by James Hunter
Her eyes caught mine. I was shocked to see such understanding in them. Even at a glance, I could tell that Phoebe was both cunning and brilliant.
I reached up and wiped away a thick layer of sweat and grime with a shaky hand. Every Essence Point I used sapped my strength a little more, and I was really starting to feel the fatigue. Sheer exhaustion wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, leaving my limbs shaky and uncertain and nausea roiling in my gut. More than anything, I wanted to stop—needed to stop—but I was too far in to turn back. Phoebe was lying on the anvil, two-thirds formed, looking up at me with hyper-aware eyes.
Time to finish this.
I raised the hammer with arms that felt made of lead, and lashed out. Of course, the third swing went wide, missing the mark entirely and clanging against the anvil.
I doubled over, one hand planted on my knee as a wave of dizziness roared through me. Shit. Not only did I miss, but now I felt like someone had run me over with a car. Worse, I only had a single Divine Essence Point left.
Phoebe’s body buckled, and she flung out her arms. She screamed in pain. Was it the wine dust? Was the olive oil bad?
I wasn’t sure, but her agony hurt me.
I had to finish crafting her before the pain killed her.
I wasn’t sure what would happen if I dropped to zero Essence Points, but I had no choice. With a silent scowl, I righted myself, concentrating on the task at hand. I just needed one clean hit. I lifted the hammer with quivering arms and brought it down on her chest—
An explosion of light and sound thundered through the room, and a concussive wave of raw force hurled me backward, through the doors, and out into the night.
I had one second to glance at the stars, to feel the warm night on my skin, and then I was unconscious.
I wasn’t sure how long I was down for, but when I came too, light edged my eyelids. I coughed, and every muscle in me ached. I tried to access my game menu, but I couldn’t. I vaguely realized the helmet was no longer in place.
I felt a soft bed under me, a comfortable mattress, and a silken blanket over me. My finger found a feather poking from the mattress. Oh, so it was stuffed with feathers. I wondered if they were harpy feathers and got a little creeped out. And what about the blanket? Was it crafted from spider-pig silk? All questions better left unanswered, I decided. Slowly, I blinked open my eyes, double checking to ensure none of the arachanaswine were around, ready to eat me. I tried to sit up, but then I realized I was tied to the bed.
I couldn’t move a muscle!
Were those ropes or pig webs?
I glanced around, wild-eyed and nervous. Well, I wasn’t in the jungle.
A luxurious marble room surrounded me, filled with light. Lush red-silk drapes framed the windows, intricate scrollwork was carved into the marble, and the bed frame was made of woven metal. Against one wall was a stand with towels and a washbasin. A big wooden table lay near the opposite wall. Objects were scattered across the top of the sturdy piece of furniture, but it was too far away for me to see what they were. The salty breeze from the ocean blew in through the entrance to a terrace, rustling the curtains.
I was in the palace on the western side of Lycastia City, near the steps that led down to the beach. I wanted to check the time, but my arms were tied to the bed frame and my wrist was bare. My watch was gone.
Uh, and I was naked.
The helmet of Ares was gone, while my clothes were neatly folded and stacked in a chair against the far wall.
Someone cleared their throat, and I stole a look to the right, my cheeks burning as I finally saw my newly minted Amazons standing watch over me. All three generals looked down on me with three completely different expressions on their faces.
Myrina glared at me with her arms folded across her chest in clear disapproval. She was dressed in full armor: a bronze breastplate, bronze greaves covering her legs, and leather sandals. Hardened strips of linen formed her skirt. I’d heard of linen armor before—pieces of cloth glued to rabbit skins—but this was the first time I’d seen it. Bronze bracers protected her wrists.
Asteria, by contrast, looked concerned, though a fragile smile curved her lips. She was a sight to behold, her golden eyes reflecting the light of the sun. Unlike Myrina, Asteria wore only a very sheer purple toga, which dropped to mid-thigh, leaving ample amounts of blue skin bare. Even a sidelong glance at her left me blushing like mad and feeling deeply pervy—she was practically naked, for Pete’s sake.
