The Heart of War (41 page)

Seeing the shield flash the way it did every time Ares hit it, the Golden Hind and Cerberus didn’t hesitate to join in. The Golden Hind dropped her bow as she ran forward, reared up on her hind legs and began beating upon the shield with her front hooves while Cerberus hurled his great bulk against it over and over.

Lost in the heat of battle, Ares cocked his arm back and brought the sword down with all of his might once more, expecting to have it bounce off but instead it went through. It pierced through the gut of the Druid in front of him. The man fell to his knees clutching the wound while gurgling sounds rose thickly from his dying throat.  Pulling the sword back quickly, Ares struck the shield once more and it shattered completely, leaving those below it open and nearly defenseless.

Ten against four, those were good odds.

The Druids scattered, their main goal having suddenly gone from Capture and Return to Mere Survival.  All those engaged in battle were mere inches from each other; most of the guns abandoned in favor of daggers and bare hands as opponents wrestled to the death on the beach beneath the emerging blanket of stars.

Adrian was old but he was still strong and full of dark magick. He had served Cernunnos for nearly a thousand years and had no plans to fail the Great Horned God at this most important task. Summoning all of the magick within him and focusing it through the large oak staff, the clear quartz crystal on the top began to glow with an eerie Dark Light; he brought forth a bolt of energy from deep within the Earth itself. Pointing the staff directly at the God of War and throwing back his other hand so that his old chest jutted forward, he let out a commanding cry of power.  A wide bolt of black light leapt out from the center of the crystal that had been clear. It crackled through the heavy leather armor to pierce Ares through the heart. It went through the thick leather, past the heavy studs, and right into Ares’ chest, burning a hole through the flesh and deep into the body beyond.

Pain, bright, vivid and agonizing, ripped through Ares toned body as the force of the jolt threw him twenty feet into the air and fifty feet back. He crashed to the ground at Alena’s feet, clutching his chest and struggling to get air into his lungs.  His face was ashen and his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. Alena wanted nothing more than to drop to her knees at her side, take him into her arms and offer all of assistance she could. However, the most assistance she could offer now was not comfort but her own courage. Alena stood at Ares feet between the God of War and the Old Druid Adrian. “I remember you,” she hissed.

“I remember you,” Adrian returned slyly. “Defending Ares will only make Cernunnos madder.”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Alena said through gritted teeth. “You never should have come for him.” Alena growled like a mama grizzly bear as she drew the gladius at her side.

Lying there helpless on the sand, unable to move and barely able to breathe, Ares watched Alena charge forward, sword drawn back to the right of her head, her gray hair flying in the wind.  Few people ever put their lives on the line for him in such a willing or courageous manner.

Adrian let another dark bolt of energy fly from the staff, but Alena was expecting it; she waited for it and easily ducked down, letting it fly over her head when it came forth. Small and strong, she came in low and deep. Bringing the blade up, she severed Adrian’s hand. It, along with the staff, fell to the sand twitching. “I always hated you,” Alena whispered to the Old Druid with his mouth gaping open as he took in the sight of his missing hand and the blood gushing forth from where it had once been. She brought the sword back and plunged it forward through his heart. “Always.” Alena gave the sword a good clockwise twist, splitting Adrian’s heart in two before pulling it free of his dying body. 

Mouth still agape, Adrian fell dead at her feet.

Chapter Eighteen

Aftermath

1

When the gunfire stopped ringing and the screaming stopped echoing, when all was finally blessedly quiet, Alena looked around and took in the high price of the battle.  Dead bodies and parts of dead bodies littered the beach and floated in the water caught up in the punji sticks.  The soft white sand was thick and sticky with a seeping layer of blood.  Alena just stared at the sight with tears in her eyes; she never wanted to kill anyone, not really.  Like her new Lover, Ares, she understood the necessity in it from time to time but, unlike him, she did not take any joy in it.  To her it was all completely and utterly senseless as it was all completely and utterly avoidable.  If she said that to Ares he would probably laugh at her, tell her something like men would always be men, they always wanted to flex their muscles and push their bounds no matter what it cost their fellow man.

