by James Hunter
That was when a blue triceratops hit the bull creature like a Mack Truck. Asteria drove her three horns into the Tauromino’s side. Black blood coated my Beastiamancer, who’d appeared just in time to save the day. Myrina sped up, spear and shield ready, to face the creature. Hephaestus’ very human face twisted in pain, but the Tauromino was far from dead. It turned its hose on Asteria and Myrina.
In that moment, I knew I could’ve helped them. But, no, the godstone wanted me to finish the bull-headed Minotaur off for good.
After all, if my two generals died in battle, it was as it should be. They were Amazons, and I had created them to live, fight, and die at my command.
“Jacob! Help us!” Myrina shouted, her voice strained.
I ignored her, instead charging the Minotaur, which was struggling to gain its feet. I raised the War Blade to end it. The bull-headed creature, however, brought its burning shield up to block the blow at the last moment. My favorite sword clanged off the surface and instantly heated up to a thousand degrees, my hand blistering as a result. A jag of white-hot agony raced along my palm and up my arm. The blade fell to the ground, clattering on the stone. The War Blade was an indestructible artifact, but my hand wasn’t.
Still, I pushed the sudden jolt of agony from my mind. With a mighty sweep of my leg, I drove my knee into the Minotaur’s inhuman face, launching the creature through the wooden wall of the factory. The whole place collapsed on the creature. Plumes of dust and smoke rose from the destroyed building, sweeping over us like a tsunami.
“Nooooo!” Daedalus’ cry ripped through the battle. “Not my precious creations!” the mad man bellowed, streaking through the sky. He was a dark-cloaked figure, riding on golden winged sandals. That footwear looked familiar, and I don’t mean it had the Nike swoop on it. No, Hermes had worn those shoes.
I turned and reached out my fried right hand. “Plague Locust!” A cloud of three-inch-long insects erupted from my palm. The Divine Essence left me in a wave, but I was so full of rage and battle lust, I hardly felt the drain. The locusts latched onto the robed figure, biting into exposed skin, chewing through the dark fabric. The man toppled from the air, landing in a tangle of limbs, buried beneath a mound of wriggling insectile bodies. Served that asshole right. He screamed, batting frantically at the bugs, as I turned my attention back to the main threat.
Time to slay the Minotaur, then I’d deal with that creeper Daedalus, get my Crystal Scythe back, and find out what other godly trinkets the mad genius had stashed around this place.
Harvester of Enemies
THE MINOTAUR MARCHED out of the destroyed factory; its inhuman eyes burned with hate and the flaming shield threw off heat like a personal sun. The monster was coming at me. Hard.
And I was without a weapon other than the Sower’s Glass shield. The bronze dog-thing still had my Crystal Scythe clutched in its weird-ass pinchers. Yet as it ran toward an exit, the machine was losing gears, the metal becoming rusted as the temporal effects of the weapon aged the machine at a preternatural rate. Unfortunately, it was too far away to do me any good and my War Blade was still glowing red-hot. Persephone was down for the count, however, unable to get up after being hit with the concussive blast of the spear, and her newly acquired Sickles of Demeter lay nearby.
That seemed like an open invitation to me. And not a moment too soon, either.
I dove to the right, rolling across the cobblestones, then snatched up both Sickles of Demeter as I gained my feet and wheeled on the charging douchebag Minotaur. The instant the weapons were in my hands, I felt smarter, heartier, and luckier. My Intelligence, Willpower, and Fortune attributes all shot up because of the weapons, and I felt every point. It was awesome! Too bad I’d already used Wrath, since my Fortune had basically doubled. That didn’t matter, though, as I still had more than enough juice to smack Daedalus and his pets down.
And speaking of Daedalus, the mad genius zipped by, twenty feet above me, tossing out odd bronze orbs covered in cogs and odd buttons. He’d managed to kill all my Plague Locusts, which was damned surprising. When the spheres hit the ground, they sprouted eight legs. Sparks lit up from inside the spiders, which were each about the size of a cocker spaniel. A dozen of the things came at me like mechanical daddy longlegs. Fangs clacked at the center of their bodies, and beady red eyes locked on to my position like goddamned little Terminator robots. Creepy suckers, though the Minotaur was still my primary concern at the moment.
