Kairos 36: Blood Moon

Every minute, he was getting a little better at riding Rook.

Kairos had Thales and his spear to thank for that. The automaton genius had modified a horse’s saddle to fit a griffin’s back, with chains keeping the rider’s legs attached to the beast. The [Hero] couldn’t climb down quickly, that was true, but he no longer risked falling off his friend’s back with every flap of his wings. It was a clumsy, difficult ordeal, but at least Kairos could fight on griffinback.

The [Anemoi Spear] had also removed the greatest source of concern, namely the wind. Air flowed on Rook’s feathers like water on a fish’s scales, but men weren’t born to fly. By deflecting the wind with his magical item, Kairos no longer had to worry about air friction; in fact, he had already imagined a few tricks that he would test against the undead.

The System seemed to have taken notes of his efforts.

You unlocked the [Griffin Rider] Class Specialization.

Kairos would have rejoiced, if he had SP left to invest in Riding Skills. Unfortunately,  he didn’t have time to grind anymore.

The sun had almost set.

Though it spelled horror, Kairos couldn’t help but admire the sunset’s beauty. From above Moros, he saw the fiery sphere swallowed by the sea, turning clouds red and golden. “Is it always like this for you?” he asked Rook, as the evening breeze brushed against his cheeks.

“Oh yes!” While Kairos felt slightly morose at the incoming battle, the griffin was overjoyed to show his best friend the world from above. “With the right angle, you can see the sun rise behind Histria’s mountain at dawn. It looks like a giant candle. I will show you when we get back!”

Kairos smiled, though he wasn’t sure if they would all live long enough to see it.

The [Hero] glanced at the city beneath him. Moros had been built for trade and defense, for which Kairos was thankful. The outer walls might have collapsed under undead assaults, and the harbor lost its chain, but the city had a second row of fortifications protecting the religious and civil administration district.

Of all the buildings, the temple of Persephone was the highest, a dark dome of volcanic stone standing atop a walled hill and steep slopes. Great blackstone stairs were the only way to climb the hill and reach the shrine’s gates. The defenders had established their headquarters there to command the assault, and make their final stand. Medea and her dragon nested atop the dome, looking at the sea with concern while Stymphalian birds circled above her head.

When Medea had informed her that Moros’ wards wouldn’t survive a new assault, General Petra ordered the civilian population’s evacuation the second, and Julia provided the ships to transport them on Achlys’ shore. By sundown, only soldiers remained in Moros, whether they were Achlysians or Travians.

Thalestris had given Kairos and Julia an earful when they ordered their fleet to move away from Moros, believing that they should do everything in their power to prevent the undead from making landfall. The Foresight’s captain knew better. The Argo could rise from below the waters, so it would bypass all naval blockades and disrupt naval formations. The land wasn’t Kairos’ element, but it was where the undead would be most vulnerable. Thalestris, who had seen the Argo rise to take her ships by surprise before, begrudgingly saw the wisdom in this approach.

Still, Kairos couldn’t help but think that while amazons were reputed on land, they weren’t half as experienced in naval warfare as Travians.

Truth be told, Kairos would have preferred to lure Jason and Medea close to the temple instead of fighting at all, perhaps under the cover of a truce. But though he broached the subject to Thalestris and General Petra, neither had been enthusiastic. “Our distant sister’s magic may succeed, or she may not,” Thalestris had said. “But if she doesn’t then steel will win the night.”

“We could lure Jason out with the possibility of a peaceful solution,” Kairos had replied. “It will be a lie, but if he bites it then we could run the ritual without shedding anyone’s blood.”

“He will suspect foul play,” General Petra had countered. “Especially with his wife involved. Jason has answered all appeals to discussion with violence. He will come alright, but with an army at his back and a river of blood ahead.”

Kairos couldn’t argue with that, but he thought they should favor a strategy focusing on preserving lives rather than keeping the city. The undead didn’t care about their losses, since they could replenish them easily enough; but every living warrior counted.

The war meeting that had followed had almost collapsed into a bloodbath before the dead even rose. Necessity hadn’t erased the bad blood between Achlys and Lyce, and Julia was Lycean to the bone. Medea had protested at her presence in the council meeting, while the elders had done their best to put as much distance between them and her.

And when Kairos had proposed his battle strategy, Thalestris had called him mad. “You want to abandon the outer walls?”

“The Argo alone has more [Heroes] onboard than we have gathered in this room,” Kairos had pointed out. “To win, we must divide the Eidolons, force them to spread out and cover more ground. Moros is a large city, and the space between the two sets of fortifications is huge. We should exploit the distance.”

“One woman on the wall is worth ten undead below, and the outer walls are thicker and stronger than their little sisters.”

