God of War 2

by Robert E. Vardeman

  Iris began spinning a tale at odds with the truth. Gaia shivered with delight, then subsided when she realized that Iris had not thought to replace Hermes as the Messenger of the Gods on her own. But no alliance with other gods and goddesses was possible. Gaia thought deeply on this and realized that Kratos faced a more dangerous foe than ever.

  The Sisters meddle again. What machinations have they set in motion? Why tinker with Iris’ fate to cause dissension on Olympus? Is this their attempt to halt the Titans’ rise to power?

  “So you see, Sky Father,” Iris continued, “Kratos is made powerless by the Fates. This I have learned and report to you.” She looked at Hermes out of the corner of her eye, enjoying the god squirming at her lies.

  “My powers are unchallenged, then,” Zeus said when Iris had finished. He glared at Hermes. He slowly lifted his right arm and pointed. “I banish you to earth! Until I decree otherwise, you will not enter Olympus on pain of my wrath!” Zeus unleashed another thunderbolt that exploded above and brought down a rain of marble fragments and plaster as it opened a view to the naked sky above.

  Hermes started to speak, but stopped himself, knowing there was no message he could deliver to change Zeus’ mind. Instead he simply bowed his head as he backed from the throne room. In minutes he flew from Olympus and down to the grimy, petty world of the mortals.

  Gaia watched the Messenger of the Gods—the former messenger—depart in disgrace, knowing that he would oppose both Iris and Zeus for this banishment. The more confusion that stalked the corridors of Olympus, the easier her task, but it worried her that she was not the only one seeking to sow chaos among the gods.

  SIX DAYS. Kratos clung to the back of the Pegasus for six days as they flew toward the edge of the world and the Island of Creation. The flying horse seemed indefatigable after its imprisonment by Typhon, but Kratos grew weak from lack of food and water. As God of War he had no need for constant sustenance, but Zeus had stolen that skill along with the rest of his godly powers. More than once the Pegasus had swooped low over an isolated island to allow him to sample water, but the horse was as driven as Kratos himself.

  The long hours and endless sea flowing beneath gave Kratos time to consider how he would best Zeus. The King of the Gods sought adulation, worship, total obeisance—and what did he give in return? Treachery. Treachery that had to be answered.

  During his brief time as God of War, Kratos had rewarded those who had worshipped him. Sparta had sent out armies at his command and was conquering the world, taking spoils and sending the bounty back to the populace to grow stronger yet. He fought alongside the stalwart warriors and sought solace in battle. He would have found it had Zeus not drained his godly powers into the Blade of Olympus and used it to slaughter the entire Spartan army.

  Every time Kratos remembered the carnage Zeus had caused, he hated the King of the Gods that much more. A soldier’s destiny was to die bravely, in battle, for the good of the city-state, but not one of the Spartans at Rhodes had a chance against a god. What made Kratos even angrier, Zeus had used Kratos’ own power for the slaughter.

  Kratos had another thorn of guilt festering in his soul, knowing his energy and godly powers had been responsible for so many deaths in his own army. For that and so much more Zeus had to be brought to justice—to receive Kratos’ vengeance.

  The Pegasus let out a loud snort that focused his attention on the path ahead. The sky was clear, but Kratos saw a distant spot growing larger. Griffins swept toward him, screeching like eagles, with talons clawing at the air as if his belly were underneath. He counted five, but there might have been more flocking up from the large island barely visible on the horizon. The Island of Creation. Just beyond the island was the edge of the world, with oceans falling off to either side, crashing into oblivion.

  He had arrived. Now it was time to fight his way through to the Sisters of Fate and wreak revenge on Zeus.

  As the flight of griffins closed on him, Kratos reached back so that Typhon’s Bane came to his hand. The recurved bow bent almost double as he drew back the string and let fly one of the wind arrows. It distorted the bright sunlight as it flew like a mirage, then vanished in the breast of the lead griffin. The creature let out a squawk, flipped onto its back, and then fell headfirst to the sea far below.

