by James Hunter
Phoebe attended to Hippolyta personally.
Though my Rune-Caster was up and about, she was far from a picture of health. Minor lacerations crisscrossed her arms, and a ragged puncture wound—probably from an arrow—decorated one shoulder. A deep diagonal slash ran from one temple down across her nose, and all the way to her chin. She was in rough shape, but next to poor Hippolyta she looked like a beauty queen fresh from a day at the spa.
The Warden’s skin was charred black, and she was missing her right arm above the elbow and her left leg above just below the knee. She also had a trio of arrows protruding from her chest—I wasn’t a doctor, but those things had definitely pierced her lung, and possibly her heart. It physically hurt to look at Hippolyta. Although Ares had set this up as a game, staring at the startling, ugly damage drove home that this was no game. I may have created the Amazons from clay, but they were real people who could feel. Could hurt.
I carved my way through the barn, giving Phoebe a small, sad smile as I took Hippolyta’s remaining hand in mine. Her eyes flashed open at once, and though sweat marred her face, her gray-blue eyes were surprisingly alert and aware. I pulled up her stats and saw her Health flashing at less than one percent; honestly, I was surprised she hadn’t died already.
“Greetings, War God,” Hippolyta whispered, voice raspy. “We held the city. The sigil is safe. Still, I am so very sorry I failed you.”
“What? No. You didn’t, Hippolyta,” I replied, wondering how she could think that.
“But I did, Jacob Merely,” the Amazon murmured. “I allowed myself to be gravely wounded.” Then she stiffened, letting out a grunt of agony.
“Hey, don’t talk that way,” I said, squeezing her hand. “I couldn’t be prouder of you. You fought hard, you put it all on the line. I could never ask for more. Now you just rest while I patch you up.” I pulled up my combat interface and triggered Healing Touch. I braced myself, expecting the outrush of sweet Essence … except nothing happened. I frowned, brow furrowed, and tried again. Over and over, I tried. Nothing.
The damage was too extensive even for me to fix.
The Warden gasped, hand tightening around mine as she bucked and convulsed. “Farewell, War God,” she said when the seizure finally passed. “We shall meet again, on the Elysian Fields, where we will laugh and make love for all eternity.” Those were the last words she would ever utter. I watched as her life drained away, her mouth slightly agape. Dead. Gone. My first casualty in a war I had never really signed up for.
Phoebe bent over and ran a hand across Hippolyta’s face, closing her eyes. You couldn’t save her, Jacob. But you can help the others. Don’t worry, we can bring Hippolyta back. At least in part. She’ll start back at level one. She’ll be different, but she’ll have dim memories of this life. Of you and her.
The fact that I could recreate the Amazon didn’t seem so important. She’d been so amazing, but had suffered so much. And now she was gone. Yeah, I could reboot her, but the damage to our morale and the city had been done.
I carefully pried my hand from hers, turning slowly to survey the other wounded warriors. Maybe I hadn’t been quick enough to save Hippolyta, but Phoebe was right, I damn sure could save the others. Anger pulsed within me, and I harnessed it, letting it spur me on. I headed over to Camilla, who lay with her hand on her stomach—as I got closer, I saw she was actually holding in her intestines.
She smiled wearily at me. “Greetings, God of War. Forgive me for not rising in your presence, but I am intent on keeping my insides on the inside.”
I waved away her apology and sat next to her, taking her hand in mine just as I’d done with Hippolyta. “It’s going to be okay,” I said, hoping that wouldn’t be a lie as I pulled up my combat interface once more. I pressed my eyes shut, taking a deep breath as I triggered Healing Touch again. Relief. This time, energy roared out of the stone, sprinting down my arm and up into the Amazon’s hand. The effect was instant: she grimaced as her guts disappeared back into her torso, ripped flesh knit itself back together, and her Health skyrocketed.
The battle-hardened Camilla stared at her suddenly smooth belly in awe, and then? Then she was laughing, the sound light and airy like the tinkling of a brass bell.
The rest of the wounded began muttering until the barn was a din of voices.
