90. RUN
Instead of landing among the feral horses, Akrivi twisted mid-air and sent an aether-packed slash downward.
Debris flew about as the earth split, forming a deep gully.
As he hoped, the horses at the edge changed course, pressing against the herd to avoid the slope.
Their focus was on Alma, who now stood in the crater of her landing, short sword in both hands, flaring her aether in a chaotic spread to goad them.
It was a good strategy. If the dire horses were focused on her, he would have enough room to attack from behind.
And he did just that. As some horses lost their footing and tumbled into the gully, Akrivi went after them.
He slashed at horns first, shattering them before driving his sword through their skulls.
The goal was to attack so quickly that they'd be dead before they could send meddlesome distress cries to their lead mare.
So far it worked. Since it wasn't an extraction, he wasn't gentle with his strikes. Instead of carefully severing and drawing the horns into his pocket, he shattered them because that took less toll on his aether reserves.
With each strike, he kept his breathing even, careful not to get too excited or anxious.
After accepting the Moirai's wine, he became considerably stronger, but with a slight drawback.
More power meant more aether consumption.
Though his reserve capacity grew, he was still learning how to conserve aether in a way that matched his improved abilities.
After slaying the horses in the gully, he leapt out and scanned the herd, searching for the double-horned ones.
To his dismay, he didn't find one or two, but four lead mares.
Each horse was considerably larger, bore long, spiralled horns, and released occasional neighs to command the rest of the herd.
Alma kept them occupied, zig-zagging in unpredictable patterns and leaving dead beasts in her trail. But...
It wasn't enough. Even now, in the distance, Akrivi spied another growing cloud of dust.
More dire horses were coming. Their unified movement made no sense.
At a glance, there were at least fifty horses, with even more joining in.
Dire horses usually moved in bands of ten and attacked other beasts' herds and isolated human settlements because they were flesh-eaters.
Such a large number coming after only two people defied logic.
What if it's him? What if he—
Akrivi shook his head, refusing to consider the terrifying suspicion.
Interestingly, none of the dire horses paid him attention. Probably because he was a mortal with a very tightly compressed aether reserve. Their disinterest afforded him a little more time to consider his options.
Alma was a low deity who drew aether from the air around her.
But that wasn't the case for him. He had a somewhat full reserve, but it might not suffice.
To considerably weaken dire horses, he had to aim for their horns.
On a normal day, it wouldn't be an issue if it were only ten horses.
With a horde of fifty flesh-eating beasts frothing at the mouth and more approaching at impossible speed, he'd be fighting on the edge of death.
The other option, rational but cowardly, was to flee. Use the return stone. Run at full speed in the direction he hoped Hades' Gate was. He dumped the idea as it formed. Even if he ran, Hades' guard beasts were likely to rip him apart before the god showed up. Still, it was tempting.
Just then, one of the double-horned mares slowed to a trot before going still. It turned as if guided by an invisible rein and faced his direction.
No way it sensed his presence at that distance.
He had kept his aether reserves tightly suppressed and even stood about one dyor-akona away.
Playing safe, he leapt even farther away, but it was needless.
The beast reared up, kicked its legs and released a sound between a neigh and a shriek.
In eerie synchrony, more than a dozen dire horses broke away from the horde and began racing straight for him.
His heart sank when even more horses joined the breakaway band. But it was fine. Speed was all that mattered. Even Demeter, who was notoriously stingy with praise, commended his speed. I must be faster than them. If I managed that, then maybe...
Blue vapour pumped past their nostrils as they ran into each other in their dash to reach him. The leader followed behind, its pace less hurried and its double horns flaring with aether.
Akrivi's grip tightened around his sword.
It's fine, he repeated to himself. He had faced worse training under Hades.
Had he, though? Fighting a single dire horse without destroying its horns was like slashing at a rock.
Speed aside, facing this many... He would have to draw a lot from his reserve, something he wasn't excited about.
The gully hardly hindered their pace. Each horse easily jumped over, their hooves striking the ground with a shuddering crash as they pressed forward.
Akrivi shot for them and slashed upward, shattering three horns in a single move. His blade slid across the snout of a fourth horse, and he leapt in the same moment it swung its head, aiming to pierce him. He jumped from beast to beast, landing lightly on their backs as he slashed and stabbed.
