Greetings to my forum family:

Here is my latest endeavor as one of your scribes. I hope you enjoy this.

Love,

^-^
>b< ~ms~
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Darkfall: Part One
From the Annals of Bastet

[The nightmare continues. The unthinkable has happened. Hera has gained control of the power of Olympus. She freed Set after Moloch and Dahak killed each other trying to escape their captivity. Set is her consort now and the Olympians, her slaves. Hell is here. Death is no longer a threat but a blessing. But the Queen of Darkness will not let some die.]

The tall warrior looked up the corridor’s ramp toward the door at the other end. He checked his sword for any flaws that might make it break in battle then put on the helmet that would hopefully shield any blows. Death was really not the issue. He would welcome death, but the problem was wounds. If they were serious enough, the healing would be long and painful. No doubt she would make the process more gruesome because of his failure to win.

Hercules smiled grimly, thinking about the helmet. When did he start using such a thing? He had never worn helmets, or a breastplate for that matter, but now he was encased in metal, head, torso and shins, with his arms bare to give him freedom of movement. The heavy gate at the top of the long corridor began to rise and the warrior began his ascent into the arena. He wondered who is opponent would be and whether he would have to kill the warrior or she would show mercy today. Hera did every once in a while. He had tried to resist this appalling service but when he did, she ended up punishing the innocent. Children in some village would die of plague or fishing boat would be overturned to let that simple sailors die. She would make him watch. So the hero did his ghastly part, like the other men and women who were summoned to the arena. At least the ones who came were usually seasoned warriors. Each did their duty with grim resolve and Hera had promised it would be no more than once a month. So far she had kept her promise as the year since she had come to power dragged by.

Hercules walked out into the light of the arena, the air was beginning to have the chill of fall. He was cooled for a moment but knew that once the battle began, he’d warm up. He looked up at the gallery where the Queen of Heaven sat. Beside her sat the dark, reptile-like Set. Both had a slight smile on their faces. Around them were various parties. Some human, priests and warlords who had been loyal to her before the fall; and some were creatures from other realms, demons, apparitions of other dimensions, and dark souls who gathered around the strong power of Hera and Set.

Hercules said nothing. He looked up at the audience with a face devoid of emotion and nodded once that he was ready.

From the other gate, a man in a tunic emerged. He had a leather breastplate on with one shoulder covered with a bronze shoulder plate. Leather bracelets on both arms strengthened the wrists. He had laced boots that came half way up his calves. No greaves though. And leather strap were wrapped around his hands to help with the grip of the sword. He was shorter than the half god but had the look of a veteran. His dark hair was short, and he had the beard of a man who had been on campaign and had not had time to shave in days.

The other man knelt down on one knee, driving his sword into the sand of the arena. Hercules thought that he was going to pray but instead the soldier picked up a handful of soil. He rubbed it in his hands, smelling it briefly then dropped it all and stood up again. He wiped the rest off his hands, took his sword up, and began to walk toward the hero.

“My name is Hercules,” the taller man said as they faced each other.

“I am Corum,” the man replied.

“Corum? I once knew a dragon by the name. He was great warrior,” Hercules answered back.

The man smiled grimly. “I hope I can be the same. The fate of the cohort that I command on the island of Atlantis depends on my victory I have been told.”

“First time?” Hercules asked, turning and looking up at the gallery.

The other man did the same and nodded his reply.

“Hera, is it true that you will sacrifice this man’s soldiers if he loses?” Hercules asked. Corum turned toward him frowning.

Hera smiled, looking almost compassionate. “Ever the hero,” she said patronizingly. “Well, what will you do to fix this one, Hercules? Will you sacrifice yourself to save the soldiers of a strange land? So typical.”

“The deal was that if we come and fight,” Hercules replied, “you’ll leave the innocent alone.”

Set laughed under his breath but the sound sent a chill through both men. “There is no such thing as ‘the innocent,’” he replied.

“How would you know?” Hercules replied angrily. “You wouldn’t recognize innocence in any form, you’re so twisted up with evil.”

The other man began to look concerned. He did not want trouble more than he had. He reached out and touched Hercules on the arm. “Don’t make matters worse,” he whispered.

Hercules began to laugh to everyone’s surprise. He turned toward his opponent. “I don’t know you but I suspect that under different circumstances we would be comrades in arms. Corum, a word of advice, things can’t GET any worse.” Hercules turned back to the gallery.

“A deal, Hera?” he asked. “The two of us give you a good show and no one else gets hurt. One of us is leaving this arena on a stretcher, that should be enough for you.”

Hera giggled. It was a disgusting sound under the circumstances. “Deal,” she replied.

***********************

A woman swept into the tent of the officers of Atlantis. She had the grace and movement of a person of quality but on closer look one could tell she was not fully human. She had an elfin look like that of the Dryads. She was tall and willowy with black hair and eyes of darkest green. In her entourage, large and well armed soldiers attended her, but it was her own power that kept the enemies that glared at her in their places.

