Horus returned to the hall, his arms filled with his own books, and tossed them onto the table. “When in doubt, go back to the source.”
Lugh glanced at one of the books and lifted an eyebrow at his old friend. “The Avesta? Horus, that’s like turning to The Book of Invasions for the history of the Tuatha Dé.”
“You,” Horus retorted, “of all people should know the stories men write always have some truth within them. And the Persians had a prophet. Some humans are more connected to the worlds of gods than others. We should listen.”
The Dagda stopped pacing and stroked his long beard as he eyed the Avesta. “Does it say anything about how to kill Ahriman?”
Lugh shook his head before Horus could answer. “I’ve already read it. And like I said: Zarathustra prophesied that Ahura Mazda would confine Ahriman to their version of Hell and he and his demons would destroy one another.”
“What was the language of the translation you read?” Horus asked.
Lugh tilted his head at him and answered, “Greek. Why?”
Horus moved the top book and beneath it lay an older text with a language Badb didn’t recognize. “What is this?” she asked.
“It’s written in the Avestan language,” Horus explained. “No offense to our Greek friends, but considering they changed Zarathustra’s name by calling him Zoroaster, it’s not surprising they got some of the details about Zoroastrianism wrong.”
Poseidon shrugged and told him, “We didn’t write it. Greek mortals did.”
Horus pulled a chair away from the table and sat down, pulling the Avesta in its original language toward him. “Zarathustra never claimed Ahriman had a legion of demons. He actually called them daevas, the incarnation of evil thoughts. But he also identifies them as false gods. I don’t think we’re dealing with spirits or demons at all. I think Ahriman’s followers are demigods.”
“Demigods?” Badb repeated. “But demigods are mortal. They might have abilities human’s don’t, but since they’re part human, they age and die.”
“Sure,” Horus agreed, “if they’re on Earth.”
Badb and Lugh exchanged a confused glance then Lugh took a deep breath and humored their ally. “Okay… so Ahriman is just recruiting demigods?”
“Possibly. In most religions, there’s a concept of some evil god or spirit coercing mortals into working for them or giving up their souls, right?”
Lugh nodded. “Sure, but if we’re basing the safety of the Otherworld on a guess, I think we need to keep digging.”
“Where is he?” Ares asked. “If he has a horde of demigods, he’s keeping them stashed somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Horus agreed. “Problem is, we have no idea where Basri could be.”
“Well, we Greeks have a theory, but considering how wrong we are about everything,” Athena teased.
Horus grinned at her and sheepishly explained, “I should have clarified humans. As you know, Egyptians got plenty wrong too.”
Athena smiled back at him and offered, “The Persians thought Basri was in Babylon. Maybe the veil between Earth and Ahriman’s kingdom is open there.”
“Babylon?” Badb said. “Is that place even still around?”
“Sure,” Athena responded. “Cities might change, but the land is still there. It’s worth checking out.”
“Checking out…” Poseidon said. “We’re going to wander around an ancient city hoping we stumble onto the realm of a soulless god?”
“No,” Lugh decided. “Badb and I will return to Tara and find someone to help us divine the location. The rest of you should be ready to invade when we get back.”
“Um,” the Dagda responded. “Are we really going to invade Hell?”
“It’s not Hell,” Lugh argued. “It’s… Basri.”
“We are so going to die,” Ares muttered.
“Probably,” Lugh agreed. “On the other hand, if we survive this, we get to kill a religion’s devil. That kinda makes us the most badass supernatural heroes ever, right?”
Ares shook his head at the sun god and told him, “Go to Tara. And make sure you share your plan for being such a supernatural hero so the druid can tell you what a dumbass you are.”
“Badass,” Lugh corrected.
“Tara,” Badb sighed.
The Dagda’s hall disappeared, replaced by the familiar starry sky of Earth and the equally familiar cold, damp air of Ireland. In front of them, among the grove of oak trees, stood a cottage with a lantern still burning near the window, the home of a druid whom they’d met before. Like most druids now, he practiced in secret. While English control of Ireland had been slipping because of the long, disastrous war they fought with the French, the religion that had replaced the Tuatha Dé’s prominence here remained, and it was still a dangerous world for the druids.
