by James Hunter
I lashed the crate of crystals to the bed, then climbed up into the driver’s seat. Phoebe slid onto the wooden bench next to me, cradling the onyx gaming orb against her like a child. I released the brake with one lever, engaged the steam engine with another, then mashed down a brass foot pedal protruding from the floor while gripping the crude steering wheel. We bucked to a start and puttered away from the forge, the wheels creaking, the wood and metal groaning as we rattled over the cobblestone streets.
Phoebe’s voice filled my mind. Jacob, my dude, I’ve been reviewing all the war movies you’ve watched, and I have some ideas for our defenses. In Saving Private Ryan, there were those X things on the beaches of Normandy—Czech hedgehogs, they’re called. We should totally make some for the western beach. And from All Quiet on the Western Front, if we had trenches and barbed wire in front of our walls, it would slow down the evil fuckers.
I nodded. “I was thinking the same thing, though not barbed wire—that shit’s for cows and farms. We can do better. We’ll go with spools of razor wire, like they use on base. Stuff’s a nightmare to get through and it should be cheap to produce. As for the trenches, if Sabra can grow vines, I’d bet dollars to donuts she can dig too.”
Phoebe tapped the gaming orb. Definitely. We’ll need to increase her Combat Growth mojo to do it, but she’s leveled as well, so that shouldn’t be a problem. You have some seriously bad bitches working for you, my friend.
I rolled my eyes. “I thought with more intelligence points you’d use less slang. But it’s only getting worse.”
Hells yeah! I find your crazy language so much fun!
She smiled at me, small dimples appearing in her cheeks. Once again, I felt the emotional connection we had. If I’d met Phoebe in the real world, I would’ve married her in a minute. She was just my type: smart, funny, with a wry sense of humor and a rather cynical world view.
“How are we doing on food?” I asked, pushing away any thought of romance—the mission comes first, I reminded myself.
Just fine. Amazons keep dying, which means less mouths to feed. So, we got that going for us.
“Ouch,” I replied with a grimace.
I sent out a call to Sabra, telling her to meet us down by the southern gate. Meanwhile, the Battle Wardens manning the gatehouse opened the way for us and we trundled out onto the battlefield. The smell of the corpses hit us right away.
A moment later, Sabra came flying in on the back of Flutterhoney, Toxaris in front of her, reins in hand. The Pegasus touched down gently, dancing lightly along the ground as the Forest-Witch dismounted. Then Toxaris and Flutterhoney took to the air again, the Pegasus’s great wings pumping, her mane fluttering in the wind. They were joined by five other winged horses and five giant eagles, all with Amazons clinging to their backs. I watched, fascinated, as my Beastiamancers ran drills, firing arrows and hurling javelins into naga corpses lashed upright to stakes. A giant eagle dove in to further shred spider-pig corpses into bits before taking off again.
Sabra walked over to the harvester as Phoebe and I climbed down. The Forest-Witch had a thick, strong body with big thighs and muscular arms. Brown-haired and hazel-eyed, she wouldn’t look out of place at a weekend farmer’s market selling beets and artesian cheeses. Well … except for her armor. Most of the Amazons wore fairly standard battle gear—bronze breastplate, greaves, hardened leather battle skirt, and sandals that threaded up to the knees. But not Sabra. Nope. She sported equipment woven entirely of plants.
Her cloak was a sheet of living vines, and her armor was crafted from flexible bark studded with wicked thorns. A battle skirt woven from flowers in a riot of hues encircled her hips. Even her weapon was strange: a shepherd’s crook, though the inside of the crook was edged with razor-sharp steel.
“Heya, lady,” Phoebe called out to the witch, hefting the orb with a grin. “We’re here to fix you up and make you even more of a badass.” Sabra’s character sheet popped up, floating in the air as Phoebe launched into an explanation.
“What do you suggest, War God?” the Forest-Witch asked when the Rune-Caster finally fell silent. “For I long to be of service to you.”
“Well,” I returned, “I was hoping you could drop some of your points into Combat Growth. We have some digging to do.”
Sabra nodded. “I can, but I am also capable of brewing magical elixirs, which will enhance the skills of your Amazons for a limited time.”
