The warrior woman had left the last of the villages behind two days before, not without a strong measure of relief. Amazons so rarely travelled alone outside their nation that their passing was certain to draw attention. She, being not only tall and athletically-built, but bearing the tell-tale slenderness, blonde hair and startling forest-green eyes of her half-dryad heritage, could not help but attract notice.
She had stayed overnight in the inn of the last village she had passed through, and had sighed to herself in resignation as she sat warming herself by the fire, sipping occasionally from a mug of ale and listening idely to the speculative whispers of the other inn patrons around her.
Kendaa smiled a little; her dryad inheritance had endowed her with an over-keen sense of hearing, and she could easily hear what the other occupants of the inn's public area were saying.
She almost laughed outright when one of the men confided sotto voce to his companion that he had heard most Amazons were at least eight feet tall, and was he sure the woman sitting quietly before the fire was really an Amazon. To which his companion had replied, of course she was - all Amazons dressed in that fashion, and just look at that fearsome warstaff that lay on the floor close enough for her to snatch it up if the need arose. The first man had quietly confessed that he would not be giving the tall warrior woman an excuse to wield her weapon; he'd heard too many tales...
Not for the first time in almost a week, she considered the strange, undeniable compulsion that burned within her, carrying her forward and upward into the mountains to an unknown destination. Ephiny, the Amazon Queen, had merely listened and nodded when Kendaa had gone to her and tried to explain the urgent and compelling summons that she knew she had to obey. Her Queen had, in the end, said only one word, "Go!"
Now there lay before her only the awesome spectacle of the still-snow-capped Rhodope mountains, into which she was advancing with sure, determined step. She wasted as little time as possible as she travelled from dawn to nightfall, the beautifully, intricately-worked warstaff gifted to her by Hephaestus serving duty now as a walking staff to assist her over difficult patches, her sword sheathed at her back, together with a small travel pack containing a goat skin filled with water, and some dried meat and journey cake. A hooded cloak of wolf-pelt wrapped securely around her kept out the worst of the cold.
It was early spring; the thaw had only just begun. Around her new life had begun to burst forth. In the foothills of the mountains, she raised her head to the sun, and threw back the hood of her cloak to drink in the fresh, intoxicating scent of a world waking to spring.
Small, many-hued woodland birds sang their songs, flitting from tree to tree, while on the ground the four-footed brothers and sisters-in-fur greeted the intrusion of the half-human, half-dryad with only passing interest, knowing instinctively that she presented no harm to them; that she was, somehow, part of the thick, verdant forest itself, and that her spirit reached out to embrace and protect them.
Her brilliant green eyes were bright and she smiled to herself as she moved through the wood, occasionally pausing to run her hands lovingly over the surface of an oak or a beech tree. Deep within the majestic giants, she could sense forest sisters still in their long winter sleep; not quite awake, but beginning now to slowly awaken at the insistent, joyous call of the new season.
Her dryad heart rejoiced and paid homage to the beauty surrounding her, but she didn't stop; the summons within kept urging her forward.
Day by day she advanced further and higher into the mountains, at night sheltering in small caves vacated by their furred occupants, or tree-bowers. To augment her meagre travel supplies, she snared rabbit or quail, and on occasion picked berries and dug for roots which she knew would provide a safe meal.
She had come across a clear, fast-flowing stream and spent a few fruitless hours trying to catch a fish for a change in diet. At the end of the day, she reflected ruefully, as she instead skinned the rabbit she had snared, that it was really a shame that fishing wasn't one of her several talents. A double shame, because she rather enjoyed fish.
The terrain around her had changed. Now she was travelling through snowfields, her fur-lined boots barely keeping out the cold of the snow. But still she moved onwards and ever upwards. At night she considered herself lucky to chance upon a cave in which to shelter.
For two days it snowed heavily. She kept moving, almost blinded by the driving snow, her cloak gathered tightly around her shivering form as she moved through snow drifts that were at times thigh-deep.
From a great distance, another figure, clad in a dark cloak and hood, watched the Amazon's progress. Dark eyes regarded her thoughtfully and with something akin to approval. The warrior woman never wavered, and the dark figure turned and went its own way.
Kendaa had lost count of the number of days she had been on her strange journey. She simply kept going, always drawn forward by the intangible, urgent call.
It had stopped snowing.
She was nearing the top of one of the mountains, the sun shining almost blindingly on the snow, when she looked up. There, ahead of her, lay what appeared to be a great gate of stone. It appeared to be naturally-formed, but nevertheless took the shape of a gate. She stopped for a moment, but the pull within told her that her destination lay somewhere between those great pillars of stone.
She moved carefully now, all her senses alert, but something else was making itself felt within her. A sense of ... what? Anticipation - she realised with some surprise; anticipation and...yearning. What would she find at the end of this journey? Was one of the gods toying with her? She hadn't, Kendaa thought, done anything of late to attract any undue attention from the direction of Olympus.
She shook her head, took a deep breath and stepped through the pillars.
Moving slowly forward, she looked around her. There was nothing to see, really, at first glance. Just a mountain top, covered in show, upon which the sun, set like a great jewel in an unending field of the brightest, clearest azure, shone down brightly.
She moved carefully to the edge of the flat area and looked out and down. Involuntarily, her mouth opened. There, spread out below her seemed to be the entire world. The plains and level ground looked incredibly far away. And the absolute beauty of the sight before and around her left her stunned.
Entranced, she gazed out over the panorama before her. In the distance, other snow-clad peaks shone in the brilliant sushine. The air was cold, but surprisingly not unduly so. It contained a crisp sweetness that had her breathing deeply, her eyes closed in bliss.
