The Heart of War

by Lisa Beth Darling

  When you bring about the evitable destruction, when it all blows up in your face, she runs to Eros, she will take whatever heart you have with her. Alena will leave you broken, battered…useless.

  Useless was one thing Ares could never stand. Not knowing Truth from Lie or Fantasy from Reality, he hauled himself out of the steaming pool. One step at a time he walked out and by the time he reached the top he was fully dried and dressed in warm clothing. He didn’t know what was happening to him but he did know he couldn’t spend the night in his own home. Ares didn’t trust himself to stay here. Instead of retiring to the comfort of his stone bed, he walked out down the corridor to the entrance of the cave, passing by Alena’s room on his way to the quiet and peace of the waiting night. Beyond the door, she was still crying. She heard his footfalls coming to the door, she stopped breathing, stopped crying, in his mind he could see her pressed to the wall waiting for the door to open as fear gripped her. He had to push his feet onward and pull his hand back from reaching for the knob. When he got four or five steps past the door, he heard her start to breathe again and knew it was going to be a restless night for both of them.

  Day Three

  1

  For the third day in a row, Alena woke alone. Feeling as though she’d been riding a horse non-stop for the last week and then been thrown off it, she was barely able to drag herself out of the bed. Her first concrete thought of the day was of the baby. Hand lovingly holding her abdomen, she closed her eyes for a moment; while there was pain down there it wasn’t agonizing. She hadn’t felt any harsh twinges beyond those of last night and while there was a trickle of blood between her legs when she rose from the bed, it was dry and not fresh. Tossing the chemise over her head, she stumbled to the door on rubbery legs. Today there was no heavy thump of a falling axe to greet her. Not knowing if that was a good sign or a bad one, she poked her head into the hall and heard nothing but silence. Using the wall to support her, Alena made her way down the hall to the Throne Room and saw no one. Perhaps they were all still sleeping. Glad for the silence and the solitude, she leaned against the rock wall all the way down to the lower level and the steaming spa, hoping a long soak in the steamy tub would soothe her muscles and take the lingering remains of Ares away from her.

  She lay back in the hot water until her skin was shriveled and pruned, stretching back, relaxing and letting the steam take her mind away. Trying to soak away her troubles and fears.

  Not more than three days ago everything had been so clear. They were madly in love. They were going to have a baby. A bright future awaited them. It was all slipping away. It was worse than a nightmare; it was like some perverted Grimm’s Fairy Tale where the Princess falls in love with her Prince Charming only to discover he’s a wicked Sorcerer in disguise.

  Suddenly a bright light of darkness flashed before her eyes. It was so real that she looked around for the source while covering her breasts with her bare hands. There was no one in the room.

  The light.

  Adrian and his Staff.

  Alena thought of the bolt of Dark Light that leapt from Adrian’s Staff and how it knocked the God of War off his feet. It hadn’t been any ordinary conjuring of protective energy meant to paralyze or even to kill Ares. Why would they kill him when it was obvious that they had come here with the intention of capturing him? Why else would they bring the Chains of Hephaestus with them? Cernunnos wanted Ares dragged back to him, not just captive but on his knees before him, wanted him humbled and quaking. Feeling as though he was the scorned husband, certainly Cernunnos intended to kill Ares but probably not quickly. What about her? What plans did Cernunnos have for her? What spell would he have used? What would Cernunnos have commanded of his most Exalted Druid? If not Death, madness?

  Something worse?

  Long ago, when she studied magick with Adrian, he’d told her of a curse that would turn a man’s heart cold to the woman he loved. He would do terrible things to her until the day he killed her. Was that what the Druid in the dungeon had been alluding to?

  That seemed to be on the right track for Cernunnos, it would be the picture-perfect revenge in his twisted mind as this was Cernunnos’ idea of amusement. The Druids came to this island with every intention of bringing both of them back to Cernunnos because Cernunnos wanted to watch Ares slowly go mad and turn against her. It hadn’t worked out that way and now she was stuck here with him. Alone.

  If Ares was going mad then how could she stop it?

  He will obliterate you. You’ll have no choice but to run to Cernunnos and beg his forgiveness before Ares kills you.

  If that were the case, then yes, she’d have to go to Cernunnos to have it lifted. That would never happen. She could promise Cernunnos the world and it would do no good, he would never lift this curse.

