know what they were doing, but it certainly looked compromising. Arthur rose up in front of them like an avenging, angry god.
‚What is this?' King Arthur boomed.
Lancelot jumped away from my mother, but I noticed that he kept her safely behind him. He returned Arthur’s stare without flinching, clearly unafraid, even though he still showed respect.
‚Nothing, your highness,' Lancelot answered loudly. ‚It isn’t what it seems.'
‚Then explain to me what it is!' King Arthur’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass.
‚Do you know the penalty for treason? And consorting with the king’s wife is most certainly treason in the highest form.'
‚Arthur, truly it isn’t…' Guinevere began, but the king cut her off.
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‚Be silent!' he roared. ‚You think to humiliate me in front of my people? You are condemned to death, woman. You can ponder your sins in isolation today. Your crown is stripped from you. You will burn at dawn.'
He spun on his heel and whirled around, his cloak swirling.
‚Throw them in the dungeons!' he called over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs to his quarters. There was not an ounce of emotion in his voice, but for rage. This was not the Arthur that I knew.
Mordred and Gawain stepped forward and restrained Lancelot, their faces impassive and cold. I expected that from Mordred, because he had clearly orchestrated this little revealing incident. But Gawain. This was unlike him, as well.
Percivale and Gaheris took the queen’s arms, pulling her with them down the long halls to the dungeons. To their credit, my parents allowed themselves to be taken prisoner, even though they could easily have escaped. They disappeared down the hall.
‚Where are they now?' I whispered.
The water rippled and another picture formed. Guinevere was hanging in a dungeon, exactly how we had found Lucan. She was not bloodied, but she was hanging limply, her eyes closed. Her hands were white from loss of blood as they were bound tightly above her head. Lancelot was in the oubliette, staring ferociously at the dark wall. He was stripped of his shirt and there were lash-marks on his back. They had beaten him and he had allowed it. Pride surged through me at the determination of my parents.
They were sacrificing everything for this and now they were waiting for me.
‚Mother, it is time,' I whispered. Her eyes snapped open, turning silver at my words. My father raised his head, his dark eyes meeting mine through the darkness.
It is time, I repeated silently.
They were gone. Both disappeared in the blink of an eye, my mother’s manacles dangling limply in the air where she had just been hanging.
‚Well, that certainly took you long enough,' my father growled from behind me.
I turned just in time for my mother to rush into my arms.
‚Are you alright?' she asked anxiously. ‚Why are you bloody?' She held me at arm’s length examining me.
‚I’m fine now,' I answered. ‚I’m happy that you’re here and I’m sorry for the delay. But we have the sword.'
My father clapped me on the back.
‚Well done, daughter,' he said approvingly. ‚I knew you would do it.' He was sweaty and bloody, but he didn’t appear to mind. The lashes on his back were deep, but he didn’t even flinch as he moved. My father had the strength of an ox and he was almost just that big.
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Lucan stepped forward. ‚Ares,' he dipped his head. ‚Aphrodite.'
They stared at him as if he had two heads. I smiled.
‚Lucan knows everything. I opened the box of souls and Cadmus’ soul is now in this body. It’s a long story.'
‚One that I will be interested in hearing,' my mother replied, her eyebrow raised.
Hecate interrupted, her voice firm.
‚And you will. But not right now. We have a battle to wage.'
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Chapter Twenty
Hecate looked seriously at me, then at Lucan and my parents.
‚Let us rejoin the others. We must form a strategy.'
Taking my arm, my mother walked with me, as the others lagged behind. She didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact that she has just been hanging in chains, something that I found strange. She casually remarked about the desolation of the countryside and the quiet plains surrounding us which caused me to stare at her with my mouth open.
‚Are you alright, mother?' I asked. ‚You seem strangely unbothered by all that has happened.'
She turned her silvery gaze upon me.
‚Why? Because I am not weeping? I am choosing not to think of it, for fear that I would not be able to control my anger. You know my temper, dear one. If I knew what had happened to cause your injuries,' and she gestured at my bloody clothing, ‚Or if I focused on the satisfied look that sniveling Mordred had when he ordered me into chains, then I fear that my temper would rage. Instead, let us prepare for vengeance, yes?'
She was eerily calm and I had to admire her effort. I knew though, that all hell would break loose at some point. Her calm façade would crack and then she would explode.
The battalion of undead chieftains was still converged on the field next to the old farmhouse. Their horses were calm and they were all still, patiently waiting for us to reappear. They were already lined up in battle formations and I smiled at their enthusiasm.
My mother startled as she saw their vast number, and then she quickly regained her composure like the goddess that she was. She didn’t even ask any questions. She simply took her place quietly at the front of the crowd next to me, as we waited for Hecate, Lucan and Ares, who were just a few steps behind us.
Hecate stepped forward and addressed them.
