“Hail, Champion of Ares,” he greeted the man.
“Hail to you, little bug!” came the answer.
Tyler let the insult pass. Payback would be later. He was interested in knowing something about the visitor. It was the first time he had met one in this world.
“I heard you are a visitor. Mind telling me your name?” asked Tyler.
“Stelios. I was a soldier. Back in Greece. 1941. But I have no name now! I am called the Champion of Ares! The supreme god of war!”
“Do you miss Greece, Stelios?”
“Miss it? Miss it? Why? Here, I am the most powerful mortal to walk this world! They fear me! Even minor gods fear me! I take what I want! When I want! And you ask me if I miss Greece?” laughed the Champion.
“Here, I have women for the taking," he continued his boasting. "Whether they like me or not! My power overwhelms everything and everybody! How about you, little bug? Have you a woman too? A plaything for me after I chop you into little pieces? And I may take that woman there. One of your companions. She looks like a warrior. Nothing like a feisty woman to take when the mood takes me!”
Man, this guy is hopeless. A basket case of a bully.
Suddenly, the Champion attacked him. Average speed, noted Tyler, as he watched the man slowed to a walk due to the bracer of the god of crafts. Though that armor has a lot of defenses.
He quickly tried a small fireball. The fiery cloud just slid off something in front of the approaching warrior. A barrier, he noted. Tyler then swiftly followed up with a bevy of large energy blades and a confusion spell. The projectiles broke into pieces and the confusion spell dissolved once it touched the barrier. The warrior was already ten feet away.
“X? He has very powerful barriers. Let’s try Elder blasts at full strength. One from each of us.”
The two energy beams immediately erupted from the mage’s body and struck the Champion. One in the face and another in the torso. Unlike the fireball spells, the beams were relatively quiet. All Tyler could hear were the thuds as they struck. Tyler finally saw what a full-strength blast could do. As each of the viridian beams hit, the energy also immediately spread in a small damaging field from the point of impact.
“X? Why is the color of the beam like that?”
“Color changes with the strength of the spell, Elder.”
He looked at the Champion again. The man was clearly stunned. Surprisingly, he was still standing despite being pushed back a few feet. Pieces of his armor had fallen off. He had dropped his shield though he still gripped his sword. It was obvious that whatever energy shields or barriers the man had were already gone.
Tyler then let his affinity wave flow towards the man’s pteruges . Using the crushing spell he learned from X, he quickly squeezed and then squashed the man’s balls. A high-pitched scream sounded through the quiet of the night. Every eye was on the grim tableau. The uncommon sound, seemingly out of place in a battlefield, caught their attention. The Champion was on his knees, holding on to his balls, blood was dripping from his groin area.
“Goodbye, Stelios. May you find the deepest and darkest part of Tartarus,” calmly said Tyler.
With that, a large and very sharp large blade in the shape of a butcher’s knife swung at the man’s unprotected neck. It cut cleanly, but the force of the slice resulted in the bloody head bouncing off and coming to rest a few feet away. The rest of the body fell to the ground, the Champion's hands still left grasping his balls. Blood copiously flowed from the stump of a neck.
Tyler then turned his attention to the formations before him. He knew they were still in shock over what happened to the Champion. The mage threw several fireballs in their direction and cast a quake spell covering the encampment area. Without waiting to see the results of the previous spells, he fired a large light orb into the sky over the encampment, pumped it with energy and exploded it. Light flooded the Dorian camp.
A wave of arrows flew overhead, towards the confused, broken, and disorderly Dorian ranks. The fireballs and the shaking ground was enough to break over the phalanx formations. Burning bodies added light to the grisly scene. He could also see more figures on the flanks of the encampment dropping to the ground. Those must be work of the slingers and the scouts, he concluded.
A little deviation from the original plan. But I guess it’s working so far.
Tyler went back to his gathered companions. They watched as the drama of mayhem and death unfolded before them. The mage did release a rain of fireballs to the back of the encampment just as the cavalry charged the disorganized Dorians. The flare had already faded away. But against the background of the campfires, he could see the cavalry’s crimson passage through the enemy. Men were skewered with lances, heads and limbs were lopped off, all the grisly details of a war fought with weapons of steel and iron. The cries of the dying and wounded sounded through the night air.
