War God's Mantle- Underworld

by James Hunter

  At least the two towers I’d created hadn’t been destroyed. Amazons were bringing up fresh ballista bolts to get them ready for the next wave. Always a next wave. I growled, and the gemstone in my chest flashed. Trying to win this war defensively just wasn’t going to work—not long-term. I had no idea how he was doing it, but Hades could create monsters at a far greater rate than I could forge defenders. He was grinding me down in a war of attrition. What I needed to do was lash out against Hades himself. Bring the fight to him. To Earl Echo Earl. To Antiope. But to do that, I needed intel, and I needed a plan.

  I gulped down water from the fountain before heading over to the forge.

  Phoebe was already there, loitering near the anvil, sweat running down her back and along her arms from the roaring heat. Brontia and Steropia had gone to collect more of the sacred clay that I used to create my army.

  Phoebe, noticing the sweat on my brow, motioned at a large goblet full of Mountain Dew. Thank goodness. I swept it up and gulped it down. “Okay, let’s get on with it,” I said. “We can create some more Amazons, and then we can go and interrogate our new goddess. Maybe a little torture might help her remember why she came.”

  Phoebe gave me a long sideways glance. Dude, you have got to get a grip. You just suggested we torture the weepy goddess who only just showed up. The godstone is really dicking with you.

  I paused, mid-drink. Shit. Had I really just suggested torture? It had just sort of come out of my mouth without even a thought. “Fuck me,” I said, lowering the glass and running a hand along my jaw. “You’re right. And, no, we’re not going to torture her. But, Phoebe, in the mirror, I saw her as this old crone in the Underworld. She was all nasty. She sure as hell looked evil.”

  Some of us can’t be perfect. Phoebe motioned to her withered leg. Just because she isn’t exactly what she appears to be doesn’t mean she’s all bad. Not necessarily, anyway. She didn’t come at us with a thermonuclear warhead or with snake hair that spits acid. I looked, and I don’t see a cure for the River Lethe’s magic. I’m hoping, given enough time, she’ll start to remember things. She is a goddess, after all. But which one?

  “She’s amazingly beautiful,” I said absently, drumming my fingers on my leg. “But I don’t think she’s Aphrodite. Or Artemis. I don’t think Hera cried that much, nor did Athena. And I don’t get that whole goddess of the hearth vibe from her.”

  Yeah, probably not Hestia. She’s too young to be a MILF. Phoebe smiled at me. But she is hot. Are you going to make a play for her? Maybe it’s a Disney thing, and if you give her the kiss of true love, she’ll remember everything.

  The Rune-Caster fashioned a figurine for a Beastiamancer and laid it on the anvil.

  “How can you ask me that?” I asked. “I mean, you and I are romantically involved. Aren’t you jealous?”

  Phoebe laughed. Jealousy is more of a god-slash-goddess thing. We Amazons are realists. We fight, we love. It’s just sex. Please. I thought you’d gotten over your Oedipal-sized issues?

  “So, if I started banging the new goddess, you wouldn’t care?” I moved over and hefted the Hammer of Hephaestus, Athena on one side, Aphrodite on the other, perfectly etched into the metal. Though the new girl was smoking, there was no resemblance to either of the women depicted on the hammer—and since Hephaestus had been in love with Aphrodite, it seemed like he probably would’ve gotten her looks right. I faltered for a moment. Had Hephaestus been in love with Aphrodite? Or was that just some old myth I’d learned back in grade school?

  As I thought about the god of the forge, the godstone glittered in my chest and a memory flashed through me. Suddenly, I had the War Blade in my hand. We were in a dark city ... at first, I thought it was underground, but above were stars. No, not stars. Impossible suns in some distant universe, maybe. Or were they simply twinkling gems set in dark stone? I couldn’t tell—everything was so hazy in my head.

  I gripped a bearded man by the breastplate. His eyes were wide and wild. He was saying something, but I didn’t care. I was insane with rage. He jabbered at me—begging, pleading?—but the words fell on deaf ears. With a growl, I drove the War Blade through his heart, below a blood-red gemstone. He, like me, was a god. When he finally slipped from the tip of my sword, blood dribbling from his lips, I noticed one of his legs was thin and withered. Hephaestus, no doubt about it.

