Summary:
Now in the land of the damned below the underworld domain of Hades, Eira awaits the company and battle portends. But first, they have to find the fortress of the Titans. Above them, Loki’s war is going well as the internecine war among the pantheons continues.
An old foe rises in the south, more powerful than ever. Astrid finds herself the subject of a wife’s rage and the murky past of the companions now comes back to haunt them. Yet amidst it all, a dying Elder won’t wait as plots and new players bedevil Havard Ulriksson, formerly Tyler West of Earth, now the Archmage of his adopted world.
Cover Image used under license from shutterstock.com. Alterations by the writer.
Prologue: Strangers at the Gates
The Gates of Tartarus loomed massively in the dim light of its dimension. Before it were thin wisps of fog marking the boundary between it and the realm above, the underworld of Hades.
The barriers stood immeasurably high, and its apex couldn’t be seen. Beside it, the walls of the cursed domain stood guard, and this time, it was to keep entities inside the former prison. Instead, it watched to prevent unwanted visitors out.
The hue of the Gates and the walls depended on the being observing it. For the early Greeks, it was made of bronze, the material being the height of metallurgical craft during their time. For others, it might appear to be made of steel, adamantium, or other material, either magical or mundane.
Kerberos, the final guardian of the Gates, had been driven away, maddened by the loss of its magical link to its master. Three massive humanoid creatures now secured the outer Gates, each having six arms holding shields and weapons of magical make.
They were the hekatoncheiries, sons of the Titans Uranus and Gaia, and brothers to the fabled Cyclopes. Originally ordained by Zeus as eternal guards of Tartarus, the brothers had thrown their lot with the new overload of the damned domain. Millennia of watching over their original prison wasn’t exactly their idea of a divine reward.
For a brief time after their victory over the Titans, their now overthrown siblings, the hundred-armed brothers had enjoyed the bright sunlight, refreshing breezes, and all that Earth had to offer. Until conflicts with the Olympians started to arise.
Briareros, for one, had become an enemy of Poseidon. Also know as the vigorous, or the sea-goat, the mighty waves he created as his playground provoked the ire of the Olympian. Cottos, the striker, ran afoul of Zeus and other deities of war. Finally, the shows of strength made by Gyges, the big-limbed, among the Greeks had aroused the jealousy and enmity of many a god.
Zeus’s well-intentioned gesture of making them sentinels of a place they never wanted to see again grated heavily on their pride and consciousness. Never mind that the move was intended to prevent conflicts between the hekatoncheiries and the numerous deities they had offended. If it was a reward, then it was too heavy and onerous a gift. They’d rather be prisoners again inside the walls and have more freedom to do what they wanted.
It was a seething sentiment Iapetus knew and used. With the fulfillment of the pre-condition of the brothers that Hades’s hound be destroyed or driven away, and the promise of a lordly life out there on the physical world, shifting their allegiance to their own kin was an easy decision. The promise of power and freedom was a temptation too strong to resist.
Now, the brothers waited for the call to battle on the surface. They knew many other creatures waited inside the walls, patiently anticipating the coming war which shall determine the lordship of the realms above.
Suddenly, Cottos flexed his magical strength, and fifty identical giants appeared above them, all facing outward. The mortal perception of each being having a hundred arms and fifty heads in one body was ridiculously inaccurate. Jokes arising out of such depictions were taken by the three in good stride, provided the speaker was powerful enough. A lesser creature would find himself immediately crushed like an insect. The two other brothers looked at the entity called The Striker.
“Something comes,” was all the colossal being would say.
***
Briareros immediately raised the alarm and followed his brother’s example. Tartarus was now notified, and assistance, whether needed or not, was forthcoming. He could already see Gyges’s simulacrum adding to the army being formed in the sky. The hekatonchier was enormously confident in his strength and power. It had been a long time since their last battle. And they were Titans. Without them, the Olympians wouldn’t have won.
In the far distance, several aloft figures could now be seen. Surprisingly, they didn’t appear to be armored or armed. The folds of their hooded grey cloaks didn’t move with the wind. And they were approaching at speed.
The brethren looked at each other. Each had a broad grin on their faces.