Then, in an instant, she knew she wasn't alone.
Slowly, instinctively she turned.
He was standing not ten feet away from her, clad like herself in a cloak, only his was of rich black velvet.
Before he moved to pull the concealing hood back from his face, she knew who it was.
"Ares," she breathed.
He moved the cloak back to reveal features set in their customary unreadable, semi-ironic mould.
He smiled a little. "Hello, my dear Kendaa," he greeted in the deep, slow drawl she knew so well.
Slowly she moved to pull the hood back from her own head.
"It was you, wasn't it? You sent for me?" Her face showed only too plainly her confusion and wariness.
The God of War inclined his head in acknowledgment.
At a loss, she could only ask, "Why?"
He said nothing.
Instead, he moved slightly to one side, revealing the smaller figure that had been standing behind him.
"Mama?"
Kendaa stared.
Too shocked to utter a word, her mouth fell open, and her eyes flew to Ares' face, but it revealed nothing. He simply returned her gaze impassively. Of their own accord, her eyes went back to the child standing facing her, and who now repeated, "Mama?"
She had her mother's forest-green eyes, her father's raven hair and, at around ten summers, a height that had been inherited from both her parents.
The Amazon fell to her knees in the snow.
She knew. In the face of impossibility, still she knew.
And out of her shocked silence, she whispered "Eirene? Baby?" She held out her arms, her eyes filling with tears as the child ran into them.
"Father said you'd come."
She was suddenly enveloped in warmth. She wasn't sure who exactly was cradling who, but if her arms were wrapped tightly around the little girl, the child's arms were no less tightly clasped around her neck.
Kendaa breathed in the warmth and scent of the child she had lost a year before; a child impossibly alive, well, and much older than she should have been. At some point during the past year, she had named her lost daughter Eirene - a name she had carried in her heart like a sweet, constant ache.
Somewhere close by, she could hear a curious sound. She looked up, to discover Ares staring at her, his jaw working almost in time with his flexing fingers, and a look in his eyes that suggested he wanted very badly to tighten those fingers around her throat.
"Eirene? You named our child peace?" He enquired in a curious, almost-strangled tone.
She nodded, and much to his annoyance, smiled slightly. "It somehow seemed...appropriate," she told him, closing her eyes again and breathing in the scent of the child in her arms. She heard Ares' snort of derision, but he made no further comment.
Her hands stroked gently over the child's long, silky raven hair, so like her father's, her senses greedily drawing on the tactile sensations that her fingers conveyed to the rest of her.
After what seemed an eternity, she opened tear-filled eyes and raised them to look into Ares' eyes. He remained at a distance, almost as if even the all-powerful God of War wouldn't dare intrude on the heartrending privacy of the scene before him. Kendaa surprised a look on his face that she would have sworn no other mortal or god had ever seen, but almost instantly it was gone, and his face was once more expressionless.
But there was moisture in his eyes. She wasn't sure he was even aware it was there.
"How" She asked him, her voice no more than a whisper.
He shrugged, his eyes shifting to gaze out over the mountains before returning to settle on her.
"She is as she would have been had she lived in your mortal world."
The woman on her knees, still cradling the little girl tightly against her, didn't understand. Carefully, she quietly phrased urgent words, "Is she alive? ...Is she real?"
He was silent for a long moment, as if trying to find words that would help her understand something mortals were never meant to understand.
"She's real. And she's alive. All living things contain a life force. Even after death, mortals...exist. Either in Tartarous or the Elysian Fields. She never came properly into life, but she was alive. When she...died...she went to a place where she could grow and, in a fashion, live. There, she exists. All the possibilities that would have been hers in your world, exist for her in that other place. So - she lives."
Nuzzling the little girl's head close against her face, she asked softly, "Why?"
The dark eyes of the God of War regarded her for several heartbeats.
The blonde Amazon was lovely, he couldn't deny it; had long been unable to deny it. She drew him, even when her stubborn defiance and refusal to give herself in service to him infuriated him. In all his existence he had never known another like her. Except one.
Unlike all the other mortal women he had come to know, Kendaa of the Amazons had never been fearful in his presence or shown him deference because he was a god and she was not. Instead, she had been a source of constant surprise to him.
During his second stint as a mortal, she had treated him with kindness, even risking her own life to help him. And in that dark, fetid cell in Mitraea, awaiting certain death, she had been almost affectionate towards him. Genuine affection was an emotion no other woman had ever shown towards him. And they had both shared in a common bond of almost-friendship that had taken him unawares.
When they had finally lain together, she had given herself to him with a warmth that had confounded him, even while she retained her freedom from him. Yes, she drew him, and he wanted her very badly.
The child in her arms was fruit of their passion; a fruit torn prematurely from the secret bed in which it had been ripening - and so destined never to taste fully of the life meant to be hers.
In bringing their child to the mortal world, he had done something that would bring down on him the combined wrath of the other gods if they ever discovered it. To bring an Unborn back into the mortal world was to flaunt the Olympian code of conduct, such as it was. Yet he had done it, for her. And, he had to admit, for himself.
After a long drawn out silence, he smiled a little and shrugged.
"She's been giving her...guardians a particularly hard time. A distraction seemed in order."
Kendaa knew there was more to it than that, but smiled anyway. "Your influence, no doubt," she told him.
Dark brows arched delicately in acknowledgment of the barb. "And yours," he returned wickedly, pointedly reminding her of her own intransigence.
