From the Annals of Bastet

“Mighty Ares, God of War, Lord of warriors, help me! I’m afraid.” The last words were barely a whisper, slipping out before the young man, not yet eighteen, went down in death beneath the ax of an enemy. Ares awoke from a doze that he was allowing himself to enjoy next to his Chosen. The ground was hard in the camp. All the Amazons were asleep now, even the guards in the trees had fallen into the spell of the War God as he had materialized over his love and laid himself down by her.

Now he awoke, hearing the voice of the young man before it faded and the spirit flew to the world of the dead. Ares smelled the intoxicating scent of his woman, wanting to stay close to her as she slept but spirit of the boy killed called to him. He vanished in a heartbeat, speeding to the land of the Underworld, domain of his brother Hades.

Ares went from snuggling with a beauty to slogging through a deep mist of the world of the dead.

He materialized in a large cavern. At the end, on a raised dais, was a stark throne, abandoned now. The walls were littered with chains for restraint and instruments of torture. In the middle of the room were chains, riveted to the floor, with manacles at the ends. Ares looked at the décor, shaking his head in disgust.

“And I thought I was bad,” he whispered. He stopped for a moment and closed his eyes. The God of War reached out with his god senses, looking for the young man. He felt the draw of the newly freed spirit and went toward it.

He materialized in another cave. The Underworld was a labyrinth of cave halls joining an endless series of caverns. After a soul traveled the river Styx, it came to this barren, stark world. Once judged by Hades or one of the Furies, the soul went to Tartarus, where the caves became places of torture or endless despair; or the soul went through the rocky domain into the Elysian Fields, where the sun always shined, the soul was free and time and memory stopped. Endless pleasure and repose waited there.

Ares thought about this place. He personally found it boring but he also realized that to the drudging, pain laden lives of most mortals, the Elysian Fields seemed like the perfect place. He also knew that both Tartarus and the Elysian Fields were a myth, a place created by the gods and accepted by mortals. But those who had belief, true belief, went to another place. This was the place he hoped to be bound for when he took his final rest. This was the place where the tiny soul confronted the One, that which had no name. It was ‘I am.’ One could call it Father to Gaia’s mother image but this was beyond gender, being, or form. Ares was just awakening himself to the nature of his relationship with the One and it scared and excited him beyond measure. He had witnessed the presence in the conversation of Xena. He had seen the reflection of compassion, justice and mercy in the actions of Hercules. He had known the deep sensual presence in his joining with Kendaa. He was being led toward the One by the loving guidance of the Ancient One, Bastet.

Now as he looked around, the dark, fearsome place of Hades paled. It was like the scene of a play. The souls were players in a drama that they agreed to play along with the gods. The gods were no more aware. They engaged in the scene as greedily, keeping the façade alive, participating in the dream and afraid of the awesome reality of their place in the Universe. Ares watched the souls milling around. They were lost and agreed to stay lost in the complacence. He saw among them the young warrior who had called out to him.

The god was shine and gilt compared to the souls shuffling around, translucent in their waiting for judgment. Ares stood out in the crowd even more dramatically than usual. Spirits milled around him but gave him wide berth as if his brightness would burn them. He fixed his eyes on the boy and called to him. “Alius,” he called out, letting the words reverberate through the caverns.

The young man floated toward him, lowering his eyes as he approached.

“Mighty Ares, God of…”

“Yes, yes. I know the titles. If you say all of them, they’ll be setting off nuclear devices before your done,” the War God snapped.

“What’s a nuclear?”

“Forget it,” Ares replied, softening his tone. He could be a real pain when he was annoyed. He forgot how intimidating he was also.

The young warrior looked despondent. “Mercy, sire,” he whispered.

“A little late now, don’t you think?” Ares replied sadly. “What’s done is done.”

“I was afraid,” the boy said. “I was not strong enough to overcome my fear and win.”

Ares sighed deeply. “Son, you probably would have lost anyway. Fear is not necessarily a bad thing. Fear can motivate, instruct, and strengthen. It’s what we do with fear that tests who we are.” The boy looked up. Ares realized how young he really was. He had been shaving for a few years only, wielded a sword for one, and had loved a woman for none. He was child in a man’s body.

“Why did you come then?” he asked. “I thought it was to punish me for being afraid.”