With the adrenaline rush beginning to flow out of her body as quickly as it flooded in to aid her and spur her onward, Alena started to feel tired.  She started to feel the aches and pains of battle, including the bullet wound in her shoulder.  The same shoulder which, now, didn’t seem to be hanging correctly.  Every time she tried to move her arm all that came back to her was agony.   Her back felt as though a train ran her over.  This last she subconsciously—and rightly—chalked up to the force she had used to move the boulder out of her path.  Her magick was weak at best but it had been enough to aid her in that quest.  Like Adrian and his staff, she had used the Earth Energy around her but she did not use it to hurt someone.  Rather to push against the weight of the boulder and get it to roll just the smallest bit.

Stormy gray eyes turned back to the northerly tip where they took in the sight of the Golden Hind and Cerberus standing guard over the lone and very battered Druid.  She would deal with him in a minute.  Not far from him laid Adrian’s body and not far from that lay Adrian’s hand still wrapped around the staff.  Feeling very hesitant, Alena licked her bottom lip and made her way to it.  The sight of the severed hand was nothing short of gruesome, but then again so was the rest of scene around her.  Her back straining in protest, Alena bent forward.

“Don’t you touch it you filthy bitch!” the captive Druid railed and stood up.  “You’re not worthy.”

No, she was not.  However, this was War and the staff was one of its spoils.  Thinking her back would simply give out and crumble as she bent down, Alena’s hand seized around the oak and plucked it from the sand.  Standing it up at her side, she leaned it against her body and pried Adrian’s cooling dead hand from it.  Alena tossed it near his body so the two could spend eternity together in a very fiery place.  “It’s mine now. Sit.  If you move again, Cerberus will chomp you in two.”  The Druid looked from her to Cerberus while he made his decision and then resumed his seat in the crimson sand.

There was something here in the sand that belonged to Ares.  Not wanting to risk bending over again, Alena used the bottom of the staff to get under the chains, lift them, and then remove them from around his neck.  She didn’t know how Cernunnos had gotten his greedy hands on these but she suspected an Olympian had something to do with it, though which one was anybody’s guess.  Whichever Olympian had helped set this up was probably seething in anger while politely protesting their innocence.

Stumbling over to where Ares still lay in the sand, Alena had little choice but to let her legs go out from under her in a very ungraceful manner so she could be by his side.  “My Love?” she whispered and ran her hands over his bearded cheeks.  “Are you all right?”  The battle vest was destroyed.  Where the thick hardened leather had covered his heart there was nothing but a gaping hole with a seared rim.  Beyond that, Ares’ chest was darkly bruised.  It almost looked as though he had been burned, but not by fire, not by hot metal.  By the Dark Energy Adrian conjured up.  It was enough to take down a dozen men and Alena feared for Ares’ life as she sat there with him trying to be brave.  Trying to be strong.

Alena’s words were distant, almost as though they were coming to him through the echo of some faraway canyon. Slowly, Ares’ dark eyes turned toward her.  It was still very hard to breathe or even to think.  While he could see that her hands were on his cheeks, Ares couldn’t feel them.  In fact, he could not feel anything at all. Not the sand below him, the breeze blowing over him, or the hilt of his sword still clutched in his hand.  His mind was lost in a numbing fog. He could scarcely remember where he was.  He felt as though he was lying in a very deep grave looking at the living world so far away.

“This will pass, I swear,” she encouraged and took his hand into her lap where she held it to her cheek, kissing the back and delighted to find it warm.  “We won.”

Ares managed to nod his head and let out a grunt.  The words formed in his mind but it took him a moment to get them through his lips.  “I saw.  Impressive.”  Impressive didn’t cover it—she had been magnificent.  Up there on Olympus where his Family had watched and waited to see the outcome, Athena was probably jealous or somehow trying to take credit for Alena’s skill.  No one but Alena could take credit for her courage and her determination.  Even if she had never been his Lover, Ares would have been proud to have her as a warrior—a commander—in his army.  Now that the battle was behind them, she didn’t look so brave.  She looked frail and wounded.  He didn’t like the way her arm was hanging at her side or the haggard look on her face and her distraught eyes.

“I’ll get you inside.  Can you move the boulder, my Love?  Does your magick still work?”  Alena thought that it should still work. 