The Amazon woman stood, lifting Eirene with her.
The little girl leaned back in her mother's arms to regard her solemnly. Green eyes stared into their mirror.
"Mama, father says you're a great warrior, and that one day you'll fight in his army," Eirene told Kendaa with childlike candour.
"Did he?" Kendaa asked softly, glaring up at Ares, who smiled innocently in reply. Kendaa could cheerfully have kicked him.
"But you know, my love, there's more to life and living than being a warrior and fighting," she told her daughter with a warm smile. "Most warriors only fight to preserve peace and defend those who can't fight for themselves. I do a lot of other things besides fighting; things that have nothing at all to do with the making of war."
Eirene nodded sagely. "I know, mama - I've seen you in the forest."
Kendaa's eyes flew to Ares, a question in them. Again he shrugged. "The child wanted to see you. I showed her."
Rage began to boil up within her. "How long...?"
Almost negligently, Ares waved her unfinished question aside. "Does it really matter?" He asked her in an entirely bored tone.
"Yes!" She hissed, softly so as not to alarm the little girl in her arms.
Ares blandly ignored her.
Sighing, she set Eirene on her feet, taking gentle hold of her hand. "Come Eirene, tell me of yourself; of your...life. What sort of things do you enjoy? Do you play games?"
The forest-green eyes, so like her own, lit up. "Oh yes, mama! And stories! Sometimes father comes and tells me stories. Sometimes they're about him, and sometimes they're about you. And sometimes they're about silly monsters..."
Kendaa's eyes widened in surprise at this new image of Ares as a storyteller. She didn't dare give free reign to the laugh that was bubbling up within, and when she looked up, the dark eyes of the God of War were daring her to try.
"Is that so, little one? Can you remember any of your father's stories?"
For hours, kendaa and her lost daughter talked, laughed and played, while Ares looked on in reflective silence, apparently content to listen and watch. As the afternoon shadows lengthened, the god moved them into a small cave that stood within the one side of the mountain top that climbed higher than the rest.
Inside it was snug and warm, and the Amazon and her daughter continued to immerse themselves in each other's company until Eirene said, "Mama, father says it's time for me to go. He has to take me back."
The Amazon woman frowned in surprise and looked up.
"What did you expect? She is, after all, half-god," Ares told her mockingly.
Kendaa drew a deep breath and reached out to her little girl.
"I'm so glad I could see you, Eirene. I've missed you, very, very much. And I love you."
The green-eyed child reached up to hug her. "I know, mama. I love you too." Kendaa held her tightly, and kissed her, closing her eyes and trying desperately not to weep again. And cursed silently when the tears began to flow.
Ares was standing beside them, tall, dark and unsmiling. He reached out his hand. "Come, child," he told his daughter.
The little girl trustingly took his hand, and Kendaa's heart contracted. They made a strange yet oddly touching picture. He, severe and clad in black leather, great Sword of War hanging from his waist, and holding his hand, the child of their bodies, wearing a simple white chiton. Innocence and brutal death, hand in hand...a unique sight, Kendaa thought, a sharp pang in her heart.
"Will I see her again?" She asked him levelly, relieved that her voice was again under control.
"Perhaps," Ares told her calmly, his own voice non-commital.
"Remain here. I'll return," he added.
Kendaa had only time to wave and call, "Goodbye, my love!" before Ares and the child disappeared from her sight.
Not long afterward Ares returned alone, appearing next to her as she sat thinking and warming herself over the small fire in the centre of the cave.
She stood, smoothing down her suede skirt as she did so, preparing to leave.
"I...don't know whether to say thank you or be angry that you would give her back only to take her again. I could hate you, Ares," she told him. And I wish to Tartarous it was that simple, she added to herself.
He walked around to stand behind her, his hands moving to massage her neck and shoulders with surprising gentleness.
"Ah, and there's the rub, my dear Kendaa," he said softly, somewhere in the vicinity of her ear. "You want to hate me. But you can't, can you? In spite of everything, you're drawn to me," he told her with complete and irritating certainty.
The Amazon woman sighed deeply, submitting to his ministrations.
"I don't know what I feel for you," Kendaa told him bleakly. "You infuriate me. One minute you show kindness - the next, your cruelty knows no bounds." She sighed again and shook her head in frustration.
"Just go with your feelings," he advised her in that same soft, seductive tone.
She stood still in front of him. Those strong, massaging hands on her shoulders had ceased their enticing activity a few minutes earlier, but she didn't feel disposed to move. She could almost have given in and embraced the incipient feelings of warmth and safety.
Almost.
If she hadn't been aware of the identity of the owner of those entirely too seductive hands. Knowing it was Ares, she couldn't quite relax; even in spite of what he'd just done for her. She didn't - couldn't - trust him.
His hands remained still, and she turned her head to look up into his face. He looked almost absent, a slight, thoughtful frown on the darkly handsome face.
He became aware of her questioning gaze, and smiled slightly, his hands resuming their gentle, kneading motion.
Leaning down, his breath fanned her ear as he whispered, "I've something to show you."
Much later, she reflected that she should have been warned by his smile; it had been the smile of a snake about to strike.
Directly in front of them a scene appeared in mid-air.
Kendaa gasped in horror, too shocked by what she was seeing to be aware that Ares' hands had left her. He had withdrawn a pace to stand silently watching her watching the scene being played out before her.
Several of her Amazon sisters, well over a dozen of them, were engaged in a desperate battle with what appeared to be an army. A cursory glance revealed the Amazons to be outnumbered, and even as she watched, one of the warrior women received a sword blow to the abdomen that sent her to the ground to lie still.
