The Four Legendary Kingdoms by Matthew Reilly
Alby and E-147 walked with him.
Jack had wanted to bring Alby for two reasons: one, because two heads were better than one and if he was going to see more weirdness, he wanted Alby to see it, too; and two, because he wanted to talk to Alby and he saw this as an opportunity to do it alone and out of range of inquiring ears.
They were led a short distance from their carriage and down a superlong and superhigh staircase that ran down the lower reaches of the western flank of Hades’s mountain.
As they walked down the immense staircase together, Jack said, ‘Alby, I need you to help me with something.’
‘Sure.’
‘This explosive charge in my neck,’ Jack said. ‘So long as I have it inside me, I’m their prisoner. I can’t leave. That asshole, Vacheron, used a remote earlier to detonate the explosives in those other guys’ necks. Which means the explosive charge uses a radio signal. I need you to figure out a way to jam that signal.’
Alby glanced at the ugly scar on the back of Jack’s neck and the sparkling yellow gemstone embedded in it. ‘Hmmm. If we had a jamming device, we could disrupt the signal either near the charge itself or near the source.’
‘The source?’ Jack asked.
Alby looked up behind them as they walked down the staircase, back at the colossal mountain-palace.
His searching eyes landed on one of the fortresses hanging off the Eiffel Tower–shaped mount, the second-highest fortress.
‘There,’ he said, pointing.
Jack followed his gaze . . .
. . . and saw the fortress Alby was looking at.
A cluster of modern antennas—radio, satellite and cell phone—sprang upward from one of its towers.
‘I’m guessing that antenna array is your source,’ Alby said. ‘I can’t see any others. The way I see it, you’ve got three options: (a) jam or remove the device in your neck; (b) jam or destroy those antennas; or (c) . . .’
‘Yes?’
Alby shrugged. ‘Steal Vacheron’s remote. He probably has another one somewhere, but it could buy you time, at least for a while.’
Jack turned to him and smiled. ‘I’ve always liked the way you think, kid.’
They came to the base of the giant staircase. A broad flat plain stretched away from them for about two hundred metres, ending at a most imposing and intimidating structure: a grim castle embedded in the western wall of the crater.
The castle looked incredibly strong: two superhigh crenellated ramparts bookended a colossal gate. The gate’s huge iron portcullis was currently open, and beyond it, stretching away into darkness, was a paved roadway.
A lone figure stood in the mouth of the mammoth gate, looking like an ant underneath the enormous ancient structure.
It was a minotaur, but a big one, with broad shoulders and a thick neck.
Even from this distance, Jack could see that the horned bull helmet he wore was more elaborate than those of the regular minotaurs. He was also dressed in flowing purple robes that glinted with gold edging.
E-147 hesitated, turned to Jack. ‘This is great moment for Jack and for E-147. That is Minotaur King.’
Jack’s audience with the Minotaur King took place in the yawning maw of the gate of the grim castle.
Jack stopped in front of the Minotaur King.
Up close, he saw that the Minotaur King’s helmet was incredibly ornate. It was embedded with rubies and sapphires.
The king removed the helmet, and Jack saw his Neanderthal face, hairy and broad.
But his eyes were like lasers. They glistened with intelligence.
‘Greetings, champion,’ the king said. ‘My name is Minotus. I am Minotaur King.’
‘I’m Jack West. This is my friend, Alby Calvin. And this is—’
‘E-147,’ King Minotus said. ‘I know. He is reason I wish to meet Jack West.’
Jack glanced at E, who bowed his head.
Minotus said, ‘Jack West save life of E-147 during challenge. This most unusual. Why Jack West do this?’
Jack cocked his head in surprise. He had wondered why the head of Hades’s minotaur army would want to meet him, but he had not anticipated this.
‘I didn’t want him to die,’ he said simply.
Now it was Minotus who cocked his head.
‘Why Jack West care for minotaur? Minotaur lowly scum. Minotaur dirty slave. Minotaur’s life not worth dirt on Jack West’s boot.’
