The Heart of War (21 page)

Eros stood on his side of the table looking at her with lost love and burning suspicion. When asked what happened, Psyche’s Soul replied that she did not know. The only thing she remembered was spending the day with Eros, they walked along the beach collecting seashells and making love. They picnicked and made love some more. They were coming back along the sandy path to the tower and…that was last thing she could recall with any certainty. Eros said all was true and they had spent the day in this manner.

The next thing Psyche knew she was standing on the shores of the River Styx. She didn’t remember Apollo or Ares but she vehemently denied having an affair with either of them and swore that she had been faithful to her Husband since the day they were married. Never did she wish for another Lover.

With no answers to either mystery, the inhabitants of Olympus continued their bitter bickering and backstabbing until Zeus could no longer stand it. Long ago, he had decreed death would be the punishment for any Olympian who killed another Olympian. Yet Psyche was not an Olympian; she was only Immortal due to Zeus’ good graces. To this end Zeus could not condemn Ares to death for he had not killed a God, if indeed he killed her at all.

As for Artemis, Zeus knew she had a very close relationship with Ares. Being very much alike in many ways, but none more than in their love of the forests and all things wild and free, they stuck together through thick and thin. When they were very small hardly was there a time when one was without the other. They spent days upon days deep in the woods hunting and exploring. Like Apollo, Ares was very protective of his sister. Let someone say a bad word about Artemis in Ares’ presence and it was likely to be the last thing the fool ever did. The only thing more apt to bring a person more pain than badmouthing Artemis was making her cry. That brought death. Despite the darkness of his very nature, Ares was very loving with Artemis, kind, and even tender. Over the years as the two grew older, Zeus often wondered just how close Artemis and Ares had become. So did Apollo, who warned against their relationship, telling Artemis to stay away from Ares as he could only cause her heartache.

Artemis never hesitated to return the favors and affection Ares showed to her. More often than not, she was the only one standing by her brother in times of trouble. Artemis was one of the few Olympians who could openly jest with Ares, go so far as to make fun of him, even mock him, and still make him laugh heartily. Unless he was causing pain, agony, suffering or outright carnage, Ares never found anything to laugh or smile about. She was the only one who could ever get Ares to willingly change his mind about anything, and he was one stubborn little bastard when he got his sights set on something. Never one to argue, Artemis seemed to have a gentle way of soothing her brother even when Ares was at his worst, but she never interjected herself into Ares’ affairs unless she thought he was terribly wrong or way over the top in his actions. Other than that, she accepted him and let Ares be Ares. Above all other things, Zeus thought it was this that had earned Artemis Ares’ loyalty, his respect, and his admiration.

Both in pubic and in private when questioned by his Father, Ares vigorously and vehemently maintained his innocence in both crimes. Ares denied ever touching Psyche or Artemis. No matter how close he appeared with the latter, Ares understood Artemis was proud of her chasteness and he would never seek to relieve her of it. Never betray her in any manner never mind one so vile. As to the former, Psyche, not in all the years he had known her, Ares proclaimed, did he ever take her to bed by seduction or force.

Zeus had to be absolutely certain Ares was guilty if he was going to condemn him to death. Again, proof fell far short. The idea of Ares holding Artemis down and doing to her the things he would do to any Mortal woman disgusted Zeus and rang hollow in his heart. Ares was one ruthless, merciless, cold-blooded bastard and Aphrodite had been right when she said he had loved no one other than himself. It was so hard to put anything past him, above him or below him. Ares was Chaos Incarnate and apt to do absolutely anything at any given moment in time. But this? There were so few of them left here on Olympus. The world had moved on without them and losing even one more Olympian was too much for Zeus’ old heart to bear.

Unable to condemn Ares to death but knowing the others were unwilling to live with Ares any longer, Zeus had no choice but to strip Ares of his Station among them, along with his Crown and Scepter before casting him out of Olympus and into Exile. There Ares would remain until he confessed to his crimes or proved his innocence beyond any doubt. Eros added another stipulation and that was that Ares had to provide his Son with a suitable woman to replace Psyche.