Lugh knocked on the door, and a middle-aged man who wore a sleeping gown and a blanket wrapped over his shoulders like a shawl pulled it open, smiling at the gods who were paying him a late-night visit.
“You don’t look surprised to see us, Áedán,” Lugh said.
“I was surprised when I first sensed you outside my home,” he assured them. “Come in.”
Áedán stepped aside so Lugh and Badb could enter then locked the door behind them. Badb watched him carefully as his fingers trembled over the latch. It couldn’t be their presence that worried him. Something else had scared him, and it most likely had nothing to do with the world of gods.
“Áedán, are you all right?” she asked.
The druid shook his head and motioned toward his table. “Drink?”
“What’s going on?” Lugh asked. “Perhaps we can help.”
Áedán laughed and shook his head again. “It’s our fate, I suppose, to always be at war with ourselves. With the English preoccupied, we have Gaelic men trying to assert their power here, and I’m afraid some of us have been caught in the middle.”
“You mean druids,” Badb guessed.
Áedán nodded. “One of the men is Catholic, the other pagan. And neither side is above killing their priests in the misguided belief it will help them win.”
Badb cringed and pulled a chair away from the table so she could sit by his fire. “You do need our help then. We’ll send someone to protect you.”
“Badb,” Áedán sighed. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have something more worrisome than yet another battle in Tara between mortals. If they discover what I am, then let them come for me. Findias is hardly a punishment.”
“No,” she agreed. “But selfishly, we still need men like you.”
“We’ll all die off eventually anyway,” he reminded her.
“Áedán,” Lugh interjected, “we need your help figuring out where Ahriman’s realm might be and how to enter it.”
“Ahriman? The Persian god?”
“Yeah, he destroyed the Slavic heaven and convinced the Norse it was our fault, so they allied with the Sumerians again to destroy Olympus.”
“Wait,” Áedán interrupted. “They weren’t successful, were they?”
“Afraid so,” Badb told him. “Olympus is gone.”
“And our world could be next,” Lugh added.
“Oh,” Áedán breathed. He collapsed into a chair beside Badb and pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders. “And the Norse? Will they leave you alone if you get revenge against Ahriman?”
“Uh… no,” Lugh answered. “We tried to tell Thor the truth, but that went as well as you’d expect. Invading Asgard has just been bumped down a bit on our to-do list.”
“You’re going to be awfully busy,” Áedán observed smartly.
“You know,” Badb said, “we could take you to Murias now. You’ll be safe there…”
“Thank you, Badb,” Áedán interrupted. “But you have wise men to serve you in the Otherworld. You need someone connected to this world to serve you here. And I’ll do that as long as I can. Now, if Fate will allow me to see what lies in your future, I may be able to tell you where
to find Ahriman.”
Áedán closed his eyes and took a deep breath then began his recitation of the same chant he always used to divine the future for the gods. Badb and Lugh listened quietly then waited as he fell silent, his eyes twitching beneath his eyelids as if he were watching the future unfold before him. Áedán gasped and opened his eyes, staring first at Badb then Lugh, and he swallowed before speaking. “I can tell you how to reach Basri, but I have to advise you against invading Asgard.”
“Why?” Badb and Lugh asked at the same time.
“Because of what it may lead to,” he answered. “The cycle it will begin.”
“Áedán, we’ve been enemies of the Norse for thousands of years. You know this,” Lugh offered.
“No,” Áedán argued. “This is different. What will come is different.”
Lugh and Badb glanced nervously at one another before Lugh took her hand and asked, “How?”
