by James Hunter
Thankfully, my heavy, pain-in-the-ass War Mammoth Cloak finally pulled its weight, partially protecting me from the blast of blistering cold. Because of its magic, I took 25% less frost damage, so I could move, but I didn’t. Not yet. I didn’t want to tip my hand prematurely, so instead I pretended to be as frozen as Myrina, Phoebe, Sophia, and the rest of my warriors.
There was one small silver lining, however: I didn’t see Loxo. She had melted into the shadows and was probably waiting for the signal to attack. We couldn’t message, obviously, because our communication had been compromised, but she’d move when the time was right. I had faith in her.
Antiope walked up to me and slapped me for a second time, her palm battering my cheek, my skin stinging from the blow. Holy shit, but those Battle Wardens were strong.
Fury burned inside me as I stared into her eyes. Hate at the humiliation and the betrayal. Scathing anger that she’d stolen from me and hurt me so badly.
“Jakey,” Antiope sneered. “Little Jakey Merely. You think you are the god of war. You think you can defeat Hades. That you can defeat the great and powerful Earl.” She waved a hand at my stupid nemesis. “You are a little man, afraid of your manhood, quaking behind your Amazons.” She laced her hands behind her back as she regarded me.
“Pathetic,” she finished, emphasizing the word slowly. “I now serve a real god. A being of ancient power and deadly purpose. A god who knows what he is and what he wants. His torture showed me the truth. You cannot win. And I will not die for your cause.” She faltered, eyes going hazy. “Not again, I won’t.” She moved past me, like I was nothing to her, and slowly retrieved the Sower’s Glass from Phoebe’s frozen mech. She stuck it in a leather satchel, which she slung across her body.
I was having a very Indiana Jones loses the golden idol to Belloq moment.
Necro Earl swaggered up and got in my face.
Naturally, the douchehole couldn’t just win—nope, he had to rub it in because he was the worst human being on the planet. I kept my features still and my frame motionless as if I were trapped by the cold. I’d had a bit of downtime, and my Essence was at eighty-two and creeping up. Only another few minutes and I’d be able to call down a Plague of locusts on Necro Earl’s smarmy ass. On him and all his undead freaks. We’d just see how effective those Gatling guns were when the barrels were crammed full of insectile bodies.
“Does this seem familiar, Jakey?” he said. “You doing the work, me taking the credit. Bet that must really chap your ass, Jakey.” He said the name like a curse. “Looks like this is just how it goes between us, huh? I let you do the heavy lifting, and then I come in at the last minute and take what I need.” He reached up and tapped at one temple.
“It’s called working smarter and not harder,” he continued, “but you don’t get that. All you ever did was work your ass like a fucking dipshit, and look where it got you. Now, I’m gonna take the Sower’s Glass and I’m going to get the Crystal Scythe. And once I do, I’m going to use it to cut you into fish bait, and pop that stone right outta your chest.”
The godstone flared. I could almost hear Ares screaming at me to take the War Blade and end the necromancer in front of me. We might take casualties, but I could cut that smirk off Earl’s face. I’d used up both my Shockwave and Greater Lycanthropy abilities for that day, but as a level twenty-four War God, I regenerated 204 Essence Points every hour. I figured when I got up into triple digits, I would lay down the thunder.
But staying cool under his gaze was no easy thing. The godstone was pressuring me to strike and strike hard. I could cast Defender and Fury and become a steel juggernaut of battle rage. Do it, War God, the gem in my chest whispered. Kill them all. Kill the man who has bullied you for so long. He’s nothing. A mortal. Worthless. Do it. Do it!
My fist tightened on the pommel of the War Blade. No doubt, Ares would’ve already been hooking and jabbing, and the hell with the consequences. Then I thought about what I had seen in the Mirror of True Reflection. His arrogance and lust for battle had gotten Ares killed. The power of the godstone was changing me slowly and surely, and if I didn’t work to ground myself I would become just another mindless jerk. In doing so I would perish like he had. And not just me, but my Amazons.
Yes, I could resurrect them, but I couldn’t guarantee their safety from Hades’ wicked reach.
