Hades drew in a deep breath, his relief overpowering him. He would see no more suffer this day.
“Erysichthon was not amongst them,” Aeacus said as he joined them.
Hades knew as much. The great king had sacrificed his men for some purpose. He had no doubt Erysichthon was far from finished with him… And Persephone. Anger faded, but his fear remained.
“I shall tell Ares.” Hermes was in a good humor. “He’ll enjoy such sport.”
Hades nodded.
Aeacus waited, his face troubled.
“Speak, Aeacus.”
He cleared his throat. “If Erysichthon is not amongst them… Is she not still in danger?”
“He will join them soon enough,” Hades answered. “And she remains on Olympus. Safe.”
He met Aeacus’ gaze, willing himself rigid. Forcing himself to believe the words that he said.
The cave rumbled again, the floor pooling with muddy water. He sighed, staring out into downpour.
“It will serve Greece well,” Aeacus murmured as he watched the rain. “’Tis a sadness, to see our country turned so brown and brittle.”
Hades held his tongue. He knew that Poseidon sought to prove a point, not to help restore Greece’s crops and fields. If, however, his actions aided their people in some small way, he would not rise to the bait Poseidon thought to taunt him with.
“Yes,” he agreed, then headed to the cave’s entrance.
Ares, Apollo and Hermes stood, their heads bent as they gathered beneath the shelter of overhanging rocks.
“A fine day,” Apollo said, flashing his golden smile.
Hades nodded. “My thanks.”
Ares shrugged. “I prefer fighting to herding, Hades.”
Hades laughed.
A silence fell. Even the storm stopped.
He’d laughed.
They stared at him, each more astounded than the last. Where Hermes smiled, Apollo gaped. Ares’ cold gray eyes narrowed, his brows furrowing deeply. The silence held until Apollo asked, “What of Erysichthon?”
“He will come for me.” Once he’d spoken the words, he knew them to be true.
They looked at him again.
Apollo shook his head. “He cannot defeat you.”
Ares shifted restlessly, as was his way, but his eyes remained fixed upon Hades.
Hermes rubbed a hand over his face. “Not tonight, surely.”
Hades peered out of the cave. The rain had chilled the air, leaving the sky thick with clouds. The sliver of the moon that hung low in the sky cast almost no light.
Yes, tonight.
“No, not tonight,” he agreed.
It took little encouragement to send them on their way. Apollo and Hermes were eager to return to Olympus to share the day’s events. But Ares lingered, turning his stony gaze upon Hades.
“You’re ready then?” he asked.
Hades did not pretend to misunderstand him. He nodded.
Ares’ eyes narrowed. “He cannot kill you, he knows that. But he would see you suffer, dearly, I think.”
Hades nodded.
He bid Ares farewell. In the darkness their auras shone brightly. Apollo, golden. Hermes, yellow, and Ares, red.
He removed his tunic, leaving the cave and scaling the mountain face to wait.
###
Erysichthon had watched closely.
It took one touch. Once in Hades’ hold, they fell. Not once, but twice, these men had tasted defeat. For him. And he would not let their sacrifice be in vain. He would see this thing through, and be successful.
The night was black. No wind stirred the trees or lifted the shadows.
He was strong. He was ready.
Three spears, tipped with poisoned barbs, were strapped to his back.
He watched them leave, heard the boasts and jokes of Apollo and Hermes. Heard the bark of Ares as they left.
And when they were gone, he saw Hades remove his tunic and climb, with no shield or clothing, to the top of the mountain.
It galled him. Did the God think he needed no protection? Did he doubt Erysichthon’s prowess, his power?
He smiled, slipping through the trees.
Each footfall sounded, the squish of mud, the snap of branches. But Hades did not turn. He stood, alert and ready.
Erysichthon ran, darting about his foe to flank him. He waited, pressing himself flat against the tree. Why did he not move?
“Why do you hesitate?” Hades called out.
Erysichthon tensed, then circled closer. He could see Hades’ face now, but there was no fear. Not yet.
