by James Hunter
White hot pain sizzled through my fingertips, up my arm, and into my brain, frying my neurons and electrifying every part of me.
It felt like someone had sliced off the top of my head, scraped out my brain with a giant ice-cream scoop, then thrown it in a microwave along with a fistful of nails and a few hundred .50 cal rounds. The agony sent me to my knees, teeth chattering inside my head as I clutched at my skull. I drove my palms into my temples and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to contain the agony rampaging through my body like Godzilla in Tokyo. In the distance, I heard a scream—it took me a solid minute to realize it was me.
And it made me scream louder.
The noise of my howls filled my ears—filled the whole temple—and blocked out a booming voice trying to speak to me. But fuck that guy. In the end, I was too full of pain to be bothered by some thunderous voice breaking my eardrums. My brain seemed broken enough.
Even while the agony in my head ate away my sanity, I felt my body slowly rising from the floor, my legs trembling beneath me. The diamond had come loose from the giant’s breastplate, and it spun in front of me, twirling around and around. I tried to pull my gaze away, but couldn’t. I was mesmerized by the scintillating colors of the gorgeous jewel. And all around me, the temple, the island, the ocean, it was all gone. Vanished. Nothing remained but me and the gem. I was in a void, lost to all time and space.
A second later, a voice boomed through the pain and darkness. “Enough, mortal. Quit your mewling. By Zeus’ holy thunderbolt, you would think you were the one courting death.”
I gritted my teeth and tried to concentrate on the voice and what it was saying. Courting death? Apparently, the giant on the floor had been dancing on death’s door but hadn’t crossed the threshold just yet.
“The diamond,” I gasped, clutching at the sides of my head. “The pain … Too much … Too much for me …”
I prayed that the voice could help me.
And shockingly, in an instant, the blazing inferno inside my head was gone. Still, I slumped forward, sucking in great lungfuls of air, feeling worn-out and lifeless from the experience.
“Is that better, mortal?” the voice asked, a hint of scorn beneath the words.
I winced and pressed my hands against my ears. “Yeah, but not so loud, dude. I have a killer headache.”
“Like my father,” the voice mused. “When my brother struck him with his hammer, the blow split his head in twain, birthing our dear sister—now that is a headache.”
“Athena,” I whispered, recalling my Greek mythology. “So, you must be Ares.”
“That is correct,” the voice thundered. “You know of me and my kin it seems. Yet how did you find this island? It is not meant for mortal man.”
“Plane crash,” I said, closing my eyes since that spinning gem was making me nauseous. “So, am I on another planet?” I asked. “I can’t tell.”
“Another planet? No, you are on your Earth, on the island of Lycastia, locked away from mortals. Look down.”
I opened my eyes and found myself floating in the clouds, my feet dangling below me unsupported. Next to me, shrunk down to my size, was the giant from the temple. He was looking a bit livelier this time around, though. His sickly gray pallor was now a healthy bronze. His eyes were sharp chips of amber in his face. The crimson cloak billowed out heroically behind him; he looked like Superman surveying Metropolis, ready to swoop in and save the day.
While I was a bit unnerved to be adrift in the clouds without my plane, the experience was a thousandfold better than the searing pain I’d felt minutes before.
The clouds dissipated around us, and Ares pointed a great spear downward. “There. Three islands, Themiscyreia, Lycastia, and Chadesia.”
Through the wisps of the fading clouds, in the sapphire waters of the Mediterranean Sea, I saw the three islands rising from the waves like the backs of giant turtle shells. Unlike crescent-shaped Lycastia, both Themiscyreia and Chadesia were round in nature. But these weren’t island paradises, covered in lush vegetation and serene sandy beaches. Nope. Spewing up from the blackened earth like awful lava were hordes of monsters in all shapes and sizes. The harpies, nagas, and spider boars were easy enough to pick out from the churning masses.
And rising out of the southern tip of Lycastia was the faceless god I’d seen in the frieze.
“Who is that?” I asked the god of war, my voice quivering minutely.
