Gears of Troy: A Scifi Fantasy Harem

by Daniel Pierce

  I pulled my hand away and said calmly, “I did not know you felt that way. This whole time I’ve seen us as friends. Potentially friends-with-benefits after the island, but still nothing more than that. I think you are very intelligent and no doubt strong and able to defend yourself. I admire you for those qualities.”

  “Do you not find me as aesthetically pleasing as the young girl?” She tilted her head. No tic followed that time.

  The “young” girl. They had to be about the same age. I mean, Cressida and real Helen had to be close to the same age. My Helen was surely much younger. I wanted to groan but would be lying to myself if I refused to acknowledge the part that I played in making the mess.

  “Yes, you are very pleasing to look at. Wait, that’s not true. You’re exquisite, even flawless, but . . .” I was going to get around to explaining that Cressida came at me out of nowhere, that I had not pursued it, but she put her hand on my face.

  “Then the next time you feel the imperative to—to do that,” she spoke sternly, the tension returning to her voice, “you shall ask me and not her.” On that note, she nudged my head back a little and trotted away, mumbling something about peanut butter.

  At first, it appeared to me like we were back on square one, but then I realized she had just invited me to come aboard her ship, so to speak, so I think we made some progress after all.

  21

  I spent some time trying to sort out the chain of events that led my life to its current state. I had to admit that while my displacement from home and the constant threat of death were a cause of great stress to me, there were also some aspects of my situation for which I was beyond fortunate, and they, too, caused me a great deal of stress.

  Before my accident, I never had trouble finding ladies willing to have a good time. It’s true what they say; women love a man in uniform. But never in my life had two gorgeous girls lay claim on me in the same day. Holy hell.

  On any other day, in any other situation, my head would have been in the clouds. Since this day was this day, and my situation was my situation, I preferred to hang it low and bang it against the rail. The guilt was a lot to take in. Mix that together with my confused feelings for Helen, who I wasn’t even sure was actually a sentient, free-willed individual, and I had one nasty stew boiling. Stew. I thought of my MRE’s and hoped we had enough beef stew to carry us over for a while. That would ease my worries for a bit if and when I found some actual food that didn’t made me question my cooking choices.

  With each knock of my head against the fiberglass, random thoughts of Helen took center stage. Jealousy . . . now there was a truly human emotion; one she seemed familiar with and one of the many I wasn’t a fan of. I thought of her cinnamon fragrance which almost made my mouth water any time it wafted by.

  I wondered if she was different before her supposed transformation – if any of her physical features were different than before, or if all of the changes had to do with her mind. It did not make sense to me if only her brain underwent some magical restructuring. Surely other parts of her did, too. Otherwise, she would still have a machine brain controlling machine parts, even if something happened to make her think she was becoming a human. There was a lot I still needed to learn about this “magic”.

  I didn’t expect her to come back up so soon. I almost jumped when she suddenly appeared in my periphery. I almost didn’t stop slamming my head but thought it might make things more complicated if I continued.

  “Land!” she shouted, acting as if she hadn’t just seen a grown man trying to give himself a concussion via tiny lumps.

  She was jumping up and down on her toes, pointing to the starboard horizon. In her other hand she held the jar of peanut butter. Better than another beef stew, I thought.

  It was a minute before I hopped to attention, but when I did, I left all the nagging thoughts at the wayside. Soon I was going to see what all the Ilium hype was about. I bolted over to the dash and steered the Moonshadow in our new direction.

  Squinting, I was able to make out dots of green far off in the distance, but I had no clue what I was looking at.

  “It is the Dardenelles.” Cressida had walked on deck. “I have traveled there many times from Troy.”

  It had just registered that both women were barefoot. Helen proved such a thing was not a problem for her, but it remained to be discovered with our new mate. Together, we stood, watching the land approach ever closer as the waves parted for us like we were welcome.

  “I am almost home,” Helen said.

  Yes, I thought, and thank God for that.

  22

  We made land south of the city. I thought it would be best to keep out of sight while we rowed to shore. There was not much I could do for the Moonshadow outside of keeping it from port. I hoped no one would chance upon it while we were gone but realistically knew it was unlikely. I didn’t have many options, and was doing the best I could with what I did have.

  We pulled the raft into a group of trees, and I covered it with leaves and fallen limbs. Again, there were no guarantees it would be waiting on me when I finally came back. Helen had said the walk to Troy would be several days. It would at least be a week before I could return, and that was being very optimistic.

  We followed Cressida around the edge of town, further inland. She led the way with my rucksack slung around her shoulder. We decided that it would be best for her to carry the supplies since Helen and I had fighting experience and would need our hands for any encounters along the way.

  I had seen the signs of battle before we even got in the raft, but as we passed by, I saw it all in high definition; the smoldering remains of burned buildings, the stab-riddled and skull-crushed corpses littering the fields, the carrion eaters circling and cawing overhead. Death surrounded us, but we carried on. This was not our battle.

  We soon found our battle.

