Gears of Troy: A Scifi Fantasy Harem

by Daniel Pierce

  I turned to look for Cressida, who was standing well away from all the malice. “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Yes, I am well,” she shouted. “That was an impressive display from the both of you. I wonder if there is any foe you cannot defeat.”

  I retrieved my spear, Helen got her daggers, and we were on our way again, no worse for the wear. Things were looking better all the time.

  I was beginning to think this was the way things were going to pan out for us. It was as if the gods were on our side. A part of me began to feel like I had been brought here for a reason. Fighting these men was almost too easy, and I myself had to question if there were any more capable warriors in the land. I thought that perhaps fighting was simply more advanced in my time—not just the technology, but the hand-to-hand combat as well. It was getting harder with each battle not to allow Helen’s blissful confidence to rub off on me.

  We walked on until we saw the massive walls of Troy rise up from the horizon. I had to stop a moment and soak it all in. I’d heard references to the city my whole life, but seeing it was a completely different experience. It was as if the city was embraced by the protective arms of an ashen titan. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined such an overwhelming sight. It dwarfed anything my mind was equipped to conceive. I knew that the closer we got, the more I would feel like an ant next to the foot of a Cyclops.

  “It is grand, no?” Helen asked.

  “That is an understatement,” I breathed in awe.

  “I am happy to be home,” Cressida said.

  Before we were able to continue on, we were greeted by an entourage coming from the direction of the city; six armed guards on either side of a horse-drawn wagon. I placed my hand on my sword, not yet drawing it because none of the men’s dress resembled that of any Greek soldiers we had faced so far.

  “It is safe, Troy,” Helen said. “These are Trojans—good people.”

  “Greetings,” hailed a man from the carriage. He was unarmed, wearing a white robe that covered the full length of his body from his neck to his sandals. A purple layer of fabric was wrapped around both shoulders and draped over an arm. His expression lacked amusement, but I detected no signs of contempt in it either. The lines on his face looked like those of a powerful man made accustomed over the decades to the ways of the world, only enhanced by his sparse halo of grey hair. It reminded me of when I met Artession and how his face alone conveyed to me that he was a pragmatic leader who took the outcomes of all situations in stride. “You carry a Greek shield, yet you are not Greek, and look at who has come with you. Surely this is not Helen? Our Helen?”

  I looked to Helen and was met with a shrug.

  Cressida stepped forward and spoke. “You are Dymas, correct? A prominent member of the Trojan senate?”

  “How right you are, little girl.” A slight grin crept across his face. Something about him was already beginning to rub me the wrong way. “Am I to assume that you, sir, have taken this shield from the body of a Greek soldier and do not wish to employ it against the city?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I—we—have come from Dardenelles. On the way, we encountered two squads of Greek soldiers. You are looking at the outcome of those encounters.”

  “My . . .” he said, speaking in the kind of airy drawn-out high-society way one would expect of someone in his position. It seemed that people had not changed much in several thousand years’ time, and the officious prick before me was a walking example. “This is indeed impressive. You must be exhausted and hungry, no?”

  “Well, we’ve made due with meager rations and two uneasy nights of rest, but I’ve seen worse,” I said, thinking it would gain me some more points among his men to exaggerate a little. The sleep had not been so bad in all honesty.

  “Hmm.” He chuckled. “Indeed. Well, climb aboard. We can shuttle you lot to the city and get you cleaned up. I bet you’re all dying for a warm meal . . . and to bathe.”

  The girls and I exchanged glances, and Helen said, “It is of utmost importance that we speak to the King and Queen.”

  “We will arrange for that in the morning,” Dymas said, waving the notion away. “The royal couple is busy at the moment with the war effort, and I do not anticipate them wrapping things up today. We will keep you safe inside the city until they are ready for you.”

  “We must see them now,” Helen insisted.

  “You will see them as soon as they are available, child. I know they will surely be overjoyed to hear of your return, but their other duties take precedence over your reunion. You would not want the city to risk being overrun because you distracted them with this meeting that you had to have, would you?”

  She crossed her arms and glared at him, her lips pursed. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Cressida. She said, “You can trust Dymas. He is a good man. I know that he has the city’s well-being at heart.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “We’ll head back with you, Dymas.”

  “Very good,” he said and scooted to the side to allow us space to sit.

  I held out an arm for Cressida to take as she climbed aboard, followed by Helen who begrudgingly claimed a seat.

  The city grew in size and grandeur as we approached. The stone blocks of its wall climbed ever upward, their pattern only disturbed by tiny portholes near the top. From several of these openings, I saw archers perched on the lookout, ready to lay down the hand of judgement at a moment’s notice. Soldiers passed us, rushing in all directions as we went. They were going somewhere in a hurry, but I saw no sign of Greeks around us.

  “Where is the enemy?” I asked our guide.

  “They have set up a camp to the west of here, just over that hill.” He took a hand from his horses’ reigns and waved off in the distance to his left, opposite the city. “If no terms are reached soon, I anticipate that they will be upon us in a day—two at most. But do not worry, Helen, dear. You will have your reunion before then.”

