The Heart of War (53 page)

Oh yes you did.

That horrid voice in his head was coaxing him, edging him forward, telling him of how naked, clean and available she was right now. Forcing himself to let go and plant both palms on the wall high above her head he whispered one word into her ear. “Run.”

2

Alena didn’t have to be told twice; she bolted away from Ares and dashed down the corridor naked, only to run straight into Zeus. Without any thought, she pushed the God of Gods out of her way. In her haste to escape Ares, she ran straight past Zeus and out into the rainy day.

Zeus stood in the corridor staring after her, mindful of the bruises he saw before taking in a breath and cautiously peeking his head around the corner into the Throne Room. “Knock, knock.” Zeus’ old eyes searched the room in front of him, surprised not to see his Son lounging over his throne and, for a moment, thought the place empty. Looking up to his immediate left, he saw Ares standing nearly on top of him, his eyes fixed and distant. “Trouble in Paradise already? What did you do now?”

That wasn’t anything new, Ares was hardly ever in the mood for mere chit-shat. “Well, I wanted to extend my congratulations on your impending Fatherhood, but I can see now may not be the time for that.” Zeus looked over his shoulder once more at the empty hall and the rain starting to drizzle outside the entrance of the cave.

“Mother has a big mouth.”

Turning back to look at Ares, Zeus offered a wan smile. Hera had never been one to keep secrets well unless they were hers. “She ran straight home and told all of Olympus the good news.” The news was not well received by all of the Olympians; in fact when Aphrodite was informed, the Goddess of Love let out a shriek so loud and piercing that Zeus was afraid it would bring her pretty pink temple down around her pretty red ears. Zeus could say that he blamed Aphrodite as among the dissenters but he didn’t feel the need to share that information with Ares. “I didn’t know you still had it in you, or well, in her as the case may be.”

Ares temper was growing hotter and his patience shorter by the second. “Is that all?”

“Not exactly. Aren’t you going to offer me a seat? Something to drink or eat perhaps? Really, Ares, you’re a horrible host.” Shrugging off Ares’ lack of common hospitality, Zeus took a seat at the table. “I came to find out when you’re going to go kick Cernunnos’ ass and stop chopping wood. Expecting an especially cold winter are you? Or are you simply lose your nerve in your old age?”

Stuck with his Father for the time being, Ares rolled his eyes and then his shoulders, trying to get rid of the dull ache in his temple before he sat upon his Throne of Bones. “I’m planning, Father, it’s what I do. Only the poorest Warrior goes into battle unprepared.” Ares leaned forward a bit on the throne and held up his index finger. “Ah, wait. I know you’re much more of a run right in there and storm the front door of the castle type of a guy, Father, but you did want me to return, didn’t you?”

It would be very bad form to sit here and tell his Son that he hoped he never returned to this island or Olympus. “We have a deal.” Zeus looked down at the map Alena had been working on, hoping his answer would appease Ares. Waving his hand in the air the crude lines filled in and became three-dimensional. “Cernunnos’ Keep. Where did you get this?”

“Alena is working on it for me.”

Zeus let out a huff of air. “Well she’s terrible with a pen, I do hope she is more skilled with…other things. This is awful. It will never do. It’s not even to scale.”

“I know.”

Waving his hand in the air, Zeus turned the crude lines Alena drew on the parchment into three-dimensions so that it was no longer flat but stood upright. Finger waving in the air as though he held a pen, Zeus filled in the missing pieces with intricate brick walls—complete with guard towers on all four sides, something Alena had left out—the crude squares she’d drawn to indicate small buildings came to life with windows, doors and thatched roofs. From memory, Zeus filled in as many of the details as possible until the drawing no longer resembled something done by a kindergartener but by a skilled artist. Including the furnishings from the entrance of the inner keep and the path to the Great Hall. “He’s very tricky, Ares. Cernunnos has tunnels that run beneath his walls. I’ve heard there’s one or two that leads beyond the walls, but all lead to the inner keep.”

As the drawing took on more life and more detail, Ares interest was piqued. He rose from the throne to stand behind his father, looking down at the new map over Zeus’ shoulder. All of this was interesting and even helpful information. It left Ares standing behind Zeus stroking his beard and pondering. “What are you doing?”