Behind a campaign desk sat the officer in charge. He was young for a man of such rank, and had a youthful face, but the thirty odd years of his life had accumulated much more hardship and battle than one man should have to endure and the look of it was evident in his hardness of his eyes. He got up slowly, hesitating to rise as a small sign of insolence. He nodded to her, straightening the protective leather straps that hung from the bottom of his breastplate. His hair was cut in the Atlantean fashion of the soldier. Very short and feathered across the forehead. He was handsome with dark hair and blue eyes. He and his officers were outfitted for war even though their enemy was beyond battles and war machines. They were ready none the less, dressed and organized in camp in a fashion which would one day in the future be rediscovered by a civilization called the Romans.

“Well,” the woman said, waving her hand. She motioned and one of her troopers brought a chair from the side of the tent. She sat down regally, looking around and the men who stared back in stony silence. She was enjoying the audience. “I am nothing if not merciful. Hera has called one of your warriors to her service. I’m sure Corum will do his part to serve the Goddess but if he loses, some of your men will die. I am doing you a favor by taking men into my service. I will take only a few and I will leave soon.” She watched the commander’s jaw tighten.

Then a flash of light startled them all. In their midst, standing between her and the commander, a tall man had materialized. The bodyguards moved to intercept and then froze as the form solidified into the dark God of War.

“You’ll take no one and leave now,” he said curtly.

The woman pursed her lips and looked up smiling. “You’re not Mommy’s equal anymore. You serve her like the rest. I want just three for my collection. They will probably die anyway. No mortal man has won yet against Hercules.”

“No duel is ever decided until one man lays down his sword and … your collection is of no consequence,” Ares replied. He crossed his arms over his chest and beginning to pace before the campaign desk of the commander. “Hera doesn’t know about your little thefts here and there and I won’t tell her, but you leave these men alone.” He stopped and looked at her. “These are soldiers under my command and I will need them for her service.” He put slight emphasis on the word “her” although it made him want to wretch. And the statement was a lie but the Dryad wouldn’t know unless she spoke to Hera and she wouldn’t. The game of intrigue that he once enjoyed so much was now maddening.

The Dryad Usurper got up and walked over to the tall man. She slid her hands up his chest and over the leather embroidery of his jacket. “Ares, my gorgeous warrior, your tone is so harsh and your eyes so cold. Can’t we kiss and make up?” She put her face up to his to kiss him on the lips.

He sighed loudly and took her hands down, pushing her away from him gently. He began to speak and then stopped, thinking again. “Just go,” he said quietly. “Please.” The word almost stuck in his throat but he had to be careful not to be too hostile as she could be a formidable enemy. He had to weigh the good of the many against the overwhelming joy of strangling the life out of her.

She pouted affectedly and ran her fingernails over the stitching along the front of his jacket. Then she let her fingers trail down his chest from his neck to his belt. “Well, all right. I’ll leave you your beauties but remember that I did you this favor!” She vanished in a blaze of light, taking her entourage with her. The aftermath had the smell of burnt flesh. One could cover evil with finery but the stench was always the same. Ares wondered if he left that smell behind when he vanished. The thought worried him for a split second then he felt the young commander at his back.

“Sir?”

“Drusas, at ease. Resume command.” Ares turned around and patted him on the shoulder. “Well, done. Keep the men calm and in order. The camp looks good. How many forward scouts do you have out right now?”

“We have a unit of six men on horseback. The surveillance is slow due to the terrain but we have a good idea of the placement of most of the enemy though we aren’t sure about what they are,” Drusas replied, showing the War God the map that had been laid out on the campaign desk. Officers closed around them as the two men looked it over.

“You haven’t seen the enemy yet?” Ares asked.

“We have not engaged them in battle yet, sir,” Drusas replied.

Ares thought for a moment. “It is my considered opinion that these creatures have come here from another dimension. I think they may have gained access to this plane without my mother’s knowledge,” he said. “Otherwise, I think, though I cannot be sure, that she would have informed me of this problem and had me intercept them. However, my sense is that they do not have any mystical powers that will not respond to the judicious use of steel.” He smiled as the officers laughed under their breaths at the joke. “I want this threat removed completely, understood?”

Drusas nodded. “Understood, sir.”

“Good. Carry on.” Ares nodded back turned to where the dryad had vanished. He sighed again and vanished

*********************

Ares materialized in his fortress. He stood alone for a moment in the great throne room. He looked down at his emblem emblazoned on the marble beneath his boots. The emblem looked so powerful. It represented both the courage and the savagery of war. It represented him. He thought about the dark turn of events. His mother had finally gotten her way. She had formed a pact with the Three but in the struggle between this dark group, Moloch and Dahak had killed each other. Ares suspected that Hera had given this conflict a little nudge as it meant that she would have only one of the Ancient Ones to contend with. Set was the weakest of the three. He had the viciousness of the snake but was too addicted to the ways of the flesh to be disciplined. Hera was able to keep him occupied.