  He had not expected the other attackers to be deterred by the death, even of their leader. Two griffins formed into a team on either side as they attacked. Typhon’s Bane sang as he unleashed one arrow after another. One griffin, quicker than the others, twisted its head about and caught an icicle. Eagle beak crushed the arrow, but the griffin had underestimated the power of the bow. The arrow shattered into a million shards, each of which turned into a smaller arrow. The griffin gurgled, and then blood poured from its nostrils and out its beak as the tiny missiles continued their flight. It was punctured by thousands of tiny projectiles.

  Kratos swayed easily to the other side and caught one attacker in the eye with an arrow. Before he could swing Typhon’s Bane about for the remaining griffin, it surged forward and snapped viciously at the Pegasus’ wing. Bits of feather and fire scattered behind as the Pegasus continued toward the Island of Creation, but the griffin refused to yield.

  Kratos got off shot after shot from the bow, but the flying monster was clever—and lucky. It swung beneath the wing it attacked so he didn’t have a direct shot. Using his knees, he forced the Pegasus to turn so he could tumble off and dive through the air. As he passed the griffin, intent on snapping away more of the flying horse’s wing, Kratos reached out and grabbed a wing of his own.

  The griffin released the Pegasus and fell like a leaf, Kratos hanging on and being swung wide. Kratos grated his teeth and worked his way up the wing until he reached the griffin’s huge body. Quick, vicious stabs where the wing attached to the twenty-foot-long body rendered the appendage useless. This let him climb onto the griffin’s broad back, grab the wing, and yank as hard as he could. The wing tore free.

  Unable to fly, the griffin began tumbling and Kratos was tossed into the air. He fell only a few yards before the Pegasus swooped beneath him and once more they flew for the island, no longer on the horizon but directly under them now. The aerial battle had not prevented him from approaching the Island of Creation after all but had allowed him to get close enough to hunt for a landing place.

  Before he could locate a decent spot, the Pegasus gave two powerful flaps and rocketed upward.

  “No, down!” Kratos protested. Then he saw a new defender of the air.

  Purple-and-green flashed above in the sun, and then the griffin rider rode close enough to reveal details. The rider wore a plumed war helm that hid his face, heavy body armor, and greaves that glinted as if they were fashioned from pure gold. At his belt depended an axe on one side and a short spear on the other. Kratos flew closer.

  As the rider bore down on Kratos, he lifted the axe.

  And then the griffin rider flashed past, giving Kratos a better look at his adversary.

  Determination rose in Kratos as he wheeled the Pegasus about. He had seen his opponent days earlier, before he had entered the Lair of the Titan. He had been a tiny speck in the distance and had avoided a fight. How fearsome could a soldier be who ran from battle?

  “Be wary, Kratos,” came Gaia’s voice in his ear. “This warrior is the minion of the Sisters of Fate. He has been summoned from afar. They do not send him to do their bidding lightly, not when they control fate itself.”

  “What is his weapon?” Although the axe blade gleamed sharp and deadly in the sunlight, Kratos instinctively knew the real weapon was the short spear thrust into the warrior’s belt. It had the aura of power, deadly power, about it.

  “The Spear of Destiny,” Gaia said. “Fear it, Kratos. Do not let it touch you!”

  “He cannot stop me!”

  “He is a more dangerous foe than you realize, Kratos. The Warrior of Destiny would prevent you from reaching the island and the palaces of the Sisters of Fate. You
do not want to fall to him or your shade is forfeit for all eternity!”

  Kratos barely heard Gaia, because he was so intent on the Warrior of Destiny flying directly at him. He had been overconfident when first he had seen the Warrior, but now took to heart Gaia’s warning about the spear since he felt its power even at this distance.

  If his encounter with Zeus had taught him anything, it was to be wary of strange weapons.

  His blades flashed through the air, engaging the battle-axe and cutting away part of the Warrior’s helmet to expose flesh the color of corroded copper on the scalp. Then they soared past each other, but Kratos guided the Pegasus in a tighter circle and attacked the Warrior’s griffin from below. He stared up at the purple, green, and tan belly where feathers smoothly flowed into the tawny hindquarters of the huge creature. The Warrior sought him but could not find where Kratos hid.