‚In the past, as gods from the Spiritlands, any time that we have traveled in the mortal world, it has always been necessary to leave things as we found them, to not interfere. But now, today, that is no longer a problem. The Fates have changed things so completely, that we cannot do any further harm. We have raised a battalion of the finest Briton warriors from the dead and we shall call upon every available resident in the Spiritlands to help us this day.'
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There were a few shouts of approval as she closed her eyes and murmured, her voice raising to a chant. Every eye in the crowd was trained on her, waiting to see who she would summon. Even the horses were still in anticipation.
And suddenly, the empty field to our left was filled. Ortrera and her warriors were in the front, sitting atop their massive warhorses. Their huge wings rose and fell softly as they breathed. Behind them were various gods and goddesses from the Spiritlands, all armed and wearing ferocious expressions. I could see Chaos, Erythia, Hypnos and Iris leading the mass of familiar faces. Aeolus, the god of the wind, leaned forward in his saddle and winked at me. I nodded my head toward him. He might come in handy here. Everyone, it seemed, was ready to fight.
Ares stepped from behind me to the front, his bulging muscles glistening in the light, his torso still bare. As I watched his expression transform into that of a warrior, into the god of war, my stomach trembled at the sight in front of me. This was the sight that so many had seen as they drew their last breaths… as my father had taken their lives from them.
His abs were ripped and tight, his arms as hard as steel. His eyes were deadly and I shivered slightly as his gaze passed over me and examined the crowd.
‚Today,' Ares shouted, ‚Every one of you here is a warrior. We fight for one common cause- to restore the world to what it should be. The mortal world and my own have been overturned by the whims of the twisted.
‚Today,' he continued, ‚We will rise above it and take it back. On our backs, we will carry truth and righteousness. We will be armed with honor and dignity.'
The cr
owd erupted into shouts and cheers. Ares stood proudly, enormous and frightening, as the people yelled. Finally, he gestured for silence and the noise died down quickly as everyone awaited his next words.
‚I am the god of war!' he shouted to more cheers. ‚And I am honored to have you in my army. Follow me this day and we will emerge victorious!'
He raised his huge fist in the air and the crowd exploded into screams. He swaggered back to his place in line, grinning cockily at me as he did.
Hecate stepped forward once more, her expression severe.
‚The Fates will not fight with honor,' she warned and the crowd reacted with jeers.
‚They cannot fight with honor, because they have none!' someone yelled and Hecate nodded.
‚You are correct,' she shouted. ‚They have no honor. You must expect the unexpected because that is what you will receive. The Fates will use your fears against you, so endeavor to have none. They will exploit every weakness, every hesitation against us. Do not give them that chance. If we fail today, all will be lost. So fight today as if there is no tomorrow, because if we lose, there will not be.'
She pivoted, scanning the crowd, meeting the gaze of many of the warriors.
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‚I am the goddess of witchcraft,' she shouted. ‚I will enchant your horses and offer incantations to protect you. But for every spell I use, the Fates will have one also. Our victory today will come down to the pure hearts of the righteous and my friends, that advantage belongs to us!'
Once more, the ground trembled from the shouts and stomps of the legions in front of us. Lucan glanced sideways at me and reached out to grasp my hand. I squeezed his fingers. Oddly, as we balanced on this precarious place, on the brink of winning everything or losing the same, I wasn’t afraid. I was deadly calm and ready to move.
‚I wish for my son to not be harmed!' someone shouted and everyone craned their necks to see who had spoken. A man, broad-shouldered and dressed in a lavish fur cloak pushed through the throngs of people to the front. His dark-blonde hair was long and curly, his eyes ferocious and cornflower blue. He wore a glittering crown.
King Uther Pendragon.
I sucked in a breath. I hadn’t realized that he was among the assembled warriors, although I should have guessed. His cunning in battle was talked about still, his intelligence and lack of mercy for those who offended him. He was very different from his son, yet they shared the same blood.
He turned to address the crowd.
‚My son is not truly the person whom you will see today,' he said, his voice booming loud enough to reach the warriors standing in the very last row. ‚The Fates have manipulated him and turned him into something that he is not. Do not shed his blood if you can help it. He is a true king.'
The mounted warriors nodded in affirmation. Everyone knew of Arthur’s plight, of the goodness that he used to embody. Tales of he and his knights had spread through the kingdom like wildfire from the moment that he had assumed the crown.
Hecate once again stepped forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with King Uther.
‚To ensure that our fight is as equally matched as possible, we will need to draw on some rather unlikely resources. As you may know, I hold the keys to the underworld.
Today, I will open the gates and we will bring with us horrific beasts to help us in our fight.'