Kendaa's eyes flew urgently to the God of War for enlightenment.
"Ares? What is this? Who are they fighting?"
Aristocratic brows raised slightly. "Your sisters are fighting a horde of barbarians from beyond Macedonia. They've been making short, pillaging raids into Greece. As you can see, there are rather a lot of them. And they're savage."
The Amazon woman was drawn back to the scene being played out before her. She groaned in anguish as another sister - Calee - fell.
"Sent me there. Now," she begged Ares hoarsely.
"Oh no no no no no. I've no intention of doing that," he told her softly.
"What? Why? They need all the help they can get!"
Ares nodded slowly in agreement.
"It's almost sundown. By the time Helios has retired for the day, 13 of your sisters will be dead," he told her precisely.
"The remaining seven will be taken captive,...used - most cruelly - and killed. By morning they will all be dead."
Kendaa could only stare at her hopelessly outnumbered sisters. Chantal was there. So were Lessa, Arete, Riordon, Tnemesis, Hebea, Danae, Ceallach, Psamanthe, Andulasia, Rosemarie, Amphalia, Khyra...so many of her friends. They fought with fury - and desperation. Even as she watched, another fell.
She turned back to Ares. "Please..." She could find no words. There were none.
The tall, dark God of War stood perfectly still, eyes watchful, his face revealing nothing.
"I can help them."
Kendaa stared at him, a terrible sense of inevitability beginning to uncurl its cold tentacles deep within her, but she said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
"I can even things for them, and restore those of your sisters who have been wounded - or fallen. They will prevail," he said matter-of-factly.
The tall, blonde Amazon's eyes locked with those of the God of War.
Almost in a whisper, she asked, "What's the price?"
He grinned. "No one could ever accuse you of being slow-witted, my dear Kendaa."
Ares walked slowly towards her until he was barely a foot from her.
"The price, my dear, is you. I will save your sisters. You, in return, will pledge yourself to me. Absolutely. Unconditionally. Finally and forever."
Kendaa almost visibly recoiled. After so many years of pursuit, he finally had her. And she knew it. Her face drained of colour as she stared at him in horrified silence.
"My dear, you really don't have much time left in which to make your decision. Helios has almost completed his journey," the God of War reminded the Amazon.
Now, in marked contrast to his previous calm, almost gentle tone, Ares added in a harsh, taunting voice, "Funny, I was always under the impression that your sisters actually meant something to you. Now decide! Your life for theirs. Or not, as you wish," he taunted her.
She risked one more look at the scene still playing out before them. But she already knew what her answer would be.
Her face almost as white as the snow outside the cave, she turned back to Ares, finding and holding his gaze with her own, her forest-green eyes enormous in her pale face. Her level gaze accused him.
For a long moment she stood still and tall. The pain within her at what she knew she must do was a tearing, sharp living thing.
Finally, she nodded ever so slightly and very slowly to herself, if not to the God of War.
She took a step back away from him and went to her knees.
Ares looked down at her, his own face harsh in victory.
Outside the cave the wind had risen, sending an eerie whistling sound to intrude on the chilling silence in the small cavern.
In the flickering torch light, Kendaa slowly raised her hands upwards, palms uppermost, in a gesture of both supplication and surrender.
In the lilting ancient Dorian tongue, she began to recite the vow that would bind her to the black leather-clad figure standing gazing down so intently at her. She knew it by heart; had heard so many others pledge themselves to Ares during her life. But she had never, ever thought to hear herself saying the words that would bind her to him for the rest of her life.
The dark God of War, tall, unsmiling and serious, received the vow of the Amazon warrior in cold silence.
He'd pursued her for many years; had watched her progress with interest from her ealiest years with the Amazons. When she had begun to show real promise as a warrior he'd sought her out and offered to teach her and hone her burgeoning fighting skills. She had been an outstanding student, but right from her first encounter with him had steadfastly refused to join him.
Ares understood why. He was familiar with the nature of the Dryads. The one thing a dryad prized above all else was her freedom. For a god to in any way imprison a dryad (since a mortal couldn't) or limit their freedom, was to condemn the wood nymph to death. Without their freedom, dryads withered and died.
Kendaa was half-dryad, yet Ares knew she shared that trait with her now-dead sisters of the northern kingdom. He could reach back in his mind and recall images of a young Kendaa and her sisters laughing, running wild, free and joyful through the cool green hidden depths of Mellinope's great northern forest realm. They had been magnificent. They... He viciously slammed the door to that memory, bringing himself back to the present and the warrior woman still kneeling, now silent, at his feet.
Yes, he knew how very much that vow had cost her. He also knew her loyalty to her sisters wouldn't have permitted her to do anything else. Loyalty was at once one of Kendaa's greatest strengths and weaknesses.
He reached down, grasped her hands and pulled her to her feet.
She looked up into his face, and the stark whiteness of her features served to accentuate the haunting brilliance of her gold-flecked green eyes.
Ares felt her pain, and hated himself for being responsible for it. In retaliation for the unwanted feelings of guilt, he calmly slid his hand up over the simple, unadorned gauntlet on her left forearm, and with an almost-violent snarl, tightened his grip around her forearm.
Kendaa suddenly screamed in pain and writhed, but couldn't break his hold.
When he finally released her, she was trembling. Slowly she lowered her eyes to her arm. She knew what she would see before she even saw it. There, on the inside of her left arm, was a livid red-raw scar in the shape of a sword - the mark of Ares' ownership - his lordship - over her.
