by James Hunter
Myrina flung her trio of javelins—ice, fire, and lightning—into the muscle-bound freaks. Flesh cooked, froze, and exploded. Three of the monsters went down, but then they managed to lever themselves up again and proceeded to charge her. Okay, this might be tougher than we first thought.
A ballista bolt speared four undead werewolves in a line. Stuck together, they continue to swipe at my Amazons with their battle axes.
Phoebe raced her steampunk mech into battle. A barrage of crossbow bolts flew, ending numerous naga zombies. If she missed any head shots, well, she reached out with her buzz saw and slashed off arms and legs. Then three harpies swooped down and slammed into her mech like a wrecking ball of bone and feather. She went sprawling, metal crunching from the impact. But Asteria—currently in the form of a giant eagle—was already on it. The blue-feathered shifter swooped in from above, while Toxaris on Flutterhoney shot arrow after arrow into the squadrons of reanimated harpies circling overhead.
Asteria shredded wings with her claws and tore out throats with her beak, buying Phoebe enough time to right her mech and get back into the brawl.
The battle continued, fierce and deadly. Ariadne bonded with Thunderfoot, taking on the form of a colossal Minotaur as she axed her way through twisted creatures. Euryleia, on Buttercup the bear, joined her, and the pair fought on, while Kimmie leapt off Funkyhoof and speared a werewolf through his armored chest.
Persephone—who looked the worse for the wear—leaned on Sabra; both witches conjured crushing vines and rosebush walls of thick limbs and sharp thorns.
Meanwhile, Sophia was using her Temporal Form. Three of her would appear, slice into nagas, then vanish in a cloud of smoke only to appear across the field to take on berserkers wielding heavy machine guns. Sophia and her body doubles carved through their numbers, slaughtering indiscriminately.
Then I was drawn back to my own fight. Athena’s Spear lay somewhere in the tangle of the dead. The Crystal Scythe was about two hundred feet away, under more of the zombie berserkers, and the War Blade was currently trapped in a block of ice. I was weaponless, save for the Inferno Shield blazing on my left arm.
Dead monsters shambled toward me, including a big ol’ greater werewolf with most of its hair burned off and parts of its armor fused to its skin. Well, that was terrible. Antiope still harassed me with that water, which I didn’t want to turn to steam. I’d learned my lesson, still coughing and losing Health from the lingering effects of the deadly mist.
Then I got lucky. Breaking free of the ice, the War Blade streaked across the battlefield and cut off the werewolf’s hands. Schwick.
Earl sprinted toward a fountain, on the run and looking for any possible way to survive this conflict.
I touched the War Blade and simultaneously activated Greater Lycanthropy and my Defender ability. I turned into my own version of a greater werewolf—though covered in stainless steel—and took off in pursuit, quick as a flash. This dickweed was not getting away again, dammit. I loped across the stones, claws digging furrows in the stone and earth.
Earl let out a “Yipe!” and started hurling baby nagas and werewolf puppies at me, which was super disgusting. I brushed them aside, but then the water in the fountain came alive once more. It snatched me up by the legs and unceremoniously hurled my ass into a wall.
Damn Antiope and that trident.
I got to my feet, fangs bared, and shook off the attack.
While the War Blade engaged Necro Earl, I wheeled around and went after the Dark Amazon, completely sick of her bullshit. My steel paws sparked off the stone as my arms and legs pumped, faster-faster-faster. She hurled tendrils of black goo in my direction, but I was able to dodge them or break right through with my strength and speed.
Antiope still had some life in her after all, because her eyes, though black and green, were sentient and full of rage.
I feinted, darting right then juking left at the last second. She wasn’t fast enough to track my attack and I bowled her over, my furry shoulder driving into her chest. No matter how strong she was, I was thousands of pounds of moving metal and death.
Lunging forward, I got my jaws on the trident and wrenched it from her grip. It went skittering across the stones.
She was sprawled out on her back now, weaponless and at my mercy. I stared down into her face.
