God of War 2

by Robert E. Vardeman

  Stepping away, he looked above Clotho and saw a large platform where another of the huge mirrors flickered with promise. He had destroyed both Lahkesis and Atropos by imprisoning them on the other side of such a mirror, then destroying it. Kratos found an elevator to the platform and stood before a mirror ten times his height. Threads of fate ran in all directions, forcing him to step over them.

  “The power of the Fates resides within these great mirrors,” Gaia said. “Find your thread and you will be able to control the mirror. Use it as a gateway to return to the time when Zeus betrayed you.”

  Kratos examined one thread after another. The tangled skein proved too complex for him to identify any single strand of fate as his own.

  Furious, Kratos drew his swords and began hacking away. Even the slenderest of threads proved impervious to the Blades of Athena. The Rage of the Titans powered his next cut. Nothing happened but a tiny vibration along one minuscule thread. He started to use brute force to continue what might be an exhausting attempt, then stopped.

  He remembered how the Warrior of Destiny had fallen and how he, Kratos, had retrieved the Warrior’s weapon. The Warrior had been sent by the Fates. His weapon had to belong to their arsenal.

  Kratos drew forth the Spear of Destiny and held it high over his head. Before it had shone with an inner blue-white light. No longer. Every color and hue he had ever imagined flared within the crystalline spear now. Gripping its shaft, he swung it around and drew its spearhead against an arm-thick cable of woven fates.

  The threads severed cleanly, easily. The ends whipped about like things alive. Kratos heard cries that rose, filled the entire Loom Chamber. He could not tell if they were of joy or fear, sorrow or release. No longer were these souls bound to a destiny the Sisters of Fate had decreed.

  He began cutting the threads, using the Spear of Destiny. With every thread he cut, the crystal spear glowed brighter and more colorful.

  Wantonly slashing now, every thread he found was cut. The sounds from those attached to the far end of the threads rose in his ears, like a wave breaking against a gentle shore. The faster he chopped, the louder the sound, until a full-blown storm might be smashing against an unseen rocky point.

  When he cut one bundle of threads, he felt suddenly weak and a sound like those he heard escaped his lips. Kratos grabbed at one thread of the purest ebony and held it. His heart threatened to explode.

  This was his destiny. He held it in his own hands.

  With a snap as if he lashed out with a whip, he sent the black thread that was his now severed fate into the mirror.

  Kratos cried out as it felt as if he were being ripped apart, every muscle, every bone, every nerve destroyed.

  “EVEN NOW, AS YOU DRAW your last breath, you continue to defy me? No matter.”

  Kratos took a stumbling step forward, sucked in a deep breath, and forgot the sharp pain that still permeated his body. Not ten paces away Zeus leaned on the hilt of the Blade of Olympus—stuck through Kratos’ body and pinning him to the stone paving. Kratos reached down and touched his chest and mentally corrected what he saw. Zeus had skewered Kratos’ earlier self but now he had returned.

  He had defeated the Sisters of Fate, and now he could kill Zeus.

  Running fast, he lowered his shoulder, dipped down, and then lifted when he got between Zeus and his own fallen body. Zeus went flying back, staggered by the impact, and fell to the uneven pacing stones of the Rhodesian terrace. Kratos grabbed the Blade of Olympus and pulled it from his chest—from the earlier Kratos’ chest. He had never dwelled on what it would be like to die in combat, but this lay even further beyond his imagination. Seeing himself dead on the inlaid stone floor fueled his anger at Zeus.

  He spun on the King of the Gods, the potent sword leveled, point aimed at Zeus’ belly.

  “What? How can this be?” Zeus got to his feet, his long white hair caught by the winds generated by the burning city.

  Kratos shuddered as power surged through him. He had drained his godly powers into this blade and once again could tap into its reservoir of energy. He experienced the return of the powers of his godhead, if not the godhead itself. He remained a mortal but one with prodigious might.

  “The Sisters are dead,” Kratos said, advancing on Zeus.

