Dance of Blood

Prologue-1

PrologueGates of Hades Battlefield…

As Ares rode his animal along the ruins of the Gates of Hades, he was almost in tears. Around him he heard shouts of joy and revelry as the victorious soldiers raised their cups filled with the blood of the enemy. The fighters brazenly danced among the mutilated bodies of those whom they had killed while Ares almost choked on the smell of blood. Zeus, Ares’ own father had ordered this attack, and now since Ares had led his men to victory, he would be given the title of the God of War, presented with the long coveted Ebony Sword, and expected to join the order of the Gods of Light, and rule from atop Mount Olympus.

Feeling his stomach retching, he gave his horse a light nudge and felt the animal leap forward in a fast gallop. His heavy armor clanked loudly as the obedient steed dashed through the dead bodies until the stench of blood was behind him. Keeping his horse at a swift gate, he rode with the wind in his face until he saw Olympus in the distance, and then slowed the animal down to a walk through the city streets. As the horse clip-clopped down lane after lane, it seemed that the people were in high spirits as they busily went about building large structures. Finally, he stopped his horse near one of the workers.

“What is going on?” he shouted above the noise.

“We are preparing for the Olympic Games, sir.”

“The Olympic Games?”

“Yes sir. As soon as Zeus received the news of your magnificent victory over our enemy, he issued a proclamation that the games would begin as soon as we could prepare the arena.”

“I see. Well, thank you.”

Gently yanking on the reins, Ares turned to continue his ride through the city until he at last saw the great white Temple of Zeus with its thirteen large columns in the distance. Riding his horse into the stable, he dismounted, and then turned the animal over to the Ostler.

“Feed him and rub him down, Bruno, he’s probably very tired.”

“Yes sir,” Bruno said, taking the horse and leading him into a stall. “By the way, sir, congratulations on your stunning victory. Everyone’s talking about it.”

“Yes…well…thank you.”

Ares then turned and proceeded swiftly toward the enormous gate of the temple where just inside he was greeted by the statue of Zeus on his throne. Walking around it, he made his way toward the Hall of the Gods, where the guards welcomed him with a jovial cry of congratulations. They then helped him out of his armor, brushed him off, and relieved him of his shield and spear, and then ushered him into the Great Hall.

“My son!” Zeus shouted the moment he saw him. “I am happy to see you back from your skirmish at the Gates of Hades. We have already heard about your victory, and I have arranged for the Olympic Games to begin immediately.”

After Ares and Zeus locked arms in greeting, Ares then received greetings and congratulations from others. While the boisterous laughter and talk continued, Zeus was approached by a man that Ares didn’t recognize. Just then he heard a struggle going on, and turned and saw a man being dragged in, bound in leather ties. Ares was quiet as he watched his father deal with the ruffian, but couldn’t help but notice something strange in the way he talked and conducted himself with the man. He began to wonder where his kind and thoughtful father that laughed a lot had gone. Now his actions were brusque, and the tone of his voice was harsh. His interaction with the man was intolerant and unforgiving. It all added up to a coarseness he’d never noticed in his father before. Now, instead of the fair and kind nature he was familiar with, he sensed a love for violence, and lofty ideals. He sensed wealth without work, pleasure without conscience, knowledge without character, worship without sacrifice, and politics without principle, to name only a few.

“Father, what has happened to you?” Ares asked when he got him alone.

“To me? Nothing.”

“But you seem different.”

“You’ve been gone a long time, my son. After all, battles are not fought in a day. But enough of that, Ares. I have a surprise for you. A gift, if you will, for your victory in the Red Country. It is something I had created especially for you, my son.”

“What is it?”

“It is a woman, Ares. A very beautiful woman. I ordered Hephaestus, the god of smiths to craft a gorgeous woman out of earth and water. When you see her, you will agree with me that his hands are absolutely magic. Once she was formed, the Four Winds breathed life into her. She had to be perfect, have unparalleled charm and beauty, so after I gave her the gift of speech, I summoned the gods who looked upon her beauty, and one by one showered many seductive gifts upon her. Aphrodite adorned her with beauty, grace and desire. Next came Venus, the goddess of love. She gave her the all-knowing gift of how to seduce and please a man, and Apollo gave her the ability to sing sweetly and play the lyre. Once these many gifts had been given, I then allowed the gods to name her, and they called her Elektra.”

Ares felt uncomfortable. “Father, why would you do this? You know I have no need for a woman.”

“Son, I am not stupid. I am aware of where your passions lie, but I think this woman will change your mind.”

“But Father, it’s not a matter of the mind, it’s emotions. It’s part of who I am.”

“And who are you, Ares?” Zeus said, turning to Ares and grasping his shoulders in affection. “I’ll tell you who you are. You are my first born. You are a warrior, a fighter, battlefield expert, skilled craftsman, and after today you will be a god in your own right. You will also be the husband of the most beautiful woman in Olympus. With this woman by your side, there’s no telling how far you can go. Life is just beginning for you.”

“My God, Father, why didn’t you ask me before you did this?”

“Ask you what? If I could give you the sun on a cloudy day? If I could give you a spring shower to cool your fevered brow? Ridiculous. You don’t ask permission to give a perfect gift such as this one.”

“Oh? Maybe I don’t want perfection. I’m certainly not perfect.”

“But you are, Ares. You’re my son, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Both you and Hercules.”

“But how could you be proud of a bloodthirsty killer?”

“Why would you call yourself that?”

