In the center of the market square stood several impressive statues, all of them carved from massive blocks of marble and standing over a hundred feet high. Each appeared Greek in nature yet she didn’t recognize them as being the Olympians, but that was only because they were Titans.
There was Atlas holding the world upon his strong shoulders as he tried not to buckle from the weight. Prometheus stood tied to a tree, an eagle pecking at his liver as he cried out in pain with a torch burning in the ground near his feet. Oceanus stood bravely upon an open oyster shell, his cape flying back in the wind as dolphins leapt around him. Cronos, the King of all the Titans, sat upon his golden throne with one hand held in the air at shoulder length almost as if in greeting while the other held up a scythe.
A powerful feeling washed over Alena just as it had the first time she faced the Olympians; she was in the company of greatness and was unworthy. Up there perched on the tops of the hundred foot high stone walls stood the temples of the Gods represented down here in the market and held sacred to its people. She might as well be standing in the Agora in Athena in Ancient Greece looking up at the hillsides dotted with temples. “Olympus,” Alena muttered and the blood in her sleeping veins ran cold.
“Excuse me,” a soft voice spoke as an arm reached past her for some bit of fruit being sold at the stand. Alena caught sight of the silver bracelet running from the woman’s index finger to a chain to a cuff around her wrist, bearing the symbol of her house. Alena looked down at the young woman’s bare feet to see a similar piece of jewelry also bearing the same mark and knew it to be the symbol of the house that owned her. The girl next to her was a slave. Taking her eyes away from the silver, Alena met the woman’s gaze and saw a pair of slightly overly large almond shaped eyes staring back at her. “Excuse me,” the girl said again.
“No, excuse me,” Alena returned in a daze as she processed the sight of the young Fey. She stepped back to let the woman have the fruit she was after and looked around to see many bracelets on the arms and feet of many Fey. On Muse and Grace and Nymph.
In a booming voice someone shouted out that the auction was about to begin, and Alena turned her head toward the voice. Up on a large auction block stood a man in a toga with more men next to him; he banged a heavy gavel as he shouted out to get the people’s attention and draw more to the crowd growing around him. As though the dream had reached out from the depths of her memory and grabbed her by the throat, Alena was helplessly drawn to the block. She pushed her way through the people now standing shoulder to shoulder in order to see what was happening.
“Here they are gentlemen, fresh from the wild and twice as untamed,” the auctioneer enticed as a group of young men and women were led up onto the block. “For those of you indeed of breeding stock, these strong young bucks are just the ticket.” The balding man behind the podium smiled a wicked grin. “Let’s start the bidding.”
The Fey on the block didn’t look wild or untamed to Alena; they appeared to already have their spirits broken. The men were bolder than the women were; they stared back at the crowd bidding on them defiantly while the women stared at their feet.
“Come on, come on, who’ll give me a fair price for this one? Got a strong back, good arms, perfect for breeding and working your fields.”
“Fifty dinar!”
“Sixty!”
The bidding went up to eighty-five before the auctioneer banged the gavel and pronounced the new slave ‘sold’. When the women came up and the first was pronounced 100% Pure, the crowd went into a bidding frenzy. They came up to the block to touch her, run their hands through her long golden hair and tweak her breasts. The woman, no more than 19, cried, she screamed, she begged them not to touch her and to let her go home. The men all laughed and the bidding went higher.
“Come on, come on, stop being so cheap, gentlemen! This one will work in your kitchen, cook your meals, clean your house and keep your belly warm all night long for many years to come!”
“One hundred twenty dinar!”
“One hundred thirty!”
“One fifty!
“That’s it gentlemen, that’s it. We’re just getting started, who’ll give me one sixty? Believe me, you will not be sorry when you get this feisty one home.”