“You gonna do something stupid, Jakey?” Necro Earl asked, scrunching his nose up, brow furrowed. “You better not. Antiope, let’s give Jakey a little demonstration of what will happen if he so much as moves a muscle.”
Sabra hadn’t been hit hard by the frost attack, but she was still motionless, waiting for us to take our shot.
Antiope attacked like a serpent, driving her xiphos right into the Forest-Witch’s throat; dark blood spurted through the air and spilled down her front. Sabra crumpled like a paper cup, dropping into a heap, one hand clutched uselessly around her throat. She was dead before her body ever hit the ground. My heart lurched and hammered inside my chest, the world quivering around me. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen death, far from it, but watching a friend die was never easy.
And the sheer brutality of Antiope’s strike told me that the woman I’d once known—so simple, fierce, and sweet—was gone. The Antiope of old would’ve done anything to protect her sisters.
But this new Antiope? She laughed as though she could pick the thoughts straight out of my head. Yes, War God, her laugh seemed to say, that mewling weakling I used to be is as dead as Sabra. Necro Earl joined in her mirth as the Dark Amazon returned to his side, trailing her fingers along his arm.
Even now Sabra’s soul would be traveling down to the underworld. She was in more danger dead than she’d been in alive. If Hades found her, he would torture her until she went insane and joined him. Just like Antiope had. Dammit. I needed to finish the quest, get back to Lycastia City, and forge her a new body. Right quick and in a hurry before anything could happen to my gentle-hearted Forest-Witch.
“You like your little playthings, don’t you?” Earl asked, eyeing each of my warriors in turn. “Maybe even love some of ’em. But from what I’ve heard you aren’t even man enough to get your dick wet. Nope, from what Antiope said, you’re keeping it in your pants like a fucking pussy. Damn, but when I got here, I was sticking it into anything I could. You ever fuck a Fury, Jakey?” He shook his head and took a deep sigh. “Talk about some fucked-up shit. While I was leveling up, Praxidike rocked my world.” He paused, face flashing through a storm of complicated emotions. “I don’t miss her though,” he said after a moment. “She was a real bitch. And with her out of the picture, I’m in charge.”
Yeah, fuck this guy, it was time to fight to the death. My hand tightened around the hilt.
Then, Loxo’s voice whispered into my mind. She was careful only to message me and not the team. Hold on, Boss. Help is coming. Keep him talking. Not sure if they are completely on our side, but things are about to get interesting one way or the other.
I stared right into Necro Earl’s red-rimmed eyes. He’d changed. His pupils now glowed the green of a toxic waste spill and his face had grown disturbingly pasty, like that of a corpse. “With Praxi gone, are you banging sea centaurs now?” I asked. “Do you like them alive or dead? I would imagine a slime like you doesn’t care.”
“No,” Earl spat. “Hades gives me nymphs and whatnot to take care of me. They are freaky looking, but bent over, I don’t even notice the horns. Not much. Anyway, how about we end this, huh? You draw that sword, and I’ll have my mace, Deathbringer, and we go mano a mano? How about that? See who the real god is?”
Loxo again. Not yet, Boss. Not yet. Wait for it. Wait for my signal.
“Why not just kill me now?” I asked, staying my hand. “You’ve got the upper hand.”
“Naw, I don’t want to kill you. Not really. See, here’s the thing—Hades, he wants you gone. But maybe I don’t like being bossed around by him. Maybe I wanna be the boss? And with that shiny stone in you
r chest”—he scooted forward and tap-tap-tapped on the godstone with one finger—“I could be so much more. I could be a god instead of a lackey. And with the Crystal Scythe in my hands?” He shrugged one shoulder. “Well, could be Hades ends up going the way of Uranus. Yer-anus.” He snorted and shook his head.
“Anyway, maybe I’ll end up doing both things. God of war and god of death. I’m definitely man enough for that. Still.” He idly twirled his mace. “Even if I don’t want to kill you yet, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind putting you back in your place, Jakey. You’ve gotten a real big head lately, and I think it’s high time we rectify that shit. So, pull your sword—because we both know your ass ain’t frozen, you’re a fucking’ god, bro—and get ready for the ass whoopin’ of the century.”
