Warrior Rising (30 page)

"By the shaggy testes of satyrs you were right!” Venus paced back and forth across the inner chamber of Hera's Mount Olympus Temple. The Queen of the Gods' oracle swirled with images of Odysseus leading the Greeks in charge after victorious charge against the Trojans. “Athena gifted him with something more than her goddessly juices. The man is clearly invincible.”

“What did I tell you? She never takes lovers so she's completely enamored with her human plaything,” Hera said, frowning into her oracle.

“It just proves what I've been saying for eons. She's incredibly repressed and needs to loosen up. Athena should have been trysting with Odysseus on the beach for years, then this wouldn't have been such an emotional experience for her.” Venus sighed dramatically. “And you know this means there will be absolutely no reasoning with her.”

“So we were both right. What are we going to do about it? This war needs to end. Now.”

“I really hate to say it, but I think we may as well back the Greeks. Let's just get this thing over with,” Venus said, frowning into the oracle.

“So you're going to command your little modern mortal to persuade Achilles to lead his Myrmidons back into battle?”

Venus hesitated, obviously not wanting to answer her queen.

“Venus! We are in agreement. You simply must be sure Achilles leads his Myrmidons into the battle.”

“I suppose you're right,” Venus said reluctantly.

“Of course I'm right. We've already established that. Now let's just be sure all of this happens very quickly,
before
Zeus gets wind of anything. He's supposed to be staying neutral, which is why we're supposed to be staying out of it, too,” Hera said.

“But we all know his weakness for the Trojans, especially for old Priam,” Venus said.

“I know, I know, Zeus started the whole thing by supporting Laomedon against Poseidon all those years ago, though he should have never backed a mortal against the Sea God, but those two are always arguing about something and Zeus is terrible about holding a grudge. I really wish he would—”

“Hera! Wife! Where are you?”
Zeus's voice thundered throughout Olympus.

Hera jumped guiltily.

Venus rolled her eyes. “He's so demanding. And it's really rude of him to bellow across Olympus for you.”

“You think I don't know that?” Hera hurried to her oracle and waved a hand over it to clear the scene from Troy. “When
I
want
him
do you think he's ever to be found? Of course not. But let him have even the smallest need for me and his great blustering voice doesn't hesitate to search me out.”

“Perhaps I should have a word with him,” Venus offered helpfully. “You know Love has rights other immortals do not. Not even the King of Olympus is above a little marital advice.”

“No, no, no, thank you, but no. Our marriage is just fine.”

Venus looked doubtful. “Well, darling, I can tell you that you need to keep him occupied while I work my magic down there.” She made a little gesture at the now blank oracle.

“Hera!”
This time Zeus's voice was much closer.

“Yes, of course! Go. I'll take care of things here,” Hera said.

“This will help.” Venus flicked her fingers at Hera, showering the Queen of Olympus in diamond dust that soaked into her skin.

“Wh—” Hera began, then gasped as her body flushed and her nipples instantly hardened.

“Just a little lustful present from Love to her queen.” Venus winked and then disappeared.

Body tingling, Hera rushed out of her inner chamber and ran into her husband's imposing body.

“Zeus! Whatever are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”

“Sneaking! The Supreme Ruler of the Gods does not sneak! And why are you running about guiltily?” he asked, peering over her shoulder into the inner chamber she'd just left.

“I am not running, and I am certainly guilty of nothing. I was simply answering your summons in a timely manner, as any considerate wife would.”

Zeus snorted.

“Why are you bellowing for me and disturbing all of Olympus?” she countered.

“I could not find you. You weren't in our throne room. Nor were you in the gardens where you usually walk at this time of day. So I called for you. I did not bellow,” he said petulantly.

“Of course you didn't bellow,” Hera assured him, shifting her mood smoothly and smiling as she waved away the comment. “What is it you desire, my lord?”

“I've seen so little of you lately I thought you might enjoy accompanying me on a visit to the ancient world.”

