The Heart of War (60 page)

“No!”

“Yes!” Ares asserted. “It’s you, Alena. You’re the only one who can stop him, or are you going to stand there and let him run roughshod right over you?” The apparitions he was creating broke rank, they split down the middle with two approaching from the left and the other two from the right. He saw the sweat break out on her brow and heard the rapid beat of her heart. “Are you going to let him hold you down forever?”

“No.” This time the word was nothing more than a quiet rush of air ushering forth from between her still lips. “You can’t have me.”

The Staff spewed forth a remarkable but not formidable stream of energy. The clay pot behind the apparition split in two and fell to the ground.

Alena was lost to herself, she saw nothing but Cernunnos and felt the Power surging within her to stop him dead in his tracks. She would use it, she would not be afraid and she would not hold back. “You can’t touch me!”

Another bolt exploded forth from the Staff, this one much stronger than the last. The clay pot behind the Cernunnos with his bow drawn shattered before it fell to the floor. The bolt didn’t stop there; it went past the point of the pot and singed the rock wall of the cave. The two Cernunnos’ on the inner flank dispersed, Alena turned to the one on her right brandishing his Staff which Ares made glow with a strong red light. Alena’s head swung toward it first, she looked at the apparition with cold eyes and then smiled. “You can’t touch my child.” The strong voice turned to a cold whisper. The Staff let go with another burst of energy. This one brought a whip of wind with it, it kicked up the dust on the floor, making Ares squint his eyes against it as it ripped right through the apparition, dispersing it in the air. Behind it, the pot burst with such force that shards of it deeply embedded in the rock wall. As if in slow motion, Alena turned to the last approaching Cernunnos, the one with the gun in his hand. “You can’t touch my Husband.”

A bolt of light so intense that it made Ares hold his hand to his eyes leapt out of the Staff, bringing with it not a whip of wind but a full-force gale. Alena rocked on her feet but she held her ground as her eyes fixated on the approaching menace. “You’re dead to me.”

The pot behind the apparition did not so much explode or burst as it simply disintegrated, obliterated to the point of being nothing but dust that the wind picked up and dispersed throughout the room. There was a great
boom!
and the cave rocked so hard Ares thought there was an Earthquake. Dust, rock and debris fell on them from the ceiling above as the rock let out a loud groan. When the Staff lay quiet once more and the dust began to clear Ares saw an amazing sight: sunlight. Full of wonder and disbelief he wandered away from Alena who was standing there with her mouth agape and then Ares began to laugh. “Oooh,” he mocked Alena for a moment, “Look, a window.”

She’d blow a hole straight through the side of the mountain. No less than fifty yards deep. “Sorry,” Alena mumbled on autopilot.

“Oh, well, we needed some fresh air in here anyway.” Ares let out a long low whistle as he stood in his spa gazing out over the cliffs to the sea below for the very first time in the two thousand years he’d made this island his home. “Very impressive, Alena.” He turned to look at her, she was standing still but not for much longer. Alena was growing paler by the second and she soon began to sink toward the ground. Ares dashed to her side to catch her before she could fall. “I’ve got you,” he assured. “Don’t be afraid, it’s all right. I’ve got you.” He looked at his new window again. “You did well. Rest now.”

For the next ten minutes or so, she slept deeply in his arms while Ares sat in the sunlight. There was no doubt in his mind that there was Ichor in her veins. Trouble was it laid dormant so long Alena was going to have problems learning to use and regulate it. Olympian children were encouraged to use their Powers from the second they were discovered so they were simply a part of them and not something that suddenly jumped out of the shadows one day to overtake them. He would help her; he would guide her and make her strong.

Alena’s eyes slowly rolled open and they fluttered closed again against the bright sunlight. Raising a weary hand to shade them she looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”

Ares chuckled and kissed her forehead. “You’d need a backhoe to fix that, hmmm?” He gave her a hug and whispered, “Nice work.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Facing Extinction

1

From the highest peaks to the lowest ocean trenches, the Olympians scoured the Earth in search of the others like them, those who had once been called Gods. Not one was found. They did manage to find a few lesser beings, but not many. In a great panic, they all fled back to Olympus where they clustered in small groups before they were called to the Council Chamber.