“My uncle, Hades,” Ares said with a disgusted grunt. “After Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades slaughtered my grandfather Chronus and imprisoned the Titans, they threw lots for their place on the world. My father, Zeus, would rule the sky. Poseidon was given charge over the sea. Hades received the underworld as his kingship. My uncle bristled at the results and swore he’d been cheated. And he swore vengeance.”
The scene changed, shifted, and suddenly the dark-souled beasts spilling out of the three islands quickly spread across the whole world, enveloping the continents like a plague on all humanity. I watched in mute horror as the monstrous beasts slaughtered and killed, no doubt giving rise to countless myths and legends.
Ares frowned at the carnage. “My father cared not if mortals died—he said that the blights of the humans were meant to be. That humans were destined to be destroyed by Hades, Lord of Death, and his ilk. While I didn’t disagree, I saw a battle worthy of my valor. If I could slay the very lord of death, was there a greater victory possible?”
“Uh, who am I to argue with the god of war?” I asked, a little overwhelmed. “So, you fought Hades and his monsters.”
“That word, ‘fight,’ is such an inane word for what I did. Behold, mortal!” Ares swung his spear around, and we soared down to one of the round islands.
“My uncle managed to create three rifts to connect the infinities of the underworld to our Earth. Some believe Poseidon was secretly in league with Hades, which is why the rifts were created far out in the sea. Poseidon denied it, of course, but he has long since vanished to time, so it is likely no one will ever know the truth. Perhaps he is dead, and perhaps that is for the best. Who can say? But yes, gods die, though not in the same way as mortals, as you’ll see.”
I didn’t miss his smirk. What did that mean?
The world around me spun and shifted, and suddenly I found myself standing next to Ares on the dark clay of an island smoking with molten rock and filled with the screams of harpies, snake men, spider creatures, and various other horrors. A towering cyclops, as tall as a redwood, clambered out of a deep chasm, wielding a hammer the size of a Buick Skylark.
Another version of Ares—this one the twenty-foot-tall gargantuan I’d seen dead in the temple—summoned warrior women out of the clay. In seconds, he had an army at his beck and call. The women were of all shapes, sizes, and colors, but each was pulled from the ground.
Some morphed into wolves. Others cast spells to harness the wind. A few seemed to be able to teleport at will. Several of the women vanished, appeared in front of the cyclops, and chopped into the massive one-eyed man with their swords, only to disappear again. More women, these clad in black clothes, moved silently through the battle, hiding in shadows, backstabbing monsters, or sending feathered shafts into the throats of snake men unaware of their presence. Still others manned a siege tower that had at least five ballistae firing flaming bolts into the fray.
Regardless of their abilities, these warrior women, led by Ares with his flashing sword and stabbing spear, were a devastating force. Amazons, one and all.
They swept through the monsters until they won the rift, leaving a trail of corpses in their wake. And that’s when Ares stepped in. With the sweep of an enormous hand, he motioned for several women wearing goggles to bring forth a statue of him. The women carefully placed the statue down on top of a rocky, but level, outcropping. With practiced ease, the war god traced the sigil I’d seen back in the temple on the chest of the statue with the tip of his sword. A flash of light and a thunderous wave of sound crashed through the world as h
e finished.
A second later, the rift at the center of the island closed as a tsunami of golden light washed across the island, obliterating Hades’ minions like cockroaches being crushed under the heel of a heavy boot. Even though I knew subconsciously this was some sort of memory, I still couldn’t stand to look—it was just too painful. By the time the light cleared, even the enemy bodies were gone, burned away in holy, purifying fire. In their place were plants. Greenery exploded across the island like a nuclear blast.
Trees, grass, and flowers sprouted up in quadruple speed until only a paradise remained. Miraculously, death had given way to abundant life.