Hera made a mental note to be much more visible to him—at least until this silly war was over. “As usual, you are so right, my love,” she said sweetly. “I have been far too busy lately with my divine duties.”

He gave a pleased little grunt. “Good. It is decided. You will accompany me to Troy. I hear rumblings that the Greeks have made sudden headway in the war—so sudden that there are rumors of divine interference, even though I have forbidden the Olympians to take an active role in the battle. So.” He held out his arm for her. “Let us visit Troy. Perhaps you and I can have an intimate lunch on the beach after I make quite certain no one has been disobeying me.”

Hera's stomach fluttered with panic that she quickly squelched. Drawing on the dusting of lust Venus had sprinkled into her skin, she took his arm and smiled coquettishly up at Zeus, leaning her full breast and its erect nipple against his muscular arm. “I thought you called for
me,
my lord?”

“I did,” he said, obviously trying not to be moved by his wife's unusually pliant attitude. “I thought we should go to Troy together—form a combined front.”

“Oh.” Hera pouted prettily, pursing her full pink lips and giving him a meaningful, sideways glance. “I thought you desired me for something more intimate than travel and official duties.”

“Well, I do, of course. As I said . . .” he began, and then stopped speaking as his wife lifted his hand and took his forefinger within the warm pink nest of her mouth and suckled it deeply, flicking the tip of it with her cunning tongue. “Ah, wife.” He moaned as her other hand found the hardening thunderbolt between his legs. “I have missed you, and you do please me.”

“I have just begun to please you, my lord.”

His need to travel to Troy replaced by a more immediate need, Zeus pulled his wife into his arms, and with a masterful motion transported them instantly to their bedchamber, where she did indeed please him, over and over and over. . . .

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"Patroklos, why can't you understand?” Achilles said. He'd met his cousin returning from the Greek camp and the two of them were walking side by side down the beach as they argued. “I may have a chance to change my fate, and I intend to take the chance.”

“I do understand.” Patroklos stopped and faced Achilles. “I, too, want your fate to change. But that doesn't mean you can't lead our men in battle. It simply means you need to stay away from Hector. It's only after you kill him that you're fated to die.”

Achilles shook his head. “Battle is as
simple
as chaos. Saying I simply need to stay away from one of the Trojan warriors is well and good when I'm not possessed by the berserker in the middle of the smoke and blood and confusion of battle.”

“I'll help you. All the Myrmidons will help you. We'll be sure Hector gets nowhere near you.”

Achilles smiled and cuffed Patroklos playfully. “If you intend to nursemaid me, how am I supposed to lead anyone in battle?”

Patroklos moved away and said sharply, “This is not a jesting matter.”

“Do you think I jest about my fate?”

“No.” Patroklos sighed and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Nor do I take the prophesy lightly. The last thing I want is your death, cousin.”

“But you've grown accustomed to it.” Patroklos began to protest, but Achilles cut him off. “I'd become accustomed to it, too. I was to die before I saw thirty summers, at the gates of Troy, after I killed Hector, but my name was to live on for centuries. It was the choice I made, and when I was young, glory and the immortality of my name were all I thought of. Then I grew older and understood the nature of what I'd chosen and I knew regret, but my fate was a boulder rolling down a mountainside. I could only travel with it. Then
she
came and everything began to change.”

“Yes! That is exactly my point. Everything is changed now. The goddesses plucked Katrina and Jacqueline's souls from another world, another time, and brought them here to change everything. How could they then allow your death?”

“Perhaps because I'd been foolish enough to ignore all that they sent me and blundered heedlessly back into battle?”

“Achilles, you said that today you kept the berserker from possessing you. That had to be a gift from the goddesses. Couldn't they mean for you to use it in battle? To have the ability to fight and lead us without losing yourself to the berserker?”

