by Bill Hiatt
“Could Magnus, even with the lyre of Orpheus and several Olympians to draw upon, really hold off repeated simultaneous attacks by elder Olympians? I can think of other examples, but that is the one that strikes me as the clearest proof the battle was being manipulated to keep Magnus alive.”
“That makes sense,” I conceded. “But there’s something I still can’t figure out. Once Magnus blew up, they could have saved a lot of trouble by uniting to kill the rest of us instead of letting us think we’d won the battle.”
“Ah, you are right—and that may give us a clue to what Hecate was seeking. It must be something they could get…from you. Yes, Magnus was gone, or so they thought, but you were there—with the same attributes and abilities. That must be the answer!”
I frowned a little. “With all due respect, there’s a problem with assuming they needed me alive. If they did, they would never have unleashed Campe, right? You’re not going to tell me they were managing that part of the battle.”
“Indeed, they were not—but that’s because they didn’t summon her. The false Hades was telling the truth about her—up to a point. If her sense of smell is so keen that when she is in Tartarus, she can still smell the blood of Cronus and Hecate being shed on Olympus, perhaps she can also smell whatever subtle magical difference there is between real Olympian blood and the blood created by the doubling spell. The spell itself knows somehow. Why couldn’t Campe have a sense of that difference as well? If she could, that would also explain why the false Hades could not get her to obey him.”
“What about Campe’s willingness to attack us?”
“You were fighting side by side with false Olympians. It would have been strange if Campe had not attacked you.”
“What about the adamantine skeleton?” I asked.
“Since it does not seem consistent with the plans of the false Olympians, I would assume it must also have been some kind of…how would you say it? Automated response! Yes, perhaps when Campe realized impostors held Olympus, the skeleton automatically came to life. Had it been part of Hecate’s original plan, it would have appeared earlier.”
I sighed. “OK, that part makes more sense than I thought, but there’s another reason the fake Olympians couldn’t just have exchanged me for Magnus. Unlike him, I wasn’t bound by any tynged. I wouldn’t have cooperated. I suppose they could have threatened my friends in order to force me to do something, but they let everyone else in our group leave.”
“Again, very clever, Taliesin. Clearly, what Hecate wants is something she can take from you without your cooperation.
“How could I not have seen this before?” Changó said, suddenly much more agitated, his fire body burning twice as brightly. “Hecate did want Magnus to develop a method of duplicating blood in a way the blood double spell could use, but not to create more Olympian blood. No, what she wanted was a usable copy—of yours.”
“What? Why?” was the most I could manage.
“The idea makes perfect sense,” Changó assured me. “Unlike the Olympians, you can die, so if Hecate had a way to create an endless supply of your blood, she would not need to go to the trouble of keeping you prisoner. From what I can tell, she hates you for defeating her in the past. Not only that, but she knows you are dangerous—and have dangerous friends. Killing you would be a safer alternative than keeping you alive.
“I believe her original plan was to get Magnus, controlled by Nicneven’s tynged, to finish his work on the blood-creating spell and turn it over to Hecate, who could then have used it to make as much of your blood as she desired. When Magnus was destroyed, though, Hecate had no choice but to capture you, for then only you could supply the blood she craved. Keeping you captive would still be inconvenient, but it would also be unavoidable.”
“That makes sense up to a point,” I admitted. “But why does Hecate need my blood so badly—especially when she is far more powerful than I am anyway, and on top of that apparently has access to the blood of every Olympian? Surely anything she can’t do herself one of the other Olympians could do.”
“Ah, but there is something you can do that she and any Olympian she could replicate cannot: leave this plane.”
Changó waited for a response, but I was at first too unnerved by the idea. Dark Me on the loose had been hard enough to endure, but Hecate’s allies, perhaps even Hecate herself, stealing my identity and using it to attack unsuspecting worlds sounded like a nightmare from which no one would ever awaken.
What’s the correct response to a threat so massive it made bubonic plague seem like a minor inconvenience? I didn’t even know where to begin.
“You know of the way in which many of the higher beings God created for one purpose or another set themselves up as gods,” Changó said after he realized I wasn’t going to respond right away. “Unlike me, however, you have not lived it. We Orichas once aspired to be gods and suffered for our folly. Fortunately for us, God in His infinite mercy has given us a second chance.
“We are now more like angels, just as He always intended. However, I still remember what it was like to be confined to one plane, perhaps forever. I confess at times even I looked for some loophole, I think you would call it, some way to visit other worlds. There were moments when the temptation became almost unbearable. If I, who was trying to be virtuous, was so nearly lured into defiance of God, why would it be difficult to believe that Hecate, who seems to have given in to evil long ago, would attempt to thwart God in this way?”
“It’s not hard to believe,” I thought slowly. “It’s just…disturbing.”
“This is not your fault, Taliesin.” Though not naturally telepathic, Changó must have been good at reading facial expressions.
“I guess I can’t help wondering why she would pick me—but it’s because of who I am, isn’t it? Just as it was when Ceridwen first awakened my past lives?”