The surge of the Pelasgoi followed. They were brutal fighters. Some were hacking at solitary hoplites, especially at those fleeing the camp. He saw a Pelasgoi warrior jump at a standing hoplite, his legs landing squarely on the shoulders of the man whose head was then stabbed with a long knife. Pelasgoi pilums disposed of the few Dorian groups who managed to form a vestige of a phalanx defense. The mage saw a small group of Dorian soldiers whose extended spears were caught by ropes which bound the weapons together. While the Dorians were scrambling to draw their swords, the battle axes and greatswords of the Pelasgoi got to them first. It was vicious, cruel, nasty, and brutish. It was war.
Then he saw a sizable group of Dorian hoplites on the right flank who were able to organize themselves as a large phalanx, spears bristling. Some of the Dorians at the back had their shields up against the attacks of the slingers. The Pelasgoi didn’t hesitate. They closed in and threw what appeared to be small glass or clay containers at the Dorian ranks. When the objects shattered, they released clouds of a substance which swiftly choked men. Noxious or poisonous, concluded Tyler. As the front rank of the phalanx crumbled and the men behind them wavered, the Pelasgoi were among them, slashing and hacking to their heart’s content. Turning his attention to the middle of the encampment, he saw the Akrotiri hoplites and other soldiers advancing, cutting down every Dorian they could catch. He looked for the archers but they have already advanced. He saw a few running forward on the flanks of the battle. Cutting down stragglers and raining mayhem on the rest, observed the mage. The enemy’s in rout.
As he watched the on-going battle, Tyler sensed an approaching magical aura to the right flank of the Dorian encampment. It was approaching fast.
He expanded the barrier to cover all of them, making sure it was angled in a way that front part faced whatever was coming. Around them, men were streaming forward in loose formations.
In a few minutes, he heard cries and the clash of weapons coming from where he sensed the incoming mass of energy. As he intently observed what happening, he saw a group of Dorian cavalry attacking the flank of the moving Akrotiri infantry.
They must have been positioned further back and swung around to catch us in a flanking movement. Whoever is leading those riders know his tactics, he thought as he got ready to lend a hand.
Fortunately, his help was not needed. The darkness and the mass of infantry streaming forward caught the Dorian cavalry in a sea of enemies. The attackers apparently didn’t expect nor saw that the entire Akrotiri army in the field.
Their initial successful push worked against them as they were already deep within the Akrotiri infantry. They were trapped on three sides as soldiers were already coming back from the front to engage them. In a short period, the doomed cavalry unit was engulfed in an ever-increasing number of enemies. Infantry moving from the city joined the mayhem. The Dorians couldn't maneuver nor retreat. The riders were dragged from their saddles and hacked to death on the bloody ground, others caught thrown spears, and some had their horses killed by the infantry. Trapped beneath unmoving horseflesh, all died in the various ways bladed weapons could kill.
In the battle-lust, no mercy was given. Even already fallen Dorians received a second stab as assurance.
Then a loud roar sounded from the back of the dead and dying riders. As the young mage focused, he saw what it was. A very tall, massive, and horned minotaur. In black armor and armed with a huge axe. The beast towered over the surrounding soldiers by more than half. The large red crossed sword emblem painted on its cuirass gave it away as a favorite of the battle-god.
Tyler rushed forward, followed by his companions.
Akrotiri soldiers were engaging the creature. Tyler saw spears and javelins bouncing off the beast. They didn’t even touch the armor. A barrier. A magical shield , he observed. Other soldiers finally organized themselves in a phalanx formation, long spears bristling to the front.
The minotaur didn’t stop. He threw his enormous weapon at the formation, crushing shields as well as hoplites caught where the axe struck. The horned man-bull rushed the gap and in a few moments was already killing and injuring men of the phalanx.