  “Dead? Impossible! They control destiny. They—” Zeus rocked back, face skyward as he vented his ire with a roar that shook the foundations of the world. “They favored us Olympians over the Titans and allowed me to punish Cronos for his transgressions.” Storms danced in the mighty god’s beard, dark clouds swirling about turbulently. He turned to the Ghost of Sparta, searching for evidence of a lie. Then he smiled at Kratos with a touch of appreciation. The smile turned into a sneer.

  “I underestimated you.” Zeus held out his hands, palms up. His thunderbolts began forming in each hand. “A mistake I do not intend to repeat.”

  Before Kratos could swing the Blade of Olympus, Zeus rushed him. The lightning bolts seared at his body, and then Zeus’ arms encircled his waist. The thunderbolts exploded and carried both Zeus and Kratos high in the air.

  Kratos fought in the god’s arms, attempting to bring up the sword to deliver to Zeus what he had already given the fallen Kratos. They shot farther into the sky, through storm clouds. Lightning surrounded them as they fought in midair; rain pelted them. Zeus tried to pull the Blade of Olympus from Kratos’ grip, but the Ghost of Sparta had endured too much to release it so quickly, so easily. It was his weapon of choice to kill Zeus.

  Arching his back and bringing up his feet to kick at Zeus’ chest, Kratos separated himself and tumbled backward, through the clouds, through the rain, and toward an abandoned shrine atop a mountain. Kratos spun and got his feet under him in time to land heavily. He went to one knee, then stood slowly, the Blade of Olympus firmly in his grip.

  Kratos had never been here before but recognized it from Gaia’s tale of Rhea giving up baby Zeus. The stone altar had weathered over the centuries, but he could picture the disconsolate mother handing over her infant to an eagle to carry away for Gaia to raise while surrendering a rock dressed in swaddling for Cronos to swallow.

  He turned to see Zeus peering over the edge of the mountainside. He had grown to immense size. For an instant Kratos was taken back to when he had faced the god-sized Ares before opening Pandora’s Box and growing in size to fight on more equal terms. Kratos lifted the Blade of Olympus and knew Zeus’ size did not matter. The blade was so intensely powerful, he could kill a god with it.

  And he would.

  “I will show you the true power of the gods!” Zeus cried. Golden nimbuses of lightning enveloped Zeus’ hands, then he slammed his fists down on the rocky mountaintop. The curtain of energy raced across to sweep Kratos backward.

  With the Blade of Olympus held aloft, he deflected the worst of the energy storm. Then he advanced on the King of the Gods. Zeus might be a hundred times his size, but the Blade of Olympus evened the odds. Zeus leaned forward on both hands.

  Kratos unleashed the Atlas Quake and sent Zeus staggering back. He quickly followed with the Rage of the Titans to add extra power to his sword thrust.

  “Even with the power of the Titans, you cannot beat me. I am the ruler of the gods!”

  “You are weak, Zeus. Submit and I will let you serve me!” Kratos intended to infuriate Zeus so that he would make a mistake. It worked.

  Zeus let out a battle cry.

  “Kratos, you are no god! You are not worthy of a throne on Olympus.”

  Zeus threw a thunderbolt and was rocked back when Kratos used the Golden Fleece to turn it back on its user. But Kratos found that the Cronos Rage had little effect. He rushed forward and stabbed out with the blade, pinking Zeus’ hand. The blade barely penetrated the back of a hand that had delivered a potent blow to the mountaintop, but Kratos felt the blade begin to quiver as it sucked up Zeus’ energy.

  The King of the Gods began to shrink visibly and soon was hardly taller than Kratos himself. But i
f the change in size made Zeus less intimidating, his energy had been condensed into a smaller body. A golden aura suffused him as he attacked. Blows capable of killing a bull were exchanged, and Kratos found himself hard-pressed to maintain the fight. Zeus was all-powerful, a god, and possessed of an anger matching Kratos’ own.

  But the Blade of Olympus fed Kratos and kept him in the fight, thrusting, finding Zeus’ arms and legs. When he pointed the tip at Zeus, blue fire leaped forth and diminished the King of the Gods. More than once, judicious use of the wings of Icarus kept Kratos from being incinerated by the thunderbolts Zeus hurled.

  Kratos drove forward, only to find Zeus’ fingers around his neck, squeezing the life from him. The Blade of Olympus dropped from his grip, and Zeus cast him away like some piece of offal.

