Aphrodite's War (25 page)

The sandals changed altitude and trajectory, causing his stomach to
lurch. How long had he been airborne? Hermes’s footwear had done all
the work, even the navigation, permitting Adrian to enjoy the trip so
much he’d lost track of time.

Definitely descending. Face first.

He hadn’t seen the mountain range closing in. Now the stone
guardians of the foothills loomed. He headed straight for them, deep into
the shadows of a valley.

Panic set in. His speed decreased, and an abandoned mine shaft lay
before him, darker than the coming night.
How was he supposed to fight a god with no light? Adrian pictured
himself batting at a flesh piñata. Not funny.

As if commanded, the helmet clicked and a mask dropped over his
eyes. Instantly, Adrian had an infrared view of the scenery and tension
eased from his shoulders.

He got some bravado back. At least until the sandals tucked him
upright before depositing him on the ground. Nausea returned.
He landed on gravel; crunching footfalls and scattering stones echoed
throughout the crevice. Somewhere a hawk screeched.

The shoes stopped humming. Adrian listened to the lonely breeze
whistling a mindless tune between the rocks. Nothing else disturbed the
tomblike grace.

Daylight died, leaving Adrian to stare at the weathered struts bracing
the entrance. A set of gnarled rails lay like a rusty tongue. No place he’d
ever seen had such a foreboding menace to it. It looked hungry.

A last stab of doubt dug Adrian in the gut. What the hell made him
think he could use his Kendo skills against a powerful being ages old?
He was just a second year kendokka, a mortal human with some skill
with a katana. Well…a shinai anyway. What was he doing here?

Adrian stroked the torque around his neck. The amber warmed at his
touch, reminding him of his purpose.
Poetry. He was the only one who could save her now.

With that resolve Adrian moved into kamae. He positioned the sword
in a relaxed grip with the tip directed at the throat of an opponent who
would soon be all too real.

“Hephaestus, I know you have Poetry.” Adrian muttered vulgarities
when his nervous voice ricocheted from the jagged crags. Get a grip.
“I’m here for you, Hephaestus.” He waited for a signal. No response.

“What’s the matter, forge-god? Are you a coward?” Adrian’s
confidence increased. Maybe this guy wasn’t so tough after all. “Come
out and fight like a man.”

He heard a snarl from inside the cave, shuffling lopsided steps. What
would he meet? Something from a Lord of the Rings movie? A troll or an
orc? Preferably something slow and stupid and easily defeated.

His hopes died when a muscular giant emerged, his eyes gleaming
with hostile intelligence. In his meaty fist he held an axe twice the size of
Adrian’s head.

“You are Adrian?” Hephaestus glared with distain. “The mortal she
loves?” He snorted in disgust. “Why she would choose such a puny
creature is beyond my comprehension.”

Adrian held his stance, dismayed by the jitter of the weapon in his
sweaty hands. He squeezed harder on the tsuka to steady it.
“It is of small circumstance,” Hephaestus said. “Your time has come,
human. You will die.”
Hephaestus raised his axe and Adrian prepared to engage.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Clang! To Adrian’s relief, he succeeded in blocking and unbalancing
Hephaestus, who growled as he slipped on loose stone. Adrian advanced
in kamae, gliding forward to strike at the god’s back. Not a kendo move,
but he’d take it. He wasn’t about to make this easy for the forge-god.

Hephaestus swung upward and the sword glanced off ‘kote’, his
wrists. Adrian stumbled but kept the katana steady. He ducked in time to
avoid losing his head as the hatchet trimmed his hair.

Hephaestus sneered as he hobbled sideways. “So. You have some skill
with a sword.” His gleaming eyes narrowed and his grin dwindled in the
infrared. “I’ve been creating weapons since long before your ancestors
understood their purpose.”

“But can you use them?” Adrian said. Maybe he could anger him,
throw Hephaestus off his game. “I’ve already drawn first blood.”

Adrian glanced at the stream of crimson dribbling to the ground. A cut
like that would’ve taken a normal person’s arm off. On Hephaestus it was
a scratch.

“Stupid mortal.” Hephaestus drew back the axe. “Your kind doesn’t
appreciate greatness.” The weapon came with a rush of air, but Adrian
sidestepped it without losing his stance. “You will tire, and I will destroy
you.”

Adrian pivoted to square off with the god and collided with
Hephaestus’s fist.

