"Are you sure she's not the Goddess of War instead of me?" Enyo chuckled out, her bored expression turning into one of amusement. "I can see why you favored her, Enyalius. I think her tongue alone is as sharp as that sword she carries."
"I fear we've never learned how sharp that sword she has is, Enyo," Ares added with his own booming laugh.
Vatra could barely contain the fire sparking beneath her skin, raging through her veins like a wildfire amongst dead thickets. Sweat sprung to her brow. "You mock me," she said through gritted teeth. "All of you gods are the same, looking down on everyone else."
"We're not mocking you," Enyo managed through a steadying breath. She had a hand to her chest and another one gripped her reins. "We simply marvel at your... tenacity."
Enyalius remained uneasily quiet. His smug expression was pressed in the confines of a gilded helmet adorned with images of Greek warriors and horses. Wars he probably claimed were fought with the men yelling praises of his name. As if any of them knew who he was.
Focusing on those images, Vatra tuned everything else out to a hum. She even ignored Spyro's silent warnings to calm down beside her.
This was the first time in years she'd been able to face them. Vatra had spent a lifetime training with the best swordsmen and best fighters a coin could hire. Fighters the gods would envy. She was ready to face them.
So why can't I face them? she thought, realizing amongst all the rage in her bones, she was frozen with fear.
Vatra still experienced pain with every death. She felt the life drain from her each time she faced the precipice of another restart. As the three gods before her mocked her over and over, Vatra started to doubt if she wanted to choke against the air being dragged from her lungs agonizing second by second.
"I think we've frightened her," Enyo said. She pouted her lips, exaggerating how plump they already were.
Another wave of anger rekindled Vatra's plan. Even if they cut her down, at least she would make her stand.
I have Spyro this time, too. She looked over to her companion before dismounting from her horse.
In her previous attempts to face the gods, Vatra had foolishly gone off without Spyro thinking he would only slow her down. She'd learned later he was quite an asset to have in a bind, as he had been particularly gifted for a eudaemon.
The soles of her boots crunched over wet sand. Low tide had dragged out the waves away from shells and rocks that sunk beneath her weight. She ignored the skittering crabs from her movements and withdrew her sword from its sheath. The metal scraping against leather sounded like music.
"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Ares said.
Ares reached his hand behind his back and pulled loose the spear that had been dauntingly peeking out over the thick furs of his robe. The metal reflected the sunlight like the sun itself was on the beach in front of them. He gripped the spear's wooden shaft, fingers hidden behind black leather, and swung a leg over his horse. With a graceful leap, Ares was on the sand.
The breath hitched in Vatra's lungs. She wanted to face Enyalius, not his father. Ares... the god with a reputation that she knew all too well. Vatra rubbed her side as if the wound that had ended her life many years ago still existed. The god before her had killed her then, why was she so surprised he'd insist on doing it once more?
"Still standing up for your pathetic son?" Vatra spat. "He should fight his own battles for once. My fight is with Enyalius, not you."
"Your fight will always be with me," Ares said, holding the spear out in front of him. The sharp point had ended countless lives, and not just Vatra's.
YOU ARE READING
From Ashes and Dust (Book One)
Science Fiction\\COMPLETE// Book One A dead Earth. The past, forgotten along with it. There were no more gods and few supernatural beings left. Endless lives turned to a blur for the phoenix named Vatra. She'd had only one calling-dispatching out-of-control gods...