“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.
The shield shuddered against him like a wild animal trying to wrestle out of his grip. Dozens of birds, their beaks caught in the bark, tried to wrestle free, even as more birds slammed into their midst. The number of holes weakened the barrier. It was only a matter of time — perhaps seconds — before it came apart.
Pierce felt something brush against his legs — not more birds but Lazarus, bloody and beaten, crawling to join them. His face was a bleeding mask of pain. “Go!”
“We’ll never make it,” Carter shouted back.
“I know.” Lazarus heaved his half-destroyed shield over them, leaving himself completely unprotected. “But you have to try.”
Pierce knew the big man was right on both counts. “Felice. Let’s go.”
But before either of them could move, a loud report — the sound of gunfire — cut through the thrashing of the bird attack. Pierce cursed under his breath. As impossible as it seemed, things were about to get even worse.
39
A commotion echoed across the treetops, filling the bottom of the sinkhole with the noise of flapping wings. Gallo scanned the sky, trying to locate the disturbance, but there were too many trees in the way. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere directly ahead, near what she guessed to be the center of the abyss.
Another noise, a low murmur of wariness and discontent, rippled through the Cerberus team. Rohn silenced them all with a withering glance. “Keep rowing,” he snarled.
They had been exploring the marsh for nearly an hour, using a small fleet of three-person inflatable rafts. Gallo occupied the center seat of one, bracketed by two guards. Dourado was in another, while Kenner and Rohn rode together in a third.
The boats were probably unnecessary since the water was shallow enough to walk through. But they granted some protection from possible attacks by amphibious and aquatic creatures, which might be lurking beneath the surface. That was the reasoning at least. Gallo doubted the inflatables would shield them from the poisonous breath of the salamanders, but thus far the strategy had worked. Aside from the buzzing of insects, they had seen no evidence of animal life since the attack on the shore. At least, not until the noise of not-quite-distant-enough wings was heard.
And now that’s where we’re headed, Gallo thought. The only upside to it all was that every deadly animal encounter brought them one step closer to the failure of Kenner’s plan.
The salamander creature, which she knew must be some kind of chthonic chimera related to the Hydra, was evidence enough that Kenner was on the right track, but the outcome of that initial attack indicated how ill-prepared the Cerberus team was. Hercules had been hard-pressed to defeat such beasts, and he had been nearly invincible.
As they rounded a copse of cypress trees, Gallo glimpsed movement in the sky. A strange rippling cloud hovered above a point several hundred yards away. After a few seconds, something changed, and the cloud became almost transparent, dotted with black specks. Then it solidified again. It reminded her of a fish shoal changing direction in unison. Or a flock of birds.
Dourado gave an uneasy laugh. “Angry birds.”
“No kidding,” Gallo muttered.
Kenner peered through a pair of binoculars for a moment then lowered them. He flashed a grin in Gallo’s direction. “Stymphalian birds, Augustina. That’s what those are. Think about it. The birds originally belonged to Ares. Hippolyte was the daughter of Ares.”
“I think you’re missing the point, Liam.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “We have guns.”
Gallo eyed the swirling mass in the distance. “But do you have enough bullets?”
Kenner made a hurt expression. “Give me some credit for knowing the source material. The sound of the shots will drive them off. That’s how Herakles defeated them.”
Gallo was not quite so optimistic about the strategy’s chances of success, but offered no further comment. If the birds did attack, it might present a chance for escape. She glanced over at Dourado and mouthed the words, ‘Be ready.’
Dourado just stared back at her, looking miserable.
Oh, Cintia, I’m so sorry. I bet you’re wishing you’d stayed at your computer.