“I know you don’t trust me and let’s face it, we’ve got good reasons to dislike each other,” Zeus capitulated. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, Zeus pulled out a heavy object and slammed it on the table. “I found these right where I left them in my dungeon,” he announced proudly and gestured toward the Chains that had once held Ares in place while the God of War stood trial for murder. They were pitted and covered with two thousand years worth of dust. “I know you think I had something to do with the sudden appearance of those,” he pointed toward the shinier pair of nearly exact shackles. “I did not. Now you have no choice but to believe me.”

Onyx eyes fixed to the Chains while his hand continued stroking his heard, Ares let out a loud and almost joyous snort as his eyes drifted back to the floating scale of Cernunnos’ Keep. “Must I? Hmmm, strange, don’t you think?” The hand on his beard began to wave lightly in the air as though he were playing with something. “I mean, how that’s supposed to work for you but not for me.”

“I thought you would be pleased with this evidence.”

“Déjà vu all over again,” Ares mused. “Where’s Hephaestus? No one has seen him hundreds of years. So, when did he forge these?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Zeus offered easily. “But he didn’t have to be on Olympus to do it. I only wanted to show you that I am not your enemy here, Ares.” That, of course, was a lie. Zeus was hoping to kill several birds with one stone here; Ares, Alena, that wretched bastard she was carrying, Cernunnos, and to obtain his vengeance for Artemis. Zeus would say and do anything to get to those ends. From the look of Ares and the way the Fey ran out of here everything was going along fine right in line with the plan. Zeus would be surprised if Alena survived the night; by morning she and that creature inside her would no longer be bothersome to the God of Gods.

Holding his hand above the map floating above the tabletop, he turned his finger and the model turned slowly 360 degrees, showing them every angle of the layout. “Make no mistake, here more than anything else I want revenge for Artemis. When are you going to get it for me?” Next to the Chains lay the Druid’s Staff. Zeus reached out to touch it, his ancient hand slid along the smooth wood and his old eyes took to shining. “It’s a fine weapon, Ares. It will look good on my wall.” His hand closed around the wood as Zeus went to pick it up but Ares’ hand closed down around Zeus’ wrist. “I’ve brought you a gift; you should be a good host and give me one in return.”

“Put it down, Father. Alas, it’s not mine to give. I told you before that it belongs to Alena. She is the victor of that battle and this is her spoil.” Mad at her, incensed with her or not, the Spoils of War always belonged to the Victor. That was one rule Ares never broke under any circumstances.

“What does she need with it? She can’t even use it. It’s just a…paperweight to her.”

“Nevertheless Father it’s not yours so take your hand off it.”

“You still don’t trust me?” Zeus challenged. “Fine. Clean yourself up and let’s go visit your Uncle. Hades will tell us if Hephaestus resides in the Underworld and if he is then he can tell you when he forged that set of Chains.”

“And if he’s not there?”

“Then perhaps it is your Brother out there somewhere who’s plotting against you. Who could blame him given the shame you caused him with Aphrodite?”

3

While Zeus and Ares discussed a plan of action and then made ready for a trip to the Underworld, Alena huddled between a large walnut tree and a rock for shelter from the drizzle. Drawing her knees up under her chin for comfort and whatever warmth she could find, she started to cry.

“A woman beautiful as you, Maggie, should never have tears in her eyes unless joy has brought them to her.”

Startled by the sound of a voice, Alena looked up to see Eros fluttering next to her. “Where did you come from?”

“Forgive my intrusion but when I saw you run out of my Father’s home so hastily I flew down to see if you were all right.” Eros wanted to see Alena more than anything but he was afraid of jogging her memory. However, after watching his Father camped out all night on the far side of the island and seeing her flee through the mouth of the cave he decided to come down and take a risk. Eros missed her greatly. He wanted nothing more than to be close to her and was terribly remorseful that he’d ever enlisted Apollo’s assistance. He’d do anything to take that back, but since he couldn’t he hoped she would never remember the things Apollo had done to her and Eros’ cowardice in the matter.

