Gears of Troy: A Scifi Fantasy Harem

by Daniel Pierce

  “They are to be kept within the safety of the walls, of course,” Helen answered. She turned to me, and I nodded in agreement. “Hektor, show Artession and his people back to the city, and bring him and his warriors back here. Be cautious, as we may have overlooked enemy troops on the way here.”

  I thought it kind of silly for her to be telling this to a general—to look out for enemy troops for such-and-such reasons—but I had to admire that she was fulfilling her role nicely and trying to prove her worth as much as she could in the circumstances.

  She translated her message to the Chief as well, and the four of us took some time to go over a map and discuss the best routes for them back to the city—the ones that would likely keep the Thirian people unnoticed by the enemy. Hektor was clearly not happy with some of the options we outlined, as they were out of the way and involved traveling through the denser forests of the area, but he agreed that they would probably be effective in keeping the Thirian civilians safe.

  Beaming ear to ear, Helen turned to me when they were gone and said, “We might now have enough men to do what needs to be done.”

  “Yeah, our chances just got a hell of a lot better.”

  34

  I had a messenger accompany Artession and Hektor to make sure they made it safely to the city. I worried that travel would be difficult for the tribe since they had no horses and the constant threat of attack lingered at every turn. I had hoped that the cover of night would hide them for most of their way to Ilium.

  A second messenger waited at camp until the moon was high overhead, and then, per my instruction, he traveled out to catch up with the tribe and send the first messenger back to inform me of their progress. That way, I was receiving information as they went, and the Thirians were kept under constant watch. Every hour or two, I would find time to take a quick nap, sleeping as much as my nerves would allow, anxiously waiting to see how my friends from Santorini fared in this strange, war-torn land. The time after dark was filled with a constant string of updates from my men on the enemy’s behavior. Between my worry and strategizing, sleep was in short supply.

  That night, we sent out eight teams to light fires in deceptively conspicuous places—ones that might appear to provide protection at first glance but were actually exposed to any who might be passing by. These fires were to act as a sort of lure for the enemy scouts, and the men who lit them would wait a small distance away, in hiding until such a victim came by to investigate. I was not sure how well this would work, or if it was even worth the effort to try, but our experiments paid off before the night was over. Two of the fires received enemy scouts. One was not able to be brought back to life, but the other was.

  I was not experienced in interrogation, so I sat by on the side and asked a few questions while a man with more experience in that area extracted information from the guy. It was not a pretty thing to watch, but few things in war are. The scout proved to be of use to us because he told us a great deal of the Greeks’ plans. One important tidbit was that upon learning of our current encampment so far from Ilium, the enemy had taken a substantial number of troops, numbering nearly 4000, the scout believed, and made a massive circle that would close back in on the city while so many of us were left out there in the country. We did not think such tactics likely at first because it would be a huge risk to the Greek camp if we were to discover such a plan, so the princes and I did not want to expend the resources to explore that far in either direction, but our captive was shedding new light on the enemy’s tolerance to risk.

  After we were through with the scout, we sent a messenger to the city to warn them of the coming attack and sent a group of men to pinpoint the location of the enemy troops as well as a scout to check on their camp. If what the scout had said was true, we were looking at a golden opportunity. We could demolish the camp and any left there to defend it, and we had a considerable start to head off the other battalion if we used the main road.

  At first light, I sent Alexzander and his men out to patrol the countryside and intercept any troops they found bridging the line of communication between the enemy camp and the forces heading for the city. If all worked according to plan, some of us would lay waste to their camp the next morning.

  When Alexzander was well off in the distance, my scout returned with the first batch of information on Artession. He told me that the warrior Chief had taken his tribe through the path of most environmental resistance. They travelled under the cover of a thick forest, parallel to a tributary road that connected to the main one leading into Ilium further down the way. I was surprised to hear that they met handfuls of Greek parties as they went, most of which were the size of the two groups the girls and I faced while journeying to the city ourselves. Many of the enemy troops were dead before they knew they were under attack, as their bodies fell face-down in the road, arrows protruding from their backs. Artession and his crew were less than three hours’ walk from Troy when the other messenger came to relieve this man. He told me that, though they were slowed by the woods in which they traveled, it was still hard for him to keep up with the tribe, and he was concerned for Hektor’s well-being. The prince was visibly not happy about the Chief’s travel decision. I only laughed and sent the man into the camp for refreshments and rest.

  The day passed, and Alexzander returned with news of relative success. They had intercepted four scouts and ended those men’s mission prematurely. We hoped that was enough to keep both halves of the Greek army in the dark. During that night, we made plans for stomping the enemy camp to the ground.

  The idea was that, once the other prince and Artession returned, we would allow them a brief rest and send them to head off the forces going for the city. Alexzander, Helen, and I would catch up with them when we were through with the enemy camp. Our exact course of action weighed heavily on when Hektor and the tribe returned.

