by Drako
“I’ll allow you to consider that after this attack,” Zeus responded.
Jarel snorted. “You have to find him first. And we have no idea who else has joined him.”
Ares thought for a few seconds. “I’m sure one way or another we can find him. Maybe we can draw him out by giving him something he can’t resist the allure of.”
“What do you have in mind?” Jarel asked.
“Well, if there’s one thing Cronus wouldn’t possibly be able to resist, it would be to get control of a dragon. Only one black dragon in history has ever gone rogue, and that was long after his reign. Do you have a child that could believably play a rogue?”
Zeus raised an eyebrow. “Cronus has too much of an ego for it to be anyone he’d deem a lesser dragon. Andreas would be a prime choice.”
Jarel shook his head at the idea. “No, Andreas fought too hard against Eris and Kalos to prevent Cronus’ resurrection. What we’d need is a child that can believably stand up to Andreas. While all my children of powerful, Andreas is the strongest. That’s never been disputed.”
“If not for the fact that your daughter also fought against him in Shevat, I’d suggest her,” Zeus commented.
Ares scowled. “That is absolutely not the route to go. Cronus doesn’t respect women. He’d simply view her as a new plaything. No matter how strong of a fighter she is, his goal would simply be to bed her.”
Zeus almost laughed. “She’s not an option, so calm down. But clearly, you are getting a little attached to her.”
Ares merely glowered at his father.
“I wouldn’t have suggested her anyway,” Jarel stated. “I love my daughter, and frankly I’d watch too closely if she went, then personally castrate him for daring to consider approaching her for such a thing. No, it has to be one of the boys. I hesitate to ask any of them, because it could very well lead to their death.”
Zeus agreed with that point. “If anything gives them away, Cronus won’t hesitate to kill them on the spot. Then we’d take a hit in our forces, and we saw what happened the last time someone killed Jarel’s child.”
“I can guarantee the Titans wouldn’t be so fortunate.” Jarel folded his arms across his chest. “I will speak with each of my sons and see which one seems right for this type of duty.”
“I’ll send out a few of my lesser known scouts to see if I can get a feel for Cronus’ movements.” Ares turned back to the map. “If I had to guess, based on the stories of Cronus I’ve heard, he’d set up base somewhere big, somewhere he’d seek to convert a mass amount of people. He’d want to be seen and worshipped like the days of old. The question is, which region of the mortal world would accept someone like him. He’s too brutal and unforgiving for the west, though he has their level of greed.”
“Actually, he’d be more likely to set up there,” Jarel told him. “What better way to establish supreme dominance over the universe than to force nonbelievers to his side?”
Zeus looked over the map. “I’d start the search here.”
Ares looked to where his father pointed, at the city of New York. His servants were going to have their work cut out for them.
Sixteen
Brandon and Demun were in a room of their own in Ares’ temple now. They’d been told to wait here, as they were getting special armor and weapons.
“I like the armor everyone else was getting. Why are we getting something special?” Brandon asked.
Demun shrugged. “Something weird is going on. I know what I’ve got planned. But it seems to me like Gramps has something in store for us.”
“You two worry too much about my ulterior motives.” Jarel appeared before them. “It takes the fun out of things for me.”
Brandon rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Gramps, but what’s fun for you is agony for us.”
Jarel laughed. “You’re over exaggerating. And besides, if you two are to lead armies of your own, then you need to stand out.” He waved his hand and the twins found themselves dressed in full armor.
Brandon’s armor was pitch black with small silver dragons adorning it. It was surprisingly light, clearly made to fit him. It wasn’t the old bulky style of armor. As a matter of fact, it felt almost like any normal clothing. A long black cape was connected to the shoulder blades.
Likewise, Demun’s armor was a dark red, similar to the color of his eyes. It was adorned with black dragons and also a black cape.
