Fire and Fantasy: A Limited Edition Collection of Urban and Epic Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  Their arrangement started not long before the secret came out of his affair with her, the Goddess of Love and Beauty, Aphrodite. It seemed the God of War had a weakness for alluring beauties. It was his love for Aphrodite that steered Ares to destroy the life of Calypso. If it were not for how their love eliminated her own chance of happiness, the nymph would have enjoyed the tale of the two loves. Opposites being drawn to each other, how classic and poetic their attraction was.

  Once she gained her freedom, she tried to move on, tried to erase the memory of him, but through all her years, she had yet to encounter a lover who could replace the god who betrayed her.

  The beacon grew stronger as she traveled west. More gods were coming. Not just the top string, the lower level immortals, the ones who wished they were the coveted top tier, were making their way back as well. It was much more of them than she could ever fend off on her own. What she wondered was why they were they arriving so far from Greece, which was the home of those who worshiped them. She had expected to be called back across the oceans to the ruins of the place she once called home, yet, they all arrived in America—this new land with its weak morals and poor leadership. She remembered reading a theory that with the shift of the Earth, Olympus had moved. According to the article, the new location of Olympus was in New York. If the theory proved true, the gods were all a lot closer than home that she liked. There was a trend to who they chose to inhabit. All their vessels were young, but adults, and would be considered of great breeding. They were those who stood to inherit millions, or more, those who were in line to take power. There was a bigger game at play. Whatever the game was, she wasn’t about to play along or stand on the sidelines and watch. Gods were selfish, greedy, and cruel, and she’d found a way to eliminate them.

  The harpe sword, used to take the head of Medusa, was the pride and joy of Perseus. Crafted of adamantine—the strongest metal known to man—it was told to be the most infallible sword. This was a key piece to the weapon she’d have to create, but it was no simple task collecting the sword. She tracked it down to an underwater cavern where it had become part of a dragon’s treasure. No, not just any standard old dragon, she would have had no troubles taking care of such a basic creature. This, however, was a monster of another kind. Lernean Hydra. The dragon who Hercules would come to slay. Wouldn’t it have been nice if she had arrived after their fateful meeting? Asa returned to the sea, the waters of her home in search for that which would aid her. When she found herself at the mouth of the cave that was home to Lernean Hydra, she paused. Her fear was nearly enough to make her turn away, but that ache in her chest, the one of sadness and anger, forced her to move forward.

  This dragon, more serpent than dragon, was the daughter of Typhon and Echnida. These two were fearsome monsters whose reputations were nothing to inspire sweet dreams. The problem one faced when trying to defeat their offspring, was that there was no simplicity in trying to kill her. The approach that could be taken with most adversaries, the true-blue kill, was completely ineffective when it came to this dragon. Lernean Hydra was told to have up to one hundred heads. Tales were often exaggerated, but in this case, the number was believable. Sure, she could have possibly started with just one, like everyone else before her, but she wasn’t one to dispel myths. Most thought it a lie that when one head was cut, two emerged and devoured the dragon’s enemy. Each time anyone tried to kill the damned thing, they all went for the head. The blow would daze Hydra, which resulted in a premature celebration. Before they could target the next head in line, where the first had fallen, two emerged. If you’re good with math, you understand how years of people cutting off heads would turn into a big problem.

  She hadn’t been the first to come there. The decapitated heads, short victories of past contenders, lay scattered about the floor in various stages of decay. She, however, was not there for a fight; only—if possible—sneak in, steal a piece of the treasure, and pop out. It could be that simple, right? Wrong.

  She swam deeper into the cave until she reached the core of the layer. Breaking the surface of the water, she swam slowly as her tail pushed her forward, head only high enough for her eyes to scan the area. Once satisfied that Hydra was not currently inside her home, she shifted from tail to legs and pulled herself from the water. Nude, she walked around the large space. The only possessions she had were the two swords strapped to her back. Clothes were not essential, weapons were.

  In the center of the cavern was Hydra’s treasure—items stolen from their true owners—and the perimeter of the stash was littered with the decaying bodies of her enemies. At the top of the pile, poised as if waiting for her arrival, was Perseus’ harpe. It stood glinting in the light that shone in from above. She glanced up to see the opening of the inactive volcano that Hydra had made her own. Stealthily she tiptoed past the remains of fallen warriors, careful not to disturb anything. How was she to make it to the top without disrupting the pile? As much as she hated to do it, she would need to use the magic she’d stolen, at least some of it. Just because Hydra wasn’t home, didn’t mean she wasn’t close enough to hear the pile of gold and jewels as it went crashing into the sea below.

  She used the magic of witches, which she’d taken, to lift her into the air. Steadily she called the air around her to move her to her target, pausing every few seconds to be sure she was still alone. She reached her target, slowly pulling it from the pile as not to disturb the loot. With a sigh of relief, she turned to leave; she had what she came for. Unfortunately, she’d miscalculated just how much power she’d stored up and the extended use, the pauses to check for Hydra, had quickly depleted what she did have.

