Chapter 3
With a blood-curdling roar, Ares lunged through the trees at Jessa, his sword slashing for her neck. Jessa screamed with rage as she dived to the side. She hit the ground rolling and once again leaped to her feet. Snatching a knife from her belt, she flipped it back over her shoulder without looking. Ares brought his sword up before his face, intercepting the knife and sending it flying into the trunk of a tree. Snarling, he charged at Jessa.
Bracing herself, Jessa raised her sword. Abruptly, Ares changed his charge into a dive, slamming into Jessa’s legs and sending her cartwheeling through the air until she crashed heavily onto the ground, knocking the breath out of her. Before she could recover, Ares took a flying leap, aiming to slam his body full onto hers. But Jessa, bending her knees, caught his descending body on her booted feet and thrust him violently to the side. Soaring through the air, Ares came to a crashing stop as his body disappeared into a thicket of brambles. Rolling to her feet, Jessa planted her feet, preparing herself as Ares, scratched and bloodied, came roaring out of the bushes, his face a mask of snarling rage. Pirouetting, Jessa’s booted heel flashed towards Ares’ bearded chin. Blurred with speed, Ares’ hand reached up, catching her by the ankle.
Holding her upside down at arm's length, he sneered as Jessa squirmed and cursed, her coppery curls sweeping the dust of the path. Jessa’s blade flashed, going for his ankles. Repeatedly bunny-hopping to avoid the flashing blade, Ares finally gave up the tactic, dropping her and jumping away. Landing with a grunt on her back, Jessa attempted to regain her feet, but Ares kicked the sword out of her hand. Throwing himself at her bodily, he crushed her under his weight, sword at her throat. Jessa, teeth bared, eyes flashing, glared at him defiantly.
Ares curled up his lip in a sneer. "Well, that was fun," he forced her chin up with the sword, "But I could have done without the thorns."
Jessa burst out laughing. Ares’ raucous laugh joined hers.
Jessa squirmed, "Okay, now get off of me you big buffoon!"
Ares arched an eyebrow. "Not yet." Setting his sword aside, he placed his hand behind her head, lifting it. "To the victor, go the spoils," he said, grinning wickedly. His mouth covered hers and he devoured her with a deep, long, passionate kiss.
After he pulled back, Jessa, somewhat winded, lifted her eyebrow and whispered, "And, oh boy, am I ever spoiled!" Ares threw back his head in laughter.
"Besides," Jessa said, "Who says you were the victor? I let you win."
Ares looked at her puzzled. Suddenly, he cried out in pain. Looking down, he saw what had pricked him – Jessa had had a knife poised at his side all along.
Ares grinned at her. "Very good! I’m impressed!"
Suddenly he cried out as Jessa pricked him again. With Ares so distracted, Jessa was able to take advantage of the situation – now Ares was on his back and she was on top, her knife pressed to Ares’ throat.
"My turn now," Jessa said, with her own wicked grin. She tossed the knife to one side and attacked his lips with sumptuous vigor.
They lost themselves in each other’s arms. Jessa’s exploring hands slid into the ‘V’ opening of his vest and Ares cupped one hand over a breast, stroking. Their kissing deepened as their passion grew. Ares pulled her hard against him. He began sliding his hands along her bare back – up beneath her jacket – reaching for the laces that tied her top. Jessa moaned in anticipation.
A hot, wet snort suddenly blasted in their ears. Startled, they looked up to find themselves with a very close-up view of a horse’s nostril. The nostril emitted another snort. Uttering cries of disgust, they scrambled out of the way, hands held up defensively against the spattering spray.
"Mystic!" Jessa scolded.
The stallion grumbled.
"So what’s your hurry?" groused Jessa, as she and Ares stood up.
Jessa, somewhat surly, said to Ares, "He says we’re not going to get anywhere at this rate."
Ares looked at her with amusement. "Oh… is that right? He said that, did he?"
Jessa shrugged her shoulders, "Yes, he did."
Ares looked at her askance, eyebrows arched, "Riggght!"
Jessa shot him a small smile. "It is true though."
Ares sighed heavily, "I suppose so," he pouted.
Laughing, Jessa took his face in her hands and gave him a loud, exaggerated smooch. "Later," she promised with a sultry look on her face. Ares brightened at this.
Jessa ran her hand down his arm to take his hand. Ares hissed with a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, I’m sorry!" Jessa said, noticing the long, bleeding scratches on his arms. "Let me take care of those."
Jessa reached into one of the saddlebags on Mystic’s back and removed a small pouch. She had Ares seat himself on the grass and she knelt down beside him. Removing a small jar from the pouch, she began smoothing salve on his scratches.
