The God of Battles

by David Menefee

  Since meeting Angela, Cassandra had not been tempted by another woman until now. But her heart, given entirely over to Angela, gave her strength, and she stepped back, alarmed.

  The woman paused in her approach as though sensing Cassandra’s anxiety. Her eyes widened. “I believe I know you. Where is your lover?”

  Cassandra stared at her. “How did you know I have a lover?”

  “Everyone here has a lover. But yours is special. I know her well.” The woman enunciated her words carefully.

  “She’s not here. She had to go back.”

  The woman crossed her arms under her breasts. “Back to the underworld?”

  “Who are you? If you’re not in charge, I don’t need to tell you anything.” As soon as she said it, Cassandra shivered, this time with fear.

  The women near her gasped. The scene rippled around her, and her ears popped. The music and other sounds faded, and the beautiful woman grew taller. Though nude, she radiated a power that made Cassandra’s skin prickle.

  Her voice throbbed in Cassandra’s ears. “My name in this place is Serpent Lion.”

  Cassandra felt her talent open, beyond her control, and she knew, instantly, who this was. The shock of the name struck deeply into Cassandra’s body, and she felt herself respond.

  The woman’s voice continued. “All that you see is me. I am both person and place.” Her form dissolved in a swirl of gold and purple light, but Cassandra could feel the powerful presence all around her. “If you wish to help your lover, you must serve me. Or leave.”

  Cassandra’s fear returned with overwhelming intensity. Her greatest nightmare was to lose her will to another. Her terror threatened to erase her mind for the first time since she had been freed from the Soul Thief. Instinctively, she backed up, though there was no escape behind her. “Angela?” she quavered.

  The ground shook.

  “You may not speak that name here,” Serpent Lion rumbled. “She has been stained by war’s filthy hand. Neither war nor his slaves may come here. You, however, are welcome, being a faithful child of mine. Join me here in my heaven. Swear fealty to me, and be at peace.”

  The fear intensified. “Oh God. Oh God, God.”

  Then she heard a far-off voice in her mind.

  —Cassie?—

  Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Simon?”

  She heard another muted rumbling, but the world did not shake.

  “Simon? Can you hear me?” How was he able to reach her in this place? She grasped at the lifeline of his mind as if her life depended on it.

  The voice strengthened. —Are you okay?—

  “They’ll kick me out if I don’t join them.” Her words tumbled over themselves in her haste. “Ang—you know who couldn’t come here. She’s stained by war, but Serpent Lion wants me to… oh, God.”

  —Who? What?—

  “It’s too hard to explain. Help me!”

  —…can’t do that. You’ve got to find Aphrodite.—

  Cassandra felt Serpent Lion listening in on her. The world had gone completely still.

  “I can’t. Not without Ang—my girlfriend.”

  Cassandra waited for a reply, her heart trip-hammering in her ears.

  —I can help.—

  “How? I mean, you’re a straight guy. You can’t talk to Serpent Lion!”

  —We can invoke Aphrodite. You and me.—

  Cassandra’s legs wobbled suddenly. “Simon. You can’t be serious.”

  —…not talking about sex. I’m talking about love. Worship.—

  His mind was filled with a longing that moved her and her talent unfolded in a way she had never experienced before. In front of her, mist condensed, forming a wispy cloud that rapidly solidified. Simon materialized there, dressed in battle fatigues.

  “You!” Serpent Lion’s voice boomed suddenly, and Cassandra barely caught her balance to avoid falling. “Begone, creature of war! Male interloper. Find your own place.”

  Cassandra was overcome with vertigo again as the world seemed to whirl around her. Simon dropped to his knees, lifted his arms and his face, and stared at and through her. “Aphrodite! Sea-foam borne Cyprian! Mother of Desire! I beg you to answer our prayer. Peace-bringer! Goddess!”

  In a cosmic roar, the air was split with a blinding flash of lightning that flung Cassandra off her feet and into the void.