“That might have been true, before Heracles dug holes in them,” Julia had said mockingly. “The walls of Troy couldn’t stop Heracles, and yours won’t either. I agree with my husband, it is better to focus our defenses at the inner walls, where we have less ground to defend.”

The oldest of the elders had glared at her. “What does a Lycean [Bard] know of war strategy?”

“More than you, clearly. Hard as it is to admit it, the undead will crush us in a straight fight, so we mustn’t give it to them.”

“Our mounted archers can shoot, feign and retreat,” General Petra had said, looking at the city’s map. “But eventually, the undead will gain ground and surround us. They will take the wider city, and besiege the fortified districts.”

“And Moros will become their fiery tomb,” Kairos had replied.

Agron had grinned like a maniac, upon realizing what he meant. “I like the sound of that.”

“I don’t,” Thalestris had replied. “We came to defend the city, not torch it.”

Surprisingly, Medea had supported Kairos, though not for the best of reasons. “No, we came to destroy my husband and deplete his forces. Without the wards to protect it, the city is doomed anyway.”

“If I may,” Cassandra had interjected. “We already evacuated the civilians, what is there left to protect? The houses? They can be raised again easily enough, given time. Lives though… death is not a peaceful fate, I can tell from experience. This plan will cost Moros some of its infrastructure, but it will save lives.”

“What will foreigners think when they see our port burning?” Thalestris had replied angrily. “What message does it send?”

“That you are ready to do anything to win,” Kairos had countered. “If you can do that to your own homes, what will you do to your enemies?”

Thalestris had opened her mouth, closed it, and decided that she liked the sound of that. Or maybe Kairos’ enhanced [Charisma] and diplomatic Skills had done the trick. He felt as if he had an easier time getting his ideas across.

“I suggest this formation,” General Petra had said, putting wooden figurines on the map to illustrate her plan. “Lord Kairos will command the right wing, which will be mostly composed of his Travian levies… and his Scylla. I will command the center, and protect the temple’s entrance. Bards like Lady Julia will stay there, so their songs might reach everyone.”

She hadn’t said a word about Cassandra’s role, keeping that part secret from Medea. “Take the Foresight with you,” Kairos had told his wife. “It can walk on land, and the crew will have the benefit of elevation. You will find no fiercer defender.”

“I would rather have you, husband,” she had replied. “But you have wings now, and I do not.”

General Petra had nodded, taking Kairos’ mobility on griffinback into account. “Finally, I suggest Queen Medea command the left wing with our best troops. Knowing our enemy, Jason will probably make a beeline for Her Majesty.”

“No,” the witch-queen had replied with a scowl. “He will send Heracles.”

“You are the only [Demigoddess] we have, so you might be our only chance against him anyway,” Kairos had said.

“I might harm him, but swords and arrows will bounce off his lion’s pelt, like my witches’ spells,” the sorceress-queen had hissed, before her eyes turned to worry. “Only [Heroes] and above can even damage the son of Zeus. My dragon will buy me time, but… if it gets close…”

“Then take our hydra, and have your witches cast buffs. It’s a [Hero], it should be capable of harming Heracles, or at least prevent him from forcing you into close-combat.”

An Empusa attendant of Queen Medea had been aghast at the suggestion. “You want us to buff a hydra? What if it turns on us?”

“It won’t.”

“It’s a monster—”

“Like the dragon your queen rides in battle,” Kairos had cut her off. “No man or woman can withstand Heracles, that is known. Our hydra’s ancestor could at least keep him on his toes. Unless anyone else is brave enough to fight Heracles in melee?”

“I am,” Thalestris had replied, her greatsword glittering. “But I wouldn’t mind a backup, even if it’s a hydra. The Battle of the Two Queens sounds great to the ears.”

Considering what the Hydra called herself, Kairos thought the battle of the three queens might have been more appropriate.

His plan won out in the end, and Kairos spent the day overseeing the defenses. Thales and the engineers had booby-trapped the city the best they could in the short amount of time they had, while the city’s gold, spices and valuables had been transferred to the temple’s vaults. Archers had taken over the city’s inner walls, while cavaliers prowled the wide streets. Amazons hoplites and Travians reavers had assembled in parties; but while the former looked more like disciplined legions, shield turtles with spear horns, the latter were a motley horde of axes and swords.

Kairos’ army.

It would take time to turn these sellsword warbands into a disciplined army, but Kairos could see the potential. The Travians’ average level was higher than the amazons’, and what they lacked in organization they made up for in ferocity.

Kairos had Rook enter the temple through one of its windows, one large enough to let a dragon through; perhaps it had been designed this way, to let Medea’s beast in.

