by James Hunter
A terrible thought occurred to me. “Asteria,” I hollered at the top of my lungs, “can you message the other Amazons?”
The great horse shook her head back and forth as we flew, no, no, no.
Shit, this was all on me. So not only could I not message anyone, but without the helmet, no one had access to the messaging system. Another blow.
Asteria nickered and bucked below me, drawing me from my thoughts as a flock of Stymphalian birds swooped down on us from above. A hail of razor-sharp bronze feathers sliced through the air, aimed squarely at me. Asteria was on it, though. She dove and flipped into a lightning-fast barrel roll that nearly hurled me from my seat. But I sunk low and wrapped my arms around her neck, holding myself in place as she leveled out, leaving the Stymphalian in the dust. Those things were dangerous, but they were no match for Asteria’s raw speed.
Unfortunately, the bronze birds weren’t the only enemy threat in the air. A group of harpies, six deep, flew toward us, claws extended and teeth gnashing. Asteria broke into more evasive maneuvers, bucking, diving, banking, rolling, but it was no use—the harpies had speed and numbers, plus they were a damned bit smarter than the Stymphalian. When it was clear we weren’t going to be able to outrun them, Asteria fell back onto plan B.
Her body changed under me, horsehair giving way to eagle feathers, hooves morphing into deadly talons. I wasn’t ready for the shift and lost my seat, slipping precariously close to the edge. I dug my heels in and scrambled for something to hold onto, but it was no use. And when one of the harpies broadsided us, that sealed the deal. I fell like a rock, arms pinwheeling, legs flailing. A part of me wanted to freak out, but the other part of me—the better part of me—wanted to take out some bad guys before I fell to my death.
A snatch of cadence drifted through my mind as I tumbled.
“Stand up, buckle up, shuffle to the door, jump right out and shout Marine Corps … And if my chute don’t open wide, I got another one by my side. But if that chute should fail me too, then look out, Devil, ’cause I’m coming on through—a hookin’ and a jabbin’, a kickin’ and a stabbin’ …”
It seemed I was actually getting an opportunity to live out that ditty. I pulled the War Blade free, the godstone blazing in my chest with righteous fury. A harpy flew up, and I rammed my sword down through her clavicle and into her heart. With a grunt, I kicked off, propelling myself away from the body, sword outthrust. Another harpy narrowly avoided a deadly slash from my weapon, then wheeled about, grabbing my leg in its talons. The claws dug down into my flesh, parting skin and drawing blood, but the maneuver also stopped my fall. Ironically saving my life. Another harpy dove toward us, looking to take a bite out of me; instead, I swung my body and split its skull wide open the second it was in range.
I glanced up. Above me, Asteria was shredding any harpy stupid enough to get close like a cheese grater. Blood splattered in the air, and black-feathered bodies tumbled down, one after another.
I didn’t have time to look for long, though—another harpy was coming in fast. I curled up, avoiding a deadly slice that would’ve ripped the head from my shoulders, and lashed out, severing one of the harpy’s wings clean off. Unable to maintain altitude, the creature dropped, shrieking the whole way down. The monster harpy holding me realized she was actually helping me, so she finally let me go.
Wind beat at me, and my cloak fluttered madly, but then Asteria swooped beneath me, rising sharply up to catch me, cradling my body. She spun, rolled, and dipped, then shot toward the north wall like an arrow with me in tow. We touched down on the peak of the defensive tower a second later, but as I was scrambling free, a barrage of arrows smacked into the shifter, peppering her body. Asteria let out a strangled gasp as she shimmered and morphed into her human form. She staggered drunkenly, before simply passing out.
Her body went limp, and she dropped off the roof, falling three stories to the ground. She landed on the back side of the tower—away from the advancing creatures—but she was in bad shape.
I needed to get down to her, and I needed to do it fast.
I popped a concealed emergency hatch in the roof and wiggled into the guard tower without getting hit. Six Wardens and a Rune-Caster manned the room, firing at the encroaching horde below with their longbows. Wooden casks filled with arrows sat at intervals, ensuring they never ran out of fire power. Antiope glanced up at me, blood on her face and a bow in her hands. “Greetings, War God,” she said with a grim-faced nod. “We are holding the tower but the forces against us are …” She paused. “Formidable,” she finished. “What are your orders?”