  Ares had killed the god, that much was clear. But why? I didn’t know, and the memory wasn’t telling me anything.

  Phoebe was talking, but I was having trouble listening. I was so full of rage. Hephaestus, that bastard. Ares never had much respect for him, given the fact that the blacksmith couldn’t keep Aphrodite faithful to him. And what kind of god builds weapons for others to use? Not a god at all. A weakling. A wave of fierce pride washed through me. I was glad I’d killed him. Um, yeah, not me. Ares had killed him.

  Phoebe snapped her fingers. Jacob, you there? Are you listening to a word I’m sending? Or are you pondering all the nasty things you’re going to do to Doris and Ianthe? I heard there was much kissing and rejoicing.

  I blinked. “No, I just had a memory from Ares, from when he killed Hephaestus. You don’t remember anything about that whole thing, do you?”

  Phoebe shook her head. Sorry, man. We might as well have been dipped in the River Lethe, too. I only have vague recollections of my time as Phoebe 1.0. Speaking of which, Ares was dipping his wick in Hephaestus’ babe, so that probably didn’t really help relations.

  “No, it’s more than that,” I said. “I just don’t know what or how. Phoebe, I think as I level more and more, the pure energy in the godstone is affecting my thinking. That and the Crystal Scythe. Do ... Do you think there’s a way for me to access my god powers but still be me? Or is this just a losing battle?”

  Phoebe thought for several long minutes, brows knitted. We could try to hack the gaming system? Maybe put in logic that gives you power but limits the telepathic components. I might be able to come up with something. A magical item of some sort. A necklace, maybe, that keeps the power below the neck but doesn’t affect your brain. Because you are losing it, and I like Jacob more than Ares. The former god of war could be a total frat boy dickbag at times. You’re just dorky. I like dorky.

  “Thanks.” I frowned. Magical help would be nice, but I was worried it might hurt my power absorption. I needed to be at my best, my strongest, and if that meant losing my personality, it might be worth it. We were talking about the future of the human world after all. But, if there was any other way, I would take it for sure.

  And just to answer your question from earlier about banging the goddess, which totally sounds like a new sitcom on Hulu, no, I wouldn’t mind. Jacob, all of us assumed that you would be having sex with any woman that had a hole and a heartbeat. The fact that you’re clutching your pearls at the very idea is troubling. When you first created us but didn’t sleep with us right away, Myrina was all, “If he can’t man up in the bedroom, how can he god it up on the battlefield?”

  That made me laugh. I could totally picture Myrina frowning, arms crossed, foot tapping, as she pondered that.

  I exhaled a tense breath. “But now things with Myrina are all weird. She’s part mom, part daughter, all strangeness. At times, she wants to protect me from everything, other times she gets all glassy-eyed and stares up at me worshipfully. I snapped at her. I feel bad.”

  Phoebe rolled her eyes. Ares used to yell at us all the time, and berate us. Especially Myrina. You’re super nice and we like that. But, if you’re asking for advice, I’d try and fix things with Myrina. We need you guys working together.

  “I’ll do that,” I said. But I couldn’t come across as soft with my Battle Warden general. She wouldn’t like that. Of course, with the gemstone driving my rage, I didn’t think that would be a problem.

  Phoebe and I got to work, crafting more Beastiamancers and Battle Wardens, since they were cheaper and easier to craft than Elementalists, Huntresses, and Teleporters. We also talked about h
ow I could use some of our waning supply of Thymos Crystals to upgrade our Forest-Witches. I thought potions could be really helpful during battle.

  We spent a couple hours in the forge before Phoebe pulled out her steampunk mech to walk with me over to the fields behind the barracks on the north end of the city. Phoebe’s mech was an incredible piece of machinery with four legs that could walk over anything. The enormous Iron Man contraption had two tree-trunk-sized arms, one with a bronze buzz saw and the other with a fully automatic crossbow that had an unlimited supply of bolts—a little container of Thymos Crystals under the arm turned into quarrels when she needed them.

