Ares didn’t even notice. He scowled down upon the panicking mob his army had become. “What is wrong with you?”
The god’s voice shook the very earth. He reached down and, in one titanic hand, swept up bears and elk and wolves alike. “Animals? Mere animals drive you like cattle? Let me show you how to deal with animals!”
His fist closed and began to clench.
Artemis said, “Don’t.”
Ares flinched as if he’d been stung, but only for an instant. Then his natural belligerence flared once more. “ Who dares give orders to the God of War?”
Artemis stepped out of the tree cover, still only human size, her bow bent and her bowstring against her cheek as she sighted along her arrow. “Very gently, my brother. Very gently return my creatures to the ground.”
Ares snorted down from a dozen times her height. “Why should I?”
“My grip is not as sure as it once was,” Artemis said calmly. “I would hate to have to explain to our father how my fingers slipped when my arrow was aimed in the direction of your face.”
“ You wouldn’t dare. The Word of Zeus forbids-”
“Killing,” Artemis finished for him. “From this angle, an arrow in your eye would do little more than inconvenience you. I shouldn’t imagine you’ll be half blind for more than a decade or two.”
“ You would aid that treacherous bitch Athena against me?”
“I would,” Artemis said, without the faintest flicker of an eyelid, “defend my realm and its creatures. Set those down, and be on your way.”
“ You won’t attack me. You can’t. Not while I threaten only mortals.” His fist tightened until gore ran from between his fingers. “ I can crush every one of these woodland beasts, and you can’t give me so much as an itch.”
“You turn your hand against my creatures.” Artemis lowered the aim of her bow. “Witness how I turn my hand against yours.”
She released her arrow, which shot from her bow more swiftly than lightning-and before it could strike, another arrow appeared and was released. So many arrows flew so swiftly that the glade seemed filled with a golden haze that buzzed and snarled like a nest of angry hornets.
After that single instant, Artemis lowered her bow and looked up at Ares. “So?”
The God of War looked down upon his army. Every once-living creature of his in that glade lay dead; every undead creature was mutilated beyond recognition. The wolves and bears and elk stood untouched. For a long moment, the only sound was the mocking cry of a distant eagle.
At length, Ares said, “Perhaps I have been hasty.”
“Perhaps.”
“And if my legions and I leave your woodlands in peace?”
“Then my creatures and I have no reason to attack yours.”
“Done, then.”
“Yes,” said the Huntress of the Gods. “Done.”
Athena, lurking invisibly just within the tree line, shook her head with a disappointed sigh. She hated it when her family members forged a peace, even if Ares and Artemis would violate it at the merest provocation. Still, her mission to Artemis was far from a total loss. This forest skirmish should have taken enough pressure off the Long Wall that Kratos could move on into the city. Slaying monsters was all well and good-not to mention moderately entertaining-but it didn’t actually get him anywhere.
Athena took a deep breath, savoring the pine and earth scents. She closed her eyes and let herself go into a light trance, enabling her foresight to fill her mind with glimpses of the future. She gasped and her eyes flew open at what she foresaw. Coldness settled, and she realized that even had Artemis and the powerful Lord of the Ocean, Poseidon, joined her in opposing the God of War, they would have failed.
Ares had become too powerful-and increasingly insane. The very pillars of Olympus would be turned to rubble by his actions. And there was nothing she could do, because Zeus would never rescind his decree against one god killing another. She saw that while she and the rest of Olympus, including the Skyfather himself, were so bound, Ares would not obey.
Ambition and insanity made for a deadly mixture. If she could not kill Ares, Kratos must. But how? How could any mortal kill a god? Kratos had to reach the Oracle. It was the only way the answer would be revealed, for the Oracle’s power was such that she could give Kratos knowledge hidden even from the gods themselves. Athena hoped that this would be enough-it had to be.
This accomplished, she turned about and with a breath of will sent herself once more to Olympus, passing through her own chambers to step forth into the Hall of Eternity. It was necessary that Kratos receive another gift of power if he was to get to the Oracle.
Mere paces along the hall brought her to an archway hung with scented diaphanous veils. She pushed through into a sybarite’s delight of erotic architecture and seductive decoration. No matter the direction, mirrors of bronze, brass, and silver reflected images even more flattering than her favorite mirror in her own chamber. A pool of lilac-scented water extending along a low bed provided a different degree of reflection.
“Welcome, Athena,” came the soft, sensual greeting, as gentle and inviting as a lover’s caress.
“Lady Aphrodite.” Athena bowed deeply in the direction of the tapestry to her right, which depicted humans and gods copulating in half a hundred ways; this was the best bet for where the Goddess of Love might be hiding. They had a tense relationship, the Goddess of Sex and the virgin warrior, complicated by the somewhat uncertain nature of their familial connection.
Aphrodite had been born from the genitals of Ouranos, when his son Cronos-Zeus’s father-had ripped them from the elder god’s crotch and thrown them in the Mediterranean. The drops of blood had become the Furies-which to Athena had always made considerable sense-and the organ itself had been reborn as the infinitely desirable goddess. Being born from the sea foam, Aphrodite in one sense could be considered not to be part of the family at all, except by marriage-as she was wed to Athena’s brother Hephaestus. The goddess might be considered only Athena’s sister-in-law.
However, she had also been born as the result of an act by Cronos, which in a sense made her a sister of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. Which meant that she would be due considerably greater deference.
Finally, she had actually been incarnated from the penis of Ouranos, Zeus’s grandfather, which made her Zeus’s aunt.
Aphrodite herself refused to clarify the complicated genealogy. For her part, Athena avoided the lust goddess whenever possible. Athena’s guile was markedly different from Aphrodite’s.
The Tapestry of Infinite Coitus stirred and Aphrodite emerged from behind it, warming the room with her beauty. Indeed, all Olympus took on a softer, more sultry glow. “From your tone,” said Aphrodite, “I sense this is not a casual call, nor do you visit on business of my particular realm.”
Athena nodded. “I bring sad news.”
“Does this please you so that you cannot send Hermes?” Aphrodite lowered herself onto the seductively padded couch and lay along it languidly. “Hermes was… recently here… and he mentioned nothing.”
“Perhaps other concerns distracted him,” Athena said, knowing full well what Aphrodite and the Messenger of the Gods had been up to. The Messenger of the Gods was a frequent visitor to Aphrodite’s chambers, and it was known he brought the goddess more than news.
“Are you suggesting that mere pleasures of the flesh might distract him from his duties?”
“I suggest nothing,” Athena said innocently. “This young couple, whom you have lately had so much pleasure instructing-”
“In Mycenae?”
Athena thought, Why not? She’d had no one specifically in mind but knew Aphrodite’s attentions might be lavished on thousands of such lovers at any given time. “There is a rumor they might have offended Medusa with their amorous activities,” she said, thinking, A rumor I have just invented, but a rumor nonetheless. “It is possible she has vowed to turn to stone not only them but all your disciples-and perhaps your Olympian self.”