The question hung heavy in the air, and the truth was I had no idea what we should do. I was going to ask her what she thought, but that wouldn’t do much for the morale of my Amazons. And, really, my mind kept coming back to Asteria. She was dying down there. In my panic, I tried to check her Health in my interface, but yeah, no helmet, no gaming system. A wave of despair sucker punched me in the gut, but I ignored it. There were people depending on me. “Elementalists,” I finally choked out. “Find a way to get them up here.”
“Camilla,” Antiope barked. “You heard the war god, back to the city. Get the Elementalists.” The woman nodded, slung her bow across her back, then disappeared through the emergency hatch, which connected to the zipline. “And what of the missiles?” Antiope asked, waving a hand toward the steam-powered mount off to the left.
“Only use that as a last—” I started.
The roar of the cyclops boomed in the air, cutting me off and rocking the room. The floor beneath me quivered, and the tower’s stones seemed to rattle in place. “As a last resort,” I finished seconds before part of the roof caved in, a harpy trying desperately to battle her way inside. I whirled in an eyeblink, removing its head with one swipe of my blade. “Whatever you do, just keep fighting.”
I rushed over to an arrow slit, peeking out. I caught my first up-close look at a living cyclops, and it was worse than I could’ve imagined. Twenty feet tall, and half as wide, all bulging muscles, gray pebbled skin, and snarling teeth like blunt tombstones. The creature bent over and hooked his fingers into the front portcullis. The tower quivered again, a terrible screech tearing the air as the creature ripped the metal gate free. Werewolves and nagas rushed forward in droves.
Idiots.
Antiope was ready for them.
She and another Amazon lifted the pot of boiling oil and sent it gushing into the murder holes. The monsters below howled as they cooked alive—skin sizzling, fur burning off. But there was no room to breathe. Arachnaswine came next, rushing in through the open gate, over the corpses of the fallen, while others skittered up the outer wall of the tower, hairy legs poking in through the arrow slits, swiping at my warriors. The Wardens fought like hell itself, but it was clear we were being overrun.
Time to evacuate. But I wasn’t about to leave Asteria.
“Amazons! Fall back to the city! Antiope and I will stay and hold the tower.”
The Amazons moved at once, breaking for the zipline. In quick succession, they took off down the cable, flying through the air.
I turned to Antiope and gulped, feeling unease churn inside me. “I’m going for Asteria—she’s at the base of the tower. As soon as I get clear …” I hesitated, not sure I could give the command. There was a damn good chance that using a sidewinder at this range would be a suicide mission. I steeled myself, reminding myself of Myrina’s coldhearted words, We Amazons mean nothing in the end. Nothing. Only you matter, Jacob Merely. “Hit that cyclops with the missile,” I finished, hating myself a little for it.
She didn’t argue but instead, she grabbed me and kissed me, rough, wet, and hard. “Gods forgive me, Jacob Merely, but I know the look in your eye. And me? I was not going to leave this world without at least one kiss. Now go. Save our general while I rain fire on our enemies!”
I offered her a sad, small smile, then turned and made for the emergency exit. Instead of taking to the zipline, I scrambled do
wn the tower’s side, clawing for toe and hand holds. I dropped the last ten feet, landing with a thud not seven feet from Asteria’s prone form. And I’d made it just in time, too. Spider pigs were swarming around the sides of the tower, moving on a sea of bristly limbs. Thankfully, our reinforcements had also arrived.
Euryleia and Buttercup led the other ground-mounted Beastiamancers in a charge, engaging the spider pigs with swords, spears, and bows. Meanwhile, their mounts—shaggy, monstrous bears, and humongous, thick-muscled bulls—used teeth and claws, horns and hooves to massacre the arachnaswine. Our Flame-Witch, Calla, was with them, slinging deadly columns of flame—barbequing our enemies where they stood. I shot Euryleia a grateful nod, then sprinted over to Asteria, who lay unmoving, pin-cushioned with arrows.
I dropped to a knee and urgently searched for a pulse. There. She was still alive, though her pulse was reedy and her breathing labored. Her eyes blinked open at my touch.
