War God's Mantle_Ascension

by James Hunter

  “Thank you for rescuing me,” Loxo wheezed, inching over and brushing my neck with outstretched fingers. “How can I ever repay you?”

  I knocked her hand away playfully. “Enough of that,” I said with a sigh.

  “Oh, you are such fun to tease,” she replied just as Asteria emerged from the waters in all her squidy glory, our dropped gear in tow. The shifter deposited Loxo’s bow, quiver, and spear on the sands, along with my breastplate, which I quickly slipped back into place.

  As I dressed, a bizarre thought occurred to me. Hey, Asteria, I sent, I don’t suppose you can get the plane while you’re a squid.

  Her voice came back to me distorted and strangely alien. Man thing, man thing, such a dry thing. Only a few limbs. So many bones. Only likes the upside air. Does not understand the water or the underside world. Does not understand anything but the upside air. Her words were completely nonsensical, but she dipped back below, which I took as a yes.

  Sure enough, Asteria surfaced a handful of minutes later, the Harrier clutched in her tentacles as she slowly hauled it to the beach. Watching a giant squid manhandle a twenty-first-century jet kind of made me blink a few times. “There’s another thing you don’t see every day,” I muttered, standing in the sand, letting seawater puddle around me.

  Asteria pushed the jet onto the beach and then the huge squid shrank until only the blue-skinned Beastiamancer remained. She smiled her crooked smile and crinkled her nose. “I really like being a squid. Who knew?” Her amber eyes glowed in delight.

  If I didn’t love her before, I loved her at that moment.

  “But now that we have this aero-plane, what are we to do with it?” Asteria asked, eyeing the hulking war machine.

  I let out a breath. “We need to get it back to the city so Phoebe can salvage the weapons. We’ll see how Praxidike and her crew like cluster bombs.” But the bigger question was, how were we ever going to get it to the city? We were miles away, and there was nothing but dense jungle between here and the city. No way could we get it through. Plus, we’d leave ourselves wide open for attack and we couldn’t risk having the Harrier fall into Praxidike’s hands. I didn’t want to even think about how screwed we’d be if she figured out how to use the weapons against us.

  Then I had another idea. “How heavy was the plane when you were a squid?” I asked Asteria.

  “On land it is impossibly heavy. But in the water?” She seesawed her head, lips pouting as she thought. “Heavy, but manageable.”

  “Do you think you could pull it back into the ocean and drag it around to the west beach below our city?”

  A brilliant smile broke out across the shifter’s face; she ran up to me, planted a kiss on my cheek, and danced back on the beach. “It will be my pleasure, War God. I love how I feel with eight long tentacles, and the water smells so good today.”

  “Be careful, Asteria,” I called out as she splashed out into the surf. “I thought I saw something in the water—something big. There could be worse out there than the centaurs. So just be careful.”

  “I shall, Jacob Merely. I will not die without kissing you at least one more time.”

  I kind of blushed. Thankfully, Loxo didn’t see my reaction or she would’ve teased me.

  “How will we get back?” the Huntress asked, arms folded as she scanned the trees running along the beach’s edge.

  “Through the jungle. I need to level up. I’m done messing around. You can go ahead and scope things out. If you see a bunch of nasties, then we reroute. If you see only a couple of wandering monsters, I come in and hack them to pieces. Boom. Done. Now let’s grind.”

  Loxo grinned in approval. “Now you are sounding like the god of war.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Getting Crafty

  As luck would have it, we only encountered small roving bands of monsters—a few nagas, a handful of arachnaswine foraging in the brush, and a pair of hammerhead centaurs with saw-like bands of sharp bones for arms. Loxo backed me up, but mostly I was on my own. Not that I cared. I’d learned a thing or two since embracing the godstone, and now a few mobs weren’t too much of a threat. The more I slashed and hacked the monsters, the more experience points I got. Thanks to the sea centaurs and my little jungle expedition, I managed to hit level eleven by the time I got back to Lycastia City.