  Cassandra drifted, weightless, in a silent, sense-bewildering, rose-scented pink mist. She could not see Simon anywhere. Faint music came and went, and without transition, she found herself standing on a richly marbled floor, veined in green and gold. Simon stood nearby, a dazed look on his face. The pink mist had withdrawn, clearing a circle thirty feet in diameter.

  She heard light footsteps that were almost lost in the vastness beyond the mist. A small, human form evolved from the obscuring haze. A teenage girl, dressed in an elaborate, warlike costume of copper plates and white leather. A tall, Romanesque helm crowned her long, blonde hair, which was braided and tied back behind her back. The breastplate shone in the rosy illumination, etched in elaborate, abstract patterns. Small plates clasped her otherwise bare arms at the shoulders. She wore a white leather kilt made from vertical strips, and simple sandals. With ageless blue eyes, she studied Cassandra.

  Cassandra shrank self-consciously as the girl approached. Her heart-shaped face, perfect nose, and cupid’s-bow lips were almost painfully alluring, making Cassandra’s breath catch. But she sensed no supernatural presence such as there had been with Serpent Lion. Cassandra guessed she was a priestess of the goddess, though she could not understand why the girl was dressed for war in this peaceful place.

  “Where are we?” Cassandra asked in a small voice.

  The girl looked them both up and down and wrinkled her nose, clearly finding them wanting. “Before love was clothed in the form of a sensuous woman, it came clad in the armor of the warrior. The grappling of combat was once considered to be as passionate as the fondest embrace of lovers.”

  She walked around them. “Now it seems that both love and war are on the wane. Love, because it has been boxed up in cultural mores, and war because it is faceless and cold.”

  Cassandra turned in place, following the girl’s movement as her confusion grew. “Who are you?”

  “Whose voice do you hear?” She mused, introspective. “Mine? Or your own? When you seek love, do you follow that warm core within you, or do you merely ape your fellows?”

  Cassandra opened her mouth then stopped, thinking. Was this girl mocking her? She had always sought the passion within her, often feeling that her peers were missing the point of love. But now she questioned herself. This girl had power, all right. It was just not as blatant as that of Serpent Lion.

  Cassandra’s suspicion crystallized, remembering that Aphrodite had many aspects. “Are you… her? Aphro—?”

  The Girl raised her finger to her lips, shushing Cassandra. She shook her head. Then she turned her attention to Simon. “As for you, you abandoned love long ago. You went to the altar of war and gave your soul into his keeping. Now what are you doing? Hurling yourself into the maw of his machinery, feeding his appetite with your dreams. Beside you is the object of your burning desire. And…”

  She lifted her head, sniffing the air. “Ah. Here she comes now. Love’s passionless plaything, empress of a vanished world, blind child of an elder age. Clothed in the splendor of her eternal self, armored with the might of a jealous god.”

  More footsteps. Another form materialized in the mist as it approached. Angela had been transformed into a warrior, her dark hair coiled and covered by a helm and great clanking armor covering her body. In one hand she held a naked sword, tinted red by the mist. She saw the Girl and froze. In one swift motion she slammed the sword into its scabbard then fell to one knee and lowered her head.

  “That’s more like it.” The Girl smiled briefly with satisfaction.

  “Who are you?” Simon’s voice was husky with tension. “We’re looking for the one in
charge here. Are you her?”

  The Girl looked slyly at him out of the corner of her eye. “You are stronger than you look. Most men in my presence are struck dumb.” She turned to face him. “Tell me this. Which of these two do you love more?” She gestured to Cassandra. “The wounded psychic, veteran of thousands of lifetimes on your world. One who loves only her own sex and will give you nothing of what you want?”

  She pointed at Angela. “Or this one. A warrior goddess, freshly returned from her exile in the shadowlands, unready to face her own destiny.” The Girl crossed her arms and stared at Simon until he flushed and looked down.

  Cassandra mustered her courage and spoke up. “We need your help. Please. Ange—I mean, she—” She indicated Angela. If her name could not be spoken in Serpent Lion, the rule probably held here, too. “She’s infected with war. Her oversoul isn’t hers anymore. It belongs to him. To Ar—to War. Can you free her and her oversoul from War? Before she’s forced to kill us all?”

