Herculean (Cerberus Group Book 1) (24 page)

“He believes that he can find information there that will lead him to Echidna.” He narrowed his gaze at her. “Do you know where it is?”

Fiona felt the chill return. This was it, the moment of reckoning. If she refused him, she was dead, and despite what she had just told him, there was a very real possibility that Kenner would be able to follow the clues to find the entrance to the Underworld. But if she helped the old man…?

“I sense your hesitation,” he said. “You believe I am some kind of monster.”

She jerked her head over her shoulder, nodding toward his gallery of horrors. “Pretty much.”

“Everything I did was for the greater good of humanity. My research opened new frontiers of understanding. Though the medical and scientific community would never admit it, my work at Birkenau made possible nearly every significant medical advance of the last century. Finding Echidna will be the key to the advances of the next.”

Fiona was unmoved by the grandiose claim. Tyndareus would be able to do what he suggested, but he would use it as a weapon to enslave or destroy anyone he deemed unfit, feeding them to his carnivorous plants. But that was a long range problem. The question of what to do now remained.

Live dog or dead lion?
The answer was simple enough. A live dog could still bite.

“Show me the map.”

38

Roraima, Brazil

Pierce tackled Carter, throwing them both backward, off the artificial island and into the shallow water near where Lazarus lay. The two flying shapes swooped past them, and even in the low light, Pierce could make out the distinctive outlines of wings and tail feathers. Birds, but not like any birds he had ever seen before.

The birds wheeled around and lined up for another pass.

“Down!” Pierce shouted, and then he plunged his head under the surface.

A strange rapid-fire popping noise reverberated through the water. He felt a series of percussion claps against his back, and then a searing pain stabbed through his right butt cheek. He howled into the water and thrust his head above the surface. He reached back, groping for the site of the wound. His fingers brushed against something that sent a fresh throb of pain through his buttocks. Whatever had caused the injury was still there, sticking out of him like an arrow.

The natives of the Amazon hunted with blow darts and arrows, and often tipped their missiles with poison. But other than the pain of the puncture wound, he felt nothing. He had been attacked, but not by natives.

Something moved beside him, bringing him back to the moment. Carter had her arms around an unresponsive Lazarus, holding his head up out of the water. Pierce saw that she was uninjured, and then it occurred to him that the danger was not yet past. He glanced skyward and saw two dark shapes silhouetted against the violet sky, turning slow circles like vultures.

“Come on,” he said through clenched teeth. “We need to get to the trees.”

Carter seemed about ready to protest, but then nodded. “Help me with him.”

Careful not to jostle the projectile lodged in the meat of his buttocks, Pierce looped one of Lazarus’s massive arms around his shoulders. Carter took the other, and they headed for the nearest stand of cypress trees. It was more than two hundred yards away, and with the added burden of Lazarus’s dead weight, they made slow progress. At first, Pierce thought he could feel the skewering object digging deeper with every step and the tingle of poison spreading through his veins—both sensations were probably just in his imagination—but before they had gone a quarter of the way, his foot snagged on a submerged root. He stumbled, and as he pitched forward into the water, he felt Lazarus go down, taking Carter with him.

The sudden immersion roused the big man. He jolted up out of the water, but after looking around for a moment, he pulled both Pierce and Carter to their feet and urged them at a near run, to the safety of the trees.

Pierce’s backside burned with pain, but two things quickly became apparent. The birds were not going to attack again—in fact, they had disappeared from the sky—and the object lodged in his backside was not tipped with poison.

It still hurt like hell, though.

Carter’s focus was on Lazarus. There was a large gash in the center of his combat vest. Whatever had struck him had torn through both the overlaying fabric and the layer of woven Kevlar underneath, laying bare the ceramic small arms protective insert—SAPI—plate. The tombstone-shaped armor plate could stop a round from an AK47, but whatever had hit it had cracked it in two. Without asking permission, Carter tore open the vest and laid bare Lazarus’s broad chest.

The skin underneath was unbroken, but there was a bright red outline in the shape of the SAPI plate, and the beginning of a bruise.

“What was that thing?” Lazarus asked. His voice was tight, as if speaking or even breathing was painful. “It felt like a cannonball.” He looked at Carter for a moment, scrutinizing her for any sign of injury, then at Pierce. “Are you okay?”

