by James Hunter
“You look tired,” I continued. “You deserve rest. You deserve a feast. A celebration for your hard work and tireless devotion. But we’re not done yet. We came here for this, sure.” I twirled the scythe. “But we still have a city to defend and Amazons to resurrect. And every moment we wait is one moment longer for Hades to find our friends in the Underworld and corrupt them for his dark purposes. And that?” I grimaced and shook my head. “I’m not having that shit. So now is the time to finish as strong as we started. Let’s get back to Lycastia, beat the shit out of anything that stands in our way, and save our friends. It’s time for us to man the fuck up and go save the day.”
THIRTY-TWO
Homeward Bound
It took us less than three hours to make it back to the exit of the Cave of Nyx. With the Stymphalian Omegas butchered and dead, Asteria was able to take to the skies once more and ferry our team across the expansive cavern in no time at all—though she was worn out by the time she finished. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Necro Earl at all, but that was fine. I’d catch that asshole sooner or later and finish what I’d started.
I guided us through the jagged hole in the cavern wall we’d first stumbled through, then paused. Behind us lay a humid jungle full of lush greenery—looming palm trees, massive ferns, otherworld flowers in a riot of colors. Directly in front of us, just on the other side of the opening, was the handful of dust and debris I’d tossed into the air just after crossing the threshold into this strange world. This world, which sat outside of time. Despite the fact that we’d been in the Cavern of Nyx for several days, that dust hadn’t moved. Not an inch.
It hung there: motionless and perfect.
Behind the frozen dust was the mosaic-covered staircase, which led back up to Stheno’s lair. Before stepping back into the flow of time, I studied the images on the steps in closer detail. At the bottom was a tiny baby—one I’d seen not so long ago—curled around the bright blue scythe I now held in my hand. As the stairs ascended the little baby grew older and older, a boy of ten here, a young man of twenty-five there, a fifty-something man with flowing black hair, followed by a bent-backed old-timer with a head like a hard-boiled egg.
Cronus.
He was alive, that much I knew, and I couldn’t help wonder whether we’d ever see him again. I guess time would tell … Ba-Dum-CH!
“Alright,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Let’s do this. It was 5:55 a.m. when we entered, which means we have less than five minutes to get through Stheno’s lair, back to the surface, and over to Lycastia City before the next wave of Earl’s forces hit.”
“Do you really think the attacks will continue since you so soundly defeated Earl?” Asteria asked, head cocked to one side.
“Yeah. Every eight hours, right?” I replied. “I mean, it’s possible he didn’t have a raiding party ready to hit us, but I wouldn’t count on it. Better to be safe than sorry. So once we get back through, Sophia is with me. We’re gonna teleport up through the caverns and get back to the city ASAP. Everyone else follow as quickly as you can. Now, let’s get gone. On three. One … two … three …” We stepped through as one.
The second I passed the invisible barrier separating the Cavern of Nyx from Stheno’s lair, the dust I’d tossed days ago promptly floated to the floor around us, settling on the stone.
But that wasn’t the only thing that happened. Not even close.
I immediately dropped to a knee as time seemed to settle back around me like an iron cloak. My bones ached, my muscles groaned, and my stomach twisted itself into a knot. I felt older. As though the time we’d spent away was slamming into me all at once like a runaway pickup truck. My Essence didn’t waver, not even a little, but I noticed my HP plunged by over a quarter, leaving me instantly weary and nauseous. I glanced to my left and right and saw that my Amazons were likewise grabbing the floor, their HP drastically reduced.
Apparently, there were side effects to living outside of time. Ones that we hadn’t known about. We’d only spent a few days in there and returning had nearly killed us. I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened had we spent a week or a month or a year inside. Or a hundred years for that matter? My mind flashed to Euryale. Would I have simply turned to dust on the spot? Eradicated as time crushed me under its merciless heel? I didn’t know and was damned glad I hadn’t accidentally killed myself—boy would that have been embarrassing.
As I shook off the sudden sickness and stood, the ground trembled and quivered beneath me. I turned back toward the jungle-filled cavern, brow furrowed in concentration as I inspected the entry. At my side, the Sower’s Glass began to bleed golden light, radiating terrible heat. The ground trembled more insistently, rocks cracking, fissures forming in the jagged stone overhead as dust and pebbles rained down—a few at first, then more, and bigger.
Well shit. That wasn’t good.
“It’s gonna collapse!” I shouted, wheeling toward the stairs. “Everyone, move your asses!”
My Amazons were anything but stupid and were running for the stairs before I’d even gotten all the words out of my mouth. I followed them up, taking the steps two and three at a time as the passage leading down to the Cavern of Nyx imploded on itself. A faulty mine caving under its own weight. By the time I was at the top, the stairwell was gone, and a jumble of rock and dusty scree was the only testament that it had ever been there at all.
“A safeguard, maybe?” Phoebe asked, quirking an eyebrow at me, breathing hard. “Or maybe it was the power of the Sower’s Glass that kept the cavern fixed in time?”