There were and murmurings and whispers. The warriors moved restlessly, trying to keep their horses still, but even the horses felt the tension here and it made them nervous. Hecate ignored everything and focused on the ground. I gritted my teeth in anticipation. We would do what we had to do using whatever methods necessary, but it didn’t mean that I had to enjoy it.
Before I could think another thought, the ground in front of me opened, a yawning, black hole and haunting screams emitted from it. Full of fear and pain, the howls reached our ears, filling our hearts with dread. It was the sound of the underworld.
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The warriors in the front automatically backed away from the sound and I couldn’t blame them. I wanted to do the same, but I stood fast, gripping Lucan’s fingers tightly.
A horrific thunder shook the land around us as a metallic rattle echoed from the hole. The heavy sounds grew nearer and within seconds, a team of massive metal horses screamed from the tunnel, screeching to a stop in front of Hecate.
Their bronze sides heaved as their nostrils flared with flame, their front hooves slamming against the ground in agitation. They were ferocious and strong and I knew them. My step-father, Hephaestus had created them, breathing fire into their throats himself. These were the Horses of the Cabiri. Crafted from bronze, they had crimson red eyes and could breathe fire and withstand any injury. Their hearts were as black as night. They tossed their heads impatiently as they stood.
‚Uther!' Hecate called. ‚You may drive this team of demons.'
Uther stepped forward without hesitation to claim their reigns, stepping onto the empty golden chariot that they pulled. He raced with them to the back of the crowd where he turned them and fell into place within the ranks.
A coldness descended upon us and I glanced furtively around. Black mist seeped from the tunnel and I leaned into Lucan. It was apparent that whatever was coming next was evil. Lonely howls came first, blood-curling and loud, before a massive wall of black, ragged fur stepped into view.
Cerberus. I knew it before I even saw it. The three-headed demon dog that guarded the gates of hell. The smell of sulfur and rotted flesh filled the air around us and I fought an overwhelming urge to cover my nose with my hand.
One of the three heads turned slowly and met my gaze. I tried not to blink, to not be the first to look away, but it was difficult. There was ugliness in its eyes. Cold and flat, I knew those eyes had seen evil that I couldn’t even imagine. Every horrendous thing that had ever crossed the gates of hell had passed this guardian first. Its large wild eye rolled and then the head swiveled to look again at the crowd. I felt a sense of relief that I was no longer in its line of vision. The beast was unnerving.
Lucan caught my eye, his eyebrow raised as if to ask if I was okay. I nodded, squeezing his hand. He pulled me closer and then wrapped his arm around my shoulders. His warmth was reassuring and I melted into it as we watched the parade of evil pour from the underworld.
More and more beasts emerged from the open gateway. With each one, the air around us grew colder and colder. The evil in the air was palpable. I only hoped that the chieftains and Hecate could control these creatures as well as they thought they could.
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everyone stood together. It was humbling and breathtaking at once. Good and evil would battle together to face an adversary that was the most evil of all.
‚We should hear from the Chosen One!' someone screamed and I startled. I had never been one for the limelight. I always traveled safely behind the scenes, guiding those around me. I had never grown accustomed to walking in the spotlight.
I swallowed hard.
‚They wish to hear from you, love,' Lucan prompted. ‚Do you feel up to it?' He searched my face quickly, his chocolate eyes concerned. ‚You do not have to.'
‚Of course I do,' I replied. ‚They are willing to die today. The least I can do is speak to them.'
He grinned, a beautiful smile of reassurances and encouragement and I drew comfort from it. In it, I found a reminder that this was a man that loved me so much that he would protect me with his life. I brushed a soft kiss on his cheek as I passed him, walking to the front. As I stepped forward, the crowd cheered.
‚I am Harmonia,' I called. At my voice, everyone stilled. It became so quiet that I could hear the breaths from the horse
s. ‚I am the goddess of peace and contentment.
And I have been told that I am the Chosen One, that I am meant to bring peace to us all.' There were nods and shouts and I paused to scan the crowd.
‚I must tell you that I do not feel like a Chosen One,' I continued.
Murmurings. Restlessness. Soft gasps.
I raised my arm and held my birthmark in the air for all to see.
‚I have been marked for so long that I do not remember a time when I was not. I was misled to believe that I was something that I was not and have inadvertently done heinous things. All because of the whims of three ancient women. Their desire for power and recognition has tumbled a great city, Olympus, to rubble. The powerful gods and goddesses within have been taken. The machinations of these women have turned the mortal world into something ugly and evil…something that it is not. We are the only ones left to set everything right and restore everything to that which it should be.
‚I might not feel like the Chosen One, but apparently that is exactly what I am. I died earlier today. Then I returned to this life, gasping for air like a fish on the edge of a pond, my wounds miraculously healed. For whatever reason, I am meant to be here right now and you were meant to be here right now. I am grateful to you for riding with me this day. Together, we will change the world and we will emerge victorious.'
Utter silence.
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