***
Cottos raised his head from the ground where the incredible explosion had thrown him. The momentary stunned the hekatonchier, and the hurtful results dissipated the numerous copies of the giant. Incredibly, he found he was bleeding from various wounds.
Fear embraced him as the realization dawned that they were facing extraordinary beings. Only magic that formidable would have been able to inflict mortal-like wounds on the injured magical entity. Through unfocused eyes, he saw the outline of his brother, Gyges, some distance away. The magical aura of the giant was weakened, but the entity was alive. But of Briareros, there was no sign, either in what he could see or even magically. The Vigorous among the brothers was gone.
It became clear to the hekatoncheiries that there were only seven cloaked figures as the trespassers drew closer to the Gates. That they were of magical origin and had enormous magical power, the brethren had no doubt. Finding one’s way to the Gates required a high degree of magical acuity and knowledge. The road itself was hidden, shrouded with illusions and traps of no little power. Unless one was damned to stay in the accursed domain, freely allowed to enter it, or a denizen of Tartarus itself, it was believed that access was well-nigh impossible unless one was dangerous enough. Power was always the key to many doors, or even a magical Gate.
While still some distance away, the seven suddenly halted and adopted a peculiar star-shaped formation facing the closed entrance. A pulse of power abrupted exploded from each one, combining in one massive pulsating, green orb which dwarfed the giant guards. But the brethren were not worried. They were the hekatoncheiries. Of power so mighty that Kronus himself imprisoned them, together with their kin, the Cyclopes. Without them, the Olympians would have been trampled during the Titanomachy.
Then the enormous verdant globe was released. What Cottos only remembered was its dark green face coming at them and his laughter as the thought about the stupidity and impertinence of such beings. The Gates wasn’t merely a portal. It was a miniature manifestation of the power that was Tartarus. To think that any magical spell would have the ability to force the dimensional doorway was absurd ignorance at best. The hekatonchier was wrong.
As he painfully turned his head to glance at the Gates, the impossible greeted his eyes. The colossal gateway whose height defied mere sight was no more. In its place were ruined remains, nothing else stood whole. Not even a single gate panel hanging on to its hinges. Of its guards, only the badly hurt Cottos and Gyges remained. The hekatonchier might not be the most intelligent of the litter – that was Briareros. Cottos was seriously hurt, and his power significantly weakened, but he knew a grave situation faced them. The time to mourn a brother would come later.
“Back inside! We’ll hold the opening! Tartarus has enough creatures of magic to keep a world at bay,” he cried out to Gyges who was looking around, evidently refusing to believe that Briareros was dead and truly gone.
The two brothers disappeared from where they were on the ground.
***
Somewhere to the far southwest, on the southern borders of the Zhong Empire and on top of an ice-capped mountain, a certain northern Lord of Mischief looked on the plain below. It was filled with the tiny, ant-like figures of humans at war. On one side was the waiting enemy, the closely-arrayed and silent southern armies of the Zhong Empire. Facing them was a human force thrice their size, various kinds of troops from southern kingdoms and empires loyal to Loki’s assembly. It was an immense force still being reinforced by vast hordes of wild warriors from the Barbarian Plains. The entire army filled the plain, with aligned creatures in the mix.
The Trickster God could see their human followers were still organizing and being reinforced by soldiers from subjugated domains. Beasts and creatures of all shapes and sizes were gathering on the flanks of the gathering host. Even natural animosities and predatory instincts among the non-human monsters were held in check by powerful overlords, imbued by the magic from the various deities and spirits collected behind Loki.
He could see Anansi’s half-men, half-spider warriors making up the vanguard, their daunting armor and wicked weapons making them a formidable battering ram. With their innate exoskeletons, they were doubly hard to kill. Horse-sized monster beetles accompanied them, deadly horns and pincers complementing the hard and shiny shells which made up the natural armor of the gigantic insects. Some were flying here and there, while others appeared to be land-bound. Numerous other creatures were already marshaled, but Loki’s eyes were already on the far horizon.
“Lord Xiangliu?” he called out, not removing his gaze from the far horizon. Something was clouding his vision, and Loki found he couldn’t see beyond the covering clouds in the distance.