  Not long after night had fallen, my second scout returned with updates on Artession’s progress. He and his men had made it safely to the city and the warriors were on their way back. The Prince urged them to take one of the roads, as he felt they were surely able to handle any small parties they found along the way. The Chief seemed to understand the basic idea of what the Prince was communicating, but he refused to listen. Hektor told the scout to let me know that he feared Artession’s reluctance to cooperate would hinder our plans. I was not worried in the slightest, having every confidence Artession knew what he was doing. Hektor had not proven himself to the man, so it stood to reason that Artession would have a hard time taking the well-groomed aristocrat seriously.

  The tribe made it back the next morning, bloody from battle and ready to taste more. Alexzander and I were in the middle of preparing our raid on the camp. I walked up to the Chief, and we took each other’s hand in greeting.

  Helen was by my side to translate, as always.

  “He says that they killed over fifty Greek troops on their way to and from the city. He also says that the wall of the city is massive beyond imagination and that he would think it the dwelling of the gods if he was not told otherwise.”

  I laughed. “You have already helped us a great deal in our efforts, friend. I applaud your proficiency in battle.”

  I filled him in on the recent developments and led him and his men over to food and vacant tents we had setup for them to use during their time in the camp. We discussed more over a meal.

  “He says Prince Hektor is a whiny little boy and that he, Artession, does not understand why the little prince thinks he knows better than him on how to protect his men. He says he thought the Prince was only by his side to show him and his tribe the way to the city, not bark orders like some yappy little pup.”

  “That’s the way of things here,” I said. “Though he is young and lacking experience, he is well-respected in this country and has learned many things about war that few others know, through the vicarious experience of his father, a clever and noble man.”

  Artession waved the idea away upon hearing He
len’s translation.

  “He wants to know what your plans are from here, Troy. Will you go with Alexzander to assault the camp?”

  “That is the plan, yes. We were thinking that while he and I were doing that, you and your men could take a brief rest here, and Hektor could take his troops back to the city, to defend against the mobile enemy battalion. When you and your warriors are ready, you could rejoin Hektor, this time with his men at his side, and do what you do best. I doubt the enemy will be expecting you, and we can use the element of surprise to great advantage.”

  Artession nodded that he understood and sat silently for a moment, sipping his wine and munching on a mouthful of roast duck. I looked him over again, admiring his battle scars. I chuckled at the idea of the confused fear his recent foes must have felt as they witnessed hundreds of foreign tribal warriors explode from the trees to end them.

  “You truly have the heart of a lion, my friend,” I mused, clapping him on his massive shoulder. “Eat and rest. The war will be waiting for you when your belly is full.”

  I stood to leave, but he grunted between slurps of his drink, giving me pause.

  “He asks if you would instead come with him—you and I, your warrior woman.” Helen giggled, her usual musical tune.

  He wiped his face off with his arm and moved to me, waiting for my answer.

  I barely took time to think. “Sure,” I said. “I think Alexzander can handle the raid by himself.”

  35

  That evening, Helen, my crew of sixteen, and I went with the Thirians along the path they had blazed to the city the previous day. All the way, we found frequent reminders of their handiwork. My scout had described in accurate detail the fates of the enemy soldiers the tribesmen had met. Their bodies lay strewn all along the tributary road, many of them totally unaware of the hand that sealed their fate.

  Artession was his chatty old self, recounting exactly how each man’s life was ended as we passed the corpses by. On more than one occasion, he halted our march to run out into the road and act out a scene with one of the corpses so that I was sure to understand what he meant when he described an attack.

  It amazed me how much the Chief lived for battle. For him, a fight to the death was like Average Joe watching an evening sitcom back home after a long day’s work or watching Sunday football before another busy week. It brought joy to his life and made the usual humdrum a little more tolerable.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to meet the exuberant gaze of Sees-All, my friend who lacked eyelids.

  “He says he tried to use some of the moves you taught him on Santorini when he faced these men,” Helen translated, “but he has not yet been able to find an opportunity. All of these other warriors died too quickly.”

  I laughed and said, “There will be plenty time for that when we catch up to the rest of their army.”

  “He hopes so. And he would also like to spar with you again when the war has ended. He thinks you will not be so lucky this time.”

  I smiled, looking straight into his bloodshot eyes, and patted him on the back. “I will be looking forward to that day, my friend.”

  I understood why Hektor was complaining about the route Artession chose. Every few steps, either my shins or my face were doing battle with a tangle of brambles or some other sharp woodland object. My body was under the constant assault of flying insects, jumping insects, crawling insects—any kind of bug that either drank blood or had a taste for flesh seemed to single me out for dinner.

