Dance of Blood

Gates 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. In only seconds, she saw images of people in torment whirling around her. Next came the smell of rotting flesh and decaying bodies. She saw plagues, disease, cancer, greed, corruption in power, ill-gotten gain, hunger, war, fighting, strife, greed, toil, misery, shame, famine, war, cruelty, death, callousness, pride, envy, sorrow, murder, paranoia, and madness until the evil overtook her, and caused her to fall into a hypnotic sleep. She was out for several minutes, but when she awoke, she looked over at the goblet, and heard a hissing voice. Destroy the goblet. She quickly grabbed the goblet with the remains of the elixir in it, and threw it against a marble column. With her thirst satisfied, she felt better, and walked out of her bedroom, and into the grand Hall of the Gods. Along with all the others, she stood watching the festivities while the sins of Hades were writhing around inside her like a snake, waiting for the right time to strike. * * * * “Come to me, Ares,” Zeus called out from his throne. With a heavy heart, Ares walked up the steps, and knelt before Zeus’ throne. “Yes, my Father.” “Ares,” Zeus said, as he picked up the Ebony Sword, and held it in both hands and extended it to him. “For your stunning victory at the Gates of Hades, I present you with this Ebony Sword.” He ceremoniously extended the sword to Ares, and Ares received it. “But because of your many sins I—” Ares knew what was coming, and said, “Name them, Father.” “What?” “I said, name them.” “So be it.” With a raised voice that seemed to echo through the Great Hall, he said, “You are guilty of the crime of—” With a loud voice, Ares interrupted him, and called out, “Wanting to live my own life? Of refusing to kill without reason? Of refusing a gift that my own father knew was not to my liking? Of refusing to sit in the company of bloodthirsty killers, and allowing them to twist my thinking until one day I will be just as twisted as they are? These are not crimes, my Father, they are signs that your son is becoming a compassionate leader such as his father used to be.” “Call it what you will,” Zeus said with tears shining in his eyes, “It is with a heavy heart—” “You don’t have to do this, Father,” Ares said quickly. “You are a god among gods. Your word is law. I am your son, and you love me. Who are you trying to impress? Is it the woman you created out of earth and water, or is there someone close to the throne that I am not aware of that is putting these ideas in your head?” “Silence!” Zeus shouted in anger, and pointed to the double doors that led to the streets of Olympus. “I hereby cast you out of Mount Olympus, never to return. Go, my son, out into the highways and byways of some harsh planet that burns you in summer, and freezes you in winter. Go and taste the bitter dregs of poverty and want. Go, and find the love of your choice, but before you do, know this. He will be a beautiful and talented specimen that will serve you the bitter wine of rejection. You will struggle to have him, but it will be a long and lonely ride. If by some chance you win him over, may you both wallow in this unnatural mating until you at last taste the bitter dregs of death.” As his father’s harsh words settled around his heart, Ares threw the Ebony Sword at Zeus’ feet, refusing another one of his father’s gifts. “Save this for your next killing machine,” he spat. “I refuse to be rewarded for the slaughter of innocent people.” With that, Ares turned and left. His strides were long and sure as he made his way through the crowd of people who quickly moved back to let him pass. Zeus watched Ares in pain. And knowing he would never see his son again, he whispered, “Wherever you go, my son, no memory of Olympus, or who you once were will plague you. You will be a stranger in a strange world, and may the God of Light and Love have mercy upon your soul.” As Ares at last walked through the doors and disappeared from Zeus’ sight, the troubled god lowered his head into his hands—and cried. * * * * As soon as Ares was out on the streets of Olympus, he noticed it was twilight, and looked into the deep purple skies where he saw an enormous planet that seemed to be resting on a bed of clouds at the edge of Olympus’ beautiful horizon. It radiated fantastic streamers of light that were a constantly changing montage of red, violet, blue, yellow, and white. Silhouetted against it was a rugged terrain of hills and valleys, and a white hawk that flew free and beautiful. The deepening sky was also dotted with smaller planets that zigzagged through the open space, their sizzling streamers cutting a wide trail through the many gaseous stars that twinkled brightly. This beautiful sight always appeared at the same time every day, and never failed to take his breath away. And then suddenly Ares could feel the power of his father’s words as they wove in and out of the atmosphere. It was then that he felt himself caught in a whirlwind, and lifted off the streets of Olympus, and into the deep purple of the sky he loved so much. As he traveled through time and space, he entered man’s mind. Among the electrons of thought, voices, and the birth of good and evil, he at last felt the crush of the atmosphere as he streaked through the velvety darkness of outer space. Small planets and asteroids whizzed by him like lightning. First one, and then the other, until he passed into Earth’s gravity where he began to plunge down, down, down. He could feel his body becoming heavy as he saw the huge planet coming closer and closer. