“He told you to stay here and guard us,” Onya cried in a worried tone. “Don’t you know how important that is to him?”
Yes, she knew and she didn’t want any harm to come to them but more than that, she didn’t want any harm to come to Ares. “You can guard them,” Alena said strongly as she slapped two of the daggers from her belt into Onya’s hand. “They’re not helpless. Neither are you. Now go.” Before Onya could protest further Alena dashed out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind her, hoping one of them would be intelligent enough to throw the lock.
Having no idea of how she was going to get past the boulder, Alena sprinted down the stone steps and to what had been the opening of the cave.
4
On the beach the echoes of gunfire rang through air. Ares had hoped for a bigger battle, but it looked as though he was going to be disappointed. The Druids, though they outnumbered the God of War and his meager band of men by more than five to one, were no match for the men on the shore. Druids were useful for conducting Ritual, for Casting Spells, for Divining the Future, but not necessarily as Warriors.
The punji sticks dripping with Druid blood were doing their job, forcing those making it to shore to go around, away from the wide beach and toward the narrow points of the island. There they were trapped and gunned down as they floundered toward land. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.
Like Ares, Cernunnos may Lord over his woods and his wild creatures but that was where the similarities ended. Cernunnos knew little to nothing of strategy and war. The Celtic God’s mind worked on nothing more than primitive animal instinct, not possessing the higher level of intelligence to be able to reason and see beyond the moment. Did Cernunnos really believe Ares had no defenses? That his island simply sat here in the middle of the sea unguarded against invaders? The Horned God must or he would have sent better men. In the end, Ares believed that Cernunnos would be an easy opponent to defeat once they were face-to-face.
“Ares!”
The God of War turned his head toward the sound of his name. David was pointing toward the water and a man who seemed to walk upon it. He was old, almost older than Time itself, his skin worn and wrinkled almost beyond recognition. In his aged liver-spotted hand, he held a large staff with a crystal on the top. The Old Druid used the staff to part the last of the water between the two warring sides, allowing the wet, nearly drowned Druids to charge the shore with their guns glazing.
Ares hurdled a fireball directly at the Old Druid and was amazed when it bounced off him and hissed harmlessly in the sea. Ares’ upper lip curled, his teeth bared and he let out a snarl. Maybe Cernunnos wasn’t so stupid after all. Another tremendous bolt of energy catapulted forth from the Old Druid’s staff as he laid his foot on dry sand. Before his dark smoldering eyes, Anton, a man who had been with Ares for the last fifteen years, was ripped in two equal halves. His left separated from his right and he fell in two heaps on the sand.
“Get him!” Ares shouted out the command as he let a string of fireballs rip from his hands. Each one bounced harmlessly away from the Old Druid. An invisible shield—a force field. Whoever he was, he must be very old and very powerful indeed if he could conjure such a thing. Less than a quarter mile away from him, Ares saw something horrifying hanging around the Old Druid’s turkey-like neck as he bared his own teeth and revealed a smile older than the hills and teeth just as dirty and pitted.
Thousands upon thousands of years ago Ares killed Halirrhothius, son of Poseidon. The wretch tried to rape Ares’ daughter, Alcippe. Ares made no bones about the fact that he killed him for this offense and he was justified. Zeus did not see it that way and neither did the other Olympians. They actually tried him for murder. Ares was the first Olympian ever to suffer such a humiliation and he did not doubt it was simply because he was Ares. If any other Olympian claimed the same, then the rest would have believed him or her and nothing more would have been said about it. They all hated Ares and his offspring, though Alcippe had been a sweet girl who had never done anything to deserve such a wretched thing. To this day, Ares was still angry but he took solace in the fact that, in the end, they found him not guilty and his so-called crime justified.
Before and during the trial, the other Olympians feared Ares’ wrath. Hephaestus—the Blacksmith of the Gods and Aphrodite’s Husband—forged heavy chains with which to hold the God of War while he stood trial for murder; they relieved Ares of his powers temporarily. If he’d had to wear them for more than a few days, Ares would swear they would also relieve him of his mind. Hephaestus had been only too happy to forget the horrid contraptions; he was still a bit miffed with Ares for screwing his Wife, Aphrodite.