As Tyler neared the skirmish, he could hear the sound of Habrok's arrows as they flew past him. The bolts struck the minotaur, penetrating whatever barrier and armor protected it.
Habrok's special arrows. He must have oiled all the heads of all his shafts, thought Tyler. And that means...
Then the minotaur's torso sprouted a javelin. Then a second one.
“Ah, Astrid's javelins.”
The creature now looked like a porcupine with all the arrows sticking out of its body and one eye. It bellowed in pain and anger. The Akrotiri soldiers had all withdrawn to a safe distance, leaving room for the fight. Though some had returned to chasing the Dorians, a substantial number remained as on-lookers.
People, thought Tyler. A deadly battle going on behind them and here they are, gawking at a show. But the mage had already stopped. It appeared his companions had the matter well in hand. And he wanted to see how they work together in battle.
As Habrok was continuing his shower of arrows, he noticed Jorund was working his way to the front of the minotaur. Battleaxe gripped in both hands. Astrid was moving to its side.
Suddenly, Astrid darted in and with two quick strikes, slashed at the lower legs of the man-bull. And as swift as she came in, Astrid was already out of range of the minotaur's massive hands. The minotaur dropped to its knees in a bellow of pain.
Tyler then saw Jorund sprint forward, with the uncanny swiftness he saw back in the Scarburg battle. The huskarl leaped into the air, battleaxe held high. The axe buried itself between the two curved horns of the creature, splitting his skull. The dead minotaur's body fell back and crashed to the ground.
The watching soldiers gave a loud shout and then turned back to finding Dorians. Jorund wrenched his axe out of the skull, wiped it on the body, looked over the beast's armor, and then walked back to Tyler. Astrid was also returning, her javelins recovered. Habrok was still picking up his arrows from the body of the dead creature.
Jorund went directly to the young mage.
"Sire, it appears we got the Champion's second-in-command. The marks on its breastplate confirm it."
"You're sure?" asked Tyler.
"Yes, Sire. I know the signs of rank among these Greeks. I think I have mentioned that I have fought with and against them before as a mercenary. I am familiar with those ranks. All the Greek armies use them."
"Then I assume they're headless right now. Though I think that minotaur had more brains than his leader. Or leaders, if you include the battle-god."
"I believe so, Sire. This is the second time I have handled one of those creatures. But that one is a large one compared to what I faced before. Bigger target though. But as to Dorian commanders, the sons of Ares are still at the back of the column, so it's possible they may be able to regroup."
"Let's all go back to where we were," replied Tyler. "But I think regrouping may also be a problem for them, Jorund."
"Why is that, Sire?"
"Those two minor gods exude auras of horror and fear. It may be difficult to call back retreating men when one is adding to their fear or horror."
The group went back to their original position. They stood and watched for a while. The screams of the dying and the injured continued to echo in the darkness. It had been like that since the fireballs started exploding. Only the intensity of the shouts and number of men crying out in pain or death had changed. Tyler doubted that the injured would stay alive much longer. The Pelasgoi and the Akrotiri soldiers were quite thorough. They expected no quarter and therefore, gave no mercy.
Then Tyler noticed some Akrotiri men running back. After a few minutes, the numbers retreating grew alarmingly. At the far edge of the encampment, he could see commotion of some sort. As he focused, he could see men being flung left and right. It was as if a voracious shark was swimming straight towards him through a sea of men.
“On guard. Something’s approaching,” the mage warned his companions.
“Indeed. But the phrase should be “somebody’s approaching,” a voice commented. Tyler looked at the speaker. It was Dionysus, with Pappo at his side.
“Let me guess. Ares,” answered Tyler.
“Right. With his sons. We still don’t know how this battle will end. Though he cannot directly strike at you, he can attack Akrotiri’s defenders,” said Pappo.
“Wouldn’t Athena be insulted and provoked to action?”
“Rules. As long as Ares does not try to destroy the city, Athena cannot intervene. As to its mortal defenders, that’s allowed.”
“Shit. Those men are getting slaughtered!”
“And you intend to fight him? Remember, he is prohibited from attacking you, but if you try to defend the men, then the injunction does not apply.”