  “If you will not serve, then you will die!” Zeus stalked to where Kratos lay stunned. Zeus held the Blade of Olympus in his grip and was ready to again kill Kratos with it. “Your powers are no match for mine!”

  Before Zeus could lunge, Kratos wrapped his arms around a massive stone column, wrenched hard, and broke it free from its foundations. He let it fall on Zeus.

  Lying stunned under the weight of the toppled column, Zeus tried to stand. Grabbing the fallen Blade of Olympus once more fed Kratos’ power. He drove the sword into a stillstanding stone pillar, worked his way to the top of the ruined temple, bent low, and thrust his fingers under the edge of a lintel. He heaved and sent the lintel and two columns toppling onto Zeus.

  The god cried as the massive weight crushed him.

  “I told you I’d make you pay for what you did,” Kratos said.

  Kratos jumped down, ready to dispatch Zeus to the deepest recess of the Underworld, but the King of the Gods gave a massive heave, climbed from under the pile of stone, and began to grow in size once more.

  “I am through playing with you, Kratos.”

  Kratos stood, glaring up at the imposing figure. He lifted the Blade of Olympus, then lowered it. His shoulders sagged. He drove the blade into the ground and turned away from Zeus.

  “I lay down my arms, Zeus.”

  He dropped to his knees and held out his arms from his shoulders.

  “Release me from this torment. That is all I have ever asked—and it is the one thing that you have denied me.”

  Zeus shrank in size and floated down to stand behind Kratos. He gripped the hilt of the Blade of Olympus and drew it, then approached Kratos.

  “I will release you from your life, my son, but your torment is just beginning!” He lifted the blade to make a killing stroke across the back of Kratos’ neck.

  As Zeus drew back for the blow, Kratos ducked down, got his feet under him, and drove backward, the Blades of Athena stabbing out. The tip of one caught Zeus in the midriff. Blood exploded from the wound, and Zeus slumped back, sorely injured. All the rage Kratos had built for years blazed forth now. He turned and repeatedly drove his sword into Zeus with his right hand as his left circled Zeus’ wrist to keep the Blade of Olympus at bay. A savage twist forced Zeus to drop the weapon.

  Kratos continued his attack, kicking Zeus to the ground. As the King of the Gods attempted to pick up the fallen blade, Kratos grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and smashed his head repeatedly into the stone altar where Zeus was to have been sacrificed to Cronos. The shower of blood mingled with the falling rain.

  Reaching down, Kratos picked up the Blade of Olympus. There was no hesitation in his strike as he lunged forward. Zeus grabbed the blade to keep it from skewering him in the chest. Kratos leaned on the hilt, refusing to yield as Zeus slowly weakened. The thrust finally drove home. But this was not enough for Kratos. He yanked it free of its godly sheath and stabbed Zeus again.

  Before he could end Zeus’ life, the slap of sandals against wet stone came from his left.

  Athena shoved him away and cried, “You cannot do this, Kratos!” She interposed her body between god and mortal.

  “You dare stand against me, Athena?”

  “I do not wish to fight you, Kratos.” She grappled with him, pushing against the blade and trying to force him away from where Zeus clutched at his bleeding chest. “But I will defend Olympus!”

  Kratos looked past her to where Zeus painfully climbed to his feet. His wounds healed of their own accord, but there was a slowness to his movement that betrayed how badly Kratos had injured him.

  “Know this, my son. You have started a war you cannot win. The Sisters of Fate have already deemed me victorious!”

  Kratos growled and shoved Athena to the side to finish the killing he had begun. Zeus would die!

  Kratos lunged, but Zeus had already begun his retreat, his feet leaving the ground and his body soaring high into the clouds. But Kratos’ blade did not lack a target. The Blade of Olympus ran Athena through.

  “Athena, no!” The blade began draining her of her godly power. “Why do you sacrifice yourself?”

  “To save Olympus.”

  “I do not think to destroy Olympus. Only Zeus!”

  She reached up, her hand gentle as she rested it on his shoulder, then his cheek.

  “Zeus is Olympus.” She coughed up blood and sagged. Kratos cradled her as he guided her gently to the ground.

  “He brought this to himself.”

