OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3

by Lisa Beth Darling

  Once he was in what a gymnast would call the ‘L’ position, with his legs straight out in front of him, he let out the breath only to hear it whistle through the hole in his chest. That forced him to take another as he repositioned his hands on the chain that was starting to swing. Swinging was something Ares did not want and so he held his position, arms starting to show signs of strain as the veins popped through the thick muscle below his taut skin, until the swinging stopped.

  Folding those long tree trunk legs up in front of him like a gymnast until his knees pressed to his nose he let it out and then took another breath. This time as he breathed he let the chain slip through his hands for a few rings, letting out the slack he’d created and hoped it would give him enough clearance from the ceiling to complete the most difficult part of this little maneuver, which was just ahead of him and Ares readied himself for it. Baring down on those tight abs and back muscles as he pulled with shoulders and his arms, Ares very delicately and deftly turned himself into a pretzel until his feet were over his head and his torso followed until his toes found the wall behind him.

  Ares was no longer hanging by the chains. With his bare feet pressed to the wall, he was lying down in mid-air. “Nice trick. Now what?” Aphrodite scoffed as she watched him try to make his escape.

  “Now…this.”

  The shackles on his wrists hung on their chains which, in turn, were bolted to the stone wall behind him. While the shackles had been forged by Hephaestus, the rings of the chain, the plate in the stone wall and the bolts fastening it all together had not. Pushing with those long strong legs and pulling with those equally powerful arms, it wasn’t long before the creaks of protest were heard from the ancient bolts imbedded in the stone wall.

  Sitting there watching him struggle, Aphrodite found she was becoming a little heated. She always did love it when Ares worked hard and got all sweaty as he was now. Muscles straining neck to calves while beads of sweat broke out on his bare torso, making it glisten to show the strength of his efforts. As he worked, Ares began to grunt and groan. In peril or not, a shiver went through her, shot down from her head to her spine and settled in that wanton space between her legs.

  “Ahh! Give you bitch!” Ares shouted the demand and the bolts gave out another loud creak.

  “Keep going!” Aphrodite encouraged as she watched the bolts begin to move as he strained against them. “You’re doing it.”

  Sweat broke out on his brow, it ran into his eyes, making them sting and vision nearly nonexistent. The hole in his chest, which had somehow missed his heart, ached as it whistled with every ounce of breath for which Ares struggled. If his thigh weren’t gouged this would be easier. Letting out a grunt that made its way down to a constant low growl at the back of his throat, Ares stopped struggling for a moment as he tried to catch what breath he could before he really put his back into it.

  One more attempt. The growl at the back of his throat reverberated until it became it began a constant guttural tone. Ares summoned up every ounce of physical strength he could find in his old tattered body. The bolts on the heavy iron plate holding the chains in place gave out their loudest creak but it was the hooks on the plates that gave out first. The eyehook on the left popped like a champagne cork. For a moment, Ares hung there in the air with his left arm hanging down threatening to take the rest of him with it and foil the plan. He fought to hold onto the chain with his wounded right arm and then bring the left up to join it. A last hard push and the eyehook on the right snapped. Ares fell to the dirt floor of Cernunnos’ Dungeon.

  “If I didn’t see it I wouldn’t believe it. I had no idea you were still so nimble, Lover,” Aphrodite remarked as she watched him roll over onto his back and then haul himself to his feet. “Well done. Now…do me,” she insisted.

  “Do you?” Ares mocked. “I think I’ve had enough of that but you do have something I need.” With a cold determination fixed on his face, Ares took two steps toward her. Aphrodite, with nowhere to go, cringed as he reached out for her with both hands. She let out a little cry when they landed in her fallen hair and began to tug. “Ah, there.” Ares plucked a hairpin from Aphrodite’s hair, pried it open with his teeth, and used it to pick the locks on the shackles at his wrists. They fell to the floor with a hard clunk. “Ha!” Ares declared in victory. “Hephaestus was a great blacksmith; thank the Gods he was a lousy locksmith,” Ares muttered. “Now, where is he taking her? What does he want from Alena?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Haven’t you lied enough?” Ares smoldered. “Look here, hmmm? Where did that come from, hmmm?” he said through gritted teeth as he pointed at the wood board and the Pear of Anguish sitting on top. “I know it is mine. I also know I cast it into the ocean. You gave it to Cernunnos. You led my brother and my sister here to their deaths. You betrayed all of us and for what? The promise of shared power?”

