Harvest Moon (13 page)

Demeter regarded her in horror. “Why would you do such a thing?” she gasped. “Was it some spell? Did Hades force you?”

She saw a strange expression on her daughter's face then. One that at first she could not identify. And when she did at last, she could hardly believe her eyes, for it was pity.

“Ah, my dearest,” she cried, “if you had not eaten the pomegranate seeds you could have stayed with me, and always we should have been together. But now that you have eaten food in it, the Underworld has a claim upon you. You may not stay always with me here. Again you will have to go back and dwell in the dark places under the earth and sit upon Hades's throne.”

“I grew that pomegranate myself so that I could eat it, Mother,” the young woman said softly. “I know that you do not understand, but I love Hades. Not because of something he did to me, or some magic spell, but for himself. He is my beloved, and I am his and I could
not bear the thought of being unable to return to him.” Then her eyes filled with tears. “But now that I am here, I know I cannot bear the thought of being unable to return to you.” Her lips trembled and she managed a hesitant smile. “Can you not at least agree to share me? What you call the ‘dark places' hold so much joy for me, because they hold my lord and my love.”

And that was when Demeter realized that little Kore, her baby girl, was gone.

As egg becomes chick, which becomes a bird that must fly, as flower becomes fruit that must ripen and fall or be plucked, so Kore had become Persephone. She who was the goddess of fertility, knew this better than anyone; and though it was bitter, it was something that she had, in her heart, known would come.

Weeping, she bowed her head to the inevitable.

“As you ate seven seeds, so seven moons of the year shall you be with Hades,” she said. “And in that time, I shall mourn, and Olympia will suffer winter as other lands do. But not always you will be there. When the flowers bloom upon the earth you shall come up from the realm of darkness, and in great joy we shall go through the world together, Demeter and Persephone.”

When she said that last, Persephone's face lit up, for she had used her daughter's adult name at last. “And when I go beneath the earth again, let that be a season of plenty and rejoicing, the Harvest Moon, when all things ripen and the earth is glad, for though I go from my beloved mother, I go
to
my beloved husband.”

“So be it,” Demeter said.

 

Leo stood before the throne of Hades, already exhausted. He had literally fought his way down into the
dark god's realm, step by step, guided by Hermes, but facing every sort of obstacle that could possibly have been placed in his path. He had climbed a cliff, picked his way across a field of jagged rocks that held unexpected pockets of fire, fought a one-eyed giant, tamed a three-headed dog with the help of Hermes and had to outrun a pack of hellhounds.

And now, at last, he saw Bru for the first time in months, and he wasn't allowed to go to her or touch her. They stood before Hades and Hecate with Hermes standing between them, preventing them even from looking at each other.

Hades sat on a tall throne carved of some black material, set in the middle of a courtyard in front of an enormous building that was the twin of the one Zeus called his home up on the mountain. But here there was no sun, no blue sky, only mist overhead, and more mist drifting across the courtyard, with a twilightlike light permeating everything.

The goddess was shrouded from head to foot in black material, and held a torch. Two dogs stood on either side of her—and Leo wondered, suddenly, what was the obsession that these gods had with dogs? Athena had dogs, Apollo had dogs, Hades had hellhounds and that three-headed thing, and now Hecate had these enormous beasts whose heads came up to her chest. “You have done well, outlanders, in all the trials that we have set you, but there is one task yet you must face, before we can reward you,” Hecate said, her face absolutely still as a stone. “You must face yourselves.”

Before either of them could ask what she meant, Hades spoke.

Now, Hades was impressive. Much more so than
Zeus, to tell the truth. There was a gravity about him, and a stillness, that were quite unnerving. Like his brother, he was dark, but unlike Zeus, every movement he made was slow and deliberate. “Within you both are monsters,” Hades said, and gave Leo a penetrating look. “Your fears, your secrets, all the things you would never share with anyone, the things that will tempt you almost beyond bearing. Those monsters will take tangible form, and you must battle them—you will battle them alone, and yet bound together in faith. Leopold, you will lead the way, and Hermes will guide you. But you must never look back to see if Brunnhilde is following you. And you must never hope for her help in your battles, nor aid her in hers. These are yours to deal with alone.” He turned his gaze to Brunnhilde. “Brunnhilde, you must follow him, but you may never give him any sign that you are there, nor interfere with what he does nor how his confrontations go in any way. And you must fight your own battles, with no help from him, nor ask for any.”

Mist wreathed around Hades, emphasizing his distance. That was why Hades was more impressive than Zeus, Leo realized. Zeus was very human. Hades…wasn't.