“Forgive me, War God,” she sputtered, teeth stained with blood. “You live, but I fear I have failed you in dying. Arrows are such annoyances.”
I chuckled grimly.
She touched my face. “I shall never forget our time together. You are so gentle and loving, and shouldn’t a god of war know the softer side of things as much as war and bloodshed? For how can one be wise if one cannot see all sides of this magical world we live in?”
“You’re not gone yet,” I replied as she fell unconscious.
Maybe I couldn’t heal her with magic, but I could keep her alive long enough for one of the Water-Witches to do it. I pulled free my IFAK—Individual First Aid Kit—and started yanking out supplies. Since my power couldn’t heal me, I’d kept the kit around in case I got hurt, and I was crazy-glad I had it. Many of her wounds were superficial, but one arrow protruding from her guts was problematic, along with a gaping hole in her thigh—clearly responsible for a large amount of blood loss.
I started with the leg, opening a package of QuikClot combat gauze. Although not as flashy as Healing Touch, QuikClot was damn near a modern miracle. I pulled free the gauze and started packing it into the ragged wound. Not merely placing it over the top, but really cramming it in there. Almost instantly, badass science went to work, and the hemorrhaging began to stop as the gauze triggered the clotting process. Once done, I wrapped the wound with a sterile ACE bandage, then moved on to the gut wound.
I didn’t dare take the arrow out; instead, I rolled her onto her side and hastily broke off the front and back of the shaft so only a little nub of wood poked out on either side. I slapped some sterile gauze on, then used a second ACE bandage to hold everything in place. My patch-up medical work wasn’t going to save her for long, but maybe long enough. The second I finished, I gently lifted her in my arms and slipped through the chaos of the battle to Euryleia’s side.
“Euryleia!” I hollered at the top of my lungs, catching her eye.
The Beastiamancer wheeled around, her face covered in a mask of monster blood. Her eyes widened when she saw the woman in my arms.
“Get her to one of the Water-Witches, and do it fast!” I carefully slung Asteria onto the back of Buttercup.
“You have my word on it, War God,” she shouted in reply. The second Asteria was in place, Buttercup reared up, issuing a thunderous roar, then charged through a line of arachnaswine, scattering them like bowling pins.
Just as Euryleia disappeared, the world exploded all around me, noise, fire, and heat batting me into the air. I landed facedown in the grass, my ears ringing, my skin raw and uncomfortably hot. I coughed, rolled onto my back, and pushed myself up onto my ass.
I watched in horror as the tower burned and teetered, moments away from collapsing. From the destruction on the battlefield, it was easy to see what had happened: Antiope had fired the sidewinder right into the cyclops’ bloated gut, killing him and taking out every naga, werewolf, harpy, and spider pig in a fifty-foot radius. A bloody mist swept over me from the carnage, flecking my face with gore. Black feathers, pieces of chainmail, hunks of cyclops, all thwapped on the ground.
The tower fell a heartbeat later, the ground rumbling from the destruction.
“Dammit, Antiope,” I whispered, knowing the Amazon was dead. Knowing she’d sacrificed herself on my order. “I wish it hadn’t gone down like that.” In my heart, though, I knew there was nothing I could’ve done differently—this was war, and there would be casualties. I stood, surveying the battlefield, then raised my sword high. “Retreat!” I boomed, my voice carrying over the cackling fires and the mewling of dying monsters. “Fall back to the north gate, and get the siege weapons ready!”
THIRTY-SIX
Ace in the Hole
The northern gate slammed shut behind me just as a thunderous boom rocked the air, followed by a brilliant flare of light and a giant plume of smoke billowing up from the south. Oh shit, that couldn’t be good. I scrambled up the wooden rungs of a lookout platform located on the inside of the wall. The platform rose about fifteen feet up, granting me a spectacular view of the city, as well as a glimpse of the forces rallying on the far side of the north wall.
What a shitstorm. Not only had we lost the north tower, but it was obvious the south tower was gone too, or at least on its last legs. Though I could see the second cyclops was down for the count, which was a small bit of good news. Still, everything else was chaos.
