Gears of Troy 3

by Daniel Pierce

  None of the warriors charging past us even seemed to notice what was happening as one of their leaders looked up into the clear blue sky blinking and slowly taking in his final breaths. Silea walked over to him, her grin wider than before. He tried to reach up and touch the hem of her dress as she came within reach, but his waning strength would not allow him to complete the action.

  “Silea . . .” he rasped. “I have always loved you.”

  He paused, as if awaiting a response from the girl. I was surprised that she did not seem to care that I might run her through any moment, but she was unarmed and I was not a man devoid of principles.

  Hearing no response, he spoke again, saying, “Everything I have done . . . it has always been for you.” He coughed up blood. I could see the blueness of the sky reflected in his eyes. “Ever since you were a little girl, I knew that you were special. I am . . . proud of the beautiful young woman that you have become. Silea . . . I love you.”

  His last words were cut off by her thunderous laughter. She kicked a pile of dirt into his eyes and spat in his face as if he were no more than putrid carrion lying in the middle of the road. His eyes closed and he said no more. She continued laughing as she remounted the chariot and turned to me before taking off. This was the first time I noticed that she actually acknowledged my presence.

  “Do not fall in love, boy. As you see, love is only for the weak.” She laughed once more and whipped the reins. The chariot jerked to life and began taking her further into the city, but her gloating escape would be short-lived.

  While I was hesitant to strike a defenseless person—especially a woman—Whistler apparently had no such moral qualms, at least not with this particular female. Something struck Silea on the back of the head as she sped away. Her spine straightened as if her whole body had been pulled to attention by an invisible string running through her center. The chariot continued on as she released the reins and fell into the cloud of dust trailing behind.

  “Fuck her!” shouted Whistler. “That putrid sow.”

  My jaw came loose and hung open for a time. That was such an unexpected turn of events.

  “You are lucky I am a good shot, Troy. But you really should have killed her when the opportunity presented itself.”

  “She might be a cold person, but she was defenseless,” I argued, not taking my eyes from the crumbled figure down the road.

  Whistler stood by my side. “There is nothing defenseless about that monster. She could have ended your life in a second without you being able to do a thing about it. Her magic rivals that of her father—some say that it is greater than his even.”

  I did not know how to respond. I knew nothing about Silea except for what Whistler had told me. Either way, she seemed fairly powerless now lying prone on the ground.

  “You have no idea how important it was to kill her, Troy, but just wait a moment and see. Her magic is the reason these damned contraptions are possible. Now that she has been defeated, her magic will dissipate and all those trapped souls will be free.”

  As soon as she said this, I began to take notice of the chain reaction that started the moment Silea was cast from her ride. Her own chariot, while still moving for a time, seemed to lose its drive, only carried forward by the momentum it had already accrued. It soon crawled to a stop, its wheels falling with a loud clunk to either side.

  All around us, I began to hear the sounds of the machinery breaking down. Where Whistler and I stood offered a decent vantage over a large swath of the town, and everywhere we looked we could see the surprised reactions of the riders as their vehicles suddenly stopped, rendering them helpless as hordes of our guerilla warriors sprung from hiding and laid into them from all sides. The sudden changing of the tides was almost enough to bring a smile to my face, but then I saw something that made my heart jump into my throat.

  Thrax and Nisos were far off in the distance. Their chariots broke down like everyone else’s, but that only slowed their pace toward their target: Helen. Their vehicles both came to a halt at the foot of the hill upon which Helen and Zinni stood. I could only detect the two women by the constant urge I had to look away from the cloaks protecting them. Somehow, Thrax must have been able to find them with his magic because he immediately began to ascend the hill where the girls and several handfuls of guards were waiting. I wondered then if more of them had the power to see through the cloaks’ protective covering, thinking back to how Silea’s guardian had knocked Whistler away at a moment’s notice and then thinking that perhaps the cloak was the only reason his attack did so little damage to her. Perhaps he could only see a hint of her presence when she brought down the King’s shield and he struck out wildly in an attempt to spear whatever it was that launched the attack.

  “Troy, look,” I heard a Thirian voice at my side. It was Linos. He was still wearing his own cloak but had never managed to return the hood to his head. He was pointing to the scene I was already witnessing, watching the two fearsome Thracians climb the hill at the far end of town. “Are Zinni and Helen not at the top of that hill?”

  “They are,” I shouted. “I need to get there fast.”

  I bolted off as quickly as I could, my eyes never breaking contact with the King and his son. It seemed as if the two of them wanted to savor the moment, strolling up the steep slope at a leisurely pace. The warriors guarding the girls did everything within their power to discourage the attackers, but there was little that they could do.

  One man launched a spear down to the King, but he miraculously caught it in midair. Whatever Whistler had done to drain his magical barrier certainly did not rob him of all his power. He twirled the weapon around in his fingers and returned it to its sender with a simple flick of his wrist. The spear shot straight through the man’s abdomen and he fell forward, tumbling down the hill past his two enemies.