  “No,” Aphrodite protested. In the case of Artemis, that was the truth. “I had no idea what Cernunnos was up to.”

  Ares upper lip curled again as he leaned in close to the chained Goddess. “Then you’re even more pathetic than I thought,” Ares spat and was struck by the blank stare in her pretty blue eyes. “You don’t get it do you? Cernunnos is going to destroy this entire WORLD and you’ve helped him do it.”

  “I didn’t know,” she said in a small voice. “You have to believe me, I didn’t know.”

  Ares leaned back and gauged her closely. “Sadly, Aphrodite, I do believe you’re that stupid and self-centered. That naïve and ignorant. For once in your life, think of someone other than yourself; where did Cernunnos take Alena and what does he want from her?” Ares growled, at the end of his patience. If she didn’t answer him, he was just going to beat it out of her.

  “The Great Hall,” Aphrodite stammered after a moment. “He wants her to…to…integrate all of those souls into him. He thinks she has some magick or something just because she’s his Granddaughter,” she scoffed.

  “His what?” Ares anger boiled over. In that case, perhaps Alena could pull off this Ritual…were she stronger. Had he not forced her to blast over a dozen clay pots to dust earlier today. That was quite enough energy for anyone to expend on their first try. He should have stopped after the first round. Alena had little energy left in her. Ares saw that clearly when she looked into his eyes. “Listen to me,” he leaned in toward Aphrodite once more, grabbed up one wrist and stuck the hairpin into the shackle to pick it then he did the same with the other. When she tried to move, he grabbed both wrists and laid her hands against his bare chest only to hear her let out a little squeal of excitement. Her eyes grew wide as her lips pursed just as her tongue flicked out along them and her heart began to race. “Heal me. I know you can do it. Help me fight him. Help me stop him before he annihilates everything, including you.” He would heal himself if he could, but Ares had absolutely no Power to Heal and if she didn’t do this then he would have to wait days for his body to recover and he didn’t have that luxury.

  Although it wasn’t exactly what she was hoping Ares was going to say, that sounded like a fair deal to Aphrodite and she never did like to see Ares all bruised and battered, he was much too handsome for that. Her Power to Heal wasn’t as great as say Zeus’ or Hera’s but Aphrodite could heal lesser wounds; cuts, burns, gashes that weren’t too deep or serious, bruises, broken bones, but she couldn’t cure any disease or heal wounds that called Hades’ attention and were considered fatal. Ares’ wounds weren’t fatal, even if he were Mortal; eventually he would heal from them with some tending and care. Summoning up the magick that was returning to her, Aphrodite used it to heal his gaping wounds and return his full strength to his brawny body. “There. Better?”

  “Much,” Ares replied in a deep voice full of piss and vinegar. He felt a thousand times better than he had a moment ago. With a slight grin, he looked down at Aphrodite who was looking up at him waiting for him to tell her what the next move would be.

  Aphrodite was very surprised
when Ares pushed her back against the wall and slapped the shackles on her wrists. “Wait! Stop! What are you doing?” Aphrodite shrieked, angry at being tricked for the second time in one day.

  Ares just walked away from her to grab up his vest, which was dumped in a corner by the board and the Pear of Anguish. He gave that a long hateful stare before he picked it up only to toss it high in the air and obliterate it with a fireball from his palm. “Ha!”

  “Ooo!” Aphrodite let out a scared cried as he exploded and small metal shards rained down upon them.

  Flexing his fingers first and then the rest of his muscles he exclaimed. “I feel good!” Alena would never have to be afraid of that again. In the blink of his deep onyx eyes, the rest of his armor and weapons were once more in place, all but the sword, which Cernunnos had in his possession, but not for long.

  “Hey! Wait! What about me?” Aphrodite cried as Ares began to turn toward the stairs.

  The God of War turned around and took in the Goddess of Love in the chains her Husband forged, her arms high over her head, her pretty alabaster cheeks ever so lightly bruised and stained with dirt, honey blonde hair fallen about her shoulders. “You can just…hang out here.”

