Wrath "Rise of the Fallen"

Zeus surfed the thunderbolt low to the treetops, coming in from the southeast so as not to be seen. He touched down on the beach at the edge of the mainland Acanthus. Oily smoke pumped into the blue sky, with a belly of brilliant orange and yellow, consuming what had once been a vibrant town. He’d just walked those streets; he remembered Selene, the young lady rushing to market. As the thunderbolt’s ozone smell faded, he watched hordes of black demons, unnamable beasts, and what looked like humans pour across the long bridge toward the Prometheus rock and Hercules’ palace. Occasional volleys of arrows arced down from the palace’s ramparts into the horde, and he could see sorely outnumbered soldiers fighting a losing battle at the island end of the bridge. It was hard to tell war cries from screeches of misery.

Sensing a slight disturbance, like a baby’s breath of wind, Zeus turned to see a gently twisting puff of smoke and ash settle down on the white sand beside him and coalesce silently into Hades. “There are a lot of them,” he murmured.

The rhythm of the water lapping at their feet stumbled into frantic waves that tumbled and spit past them, reaching up the beach with long fingers of sizzling whitewater. Beyond the commotion, Poseidon rose from the bay with tattoos aglow, leaving a bubbling and rippling wake. “That’s a lot of demon bastards crawling around there,” he grumbled, seawater streaming from his beard and trident.

“Are we not gods?” Hades snarled with a sharp turn to face his brothers. His cape whirled and trailed whispers of smoke and ash, and the spiritual fire snapped above his helm.

“I don’t know what we are.” Electricity crackled about Zeus’ ice-blue eyes. “But we’re something. And we’re going to do something. Follow me.”

The three brothers walked down the beach until they reached a set of rickety weather-worn stairs at the end of Acanthus’ docks. The buildings lining the docks were fully engulfed and heat from the flames buffeted them. “We need to stop the fires,” Zeus said. Poseidon nodded and thrust his trident out toward the bay. He moved it as if stirring a vat. Slowly at first and then faster. Just beyond the docks, the bay began to churn. A thick worm of water spiraled skyward and arced toward the burning town. It hovered for a moment and then dropped. Just before it crashed, Poseidon waved his trident and the worm burst into a heavy shower, dousing the burning dock buildings and sending a cloud of white steam into the air.

“Excellent,” Zeus said. “Keep it up and let’s keep moving. We need to get to the bridge.”

Poseidon drew more water from the bay and tossed it toward another fire and then another and then another. Steam and the sound of sizzling like angry snakes filled the air. When they reached the bridge, the army of demons spilling across it seemed like a crazed mob. More and more poured through the streets. People too. Men and women, wild-eyed and covered in filth, brandishing farming tools, kitchen utensils, a host of other makeshift weapons. Foreboding wriggled through Zeus like a grave worm.

“Are those townspeople?” Hades whispered.

Zeus held up a lightning-wrapped fist. “The Lions cannot hold this bridge much longer.” He ran toward the demonic flow and as monstrous heads turned toward the movement, he leapt into the air and dove down, striking the ground with his fist. Thunder rolled and crooked streamers of lightning exploded away from Zeus, skewering demon after demon with blue-white fire. They burned into greasy ash almost instantly.

Poseidon tapped his trident and several buildings toppled down, cutting off access to the bridge. “That won’t hold them for long,” he said.

“Forward!” Zeus said to his brothers and moved toward the bridge entrance with crackling fist held high. He hurled huge serpents of light down the length of the bridge, disintegrating scores of invaders. They reached the Lions, who cheered wearily.

“A large advanced group made it across before we could stop it,” a Lion captain said breathlessly. “They destroyed the bridge house so we could not secure the bridge.” He looked away from Zeus, toward the mainland, where the demons were beginning to gather again and make their way onto the bridge. Sweat and soot and blood smudged his face. “Some giant beast, riding another giant beast was part of it. Screaming for Hercules.”

“Poseidon,” Zeus said, “stay here and watch the bridge. Keep those demons away from the island. I don’t care how. Destroy the bridge if necessary.”

“Aye, I know just what to do.” Poseidon started back toward the mainland. His tattoos lit up in shimmering waves.

“Hades, come with me.” Instead of taking the main route to the palace, they wended their way up a narrow pathway between small clusters of huts, long barracks, small ponds and vibrant hanging gardens that took them to the foot of the grand staircase leading to the palace’s main gate. The courtyard and staircase was swarming with demons.

“You find Hercules, brother,” Hades said. His spiritual fire flared once and dimmed and a green ball flickered back and forth along the staff’s U-shaped fork. With a twist of his wrist, the flame twinkled and the swirling green flushed to an ashen black. “I’ll handle this.”