  “He did it because of fear, Kratos, a fear felt by his father, Cronos. A fear that brought the Great War, a fear that drove Zeus to kill you … his own son.”

  Her fingers slipped across Kratos’ cheek and then away, limp as death approached.

  “His son?”

  “Just as Zeus was compelled to destroy his father, Cronos, you are compelled to do the same. No son should destroy his own father.”

  Kratos pulled away and sneered. “No, I have no father.”

  “God after god will deny you, Kratos. They will protect Zeus. Zeus must live so Olympus will prevail.” She collapsed fully to the ground. Her gray eyes were on Kratos as the light faded and the life fled.

  “If all on Olympus will deny me my vengeance, then all on Olympus will die.” Kratos stood and watched as her body evaporated.

  “I have lived in the shadow of the gods for long enough. The time of the gods has come to an end!”

  Athena’s body flared and a green fountain of the motes erupted skyward, swallowed by the clouds. Kratos lowered his head as the shock wave of her passing radiated across the lonely mountaintop. When he looked up, Athena was gone.

  Through the building storm, Gaia spoke to him.

  “Remember, Kratos, you have the power to control time itself.”

  He knew what had to be done.

  KRATOS STOOD BEFORE the huge mirror above Clotho’s Loom Chamber. Reels of thick threads were arrayed behind him. On each reel were wound threads of fate as large as his brawny forearm. He had brought the reels to this place and saw how the quivering cables ran away from the mirror. He drew the Spear of Destiny and watched intently as it responded when he touched its spear tip against the largest of the cables, a brown one highlighted with tiny stripes the green of forests.

  Resolve hardened. Kratos swung the Spear of Destiny and cut through one huge thread after another until all the reels held only the ends of the threads. He stepped forward into the mirror and felt the gut-tearing transition as he returned in time, this trip taking him back innumerable centuries. Prepared for the shift this time, he found himself in the middle of a devastated plain, buildings burning in every direction he looked.

  The ground rumbled. Kratos looked up and saw that what he had mistaken to be a large hill covered with grass and a small forest was a Titan. He had never seen Gaia before—not in her actual guise—but this had to be the Titan of the earth.

  She towered more than a thousand feet high, her body nothing but dirt and vegetation. Pendulous breasts the size of large war galleons drooped down, attesting to her status as a mother to all. She blinked a dirt-brown eye and bent low. A hand that might have been dipped in mud and then dried reached out to him. Kratos did n
ot flinch.

  “Gaia!”

  “We have been expecting you, Ghost of Sparta. The gods are much too powerful for us to defeat now.”

  “All on Olympus tremble at my name! Zeus is weak, Ares and Athena are dead. And I wield the blade! We can win the Great War, but not in this time.” In the distance rose twisting columns of stark blue energy, the weapons of the gods driving back the Titans in their last futile assault on Olympus. “I have killed the Sisters of Fate and severed the threads of destiny they weaved for you in my time. Together we will kill the petty gods and see Olympus tremble before us.”

  Kratos was bathed in coruscating energy. He turned and felt the pull of the time mirror behind him.

  “Come with me, Gaia. Return to my time. Victory awaits.”

  Storms built all around, blinding him with dirt and rain.

  Zeus sat on his throne, hands gripping the arms so hard the stone cracked. Arrayed before his throne were the gods and goddesses of Olympus, all apprehensive at being summoned to the foot of the throne of the King of the Gods.

  “We have faced far worse than this one fallen mortal,” Zeus said in a booming, confident voice. “We are the gods! We, whom the mortals worship, we who rule over this land, we will not be swept aside by this petulant fool!”

  Zeus saw the uneasiness among the gods. Even his brothers Poseidon and Hades looked apprehensive.

  “Brothers, put aside the petty grievances that have splintered us for so long. We will unite, we will stand together, and I will wipe out this plague! Olympus will prevail!”

  Zeus shot to his feet and stumbled. An earthquake shook the home of the gods. Statues cracked and parts fell with thunderous crashing. He brushed aside part of the dome of his audience chamber that fell too close to his throne. The gods rushed to the terrace and looked down. Zeus followed, stepping over marble columns that had collapsed in the quake.