Tridyma (Pantheon Book 2) by Richard F. Weyand

Author:Richard F. Weyand [Weyand, Richard F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Weyand Associates, Inc.
Published: 2022-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

As time grew short, Ares was busy, planning the disposition of his forces. About the only thing he could control in a battle like this was where everyone was located at the start. Once it kicked off, it would be a chaotic, roiling mess, a melee of individual battles all up and down his line.

Ares met with Hecate on Amsterdam Island as her month’s hiatus – granted by Zeus – neared its end. This was their third trip to the volcanic island together. They stood on the top of the caldera’s rim, looking out to the northeast.

“We need to be on this side of the line, Ares,” Hecate said, waving her hand to the east.

“I would think that would be the worse position, given the plain there on the east side is somewhat narrower than that on the north.”

“It will give us a shorter line if we fall back. Besides that, I am preparing something of a surprise, and it will only work if they are on the northern plain.”

“Very well, Hecate. We will take the east side. That will also determine where Zeus stands when he issues his challenge.”

“Understood. Zeus knows what I am planning. He and I have already talked about it. Form your line there, Ares,” she said, pointing, “and I will give them a surprise they will not be expecting.”

“What about the mortals on the island? There are some dozen or so people here now.”

“I will take care of that.”

“All right, Hecate. We will see you again soon.”

When Ares had left, Hecate turned around to face down into the long-quiet caldera. She became the Crone, the persona in which her magic was its most potent and came easiest. Her black cape whipped in the wind over the peak, while the sun glinted off her crown.

“Come, my sleeping friend. Waken now, and hide the activities of the immortals from the eyes of mortal men.”

The Crone raised her arms and summoned the powers of the earth, sea, and sky to her, pouring them into the magma mass below the volcano. More and more power she summoned, from far and wide, to return it to the earth in the spot below her feet. Even the wind died down, as she pulled power from the very air.

Dormant for centuries, the volcano began to awaken.

The Crone fractured the rock of the caldera, a little here, a little there, as she continued to direct the powers she had summoned deep into the earth. A fumarole opened here, another there. There was a subterranean rumble, and the whole island trembled.

The fumaroles began to smoke. The smoke grew in volume, and rose up, higher and higher, until it flattened against the thermal layer above and started to spread out sideways.

The Crone cackled.

“That’s it, my friend. Spread your dark cape over the island, that the gods may carry on their affairs in secret.”

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