  Alena stepped back from her own thoughts and chastised herself a bit. It was a nice thought in its own way because if Ares was cursed then none of this was his fault. That could be a very dangerous path to take. Ares was Ares, no matter what he was the God of War, he was volatile, pushy, arrogant, rude, intimidating. Overall, it was just so damn hard to tell what was normal behavior for Ares and what would be over the top and caused by something beyond his control. Maybe she was just grasping at straws in the vain hope that he did love her. That she hadn’t given her heart and her body away to a stone cold monster.

  Feeling as though she no longer knew up from down, Alena climbed out of the hot spring. Wrapping a soft towel around her naked wet body and doing her best not to look down and see the bruises staring back at her, she made her way through the cave to her room to dress. Crossing through the throne room, she found Ares sitting at the table. Today instead of being covered in sweat from hard work he was fully dressed, there was dirt clinging to his shirts, pants, and even his hair, his cheeks were hollow and his face worn. All in all, Ares looked like shit. In fact, he looked a bit like Death Warmed Over, as her mother would have said. “Good morning,” Alena ventured carefully. Ares just sat there staring at her. Not wanting to push her luck, Alena tried to skitter past the table but Ares wasn’t sitting in his customary seat at the head. Instead, he was sitting at the other end blocking the path from the Throne Room to the corridor that led to her room. Afraid and trying hard not to show it, she clutched the towel against her wet body, gave him a nod, and then tried to walk away from him.

  “How many times do I have to tell you no one turns their back on me?” Ares reached out to grab her. His hand slipped and all he got was the towel, it fell away from her. The bruises on her left butt cheek from where he’d slapped her met his eyes. It didn’t stop there, her hips were discolored from the way he’d held her down, her hips and thighs were nothing but one pawmark after the other. Her left breast, the one he so loved to rest his head at night, was nearly black.

  He stood up quickly, grabbed her by the arm and pushed her face first to the wall. Swiping her wet hair away from her neck, he peered at her throat from behind. Ares reached up slowly to put his hand over it and find it a perfect match for the ring-shaped bruise around her neck.

  I didn’t do that. I did not do that.

  Oh yes you did.

  That horrid voice in his head was coaxing him, edging him forward, telling him of how naked, clean and available she was right now. Forcing himself to let go and plant both palms on the wall high above her head he whispered one word into her ear. “Run.”

  2

  Alena didn’t have to be told twice; she bolted away from Ares and dashed down the corridor naked, only to run straight into Zeus. Without any thought, she pushed the God of Gods out of her way. In her haste to escape Ares, she ran straight past Zeus and out into the rainy day.

  Zeus stood in the corridor staring after her, mindful of the bruises he saw before taking in a breath and cautiously peeking his head around the corner into the Throne Room. “Knock, knock.” Zeus’ old eyes searched the room in front of him, surprised not to see his Son lounging over his throne and, for a moment, thought th
e place empty. Looking up to his immediate left, he saw Ares standing nearly on top of him, his eyes fixed and distant. “Trouble in Paradise already? What did you do now?”

  “Hello Father,” Ares sneered as he tossed the damp towel to the floor of the cave.

  “Aren’t you going after her?” Zeus pointed off down the corridor with his Staff.

  “No,” Ares answered abruptly. “What do you want? I’m not in any mood for conversation.”

  That wasn’t anything new, Ares was hardly ever in the mood for mere chit-shat. “Well, I wanted to extend my congratulations on your impending Fatherhood, but I can see now may not be the time for that.” Zeus looked over his shoulder once more at the empty hall and the rain starting to drizzle outside the entrance of the cave.

  “Mother has a big mouth.”

  Turning back to look at Ares, Zeus offered a wan smile. Hera had never been one to keep secrets well unless they were hers. “She ran straight home and told all of Olympus the good news.” The news was not well received by all of the Olympians; in fact when Aphrodite was informed, the Goddess of Love let out a shriek so loud and piercing that Zeus was afraid it would bring her pretty pink temple down around her pretty red ears. Zeus could say that he blamed Aphrodite as among the dissenters but he didn’t feel the need to share that information with Ares. “I didn’t know you still had it in you, or well, in her as the case may be.”

  Ares temper was growing hotter and his patience shorter by the second. “Is that all?”