Wardens ziplined away from the wreckage to the south, but apparently Praxidike had gotten wise to the ploy, because harpies streaked toward the last of the Amazons careening down the cable. Before bird-women could get to them, ferocious columns of conjured wind careened into them, knocking the harpies from the air. No doubt the work of Aella, my Air-Witch.
Meanwhile, a horde of sea centaurs streamed toward the north gate, hooves churning up a great cloud of dust as they advanced. But Myrina had trained my Amazons well, and they were ready for the charge. Wardens took to the walls, unleashing a hail of arrows into the inrushing crowd, while several more Wardens worked siege weapons, lobbing huge stones and beefy ballista bolts. From above, a formation of winged horses and eagles swept down, firing more arrows and hurling deadly javelins.
Three of the winged horses were also kitted out with the strange saddles I’d seen Phoebe making earlier; each saddle had a pair of bronze canisters poking out from the sides.
What the hell are those things? I wondered.
I found out a beat later as the canisters opened with a hiss, unleashing their payload over the hell-spawn on the ground. Fucking napalm. The burning mixture rained from the sky like the judgment of God Himself, coating the equine attackers, melting through skin, hair, scales, and chitin. The monsters fell to the ground, many shrieking in pain as they frantically tried to squelch the flames by rolling. The efforts were useless. The napalm only spread, burning more fiercely as they thrashed.
Damn, that was brutal.
To the south, a group of eagle riders were doing a bombing run of their own—except they carried cluster bombs instead of napalm. I watched, entranced, as the eagle riders soared and swooped, dropping their deadly cargo on unseen enemies. A series of thuds rolled over the battle like a barrage of artillery fire, and flashes of fiery orange lit up the horizon. Crazy-good work, though I wasn’t sure it would be enough.
I turned back toward the sea of centaurs pouring in despite the arrows and the napalm. Scores of creatures had fallen, but more took their place, and now there were werewolves streaming into the mix, and they carried a big-ass battering ram, the head carved into a grinning skull. Great, as though we had nothing else to worry about. Our Wardens continued firing, but a large flock of Stymphalian swooped in from the east, engaging our aerial Beastiamancers, distracting them from the fight below.
The Wolves seized the moment, charging with a howl as they slammed the battering ram into the gates. Thud, thud, thud. The gates held, but each time the ram hit, they bowed inward a bit more, the wood groaning from the strain. We didn’t have long.
“Wardens
, fall back into the city!” I shouted. “Beast Calvary, prepare to hold the line—we’ve got incoming!” My order carried up and down the line, repeated by Amazon after Amazon as I scrambled down from the platform and took point in front of the gate. A bear rider named Gayle plodded up on my right, while a bull rider flanked me on the left. The rest of the heavy cavalry formed up as the Wardens abandoned the wall, heading back to the city, where we’d fight the invaders building to building if need be.
The ram hit again, thud-boom, and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The gate simply exploded inward, wooden shrapnel flying everywhere as centaurs and werewolves shoved their way in, teeth gnashing, weapons hungry to shed blood.
They came at us in a disorganized rush, but my warriors and I held the line.
We smashed against the invaders with a clash of weapons, howls rising up like a horn blast. A colossal red-furred grizzly lunged forward, disemboweling a werewolf while the rider used her short sword to slash at the muzzle of another. The bull next to me dropped his meaty head and drove his horns forward. One horn impaled a centaur, the other skewered a werewolf right through the neck. The bull lifted both from the ground with his head, and shook, tearing through flesh and rupturing bone.
The carnage continued in earnest.
Teeth chomped, claws flashed, horns gored, weapons hacked.
It was blood and heat and madness.
I joined the fray, hooking and jabbing like a pro.
Slowly their sheer numbers pushed us back, but they didn’t break us. Not even when the nagas slithered in, their bowstrings snapping as they launched arrows at us by the bucketload. And just when I thought we couldn’t hold another second, Phoebe trundled up, riding on one of the converted harvesters. Pyracia was driving the vehicle while Phoebe sat in the gunner seat, the massive five-barreled Gatling gun positioned in front of her. Holy crap, she was going to lay down some wicked-ass suppression fire.
“Fall back, and make way!” she shouted, her usually playful tone gone. She didn’t need to tell me twice.