I quirked an eyebrow at Phoebe. Explain please, I sent.
Phoebe was ready with the answer. “One of her potions could increase one of our abilities to their maximum level, at least for a short time. Though at the highest levels, her potions could increase all of our stats for up to an hour. An impressive ability, without a doubt. Definitely worth cultivating, long term.”
I thought about what that could mean. Give a level-one Battle Warden a vial of Sabra’s Kool-Aid, and she’d be as vicious as Myrina. And if Myrina sipped the stuff?
She’d be unstoppable. A living force of nature with an attitude to match.
As intriguing as that sounded, however, we had immediate threats to deal with first.
Sabra was level eight now, with thirty Attribute Points to spend and three Ability Points to invest. The stat points she divvied up without a thought: twenty to Intelligence and ten to Willpower. As for the Ability points, I had her drop two into Combat Growth, while she used the last one to unlock the Potions ability.
With that done, we all got to work on further fortifying the walls.
While Sabra went to town, carving deep furrows in the earth, I pulled up the MANAGE ISLAND tab, then scrolled down until I found an option called Defensive Structures. Here too, there were a bunch of different choices—some classic Greek, others more in line with Medieval siege warfare—plus an OTHER tab, which wasn’t grayed out on account of my awesome Level 2 Innovate Ability.
I was a little worried the gaming system would balk at razor wire—concertina wire, technically—since it wasn’t invented until War World One, but I was hopeful. I mean, this wasn’t a bunker buster or a cruise missile, it was a metal wire, studded with a bunch of little razors. Pretty basic. Since the option wasn’t listed in my OTHER tab, I toggled over to the BUILD option, then scrolled down to the CUSTOMIZE menu. That, in turn, brought up an impressive 3-D modeling grid with a variety of manipulation tools at my disposal. I could import “blueprints,” add custom features, and alter the shape and size of various structural features or weapons.
There was a ton of stuff, but it was all intuitive and easy to use.
With only a little effort, I built a working model of the razor wire, then checked the price. Virtually nothing. One pound of Thymos Crystal converted with forty Essence Points would set us right. I clicked the build function, and instantly the wire spooled out of my fingertips like a magician pulling endless scarves from his sleeve. Except this was the real deal. I worked my arms to weave rolls of the stuff, which I stacked up against the walls. If the spider pigs wanted to climb up the stone, they’d have to get through the wire first.
Once I finished with that, I turned my attention back to Sabra, who was still going hard on the trenches. The dirt literally flew from the ground now, creating not only a trench, but an impromptu earthen berm that our enemies would have to scramble over. And that wasn’t all. Between the trenches and the walls, she gouged out a series of waist-deep pits and filled them with thorny brambles. She then grew a thin covering of vines over the top and took the excess dirt and covered those vines. In minutes, we had Burmese Tiger Pit traps littering the battlefield.
They were nearly invisible, even when looking for them, so over the top she grew a few dandelions to mark them for those in the know.
By the time Sabra was done, she was pale and sweating. She’d used up her Exousía, the magic which fueled her Forest-Witch abilities, so I sent her off to the barracks to rest and recuperate for the battle to come.
I was feeling pretty wrung out myself, so the idea of hitting th
e barracks was deeply appealing, but unfortunately there was no time for it. With a reluctant sigh, Phoebe and I made for the beach, ready to set up Czech hedgehogs. Those were the Xs the Germans had scattered across the Normandy shores to hinder the Allied forces from driving vehicles unimpeded up the sands. For us, they would play hell on the feet of cyclopes or any other lumbering Hellspawned monster that might come diddy boppin’ out of the ocean.
It would be like stepping on a razor-sharp Lego brick.
Those too I built in the 3-D editor, then I spun out more of the C-wire between the hedgehogs to help keep the damn sea centaurs out. We finished our seaside renovation by carving three pillboxes into the rocky sandstone walls facing the beach. Inside, Amazons could operate the Gatling guns we placed in there. With those set up, we could turn the beach into an absolute killing ground.
Creating the pillboxes and Gatling guns used up about three-quarters of our remaining Thymos Crystals. We decided to save the rest in case the shit really hit the fan.
