The Immortal Game (book 1) (16 page)

Ares held her tighter. “We’re getting near.”

Already?

She looked down. There were no lights here, only the black-green forest occasionally interrupted by lighter patches of grey at the peaks; early snow. It was the Olympic range. And somewhere here was Mount Olympus. And above that was the real Olympus, the home of the gods.

Ares rose higher into the swath of charcoal sky. She began to see a glow in the distance before them as it broke through the dark. The light was faint at first but it broadened quickly. It felt warm on her cheeks and it soon filled the sky. Sunshine? Were they above the clouds?

She wondered about altitude sickness and at what point her oxygen might run out, but except for the butterflies that battered themselves against the walls of her stomach, she felt fine.

She saw a bank of white clouds before them. They looked like a solid mass that filled the sky as far as she could see above, below, and to either side. Four women appeared in front of the clouds. They seemed to be standing on solid ground, though Ruby saw nothing but white puffs beneath their bare feet. The women were young and crowned with wildflowers.

One had hair the color of wheat and wore a crown of pinks and yellows. Another wore purple and blues. Her hair was a brighter blond. The redhead was crowned in orange and golds. The last was raven-haired, with flowers of white and red. Their peploses matched their crowns.

Ares did not slow at the sight of them. Instead the four figures moved, two to a side, and created a space between them. They bowed low and the wall of clouds separated to let Ruby and Ares pass through.

Ruby looked over Ares’s shoulder and saw the women peek through the clouds at them. They were huddled together, whispering and giggling, as the white mass closed.

“Who are they?” she asked.

“The Seasons,” he said. And then, as if to relieve her worry, added, “Only minor gods.”

“We’re on Olympus?” she whispered. She looked back at the bank of clouds. “Could they have stopped us?”

“No. They can’t stop me. They will talk, though. All of Olympus will know we’ve arrived soon.”

“
All
of Olympus? Even your father?” She was suddenly terrified to be on Zeus’s turf. All her happiness in the world relied on his approval.

“He’ll be too absorbed in his garden to notice. But he's the only one. The Seasons will tell anyone who’ll listen, and everyone will want to hear. Even Hera.”

Ruby wondered if the goddess of marriage would be glad to see her most beloved son happy. Or would she be furious that he had been to Earth, and worse, that he had fallen in love with a mortal?

She tried to concentrate on what was around her. This might be her only chance to see Olympus. The sun was low and bright on the horizon. The Golden Fleece kept her body at a comfortable temperature, cool now instead of warm.

A few clouds, white and puffy, cast shadows down on the green trees below. Scattered in and among the tress were the buildings of Olympus. Each one was unique. And huge.

A pink alabaster building passed beneath them. It was covered in blooming red rose vines. Close by it was a black building made of a rough metal. Sculptures stood around the open green space surrounding it and covered its walls.

They passed over a building that was pure white, also covered in vines, but with no flowers that Ruby could see. Another, far in the distance, was silver, and still another seemed to be made of a deep purple stone. Amethyst?

In the middle of everything was one building that stood out from the rest by its sheer enormity and its unlikely color. The center piece of Olympus was solid gold and two or three times bigger than any other. Immense columns rose at least five or six stories from floor to ceiling on all sides. The walls were carved with scenes of battles and feasts, but she and Ares were moving too fast and Ruby couldn’t make out the details.

She counted eleven large buildings surrounding the massive golden one. Smaller buildings followed out in a ring from there. A hierarchy. The one in the middle, the golden one, belonged to Zeus, she was sure.

A wide river encircled the buildings and surrounding forest. Snowcapped mountains lay beyond the river to the East. To the north green forests rolled on and on, past the serpentine water. To the south and west the river opened up to a large bay.

The jade green water curved on the horizon like any large body of water would do on Earth. Was it an entire ocean? What could hold up such a mass of water so high above the world? The bay was dotted with islands that scattered out from the shore. The yellow Olympic sun dipped its edge into the water as it began to set.

She wanted to ask Ares about what she was seeing. But his focus was still firmly in front of them, his eyes locked on the horizon, determination set in his jaw.