The bull-headed freak flung another shadow spear at me, and I took it on my steel skin. It carved away a portion of my Health. Another few blows like that, Defender ability or not, and I’d be done for.
I activated the Root Feet power of the sickles. Leafy vines erupted out of the stone, entangling the steampunk daddy longlegs encroaching on my position. Thicker plants gripped the legs of the Minotaur in front of me, winding their way up its hairy legs and lashing out, snaring its arms.
The thing’s onyx eyes widened. It struggled, bucked, then dropped its colossal head and shook its razor-sharp horns back and forth, frantically trying to slice through the foliage. The Minotaur was making more headway then I liked—ba dum tss. Headway.
I wasn’t going to mess around with this thing, though. I was sick to death of all these steampunk monsters, and we had places to be and things to kill. Like Earl. And this thing was getting in my way—a fact it would very soon regret. The sickles possessed the Maelstrom Blades attack, quadrupling the number of times I could slice and dice with the weapons. And I could do it at a distance by hurling the harvesting hooks. I still had enough Jacob in me to know that getting anywhere near that spear was bad news. It wasn’t your typical weapon, no, but most likely the weapon of a god.
At that moment, the godstone was just happy to be dealing out epic amounts of damage.
With a heave, I flung the sickles with every ounce of strength I could put into the throw. The weapons flashed through the air. Sure, the Minotaur was able to bat away one of the hooks with that blast-furnace shield, but it didn’t get the other one. The second blade struck its arm and ripped out a chunk of meat. The deflected sickle—now glowing inferno-red—boomeranged back toward the beast, cutting off one of its horns. Five other times, those blades gashed the bull-headed beast, slicing off a thousand points of damage per hit.
Better yet? All those daddy longlegs around me took a quarter of that damage. That was nearly 500 points of Smiting that blew off their legs, extinguished fires, and blasted bits of metal across the cobblestones of the agora. Brutal.
The bleeding Minotaur weaved like a punch-drunk fighter as the sickles finally spun through the air and returned to my hands. The beast was hurt bad, on the ropes but not quite down for the count. I intended to rectify that, and thanks to the plants still binding its feet to the ground, I could do it without a problem.
I sprinted forward, both sickles held over my head, and I Smote that bull with both hands. I dealt out nearly 900 points of damage, thanks to my significantly improved stats. A blast of pure energy exploded out from me and into those hooks. I cleaved through the creature’s shoulder blades, down into its breastplate, in through its ribs, and out its sides. Carved it up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Black blood gushed out and covered me in hot fluid. Gears went flying. Hoses buried in its flesh were cut, and steam went spitting and sizzling out.
The Minotaur roared in pain and defeat. It staggered momentarily then keeled over, hitting the ground with a thud that rattled my teeth. It was one big son of a bitch.
I didn’t take time to gloat, though. There was still another Minotaur to kill ... Well, reverse Minotaur, but that just seemed like semantics.
I wheeled, scanning the battlefield.
My stomach lurched into my throat. I was too late ...
Not to save my Amazons, but rather to finish off the human-headed Tauromino.
My ’Zons were working like a well-oiled machine, and that sucker was on its very last legs. Myrina danced around the creature, using her superior speed
and agility to hack into limbs and leave long, brutal slashes across exposed flesh. Doris and Ianthe, spears in hand, harried the creature on its flanks, buying Myrina all the time she needed to carve the beastie up. Somehow, Phoebe had managed to remove the crossbow from her mech and was currently laying down uncannily accurate suppressive fire like a boss. And Asteria was tanking like no one’s business while in the form of a prehistoric grizzly the size of a M1A1.
I watched, the Jacob Merely side of me burning with fierce pride as my warriors worked. We had our problems, true, but at the end of the day, we were a family. These women would fight and die for each other, and they’d happily fight and die for me no matter the odds.
Asteria shot straight in, driving a furry shoulder bigger than a bowling ball into the Tauromino’s human face. Its nose exploded in a fountain of blood and the steampunk goggles covering its eyes cracked. Not a critical hit by a long shot, but it did create an opening that Myrina exploited like the pro she was. In an instant, the Battle Warden general was flying through the air, legs cartwheeling above her, before landing on the creature’s back, her razor-sharp sword screaming around in a vicious arc.
