by James Hunter
I’d met her gaze—hell, I was still meeting her gaze—but no statue for me. Something was happening though … the remainder of my Essence Points were slowly dropping, being eaten away. I pressed my eyes shut as realization dawned on me. I wasn’t an Amazon or a naga, I was a fucking god, and apparently being immortal provided me with a bit of protection. But what happened when my Essence Points hit zero?
I had a pretty good idea: I’d be completely screwed.
Worse, I might not even have that long since she was dragging me closer and closer. In minutes, her viper hair would bite the shit out of me even while those hooks disemboweled me, spilling my guts across the floor. Still, being able to look at her was a small advantage, if I could just figure out how to exploit it. I wrestled frantically against the tongues, trying to free myself, but it was no use. She jerked me hard left, and the War Blade slipped free from my hand, clattering on the stone.
Need a little help here, ladies, I called to Asteria and Myrina. She has me—things aren’t looking so hot.
Myrina’s voice appeared in my head. Glad to serve, War God, but how do we fight a creature who can turn us to stone with but a look?
Don’t look! I shouted back. Listen, my bullet didn’t work, but if you can get to the War Blade, that might do the trick. As for how you can see, I have a wild plan. It might kill us all, but I don’t know what other choice we have. It seems like my Divine Essence Points act as a buffer against her magic. I can look at her, but only for a little while. So here’s what we’re gonna do—I’m gonna slip a little deeper into your heads and let you see through my eyes. But hurry, or I’m dead.
Concentrating, I pushed my mind deeper into both Asteria and Myrina—if I pushed any harder, I would usurp control of their bodies. That I didn’t want. But right on the edge, the link seemed to allow them to experience my senses instead. Get ready to move, I sent, forming the deeper bond as my eyes cracked open.
By all the gods above and below, it’s working, Myrina replied, awe in her voice.
Asteria—able to see for the moment—swept around, shape-shifting from bat to eagle in a flash. She dropped down and tried to rip the tongues off me with her raptor talons, but Stheno’s flesh held.
Myrina threw her last javelin at the Gorgon, but it bounced harmlessly off her belly, just as I’d suspected. But the Battle Warden was already on the move, darting forward with graceful skill, then sweeping the War Blade from the floor. The sword flared brightly in her grip, burning like a miniature star, the steel crackling with blue electricity. That’s right, the sword had an ability called Lightning Blade, but that ability was locked until level six. Except Myrina was a level-ten Battle Warden.
Stheno hissed at the radiance as Myrina drew closer.
Unfortunately, my Essence Points were down to six, which meant I had minutes at most before Stheno’s stony gaze broke through my magical resistance. And even minutes was pretty optimistic, since those bronze hooks were damn close to my skin, and I still couldn’t move a muscle. And then, Myrina was there, slashing through the tongues like she had done earlier with the guards at the entrance of the Gorgon’s lair—the amped-up War Blade, it seemed, had no problem carving the Gorgon up.
I fell to the ground with a thump and scrambled backward on my hands and feet, keeping my eyes fixed on the monster while my Essence dropped lower.
Stheno’s voice rang out in Greek.
Myrina responded, also in Greek, before throwing herself into a lightning-fast roll, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the bronze meat hooks. The agile maneuver brought her back to her feet in a blink, and before Stheno could launch a fresh assault, the Warden bolted inside her guard, cutting off the creature’s left arm at the elbow. Blood gushed to the floor, followed by the clang of metal on stone. Myrina’s speed was incredible, her muscles taut as she blocked the remaining bronze hook, then sunk the War Blade deep into the Gorgon’s thigh.
But we were running out of time. I was down to a scant three Essence Points, and even though Myrina was dishing out a world-class ass-whooping, Stheno was recovering. A tangle of spitting snakes emerged from the severed arm, staunching the blood loss. And from the wound on her thigh, more little snakes dribbled out until the wound was sealed.
We need to either behead her or stab her in the heart! I called to my generals. Asteria, can you knock her flat?
The fight had pulled the Gorgon out of her pavilion and onto the bridge where the cyclops stood. There Myrina fought Stheno in a dizzying display of speed and agility.