As to Artemis, there was no replacement for her.

“My Brother will never prove his innocence because he’s as guilty as the day is long.” To accentuate his point, Apollo gestured upward with an open hand at the sun high in the sky. “A short while after that a little thing known as the American Revolution broke out…”

History did not teach her much regarding the relationship between Ares and Artemis and so she had no information of her own upon which to rely. However, History did tell her in no uncertain terms how much Ares and Apollo hated each other. Given that, she would not put it past Apollo to bear false witness against Ares or at least make him look guilty. This left Alena with a dilemma, she did not know whether to believe Apollo’s story or what his word was even worth. “Which side was Lord Ares on?”

Apollo looked at her queerly thinking the question odd. “The Rebels,” he answered as though it didn’t matter. Ares cared not for sides, just for bloodshed, just for battle and savagery. “My point, lowly Fey, is that the man you are shacked up with here….”

“Forgive me, Lord Apollo, but I take great exception with you believing that I am some type of toy for Lord Ares to play with.”

“Then prove me wrong,” Apollo challenged, “come with me to Olympus where my Father waits for you.”

Yes, to Olympus where there will be even more Olympians than there are here. Olympus where I seem to be invited but unwelcome.
One thing Alena knew was that it was usually better to dance with the devil you knew than to risk dancing with one—or six or seven—that you didn’t. “I already told you, I can’t comply. I’m sorry, please relay my regret to the Great God Zeus, but I am unable to leave this island.” Alena stood up and brushed the sand from her dress.

“Why do you willingly leave yourself in peril?” Apollo looked at her with narrowed gold eyes. “I will take you from here, from him; to some place Ares can never harm you. Aren’t you afraid of him?”

“Foolish, but not stupid,” Apollo chimed with an icy grin. “If I were you, I’d be quite afraid to venture to his bed since so many women before you have died there.”

“Died? In Ares’ bed?” Those eyes were still staring through her but she fought against his stare, trying to block him out. She didn’t want Apollo to see the rabid thoughts running through her mind.

“Yes, his lust is dark, wanton and insatiable. When you’re alone in the dark of night, all tucked away in your room fantasizing about running your own hands over him, feeling the heat and the weight of him over you, the taste of his sweat on our tongue, you might want to remember that. My Brother is quite lethal.”

“I have no idea what transpires in Ares’ bed,” Alena said with all of the strength she could muster. For it seemed to her that the last words he’d said, about her thoughts when she was alone in her room, he’d said them with such certainty that she believed they had been plucked directly from her mind. Whatever she did or did not think about Ares wasn’t any concern of Apollo.

“Yes, you do,” Apollo said sternly. “This conversation is boring me. Why do you still refuse to come with me?” If it were not for Cronos, Apollo would simply grab the troublesome woman and whisk her away. Alas, this was forbidden. Those who were not Olympian by birth or by making could only enter the Gates of Olympus if they were 1-invited and 2-agreed to go. Bothersome as it was, it was a safety feature designed to keep the Olympians from snatching up whoever caught their eye and keeping them forever, as Olympians were apt to do. That was all right, once she agreed to go, Alena would remain on Olympus until the Olympians decided to let her go, if they decided to let her go.

Alena shook her head and smiled sadly. “I am not…
refusing
,” she said, choosing her words carefully, trying not to show her mistrust of Apollo and the other Olympians. Things were so much easier out there in the Mortal World where if you wanted to tell someone to fuck off you just looked them in the eye and said it. Gods were always so damn pissy. Worse than that, there was bad blood here and Alena had no idea of what it was until Apollo told her of Artemis. The Olympians must think she knew something about that. But why? Trying to get a clear head, she felt her heart race and her stomach tie itself in knots, but getting excited and flustered wouldn’t help her so Alena remained calm on the outside. “If you will return here when Lord Ares does and you should get his permission for me to leave here, then I will go to Olympus with you. That’s all I ask.”