It was done.
Dispassionately she gazed at Ares' brand.
It would mark her as his servant for anyone who saw it. It throbbed painfully, but at least she could try and still the inner pain. After all, there hadn't really been any other option - Ares had made sure of that. Ever-pragmatic, Kendaa shrugged inwardly and began to calm herself. She was no longer free, but she'd burn in Tartarous before she gave Ares the satisfaction of seeing how much that hurt.
She raised her eyes once more to him.
"What of my sisters?"
Ares' hand once more indicated the wall beside them.
"See for yourself."
The scene had changed. The battle was over. The Amazons - all of them - were slowly gathering themselves and their weapons together. A look of mixed wariness and bewilderment was evident on several of the faces of her friends. Around them lay the still forms of their late foes.
She was already saying her goodbyes to them. Having waited so long, Ares wouldn't delay in sending her to his army.
The scene disappeared, leaving her to face Ares once more.
"Thank you," she told him quietly.
The God of War inclined his head. "I'd do the same for any who serve me," he replied with a gracious smile.
"What is your will for me, my Lord?" She asked, schooling her voice to an evenness she was as yet far from feeling.
He moved closer. "My will for you? My dear Kendaa, you can't begin to imagine," he told her wickedly.
She said nothing, refusing to rise to his baiting. Ares smiled slightly to himself, opening his hand out invitingly to her.
"Come, take my hand," he told her softly.
Slowly her hand went out. He took it and clasped it in his own.
The Amazon woman immediately, and much to her fury, felt a tingle of awareness that rapidly spread through her entire body. It was always there, whenever he touched her. And it made her bitterly curse her own weakness.
Reality immediately changed. They were no longer in the cave. She recognised where they now were, although. Ares' bedchamber in his great northern temple.
Helios's chariot had now almost completed its daily journey across the sky, and the large bed chamber was already illuminated with the soft, gently flickering light of many candles. A pleasant, fresh scent hung in the air, not unlike that to be found in certain parts of her one-time forest home. She was sure she could detect lavender mixed in with it.
The last time she had been there, Kendaa hadn't payed much heed at all to her surroundings. This time, she glanced around. It was a suitable place of rest and relaxation for a god. Ares may have been the embodiment of the spirit of war, but he believed in creature comforts. While there was very little in the way of furniture in the room, beyond a large table adorned with a rather prosaic bowl of fruit, and a bed, it was the bed that caught her eye. It was enormous, and covered in black satin sheets, with a large fur covering the whole thing.
A finger running lightly across the back of her neck brought her attention back to her companion. Ares was looking at her, and his look sent her stomach into spasm.
"Welcome home, my beautiful, perverse Kendaa," he uttered softly.
She said nothing, but her breathing almost stopped as he stepped directly in front of her, carefully taking her left arm in his hands. With considerable gentleness, he lifted her arm and lowered his head, his lips lightly touching the wound he had just made. She would have pulled away, but his other hand moved to capture her neck and hold her in place before him.
Minutes later she sighed. The pain was ebbing from the wound.
His mouth left her arm and moved to claim her lips. As always, whenever he touched her, she began to drown in a sea of sensations.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he removed her cloak and warrior's garb, finally stepping back without a word to allow her to remove her boots. Resigned, she, equally as slowly, did so, and then stood waiting as he removed his own clothing to reveal to her gaze the glory of his body.
His eyes never left her. It was almost as if, having finally and irrevocably bound her to him, he couldn't get enough of his new acquisition.
Acquisition. Even as his arms went around her back and under her knees to lift and carry her to the bed, Kendaa thought bitterly, that's all I am to him - an acquisition. I'm not even sure he sees me as anything but a possession; that he's ever seen me as anything but something he wanted to own. And now...now he does own me. And I can't help myself. I still want him very badly.
Gently he laid her on the cool, dark sheets, and stood looking down at her, dark eyes slowly moving over her in pleasure. She is beautiful. And she's mine - finally. I always knew it would feel this good. She may be furious right now, but when she's in my arms...gods, she's magnificent. She'll get over it. If she doesn't, well - I have ways of dealing with her. In the meantime - we have all night.
He moved to lie beside her.
Kendaa lay silent as his hands and lips slowly moved over her, doing things that left her body singing. With the utmost care and with utter, sensual assurance he assaulted every barrier within her. And one by one they fell.
Except for one.
He slowly moved over her and into her, and she drew her arms around him, her hands beginning to wander over his back. The feel of him joined to her was exquisite, the warm, hard chest moving against her breasts a delightful torment, the movement of his muscles beneath her hands pure pleasure. Of their own volition, her hands wandered to his head and her fingers embedded themselves greedily in his thick, wavy hair.
They began moving slowly and in unison, tongue moist and teasing against her open lips and then sliding sensuously into her mouth; his hands roving over her warm back, holding her tightly to him as they moved together.
Somewhere deep inside her a primal rhythm began to beat. As he moved within her, she moved to bring him even deeper within her, her moan at the subsequent flood of pure sensation lost beneath his mouth.
The rhythm within had started to beat out a silent, but palpable cadence that she had last felt as a young dryad girl. Then, it had been the pulse of the new sap coursing, with increasing speed and richness, through the tree in which she slept throughout the long winter months. The increased pulse of the sap had gradually brought her to a new, tingling wakefulness and awareness. Just as now, the rhythm within her began to build and increase. She gave herself to it - and to Ares; she could do nothing else.
Then he was driving harder and faster into her. Almost in unison they exploded into what seemed like the entire cosmos all at once.