Jack frowned at those words.
‘E-147 didn’t want to die. I felt sorry for him. And he’s not lowly scum. Nobody is lowly scum, not even a minotaur.’
Minotus’s eyes went wide, as if Jack had uttered something sacrilegious.
He looked away for a moment, then he spun back to face Jack.
‘For twelve thousand years, minotaurs live in service of King of Underworld. For twelve thousand years, minotaurs serve many different Kings of Underworld. Some kings good and fair rulers. Others mean and cruel.
‘Being Minotaur King is difficult job. Must balance Lord Hades’s wishes with needs of minotaurs. Much depend on nature of King of Underworld.
‘This King, this Hades, he decent man. Hard but fair. Good to minotaurs. Treat minotaurs as loyal servants not slaves. He has even say to me that after these Games, he let minotaurs live free here in Underworld.
‘But his sons not fair. Sons cruel. His first son and heir, Prince Dionysius, is very vicious man. Kill minotaurs for sport. Kill minotaurs when drunk. Dionysius sometimes hunt minotaurs with Vacheron and his younger brother, Zaitan. When Hades die and Dionysius become King of Underworld, it will be dark time for minotaurs.’
The Minotaur King bowed his head and looked down at the ground, contemplating this dark future.
Jack watched him closely.
‘Why did you really bring me here?’ he asked. ‘Why did you want to meet me?’
The Minotaur King’s head came up and he looked hard into Jack’s eyes.
‘In twelve thousand years, over the course of three Great Games, no champion ever save the life of a minotaur in a challenge. Ever.’
Minotus stood a little taller and suddenly Jack saw something in him—in this Neanderthal, this half-man, whatever he was—something that even the lowliest person had.
He saw pride.
‘Yet Jack West do exactly that,’ the king said. ‘As King of Minotaurs, I wanted to meet this man, this Jack West, and, on behalf of all minotaurs, give him thanks for saving E-147.’
He extended a hairy hand.
Jack took it.
‘I wish Jack West good fortune in remaining challenges,’ Minotus said. ‘Please forgive my minotaurs for their acts in next challenge. They must do job for which they are trained. But know that the other slaves of the Underworld cheer for you.’
Their audience over, Jack, Alby and E-147 were escorted back to the mountain-palace by their minotaur guards.
Jack ascended the giant staircase, deep in thought.
‘What are you thinking?’ Alby asked.
Jack squinted up at the mountain-palace above them.
‘I’m thinking that this whole affair—these Games, this mountain—is based on big-picture issues. Ancient rituals, royal houses, distant galaxies.’ He turned to face Alby. ‘Wouldn’t it be strange if it all turned on one small act of kindness to a lowly minotaur?’
A few minutes later, they came to the spot where the long staircase went over the tracks of the hostage train.
There Jack parted ways with Alby and E-147. They were directed back to their carriage, while he kept on going up the stairs to attend his lunch with Lord Hades.
Flanked by minotaur guards and still wearing his dirty t-shirt and no shoes, Jack was led into the royal dining room of the Lord of the Underworld.
Jack gazed at the glorious hall with its high ceiling and marble floo
His eyes scanned the four coats of arms. He saw the pyramids in the one for Land; a watery city in the one for Sea; mountains for the Kingdom of Sky and for Hades, the Hydra symbol and the mountain-palace in which he now found himself.
The giant statue in the centre of the hall of Hercules wrestling the Cretan Bull caught his attention.
It was a common statue, one that appeared in public parks all over the world, from the Tuileries in Paris to Hyde Park in Sydney. Jack had seen different versions of it many times. Now, however, he looked at it differently. After his own recent encounters with bull-headed half-men, he kind of felt a kinship with Hercules.
A bust of an ancient king stood beside the entryway. The stern-faced man depicted in the stone wore the same crown that Hades wore now.
A previous King of the Underworld, Jack thought.
Cut into the base of the bust were the words:
EVRYSTHEVS DIS PATER
‘I bet you were an asshole, too,’ Jack whispered to the bust.