The druid clutched his blanket so tightly that his knuckles blanched and he swallowed again before speaking. And when he did, Badb found herself gripping Lugh’s hand tighter and tighter because what he prophesied was the one thing the Tuatha Dé had always feared most. “Your alliance is the strongest in the world,” Áedán told them. “And your Blades of Ash will cause the walls of Asgard to crumble. But your victory will never be forgotten, and the Norse will lead their own alliance into Murias. If you do this, if you destroy Asgard now, you’ll unleash a war from which no one will walk away unscathed. You’ll begin the Battle of the Gods.”
Chapter Ten
The Land of the Dark where Ahriman lived had apparently earned its epithet for a good reason: It was terribly dark.
There was no sun in Basri, no moon or stars, and the only light the Irish and their allies had came from the occasional oil lamp hanging on posts along an otherwise empty path.
“Anyone else feel like this is a literal road to Hell?” Horus whispered.
“You’re Egyptian,” Badb whispered back. “You don’t believe in Hell.”
Horus gestured toward their dark surroundings. “I’m starting to.”
Lugh snorted and added, “I thought there would be more brimstone. And fire.”
“You’re a sun god. You can fix that,” the Dagda pointed out.
Lugh nodded smartly. “Fire would be useful right about now considering I can’t really tell what we’re about to walk into.”
Macha shushed them all and reminded them they were trying to sneak into an enemy’s home, so Horus reminded her there didn’t seem to be anyone around to disturb.
A rustling sound in the distance made the group stop and search for the source of the noise, but it was too dark to see beyond the edges of the path. Badb wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her sword and as Lugh produced his Spear, its tip lit up in blue flames, casting a pale glow on the beautiful god’s face. But whatever had made that noise remained hidden.
“Uh… ghost?” Athena guessed.
Three simultaneous hisses answered her.
“That didn’t sound like a ghost,” the Dagda muttered.
“Please tell me those weren’t snakes,” Lugh groaned.
“Pretty sure they were snakes,” Osiris answered. “Which means we’re in Hell after all.”
That same rustling noise came closer, and Badb realized it was the sound of a monstrous body slithering across the grass.
“Okay, I’m out of here,” she decided.
“We seriously had to be related to gods who get spooked by serpents?” Athena teased.
Lugh shot her a defiant look and shot back, “Then you kill it. If it’s what I think it is, it’s a three-headed serpent that defends the walls of Basri. So go ahead. We’ll wait here.”
“Why does it have three heads?” Ares asked.
“Why does that matter?” Nemain demanded.
Ares lifted a shoulder as the rustling came even closer and the giant three-headed serpent hissed at the gods again. “Just seems odd, that’s all.”
“What’s odd,” Lugh told him, “is that Aži Dahaka might not be our only problem. Not exactly. Even if we kill the giant serpent, it’s supposedly filled with more serpents and vermin.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Badb mumbled.
But he didn’t have time to explain either the legend or how they were supposed to combat an evil snake filled with more evil snakes and rats and probably-only-Ahriman knew what else. Because Aži Dahaka had reached them. And it looked pissed off that the small group of gods had invaded its territory.
Not that Badb could blame the serpent. She knew how it felt, considering she was already pissed off about an invasion that hadn’t even taken place yet, one she and Lugh could prevent by talking their family and friends out of destroying Asgard. But truthfully, neither wanted to back down now because there would always be something else in the future, some other provocation, some other battle that would draw them all into cataclysm. It was their destiny to destroy one another, and there was no fighting destiny.
So they’d returned to Murias with directions to Basri and had told no one about Áedán’s prophecy. They would just have to face whatever Fate had in store for them together.
As Aži Dahaka lifted its long body into the air, its three necks separated, allowing the three massive heads to veer into different directions. Thin black tongues slithered between pointed fangs as its yellow eyes searched the gods below. “Please tell me you can burn this thing,” Athena groaned.
“What happened to your conviction that gods shouldn’t be spooked by serpents?” Lugh asked.
“Can you burn it or not?” Athena snapped.
“Let’s hope so,” Lugh mumbled as he lit a fire beneath the giant snake. It hissed angrily back at him, but his flames didn’t seem to harm the beast.
“If it helps,” Badb offered, “I still think it’s incredibly impressive you can even use your powers so well in other realms.”