“As you can see,” the man-sized Ares said next to me, his voice smug to the max, “I used the sigil to close the rift. What happened here on Themiscyreia also occurred on Chadesia. With my Amazon warriors, I was able to defeat Hades and his hellish underworld monstrosities. Then, using my skills in battle and the lust in my blood, I closed rifts and saved your kind from millennia of torture and murder at the hands of these vile, ungodly fiends.”
“Thanks for that,” I muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck, not quite sure how to respond.
“Lycastia should’ve been my greatest victory,” he said after a moment, his lips pulling down into a frown. “There, I built this place and crafted thousands of Amazons, all to seal the final chasm and lock Hades away forever in his cold underworld tomb.” I watched as Ares stood over a massive forge. More women took shape, donning armor before dashing off to train.
“Why women?” I asked, watching the scene unfold. “I mean, if you can make people out of clay, why not throw in some men?”
Ares cocked an eyebrow and raised his spear. The forge vanished and once again I was inside the temple on Lycastia. Only this time, the temple wasn’t filled with the dead but the living. Ares lay naked on the floor, and surrounding him on every side were women. Hundreds of them. All nude. All writhing in a tangle of limbs and lips in a full-on Greek orgy.
I shut my eyes, not wanting to see the god of war getting his freak on. Talk about awkward.
Ares thundered out laughter. “Oh, you are a prudish sort of mortal. Too bad for you. Why women, you ask? The real question is why would I make a man when I can create both beauty and strength? Men will never have the attractive features of women. Who do artists paint? Which gender do sculptors use to fashion their statues? Why, it’s the feminine form of course. If you could make an army that is both powerful and pleasant to look upon, which would you choose?”
“Uh, probably won’t ever need to make that choice, but I’ll take your word for it.” I cracked an eye and saw the sex-fest was still in full swing. “Can you get us out of orgy central and get to the point? I’m assuming you’re showing me all this for a reason.”
Once again, I thought of the glimmering diamond I’d seen, the violence, the power, the responsibility it had promised.
More cannon blasts of chuckling from the Greek god. “Very well, mortal. I suppose I should call you by some sort of name. Jacob Merely, that is your name, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said. I finally opened my eyes, but immediately regretted the decision.
Ares and I were out by the fountain on the eastern side of the city, and all around me—on the mountains, on the walls, in the streets—were demons from Greek mythology. The Grecian stronghold was besieged, and it wasn’t going well for Ares and the hottie home team. Instead of a lush jungle, the island was a blasted wasteland of geysers, mud pots, and lava flows—at least where there weren’t mythological monsters skulking about. Even the two mountains were simply rocky outcroppings spewing poisonous gases.
“I grew overconfident,” Ares said, planting one hand on the butt of his sword while he watched the battle unfold. “As a meek man, you probably won’t understand that.” More laughter.
“Hey, not that meek. I am a Marine,” I barked back in my defense, though it came off kind of pathetic. I mean, earning the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor was no walk in the park, but it didn’t exactly compare to holding an island city against the embodiment of death.
“I don’t know what that is,” Ares replied, “but it sounds very impressive.” He rolled his eyes. “This from the man who closed his eyes when he could’ve savored the sight of so many naked women, their passions aroused and their lithe bodies—”
I cut off the god of war with an upraised hand and a nasty glare. “Yeah, whatever. So, shit hit the fan on Lycastia, am I right?”
He chuckled and nodded. “Yes, the shit hit the fan and hence was scattered about in a filthy, distasteful manner. Hades established a stronghold on this land. On the southern edge of this island, he built an unholy temple for himself, giving him added strength and power in this realm. He used that added power to breach the rift directly, breaking into this world in the flesh so we might do battle. And he didn’t come alone. He cleared his underworld dungeons and brought forth an army of nightmares never seen before in this realm.” Ares paused, shrugged. “Even I was unprepared for the ferocity of their assault.”
Both of us watched as the gates failed and monsters poured in—hydras and cyclops, hideous lions, even a Gorgon with snakes for hair and poisonous arrows which shot from her bow. There were minotaurs wielding battle-axes, evil winged horses with spiked hooves and wickedly sharp horns being ridden by what looked undead Spartans. Colossal cyclops shambled through the jungle, bashing through defensive positions with ease.