“Do it, Jacob,” she hissed. “End me. Your words from the beach have haunted me. I do not know why I hate you. I do not know why I want to kill you. I am in agony.” There was a moment when something other than hate flashed through her undead eyes. Fear? Regret? Hope? It was hard to say for certain. “End my torture,” she pleaded, and for once I heard no barb in her words. “Please.”
The Jacob part of me considered sparing her. But my blood was up, the godstone was relishing the violence, and this was the woman who’d killed Sabra. Who’d betrayed my forces and caused us so much pain and hardship. No, Antiope had to die. I nodded and lunged forward, tearing out her throat with my teeth. The green light of her ring dimmed. She went limp in a widening pool of scarlet. The kill was clean, though it didn’t leave me feeling particularly good. Still, it had needed doing.
I turned and bounded away from the Dark Amazon, leaving paw prints red with her blood. I raced across the ground heading for Necro Earl. I wanted to gnaw on his bones, no matter how foul they’d be.
My Amazons were still fighting the army of the dead, though most of the zombies were so battered now they could hardly function. Loxo drove her ice dagger into the back of a werewolf, freezing it, while Sophia teleported in and cut off its head with a flash of her katana. Asteria thundered across the battlefield as a triceratops, spearing berserkers with her horns before shaking them off, flinging bodies like kids’ toys. Others she ground underfoot, crushing their bones into monster jelly. I couldn’t see Phoebe. I didn’t know what had happened to her after her mech went down. That bothered me.
There was no help for it, though.
I’d ended Antiope, and it was time Earl got his discharge papers. Werewolf-style. I bounded across the courtyard, quickly closing the distance between my prey and me. The War Blade raced along beside my metal lupine body, slashing through the few remaining undead freaks, clearing my path like a linebacker.
Necro Earl wasn’t trash-talking now. The asshole had his back up against a wall, literally, and there was nowhere left for him to go. He looked scared, and he should’ve been. We’d basically killed his main army, twice, and what little remained of his forces was on borrowed time. He raised his mace once more, a guttural chant that put my teeth on edge spilling from his lips. Nope. No more aces in the hole for him. I leapt straight up, propelled by powerful legs, and flipped through the air with effortless grace. Mid-flip, I triggered my human transformation, assuming the form of a man once more as I caught the War Blade.
I came down, sword first, and cut off Earl’s mace arm off at the elbow. I whirled and bashed away his shield, then promptly hacked off that arm as well. The shield hit the ground with a dull thud.
“Well, I guess this is it then,” Earl said, dropping down onto his ass, back against the wall, blood drooling from his lips. “You kicked my ass,” he said, then broke into a coughing fit. “Guess I sorta maybe had this coming.” His face grew somber. “But one last thing before you finish me.” He smiled, the gesture tired and broken. “Animatum per potentiam,” he growled, eyes flashing with green power. He broke into a frantic fit of laughter, blood freely running down his chin and pooling on his chest. “Last. Laugh. Fucker.”
No! With a roar I brought the War Blade screaming down, activating Smite as the blow landed, energy rushing out of me like a bomb blast, obliterating the little shit. Hopefully his utter destruction would be enough to stop whatever last-ditch spell he’d cast.
Still, an uneasy feeling knotted in my gut. I wheeled around, scanning the courtyard, frantic to see what the spell may have done. There were no giant monsters storming the walls, no army of undead Cyclopes making a break our way.
The rest of the undead army had fallen still at Earl’s passing. My Amazons, victorious, roamed around the killing field, performing dead checks—stabbing swords and spears into monsters, ensuring they were truly down for the count. Myrina turned toward me, a reluctant and rare smile breaking across her normally severe face. We won, that smile said, pride burning in her eyes. There was a twitch of movement behind her as Antiope lurched to her feet. The Dark Amazon was dead, dammit. I’d killed her more than once, yet green fire burned in her eyes.
“Last. Laugh. Fucker,” she barked, her voice exactly the same as Earl’s.
And then, before I could do jack shit, Antiope launched her stolen trident into Myrina’s back. The barbed blades erupted from Myrina’s chest, covered in gore. My Amazon faltered, the smile slipping, bewilderment sprinting across her features for a moment before she toppled to the side.