“Um… can you admire your boyfriend’s prowess later? I’m all for a little eroticism in almost any situation, but I think this is my line in the sand,” Ares said.
Badb glanced at Athena and told her, “Remind me to kick your brother’s ass later.”
Athena nodded. “I’ll help.”
“Hey!” Ares protested. “What did I do to you?”
“Throw your damn spear, Ares,” Poseidon scolded.
Ares squinted at his sister but obeyed the new leader of his pantheon. His spear pierced one of the necks of Aži Dahaka and the giant snake screamed in protest. Lugh cringed and backed away from it. “Nobody warned me I’d have to fight screaming snakes. I’m not ready for this. Let’s try again in like… five hundred years.”
Poseidon’s trident flew between Lugh and Badb and they spun around to glare at him, but he just gave them a look like, “Well, I would have warned you I was about to throw it if you’d both shut up.”
So Lugh gave him a look that said, “Fair enough,” and faced the screaming serpent again. Poseidon’s weapon pierced the second neck of Aži Dahaka, and it shrieked in pain and anger, but its third head shot toward the group of gods, its jaws yawning wide enough to swallow several of them at once.
Lugh threw his Spear into Aži Dahaka’s mouth and it screamed again then spit it out. Several snakes and rats fell to the ground with his Spear. “Can somebody get that for me?” he asked.
“Not it,” Badb immediately said.
“You can make it return to your hand,” Athena pointed out. “Just burn the evil-snake spit off it.”
Lugh cringed and held out his hand so his Spear could return to him.
“Put out the fire,” the Dagda instructed. “Just torch whatever comes out of this thing.”
Lugh let his fire die even though it might have at least forced Aži Dahaka to slow down and attack the gods by reaching its mouths toward them. The Dagda stepped toward the giant snake, swinging his mace at its body, which split open under the impact. Vermin gushed from the wound onto the ground, and Lugh burned them as Osi
ris and Horus joined the Dagda, pummeling Aži Dahaka with their own maces.
The Mórrígna ducked beneath the enormous mouths of the snake to reach its body, using their swords to open deep, gaping wounds. Badb screamed as a python fell on top of her and shrugged it off then stabbed it until Lugh lit its bloody carcass on fire, probably just to get Badb to stop hacking at it.
“How long do we have to mutilate this thing before it dies?” Badb shouted.
“No clue,” Lugh answered. “Maybe we have to empty it?”
“Can I go home now?” Badb groaned.
Lugh pierced it with his Spear then stepped back as more vermin seeped from the injury. Aži Dahaka’s long, thick body writhed and coiled protectively, its heads turning again as the gods kept moving so it wouldn’t eat them. “This will take too long,” he said. “Fire doesn’t penetrate its scales, but it does kill everything coming out of this thing.”
“Don’t even think about going in there,” Badb warned.
Lugh blinked at her then sighed. “How the hell would I get inside a giant snake without it killing me?”
“Would you two shut up and just tell us your plan?” Athena cried.
“How many maces can you produce?” he asked the Dagda.
“As many as you need.”
“Then get them. I’m going to light them on fire, and the Mórrígna will open as many wounds as they can. As soon as an incision is made, throw the burning mace inside.”
“Old friend, that has got to be the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Horus responded.
“Do you have a better one?” Lugh snapped.
“Bring it to Earth and leave it in the desert? I know where there’s a huge one.”
“Get the maces,” Lugh ordered.
Horus offered him a guilty grin and handed him his mace, which Lugh ignited. Badb ran her sword through Aži Dahaka again and Lugh shoved the burning mace into the incision. The serpent hissed and screamed, its body flailing in agony, but Macha and Nemain continued to puncture its body as Lugh lit the Dagda’s and Osiris’s maces on fire. They immediately replaced them, and Lugh ignited the new maces as well so they could try to burn Aži Dahaka from the inside.
Blades of Ash: An Unbreakable Sword Series Prequel (The Unbreakable Sword Book 5) Page 7