Ares flinched.
"Oh, I’m sorry!" Jessa said, giving him a kiss of apology. Jessa dabbed at another scratch. Ares flinched again. Catching on to his game, Jessa gave him another kiss anyway. And on it went, dab…kiss… dab…kiss… dab…kiss… Jessa couldn’t repress her giggles, but it wasn’t long before Ares pulled her into his lap, ending the game as the kisses became, once again, more than just a game.
When Ares finally released her, Jessa stroked his face, looking into his eyes.
"I still find it hard to believe that I’m with the ‘mighty’ Hercules," she sighed, only half-joking.
Ares pulled back and lowered his head, face rigid. Jessa missed seeing it as she returned to her ministrations. As she tended his scratches, she talked.
"I had to leave the steppe people, outcast because of what I had done – even though they understood why I did it, they could not overlook the fact that I had killed my own brother," Jessa began reflectively, "But I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.
"I thought, perhaps I would hire my sword out – become a mercenary – what else was an out-of-work warrior good for?" She smiled but it was more than a bit forced. "And I did try it for a while – a stockade guard here… a personal bodyguard there…" She shrugged her shoulders. "It just never seemed to work out – I wound up spending half my time proving myself to those who felt threatened by me because I was a woman warrior – and the other half of my time fending off those who thought my being a woman was a fringe benefit of their employment."
She paused, brushing back the hair on one side of her face, exposing her frown. "Even when I wasn’t being harassed, I was bored silly just standing around waiting for an attack that never came, or sitting on some fat idiots worthless pile of gold." She sighed, "Guess I’m just not cut out for that line of work."
Jessa leaned back on her heels, her eyes looked off to a vista only she could see. "I was used to action! To war! The screams of warriors attacking! My heart, pounding in my ears, as I rode into battle! The feeling as my sword sliced into flesh and bone! The splashing of hot blood on my arms and face!" Her eyes gleamed at the images behind her eyes.
Ares’ breathing quickened. "Yes…" he whispered hoarsely, reaching hungrily for her. Jessa turned to face him as his arms began to pull her toward him.
"But, I guess a guy like you wouldn’t understand a thing like that," she said.
Ares hesitated, but Jessa took his arms and finished wrapping them around her waist. Putting her arms around his neck, her face saddened and she lowered her eyes. "I’m a warrior… I didn’t know how to be anything else…"
She looked up again, her smile returning. "But then I heard about you. As I traveled, I heard more and more stories about you – about the things that you have done. You sounded so different from all of the other men that I had ever known! They called you ‘hero’! Hero! I thought I knew what that was – there were warriors amongst the steppe people they referred to as ‘hero’ – but it seemed to mean something different when people called you such. You battled as a warrior does, yes – but not for the same things a warrior usually does – over this scrap of land or that piece of gold – you helped people! People that couldn’t help themselves! You held to a nobler cause than warriors do.
"And I thought – could I do that? Could I become a hero too?"
Her eyes glowed passionately into Ares’. "Do you think that the Fates… maybe even the gods… have brought us together? So that you could teach me? Teach me to be a hero? Just like you?"
Ares said nothing, his back was rigid, the muscles in his jaw bunched as he clenched his teeth. Jessa didn’t notice.
She broke her gaze, looking down, but still smiling. Putting one finger through the ‘V’ of his vest, she began playing with the hair on his chest. "I do have to admit though, you’re not what I expected… what I expected a hero to be like, I mean. I thought you’d be… quieter… more laid-back… more mellow I guess. But you’re… more… I don’t know… more fierce… more intense… darker…"
Ares turned his head and studied her face. "And, is that good… or bad?"
Jessa smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Well… it is more like what I’m used to in men… after all, I grew up with warriors as my only role model for what a man should be like. But even so, you seem… even more so than any of the men I have ever known."
"Then maybe that’s what you need a man be, a warrior, not a hero – perhaps a woman like you would never be happy with anything less than a warrior."
Jessa looked at him, her face an open question, "Is a hero – less than a warrior?"
Ares could only return her gaze.
"Well, isn’t this the perfect scene of domesticity! Playing doctor are we? I think I’m going to barf!"
"Strife!" Jessa and Ares yelled simultaneously, leaping to their feet.
Looking at him dangerously from under his brow, Ares growled, "If you know what’s good for you… you’ll leave… now!"
Snatching her sword up from where it lay in the grass, Jessa stepped in front of Ares protectively.
"So, hiding behind women’s skirts these days are we ‘Hercules’?" Strife sneered derisively.
"Strife…" Ares grated out between clenched teeth.
