CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY

The Resistance, Part 1

Sam didn’t hesitate to follow after Ice Brand’s new friends when they escaped to the nearby hills to the left of the canyon wall. Although getting away from the spartoi was easier said than done.

“They’re gaining on us,” Ice Brand announced in a softly spoken voice that was quite unlike the tone he used when he was on air with his icicles.

The Hades-exclusive spartoi—these bone-black machines of death that were like the underworld versions of a terminator—were living up to their name. They hounded the escapees’ shadows despite every attempt to shrug them off. Neither an ice wall, shadowy hands, nor Bulwark could keep them at bay for long. They didn’t tire either, something that couldn’t be said for Sam’s group. More than once, one of the cloaked figures would stumble, with either Sam or their leader having to help them back to their feet.

“We’ll lose them in the hills!” the leader of the ragtag group of cloaked figures yelled.

Once again, Sam was hit with another bout of nostalgia. Although he couldn’t remember where he’d heard this person’s voice before. A few things about this hooded figure seemed familiar to him though. From the square of his shoulders to the way he ran—Sam imagined he’d seen them before, but he didn’t know why.

“Herculean!” Raven Knight yelled in warning, pushing Sam out of his thoughts.

A spartoi had sprinted ahead of its fellows and was now inches away from skewering Sam’s back with the tip of its blackened bone spear.

He wasn’t overly worried about getting hurt as his Armor of the Odyssey had proven its resilience even against Medusa. Sam wasn’t willing to get hit again though, so he ducked to the right and avoided the spear thrust meant to skewer him. In the same breath, he twirled around and swung Gram at his attacker. But the blade got caught between two of the spartoi’s rib bones, leaving Sam vulnerable to a counter.

In a flash, the leader of the escapees appeared at his side. And, with a well-placed, push kick into the spartoi’s chest, he shoved the warrior back and away from Sam before it could attack him.

“Careful,” the cloaked figure said.

“Thanks,” Sam replied.

It was just like Sam’s luck that he’d faced off against the one spartoi in the group that wasn’t wearing armor. If Sam still had Onus, then he wouldn’t have needed the cloaked figure’s help. He’d have smashed that bastard good with some heavy blunt action.

“I hope she picked my hammer up,” he thought out loud.

A second spartoi appeared to his right, but Sam had learned from the previous encounter. Instead of using Gram, he ducked underneath the spartoi’s wide spear swing and then pummeled the warrior’s chest with a left-handed haymaker which sent the spartoi into two of its fellows running behind it.

“You’re strong,” the cloaked figure noted. He sounded impressed. “I knew someone who could punch like that…”

Sam thought he heard a bit of emotion escape the shade’s voice, although he wasn’t sure. The linen mask covering the lower half of his face and the hood that wrapped around the rest of him muffled his voice.

The spartoi followed the escapees to the foot of a series of low hills that hugged the left side of the canyon wall but no further. It was as if some invisible force kept the skeletal warriors from stepping into the shadow of the hill, and they could do nothing but watch with deadpan gazes as their targets escaped to the hillside.

“They’re not following us?” Ice Brand asked.

“The city guards aren’t allowed past the city limits,” the lead hooded figure explained.

“The spartoi we fought was like that too,” Sam recalled. “They couldn’t go past the boundary of the Golden Gate Bridge after we crossed it…”

Ice Brand gave Sam a confused look. “There were spartoi on the Golden Gate Bridge?”

Sam shrugged. “Long story. Tell you later.”

Despite losing their pursuers, the ragtag group continued their rushed march up the hillside without taking a break. This path led them to a cave entrance in the canyon wall hidden from view by well-placed stones piled on top of each other. Two more hooded figures in scarlet cloaks guarded this entrance, although Sam wouldn’t have noticed them so quickly if Triple-A hadn’t warned him of their presence.

“Flash!” The guard that appeared to the right of the entrance yelled in a challenge.

Both guards drew their gladius at Sam and his companions but then lowered their weapons after the leader of Sam’s group replied with, “Thunder.”

While the first guard had spoken in English, the guard who appeared to the left of the entrance spoke in ancient Greek, which Sam could now translate thanks to Triple-A’s assistance. “Welcome back, Phylarch,” he said in a low, scratchy tone.