  The struggle to keep her body afloat until she reached safe ground was a fight she lost. The clattering of gold, metal, and jewels was an alarm that alerted the homeowner of an intruder. The walls shook and large chunks of the volcano wall fell from above as she removed her weapons from their secured place on her back and replaced the harpe in the holster. She ran for the water, hoping maybe she could get out before Hydra returned, but that was a dream that wouldn’t be realized. From the water behind her, Hydra emerged. No, there weren’t one hundred heads as stories may have suggested, but there were more than enough. There also wasn’t enough time to count. The plan was a strong one, it was precise. Phase one had been a success, phase two a failure, and now it was on to phase three. Fleeing was not an option.

  Asa turned around to face the monster, her ears ringing from the echo of multiple roars. Holding her weapons at the ready, she let out her own battle cry and charged the dragon. One clean shot was all she needed. One chance to penetrate the tough, scaled skin of the beast and she would be able to escape. The tips of her sword were coated with enough toxin—a mixture of six different lethal venoms—to take out any adversary. However, with Hydra, it would merely create a paralysis that would last long enough for Asa to escape. She’d plan to go for the chest, close to the heart so that the poison would spread quickly, but that would prove tougher than imagined. The heads were wild, everywhere all at once. She dodged one only to nearly run straight into the mouth of another. The one and done method was not going to happen. Both hands loaded, she swung her weapons, slicing through flesh but careful not to remove a head. She didn’t need to invite another to the party.

  Each cut she made left a trail of toxin inside the beast, and it took seven hits before the damned thing slowed down. As Hydra staggered, Asa capitalized. She found her opening—the sweet spot—and dove with sword in hand straight into the chest of the dragon. If she had hit the heart directly she may have killed the thing, but no, she missed and in the same breath, lost one of her weapons. This pissed off the monster, but it was drugged and fading quickly. Now was the time to run. Asa jumped away from the monster and headed for the water. She would use the same path she used to enter. As she dove into the water she shifted from two legs to one tail but not quickly enough as one of the heads of Hydra reached her, snapping around her ankle. She panicked when the monster
began to drag her back to it, but then the toxins finally kicked in and the beast fell, paralyzed. Eyes were still trained on her as she limped to the sea, and swam away.

  Obtaining the sword was just the first step, and unfortunately it wasn’t the only thing she needed. As she swam away from the cavern housing the paralyzed Hydra she thought of only two things, Swim like hell, and, Tracked down the source of the magic that created the sword of Peleus. Peleus was a lover of nymphs like her and his son, Achilles, had loose lips and often told of the tales of his mortal father and the magic of a sword that brought him many victories. It took centuries, but she found them, the sister witches who created the magic long before they became the dark creatures that they were. They were held up in their dilapidated home, and draining the life of a nearby village of people to continue their own. These were the first vampires, though there weren’t many who knew of them and even fewer who told their story. Like all life suckers, they were selfish, caring only for their own live and not the torment their very existence meant for those around them. The difference between them and the ones that could come was that they fed not of blood but of life, stolen with their magic.

  Asa approached them with hope that they would understand her point and help her with ease. Though she hoped for an easy exchange, her faith in that outcome was not a strong one. Her doubts, as they were, would prove correct. Even with her explanation and justification of what she wanted, their loyalty lay with the gods and they refused her. Of course, Asa wasn’t in the business of taking no for an answer.

  “We will aid you in no such pursuit. The gods have fallen from Olympus, what could you possibly need with such a tool?” The three women, though living, looked like they were only seconds from being but a memory, a tragic tale told by those who dared to speak their names. Their skin was a grey film barely hiding their skeletons and giving visage to the purple veins slowly pulsing beneath the surface moving blood just enough to keep their hearts pumping. Their hair was thinning, more scalp than hair. Their faces were sunken in; where fat once filled and plumped their cheeks, only bone held up the flesh. What would make someone so desperate for life that they would go on as a corpse, an echo of their former self?

  “That is of no concern for you.” She strode into their home, a structure that at one time had been something for passersby to take in awe, but years of neglect and the evil they’d invited to dwell within its halls left the building lacking its former glory. Cobwebs, spider webs, dust, and debris stood in place of decorations and design. Perhaps Tales from the Crypt was the theme they were going for. Hell, they looked like any one of them could be up for the next role as crypt keeper!

  “You suggest we give you our aid without explanation of your intent. Foolish girl, we will do no such thing.” The aged voice came from the sister with dark eyes and thin lips, who stood at the center of the welcome party. Asa took her to be the eldest of the trio.

  “Interestingly enough, I don’t need you to do anything. I only need your magic. Not just any magic will do of course, it has to be yours.” She smiled as she continued to account for the appearance of their home. The sound of critters running across wood annoyed her and pushed her to end their interaction sooner than later.

  “And what good would our magic do you without us to wield it?” the shortest inquired, a giggle punctuating her sentiment. “How ridiculous of you, foolish girl.”