Phoebe sported a white toga made of sensible, thick wool. She appeared to be slightly puzzled but ultimately unimpressed. This was my first time seeing the Rune-Caster alive and well, so I took a moment to catalog her features. She was taller than Myrina by a few inches, but significantly less thick around the hips and less broad through the shoulders. She was tall and willowy, and her intelligent gray-green eyes were startling in contrast to her dark hair. Her left leg looked wrong, though—shriveled and oddly shaped. She used a crutch on that side to support her weight.
A flash of pain seemed to sprint across her face as she noticed my gaze. Had I done that? Was her leg the result of my sloppy crafting? Uncertainty and guilt unfurled in my chest like flowers blooming in spring.
Phoebe offered me a lopsided grin and cocked an eyebrow at me. “So, our new god of war is awake. It took you long enough—it seems you are much weaker than Ares of old.” She paused, a playful gleam in her eye. “Weaker and smaller.”
“Yes,” Myrina agreed with a serious nod. “Small and limp. How can we follow such a man when we have known the affections of an immortal masterpiece of divine masculinity?”
“Come on,” Asteria protested, shooting me an apologetic glance, “he’s not that small. Besides”—she stole a sly look at me, chewing on her bottom lip—“I think it was kind of cute, how it kept flopping to the left. It is adorable.”
“Dude, no talking about my junk,” I said, struggling fruitlessly against my bonds. “Seriously. We’re gonna have to lay some ground rules—and not talking about my junk is gonna be at the top of the list. And rule number two will be to cut me a little slack. I’ve been a god for less than twenty-four hours, and I was a good enough god to create you three. That has to count for something. Now, can someone please untie me?”
“This is true—you did manage to create us, which is no small feat,” Asteria said, taking my side. “And you even held me when I wept. Still … Poor Ares, I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Myrina’s jaw muscles twitched. I saw tears threaten, but she burned them away with her fury. “We failed him,” she said, ignoring my request completely. “If our forces had held longer, if we hadn’t folded before the might of Hades, the sigil in the Lycastia temple would’ve kept the rift into the underworld sealed.” She faltered, scowling, hands curling into tight fists. “No, I failed. I will not rest until I have addressed this wrong. War god or not, this little man is necessary for my redemption.”
“I’m not little,” I said forcefully. “I’m almost six feet tall.”
“Ares was twenty,” Phoebe replied with a matter-of-fact shrug. But then she walked to my bed—moving with a slight limp—and sat down. She studied me carefully, pulling the sheet down and tracing a finger across my chest, where the gem glowed underneath my skin. “But despite your size, Ares’ power burns brightly in you.” She shook her head as though she couldn’t quite believe her own words. “He and I discussed the transfer of power, but we worried that a mortal would be overwhelmed and ultimately destroyed. How? How are you still alive and sane?”
I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably before trying to explain things. “The helmet of Ares gives me access to gaming menus,” I said. “If you could grab it for me, I can show you. Ares and I came up with the plan so I could slowly access the power in the godstone. But you’re right, he tried to give me all the power at once, and it nearly turned my mind into chocolate pudding.”
“What is chocolate?” Phoebe asked, uncertain but intrigued. “No, wait. Do
not tell me.” She pressed a hand to her temple, eyes shut tight as she searched her mind. After a moment, she sighed, her lips pressing into a thin line “I cannot remember what chocolate is. Many parts of my memory seem compromised.”
“No, it’s not you. It’s New World food,” I said, feeling terrible. Aside from the bad leg, was it possible I’d damaged part of her mind as well? That would be concerning enough, but what if my screwup affected Phoebe’s ability to craft weapons and other Amazons? “You wouldn’t know what it is since it was discovered after your time. Now, let me ask again, can someone please untie me? I swear I won’t hurt you.”
Myrina scoffed snidely, dropping her hands to her hips. “As if you could, little man.”
Phoebe chuckled as well. “I don’t think he poses a threat, and the godstone does burn inside him.” She waved a hand at me. “Let him free.”