“Not exactly,” Pierce admitted, and he turned to show them his wound. “I’ve got this pain in the ass.”

Carter stifled a laugh, then said, “What
is
that? It looks like a porcupine quill.” She bent over for a closer look.

“What?” Pierce craned his head around, but the quill was beyond the limit of his vision. “Not an arrow?”

Carter shook her head. “There’s a couple more stuck in your vest.” She carefully pulled one free and showed him. It was thicker than he expected, more like a hollow knitting needle than a stiff bristle, with a faintly opalescent sheen that made it look almost like metal.

Lazarus straightened up, as if his own injury was merely an inconvenience. “That has to come out,” he declared, reaching for a small sheath clipped to his vest. He removed a Gerber multi-tool and slid the pliers out. “This will hurt.”

Pierce opened his mouth to say that it already hurt, then there was an explosion of pain. Lazarus held up the pliers, along with the quill he had just removed. Half an inch of the tip was stained red. The relief however was instantaneous. The pain subsided to a dull ache.

“Stymphalian birds,” George said. “For his sixth Labor, Hercules was sent to get rid of a flock of man-eating birds, with beaks made of bronze that could cut through armor. They could also launch feathers like darts.”

He braced himself for a skeptical reaction, but Carter gave an encouraging nod. “Go on.”

“The Greeks believed the birds were the pets of Ares, the war god. They had a fondness for human flesh. They were probably carrion eaters who were drawn to the bodies of the slain on the battlefield. In the story, a flock of the birds had migrated to a swamp near the village of Stymphalos. Hercules was sent to deal with the problem. He killed some of the birds, and the rest were scattered. The Argonauts encountered some of them during the quest for the Golden Fleece. I guess some of them ended up here. Pausanias, a geographer from the second century, described a species of ferocious birds that he associated with the legend. He described them as being similar to ibises, but there’s no way of knowing if those were the birds from the legend, or just named that as an homage.”

“Anything else?”

“Their droppings are supposed to be poisonous.”

“Naturally,” Carter said.

“They didn’t attack until we got to the island. And they haven’t come after us since. So they’re fierce, but maybe not as bloodthirsty as in the legend.”

“Protecting the nest?” Carter suggested.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Pierce said. “But they’re not afraid of us.”

“How did Hercules beat them?” Lazarus asked.

“Athena, the goddess, gave him a magical
krotala
—a noisemaker, kind of like castanets—forged by the god Hephaestus. The sound frightened the birds away so they wouldn’t attack, giving Hercules a chance to shoot them down using arrows tipped with Hydra venom.”

Lazarus looked across the water to the island city. “Noisemakers.”

“The sound of a gunshot might be enough to scare them off,” Carter suggested. “That’s something Hercules didn’t have.”

“It would also give our presence away. We’d lose the element of surprise.” Lazarus ran a thumb over the torn Kevlar fibers of his vest. “We’ll have to make a run for it. The body armor will give us some protection.”

“I should have brought the Lion skin.” Pierce said. He mulled the problem for a moment. “Pausanias suggested making armor out of cork wood. The birds’ beaks would cut through, but get stuck.”

“Like darts in a dartboard,” said Carter.

“Exactly.” He glanced past her at the cypress trunks. “We don’t have cork, but maybe we could fashion something from tree bark.”

Lazarus grasped the hilt of his knife and drew it. “Good idea.”

He peeled off several large sheets of the stringy bark, each about three feet square. Then he layered them, alternating the directions of the fibers, and then bound them together using strips of parachute cord. In ten minutes, he had assembled shields for each of them.

“These should hold together long enough to get us to cover.”

Pierce slipped his forearm through the loops Lazarus had fashioned, feeling a little like an ancient Hoplite, girding for battle. “We should stay close together,” he said. “That way we can cover each other.”

“I’ll take point.” Lazarus started out toward the island, taking measured, methodical steps to ensure that Pierce and Carter did not get left behind.

There was no sign of the Stymphalian birds in the sky above, but Pierce knew they had not seen the last of them. Sure enough, when they were within fifty yards of the island, two birds leapt from a perch atop one of the old buildings and began circling. Pierce raised his shield high, angling it so that he could keep an eye on the birds, who began to tighten their orbits, swooping lower with each pass.