Hades’ voice was cold, hard. “Did you send them all to me knowing they would fall?”
He would not be baited. Not now, when he was so close.
Hades’ eyes narrowed, searching the dark. But Erysichthon knew he had the advantage.
He slipped the spears free, careful of his every movement. He gripped the spear, steadied the shaft, and aimed in silence.
“What do you hope to gain? You are no immortal, Erysichthon. No God…”
The spear flew true, piercing through Hades’ right shoulder and driving deep into the tree behind him.
Hades attempted to step forward, his teeth bared as the shaft of the spear jarred.
Erysichthon gripped another spear, took aim and released it. The spear sailed, ripping through Hades’ left side and slamming him into the tree.
“What do I hope to gain?” He left the cover of the trees, using the last spear as a walking stick. “Pain. Your pain.”
Hades’ face was covered in sweat, the heavy muscles of his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You have it. Are you satisfied now?”
Erysichthon stopped, a low chuckle escaping him. “It’s a pity that bravery is your only strength. How would this satisfy me? How would this–” he gripped the spear that split Hades’ side– “satisfy me?” He pushed the spear, forcing the wood ever deeper into Hades’ pale flesh.
Blood flowed, pouring from Hades’ chest and hip to stream down his leg.
“But I know what will.” He stepped back, realizing he lingered too closely to Hades. He could not indulge his ego so, or he would be lost to Tartarus as his men were. And this time he knew what their reception of him would be.
Hades’ eyes were black when he opened them. “Tell me. So that we might end this conflict.”
Erysichthon smiled, shaking his head. “Why would I wish such a thing? You are immortal. These wounds will heal, though I fear the poison may linger for some time yet.”
Hades glared at him, gripping the spear at his shoulder.
“They’re Persian.” He smiled. “A nasty adversary, barbing their arrows and spears. It will not be easy, pulling free. You’ll see the spear shaft widens, either way will be most uncomfortable. I looked for a sword, with their serrated blades. But seeing you today, I knew the only weapons I might use against you required distance.”
“Your cowardice is surprising.” Hades’ voice betrayed little.
Damn you, I will make you suffer.
Hades continued, “You were once a great warrior. A generous king…”
“Once, but no more. Now I have but one purpose. Making you suffer.” He paused. “Not with spears or arrows or swords, but through your heart. I will find her. And I will take her…”
He’d expected Hades to fight, expected him to hurl curses and threats upon him. But he had not anticipated the fury his words would unleash within Hades. Hades was not possessed of inordinate strength, yet he managed to pull the spear in his side free. And as he did so, the night rang with the barbarous growl that tore from deep inside.
Erysichthon stepped back, smiling. “And you cannot stop me.”
Hades pulled, his hands slipping along the bloodied shaft that refused to release him from the tree. “I will…”
Footfalls reached Erysichthon. They were no longer alone. And while he’d planned to savor his last spear, his time was up. He smiled, disappearing into the trees as he promised, “When
she visits her flowers, sings to her trees, tells her stories, or sleeps in her bed… I will be with her. And, when the time is right, I will claim her. She is mine. Persephone is mine.”
He stood within the cover of the trees, a satisfied smile upon his face.
Hades jerked and pulled, but he’d driven the point through the tree, pinioning the Lord of Death in place. But his pathetic attempts to free himself were weakening, and the venom that coated the spear tips began to take effect. If not for the arrival of Ares, who stood staring at Hades in apparent disbelief, he would have laughed out loud at the tremors that overtook Hades. Instead, he enjoyed the view from the safety of the dark forest, savoring every trickle of blood that ran from Hades’ failing body.
Chapter Twenty
“This is ready?” Ares’ voice reached him though his ears throbbed. No, it was not just his ears… His head, his body… Something was not right. He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes to focus. Ares stood, assessing him without sympathy. “You are no warrior, Hades.”
He drew in an unsteady breath. “I never claimed to be.”
“I will take her…” Erysichthon’s words echoed in his ears.