  One by one, more of our men started to fall. Four Trojans charged forward with swords drawn. Thrax stopped one shot with the end of one of his javelins and wrapped his impossible fingers around the wrists of another, stopping his sword from coming down. In the next breath, he tossed the first man away, freeing his javelin in the process, and then brought it into the second man’s side, soon casting him away in a similar careless fashion. The other two went to assault Nisos with equally bad luck. The prince drew his own blade and severed one of the men on the spot, cutting his torso clean from his waist. His sword lost little speed upon meeting the resistance of a grown man’s body and sailed on to the next man, who was able to meet the blade with his own, but the force was enough to push him to the ground. After this, Nisos laid into him anew, and the poor guy had no chance to defend this time as he lay prone. All the while, I charged forward, desperate to meet them before they reached the top of the hill.

  There were another twenty men or so ready to give their lives for the girls, but I knew their protests would hardly serve to slow the enemies’ approach. Several of these men shot arrows down to the assailants, but their bolts were somehow forced to the sides as if blown by a powerful gust of wind radiating out from the two men.

  I was aware of nothing but the hill as I ran ever faster to save my Queen and dear friend. The wind roared in my ears, and the exertion made me feel as if I were about to vomit, but it was of no consequence in my desperate pursuit.

  Half the remaining fighters were gone in a flash—literally. Thrax cast some sort of spell that killed the men instantly. I could see the others losing nerve, like any sensible man would. I just needed them to hold out for another minute. I had no idea what I would do once I caught up, but I was willing to die to protect my Queen.

  I reached the foot of the hill and was about to begin the climb when I heard Whistler call out from behind me.

  “Troy, wait.”

  I turned only for a moment, hesitant to even let a second slip by while Helen and Zinni’s lives were in danger. Whistler rushed over and touched my arm. I felt a cool wave wash over me as if an angel head breathed new life into my lungs.


  “What was that?” I asked.

  “It is all the power I have left for now. It will help to protect you against theirs. They will not be expecting it, so use the surprise to your advantage. Now go.”

  I nodded my thanks and sped up the hill. The Thracians had already reached the top, killing everyone in their path. I had come on the scene just in time to see both men rip the cloaks away from the girls. Helen glared at the two of them, defiantly bold as ever. Zinni’s face was marked by fear but also a reluctant acceptance of her fate.

  I heard Linos call below. He was beginning to ascend the hill himself, but I held up a hand, insisting that he stay where he was. The situation had suddenly grown much more delicate, and I did not think there was much he could do to help.

  The two savage nobles inched forward as the girls backed away to the edge of the cliff, where jagged rocks jutted out from the sea awaiting them some 60 feet below. In my periphery, I saw a sudden movement far off in the water. It was Caria and a crew of a people manning a cargo ship. They were sailing from the docks for the cliff, apparently in an effort to help the two girls. At first, I thought I was looking at a crew of battle-hardened warriors, but I quickly realized that these were no more than Teucer and his family. I was overjoyed to discover that they had come out of the fight in one piece, but the stress of the current situation did not provide any pause for me to celebrate.

  All this I noticed in a hasty glance, never taking my total attention away from my beloved and her attackers. The two men were sneering at me, waiting for me to make the next move and decide the girls’ fate. My next actions would surely mean life or death for any or all of us.

  16

  I held up a hand, taking a half-step forward, and a rope suddenly appeared in Thrax’s hand.

  “What would you do to save the woman you love, boy?” he barked. Nisos watched us with that same impassiveness I had seen of him during our prior engagement.

  “Anything,” I breathed.

  “Is that so?” he sneered. “Well, then. It will hurt that much more for you to lose her.

  With a rogue’s deftness, he tied the rope around both women’s necks and kicked Zinni off the edge of the cliff. The princess screamed as the ground came out from beneath her and she plummeted down.

  Her fall was broken by Helen alone, who had planted her feet firmly where she stood. The full force of Zinni’s weight was tugging her down, and I knew she would not last much longer. I did not have time to glance back to Caria’s ship, but I was sure that she had not yet come close enough to provide any help.

  Thrax waved a hand in from of Helen, pretending as if he were about to push her off the ledge, laughing as he did so. I screamed and charged forward, but his son came to intercept me.

  Our metal slammed together like a hammer on an anvil, echoing loud enough to make the gods of Mount Olympus want to plug their ears. He reared back and lunged for me, aiming straight for my solar plexus. I brought my sword down perpendicular to his, forcing it all the way to the dirt.

  Before he had any more time to react, I grabbed his weapon-wielding wrist and ushered him to me, bringing the tip of my blade up and through the roof of his mouth in one swift motion. I forced it deeper for good measure until I saw blood streaming from his eyes, which dropped lifeless soon after. Following this, I twisted my weapon while it was still lodged into his skull and tore a sizeable chunk of his head from the rest of his body.

  I slung the blood from my blade, leaving tiny puddles of it splattered on the dirt at our feet, and then looked to Thrax. He had surely not expected his son to be defeated so easily, and his face showed it. I savored the look, and the sensation of blood leaving my blade to clot in the dirt.

  The monster of a man cried out and charged for me without a word. My instinct was to block the incoming attack, but I knew such an effort would be useless against this hulk.