  “Not exactly. Aren’t you going to offer me a seat? Something to drink or eat perhaps? Really, Ares, you’re a horrible host.” Shrugging off Ares’ lack of common hospitality, Zeus took a seat at the table. “I came to find out when you’re going to go kick Cernunnos’ ass and stop chopping wood. Expecting an especially cold winter are you? Or are you simply lose your nerve in your old age?”

  Stuck with his Father for the time being, Ares rolled his eyes and then his shoulders, trying to get rid of the dull ache in his temple before he sat upon his Throne of Bones. “I’m planning, Father, it’s what I do. Only the poorest Warrior goes into battle unprepared.” Ares leaned forward a bit on the throne and held up his index finger. “Ah, wait. I know you’re much more of a run right in there and storm the front door of the castle type of a guy, Father, but you did want me to return, didn’t you?”

  It would be very bad form to sit here and tell his Son that he hoped he never returned to this island or Olympus. “We have a deal.” Zeus looked down at the map Alena had been working on, hoping his answer would appease Ares. Waving his hand in the air the crude lines filled in and became three-dimensional. “Cernunnos’ Keep. Where did you get this?”

  “Alena is working on it for me.”

  Zeus let out a huff of air. “Well she’s terrible with a pen, I do hope she is more skilled with…other things. This is awful. It will never do. It’s not even to scale.”

  “I know.”

  Waving his hand in the air, Zeus turned the crude lines Alena drew on the parchment into three-dimensions so that it was no longer flat but stood upright. Finger waving in the air as though he held a pen, Zeus filled in the missing pieces with intricate brick walls—complete with guard towers on all four sides, something Alena had left out—the crude squares she’d drawn to indicate small buildings came to life with windows, doors and thatched roofs. From memory, Zeus filled in as many of the details as possible until the drawing no longer resembled something done by a kindergartener but by a skilled artist. Including the furnishings from the entrance of the inner keep and the path to the Great Hall. “He’s very tricky, Ares. Cernunnos has tunnels that run beneath his walls. I’ve heard there’s one or two that leads beyond the walls, but all lead to the inner keep.”

  As the drawing took on more life and more detail, Ares interest was piqued. He rose from the throne to stand behind his father, looking down at the new map over Zeus’ shoulder. All of this was interesting and even helpful information. It left Ares standing behind Zeus stroking his beard and pondering. “What are you doing?”

  “I know you don’t trust me and let’s face it, we’ve got good reasons to dislike each other,” Zeus capitulated. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, Zeus pulled out a heavy object and slammed it on the table. “I found these right where I left them in my dungeon,” he announced proudly and gestured toward the Chains that had once held Ares in place while the God of War stood trial for murder. They were pitted and covered with two thousand years worth of dust. “I know you think I had something to do with the sudden appearance of those,” he pointed toward the shinier pair of nearly exact shackles. “I did not. Now you have no choice but to believe me.”

  Onyx eyes fixed to the Chains while his hand continued stroking his heard, Ares let out a loud and almost joyous snort as his eyes drifted back to the floating scale of Cernunnos’ Keep. “Must I? Hmmm, strange, don’t you think?” The hand on his beard began to wave lightly in the air as though he were playing with something. “I mean, how that’s supposed to work for you but not for me.”

  “I thought you would be pleased with this evidence.”

  “Déjà vu all over again,” Ares mused. “Where’s Hephaestus? No one has seen him hundreds of years. So, when did he forge these?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Zeus offered easily. “But he didn’t have to be on Olympus to do it. I only wanted to show you that I am not your enemy here, Ares.” That, of course, was a lie. Zeus was hoping to kill several birds with one stone here; Ares, Alena, that wretched bastard she was carrying, Cernunnos, and to obtain his vengeance for Artemis. Zeus would say and do anything to get to those ends. From the look of Ares and the way the Fey ran out of here everything was going along fine right in line with the plan. Zeus would be surprised if Alena survived the night; by morning she and that creature inside her would no longer be bothersome to the God of Gods.