The giant Ares and his Amazons were driven back an inch at a time until they found themselves in the heart of the temple. The female warriors kept giving the war god glances, wondering at why things had gone so wrong, even as Ares fought on, grim-faced.
“They didn’t know they were all going to die,” I whispered.
Ares growled and shook his head. “No, they didn’t. I promised them victory. I swore we would win the day and that we would feast and make love for a million years after we sealed the rift. And yet, I knew with Hades on the battlefield, it would be death for all.”
“That is what he does,” I said. “God of death and all that.”
“Your jests are as lame as a three-legged calf,” Ares shot back. “Jacob Merely, I am showing you death, and you make light of it. Perhaps you are not the right one.”
“Right one for what?” I asked.
“Watch,” the god of war murmured, “and you will know your destiny. Out of all the mortals walking this world, it seems the Moirai have chosen you”—he paused, offering me a long measuring look—“though it is not a choice I would’ve made.”
SIX
Tutorial
The man-sized Ares next to me fell into a coughing fit. He hawked a wad of bloody phlegm onto the marble floor. Odd that a god would hack like that, and his color seemed to be fading, the bronze hue giving way to gray. The giant-sized Ares in the vision wasn’t doing so hot either. A deep gash marked his arm, and an arrow protruded from a thigh as big as a tree trunk. He and his Amazons retreated into the temple. But in the vision, the hulking statue in the central room didn’t have the sigil marking inscribed on the breastplate.
I watched, transfixed, as woman after woman was cut down by ax, sword, blade, talon, arrow, claw, and fangs until all that was left were Ares and three warriors.
One moved like lightning and smoke, twirling, flashing, and dancing through the assembled monsters until she was little more than a blur. Her sword seemed to be everywhere at once, and she hurled javelins from a quiver on her back even as she fought. The second changed shape at will. One moment she was a gigantic bear, ripping off a snake’s head; the next, she flung herself into the air, shifting into an eagle, only to claw out the eye of a cyclops. She landed on the ground in the form of a lion, ready to devour a harpy.
The last one, goggles on her face, held a crossbow—but not a run-of-the-mill crossbow. No, this one was covered in gears and cogs, and it had a feeder filled with quarrels on a string. Holy shit, it was basically a machine gun feeding belt. She’d fire one bolt,
another would roll into place, and she’d fire again. She peppered monsters even as she and her sisters were pushed into the center of the temple, their backs up against the spear-throwing statue at the center.
Then Hades strode forward, his face blank under his helmet, no skin, no mouth, no eyes, no ears. The god of death had pale skin oozing maggots and pus. He was naked, except for a loincloth, the helmet, and his white cloak. His limbs were long and gaunt as though he hadn’t eaten a good meal in years. In one hand, the faceless god carried a formidable club—built from the thigh bone of some monster and covered with barbed spikes. In the other, he held a rusted shield with razor-sharp edges.
Looking at the shield, I was suddenly thrilled the corpsmen had insisted on that last tetanus booster.
Hades lurched into action, burying the spiked bone club into the shapeshifter’s skull, one-shotting her with ease. Then he flung his shield like a giant Frisbee, decapitating the woman firing the deadly automatic crossbow. The last one tried to speed past him and maneuver to his flank, but Hades was impossibly fast. He drove the cruel yellow nails on his right foot into her legs, knocking her down. Then, before she could get away, he casually crushed her skull underfoot as he walked toward Ares.
Suddenly, the confident war god was alone, cut and bleeding in front of the statue.
“Uncle,” the giant Ares whispered with a grimace, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his weapon. “I see you have come to fight me. But I will win. You may have killed the old gods, but I will kill you.”
“You cannot kill death,” Hades replied. His voice didn’t come from his mouth, but bled from the air all around us. It was like some primal force of nature broadcasted from a different reality. “Even war will die before the universe decays. You are as mortal as the humans.”