Necro Earl got ready to swing his mace and bash my skull in. “Here’s the wind up, the pitch, and he swings …”
I’d given Loxo time, but now I had to act. There was no other choice. Not unless I wanted my head bashed in.
He swung.
I whipped the War Blade out and caught the blow. At the same time, I used Lightning Lance to send a bolt of crackling electricity up and down his bone armor. The veins in his face glowed as I electrified him. He sizzled for a beat and then the miracle blasted Earl from his feet, sending him flying back, ass over teakettle, landing in a heap five feet away. Nothing had ever felt more satisfying in my whole life.
Loxo called to all of my Amazons in a loud voice, too loud to ignore. Everyone, close your eyes! Close your eyes right now!
“My lord, Earl …” Antiope started to say, but it was too late.
Rising up from the grass was a twelve-foot-tall snake-headed woman with huge leathery bat wings that unfolded like night falling. Her eyes flashed like two suns—dual balls of burning gold—and that radiance swept over us.
The living imps, meatheads, and Hellhounds all let out screams of fright and pain as their flesh turned to stone, cursed by the power of the Gorgon. Euryale had come again to save our bacon, but this time, she’d brought help. Her velociraptor centaurs poured forth from around her, firing arrows into Necro Earl’s zombie monsters …
And into my Amazons!
Shit, shit, shit. A triple cross.
Euryale strode forward. I could look into her face, but it would cost me Essence Points to do it, and I didn’t have Essence to throw away, so I dropped my gaze.
“Darling!” the Gorgon boomed over the din of battle, her voice endlessly amused. “I truly did not think you’d be able to defeat Ailuros’ deadly game nor survive the Caverns of Entomo. Don’t listen to bone boy, here, for you are remarkable, if supremely unlucky.”
Before Antiope could run away, the Gorgon used her wings to sweep down and rip the satchel off the Dark Amazon’s body—the leather strap snapped and the bag came free. The Dark Battle Warden rolled and pushed her face into the dirt so she wouldn’t be tempted to sneak a glance at the petrifying monster.
“I’ll be taking this, my darlings,” the Gorgon demurred, “for with such a weapon as the Crystal Scythe, I will be able to keep me and my lovelies safe for all time. Besides, I do so love a good conversation with the god of time. Oh, won’t he be surprised to see me?”
The Gorgon’s arrival was a game changer. While losing the Sower’s Glass was a blow, it wasn’t the end of the world. Hell, there was only once place she could possibly be taking the thing, so we still had a chance to get the glass back. If we stayed, it was even money that we’d all die. But thanks to her timely interference, we could beat feet and get clear of this ambush. It was time to retreat and regroup. Then, once we were safe and back in fighting form, we could race to the Temple of Cronos.
Boom. Done. Plan set.
“Amazons! Fall back!” I bellowed, using both my voice and messaging system. We have to get out of here! Now! We know where Euryale is going, and we can beat her there. But we need to be alive to do it. Move, move, move. Scatter!
My Amazons reacted as one, the field of battle quickly devolving into pure chaos as they broke in every direction.
I shot toward the tall grasses, looking to follow my own advice, but that dick Nerco Earl was back on his feet and coming for me hard, hate burning in his gaze. He lashed out with his spiked mace. I swatted his weapon away with my War Blade, then barreled straight into him, ramming my shoulder into his teeth. He let out a yell. Jerking back, I drove the pommel of my sword into his face, stunning him. He went down on one knee. I rushed on. Sure, I wanted to stay and beat him into meat paste, but that wasn’t the plan and I had better things to do.
As I retreated, I quickly scanned my roster via my interface. Sadly, there was no help for Sabra—her status was marked as “deceased” in my interface—but I had enough Essence Points to set the rest of my Amazons right. I triggered Healing Touch, fifty-five points of Essence flowing out of me like a river as my team regained their HP.
I glanced over my shoulder. Necro Earl was up again and coming for me, but I put on an extra burst of speed and left that sucker in my dust.
“Run, you PUSSY!” he screamed, face red, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
I ignored the taunt. I wasn’t Ares, dammit. And sooner or later, I’d put ol’ Earl firmly in his place, but it would be on my terms. But I wasn’t out of the waters yet. Gatling guns thundered from the meatheads that hadn’t been turned to stone, strafing the ground with bullets. Arrows filled the air and then there was Earl’s undead army to contend with.