  The monolithic gates drew inward as we approached. On the inside, I saw teams of men pulling at ropes and turning almost comically large gears embedded into the wall to accomplish the effort. I had to assume this was not the normal procedure and that the gates were left open during the days in times of peace.

  We were led to a barracks not far from the gates. There was an open dining room in which dozens of troops were not only eating but also entertaining themselves by cracking wise and wrestling. A crowd of them was cheering as we walked in. One soldier had just forced another to the ground in a friendly fight. Heads turned as they became aware of us, and silence spread throughout the room.

  “As you were,” Dymas nonchalantly addressed the onlookers. “Ignore them. They are only curious. They were not expecting to be greeted by such pretty faces today. Most of the other women are tucked safely away deeper in the fortifications of the city.”

  He waved a hand around behind him. “This is the barracks’ dining hall. You can fight, spit, and swear to your heart’s content here. You may even have a meal if you feel so inclined. The food is over there, with more on the way I’m sure.” He pointed to the back of the room where there were several tables filled with roasted birds, boar, and cow, along with all manner of vegetables, steaming bread rolls, and deserts I would have to taste to figure out what they were. “Help yourself to whatever you like. Sit wherever you like. I will join you shortly after I attend to a private matter.”

  “Sure, thanks,” I said.

  I filled a plate with food and my cup with water before finding a spot to plop my tired ass down. My adrenaline was wearing off fast, and I ended up doing more people watching than eating. The environment quickly resumed its original tone as Dymas left us. People were still glancing in our direction every now and again, but it only seemed to be out of harmless curiosity. I didn’t mind. I was just as curious.

  Dymas did not go far to attend to his “private matter.” He was whispering with a little impish string-bean-looking guy in a corner near the door. Every
once in awhile they would look over at us. How subtle, I thought. Everything about their exchange reeked of slime to me—it was so textbook sketchy that I would have laughed out loud if it didn’t make me so uneasy—but I was becoming too tired to care all that much. It ended with the politician handing the little man a letter and making his way back over to us as the other guy scuttled out the door.

  “I hope everything is to your liking,” Dymas said, taking a seat across from me.

  I nodded, sipping my water.

  Cressida took up the conversation, which was uncharacteristic of her. I took it as a sign she felt more comfortable now that she was back home, regardless of the threat of war hanging overhead.

  “How goes the war effort?” she asked.

  “Oh, well . . . it goes,” Dymas said. “A lot of things hang in the balance right now. The scales could tip either way. I am sure we will pull through, but we need to make sure that all unknowns are accounted for, all offers considered.”

  “I understand,” she said before taking a bite out of her duck leg. “Troy will prevail!” She raised her glass and was met by a chorus of cheers from the soldiers around us. She smiled and winked at me, proud of the response to her toast.

  It was not long before we were approached by another messenger. Dymas was sealing a second letter when the man tapped him on the arm.

  “Ah, right on time,” the senator greeted him. “Take this to the Queen. We have important guests here that wish to meet with her as soon as it is convenient.”

  “Sir.” The messenger took the letter and hurried away.

  I glanced at Helen to make sure she was still awake and alert before dropping my head to the table, barely halfway through with my meal. I figured she could be on guard for the next thirty minutes or so while I had a quick impromptu nap. We’d deal with the sliminess later.

  “Ah, friend.” Dymas laughed. “You go right ahead and rest your eyes. We may need your strength soon enough.”

  25

  I woke up in my own time, a puddle of drool coating my cheek as it pressed against the polished wood of the table that had been my pillow for however long. It took me a moment to get my bearings, remember where I was. The women and Dymas were still sitting with me. I looked out the window to discover that night had fallen.

  “What . . . uh, how long have we been here?” I asked.

  “No longer than two hours,” Dymas said.

  That was not as long as I expected, but it was still an unusual time to hang around and eat. I didn’t recognize any of the soldiers around me, but I had not committed their faces to memory before. There was a wrestling match going on, just as it was when I dozed off, but I assumed it was a different pair fighting this time. Both Helen and Cressida were watching me. I guessed they were waiting on instructions.

  “Hey, Cressida,” I croaked through a wall of grogginess.

  “Yes, Troy?”

  “I’m not trying to be rude, but why haven’t you returned to your family yet? I thought you’d be more eager to see them.”

  “I will soon, Troy. Dymas suggested I meet with the King and Queen as well. It is important they learn of what happened to my ship and its crew. I suspect they will be interested to hear of the Cyclops as well.”

  “I dare say,” Dymas agreed. “Speaking of Troy . . . I heard you slayed the beast single-handedly?”

  “Oh, yeah, that was one hell of a fight, sir.”

  He half-smiled in response. The expression did not quite make it up to his eyes. “My . . . I am glad you are on our side, young man. That comes to sixteen Greek soldiers and one giant beast—all in the course of a day or two?” His voice rose like he was trying to elicit attention from the other men around us. “It sounds like you may be worthy competition for any man in the city. And that’s saying something.” He paused to look around. Many more eyes were on us then. “Because we have fine, strong men bursting from the ears here in Ilium.”