Antiope followed suit, keeling over, the green light in her eyes gone once more. Dead. And the last remnants of Earl’s power vanished with her. I’d killed the asshole, destroyed his army, and sacked his temple ... But he’d taken something from me that I’d never be able to get back.
A Moment of Silence
I SPRINTED ACROSS THE courtyard, which had grown unnaturally quiet, bounding over to Myrina’s side. I covered the distance in a heartbeat and dropped to my knees, scooping the general up in my arms. With inhuman strength, I growled and ripped the trident from her torso, tossing it away. She was alive, though barely. Sweat rolled down her face and her skin was unbelievably pale, but as long as she was breathing, there was hope. It wasn’t too late. It wasn’t!
“It’s gonna be okay,” I said, unleashing a flurry of Divine Essence as I cast Healing Touch over and over again. I could feel the power roll out from my body, the world wobbling minutely with each cast. The little nicks and cuts covering her arms and legs and face healed at once, but blood continued to pour out of the wounds in her chest and back. I tried again. Over and over and over. But the results remained the same. Shit, shit, shit. For whatever reason, I couldn’t heal her. Fucking magic. Why in the hell wasn’t it working?
Myrina raised her chin, defiance in her eyes.
I went to touch her again, and she knocked away my hand. “No, I will not be cuddled, nor will I simper like a child. If it is my time, I will walk onto Charon’s boat, my head held high and my eyes fierce. You did well, War God.” She coughed, her breathing labored. “You have come into your power. I’ve never seen you fight better.” Her voice broke. She clenched her jaws. Tears shined in her eyes, yet she hardened her will to say, “I’ve never loved you more. Now, help me to my feet. I will meet the Underworld as a warrior, not some pampered child.”
Reluctantly, I did as she asked, standing with her in my arms, then gently setting her on her feet.
By this time, the other Amazons had gathered around in a ragged ring.
Phoebe came up on her mech with Asteria, as a blue lioness, padding along next to her. Both had survived, thankfully.
All were silent.
I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe Myrina had been hit by that trident, by that last fuck you from Necro Earl and Antiope. And the Battle Warden wasn’t the only one to die. In the corner of my eye, my Amazon roster scrolled by. Two other Amazons had passed during the fray: Doris and Ianthe, the two fiery women who’d convinced me to lead from the front. Both gone. No doubt they’d done something insane and equally heroic.
Myrina spit more blood onto the battle-marred ground. “Farewell, my sisters. I loved you all. And now I will die having done my duty. Remember your training. Serve the War God. Do as you are told.” She then fell to one knee.
I tried to help her up, but she slapped my hand away and clambered to her feet with a stoic grunt. She locked eyes with me. Her breathing came in gasps, and her face had grown ashen. “I love you, but I will not be weak in my final moment. I do not want to be touched. You were wise when we first found you, Jacob Merely. You knew that we were stronger together than you were alone. You will succeed where Ares failed.”
“But you can’t die, Myrina,” I said, feeling oddly numb. “We were working together. We were fighting together. We finally figured things out. I don’t understand what went wrong. Should I have stayed back? Could I have blocked the trident? I don’t understand why this is happening.”
Phoebe let out a heartbroken sigh, almost a sob but not quite. Asteria was silent as she gazed on with a great cat’s aloof stare. Persephone wept softly. Loxo and Sophia had vanished to run recon. It was what Myrina would’ve wanted, so we wouldn’t be attacked while we grieved our fallen.
Myrina’s smile was soft, almost mischievous. “You are stupid to believe this was fated to end any other way. I am an Amazon. It was my destiny to love you and then die on a battlefield. I have done both. I told you that I would fight for you. That I would die for you. And I have kept my word on both accounts. It is a good end for me.”
She gave me one last weary grin and toppled forward, landing on the bloodied ground in a heap of flesh and armor.