“Father, as a warrior I don’t mind fighting evil to defend the world I was born and grew up in, but the slaying of innocent people is nothing but murder.”

“Innocent people? They were the enemy.”

“But they weren’t in an uprising. They were just living their lives day-by-day not bothering anyone, and we burst in on them in a surprise attack and killed them. This makes us bloodthirsty killers, right up there with Hades himself. I will no longer be a part of a world that sees no wrong in murdering innocent women and children. I’ve seen it happen through the years, and always made excuses for you, but no more.”

“No more?” Zeus said. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m stepping down, Father. I’m going out among the people of Olympus, and live with them. If I’m a hero, I want it to be for what’s good and right. I want to be loved, not feared. And as for Elektra, I give her to you, Father.”

“Are you insane?” Zeus said. “Stepping down? Turning your back on the sanctity of the throne? Have you thought this through?”

“Please understand. I’m not turning my back on the throne, or you, Father. I will continue to give you and your throne my reverence, but I will be living my own life as I see it, not as the throne dictates.”

“I’ve never heard such, and from my own son.”

“Father, can’t you see what is happening to you? I sense an undercurrent of evil. Where is Dolan, you advisor?”

“He passed very suddenly. One night he was jumped by ruffians.”

“I’m sorry, Father, I truly am. Have you appointed a new advisor?”

“Yes. His name is Drago. He’s been with me about a month.”

“A warning, Father. Watch him. Weigh his advice very carefully, and don’t be too quick to act upon it. Keep your eyes open. If you find something, face the truth like the man I know you are. Rule as you used to. With compassion, not anger.”

“I’ve never heard such ramblings. Well, I understand you’re out of sorts after your battle, and need rest, but before you retire, do this one thing for me. Look at this woman, and tell me what you think. You’ll see that she’s the most beautiful woman in Olympus. After you’ve seen her, if you want her, she’s all yours.”

“All right, I’ll do it for you, Father, but I warn you now. It’ll do no good.”

Zeus quickly turned, and shouted out to the guard. “Bring her in, Lacius!”

A curtain slowly opened, and a mysterious woman walked into the sacred room with a veil over her face. When the two men saw her, Zeus leaned over to Ares, and whispered, “To make her presentable in court, we gave her a silvery raiment and a broidered veil. In her hair is a bright garland of fresh flowers and a wonderful crown of gold. She is truly a vision from heaven, my son.”

When the veil was removed, great amazement and wonder took hold of everyone in the room except Ares. As he looked at her, he knew that it was true. She was indeed the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had red-gold hair that hung down in ringlets. She wore round, golden earrings that brushed her shoulders, and her eyes were the color of the bluest ocean he’d ever seen. Her skin was rather golden, yet pale. Like milky cinnamon. It looked smooth to the touch.

“She is a beauty all right, Father,” Ares mumbled to his Father. “But I must—”

“See? I told you,” he said, interrupting his son. “She’s all yours, son. Imagine the heated nights you will have with her. I have no doubt she can satisfy your every desire.”

“I’m sure she could, if I had any.”

Zeus turned quickly and looked at Ares. “You mean she leaves you cold?”

“Father, she’s beautiful just as you said, but I admire her like I admire a beautiful painting, a stunning piece of jewelry, or the wide vista of the sparkling universe. She stirs no more s****l feelings in me than any of those things do when I look at them.”

“So you’re refusing my gift?”

“What would I do with her?”

“Fine,” Zeus said. “You know that refusing my gift is the ultimate slap in the face, do you not?”

“You know I don’t mean it that way, Father. I’m simply—”

“Stop right there,” Zeus hissed, his god-like stature tall and domineering. As he turned and made his way to his throne, he said, “You win, Ares. I can’t fight you any longer. Even if it means I must lose a son—”

“Lose a son?” Ares called out as he followed him. “What do you mean?”

Zeus stopped and turned back to Ares. “I mean, that from this moment on you are not welcome in Olympus. From now on I have only one son. Hercules.”

“But Father, I’ve made no secret of any of this. You’ve known how I feel for years. What has happened that suddenly makes you intolerant of my—”

Ares felt a stab of pain pierce his heart when he saw his father walk away, refusing to listen to him. He knew in his father’s eyes his sins were many, and as a good ruler he must turn his back on him as he would anyone who rebelled against him. It would be so easy for Ares to go to his father and become the heartless killer he wanted him to be. To accept his gift, and live and reign atop Mount Olympus, but when he thought of his many friends whose hearts had turned to cold stone because they had relented and taken the easy way, he just couldn’t.

* * * *

Elektra stood quietly as the two men argued when suddenly she began to feel tired. She walked up to Zeus, knelt before him, and said, “I am a little tired, my king. May I go to my room and rest?”

“But of course, my sweet,” Zeus said.

“Thank you, sire,” she said softly, and rose to go to her silk-laden bedroom. When she walked in, she immediately saw a goblet of wine that seemed to glow and sparkle as if encrusted with tiny diamonds. The sparkling red color enticed her. It would be cool to the tongue. Cool and fruity. She could imagine how it tasted even now as she stood thirsting. Slowly she walked toward it, and picked it up. She didn’t ask herself who put it there, and what low, corrupt potion might be floating round in the delicious red elixir. She didn’t even consider that an enemy of the throne might be hiding within the velvet hangings of her room watching her even now, waiting for her to devour the sins of the world that was furtively mixed in with the wine. Instead, without a moment’s hesitation, she upended it, and the sweet wine poured down her throat and into her stomach where the evil immediately began to bloom.