  This time around, I split my Ability Points evenly between Intelligence and Wisdom—bumping up my Essence and control limit—then dropped my new Ability Point into the Craftsman skill in the Path of the Builder Tree:

  Once Loxo and I finally made it back, she ambushed me with a fiery hug, then hustled off to go report to Myrina. Apparently, the Huntress was on strict orders to keep my general abreast of everything going on. At this point, she was basically part Force Recon, part intel officer. Truthfully, I was sad to see her go. My feelings for her weren’t nearly the same as my feelings for Asteria, but I liked her. She was rad, fun to hang out with, and easy to talk to—even if she did like to bust my balls a little.

  I wound my way to the forge, stopping by the banquet table set up in front of the barn-turned-infirmary. I had a lot to do, but the hole in my stomach growled like a grizzly waking up from a long hibernation. I grabbed a plate and stocked up on bread slathered in olive oil, a roasted eggplant paste that I could’ve eaten by the truckload and, of course, everyone’s favorite, grilled spider pig.

  Gotta love that spider pig. I took a few minutes to eat in peace and quiet, then washed down my meal with a gallon of Mountain Dew.

  As I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, Myrina hustled into view, though Loxo was nowhere in sight. The Battle Warden’s face looked like a thunderhead, and before I could get a word in she was jumping down my throat, demanding I tell her about the centaur attack. How many had there been? Had I seen any sign of Praxidike? Loxo had mentioned that I’d seen something else in the water—a large shadow—could I describe it?

  I raised a hand in surrender to stop the onslaught of questions.

  “Deep breaths, Myrina. Everything’s fine, we made it back in one piece. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but let’s head into the forge first, because I’m sure Phoebe is gonna have the same questions, and I only want to explain this once. Fair?”

  The Warden grumbled noncommittally, then nodded and waved a hand toward the forge. “Fine, War God. As you would have it.”

  As we headed in, heat washed over my skin from the roaring fires as the clang of metal resounded in the air like a gong. Brontia was hammering away at a cherry-red blade. Phoebe was hard at work, loitering over the strange onyx stone I’d seen earlier. The orb was roughly the size of a basketball and pulsed with seedy red light; hanging in the air directly above the orb was a prefect holographic projection of my gaming interface. Phoebe held up one finger—wait a moment, the gesture said—as she finished tweaking the specs of some new hybrid steam-powered harvester.

  After a few more hasty adjustments, she closed out of the interactive menu with a flick of her hand, then rounded on us, a happy grin on her face. “The heroes return,” she said. “Good, I’m in need of a break—and word among the Amazons is that you have a story to tell, War God.” She offered me a wink, then followed up with a message. I see Asteria didn’t claw you to pieces. That’s good. Things went … well?

  Fine, I replied, cutting Myrina out of the chat so it was just Phoebe and me. We’re solid, me and Asteria. Everything’s back to normal. More or less, I hedged, not wanting to say more.

  Now that I had both generals present, I launched into my story, explaining about recovering my jet, our encounter with the sea centaurs, and our plan to relocate the weapon to the western beach below the city for salvage.

  Phoebe seemed pleased by the development, but Myrina had a metric assload of questions, which I answered as best I could—though I avoided any talk about what had happened between me and Asteria in the temple of Apollo. That was my business, and there was no need for anyone else to know. Yet. I also told them about the monstr
ous shadow I’d seen in the waters, and asked if there were any deep-sea nightmares we should be preparing our forces for—I really didn’t want to get caught with my pants down again.

  “Kraken?” Phoebe offered with a shrug.

  “Perhaps,” Myrina replied with a thoughtful nod. “Though we should pray it is not so. If the kraken has broken free from its prison, we would not survive. I believe Praxidike is enemy enough for now, so let us focus on her. You need to fortify our defenses and fashion more Amazons.”

  Phoebe nodded. Yeah, and we need all this shit done yesterday. I know you want to get to the towers, Boss-man, but new blood takes priority. The towers won’t take that long to construct, but Myrina needs as much time to train the newbs as possible.

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” I replied. “So let’s get to it. Do we have all the resources we need?”

