Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Chapter 16 - Whispered it in my dreams
🕑 Added 2025-01-01 13:38:11 +0000 UTCThe first thing I noticed was the complete absence of pain. It had been so long since I didn’t have a recovering wound to twinge and grumble when I moved in an unusual way and the blessed sense of peace that came from the change was a god send. Next was my clothing. I was in my comfortable, scratchy old coveralls that I wore while tinkering in my workshop back on Earth. Compared to what I remembered wearing recently they felt like silk pyjamas against my skin.
For a brief moment I hoped that the last few weeks had been some fever dream, perhaps I’d had a stroke in the workshop and hallucinated my recent history. As I glanced around I felt that optimism fade away.
I was standing at the foot of a colossal bronze statue. It was of a broad man wearing a chest plate beaten to resemble muscles. A helmet that covered his cheeks sporting a high crest that seemed to sway in the breeze despite looking like it was also cast in metal, Above his thunder clouds filled the sky with grey violence.
Below the knee on the left leg of the giant was an ornate greave, his right hand clutched a long spear with a broad leaf-shaped head and in his left he held a round shield at his side. I felt dwarfed by the thing and began to back away.
“Leaving so soon?” The voice was deep, masculine and seemed to come from all around me. I spun, reaching for weapons that weren’t there, only to find myself alone bar the titan. I turned back and looked up. The head of the statue bent forward and looked down at me. I shivered as an aura washed over me. It felt similar to the one Poseidon had used when she had revealed her power in the smoking room. It was different though. That had felt like the pressure in the deep ocean, unstoppable and unfathomable. This felt like the clash of weapons against shields, armour breaking under brutal assault, like being penned in by your comrades in a shield wall or phalanx.
“Raymond, I was hoping it would be you who fell into my lap. Taking another's favourite toy is always a joy.”
“Who the hell are you?” I asked, despite my best effort my voice trembled slightly and came out half an octave higher than I intended. A smile creased the metal of the statue's face in response.
“Kril calls me Aresk. That is a name lost on our world. Even the eternal is changed by time, alas. Perhaps you have heard of Ares?”
“Another god," I said flatly.
“Indeed! How are you finding our little competition?” Ares asked jovially.
“It’s great,” I deadpanned as I got myself under control. This giant wouldn’t kill me, I was part of his game. Booming laughter rolled out and shook the air in my lungs, making it hard to breathe. Why did I still need to breathe in a dream?
“Ah, such a card! Tell me boy, will you live to take your revenge alone?”
“I’m just trying to survive. I’ll kill the others if I have to but only if they come for me.”
“You lie so smoothly! I can understand why she wanted you, despite objectively better candidates being available for her. That soldier… We can see inside your heads, little mortal. Your thoughts are transparent to us. Oh, don’t worry, she doesn’t care, what threat are you to one of us?” The statue grinned down at me, bronze teeth flashing to reinforce my insignificance in comparison to beings like him. His point was not lost on me, nor did I miss the futility of dissembling to this god.
“Why am I here? Is Kril your minion? I just want to go home,” I blurted.
“Worshipper. Follower. Not a slave. I’m the God of War, boy. Slaves are beneath my attention. Kril is a good man. I’d listen to him if I were you. You’re here for… I suppose a job interview?”
“I’m out of the hired killer game thanks to the green eyed bitch,” I muttered.
“Oh you really aren't! It’s not that kind of job anyway. If you were to agree to operate on my behalf in the Game I would be happy to be of considerable assistance to you. Make it worth your while, you know?”
“What do you want and what are you offering?” I demanded flatly.
“Hah! A man who doesn’t mince words. A man of action. Of violence! Perfection indeed! If you agree to serve me I will give you my mark, among other perhaps lesser boons. It will help you greatly with my worshippers and you are currently in the heart of my domain. Even should you stray from my lands I have worshippers everywhere men organise for violence against their fellows. They will trust you and listen to you when perhaps they would not under other circumstances.”
“And what is the price?” I said politely. Haggling over the price meant I was almost certainly going to get sent back to Kril’s tent one way or another. The booming voice had become warm and friendly and I had no wish to piss off this god in his own little world.
“Dedicate your victories to me. Say my name as you slay your competition. That’s all I ask.”
“Ares or Aresk or something else?”
“Any will do! As long as you mean to refer to me it will work. So we have a deal?”
I paused to think. Any advantage I could get was tempting and seeing as this god's name was woven not only into the name of the tribe I was with but the language group that they spoke suggested I was indeed deep in territory controlled by this being.
“Can you tell me anything about the others?” I asked.
“I can tell you a little if you agree to my perfectly reasonable requests. Let me sweeten the pot: when you reach level fifty I will give you a boon! What more could you ask for? A blessing from the God of War!” boomed Ares.
“I agree,” I said reluctantly.