In her lonely bed, Alena sat straight up, pressed one hand to her thundering heart, the other over her mouth to stifle the scream as a heavy bead of sweat broke out on her brow while her head began to swim and she soon felt nauseous. Throwing back the covers, she stumbled to the bathroom on rubbery legs just in time to toss up the nice steak dinner the women made her into the toilet. Her stomach gave several heaves before it thought of settling down. Alena, on her knees and head hanging over the bowl, couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than a dream. Her stomach empty and the acrid taste of bile lingering in her mouth, she drew cold water into the sink to splash it upon her hot cheeks and clear her mouth of the putrid taste. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror, she was met with a ghostly sight and reached out to touch the glass. The image staring back at her looked so old; when did that happen? Where did those lines around her eyes come from? The ones about her mouth making her look so like the way she did in a long-ago vision? In another dream where she stared into this very mirror, feeling as sick and confused as she did now.
Although she felt scared and lonely, she also felt that she was not alone. There was another presence here with her. “Raven?” Alena whispered and, feeling foolish, did it again. When her mouth wanted to try it a third time she clamped it shut, telling herself Raven was on the island with Ares and they were probably sleeping by a warm campfire with bellies full of whatever meat they’d killed that day. “Just a dream,” she muttered, turning away from the mirror, unable to see the merest shadow of Morpheus’ reflection behind her. Returning to bed, she clutched Ares’ vest closer than before. Trying to drift back to sleep, she told herself that she was exhausted and her mind was likely to produce any sort of weird dream just from sleep deprivation.
What if the dream wasn’t a dream? What if it was a vision? Then it was no longer a mystery why Zeus hated her; to him she was just a slave, a creature meant to serve an Olympian’s every whim. In the eyes of the Olympians, Ares married and mated extremely far beneath his station.
What of Ares? In his heart, did he feel the same way? Had the last few years of her life been nothing but a pretty little lie?
Chapter Twenty-Two
An Old-Fashioned Greek Tragedy Part III
“It’s done, as you commanded, Zeus,” Morpheus informed the God of Gods as he stood in the Great Throne Room alongside Apollo. “May now I assume my debt is paid?” A thousand years ago, Morpheus made the mistake of losing to Zeus in a high stakes game of baccarat; unwilling to pay the debt when he lost, Morpheus offered a future service which Zeus accepted and waited all these years to collect. When Aphrodite came to him years ago with a similar request, Morpheus was leery about granting her wish; no one wanted to cross the God of War, but fewer were willing to cross Zeus.
“I’ll let you know,” Zeus returned as he pursed his lips and sat back on the Golden Throne. “If this fails, I may need you to work your magick again before it’s over.” Zeus made a blood vow not to harm Alena or Raven so long as Ares did as he asked, so he had to find other ways of interfering that would keep him well below Ares’ radar.
If Morpheus knew that after so many years the price was going to be this high, he might have handed over the Fae bitch Zeus had his eye on. She was one of the last, after all, and Morpheus had no intentions on giving up his most prized possession. “For my part, it will not fail.” How could it? Alena had a natural ability for empathy; she was able to sense the things people were feeling with great accuracy, although this was still a Gift Alena didn’t acknowledge. Like most of her other Gifts, she pushed them aside to the point she pretended they didn’t exist. That mindset on its own would eventually drive her mad, but not soon enough for Zeus’ liking. Once the God of Gods realiz
ed the untapped power of his whore Daughter-in-law, he was bound and determined to find the best way to exploit it. With no two people on Earth did this power bond to more than Ares and Raven; she always had an inkling what her Husband was thinking or feeling and that gave her the upper hand over him. With Raven, the Gift was so acute she could almost read his very thoughts. When he slept, confusing vivid dreams running wildly through his young head, she was still attuned to those thoughts. With a sprinkling of Dark Dream Dust, all Morpheus did was boost the power that already existed. From now on when Raven dreamed, she wouldn’t just sense the strong emotions related to them, she would experience the dream with him. She would see everything Raven did, hear, taste, smell and touch all that came to her son while he slept. For Morpheus it was child’s play, and it should have been welcomed as payment of the long ago debt, and it would have been, except Morpheus liked Alena. She tried so very hard to please all of the blowhards that lived on Olympus. And for what? Nothing. While Zeus wanted Morpheus to do this for his own underhanded purposes, Morpheus had done it for another reason; it was high time Alena knew exactly what she was dealing with. He only hoped that she was smart enough to figure out what was happening and just to whose advantage it all was before it drove her crazy. From what he’d seen, Alena wasn’t the type of woman who liked to talk or discuss her problems. She kept those things close to the vest as she watched with a sharp eye and listened with even sharper ears to those around her.