Ares laughed despite himself. “You’re dead! I think that is punishment enough! What more is there?”

“Eternal pain and torment,” said a voice behind him.

Ares turned to see his brother, Hades, behind him.

“And what brings you to my domain?” Hades asked. His words had an edge. Ever since Ares had begun to wake from his spiritual sleep, the god who appeared to dislike this change the most was the god of the Underworld. This surprised Ares as he had thought that of all the gods, Hades would be likely to approve as this god was the judge of mortal character more than others. But as Ares became more aware, Hades appeared to become more jealous of his territory and more concerned than other gods that his brother was upsetting the delicate balance of powers in their little cosmos. Ares realized that he had been staring at his brother.

“As I said, what brings you into my domain? Perhaps you are ready for mortal death as you were prepared to take on mortal life,” Hades said.

Ares smiled sadly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To rule over my soul.”

“The foul soul of a butcher,” Hades replied. “Nothing would please me more than to build a special place in Tartarus for your judgment. Rolling rocks up hill, fetching water in a sieve, apples just out of reach. Child’s play. I would devise a scene of endless pain. Perhaps you would watch your Chosen in the final throes of death, over and over again.”

“Leave her out of this,” Ares snapped.

Hades grinned. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

Ares neared his brother, pleased to watch the dark god back off a step at his approach. “What is your problem?” he whispered through a tight jaw. “What has made you develop such a hatred for me? Don’t I send you my business? Doesn’t war bring out the best in death?”

Hades approached him and the War God saw a light of anger in his eyes that bordered on insanity. Ares felt a tightening in his chest.

“I hate you because you think you’re better than the rest of us now, just like Hercules does,” Hades replied. “Being a god just isn’t good enough. You’re on some quest for the truth and the truth, my dear selfish brother, is going to destroy all of us.” Hades turned toward the young man’s spirit as it watched in frightened awe as the two immortals quarreled.

“Tartarus!” Hades ordered. And the spirit screamed as it faded into a hellish destiny.

“NO!” Ares screamed trying to stay the order.

Hades turned and glared at him. “This is MY domain,” he yelled. “I say who goes where!”

“You’re going to damn him because of your hate for me?” Ares answered angrily.

“He made his own damnation. He boasted of raping a woman in the last village that the army took in battle.”

“Look at him, you moron,” Ares said. “It is as plain as day that the boy was lying. He’s never had a woman, forced or otherwise.”

“Then he’s damned for lying. And for killing an innocent. He torched a house that had a baby in it.”

Ares stood motionless. He remembered the face of the young man. In a flash, the scene played itself in his head of the battle in the village. The house, the order, the torch, the screams. The boy heard the cries. He thought to go back. The hut went up in a blaze and the officer spurred him on with the rest of his group. No time, move on.

Later the young man tried to talk about it to one of the older veterans. He laughed and hit the young man on the side of the head. “What would you do with a baby anyway?” It would die of starvation. Everyone in the village was dead. Quick death, that was best.

Ares stood motionless. In the history of war, how many times had this happened? How many souls had entered the arena of war and turned into a one arrow in the bow of senseless slaughter. Orders. Just following orders.

Ares stood motionless. “He didn’t know that the baby was in the hut,” Ares whispered.

Hades sneered. “He didn’t care,” he replied.

“Let me fix it,” Ares said. “Let me take his place for day in Tartarus.” He neared his brother whose eyes were wide now with … what was it? Glee? “Yes, Hades. One day I will submit myself to your punishment. Anything you can think of for me and me alone. Leave out all else. Just me. One day. And the boy goes free to the Elysian Fields.”

“This is highly irregular,” Hades whispered half to himself.

Ares whispered right behind him, almost in his ear. “Come on, Hades. A chance to bend the iron will of the God of War. I saw the manacles on the floor of that chamber.” He paused. “One day.”

Hades turned and looked at him. His eyes were blazing. “Done. One day and the boy goes to the Elysian Fields.”

Ares felt himself falling. His clothing were burning away. He thought of the smell of his Chosen and the feel of her touch. He heard the tinkle of a bell in the back of his mind. The sign of the Ancient One. She would approve. Kendaa would admire. One day. He could stand anything now for one day.

Finis.