A monstrous snake slithered from the gathered assembly and went to Loki. As it neared, the snake changed into a lithe, young man, armed and clad in the lamellar armor favored by the Zhong, though what he wore was green-black in hue.
“Yes, Lord Loki?”
“News of the Yù Huáng?” asked the Trickster God.
The other entity snickered.
“The Jade Emperor still wonders which deities are truly loyal to him. Doubt is truly a great ally in times like this – resentment could bloom into hatred like a putrid flower. But he’ll be watching this battle, together with some of his trusted circle,” replied Xiangliu. “Most of the Zhong gods are still waiting and watching how the wind will blow; like the bamboo, they’ll bend with the coming gust.”
“Any new additions to your circle?” Loki asked nonchalantly.
“I am awaiting the decision of Yama of Hell and Zhong Kui, the King of Ghosts. I’ve talked to them separately, and even if one decides for the Yù Huáng, we might have the other. Millennia of being king might lead to one considering how to be an emperor,” answered the malevolent entity with a knowing smile.
Like you, for instance. Yet another ambitious creature. Too bad you don’t know what real power is like, thought the Trickster God.
“And Xi Wangmu?” pressed Loki.
“Ah, another fence-sitter. Also waiting to see where the leaves go when the breeze arrives.”
“Her cooperation is vital. She rules the passageway between this world and your pantheon,’ Loki answered.
“I will try again, my Lord. But I believe most of those waiting in the shadows would make their choice after this battle,” said Xiangliu in a firm voice.
“So much like mortals. Refusing to heed the portents heralded by the fall of the southern kingdoms, and the threatening darkness of a coming great storm. All because those events happened in lands far away. Well, that far away is now close enough for them, I guess,” observed the Norse deity, hand cupped to his chin as he shook his head.
Suddenly, his knees weakened as an inordinate gush of magical energy unexpectedly left him, leaving him kneeling on the ground. But Loki wasn’t called the deity of trickery for anything. Despite the surprise and shock, he immediately gathered his wits about him and quickly raised his hands to the sky.
“Victory! By Adar, we will have victory this day! If those deities who oppose us dare show themselves, then by the fates, we will make sure that this world will have a lot fewer gods by the end of this day!” Loki cried out.
Then he stood up as steadily as he could. His eyes met Anansi’s quizzical gaze. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he made sure his friend’s query would be made at another time. Yet the drain of power shocked him.
Something unexpected must have happened, Loki thought with trepidation as he assessed the power left in him. No matter. I have power enough.
***
Cottos watched as their enemies moved closer to the breached Gates. The approach was methodical. The strange beings were making sure that no surprises awaited them. Then each started releasing bolts of power against the ruined entrance, bursting with considerable force against an invisible shield. The power that was Tartarus had provided a magical barrier to cover the opening. Still, its strength was nothing like the Gates which had gathered power and increased its strength throughout its long existence. He knew it wouldn’t last more than a few minutes.
But even now, the hekatonchier could sense the arrival of a vast host behind him. Reinforcements have arrived. He glanced at his brother. Gyges immediately moved out to marshal the newcomers as Cottos remained in hidden observation of the progress of their enemies. Unexpectedly, the giant felt the arrival of a massive source of power. Like Tartarus itself, its strength defied the ordinary bounds of magic. It was gigantic, and a familiar aura. Kampe had arrived.
Kampe. The name struck terror invariably to deities and mighty spirits who knew the name. Kerberos was nothing compared to the malevolent spirit. If the Hound of Hades guarded the Gates of Tartarus against any escape by mortal or spirit, and the hekatoncheiries were the guards of beings as impressively powerful as the imprisoned Titans, Kampe was Tartarus embodied, and was the previous jailoress of the mighty hekatoncheiries.
Bound by Kronus to keep in line the three brothers and their kin, and then apparently killed by Zeus during the Titanomachy, the present incarnation of the colossal dragon-like monster was as powerful as its previous embodiment. Kampe was of Tartarus, not of the First World or even of the Second World. It was a guardian creature of the damned domain, an altogether different dimension.
Despite himself, Cotto smiled at the arrival of the genuinely terrifying, monstrous beast. He couldn’t help but wonder how Kronus was able to bind Kampe or how the puny Zeus was able to defeat the entity. Luck, perhaps?