  3

  Alena did her best to follow the instructions to the letter. She made Cernunnos stand directly at the center of the altar in front of her, facing South, and surrounded him with all of his colorful little bottles. She chanted as she lit the candles around him.

  “Faoi chumhacht an Dóiteáin, a thabhairt dom le Raidió na Life go bhfuil fonn orm.”

  (By the power of the Fire, I bring to Life that which I desire)

  Until all five black candles at his feet were lit and burning brightly. Outside, just past the great walls to the fortress, the wildfire grew by leaps and bounds.

  Lighting the incense—a mixture of Dragon’s Blood, Sage, and Sandalwood—with a wooden match, she walked around him again making sure that smoke wafted up from hooves to horns. The mixture burned hot and quick, soon the whole room was filling up with the richly scented smoke as she smudged the Great Horned God. As she breathed it in, she found it intoxicating and wanted more of the heady scent. Cernunnos took great deep breaths of it, bringing it up to his nose with his hands, and inhaling to fill his large lungs, holding each breath before he let it go again. Again, she chanted:

  “Faoi chumhacht an Aeir, I gceannas ar fad le feiceáil anseo.”

  (By the power of the Air, I command All to appear.)

  Wind whipped up just as Alena finished her chant and came back to her starting point. Even through the closed window, she could hear it howling. The room began to feel Charged as the Sacred Smoke overtook the scent of the wildfire burning beyond the walls. Crossing back to the altar, Alena took up the clear crystal bowl filled with pure spring water. Taking a heavy pinch of salt from a small wooden container, she added it and stirred it with the tip of her finger. Taking up the bowl, she returned to where Cernunnos stood and repeated the same patter. She dipped a bunch of tightly held together Rowan twigs into the bowl and then casting the water into the air in little droplets.

  “Faoi chumhacht an Uisce, arna thoghairm go léir a bheidh chun déanamh de mo”

  (By the power of the Water, All summoned obey my order.)

  Outside where the fire raged and the wind howled, the skies suddenly opened up and ushered forth fat drops of cold rain.

  Now, according to the Book of Shadows, it was time to Cast the Circle but before she could begin, “I need a sword,” she muttered.

  “I know. Try this one.” Cernunnos smiled slyly as he handed over Ares’ sword. “Be a good girl now, no nasty thoughts of taking my head off.” Any thoughts of her using the sword as a weapon quickly vanished when Cernunnos let go of the blade and Maggie stumbled forward with the weight of it in her hands. “Careful now, my dear, you don’t want to break anymore of my precious bottles.”

  It was all she could to hold the sword up enough so that the tip did drag and dig into the stone floor as she made her way around the altar to where Cernunnos stood. “And the Staff,” she said quietly although she had no idea how she was going to drag the sword with just one hand—without totally damaging the blade—and still manage to hold the Staff high in the air with the other to conduct the energy coming down from Above into the floor Below. As she requested, the Staff appeared in Cernunnos’ hand and he held it out to her. Alena wrapped her arm around the hilt of Ares’ sword to keep it close and upright while she grabbed the Staff with her free hand. Deciding there was no other way she was going to be able to do this; she wrapped her arm around the Staff as she did the sword, trying to keep both of them in balance.

  Gods, how does he even pick this thing up? Alena wondered as she began to chant while drawing the Sacred Circle around the Great Horned God. Just dragging it, trying to keep the tip on the ground very lightly, made her shoulder scream out in protest as little sparks flew the space between the blade and stone.

  “De réir an Cumhacht Sword agus Stone, a thabhairt mé síos go léir Power na cruinne a bheidh le mianach amháin.”

  (By the Power of Sword and Stone, I bring down All the Power of the Universe to be mine alone.)

  Before she could finish the chant the first time through, a great clap of thunder boomed in the night. It made her jump in place and turn toward the window. Upon the second round of the chant, the crystal at the top of the Staff began to glow as the sparks from the blade, so heavy in her hand, gave out larger discharges. Finishing the fourth round of the chant, coming back to the starting point, thunder rolled again, this time so loudly it shook the windows in their panes. Alena began to fear that she was actually going to pull this off for him.