Asteria bounded onto the bed in compliance, cutting me loose with a small knife. Then before I could prop myself up, she threw her arms around me and snuggled close. She pressed her face into my neck and sniffed. “You smell good. Not as good as Ares, but I like you. You are far kinder, and you held me while I cried.” She drew away, beaming brightly at me. Then she dived right back in, nuzzling her nose into the hollow at the base of my throat.
I blinked. Suddenly this beautiful blue-skinned woman was cuddling with me? What the hell?
Myrina grimaced and turned on her heel. “I suppose the little master is hungry. Phoebe and I did some hunting while you were out. I will return with nourishment. I despair at the state of our vineyard. We will not have wine for some time and perhaps even longer until we have olives.”
She turned on her heel and left, the sound of her footfalls carrying down the hall.
“Man, she doesn’t like me,” I muttered.
Asteria sneaked a hand under the blanket and rubbed my belly, gently tracing circles around my belly button with one finger. “Oh, Myrina is never happy unless she is fighting or planning a fight. She will realize you are wonderful in her own time.”
“Is that right?” I asked Phoebe.
The Rune-Caster shrugged, then seesawed her head. “Your worth has yet to be proven. Somehow, though, you managed to convince Ares of your worth, so I will do whatever I can to aid you, Master. But I do have a question that needs answering.” She stopped talking, pondering.
“What’s the question?” I finally prompted after a time.
She held up a wait-a-minute finger, her gaze hazy and distant. “Apologies. Remembering is hard.” She pressed her eyes shut tight. “Yes, that’s it,” she finally mumbled. “The seal and the rift. I saw the sigil decorating the statue in the temple, yet the presence of the arachnaswine so close to Lycastia City means the seal is broken. Deficient. Did Ares tell you why this sigil failed when the others on Themiscyreia and Chadesia did not? More importantly, did he mention how we can permanently seal the rift?”
Her onslaught of questions was a little overwhelming. “Look, there’s a lot that I don’t know.” I exhaled some of my fear. “Heck, at this point I pretty much don’t know anything. Like at all. But maybe together we can figure it out. What do you say?”
She tilted her head and smiled at me. “You are certainly not as Ares was—asking for help was never a strong suit for him. But perhaps this change is not such a bad thing after all.” She pursed her lips and tapped at her chin thoughtfully. “Very well, Jacob Merely, god of war. Let us see if we can figure it out together. But where do we start?”
“With Ares’ helmet,” I replied.
TEN
Level Up!
While Phoebe left to get my helmet, Asteria licked my neck like an excited puppy. Her hands kept drifting south. I kept grabbing them. “Uh, Asteria, I don’t know what your deal was with Ares, but things are going to be different with me.”
She only laughed at that and snuggled in deeper.
Phoebe returned with my helmet and clothes. Her brow furrowed as she gazed down at me. “You said gaming menus. Is this like chocolate? A new thing?”
“Yeah, kind of,” I said. “It’s New World stuff. Modern stuff. Let me see if I can do some kind of sharing with you.”
Asteria kissed my cheek, and her fingers came perilously close to my danger zone. I seized her hand and gently eased it back up, though a huge part of me regretted the decision immediately. She was smoking hot after all. But I hardly knew her, and I couldn’t act in good conscience, knowing she might be under some weird divine compulsion to sleep with me.
Phoebe’s eyes flashed. “Asteria, not now. Why not go and check our defenses? I saw harpies in the air.”
“Harpies!” Asteria jerked away, her eyes wide, dimples blooming in her cheeks as she shook off the sheer purple dress, revealing her beautiful blue skin.
I averted my eyes. Dang, but the little bit I saw only reinforced what a poor decision I’d made a few seconds before.
“I love harpy meat,” the Beastiamancer said like a puppy excited about getting a favorite dog treat. “Tastes like chicken.” She took three huge steps, and as she moved her body seemed to liquify. Her face grew longer into a beak, feathers sprouted from her arms, and her legs and feet shrank and morphed into wicked talons. Seconds later, a giant blue-tinged eagle flew out of the doorway, over the terrace, and into the sky.