Phoebe drove the harvester to her workshop while I went to get some more Mountain Dew and inspect the new Amazons we’d forged. Myrina was in the process of drilling them on the practice grounds near the barracks, just to the north of the city. Battle Wardens threw javelins at wicker practice dummies while others sparred with bokkens—wooden practice swords shaped like katanas. Phoebe had come up with them after scuba diving into my mind and memories. Others used wooden xiphos, the Greek short sword, and wicker shields.
My Elementalists were also training. Calla sent out a gout of fire from her hands at Aella and Otrere. My Air-Witch created a miniature cyclone to sweep the flame away from her while the Water-Witch stood near a trough of water. With a sweep of her hands, she sent the water splashing into the fire, disrupting the attack.
The first- and second-level Elementalists watched intently and then they tried their hand at stopping Calla’s fiery attacks.
I surveyed the amazing Amazons and frowned. I had to keep my warriors alive and I had to keep them leveling up. At this point, I could have ninety-five soldiers under my command, but I had a little less than half of that. The constant attacks were playing hell on our personnel.
When Myrina saw me, she immediately barked, “Amazons! Stand at attention!” In an instant, the mock combat ceased, and every face turned to me. Every eye glowed with admiration as their bodies locked into rigid attention, heels together, arms pressed tightly against their sides. The godstone burned with fierce approval inside my chest.
“God of War,” Myrina said, “your Amazons are ready to be inspected!”
Slowly, I threaded my way through their ranks and noticed Hippolyta and Antiope standing extra tall, imbued with a little extra confidence.
“War God!” Myrina called out as I passed by the last column of troops. Her voice echoed through the city like a thunderclap. “Do you wish to show these new recruits an example of your bellicose powers?”
Nice word, bellicose. Myrina was showing off her enhanced intelligence. Either that or someone had given her a word-of-the-day calendar.
“Sure,” I said immediately, remembering the first time Myrina and I had sparred. It hadn’t gone well. I’d hesitated in hitting her, and she’d made me pay for it in spades. She and the others had referred to me as a baby god, and back then, that was exactly what I was. But not anymore. Antiope stepped forward and handed me a bokken. I took it, swinging it through the air with confident ease while Myrina readied herself with a wooden xiphos and a wicker shield.
Me? I went shieldless.
Amazons broke formation as one, spreading out in a loose circle, providing us with a perimeter. I could smell the sweat on their bodies and the perfume of the ocean over the dusty scent of the training grounds.
“Ready?” I asked Myrina.
She nodded. And attacked.
She moved like wind, her feet dancing over the dirt as she came at me. And boy, she wasn’t pulling punches.
She lashed out with a flurry of stabs and swipes, her blade whipping, arcing, thrusting, parrying. I caught each strike on my wooden sword, turning aside her attacks as I moved through the elaborate footwork patterns she’d drilled into me. It must’ve been obvious to anyone watching that she was far more skilled than me, but I was both stronger and faster. True, I’d stacked my stats heavy toward Intelligence and Willpower—all the better for miracle work and Amazon creation—but I was still a level-twenty war god.
And, moreover, I’d spent days on end either training with Myrina or killing monsters.
I watched her eyes more than her body, and they told me where she would attack next. A feint. A thrust. A pivot. She was pushing my boundaries, probing for a weak spot, and once she found it, she would exploit it. Hard. Though I was doing an admirable job holding her at bay, I knew that was no way to win a fight against her. She was persistent and could be patient when it suited her. Eventually, I’d make a mistake and she’d make her move. So, it was time to level the playing field.
I bolted right, then spun left as she adjusted, sword slashing. She moved to intercept the strike, which is when I shot in and lashed out with a brutal front kick that slammed into her shield like a Mack truck, driving her back onto her heels. I thrust my left hand out and sent a crackling bolt of lightning into the ground next to her. Earth exploded up in a geyser of smoke and debris, catching Myrina off guard. A rare thing, that. Clearly, she hadn’t expected me to use my miracles.