‘I guarantee he was,’ Scarecrow said, appearing at Jack’s side, escorted by two minotaur guards. ‘What does “Dis Pater” mean?’
‘Dis is another name for Hell or the Underworld. So it means Father of the Underworld. Lord of Hell.’
Standing in the doorway to the dining room, they were soon joined by Gregory Brigham and the other champions.
Brigham had dressed up for the occasion, in full dress uniform. So had the Brazilian trooper Sergeant Vargas who, along with Zaitan, had won the Fourth Challenge.
Jack hadn’t.
Even if he’d had fresh clothes, he wouldn’t have worn them. They’d kidnapped him to come here and fight. He wasn’t going to dress up for anyone. He quite liked that he wasn’t wearing any shoes.
He noticed that Scarecrow had done the same. He just wore his dirty battle fatigues.
The royal spectators were already seated at their tables and they stood and applauded as the champions entered the dining room.
Hades sat at a high table. He also stood and clapped as the champions entered. Standing guard behind Hades, ever watchful, was his giant dog-helmeted bodyguard.
Scarecrow said, ‘One of the other champions told me that dog is the best of Hades’s warriors. Name’s Cerberus, just like Hades’s dog in all the Greek myths.’
Jack looked sideways at Scarecrow. ‘A Marine officer who knows Greek myths? You’re not the average Marine, are you?’
‘You have no idea.’
Jack also saw Mephisto standing close to Hades.
The little red jester glared at Jack, his eyes burning with hatred. He had not liked being outwitted and captured in the vertical maze.
I’ve made an enemy, Jack thought. The worst kind. One with substantial killing skills and who holds a grudge.
The champions were guided into the hall.
As he moved through the room, Jack saw a widescreen television with a list on it:
For the first time, Jack saw the names of all sixteen champions.
He noticed that eight of the names had been crossed out.
The dead ones, he thought.
Two names at the bottom had ‘MINO’ written beside them. Jack guessed that these were the two champions who had been killed and replaced by the gold minotaurs after the First Challenge. Now that the two gold minotaurs were also dead, those additions had lines through them, too.
Walking beside Jack, Scarecrow said, ‘They’re eliminating us, one by one.’
‘For their amusement and entertainment,’ Jack agreed.
‘Stay sharp, Huntsman. We’re not dead yet,’ Scarecrow said as he was guided away from Jack to be seated beside his patron, a distinguished-looking grey-haired man in a tailored suit.
Jack, Major Brigham and the Brazilian named Vargas were escorted to a table where Iolanthe and the Catholic cardinal, Mendoza, sat with another man: a handsome blond-haired man in his late forties who looked a lot like Iolanthe.
Jack ignored them as the last person at the table dashed from her seat and leapt into his arms.
‘Dad!’ Lily exclaimed.
She was wearing a beautiful floral day dress, demure high heels and was all made up—the exact opposite of Jack in his grimy t-shirt and bare feet. She looked glamorous, yes, but also sexualised, as though she were being displayed for these royals.
As they embraced, their lips came close to each other’s ears and they whispered softly.
‘You okay, kiddo?’
‘For now. Look who’s sitting with Hades.’
Jack’s eyes found Hades’s table . . . where he saw Dion DeSaxe sitting beside Hades and Zaitan.
Jack recalled the Minotaur King describing the cruel first son and heir of Hades as Prince Dionysius.
‘Dionysius . . . Dion . . .’ Jack’s face darkened. ‘The preppy kid from Stanford? The one who took you out?’
‘Yes,’ Lily said bitterly. ‘He is Hades’s son. He knew who I was all along.’
They separated and sat.
Iolanthe made the introductions.
‘Major Gregory Brigham, Captain Jack West Jr and Sergeant Victor Vargas, meet your patron’—she indicated the blond-haired man—‘my brother, Orlando, Duke of Avalon, Patriarch of the Deus Rex, and King of the Noble and Ancient Realm of Land.’
The Brazilian, Vargas, bowed and shook Orlando’s hand reverently.