The blade parted flesh, metal, and piping with equal ease, and just like that the creature’s head detached from its body, flopping to the ground with a wet thud.
The body, completely headless, collapsed a moment later.
“No, no, no!” Daedalus shrieked, pulling at the wild tufts of silver hair jutting from his skull. “This isn’t the way it was supposed to go!”
That was definitely the understatement of the century. His two champions were both dead, and the rest of my ’Zons were just finishing up with the rest of the steam-powered zoo he’d unleashed on us during his little attack.
“You haven’t beaten me!” he screeched, wheeling midair, thanks to his fancy winged footwear. “I’ll be back! I swear it true, so it must be!” He cackled and tried to make a break for it. But Aella, my Air-Witch, was having none of that. She thrust her hands out, conjuring a hurricane breeze that stopped Daedalus in his tracks. He was trying to fly directly into the gale-force winds. Nope. Not going to happen. For being a genius ... Well, that was an awfully stupid move.
He changed course, thinking to use that wind to fly away in the other direction. Bad idea. With a flick of her wrists, Sabra summoned a forest of vines out of the grassy courtyard. Those leafy tendrils wrapped arounds his legs and brought him crashing down. A blazing star, smashing into the earth. And then Calla was there, hands on fire; she flash-fried the robes off the Greek genius. He was left scorched and dressed in smoldering bits of fabric. The fired burned through his leather bag’s strap. The satchel opened and his steampunk orbs went rolling away. It seemed that without his personal touch, they couldn’t be activated. Now that was a pity.
Sabra strengthened her vines, taking a fresh hold of Daedalus as he struggled and screamed.
My War Blade had finally cooled enough and seemed to be working again. I called it to me with a thought. With a smug, deadly grin stretched across my face, I strolled across the battlefield, the War Blade hovering over my shoulder, the sickles in my fists. By that time, the bronze-pincher dog had collapsed into a pile of dust. The Crystal Scythe was in the far corner, but I could collect it in a second.
I approached Daedalus, looming over him like the god I was—bold, strong, unstoppable. The godstone burned and thrummed in my chest, and suddenly I felt invincible. Ares’ thoughts were creeping in around the edges of my mind, but for the moment I didn’t mind in the least. I looked down on my foe. He was a disgusting thing. An old man, with a mostly bald pate and a beard half burned away. Watery blue eyes peered out above sooty cheeks. He was emaciated, clearly, and a bit touched. “We have vanquished you and your pathetic army,” I said, voice distant and oddly hollow. “We are mighty. I plan on slaying you, to make our victory complete. But first, I would question you.”
Phoebe limped over. “Ugh, Ares is back. Yeah, smart. ‘I’m going to kill you, but first, can I ask you a few questions?’” Sarcasm filled her voice.
“Silence!” I roared, pinning her in place with a withering glare. “You will not impugn my authority, Phoebe!”
She wasn’t impressed. She pointed to the sickles in my hand. “Those must help with your Intelligence. That’s why you used the word ‘impugn.’ Doesn’t make you any less of a tool.” She sighed. “Just ask him about the Olympian War, already. Let’s get this over with.”
Daedalus cackled. “You would know about the Olympian War? Why, War God, your own bloodlust gave Hades the victory, or at least the appearance of one. Trouble, trouble in your own ranks. But that is over. The Olympian Gods are finished. Hades will bring his dark armies across the worlds, and nothing will stand in his way! Nothing!”
The old man’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he seemed to be seconds away from chewing on his own tongue. What in the hell was wrong with him?
Then I saw the red gem in his chest. I’d seen a couple of stones like that before. One was snuggled directly in the center of my chest and the other was in Persephone. That was a godstone, no two ways about it. I pointed a sickle at the enormous mystical ruby. “You stole that from Hephaestus. You said I gave you a gift. When I slew Hephaestus, you took the gem for your own, did you not?”
Daedalus let out a squeal of delight, clapping his hands together enthusiastically despite the severe burns covering his flesh. “Aye. Aye. It is as you say! As you say, it is! The power of it, the pain, the wonderful pain, it drove me to create. What a gift it was. It filled me with fire, with power. It called me to build. To make. Look around you, War God, gaze on the miracles of my hands. I forged creatures never before seen.” His tongue darted out like a snake, dabbing at his cracked lips before disappearing back into his mouth.
