“You know, when you showed up at the Dagda’s palace,” Badb said, “and asked to join us, I immediately tried to convince him to admit you because I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.”
Lugh snickered and told her, “Seems like a completely good reason to allow a god who’s only half Tuatha Dé admittance.”
“And it still took us several hundred years to admit our feelings for one another. You can be so damn stubborn,” Badb teased.
“Hey, I told you the first time I fought alongside you that you’d won my heart forever. You were the one being stubborn,” he teased back.
Badb smiled and closed her eyes as she relived the memory. She hadn’t rebuffed him because of disinterest but because she’d never loved any man as much as she already loved this god and that terrified her. She wasn’t a goddess who had ever depended on a relationship or the affections of a man, and she knew even then that if she caved, if she allowed herself to explore this new world with him, she’d never recover her old independence.
Lugh’s powerful intuition had already told him she reciprocated his love so he didn’t give up, and she eventually caved after all.
And she’d ultimately only regretted being so stubborn about it and wasting so many years. She’d never been happier than she had been for what was now almost a millennia.
Lugh kissed the top of her head and sighed so she opened her eyes again. “I went to Findias and told Midir about what happened to Olympus. Everyone there is in shock too. And so pissed they can do nothing to help us.”
As the land of the dead for the Tuatha Dé, the spirits who lived in Findias only had physical bodies in that magical realm of the Otherworld. If they left it, their spirits would be useless and nothing more than the ghosts mortals so often wrongly feared.
“Midir isn’t a warrior,” Badb pointed out.
“No, but he was a damn good fighter regardless,” Lugh argued. “And if we’re going into Asgard, it would be nice to have all the help we can get.”
“It’s not enough to destroy Asgard. We need to figure out how to destroy those scorpion men before they can mount an offensive to the Otherworld.”
“I think they were only so powerful because the Norse were doing something to aid them,” Lugh said. “None of us sensed the Norse in Olympus so they couldn’t have been there. None of them should have had so much power in a realm that’s not their own.”
Badb gasped and sat up, grabbing his arms and exclaiming, “The Sumerians who controlled the scorpion men were in Asgard! That’s how the Norse lent them their strength and why we never felt the presence of the gods themselves.”
Lugh blinked at her then his sexy, mischievous grin slowly spread across his handsome face. “My little crow, you are as brilliant as you are beautiful.”
“You know, I’m probably one of three goddesses in any world who would think ‘little crow’ is a term of endearment,” she joked.
Lugh laughed and added, “Considering the other two are your sisters, it’s really basically one. Your souls are inextricably linked.”
Badb lifted a shoulder to agree with him. Macha and Nemain were a part of her, and even the mortals who’d recorded their legends had been confused by their existence, sometimes assuming they were the same goddess. Lugh kissed the same shoulder she’d just shrugged at him, and his smile turned mischievous again. “Want to go home?”
Badb pretended to think about it then replied, “Yeah. Athena gave me a copy of Lysistrata and I think Aristophanes may have been on to something.”
Lugh arched an eyebrow at her and retorted, “You finished that play months ago. And it’s still not nearly as funny as you think.”
Badb laughed and pulled away from him, returning his sly, mischievous smile. “All right, Sun God. But you’ll have to find me first.”
She disappeared from the hill overlooking the Dagda’s palace and returned to the home she shared with Lugh, his home he’d asked her to move into long ago and by then, she couldn’t imagine a life without him. She’d left the Dagda’s palace where she’d always lived with her sisters and had no intention of ever returning. Her future was with one god, her forever love.
“My little crow,” he teased. “You’re not very good at hiding.”
Badb put a hand on her hip and teased back, “What world exists where I could hide from you?”
Lugh put his arms around her and assured her, “None. I would always find you just as you’d always find me.”
“You’d better,” Badb laughed. “What am I anymore without you?”