They both saluted the hooded figure standing next to Sam, with each of their salutes different from the other. The guard on the left gave the standard military salute, while his companion offered the Phylarch an ancient Spartan salute that had been made infamous by the Nazis who’d co-opted it later on.

Phylarch? Sam thought, to which Triple-A replied, [It is an old Athenian term for a military commander. Usually associated with tribes and cavalries.]

Almost as if they’d heard his thoughts, the two guards’ gazes locked onto Sam. They each flashed him spine-tingling versions of the evil eye, nearly causing Sam to take a step back. He realized belatedly that they must have noticed the Mark of Hector on him because this was the only reason that he could think of to explain their sudden hostility.

“Lower your aggression,” The Phylarch ordered. “These livings aren’t our enemies.”

“Livings?” The English-speaking guard asked in surprise, while the ancient Greek one simply continued to glower at Sam. “He has the mark…”

While the other three members of his group and the two urchins they carried walked into the cave without a second thought to Sam and his friends, the Phylarch stayed behind and gave each of the three heroes the once over.

From deep within the Phylarch’s hood, Sam thought he saw a glint of two murky green irises. These eyes were appraising him now, he realized, and so Sam straightened his back and tried to look like he knew what he was doing. Sam wasn’t sure why he wanted to impress this man, but he did.

“We haven’t thanked you yet for helping us,” he said to Ice Brand.

“No need.” He waved off the Phylarch’s gratitude. “My body just kind of moved on its own when I saw you in trouble…”

Ice Brand’s answer made Sam grin at his companion because he knew that feeling well enough. All heroes did.

‘So, you don’t know what’s going on?” Raven Knight turned a curious glance in Ice Brand’s direction. “You didn’t stop to check whether or not we were helping criminals?”

“I, well, the thing is—”

“They’re not criminals,” Sam cut in. He wasn’t sure why he thought this, but his gut told him he wasn’t wrong. “Are you?”

“No, we’re not criminals,” the Phylarch agreed. “We’re the Resistance.”

“The Resistance?” Sam repeated. He wondered what sort of trouble Ice Brand had just gotten them into. “Who are you resisting?”

“Come inside and I’ll tell you all about it.” The Phylarch turned around and began walking to the mouth of the cave. He glanced over his shoulder to add, “Honestly, we could use the help of three living heroes for what’s coming,” and then he walked on without waiting to check if they were following.

“Herculean…” Raven Knight’s hand grasped his arm gently. “We have enough problems. Should we really be looking for more?”

Sam glanced sideways at her. “Could you run away from someone asking for help?”

They stared at each other for a second or two more before Raven Knight’s gaze softened. “No,” she said.

Sam patted her on the shoulder. “Let’s find out what in Hades is going on. Then we can decide what to do next.”

After avoiding the gazes of the guards who were pointedly staring at him, Sam and his companions traversed a series of interconnected round-shaped tunnels with low-hanging ceilings and passed through several stone chambers hewn from the craggy rock while they followed the Phylarch deeper into what was turning out to be a vast cave system. Torches lit with ghostly flames hanging at intervals along the passage walls gave the heroes enough light to see by, allowing them to glean some insight into the people of the Resistance. Many of the side chambers they passed were filled with shades, some looking very solid and filled with energy like the hooded warriors of the Phylarch, while many more appeared to Sam like the shades that he’d encountered outside the city gates. Hollow eyes on desperate-looking faces gazed out at him and his friends as they passed, with Raven Knight noting how ragged and faded these shades looked.

“This isn’t like any of the afterlives we were promised,” she said.

“That’s because it isn’t,” the Phylarch answered in a frustrated tone. “The afterlife isn’t supposed to be this bleak unless you’re one of those bastards who deserve to burn in the Banks of the Phlegethon or get thrown into the pits of Tartarus… What you’re witnessing now is the result of what happens when those in power stop thinking about the people they govern because they’re too focused on keeping their power or attaining more of it…”

The Phylarch was standing at the lip of the largest cavern they’d seen so far. Inside, Sam caught a glimpse of more shades—hooded figures in armor, with their weapons hanging from their belts or strapped to their backs.

“What do you mean?” Raven Knight asked.

“It’s the same BS that happens on the mortal plane… People in power tend to get corrupted by it.” The Phylarch motioned for Sam and his friends to follow him into the chamber. “And now it’s up to the Resistance to put a stake through their godsdamned hearts…”