James Axler - Pantheon Of Vengeance

Kane and the others had been around enough to balance shows of strength with diplomacy. Grenades and Grant’s monster-sized Barrett rifle were stashed away for contingency in the event of betrayal and disarmament. The extra weaponry disappeared under a camouflaging tarpaulin that Grant covered with dirt.

Kane pulled a pair of compact field glasses from a pouch on his equipment belt slung over his shadow suit. The high-tech polymers of the uniform conformed to his powerful muscles, providing nearly complete environmental protection from all but the most inhospitable climates. While not able to withstand rifle rounds like his old Magistrate polycarbonate armor, the shadow suit still offered minor protection against small arms and knives. In return, the suits granted greater ease of movement and offered protection against radiation and temperature fluctuation. Kane also noticed that the shadow suits were far less intimidating than the ominous black carapaces of their Mag battle armor.

“No movement,” Kane announced. He turned to see Brigid Baptiste tracing her fingers over the surface of weather-beaten column. “Any ideas what this was?”

“Considering that many of the vortices were recognized by ancient peoples as places of power, aided by the influence of the First Folk, this could have been an oracle. This isn’t Delphi, but it has a similar layout,” Brigid answered. “Sadly, nothing of archaeological significance remains.”

“So you won’t be distracted by shards of pottery,” Kane returned with a wink and a smile.

Brigid shook her head. “No. The only thing that could be found here would be in the form of resonant psychic energy.”

Kane raised an eyebrow. “Oh, right. Because the oracles were manned by ancient psi-muties. The nodes’ energy would increase their perceptions.”

“That’s a very good theory,” Brigid said. “You’ve been doing some reading?”

Kane shrugged. “Continuing education. With all the crap we’ve encountered, and all the telepathic trespassing that’s gone on in my head, it helps to be prepared. Granted, I’m going off of digital copies of the Fortean Times in the redoubt’s library.”

Brigid smiled. “I remember when you asked for that archive disk. I thought it was just to get more information on Atlantis.”

“That’s where it started,” Kane admitted. “A lot of the theories in those old rags sounded crazy. But after slugging it out with Quayle in the outpost, I had a feeling we’d eventually run across Atlantis itself. Along the way, other articles caught my eye, mainly from personal experience.”

“We know for a fact that the Annunaki took the roles of the Sumerian and Greek gods, among other identities,” Brigid noted. “With that knowledge, some of von Danniken’s alien-god theories come off much more plausibly…if you’re willing to ignore the obvious sloppy interpretation of an Aztec sacrifice’s guts being mistaken for the tube hookups on an ancient space suit.”

Kane shrugged. “Lazy speculators, or just plain gullible nuts.”

He sighed, getting back to the business at hand. “We seem to be on a peninsula. There’s a land bridge leading down from that cliff. So far, I don’t see any movement that would indicate the locals are aware of our presence.”

“Thank heaven for small favors,” Brigid replied.

Kane continued to scan the countryside when suddenly a column of blue-white electrical fire speared down into the land, creating huge clouds of debris and smoke from the earth. He recoiled from the power and the violence. At first, he thought it was a lightning bolt, but the searing slash of energy was too focused, too intense and lasted far too long to be a simple work of nature. Flames licked up from charred ground and, sprawled in the scarred landscape, burned corpses steamed. The dying sunset had been blotted out, overwhelmed by the brilliance of the sky fire. Cries of fear and suffering echoed in his ears, and he could smell the sickly scent of roasting human flesh.

Despair surged through him when he realized that he had been grasped firmly by Grant. Kane blinked away the flashes, and the sights, sounds and smells faded.

“Kane?” Grant asked, as if he were repeating himself. The big ex-Magistrate’s Sin Eater retracted back into its powered forearm holster, though Grant appeared confused at what had caused Kane to stagger and reel.

“No, of course you wouldn’t have seen that,” Kane muttered. “It wasn’t real.”

“See what?” Domi replied. She still hadn’t put her handgun away. “You froze for a moment, then started backing away from the edge.”

Kane looked around the ruins. “The oracle helped me experience a psi-mutie vision.”

“What did you see?” Brigid asked.

“Lightning,” Kane said. “But it wasn’t natural lightning. It was a weapon, and it tore the ground apart. And it was focused. It left swathes of charred corpses in its wake.”

“Zeus, the king of the Olympian gods, had a quiver of thunderbolts forged for him by Hephaesteus. Zeus’s thunderbolts were so powerful, they could destroy even the greatest monsters in the land,” Brigid said. “That myth could have its basis in an Annunaki weapon.”

Domi’s nose wrinkled. “This shit’s getting weird.”

“You asked to come along,” Grant chided. He glanced back at their hidden stash of weapons. “Monsters, other gods, cities, too, right?”

Brigid nodded. “Zeus obliterated anyone and anything with his thunderbolts.”

“So nothing in our bags is ever going to match that kind of firepower,” Grant announced. “Let’s just head down the bridge and meet the locals before Zeus drops the sky on us.”

Kane nodded in agreement, finally past the harrowing realism of his momentary psychic flash. “Good plan.”

The arcs of future lightning were still harshly inscribed on his mind’s eye, an ominous premonition of hell peeling back the sky and incinerating the earth below. He couldn’t dismiss his dread, and so he threw himself into his work. Maybe knowing the potential tragedy looming in the future gave Kane the power to prevent it.

It was as good a coping mechanism as any.

THE FARTHER THEY GOT from the oracle, across the ramp of stone and packed earth sloping down from the ancient temple’s remains, Kane’s senses grew clearer, returning to normal. As his senses sharpened, he realized that they were not alone. He shot a glance toward Domi, knowing that her own feral instincts were also preternaturally sharp. She was on edge.

Grant picked up on his two allies’ silent, brief exchange. “Where?”

“Feels like we’re surrounded, at least two flanks,” Kane explained.

Grant nodded. The hilly, rolling terrain was covered with sparse scrub, making it difficult for anyone to hide any closer than the hillcrests that bracketed them. Only the tops of the ridges provided sufficient concealment, as well as a good commanding view of the rut they passed through. Even with the deepening shadow of evening, their stalkers would be behind the ridges. The massive ex-Magistrate flipped down the faceplate on his black polycarbonate helmet, and vision-enhancing optics were engaged. While the shadow suits and mandibular implants had superseded most of Grant’s old armor’s protection and communication functions, the image-intensifying and night-vision capabilities of the black helmets were too valuable to surrender. The Mag helmet was also one of the few pieces of equipment that Grant was able to perform repairs on without compromising the fit of the Magistrate armor piece.

A heat source flared on a ridge, a head poking over the hilltop. Grant locked on to it, but the figure disappeared quickly. Still, he had enough for cursory identification. “Humanoid. Scrawny, hairless and naked according to the signature. Mammalian core heat.”