Asteria did another turn as an eagle, then came screaming down toward the fighting pair. At the last second, she morphed into her bear form, blue feathers retreating as coarse fur sprouted. Suddenly, a couple of tons of blue Kodiak was cannonballing toward the Gorgon, her eyes pressed tightly shut. The eagle-turned-bear collided with the monster like a freight train, laying her low.
And Myrina didn’t waste the opening.
The Warden darted in, then leapt high, plunging the War Blade directly into the Gorgon’s heart. She wasn’t done, though. She ripped the sword free, and for good measure, swept Stheno’s hideous head from her shoulders with a lightning-fast flick of her wrist. Even then, new snakes emerged from the bleeding neck-hole—but not for long. Using her incredible Amazonian strength, Myrina lifted the Gorgon’s body up in powerful arms, then hurled the corpse into the lava below. The flailing body landed with a wet thud, a plume of cloying smoke drifting upward. Frenzied howls of pain and rage filled the air, courtesy of the decapitated head, which was lying facedown on the floor.
But as the body vanished below the bubbling orange-red magma, the head fell silent. Stheno was dead at last.
Myrina came forward and offered me a hand. I figured she’d lay into me about one more time being the damsel in distress. But instead, she lifted the War Blade, flipped it around, and offered me the grip with a slight bow. “You honored me deeply—Ares never would’ve allowed me to wield the War Blade. His pride would never have permitted such a thing. Yet, you allowed me to do so for the good of the mission.” She paused, giving me a long, hard, measuring look. “Thank you, Jacob.”
Even as she spoke, my experience points dinged in my ears as I not only leveled once, but twice. I suppose killing the most bloodthirsty of Medusa’s sisters can do that for a guy.
Asteria landed, became a woman, and fell into my arms. She was wounded from taking so many arrows. She touched my face. “You are a very clever man, Jacob Merely.”
Then she closed her eyes and fell unconscious. I wanted to heal her, but with my Essence Points so low, there’s wasn’t a thing I could do. When I pulled up her stats on the battle display, though, I saw immediately that her HP was steady. Low, true, but not falling. In an hour, I could fix her up, but for now, she’d just need to rest. Carefully, I wrapped her up in her dingy cloak, lifted her into my arms, and headed back into Stheno’s sanctuary.
Yep, in an hour, I’d patch her up right as rain, but we had work to do between now and then. I grinned. Time to gather up the Thymos Crystals, loot the bodies, and look for magic items! Do you want to know the five best words in the English language?
The following items are magical …
SIXTEEN
Victory Spoils
It took us about an hour to loot the bodies and round up all the supplies secreted throughout Stheno’s lair. And holy crap was there a lot of it: piles of raw iron ore, leather armor, and crude weapons, plus tons of glowing azure Thymos Crystals. The other stuff was great, but the Thymos Crystals were the real prize. According to Myrina, the crystals were actually petrified bone shards of the long-dead god Uranus, father of Titans and grandfather of the young gods like Ares and Hades. Using my Divine Essence Points, I could unlock the primal force locked away in the shards and use it to perform incredible miracles.
With them, I could rebuild the city, craft powerful weapons, and even upgrade my Amazons.
By the time we were done scavenging, I had enough Essence Points to patch Asteria up and get her back on
her feet—ready and able to help us cart off the small mountain of resources we’d discovered. The blue-skinned Amazon transformed herself into a huge ox, which we outfitted with crude saddlebags, fashioned from the various satchels and leather straps we’d found throughout the dungeon. Myrina loaded Asteria with Thymos Crystals and the rest of the gear, while I poked around a little more—searching for hidden compartments or chests, which might contain something truly powerful.
In a pile of old rags, stiff with dust and age, I discovered a scroll that gave me a few hints as to what had happened in the temple and why there were statues all over the place. Drawings showed me Medusa, the Gorgon of legend so well-known even in the Western world. According to the scroll, she had been driven from the world of men by the ancient hero Perseus, only to be later killed by Ares when he landed on Lycastia to seal the rift. And yes, just as I’d suspected, I saw pictures of the sons of Cecrops being blinded so Medusa’s power wouldn’t work on them.