Whatever the case, Persephone’s temple put all others to shame in its majesty and strangeness. All the colors were shades of black and white; the walls and ceiling looked made of solid darkness, the statues and altars of chalked bones. Two lines of spikes formed a spiraling pathway towards the temple’s heart, topped with gilded, golden skulls; each of them belonged to a different creature. Kairos recognized minotaurs, humans, merfolk, manticores… and to Rook’s displeasure, even a griffin’s remains. The skulls glowed with white flames in their orbits, lighting the way to Tartarus.

Thirteen statues stood at different spots of the spiraling path, each representing a demigod in service of Queen Persephone. Charon the boatman, a ghoulish skeleton driving a skiff with a long black rod; mighty Cerberus, first of the hellhounds, who protected the Underworld’s gates; the three Furies, oath keepers and takers of vengeance; and many other horrors.

Queen Persephone’s statue, the tallest of them, rested on a throne of bones at the temple’s center. It was an ill-omen to represent the deity’s fearsome visage, and so the sculptors replaced her face with a grinning, crowned skull.

A group of six veiled priestesses prayed to the altar, forming a line behind Cassandra and Julia. Kairos’ first mate had traded her armor for a black chiton smelling of ashes, and her hair had been bound by gilded bones. It made her look as beautiful and welcoming as a peaceful death.

Julia, who acted as Cass’ witness and assistant, had never looked more dignified than since her wedding. Her wolfskin mantle glittered to the skulls’ glow. Soon she would sing a dirge in these halls, to lull the keepers of the Underworld into letting the dead out, as Orpheus once did with his wife.

Rook solemnly landed next to the congregation, careful not to disturb the spikes. The priestesses didn’t even raise their eyes, keeping up their prayers. Cass and Julia, though, smiled at him. “Husband,” Julia said. “Has night fallen already?”

“Not yet, but soon,” Kairos replied from his griffin’s back. “I came to provide the last words of encouragement.”

In case one of us doesn’t make it, was left unsaid.

“Today is not the day I die, husband, though I cannot say the same for the people outside.” Julia gently caressed Rook’s feathers. “Keep my man alive, would you, brave griffin? I would rather avoid being widowed within a month of my wedding.”

“Nobody is getting past me!” the griffin boasted. “This time, arrows will bounce off my wings! You will see!”

Cass watched the scene with a smile, but Kairos could see the tension behind them. “Cass?” he asked the aunt he never had.

“What if it fails?” she asked, before correcting herself. “What if I fail?”

“Then we all die,” Kairos replied bluntly. “Unless Jason manages to get his hands on his craven wife before she can flee, but I wouldn’t count on that.” He could tell that this coward would turn tail as soon as she thought the battle was lost, even if it meant abandoning Moros to its destruction.

Cass glared at her captain. “You were supposed to say that I wouldn’t fail.”

“You won’t, because you don’t have any other choice.”

“Are you sure your [Charisma] went up rather than down?”

“Empty courtesies wouldn’t have convinced you,” Kairos replied. “Cass, I wouldn’t pull all our forces into this battle if I didn’t believe in you. The System itself rewarded your efforts, hence you are on the right path.”

“You kept my husband alive and maintained order when he couldn’t,” Julia added, reassuringly. “Cassandra, you have proven your valor many times. Now is the time everyone sees it.”

“Way to put pressure on my shoulders,” Cassandra replied, her smile turning more genuine. “It’s just… it seems death has shadowed me for a while now, Kairos. I’ve outlived your father Chron, your uncle, and though I didn’t outlive you—“

“Yet,” Kairos interrupted her, earning a slap on the back of his head for his trouble. Julia looked on with amusement.

“While I didn’t outlive you, you outlived me, and yet it wasn’t the end.” Cassandra joined her hands. “My [Legend], my destiny, is tied to death. That much is clear now, and… I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”

“No more than I chose to be associated with monsters,” Kairos said, Julia grinning dangerously as he spoke, “and here I am. And well, look at the allies we made along the way.”

“Our wooden nest has grown big and strong!” Rook added. “Now it protects us!”

“All I’m saying is, maybe you are associated with death, but it isn't inherently a bad thing,” Kairos reassured Cassandra. “You can still make the best of the gift given to you.”

“I am,” Cassandra said, glancing at the statue of Queen Persephone. “Do you think she sent me back on purpose?”

“She allowed it at least,” Julia said. “She is a jealous deity as far as her dominion is concerned, like her husband before her.”

“Then I suppose all I can do is be grateful for the second chance, and make the best of it by protecting the living from the dead.” Cass took a deep breath. “I have buried people in my life, but… not tonight, Kairos. Not tonight.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kairos said with a grin. “Go, Cass. Seize your chance. I will be behind you, to push you forward.”