Aphrodite sat at her pink marble vanity in her pink marble room surrounded by pink roses and candles. She fluffed her hair while she stared into the mirror thinking of what she was going to say when her turn came. It was very important that she not let her spiteful nature get the better of her and thereby tip her hand.

“Are you all right, Mother?”

Aphrodite looked past herself in the mirror to see the reflection of Eros standing behind her. “This whole thing is very upsetting,” she offered in a huff.

“I know,” Eros said easily as he wandered further into the room and up behind her. “Did you find Hephaestus?”

“What? No, no, I didn’t,” the Goddess of Love muttered. In truth she didn’t even look for him. Aphrodite knew her Husband was dead and had been for a very long time. It was just that she’d opted to keep that information to herself rather than share it with the rest. “Did you find anyone?”

Eros shrugged his sinewy shoulders. “Daphne and a few of her Nymphs were hiding on an island not far from here, with Circe.”

“That witch still lives?” Daughter of Helios, Circe had never been anything but trouble for any of them. She delighted in casting spells and curses upon the Olympians just to taunt them. That damn wand of hers could turn anyone, even an Olympian, into an animal of Circe’s choosing and the spell could never be broken. “Daphne too?” That was unwelcome news as well. Long ago Apollo fell in love with Daphne but she never returned his affections no matter how hard Apollo tried. This had been a small bone of contention between Eros and Apollo for ages. As it turned out, Eros was playing one of his little games and he’d struck Apollo with a golden arrow, causing him to fall instantly in love with the beautiful Woodland Nymph Daphne. However, Eros earlier struck Daphne with an iron arrow so that she could never fall in love with anyone. Apollo chased after Daphne for centuries and she spent centuries doing everything she could to avoid him.

Just a little bit of fun among Olympians, that’s all.

“I brought her here as Grandfather demanded,” Eros offered still in an easy voice, “she’s waiting back in my tower. You found no one at all?”

“Morpheus, but that’s all,” Aphrodite whispered and closed her eyes. It was hard to believe that Cernunnos was actually pulling this off, but the evidence was clear. Morpheus had been hiding out for years; he truly had become sick of the bickering of his distant relatives and went to live a quiet life doing what he did best; bringing prophetic dreams to Mortals. When she’d gone to see him earlier in the day to convince him that he had to return to Olympus, Morpheus wasn’t happy. Aphrodite had kept in touch with the King of Dreams since he left Olympus, promising never to divulge his location to their shared relatives. She’d availed herself to his talents on more than one occasion, most recently where Ares’ dreams were concerned. They couldn’t afford for that information to become known. Morpheus would keep his mouth shut and so would Aphrodite and since they were the only two who knew, that would shut out the rest. Besides, as soon as this was over Morpheus would retreat away from Olympus and back to his quiet life. Opening those pretty baby blues she turned around in the small chair to gaze directly upon her Son. “This is going to get ugly.”

Eros was just as surprised to hear that Morpheus was still rattling around, as Aphrodite had been to hear of Circe. Morpheus was an odd duck like Hades. Not truly alive and not truly dead, the King of Dreams was unsettlingly transparent, ghostly. One could see right through him and he could float through walls—even ones made of solid stone like those that made up Ares’ cave— rather than teleport through them. More than that, Morpheus could bring the most intensely erotic dreams, the kind that made one wake spent, satisfied, and covered in their own lustful sweat or the most horrific nightmares, the kind made one jolt awake, heart racing in one’s throat and the sweat on your skin feel like a thin layer of ice. “Most definitely.” Ugly was probably too soft a word for what was going to go down in the Council Chamber in the next few minutes. It was going to be downright vile. “Don’t worry, Mother, I’ve got your back,” Eros assured as he traced his fingertips along Aphrodite’s bare shoulders. “You still have mine, don’t you?”

“You need to ask?” Aphrodite sounded insulted.

“You know how much I want Alena, Mother.” Eros grimaced as he tilted his blonde head from side to side pondering her question. “So, I feel it’s best. Just humor me, Mother.”

