Bel looked for the closest knot of trouble, worried that her slow reaction would cost the lives of her new allies. It didn’t take more than a breath for her to find a pair of gorgons desperately fending off a trio of the horned devils with nothing but a pair of long sticks. She took a single squelching step in their direction, but then the devils’ heads were perforated by tight clusters of small holes. Bel looked around, confused, and saw the same scene repeating around the muddy swamp. Wherever a gorgon was struggling, their opponent would suddenly end up dead.
Bel’s snakes fanned out as she whipped her head around, searching for their unseen benefactor. When she heard a familiar buzzing noise, Bel looked up into the trees to see the sling-wielding guard gripping a tree trunk with one hand and wielding her sling with the other. Her black and white striped snakes hung lazily over her shoulders as she looked around the battlefield with an almost sleepy expression. From time to time, she whipped her sling forward, launching tight clusters of small missiles to create attacks that the devils couldn’t simply bat aside. After each assault she spun her sling up to speed again, having filled it in a motion so fast that Bel couldn’t even seen it happen.
The egg-woman stood in the roots of the tree, beneath her sling-wielding guard and sheltered behind the implacable force of the armored gorgon. She clutched her clay vessel closely as she calmly surveyed the situation, apparently content to stay still while waiting for the fighting to come to an end.
Bel was pleased to see that the tougher gorgons were helping, and that the injured gorgons were gradually pulling themselves together, but the winged creatures continued to arrive and didn’t show any sign of stopping. Two more of them fell into the mud nearby, one turned to stone by Crecerelle’s glare and the other neatly speared by Orseis, but another three were churning their way towards Bel’s position. Their nostrils flared dramatically as their eyes locked onto her, and long, serpentine tongues slipped from their tooth-filled mouths when they hissed angrily in her direction.
Bel took another step away from gorgon that she’d saved and prepared herself for battle.
This is the wrong place for Sparky, she thought, but maybe Flora’s roots would be able to drag them into the mud.
She began to gather the energy to mix spirits, but her newest gorgon companion stepped forward and extended her unbroken arm to brush her hand against the water. A layer of frost rushed outwards from her touch, like a winter’s night playing out in a single breath. The frost gripped the stick-like limbs of their attackers, slowing them down and eliciting loud hisses of outrage. Cress and Orseis dropped to the now frozen mud, its firm footing now sufficient for battle.
Everyone else seemed to appreciate the new terrain, but Bel pouted at being denied her tree-form. I guess we should really discuss our different abilities, she thought.
The three creatures spread their wings to take flight, giving up on the frozen ground, but Bel’s companions struck before they could gain an advantage in the air. The injured gorgon glared at the leftmost creature, momentarily paralyzing it and sending it face-first into a frozen puddle. When its face touched the surface, she brushed her hand against the ice and caused it to erupt in a small layer of icicles that clung to the creature’s face, suffocating the life from it.
Orseis threw her divine weapon through the wing of the right-most creature, tearing a deep gash through the tough membrane. It shrieked in rage, spittle flying from its face as Orseis launched herself onto its back. In a moment she had it wrapped in her tentacles, and squeezed it until its bones cracked and broke.
Crecerelle launched herself at the center creature, her magnificent wings making her the more agile flyer by far. Bel felt useless as Cress smashed the creature’s face repeatedly with her hammer. Her companions hadn’t even needed her help. She almost felt relief when she saw another pair descending through the trees.
Bel grabbed a nearby rock, started its breakdown with destabilize bonds, and pounced. She threw the rock at the farther creature. The rock exploded with a spectacular burst of flames, launching her target into the dirt and stunning the second one just before she struck it. She didn’t waste any time pulping its skull with a liquid shockwave, no longer worrying about saving her energy now that she knew the organized gorgons had the upper hand. She ripped the essence from the dead creature’s body as she kicked off of it, pouncing upon her fallen foe before it could regain its feet.
She crushed its neck with a powerful kick and pulled its essence free, reveling in the chaotic expansion of her cores.
Bel looked around for her next fight, but saw that the stream of bat-like hoofed devils was finally slowing – not because their numbers were decreasing, but because other, larger creatures had shown up to feast upon them. The gorgons pulled away from the large, rock-colored creatures that carried huge, curved tusks. The ground shook as they trotted after the flying devils, and they whipped out long, snakelike trunks to pull their chosen pray from the sky like a person plucking ripe fruit from a tree.