Again and again that night they joined together with a passion and urgency that surprised them both.
It was as if Ares, in finally having her submit to him, couldn't get enough of the warmth and giving that was such an integral part of the half-human, half-dryad's innate sensual nature.
She was, essentially, a creature of the wild, and the pure, undiluted beauty of the Forest that had seen her birth, was also an integral part of her very essence. Ares wanted to drown in it; make it a part of him. Or become part of it. He didn't much care which.
Kendaa was moved by very different emotions and needs. Try as she might, she couldn't break the overwhelming spell of Ares' raw and rampant sensuality. It drew her unresistingly to his arms. Whenever he touched her, it was as if he started a raging, unquenchable forest fire within her.
On this particular night, she gave herself over entirely to passion, hoping desperately that it would diminish the terrible wound Ares had given her in forcing her to his service. Where once she had felt incipient affection and even the beginnings of warmth for him, now it was withering under the constraints of the chains binding her to him. He had taken her freedom from her. In time, she might have given it freely to him.
Now, she could feel herself pulling away from him. He indeed had possession of her body, her will and her loyalty, but there was a deep, hidden part of her that would now never be his.
In the early hours of the morning, when the candles burned low and the air grew chill, they slept. Kendaa's last conscious perception as she lay cradled in his arms with her head resting on his warm, hard chest, was of Ares tightening his hold around her and sighing in contentment, almost as if making certain there would be no way for her to leave him as he slept.
Ares woke to find himself alone in the bed.
Impatiently pushing the remainder of sleep from him, he sat up to scan the chamber. Kendaa was nowhere to be seen. Irritation surfaced. Where was the blasted woman? He knew her well, and knew that she wouldn't have left the Temple. Having pledged herself to him, she would not renege on her vow.
No, she had to be somewhere close by.
He left the bed, unmindful of his nakedness. He truly was a glorious sight. A god in every sense of the word. Every firm, muscular line of him magnificent. But at that moment his face was set in a scowl; he was irritable beyond measure. She should have still been in bed. It never occurred to him to ask himself why her absence bothered him.
He let his senses search.
There. She was out there - on the ledge outside the great east-facing window of his chamber. What in the name of Olympus was she doing out there?
He leaned out and looked to his left. and stared. Kendaa of the Amazons sat cross-legged on the wide ledge. She was completely naked, and her long mane of golden hair lung loose around her. Touched by the glory of Helios's newly-arisen chariot, it shone with an ethereal brightness. About her in the early morning sunlight thronged perhaps a dozen birds, all eating from the small pieces of fruit she was feeding them.
It was a stunning sight, and for several minutes Ares could only continue to stare open-mouthed.
She was smiling - a warm, lighthearted smile that unsettled the God of War no end.
"What do you think you're doing?" He rapped out more sharply than he had intended.
Immediately, the startled birds flew off, and the half-dryad turned to regard him, the smile fading to be replaced by a face carefully schooled to bland enquiry. It was the distant, impassive look of a servant facing her master.
"My Lord?"
He shook his head impatiently.
"What are you doing out there?"
Carefully she got to her feet and began to make her way back towards the window. He stepped back to allow her to climb back in.
Unheeding of her nakedness she stood quietly facing him. "I'm sorry, Lord Ares, I didn't mean to displease you," she told him in an even tone.
That angered him. His eyes narrowed. "Kendaa, if you're thinking of playing games with me, let me warn you that I'm the very last person that you should consider doing it with," he informed her nastily.
"I'm sorry, my Lord. I wasn't playing games. It's just a beautiful morning and I was enjoying the - peacefulness of this place." She said it as if peace was the last thing she had expected to find in the Temple of the God of War.
There had been nothing but respect in her tone, but it fuelled his anger. He expected no less from all his other servants, but from her... He knew only too well that she possessed a truly formidable temper when riled. And she had never, in all the time they had known each other and sparred, treated him with such courteous - and nauseating - respect.
"Get dressed!" He snapped at her, vanishing as the last word left him.
The amazon sighed, moving to a beautiful washbasin and jug that now stood on the end of the table, filled with warm scented water. Some lavender soap and a large wiping sheet sat next to it.
Kendaa was sitting, fully-dressed, on the window ledge looking reflectively down on the valley below the temple and eating an apple when the God of War reappeared. Still chewing, she rose, her face betraying nothing.
"I'm sending you from here today," he informed her without preamble.
Wiping her mouth free of juice from the apple, she bowed slightly. "As you will, my Lord." Her voice was devoid of anything except the most impassive obedience.
Gods but she was really beginning to annoy him. With an effort he reigned in his temper. If she were any more respectful, she'd be scraping her forehead on the floor in front of him. It simply wasn't her nature, and he wondered what she was up to. Even so, he chose not to delve into her thoughts. Perhaps later...if there was need. If she was planning something, she'd regret it, he'd make sure of that.
He could smell the remains of the apple juice on her lips and perversely, irritation notwithstanding, would have given much to taste it. Instead, he said, "You won't be going to my army quite yet."
That surprised her. He had her undivided attention now, although she remained silent.
"No, you're to go back to your sisters," he told her calmly, and watched her mouth fall open. Her surprise was rapidly overtaken by suspicion. It pleased him to see it in her eyes, and he smiled slightly.
Kendaa had to ask. "You're sending me back to my sisters? But..." She shook her head, at a loss for words.
His wry smile grew. "You're wondering why I'm not commanding you to join my army." He crossed his arms, black leather-clad legs slightly apart.