After patting Brigham familiarly on the shoulder, the Land King extended his hand toward Jack. ‘The famous Captain West. The fifth greatest warrior. It is indeed a pleasure.’
Jack didn’t take his hand, just left it hanging there. ‘I met your predecessor, a Russian named Vladimir Karnov, a descendent of the Romanovs and then-head of your family. Knew him as Carnivore. I pumped a hundred rounds of heavy-bore anti-aircraft ammunition into him. Turned him into pulp. Nice to meet you, too.’
Jack sat at the table, leaving Orlando standing there with his hand held out.
Jack grabbed a bread roll and wolfed it down.
‘Right . . .’ Orlando said, throwing Iolanthe a meaningful glance.
She just shrugged. ‘We did kidnap him, brother dear.’
As he ate, Jack noticed that the Brazilian, Sergeant Vargas, was deep in whispered conversation with Cardinal Mendoza.
A glass tinkled, garnering everyone’s attention.
Up on the main table, Hades stood.
‘My fellow kings, lords, ladies and champions, welcome. Sixteen brave champions began these Games, now only eight remain. The Fifth Challenge awaits and historically it is the longest and most difficult challenge of the Great Games. Today it will be no different. Our Fifth Challenge is, without doubt, the most deadly and gruelling challenge our dauntless heroes will face, so it befits us to celebrate them now and give them a meal to fill their bellies. It is also time for the winners of the Fourth Challenge to claim their rewards.’
Jack felt his blood run cold.
He had forgotten about this part.
This was the moment when one of the other champions could demand his death and there was nothing he could do about it.
The two winners of the challenge in the vertical maze stood: Vargas and Zaitan, Hades’s second son.
Hades said to them, ‘You both secured a Golden Sphere in the Fourth Challenge. As such, anything that is in my power to give, you may have. All you have to do is name it.’
He looked at Zaitan.
Zaitan bowed low. ‘My Lord, I would like exemption from the next challenge, please.’
The crowd of royal spectators nodded. A wise option.
Hades said, ‘So be it. You are exempted from the Fifth Challenge.’ He turned to Vargas. ‘And you, champion? What is your reward to be?’
Sergeant V
He was no longer flying under the radar—his actions in the last two challenges had shown him to be a threat—and the Brazilian now saw him as exactly that, a rival who had to be eliminated.
He guessed that this had probably been the subject of Vargas’s intense conversation with Cardinal Mendoza.
Still eyeing Jack, the Brazilian spoke.
‘Lord Hades,’ he said, ‘I, too, would like exemption from the Fifth Challenge.’
Jack released the breath he’d been holding.
But he quickly found himself contemplating a new thought. What did this Fifth Challenge involve that would make these two well-informed champions use their precious rewards to avoid it?
‘Very wise choices,’ Hades said, nodding to Zaitan and Vargas. ‘They show a keen and classical understanding of the history of the Games. The battle race that is the Fifth Challenge is fraught with perils. Two champions in the past used this very reward to skip it and focus their energy for the critical later challenges. I myself have always said that only a classically-educated champion can prevail in the Games.’
He shifted his stance. ‘At the conclusion of the Fifth Challenge, we will lay the first set of Golden Spheres in the minor temple atop this mountain. After that ceremony, the Games will enter a second phase, one featuring different kinds of challenges.
‘Eight champions sit among us now. The next challenge will determine how many proceed to the second phase.’ He locked eyes with each of the champions. ‘Please do not hate me for testing you so searchingly. I am not trying to crush the world’s greatest heroes. I am trying to find them. Enjoy this lunch, especially if it is to be your last.’
Hades sat and lunch began.
Jack surveyed the scene in a kind of stunned awe, observing conversations and chatter that seemed entirely unaffected by the bloodshed that had been occurring and which, by all accounts, would continue.
The Catholic cardinal sitting beside Iolanthe turned to Jack. ‘Captain West, forgive me, but it feels so strange to be sitting here with you.’
‘Why is that?’