Bel began to retreat with the rest of the gorgons, but froze when she saw a familiar sight sitting in a tree above them. It watched the events around it with eager eyes but otherwise didn’t move, a voyeur rather than a participant.
“Orseis,” she commanded, “kill that bird.”
Orseis reached up to a low tree limb, flinging herself forward with her rubber-like appendages. The creature Bel had pointed to spread its wings to take flight, but before it could leave its branch Orseis launched her spear. The bird flapped its wings once, but the divine weapon flew gracefully through the air and speared it through the breast before it could take off, pinning it to the thick trunk.
Orseis arrived a moment later and plucked her spear and the dead thing before leaping back to Bel. She waved the feathered creature in Bel’s direction. “This doesn’t look like a very tasty bird,” she complained.
The gorgon with the broken arm had been sticking close to Bel since the fight, and she looked at the strangely formed creature with clear distaste, its wrongness clear even at first glance.
“It isn’t,” Bel said with a sinking feeling. “And it’s not a bird – it’s one of Technis’ creations. Clark must have figured out that we weren’t in the other garbage glider.”
Stolen story; please report.
Cress’ wings fluttered as she landed by the pair. “We go,” she said urgently, before taking a second look at the not-bird. “What is that?”
Bel pulled the misshapen patchwork creature from Orseis’ spear. Its deteriorating pathcwork body quickly became a mess of feathers and ooze in her hands, and Bel grimaced with disgust. “It’s one of Technis’ eyes,” she replied. “Clark knows where we are.”
Cress’ lips pressed firmly together as she nodded. “Okay. Run now, talk later.”
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Cress tucked her wings as she dove through a thick bundle of branches, busting through to catch one of the not-birds by surprise. She didn’t bother with a siren’s shriek, simply solidifying the air around the feathery mess and squeezing its small power source until it shattered. She grinned as she deftly snatched the bundly of feathers from the air and pirouetted, returning to the group with a few flaps of her wings.
“Well, we’re not losing them,” she said, holding up the artificial creature. The rest of the gorgons returned looks of concern. Most of them, at least.
Honored Fortuit maintained an emotionless expression as she translated for Bel and Orseis. Her two guards – the eternally sleepy slinger Sangfroid and the inscrutable armored Escalope – only showed emotion when something approached Fortuit.
And Bel herself appeared more furious than concerned. Cress hadn’t understood the full story, but it seemed like the birds were brought by Clark, one of Technis’ adherent had been personally responsible for some of Bel’s injuries. The divinely created gorgon clearly yearned for revenge.
She examined her enigmatic companion, the scarred gorgon with the missing eye and snake. Bel certainly looked like she’d been through a lot of suffering; Cress worried that the isolated gorgon was carrying around too many repressed feelings. She had already seen Bel take her anger out on some mindless insects. Could the pressures from her divine parents push her to a breaking point?
And what about the other gorgons, many of whom had never expected to leave the Free City?
Well, luckily for all of them that I’m here to keep our spirits up!
“Don’t worry,” she said confidently as she tossed the not-bird to the ground. “We already knew that a new life wouldn’t come for free. This just means that we’ll get to test ourselves against our foes earlier, while we’re still feeling fresh and strong.”
She flexed her arms and rattled her snakes, showing off her cheerful vitality.
The other gorgons – mostly butchers and freezers who had worked in the food processing district – looked back blankly.
Oh dammit, who am I kidding? My last group abandoned me! I’m obviously terrible at this.
She looked at Bel, desperate for help, but Orseis drifted between them and blocked her gaze. A moment later, Bel was distracted by the gorgon with the broken arm, who seemed content to constantly bother Bel with silly questions.
The tentacled girl tilted her head and stuck out her tongue at Cress.
Cress made a rude gesture back. “You child,” she scolded her in English.
“You, ah…” She hesitated, struggling to remember a good word.
“Brat?” Orseis suggested.
“Yes,” Cress nodded, “you are a brat.”
Orseis grinned. “Thanks.”
“So,” Orseis drawled as she looked around, “are you gonna do something about this atmosphere? It’s worse than a funeral here.”
Cress sighed. “I had hoped that Bel would do something. She’s the one with the divine quest.”
She turned her head and was surprised to see Fortuit approaching her. “Maybe you can say something to keep everyone’s spirits up?” she asked hopefully.