He soared two meters before slamming against the mountain. Stars
danced in his dimming vision, despite the helmet’s protection and
enhanced capabilities. Adrian’s ribs seemed to crush his lungs. He
gagged and spat bile. The katana slipped from his fingers as he slumped
to the ground.

A roar from above caught his attention, and he peered through bleary
eyes to see Hephaestus lunge. Adrian scurried out of range on hands and
knees.

The impact of metal meeting rock echoed through the valley and
pierced Adrian’s eardrums. He heaved, trying to catch his breath, but
vomited instead. He wiped his sour mouth with a shaking hand.

Why didn’t I just bring a gun?
Hephaestus grunted with effort. His blade stayed trapped.
I won’t get another chance, Adrian thought. This is it.

Adrian wobbled to his feet and fell, landing with his cheek resting on
grit. The scent of moss teased his nostrils. The atmosphere radiated green
from the last rays of a sun long gone.

This would be a good place to die. I could just go to sleep and never
wake up again. There wasn’t a nerve on Adrian’s body that didn’t shout
in agony.

Hephaestus snarled and swore in frustration, still wrestling with the
stuck weapon. Dust and pebbles trickled from the jammed crack.
But what would the forge-god do with Poetry?

If Adrian didn’t free Poetry she’d be left to fend for herself. In his
minds eye he saw her, quaking in fear behind the cash register at
Denny’s. He couldn’t resist her then and he wouldn’t let her down now.

Determined, Adrian slithered on his belly. His katana waited just
beyond. His fingers tapped the dirt. Closer...
Judging from the scraping and grinding noises, Hephaestus had nearly
freed his weapon.

Cold metal graced his fingertips and Adrian inched forward until he
could carefully slide the sword alongside his body to grab the leather
bound hilt.
He labored to his knees. C’mon feet, don’t fail me now.

The dumb cliché worked. The sandals twitched in response, and
Adrian found himself vertical. The shoes hummed in expectation. Adrian
shook off the dizzy spots in his sights.

Even as Hephaestus tore his axe from the crevice, Adrian smiled. This
could work. Hephaestus was clumsy and pissed off, giving Adrian the
advantage.

“You don’t look good, human,” Hephaestus said.

“Neither…do…you,” Breathing became difficult for Adrian. The
god’s face twinkled with greasy sweat. He stank of mold and metal.
“And your fighting skills suck.”

Hephaestus bellowed and charged. Adrian stayed in kamae, but
Hermes’ sandals whisked Adrian from harm. The blade breezed past his
face and nicked his sword.

Adrian stretched tall and brought his weapon straight up and back,
aiming for ‘do’. Hephaestus had exposed his right flank.

The blow connected with a sickening thud, churning Adrian’s
stomach. Blood gushed from his side, but the massive man hardly
slowed. Scarlet spray peppered Adrian’s shirt as the god backhanded
him. The golden footwear dragged him to the precarious edge, but he
didn’t worry. He trusted the shoes. He wouldn’t fall.

Hephaestus glared at him in bewilderment before dropping his gaze to
Adrian’s feet. Understanding dawned.

“I remember those wretched things. Hermes’ magicks cannot save you
from me.” The snarl transformed into a wicked display of teeth. “Unless
you wish to fly away like a coward?”

Adrian’s training took over. He wouldn’t let Hephaestus bait him. A
kendokka must remain calm in the face of an opponent. He relaxed,
tension drained from his limbs.
‘Men’ strike.

“You,” His katana plowed into the god’s skull, “talk too much.”

The clatter of Hephaestus’ dropped axe reverberated through the chill
evening. Time stopped. Adrian sighed in relief. It was finally over. The
blue steel was embedded to Hephaestus’s eyebrows.

Through the helmet’s enhanced mask he looked to his enemy…
The eyes twitched.

Adrian gasped, trying to dislodge the katana from brain and bone.
Hephaestus slapped his hands on either edge of the blade. The cliff’s end
beckoned. Pebbles tumbled and fell, never to be heard again.

Impossible.

Hephaestus yanked, and the blood-drenched weapon began to slide.
His strength drove Adrian into space. His gut lurched as he plummeted,
taking the god with him into the evergreen abyss.

The sting of pine-scented branches slapped Adrian. The shoes
recoiled, and Adrian hovered upside down still holding the katana,
Hephaestus’s fingers gripping the steel. Hermes’s sandals stuttered and
lost altitude, unable to support the weight of both him and the gargantuan
immortal.