Nice thing, though, Earl’s zombie horde engaged the incoming velocentaurs and vice versa.
Behind me, Necro Earl thundered, “Fucking snake bitch!” I couldn’t help but steal another quick glimpse back. The Necro was charging Euryale, who was backing up slowly into the tall grasses, the leather satchel in her snaky-fingered hands. I’d let them fight because whoever won still had to make the trek up through the Great Swamps to the Temple of Cronus.
Myrina spun and used Summer Tooth to light the fire in Phoebe’s steampunk mech. The Rune-Caster was on her feet but surrounded by zombie spider pigs. I raced over, hacking through arachnaswine and using Lightning Lance to clear her contraption of enemies.
“Get on!” Phoebe called, her voice oddly cool and collected given the circumstances. I clambered on board without hesitation. Turning, I saw that my Amazons had already sped off across the plains, following my orders. All except Myrina.
The Battle Warden stole a final look at me. “Go!” she barked, pointing toward the grasses with her javelin. “I’ll will hold them off then meet you at the temple.”
I nodded and tapped on Phoebe’s shoulder. Let’s do it. As we sped away from the battle, I used the messaging system one last time. Stay off comms, everyone. We’ll regroup at the Temple of Cronus. I’ll figure out a way to exclude Antiope. Until then, travel fast, travel safe, and stay frosty.
With that, Phoebe and I disappeared into the darkest of nights, the clang of swords and the screeches of the dying fading behind us.
TWENTY-FIVE
Band on the Run
Hours later, once we’d made it to the edge of the Great Swamp, Phoebe finally dropped from exhaustion. We’d made it through the grasslands by going slow and being cautious. Instead of using the mech’s built-in torches to avoid holes or ditches, I used the flicking blue light of the War Blade. Phoebe’s mechanical torches were far more effective, true, but they’d mark us out and that was the last thing we wanted while on the run by ourselves in a hostile world.
It was late, and we were both beat—mentally and physically—and needed to rest. Needed it.
We’d found a nice shelf of dry ground above the waterline and settled in, making an impromptu camp. In next to no time, we sat in front of the firebox of the mech, eating smoked arachnaswine, nibbling on olives, and huddling together against the night in a copse of twisted trees. We drank from the never-ending Hestia’s Cup, not trusting the swamp water. I’ve heard dysentery is no fun, and drinking prehistoric swamp water? Yeah, that’s definitel
y how you get dysentery … but like Dinosaur dysentery, which is definitely a thousand times worse.
I ate the spider bacon mechanically, my mind as swampy as the murk around us.
Phoebe and I went through the gaming menus, trying to find a way to block Antiope, but Ares hadn’t set up an “unfriend” option. He’d never even considered the possibility that an Amazon would betray him. Then again, his entire war against Hades had been a different deal all together. He’d been a full-blown war god, at least level fifty by all accounts, maybe even a hundred. I was barely even halfway there. That guy could probably do whatever the hell he pleased.
While I chewed, I replayed Antiope kissing me before she died the first time, sacrificing her life to save the day. She’d kissed me once more, just after I’d taken out Entomo, and that, in retrospect, had been cold. A Judas kiss if there ever was one. And I’d been too foolish to see it. As a result, we were now cut off and on the run, speeding as fast as we could to the Temple of Cronus, where Euryale was sure to use the Sower’s Glass to get access to the scythe.
My silent frustrations finally got to Phoebe. She shoved me lightly, offering me a tired grin. That’s enough, Jacob. You can’t beat yourself up for what Antiope did. We had no idea who the spy was—or even if there was a spy. For what it’s worth, I didn’t suspect Antiope either. My money was on Loxo all the way.
“We probably shouldn’t use the messaging system at all,” I replied morosely, ignoring her attempts to cheer me up. “Loxo was able to contact me, but it was in close quarters, and she could see me. I wouldn’t trust trying to contact even one person out there. Most likely it’s just you and I on the channel, but we shouldn’t risk it. It might give away our position.”
Phoebe took in a deep breath. “Okay. This will be slow.” She glanced at me and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about. It was going to be hard enough when I could talk as fast as I could think.”
