by James Hunter
Necro Earl swatted frantically at the creatures, booted heels drumming on the stone, but for every bug he swatted, five more took its place. The locusts were insatiable and they only had one enemy. Him. Earl struggled back to his feet—his body covered with a crawling tapestry of green—and raised his mace up high, like a lightning rod waiting for a strike. Sickly green light erupted from the weapon, and half the insects dropped from the air, curling up in death.
There were still plenty running interference, however, and I wasn’t going to waste my chance.
I cast Burning Aura as I darted forward, legs pumping like mad, sword canted out to one side. Golden light erupted around me like starfire. Earl batted away a small cloud of bugs boring into his eyes, just in time to see my glowing blade carve through the air, on a crash course with his face.
Earl moved in a flash, driven by instinct and self-preservation.
His left hand jerked toward me, fingers splayed back, emerald light surrounding his palm like a greasy halo. A host of bones leapt from the bodies of the dead, coalescing into a gore-stained bone shield that floated above his arm. The War Blade thunked into the yellowed shield, driving deep, but not quite deep enough to penetrate all the way. The bones in the shield groaned and shifted, re-forming around my blade. Trapping it in place. What a world-class asshole Earl was. I had one ace up my sleeve, but I didn’t want to use it—not unless I had to, and this still seemed salvageable.
I yanked at the sword, muscles straining, but that sucker was lodged in there good and tight.
Skeletor Earl didn’t have lips—because, duh, his head was a fucking skull—but if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve sworn he was grinning at me. A real eat a dick smile. While I continued to tug at the blade, he raised one foot and blasted me in the chest. The blow ripped the sword’s grip from my hand and left me reeling unsteadily. Earl drove his mace down onto my helm. At the very last second, I triggered Defender and my skin turned to steel. Thankfully, with the added level-two bonuses, what might’ve been a killing blow merely ended up ringing my bell.
White starbursts sprinted across my vision and my Health bar plunged by a fifth, but I stayed alive and on my feet. Not too shabby.
The necromancer twirled his weapon and struck again. I felt terribly exposed without the War Blade, but dammit, I wasn’t gonna lose to Earl Necro Earl. I gritted my teeth and raised my left arm, intercepting the blow on my shield, saving my dear sweet skull in the process. My left arm, though, wasn’t quite so lucky. A crack like a gun report sounded, and my arm abruptly sagged in the middle, despite the shield in place. My forearm was now S shaped, which probably wasn’t a great sign.
Holy shit did Earl hit hard.
But I blocked out the pain and ignored the drooping limb, jabbing out with my right hand, unleashing Lightning Lance. Blue-white light slammed into his shield, shattering bone shards, a plume of acrid gray smoke drifting up. I grabbed hold of the War Blade’s handle and yanked again with every ounce of strength I could muster. This time the weapon came free. I stumbled back. Another mace blow came in fast and furious. I sidestepped the blow by inches, whirled, and drove my shield into his chest.
Thanks to my broken arm, the hit probably hurt me more than him, but it momentarily threw him off balance. He staggered drunkenly, but before I could dart in and finish him off, the mace was flashing toward me again. Damn, but the guy was stupid-fast.
The insects he’d killed swept up in a cloud and slammed into me, blinding me. They couldn’t eat through my steel skin, but they sure as shit made it tough to see.
That dick. He was using my own plague locusts against me. The very idea put a rage in my belly. Well, since I was angry, I might as well go Furious Defender on his ass. A powerful cocktail of white-knuckled adrenaline and red-hot hate filled me up, and thanks to the added Regen from Fury, my arm popped right back into place, bone knitting together in real time. I issued a thunderous war cry and charged through the milling cloud of zombie locusts. I bulldozed forward and lashed out wildly.
The bugs had blinded me, sure, but they’d also blinded Earl and he wasn’t ready for my reckless assault. The War Blade screamed through the air, slamming into his left arm just below the elbow. He howled as his forearm flopped to the deck, black ichor seeping from his stump.
I felt like cackling, high on the rush of battle and the exhilaration of seeing my enemy suffer.
I pressed my attack, raining a flurry of blows down on him, putting him on his heels. But he was ready for me, battle mace flicking through the air with uncanny ease and speed. We quickly settled into a natural rhythm, trading blows. Begrudgingly, I had to admit he was pretty damned good. Tough. But every time he got lucky and managed to hit me, that only fueled my Fury further, giving me back some Health and adding to my rage.
