Gears of Troy 2

by Daniel Pierce

  Copyrighted Material

  Gears of Troy 2 Copyright © 2019 by Daniel Pierce

  Book design and layout copyright © 2019 by Daniel Pierce

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

  Daniel Pierce

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  Gears of Troy 2

  Book 2 in the Gears of Troy Series

  Daniel Pierce

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

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  About the Author

  1

  “The water bends it, so you have to—” I was saying, then I threw my spear in a blur. The shaft broke the surface and pinned the wriggling silver fish to the bottom. “Make sure you account for the angle,” I finished, wading in and pulling my prize up. It was silver and pink, two kilos, and it was also going to be lunch. “Now you try, while your Chief watches with that sour look on his face.”

  The young Thirian boy who had been studying me in ankle-deep water looked to the other man at his side with a huge grin. This good-humored banter had become common for the two leaders, and the boy enjoyed watching it.

  “You have killed pandora, friend. A fine catch, although I find myself irritated with your luck. Your favor with the gods is troubling,” Linos, the older Thirian, said, taking the spear from me as his eyes narrowed, directed out to sea. “A ship comes. It’s one of ours,” he added, his voice low.

  It was just on the horizon. Many such ships had traveled to and from Ilium in the last year as I settled into my new home, the fledgling makeshift village that was to one day be Port Superior.

  The plot, a sizeable chunk of land that spanned the entirety of the peninsula north of the great walled city and the Dardanelles Strait, was gifted to me by King Priam and Queen Hecuba upon my rescuing their empire from Greek invasion.

  My memory of geography and politics was fuzzy at best, especially as the history I knew was being overwritten by my actions here, several thousand years in the past. I was fairly certain that the peninsula on which my small settlement rested was known as Gallipoli in my time. If that remained true after the echoes of my impact on history caught up to the time I knew as “modern day” was anyone’s guess.

  My concern for affecting the future waned after the first few months in this new strange land. I had been living there for over a year, and I was still kicking. The sky hadn’t turned purple, comets hadn’t fallen, and the seas were still free of blood or other harbingers of doom. My Queen, the beautiful Helen of Troy, had suggested that maybe I was causing this time period to branch off into its own parallel reality, circumventing any paradoxical actions.

  That seemed like a reasonable assumption, and I was eager to believe it. I still was not entirely convinced my world was not already some alternate universe, with magic and technology beyond my imaginings.

  My own hands, prosthetics created in modern times, were at the cutting edge of scientific achievement in my day. They had the ability to look and feel almost like the originals but with tenfold the strength. They gave me a new lease on life, and I thanked God for them every day. The modern science of my time had come so far, but it was nothing compared to the technology—and apparent magic—of the land I currently found myself in.

  Helen was not the original girl known to myth. She was some miraculous fusion of Egyptian technology and mysticism meant to look, act, and feel like the real thing. During our time together, she had transformed into a full-fledged human being by all accounts. This was her one true goal next to ridding the Trojans of the Greek menace. Neither of us fully understood how or why she underwent this change, but we were thankful for it. With both goals fulfilled, she took her rightful place at my side as we made grand designs for our kingdom-to-be. It still had a long way to go.

  Linos, the new leader of a tribe known as the Thirians, accompanied Helen and I as we founded our new town. With him came many of his people, the rest of whom were settled down in the city at Dardanelles, bringing life back to the port town on the other side of the strait after it had been ravaged by Greek soldiers.

  The tribesmen were eager to start their new lives, and their commitment to the construction showed. I had met them on my way to Troy before the decisive events of the war took place. They lived on a small island known as Santorini. Helen and I were greeted with a test of mettle the moment we set foot ashore, and we quickly earned their highest respect by demonstrating our combat abilities. Their former chieftain, Artession, soon became one of my most reliable allies. It was with a heavy heart that I laid him to rest after the final battle with the Greeks. I was not only able to persuade him and his people to help us in the war effort, but I also warned them of a volcanic eruption I remembered reading about in history class and urged them to relocate for their own survival.

  It took some adjusting, but they were settling in quite nicely, even picking up the local language with relative ease. I had not figured out something about the language that had been puzzling me since I came to terms with the reality of where and when I was. It seemed, as best as I could reason, that the common tongue was English, almost identical to the American English I knew, save for the locals’ foreign accents and their widespread distaste of contractions.

  To the best of my knowledge, any language that resembled my English was not known to be spoken for another 2,000 years, but here it was, beyond all reason. I thought of it as another unbelievable stroke of luck during my long journey through this enchanted land—a seemingly small but invaluable happenstance that would otherwise have made my progress impossible.

