The War God's Woman

58. The Blacksmith's Army

When Orion next came to the café, he wasn't only flocked by admiring women. The press were there also – trying to snap his picture and get an interview. Zahira watched all this from behind the till, noticing how everyone moved around Orion as if he was a magnet. Was it ok for him to be dating someone like her? He was so out of her league it was unbelievable.

He was trying to save the world. She was just trying to get through life. This morning she'd managed to get her hair stuck to the Velcro of her jacket and then, in trying to free herself, had accidently back-handed Cesar across the jaw. The simple things of life, like getting dressed, were clearly out of her skill-set level, so why was Orion interested in her?

Orion didn't come to the counter to buy a cake. So many people were buying him deserts that he was able to sit down and allow the food to come to him. It meant that she had no reason to talk with him. Zahira hung her head, feeling disappointed.

"Hey Trouble, have you seen Jaz? I think we need more lemon cakes." Markus called to her. Zahira smiled, Cesar's nickname for her was spreading in the workplace.

"He's helping with the dishwasher." They were getting behind because of how swamped the place was. When Zahira had a gap between customers, she scurried over to help Markus with topping up.

"You're aprons undone, hold still." Markus said, retying the apron strings for her.

"Thanks." She smiled at him. 

In that moment, Zahira glanced up in Orion's direction and saw that he was looking right at them. She ducked her head quickly. Oh, no – she'd been caught staring. Her cheeks flushed. Gingerly, she took another peek. But Orion wasn't looking their way anymore. He seemed focused on what two girls were saying to him, but there was a slight frown marring his handsome features.

**

                Colour seemed to have drained from Olympus, replaced by an ugly, grey smoke. The goddess Hera craned her slender neck, trying to see more of the landscape out of her prison window. No birds flew across the sky anymore. No breeze moved the clouds. Olympus was dying.

The roar of Hephaestus' war engines filled her head and the din seemed endless. He'd created the greatest army every seen – an army of mechanical soldiers made in his secret forge. Hera closed her eyes and groaned weakly. Hephaestus had chained her wrists to the ceiling of her cell and she hung from them, her arms trembling and sweat rolling down her face. She was too old to endure this.

Weakly, Hera opened her eyes. The chains clanked as she strained to look once more out of the window. She stared up at the sky, in search of a thunderbolt. In desperation, she pinned her hopes on Zeus. If Ares could free Zeus, then the king of the gods could save her. But the din of machinery, pouring out of Olympus in an endless conveyer belt – continued on. Absent the sound of thunder and lightning.

Did Zeus still live? Despair made tears fill Hera's aged eyes. She hadn't thought that this was how the story would end between them. After thousands of years of marriage, she'd thought they'd die together. 

The prison doors abruptly slide open and a mechanical droid glided silently into the Hera's cell.

"Where is Hephaestus?" She asked. "Where is my son?"

The droid made no answer. Obeying its programming, it set about securing an anvil to both of Hera's ankles. Hera groaned horribly as the added weight wrenched at her joints.

She clung grimly onto her chains, the metal glowing hotly as she tried, yet again, to destroy them. But it was useless. These chains had been designed specifically to contain her. None of her powers could break them. "You'll tear me in half!" She wept piteously. But the droid swept from the room, its internal mechanisms whirring contentedly.

Hera scrunched her eyes shut and moaned. This was her punishment for throwing away her young baby and casting him from Olympus. The baby had grown into a man, and had returned to torment her.

"Enyalios," she breathed weakly. "Save me..."

                              Olympus stank of death. Hades stalked the sky realm and where he trod, decay consumed and lingered. But it wasn't enough. Hephaestus, the Great Blacksmith, had forged an army. And these soldiers, lacking a soul, were beyond Hades' vast grasp. He had no power, where life was absent. It was Ares' turn to take the lead in this fight. 

Ares roared, his expression feral, as he threw himself into battle. He summoned in his hand, a machine gun and let rip against the enemy droids. Bullets broke through the droid's casing, frying their circuitry. But lacking any fear, the droids continued to come against him in waves – their programming making them prepared to clamber over one another in order to reach and destroy him.

Ares moved fast, firing up at the hovering sky droids before quickly turning to blast those trying to sneak up on him from behind. But he struggled to keep up against the sheer numbers swarming him. As they closed in, Ares dropped the machine gun, allowing it dematerialise, and produced his great sword. The sword's markings glowed and Ares' amber eyes flashed as he absorbed the sword's power.

Brandishing the great sword, he spun on the spot and decimated the druids encircling him. This gave him some temporary breathing space. Ares leapt up into the air and soared high above the battlefield. The mindless droids continued to try to reach him as he launched grenades at them. The explosions spat up smoke, earth and machinery and left craters of carnage on the ground. A spinning gear sliced Ares across the cheek and a trickle of blood shone on his dirty cheek.

Ares dropped down to the ground once more. The druids fired at him but Ares was a blur – never stopping still. He conjured pickaxes in his hands and threw them at Hephaestus' soldiers. One embedded in a droid's head and hot, pressurised steam poured out.

Snow flakes spiralled from the sky and Ares cursed. Zeus' magic that kept the peak of Olympus like a tropical paradise, was failing. If Ares was going to save Olympus, he was running out of time. 

Grim-faced, Ares summoned a katana in both hands and charged at the enemy line.

"FOR OLYMPUS!" He roared, as droids slammed into him.