Now, there they were, hanging around the neck of the Old Druid coming toward him with a menacing grin. Ares did not know where Cernunnos had obtained the vile objects but he knew there was no way in Hell that old bastard was going to put those shackles on his wrists ever again.
The Druids with him, those stumbling to shore began to form around the oldest one in the group. They fired off their weapons and when some of them no longer worked because of water or they would run out of ammunition, they drew the blades from their vests as they let out cries of war and charged into the battle.
5
“Let me out! Let me out!” Alena screamed at the boulder blocking her path. Putting both hands against it and pushing with all her strength until she felt her back would break from the strain, she begged the rock to move. It stood in place.
“You can’t go out there,” Onya whispered. “You have to stay with us.”
“I thought I told you to get into the chamber and bar the door,” Alena snarled at her. “If you can’t do that then you can help me move this goddamn thing!”
“You can’t move it; it must weigh a couple of tons,” the young woman protested and grabbed hold of Alena’s arm. Beyond the boulder, they could hear the muffled sounds of gunfire and the cries of dying men. “Come back with me,” she begged.
In her panic Alena didn’t listen, and she hardly even heard Onya speaking. Feys had little knowledge of magick but when she was very young, she’d shown some promise. She’d been able to do some of the things Ares did, like calling objects to her hand with her mind. Over the years of her life it seemed that power had left her. She needed it now. “Oh please,” Alena prayed, “move, just a little bit. Just a little.” She put her hands on the rock again, dug her heels into the soft dirt at her feet, and gave a mighty push. “MOVE!”
The boulder rolled. Just a little bit. But it moved.
“KEEP GOING! MOVE!” The boulder moved a little bit more. Alena looked down. There was enough space at the bottom for her to squeeze through. “Get back upstairs and take care of Ares’ women. Take care of yourself.” With no further words, Alena dropped to the ground, stuck her feet through the small opening and then wiggled through it just before the rock moved back into place. A second slower and it would have taken off her head.
6
Alena scrambled to her feet the second she was free of the boulder and watched it roll shut, thanking Fate she wasn’t a second slower. Standing up, she stood still and listened for a moment. The battle cries were coming from the North end of the island. The quickest way there was around the opening of the cave and down the steep grade, past the cave where Kat had taken Onya. Alena ran as fast as her legs would carry her, sliding most of the way down the cliff side sideways, struggling to keep her balance as the battle came into view.
So many men were storming the small northerly tip of the island that Ares’ men were scarcely able to keep up with them. On the beach below her most of the men had given up their firearms in favor of blades and bare hands. Ares’ men fought with courage and skill as they defended their Lord and their home from the invaders. She had to get down there and help. Alena saw something else; she saw the older Druid in the midst a circle of others.
Adrian. Cernunnos’ Exalted Druid.
Alena remembered him with much loathing. She spent
her adolescent life under Adrian’s harsh guidance and tutelage. He was mean. He was cold. Ruthless. He was very powerful, his knowledge of magick so extensive that Alena dare thought it was probably second only to the Gods. Certainly Merlin had nothing on Adrian. The Old Druid was cunning and it was him she could thank for this trait in herself. She learned it from him—she had to. If she did just the smallest thing wrong, he would club her over the head with that staff of his, and when she fell to the floor crying he would give her another whack with it, this one in the ass sending her full out on the ground.
Below her the smell of burning bodies rose to her nose with the reek of gunpowder and brought her stormy eyes back to the battle. Fireballs ripping from Ares’ fingertips, Cerberus at his side, snapping, snarling and biting at anything he could get one of his three jaws around. The Golden Hind behind them shooting off her arrows and the remaining guards spread along the northerly tip hacking and slashing their way through anything that moved, Alena saw something that struck dread into her heart.