I ignored the clamor, utterly intent on healing the rest of my Amazons to make up for failing Hippolyta. She’d given everything, and I hadn’t saved her. Worse, I’d left the city partially undefended by going off without first repairing both the north and south gate. It had been such a stupid mistake. That and believing we had three weeks to prepare.
I moved on to the next.
One of my Wardens, Lampedo, had been badly burned. Her hair was gone, head covered instead with charred skin and seeping blood. Even glancing at her made me feel sick to my stomach—she must’ve been in incredible pain, and that was on me too. Thankfully, she was stable. I caught her gaze and smiled at her as I ran my fingers gently over her unburnt cheek.
“Thank you for fighting,” I whispered, triggering Healing Touch again. Primal energy rushed out of me, and red hair sprouted from her scalp until it reached her shoulders. The Warden flexed her fingers, which seconds before had looked like scalded sausages.
There was wonder in her face, but I couldn’t stop to appreciate it. I had more work to do.
I patted her on the shoulder and headed over to Polemusa—a short, slender warrior with straight black hair and Asian features. Like Hippolyta, she’d lost a limb. Her right arm was simply a bloody stump from the bicep down. Phoebe had saved her by putting a tourniquet in place.
“Greetings, War God,” she said. “I cannot fathom why you are using your precious Essence to heal us, but I am certain you cannot repair a wound such as this.”
“Don’t be too sure,” I said, pressing my palm into her shoulder and triggering Healing Touch for a third time. I knew in my gut the spell would work fine, but it was pretty remarkable to watch as her elbow budded with a small limb, which grew and grew until a hand sprang up like a flower unfolding in spring sunshine. Seconds later, she had her arm. Complete, healthy, and without so much as a scar to show what had happened.
Polemusa’s lips trembled as she held the new limb up, turning her hand this way then that as though she couldn’t possibly believe what she was seeing. Then she clutched her restored limb to her chest and wept, tears streaming down her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I merely nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and moved on. In short order, I used my Divine Essence to restore the wounded. By the time I was done, my Essence had plunged to thirty-two. I felt weak and tired from the work, but it had been well worth every point. And, at my current level, my Regen rate had jumped to 60 points an hour, so I’d be good as new in no time flat.
As I finished, I turned around to find Camilla, Lampedo, and Polemusa all waiting to ambush me. They attacked me like a defensive line trying to sack the quarterback. In seconds, their arms were wrapped around me and all four of us were heading to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. I wriggled, not sure what the proper response was, but there was no escape. I was overwhelmed by three healthy and gorgeous women, and they all asked the same question over and over again. “Why did you heal us?”
“Why wouldn’t I heal you?” I asked in reply, genuinely confused as they finally helped me to my feet.
Myrina let the ghost of a smile take up residence on her face. “It is not the way of Amazons,” she said with a shrug. “Nor is it the way of the gods. Most of them are quite”—she faltered, tapping her lip with one finger—“capricious and vindictive. Perhaps Aceso or her sister Panacea would show such kindness, but no one else. And certainly not Ares, regardless of whether he could or not. He thought anyone wounded in battle should heal on their own as a punishment for weakness. And if you didn’t survive”—she shrugged noncommittally—“then you were not worthy of life. Such is the law of war.”
“S
eriously?” I looked at her with a deadpan face. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Complete garbage. Just because someone gets a bad break—a bad roll of the dice—doesn’t mean we shouldn’t heal them. If nothing else, these Amazons have leveled up, which means they’ll be even stronger and better for the next fight. Plus, I got more experience points healing them. Ares had the brains of a snot rocket.”
A wave of shocked silence rolled through the infirmary, and then the Amazons burst into raucous laughter. True, none of these women knew Ares personally—aside from my generals, of course—but I probably shouldn’t have called him names. He was my predecessor, after all. But seriously, it was no wonder he lost with policies like that. Obviously, this battle was more about his ego and his misplaced sense of valor than sealing Hades in the underworld.