“This armor is especially for you, crafted by Hephaestus as another personal gift.” Jarel points to Demun’s arms. “I made sure to put your gauntlets in as well. You can conjure the armor so long as you are wearing those gauntlets Hephaestus gave you.”
Demun studied the silver bands around his wrists now connected into the gloves of the armor. Brandon had studied his own armor as well. He didn’t have gauntlets like his brother, but he did have gloves. He also noticed his chakram was strapped to the right side of his waist.
“This is nice, Gramps, but aren’t we missing something?” he asked.
Jarel held out a hand and a full metal silver spear appeared in it, which he handed to Demun. “This is for you. I forged this one myself.”
Demun took the spear and felt a strange energy shoot through him momentarily. “What was that?”
“A special connection one sometimes gets from weapons forged in the fire of gods.” Jarel turned to Brandon, handing him the gold-handled katana he’d used in the fight against Lucifer and Cronus. “This is for you.”
Brandon felt a similar sensation upon taking the sword. It was sheathed, and he strapped it to the left side of his waist.
“Gramps, I know what I have planned, and there wasn’t an army involved in that,” Demun told his grandfather.
Jarel raised an eyebrow. “You plan to take your grandmother’s place and you think she has no army? All gods have servants. All with a violent nature have an army.”
“Even so, that would only mean I’m meant to lead an army, not Brandon. I planned on ruling alone so that he’d be free to do as he wishes. He doesn’t need to be bound to Shevat.”
Jarel smiled. “Yes, I’m aware of your plan. And I never said you’d be leading the same army, now did I?”
Brandon scowled. “I’m tired of the cryptic messages, Gramps. What the hell are you gearing me up for?”
“There is another army, one that has lain dormant for millennia. An army Lucifer would kill to possess in addition to his own forces. An army currently locked away due to the death of Lucifer’s father, and suspended under my power until a time of my choosing.” Jarel studied his grandsons. “You two have a destiny I set into motion long before your birth, but you must build to it. You are strong, stronger perhaps than any of my descendants before you were at your age. But you still have much more to learn. As great as your powers are, it is not yet time for you to truly seize your destiny.”
Demun frowned. “I’m strong enough to take Desdemona out.”
Jarel snorted. “Are you now? And if you take her out, how do you propose to get demon kind to follow your lead?”
Demun remained silent. Brandon folded his arms across his chest and waited for Jarel to continue.
“The fact of the matter is, you are not a god. You cannot demand obedience from demon kind and get it, and someone must maintain the rule of demons. That being cannot be Lucifer, but right now if you managed to kill Desdemona, control of the demon world would revert to him.”
“What more do I need to do?” Demun asked irritably. “I don’t want Brandon to get stuck somewhere that would hold him from being with the person he’s meant for.”
Brandon scowled. “Look, no one said you had to take over Shevat. We can leave the old bitch alone and let her rule it.”
“She’s going to force one of us to kill her, and she’s gunning for you the hardest,” Demun shot back.
“That doesn’t mean I’ll do it. There are other ways to solve problems.”
Demun scoffed at that. “How else will you stop her? Or do you intend
to spend the rest of your life fighting off droves of demons and never having a lasting relationship because she’ll target them?”
“That’s my choice, isn’t it?” Brandon asked.
“Hell, no. If I can take her out first then you don’t need to keep going through the crap.”
Jarel clapped his hands loudly and both boys fell silent. “As entertaining as this is, it’s a moot point right now. Desdemona lives, and you, Demun, are not allowed to go after her without my express permission. Do you understand?”
Demun glowered at his grandfather but gave a nod.
“Good.” Jarel looked to Brandon. “You should be thankful your brother is willing to shoulder that responsibility for you.”
“He doesn’t have to. He never bothered to ask if maybe I wanted to take the throne of Shevat. He merely assumed I didn’t want it.” Brandon cut a glance at his brother. “My brother is under the mistaken impression that I desire a human and therefore can’t take the throne. Said human is not a factor in my decision.”
Jarel gave him a hard look. “You’ve given up on Adonis?”