“Excellent! My new favourite mortal needs his mark!” The statue bent down, the right hand releasing the spear that stayed perfectly upright in defiance of gravity. The aura returned but stronger this time, freezing my body. I felt like invisible men pressed in on every side to lock me in place as part of a unit dedicated to violence. A bronze finger reached down and stretched out to rest against my left shoulder.
Light flared and my old friend pain returned. A burning agony coursed through the top of my arm and my coveralls ignited, falling to ash across my left side. I stood still, unable to even scream as the fire burned me for an eternity. Then the finger pulled away and the statue resumed its original stance; the pressure on me faded and I grasped at what I assumed would be a ruined shoulder. My hatred burned hotter than that damn finger had. I cursed all the treacherous fucking gods and added Ares to my list, immediately after Poseidon.
“Foolish mortal. You are unharmed,” laughed Ares. My fingers reached my shoulder and found no damage beyond the scars the wolf had left. I looked down, twisting my arm out to the side to examine it for myself and found a golden tattoo had been placed on my unblemished skin. It was shaped like a spear, vertical on my arm and in the middle it ran behind a shield of the old Greek style.
I shook out my arm to free it from the apparently illusory pain. I’d never had any tattoos. No permanent marking to make identifying me easy. I’d never felt the need, even back when I was a foot-slogger killing for the government.
“Now as to your colleagues. I cannot tell you too much, even I in my unlimited glory must obey the rules, but I’ll say what I can. My soldier has gone pirate and now serves Hades. The mogul is setting up a new business empire and slavery suits his purposes, he’s already dedicated to the lady of the waters, perhaps she didn’t have so much faith in you as her paladin? The influencer is working with the scholar for now but their alliance is fragile at best. The warrior has found his new octagon.”
“Where are they?” I ground out, letting my arms drop to my sides.
“That I cannot say but you were heading in the right direction before you were waylaid by old Hakubin,” said Ares. “I could keep you longer, I’d love to hear you tell your war stories from Earth but the dream-smoke is starting to fade and to hold you here might damage you. Remember: speak my name when you slay them. If you do we will feast and boast of our exploits when you die, if you don’t you’ll curse the day your mother opened her legs to your father for all eternity,” Ares boomed and a final squeeze with his aura reminded me I was in no position to challenge him.
The world vanished and I was once again in that disembodied state I had experienced when I was exiled to my new world. It only lasted a moment this time, no other god-voices bothered me, and then I opened my eyes.
“Back then. And touched, I can feel it. What did the old bastard say?” asked Kril’s voice from off to my right. I sat up slowly, feeling the lingering aches that had been pleasantly absent in the dream.
“You do that a lot?” I asked, carefully rubbing the back of my neck.
“I never needed the powder. He usually ignores my powder-dreams. I’ve been there before though. A giant bronze statue garbed for war, correct?” I felt his eyes on me and turned to look at him. His gaze was bright, almost feverish. I nodded at him in confirmation.
“Aresk’s balls! Where is it?” Kril gasped. He rushed over and began patting at me like he was looking for a weapon.
“What?” I pushed him away, using more strength than I intended to and he stumbled backwards. He didn’t seem to care and moved back towards me and started tugging at my tunic roughly.
“The mark! Where did he touch you? Ah!” He caught a glimpse of gold from my left sleeve and yanked it up over my shoulder. The spear and shield tattoo glowed golden at the top of my left bicep.
Kril ran to a chest by the tent wall and rummaged through it. He pulled out a strip of cloth and ran back to me.
“I need to wrap this. Most of the tribe cannot see it until you’re ready! The King for sure! It would mean your death.” He began to wind the fine cloth around my arm and shoulder to cover the godly tattoo.
“Once I have my strength back I won’t need to worry about your king, Kril.” My voice was laced with violence.
“Do you have your strength right now? Of course not! You’ve been half dead for days, Aresk alone knows how you survived and are now fit enough to bitch at your betters! The God-touch always messes with their heads!” he sighed. “Whatever powers Aresk promised won’t come for some time. Until then you need a tribe. The Areskyn can be that tribe but you will have to earn our respect.”
“I don’t want to join these fucking savages. I have a job to do in the south," I snapped.
“If you flee you’ll be hunted. You’ll not escape the riders. You don’t fear the king but you cannot fight an entire tribe. Usurpation is your hope, boy, not flight.” He had finished wrapping my arm and tied a neat knot, reminding me of a combat medic fixing a bandage in place, then he stepped back and looked me up and down.
“If you do it my way you’ll ride south with the warbands of a dozen tribes at your back. The last time the tribes united we razed Angrilid. It’s still in ruins three hundred winters later!” he chuckled.
“Kril. I need your help to escape your nephew. I think you’re willing to do that, it’s what Aresk would want. Will you help me?” I asked.
“Ha! That won’t work on me! The compulsion works on the peasants, not the priests!” he cackled again. “You’re destined to lead us to war boy, Aresk has whispered it in my dreams for years.”