Ares took four long steps, wiped the blood from the shaft of the spear and gripped it in both hands. “This will hurt.”
He could endure this pain, but Erysichthon’s threats… He must protect her.
“Hades?” Ares’ stare was hard.
Hades nodded. Ares pulled, making the spear shift in Hades’ shoulder. The shaft bounced off his collarbone, unleashing nauseating pain. He glared at Ares as the sensations choked him.
“Yell, Hades. Even the bravest fighters do,” Ares encouraged, gritting his teeth as he jerked and twisted the spear. It would not give. Ares sighed, circling Hades. “It’s sunk too deep to remove. I’ll need to break the staff.”
He could scarce breathe, but forced the words out. “Do it.”
Hades heard Ares’ sword slide from its scabbard. The blow was fast, freeing him with one swipe. He swayed, no longer held up but no less skewered. He stared at his chest, placing his unsteady hands upon the shaft and pulling it from his shoulder. He did not stop the groan that ripped from him, for the splintered end of the spear sliced its way through the open wound. His chest was blanketed in his own hot blood, the iron smell sharp in his nostrils.
He leaned back heavily against the tree. The spear fell from his trembling hand, spraying a fine mist of blood upon his feet as it landed on the dirt at his side. He stared at his hand. Was it his hand that shook, or the throbbing within his eyes that made them appear to shake?
“Well?” Ares asked.
Hades spat out the blood filling his mouth. “Well…”
“Explain yourself.”
Each breath seemed thinner, while his body grew hot and heavy. “He watched the day’s battle. He stayed outside my reach…”
Ares laughed. “He is clever, learning your weakness and using it against you.”
His weakness… How had Erysichthon learned of his real weakness? “When she visits her flowers, sings to her trees, tells her stories, or sleeps in her bed… I will be with her. And, when the time is right, I will claim her. She is mine. Persephone is mine.”
Hades tried to move, tried to push himself up, but he fell back. He rested his head against the tree trunk, feeling trapped within his traitorous body. His blood boiled within him, scalding his insides with each pump of his heart. “He is…”
“He tipped the spears in poison. I know the smell well enough.” He heard Ares sigh. “Fever will find you…”
He glanced at Ares. Erysichthon had said as much. He’d said a great many things... “Poison?”
“Your wounds will turn putrid. You’ll need attention.” Ares stooped at his side, placing a thickly muscled arm about his waist. The God of War spoke gruffly, hauling him to his feet, “Lean on me or fall flat. It makes no difference to me.”
Hades laughed softly, his throat convulsing. He coughed, hungrily pulled in air, and then spit more blood from his mouth, weakly offering, “My thanks.” He gripped Ares’ waist, willing himself to stand erect even though it pulled at his injuries. “But you must go on to Olympus. I will manage…”
“You will manage?” Ares shook his head. “My hearing is as sharp as my sword, Hades.”
“Then you know we must get word to Olympus,” he hissed in pain.
Ares retorted, “Send your hounds if you must. None face danger on Olympus.”
Hades would argue, but knew there was no help for it. He could not force Ares to action. He lifted his foot, to step forward, but his leg began to spasm and shake.
Ares snorted as his iron-like arm wrapped about him, dragging him along.
It took time, for each step jarred the gaping wounds. The pounding intensified, the pain rising in steady waves of heat. When Hades could bear it no more, he stopped, retching blood and bile.
“You will manage?” Ares asked gruffly, mocking him.
Hades lifted his head to glare at Ares, but the sudden movement sent the world spinning.
“Ah,” Ares’ voice rumbled in his ear. “Damn fool…”
Hades agreed. He was a fool.
Blackness swirled when he tried to stand, but Ares’ arm supported him once more. He had no time for weakness, no time for distractions.
Ares moved quickly, all but dragging him along the narrow path to the cave below. He was thankful Ares had come back, even if the God of War rejected the threat to Olympus.
Each step took effort. His blood flowed freely, running down his chest and legs and sapping his energy. He was weakening quickly… almost too weak to breathe.
He was helpless when she needed him.