Dead now, she couldn’t stop me from holding her. I dropped onto my knees and scooped up her lifeless form. Blood from the three terrible wounds dripped onto my thighs. I didn’t care. Myrina was dead, even now traveling to the Underworld. And it was a good bet she was already in the clutches of Hades. I gently ran my fingers along the lines of her face. In life, those eyes had cut me apart on numerous occasions even as she cursed me. She had doubted me, over and over, furrowing her brow, worrying constantly. I touched her forehead. In death, it was smooth.
I couldn’t recreate her.
Ares had made that clear. My three generals were special—one of a kind—and the blueprints he’d given me couldn’t be recreated. There would be no bringing Myrina back, not like the others.
The Amazons, over a hundred, all stood around me, not one saying a word. Some were scraped up, and I thought about healing them. But I couldn’t. Not now.
Phoebe limped over, no longer in her mech. I couldn’t read her face. And she wasn’t messaging me. Asteria sat on her haunches, motionless.
Persephone was graying, both her hair and her skin. She was stoop-backed and ancient now, leaning against Sabra. The spring goddess squinted at me.
The grief I was feeling was unbearable. I knew a way to escape the pain.
I took the necklace off and offered it to the spring goddess. “You need this. I don’t.”
“No, Jacob, you’re an asshole without it.” Phoebe used words and everything.
My voice broke. I fought tears. “I don’t want to feel. I want the godstone to take over so I don’t have to feel this shit.”
Don’t punk out on us, Phoebe sent. Your troops are looking at you now. And it’s time to lead. Myrina isn’t here to do it anymore.
“Don’t you care?” I snarled. Even sitting with my dead Battle Warden on my lap, I could still thunder loudly enough that my voice echoed across the field of carnage. “Don’t you care that Myrina is dead?”
Phoebe’s hazel eyes regarded me coolly. This is how it works, boss. You forged us. We fight for you. We die. We’re only NPCs in the end. We got lucky for a long time.
I noticed none of the Amazons around me were crying. Their faces were stoic.
But Asteria left us. She shifted into a Pegasus and took off to the skies.
I messaged her. Asteria, where are you going?
The Beastiamancer answered me. My sister is dead. And you humans are sad creatures of the earth, mortal and fragile. I don’t want to be human anymore. I do not believe I shall ever be human again, Jacob Merely. I am happy as a creature of the sky, and I will ride in the clouds, and I will chase the rainbows, and I will eat sweet grass and forget all about your endless wars and silly, tragic video games.
That was why Asteria had stopped shifting into a human. She had grown tired of the fighting. Exhausted of the sadness and the struggle. We had been at war since her creation. Unlike most Amazons, it seemed she had lost
her appetite for it.
“It’s not a video game,” I whispered.
Only it was. I closed my eyes and pushed my face against Myrina’s, even now growing cold to the touch. We’d lost people before: Antiope in that first epic battle against Praxidike, then Loxo and Sabra. But losing Myrina felt unfair. She wasn’t an NPC. She had been a complicated woman, full of mixed emotions—strong, hard most of the time, and yet she could be soft as well.
Myrina. Gone. And if Hades found her, he would torture her. That sickened me.
I jerked my head up. “Persephone, take the fucking necklace!”
She shook her head. When she talked, she had the voice of a crone, aged and failing. “It is yours to wear. I understand that you do not want to mourn your friend, but you must go beyond your sorrow. You must celebrate, for you have struck a grievous blow against the forces of Hades. You have bought yourself time. And now that I have met you, I have faith that you will eventually seal the rift in Lycastia City and trap Hades in the Underworld forever. Yet that day is a long way off. As for me, I must return to the land of the dead lest I perish from the pomegranate seeds inside me.”
Return to the Underworld ...
Her words ran through me like a knife. Return to the land of the dead. If she could get through, why not me?
That was it. I gently laid Myrina down. I slung the damn Necklace of Asclepius back around my neck. The grief might hurt like a motherfucker, but at least I was myself. And as Jacob Merely, I had a plan. The War Blade streaked up to me and found a home in its sheath. I stood, and the Amazons around me brought me the rest of my gear—the Crystal Scythe, Athena’s Spear, and the weapon that had killed Myrina: the sea king’s trident. I added it to the collection, not bothering to pull up its stats, too disgusted to look at the item.