“Thank you.” Cass returned his grin with a coy one of her own. “But don’t you dare die on me, or I will hunt you into the Underworld. I went there once, I know the way in.”

Kairos grinned, before turning to face his wife and giving her a chaste kiss. It lacked the warmth and passion of those he shared with Andromache, but there was a little warmth to be found there too. It would take time before he and Julia came to love another, but… maybe they would get there too with time.

“Come back alive,” Julia said upon breaking the embrace. “Remember what I told you. A victory here will earn us a throne.”

“I will come back victorious,” he answered, “or not at all.”

“Let’s go!” Rook said as he took flight, flying out of the temple the same way he went in. Julia blew him a kiss, before starting to sing a dirge song while Cass knelt in prayer.

The griffin and his rider flew over the temple’s stairs, where the Foresight stood watch like Cerberus itself. Nessus had taken command of the ship in Kairos’ absence, bow raised for the kill; Kairos hoped the loss of his left eye wouldn’t diminish his skill. Tiberius and Thales toiled on the deck alongside other crew members, preparing the ballistae, distributing fire rods and other weapons. Half his crew saluted Kairos as he flew above them.

“Protect them,” Kairos whispered, while looking at the Foresight. “I promised that I would bring them all home alive, and I’ve lost enough people already. It’s up to you not to make a liar out of me.”

To his surprise, the Foresight’s mast seemed to tip over by a few centimeters, like a nod. The ship had grown more independent with each corpse it swallowed, and Kairos wondered how long it would take for it to gain sentience.

Kairos and Rook flew above the city, joining the Stymphalian birds and Medea in the skies. The dragonrider remained far from her own troops, isolated, lonely. On the ground below Kairos, Andromache in Scylla form established wards on the inner walls, while Agron wiped his raiders into a frenzy.

Kairos and his mistress locked eyes for a moment, and the Travian sensed the gemstone she gave him burn in his pocket. His fingers brushed against it for a second, before he grabbed his spear and prepared.

The sun had fallen, and the crescent moon was red as blood. It reminded Kairos of a scythe falling down from the heavens, to cut necks and harvest life.

Rook hovered high above ground, waiting while flapping his wings. “You’re ready, Kairos?” he asked while looking at the ocean. He could smell the scent of rot in the air.

“Yes,” Kairos replied. “They’re coming.”

The dead rose as the harbor’s waters turned to blood, and Orpheus’ song echoed across the waves.

As Kairos had expected, undead rose from within meters of the shores; not by the dozens, but by the thousands. Rotten merfolk more bones than flesh and scales; shambling minotaurs missing an arm or a leg; corpses bloated by saltwater. Many were human women, the toil taken from the Argo’s raids, and most carried rusted iron weapons. Others would simply kill with their claws.

Kairos couldn’t hope to count them all, but he would estimate the incoming army as at least twice larger than the defenders’. These were all of Jason’s victims across the centuries, raised to do their slayer’s bidding. Kairos prayed not to see his late crewmates among them.

The Argo itself appeared in the middle of the harbor, the admiral ship of a ghost fleet. The other vessels that crashed on the shores were made not of bones but rotten wood, their hulls spilling shambling corpses like warm entrails.

And at the Argo’s helm stood Jason of Iolcus with his fiery bident. The revenant had surrounded himself with an elite guard of armored warriors, alongside the Polydeukes brothers, Castor and Pollux. Though Kairos was too far away to see the undead captain’s face, he had the feeling he looked in Medea’s direction like a shark maddened by blood.

The Argo spilled out dead things too, heroes to lead the charge. Mighty Heracles went left, destroying  the outer walls by walking through them. A pallid archer with a golden bow, wild black hair, and lion skin clothes led a force of Spartoi near the center, followed by a sickly shade wielding a silver lute. Two winged figures rode the winds to the right, intending to challenge Kairos himself for mastery of the skies.

The Boreads came for Kairos' group, Heracles for Medea, Orpheus and Atalanta for the temple. And Jason, like his wife, commanded from the far back, observing the battle from the Argo’s deck. His wife’s presence had made him cautious for now, but he would charge too. He had waited centuries to claim Medea’s head, and his wrath would overwhelm him.

You are a [Hero], Kairos, but you are not a Hero yet.

Jason’s words echoed in Kairos’ mind, as he readied his spear and prepared to go after the Boreads. The Argo’s captain had been right back then, but now would be the time to make him lie. Either Kairos would perish as an upstart mortal... or he would live as a Hero.

This would be a night to remember.

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A/N: thank you for sponsoring this chapter. I would say we are 4/5 chapters near the end of the first volume.