The Druids made Ares and his men think all were coming ashore at the northerly tip, but they were not. They were a distraction for a smaller platoon coming up from the south and behind those engaged in battle. Alena changed direction as she continued her descent, no longer coming at the skirmish on the beachhead from the north but winding her way toward the south to meet those coming from the rear. Up here, those below were unaware of her presence as they ran up on Ares and his men. Alena fired off arrows. She struck one, dropped him, reloaded the bow, struck another, dropped him, but by the time she reloaded for the third time they were looking up at the rocks. Ducking down hoping to hide among the stone, gunfire rang out, striking the rocks around her. She covered her ears to block out the deafening reports.
On the beach, Ares heard the gunfire behind him, turned and saw the men who had been sneaking up on them. They were scattered now, two of them lie dead in the sand. “Over there!” he shouted. Daniel and David turned the south; they stood with their back to the other men and fired at everything that moved in their direction while Ares and the others took care of the battle of the southern front.
Their plan foiled for the moment, the Druids broke rank. A good percentage of them stayed with Adrian to protect him while he made his way to Ares. A small faction took to charging at the men at Ares’ side. Cerberus was struck but the Hound of the Underworld didn’t even seem to notice, his nostrils kept blazing fire, his three jaws dripping with saliva snapped and bit at anything that came within his reach. Those powerful teeth and crushing jaws severed arms, legs, hands, and even a head.
Standing up high on the rocks, the bullets no longer raining down upon her as those below were engaged in more imminent battle, Alena was reminded of a bumper sticker she’d once seen; Do Not Mess With The Affairs of Dragons For Thou Art Crunchy and Good With Ketchup. Feeling safe from danger, she reloaded the bow as she kept her place on the rocks. Alena fired down arrows, taking out Druids coming up from behind, aiding Daniel and David with their automatic weapons spewing sparks and bullets into the dusk.
Six of the ten down, four left, they spread out and headed for the cover of the trees lining the shore. Crouching down under cover the Druids fired at Daniel and David Jackson who stood out in the open, side by side, relentlessly firing away in return, keeping the Druids hidden and pinned down under their cover.
Daniel’s gun was the first to go. It jammed or ran out of ammunition. He dove away from his brother’s side to take care of the weapon. David did the same but in the opposite direction, his gun still working, still firing, still keeping the invaders at bay.
Unlike the guns below, Alena didn’t possess a nearly endless supply of ammunition in her quiver. She took to the gun in her hand, crept further down the rocks, keeping low, mindful of the battle she was getting closer to and fired at the Druids closest to her. She struck one in the head, it split open like a fresh melon—like Diana’s head—spilling brains and blood on the rocks he had been hiding behind. Daniel was still struggling with his weapon, and one of the Druids used the small lull in the gun battle to stand up and fire. He struck Daniel in the shoulder and then in the gut. David, sequestered just across the beach, let out a scream as he watched his brother clutch at the wound, blood pouring down over his hand. In a rage he stood up and fired, only to be taken down by the three remaining Druids. His body riddled with bullets jolted from side to side from the force as he stumbled back on his feet. David fell near his brother where the two died together, leaving Ares’ rear flank unguarded.
Alena wanted to run down the hillside but she knew it was a Suicide Run. So, instead, she ducked down behind the nearest boulder and hid there for a few moments. Shots rang out from below and bullets whizzed around her, but she was positive the Druids below had not seen her and they were firing blindly as they continued charging towards Ares with his back to them. It seemed to take forever before the bullets began to land farther and farther away from her, Alena knew the men were still firing as they ran down the beach, toward Ares and away from her.
With only three men plus Cerberus and the Golden Hind at his side, Ares continued waging the battle against the Druids charging at him from the south. No matter what he threw at them, he could not penetrate the shield the Old Druid conjured. While bullets flew out of it, they would not penetrate it nor would Ares’ fireballs, not even the Golden Hind’s arrows sunk through the shield, grenades exploded yards before it. They just kept coming.