“It’s your responsibility,” the woman chastised with a light tone. Fortuit stepped closer to Crecerelle, and her two guards took flanking positions on either side.
“Honored Fortuit,” Cress intoned, bowing shallowly, slightly ashamed that she had tried to foist her responsibilities onto another.
Fortuit lifted a hand from her birthing vessel, waving off the deferential attitude. She turned and said something to Orseis, finally convincing the child to leave them for a private conversation by offering her some paper wrapped treat.
“Bel can neither speak their tongue nor understand their struggles,” Fortuit explained. “Her worries are larger than this small group of gorgons.”
The honored gorgon’s water cobras coolly flicked their tongues in her direction. “You, on the other hand, are well known for your zealous pursuit of a – what do you call it? A better world?”
Cress flushed at the praise. “Oh, I’m not so well known,” she beamed.
Fortuit shook her head. “Your former companion, Agrafe, has spread many stories about you.”
Cress’ face fell at the mention of the hateful woman’s name. “Whatever she said–”
Fortuit chuckled and held up a restraining hand. “Don’t worry, her stories were so wild that no one could believe them. They had the opposite effect really. Our dens have been echoing with arguments about whether or not gorgons should be doing more than just surviving in the back alleys of civilization.”
Cress smiled weakly. “How do you feel about it, honored Fortuit?”
“Oh no,” the woman replied, mock aghast, “my sisters and I have other responsibilities.” She tapped her clay vessel. “Although I should think that my being here lends you enough legitimacy, does it not?”
Cress nodded eagerly. “Of course! If we didn’t have a chance of success then why would you come with us?”
Fortuit waved her finger at Cress. “Exactly.” She pointed to the huddle of gorgon who were nervously glancing around the shadowy forest. “Now go tell that to them. Get them focused on the goal and that little chance of success, before they decide to go hide under a rock somewhere. They are not warriors Crecerelle, not like you – but they are hard workers.”
Cress clenched her jaw and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll do my best.”
“Good girl,” Fortuit praised her.
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“Looks like she’s finally done with her pep talk,” Orseis declared with mock enthusiasm. “Maybe now we can start moving again.”
Bel tried to keep the frown off of her face. The over-friendly gorgon with the broken arm – her name was apparently Manipule, a fact that she had told to Bel at least ten times – was making her cups of ice and filling them with a sweet tasting alcohol.
At first Bel had thought that they were a medicinal potion since the gorgons distributed drinks to most of the injured, but it was apparently just a simple method of pain management. Bel wasn’t really interested, and James had told her a thousand times to avoid the stuff, but Manipule was eager to show off every parlor trick possible with her icy manipulation abilities. Bel didn’t have the heart to turn down the fantastically shaped containers that the gorgon topped off with the weak alcoholic drink. She tried to wave off the offering of a third tiny container – this one in the shape of a coiled serpent with delicate wings – by pointing to the Cress as the woman resolutely strode back to the rest of the group.
Manipule hesitated, but when Cress began speaking she still thrust the drink at Bel, refusing to go and listen until Bel grasped it firmly in her hands.
“I could always take care of that for you,” Orseis slyly offered.
“Lempo help me if you get drunk,” Bel groaned. “Lempo help me if I get drunk too,” she muttered, wondering how she could politely refuse any future drinks.
“Lempo,” she whispered, “I don’t suppose that I can just offer stuff like this to you, can I?” She stared at the drink hopefully, but nothing happened.
“Did you just try to get your mom drunk?” Orseis asked.
Bel smiled with resignation and began to slowly nurse the drink as Cress displayed her oratory skill; or at least Bel assumed that’s what Cress was doing, it wasn’t like she could understand anything. She glanced at the faintly amused expression on the egg-lady’s face and assumed things were going well.
Bel, on the other hand, was uncomfortable with them spending so long in one place. The new gorgons from the Free City were clearly in over their heads.
At least Fortuit’s guards filled her with a small sense of safety. The sling-wielding guard looked as though she was barely awake and the armored one had everything but her angry eyes hidden behind a heavy helmet, but Bel had seen the seasoned warriors react instantly to multiple threats as they moved through the Underworld. With their support, and the help of an entire group of the determined but unprepared gorgons, Bel could almost believe that she could defeat Clark and return to Olympos.
Almost.