She felt them descend. Beneath them was a white marble building with red-streaked veins running through the stone. Windows marched along at intervals, like soldiers in ranks. Marble steps led up to a large double door entrance of hard oak.

Ares set them down onto the grass, springy under Ruby’s sandaled feet. The air was fragrant with subtle sweetness: honeysuckle, jasmine, magnolias, and other scents she couldn’t name. The smells mixed and separated and then mixed again on a gentle breeze.

Ares took the Golden Fleece from her. She felt the setting Olympic sun on her bare arms and shoulders. It sent a pleasant quiver across her skin beneath the thin peplos.

“My abode,” he said and looked from the marble edifice to her. “Home.”

On either side of the building was a baffling assortment of trees and plants. Palms grew next to firs and blue spruce and what she thought might be a Joshua tree. An impressive-looking saguaro cactus stood off to one side. An orchid held tight to the high branches of an oak. Its stiff leaves jutted up and its delicate flowers ruffled forth from woody stems.

She wanted to be happy at the thought of spending time in this lush place, with Ares. Instead her nerves tensed.

He took her hand. She relaxed, a little.

“When do we go to talk to Zeus?” she asked, forcing herself to face the reality of why they were there.

“Not yet,” he said. “I want Hera’s party to be in full swing.” He motioned to the building. “In the meantime I can show you around.”

His abode was plain in comparison to the greenery around it. She found that it reminded her of him, solid and handsome, but not likely to give away what was on the inside.

A pair of owls perched high on either side of the massive double doors. They seemed to look down on her. Their orange eyes gleamed.

She felt like she had when she first met Ares, when he was still Ash, always wanting to be with her, and always ignoring everyone else. It simply wasn’t possible. It simply wouldn’t work. What was she doing here, with
him,
on
Olympus
? What was she doing preparing to face the king of the gods, asking to
marry
his son?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Her eyes darted to the owls, the flora that made no sense, to Ares, his hand fitting so perfectly in hers. His strong energy soothed over her doubt. It was too late to go back. The Seasons would be spreading the rumor of a mortal’s arrival by now.

Ares pulled her close. She glanced around, worried that they were being watched, that Zeus would come from the darkening sky above them and strike her down with a bolt of lightning. But Ares’s eyes were placid and serene. They did not waver from hers. “You have to trust this,” he said.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She allowed him to lead her to his abode. When she opened her eyes she concentrated on the wooden entrance they were approaching and didn’t look at the owls.

A scene was carved into the oak doors. The left panel showed a soldier dressed in ancient garb. He was caught mid-fall, with an arrow through his chest. The right door showed an opposite picture; a tall man, curly hair and intense eyes, standing on a hill above a battle. His arms were stretched out to the sky, commanding, reveling in the glory of it. The two sides of Ares. One part felt the sting of the arrow, the other felt triumph in the victory.

Ares reached for the iron handle and swung the door wide. He stepped back and made room for her to enter before him.

The entrance hall was a large round room. The curving walls were the same red-streaked white marble as the outside. At the back of the room was a double staircase. Each set of stairs hugged the bowed walls and met at a balcony at the top. An upstairs hallway followed back from there and went toward the rear of the building.

Ruby looked up to the high ceiling. It was painted with scenes of battles. Alcoves in the walls housed statues of men in military dress. They wore short peplos, medieval armor, and modern uniforms. There was a statue of a small man with a bicorne hat that she thought might be Napoleon.

Lower, along the floor and on the walls, the room was ringed with statues, vases, sculptures, and tapestries. The floor itself was a mosaic of the Earth with each of its landmasses outlined in red marble.

There was a set of double doors on her right and another set on her left. Their dark wooden surfaces were smooth and perhaps the only unadorned things in the room. Both sets of doors were closed.

Ruby’s hand came up to touch her throat, overwhelmed at the history, the detail, and the beauty of it all. “It’s incredible,” she whispered.

Ares stood next to her and smiled.