“Wow, shape-shifter,” I murmured. “That’s wicked cool.”
“It is a warm day, actually,” Phoebe said. Then caught herself. “You mean it as a slang term.” She gasped in frustration. “My word recall is still wretched—plus this gimp leg.” She gestured down to the oddly shaped limb. “We did not have wine, did we? Wine dust might be the reason I am not as sharp. And the olive oil—old and rancid, no doubt. But the real problem was the third hammer strike. You missed, did you not?” The words were delivered flatly, without heat, but they still sounded like an accusation to my ears.
“I did,” I said softly, dropping my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled sadly. “I live.” She shrugged. “And I have a purpose. Already, I am excited to learn about your gaming system. Yes, my leg is wounded, but I am no warrior—not like Asteria or Myrina. My weapon is my mind, and though my memories are foggy, they will return in time, and my skills will serve you well. Though you and I will never be lovers. I can see that right away.”
“How’s that?” I asked, uncomfortable.
“You are not Ares.” She nodded as if in approval. “But more than that, you are very troubled by my being less …” She faltered, searching for the right word. “Less than perfect,” she finally finished.
“Not sure I can comment on the love or not,” I said, feeling severely out of my depth. “Let’s stick to business.” Easy for me to say, lying there naked in the bed. I wanted to dress, but I was dying to see what my menus looked like. I had the idea that I might have gotten some experience points for creating the Amazons.
I slid on the helmet, and the master interface appeared. A second later, fireworks sprinkled across my vision. Hell yeah, I’d leveled up! I was a level-two god of war. Jacob Merely, kicking ass and taking names.
My control limit had increased to five, so I could now control five Amazons at once, though I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Could I make them do things? Or was the control limit simply a cap on how many of the female warriors could exist with the power in the godstone? I wasn’t sure. The menus were thick and rich, and the submenu layers went deep. It was how I’d missed the whole clothing thing when I fashioned my generals.
But even better than the control limit upgrade, I now had ten Attribute Points and one Ability Point to divvy up, plus my Divine Essence had jumped to twelve. Sweet. The real question was what I should do with all the stuff. If anyone knew, it would be Phoebe. I took a moment to scan through the various menus, searching for some way to share the gaming display with the Rune-Caster, but I couldn’t find anything. She watched me impassively, arms folded.
“What do you see, Jacob Merely?” she asked.
On instinct, I reached out and grabbed her hand. The moment her palm was in mine, an icon with a small arrow flashed in the corner of my screen, allowing me to share the display.
“Can you see it?” I asked.
Phoebe nodded, an excited smile spreading across her face. “Yes, by all of Hera’s charms and the genius Hephaestus, yes. It is wonderful. It is magical. So many options and yet …” She paused. “There is a sadness to this system. It will take you some time to grow into your power. Perhaps we do not have the time?”
“Maybe we don’t,” I replied, still clutching her hand in mine, “but Ares wasn’t going to give up and neither will I. And I’m good at this, Phoebe. I’m sorry I messed up on you, but I promise to do better.”
“Until you are a god, you will be mortal and imperfect,” Phoebe said. Then she snarked, “Who am I kidding? Even at their best, the gods were not perfect. Look at Zeus and his lusts. And even Ares could be an asshat.”
She laughed. “Yes, asshat. That is a slang term from your Am-er-i-ca. And chocolate is made from a bean on a continent far from here, this bean, milk, su-gar. Su-gar cane. I can see the menus, but I can also understand you better, Jacob. You do not like to be called Jake. Ha!” Her laughter was like music to my ears. Phoebe might’ve been kind of cynical and gloomy on the surface, but it seemed that learning things, figuring things out, was what she lived for.
“It is my special Mind Delve ability, I think,” she said after a moment. “Ares created this system for you, but he also created it to allow me special access to your head.” She tapped at her temple. “To help me understand you and your world better. Learning about your world will be a slow, imperfect process, but in time I will know you as well as you know yourself, Jacob Merely. Now, let us decide how to best spend your new points.” She said the word tentatively, as though testing it out for the first time.