While they were still laughing, I quietly excused myself from the barn, heading into the bright sunlight.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Heroes Return
Phoebe followed me out, and I noticed she wasn’t moving with her characteristic limp. I glanced down at her leg. Huh. She was sporting some type of strange brass knee brace, covered in cogs and intricate gears. With the brace in place, she moved with a sure stride, with no indication whatsoever that she had a leg problem. Despite the somber mood, seeing that made me grin from ear to ear.
“Good work,” I said, nodding to the contraption on her leg.
What, this? She grinned and rapped her knuckles on the metal. It’s just a little thing. I’ve been studying your memories, and I ran across a modern medical contraption similar to this, but way shittier. Then I saw your memories about this movie, Iron Man, and I knew exactly what to do. Her grin widened. I think I’m in love with this Tony Stark.
The noonday sunshine had me sweating, and my wounds, while healing, pestered me unbelievably. They itched like crazy, and it was driving me up a wall. I tried to take it as good news and tried not to scratch, but damn was it hard.
Tell me what happened last night, Phoebe.
The Rune-Caster sighed and was quiet for a long beat before launching into the story.
The attack was unexpected, she started. They came from the dark, flooding in like a tsunami. Nagas. Arachnaswine. Centaurs. The watch sent out the call, ringing the warning gongs and lighting the signal fires. We moved quick, which is the only thing that saved us. I led half of our forces up to the northern gate, while Hippolyta led the other half down to the southern. Things went pretty good at first. We held the line and broke the centaur charges with the ballistae. For the first hour, I thought we’d drive them back on both fronts. Right up until the cyclopes hit the south gate like a wrecking ball.
Phoebe let out a long sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
I looked away, scanning the tree line, lost in thought. Thank God I’d fixed the south gate before leaving or the fight might’ve really been a bloodbath. I felt like an idiot for leaving the north gate in disrepair, though. I should’ve known better.
We wound our way along the street, and as we got closer, I saw something—two somethings, actually—blocking the south gate.
Phoebe continued on as we trekked closer. Nagas slithered in behind the cyclopes and we found ourselves overwhelmed and fighting on multiple fronts. That’s when Hippolyta made her move. She hacked and slashed her way right up to the gate and used the Shield of Perseus to turn the cyclopes into stone. But getting that close cost her dearly. That charge is where she suffered the majority of her wounds.
Finally, we paused at the base of the wall, staring at a pair of one-eyed giants, twenty feet tall, that completely blocked the southern entrance. One had been trying to squeeze through while the other lingered behind as backup. Together, the two gargantuan statues had pretty much sealed the gate.
Inside the entryway courtyard were more statues. Petrified nagas forever frozen on their fat serpent tails. I threaded my way through a dozen of them, both pleased we had such a nasty weapon on our side and disturbed by how close we’d come to losing the sigil to our enemies.
Phoebe, I blew it. I should’ve worked harder. Done more. I treated this like a game and fucked around making a Mountain Dew fountain instead of shoring up the northern defenses.
Phoebe laughed, a gruff barking noise. Inside my head, her voice came out exasperated.
Oh, please, War God, you think too much—that’s a big part of your problem right there. Ares only thought with his sword and his dick. He jerked us around with his power as he pleased, and couldn’t care less about us. You’re different, and that’s good, but you could stand to loosen up and think just a bit less. Otherwise the burden of being war god is going to crush you under its weight, my dude. You made a tactical error. And then you learned from it. Let it go.
Her words made me feel better.
A growl from the other side of the wall caught my attention. It took me a minute to place, but I knew that animal sound.
Buttercup the war bear.
Checking my helmet, I saw that Euryleia, Loxo, and Antiope were on the other side, coming back from the waterfalls with Thymos Crystals and the sacred clay.
They couldn’t get around the cyclopes, but I could tell from the map, they were making their way toward the northern gate. “Come on,” I said to Phoebe, nodding over my shoulder back toward the way we’d come. “Our raiding party is back. Let’s go meet them.”