“Alena!”

The silver hairs on the back of Alena’s neck stood straight up and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep her warmth as she rose to her feet. “Did you hear that?” she asked and raised her head to the wind, waiting to see if it would call out her name again.

Apollo stood up with her. “Hear what?” He had heard it but could not be bothered to care or let it distract her. One of Ares’ little whores getting the hard salami put to her was of no concern to him and he would not allow it to be of concern to her.

A strange gleam flashed in those gold eyes and made her take a step back from him. He was lying. As he related his tale she was unsure if he was telling the truth, but standing here right now she knew it; Apollo heard someone call her name and said he did not. Before she could speak again a rustling began in the brush behind them, she turned toward it and watched a creature emerge.

The Golden Hind.

Apollo gasped in horror and took several steps back. "Vile creature! Get away from me!” Only Ares would keep such a hideous thing around knowing the dangers it represented. Blood from the Golden Hind was one of the very few things that could kill a God.

The Hind regarded Apollo with open disdain and raised her golden bow with its golden arrow.

“He’s no trouble,” she said to the rather beautiful creature. Apollo thought the Hind vile because her blood could kill him or any other God; this prevented him from seeing her true wild beauty. “He’s just leaving.”

“I am…”

“You must come with me. Now,” the Golden Hind said to Alena as she slightly lowered her bow.

Caught between the two of them and not understanding what was happening but getting the sneaking suspicion that she ought to follow the Hind’s instruction, Alena turned to Apollo. “It seems our conversation is over. You will extend my regrets to your Father?” She didn’t want to be rude and just walk away but the Hind was looking at her in such a manner that Alena knew something on this island was terribly wrong. Someone had called out her name, called it out in a cry for help. There was only one person on this island that she could think of who would call for her aid. Onya. If Ares told the Hind to look after Alena because he was leery of Kat, then Kat found another way of getting to Alena—through Onya. Feeling antsy, Alena started to walk away. Apollo grabbed her upper arm, yanked her hard and turned her around. Behind Alena, the Golden Hind raised her bow once more.

“If he doesn’t let go of me…shoot him.” The look of surprise on Apollo’s beautiful face was priceless. Alena reached out with her free hand as she brought up her foot, planted both against Apollo’s body and gave a good shove, forcing him to release his grip. “Go back to your mountain home, Apollo; tell your Father what I’ve said. Do not return here until Ares does.” Free of him, Alena raised the hem of her dress with both hands and then sprinted toward the shining animal waiting for her.

Standing in the shade on the shore, Apollo watched the Fey mount the Hind and take off into the brush.

Zeus was not going to be pleased.

3

Magdalena MacLeod

Ceres Agar

Sha’Quanda took her time and stopped often as she related her tale. By the time she reached the end, she had rested her young head against the meaty shoulder of the God of War and had broken down in tears.

Before she began, she swore her innocence on Maggie’s life. Sha’Quanda never stole anything in her life other than maybe a bit of bread, but certainly not diamonds.

They had been digging in the mines like any other day and when the sun went down and work called off, along with everyone else Sha’Quanda stood in line waiting to be groped and patted down as the guards searched for thieves. She didn’t know how the rough stone got into the pocket of her apron, perhaps it fell in there while she was digging. It was there and punishment was swift and severe; anyone caught stealing had their arm cut off. This was usually done on the spot, but Sha’Quanda was so young and she had the bad luck to be female on top of it. They would take her back to Jaakim’s tent where everyone knew the warlord had a special place for just such events. Word had it that Jaakim had a special table in his tent, it tilted at an angle, and he would strap the woman to it naked, one leg on either side so their legs spread wide. They had no choice but to take what Jaakim and his men gave out. When they finished with her, they would chop off her arm. After that, they would hold an open flame to it and then send the poor thing on her way. From then on, she was open game to anyone who wanted her.