The bird that had struck Lazarus floated on the surface a few yards from the edge of the island. They approached it cautiously, but it did not move.

Carter stepped out of their formation, ignoring a hissed warning from Lazarus, and bent to pick up the carcass. The two men moved in to cover her, as she examined it. “Broken neck.”

“Probably happened when it hit the SAPI plate,” Lazarus said. “Leave it.”

Carter turned it over. Pierce saw that the creature’s bill had the same iridescent hues as the quills that sprouted from its white plumage. “It’s an egret,” she announced. “But I think it’s been hybridized, like the Lion. Probably with a porcupine. That would explain the quills. I’d like to sequence it when we get out of here.”

Lazarus let out an irritated growl but she ignored him, tucking the dead bird’s feet into her belt. “Ready.”

Lazarus shook his head and moved closer to the rocks. He climbed to the top but stayed low, keeping his shield up. Pierce and Carter followed suit.

When they were all in place, Pierce pointed to the nearest structure, a ruin with crumbling walls and no roof. “There. The walls will make it harder for them to hit us.”

Lazarus nodded. “When I say go, we range walk, and don’t stop until we’re inside.”

“Range walk?” Pierce asked.

“Sorry. Military term. Walk fast, but don’t run. Running increases the chances of tripping, and tripping increases the chances of dying.”

“Range walk. Got it.”

“Good.” He paused a beat and then said simply, “Go.”

They sprang to their feet and began striding across the open ground. The two birds overhead turned and dove toward them. Carter faltered. Lazarus shouted for her to keep moving, but there was no avoiding the birds.

George stood in front of Carter, raised the shield high and was nearly knocked off his feet as the leading bird struck it. A three-inch long metallic-looking spear tip punched through the layers of bark just above Pierce’s forearm, and then the shield began to shake as if a giant was trying to rip it away from him. He stumbled forward as the bird, in a flurry of wings, tried to extract itself.

Lazarus gripped Pierce’s arm, supporting his efforts. Then the second bird made its attack, diving toward Lazarus, but the big man was faster, swiping the air with his shield and batting it away. He then reached around Pierce, knife in hand, and hacked at the bird caught in Pierce’s shield. There was an agonized squawk and a simultaneous grunt from Lazarus. The thrashing on the other side of the shield ceased, but when Lazarus drew his knife hand back, it was bristling with quills.

“Keep going!” Lazarus shouted.

Despite the earlier advice, Pierce ran. Carter was close behind him, while Lazarus brought up the rear, his shield raised.

Pierce glanced back and was relieved to see that the sky was clear. The bird stuck in his shield was probably dead, and the one Lazarus had bashed was stunned or possibly also dead. Definitely out of the fight.

His relief was short-lived. When they were still ten yards from the building, he heard a low ominous rushing sound that grew to deafening intensity.

Flapping wings.

A lot of them.

He glanced up and saw the sky darken as dozens, perhaps even hundreds of winged creatures filled the air above them. As if guided by a single mind, the entire flock of Stymphalian birds shot toward them.

Lazarus threw his arms out in a sweeping gesture, propelling both Pierce and Carter toward the ruins. “Run!”

Pierce raised his shield over his head, but stayed close to Carter, keeping the edge of his shield in contact with hers, doubling the protection provided by the bark sheets. The shield blocked his view of the approaching swarm, but he didn’t need to see them to know that they were in serious trouble.

Something slammed into the shield, staggering Pierce. Another long spike punctured the wood right above his forearm. Another impact followed, and then another. Too many to count. The inside of the shield was transformed into a bed of nails.

Behind him, Lazarus swung his shield back and forth, deflecting the diving birds and knocking them out of the air as they attacked. But for every bird he demolished, two more made it past the barrier, slashing at his torso with their beaks and stabbing their spiny quills into him. His combat harness hung in shreds and blood streamed from dozens of wounds, but he fought on.

They were not even halfway to the shelter of the ruins.

Carter stumbled. Pierce caught her arm and tried to keep her from falling but the relentless assault from above had him off balance. Instead of keeping her on her feet, he went down alongside her. For a moment, they were both exposed and vulnerable, but Pierce twisted around and got his shield up, covering himself and her.