His bone shield reformed. I found myself hemmed in by his weapon and the tangle of blood-encrusted bones. And then something smashed into my back. Hard. I lost my footing and was headed for a full-on face-plant. At the last minute, I managed to turn the fall into a roll, but as I was coming up to my feet, a booted foot caught me square in the face, and down I went, sprawling on my back. Deathbringer came careening down. I rolled left, then right. Dirt from the missed blows exploded up in a geyser, peppering my face.
I spun and slammed my shin into Necro Earl’s ankle, knocking his feet out from under him. He went down hard, and I sprang to my feet, determined to end the battle right then and there.
Once more, however, something slammed into my side like an NFL linebacker, saving Earl.
I wheeled right and found Earl’s severed hand scuttling across the battlefield toward me like a spider. Except the hand had grown. Like a lot. Now it was the size of a fucking lion, skittering around on five long fingers, all tipped with filth-encrusted nails. I squared off against the freak limb, slashing through one finger, then another, and then sent the thumb cartwheeling across the battlefield. It went rolling to a stop near Antiope’s feet.
Deathbringer crashed into the side of my head for a second time, knocking off a third of my HP in a single blow. I turned, narrowly avoiding a follow-up swing, and sent a javelin of lightning as thick as my wrist right into Earl’s head, electrifying his skull. I lit that sucker-punching bastard up like a jack-o’-lantern plugged into a nuclear power plant. He let out a scream, smoke wafting up from his eye sockets. Served him right. The lightning arced from Earl to the skeletal hand-spider, disintegrating the last of the overgrown fingers to ashy dust.
The Defender Miracle lapsed, my skin returning to normal, and I knew I needed to end this battle now. Earl was one tough SOB, and I couldn’t afford to go up against him without the added protection of Steel Skin, and unfortunately, Defender had a five-minute cooldown. While Earl recovered from the Lightning Lance, I charged, dropping my sword blade low, ready to disembowel the asswipe—
Something wrapped around my ankle, pulling me up short. I glanced down. There were a pair of rotting hands protruding from the ground—these normal-sized at least—wrapped around my right foot like a fucking vise-grip. Necro Earl took that moment to go for the killing blow. He whirled his mace around and around. A diseased green mist poured out from the skull on the end. I chopped at the hands holding me in place, desperate to get clear, but it was too late. The toxic green cloud enveloped me, and the minute I breathed that gas in, I started to choke. To wheeze. To cough.
It was some sort of poison gas, and my Health plunged like a stone.
I coughed and hacked, blood frothing from my lips, and I fell to my knees, suddenly unable to stand. My nerveless fingers dropped the War Blade into the dirt and I frantically clawed at my throat as though that might somehow help me get the air I so desperately needed.
Necro Earl roared laughter. “See, dick? See? You can’t beat me. Now I’m gonna end this fight once and for all. But know this—when I kill you, I’m gonna bring you back from the dead so whenever I have to take a piss, I can piss on you. You’re gonna be my own undead urinal.”
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He stalked forward. Deathbringer ignited again in a hideous light. Somehow, Earl had grown back his arm, but instead of fingers, he had a spiked flail dangling from his elbow, connected by a chain made of spinal vertebrae. He swung the flail around and drove it into my back, knocking me flat. I lay on my belly, still wheezing for air, trying to gain my feet. But it felt like an impossible task—Sisyphus rolling a boulder forever uphill.
“Jacob!” Myrina shouted. “Get up! Do not surrender! Fight, damn you, fight!”
“Yeah, beat his ass!” Phoebe yelled, utter confidence filling her words. She believed in me. They all did.
Necro Earl put one thick bone-armored foot on my neck. “Now, where’s my driving iron? I’m feeling a hole in one.”
THIRTY-ONE
End Game
I still had one ace up my sleeve.
I reached out a trembling hand, focusing my will on the War Blade lying on the ground a few feet away.
The Blade rattled and quivered with a life of its own.
“Eat a dick, Jakey,” Earl snarled, sweeping Deathbringer down to take my head off my shoulders.