Satisfied with Morpheus’ answer, Zeus turned to Apollo. “You? How are things coming with the boy?”
Since the conversation was now going to turn to whatever their future plans were for Raven, Morpheus thought it a good time to attempt taking his leave. “If you don’t need me for anything else…” He’d rather not be neck-deep in conspiracy and wanted to try to keep the damage level somewhere around his knees.
“Just make sure the boy keeps on dreaming.”
Because the boy was young and his mind still open, Raven easily slipped into the Dream World at night. Morpheus tapped into his sleeping mind at Zeus’ request to ensure the boy was dreaming of the right things, at least according to Zeus. With Ares always snoring by her side getting to Alena had proven more difficult, so they waited until Ares left Olympus for a few days. “Whatever you want.” Morpheus fluttered his black wings and then flew through the nearest wall of the Great Throne Room, glad to have Zeus and Apollo behind him. He had no way of knowing that his sprinkling of Dust would help to further awaken Alena’s power of empathy and turn it toward telepathy. Not only would she see what Raven dreamed of but, come morning, she would be washed away by the creeping sensations of fear and hatred brought on by the conversation between Ares and Raven on the island below.
“Things are coming along well with Raven, though Ares doesn’t make it easy; neither does Alena.” It was hard to get time alone with the boy so that Apollo could plant seeds in his head. He made the best use possible of the Sunday Dinners and the new holiday gatherings. Hera insisted on celebrating the birthdays of Raven and Trinity. Now that there were children here on Olympus again she seemed to be big on the concept of Family—well, she couldn’t help it, after all, other than Queen of the Gods Hera was the Goddess of Marriage, Home, Hearth and (above all else) Family. She liked the ideas of Thanksgiving, Christmas and Halloween, and they were added to the Olympian’s Social Calendar. In jest, one Sunday Dinner Eros tossed out Valentine’s Day and Hera seized upon that as well. The Queen of the Gods always got everything she wanted on these matters. Even though he loathed the idea of Halloween—a goddamn Celtic holiday on Olympus—Zeus saw to it that everyone knew he backed up his Wife one hundred percent therefore attendance, complete with proper attire and merriment, was mandatory.
“Does he trust you?”
Apollo didn’t have to think about it and gave no pause, “I believe he does.” Why wouldn’t Raven? Apollo was his Uncle, he held the infant Raven at the Acceptance Ritual and swore to look after the boy and that was exactly what he’d been doing. Apollo had a natural ability to get inside people’s minds to see their darkest fears, their deepest desires, and then manipulate them accordingly. Raven was no different; if anything because of the Ritual he was even easier to read. As time alone with the boy was always of the essence, Apollo used his mental abilities to see into Raven’s mind, plant the seeds of resentment against his mother and then nurture it. In a gentle, reassuring voice Apollo would always tell Raven that none of it was his fault, all the while silently hitting the button in Raven’s head that told the boy all of it was due to his filthy Celtic whore mother. If it weren’t for her he’d be a real God. Raven built up quite the head of steam towards Alena; it sat in his mind deeply brewing away until one day it would erupt, causing Raven to lash out at her.
It was Zeus’ hope to use that hatred to his advantage by preying upon it until that time arrived, the time when the eruption that would rock Olympus would also rid it of the Dark Fae forever. After all, Zeus swore that neither he nor Apollo nor Aphrodite would do a single thing to cause Ares’ family harm. Therefore, if Raven should kill his mother—say in a fit of uncontrollable rage— well that was fair game. In such circumstances, Ares would surely cut the boy down where he stood. With any luck at all, Ares would fall into despair and in the clutches of wretched devastation, Ares would off himself. Then all of Zeus’ problems would be solved.
“Good. Keep working on him. Don’t let up.” Everyone knew Ares took his unruly Son down to the island for a few days to try to straighten him out. If Ares managed to gain the confidence of the rebellious boy, then all of their plans could go up in smoke.