I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t know whether I’d ever know. Eventually I would need to get some answers—could I reopen a way? what happened to the people still inside?—since the cavern had some tremendous strategic potential, but before I could voice my thoughts, my watch beeped, brrp-brrp-brrp, sounding the time: 6:00 a.m. Shit, shit, shit. We needed to move and move now.
“Later. We’ll talk later,” I said to Phoebe. “Sophia, you’re with me. Get me back to Lycastia City as fast as you can shake it. Everyone else, you know what to do.”
Without another word, my Teleporter padded her way through the ranks of Amazons, latched onto my wrist with one hand, and teleported us away in a puff of purple. Sulphurous stink filled my nostrils and crawled across my tongue. The trip back through Stheno’s lair was a disorienting series of jumps—disappearing and reappearing over and over again as we zipped through the cavern, arriving topside in under a minute.
The second we cleared the stony-walled cavern, a message blared inside my head like an emergency beacon. War God, where are you?! We are under attack and about to be overrun at the southern gate! It was Hippolyta, and even through the mental link she sounded more than a little bit desperate.
Use the Shield of Perseus! I barked back through the link. We’d won the shield after defeating Stheno, and with it, the wielder could cast a stone gaze spell once a day, which had proved to be invaluable on more than one occasion.
I already did, came her immediate reply. That is the only thing that saved us from being overrun by a squad of cyclopes, but there are reinforcements pouring in. Elite werewolves, at least a hundred strong on the southern front. Please hurry!
“Let’s move, Sophia!” I hollered.
Once more the Teleporter grabbed ahold of me and we were off, the Gorgon’s lair vanishing in a blink, replaced by a thick swatch of forest, but then that was gone too. Flash, waterfall. Flash, a rocky outcropping on the north mountain. Flash, more dense jungle, a rotted log jutting up like a broken bone. Flash, and then we were there, my feet touching down on the rebuilt southern wall. We’d repaired the wall itself, but we hadn’t had the resources to fix the southern gatehouse, and its absence was showing.
Big time.
The southern field was littered with bodies and barbed wire, trenches, berms, and incoming horrors. Most of my Amazons were down there, hooking and jabbing with spears and short swords, working in squads of three and four. Eight en
ormous cyclopes stood frozen, their thick bodies petrified into solid stone. But the incoming werewolves were as vicious as they came, and my troops were still reeling from the last battle we’d had against Necro Earl and his hellish forces. We had minutes, tops, before they breached our defenses and flooded into the city proper.
Thankfully, there was no sign of the necromancer himself, and all of the troops rushing our defenses were alive and breathing—which meant they would be that much easier to kill.
My air support swooped in, led by Toxaris on her Pegasus, Flutterhoney. Arrows and javelins fell like rain, momentarily darkening the sky, but the incoming werewolves were wearing heavy armor as black as midnight, which turned away every projectile. Holy shit, but they seemed to have as much armor as M1A1 tanks. It was surprising they could even move with so much metal clinging to their bodies. I squinted, noting the acid-green runes etched into the dark steel. Some sort of magical protection.
Which meant Earl and his minions had somehow managed to unlock their version of Elemental Smithing. Fuck. I had some catching up to do, but for now it was time to put the smackdown on these mangy mutts.
“Thank the gods, you’re here!” Hippolyta said, rushing over to me, a streak of crimson trailing down her face, her left arm dangling uselessly at her side, blood dripping from her limp fingers. “These werewolves are impervious to all but the most brutal assaults—not even the ballistae bolts can put them down. What would you have us do?” she asked, her eyes flicking to the Crystal Scythe in my hand, curiosity burning in her gaze. She didn’t ask about it, though.
After resurrecting her, I’d learned that Hippolyta was a firm believer in hierarchy. Amazons needed to know their place, and asking the war god about his business? Yeah, that wasn’t their place, at least not in Hippolyta’s mind.
I reached out one hand and touched her shoulder, releasing a dose of Healing Touch, whisking away her wounds with a thought and a trickle of Divine Essence. “What would I have you do? I’d have you watch and learn.” I grinned, hefting the Crystal Scythe so it caught the early morning light. “Because this right here is a game changer.” I pulled the War Blade free and tossed it into the air. It shuddered to life, floating beside me as I leapt over the retaining wall and hit the ground like Wrath incarnate.
The Crystal Scythe blazed in my hand, ready to taste blood.
I triggered Fury and Defender and rushed forward with a roar, my legs churning as I met the first wave of attackers like the tip of a deadly spear. I smashed their ranks and scattered them like dust in the wind, shouldering some out of the way, smashing jagged teeth in with my knees and elbows. The War Blade fought with hellish fury, slaying any werewolf who tried to flank me, and the scythe? It cut through heavy metal armor and furry flesh as though they were made of surgical gauze and flower petals. The heavy, rune-etched armor didn’t stand a chance, which made perfect sense. Hecate’s Edge allowed the scythe to slice through spells, blessings, and miracles alike.
And holy shit did it work like a charm.
Even more badass, its blade burned with arctic blue light and dealt frost damage at every touch—leaving behind blackened, frostbitten skin in its wake.
