XII
Arbor Mortis
‘The Tree of Death’
At the top of a snowy, wind-lashed peak, they looked down through the glens, and along the freezing rivers. Their sight weaved through forest trees and over boggy levels to see the line of horse warriors led by the Dragon.
Apollo, Far-Shooter, leaned on his great silver bow, his eyes angry and intent, the stars in them fiery and vengeful as at the beginning of all things.
Beside him, Venus stood still, her whirling blue eyes worried, uneasy. Her blond locks hovered slowly in the space about her divine person. “How could this happen?” Love said.
“We’ve seen wars before,” Apollo answered. “We will see them again.”
“But to desecrate our Lord’s sacred oak in such a way…it is unthinkable.” Love wrapped her white himation tightly about her, though she