“And I walked this city in my sorrow, in my defeat, in my madness, War God. My madness. I tried to bring my son Icarus back to life, but he was never my son after that—only a thing, an experiment, a weapon. I destroyed the work of my hands, then turned my sights on the Minotaurs. I built them from the body of the god, you know.”
“I gathered,” I replied.
“Hmmmm. I imbued my main Minotaur with a portion of my power,” he continued, as though I hadn’t spoken. “And with the body of a god and the power of the godstone running through his veins, my Minotaur could wield the Inferno Shield and Athena’s Spear, even as I could ride the skies on the winged heels of Hermes. Hermes, Athena, both dead, but their gemstones were lost. Because of you. Because of us. Because of US!” he cackled madly, clearly losing it.
I heard the necklace whine from somewhere. The chain had melted, so it wasn’t on my chest, but I didn’t see it on the ground. Oh, well. I didn’t care if I ever wore it again. The power I was feeling, the unrestrained energy, made me feel good.
I was seconds away from another kill. I would hack Daedalus’ head off his shoulders. But first, I wanted to put together what had happened. “Focus, you piece of filth,” I spat. “You built this city so the gods could battle. But why? And why wage the final war here?”
“You’re just like all the rest of the gods,” Daedalus sneered, his eyes growing hard. “You think everything is about you, but it’s not. IT’S NOT! I didn’t build this city for the gods nor as some, some”—he waved a hand through the air—“some sort of battle arena. No, you self-centered fool. I built this city for me! And the mazes, so I would never be found! But even a different dimension is too close for the gods. Dear Father Zeus tracked me down like a bloodhound, and waged his war among my streets and keeps. Your ilk ruined my city. But as payment.” He grinned, his smile filled with jagged black and yellow nubs. “I took what they left behind. Only fair. Only just!”
Persephone strode forward. Her color was back; she was a freckled redhead at the moment, with green eyes. The Necklace of Asclepius vibrated in her fist. Somehow, it was helping her. “Is my mother alive, Daedalus? Do you know?”
The thin old man fixed a leer on the spri
ng goddess. “Demeter and Apollo, together, they fled from Hades, but by that time Hephaestus was dead, as was Athena, Hermes, Hestia, and others who sided with Zeus. Perhaps Artemis also fell.” He shrugged narrow shoulders. “That I do not know. Apollo was struck down by the dark god, and perhaps Demeter as well. I found her sickles in the secret library and gave them to a special creation crowned in gold.
“But.” He paused, licking his lips again, and seesawed his head left, then right. “I suppose Demeter could’ve fled onto the Stair. Weaponless. She knew the way through my labyrinth, but no one else. Is that how you defeated it?” he asked, quirking his head to the side. “Did you cheat? Dirty, dirty, dirty cheat. You never fought for your husband, unlike Hera, who wanted Zeus dead for all his many indiscretions. As did Aphrodite, who was forced to wed the lame smith. Yet both are gone now. Gone!” He was raving now, not making much sense.
“Did Zeus live?” I asked.
“For a time.” Daedalus grinned, eyes wild. “I will tell you all if you let me live. Oh, yes, I will. I know things you need to know, War God.” He tapped manically at his temple. “It’s all up here. I know the things. For example, the Queen of the Underworld’s memory has been shattered by the River Lethe. That is why she does not remember the fate of her mother and the other gods. And there are seeds in her belly that are killing her because she left her husband’s realm. But for what purpose, War God? For what purpose, eh? And how could she leave when her husband could not? If the rift is truly sealed then how, pray tell, has a goddess broken through, hmmmm?”
I glanced at her. Persephone paled at his words. “Jacob, believe me, I mean you no harm. I have only helped you.”
By this time, Myrina, Doris, Ianthe, and my other Amazons crowded around the old man, who was still trapped in his vines. Asteria, now in the form of a saber-toothed cat, poked around the monster corpses, but most of the meat was spoiled by gears and engines. She finally shifted into a hyena and started working the meat of the Minotaur off its bones and iron rods.