  Phoebe and I found Sabra, Hespera, and Aresthusa, the Forest-Witches. They were in the garden, pulling weeds, nurturing herbs, crooning at growing plants, and chopping up roots. They’d fashioned a table which was covered in vials, cutting boards, and a variety of pestles and mortars.

  We would keep Sabra as our battlefield Forest-Witch—she was invaluable on the field. Hesperia and Aresthusa, on the other hand, would stay and be our master brewers, cooking up potions that could heal injuries, refuel me with Divine Essence, and give our spellcasters extra mojo to boot. Each of the Amazons used a variation of the Divine Essence Points. The extra speed, strength, and durability of Battle Wardens was due to the Dýnami in their systems. My Rune-Casters could magically craft impossible technology because of Poniriá. Loxo had Skiá to power her abilities, which helped her move silently and unseen. Exousía fueled the rest of my Amazons: Beastiamancers, Elementalists, and Teleporters.

  Using some of my regenerated Essence, I leveled both Hesperia and Aresthusa up to give them potion abilities. That drained me. However, it wasn’t nearly as hard as powering up Sabra to level eight.

  The new brewers got to work, mixing up magical concoctions that would power us along.

  Sabra got close to me and kept brushing her curvy body against me. I was having a helluva time staying focused. She smelled so good—like the outdoors, mint, and a flowery perfume—and she looked like one of those old-school pinup girls. It didn’t help that I knew she was randy as hell, as were my other Forest-Witches. They were earthy girls, after all. But if I started with them, even just a kiss, it would distract me from my interrogation of the goddess, and that? I needed to get on with that ASAP.

  I mean, who knew what info she might have secreted away in her lost memories?

  Phoebe powered ahead to the palace while I walked along the terraces, watching as the sun grew closer to the horizon, casting distorted shadows along on the western beach, still blackened from the battle.

  Idly, I thought of Doris and Ianthe—not to mention the scores of other Amazons who looked at me with such lust in their eyes. I swore to myself, and to the horny godstone, that once we took care of Hades and the constant attacks—once I had a few days of downtime—that I would start giving the Amazons what they so obviously wanted. Once we did win, once we did remove the threat, seal the rift, and end things, what would my life look like?

  Beach parties? Heavy drinking? Endless pizza and a literal fountain of Mountain Dew?

  What about the real world? Would I want to find my way back to Earth and the Marine Corps? Honestly, I didn’t even know if I could go back to the real world. I’d spent so much time traipsing around Lycastia, yet I still wasn’t sure where the island actually was. Was it just a little spit of land, tucked away in the heart of the Mediterranean? That was what I’d originally thought, but then during my travels to Nyx, I’d started wondering. A huge cavern like that would’ve been seen by geologists, but there was no mention of the island or city in any book or database. So where was Lycastia exactly? Maybe the better question was, what was it?

  Assuming I could find my way back, however, would I actually want to go home? I couldn’t imagine my life without my Amazons, but it’s not like we could all move to Utah and start our own little polygamous compound. Someone would notice that kind of thing, and it wouldn’t be too long before the government started poking around, which would spell trouble. Besides, what would my parents think? My mom would love Phoebe and tolerate Asteria, but she would lock horns with Myrina the first chance she got. And my dad, the quiet Presbyterian, would frown on my living situation.

  I almost died laughing at the thought. I could damn near see my dad’s face, beat red, eyes bulging, as he looked at the gorgeous women hanging off me.

  My laughter soon guttered and faded as reality settled over me. Assuming I reached level fifty, where I thought I’d have the power to remake the seal, would Ares have completely taken over my consciousness? It seemed likely. And if that happened, then things would go back to normal on Lycastia, with Ares in charge and his Amazons suffering through his rule. That certainly wasn’t what I wanted, either. I only hoped Phoebe and I could figure out the tech to keep the godstone from blotting out my personality forever.

  Enough of these musings! the godstone erupted in frustration.

  I had to agree. It was time to interrogate the mysterious goddess and figure out who the fuck she was and what the fuck she wanted.

  And if I had to kiss her to find out? Oh, well. I could take one for the team if it came to that.