  Phoebe confidently strutted over to the far wall and pulled back a canvas tarp, revealing several porcelain tubs full of sacred clay. We have everything we need now that you’re here. So let’s make with the miracles, already. She hefted a hammer, removed a hunk of clay, and lugged it over to a worktable. The real question is what kind of army do you want, my dude? Right now, you’re capped at sixty-five Amazons. We’re down to nineteen, which means we have room for forty-six new bodies … Well, forty-five, if you want to recreate Hippolyta. So what kind of forces should we invest in?

  I felt a flutter of panic inside my stomach. If the piece of cloth that Myrina found on the centaurs was correct, we had about a day and a half before Praxidike came in force to lay siege to the city.

  That didn’t seem like nearly enough time to get everything ready.

  And sixty-five Amazons didn’t seem like nearly enough manpower for the job, considering we might be facing a thousand monsters.

  No. I pushed my doubt away, refusing to be defeated before we even got rolling.

  We could do this—if we played smart. These Amazonians were brave, fearless, and deadly, and though none of them had a death wish, they all seemed more than willing to give their lives if the need arose. With sixty-five dedicated warriors like that, we could hold the city. Maybe. Probably. And, admittedly, having a handful of infrared-guided missiles, a few CBU-100 Cluster Bombs, and a dash of napalm would help, too.

  The cogs in my head started twirling as I considered what type of Amazons would best serve me for this mission. A good chunk would have to be Wardens—straight infantry was always a must—so I slotted twenty-three spots for badass brawlers. The Beastiamancers had also proven to be extremely effective as cavalry, and I would need a few flying mounts for aerial support against all of Praxidike’s harpies. So, I would create sixteen of them—five more heavy-duty ground-pounders—and a squad of eleven mounted flyers.

  That left me with a scant seven spots left. I drummed my fingers against my sheath, forehead creased in focus. Decisions, decisions. I went down the list of the remaining classes—first Rune-Casters. I’d been running Phoebe’s assistants, Brontia and Steropia, ragged, and more Amazons meant even more work for them. New gear to forge, and siege weapons to build. So, one more Rune-Caster. Plus, I decided to build a Forest-Witch, a Dasikí Mágissa, to tend to the farmland, which would further free up Brontia and Steropia.

  Loxo, likewise, was doing the job of about ten people, so I added another Huntress to the roster. Four Amazons left. We already had an Air-Witch and a Water-Witch in our ranks, but I decided to throw another Water-Witch into the mix—if I power-leveled those two, they’d be able to cast minor Healing miracles, and having combat corpsmen was always a good idea. Then I settled on a Flame-Witch, Flóga Mágissa, because when in doubt, kill it with fire. As for the final two slots … well, I had a devious plan to power-level the shit out of myself, but it would require two specialized Amazons to accomplish the task.

  I cracked my knuckles and grinned at Phoebe. “Teleporters, I want two of them. Let’s start there. Then we’ll move on to another Huntress.”

  Her mouth fell open, and I could see the shock and confusion sprinting across my Rune-Master’s face. Jacob, my dude-—the words sounded highly skeptical—you sure you want to burn Essence on Teleporters? I mean, they’re tough, and they’re fast, but they’re way expensive. And another Huntress? Seems like Wardens would be the best investment up front.

  “You just gotta trust me on this—I have a plan for ’em, Phoebe, my dudette.”

  She frowned, then shrugged. Okay, Boss-man, if you say so. Who am I to tell you how to be a war god? You want Teleporters, let’s make some motherfucking teleporters!

  “Now that’s the spirit,” I replied, moving over to the workbench and ripping off a chunk of wet clay as I started to form a new figurine. Phoebe got cracking on the second, her hands flying through the clay, working with a speed, talent, and ease that put me to shame. By the time I’d finished crafting what amounted to a crude stick figure of clay, she’d created a mini life-like sculpture of a beautiful woman. Mine would work just fine, though, even if it wasn’t exactly aesthetically pleasing. Next, we added the other items: platinum filings, an eagle feather, diamond powder, thin copper wire, and a sliver of Thymos Crystal.