So far he had slain fifteen. He glanced ahead to see even more dire horses race into the frenzy, but the lead mare stood apart, unreactive to the cries of its dying herd.
It's waiting. Hoping they wear me out.
Gritting his teeth, Akrivi decided on a final push.
If that failed, he would have no choice but to fall to his last resort: his cursed form.
Pulling heavily from his aether reserve, he replaced his long sword with two shorter ones and shot for the sky.
As he flipped and fell back to earth, he counted with his eyes.
Twelve. Fourteen. Twenty-five. Thirty-two.
Many were dead, but a greater number continued to join in.
He landed with enough force to shatter the earth and moved before they could regain their footing.
The world blurred around him as he rushed at them, trusting his memory of where each beast was.
One blade shattered horns and the other stabbed through the eyes.
Blood splattered against his face and arm.
Flying bits of horn bounced off his aether shield.
One of the horses snapped at him, fangs flashing.
He easily twisted away, relieving it of its life as he narrowly escaped another stabbing horn.
He answered their relentless attacks with superior speed and brutal precision, following the flow of his sharpened senses until nothing was left.
No neighing. No thundering hooves. No blue vapour in his face.
The silence settled over him as he stood in a spread of dead horses, panting and covered in grime. Swiping his arm across his bleeding nose, he glared at the mare who now stood across the gully. It blinked its milky eyes, flicked its tail and tossed its mane as if challenging him.
To Akrivi's dismay, it was far from over. While he fought for his life, the rest of the herd had joined the mare, forming a wide circle around him. Gone were their frenzy and vapoured breaths; now they stood perfectly still and watched him with unblinking white eyes.
Heart pounding from exertion, he spat a glob of blood and straightened. His insides felt scraped raw, a sign that his aether reserve was dangerously low. Now or never then. Exhaling, he began shifting into his cursed form when a piercing force interrupted the process.
Staggering forward, he looked down, blinking in confusion as he took in the double horns jutting from his stomach.
How did—
A tearing pain yanked him from his daze as he was suddenly hurled through the air like a hooked fish. For a brief surreal moment, as he soared across the sky, he caught a strange sight.
Far ahead, before the largest dire horse Akrivi had ever seen, Alma hovered mid-air, kicking and scratching as if strangled by an invisible hand.
Too stunned to make sense of what he was seeing, he barely had the presence of mind to pull what remained of his aether to cushion his fall.
And he paid for it. His vision went black, then slowly returned, revealing a swirling blue sky.
His breath came in wet, drawn-out wheezes as he pressed at his stomach with trembling hands, doing a terrible job at staving the bleeding.
It's him.
The dire horses. Their strange movements. Alma reduced to a kicking, scratching mess.
He found me.
Was there even a point in running? No, it was better this way.
It would have been disastrous if Poseidon came to Themiscyra and May was caught in all this.
Since he was five, he had lived with fear.
Like a shadow matching his step, forcing him to never truly relax, telling him to grow stronger, teaching him to run because one day he would come for him.
Today was that day.
For a desperate, hopeless moment, he wished the horses would trample him.
That way, he would never have me. Then a burst of stubborn rage incinerated the thought.
It was far better to run than die a useless death.
Pulling a return stone from his pocket, he fed a line of aether into it and shut his eyes.
His body wavered out of existence and reappeared somewhere...
away. There was a faint bubbling sound. Probably a nearby stream.
He hadn't noticed before, but the sun was particularly harsh today. His eyes drooped.
Should he attempt throwing another return stone? No... stupid idea. His aether was nearly empty. He couldn't even switch to his cursed form.
Blood still spilt past his lips, and his nose felt clogged. The pain of his injury came in burning cramps that brought tears to his eyes.
There was a final option. If he could manage that before Hades' guard beasts showed up, or the horses. Please, not the horses.
Gritting his teeth, he attempted to reach for his earring, only to discover he couldn't move. Even his attempt to frown in confusion was impossible. Was it poison? But none of the horses bit him, and their venom wasn't strong enough to harm an advanced blood carrier. So, what—