“Adonis gave up on me. His choice is made,” Brandon replied.
Demun frowned. “What do you mean, he gave up on you?”
Brandon sighed. “I don’t feel like going through this right now. He’s with someone else, and he chose to remain with him. That’s all that’s relevant about it.”
Demun opened his mouth to speak but Jarel’s sudden glare stopped him. Jarel knew what he was about to tell his brother, the bit of information Krazas had let slip to him. Demun blocked the information in his mind, so that his brother wouldn’t catch the stray thought.
“It’s almost time, boys. Do not take unnecessary risks.” Jarel vanished.
Victoria found herself in silver armor styled specifically for a woman. It was made in the form of a short dress. Under it, she wore black leggings. It was sleeveless, unlike the boys’ armor, so she’d worn a long sleeved black shirt underneath. She added grey knee high boots to the outfit and left her hair down long. Strapped to her waist was a simple straight sword. She examined herself in a mirror as Andreas walked in, dressed in silver armor of his own similar to the boys’ armor but without the designs.
“You’re staring at yourself, aren’t you?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Victoria had, in fact, conjured a mirror to look at herself. “I just wanted to see how I looked. This was clearly designed for one with my figure.”
Andreas snorted. “Ares had that crafted specifically for you. He doesn’t have many women in his army. He never has. Women in my time weren’t warriors, not Spartan women anyway. Ares never saw women as fighters. He saw them as something to be protected, contrary to popular belief.”
“Really? He always seemed like a war hungry chauvinistic jackass that thought women belong only in the kitchen and on their backs.”
“You know better than that. After all, he wouldn’t be interested in you if he thought that way.”
Victoria eyed him suspiciously. “You hate Ares. Why are you suddenly singing his praises?”
“I don’t hate him. I just hate that because of his horrible timing I spent most of my life without my other half.” Andreas studied his sister. “You’re trying not to like him. Why?”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested in being his latest conquest. If I were to settle down, I want nothing less than what you have with Kazarian.”
“Hmm, maybe you shouldn’t be so harsh on him. His timing sucks, he’s not a smooth talker, and frankly I don’t see the physical appeal in him either. Maybe that’s because I know I can kick his ass. But that doesn’t mean he’s the worst guy in the world either, and he might be looking for more than a passing fling.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were meddling.”
Andreas shrugged. “Maybe I’m getting a little sentimental in my old age. Or maybe I just see what’s right in front of me. You should stop being so critical.”
“Yeah, and what happens when Ares proves me right?” Victoria asked.
“Then you rip off his balls and I get a good laugh,” Andreas replied with a smirk. “It’s a win-win situation.”
Victoria laughs. “You’re sick.”
“And you knew this long ago. It only gets worse as I get older.”
Victoria turned away, lost in her own thoughts. Clearly, Ares had some form of interest in her. While that was flattering and despite her oldest brother’s encouraging words, she remained skeptical. Gods were not notoriously faithful, and damned if that wasn’t ironic. Every major religion man has ever come up with follows the idea of fidelity, and yet very few if any gods practiced the idea.
Kazarian appeared next to Andreas, dressed in the same armor. Andreas’ face hardened strangely. Kazarian placed an arm on his shoulder in what for them was a comforting gesture. Victoria had a hunch that seeing Kazarian in armor again made Andreas relive the last battle they fought together, side by side as mortal men. The two had been caught in the age old battle between Ares and Athena, Sparta and Athens before human history books recorded them as those historic cities. As she watched, she could see the aura of her older brother, a bright crackling blue reminding her of lightning. He was angry, though not at Kazarian. He was angry with himself for not being able to let go of the past.
