in the wake of an all-consuming battle that had shattered the defenses of Cerberus redoubt. There had been loss of life, but the mastermind of the assault and takeover, Ullikummis, had been repelled.
Now Rosalia found herself alongside the pair as they did what they could to find leads on the stone giant, the spawn of an alien overlord that had been forged by science and cruelty into a living weapon. The trouble with seeking out information on Ullikummis was that they lived in a world where cross-country communication had been severely curtailed. Sure, the Cerberus redoubt had done its best to spread globe-crossing comms to its allies, enabling them to keep close ties to New Edo in the archipelago that used to be Southern California, but as of now, the Tigers of Heaven were on lockdown, preparing for Ullikummis’s attempts to lay siege to them. On the other side of the planet, there was radio contact with New Olympus, but they had been told to lay low, as well.
Ullikummis’s power was simply too big a threat right now. Taking over the minds of war-honed samurai or armored mobile skeletons would mean that the Annunaki prince would become unstoppable. Ullikummis sought the tools to reforge the Earth, to destroy his father, Enlil, and to take his place as a cruel master of human life.
There were friends and allies scattered across the face of the planet, but calling them in against a mind-controlling god who was hewed from living, lava-blooded stone would be folly. Firepower and technology, martial skill and courage, these would only lead to the slaughter of Ullikummis’s thralls.
Rosalia was practical enough to value her life over those sent to attack her, no matter how innocent they were before the stony prince commanded them. She herself had carried the seed of the Annunaki prince within her; it was no secret from either Kane or Grant. At times, she’d feel the tickle of Ullikummis’s thoughts, but her will had proved too much to be kept tamped forever, not when the half-god was working to coordinate the New Order, his rapidly growing cult that had proved mighty enough to breech the walls of Cerberus and leave it in ruins.
Right now Kane had directed them toward the swamplands of what used to be the southeastern United States. Rosalia wasn’t happy with this mission, a run through a dangerous, treacherous terrain that was filled with inbred, crazed outlanders and the remnants of genetically altered species that strove to endure in the freshwater marshes and waterlogged hammocks at the southern end of what used to be called the Wiregrass Region.
This was a running feint by Kane. He and the others had left a trail that even the blind could follow. Her mongrel dog, padding stealthily beside her, turned his attention toward her.
“I don’t like being a target, either,” Rosalia answered him.
A soft whimper escaped the dog’s throat, and it turned its dark eyes toward the shadowed canopy that left the sinking marsh ahead of them in eternal dusk. Fingers of sunlight managed to penetrate, so the swamp wasn’t pitch-black even at noon, but the shadows were long and prevalent, providing hiding places for people or things. Rosalia rested her hand on the hilt of her knife, knowing that with the trail they’d left behind, it was likely that they could have been anticipated.
The New Order might be waiting ahead of them, ready to pounce. Though she still had the alien seed that linked her to Ullikummis’s will, she wasn’t certain if she, or her companions, would be taken alive for reprogramming or outright killed.
Either way, Rosalia didn’t want to press her luck. There were too many enemies in this world for her to let down her guard. Even if Ullikummis wasn’t in wait, there were rumors of vampiric raiders to complement the normal bandits and cold-bloods who stalked the corners of postapocalyptic America. Kane might have enjoyed drawing the ire and fury of Ullikummis’s machinations, but Rosalia had signed on to assist in resisting the godling.
Rosalia’s brow wrinkled as she looked in the shadows of the cypress trees sticking out of the slowly deepening water. There was movement flickering between the trunks, and it took her a moment to categorize them as birds and other small mammals flitting up and down bark, or leaping among the rare “low” branches of these waterlogged trees.
She looked back toward the two men who had been left behind, tending the boat that they had bought a few miles back when they were still working their way along a river toward the wetlands. Rosalia had volunteered for this stretch of scouting, scurrying across the length of spongy, muddy land that was only covered by an inch of water, rather than dipped down into two to three feet depths, teeming with leeches or microbe-laden mud that literally burned skin on contact.
Rosalia dipped her head in disbelief. Here she was, in a place filled with alligators, poisonous snakes, even bull sharks who had swum through the river delta as far as five hundred miles from the ocean to seek prey. Even the river mud seared the skin so that boots immersed in the mush had to be pried off so that bacteria and microscopic fauna could be scraped away from the skin. Rosalia wasn’t sure if such a concoction would eat even through the shadow suit she wore beneath her clothes, but she wasn’t willing to risk that. She was too experienced with swamps to think anything was bulletproof, self-contained environment or not.
Bandits and pirates were known qualities of this region, as well, and there were rumors of beast-men, both apelike and reptilian, who haunted the forested wetlands. The creatures could have been related to the so-called scalies, who had been hunted into extinction once the remnants of humanity in North America had been consolidated in the nine baronies. She’d never heard of any furry muties, but it hadn’t been something outside the realm of possibility. Kane also had delivered a warning about the swamplands of Louisiana, where there were small colonies of the nigh unkillable mutants known as “swampies.” If one pocket survived, then it was likely that the difficult terrain of intermixed marshes, ponds and hammocks would protect the swamp dwellers.
Rosalia turned back to see if the others were in sight. Between the long grass and the fifty-yard stretch of spongy ground she’d crossed, and the fact that the two men were seated in the scull to maintain a relatively low profile for now, she couldn’t spot her companions.
“Sure, Magistrate Man, hide when I’m checking for my backup, but not when a stone god’s hunting for your ass and mine,” she grumbled. She returned her attention to the cypress swamp ahead. Something was in there, and even her dog could sense the ominous stench of wrongness coming out.
There was a rustle behind her and she whipped around, dagger out of its sheath and lashing toward the figure’s throat.
Only Kane’s lightning reflexes prevented her from opening a deadly gash from ear to ear. His fingers locked around her wrist while the blade was still inches from his neck. “I know you’re mad about me being out of sight, but that’s no reason to take my head off.”
“Not funny, Magistrate Man,” Rosalia said with a sneer. “This stretch of river stinks worse than the rest. And not in the traditional sense. This…has a weirdness to it.”
“I feel it, too,” Kane said. “We’d heard about something going on here, something strange, even amid all the stuff we’ve been doing with alien overlords, extradimensional conquerors, even a tribe of dimension-hopping hackers.”
Rosalia shook her head. “Anyone else said any of that, I’d have called them a fused-out tangle brain.”
“Before or after you met Ullikummis?” Kane asked.
Rosalia nodded. “Before. I have to say, the weirdness really took off after I ran into you, Magistrate Man.”
“Don’t blame me,” Kane answered.
“So, you brought us here, leaving a trail of bread-crumbs for the New Order to follow, even when you knew that there was trouble already waiting
