From the Annals of Bastet

The War God crumpled the paper, tearing it in half for good measure and throwing the two parts in different directions. Then he began to pace the expanse of his map room. The scroll magically flattened and mended itself as it lay there on the floor, flowing back together. He looked at the thing on the ground as if it were a hideous creature.

"I loathe you, mother," he said under his breath as his steps brought him back by the object. "You are so adept at inconveniencing me."

The scroll was an invitation, one that could not be ignored or declined. The King and Queen of Olympus had summoned gods from all over the earth plane to come and meet on important matters involving many planes. The summons was not the issue. He was willing enough to go, even eager to show his support, but Hera had chosen a poor date for the meeting, the anniversary of the birth of his Chosen.

Each year since they had first made a commitment to each other, Ares had found Kendaa wherever her duties took her and had taken her to some exotic place, real or fashioned from his own imagination. He had sometimes had to pluck her right from the battlefield or out of her bath. But he had never missed a year. This would then be the first.

His pacing slowed as he thought about this. He stopped now at the table where he laid out his maps and put his hands on the edge, looking down at the wood of the surface and studying the swirls. Someone had spent hours polishing this piece of furniture, choosing the wood for the table, fitting the pieces together, then polishing the top to a deep luster. He shook his head as he thought how his mind had wandered from the point, and laughed to himself. There was no getting around it. He would have to go to his Chosen and explain to her.

The God of War already knew her response. He was far more particular about these things than she was. She was not one to stand on ceremony, the next day or the previous or a week later would be fine with her but Ares was fussy about such things. It was the iron discipline in him.

"Fussy," he thought. "I never really thought about it but that word fits me. I'm precise, I demand order and require it of myself as much as anyone else." He realized that he was speaking out loud now. His eyebrows went up in amused shock. "Kendaa, you have me talking to myself."

The door to the room opened. His servant came in with a tray on which were two goblets of wine.

"Your friend is here," the servant said quietly.

Ares smiled and went to the door. "Well, don't stand there, come in!"

Mace walked in as the servant stepped around him and left. The two men shook hands and Ares motioned him to a chair where the drinks had been set out on a small table between two chairs that faced the fire. Mace sat down, seeming to take a moment to get comfortable.

"How are you feeling?" Ares said, sitting down also.

"Like someone cut my heart out," Mace replied sourly. He was still in mourning for the loss of his love whom he had had to kill after she had chosen to follow the dark path. The grim thoughts still plagued him at night, filling his dreams with images that woke him frequently. The circles under his eyes and his sad demeanor were signs that the nightmares were continuing.

Ares took a goblet and handed the other to Mace. "Here's to war," the War God said, lifting his goblet in a toast. "It's easier than love and, I suspect, when all is told it hurts less."

Mace smiled and lifted his cup. "To war." He looked over at Ares. "And what do you have to whine about? Your lady love is tough, true to you, and will probably outlive us both, mortal or not."

Ares smiled. He snapped his fingers and the scroll appeared in his hand. "This is a summons to Olympus. It is on the same day as her birthday. I've never miss the anniversary of her birth."

"Yes, she told me," Mace replied. "She said that you two always do something unusual."

The War God looked over at his friend, stunned. "She told you about our meetings!"

Mace laughed. "Not the details! Please, that would be more that I need to know! Besides, I don't think I could have gotten anything out of her anyway."

Ares laughed now too. "That woman never ceases to amaze me."

"Well, why don't you spirit her away now? She'll never suspect anything."

Ares pursed his lips, then took another sip of his wine. "I haven't had time to think. I usually wait till the day before then allow the muses to inspire me in some … exotic way."

"Are you sure that's the word?" Mace asked. His friend laughed. "And are the muses the inspiration for your … creativity?"

Ares laughed again. "No, you have me there," he answered.

The blond warrior looked over at him. "In my younger days, when I was a member of the warriors of Set, there was not much about that period that I can recall with pride. However, one good thing about being a follower of the serpent was having a preoccupation with the excesses of the flesh." Ares' eyebrow went up. His interest was now peaked. "Set was quite clear that his men should know all manner of sexual discipline, an activity that I personally threw myself into without reservation." Ares laughed out loud now.

Mace leaned across the table, putting his cup down now. Ares bent close and Mace began to whisper in his ear. Both the War God's eyebrows went up now and he grinned as the other imparted some of the secrets of the flesh that even Ares had not heard of. When Mace was done, he leaned back over and nodded once.

"Guaranteed to please, believe me. I can personally attest to the positive effect of this technique."

Ares snorted. "For you or for her?"

Mace laughed. "For her! I had to maintain concentration and uh ..."

"I get the picture," Ares replied. He winked once and disappeared in a flash.

Mace laughed out loud as the flash of light dissipated, some of the sadness was gone now from his face. He looked over at Ares' goblet, left unfinished. He reached over and picked it up as he watched the fire burn.

"Here's to love," Mace said. "It does hurt more but it is worth the agony."

Finis

March 2001