  I tried to discern the faces of the other warriors as they appraised me. They did not seem to take offence at Dymas challenging their worth. “If they’re anything like these guys,” I said, pointing a thumb at the wrestling match, “then I’m sure that’s true. I’m excited to see how they stand up in battle.”

  Dymas laughed. “They, too, are eager to test their mettle, but let us hope it does not come to that. The Greeks . . . they have their shortcomings, but they can be reasonable people. You only have to learn their language, so to speak.”

  Helen scowled and said, “Their language is one of greed and inferiority.” Some of the other men oohed and a few applauded, not yet having seen one of her outbursts. It crossed my mind to question if any of these warriors even knew who she was—or, at least, who she was made to look like.

  “They have a certain culture,” Dymas explained, “just as we ourselves do. Our values do not align all the time, but there is no reason we should not be able to coexist and benefit from each other. They like their money; they like having their faces on things; they think highly of themselves, and they like it when others agree with that self-image. Yes, they can be pushy, but such is human nature, girl. Whoever holds the keys will be pushy. If we were in their position, we would behave in a similar fashion. The will to power is a proactive lifestyle. One must always be on guard for those who may take it away.”

  “You speak so highly of them,” Helen spat. “They are vermin!”

  This received more cheers from the crowd. Some of the men had come to sit nearer to us to spectate.

  Dymas looked around and lifted his hands. He clearly had not expected such an aggressive reaction from her. “I agree, I agree. I am only explaining their character. One must know their opponent if one is seeking victory. Not all wars are won with blood. Sometimes, diplomacy is the answer. But one cannot engage in effective diplomacy if one does not understand the values of the other party, you see?”

  She huffed and, without looking at him, said, “I am going to grab another plate of roast duck,” then she made her way to the back of the room.

  Cressida laughed. Dymas and I exchanged bemused smirks.

  I said, “The Greeks are a touchy subject for her. I get what you’re saying. I’m new to this part of the world.” I sat up and trailed my fingers along my future-shirt made in the fashion of a future-style with future-fabrics. “I imagine you noticed my outfit is different than what you see around here.” I looked around and saw some of the other guys nodding. “So, this may come as a bit of a shock, but I’m not up-to-date on the current political climate. I obviously know about this war—I’m here to help with that, by the way—but I’m a little fuzzy on the details.”

  “Yes, I intended to inquire more into where you come from, Troy,” Dymas said. He proceeded slowly, as if he were addressing the elephant in the room. It was the most serious manner I’d seen him take in approaching any conversation so far. “Your clothing is like nothing I have seen, and your facial features differ in slight ways from anything I’ve seen around the Mediterranean. Yet, you speak our language fluently, and I can understand you perfectly through that foreign accent of yours.” He ran his eyes up and down my white dress shirt, which was admittedly stained with dirt, blood, and a slew of other colorful blotches, the origins of which I could not recall. He seemed transfixed by what he saw. I could only guess he was fantasizing about potential trade options with my mysterious homeland, being the political figure that he was, but that was nothing more than a wild assumption. He continued, “But, we will discuss all that later. Er . . . you have questions, yes?”

  “Yeah, definitely,” I said, trying to remember where I left off. “So, yeah, this war. I heard it was all because this girl, Helen, ran off with some guy? One of your princes, right? Is that true?”

  He smirked and took a sip of his wine. “Yes, that is what led to our current situation, but tensions have been building for a long time now. As the dear girl said, the Greeks have a certain manner about them. They do often think they are more deserving than others, so in ne
gotiations—trade, foreign policies, et cetera—they ask for more and more all the time. They want special consideration, and that frustrates just about everyone else.” He laughed and resumed in his airy, posh tone, “This whole Helen situation was merely the straw that broke the camel’s back. I am sure this war would have happened eventually over one thing or another.”

  “I see,” I said. “So, what’s the deal with Helen and your prince now? I haven’t heard much about him . . . or either of them.” I was hesitant to say anything that implied either of my female companions were Helen, so I was careful not to gesture in Helen’s direction when I said her name, or to say anything that made it sound as if I had spoken with Helen. I did not know if that was a secret that should be kept from the soldiers and thought it was best to play it safe.

  He laughed and squinted over toward the food table where Helen was still filling her plate. “They are both young.” He sighed. “Prince Paris whisked her away in the night. She was betrothed to Kind Menelaus of Sparta. As you can imagine, he was not happy when he found out she had left him. The Prince and the girl had been corresponding for some time, but I think it was a complete surprise to everyone when they showed up together at the gates. We could not do much but accept it and the repercussions that came with it. There was an agreement, you see. Many men of status vied for beautiful young Helen’s hand in marriage. Most of them agreed that they would respect her decision and come to the aid of whomever she chose if their relationship was threatened by some political force. This is what you have experienced on your way to the city from Dardanelles.” He took another sip of his drink. “Menelaus was the man she chose. When she left him, he pleaded with the Greeks—and others—to remember their promise. In an effort to keep their word, the Greeks are laying siege to the city and any Trojan citizens they find. They have become more of a nuisance than the Spartans themselves, though the Spartans are the ones who were directly affected by the couple’s actions.”