  “Excuse me, I must have misspoken in stating my reason for coming here. I do not need your help, I need your magic. Once it is in my possession, I will simply work the spell myself.” She pulled out the harpe sword from the sheath at her hip. “This weapon will be more powerful than any created before it. Powerful enough to cut down a god!”

  The oldest and ugliest of the trio laughed. “Foolish woman, you couldn’t dream to possess the power it would take to create such a tool!”

  “Oh, but that is where you are wrong.” She smiled. “I can very much dream it! In fact, I can make it a reality!” She undressed, careful not to ruin her attire. As she did, she used her voice, singing her siren song in a low hum. The witches watched her in awe instead of attacking as she slowly pulled the layers of clothing away and placed them neatly to the side. “Well, shall we, ladies?” She grinned and reveled in the terror that reflected in their eyes as the soft form of a nymph was replaced by a monster who could devour anything standing in its way. As the image of beauty turned into one that inspired fear, the three witches recoiled. Before they could shake off the stunning effects of her voice and start the spell to repel her, the sphinx attacked.

  The strongest, the oldest, was the one she took out first; she devoured the woman whole while using her tail to attack the youngest and quickest sister, the one who had remined silent for her visit. Not even a cordial greeting when their guest had arrived, not even a show of basic manners. Asa would never know the sound of her voice. Every muscle in her body seized as venom quickly spread through her limbs, carried by the slowing rush of blood through her veins—she could do nothing but watch as both her sisters were killed and eaten, just before her own life was taken.

  Filled with their power, the sphinx receded, giving a brief view of Calypso before she raised the veil masking her true image. Nude, and one step closer to killing a god, Asa smiled and gathered her things.

  The spell she sought was crafted to mimic that which was created to turn her from nymph to monster. She found it as if by fate. While traveling through the darkest forest in search of power she came across a small chest. Inside was a book, wrapped in thin dark silk. She laid it out in front of her, but before she could open in, the wind guided the pages. The spell that she would need to cast was there, written on a black page in gold. She needed two items, a sword infallible and a stone able to contain the universe. Fate, destiny, call it what you will, but Asa knew that she was meant to go on with purpose. Why else would the spell so coincidentally placed in her path have been one that ensured that with each kill, the sword did more than end a life? It drew in the life force, the spirit that inhabited the vessel. The gods would not die, they were eternal. Eventually they would find a time when they saw fit to make their return. Instinct was to protect herself, experience told to be sure she had a solid plan. When they returned, the gods would be in a weakened state. They would need to restore the humans’ love for them. Once they were worshipped again, they would regain their strength. If she got to them before they found their way back to Olympus and their full power, she could trap them inside the sword for an eternity. That was her hope.

  She pulled it out of its sheath. In the handle was a diamond, which was found long ago, long before her story ever became intertwined with that of the gods. It was her mother’s, gifted to her by a fairy king as a show of his gratitude. Asa’s mother was unlike her daughter in many ways, but in one way, in particular. She was driven by compassion and a need to understand all forms of life. Asa, herself, was a loner. She preferred to be away from the world; if she could have a companion, someone to satisfy her primal needs. Being forced to stay away from her home proved that to her. She missed her solace, she missed her island, the land that was hers, untouched by the greed and anger of the world. The diamond her mother left her was far from average. It was infused with the power of the sun and fortified by the strongest and oldest of fairy magic. On her dying day, with her last breath, Asa’s mother placed the diamond in her hand and told her to guard it with her life.

  “This precious stone is nothing in comparison to the beauty I have created in you. Keep this safe, close to your heart, as it was always meant for you.”

  Asa remembered those words, spoken in labored breaths, the last time she would hear her mother’s voice. She listened to the echo of them in her mind as she watched the final flickers of light behind her mother’s eyes die out. She kept that stone, unknowing just how true those words were. When she realized what it would take to free herself of Ares, she knew that her mother was so much more than she ever allowed her daughter to know. When she r
an her fingertip across its surface, it glowed, lit by the souls trapped inside. The ones she had captured, locked away inside their new home, forever.

  Four

  “I’m leaving, Sunny.” Asa leaned against the bar as the weathered bartender made his way to her standard corner. She claimed it as her own.

  “Where to this time, mystery lady?” He knew her name but continued to call her by the nickname he’d given her after her first few visits. Sunny, an older man of dark complexion, over-toned arms, and a hair of grey, was the dayshift bartender at what would become her favorite place to be in Brooklyn. Tucked away, very few people knew about it, but with the area becoming more gentrified she could see her piece of haven becoming a regular stomping ground for the hipsters who filled the streets.

  Sunny was a New Yorker to the core. Born in Brooklyn, he had never left and didn’t plan to. He was the only person Asa ever let close to her. She understood him. He was content living his life on his island, behind the bar. People came and went but Sunny was always there. He brightened the day of anyone who came in with his smile that set wide across his face. She wasn’t the first to call him by the name, and wouldn’t be the last. His real name was James. Son of a single mother after his father died at war, he had six brothers and one sister who they all protected. More than once he told Asa how much she reminded him of his younger sister. He felt a need to care for her, to protect her, even though Asa needed neither.