Together, we backtracked through the city, weaving through the buildings, past the farmland overflowing with crops, and to the northern gate, which still lay in tatters. By the time we got there, my troops were just plodding through the opening—they were bloody, beat down, and looked absolutely exhausted to the core. But as I pulled their stats up, I noticed that they all had leveled up. And not just once; all were maxed out at level five. Holy crap. They must’ve had a helluva time getting back here from the falls.
I really needed to invest a point into Artemis’ Blood, which would raise the level cap of all my Amazons by five.
Loxo dropped her head in shame as she saw me. “I failed you, War God. Praxidike had amassed an army and I failed to find them,” she said without preamble.
I moved forward and playfully punched the Huntress in the shoulder. “Loxo, no way. There must be hundreds of caves and secret places on this island. You couldn’t scope them all out in the time I gave you. You found us more resources, and now I can build you some help. We’re all learning this war game together.”
Loxo turned. She was too fast for me to stop her. Before I knew it, she was holding me and kissing me—like really kissing me, her breasts pressed against me—and I found myself kissing her back. The godstone burned in my chest, and I found myself wanting to give in to her. To throw her down on the ground right where we stood. But I gently eased away, reminding myself that I had three warriors who were hurt and exhausted. Hurt people were way higher on the priority list than my libido.
Phoebe gave me a lopsided grin. You dog, she sent. I thought you might go for Asteria or Myrina in the end. But Loxo? Wow. Didn’t see that coming. Not one bit.
I rolled my eyes at her and shrugged. What can I say, I’m starting to embrace the idea of being war god.
Loxo had a wild twinkle in her eye. “I also failed, in that I doubted you,” she said, suddenly serious. “I wasn’t sure you could guide us to victory—but I watched you cleave a centaur in two and smite a whole flock of Stymphalian with a single blow. You are mighty, and I beg your forgiveness!” She dipped her head and dropped to a knee.
“Again,” I replied, pulling her back to her feet, “there’s nothing to forgive. Nothing. I doubted myself for a while there, and we’re not out of the woods yet. If we’re going to fix this mess, we need to work together. Now, please stop apologizing and let me patch you all up. You three”—I scanned each one in turn—“deserve a break, a meal, and some rest.”
Before they could protest, I used Healing Touch on each of them, instantly banishing their wounds, bringing all three back up to ful
l Health. “Now”—I clapped my hands and smiled—“let’s get back to the forge and unload our spoils.”
As I walked with the newly returned Amazons to the barn, I noticed that Euryleia and Antiope hadn’t distributed their Attribute or Ability Points, so I opened their character screens and did it for them. For the Beastiamancer, I invested twelve points into Strength, six into Willpower, and two into Fortune—a little extra luck never hurt anyone. Then I invested another Ability Point in Durability and one into Rapid Regeneration. I surveyed her character sheet:
Hell yeah, she was a tank now more than ever—I almost felt bad for whatever creature had to go up against her and Buttercup. Next, I turned my sights on Antiope, tweaking her stats until I had them just the way I wanted them:
By the time I was done with my adjustments, we’d arrived at the barn-turned-infirmary, where Brontia and Steropia—Phoebe’s Rune-Caster assistants—had set up a sprawling banquet table covered with food. Admittedly, it wasn’t pizza, but after eating nothing but spider bacon for a few days, the spread was practically a feast. There were flagons of wine, clay carafes of Mountain Dew, some wide circles of flatbread, olives, olive oil, dried and salted pork, charred chicken breast, and heaps of grilled vegetables.
My mouth watered as my eyes skipped around the table.
The raiding party made their way forward, intermingling with several other Amazons who were busy picking over the meal. My stomach grumbled loudly in hungry protest, but I lingered. Waiting. It was a small, stupid thing, but in the Corps, senior enlisted staff and officers didn’t eat until every single troop below them had an opportunity. Dumb, maybe, but important to me.
Myrina threaded her way through the ranks of women and stopped beside me. “You saw the south gate and what Hippolyta did to save us.”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “She was awesome—exactly the kind of warrior I want guarding my back. But you deserve some of the credit, too. Nice job leaving her the Shield of Perseus. You left her the best defensive weapon we have. That was a brilliant move. Probably saved all our asses. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”