City of gods - Hellenica (13 page)

At the front was Rowan, heavily bruised and running on a broken femur. Rowan had somehow recovered from the fight with the Banshee and had lapped Gunnar twice. Gunnar wanted to be impressed, but Rowan treated him with such disdain that it was difficult. Rowan had supporting words for both the Amazon and Horus, but when he passed Gunnar, he said nothing.

The fool heals from injury quickly,
thought Gunnar.
Clearly he’s not quite mortal. He’s grievously wounded and still besting us all. Perhaps I should offer an olive branch; if not for peace, then for an ally.

“You impress me, Berserker,” said Gunnar as Rowan limped by.

Rowan said nothing in return. The Norseman patted Horus on the back and even lifted Alkippe as she fell, yet he refrained from giving Gunnar words. He didn’t even lodge an insult; he just silently ran by.

After the third hour, Gunnar could run no more. He knelt down in the middle of the field, his head down but his eyes open. It was his training from the Agoge:
you
can be spent, but never close your eyes
. Soon Alkippe joined him in the middle, and then Horus. Rowan was still going, but Indra stopped him. Indra brought the sun down and had the mercenaries bring out glasses of grey liquid. It was a liquid form of the ambrosia and tasted of ash, but its effects came soon. Gunnar was still tired, but his body no longer felt sore.

The other members of his Class felt the same effects and drank glass after glass, grimacing as the liquid ambrosia went down.

“It cures everything, but you never get used to it,” said Heracles with a laugh. “It makes even Hephaestus himself vomit. And vomit from Hephaestus isn’t something I’d care to see again.”

Rowan refused to drink the ambrosia, but he soon passed out and started to seize. Alkippe held him down and forced the liquid into him. Rowan stopped seizing, and soon thereafter arose. He leered at Gunnar and then put his attention towards Indra and Heracles.

“What is strength?” asked Indra. “Countless millennia ago, Heracles moved a river with his bare hands. Is that strength?”

There was silence until Rowan answered.

“Yes, that’s strength,” said Rowan. “If moving a river with your bare hands is not strength, what is?”

“You’re partially correct, Berserker,” said Indra, “but not entirely. That
was
strength, but now? Now it’s only legend. Heracles, can you still divert a river with your bare hands?”

“Perhaps,” said Heracles with a laugh, “but by the time I’d be done, a score more rivers would be dammed elsewhere, and two canals built.”

Indra smiled and stared at his students.

“Technology crushed the gods so long ago, and will continue to do so even today. Lugh may come for you, but he’ll not come by himself. He’ll bring fancy guns, strategy and propaganda to pull your army from under you. What can we do to fight Lugh? What do we have?”

Indra peered right at Gunnar. Gunnar didn’t particularly feel like engaging in rhetoric, but he knew what answer Indra wanted.

“Technology,” said Gunnar. “Or at least better technology than Lugh.”

Indra smiled, looking Gunnar right in the eye.

“Gylippus,” he bellowed, “to the front!”

There was a pause and then Gunnar saw a mercenary running towards them from the haze of the far end of the field. The man came to a stop right at the foot of the four Warriors. He wasn’t large, perhaps sixty kilograms at most, and was barely more than a meter and a half in height. But he was wiry and had scars all over his body, particularly on the interior of his joints. He was young but had the look of a seasoned warrior to him.

“Gylippus,” said Indra, “show them what you can do.”

The Spartan mercenary Gylippus started doing pushups and didn’t stop. After ten minutes, he started doing
handstand
pushups. Then he started doing backflips, twenty per minute for another three minutes. He then began to stretch, doing splits and bending backwards at inhuman angles. After another few minutes, Indra commanded him to rest. Gylippus did so, and his breaths were moderately quick.

“Now, who would like to fight this mortal?” asked Indra.

“It would be an honor for me to dispatch such a—” said Rowan, but he was interrupted.

“Gunnar, you’re the most skilled in the pit, and I believe in ten score matches, you’ve lost but once,” said Heracles with a smile. “You’ll fight Gylippus at full strength, and not pull your punches.”