  I asked Helen about it on several occasions, as she spoke many languages of the period—the common tongue, Egyptian, and even that was spoken by the relatively small tribe of Santorini—but she did not know what English was. All she knew was that the language we spoke was that of the Mediterranean, preferred by most nations around the great sea. It was a mystery, like many I had encountered, that I would have to be content with not solving, at least for the time being.

  “What do you think it is, Troy?” Linos asked, drawing me back to the real world from my internal musings. “It does not look to be with supplies. We do not expect building material for another week. That is, ah—left? Correct?”

  I laughed, looking at the approaching ship. “You’re right. They wouldn’t be sending us more stones so soon.”

  Port Superior was dependent on regular shipments from Ilium. We were able to get and shape most of our wood from the surrounding forests, but were lacking in about everything else that was not food. Imported stones were a necessity.

  “Right. Not lef
t. I have it now,” Linos said, grinning.

  “No worries. We’re learning. All of us,” I said.

  “You are a natural fighter and leader, Troy. What could you be learning?” he asked me, open doubt on his face.

  “Women, for one thing.”

  “Ahh. That, you will never learn. It is best not to try my friend. You must not hurt your—what did you call your,” Linos said, pointing to his head.

  “Brain?”

  “No, another word,” he said.

  “Melon.”

  “Exactly. Because you have a big head, like a melon,” Linos said, and now his smile creased his face like a broken road.

  I sighed, tilted my head, and shrugged. Fair was fair.

  I looked over my shoulder to where gangs of men were working on our wall. It was not going to hold a candle to that of Troy, but that was not the goal. I simply wanted a strong wall to reach from our new city to the sea so our people could sleep peacefully. It was to be one of many projects Helen and I had planned out for the settlement.

  Port Superior was going to be a modern town in the ancient past, harnessing all the technology of the time that we could get our hands on. Helen had extensive knowledge of Egyptian engineering and was committed to making use of it on these distant shores. While powerful advancements existed in her time, it had not become widespread, confined mostly to the proud desert nation. Its people, she said, made use of the gifts of science, while only the most exalted individuals truly understood its inner workings. That kind of society would soon be a thing of the past. Once my capital city’s roots were planted firmly in the ground, she and I planned to construct special schools so that anyone could learn to use and improve upon the pinnacles of Egyptian achievement.

  Of all the things I imagined becoming, an advocate for school was not one of them. I was. . .adequate at school. Let’s go with that.

  I smiled at the diligent workers, thinking how little they knew of the important foundation they were building—and it started with a wall, tall, deep, and strong enough to withstand ancient warfare. Then would come farms, with all their livestock and vegetation; then would come the paved roads, fortified buildings, sewage, and running water; next would be metalworking, shipbuilding, and figuring out how to generate power; and later . . . I could only imagine. There was no limit to how far we could push.

  It was not only Thirians that settled with us. Many citizens of Troy and the surrounding villages thought to leave behind their old lives as well. The war had caused a lot of grief and destruction. There were scores of people with no home or family to return to after the invaders were pushed back. A new life seemed like the only option, so my invitation to settle in a not-to-distant land was willingly accepted by many. Plots were distributed on a first come, first served basis, and the first five or six ships were filled to the brim with hopefuls looking to stake their claim. At the moment, there were hundreds of people, Thirians and Trojans combined, reaching close to a thousand. The sight of them made my blood sing. I had Helen at my side, and the respect of an actual king and queen, and—well, everything. I was a kid from Michigan who lost his hands and fell through time, or something damned close to it. And now, I was watching a city rise because I felt like it was the right thing to do.

  And it was. I never have to talk myself into good ideas, they just click.

  “You are thinking of Helen,” Linos said with a leer.

  I gave a dignified sniff. “I’ll have you know that is my queen you’re speaking of.”

  “Yes, and you grin like a boy who has tasted his first maiden, too.”

  “You—well. You have me there.” I laughed, letting thought of Helen wash over me. Words failed at her beauty and spirit. I was one lucky sonofabitch, and I knew it.

  There was the sudden sound of wild splashing nearby. I turned to face my companions again and saw the boy stabbing madly at the water, trying to spear a fish.

  “No, not like that, friend, though I really respect your, ah, energy,” I said, holding a hand up. “You’ll scare them off that way. You only have one chance before you have to try somewhere else, or wait for them to come back. It’s best to wait and get one on the first try.”

  “Oh, forgive me,” he said, taken aback.

