Chapter Seven

  Ares lay in his sick bed holding his weeping flank and groaning. The women tended him, they bathed him, fed him, gave him drink or anything else the God of War desired. Only Enya came in every few hours to change the bandage and cleanse the wound. He didn’t speak to her not one single word. Sitting there as she was now removing the bandage, cleaning the wound and laying a fresh poultice on him she looked up at him and he down at her. “What is it woman?”

“My Lord, why didn’t you tell him?” She asked as she stared him in the eye. “Are you protecting your Daughter?”

“I will always protect Callestah,” he barked, “I’d give my life for her. You should just be thankful and be silent.”

“What will you do when the child comes?”

“Find it a suitable home and be rid of it.” Ares snarled. “I thought I told you to be silent.” Enya frowned and nodded her compliance. “This saddens you, my dear Enya?” Ares asked with fake concern. “It saddens me. I gave you Immortality and this is how you repay me? Spiteful jealous bitch.” The small hands wrapping his gaping wound shook. “What need have I for a Mortal’s bastard spawn?”

“None, Lord Ares.”

“Yet, you think I should let you keep it? Raise it as my own?”

“No, my Lord.” She muttered and ventured a step too far, “but perhaps rather than giving my child to strangers, perhaps Dan—“.

“BE SILENT! Now get out of my sight, whore. I have guests to tend.”

No more did he say it then one of his youngest and fairest attendants entered his bedroom. “My Lord, Ares….”

“Show them in.” He said the girl whose name was Krystal. “You get out.” He barked at Enya. Enya quietly picked up the pan of water and old bandages, she began leaving the room at her Lord’s command. “Don’t you dare,” Ares warned in a low dark whisper, “you won’t tell anyone anything.” He threatened.

“What are you waiting for? Get in here.” Ares shouted. Two men entered the room. “Morpheus, Poseidon.” He said in a more congenial tone as he greeted them. “Have you any news?”

“Nothing good,” Morpheus intoned seriously.

“Obviously,” Ares said looking at his Uncle Poseidon, “if you’re walking on land it can’t be good news. Hecate is already here?”

“Very soon and she’s coming with a battalion of warriors.” Poseidon warned.

“How?” Ares wanted to know.

Morpheus’ turn to answer. “Some will come by ship others will come through the Stargates on this world. How many of them have the Mortals found?”

Ares laid there thinking and holding his side. “Three, no four.” Alaska, Antarctica, Russia, Egypt, “there is still one in Venezuela and one in,” he winced as he tried to move forward, “one in Thailand. You must dismantle them before more of them come through.”

“Agreed,” Poseidon said. “I will take care of this. What have you told Callestah and her Husband?”

“Callestah knows nothing, Jackson has been warned and told to get my family away from this planet.” Still holding his flank, Ares struggled to sit up in the bed.

“Then she will be unable to help us!” Poseidon cried.

“She will be out of harm’s way!” Ares roared in return. “That’s my goal, my only goal.”

“So you don’t care if Hecate destroys this planet? I know you hate the Mortals, Ares, but what will you do without anyone to liven things up for your amusement or to worship you?” Poseidon asked knowing the length and breadth of Ares ego. “What good is a God if no one kneels at his altar?”

“Gather the others, it’s their world too, let them fight for it.” Ares challenged.

“And you? What of your wound?” Poseidon asked in a tight voice as he stroked the long white beard upon his chin. “Callestah is the only one who can heal it. We need a good Healer, Ares.”

“It will heal.” Ares asserted.

“It will not.” Poseidon returned in the same tone. “I see the blade did not cut deeply enough to kill you but you will bare that wound just as it is until the day you do die if you do not let your Daughter help you.”

“Then I will bare this wound throughout eternity!” Ares snarled.

“I,” Poseidon pointed to himself, “really hate to say this, Ares, it pains me no end to do so BUT…we need you. We need you hale and whole and ready to do what you do best; battle.”

“Oh, now you have need of me? How convenient.” He hissed from his sickbed. “All the centuries which have passed in which you most of all, dear Uncle, berated and mocked me, now you need me? And I should come to your call?”

“Don’t play with me, Ares!” Poseidon demanded. “Since your Father’s death…a very untimely one I might add…I am the King of the Olympians and like it or not you will listen to me.”

“I may take heed of you but that doesn’t mean I’ll do what you say, old man.”

“Ares, be reasonable,” Morpheus said.

“Ha!” Poseidon laughed. “Him? Reasonable? Why don’t you ask the sun to turn blue?”

“I will not involve her.” Ares said.

Morpheus spoke once more. “It’s her world as well, Ares, she’s every right to fight for it if she wants. I would think that would make you proud.”

Ares did not hesitate in taking up the challenge in his Cousins’ voice. “She is my only Daughter and the future of our race. I will not let her die for the Mortals of this world nor my Grandchildren.”

“Your race!” Poseidon spat. “A race of Olympians with you as their sole progenitor or do you intend to share her with Morpheus and me?”

“In your wet dreams,” Ares sneered.

“Your pride dooms us all! On many levels!” Poseidon cried as he raised his hands in the air in desperation. “Callestah is the only one of us who can enter Avalon! If we are to be victorious we will need them!”

“I won’t risk her for you.” Ares lay there bleeding, suffering and thinking. Poseidon was almost right, Callestah was the only Olympian who could enter Avalon the rest of them were banished long ago. Maeve became so incensed when Aphrodite reclaimed Callestah that she forbade any Olympian, save Callestah, to ever enter the Realm of Avalon. There was someone, “Bring me Duncan MacLeod, he can gain entry to Avalon.” Ares said to Morpheus. “Find him.”

“MacLeod? Correct me, dear Ares, but you hate him more than you hate Callestah’s husband.” Morpheus pondered aloud. “And he has no love loss for you either.”

“Just bring him here,” Ares said in an exasperated voice. “I grow weary this wound will not let me sleep.”

Reaching into the leather pouch at his waist with a sigh, Morpheus came back with a handful of dust which he blew in Ares’ face. “Maybe you’ll be more reasonable when you wake. In the meantime, I will find MacLeod and bring him to you.”

Sleep almost instantly began to over take the God of War. “You,” he mumbled to Poseidon, “go to the Underworld and find out if our suspicions are true, if Aphrodite really has turned traitor.”

“And if she has?” Poseidon inquired as Ares eyes began to close. “If Hecate is only one step away from completing her prophecy and becoming the Triple Goddess?”

“Knowing that danger you have the nerve to insist Callestah stay here?” Ares sneered. “When you know she is what that black hearted bitch needs to fulfill it? I tell you this Uncle, if Aphrodite has turned traitor I’ll twist Aphrodite’s head off her shoulders with my bare hands the next time she crosses my path.” With that happy thought lingering in his head Lord Ares, God of War, drifted off to sleep.

End of Chapter Seven
The Cradle Will Fall
Continue to
Chapter Eight