"Let me handle this Hercules, this is between me and little Strut here. You see, I had a run-in with him yesterday before we met." Jessa waved her sword. "I sent the little godling packing to his Uncle Ares," she said scornfully.
Strife crossed his arms, "Oh, yeah…Uncle Ares…" His face brightened and he pointed a finger at Jessa. "Hey! You know what? I should introduce you two sometime – you both have so much in common!" His voice turned sneering, once again. "I’m sure you two would get along real good together!"
"Listen here you sniveling, thin-lipped, weak-chinned, pasty-faced little godling…you better get your butt into gear and clear out before I send you squealing back to Uncle Ares in worse shape than the last time!"
"Oh really… " Strife said. He looked pointedly at Ares, "Guess I wouldn’t have far to go – now would I?"
"Strife! This is your…LAST…CHANCE!" seethed Ares.
"Oh come on!" Strife had reached his limit. "Enough of this crap! Game over, Uncle Ares!"
"Strife!" Ares bellowed, lunging at him. Strife ducked behind Jessa.
"How does it feel to be played little bitch." Strife whispered caustically over Jessa’s shoulder.
Again Ares lunged. Strife continued to dance around Jessa, using her for a shield as Ares lunged after him, over and over.
"He had you going real good, didn’t he?" Strife hissed in her other ear. "‘Oh, look at me! Hercules the mighty! Hercules the hero!’"
"Knock it off Stain," Jessa barked, "You don’t really expect me to buy this load of rubbish do you?"
"Ask him then if you don’t believe me!"
"I don’t need to! Why should I believe anything you say you worthless little godling!"
"Ask him!" Strife snarled in her face.
Jessa whirled to face Ares. "What in Tartarus is he talking about?" Ares was still trying to snag Strife’s dodging form. Jessa slashed her sword down between the two, stopping them.
"Is this true?" Jessa challenged.
Ares returned Jessa’s glaring stare, but said nothing.
Jessa slapped the flat of her sword, hard, across Ares’ chest. "IS IT TRUE!"
"YES!" Ares shouted.
Jessa froze, her body numb, her face a mask of shock.
"Looks like you got to sleep with a god after all." Strife breathed sweetly in her ear. "Was it good for you?"
The vicious slap of Jessa’s hand sent Ares reeling back.
"YOU BASTARD!!"
Screaming a full-throated battle cry, Jessa lunged at Ares. Her sword cut a long slash across his neck as he twisted, trying to avoid her. Jessa’s booted heel caught him full in the face before he could recover. He flew back, slamming into a tree.
Ares shook his head, trying to clear it, as he sat on the ground. He looked up to see the point of Jessa’s sword, hovering mere inches before his eyes.
"Get up," she said, her voice low, without emotion.
"Jessa…"
"Get… UP!"
Ares rose to his feet. Jessa’s sword followed, retaining its measured distance before his eyes.
"Jessa…" Ares began again.
Jessa’s sword swung, pointing to where Ares’ sword lay in the grass. "Pick it up."
Ares didn’t move. "Jessa…" his anger was beginning to rise.
"Pick it up!" Jessa ordered.
"Oh, so that’s how it is, is it?" Ares shouted, "One minute you’re all over me, and the next you’re out for my blood?"
"You lied to me!"
"So what! So… WHAT! So I said my name was Hercules… big deal! Whatever name you use, it was still me you were with last night!"
"I thought I was with Hercules!"
"So? It was still me you poured your heart out to! It was me you kissed! It was me you made love to! What’s in a name?"
"What’s in a… you’re, Ares, the Tartarus-be-damned GOD OF WAR!"
"That’s right! That’s right! And that’s why you responded to me the way you did… that’s why you wanted me!"
"No! I didn’t know you were Ares!"
"You didn’t have to! You’re a warrior! And I’m the god of all warriors! You could feel that! You could see it in my eyes!"
"No! I didn’t see anything!"
"Yes you did! When you looked at me something…" he paused for an moment, as if realizing something for the first time, "Jessa – something… happened… between us… I felt it!"
"Ohhhhh… Uncle Ares… you’ve got it bad!"
A blazing sun streaked at Strife. He dodged it, grinning wickedly.
"No!" Jessa insisted, "Nothing happened last night!"
"Yes it did… something did happen… I felt it! I know you did too! I could see it in your eyes!"
"Oh! And just whose eyes was I looking into last night!" Jessa challenged.
Ares knew what she was driving at. "You know they were mine!"
"You, who? You, ‘Ares’? Or you, ‘Hercules’?"
"They were mine!"
"No." Jessa’s voice was cold and hard as diamonds, "The eyes I looked into last night don’t exist. They never did! They weren’t real! They were a fiction! A fiction! Last night never happened!"