  The young ones had picked up the language much quicker than their elders. This boy could speak fluent English—or whatever the hell it was—and was no older than nine. He held the spear behind his back and watched me expectantly.

  “Nothing to forgive. You’re just enthusiastic. Linos can show you more. I’m going to fetch Helen to greet this ship. I hope everything’s all right with the boat.”

  “Do you need me join you, Troy?” Linos asked through his thick accent.

  “Sure, you can meet us at the dock when the ship makes land.”

  Our dock was small, but it was big enough to hold the four sizeable vessels that called it home, plus a visiting boat or two.

  My boat, the Moonshadow, was among the four tethered to the humble dock. I had been sailing it during the storm that ripped me out of my own time and planted me in my current situation. It received minor damage during the incident, and had held up well. Moonshadow was a comfort to me in those confusing times, the only familiar part of a life that followed me to an exotic land. I was sure to nurse the tank of gas during my travels, relying only on the sails when possible, which was the majority of the time. There was no telling when I would have an urgent need to get the hell out of Dodge.

  Striking oil was another thing on my to-do list. I knew oil was at least in use in the surrounding kingdoms. Troy burned it for fire on occasion. What I did not know was how to refine it or if it was even the same type of oil used for gasoline back home. I was not a chemist by any stretch of the imagination, but Helen had insight that I did not, and I was confident that she could help me. And if not, I was sure she could at least point me in the direction of someone who could.

  Thus far, I’d proven my worth by smashing things, killing spiders, and making love to Helen at a pace that put most mammals to shame. Actually, all mammals, given Helen’s desire and my healthy back.

  Helen appeared on top of the hill where the wall was being built. Seeing me, she smiled and pointed to the approaching boat, indicating that she would head down to meet it. I joined her at the dock.

  “What do you think it is, Love?” she asked as we came within arm’s reach of each other.

  “I don’t know. That’s what Linos and I were discussing.”

  “I see no supplies,” she said, squinting.

  I had quickly learned to trust the power of her senses over mine. When she was still part-robot, she proved that she could see and hear well beyond what I was capable. After her transformation was complete, she seemed to retain some of these heightened abilities and always jumped at a chance to put them to use.

  “Yeah, our shipment for the week came the other day, so this wouldn’t be them,” I agreed. “Maybe it’s a message?”

  “What would the message be about? Certainly, no more Greeks?” She wrinkled her nose as if the word were rancid.

  Greeks. Helen hated those people. In her mind, they symbolized everything that she stood against. My meetings with them had left me with the same bad taste in my mouth. Nothing was sacred to them but their own vanity and the constant need for external validation that they found through bullying those who could not defend against them.

  The war had ended with a humiliating defeat for the Greeks, in large part at the hands of the Thirians who favored guerilla tactics over the traditional organized Greek style of warfare. We handed the enemies’ asses to them on a silver platter, even though they outnumbered Trojan forces more than four to one on the outset. I expected to see them again after getting smacked with such a blow to their ego, but I did not think it would be so soon since, last I heard, the majority of their forces were concentrated elsewhere.

  “It’s possible,” I responded, “but I doubt it. Yeah—look, the ship doesn’t have a red flag rais
ed, so I think everything’s good.” I pointed to the sails, knowing that if there was a red flag flapping above them there would be cause for alarm.

  “Ah,” Helen said. “I forget to look for such things.”

  “How’s the wall coming?”

  “It is coming along smoothly,” she said. “The Thirians are improving their masonry every day with the help of the Trojan stonecutters. Many have expressed an interest in making new homes once the wall is finished.”

  “That’s great to hear. I was worried they might be hesitant to do things they weren’t accustomed to. I didn’t know if they would see it as an afront to their culture.”

  “They are thinking like Greeks. They have no culture.” She laughed.

  I laughed, too. “I take your side in this one, dear. I’m happy about the Thirians, though. They’re incredible. Can’t believe how quickly they learned.”

  “Masonry is not the only thing that can be learned quickly,” she said. Her leer was getting better. She was still far too elegant to every be trashy, but she was working on it.

  “That is in large part due to the efforts of the Trojan mason Saleus. He has stayed awake many nights to make sure his apprentices learn their craft well,” Helen said, with a more formal tone. Some things weren’t made for jokes. Like defending the city.

  “Oh, I’ve seen Salues.” I smirked. “Most of all, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  Helen blushed and rolled her eyes but met me with a mischievous grin. “Remember, then, that you are not the only one with options, Love. You have the burden of keeping me satisfied, lest I run to the wishful arms of that aged master craftsman.” She winked. “I may develop a taste for wine that has been in the barrel for a while.”