When the conflict began, Ares had quickly surmised the gravity of the situation. The gods of Olympus had come to him for help, at least the ones that had not fled to other realms. Suddenly, as happened in times of crisis, he was the golden boy, their hero. This never lasted though but the War God didn’t mind. They came to him when their needs fit his abilities and the Lord of War Lords knew it was his duty to oblige them, not just for them but now for all the warriors who defended all the peoples of his world. It did not take a great strategist to figure out that he would need aid even beyond his own brothers and sisters. He had called out to the Ancient One, Bastet, his mentor on the spiritual journey he had undertaken. She had told him that she would be there when he needed her but so far, his petitions had gone unanswered. Ares watched and waited. One thing he had learned in the years since his apprenticeship to Bastet, and his choosing of Kendaa, his mate, was patience. He would wait for a time when the tide would turn his way, when he received the help he needed, or when there was no more hope.

The great force of nature herself was struggling to keep balance. The dark haired Zd’a had been called from another plane to usurp the throne of the dryads. It had made Gaia sick. The Queen of the Dryads, Kendaa, had relinquished her place rather than start a war that would only end in the wholesale destruction of vast tracks of land. So Kendaa had chosen to surrender her crown. Zd’a knew that the Dryad Queen would be plotting her downfall so the Usurper had the Amazon warrior and most of the Forum members, an elite group of Amazons, exiled to another plane of existence. Ares was still trying to locate them but had so far had no success.

He turned and walked out of the throne room to rally his troops. He was now no better than a commander of the guard and his own hand picked and well trained soldiers were the palace errand boys of Hera, who had moved her seat of power from Olympus to a place far in the East, a pinnacle of mountain that dwarfed any peak in Greece. She had made allies of the curious and unpredictable Eastern gods and goddesses, bringing them under her command with the power of the Ancient One.

As Ares walked out into the courtyard of his fortress, he saw soldiers readying themselves for service. Twenty or so men and women were dressed in the black and silver of the War God were checking their swords, bows and arrows, maces, whips, knives, javelins, and staffs. Ares smiled despite the gloom of his mood, there was no end to the things these wolves could use as weapons. This was half his private troop. The other half were on guard at the palace in the East.

Someone behind him cleared their throat. The War God turned to see a woman known as the Whisperer standing behind him. She was a woman of average height for an Amazon, tall for a normal woman. She had brown shoulder length hair pulled back and brown eyes. She was slender and well built, her face was pleasant with a slight smile. In short, she was the type of warrior who would blend in and be unnoticed which belied her position as Ares’ second in command.

The Whisperer gave orders which were always clearly heard but rarely spoken in more that an speaking voice and often just above a whisper, which gave her her name. She had a calmness in battle that was legendary and was an expert in most of weaponry. When she fought, she had that slight smile on her face and made each movement look effortless. To a struggling enemy, it was unnerving.

The Whisperer, or Whisper to her friends, was an Amazon who had been born and raised in the Amazon Nation but had chosen to come and join the elite troop of Ares. Ares had been pleasantly surprised when she had come to enlist, but suspected that she had left the Nation with a secret. It was unlike any Amazon to leave her sisters. She quickly rose in his ranks, and was respected by all the warriors, males and females alike. Fortunately, she and Kendaa, Ares’ Chosen, got along very well. Whatever dark past that had made the Amazon leave her Nation did not seem to interfere with her relationship with her sisters who were members of the Forum.

“Sir,” Whisper said, “the second unit is ready.”

Ares smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Good,” he answered, realizing now that he was tired. “We certainly wouldn’t want to keep our masters waiting.”

“No, that would never do,” she replied quietly. She turned and motioned to the soldiers who were now ready and next to their horses. Everyone got onto his or her mount. With a nod of the Second in Command, the unit pulled into double file. Ares mounted up on his steed as did Whisper, and the troop began to pull out. They filed out through the gate and as the last of the soldiers went through, the gate closed. Ares spurred his horse with a whistle, and the entire group went into a canter. Before them, mists of a celestial highway began to form and the horses leapt up into the mist as each of the soldiers came to it. The troop began their ascent into the sky to travel to the Palace of the Queen. Thousands of miles would be transversed in an instant. Ares could have willed them all there but he liked the excitement of the ride. The horses did not seem to notice that there was no visible ground beneath them but the troopers had a mixed reaction to being able to look down and see the land below like a distant map. In a few moments, Ares and Whisper saw the palace shining on the pinnacles of the mountain that would some day be known as the tallest peak in this plane. Below them the world was under a cover of clouds. The palace walls, made of the whitest marble veined with red, were dazzling. It would have been a truly glorious sight if it did not hold the darkest of souls.

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More, please...

Thas all. Just...

Yup, yup, yup .... MORE!

I'm hanging here!
:):):)
I'm salivating here!
More, Bastet, More!

Just love your stories Bastet - your writing is amazing:):):)

hugs
fayee

For all your responses. They keep me going. I am on the final chapters of the story.

love,

^-^
>b< ~ms~

Brilliant work.:)

on to part 2....

Lil

Could you please post me a link to the other tales in the Bastet series? I remember reading some last year I think over at Kendaa's but I don't have the link.

Thanks.

http://homepages.tig.com.au/~kendaa/Amazons.html

The last one I recall reading of her work with Calico, Kendaa, Tosh, Bastet was something where an evil God, I think it was Set, tried to seduce someone disguised as Hercules.