  It was not the best idea to travel along the main road. We were approached by eight men, all sporting amused expressions. They wore what I would have expected of a soldier of the time: armor made of either bronze or iron, with a chest plate shaped to look like a torso more muscular than the one it concealed. Their shins were covered by guards of the same material, and atop their heads rested helmets with feathered crests , either black or red, that ran in a line from the center of the forehead and down back. I could not see much behind their helmets but the glint in their eyes and mocking half-opened sag of their mouths.

  One thing I took special note of was their thighs, which appeared completely open to attack, covered by nothing more than the bottom half of each man’s tunic. The arms told the same story, only wearing a loose sleeve.

  Each carried a shield in his left hand that covered his arm, reaching from just above the shoulder and almost down to the knee. Their right hands wielded spears about seven feet in length. Sheathed at the belt was a sword, partially obstructed by the shield.

  “Greeks,” Helen hissed.

  I made my way to stand between the two women as the warriors came within range, forming a semicircle to our front.

  “What is this welcome surprise?” one asked from the middle amid snorts.

  “Hey, we don’t want any trouble. We’re just passing through.” I thought it would be better to try and diffuse the situation as we were clearly outnumbered and under-equipped.

  I heard a whisper in my ear saying, “We must kill this scum, Troy.”

  “Passing through, eh?” he responded. “Where might you be heading that takes you through this pitiful village as it gasps its last breaths?”

  “We’re . . .”—I didn’t want to say it but knew nothing about the land’s political climate that could help me bluff— “ . . . going to Ilium.”

  “Ah, Ilium. What a place that is.” The other men all erupted with laughter. “It is currently under siege. You know this?”

  “Yes, I had heard there was a war going on and wanted to see for myself.” I was just rolling the dice at that point.

  “With these
lovely women here? You would so recklessly lead them into the heart of danger?”

  “Well, I mean, they wanted to tag along, so I thought ‘why not’? Who can say no to faces like these, right?” I cracked a smile and received one from the speaker in return.

  “Yes. Indeed.” He watched us for a moment. “They are very lovely. It would be a shame for any harm to come to them on your journey. Perhaps we could keep them safe with us until your return?” The others fanned out, pointing their spears. If they decided to launch their weapons at us, there was nothing we could do to stop it.

  It was going to be tricky. I had a feeling these guys were a bit more battle-hardened than the Thirians.

  “I think they’d be safer with me.” I reached for my spear. Helen was at my side, brandishing her daggers, bloodlust written on her face. The soldiers oohed at her.

  “The cat has claws,” one jeered.

  Cressida seemed terrified. She was clearly not one to go looking for a fight. She clasped her hands together like they were bound and looked as if she wanted to shrink away into nothing.

  “Cressida, stay between us.” I moved out so that Helen and I were on either side of her.

  The men were in a full circle, waiting for their queue to strike.

  “You are but a stray backed into a corner, boy,” the original speaker said to me. “Your dress is foreign. You do not belong in this place. I will give you a once-in-a-lifetime chance to walk away and leave all this behind you. I am never so generous.”

  “What about the girls?” I asked, not lowering my spear.

  “They are the toll you must pay. Do not be worried,” he sneered, “we will keep them safe and happy.” He thrust his pelvis forward several times and the others cheered him on. “I’m sure they will not mind. Women love a man in uniform.”

  I would never be able to use that phrase again without thinking of that asshole air humping like a horny teenage boy.

  “Silence, you whoreson!” Helen shouted.

  Some of the men took a half-step forward, but the leader raised a hand.

  “Careful not to mar the women—at least not until after we have our way with them.”

  The others nodded with greedy smirks before closing in.

  It seemed like the other seven were our immediate concern. The leader stood on the edge, apparently satisfied just to watch the action. The rest slowly approached. It would be complicated for them to subdue Helen without wounding her, and I wondered how much trouble she would have to cause for them before they changed their minds. It would work to our benefit for a short time at least. It had surely played into their decision to not simply kill us from a distance.

  As one neared me, I let loose a few short jabs to test his reaction. He faltered a bit, bringing his shield between his thighs and the tip of my blade. While the shield offered certain protections, it allowed for only one hand free to wield a weapon. That was something I could take advantage of. If I could position myself correctly, I could step on the end of one of their spears and the guy would not be able to do anything about it. That could possibly distract one long enough for me to move in and take the kill. It was iffy but only one of my many options.

  In response, he stabbed back at me a couple times, but I knocked his tip away without opening myself up too much in the process. It was definitely an artform. If I swung too far out in an attempt to divert an attack, another guy could sweep in on me, and I wouldn’t have enough time to bring my spear back around.

  When my guy went in for a third jab, that’s precisely what his buddy next to him tried to do. I deflected my guy’s attempt and as the other one lunged at me full force, I stepped to the side and circled my spear back around to negate his pole from the outside, sending it to the ground. Before he had time to block, I brought my tip up behind his shield and rammed it into his throat. He made a gurgling sound and fell, blood rushing out to paint the road.