  Then the Warrior of Destiny knew. Kratos stood and stabbed upward with both swords to gut the griffin as it surged above him, blotting out the sky with its immense bulk. A shower of blood splashed into his eyes, blinding him. The Pegasus broke off the attack, banking away.

  Kratos used his forearm to wipe away the griffin blood, taking care not to injure himself with his chain-wound wristbands. The wind whipped past and caused his eyes to water, which helped remove the blood. By the time Kratos saw clearly again, the Warrior of Destiny had come about and, despite his mount’s grievous wounds, flew close behind. The Pegasus immediately started a tight downward spiral.

  As they followed the descending spiral, Kratos saw his goal passing by below every few seconds. The Island of Creation!

  But he could not reach it without dispatching the Warrior of Destiny. He saw that the Pegasus’ tactic was sound. To break out of the leftward spiral would allow the Warrior to attack directly rather than being forced to follow them along the airy curve.

  The sea rushed up quickly, warning Kratos this tactic had to end quickly or they would find themselves in Poseidon’s realm.

  He gripped the horse’s mane, leaned forward, then guided the Pegasus out of the spiral. Sharp pain lanced into his left shoulder as the Warrior rushed past, his axe slashing out, but Kratos had successfully pulled out of the dive, and the Pegasus fought valiantly to climb once more.

  The Warrior followed more slowly.

  With every move, Kratos found new vulnerabilities in his opponent. The wounds he had inflicted on the griffin must slow it and rob the beast of climbing strength. But the eye-dazzling Spear of Destiny thrust into the belt around the Warrior’s waist was an ominous warning of death to come should Kratos flag for even an instant. Within its crystalline depths danced tiny motes every color of the rainbow, some combining into larger specks only to explode. The Warrior had not used the spear for a reason, and Kratos knew it. To fling the spear and miss meant the loss of a potent weapon. Better to engage with a battle-axe until a spear thrust was certain to find its target.

  The fliers leveled off; Kratos saw his chance. The Pegasus flew faster and showed greater maneuverability than the griffin, giving Kratos a split second to act. He gathered his feet under him, then shoved hard and launched through empty air.

  He gripped the griffin’s leonine hindquarters and clawed his way to stand on the broad back. Ten feet ahead of Kratos at the front shoulder, the Warrior of Destiny turned, saw his danger, and recklessly flung his axe over his shoulder. Kratos easily avoided it as he walked forward on the griffin’s back, swords thrusting in front of him. The Warrior got to his feet in time to take a blade deep into his chest. He staggered back, clutching the wound spewing greenish blood.

  Kratos wasted no time pressing his attack on the wounded Warrior. The armored figure fought to remain on his feet atop the bucking griffin. Kratos blocked a halfhearted advance with his swords and thrust again, hot metal finding a new berth in the Warrior’s upper left arm. Seeing weakness, Kratos surged ahead for the kill.

  The Warrior of Destiny was stronger than he appeared and grappled with Kratos. The two struggled, strength against strength, until the Warrior swept one foot out and around a leg, tripping Kratos. They fell, the Warrior atop Kratos who lay on his back. Then Kratos saw the real danger. The Spear of Destiny had somehow flown from the belt to the Warrior’s hand.

  He held the spear aloft so that the Ghost of Sparta saw its every detail. It was a short thrusting spear, but the tip sizzled with electric energy. Something about staring at the point confused his senses and made him dizzy. He looked away, at the ebon shaft, the way the power flowed around the spear and down the Warrior’s arm.

  “Time to die,” the Warrior of Destiny said, his voice hollow. For all his fighting prowess, he held the Spear of Destiny gingerly, as if he feared using it—or was personally afraid of it.

  Kratos lifted one foot and slammed the heel down hard on the griffin’s back. He was rewarded with a sudden aerial lurch. He had been right that the beast was sorely wounded from his first attack and only flew on with great difficulty. The griffin’s shift unseated the Warrior, giving Kratos the chance to swarm atop him and try to pin him down.

  The unsteady flight of the brightly colored griffin that had allowed him to turn the tables an instant before now worked against Kratos. The griffin faltered and went into a steep dive, forcing Kratos to concentrate only on grasping the Warrior’s wrist to prevent a quick thrust with the short spear. Despite the Warrior’s wound, he had enough strength to slowly lower the spear toward Kratos’ face.

