Stone Blind(23)

She heard a deafening crack from far across the battlefield, and the sky split in two. Zeus had hurled a thunderbolt at Porphyrion. The giant had attacked Hera, pawing at her as she tried to take her chariot out of his reach. Zeus would never let this stand: he accosted his wife on occasion, but no other creature would do so and live. A second giant down.

An anguished cry now rose up nearby: Apollo showing off his perfect precision. The Archer had shot Ephialtes, first through the left eye, then through the right. Doubly blinded, blood streaming from his blackening sockets, Ephialtes fell to his knees. Not even Gaia could save this one, Athene thought. She could give him back his strength if she wished, but he would still be blind on a battlefield. Beyond Apollo, Athene watched Dionysus as he clubbed Eurytos to death, his blows falling too rapidly for the giant to parry or evade. His brains spilled out on the fertile soil. To Athene’s right was Hecate, who lobbed her dark torches at Clytios and set him ablaze. His brows were drawn in pain and fear, but she didn’t hesitate, wielding her sword to separate his sorrowing head from his burning torso. Even the limping blacksmith god had found a way to fight, Athene noticed. Hephaestus lobbed huge gobs of molten iron at Mimas, who screamed as he burned.

Three, four, five, six.

Athene smiled as she surveyed the carnage before her: gods in the ascendancy, where they belonged, and half the giants slain when the fighting had scarcely begun. She could wait no longer or it would all be over. She had already picked her mark: Enceladus, a thick-necked giant ahead of her. He was pushing his matted hair back from his forehead, trying to untangle it from his beard so he could see better. But nothing would help him with what was coming.

Athene liked her spear too much to throw it at one of these filthy giants: what if he dirtied it with his blood, bent or broke it with his falling carcass? She knew Hephaestus would make her another, just as good, but she wouldn’t take the risk. Not yet, not when she didn’t need to. Instead, she picked up a huge triangular rock and hurled it at Enceladus. He could not escape its trajectory and was crushed into the ground. Athene wondered if he might try and draw on his mother’s power to aid him, but it was far too late for that. Moving closer she saw that he had been obliterated by her throw: his body buried beneath the rock. Seven.

She experienced a rush of exhilaration to have made her first kill in this most mighty of wars. But even as she felt it, she felt something else too. A strange sensation, like ants were crawling all over her skin. One was not enough, she needed more. She could not leave this battlefield having done the same as Apollo, as Dionysus. War was supposed to be her speciality, not theirs. All around her she heard the crashing of thunder and the clashing of metal. But the chaos only increased her focus; her senses had become tuned to the noise and speed. She watched as Poseidon chased one giant right off the plain and into the sea. Athene rolled her eyes. What kind of idiot tried to evade Poseidon by running into the sea? The giants had strength and size in abundance, certainly, but they were still not worthy opponents. This fool might as well kneel down and offer his throat to the trident. She looked away, still searching for her second conquest. She already knew how Poseidon’s fight would end. Eight.

Athene had moved closer to Artemis as she followed her uncle’s battle in the sea. But an ear-splitting howl made her turn her attention inland. The hunter goddess had just shot another giant, her quick arrows bringing him down to the ground, his snake legs slithering and squirming beneath him. Perhaps Gaia was reviving him, but Artemis had brought her hunting dogs into battle. Athene felt a brief pang for her owl, but no regret for having left him on Olympus. She would not see her bird’s beautiful wings sullied. Still, she had to admire the way the dogs launched themselves at the fallen creature. Teeth fastened around his throat, and this would make nine.

Athene couldn’t see Hermes anywhere on the plain, but she knew he was there. Wearing the cap of Hades, which he had borrowed (or more probably stolen), the messenger god was invisible, even to her bird-sharp eyes. He was also invisible to the giant who flailed and bellowed into what looked like the breezes. But it wasn’t the wind that pierced his skin time and again, slicing through his hide from every direction and none. Screaming, the giant tried to grab at where he thought the god must be, but Hermes was nothing if not quick. And the giant was getting slower as blood poured from wound after wound: forearm, shoulder, neck, thigh, belly. That was ten.

And then over to her right were . . . Athene could scarcely believe her eyes. The Moirai, the three all-powerful Fates, who spent their days spinning the threads of mortal lives, and cutting them when deaths were due. They weren’t half as good at weaving as she was, Athene thought, but no one ever mentioned that because people lived and died with the length of yarn they spun. But no mortals were dying today, because the Fates had walked away from their spindle and their wool weights and their sharp knife. They were here on the battlefield, using bronze clubs to batter two more giants to death. Where did the Fates keep those handsome weapons in the normal run of things? Athene wondered. Did they have them hidden under their wool just in case? For the first time, she felt a grudging respect for the sisters: and that made eleven, twelve.

As the gods each pursued their enemies, Zeus was above them all showering Phlegra with lightning, one bolt slamming into another without pause. The fields would be alight for days after the giants were defeated: the trees were blackening everywhere she looked. And with so many duels taking place in every direction, there was, as far as Athene could see, only one more giant left for her. She could not imagine how the other gods had ignored him because to her he seemed to glow as he stood in the middle of the plain, lightning bolts illuminating him from all sides. Athene looked at him and felt something she had never felt before, and would rarely feel again. She had a ravening hunger for this giant.