Rowan sat down with a huff, and Gunnar got up reluctantly. He felt he could easily destroy this mercenary who, while in perfect shape, was still a human.

Give him a quick knockout blow,
thought Gunnar.
This mortal is brave, but does not deserve a full punch and—

Instantly, the mercenary was on him. He ran at Gunnar’s legs and Gunnar jumped out of the way at the last second. Gunnar turned around to face Gylippus, but the fighter had already taken the offensive again and jumped on Gunnar’s legs once more. This time the mercenary got a grip and Gunnar was pushed to the ground. Gylippus wasn’t a skilled grappler, and Gunnar shook him and then kicked him in the chest. Gunnar kipped up and put some distance between them; this gave him some time to think and gauge his opponent’s weaknesses. Gunnar looked to neutralize Gylippus’s quickness by maintaining his distance and crouching low to the ground.

The mercenary crouched twice as low as Gunnar; he went on all fours like an animal. He burst forth and Gunnar was able to dodge, but just barely. The mercenary made two more attacks in a row and Gunnar dodged them both, but lost his cool and took a clumsy swing at his opponent. Gylippus dodged it easily, and then hit Gunnar in the gut with a right hook, knocking out his wind. Gylippus then took out Gunnar’s feet and together they fell to the ground with a thud. Gylippus was on him, raining punches to the back of Gunnar’s head and back. Gunnar turned over and tried to defend himself, but Gylippus was too quick. Gylippus dodged or blocked every punch, then returned a few of his own.

Gunnar was getting destroyed. He tried to get up but had no leverage. The mercenary’s technique was flawed, but he was just too strong. 
His fists are like hammers
, thought Gunnar,
like punches from Heracles. This isn’t a battle you’re supposed to win.

Gunnar then realized what to do. He worked on blocking the mercenary’s punches, and then used his full strength to push Gylippus off of him. Gylippus crouched and prepared to fight again, but Gunnar crouched to one knee and yelled at him.

“Wait,” said Gunnar, his hands out. “I yield.”

Gylippus attacked once more and Gunnar dodged.

“I yield!” he said.

“He yields, Gylippus,” said Indra. “You have won.”

Gylippus bowed to Indra and then to Gunnar. His scarred body was quivering, but he soon relaxed and was breathing normally.

“The god of War, beaten by a mortal,” said Rowan under his breath.

Indra came over to Gylippus and displayed the scarred inner elbow of Gylippus to the group.

“Technology comes in many forms,” said Indra. “It’s not just mechanized ships and night-vision glasses; technology can also enhance the body. The average fifty-kilogram female chimpanzee would, on average, kill the toughest pit-fighter in less than two minutes. Why? Simple physics: their tendons connect their arms at a different angle, creating a fulcrum that gives them incredible power.

“The giant cat’s bone structure gives them great speed, the horse has endurance, and the bird has the power of flight. We’ve been experimenting with our human soldiers to give them advantages until some, like Gylippus here, can come to rival the gods. Imagine what we can do with
you
.

“Augmentation will be the second part of your training. Be warned, though: it won’t be a quick fix and will come at a steep price. You endured the simple pain of running well, but that’s merely a taste of what’s to come. Every augmentation will be a thousand daggers in your body.”

“If I may, sir,” said Rowan, kneeling, “I volunteer myself to be the first augmented.”

“You’ll all get your chance,” said Indra, “but for now, you’re off to the stables to earn your keep.”

“I don’t muck horses,” said Rowan. “It’s beneath me.”

“Then you can muck the Wildman,” said Heracles. “But he’s dangerous, so beware.”

Gunnar got up to take a swig of ambrosia, and by the time he looked up, Rowan had already left. The Norseman was running full-speed towards the stables and was almost halfway there.

/***/

The stables were overflowing with scat from legendary creatures. There was an adolescent Minotaur locked in an iron cage, several Aurochs, and an Erymanthian boar the size of a small shed. There were several predatory creatures too. The Aztec
ahuizotl
was dog-like, but had strange hand-like paws and kept swiping at Gunnar from afar. The creature actually got hold of Alkippe through its cage, but Horus beat him back and she escaped with only a few bruises.

