God of War II - Softcover

Vardeman, Robert E.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0345508688 ISBN 13: 9780345508683

Verlag: Random House Worlds, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

All the majesty and mayhem of Greek mythology springs to life once more in the powerful second novel based on the bestselling and critically acclaimed God of War® franchise.
 
Once the mighty warrior Kratos was a slave to the gods, bound to do their savage bidding. After destroying Ares, the God of War, Kratos was granted his freedom by Zeus—and even given the ousted god’s throne on Olympus.
 
But the other gods of the pantheon didn’t take kindly to Kratos’s ascension and, in turn, conspired against him. Banished, Kratos must ally himself with the despised Titans, ancient enemies of the Olympians, in order to take revenge and silence the nightmares that haunt him.
 
God of War II takes the videogame’s action to electrifying new heights, and adds ever more fascinating layers to the larger-than-life tale of Kratos.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Robert E. Vardeman is a veteran science fiction, fantasy, and media tie-in writer. He is celebrated for his original fiction as well as his licensed fiction, including several Star Trek novels. He also collaborated with Matt Stover on the first God of War novel.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One

“My love,” came the soft, urgent whisper. “I want you!”

Kratos, the God of War, stirred, moaned, and reached out. The beloved name Lysandra formed on his lips. He sat up and looked about the small, firelit chamber. The scent of burning elder wood permeated the room. A fleecy soft lamb’s-­wool blanket had been spread, two goblets of wine nearby. It was perfect for a romantic moment with his wife.

“Lysandra,” he said, louder. “Where are you?”

“Here, my love. You have come home from battle to me. I have missed you so!”

“And I have missed you,” he said, somehow not moving yet crossing the room and taking her into his arms. He held her close, feeling her vitality, the warmth of her body, aroused by the way she moved sensuously against his muscular frame.

“Promise you will never leave me again. I cannot bear to lose you, even for a brief moment.”

Kratos sucked in his breath. His wife’s scent dilated his nostrils and sent his heart to hammering. Her silken hair floated like a cloud, brushing his cheek, soothing the wounds on his face with the lightest touch. But he tried to push her away. Something was wrong. She resisted, her strength greater than his.

Her body turned cold where once it had been alive.

“Lysandra, what is wrong?”

“Nothing can be wrong with our love.”

Using his full strength, he succeeded in pushing her from him. Her face was twisted into one of stark terror.

“Don’t let me go, Kratos. Don’t hurt me!”

“Hurt you? I would have killed hundreds to protect you. I would die for you!”

He lifted his hand. A sword dripping with blood thrust forward. His hand circled the hilt, slippery with the life fluids of his enemies, but it was not his will directing the thrust. The coppery scent of blood, the sudden gleam of reflected firelight from the blade, the perfect balance and the keen edge and . . .

. . . and Kratos screamed in agony as he thrust forward, gutting his wife. Lysandra gripped the sword where it penetrated her belly, cutting her fingers on the edge. The blood of his wife mixed with that of warriors he had slain. She looked from the blade spitting her to his shocked face, reached for him, injured fingers red with her own blood. Anguish flooded his senses when he realized what he had done.

Then the screams of rage and fear were snuffed out. The only sound to be heard was the dripping of his wife’s blood to the floor. He jerked away and the sword pulled free from its fleshy berth, sending a gory arc of her blood and organs outward. A bit was flung into the fire, where it sizzled and popped. And then came total silence, except for a singular voice.

The voice of a small girl.

“Papa, what have you done?”

“Calliope,” he called to his young daughter.

“She’s dead. You murdered her! How could you?” Small fists hammered at his armor. He was clad in full battle gear, and Calliope attacked with the full fury of a frightened, angered child.

He swung the sword. His muscles bunched as he tried to stay the blow. He could not. The pommel struck his daughter in the temple, knocking her down.

“I did not mean this!” Kratos stepped forward, greaves clanking and his body armor grating. The reflection from his sword, the Blades of Chaos attached to the bone of his forearms with cruel chain links, filled his vision and then blinded him.

Rage exploded when he heard a mocking voice.

“Ares!” He shrieked and sought to kill the god with the very blades he had been given to do Ares’ bidding.

The swords, one in each hand, slashed out, but it was Calliope and not Ares who died. The little girl perished in a welter of blood and sobs damning him, crying out for her mother now dead also by his hand. And the rage and loss exploded within his brain so that he spun about and saw . . .

. . . a dark figure.

“Ares? You forced me to kill my own wife and daughter! I will kill you!”

But it was not Ares he faced but a nebulous, black, misty thing.

“Fight me! Fight me, you craven!” Kratos dismissed the Blades of Chaos and clutched the Blades of Athena, more powerful than any mortal could ever wield. But he was not a mortal now. He had destroyed Ares and was now the God of War.



“I didn’t know I was killing them. I loved them.

“Lysandra, come back to me, I didn’t mean to slay you,” Kratos said, seeking to stop the nocturnal torment the only way he knew, but he swung his blades at emptiness. He again stood on a barren plain that stretched flat in all directions. The more he tried to fight, the heavier the swords became, and when his muscles no longer responded, he sank to his knees and bowed his head. Kratos wept.

And in the distance he heard soft whispers of concern.

“He cries in his sleep.”

“How is this possible? He is God of War!”

“He sheds no tears for those he has slain in battle. Perhaps he—­”

Kratos came awake with a start. It took him long seconds to realize he clutched a lovely woman by the throat. Her slender fingers trying to free herself were no match for his powerful grip. Without realizing he was doing so, he had started to crush the life from her body.

“Please. Lord Kratos, do not kill her,” came the impassioned plea from the other side of his large bed. “She seeks only to serve you, not offend!”

Kratos released the death grip. The woman he had almost killed fell across his bare legs as she gasped for breath. He sat up and stared at her twitching body. She wore a thin garment of pale green silk that revealed her voluptuous curves. Struggling, she rolled off his legs, clutching her throat. The fiery red marks stood out in bold relief where his fingers had crushed into alabaster skin. Despite the nearness of death, the woman showed no fear of meeting Hades. Kratos read something different there, another emotion that infuriated him.

Let her be afraid. He was God of War. His enemies cowered before him!

But she showed pity for him. For him! The Ghost of Sparta!

“The dreams again, my lord? They still torture you? How may I ease your burden?” She moved to push away the sheets covering his midsection.

Her hot breath touched his belly and lower. Then there were two. The other concubine, the one who had begged for him to release the death grip, sought to give him pleasure, also.

“Away,” he roared. “Get away from me!”

“We seek only your comfort, Lord Kratos. We want to do whatever we can to soothe your troubles—­and to replace them with delight. Let us do Aphrodite’s bidding and—­”

Kratos swung his brawny forearm and sent both women tumbling away. They muttered to themselves. He stood, thin vestiges of his dream fading quickly until he found it difficult to remember exactly what had happened. A black plain. A cave that became a mountain and then something else. His head threatened to explode from trying to remember that encounter.

But he had no trouble remembering the feel of his sword driving into Lysandra’s body or the terror and loathing on his own sweet Calliope’s face as he killed her, also. The nightmares were as permanent as the sky and earth and the Olympian throne on which Zeus sat.

“You promised to obliterate my nightmares if I did your bidding,” Kratos said, shaking his fist at the open sky above his sleeping chamber. “You lied, Zeus. You lied!”

“Master,...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Random House Worlds
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2013
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0345508688
• ISBN 13: 9780345508683
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 372
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Anja's; service@anja-karge.de; ; Von-Gumppenberg-Str. 94; Pöttmes; 86554; Deutschland