I spun and twirled, laughing like a madman as blood flew in arcs and splattered across my face and chest. The whole while, a roaring bonfire of Divine Essence flooded into my body with every kill I made, stolen by the Leech Touch enchantment that came with the scythe. I drove deeper into the mass of werewolves, letting them surround me—a circle of fur and fangs five deep on every side. There were at least fifty of the bastards fighting to get to me. Boy were those bad odds. For them.
I checked my combat interface while I fought. The scythe had a bunch of special features and new options, many of which were still locked.
But not all of them.
I triggered Time Orb, a twice-a-day ability tied to the weapon.
A dome of shifting, opalescent energy exploded out from the scythe in a perfect circle, fifty feet in diameter and forty feet up. A countdown timer appeared in the corner of my eye—thirty seconds. The werewolves caught within the dome continued to move, but slowly. So, so, so slowly. They inched along as though trapped in molasses-coated quicksand. Not me though. Nope, I felt light as air. I shot forward, lashing out with the scythe, cutting down the nearest werewolf like a sheaf of wheat.
His head left his shoulders and tumbled down at one-eighth speed, but I was already moving on to the next wolf. My next victim. On I danced, working my way through the crowd, my War Blade following behind, unaffected by the spell, slaying indiscriminately. In less than twenty seconds, every werewolf inside the dome was dead or dying. The countdown timer finally flashed and disappeared, taking the dome of opal light with it; my enemies hit the deck in perfect unison as time caught up with them all at once. I paused, breathing heavy, and spun in a slow circle.
Not a single werewolf was left standing. At least not near me, and I grinned as the few survivors turned tail and ran, breaking for the jungle and away from the killing field.
Around me my Amazons were just staring at me, mouths hanging slack in sheer awe. And I couldn’t blame them, not a bit. After all, as far as most of them were concerned, I’d only left the city a little over an hour ago. And now, here I was, a couple of feet bigger, cloaked in Steel Skin, and wielding the weapon of a long-vanished Titan while my War Blade fought by my side unassisted. Their confusion was justified. I called my sword back and stashed it in its sheath.
A shadow flickered over me, and I glanced up to see Asteria glide by in the form of a giant blue eagle, Myrina and Phoebe riding on her back. The Rune-Crafter had left her mech back at the cave it seemed.
Hey beautiful, swoop down and give me a lift back to the wall, I sent to Asteria. The giant bird complied at once, issuing a bloodcurdling shriek in reply. She banked hard right, wheeled around, and dove, her talons extended. She picked me up as though I weighed nothing at all and set me down on the wall a moment later. She pumped her wings and landed, Myrina and Phoebe sliding off as the Beastiamancer shifted back into her human form—naked and gorgeous.
With a giggle, Asteria slipped up on my right, threading her arms around me while Phoebe did the same on my left. Myrina stood just behind me, one hand resting lightly on my shoulder. I could feel the respect, the fierce pride, radiating off her in waves. Below, my Amazons gathered, forming a semicircle as they stared up at me. Sophia appeared in a cloud of inky purple, depositing Loxo, Ariadne, and Euryleia on the bloody battlefield—their mounts were absent, at least for now.
Seeing them, knowing they were safe, put my soul at ease. They were my family, and it was good to have them so near. We had a long road ahead of us, no doubt. Enemies to kill. Levels to grind. Defenses to build. Amazons to create and resurrect. But dammit, I had the best crew in town and together I knew there was nothing we couldn’t accomplish. I pulled my War Blade free and raised it in my left hand, then lifted the scythe high in my right.
Myrina pulled her hand away and moved around until she was facing me. Slowly, she dropped her gaze and genuflected, her knee dipping toward the ground in a sign of respect. Of reverence even. “War God,” she said, standing, that same pride I’d felt moments ago filling her face. “There was a time I doubted you.” She spoke loudly enough for all the assembled Amazons to hear clearly. “A time I doubted your prowess. Your strength. Your ability to do what needs to be done.” She faltered, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips. “Yet you have proven me wrong. A truth I will rarely confess to.
“You have proven to me, to my sisters”—she swept a hand around in a circle and the rest of my Amazons fell to one knee—“that you are a war god worth following. Worth serving. As the Sage Warrior of your people once said, you have crushed your enemies, driven them before you, and we have heard the lamentations of their women. You have come as a conqueror, and we live to serve.”
I couldn’t help but snort softly—I wasn’t sure anyone would consider Conan the Barbarian a Sage Warrior, but I
appreciated the sentiment all the same. “Thank you, but this wasn’t my victory alone,” I replied, voice carrying over the deathly quiet battlefield. “I may have defeated Necro Earl and his army, but I couldn’t have done it without each and every one of you.
“I might be the god of war, but we are a team and this is your victory as much as it is mine. We have a lot to do. We have to resurrect Sabra, right away. Earl is still alive and kicking—something I aim to rectify as soon as possible—the ancient sigil is still damaged, and it won’t be long until Hades walks among us again. But for now. In this moment? It’s time to feast! To eat. To celebrate. And then tomorrow we’ll set out to kill a god!”
“All hail the god of war!” came the thunderous reply.
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