"Awww… What’s this?" Strife crooned sorrowfully, "Trouble in paradise?"
Never taking her eyes off of Ares, Jessa’s sword arced over, pointing to Strife – he was casually leaning against a tree, arms crossed, a sad pout on his face.
"You’re next godling." The sword once again pointed to Ares’ sword.
"Now… pick… up… that… sword!"
Ares exploded, all control abandoned.
"Jessa! I’m a god! A god, damn it! You can’t kill me! I can’t die!"
"Maybe so," Jessa replied coolly – her sword shifted, now pointing to Ares’ chest, "But I can sure-as-Hades make you wish you could."
Ares’ face flushed red, veins protruded on his forehead and neck, and spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed at Jessa.
"Damn it all, Jessa! You’re a warrior! A warrior! And I am the god of war… the epitome of all warriors! What difference did it make if you thought I was Hercules! You have more in common with me than you do with that smarmy, goody-goody, bastard half-brother of mine! Admit it!"
He stalked toward Jessa until her sword point was pressed hard against his chest. "Admit it! Do you think Hercules… a ‘hero’," he sneered, "Would have handled that situation with your brothers like you did? Huh? Do you really think he would have slaughtered all those guards and murdered his own kin like you did!? Do you think Hercules would understand what you did? Approve of what you did?
"No!" Ares wrested the sword out of Jessa’s unresisting hand and flung it aside. He grabbed her arms in an iron grip and shoved his face, twisted with mad fury, into hers. "No! You did what you did because you are a warrior, not a hero! Warriors live by the blade, and die by the blade! A warrior’s life is nothing but killing… slaughter… blood! They live for it! I understand that! I understand you! You and I are alike! We are both warriors… You said it yourself…battle is all you know, its all you want!"
Jessa’s face was anguished. "NO! NO! Battle may be all I know, but it is not all that I am! It is not all that I am about!"
"Isn’t it? Isn’t it? When have you ever done anything that wasn’t about being a warrior? You’re not exactly the typical peasant-girl!" Ares jeered, "Some how I can’t quite picture you sitting around the home-hearth knitting little booties and making din-din for your hubby!
"When have you ever even had a home? Some place you’ve spent more than a few weeks at before marching off to the next battle? When have you ever had clothes other than battle armor? A friend that wasn’t a warrior? A lover who wasn’t a warrior? When have you even ever had any relationship with anyone who wasn’t a warrior!
"You’re a warrior through and through, Jessa… not a hero! I saw the look in your eyes… heard the lust in you voice… when you talked about being in battle! The screams… the death… the blood! That wasn’t a hero talking… it was a warrior! You’re not a hero, Jessa, you’re a warrior… you’ll never be anything else…you said it yourself - you don’t know how! Admit it, Jessa! Admit it! You’re just like me! Just like me!"
"No!" Jessa was limp in his grasp, choking on her tears.
Ares shook her, forced her again to look into his eyes. "Look at me Jessa! You know me now for what I am! Ares! God of war! Look at me now and tell me it makes any difference! Deny that anything happened last night! Tell me you don’t want me!"
Ares suddenly took her in his arms, his lips brushing hers, his eyes, burning and insistent, bore through to her soul. His voice was deep and passionate.
"Admit it Jessa! You want me! You want me!"
"No!" Jessa cried weakly, in torment.
But her eyes denied her words.
And Ares saw it.
Crushing her body against his, he kissed her, hard, demanding. He pressed her down onto the grass as his kisses covered her neck. Pushing her legs apart with one knee, he laid his body down upon her. Jessa did not resist – but tears still streamed down her cheeks.
Ares’ mouth once again reached her ear. "Jessa, I can give you the opportunity you were never given when your chieftain father died – I can make you a warlord! You have the potential… I can feel it in you!"
He pulled her harder against him, arching her back and neck, exposing more of her throat – and his kisses began their descent. He paused for a moment as his tongue explored the tender hollow where her collarbones met.
"Ah, Jessa… your fighting skills are such that few can challenge… man, or woman…"
His lips resumed their descent… down… into the hot valley between her breasts. Jessa’s sobbing began melding into moans.
"You have the fire… the passion…"
There was a brief flash of light and Ares and Jessa were suddenly both naked in the grass.
"Ares," Jessa sobbed, "Wait, please…"
If he heard her, he gave no sign. "With me at your side to guide you, to teach you – you’ll be a warlord of such magnitude the world has never seen before…"
His caressing hands and exploring mouth drove Jessa to gasping.
"Jessa, you can have the opportunity that I have offered to only one other mortal woman in all the time that gods have existed… you can rule beside me… as my Warrior Queen!"