It seemed to him that, for the most part, his magick and his powers were intact. Physical abilities such as movement, standing, breathing, seemed beyond his reach.  His eyes scanned the cliff, upward toward home where he wanted to be with her, curled up in their bed and in her arms.  “I’ll do…better,” Ares managed to stammer as he struggled to raise his head.  “Bring him,” he commanded to the Golden Hind and Cerberus.  A moment later, Ares and Alena disappeared from the beach and reappeared in the bed he intended to share with her for a long time to come.

Alena did not stay in the bed; she got up almost immediately even though it hurt like hell to do so.  “Stay here and I’ll take care of our new prisoner.”

Ares wanted her to stay with him, she had her own wounds that required tending, but she would not hear of it.  Seeing her determination and being in no shape to contend with it, he told her that there was a small prison…

“Past the hot spring,” Alena said, bending over the bed to kiss his forehead.  “I know.”

“The key is in the throne.”  Speech was coming back now, as was the air.  Ares was rediscovering what a wonderful thing oxygen was as it flowed freer in and out of his lungs.  He still couldn’t feel her lips on his skin and the strange feeling of looking up at everything from a very deep hole remained.  “Did you know that, too?”

“No, My Love.  I did not,” Alena said with a half-smile and then stumbled over to the door to the women’s chamber where she banged upon it with a weak fist and called that it was safe to come out.  Ares needed them and they should come quickly.  “They’ll take care of you until I return.”

“Stay here with me, let Onya and a few of the others take him.”  The last thing Ares wanted was for Alena to enter that particular room.  Not now.  Not ever. He tried to reach out for her but his arm didn’t move.

In this condition there was no way Ares was going to win this fight.  “Please, take Cerberus with you,” Ares advised, wishing he could get up, already sick of feeling helpless and weak.  He wanted to interrogate the last standing Druid and take care of his battered woman. She needed medical care more than he did.  Perhaps he couldn’t move but he wasn’t bleeding all over the place and, as far as he knew, both of his shoulders were still in their sockets. All he could do was lie here praying feeling returned to his limbs.  “Come right back to me.” 

Nearly tripping down the last few steps, Alena emerged into the Throne Room where Cerberus, The Golden Hind and the prisoner were waiting.  In the bedroom above her, she heard the sounds of heavy objects being moved and knew the women were making their way to Ares.  Before she could cross the room to the heavy throne of bones, the Golden Hind approached and gingerly held out the Staff and the Chains to her.  Alena had left them on the beach.  “Thank you,” she said sincerely as she took them from the graceful creature who then bowed low before her.  Alena was not sure what to make of that.  “Thank you for these and your help.  Both of you, you fought very bravely.” Using the Druid’s Staff as a walking stick, Alena leaned upon it heavily as she made her way to the throne, fished around and came up with the key.  “Cerberus, if you’d accompany me please?  We’re taking our new guest downstairs.”  She turned to the Golden Hind. “You’re welcome to stay here and rest if you like; we would be honored to have you.”

Ares never invited her to stay in his home; in fact, he rarely let her in.  Resting, a bit of food and some cold water before making her way back to her home on the southern end of the island sounded like a good idea.  “You are very gracious, my Lady,” the Golden Hind intoned and bowed once more.

“You stay between us,” she said to the Druid and then led the way through the cave, down to the hot spring and beyond.  She had not been in this room; she had only peeked at it through the little peep-door in the wood.  It looked like a terrible place and she never wanted to open the door but now it was necessary.  Sliding the key into the lock, she turned it and the knob until the heavy door opened on its hinged with an audible squeak.

The air in the room was stale and musty.  The room itself was desolate and desperate; standing here she could almost hear the echoes of the painful cries and screams of the men—and a few woman she imagined—Ares had kept here and tortured.  Thick shackles hung from the ceiling and the walls, they were attached to the floor.  There were not one but two iron maidens; Alena had never seen one outside of a House of Horrors.  One was just the skeleton, a hanging cage shaped like a man but the other was gruesome.  It stood seven feet tall, made of heavy wrought iron.  The door was partially open and Alena saw the long sharp spikes sticking out of it, the spikes that would sink deeply into the flesh and bones of whoever was unlucky enough to be trapped within. Next to it stood a Rack for stretching people and the Stocks for holding them in place.