  Kratos kicked again with his heel and caused the griffin to veer in the opposite direction. With a tremendous surge of power, Kratos forced back the weapon and twisted hard on the sinewy wrist holding it. The Warrior yelped in pain and released the Spear of Destiny.

  Kratos grabbed the weapon and thrust with it. The Warrior jerked back, tried to maintain his balance, and then fell away to splash into the sea far below.

  “Poseidon take you,” Kratos snarled.

  He held the Spear of Destiny and felt it quiver. Then he reacted instinctively as the griffin twisted its head around to snap at him. He thrust the spear through the flying creature’s neck. The griffin gave a convulsive jerk that sent Kratos into the air.

  He watched as the griffin, spear impaling its feathered throat, smashed into a balcony at the very edge of the Island of Creation. Then he realized he was plunging to his death also since the Pegasus was nowhere to be seen to provide an aerial rescue. He let out a loud, long battle cry, drew both swords, and turned headfirst to plummet toward the Island of Creation.

  “THE PANTHEON CANNOT remain unfilled,” Zeus said, stroking his beard.

  “You are wise, Sky Father,” Iris said. “The mortals will come to wonder why there is indecision in Olympus if you do not choose a new God of War soon.”

  “There is no lack of war below,” Zeus said, chuckling. The beginning of a laugh died quickly. He looked up at Athena standing silently before his throne, then at Iris, at his right hand. Who could he trust? Athena was the Warrior Goddess, but she had chosen Kratos to strike down Ares. He had approved and had aided her, but she had manipulated him. It had to be that way or the outcome with Kratos would not have been so disastrous.

  “But the mortals need a god figure to worship—in addition to you, mighty Zeus.”

  “Yes, you are right, Iris. A new God of War is needed, but which god would forsake his current position to sit on the throne that so recently held Ares and Kratos?”

  “I can spread the word for you,” Iris said. “Allow me to race to the far corners of the world, to every point in Olympus, to the Underworld and the depths of Poseidon’s realm—everywhere!—and proclaim a contest to choose a new God of War.”

  “A contest?” Zeus frowned. “What need is there of a contest if I am to decide the matter?”

  “You want the appearance of it being open to all, but of course it would be you who decides. After all, who is wiser atop Mount Olympus?” Iris moved closer and whispered, “You might use this as a way of seeing who is loyal to you
and who is … less so.”

  “What’s that you say? Who is disloyal?” A thunderbolt formed in his hand. “Tell me the name, and I’ll strike them down!”

  Iris coyly looked over her shoulder in Athena’s direction, then said, “Your edict still stands, Lord of All the Sky and Earth. No god can kill another. You should not exempt yourself from this.”

  “Why not? I’m king. I can do as I please!”

  “You are the mightiest of the mighty, but you cannot stand against all the gods. Many plot and scheme against you even as we speak.”

  “Tell me who they are! I command you, Iris. You are my Messenger of the Gods. Mine!”

  “I am not like Hermes,” she said, bowing deeply and sending small sparkles of rainbow bits to the base of Zeus’ throne. “It is painful for me to relate this, since I do not care to speak ill of another god, but Hermes is secretly known to divulge the contents of his messages to others, sometimes out of friendship but other times from spite. Duty and honor bind me to my job as surely as love and respect bind me to you, Zeus. Any missive entrusted to me will be delivered … only for your eyes and ears.”

  “Tell me,” he said, staring hard at Athena. Iris sidled closer and whispered so that only Zeus could hear.

  “You are wise, Sky Father. You know the answer. There is no reason for me to break my most sacred oath.”

  “No, you’re right, Iris. No reason.” He glowered at Athena. “Especially when I can imagine who might be spreading lies about me and aspiring to my throne.”

  “None will ever sit on this throne, in this chamber, but you, my king,” said Iris.

  Athena strode forward and stopped at the base of the dais. She put hands on her flaring hips and stared at him, anger in her eyes. Zeus wondered if she led a cabal against him or foolishly thought she could depose him alone.

  When he did not speak, Athena called to him, “My father, allow me to approach your throne.”