It seemed Stheno had recently taken over the abandoned dungeon and that’s why she had changed the signage at the front of her lair and above the grand archway. In the last picture on the scroll, I saw another snake woman darting away down a secret passageway. Most likely, that was the third sister, Euryale.
Interesting stuff, but not exactly valuable. I did, however, find an odd stone, carved with some sort of ancient rune, set into the floor beneath the rags. Curious, I traced one finger along the surface of the rock, feeling a faint thrum of magical energy radiating through the symbol and into my finger. When I finished tracing the sigil, it began to bleed an odd green light, followed by the sound of grinding stone as a secret door slid open in the far wall.
The false wall concealed a small alcove with a hulking wooden chest, bound with worn leather and brass rivets. Next to it was a metal weapons rack, loaded down with goodies. Bingo. I stood and rubbed my chin as I eyed the chest. I made my way over to the alcove, but paused two feet from the stout box—I wasn’t about to open it with my fingers. For all I knew, the damn thing could be a trap. Or worse, it could be some kind of bloodthirsty Mimic. I unsheathed the War Blade and used the tip to carefully lift the cover from a safer distance.
A needle covered in black goo shot out near the handle. Trapped, just like I’d thought. I’d lost a D&D character by a trapped treasure chest when I was thirteen. I’d never made the same mistake again.
A small mountain of silver, gold, and platinum coins greeted my eyes. I leaned over and picked one up—on one side was the face of a man in profile wearing a crested helm. The image was worn, but I recognized Ares. The reverse side had a raised image of a rampaging bull. I didn’t need money, but surely the metal itself would be valuable to our crafting endeavors. I also spotted an amethyst necklace and a matching amethyst ring atop the pile. No doubt they were magical. And Stheno couldn’t have worn either since her neck was too big, and oh yeah, she had fucking hooks for hands, so rings were a big no-go.
I picked both items up and examined them in careful detail. The amulet, called the Mind of Odysseus, gave me a +4 to Intelligence—raising my Total Divine Essence to 44—and boosted my Regen Rate by nine percent, which wasn’t too shabby at all. The ring, labeled as the Might of Hercules, offered me a +5 to Strength. The second I slipped it on, my muscles swelled again, and I swear I added almost another foot in height, putting me at close to seven feet tall. I grinned, flexing my new muscles. Suddenly, NBA superstar wasn’t out of the question anymore.
I curled a fist. If I ever got off this rock alive, Echo Earl Echo was going to have a very nasty surprise waiting for him—a great big ol’ lightning bolt to the ass, followed by a haymaker to the teeth.
I dismissed my revenge fantasy, turning back to the chest. In a rough-spun bag, I saw the edges of a shield. I was about to pull it out when Myrina walked up. “Why do you think the shield is in the bag, Jacob?”
“Uh, not sure?” I said, glancing at her over one shoulder.
Myrina shook her head at me. “Just when I think you have value, you nearly destroy yourself.” I wanted to protest that I’d triggered the chest without getting stuck by a poisonous needle but knew Myrina wasn’t going to be impressed by that. So instead, I kept my yap shut. “If I am not mistaken,” she continued, “that is the Shield of Perseus. There is a likeness of Medusa on the front. Once per day, you can use it to turn your enemies to stone. And in my hands, it will be harmless.” She paused, lips pursed, and canted her head to one side. “So, might I have it, Jacob Merely?”
“It’s all yours,” I replied, figuring she’d use it more effectively than I ever could. I tossed her the bag. Carefully, she pulled the shield free, discarding the bag on the floor. I put her and the shield from my mind and turned my gaze on the weapons rack. I found some swords—nothing extraordinary, but all well-made. The spears, on the other hand, were either cracked or as dusty as the ones we had back in the city. The javelins were equally worthless except for one: a length of oiled ash topped by a gleaming silver tip. It was beautiful.
I picked it up and was surprised it weighed almost nothing. “Why don’t you take this, too,” I said to the Warden. “I bet dollars to donuts you could totally take the gold in the Olympics with this bad boy.”
“Thank you for the weapon,” Myrina replied before shooting me a puzzled look. “I will use it wisely, though I have no taste for the games. I was crafted for war, not for medal winning.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Clearly,” I muttered.