Planting one hand on her ample hip and the other on her Son’s cheek, she looked up at him and sweetly batted her long eyelashes. “I always have your back, Eros.”

2

While Mother and Son spoke in her bedroom, Hera, Zeus, Hades and Poseidon gathered in Zeus’ throne room. Zeus was too frantic to sit upon his massive golden throne; instead he paced around the white and black marble room in long strides, leaning heavily upon his Staff, the tip of which made an endless clicking sound as it struck the floor. “You heard that Circe and a band of Nymphs have been found, Daphne is said to be among them,” Poseidon ventured before going on. “Morpheus as well.”

Morpheus.

Zeus was surprised to hear of the discovery of both. He didn’t really care about his distant Niece Circe, but he never trusted his Cousin Morpheus. Anyone that another could clearly see through was not a being that could be trusted. To Zeus’ mind, Morpheus was a mutant, an abomination, just like that bastard child Alena was carrying. “That freak of nature,” the God of Gods muttered as he stroked his chest length white beard. “We’ll deal with them in time. None of you found any God? Not one?” Zeus was very disheartened. He had looked for those he’d once known, he’d gone to the Northlands to look for Thor, Odin and Loki but found the lands devoid of Gods. Zeus flew to India seeking out Shiva, Kali and Vishnu, still he found no one.

The Siblings all looked from one to another and then to their Oldest brother. Together they said: “No.”

Hera spoke and expanded a bit. “No Gods, I found a few Faeries still living in Britain. A very small cluster. That was as close as I dared go to Cernunnos’ land.”

“You shouldn’t have gone that far! Are you out of your mind, my Wife?” Zeus admonished. “If he had sensed your presence he could have sent his remaining Druids after you.”

Hera had gone that far because she wanted to see what she could see and talk to anyone who might be of help to them. The Faery told her of a Fey Village that once existed several hundred miles from their location but Cernunnos had burned it to the ground hundreds of years ago. Other than that, the Faery knew of no others like them and they had been stunned to see Hera come to their quaint little gathering place. “I believe this must have been Alena’s village, don’t you think, my Husband? That would make her truly the very last of her kind.” Hera was no fool, she’d spent her entire life with Zeus and she knew that he was very unhappy with Alena’s position in Ares’ life. If she were just another one of Ares’ little whores, Zeus wouldn’t care, but Ares had the nerve to elevate her beyond that. Savages could never become Queens, not in Zeus’ mind. They were good for fucking on the throne but not for sitting upon it.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me, Wife?” Zeus asked sternly.

“Should it?” Hera countered softly.

Hades intervened. “We can’t afford any more infighting, that includes you two. You’re supposed to be our Leaders, act like it,” he admonished. “I know how you feel about Alena, my brother, but for now you have to let it go. When the smoke clears, if she still stands, you can deal with it then.”

Walking around the throne room almost as though she were floating on the air, Hera held herself high and gazed at each of her Brothers as she passed them until she came back to Zeus. “On the contrary, Alena makes my Son happy. Why do you want to deny him this? It doesn’t take anything away from you.”

“His mere existence takes away from me,” Zeus countered.

3

With the sun only a few hours from setting, the Olympians and the newcomers—Morpheus, Circe, 12 Woodland Nymphs led by Daphne and 13 Faeries who were not keen on coming here—gathered in the Council Chamber to, in turn, tell their respective tales of their adventures in seeking out the Others.

The Faeries spoke last, led by a very small and old man named Elvin who stooped over so deeply, he was always looking at his feet. Like most Faeries, Elvin stood no more than nine inches tall. He had two sets of iridescent wings upon his hunched back and two pointed ears on the sides of his head. Fluttering in the air to hover at eye level with the seated Olympians, he told the fantastical and horrific tale of Old Gods who’d simply disappeared one by one. No one had seen Brigid or Ceridwen or Icaunus, or Lenus, not even Rhiannon and she loved to run wild and free through the forest upon her horse. After they disappeared, Cernunnos, it was whispered, began to call foreign Gods to his Great Hall. Once or twice these Gods had been seen going through the gates, but never had one been seen departing.