It was almost a shame. If the boy’s mother was just about any other woman, Zeus would consider Raven a prodigy; he would praise the boy and take him under his wing to groom him to sit upon the Golden Throne one day. But as long as Zeus drew breath, no bastard with Celtic blood in his veins would rule over Olympus.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Ties that Bind
I
“I don’t get why you had to bring them here.”
“Let’s get this straight, yet again,” Ares said in a low but forceful whisper as the two sat crouched in the cover of a thicket, “I didn’t bring anyone anywhere.”
“Fine, why did Cronos and them do it?” Raven whispered back. Yesterday they hunted game on the ground but today they were hunting birds; pheasant, partridge, duck and geese. Right now they were concentrating on pheasants, which were proving much harder to hunt and hit with his arrows. “What were they running from?”
“Civil War,” Ares remarked. “One can only treat their subjects and slaves so badly before they rise up and revolt.”
Raven thought that was probably true enough, but the Titans didn’t just leave their home world, they were forced to flee with much malice and then the hunter became the hunted. “So why bring them with them?”
Ares rolled his eyes and let out a grunt. “Because when you’ve never had to do anything for yourself, you don’t know how,” he scoffed. “By then the Titans almost needed the Fae and the rest because all they knew how to do was eat, sleep and fuck. They became drunk with power and in doing so they became fat, lazy, slothful and cruel. That’s also why their rule came to an end.”
“That it?”
Suddenly Ares began sensing Apollo’s handy work once again. Lies were usually best combated with the truth and so Ares decided to take that route, but not without caution or warning. “If you ever breathe a word of this to your mother, boy, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Fair, I guess.” It wasn’t the first time his Father gave him that warning and Raven was starting to give it a little more weight.
When things started going badly for the Titans and their defenses were weak, the Fae joined in the fray. Muse and Grace were not privy to the inner workings of the Titans, but the Fae women were. They knew the Titan’s most intimate secrets. Pillow talk is such a useful tool in war and subterfuge. In the bloody coup that followed, the Fa
e women led the rebellion from within the sacred walls of Titan temples. Those closest to the rulers stayed and were summarily executed in the most horrid and loathsome of manners along with every single relative the Titans could find. Their brothers and sisters, however, escaped back into the wild. They fled to Anu, the leader of the rebel faction and the woman who would become Cernunnos’ mother once they all came to Earth, and told her how to bring down the Titans.
Their war suddenly taking an unexpected turn for the worst, the Titans fled their home planet with what would come to be known as the Celtic Gods hot on their heels. The few Fae that remained loyal to them or who could be rounded up quickly enough were brought along on the journey for pleasure’s sake. The Titans slept, singularly or in pairs, in palatial quarters capable of suiting four or five of them with ease and comfort while the Fae, the Muse, the Grace and the Nymph, so many more magickal creatures, all lived in squalor and cramped quarters for years on end as they traveled through the stars looking for a new home.
Across the galaxies and past almost all of the stars, Anu chased the Titans to Earth to bring them back to Olympus to stand trial and answer for their despicable crimes against its people. They endured many battles and hardships as the chase went on. All ships but one on each side were destroyed on the journey to Earth. They didn’t so much land on Earth as crash landed here in the heat of a battle fought high above the planet. Each prepared to fight until the last man remained. The Titan ship crashed just off the shores of Athens, while the ship carrying Anu and her crew plummeted into the seas off the shores of Scotland.
The Titans began the chore of starting over, building a new life and a new civilization on Earth. But their ways didn’t change; in fact they only grew bloodier as the Titans came to realize what easy victims the primitive humans were. How easily they were to manipulate, why they could easily be swayed into doing anything the Titans wanted, and that was fascinating to them. With Anu and her few remaining people stuck on an island far to the north, unable to teleport themselves more than a few miles at a time before sheer exhaustion set in, they were faced with the task of building sailing ships if they were to cut down the enemies. In the meantime, there was no one to stand in the Titans’ way. They would have stormed right across Europe and the rest of the globe.
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