33

There is a certain silence that falls just before a major calamity. It is as though nature knows what is about to occur, and forces all of creation to respect the immense sacrifice soon to come. Once the shield dropped, all was silent. Then, the advancing Metheons came with fury. Their low hum steadily grew. The air around Undertown became uncomfortable. The Metheons, it seemed, intended to raze Undertown under a ball of red-hot fury.

One could see the knuckles of the Undertown citizenry turn white as their fists clenched in stress. Several of them appeared to be resigning themselves to their deaths. More than a few started at Sal with what could best be described as an intense anticipation. Sal could feel their stares. he could feel their will wanting him to show some semblance of having concocted some means of salvation. When Sal didn't see anything, he began to doubt even himself. Perhaps the holonosphere didn't work out here in the same way. Maybe history had a course that was determined to be despite his best efforts. He racked his brain trying to think of anything he might have done wrong. Everything had been right. Why was nothing happening?

Then, Sal heard it. It started as a low rumble. Then the low rumble grew into a crescendo--a crescendo of laughter--awful, terrible, laughter.

On the horizon, behind the advancing Metheons, a presence became discernible--a huge, hulking presence, clad in armor and gripping a sword. The armor was black with touches of what looked like red arteries coursing through it. The sword had a guard composed of skulls and grotesque curls. As one directed their vision toward the head, it was impossible not to notice the long snow-white hair. yet, even that might have been overlooked if not for the crimson-red eyes that danced within the humongous skull. They were hungry and savage. When one looked into them, they felt the blood lust of a thousand battlefields. One could hear the lances cracking, and the swords thudding into the flesh--the metallic taste of blood and the stench of death that followed. If this visage had been death itself it would have been more comforting. Instead, this entity seemed to be the embodiment of violence which heralded death.

The Metheons were stunned. The former glee of their certain victory began to waiver and turn instead to terror. What they saw before them they all recognized somewhere in the recesses of their psyches--and they all knew enough to be terrified. Whereas a few moments earlier they had been reveling in energy on a much smaller scale similar to this, that energy now came in a rush like a crushing tidal wave over them. Each of them shivered as the laughter turned to speech.

"MORTAL SAL GRIMONE!" the Earth roared as trees spontaneously burst into flame. "YOU HAVE FREED ME FROM MY LONG SLUMBER! ONCE I ROAMED THIS LAND FREE. THE EARTH RAN WITH BLOOD AS BATTLE ROLLED! NOW ONCE AGAIN, YOU HAVE SUMMONED ME! I, ARIES, HAVE RETURNED, AND AS A SYMBOL OF MY GRATITUDE, I WILL DISPATCH YOUR FOES!"

Sal trembled as he heard the words. This was not written into his deception. What was Aries? How could he, Sal Grimone, have possibly summoned whatever this thing was?

"MORTAL SAL, YOUR MIND IS CLEAR TO ME. YOU DID NOT REALIZE THAT YOUR ATTEMPT AT DECEPTION WAS INSTEAD AN INVOCATION! DO YOU NOT REALIZE EVERYTHING THAT COMES INTO BEING IS BUT AN INVOCATION OF SOME SORT? YOUR ERA IS IGNORANT WITH REGARD TO MAGIC AS IT WRONGLY BELIEVES IT IS SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR MAGIC ITSELF! REGARDLESS, I SHALL HONOR MY AGREEMENT WITH YOU, FOR WHETHER YOU UNDERSTOOD WHAT YOU DID OR HOW YOU HAVE DONE IT NONETHELESS! I, ARIES, HONOR ACTION!"

As Aries finished this sentence, he closed the distance to the Metheons with a single step. His visage was filled with conflict and rage. His eyes glowed a steady red, that swayed like tendrils of fire. The Metheons attempted to flee, but their attempts were futile. Aries singled out what Sal supposed was one of the leaders of the Metheons. With a low rumble that sounded like a battle cry, Aries concentrated his gaze on the man. The man began to shuffle his feet uncomfortably, and then it appeared as though his entire body began to vibrate. He froze in place and his hands began to shake with all the fingers splayed and his arms at an angle to his torso. From his throat rose an inhuman cry, and his flesh appeared to crawl off the bone. The flesh appeared to be re-knitting itself into something else. The man's body became larger and more muscular. Finally, the only thing left was his head. His face contorted and his eyes rolled back. Blood began to pour from his ears. Then, like a balloon touch against a sharp blade of grass, his head burst.

Despite the head bursting into a bloody mist, the body was not headless. The man was not transformed as such. It was more like the presence of Aries had chosen to kill the man in this fashion so as to replace it with something else. There was a discontinuity between the figures. What stood in what was formerly a man's place was something that looked much like a man. It was more muscular. More sinewy. yet, the muscle and sinew were black--like the flesh of an animal that had been allowed to sit in the sun and become desiccated. Ye, such an animal often has rotten flesh. One had the impression the flesh OUGHT to be rotten in this instance, but it had the likeness of flesh that was healthy and alive in terms of appearing to be somehow nourished. It was if necrotized flesh had been grafted onto what was otherwise a healthy body.

