The Path of Ravens (Asgard vs. Aliens Book 1) (6 page)

By the time we emerge into the 'portal chamber,'
one of the other groups sent out to explore has already returned
having met no more success than did we. The last group, Crow's,
remains at large.

“Do you hear that?” someone says.

I cock my head and listen intently and do hear a
small, distant sound. It is that of a sustained shout, one of fear
and alarm. Not just one voice but several, I quickly realize, growing
closer by the second. Knowing to whom the voices must belong, I race
to the entrance of the corridor which Crow's group was sent to
explore, pointing behind me with my sword at fellow Atlanteans. “You,
you, you, and you—guard the Chrysioi! Be ready to kill them.
Anyone else who has a weapon, with me!”

The shouting grows louder, closer, as nearly
twenty of us form a semicircle at the tunnel entrance, swords at the
ready. I make out words in the frantic cries:

“
Kill it! Kill it!
”

There is another, deeper sound, too, like...
snarling?

Seconds later, I hear frantic footfalls and then
see the shadowy forms of Atlanteans dashing toward us, the source of
the fearful shouts. I grip my sword tighter in sweaty palm, set my
jaw and tense for whatever is to come. The Atlanteans explode into
the chamber, our half-circle breaking to let them pass. Behind the
runners I half expect to see a fleshy, amorphous creature of the
Myriad, all mouths and boneless arms, but what bounds out on their
heels instead is lithe and covered in dark fur.

Only when it halts, landing on its four legs,
and lets out three simultaneous roars from three mouths lined with
yellow daggers and looks upon us with six red eyes do I understand
what it is: a great, three-headed dog.

“Attack!” I cry out, and charge
toward the beast. It likewise launches forward, and one of its heads
snaps at me. I barely position my sword before me in time that it
bites iron instead of my flesh. I avoid a bite from a second head
while tugging on my blade with the thought of slicing the creature's
mouth from within, at the hinge of its jaw. But clamped tight, the
sword will not budge. Thankfully, it is then that my comrades press
attacks of their own. It roars and lashes out at several of them with
muzzle and claw, and in the course of defending itself, releases my
blade, which shortly thereafter sinks deep into the neck of the
nearest head. I yank the blade free and blood gouts onto the stone
floor.

“Get it to the circle!” I shout over
the beast's roars. “Kill it there!”

The creature is fearsome, to be sure, and it
manages to stain its teeth and claws with the blood of a few
Atlanteans, but within half a minute, it becomes clear that the fight
is one-sided; it cannot handle our numbers. When two of its heads
hang limp and the beast hobbles on three legs, beset from all sides,
I dig my shoulder into the blood-matted fur of thing's flank and
shove it toward the etched circle, even as my comrades press the
attack. Just as we pass the circle's edge, the beast crashes to the
floor, where five or ten death-blows are delivered.

“Hold!” I shout, throwing arms wide.
“It is done!”

The Atlanteans stay their blades and stand
watching, silent but for their hard breathing, while dark red blood
gushes from the slain dog's many wounds onto the stone inside the
etched circle. The radial grooves act as as runnels, catching the
blood and directing it to the center. Reaching the glowing fleck
which sits there, the blood only vanishes, failing to dim or obscure
the light.

After an endless minute, I begin to despair. The
torrent of blood slows to a steady stream and finally a drip, but
nothing happens.

Crow, exhausted from his flight, comes up behind
me and claps my shoulder. “We opened a door, and that thing was
behind it.”

“A hound of Hades, the late lord of this
realm,” offers Kairos. “He kept many such pets.”

“Perhaps we can find another,” I
muse, eager to avoid the only other option.

Even as I speak, the glowing fleck suddenly
flares into a brightly burning disc which fills the room with light
and my heart with new hope.

The disc slowly swells, its edge creeping toward
the rim of the etched circle on the floor. It reaches the dead dog,
and its three heads vanish, then its forelegs, and finally the whole
carcass. At the circle's edge, the light stops advancing.

My next word, my last in this world, is a barked
order which forms of its own accord. “
In!
”

Most do not hesitate, but swiftly leap into the
light. Although I am as eager as any, I stand at the edge to usher my
people in. Crow pauses to grin at me, then vanishes.