“Hecate is drawn to you only because she and her allies want to be able to leave this realm. You are the most powerful mortal Hecate has recently encountered—you defeated her, after all.”
“With a lot of help,” I pointed out.
“Nonetheless, you must have made an impression. Hecate needs the mightiest mortal she can lay her hands on. She and her allies can’t rely on using their Olympian abilities once they leave this world. For all she knows, even the slightest hint of Olympian magic would get someone pulled back to Olympus no matter how perfectly he or she copied a non-Olympian. Because of that problem, they would need a powerful mortal form, one that has ample magic of its own. It is for that reason she chose you, and not because of any fault of yours.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to have someone wearing your face to prey on unsuspecting people,” I replied.
“That is true,” agreed Changó. “But I have seen people do evil in my name. Even God himself has to deal with that. How many atrocities have been done in His name? The wickedness in someone’s heart cannot be blamed on another, even if someone else’s name—or face—is used to disguise the sin.”
“I know you’re right,” I thought, “but I can’t help feeling, uh, I don’t know…guilty, maybe?
“Come to think of it, though, I’m not the only powerful spell caster Hecate knows of who can get out of the Olympian plane. Nicneven is stronger than I. Why couldn’t Hecate use her? Then she wouldn’t have needed to worry about Magnus or me.”
“I can only guess,” replied Changó slowly. “I know little of Nicneven but what your other friends have told Lucas and what I have seen in combat. She is powerful, but she is less versatile than you are. More important, she is also a fugitive, is she not? I suspect Hecate will want to use an identity that is not already compromised. There must be many places you can go without raising suspicion that Nicneven could not come anywhere near.”
I thought immediately of Gwynn’s castle and of the Lady of the Lake headquarters—and I shuddered.
“I can’t help hoping you’re wrong,” I said. “Unfortunately, your explanation fits the fa
cts.”
“It certainly explains why Hecate allowed the battle to continue after Magnus’s death—a rather desperate point for us, since we could easily have been defeated. She even allowed you to think you had won. She must have done that to ensure that you would not die. There can be no other reason to go to so much trouble.
“Then the false Olympians gave you cause to stay, probably suspecting from their originals’ memories of you that you would send your warriors to keep your promise to help Gwynn. That your friends left was to the impostors’ advantage. They didn’t want another huge battle if they could avoid one. They just wanted you.”
“I don’t understand how her plan could work,” I protested. The truth was still pretty hard to swallow—even though it didn’t seem to have much trouble swallowing me. “I know spells that involve identifying people are fooled by that blood double spell, but a barrier created by God isn’t going to be, and if it were, He could simply change it.”
“Hecate’s theory does not need to be true. All that matters is that she believes it to be true. Perhaps it even is. It may be a challenge for you…or me…or both. God may in His wisdom have left that one way out to see whether or not we can stop her from using it.
“I can think of no other goal that explains the actions of Hecate and her allies. Can you?”
“No,” I admitted. “I guess we have to assume your idea is correct. Assuming it is, how do we stop her?”
“The easiest way to block her immediate goal would be for you to leave Olympus. As Zeus you can grant permission to leave, and then you can become yourself again and do so.”
“Much as I’d like to that, Changó, I can’t. I’d be leaving the real Olympians prisoner and Hecate in full control here—a huge potential imbalance that is bound to affect other worlds.”
Changó gave me a warm smile—literally. “I did not think that you would make that choice.”
“Can you stay and help me?” I asked. “I know you were worried about staying any longer in Lucas. You’re going to need to be in someone to make much use of your magic. Isn’t staying in me even worse than in Lucas?”
The silence was eerie. Finally, Changó replied, “There is a risk, as there was when I allowed myself to occupy Lucas. However, as with Lucas, the circumstances are exceptional. If nothing else, your body is currently Olympian, and while there are very strict rules governing how Orichas interact with humans, there isn’t a single rule about how Orichas interact with Olympians.”
Now it was my turn to chuckle. Changó had a fine eye for loopholes.
“Besides,” he continued, “I cannot imagine that God wishes Hecate to succeed. I have to believe that He allowed me to be drawn here—and that he wants me to help you.”
Changó left unspoken the fact that, if he were wrong in his interpretation of God’s will, he could face punishment, perhaps even a renewal of the confinement that he found so unbearable.
“Worry not about that.” He thought, having apparently picked up my concern. “I will do what needs to be done.”
His last words had a finality so intense that I decided it was better to push him anymore. Anyway, this was not a time to look a gift Oricha in the mouth.
“There is perhaps one other problem we need to consider,” I said. Changó seemed relieved by the change of subject. “I’m wondering if Hecate and her allies may be even more powerful than I thought. In order for the battle to have been as tightly controlled as you suggested, wouldn’t Hecate have to have communicated mentally with her allies? I can’t see how they could pull off something so elaborate otherwise, especially since they had to switch objectives in the middle of the battle, when Magnus died.”
Changó chuckled. “I think perhaps what you are really having trouble with is the idea that she let you win. There is no need to assume that our enemies can now communicate mentally as you can. There is a much simpler explanation, one you nearly stumbled upon yourself: the flies.”