The second Apollo saw Maggie he was all over her. Frustration made him irate when Apollo couldn’t get the belt off her no matter what he tried, and that included attempting to melt it. Apollo harnessed the Power of the Sun and directed it through the center of his palm where it emitted a laser beam so intense it split a crevice in the rock floor of Eros’ love-nest two feet wide and so deep you couldn’t hear a coin hit the bottom. Maggie screamed, she cried and begged for mercy as the metal heated but Apollo couldn’t hear her. It wasn’t until smoke and the putrid scent of searing flesh filled the room that Apollo gave up trying.

There were other ways for a man to pleasure himself with a woman and so Apollo did. Apollo was unspeakably cruel to the pretty little Fey who was so swiftly capturing Eros’ heart. Apollo did things that even Ares would hesitate to do. In many ways, the Sons of Zeus were a lot more alike than they would ever admit. It broke Eros’ heart to stand there and watch him. What could he do? He couldn’t just let her go. She was the woman Zeus had been searching for so long. For her own safety, or so Eros hoped, Eros insisted they had to find a way to bring her to Zeus. Once she told the God of Gods what Apollo had done there would be trouble. Apollo came up with a plan. As these bothersome memories were fresh, they hadn’t yet been able to fully develop and settle in her head, Apollo claimed he could erase them. Eros agreed and it worked well the first time but then he and his cock came back and Apollo had to do it again, then again, then again, one day Alena looked up at him and she couldn’t tell Eros her name. That was the end of the game. Eros couldn’t let her continue suffering. In the dead of night, he wrapped her up in a purple blanket and flew her away. Loathe to be rid of her, to not look on her pretty face any longer, Eros bound her hands and flew her over the blue waters to dump her into the sea off the coast of Italy. He’d meant to cut her bonds before he let her go and he meant for her to wash up on an island only an hour’s swim from where she fell. The island was a little backwards, its people hadn’t embraced technology, but they were kind hearted, and there was plenty of food and drink. They would take her in and care for her. She would be safe from Cernunnos and the Olympians. She would be happy even if she never remembered who she was.

That wasn’t the way it worked out. Instead, Maggie woke up, she was startled, she started to fight, and he let the sling slide over his head. Hovering in the night sky above the ocean, Eros watched her fall and listened to her screaming; ‘No, don’t drop me!’ Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine she would wash up on Ares’ shore here in Greece. Or that he would ever be this close to her again.

“I came to see you. Where are your clothes, Maggie? Why are you out here in the cold weeping?” The God of Love knelt by her side and took her hand. “What has my Father done?”

Eros’ voice, like his touch, was soft and gentle. It was very welcome after last night. “Just a-a lover’s quarrel.”

“Lover’s quarrel?” With her knees tucked up under her chin, Eros plainly saw the paw marks from her hips to her lower thighs. Was that a slight bruise on her cheek? Her neck? “Well, if this is what happens when you fight I wonder what it’s like when you make love.” He couldn’t resist if he tried, she was so close and it had been so long since he’d touched her. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and take her for a long flight, hear her laugh, and then he would take her some place quiet and safe. The belt no longer an obstacle he dreamed of the day he would have her under him so sweet and willing. Gingerly sitting down beside her, Eros spread his wing and let it wrap around Alena’s shoulders and envelope her. Holding it up in a high arch, it sheltered her from the wind and cold rain. “You’re shivering, Maggie. Lean next to me, I’ll keep you warm.” He remembered how much she used to like to sleep in the soft crook of his wings. How she curled up there like a little kitten, her face pressed to the nape of his neck. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

Sitting here with him looking at those beautiful wings upon his shoulders and staring into those eyes with a good deal of fear and confusion there was something familiar about him. Almost comforting. Alena knew it was Eros who’d dropped her into the sea. She should be afraid of him and yet she wasn’t because under that disturbing knowledge was a deeper one; he hadn’t dropped her into the sea because he wanted to be rid of her or to harm her. Some small inner voice told her that he might even have been trying to protect her. “That’s very kind of you,” Alena stammered, realizing that Eros not only felt warm, he smelled like fresh baked bread. That was also familiar and nearly welcome.