  From there, we laid out the figurines on the peel, fired them at the right temperature, then beat the shit out of each with the Hammer. In minutes, we welcomed Vara and Sophia to the world; both were slender blondes, one with green eyes, the other with brown. They looked like Swedish volleyball players and could’ve passed for twins. Both professed undying love for me—because that was my life now—which I ignored. Then, while they were still getting their bearings, I used my Essence to power the pair up to level five.

  I tinkered with Vara’s stats until they were just where I wanted, then copied the process for Sophia.

  I smiled as I reviewed my handiwork. Power-leveling both Teleporters had cost me a hefty chunk of Essence, but it was totally going to be worth it. Sure, they weren’t hard hitters, even at level five, but they were lightning fast, had a tremendous range, and could fucking teleport instantly anywhere they had line of sight. And though their overall Health was relatively low, their Health Regen was through the roof, and thanks to the added Ability Point in Tele-Heal, they regained ten percent of their total Health every time they Phase Walked.

  Phoebe looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Trust me,” I said. “I gots a plan.”

  You gots a hole in your head, but I’ll keep my mouth shut. For now.

  Next, I moved on to my new Huntress.

  I used Loxo as my blueprint, then immediately powered the new recruit up to level three. I had Myrina escort those three out, while I moved on to some of the more basic troops. Wardens. Lots of Wardens. Our first, we named Hippolyta. When Phoebe laid the third hammer strike, I caught her in my arms. We’d recycled the initial blueprint, but I was still rather surprised to discover she had the same green eyes and wicked smile. Hell, she was a dead ringer for the Warden who’d died saving us all.

  Hippolyta touched my face. “Greetings, War God. Thank you for giving me life. I promise to serve you well.”

  I searched her gaze, looking for any sign of recognition. “Do you remember your life before?” I finally asked, voice low. “You sacrificed yourself to save the city. You used the Shield of Perseus. Do you remember any of that?”

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. Then she was asleep.

  I glanced up at Phoebe. “This is why I can’t lose you, Myrina, or Asteria. Assuming I could find a way to recreate you, which I doubt, we’d lose our history together. We’d lose our bond. That might not mean much to you or Myrina, but it sure as hell means a lot to me.”

  Phoebe dropped her eyes. You are such a softie, Jacob. So unlike Ares. And don’t worry too much about Hippolyta. Just give her time, dude. She’ll remember more and more once she gets a couple winks. Memory is a pain in the ass when you’re a newborn. Myrina, Asteria, and I remember our time with Ares, right, genius?

  “Call me that again,” I fake pleaded. “I’m a to
tal genius.”

  She rolled her eyes. Come on, genius, let’s move to the next Amazon. Chop, chop. Gotta save the world and shit.

  We spent the next two hours pounding out nineteen more Wardens, and by the time I was done, it was well past midnight, and I needed a serious breather. I staggered outside for a Mountain Dew refill. I leaned against the wall, sipping on my canteen as I savored the fresh air—the forge was sweltering, and the cool breeze was blessedly welcome. Torchlight filled the night with flickering flames, and despite the hour, the sounds of Myrina drilling new recruits echoed through the city.

  The air brought in the salty smell of the ocean mixed with the perfume of the jungle night. I still didn’t understand the nature of the barrier to the outside world or the fact that Lycastia was more a Micronesian fantasy island than a Greek semiarid rock. I kept going back to the idea that it was a prehistoric pocket universe, but I had no proof. Phoebe joined me after a few minutes, her face slick with perspiration, purple bags forming beneath her eyes.

  She said Amazons didn’t need much sleep, but she looked like she could use a solid twelve hours.

  Knowing Phoebe, she probably hadn’t slept in days.

  She grabbed a full flagon of Dew and took a long gulp, not even bothering to get a cup. I sure do like this stuff, Boss-man. I was on the fence at first, but it’s great for productivity. Not sure what is has to do with mountains or dew, but I dig it. It’s what I imagine unicorn tears must taste like.

  I laughed. “Mountain Dew is named after moonshine whiskey made during Prohibition in the United States. It started out as a mixer.”

  A blank look washed over Phoebe’s face as she accessed my memories. Moonshine, alcohol made under the shine of the moon. Interesting that a nation tried to outlaw booze. Puritanical. But that sorta fits with everything else I know about you Americans.