The head, though, proved stranger. There was long hair that appeared blondish. Around the head itself appeared to be a metal band. The eyes were hollow but flickered with a yellowish light. If not for the otherwise unappealing exterior, whatever this thing was might have passed for noble.

Aries spoke, "METHEONS, WELCOME A LONG DEAD DEMIGOD! THIS IS HERCULES, WHO IN LIFE DID MANY GREAT DEEDS AS A WARRIOR. NOW I HAVE BROUGHT HIM HERE TO RIP YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!"

Hercules moved with superhuman agility. Each step was fluid--almost as if he were dancing. One could almost describe his movement through the Metheons as beautiful if it were also not so terrifying and deadly.

The Metheons were attempting to spread themselves out. When they had been rushing the city, they had bunched themselves into a group. When Hercules made his first pass through what remained of this group, it was like watching bowling pins fall without being able to see any balls pass through them. Hercules didn't use any weapons. He used his hands. One moment his hands would be in one place, and in the next another. Necks would snap and spines would break. It was like watching a terrified school of fish attempting to flee a shark.

The Undertwon people stood by in awe and fear. They were uncertain as to whether they should be thankful or preparing themselves against what might be coming. If Aries turned his attention to them, they would suffer the same fate as the Metheons. Who knew where Aries's loyalties would lie?

One by one the Metheons fell--all of them attempting to flee. It almost seemed like Hercules had disdain for them like he was snapping matchstick heads. It was surprising then when a lone Metheon apart from the group appeared to be moving toward Hercules. On his back appeared to be a shadow of an axe. Whereas the rest of the Metheons had daggers and robes, this figure stood out because he did not. he walked confidently--assured. What made it even stranger was that he walked confidently and in an assured manner toward Hercules who was systematically slaughtering the Metheons like cattle.

When the strange Metheon got within half a football length of Hercules, he stopped. he drew his axe from his back and appeared to take the edge of it to draw a line through the dirt.

"HERCULES! Do you enjoy slaughtering these cattle? I thought you were a warrior, and YOU ARIES, do you have no taste for the fight? Must you send your minions out to do your bloody work?"

Hercules froze in place. he turned his attention toward this unusual Metheon.

The Metheon spoke again. "My name is Freighton Hawborne of clan Perilon. Whatever you are, if you are warriors, then you will cross this line. When you do, you will face me in combat, and you will be destroyed!"

Aries began his horrible laughter again. As he collected himself, he focused his attention on Freighton.

"YOU ARE A BOLD MORTAL, FREIGHTON. YOU ARE ALSO STUPID TO RAISE YOUR FISTS IN BATTLE WITH A GOD. IF I SO WILLED IT, I COULD MAKE THE BLOOD IN YOUR BODY BOIL THIS INSTANT WITHOUT TOUCHING A SINGLE INSTRUMENT OF WAR. YET, YOU, UNLIKE YOUR COWARDLY BRETHREN, HAVE THE HEART OF A WARRIOR, THOUGH I KNOW YOU INWARDLY QUAKE. SINCE YOU HAVE BROUGHT I CHALLENGE, I WILL HONOR THIS FIGHT. I WILL NOT FIGHT YOU, FOR YOU WOULD LOSE. YOU WILL BATTLE HERCULES, AND SHOULD YOU SURVIVE, THEN YOU WILL HAVE SHOWN THE METHEONS HAVE SOME MERIT AS A CLAN YET--THAT THEY ARE NOT ALL COWARDS WHO FIGHT WITHOUT BRAVERY OR HONOR."

Sal watched the scene unfold from his concrete barrier with what could be best described as entrancement. Some part of him wished to turn away, but the larger part of him made him hold his eyes fast--to understand what his creation had wrought. He could see Hercules approach the line that Freighton had drawn in the dirt. Hercules appeared to look down, then looked straight ahead as he came across the line--locking his gaze with Freighton's.

Hercules appeared to need no weapon. Freighton gripped his axe although for whether it was defensive reflex or offensive intent it was hard to tell. Freighton and the evidently undead Hercules locked their eyes upon one another. Each one was ready for the other to move. Hercules appeared relaxed and loose, whereas Freighton appeared more tense and inwardly drawn. Sal hypothesized this was probably because Freighton had more to lose since he was not brought back from the dead. After standing in apparent deadlock for what seemed an eternity, Hercules began to shout and run toward Freighton. Likewise, Freighton began to run toward Hercules with his axe drawn. Like two Rams both gathering momentum, there would come a point when they would each slam into the other. If Freighton was lucky, he might still be alive after the exchange.