All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [94]
Mr. Ma ceased his chant and drew in a long breath. “We now share their dream,” he whispered. He went to the edge of the circle of stones and pointed. “The memory of the memory of the Great Battle at Ultima Thule.”26, 27
In the valley stood rows and ranks of a thousand men in ancient armor. There were chariots and phalanxes, their long spears gleaming in the dawn. There were armored elephants, companies of archers, and catapults.
Standing front and center of all this was a man—even at this distance, unmistakable to Fiona, his breastplate dull rusted iron, his thick mustache drooping, just as it had been when she last saw him.
“Uncle Aaron,” she whispered.
There were others she recognized. Cousin Gilbert wore a robe of gold and carried a gold shield that caught the sun’s warmth.
She squinted. Three women stood together at the far edge of the army. One had long glowing golden hair that flowed from her helmet. One held three lions on the leashes. The last wore armor made of bones; her white hair fell to her waist, and she wielded curved knives.
“Dallas?” she murmured so softly that only Eliot heard.
“And Lucia,” Eliot breathed.
And together they whispered, “Mother?”
Fiona struggled to make sense of this. Intellectually, she understood the possibility that their mother and their relations were old, even ancient. But to see her here like this—in this page from history come to life—it was more than she could fathom.
“Observe.” Mr. Ma pointed to the far side of the valley. “The opposition takes the field.”
A crack parted the earth. Steam hissed forth as a dozen figures emerged.
They looked like men and women . . . although it was hard to tell because they were obscured by the mist.
Jeremy said with a little laugh, “A dozen against hundreds? Those unfortunate souls are going to be trounced.”
“Incorrect on many counts,” Jezebel replied. “Those are the Infernal Lords of Eld.”
“How can the Immortals lose?” Amanda asked Jezebel and Mr. Ma, twisting the ends of her hair. “I mean . . . they are gods down there, aren’t they?”
“Some are gods, so-called,” Mr. Ma answered. “Some heroes. Some merely brave fools. But there is one thing that you have yet to appreciate, Miss Lane. The Infernals are led by the Great Satan himself.”
The man in front of the Infernals screamed. Talons grew from his hands; curved ram horns burst forth from his head; skeletal bat wings cracked and popped from his spine.
He grew . . . taller and larger than any man could be . . . grew until he was six stories tall . . . skin darkening to amber and orange and finally electric crimson . . . and then he burst into flame.
The Great Satan roared a deafening challenge to the army of gods. Then he charged.
26. Thule is a mythic land, whether wholly fabricated or based in fact is a matter of continued debate. Ancient peoples described it as an island north of Great Britain. In the Middle Ages, it was thought to be Iceland, Greenland, or Svalbard. Confusing this issue is the use of “Ultima Thule” in medieval geographies to mean anywhere beyond the edge of the world. Nazi mystics believed Thule real, the Nordic equal to Atlantis, where once dwelled a race of supermen. Gods of the First and Twenty-first Century, Volume 9, Mythic Places, Zypheron Press Ltd., Eighth Edition.
27. “The blood spilt that day we used to write the Pactum Pax Immortalis. Were we craven? Or wise? Constantine united East and West under Holy Christian rule . . . did we creatures of light and dark see doom for all? Stop warring long enough to fight the greater foe? Only the truth be certain slain on that battlefield.” Coded passage, page 48, deciphered and translated from the original Greek, Mythica Improbiba (Bezzle edition), Father Sildas Pious. ca. thirteenth century.
26
THE BATTLE OF ULTIMA THULE
It happened fast.
Fiona was so filled with raw adrenaline, though, that her mind slowed everything.
Satan crashed toward the Immortals on the field.
The only thing she had ever witnessed to compare to this creature was seeing the bones of a Tyrannosaurus