“The flies?” I asked. “Yeah, there shouldn’t have been any in Tartarus—or Olympus, probably. But how does—”
“I wager your friend Alex would know,” said Changó, chuckling again. “There is a Greek myth about a mortal named Melampus who gained the ability to understand the languages of all living creatures. If such an ability could be gained be a mortal, would it not be logical to assume that the Olympians could possess it as well? Among the Orichas, Chankpana uses flies and mosquitoes as messengers. I was too busy during the battle to pay much attention to insects, but I believe Hecate summoned them to carry messages to her allies. That is how she was able to coordinate their actions so precisely.”
“Thanks for figuring that out,” I replied. “If some or all of them were now psychic, we would have needed much more time to work out new strategies. We have enough other problems as it is.
“We need to find the real Olympians,” I continued. “Everything else may have been a lie, but it does make sense they would be held captive in Atlantis. After Hecate captured the rest, she could probably have put them almost anywhere, but in the beginning she would have needed to keep Zeus, Hera, and Demeter hidden. It is likely that by the time the Olympians realized that those three had truly disappeared, Poseidon was already under her influence.”
“Then we go to Atlantis,” said Changó. “The problem is that Atlantis is exactly where they will expect us to go.”
“We need to strike fast then,” I suggested. “I think the two of us might just be a match for them, but beating Poseidon underwater could be tough, and he’s probably healed by now.”
However, striking fast was easier said than done. We knew Atlantis was supposed to be somewhere beyond the Mediterranean and out in the Atlantic, but neither one of us had any specific notion of where in the Atlantic. We just had to hope that we could sense something if we got close enough.
I made us as invisible and undetectable as I could. Rather than going back the way we had come, we flew west across Africa, then up toward where the Canary Islands would be in my world. I figured that for Atlantis to interact with early Greek society, it would have to have been close enough for some kind of sea travel into the Mediterranean to be possible.
The good news? We saw no sign of fake Olympians pursuing us. The bad news? We caught no hint of Atlantis, either. Even operating at Zeus’s power level, there was no way I could probe deep enough into the sea over a wide enough area to avoid spending days, maybe weeks, searching. I hadn’t brought the Zeus blood with me, so I’d lose his power long before we could complete that extensive a search. Not only that, but the longer we spent searching, the more likely the impostors would find us.
I couldn’t even be sure that the captive Olympians were detectable above the ocean. We might have to descend into it, and that would be hard to conceal from Poseidon for long, especially if he was actively watching Atlantis.
Even the surprisingly upbeat Changó had no words of comfort for me this time. With him once again in White Hilt, we continued to glide over the surging waves, looking in vain for a place that might as well have been a myth.
Chapter 28: Capturing the Pretender (Stan)
Time was dragging along like a dog with two legs. Hours had passed, but Magnus still didn’t reappear.
“Maybe he really did run away and leave us to die,” suggested Shar.
“Maybe the Dagda found out what kind of person he really is and is roasting him slowly over an open fire,” suggested Jimmie. That didn’t sound like something he’d say, but I guessed I couldn’t blame him.
“Jimmie!” said Eva. He looked down. It was the first time I could remember them actually speaking in the last few hours—and even then it had been one-sided. That was a situation I was not getting in the middle of, even if someone paid me to.
What we all needed was something to do. With most of the action happening in the magical realm and Magnus gone, only Gabriela and Robin could really contribute. Gwynn put them to work immediately. As for the rest of us, Gwynn told us if there was any o
pportunity for battle, he would be sure to let us know—and then we mostly sat in the courtyard, getting more and more on edge.
“I’m getting an idea,” I said. “Tell me if it makes sense.” Immediately, I had everyone’s attention. Yup, they needed something to do all right.
“The English and Welsh faeries have been at peace for centuries, right?” I asked.
“That’s what Gwynn told us,” said Shar.
“So if Tanaquill weren’t around, the English army wouldn’t have any reason to keep attacking Gwynn, correct?”
“Probably not,” said Dan, “but what does that have to do with us?”
“We have a way to capture Tanaquill,” I said. Everyone looked at me as if I was crazy.
“Even if we didn’t have to get through thousands of armed faeries to reach her, we’re stuck in here,” Gordy pointed out.
I raised an eyebrow. “Then you think it would have occurred to Tanaquill to block travel by shadow?”
If anyone else in our group had shadow magic, everyone would have immediately embraced the idea, but nobody was used to having Umbra as part of our team. As it was, everyone just stared for a few seconds.
“I shall try,” said Umbra. Since the walls of Gwynn’s palace all glowed faintly, the courtyard had no obvious shadow, but by putting ourselves in a close circle, we managed to create an area large enough for Umbra to work with. She vanished into the shadow and returned momentarily.
“Yes, I can get outside the castle,” she said.
We got a guard to ask Gwynn to come to us, and then I quickly filled him in. He confirmed that Tanaquill was nearby, in a tent at the far end of the English encampment.
“She will have magical protection, of course,” Gwynn said. “But shadow assassins are seldom seen in Annwn, so I doubt she has protected her tent from that kind of travel. However, it may be well lit.”