Lugh pulled away from her, his vibrant blue eyes studying her carefully before he told her, “You are Badb, the brilliant war goddess of the Tuatha Dé and defender of our family. And no matter what, you will continue to be. Promise me, Badb.”
“Lugh…”
But he interrupted her by begging, “Promise me, Badb.”
“All right,” she relented. “I promise.”
If he knew something about his fate, she had no intention of allowing him to die. It wouldn’t technically break her promise to him if she died by defending him. And when he survived and she didn’t, it would be easy enough for him to move to Findias so they could still be together.
But his insistence she continue in her role as defender of the Tuatha Dé was forgotten when he kissed her, and besides, they’d soon take care of the Norse so that the Irish wouldn’t have to worry about their fates and their world. They would crush them once and for all.
Zeus and his brother, Poseidon, hovered over the Dagda’s table, tapping their chins as they stared at the few books Lugh had been able to produce on the scorpion men. Before the Greeks and Irish could invade Asgard, they had to destroy those giant scorpions, but their seemingly impenetrable exoskeletons made that an extremely precarious task.
Poseidon finally looked up and suggested, “I could try to drown them.”
“I think arachnids can hold their breath a really long time,” Lugh answered. “So supernatural arachnids? Hell, maybe they don’t even breathe.”
Badb snorted and flipped a page in one of the books on Sumerian mythology. “Why don’t we have any indestructible creatures to throw at people? Who decided the Irish would be creatureless?”
“I don’t think creatureless is a word in any language we speak,” Lugh replied helpfully.
“So I’ll get Ogma to add it to the Gaelic dictionary,” Badb replied just as helpfully.
“Is this really the most important thing we can be discussing right now?” Zeus asked.
The Dagda shrugged. “Aren’t you used to them by now?”
Zeus shrugged too. “Yeah, but given Olympus was just demolished, I thought they’d be a little more focused.”
“We’re completely focused,” Badb lied.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Athena claimed as she entered the great hall.
Badb glanced up at her then went back to reading the book Lugh had given her. “I’m an excellent liar. Remember that time I got you to accompany us to Massilia because I told you the Carthaginians were returning, but I really just wanted you to start shit with Carthage so we’d have an excuse to raze their city to the ground?”
Athena folded her arms over her chest and squinted at her best friend. “That wasn’t funny. You should have insisted we raze Rome to the ground instead since they turned on us.”
“They turned on the mortal Greeks,” Lugh corrected. “Not the Olympians.”
“Shut up, Sun God,” Athena sighed.
Lugh smiled and pushed the book he’d been perusing across the table toward her. “Okay, I’ll shut up if you figure out how to kill scorpion men.”
Athena glanced at the book then let her arms fall by her side. “What did you call them in Olympus when you realized what had shown up?”
“Aqrabuamelu. In every major Mesopotamian religion, the scorpion man guards some sort of door or gate. It’s possible they exist to guard the entry to their world.”
“So�
� if we want to get into their highest heaven, we’ll have to get past those arachnid bastards,” Athena said.
Lugh shrugged because the Tuatha Dé hadn’t often found themselves fighting the Sumerians, and the only time they had encountered them was when they were helping their old Egyptian friends. He sat up straighter and slapped the table, causing all of his friends in the room to jump. “We’ll summon Montu. Surely the Egyptians have encountered the scorpion men before.”
None of his friends had the chance to agree or argue because Lugh summoned the Egyptian war god who looked around the great hall then blinked at the Irish sun god. “Please tell me we’re about to have a banquet.”
“Olympus was just destroyed. Do you think we’re in the partying mood?” Zeus responded.
“Actually, old friend,” Montu teased, “I think you’re always in the partying mood.”
“Conceded,” Zeus agreed.
“Montu,” Badb sighed, “I think Lugh brought you here because of the scorpion men. You already know that’s what destroyed Olympus, but we need to know how to destroy them.”
