God of War II

Informationen zum 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. Klappentext 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.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,...

Auteur
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.

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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.

Échantillon de lecture
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…