Page 10 of Scion of Chaos

A moment later, an unholy series of reverberating roars behind me causes my hair to stand on end. I peer over my shoulder at the gargantuan beast that just joined us.

One hundred giant snake heads wave through the air, snapping down into the mass of invaders surrounding us. Well, one hundred heads minus one that’s no more than a purplish, immature snakeling still.

“Glad to see you up, brother!” I call to him.

His largest head—that of a massive iridescent dragon, scales rainbow-black—tilts sideways toward me, one big eye blinking. He rumbles in camaraderie before letting out a roar so powerful it pushes the invaders back several feet.

“Clear out!” Alcides bellows, retreating to Typhon’s flank.

Erebus appears at my side, his form no more than a three-dimensional shadow so black all light disappears within his shape. He gestures with one hand over top of the other, the sign for “merge.”

“Let’s do it,” I say.

He steps into me, his incorporeal form melding with my flesh, magnifying our power. He’s already pulling power through our limbs when I join in, vision going ultraviolet as the magic surges through us and out our fingertips. A massive shield forms in front of us, expanding in a spiral until it fills the corridor between our group and the portal that separates Tartarus from Keno, the emptiness between realms.

“What about me?” Pan howls from his cage, all but buried beneath the swarming creatures.

“I’ve got you,” I call back, mentally transforming the bars of his cage into solid walls.

“Not what I fucking meant, asshole!”Pan screams inside our skulls.

“Don’t be a pussy,”Erebus retorts, his voice clear as day now that he’s literally inside my head. He pushes more power into our shield, and the effort starts to pay off, forcing the waves of void demons back inch by inch. Behind us, Typhon inhales a deep breath, digs his claws into the ground, and lets loose.

A billowing torrent of purple flames flood over the top of our shield and into the mass of creatures. High-pitched screams fill the air as thousands of them are incinerated by Typhon’s fire. It takes him three breaths before the demons get the idea and retreat, leaving the ashes of their brethren behind, scattered among the shards of the broken doors.

My guards move forward, remaining behind the shield until Erebus and I have it flush with the opening.

“I’ll hold the barrier,”Erebus says, and warmth floods my limbs as he steps free of my body, his entire being transforming into the black cloud that fills the empty opening.

My skull aches from the abuse of all the feet treading upon the debris strewn across the floor. The doors of Tartarus aren’t just part of this ancient prison—they’re part ofme, and any damage done to Tartarus affects me on a molecular level. Usually it’s just a niggling tickle, but this time I have a full-blown migraine and an unmistakable sense of being exposed.

I begin the arduous process of reconstructing the doors while the others gather the shards and bring them closer.

“Any other damage?” I ask without looking. Rebuilding the gates of Tartarus requires almost all my attention. It’s akin to regrowing a limb, something I’ve had to do on far too many occasions.

Asterius holds out a shard that levitates into the opening, snapping into place among the others. “There were a few stragglers that made it past us, but Cerberus hunted them down before you got here. They weren’t at large long enough to do any damage.”

“What about signs of our escapees?”

“We haven’t had a moment’s rest to investigate, beyond discovering they’d gone,” Alcides says. He’s still fresh as a daisy, a sharp contrast to the other guards who are all winded and battle-worn. Asterius is still huffing steaming breaths through his nose, the heavy gold ring attached to his septum glinting with moisture.

“Cerberus reported seeing a vine growing out of their pit,” Campe says as she shifts from her enormous dragon shape into a woman in worn leather armor.

Avine? Nothing green grows in the depths of the prison beneath the central tower in this place; it’s a dungeon unfit to sustain life. But of all of us, only one is capable of producing such a thing out of nothing.

“Take Cerberus back and fly him down to sniff it out. I need to know what caused it.” I need confirmation before I act. “Take Typhon back to his cavern, while you’re at it so he can rest.”

I eye my multi-headed brother, whose body blocks the entire bridge. He’s only half conscious after the exertion, lying with his massive dragon head on his fore claws, all his smaller heads forming a cushion for his chin.

“You got it, boss,” Campe says. “Look alive, kid,” she adds, nudging the toe of her boot against Typhon’s nose. She manifests her wings and takes to the air, flying down the bridge that leads away from the doors. Typhon hoists his bulk up and follows, his long strides easily keeping pace until he clears the columns and can stretch his massive wings. Wind gusts across my back, ruffling my hair around my head as he lifts into the air, following Campe down the bridge before veering off and doubling back toward the cavern below the tower, where he sleeps. Cerberus lopes down the staircase after him, veering off onto an adjoining bridge to keep up with Campe. I’ll have to check on Typhon later, make sure he didn’t over-exert himself. He’s had a long, difficult recovery since losing three heads in the last battle we fought.

I continue the painstaking reconstruction of the gates, ignoring Pan’s muffled griping from inside the cube of his cage. The idiot can wait until I’m finished.

6

Nemea

My late-night chat with Rachel only leaves me with more questions and I’m barely able to sleep. The next day I attempt to participate in the new assignment in metal smithing and fall back on the sketches I made the night before. They’re all gods or demigods of some sort; what if I craft another ornament and attempt to summon a different one for answers?

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