Montu pulled a chair away from the long, oak table and sat down, shaking his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Badb. I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you. If it were a matter of the Sumerian gods, I’d lead you into battle myself. But we never even attempted to invade their realm because of the legends of the scorpion men.”
“So it’s hopeless,” Athena murmured.
“Nothing is ever hopeless,” the Dagda assured her.
“Perhaps,” Lugh suggested, “the key to killing the scorpion men is killing the gods who control them.”
Montu took a deep breath as he fidgeted with the edge of his shirt. “That would be An,” he finally said, “the father of the gods who is protected at all times by the scorpion men themselves. The very creatures we want to kill, which means we can’t kill the scorpion men without killing An, and we can’t kill An without killing the scorpion men. Reaching him will be an impossible task.”
Badb smiled at the Egyptian war god and told him, “I singlehandedly brought Thor to his knees and only spared his life in exchange for one of our own prisoners of war. I don’t believe in the impossible.”
“Impossible or not,” Athena said, “the Sumerians and Norse took everything from us. Now, we’ll take everything from them.”
Chapter Three
Badb watched Lugh carefully weaving a tapestry of his Spear, imbuing it with the enchantment that would recognize his heir if he were to die. The blue flames at the tip of his Spear would flicker in his heir’s presence, creating the illusion that the tapestry itself was on fire. The artistry was impeccable. She sat beside him at his loom and ran her fingers over the finished half of his tapestry. It was the last of the four he was making to hang in the Dagda’s great hall, each depicting one of the Treasures of the Tuatha Dé: the Dagda’s Cauldron, the Lia Fáil, Nuada’s Unbreakable Sword, and of course, Lugh’s Spear.
“These make you nervous,” Lugh said, pausing his weaving so he could talk to his girlfriend.
“No,” Badb answered. “Only this one.”
“I have to make it, my little crow. I’ve made one for each of our Treasures. That doesn’t mean we’ll lose the Dagda either.”
“I know,” Badb said softly. She let her hand fall and tried to offer him a smile, but truthfully, knowing the tapestry’s purpose and seeing the possibility laid before her… it terrified her.
“Hey,” he said, putting his hand over hers, “I’m not a prophet. I’m making these because I have the ability to provide this gift to our family. That and it’ll be pretty cool to drag a demigod in front of them one day and see them come alive, right?”
Badb narrowed her eyes at him and pulled her hand away. “You have two seconds to take that back since the only reason the enchantment would work is if someone is dead.”
Lugh laughed and held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Okay, I’m sorry. But come on, Badb. The only real downside to living in Findias for the rest of eternity is the inability to have kids.”
Badb looked away from him and nodded, tracing her finger over the delicate, intricate craftsmanship of his tapestry. She’d had four children in her long life, each of them demigods, but never a child who was a god… and never a child with the one god she wanted children with the most. When Fate created the first gods, it had decided not to overrun the world with deities so pregnancies between a god and goddess were extremely rare. When gods died and their position on a pantheon needed to be replaced, it was almost always a demigod who was chosen as an heir, a mortal to become immortal, rather than a new god born to deities.
As always, Lugh sensed her turmoil and kissed the side of her head. “One day, Badb. And just imagine what a badass he or she will be.”
Badb snickered and lifted her eyes, finally offering him a genuine smile. “Well… to be fair, what child of mine isn’t a badass?”
Lugh blinked at her then crossed his arms in pretend-anger. “My son is Cú Chulainn. Do you really want to have this competition?”
“God no,” Athena muttered from behind them.
Badb twisted in her seat and shot her best friend a smartass-glare. “You have to take my side. It’s a contractual obligation in the best friend’s handbook. Did you even read the whole thing?”
“Yeah,” Athena joked, “and on the last page, it says the whole thing is null and void if one of the friends is disgusting the other with talk about sex and children.”
“There’s something wrong with you, you know that?” Badb asked.
Athena just shrugged and nodded toward Lugh’s tapestry. “Almost finished. This may be your best one yet.”