  Tears, Wine, and a Kiss

  MY PALACE HAD A GUEST room with a view of the Temple of Ares, his statue, and the burbling fountain below. I helped Phoebe limp onto the balcony where Myrina and our new goddess sat on crimson-cushioned divans. Above us a red canopy flapped in the breeze, filled with the smell of the sea and smoky leftovers of the funeral pyres. It gave us some shade as the sun dipped lower in the sky. A two o’clock battle meant we’d be fighting again at ten that night.

  Below, my new bear riders and bull riders were getting ready for the impending attack, being drilled by Euryleia on her giant grizzly bear, Buttercup, and Ariadne on her bull, Thunderfoot. Overhead flew Amazons on winged horses led by Toxaris and Asteria, who couldn’t get enough of her dinosaur forms. She dipped and soared as a bright blue pterodactyl, then executed a series of impressively fast barrel rolls. The shifter could outfly the rest of the Amazons without even breaking a sweat.

  Myrina tipped a glass goblet of wine and frowned at the goddess. “Our guest remembers little, and what she does know she is reticent to discuss.”

  I grinned. Myrina had used her Attribute Points to improve her Intelligence not too long ago. Using words like “reticent” proved it.

  Phoebe took a seat, folding her legs beneath her—hiding her bad leg from view. She joked about her issues, but I knew her leg still bothered her. I stood, pacing back and forth. I wanted the interview over and done with so I could go bathe up on the rooftop. Maybe do a repeat of the day’s prior events with Phoebe, Asteria, and Loxo. Or maybe just me and Phoebe. Or maybe someone new. The godstone liked the idea of getting a little strange. Both Doris and Ianthe seemed willing. Or Sabra and the Forest-Witches might be fun.

  But first, the mystery goddess.

  I waved Myrina on. “How about you clue us in, since I can’t stand to see a goddess cry.”

  The gorgeous divine woman had a glass of wine herself, and she seemed far calmer. She didn’t respond to my jab.

  Myrina nodded, getting down to business. “She emerged from the Underworld in the Temple of Hades on the southern tip of the island. She travelled through a labyrinth to get to us here. She was able to get over our walls undetected because she has Dasikí Mágissa abilities, though she is unbelievably powerful. On a level of magnitude that far surpasses our own Forest-Witch, Sabra.”

  “How could that be?” I asked. “The sigil keeps the Underworld closed.”

  Yeah, if the sigil was working, Phoebe sent. But it’s cracking. It keeps Hades out, but we know shit is creeping through.

  Makes sense, I replied. I asked Myrina, “Do we have any idea who she really is?”

  The goddess—a brunette now, with dark brown eyes—let out an exasperated sigh. “I am here, and yet you speak like I am not. This is not acceptable. I am a goddess, after all.”

/>   “Goddess of what?” I walked over to her, challenging her to answer.

  She couldn’t meet my gaze. “I do not know. And while I came here to see you, I forget why. It seems my plan was faulty.”

  Goddess of forgetting shit? Phoebe’s voice was laughing in my head. Goddess of bad plans?

  Funny, I sent back. Then I said, “Okay. Well, maybe you can’t tell me shit about yourself or the Underworld, but you came from the Temple of Hades, right? So tell me what you can about that. What it’s like. How it’s fortified. Any potential weaknesses in its defenses.”

  “Well,” she said, smoothing her gauzy dress. “It is very much like Lycastia, I suppose. A sister city, if you will. There is a central temple to the dark god, but around it, all the buildings have been destroyed. It is open, except for fountains fashioned from the rubble. That is where the monsters emerge from, every eight hours. They start small, but then the demigod of rot uses his power to mature them.”

  “Does this demigod of rot have a big green mace with a skull on top?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  So, Necro Earl was the new demigod on the block. Fuck that guy.

  I had an idea. “But you said you got out of there through some sort of labyrinth. Any chance you can get us back into the Temple of Hades by the same route? I want to chop the demigod of rot into little pieces and see if he can resurrect himself.”

  “I can,” she said. “Perhaps that is why I came in the first place. I was not happy before. I loathed my existence. But I cannot fathom why. And I miss my mother.”

  “You miss your mother?” I smiled. Everything clicked into place. “I think I know who you are.”

  Phoebe messaged me. A goddess from the Underworld who changes all the time? Who has power over plant life? Who misses her mother? Duh, we should’ve known this right away.