kat and Mira both
cringe. Em and Kainda have seen it before.

“We
should go,” Kat says.

I
nod. “Once they finish eating, we’ll leave. They can carry the five of us
without any trouble. We’re just fifteen miles from the coast. We can make it by
sunset.”

“And the Nephilim?”
Mira asks.

“They’ll
arrive tomorrow.” I say.
“Probably in the morning.
They feel about ten miles to the west.”

“How many?”
Kat asks.

I
pause, trying to think of a gentle way to break the news. Mira does it for me,
not so gently.

“We’re
pretty much screwed,” Mira says.

Kat
looks to Kainda, who shrugs and nods.

Kat
grunts. “Great intel, guys.”

Despite
the dire revelation, I smile. “I’ll fill you in on the way.” I tap my head. “I
have all the numbers, sizes, weapons and capabilities up here. When we get to
the FOB, you can help General Holloway make sense of how to respond to it.”

With
a rekindled sense of urgency, I turn around to the eating dinosaurs, intending
to disrupt their meal and get us moving. Kainda stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Could I speak with you before we leave?” Her eyes flick to the side. She wants
a private conversation.

“We’ll,
ahh, we’ll be right back,” I say to the others. Kainda leads me away, rounding
a large tree. The backside of the tree is lined by thick ferns that come up to
our thighs.

“Could
be a pack of turquins in here and we’d never know it,” I say.

I
meant it as a joke. Something to break the nervous tension I’m suddenly
feeling. But Kainda doesn’t laugh.

Instead,
she whirls around and lunges at me. She gets a hand behind my head, grips my hair
tightly and uses the surprise to sweep out my legs and drop me onto my back. I
cough as the air is knocked from my lungs.

I’m
beneath the ferns, looking up at a ceiling of luminous green. Kainda crouches
down, sliding through the growth. As she descends, I can’t help but notice her
more feminine features. Her skin, though mired with mud and her own blood,
gleams with sweat in a way that draws my hands. As she slips beneath the thin
covering, her eyes lock onto mine. She looks almost predatory.

I
smile broadly, but a little sheepishly, too. We haven’t really had much time
alone since we first kissed. Our intimate moments consist mostly of gentle
touches in passing. And before Kainda...I’m not exactly experienced when it
comes to interacting with members of the opposite sex. There was that foot bump
once, but I don’t think that qualifies as a genuine encounter.

“Hi,”
I say dumbly.

Kainda
smiles
back,
and I swear I feel my insides turn to
liquid.

“You
fought well,” she says.

“You
already said that,” I reply.

“Should
I kiss you, or not?” she says.

My
gut churns. “Yes, please.”

Her
smile looks almost sweet. It’s a different kind of look for her. “So polite,”
she whispers, leaning down. “We’re going to have to work on that.”

Then
her lips are on mine.

We
remain still, our lips interlocked. My chest loosens. My mind relaxes. This is
bliss.

She
leans back slowly. The skin of our lips sticks for a moment, not yet willing to
let go. Then she’s sitting atop me, leaning over me with her hands on the
ground, to either side of my head.

“Whoa...”
I whisper. “What was that for?”

“To thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything,”
she says. “And...I’m relieved you’re unharmed.” It’s a moment of rare
vulnerability. It makes me adore her even more. “I thought...when the madness
had you. I thought you were gone. When I looked into your eyes then, I couldn’t
see you. I couldn’t—”

I
raise my hands to her face, holding her soft cheeks. “What do you see now?”

As
she looks into my eyes, a single tear falls free from her face and lands on my
cheek. At the moment of impact, I feel its warmth. I can’t normally feel
any
temperature, hot or cold, and I’m
unaffected by the results of their extremes. I can’t be burned, nor can I
freeze. But I can feel the warmth of Kainda’s tears. There is power in them.

A coolness
covers my back. I can feel the earth
beneath me!

“What
is it?” Kainda asks.

“I—I
can feel temperature,” I say. “I can feel the ground.” I look down and sense
the warmth of Kainda’s bare legs over my waist. “I can feel you. More than I
could before.”

I
hadn’t realized how much I missed feeling temperature. There is pleasure in a
cool drink or in the warm touch of a woman. In the Antarctic, and the
underground, not feeling was largely a blessing. There were times I should have
died from exposure, but I was immune to the effects of below-freezing
temperatures.

She
smiles at me. “It’s a gift.”

I
start to agree, but then wonder if my powers have left me, too. The ferns shake
as a breeze of my creation wafts over them. I relax again and lean my head back
on the cool, soft earth.

“Shall
I thank you now?” Kainda asks.

“I
thought you already did?”

She
smirks and leans back, reaching for her belt.

The
nervousness I felt before explodes through my body. “I know you’re my passion,
but I’m not sure this is the best time to—”

She
draws a knife, and strangely, it puts me at ease. Like I said, we haven’t had
much time to get...familiar with each other. What I thought was going to happen
would have been a leap forward.

“Relax,
Solomon,” Kainda says. “Even hunters are not without their traditions. Marriage
comes before any coupling.”

Coupling.
Of
course
hunters call it
coupling
.
There’s no romance in the word. Still, that hunters actually get married is
strangely heartwarming. I’m sure they don’t have elaborate ceremonies, rice
throwing or a reception with dancing, but that the institution even
exists
shows that some part of them retained a notion of
purity, even though they might kill someone for suggesting it.

She
lifts the blade to her palm and draws it across. The cut is neither deep nor
severe.
Just enough to draw blood, which drips over her hand.

She
hands the blade to me and it’s clear she wants me to do the same. I sense that
this is meaningful to her, so I take the blade and place it against my palm. I
simultaneously feel the warmth of her blood and the chill of the metal, then a
sting as I cut my hand.

She
takes the knife from me and stabs it into the ground beside us. She holds her
hand up to me, opening her fingers. When I reach out with my wounded hand, she
nods. I’m doing it right. We interlace our fingers, squeezing our hands, and
our blood, together.

Kainda
makes sure I’m looking in her eyes. “Say what I say.”

I
nod.

“Blood to bind.”

“Blood to bind.”

“Flesh to join.”

“Flesh to join.”

“Man
to woman.”

“Man
to woman.”

“Woman...to man.”

“Woman to man.”

“Forever.”

“Forever.”

She
separates our hands, leans down and kisses me again. The sensation is
accentuated by the fact that I can now feel the heat of her lips and the warmth
of her breath. I’m kind of dazed when she sits up again.

“We
have a tradition like this in the outside world,” I say, trying to hide what
feels like a swoon. “We call it blood brothers, though that doesn’t really make
sense for us.”

She
scrunches up her face. “No. It doesn’t.”

“What
do you call it?” I ask.

She
leans down again, smiling in a way I have never seen before. She whispers her
reply in my ear. “Hunters call it ‘the bond’.”

“Oh,”
I say. Not sure why she thought blood brothers was so outlandish.
The Bond
has kind of a similar tough
vibe.

She
whispers in my ear again, her breath tickling me “You would call it marriage,
husband.”