“I was hoping to have it finished before this expedition,” he admitted.
“Lugh…” Badb warned, but Lugh brought her hand to his lips and quickly promised her he’d had no premonitions whatsoever about their attempt to raid the Sumerian world.
“Every invasion we undertake, every time we war with an invader of our own world, don’t we risk our lives?” he reasoned. “The chance any of us might fall is always there. I simply wanted to make sure this tapestry was finished since no one else can finish it.”
“Then you’d better survive this invasion,” Athena told him. “Because we’re about to leave.”
The small alliance of Greek, Irish, and Egyptian gods paused outside of the highest heaven where An lived to look for the scorpion men. Tall sand-colored walls surrounded the homes of the gods within, and Badb couldn’t help herself: She crossed her arms angrily and scoffed at the gods who needed walls to protect their dwelling place.
Lugh rolled his eyes and tapped Athena’s shoulder. “Help me out here before my girlfriend’s ego gets us all killed.”
Athena blinked at him then replied, “You’re going to pay for that.”
Lugh flinched and nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Definitely regret letting that slip out.”
“Would you all shut up?” Apollo groaned. He pointed his bow toward the wall and said, “Something’s coming around the corner, and given its size, I suspect it’s one of our scorpion men.”
“Then my sisters and I will just have to fly over the wall,” Badb suggested.
Lugh immediately grabbed her arm and shook his head. “You’re not going in there alone.”
“He’s right,” the Dagda agreed. “If we try to distract them, it will alert An that we’re here. And we already know we can’t kill them.”
Badb threw her hands up in exasperation and hissed, “Then just let my sisters and me fly over the walls! We can handle An on our own!”
“Meerkats!” Montu announced excitedly. All of the other gods turned slowly to stare at him, and his flawless bronze complexion darkened a bit with his embarrassment. He cleared his throat and tried again. “They’re small mammals that eat normal, regular-sized scorpions.”
“Montu,” Badb groaned. “What?”
Osiris tapped his fingers against his leg as he watched the scorpion men
in the distance. “You were unable to penetrate its exoskeleton because you didn’t have sharp enough weapons. I think what Montu has hit upon is that we need something both sharp and strong… like the teeth and jaws of a meerkat.”
Montu nodded and pointed to his Egyptian colleague. “That.”
“If only Heracles were still alive,” Athena sighed.
“Hades,” Ares breathed.
The gods stopped staring at Montu to stare stupidly at Ares.
“He’s not any stronger than me,” Zeus pointed out.
“And he’s kind of an asshole,” Poseidon also pointed out.
Ares waved them both off. “I don’t want him to fight the scorpion men but to pull them into his underworld until we can get inside those walls and find An.”
Zeus snorted and said, “And how is Hades supposed to drag giant scorpions into his realm without dying?”
Athena shrugged and asked, “Would it matter? He lives in a land of the dead.”
“Yeah, but…” Poseidon protested, but it was Athena who cut him off by lifting her hands in the air and flashing a sly smile at him.
“Where am I?” Hades asked. He looked toward the walls that seemed to reach through the sky itself, which were still being guarded by the huge scorpions. “And what the hell are those?”
“Those,” Athena answered, “are the creatures we need you to take back to your realm.”
Hades stopped staring at the scorpion men to gape at his niece before turning on his brothers. “If this is your idea of a joke, you’re still not funny.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Lugh asked. “The Sumerians used these creatures to destroy Olympus, and we think the only way to destroy them is by killing the god who controls them. Of course, Plan A is a giant meerkat, but since we don’t have one, we’re going with Plan B. We need to be able to get inside those walls, but we can’t even touch the scorpion men. We tried fire, lightning, wind, and our weapons. Admittedly, this is a desperate attempt to get rid of them, but what else can we do?”
Blades of Ash: An Unbreakable Sword Series Prequel (The Unbreakable Sword Book 5) Page 2