Sweat and weakness loosened Adrian’s grasp. He glanced at his rival;
Hephaestus’s eyes clouded with disbelief.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian already regretted killing him, but this had to end.
He let go.
Hephaestus howled for an extended moment, before an earth-cracking
bang ended his rage. Hopefully forever.

Adrian wiped his face with his tie. No one took a slice to the head and
lived, not even in the movies. Adrenaline leaked away and sore muscles
throbbed in time with Adrian’s slamming pulse.

The enchanted sandals deposited him back to the cave entrance where
Adrian took stock of his situation and options. The mountain dared him
to enter.

He had no weapon. What if there were minions? Or a guardian?
Adrian wouldn’t dismiss anything out of fairy tales to come at him.

Wait. Where was the axe? He navigated his way with infrared vision
until he found the greenish heavy metal stage prop lying where
Hephaestus dropped it, and hefted it with his remaining energy. Pleased
with its light weight, he brandished it experimentally.

Nice. Lucky for him, the ancient smithy knew his stuff. If he didn’t
know better, he could swear it was made of lightweight foam rubber. One
problem solved.

But his contused heart grew weary. He peered inside the never-ending
vastness of the tunnel. Not even the helmet’s night vision aided him; it
offered only residual heat of the waning day.

“Poetry.” He felt the stirrings of despair. How would he find her?

New light materialized from…beneath him? No. He looked down.
The ground hadn’t lit up, but he still saw the flare. Where did it come
from? He stroked his neck, even as warmth bathed his skin.

The amber. Of course. The gems were ensorcelled. Aphrodite said
thoughts of Poetry would lead him to her.
“Yes.” Adrian hissed his excitement. For the first time since arriving
at Poetry’s apartment Adrian believed he could win.
“Come on, fancy feet,” he said with a laugh. “Follow the pretty
rocks.”
# # #

“Why can’t you just do this yourself?” Strife kept her volume low, but
the corridor’s emptiness amplified her words. She shivered despite her
stolen lab coat, and wished more than once that she were safe and warm
in Ranjan’s arms. “No one can see you but me.”

She’d discovered that fact when, upon entering the hospital, a nurse
attempted to send her away. She strolled right past Ares and addressed
Strife directly.

“Visiting hours are over,” the nurse had said. “You’ll have to come
b…” Her words were cut off as her master backtracked and casually
snapped her neck. The same fate befell both desk clerks and a doctor. Not
one human spotted him under his invisibility.

Why did Ares drag her into this? Why couldn’t he leave her in peace?

Because, dear Strife, your performance at the flower merchant’s
compromised the mission. Not only is Aphrodite alert to your presence,
but she will suspect the larger plan. She knows me well.

Ares’ lip curled in distaste. And stop speaking like a simpleton. Your
speech is lazy and distasteful. You spend too much time among the
humans.

Strife wanted to run screaming from her fate. She recognized her
foolishness in killing Aphrodite’s favorite son. When the goddess
discovered her, Strife would plead for a merciful death that wouldn’t…
would not…come.

You should thank me, Ares said. I shall protect you when she finds us.

Strife almost laughed and sucked in sterile, chemically tainted air that
irritated her nose instead. Ares defending her. And Hades would leave the
realm of death for women and song. She sneezed and cast Ares a
doubtful glare as she wiped her nose.
You cannot challenge her alone.

True. But Strife found it more likely that he only needed her to
perform the final tasks while Ares battled the woman he once loved…
had he ever been capable of that emotion. She no longer believed it to be
possible.

Strife never conceived she would experience it herself. The soothing
atmosphere of the Cross Cancer Institute’s walls, with its handmade art
and sunny paint, mocked her. The guilt for her spinelessness paled in
comparison to the bitter flavor of loss.

Ranjan offered her a dream. And she would reward him with death
and destruction. She hoped they did not cross another human before they
arrived at the cyclotron. She could not bear to watch another soul expire.
Not anymore.

Ares’ derisive snort startled her. The New World has made you soft,
Strife. For centuries you were a nightmare on the battlefield. Now you
behave like a mortal. Ares clucked his tongue. Why would you wish to
be one of them?

Why indeed? But in a few short days she experienced more than she
had in several hundred years. She had explored a vibrant city, tasted but a
few of its delights, and viewed Earth from worldly eyes. She had been
seduced by a man who wanted her love.