“Release them,” I instruct those
watching over the Chrysioi captives. Then to the captives themselves
I say, “Go.”

The Chrysioi who once pinned to the floor, since
allowed to kneel with the others, offers me a sneer as he passes into
the light. Aristaeus and Daphne give me no attention whatever, while
Iris and Kairos each spare time to give a smile, hers warm and sad,
his full of good humor.

The last few Atlanteans move into the shining
portal, and I am left alone. I do not linger long, lest the gate slam
shut and separate me from my brethren and my destiny... my Ayessa.
Drawing a final breath of the stifling, green-tinged air of conquered
Hades, I plunge into the light.

All is dark. Quiet. Warm. Pleasant, but for a
sharp pain in my side.

I ignore it. It wants to drag me out of the
lovely darkness whose embrace I crave, and keep me at the edge of
slumber when I would plunge deeper.

Then a new enemy of sleep appears. A sound:
loud, piercing, insistent. 
Caw!
 
Caw!
 
Caw!

A bird? A... crow.

Crow
...  Hades, Pyrakmon, Myriad...
Ayessa!

Memories flood back. Suddenly the darkness
becomes my enemy, a temptation I must fight. I force my eyes open and
light fills them, hurting. I shut them again, twist my body and
understand that the cause of my discomfort is the hard, uneven ground
on which I lie. More slowly, I let my eyes open. The light here has a
different quality than that of Hades, not pink but more like what my
sense of having lived once before tells me sunlight should look like.

The urge to know where I am and what has become
of my brethren gives me the strength to drag myself to a seated
position on the cold, hard ground and look around. Immediately I find
some cause for relief in the sight of other Atlanteans around me.
They range from inert to semi-inert and seem, like me, freshly woken.
Around thirty of us entered the portal, and all would seem to be
present, loosely scattered across a rocky slope of a mountain. This
is no range of Hades, I am sure, for the peaks in the distance here
do not spew smoke and fire. But it is a desolate place, all dull gray
with only snatches of green in the mist-shrouded distance.

Nearby, among the stirring and rising
Atlanteans, I see the creature responsible for waking me. It is an 
enormous black bird that struts about, now and then spreading and
flapping its broad black wings to rise a few feet and settle
elsewhere. I stare at it. As I do, knowledge comes forth. It is like
a crow, but different... a raven. I know enough about ravens to
realize that it hopes a few of us have not survived, so that it might
feast.

I will do my best to see that it goes hungry.

Before I finish climbing to my feet, the
wingless Atlantean named Crow approaches, easily recognizable by the
long black hair that caused Ayessa to name him thus. He is smiling at
the good fortune of our escape from danger. I share his relief, even
if I cannot return the expression.

"Any sign of the Chrysioi?" I ask,
scanning the mountainside.

"No, Thamoth."

"The captives?" I catch sight of
Iris's iridescent hair and gain at least part of the answer I seek.

"All but one, who ran. The one you would
expect."

"It's just as well," I tell him.
"Gather everyone. We must organize, and plan for our future."

Crow seems pleased to hear me speak thus, and
whirls to put my plan into action.

"Tell Kairos that I would speak with him,"
I say as he is leaving. He nods and dashes off, leaping over a 
large, gray lump which I recognize as the corpse of the three-headed
dog.

Meanwhile, I move toward Iris, who of the
Chrysioi seems to me most forthcoming. She is seated on the barren
earth, and smiles as I approach. Seeing me, Kairos joins us.

"Do these bodies Medea gave us require food
and water?" I ask of either.

"They will," Kairos answers. Like
Crow, he seems in high spirits.

"But in Olympus," Iris offers, "we
consumed a certain fruit, Ambrosia, which sustained us for long
periods of time. Things like meat and wine were only for pleasure.
Ares and the others have with them—"

"Iris," Kairos says sharply, a warning
which silences Iris and reminds me that he is still more enemy than
companion.

"I care not about magic fruits," I
half lie; at least in this moment, I do not care. "Have you any
inkling of where your people might have gone?"

Kairos ponders. "No... none. This world
would be as new to them as it is to us."