The War Blade sprang from the dirt and raced through the air. The deadly bone mace slammed into the floating sword, golden sparks exploding out in a shower. Now that I was a level twenty-five War God, I could access the sword’s final ability, Spectral Blade.
Against an opponent like Earl Necro Earl, a level seven Battle Warden wouldn’t stand much of a chance, but it would buy me some time.
“What the shit?” Necro Earl cursed. The dancing sword slashed at his throat. Lucky for him, his bone shield flew up to protect him. Still, he was driven back as the War Blade chopped, slashed, and jabbed at him.
With Spectral Blade active, I wasn’t sure I could trigger Greater Lycanthropy, but I hoped for the best, toggling over to the ability in my combat display screen. To my delight and surprise, I found the option still available, which opened up a world of possibilities. If I could cast my War Blade spells while the weapon was fighting for me, it meant I’d be able to utilize both the sword and my new Crystal Scythe to maximum effect!
I activated the ability and felt my body shift into a massive lupine creature—a beast built for speed and battle and bloodshed.
“What in the actual shit?” Earl screamed out in panic, gaze shifting between me and the floating, death-dealing sword. Whatever he’d been prepared for, this clearly wasn’t it. And now the bullying dickweed was gonna pay.
I sped out of the poison cloud, running into clean air, clearing my lungs in the process. Then I spun and loped across the ground on all fours, circling back around to the necromancer. Earl frantically batted away the War Blade, and while he was distracted I lunged in low, snapping at his legs. He spun and lashed out with a leg, catching me on the chin with a kick that shaved off a sliver of my HP. My jaws snapped shut with a clack and I shook away the stars dancing in my vision.
I slunk back, then circled left as Necro Earl tangled with the War Blade, his mace flicking and flashing, desperately trying to fend off the possessed sword. I raised a talon-tipped hand and unleashed a wrist-thick blast of Lightning. But I didn’t aim at him. Instead I aimed at the dusty ground near his shuffling boots. The Lightning Lance gouged a divot into the ground and blasted up a huge plume of gritty earth. Then I moved. It was hard to see through the debris cloud swirling in the air, but with my preternatural nose, it was easy to track Necro Earl, who smelled like a dumpster of rotten meat.
I bolted in on all fours, carving through the dust, and chomped down with my jaws as I drew into range. My wicked fangs crunched down hard on his wrist, snapping off his flail arm. The bones went clattering to the ground.
The dust settled around us and suddenly, Earl was on the defensive, forced to battle both me as a werewolf and the War Blade, still slashing viciously at him. And now he had to do it one-handed. The War Blade and I worked in tandem. When Earl struck at the floating sword, he left himself open, and I scratched the shit out of his bone armor. When he used Deathbringer on me, I danced away, fast and agile, while the War Blade slashed off pieces of his armor. In a handful of heartbeats he was standing there as a mere skeleton, armorless, fighting desperately for his life.
He swung his mace—a major leaguer hitting for the fences—but I was ready. I bolted in, clamping down on Deathbringer with my teeth, then pulled the weapon free with one mighty jerk of my head. The weapon came free from his grasp, and I flung it back with a flick of my neck. And just like that, Earl was naked and defenseless, save for a dirty loincloth decorating his nether bits and an ancient bone ring encircling one finger. Whatever spell had rendered him a skeleton wavered and dissipated; he reverted to his pasty human form once more. Once again, he’d regrown his left arm—an impressive trick for sure—but without Deathbringer, he was just some fucking guy, and I was the god of war.
The green glow of the mace in the dirt guttered and faded. The minute it did, every undead monster fell to the ground, dead. And the bone cages holding my Amazons disintegrated, gone as abruptly as they’d come.
“No!” Necro Earl screamed, glancing around wild eyed. Then he had other shit to worry about. The War Blade came down on Earl’s head, but he managed to skitter aside just in time to avoid having his skull cleaved in two. Still, he wasn’t quite quick enough to escape entirely, and the War Blade removed his right ear, leaving a gaping, bloody hole in its wake. He snarled, clapping one hand to the side of his head as crimson gore gushed down the side of his face.
I resumed my human form and recalled my War Blade with a twirl of my wrist. Secure the area, I sent to my girls as I unleashed Healing Touch, bringing them all back to full Health.