"It's very simple, my dear Kendaa. You'll re-join your sisters because I want you to. My reasons need not concern you. And when I want you to take your place in my army - I'll tell you."
Anger flickered in her eyes at the arrogance of his words, but she merely bowed and repeated, "As you command, Lord Ares."
He could cheerfully have hit her.
Lowering his arms to his sides, he moved to stand in front of her, his entire mien suddenly menacing. "Kendaa, I want you to know something - and to heed it well."
She waited in an attitude of polite enquiry.
His face deadly serious, he unsheathed the dagger he customarily wore at his waist. Grasping the hilt, he placed its point with great care against her throat. "You're mine now. Don't ever forget it. If you ever betray me, you'll die - by my hand, and mine alone," he told her in a soft, cold tone. "Do you understand?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes, my Lord, I understand." She knew he meant it, and knew that if she ever was unwise enough to betray him, her death would be slow and painful. He would make sure of that.
"Good." He removed the dagger and re-sheathed it. "So long as you understand me."
Kendaa drew a deep breath. "Ares - you have my vow; I've sworn myself to you. I won't betray you. What more do you want from me?" She asked him.
He smiled, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw.
"What more? Your soul, my dear. Your soul."
She looked into those dark, intent eyes. And knew without a doubt that he meant it. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. She shook her head slowly. "I can't give you that, Ares. It's the one thing I have that's mine alone."
His fingers moved to cup her chin, his face just inches from hers now. "And that, my dear, is why I want it," he whispered. "I told you once before that I would settle for nothing less than your absolute surrender to me. Surely you never doubted the God of War...?"
Forest-green eyes continued to be locked with cold, calculating chocolate-brown eyes. Kendaa remembered seeing liquid warmth in those eyes once. She smiled a little sadly and again shook her head. 'No, Ares, I've never doubted that you were a god of your word."
He inclined his head slightly. "That's very good, my dear. Don't every forget it."
He moved away to stand near the window.
"You'll go back to your sisters. When I want you, I'll send for you," he told her, his voice brusque. "Oh - and there's the small matter of your regular period of service here at the temple. I'll expect you on a regular basis."
She'd known that wouldn't be long in coming. She nodded. "Of course."
Her weapons were lying on one end of the table, so she moved to collect them, sliding her dagger into place in her boot, sheathing the sword at her back and hefting her warstaff, cloak and travel bag. She turned back to Ares, whose dark eyes had never left her, and offered a slight bow, before turning to leave his presence.
"One more thing..." Ares' voice brought her to a halt before she reached the door. She turned in enquiry.
"You're now under my protection. Anyone seeing that mark on you will know that. But should it become necessary, you're to call for me," he told her calmly.
That infuriated her. 'I can take care of myself," she retorted sharply.
Dark brows raised mockingly. "Indeed. Nevertheless, you will call my name if the need arises." He smiled a little. "As much as it galls you, my dear Kendaa, your destiny lies in my hands now. I will not see one of my finest warriors...damaged."
Without another word and with fury flashing from her eyes, she turned on her heel and left the room.
Ares laughed softly to himself before vanishing.
Two days' march south-east brought Kendaa to a quietly flowing stream and some sense of renewed inner peace. Somewhere around mid-morning she found a grassy stretch of bank beneath a large sheltering willow, and sat her cloak, travel bag and warstaff beside her while she removed her boots and soaked her feet in the cool, clear water. It was a quiet spot, not yet touched by the summer buzz of cicadas. But it was warm enough for dragonflies to dart industriously about over the water.
Occasionally an animal would come down the opposite bank to drink from the stream. She sat still and silent, engrossed in the quiet activity around her, her mind sifting through a multitude of thoughts, all of them centered around Ares.
Why had he sent her back to her sister, when he had made it abundantly clear on many occasions that he sought her for his army?
Absently she pulled her boots over dried feet. She was certain he was up to something. She was equally sure she wouldn't like whatever it was when he finally revealed his hand. She sighed, idly removing the thin leather strip that held her hair in a ponytail and braiding her hair into a long, tight plait.
Her head went up. The scent of leather - and unwashed flesh. In one lithe movement she stood, drawing her sword and turning away from the water.
There were...nine of them, at least that she could see. Dirty, unkempt - these didn't belong to any army. Renegades - brigands, then... And the look in every pair of eyes centered on her promised that she definitely wouldn't like what they had in mind for her.
Kendaa slowly made her way up the bank, her sword up and ready.
One of them, apparently the leader, grinned at her. "Now, now blondie. You just put that away. Someone could get hurt...and it won't be us," he told her in a voice full of anticipation.
The Amazon smiled slightly in response. "Want to bet on that?" The smile left her and she moved closer, her stance battle-ready.
One of them to her right drew in a sharp breath and pointed. She didn't have to look at him to know what he'd seen.
"Attilicus! She bears the mark of Ares!"
The leader, apparently Attilicus, raised his eyebrows in surprise and increased interest. "Well, well. Imagine that, finding one of Ares' whores out here all along and ripe for the taking. Put that sword down, sweetling, we'll show you how to have a good time with mortals. You don't need the God of War."
Fury began to build within her. She was almost literally seeing red. With an effort she tried to shake off the turbulent emotions; to centre herself for battle. But the rage just kept on rising; a cold and deadly thing, swirling within her. These weak, pathetic, dirty excuses for men... They'd pay for calling her Ares' whore.
She charged them without warning, the Amazon war cry ringing from her in sudden, terrifying ululation.
Again and again her sword sliced up and out. Like a fourth Erinye, she whirled to engage two of them trying to take her from behind. They both fell before her sword.