"Might they have left some sign? A message
for you?"

"If I see one, I will surely say so."

I have my doubts as to the truth of that, but I
only nod.

"Up," Iris adds. "They will go
up. Olympus was on a mountain peak, and that is where Ares will found
a new city."

I look up the mountainside, but see nothing
except crags and stunted trees partly shrouded by wisps of fog. It is
uninviting, to say the least.

I reverse my gaze to look down the slope.

"In a valley is where we will find food,
water, wood for fire and shelter," I reason. "And native
inhabitants, if there are any." Taking in the mountains barely
visible through mist on every horizon, I add, "Not only that,
but if the Chrysioi intend to dwell on a peak, there are many they
might have chosen."

Before long, Crow succeeds in gathering us all
in one spot. We look a haggard congregation, less than battle-ready.
I hope that no battles are imminent. Crow informs me that our number
is thirty-two, including myself—twenty-one males and eleven
females—plus the four Chrysioi. Some Atlanteans are wounded,
but not seriously enough to inhibit their movement—naturally,
since those of us who were not quick enough died in Hades.

"We have a new chance at life," I
begin addressing them. "Together we must seize it, each working
for the common good. Those of you who call yourselves Chrysioi"—I
look to them—"you should no longer  count yourselves
as prisoners. The past lies behind us. I hope you will choose to see
that your fates are tied to ours, and that we stand to gain much by
treating one another as equals. We know not whether your people are
here or if we ever shall find them again. I hope we do, and that we
can dwell together in peace."

I resume addressing the entire body. "This
land may be home to others unknown to us. As we seek shelter and
sustenance, we must endeavor to make friends instead of enemies. One
hostile encounter  could spell our doom. I would see us live,
perhaps one day to regain the knowledge of who we were and what it
means to be Atlantean.

"That is my hope for the future. But now...
let us waste no more time with words, but take the first steps on our
journey."

After seeing the three-headed dog lashed to
branches that it night be carried with us for food, I start down the
slope. My people follow.

My people.
 For better or worse, I
have made myself their leader. I feel as though in my prior life I
must have wielded some manner of authority.

Whether I wielded it well is another question.

The sun of this world, assuming there is one,
remains cloaked in a blanket of thick clouds, preventing us from
knowing how much light is left. For hours we trek downhill, the
needle-bearing trees becoming greener and more abundant as we
descend, until we walk through a sparse forest. In the quiet moments,
my mind conjures reasons why Ayessa, whom I am sure I once loved,
would despise me as deeply as she seemed to do back in Hades. I
cannot help but wonder if it was her  fear of me which drove her
through the portal.

That word which arose with my spirit from the
abyss haunts me. 
Wellspring
. The word inspires in me,
somehow, both joy and sorrow simultaneously. Had I the luxury of
privacy in which to laugh or cry, I would be unsure which to do.

Such thoughts and emotions are difficult to
bear, causing me to welcome the distraction of leadership.

As we descend, the raven follows us, lighting in
the branches along our path, calling out now and then  in its
shrill voice, and ever watching us with jewel-black eyes.

"Could the bird be our sign?" I wonder
aloud. "Might it be leading us somewhere, or trying to?"

The Chrysioi among us profess not to know, and
Crow can only shrug.

Not long after, one of our number calls out
excitedly. She has spotted something, and points it out to us, a
brown shape moving through the forest: a four-legged animal with
branching horns rising from its sleek head. My hybrid mind produces a
name for it. 
Hart
. 

I opt against ordering a hunt. We have the dog
from Hades, and it is enough for now to know that game is present in
this world.

We press on. The perpetual cloud cover begins to
take on a pinkish cast, perhaps signaling the day's imminent end.

That is when we come upon the cave.

From afar, it looks like a long slit with
upturned corners, a smiling mouth in the rough surface of a
silver-gray crag.  But as we venture closer,  its great
size becomes apparent. At its highest point, one of us standing on
another's shoulders and stretching upward with a hand might just
touch the top. It is apparent that this place has served someone or
something as home. The bones scattered about near the entrance are
evidence enough of that, but if they were not then there is the added
sign of a strong, foul odor filling the air.