  I looked around to the others to see if they were having any trouble, knowing they must have been used to this back home. Artession walked on, often talking, sometimes not, all the time unbothered by the life of the forest trying to devour him. It was not that the bugs avoided him—no, he was covered in them from head to toe, most of them not even moving, unworried about retaliation—he simply did not seem to notice them, much less care. I wondered if I would ever grow accustomed to such things. My life in the modern world had afforded me many luxuries the absence of which would take time to adjust to.

  The story down the line of men behind us was the same. All were being dined on; none cared. Helen was the only exception to the rule. Not a single bug dotted her smooth feminine perfection.

  “There’s a perk to being a robot,” I said.

  She looked at me, confused by my sudden comment. “What do you mean, Troy?”

  “These bugs aren’t eating you alive. This is a very unpleasant experience”—I looked around, remembering that my statement was based on my subjective opinion—“if you’re not used to it. Which I’m not.”

  “Oh,” she said, leaning in to study the miniature ecosystem that my body had become. “How do they feel? Do you wish for me to kill them?”

  “Nah, they’ll only be replaced by more. That’s how it works with these things.” I swatted at my neck. “I’m only swiping at them to keep them on their toes, so to speak . . . and just out of pure annoyance. Usually, a small spot on my skin will feel a sudden irritation that I feel the need to take care of right away, but sometimes these mothers bite right into you, and that’s more than a little annoying. Like these horseflies here—these bastards suck, and they’re everywhere. But mostly, it just feels itchy. Do you ever itch, Helen?”

  “I do not, and I do not understand the need for a human to.”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure myself, and I think the jury’s still out back home, as far as professional opinion goes. I have heard some people think it’s the body’s way of removing dead skin cells, but I really don’t know. I mean, clearly it lets me know when I need to take care of a bug, but most of the time, itchiness just happens for no apparent reason. So, there’s another perk to being a robot; you don’t have to deal with little stupid stuff like that.”

  “Even so, I would still greatly prefer the advantages of being a full human, regardless of such minor annoyances.”

  “Oh, I know.” I laughed. “You’ve convinced me of that many times over.”

  We marched on, eventually having no choice but to leave the cover of the forest for the open exposure of grassy plains. Artession told us he felt naked, being able to see and be seen practically everywhere he laid his eyes. I told him that he was naked and no number of trees would change that fact. It took him a second to realize the meaning behind my joke, but when it registered, he almost doubled over with laugher.

  “He says that he does not know how we can go around wearing such burdensome clothing, and how is it not a constant source of irritation to us?”

  I shrugged and laughed in response—not because I thought he made a good point but because we had literally just marched for several hour hours through legions of relentless blood-sucking pests and he and his men did not so much as blink. I found that a little ironic in comparison to what he just said—that, and also because half his men were sporting unconventional bone-through-skin piercings in uncomfortable looking places. I could see they liked their meat bone-in and was unable to make sense of why clothing would be a turnoff if their only objection was discomfort.

  “Look, over there.” Helen pointed to the horizon off to our right.

  “What is it?” I asked. “I don’t see anything.”

  “There is a small group of Greek soldiers off in the distance. No more than eight, I believe. Shall we take care of them?”

  Artession looked at us, a wrinkle in his brow. He said something, and Helen responded. The Chief gestured for some of his men to go check it out, and Sees-All was eager to shed more blood. Twelve of them broke off and made their way over. We continued our pace until they returned.

  It turned out to be nothing more than another lone cluster of soldiers, no doubt terrorizing the countryside. Sees-All told us that they were able to make short work of the men, hardly suffering a scratch in the process. Things were going unbelievably well, but I was sure the pressure would be on once we met their army.

  “Artession,” I said. “It seems like you have more than made up for
those men you let escape on your journey here, don’t you think?”

  “He says that he intends to make amends for his mistake a hundred times over, if not a thousand.” That was a good answer.

  We came to a river, which Helen told me was called Axius. If we had taken the original road Helen and I had walked with the troops to get to our campsite, we would have had access to a bridge for crossing, but as it was, we were facing several hours added onto our travel time if we tried to follow the water back there.

  We plowed straight through, taking lead from Artession who barely stopped to think about it. Fortunately, the deepest part of the river only came up to my neck. Some of the others, Helen included, were assisted by their taller allies. She hopped on my back, taking joy in pretending she was riding a horse while I was soaking below.

  Talk of battle strategies was a recurring theme the nearer we got to the city. Artession was admittedly unfamiliar with the land, but he had a few ideas from the glimpses he had during his first encounter with Ilium. There were many places, he said, where his men could lay in wait and ambush any unsuspecting soldiers, especially in the hilly, tall-grass-covered fields a quick jog from the city.

  “Yeah, but that’s assuming you have enough men to finish the job,” I said. “We’ve been doing great up to now, but remember all the Trojan soldiers you saw back at camp. The Greek army is bigger than that in total. Even the chunk of it we’re heading back to face is larger than our whole army, from what I’ve been told.”