  Cassandra’s ears popped as if something huge had landed nearby and displaced the air. The Girl’s form acquired greater clarity, the details of her armor and accoutrements standing out sharply against the misty background.

  “Of course I can.” She sounded amused. “He is, after all, my lover, so I possess the keys to his power. But I require sacrifice. Don’t you remember your stories about Love?”

  Cassandra looked at the Girl’s beautiful face. “I’ll be your sacrifice.” Cassandra refused to look at Angela for fear of losing her resolve. “Just save her, please.”

  “No one will sacrifice on my behalf. I was drawn here by my love for her.”

  Cassandra stared at Angela, who had spoken in those steely tones. Throughout the exchange, Angela had remained on one knee, head bowed. But now her face was lifted to return Cassandra’s stare, her eyes burning, her armored hand lifted to point.

  “I do not recall addressing you, slave.” The Girl’s voice was cool and distant.

  Angela rose to her feet in a fluid motion and stood with her hands by her sides, her face calm and ageless. “Slave? Perhaps I am slave to war.” She folded her arms. “But you can’t deny that I have power, even here.” She stared for a moment at Cassandra, her expression cold and pitiless. Cassandra shuddered. Beneath the veneer of a single human life lay the consciousness of an alien creature whose memories spanned millennia.

  Angela turned her head and stared at the Girl. “Sometimes it takes a while for me to learn something. I wasn’t ready to accept the reality of my own power in my new life on earth until I nearly destroyed the ones I love. So take me, and leave them alone.”

  The Girl stared at Angela’s face and nodded, smiling slightly. “You are indeed strong, challenging me in my place of power. You tempt me. And no mortal has done that for a very long time.” Her smile faded. “Nevertheless, both you and your beloved have much left to do on earth. I require another to sacrifice on your behalf.” The Girl turned her attention to Simon. “You.” She pointed at him. “Come closer.”

  Simon hesitated then stepped forward with military precision to stand at attention before the Girl.

  She looked deeply into his eyes. “You would look better in your true form.” She made no obvious gesture, but Iron Star’s bulky shape faded into view, overlaying Simon’s smaller body, before somehow becoming absorbed into his flesh. Cassandra was momentarily dizzy. Then the combined Simon Iron Star stood in Simon’s place, his features a blend of the brutish oversoul and the man. His helmet was off and clasped under one arm.

  He gasped suddenly and fell clumsily to his knees. Dropping the helmet, he lowered his head into his arms and moaned. The Girl waited patiently, a look of pity passing over her face.

  Simon Iron Star looked up at her. “I gave up on you years ago. I chased after your image in the faces of the women whom I thought I loved, but then…” He choked. “Then I lost the use of my legs. And with that, I lost my will to love. My passion. And now you torment me with this as punishment.”

  The Girl shook her head. “No. My punishment is different for those who transgress my laws. This is not torment. Look in your heart.”

  Simon looked at her, his gaze unfocused, then lowered his head. His shoulders quaked once as he choked back a sob. Then, putting his hand down, he grasped the helmet, and with the other hand levered himself back to his feet.

  “When I took Him as my patron, I thought I was doing the right thing.” His voice, the voice of Iron Star, no longer grated with anger. “I was a warrior, after all. I thought he would teach me how to be a good, courageous soldier. Instead, it appears that I was warmongering, an instrument of another’s will.”

  He looked at Cassandra and then at Angela. “These two helped me to face my enemy, even if I never had a chance of winning. I learned more about courage from them than from all the days I spent at His altar, sacrificing and praying.” Simon Iron Star studied the Girl. “This is my last test, isn’t it? Can I accept who I am at my core?”

  An indistinct voice muttered somewhere. Cassandra turned to look for its source but could not see anyone. The voice grew louder, and a shadow appeared in the mist. It resolved into the hunched, shawled form of an old woman hobbling on a cane. Angela gasped then fell silent. She watched the woman, an unreadable expression on her face.