Beneath the balcony, standing directly across from them, was a statue of an owl, similar to the two that overlooked the entranceway. But this one was the size of a man. Its feathers were metal in varying shades of browns. The eyes were large, bright orange, and seemed to stare into her. Above each eye were feathers that jutted up like horns.

“What’s with the owls?” she asked.

“Horned Owls. They’re fierce fighters,” he said. “Hephaestus made them.”

“Hephaestus? The brother who made your ring?” She touched the iron band on her finger with her thumb.

“Yes. My only true brother. And he made
your
ring,” Ares corrected her.

A smiled flitted across her lips. “My ring,” she agreed and then his words sunk in. “You’re not half-siblings? Hera
and
Zeus are his parents?”

He nodded. “We’re the only sons from their marriage.”

Ruby flinched. Athena said that Ares was Hera’s favorite son. What kind of mother would choose?

She motioned to the room. “It’s big.”

“We have all the space and materials we want.” He held his hands out, palms up. “The sky’s the limit.”

“I thought we were above the sky,” she said with a wry smile.

“Like I said. No limits.”

“What’s upstairs?”

“Rooms.” His eyes widened. “Lots of rooms.”

“I want to see it.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye and broke away into a run for the left staircase. Ares ran to the right. Ruby had started ahead of him, but Ares was faster and they reached the balcony at the same time. He picked her up by the waist and spun her in a tight circle, as if it were planned, something choreographed, as if everything had been prearranged.

They kissed and she let her anxiety fall away. She was glad to be there with him, if only for a little while.

He put her down. She trailed her hand along his arm and down to his hand. He let her lead him down the long hall.

Statues stood in nooks, again wearing armor or battle clothes from different eras. She stopped at an Asian warrior about her height. He wore what would have been soft flowing robes if they weren’t made of metal.

It was not his outfit or the menacing sword he held that caught her attention. Whatever this warrior had fought for was dear to him. Whoever had made the statue had captured it in the wrinkles around his eyes, the set of his jaw, and his broad stance.

“Hephaestus?” she asked, marveling at the craftsmanship, at the incredible talent.

Ares nodded.

She tried to reconcile the beauty and depth of Hephaestus’s work with the cruelty of the ring he had made for Ares and found she couldn’t.

Gold-trimmed doors lined the passage. Ruby opened every one. Each housed a large bed, or a desk, or paintings, or statues, or books, or large musical instruments, but none of the rooms had any real feeling.

“I don’t see you here,” she said after closing the door on the ninth or tenth room. “I can’t sense you.”

“I don’t spend too much time up here,” he said. “What am I going to do in all these rooms anyway?”

“Why do you have them?”

He looked surprised. “Why not?”

She felt her face screw up in disapproval. “Isn’t that a waste?”

“Nothing’s wasted,” he said. “If I tire of this statue,” He pointed to a foot-tall jade soldier on a pedestal in the hallway. “I can send the molecules back into the universe. Everything can be disbanded, moved, begun again.”

“It would take all twelve of you?” She asked and looked at the statue, remembering what he had said about the Olympians moving Olympus.

“Something small like this could be pulled together by two or three of us. Only Zeus could manage it alone. Either way, it might not be pretty unless Hephaestus was involved.”

“Zeus could do it alone?” she asked and touched the little soldier. She ran her finger along the edge of his coat. It, like the floor beneath her, felt real enough.

“He’s the king of the gods,” Ares said. “He has the most power, the greatest will. My uncles, Hades and Poseidon, are next in line. They each control their own realms.”

“Poseidon is the god of the sea?” Ruby said. “And Hades rules the Underworld?”

Ares nodded.

As they continued through the upstairs Ruby felt more and more like they were walking through an upscale model home. She recognized Athena in a painting. The goddess wore a full set of armor. There was a fierce look in her grey eyes.

She saw Apollo, too, many times. He usually had a pear-shaped guitar with a bent neck in one hand and a cup in the other. He was often alone, though, and that surprised Ruby. She thought of him in Athenaeum where he always seemed to have a woman nearby.

Soon the rooms and their extravagant furnishings ran together in Ruby’s mind. It wasn’t until the last room in the corridor that she found something worth noting.