"Ares, please stop," she cried, fighting to keep her senses. "I have to think…"
"As I take you now Jessa, know that I take you as Ares, god of war! Know that you are mine… know that you will always be mine!"
Under Ares’ hands, Jessa lost the last few shreds of her control. "Ahhh… gods help me…" she wept. She was beyond all thought now – knowing only the sensations that Ares was creating within her unresisting body.
"ARES! Enough is enough!"
"Strife!" Ares snarled, "Leave!"
"No! I let you have her first, now I want her back!"
"Leave!" Ares roared.
"No! I want her back! I demand her back!"
A screaming comet blazed through the air. It exploded on contact into a sheet of roaring flames. Strife’s body soared violently back to collide with the trunk of a massive tree, shattering it into a shower of sparks and splinters on impact – the forest shook and reverberated with the tremendous shock of sound. Strife lay on the pyre of splinters and ashes – unmoving, wisps of smoke rising slowly from his hair and clothes.
"You demand!? You demand!? You snot-nosed, impotent, little hooligan!"
Ares had released Jessa, leaping to his feet, to attack Strife. Now, when he turned back to her, he saw her running toward her horse.
"Jessa!" he called.
She vaulted onto Mystic’s back.
"Jessa!"
At break-neck speed, Jessa and Mystic disappeared down the forest trail.
With a furious, frustrated snarl, Ares – clothed only in his anger – stalked over to the smoldering pyre where Strife lay groaning. Picking the hapless god’s limp body up by the collar, Ares heaved him, destroying another tree.
Leisurely now, Ares strolled over to the bruised and bleeding body. Strife was nearly unconscious. Ares placed one bare foot on Strife’s chest. Looking coolly down at his victim, he rolled his head around, as if stretching his neck. Holding out a cupped hand, he allowed the hungry flames to slowly build.
"That’s enough, Ares!"
Startled, Ares sharply turned his head in the direction of the voice.
There, stood the figures of two men. One, tall, with long brown hair sweeping to his shoulders. His companion, a full head shorter, was blonde. Both were well-muscled, very fit.
"I said, that’s enough Ares!" the taller man repeated.
"Stay out of this!" Ares’ menacing tone brooked no argument.
But the man was not impressed. "Back off!"
"Since when do you care anything about this worthless-excuse-for-a-nephew of mine!" Ares sneered, shoving Strife from him with his foot. Strife whimpered and feebly tried to crawl away.
"What are you trying to do? Kill him?"
Ares lifted his chin haughtily, "And what if I was?"
"You know what would happen to you if you did! I’d think twice if I we’re you Ares. Is he worth it?" Zeus, the king of the gods, had issued a standing edict against any god killing another god – on pain of dire consequences.
"You know nothing about this situation!" The anger was rekindling quickly in Ares’ voice.
"What could possibly be so important that you would risk bringing the wrath of Zeus and all the other gods down on you!"
Ares’ eyes flicked, briefly, looking down the empty forest path.
"This is my business!"
"Well, I’m making it mine now, too!"
"And mine!" the blond man seconded.
"Looks like you’re outnumbered Ares." The tall man informed him calmly.
There was a feeble flash of light. Ares turned to look. Strife was gone.
"Oops!" the blond man said.
"Your turn," the tall man informed Ares.
Ares scowled, growling at the men.
"By the way, Ares," the blonde man added, "This is a new fashion statement for you, isn’t it? What is it – the new minimalist look?"
The tall man covered his smiling mouth with a hand. "Yeah," he said, "Minimalist in more ways than one."
The blonde man snickered loudly.
Ares glanced down at himself. "Hey! So it’s cold today!"
The two men exchanged glances snickering. "Riggghhht," they said in concert.
Ares roared, and the forest trembled. In a blinding flash, he was gone.
The two men exchanged glances again, still grinning.
"You realize what we just did, don’t you?" the blonde man pointed out, suddenly losing his smile, "We just helped Strife!"
"Eww, you’re right," the tall man replied with a sour look on his face, "Tell you what – I won’t tell anyone, if you won’t."
"No problem there!" his partner agreed grimacing. "You’ve got a deal."
They continued their interrupted journey down the forest trail.
"What in Tartarus do you suppose all that was about anyway?" the blonde man asked his companion, hooking his thumb back over his shoulder toward the still-smoldering, demolished trees.
"You mean a naked god of war hammering his nephew into the ground in a forest way out in the middle of nowhere?"
The blonde man shuddered, as if something slimy and cold had just crawled up his spine. "You’re right… I don’t even want to think about it."
Email: fanficbeth@aol.com