Feeling it safe to rise once more, Alena stood up. She saw the Druid’s plan. The remaining men picked off Ares’ guards from behind. Alena watched them fall like a house of cards. The Druid in the middle of the three had something else in his hand, he was holding it high over his head and twirling it round and round as fast as he could.
A bolas.
Alena didn’t know exactly what they intended to do with such a primitive weapon and she thought it best not to take the time to ponder the question. “Behind you!” she shouted at the top of her lungs now that she was within earshot. The Druids on the beach turned first toward the sound of her voice, which had given away her position.
Cerberus and the Golden Hind maintained the southern front while Ares turned around and saw the three men coming up from behind him. Then he saw Alena just beyond the beach at the base of the cliff. How the hell did she get out of the cave? Two of the Druids had already turned in her direction and began to fire. “NO!” Ares roared. Fireballs flew from his fingers, exploding in air and on the ground as he ran toward them at full charge. “Get away from her!” He was too late. The Druids got off their shots, Alena cried out and stumbled backward before falling down among the rocks and out of his line of sight.
Running at full-tilt, every muscle in his body straining to capacity, guns blazing and fireballs rattling from his hands, Ares suddenly morphed into the form of the Wolf. The Druid before him was stunned for a moment, long enough for the God of War to pounce upon him. Sharp canines ripped through his throat as sturdy paws fell upon his chest, pushing the man to the warm sand below. Blood, hot and salty, gushed forth, it ran over his neck onto the sand as it dripped down Ares’ throat and clung to his teeth.
The man with the bolas stopped in his tracks, suddenly unsure of how to aim the weapon as the man next to him continued to fire. The weapon gave out the last of its store of bullets. It was reload or grab for the dagger at his side. With no time to grab the clip and shove it into the gun, he opted for the dagger, but was too late. Still lapping up the blood oozing out of the first Druid’s throat, Ares turned his cold animal eyes to the second man with the faulty weapon. He squatted down far on his haunches and then sprang through the air, easily making the space of twelve feet or more between them. The Druid with the bolas let it fly, it whizzed through the air past the God of War and struck Cerberus in the side of one of his heads, splitting it open and calling the attention of the Hound to the north flank.
The Druid suffering from a lack of ammunition had just enough time to
call out for his God, “Cernunnos!” before Ares fell upon him, his great jaws seizing the man by the face, ripping into his cheeks and sinking deep into the eye sockets. The man screamed in agony as Ares continued to close those iron jaws before the Druid’s skull finally gave way under the pressure and caved, leaving the man flopping around on the sand helpless and dying.
The last Druid on the north flank was close enough to the wolf to smell the stench of its fur; he drew the dagger from his vest, held it high in the air while he held his breath hoping his kill would occupy the God of War for another moment more.
Suddenly a slicing sound went through the air over Ares’ head. Ripping his jaws away from the dying Druid, he looked behind to see the last one with an arrow sticking out of his chest. His hands were high in the air, wrapped around a very old dagger, but now he was unable to complete the assault. The knife dropped from his hand as his body fell limply to the sand. Still in the form of the Wolf, Ares looked up to the rocks to see Alena standing there, her shoulder bleeding and the bow in her hand. She saved his life; at the very least, she saved him a good deal of agony.
The south flank secured, Ares turned back into his own form. Keeping one eye on Alena, standing just a few yards in front of her to shield her entry, Ares shot off fireballs in vain. Nothing even scratched the shield put up by the Old Druid, who was still advancing. “Who is he? What do we do?” Ares shouted out to her as she joined him in the battle.
Now that she was closer, Alena saw the chains in Adrian’s hands. She recognized them from History and understood what the plan had been. The Druid with the bolas was to throw it, wrap it around Ares legs and get him to the ground so they could trounce him and hold him down until Adrian could get the Chains of Hephaestus on Ares’ wrists. Then they would drag both of them back to Cernunnos.
“The shield grows weaker if you hit it.”
“I am hitting it!”
“With your hand! Your sword! Not magick!” Alena shouted back. “You have to get close enough to strike it. It will falter and once it does you can kill them.”
The Heart of War Page 31