Victoria went with her own instinct to comfort her brother and began to sing in the ancient language of the Craft. Her voice started low but grew in volume as her mystical power began to flow around her. Andreas and Kazarian looked around, as Victoria’s voice filled the room and they could practically see how power weaving around them. It touched them like a gentle breeze and Andreas’ face softened. His aura simmered down, no longer sparking around him like lightning preparing to strike. Kazarian’s own aura, a bright red, seemed to meld into Andreas’ aura as well. But her song didn’t stop there. Her voice carried throughout Ares’ temple, and her power along with it. The song was comforting, though no one could clearly identify the words. The effect, however, was evident even on the god of war himself. Victoria was focusing them for the battle to come.
And as her power swarmed around her, a long blue coat lined along the bottom and the ends of the sleeves with white fur appeared over her. As the song came to a close, her power slowly faded.
“What was that?” Kazarian asked.
“The Song of the Dragon Witch,” Andreas answered.
“One of them, actually,” Victoria answered. “I have many songs. That song calms the mind and gives focus. Andreas needed it.”
Andreas studied his sister. “How thoughtful of you. But you didn’t just do it for me. That song filled this whole temple. Even Ares had to feel it.”
“It spreads to those that need it.” Victoria turned away. “Now, I think we’re all ready to go in.”
Seventeen
Brandon and Demun found themselves with a very large number of warriors from Ares’ personal army. They stood in the desert, shielded from the storm Zeus had stirred up. From where they stood, they were overlooking a building that had clearly not been there long. To be more exact, it was a pyramid. The energy swirling around it felt all too familiar. Lucifer’s minions radiated his evil, so even though he could not physically join them, the air was filled with his presence.
“This makes me sick,” Demun muttered.
Brandon looked at his brother. “What are you talking about?”
“Standing here, sensing Lucifer and having no chance to rip his throat out,” Demun answered.
“We’ll get the next best thing shortly.” Brandon scanned over the horizon. “I can sense them all underneath this pyramid. Andreas and Ares are waiting for our word.”
Demun signaled to one of the warriors, who rushed over.
“Take word to Ares. Have Andreas destroy the pyramid from above.”
Brandon followed his brother’s train of thought. “Tell him to add some extra force behind it. The whole pyramid needs to be
leveled and we need an opening to go in.”
The warrior nodded and rushed off. Brandon turned back to face the rest of the army.
“What are you thinking?” Demun asked him.
“We split the forces up,” Brandon answered. “Everyone leads a unit of their own in. we need to keep everyone and everything off of Ares and Victoria. From what I can sense, they’ll need no wounds or weaknesses going into this battle. And I’ve got a target in there.”
Demun raised an eyebrow in question.
“This is a rescue mission for me. I sense someone in there that I know, and no, it’s not Adonis.”
“Have you checked on Adonis?” Demun asked.
Brandon’s gaze darkened. “Our link is severed. I can no longer sense him quite as easily. I can only tell that he’s alive and safe.”
“So who is it in there that you could possibly know?”
“You’ll see when we get in there, and if she’s dead, I guarantee you the damage Typhon’s children can do will be nothing compared to what I do to everything in my path and to Lucifer when I finally get to him.”
Demun stared hard at his brother. Something was different about his twin now. And whoever was in that pyramid clearly meant a lot to his brother, and with the emotions he was sensing now and the power his brother had come to possess, he had no doubt that Brandon’s words hadn’t been an idle threat.
High above, two very large, black dragons appeared. They were easily the length of an entire football field, but one was larger than the other. Andreas was longer and clearly heavier, and his eyes remained blue in color. Their scales were smooth, like black marble and two long fangs protruded from their mouths. Victoria was slimmer, her eyes their usual violet color and her claws were longer than that of her brother. Both had large black wings with silver underlining, and again the difference was evident as Andrea’s wings were broader, thicker, and heavier. The draft created as he flapped his wings every so often in flight was slightly heavier than that created by Victoria. Together, the two added to the sandstorm Zeus had granted them, so even if any of their enemies had been watching for them, they’d have had a hard time seeing them clearly. Kazarian rode on Andreas’ back, while Ares rode on Victoria’s.