  “An Ciorcal Ró-Naofa é arna gcaitheamh, a ligean isteach ar bith nach mbaineann.”

  (The Sacred Circle is cast; let none enter who does not belong.)

  Now came the hard part.

  Alena entered the Sacred Circle and stood before Cernunnos who had assumed the Power Position and stood straight with his arms crossed over his chest. Trying very hard to hold both Sword and Staff aloft, Alena, still speaking Gaelic, called out and began to Draw Down the Sun into the Great Horned God:

  “O Powers of the Universe, Listen now to the words of Cernunnos, the Great Horned God, the Guardian of All Things Wild and Free, and Keeper of the Gates of Death, Your Son, Your Lord, Your Master, Your God, the One whose Call you must answer.”

  Cernunnos spoke in his native tongue with a deep commanding voice. “I, Cernunnos, stand in the darkness of light. Heed my call. You are my children and I am thy Father, thy Lord, thy Master, thy God. Know that I am the Wild Untamed Wind, the Fury of Storm, and the Passion in the heart of every living creature. Come unto me and learn the secrets of Death and Peace. I am the Scourge and Flame, Blade and Blood these are mine to command and so is the whole of this land. See All before You whom I have slain. Tonight their Power I gain. To this, You will lend Your Strength, Your Blessing for my power cannot be denied, by my word alone You must abide.”

  The arm holding the sword as high as she could possibly get it began to quiver and shake before Cernunnos was halfway through his little speech. The Staff hummed and glowed at an alarming rate, the illumination grew brighter and brighter until a bolt of energy shot not out from it but down to from the Heavens above. The cracking sound it made when the bolt struck the crystal almost made Alena drop the Staff, as she was sure it was going to splinter into a thousand pieces in her hand, if not from the force of the jolt than from the force of the reverberation within the wood. As the bolt of energy and the wood in her hand got to know each other, it seemed to her that they developed an odd give-n-take relationship. The lightning from above giving energy to the Ritual and the Sacred Circle, the Staff giving, not of itself, but of her. Something was being drawn out of her even as the Powers in the Heavens was drawn down by her ready to be transferred to Cernunnos through Ares’ blade.

  Now she was supposed to speak again as she slowly lowered th
e sword and touched it to his head while keeping the Staff in the air, but her strength was rapidly giving out and Alena began to fear that she would end up slicing, but not killing, Cernunnos where he stood. That would be very bad. That would not make him happy at all. Leaning back in an effort to keep her balance while her arm, very accustomed to labor and strong in its own right, struggled to keep the twenty-pound sword in the air as it began to waver out of control. “Anois tá an uair a chloig, a thabhairt do do Dhia, Cernunnos, an cumhacht…”

  (Now is the hour, give to Your God, Cernunnos, the Power….)

  The sword began to weave as her arm shook and the muscles there threatened to give out before she could say the last words.

  “Hurry up!” Cernunnos hissed when she appeared to freeze in place looking as though she had been stabbed and was suddenly bleeding out. All of the color drained from her face, even her wounds turned white. “Finish it!”

  Off the left of them, the heavy wood door flew open and there stood Ares. “Not on my watch,” he growled and stormed into the room. Alena’s eyes turned toward him but she didn’t seem to recognize him, she didn’t move away from Cernunnos, she just stood there as if a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Her arms held out like the hands of a clock at 5:00, she was struggling with the weight of his sword.

  “Circle is Sacred!” Cernunnos spat. “You cannot enter! You cannot stop this!” He turned back to Alena. “Finish it, you bitch, or I swear I’ll finish him!”

  Still coming forward, Ares took the time to cast his eyes downward for a moment and take in the newly scratched Circle on the floor. The God of War was not going to allow a little etching to stand in his way. Holding up his daggers, both of them smeared with the blood of the Druids who had guarded the outside of the door—they had been so enrapt in watching the Ritual through the peep door in the wood, they never heard Ares coming until he slit their throats from behind. Standing in the Great Hall now, with the excitement of the coming Battle filling every inch of him, Ares gave Cernunnos a winning smile. “Watch me,” Ares whispered. He flung one of the daggers at Cernunnos only to watch it come in contact with the Sacred Circle and fall to the ground outside of it.