All around me, my Amazons sprang into action, engaging the remainder of Necro Earl’s army. The living warriors, anyway, since the dead were all done for. Asteria roared to life, and it was Jurassic Park time. In an instant, she was a blue T. rex, and nothing was going to stop her. Antiope took two steps, but only two, before she was hit by lightning, fire, and ice. That was Myrina, exacting her revenge with her trifecta of magical javelins.
As for me, I marched forward slowly, confidently, death incarnate. Rage radiated off me like a mushroom cloud. I was going to tear out Necro Earl’s throat, rip off his head, and shit down his throat. Fear glinted in Earl’s eyes—he knew exactly what was coming next.
The bully turned into the whiny little bitch I’d always known he was beneath his big talk. He backpedaled away from me, his face a sheet of blood. “Wait, Jacob, wait.” He lifted his hands, pleading. “Come on, bro. Wait. No, I was just kidding. This ain’t real, right? This Greek god shit can’t be real. It’s just some fucking game.” He stole a look left, then right, searching from some way out like the trapped rat he was. “Come on, man, don’t kill me! We’re brothers. Semper Fi, man. Semper fucking Fi, right?”
The godstone took over. It didn’t care that he wanted mercy, and to tell you the truth, neither did I.
Necro Earl could see the resolve etched into the lines of my body; I couldn’t be reasoned with and he seemed to know it in his soul. He was going to die, and that was that. He snarled, any sign of contrition fleeing his face as he touched the bone ring on his finger. The ground between us exploded up like an IED, a wave of raw force slapping against me like a giant hand, hurling me onto my ass. I rolled over backwards and came up to a knee, ready for whatever bullshit he was going to throw at me next.
The dust and debris settled and when it did I found Earl in a low crouch, bone mace in hand. But he wasn’t about to try and fight me again. He was in escape mode. And standing beside him was his ticket to freedom: Praxidike, or what was left of her anyway. She looked like hell. Skin sloughing off, meat rotting, gleaming bone peeping through in places. She didn’t quip, didn’t pay any attention to me. She was as dead as dead came, but her leathery wings still looked functional. She shuffled over, grabbed Necro Earl beneath the arms, and took off like a rocket, wings beating furiously as she rose.
&n
bsp; Antiope broke away from my Amazons and leapt up, catching hold of the zombie Fury’s whip, which trailed down from the creature’s hip like a serpent’s tail. I watched, fury bubbling in my gut, as the three of them went flying off the hilltop and into the sky. And with the Stymphalian Omegas dead, there was a damned good chance they’d actually make it out alive. Damn. They dropped low, disappearing behind the canopy of towering trees. Gone. Asteria turned from tiny-armed, big-mouthed T. rex into a pterodactyl to pursue them, but I knew she wouldn’t catch them.
They had a helluva head start and Earl was one wily son of a gun. One way or another, he’d get free. Guy was worse than a cockroach.
Anger shimmered inside me, but I pushed it down. Maybe today wasn’t the day Earl Necro Earl died, but I would get him soon. Especially since the Crystal Scythe now belonged to me. I tore my gaze from the skyline and surveyed the battlefield. Our enemies were gone. No sign of Euryale the Gorgon, which was okay. We certainly weren’t friends, but I wasn’t sure we were enemies either. Just parties on opposing sides. I turned with a grunt and headed up the temple’s steps. I slid my War Blade into its sheath and tied the Sower’s Glass to my belt.
Then, with a heave, I pulled the Crystal Scythe from the marble. I regarded the weapon for a long minute, savoring the thrum of arcane power in my grasp. Below me, my Amazons had gone still. They looked up at me now, eyes shining with approval and pride. Even Myrina seemed to glow with reluctant admiration. Sure, we’d come here for the Crystal Scythe, but I’d accomplished so much more than that. I’d given my warriors hope.
I could see it burning in their faces, blazing in their eyes. Maybe I wasn’t Ares, but maybe that was a good thing.
The air grew heavy, silent, as my little ragtag band of ’Zons waited for me to speak. “You did good out there,” I said after a time, raising my scythe high. “You fought hard. Viciously. Bravely. Putting it all on the table. We’ve suffered, we’ve bled, we’ve paid a heavy price for our victories. But it was worth paying.” I paused, searching their faces: Myrina, Phoebe, Asteria, Loxo, Euryleia, Ariadne, Sophia. I was proud of them, and I could see that same pride reflected back toward me.