  The old lady approached Simon, and Cassandra held her breath, expecting a bolt of lightning or something from the Girl. None came, though. With a muttered exclamation, the crone turned to look behind her and motioned irritably. Another form, somewhat taller, appeared: a young woman, maybe Cassandra’s age, with two children in tow.

  Simon groaned, and his right arm shook for a moment. “You?” His voice cracked.

  The old woman glanced obliquely at him. “Yes, warrior. Time for courage.” She cackled, making a rude gesture at Simon. She then bowed to the Girl. “Dark Eyes sends his respects.”

  The Girl inclined her head, smiling. The old woman turned and shuffled back into the mist, leaving the younger one and the children to confront Simon. Who were these people? Then, as if someone had dumped water on her head, the sparks of realization poured down her spine from above. These were the people Simon had killed.

  “I—” Simon’s voice choked. He tried again while the woman watched, impassive. “I am the one who took everything from you,” he said, his voice steadier. Though he towered over the woman, he seemed to shrink in on himself, cowering before her stony expression as she held her children close.

  Simon swallowed. “I can’t ask you to forgive me. I can’t forgive myself. When I tried, in my meadow…” He glanced at Angela then continued. “I learned that my wishes weren’t enough. Because it’s not about me. So I promise, right here before Her, that I will make restitution to your family and make sure your other kids are well taken care of. And I’ll make sure your name won’t be forgotten, Maisa Assani. I will donate trust money in your name so they will know it was their mother who really loved them.”

  At that, Maisa’s face crumpled, and tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Simon’s eyes glittered as he searched her face for absolution, his own face streaked and wet. Then he bowed his head and stood motionless before his accuser. Everything in the strange, pink-hued world held its breath. Cassandra glanced at the Girl and noted that her eyes were also bright. Was she crying, too?

  “You are honorable.” Maisa spoke in a small, firm voice. The young woman lifted her chin and continued. “You are not like the others who take and take until all is gone.” She reached out and touched his breastplate. “I release you from your debt to me.”

  Simon looked into her face. His eyes focused on hers, and an understanding passed between them. Cassandra’s telepathy let her catch only a general sense of what it was. Their blood debt was both older and larger than that incurred by a single, tragic incident. The West, in the person of Bald Eagle’s War Leader, was offering to rectify all the wrongs against the people of the Middle East that they had committed in the name of economic and political advent
urism. Cassandra was proud of this man who had already won her admiration and who now stood with her in the Palace of Love.

  Simon straightened into a ramrod military posture and snapped a salute to Maisa. She smiled for the first time since she had arrived and inclined her head in acknowledgement. Without a word, she and her children turned and reentered the mist. The air flushed with a deeper reddish hue while the faint, far-off sound of rumbling came and went. The red tint faded once again to the ubiquitous pink.

  “War approves. You have found your courage, Simon.” The Girl glanced at Cassandra. “I know better than you how you feel about this man. You know that it is my right to bring regret to the hearts of all who love. My own beloved cannot come to me in his true form. In these times, he requires an avatar.” She gestured at Simon. “Him.”

  Cassandra choked, feeling a sharp pang in her throat. “No!”

  The Girl’s face froze as she looked at Cassandra. “Are you sure?”

  Cassandra’s chest clenched with a growing sense of pressure, as if something vast approached, and she trembled. Her courage fled as she shrank before the face of a timeless natural force.

  Simon spoke up. “Cassandra. I will do this. For you and for her. You have so much to live for, and I… well, I have peace. I know why I am here and what I must do now.”

  He turned to the Girl, once more calm. “I give myself to you in undying love.”

  The Girl nodded. “I accept, Lover.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  War in Heaven: Deconstruction

  Root Hexagon, Bald Eagle

  The great crystalline form of the Root Hexagon showed fracture lines visibly creeping from facet to facet; its self-destruction was imminent. Several angels were hard at work, dismantling the massive power cables connecting it to Bald Eagle while dodging the random snapping discharges of energy. The commander watched closely for signs of the massive explosion soon to occur. Already, the flickering images within the crystal lacked clarity and strength, and notably absent was any hint of the presence of Simon and his checkpoint.