There were actually eleven of them.
Fully focussed on the nine encircling her, Kendaa had failed to see another one come up behind her, a club in his hand.
She had felled five of them when her universe exploded apart in an unbearable flash of white, after which she fell with agonising slowness into the waiting darkness.
With returning consciousness came throbbing pain. She had a splitting headache and moaned slightly.
That didn't sound right.
With an effort she opened her eyes. Awareness flooded back. Her arms were raised above her head, her wrists securely tied to a post in the middle of a dirty, cluttered tent, her ankles likewise tethered to the post. She had been gagged. Wonderful.
Directly in front of her, Attilicus sat in a chair, drinking from a mug of ale. He saw she was awake, and wiped his mouth on the already-filthy sleeve of his tunic. From the look of him, she'd been out long enough for him to have consumed quite a lot of the liquor. Kendaa's eyes rolled in disgust.
"Ah, my pretty, glad you're back with us. I wouldn't want you to miss any of what I have planned for you," he told her with a leering grin. "After all, it's not every day a woman kills five of my men."
He lost the grin. "You're going to pay again and again for that, sweetling. And after I'm done with you, it'll be my mens' turn. You'll really enjoy that," he told her viciously.
Kendaa stared stonily back at him.
Ares suddenly materialised directly between the two of them.
Attilicus shot out of his chair, which fell over behind him.
"Ares!"
The God of War turned slightly to the renegade, his eyebrows raised. "Good guess, Attilicus!" He told him mockingly.
"Been playing with one of my warriors again, I see. Will you never learn?" Ares shook his head almost sadly.
Attilicus seemed to suddenly have lost the power of speech. He was rooted to the floor with fear.
The God of War, his hand around the hilt of his sword, moved leisurely over to Kendaa.
He stood regarding her for a moment.
"And when, pray, had you intended to take them all out? Before or after they had violated you?" He enquired in a soft, mocking voice. Unable to answer, she merely glared at him.
"Next time," he told her distinctly, "call for me before it's too late."
With a careless wave of his hand, he freed her from her bonds and from the gag. There was blood in the corner of her mouth - the gag had been pulled very tight.
Certain that Ares had allowed her to be taken in order to teach her a lesson, the Amazon warrior nevertheless totally ignored the god, quickly stalking forward until she faced her late captor, rage turning her eyes the preternatural battle-ready green Ares was so used to seeing.
"I. Am," she started, punctuating the words with a vicious punch to the renegade's stomach, which almost doubled him over.
"Not." she continued, bringing her knee up sharply and driving it into his groin, the air completely leaving his lungs as he groaned in terrible pain.
"Ares'. WHORE!" She finished through gritted teeth, punching him hard on the jaw, and sending him to lie moaning on the ground at her feet.
"Feel better now?" A soft, ironic voice enquired near her ear. Still enraged, she could only look at him. But the attention of the God of War was now focused on the mercenary struggling to get to his feet.
"Attilicus, you really are a fool. You've been warned before that renegades don't last long. Especially not against me," Ares told him, his voice cold.
Attilicus's voice held real fear now. "Lord Ares, we didn't know she was one of your favourites! I swear this won't happen again," he told the god, his words coming out in a rush. Then his eyes widened as Ares drew his sword.
"No, it won't," the God of War agreed in a calm, deadly voice, before driving his sword into Attilicus, his teeth bared in a guttural snarl of rage.
Kendaa watched as Ares calmly withdrew his blodied sword from the dead mercenary at his feet. Her own rage was slowly leaving her.
Ares stepped over Attilicus's body, a smile on his face now.
"You were magnificent when you were fighting them, my dear Kendaa. It pleases me to see you finally giving yourself up to my spirit in you, my sweet. Feels good, doesn't it?" He asked her, his voice a low husk of seduction.
The Amazon drew her breath in sharply. Oh gods, is that what it was? Is he possessing my soul? Will I turn into a ruthless, cold-hearted killer like Xena once was? She was badly shaken.
With an effort, she stilled herself. "No, Ares, I won't let you," she told him in a low, determined voice.
The God of War merely continued to smile confidently. "It's too late, my dear. It's already happening," he told her with maddening assurance. "And there's not a thing you can do to stop it."
Kendaa stared at him for a long moment. Her lord he might be, but he wouldn't have her soul. She'd find a way...
Moving to pick up her weapons, she drew the sword, knowing she still had to face several of Attilicus's men once outside. She turned to look at Ares once again. And suddenly smiled. She sheathed the sword, instead moving to pick up her warstaff. Ares merely quirked an eyebrow, stepping back to allow her to pass him and leave the tent.
Mercifully, it was over quickly - for the remainder of Attilicus's men. While the God of War silently looked on with interest, Kendaa used her staff to render them harmless, breaking several limbs in the process, and sending a few of them to lie unconscious at her feet. But not killing one.
When it was over, she turned once again to Ares. "I won't kill unless there's no other alternative," she told him calmly.
He nodded slowly, smiling slightly. "You think you can keep me at bay, but guess what? The outcome is inevitable - you see, I've already won; you just haven't recognised it yet, my dear," he told her equally as calmly.
"No, Ares. You've lost," Kendaa replied, looking him unwaveringly in the eyes, her own eyes containing something that Ares couldn't, for once, read.
Instead, he said only, "My dear Kendaa, you are a constant delight to me."
His laughter lingered after he had vanished from her sight.
She shook her head, picked up her belongings and headed out of the small glade, heading finally for home.