And then they were standing before the cave. He released Ares, leaning against the rocks to stand. Could he make it to Olympus?
“Good,” Ares said, sounded winded.
Hades turned, his vision blurring. He blinked as Apollo’s handsome features came slowly into focus.
“Hades?” Apollo stared at Hades’ wounds.
“A trap,” Ares explained. “Punctured, twice. Both poisoned.”
“How did a noble king become such a cowardly villain?” Hades heard the disgust in Apollo’s words, but all he heard became distant and muffled. Erysichthon had used a most effective serum indeed. No, he would not make the journey to Olympus. He must rely on them, then.
“Hermes?” Hades managed, the faintest whisper.
“What?” Apollo asked, his voice moving closer.
Ares sighed loudly, complaining, “His blood stains my chest and yet he calls out for Hermes…”
“Hermes?” Apollo’s voice was soft, reassuring. “He’s gone on to Olympus.”
Ares spat out the words, his disdain evident. “Erysichthon threatened Olympus. He would see Hermes deliver a warning.”
Apollo laughed. “Would that he reaches Olympus soon, Hades. Athena was most affronted to be kept from the fight. Let her vent her frustration on the arrogant soul and see how quickly he comes running to your realm.”
Hades heard Apollo, heard the ring of their laughter, but the sound grew distant. His eyelids drooped, shutting away the hazy images. He could not open his eyes, he could not speak. But Apollo’s words were a comfort. Athena would offer some resistance. She was most fearsome when angered.
“Hades?” He heard Apollo but could not answer him. Apollo’s next words were a whisper. “The fever?”
Ares grunted, but said no more.
“I shall fetch Aeacus,” Apollo offered, the sound of his footsteps fading.
He would rest for a moment, no longer. He was no use to her now, burning from the poison. An image of her, smiling at him atop the black furs of his bed, found him. He sighed, clinging to that image until the fever forced his mind into blackness.
###
Time had stopped, or so it seemed. Every day was like the one before it, with little of note or consequence.
Each night Persephone slept on her white
furs and finely sewn blankets, dreaming of him. Each morning she’d rise with the sun, grief-stricken when sleep refused to linger just a moment longer… And once again she was without him. And his absence weighed upon her most heavily.
But for her mother’s sake she dressed and smiled. They would visit the Council Chamber together and she would attempt to listen to matters discussed there, she must. She was a Goddess. She must act as one.
And this time, when she sat at her mother’s side, she would not stare at his throne.
She’d known it was his even though she’d never seen him in it. And she knew better than to ask. But she didn’t have to ask. It sat, imposing and black, out of place amongst the muted tones of the Council Chamber. Just as he did.
As they drew close to the Chamber, Demeter’s hand tightened on her forearm. Persephone forced a smile, hoping it would ease her mother, for it did not ease her. Demeter’s brow dipped ever so slightly, but she said nothing. Instead she patted Persephone’s arm.
Voices spilled into the hallway, echoing off the walls of the Council Chamber within.
“They’re back,” her mother said, smiling more brightly.
This time Persephone would not have to work so hard to find her smile. With Hermes returned, she might not feel so alone, so out of place.
Apollo, Ares, Hermes… they’d been gone since she arrived. And while she had no opinion of Apollo, she feared Ares more than a little. She had missed Hermes, but was wary of him now. She did not want to speak of Hades. While all on Olympus assumed Hermes indifferent to Hades, Persephone knew the truth. And she knew she was not strong enough to hear news of Hades, missing her not at all.
Her mother’s pace quickened as they entered the Chamber, but Persephone held back. Her mother released her then, moving to greet the returned Gods with warmth and sincerity.
Persephone’s heart hardened. Of course he would not be here. She was foolish to hope… She’d not known she’d hoped. She wrapped her arms about her waist.
She circled the room, absentmindedly making her way to the place she sat on the opposite side of the chamber. Her fingers moved over the marble, the fervor of conversation eventually reaching her.
“He is free, then?” Her mother’s frightened voice drew her attention.
For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) Page 23