“My gift is Katrina. She has enabled me to withstand the berserker. And she will not be going into battle with me. Ever.” He put his hand on his cousin's shoulder. “I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I want that to be more than a short span of days.”

Exasperated, Patroklos shouted, “I love Jacqueline! But that doesn't mean I don't want to fight for the glory of Greece.”

“You would not be fighting for the glory of Greece. You would be fighting for the glory of Agamemnon.”

“That's not how history will remember this war,” Patroklos said.

“History be damned! I've had enough of living for what will or won't be said of me in the future.”

“The men need your help, Achilles. You could save lives.”

“I have saved lives,” Achilles said between gritted teeth as he stared out at the moonlit ocean. “Over and over again Agamemnon has used me to fight his battles. For once I choose to save my own life. For once I have a chance at a future I've only dreamed of. I will not throw that away—not for Agamemnon and his greed.”

“That isn't how I see it,” Patroklos said. “I wouldn't be fighting for Agamemnon. I'd be fighting for Greece.”

“If you're foolish enough to take a chance with your life and throw away the goddess-given love with which you've been gifted, then fight! I'm not stopping you.” Achilles turned and began walking away down the beach.

“The men won't follow my lead!” Patroklos shouted at his back. “They'll only follow you. I am not Achilles!”

“Would that you were!” Achilles called over his shoulder. “Then I would gladly live your long, fruitful life, and you could charge onto the battlefield with your hard head to your vainglorious death!”

Patroklos watched his cousin stride away and then he picked up a conch shell and, with a cry of frustration, hurled it into the sea. “And he calls me hardheaded,” he muttered to himself as he paced back and forth at the edge of the surf. “I don't know why he's ever bothered to wear that golden helmet. As damnably thick-skulled as he is no sword could possibly harm him.” The young warrior wanted to howl with anger. Why wouldn't Achilles see reason? Leading the Greeks one more time into battle—the final battle of the Trojan War—wouldn't cause his death. The goddesses had changed things. They certainly wouldn't allow all their efforts to be wasted. And Patroklos was truly grateful. Not only did he believe his cousin would live, but he had found the woman of his dreams. He wasn't throwing Jacqueline away by wanting to fight. He was embracing his honor. And anyway, she'd be there waiting for him. Afterward she'd bandage his wounds, and take him into her soft body and heal him.

But there would be no honorable last battle. If Achilles wasn't there to lead the Myrmidons, they wouldn't fight, and even with Odysseus's sudden brilliance on the battlefield the war would continue to drag on and on. “I do wish I was Achilles—just for one day,” Patroklos said.

“You know, darling, that's not a half-bad idea,” Venus said, as she materialized in a cloud of glittering smoke beside him.

“Goddess!” Patroklos gasped and dropped to one knee, bowing his head to her.

“Arise, Patroklos, and let me look at you.”

“Goddess?” Patroklos asked, obviously confused, but rising to his feet as she'd commanded.

“Hmm . . .” Venus walked a slow circle around the stunned warrior. “You're almost the same height and build, clearly you're related. His body is thicker, of course, and you're much blonder than he, but under armor that won't be so noticeable. Plus, I'll add a little magical this and that. Put on his helmet and the rest of this armor and no one will be able to tell the difference, especially in the heat of battle.”

“Goddess, I don't understand.” But even as he said the words, Patroklos knew what the Goddess of Love was planning, and his heart beat hard and fast with anticipation.

“Don't you, darling? You said you'd like to be Achilles so that you could lead the final charge of the Greeks against the Trojans. I believe I can give you your wish. If it is truly what you wish. Is it young Patroklos?”

Patroklos wanted to shout with triumph and instantly accept the goddess's offer, but the golden Olympians were often capricious and their whims could be dangerous and deadly. “Why do you wish to aid me, Aphrodite?”

The goddess frowned and the air around them heated, whipping fitfully against Patroklos's skin in response to her irritation. “Can you Greeks not remember that I prefer to be called Venus?”