I took one more look around the room, pausing when I saw the Gorgon’s head lying facedown on the ground. Suddenly, I had a morbid idea. Could be I was wrong, but I vaguely recalled that the potent power of a Gorgon’s stone gaze never faded, not even after death. I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I wasn’t about to pass up a potential weapon, no matter how gross. I went over and carefully scooped the head into the burlap bag the shield had been in.
Never look a gift horse in the mouth, or in this case, a Gorgon in the eyes.
With Asteria loaded up, we left the grand ballroom, walked the arching bridge, and made our way up the stairs.
Outside, it was far cooler, with a gentle breeze blowing through. A three-quarter moon shined down from a sky milky with stars. The jungle rustled from the wind, but all else was quiet.
Asteria’s voice broke into my mind. Heavy burden, my master. Let us rest. Hay at the city. Me like hay. Hay, hay, hay, and cool water. Burden heavy, so heavy.
Huh, neat. Now I knew what an ox sounded like. My time in Lycastia sure was proving to be educational, though I didn’t like Asteria calling me master.
We took some of the bags from our Beastiamancer and put them on our shoulders while we let Asteria rest. The ruins around us were hushed.
“I kinda miss Stheno’s singing,” I said, kidding, but only a little.
“She will sing no more. But doubtless we shall meet her sister Euryale, who will want revenge for Stheno’s death. Perhaps her song will be as pleasing to you.” Myrina frowned at me, her brows furrowed.
“I found a scroll with pictographs,” I said casually. “It seems Ares killed Medusa. Do you remember that?”
Myrina shook her head. “I recall little except for a few things that I do not want to discuss. I desire only to get back to the temple, check on Phoebe, and start on our plans to fortify the city and revive my sisters. If the rift below could spawn something as powerful as Stheno, we truly do not have much time. If the sigil in the Temple of Ares is destroyed, then Hades himself will be able to walk—”
A screech cut her off.
The bat-winged creature I’d seen before came fluttering out of the night sky, touching down on a column about twenty feet from us. Praxidike. She stood confidently atop the column, one hand resting on her shapely hip, the other clutching her whip, which dangled down. “So, Stheno fell before your might. It is a pity, though her appetites had grown insatiable, and her jealousy was irksome. Always so left behind, little Stheno—the songstress, forgotten in the sha
dows thrown by Medusa’s serpentine notoriety. Perhaps it is better she is gone.”
Myrina snarled and hurled her spear at the creature instead of going the ol’ chitchat route. Blunt and to the point—I could respect that. Unfortunately, Praxidike whipped the missile out of the air with contemptuous ease and then laid the lash across Myrina’s face, drawing a sharp line of blood on the Amazon’s cheek. Holy crap! What was the range on that whip? It seemed like it could hit us from anywhere.
Praxidike laughed. “So, the puppets are awake and longing for battle. You shall have it soon enough, puppets.”
With a growl, my Battle Warden sprinted across the ground, plucked her new silver-tipped javelin from her quiver, and threw it at the bat-winged woman. In an explosion of thunder, the javelin turned into a lightning bolt and blasted into Praxidike, knocking her off the column. The whip-wielding demoness spread her wings, catching a gust of wind before she fell all the way to the ground. The skin on her chest was blackened with char, and tendrils of smoke curled up.
“Enjoy this little victory, pathetic puppet,” Praxidike sneered, wings beating furiously at the air. “I will keep you alive … you, the beast woman, and your insipid craftswoman back at the temple. All of you will be alive when I feed your laughable war god to you, one piece at a time.” Praxidike offered us one more look of pure, unadulterated hate before streaking up through the jungle canopy and into the night sky.
I watched, slack-jawed, as a hundred harpies rose and followed her toward the looming southern mountain, visible even in the dark.
“Damn, but she has her air force ready,” I whispered.
Seeing all those harpies unnerved me.
Myrina walked back to me, rubbing her bleeding cheek. I noticed the lightning javelin was back in her quiver. Now that was one helluva find!
“Ares said three weeks.” I watched the cloud of harpies retreat. “But we don’t have that much time, do we?”
“No,” Myrina replied flatly.