  Wasting no time, I leapt on the other soldier. Caught off guard, he moved his shield to cover his face and blindly stabbed upward. I simply brushed his pole aside with my arm on my descent and brought him down under my weight. One arm was made useless, trapped by his shield while the other flailed its weapon chaotically in an attempt to thwart the assault. He could not do much aside from smack me with his pole as the tip was too far away to touch me. I tore open his armpit and was back on my feet in a flash. I doubted he would be a problem any longer.

  I’m really doing this, I thought. I did not know what to expect from these well-armed men, but they didn’t seem so menacing laying on the ground drowning in their own blood.

  Another came my way, trying to get me from behind. His spear flew at me but dropped to the wayside as I nudged it down with my arm, only suffering a small tear in my shirt. The awkward movement I made sent a spike of pain through my ribs. I’d almost forgotten I was still healing, but I couldn’t let a bit of pain stop me.

  I whipped around to face the new challenger. He had pulled his sword out and looked ready to use it. I picked his spear up and hurled it back. He intercepted it with his shield, which was exactly what I expected him to do. The diversion was enough to allow me to close the distance between us. I was on him in an instant. He looked at me stunned, eyes wide, knowing his end was coming as I pulled his shield down with my free hand and sent my serrated talon up through his jaw through to his skull.

  There was no time to celebrate. In the same moment, another one of them charged and forced me to the ground. He had tossed his shield in the process and was sitting on my stomach, legs on either side, holding his blade in both hands preparing to bring it down as if I were some ritual sacrifice. Roaring like a lion, he cut through the air, leaving me with no room to think or pray.

  I locked my hands together at my waist and brought my arms up like I was imitating the reverse of his action but without a weapon. Somehow, the pendulum of fate had swung back my way and I managed to catch the flat side of his sword, pushing it up over my head. It stabbed into the pebbles a fist’s length from my scalp, inches from victory.

  He continued to fall forward onto me, unable to regain his balance. Our lips nearly touched through the slit of his bronzed helm, and we looked into each other’s eyes at an alarming distance-- zero. For an instant, I felt a connection to the man, not as my enemy, but as the human being he was. He could have had a family back home waiting on his return, a wife and children that loved him. He had a whole lifetime of experiences that could be washed away without warning. So young still . . . hardly a few years my senior at the most.

  None of that mattered. He was rapist and a thief.

  I grabbed his throat in one hand and rolled him off. Made dizzy by the turning of the tables, he released his grip on the sword, allowing me to take it and saw a major gash across his neck. There was no way he could defend himself with an arm under my knee. I watched him bleed out in record time while his remaining paw scratched into my leg, desperately trying anything it could.

  “Sorry, bud. I just wasn’t feeling that spark between us, you know?”

  I grabbed my spear and rushed back to my feet, expecting to be taken from any direction, but I was let down. Helen was several yards away, surrounded by the other three underlings. Their leader juggled his attention between the two of us, holding his javelin up as a warning of what might be soon to come.

  She had not killed any of them yet. It was clear that they were having trouble getting her guard down without risking damaging her. One made a sudden step forward from behind, but she noticed and held him back with the flash of a dagger in his face.

  I rushed in, and they all turned to look at me in surprise. Helen capitalized on the opportunity and darted a knife straight into one of their faces. The poor shmuck’s helmet flew off as his head snapped back and he dropped to the ground.

  The others didn’t know what to do. Their attention was divided between the two of us, frozen by their own indecisiveness.

  “Forget what I said—kill her!” the leader shouted. “We wil
l still take the other one.”

  At his command, they closed in, flanking Helen. She was one knife down and seemed unsure of where to go from there. Fortunately, they had forgotten about me as they tried to take care of the most immediate threat. I sailed in and pierced one in the side between the gaps in his chest plate. He screamed, urging me to drive my skewer in deeper until it punched out in a spray of lung and fluid. I lifted him up on his toes and remembered the tribesman back on Santorini to whom I had dealt a similar hand. As before, I let the spear drop with him, deciding it would be more trouble to fetch than it was worth in the heat of battle.

  His spear was at my feet anyway, so I took it up and made for the last lackey, only to find that Helen had already dispatched him. Her naked foot stood on his neck in triumph, as if he were a hill in a new land that she had stuck her flag into, claiming as her own. Good girl. I had missed this the last few days.

  “Be still,” the leader warned. “I may kill you yet.”

  I almost laughed in response but did not want to provoke him. Now he was the stray backed into a corner.

  “Hey,” I said, “how about this. I’m not usually so generous, but I’m willing to give you a once-in-a-lifetime chance to walk away. You can leave all this behind you and pretend it didn’t happen.”

  He bared his teeth, but didn’t make a move. His spear was still drawn, aimed at me.

  “I’m serious,” I said. “You can just leave right now. I’m not a murderer, but I am a soldier.” I took a step forward, but he raised his weapon higher, forcing me to pause.

  He glanced over his shoulder, considering my offer. I was being honest. If he took off running, I wasn’t going to waste the time or energy to chase him. Helen might want to do otherwise, but I was going to leave that up to her.