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was falling into a world he didn’t know. Falling to his death. The harsh gust of the winds around him was such that he could hardly breathe, and felt himself going in and out of consciousness. Below him he could see lights, countryside, roads, towns, great cities, highways. And then, all at once, he saw nothing but darkness. * * * * The old man was walking along a narrow path when he heard a big sound from the sky that sounded something like a sonic boom. He stopped in his tracks, and looked up into the darkness. His eyes widened when he saw what looked like a body bursting through a tear in the sky—falling and rolling wildly, head over heels, arms outstretched and flailing, this strange creature coming closer and closer until suddenly all became silent. When he heard nothing else, he began walking again, all the while looking up, his gaze searching the sky. When he didn’t see anything, he thought he might have been hallucinating. He continued on his way home until he heard another sound. He stopped, c****d his head and listened. He thought he heard a low moan that seemed to be coming from some nearby bushes. He turned and made his way through the brush until he found a man lying in the elbow of a limb, part of the branch broken, and the leaves ripped away. He was surprised to find that the man was still alive. The stranger was almost naked except for a white tunic that exposed his muscled chest, with only one thin piece of the material looping over one shoulder. The length barely covered his briefs, and he had on golden sandals that had straps that wrapped around his legs from ankle to knee. He had a massive build, tattoos, and in other clothes could have easily been mistaken for a prize fighter. The old man knew he couldn’t leave him there, so he looked around for someone to help him, but since he was a few miles away from his village, and it was late at night, the path was empty of travelers. So, with the stranger’s help, he managed to get him back to his shack where he gave him a bed, and nourishment. “How are you feeling?” the old man asked as he put the soup down on the table next to the small, narrow cot. “Not very good,” Ares said as he rubbed his head. “My name is Dominique Mendez. Everyone calls me Dom. May I ask yours?” “I’m…” Ares frowned when his name didn’t immediately come to his mind. “I…I…I can’t seem to remember.” “Do you know where you came from?” Ares looked a bit embarrassed as he rubbed his head, and then shrugged. “I’m sorry.” “Well, that is okay. Once you get stronger, I’m sure your memory will come back. But since I need to call you something, I will call you Cato.” “Cato?” “You don’t like? It is good name. It was the name of my son. He died of a bad sickness not long after his wife died in childbirth.” “Oh…uh, I see. Well, it’s a very good name.” “Do not worry. The name will grow on you.” “But where am I?” he asked as he looked around. “You are in Argentina. The village of Los Tres.” “I’ve never heard of a planet called Argentina.” “No. Argentina is not planet, it is country.” Cato frowned as if his head were hurting. “The planet…what planet is this?” The old man looked at him strangely. “It is Earth.” “Earth,” Cato murmured. “So far away.” “Far away? From what?” Cato looked up at him. “Actually, I don’t know. I just have the feeling that my home is somewhere far away.” The old man paled. “You mean like Mars or Venus?” “Yes. Those I know, but Earth…somehow the name is unfamiliar.” The old man wondered if the young stranger was right in the head. “Well, for now, you are in Argentina. Our village may be off the beaten path, but it is very beautiful. Our modest buildings have a gothic structure, and medieval gates surround the village, keeping us safe. We have many caves, three lagoons, and our—” “Look, uh…what is your name again?” “Dom.” “Look, Dom, I’m sure your village is very nice. I just don’t feel too good right now. Do you think I could rest for a few minutes?” Dom smiled sweetly. “Of course, young man. Dom talk too much. You need rest. Tomorrow I take you out and show you my village. Yes?” Cato smiled. “I can’t wait.” Dom watched him as he nodded off to sleep, and worried about him. Who was this stranger, and did he indeed come from somewhere many light years away? After all, if he wasn’t having some wild dream this man fell at his feet from somewhere far away. He wondered if he truly couldn’t remember who he was, or if he wouldn’t say. Either way he wasn’t safe here if someone was chasing him. Dom didn’t want to bring trouble to his village. It was small and poor, and if this man’s enemies tracked him to the tiny village of Los Tres, they could destroy it. He knew no way to solve this problem but to leave. But where would they go? It must be somewhere far away. It must be a place where there are crowds of people. Many nationalities. A place they could get lost in. He could think of nowhere but—America.