The Celtic
Wildman made the place truly foul; he kept hurling his waste at the Warriors. Gunnar ignored it, but Rowan took offense and had to be restrained. The Wildman was covered with hair and dirt and yelled in an incomprehensible tongue. Eventually the Wildman pointed at a bucket of slop out of his reach and Gunnar took the bucket and brought it closer. The hairy man then dropped his face into it, ate, and then dropped down into a long, snoring nap.

The team smiled as Rowan left in a huff to the far end of the stables. He was so disgusted with the work that he left to clean out the section of the menagerie with actual horses.

It was hot, dirty work, but Gunnar didn’t mind. If nothing else, the Agoge taught humility; even the supreme commanders engaged in manual labor when necessary. Gunnar enjoyed the task, though judging by the size of the stable it wouldn’t be done this day, if ever.

“It’s fitting that Heracles gave us this work,” said Horus with a smile. “He committed a grievous sin so many years ago and had to perform twelve labors as penance. The fifth was to clean stables much like these.”

“The ninth labor was to steal the belt of our queen, Hippolyta,” said Alkippe. “He slew many to do it. Make no mistake, Redstone, your mentor is no saint.”

“I never claimed he was,” said Gunnar, “and you’re not one to talk of sainthood. I know what Amazons do to their male captives; older Spartans would tell us these tales to give us nightmares.”

“Redstone speaks the truth,” said Horus with a smile. “I met an Amazon gladiatrix while hunting; the stories she told made me ill.”

“When we women fight men or even fight
alongside
them,” said Alkippe, “we must be better, faster and braver than our counterparts at
every
opportunity; respect means more to us than it means to you.”

“Yet you build your reputation not on respect, but
fear
,” asked Gunnar. “When my cohorts told tales of your kind, they spoke not of your bravery or your speed, only your cruelty.”

“We’re never crueler than the prisoner we torment; that’s our rule,” said the Amazon. “We do bad things to captured Spartans because they
invariably
have done bad things themselves. Spartans must by rule
slaughter an innocent Helot to graduate the Agoge
, and by the time they reach our prisons they’ve raped and tortured endlessly; is this not true, Redstone?”

“Perhaps,” said Gunnar, “but let’s say you’ve captured not a Spartan, but a truly innocent man. What would you do to him?”

“Release him immediately; I’ve
personally
done this on a score of occasions,” said Alkippe. “But when the
cruel
come in our clutches, we’ll make an example of them.”

Horus laughed loudly.

“All this talk does nothing to clean these stables,” said Horus. “In fact, it’s gotten worse since we arrived. I fear a Griffin has given our friend Rowan something awful.”

They peered over at Rowan on the far side of the stable; a Griffin had indeed kicked his waste at the Norseman, and Rowan was cursing uncontrollably.

“What say you, Rowan?” yelled Horus. “Would you like to come back here and help us out of this mess?”

The Berserker simply sneered and went back to shoveling his own pile, and Horus laughed at Gunnar.

“Rowan would rather shovel
Griffin scat
than be near you, Gunnar,” said Horus with a smile. “
That
is a man with whom to have a vendetta, not this girl. And Alkippe, Gunnar is no Spartan, and I see no Amazons coming to help you clean the stables.”

Alkippe and Gunnar looked at each other; their bird-faced friend was right.
I don’t need more enemies
,
not now,
thought Gunnar.
She’s not my friend, nor do I trust her, but she can’t be my enemy.

“I see no reason to quarrel with you, Alkippe,” said Gunnar.

“Nor I you,” said Alkippe.

/***/

Gunnar continued to shovel the manure into a pile for another half hour. After that, they heard a crash in the distance and a great squawk, and then silence. Gunnar looked at the far edge; the Berserker and the Griffin had knocked each other out. Gunnar looked behind Rowan; the place was filthy from years of neglect and there was another three sections not yet done.