She hesitated for only a heartbeat, but that was enough for me to turn the tide. I darted in again, barreling into her with my shoulder. She reeled from the hit, which allowed me to wrestle her shield away and slip it over my own forearm. Katana in my right hand, shield in my left, I waded forward, taking the offensive. I slashed. She sidestepped and lunged, but I batted the attack away with the shield and offered a brutal overhand strike in return. She parried the attack with the flat of her blade and caught my weapon arm in her iron-strong fist.
Against a weaker opponent the move might’ve worked. But I wasn’t weak. I jerked my arm down as I wheeled, throwing her off balance before driving my shield into her face.
She staggered back, sword down, eyes dazed from the hit, and I raised my sword, ready to bring it down on her head in what would’ve been a killing blow in a real battle.
At the last second, though, I pulled my attack.
Instead of simply yielding, however, she whirled and smacked at my helm with her practice sword.
I took the blow and kept right on fighting, raining a barrage of strikes down on her.
Myrina retreated, breathing hard, deflecting each blow, but barely. And then in a blur she bounded back, flipping head over heels, pushing off her hands, then landing in a crouch ten feet away. She smiled at me.
You could’ve ended our fight, but you stayed your hand, she messaged me. You struck with your shield and not with your sword.
That’s right, Myrina. I didn’t want to have to heal your ass.
You would’ve healed my head, Jacob, but I understand what you are saying. She nodded.
There we were, standing among our troops, gazing at each other in silence. The Amazons quietly watched.
You have grown, Jacob. Once, I feared you would not be strong enough to fight the battles to come, yet at the same time I feared you would embrace your power and become as arrogant as Ares. But today you showed both your strength and your mercy. I am proud of you, War God.
Without waiting for me to reply, she stood and turned to our soldiers. “You see, the War God is mighty, and he is kind. He could’ve split my skull but pulled the blow. He is as thoughtful as he is strong! We are fortunate to serve such a god!”
All the Amazons let out a booming cheer, raising their weapons and slapping them against woven shields. The sound was sweet in my ears until the smell of sulfur hit me.
Sophia teleported in carrying Loxo. Both collapsed at my feet. Both were wounded and bloody.
Loxo raised an arm, and I saw the bullet hole carved in her fl
esh. Someone had shot her. “Jacob, our enemies are coming, approaching the southern gate. But we do not face spider pigs and snake men. We face something far deadlier …”
SIX
Golems, Imps, and Meathead Morons
I pulled up my interface and glanced at the time, 7:30 PM. They were hitting us early. Half an hour early. I bent and used Healing Touch to close Loxo’s injuries, eleven points of Essence washing out of me. The rough-hewn bullets fell from the wounds as her flesh knit closed.
The Huntress let out a shuddering breath. “Gans. They have gans,” she said.
“Guns,” I corrected, offering her a hand and pulling her to her feet.
“Either way, I prefer Praxidike’s whip.” It was tough talk given the fact that the whip had literally killed her last week.
Next, I moved over and healed Sophia. She was back to her full hit points in seconds. Dizzy, I fell to one knee, trying to clear my head. After all the improvements I’d made to the defenses I was feeling pretty damn beat. My Essence was low, just about 150 points.
I would’ve loved another twenty minutes to rest and regenerate some of my power, but apparently the enemy had other ideas. I wasn’t sure why they were hitting us early, but I knew exactly why they had guns. It was Earl Echo Earl … Had to be. We had a history, Earl and I. Mostly of him being a dick and me stupidly taking it because he was higher ranking. That assbasket had been in my squadron, and like me, he’d crashed on Lycastia. After my final showdown with Praxidike, I’d seen his flag flying over the walls of the Temple of Hades, so I knew he was the one calling the shots.
Myrina barked out orders to the Wardens, marshaling them into orderly battle lines as they made for the walls. But if Earl Echo Earl was taking an active role in this latest assault, we didn’t have a second to spare.
I grabbed Sophia and pulled her close. “Take me to the southern gate.”
She nodded, still pale, but able to teleport. The stink of rotten eggs hit me as purple light enveloped me in a cloud. In the span of an eyeblink, the training ground vanished and we were on the ramparts next to the southern gatehouse. And carving across the bloody battlefield was an insane army of creatures we’d not seen before.