  Holding his hand above the map floating above the tabletop, he turned his finger and the model turned slowly 360 degrees, showing them every angle of the layout. “Make no mistake, here more than anything else I want revenge for Artemis. When are you going to get it for me?” Next to the Chains lay the Druid’s Staff. Zeus reached out to touch it, his ancient hand slid along the smooth wood and his old eyes took to shining. “It’s a fine weapon, Ares. It will look good on my wall.” His hand closed around the wood as Zeus went to pick it up but Ares’ hand closed down around Zeus’ wrist. “I’ve brought you a gift; you should be a good host and give me one in return.”

  “Put it down, Father. Alas, it’s not mine to give. I told you before that it belongs to Alena. She is the victor of that battle and this is her spoil.” Mad at her, incensed with her or not, the Spoils of War always belonged to the Victor. That was one rule Ares never broke under any circumstances.

  “What does she need with it? She can’t even use it. It’s just a…paperweight to her.”

  “Nevertheless Father it’s not yours so take your hand off it.”

  “You still don’t trust me?” Zeus challenged. “Fine. Clean yourself up and let’s go visit your Uncle. Hades will tell us if Hephaestus resides in the Underworld and if he is then he can tell you when he forged that set of Chains.”

  “And if he’s not there?”

  “Then perhaps it is your Brother out there somewhere who’s plotting against you. Who could blame him given the shame you caused him with Aphrodite?”

  3

  While Zeus and Ares discussed a plan of action and then made ready for a trip to the Underworld, Alena huddled between a large walnut tree and a rock for shelter from the drizzle. Drawing her knees up under her chin for comfort and whatever warmth she could find, she started to cry.

  “A woman beautiful as you, Maggie, should never have tears in her eyes unless joy has brought them to her.”

  Startled by the sound of a voice, Alena looked up to see Eros fluttering next to her. “Where did you come from?”

  “Forgive my intrusion but when I saw you run ou
t of my Father’s home so hastily I flew down to see if you were all right.” Eros wanted to see Alena more than anything but he was afraid of jogging her memory. However, after watching his Father camped out all night on the far side of the island and seeing her flee through the mouth of the cave he decided to come down and take a risk. Eros missed her greatly. He wanted nothing more than to be close to her and was terribly remorseful that he’d ever enlisted Apollo’s assistance. He’d do anything to take that back, but since he couldn’t he hoped she would never remember the things Apollo had done to her and Eros’ cowardice in the matter.

  The second Apollo saw Maggie he was all over her. Frustration made him irate when Apollo couldn’t get the belt off her no matter what he tried, and that included attempting to melt it. Apollo harnessed the Power of the Sun and directed it through the center of his palm where it emitted a laser beam so intense it split a crevice in the rock floor of Eros’ love-nest two feet wide and so deep you couldn’t hear a coin hit the bottom. Maggie screamed, she cried and begged for mercy as the metal heated but Apollo couldn’t hear her. It wasn’t until smoke and the putrid scent of searing flesh filled the room that Apollo gave up trying.

  There were other ways for a man to pleasure himself with a woman and so Apollo did. Apollo was unspeakably cruel to the pretty little Fey who was so swiftly capturing Eros’ heart. Apollo did things that even Ares would hesitate to do. In many ways, the Sons of Zeus were a lot more alike than they would ever admit. It broke Eros’ heart to stand there and watch him. What could he do? He couldn’t just let her go. She was the woman Zeus had been searching for so long. For her own safety, or so Eros hoped, Eros insisted they had to find a way to bring her to Zeus. Once she told the God of Gods what Apollo had done there would be trouble. Apollo came up with a plan. As these bothersome memories were fresh, they hadn’t yet been able to fully develop and settle in her head, Apollo claimed he could erase them. Eros agreed and it worked well the first time but then he and his cock came back and Apollo had to do it again, then again, then again, one day Alena looked up at him and she couldn’t tell Eros her name. That was the end of the game. Eros couldn’t let her continue suffering. In the dead of night, he wrapped her up in a purple blanket and flew her away. Loathe to be rid of her, to not look on her pretty face any longer, Eros bound her hands and flew her over the blue waters to dump her into the sea off the coast of Italy. He’d meant to cut her bonds before he let her go and he meant for her to wash up on an island only an hour’s swim from where she fell. The island was a little backwards, its people hadn’t embraced technology, but they were kind hearted, and there was plenty of food and drink. They would take her in and care for her. She would be safe from Cernunnos and the Olympians. She would be happy even if she never remembered who she was.