  I braced myself for what was to come, ready to roll out of the way in a moment’s notice. His javelin was ready to thrust straight through my stomach, and the fingers of his other hand were shaping themselves into more arcane arrangements. The glow around that hand increased in intensity as it had all the other times, and I knew that there would be no chance to dodge what he was about to throw my way.

  He stopped short and hurled a bolt of pure energy my way. I closed my eyes, ready to be removed from existence, but felt nothing as a blinding light invaded my vision. When I opened my eyes moments later, I discovered that I had come to no harm. Whistler’s magic must have done its job. The evil King stood several yards away from me, jaw hanging open, flabbergasted.

  My attention was drawn away to the sounds of Helen gagging, gasping for air against the weight of Zinni hanging below her. A horn cried out from below the cliff, and I reasoned that there was only one thing it could mean.

  “Helen,” I commanded. “Jump.”

  Her eyes were wide. She had done everything possible to prevent herself from falling up to this point and now I wanted her to jump. I could understand her confusion. She did not move initially. Her face was turning red, and I could see the blue of her veins bulging out around her neck and up her face. She desperately pulled at the rope tied around her airway, trying to suck in as much air as possible, but it would not help her much longer.

  “Helen, do it. Trust me.”

  Still, she did not budge. If only she had the ability to turn and look down the edge of the cliff, she would see the crew waiting for her below. I did not know how they planned to break her fall, but I had to trust that they had accounted for this.

  The signal horn was blown a second time, and this seemed to be enough to kick Thrax into action, pulling him from his momentary confusion. He resumed his charge for me, resolving to deal with me the old-fashioned way. I turned inward as his javelin lurched forward, still in the brawny man’s grasp. He had missed me by a hair, and I was doubtful that I would be so lucky the next time.

  I hunched down under his madly swinging arm and darted for the girls. The panic on Helen’s face grew as I came nearer. I was finally close enough to touch her with the tips of my fingers, and I did, but not before saying, “I love you.”

  All it took was my gentle persuasion to send her tumbling down. The look of betrayal in her face pained me more than anything to witness, but she would soon know the reasons behind my actions.

  In my haste, I lost my footing and fell forward, almost tossing myself over the edge. For a moment as I lay there, I saw what the crew had concocted below. They had borrowed some sails from another boat and spread them out like a net. Both women landed in these sails as gently as the situation would allow, the successful save bringing about a series of cheers from all who had participated in the effort. My heart finally felt as if it could beat untethered again, and I rolled around to attend to my immediate threat.

  Thrax had watched the whole thing unfold, apparently deciding to let me save the girls without his intervention. He stood on the other end of the hill across from me, wearing a pained smile. Things had not gone his way.

  “The war is over, Thrax!” I shouted. “Both your daughter and son are dead. Along with that guy who rode with Silea.”

  “Kyrus,” he spat. “That fool’s one job was to protect my daughter and he failed. But the mistake lay in my own misjudgment to trust him.” He paused and looked to the two lifeless chariots at the foot of the hill. “So . . . you killed my Silea.” He laughed. “It is only fair, I suppose. Here I was trying to end the life of your lover.”

  I was surprised. I did not expect this man to think of things in terms of fairness. Nothing he did seemed fair to me.

  “Why are you doing all of this?” I asked.

  He laughed again. “Every man who has even risen to power has had the drive to attain more power. Surely, you understand this, boy. It is as natural to a man as breathing.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “So, shall we continue or lay down our arms and call it a day? We can both walk away and pretend like this never happened.”
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br />   He erupted with laughter. “If I did not know any better, I would assume you were scared, boy. You have every right to be . . . even if you are somehow protected from my magic.”

  “Have it your way.” I was really hoping that he was just ready to give up.

  The two of us howled as we closed in on each other. We were no longer men but animals. Animals with no will other than to survive. His javelin came to me, and once again I stepped to the side, this time bringing my blade down on his weapon like an executioner’s axe on a guilty neck. His tip pierced the ground and dug in deep.

  I brought my knee up to Thrax’s face, slamming it directly into his boney nose. It had clearly suffered several breaks throughout his life, but I reasoned that it could do with one more. He reeled back, leaving his weapon where it lay, and grabbed another from his belt. That was handy, I thought.

  Blood spurted from both nostrils as the man charged for me again. This time, as his spear thrust for me, I leaned my body back and away. The tip sailed over me, coming within inches of my flesh. I lost my balance and fell to the ground.

  He took the javelin in both hands and made to bring it down on me to end my life in one decisive strike, but I rolled to the side as it came down and sent my sword up to meet his hands where they gripped the pole. He ripped his hands away to dodge my blade, but I managed to cut a small slice across his left knuckle.

  He seemed bewildered that I had actually landed a shot on him, and I thought to do it again. I rose to my feet and lunged for him, catching him right in the abdomen where he had intended to skewer me mere moments ago. His hands reached down to intercept the attack, but they futilely grasped at a blood-drenched blade in the process of driving ever deeper into his belly. His palms themselves suffered more and more slices as they scrambled to remove the foreign object from the wound. After several failed attempts, he finally managed to get a sturdy hold of the blade and pull it out. The handle was still firmly in my hand, but I allowed him to finish the motion, knowing that it was already too late for the man.