“I think the rules should be shoved where the sun doesn’t shine as far as Ares and his sons are concerned!”
“You have to make your own decision, High Mage,” replied Dionysus. “On this matter, we cannot give any advice nor say anything to influence your actions.”
“The hell with it! I’ll go and face him!”
His companions moved forward with him. He stopped and turned to them.
“Stay here. It’s a deity I’m going to face. You’re all going to die if you join the battle. Stay with Master Dio and the King. That’s an order. What you can do is stop the retreat and let our soldiers form up again.”
His companions didn’t say anything though he felt they resented his order. Balls of steel, he thought. A better group of companions I couldn’t find even if I tried.
He moved forward. Shaping his barrier to a wedge-shaped one, he cut a passage through the crowd of retreating men. He stopped ten feet from the edge of the enemy camp. Bodies were everywhere, though this part of the field showed mounds of dead Dorian soldiers. He waited. The retreating men slowed to a trickle. After some time, he could feel the approach of Ares. The angry and violent aura surrounding the battle-god preceded him. With it was a tinge of horror, panic, and despair. His sons must be on the flanks, covering his ass, thought Tyler.
Finally, Ares appeared. The battle-god was wearing his familiar dark red armor. Armed with a long blood-stained xiphos and a shield, he looked as if he had bathed in blood. He had an insane smile on his face. His eyes were dilated.
Damn, must be on bath salts, the idea flew through Tyler’s mind. Despite the situation, the thought made him laugh.
The sound turned Ares’ attention to him.
“IT’S YOU! LITTLE GNAT OF A MORTAL! AND YOU DARE LAUGH AT ME! AND THE PROBLEMS YOU’VE GIVEN ME!”
“Glad to be of service, Ares the buffoon,” Tyler answered with a slight bow, but with eyes on the deity.
“You think you can provoke me? Get the other gods to intervene?” shouted the deity. “You won’t get that from me, gnat! But I’ll kill off each and every one of these Akrotiri scum!”
“I can’t allow that, god of morons,” answered Tyler. He knew he was making Ares madder with every insult. Hopefully, that would m
ake him careless when he does attack, prayed the mage.
“Tell you what, deity of bumpkins,” continued Tyler, “I waive any protection given by the prohibition declared by the gods of the Greek pantheon. There! Does that make you happy, little ape?”
“LITTLE APE?” bellowed the deity. The sons of Ares materialized at their father’s back. They looked like young men, armored as hoplites but one with gray armor while other had a black version. The two moved forward.
“Stay back, sons of mine! This is a pleasure I reserve for myself! Do not interfere!” In an act of disdainful pride, the deity threw his shield to one side.
Ares immediately attacked. Tyler quickly infused the bracer with energy. Ares’s movements slowed down noticeably. The deity was moving to the side, intending to strike obliquely. Confidence showed in his actions. The angle by which he held his sword indicated the god wanted to injure his legs first. Cut him into pieces. Slowly, if Ares could manage it.
The mage added more energy to the bracer. With the additional power, it started to get warm. Tyler gripped his staff, moved to meet the deity, and in a horizontal strike, hit Ares across his windpipe. Ares was stopped in his tracks. As he started to crumble to his knees, the mage whipped the staff around in a reverse arc as he passed the deity and struck Ares at the back of his helmet. The helmet split in half. Ares fell forward while on his knees. His position looked like he was making obeisance towards the city of Akrotiri. Tyler turned and again whipped the staff, this time across the buttocks. Ares went prone. And as far as Tyler could tell, unconscious.
Everybody watching was in shock. It was over in a few seconds. Tyler thought about giving Ares another blow to the head but decided against it. He didn’t like hitting an unconscious person, man or deity. The mage walked towards his companions. As he got to twenty feet from the inert god of battle, he suddenly felt a powerful surge of energy around the area. It was going to an area at his back. As he turned to look back, he realized the power was centered on and flowing to Ares, who was starting to get up, sword in hand.
Gifts of the Greeks Page 31