Leo nodded; he assumed that over on the other side Bru did the same. Hades lifted his hand. “Then let the final trial begin.”

Hermes turned and walked back in the direction they had come, into the mist that had suddenly billowed up behind them; Leo averted his eyes to avoid looking at Bru, and followed.

But of all the things his imagination had pictured for him to face, the first thing that appeared out of the
mist and held up a hand to stop them was nothing he had expected.

“Leopold,” Aphrodite said, and smiled. She seemed to have an inner glow that warmed the mist around her, and the delicate swath of cloth that clung to her body seemed held there by nothing more substantial than force of will. Her hair was unbound, and tumbled down her back in impossibly silky waves. “You know, you really don't need to go through all this.” She waved her hand vaguely at Hermes and the mist, and gave him a smoldering look. Her lush sexuality left him feeling more than half stunned. “Why, after all, should you? If you were to simply give up here and now, you could come back to the Upper World and Olympia with me.”

“And why would I do that?” Leo asked after clearing his throat.

Aphrodite pouted a little. “Why wouldn't you? You don't really think you'll be able to stay with Brunnhilde, do you? You've never been a man to be contented with only one woman, so how long do you think it will take before you are bored with someone who is as much man as woman, hmm?” One delicate eyebrow arched upward. “Think about it, and be honest. You could come with me right now, you know. I like you. I know you find me alluring and hard to resist. Why keep resisting? I could show you things, couch games your barbarian never dreamed of.”

Leo felt himself growing hot and cold by turns, and his armored trews were suddenly much, much too tight. Her perfume wafted over to him, a combination of roses and musk.

“You wouldn't get immortality, of course,” Aphrodite continued. “But why would you need it if you were leav
ing her to her own devices? And what I can offer you is worth so much more.” She winked. “You wouldn't be the first mortal lover I've taken, so don't worry, I'll be gentle with you.”

His mind spun in circles as he tried to sort his thoughts out. Aphrodite was right, it was as if she had read his past, and even some of his thoughts, for he had never thought of himself as the sort to settle down with a single woman. And even when he had been trying to find himself a Princess, or at least a fabulously wealthy wife, there had always been the vague surety that there would be a mistress or two on the side…

Of course, that had been before he met Bru. Somehow, the moment that he'd seen her asleep in that circle of fire, something inside him had changed forever. Or, perhaps, the change had come earlier than that, when he had passed out expecting that he was bleeding to death from a fatal wound, and awakened discovering that the death of a gentle unicorn had given him an undeserved second chance.

“I am the goddess of love, so I should be the expert on it,” Aphrodite purred as the thin draperies she wore shifted as she moved, alternately concealing and revealing her body in ways that were far more erotic than being naked could have been. “What you mortals call love is a fleeting thing, fragile and quick to fade. Better to be honest now, come and enjoy the pleasures I offer, and we will part when we are both weary, without any vows that are impossible to keep.”

Somehow, it was that last sentence that made his thoughts stop swimming, and settle. And he had been around Aphrodite enough the last several moons to have
learned how to shake off the mesmerizing effect that her beauty and raw sexuality had on the susceptible.

“I know about you gods,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “The funny thing about you is that you're a reflection of us mortals. A bigger reflection, like one in a mirror made to distort and exaggerate, but still, just a reflection of what we are.”

Aphrodite took a small step back, blinking in confusion.

“You see, we made you. We saw you, we made up stories that we thought fit with what you were, and we
believed
in those stories so strongly that you became what we wanted you to become.” He shrugged apologetically. “So, as the goddess of love, you're basically what we mortals want you to be, and most of us, I guess, want you to be the way you are now, beautiful, sensual and…” He paused to think of a diplomatic word. “Liberal with your favors. Only a goddess could possibly be that generous. That makes you the expert on
some
kinds of love, but not all of them. If I wanted to know how to seduce someone, you would be my first choice for advice and help. But for how to stay in love with someone for a very long time? Not so much.”

Aphrodite's mouth actually fell open for a moment as she stared at him. But a moment later, her sense of humor caught up with her shock. “You're quite clever, Leopold. Perhaps not
wise,
to say such things to a goddess, but clever.”

“I wouldn't have said something like that to a god who would get angry,” he replied. “I hope you noticed that I didn't say ‘stay in love with someone forever.' I don't even know if that's possible. I'm going to try, but I am not going to make any promises that are that, well,
impulsive and inflexible. The Tradition loves those. It uses them to break people.”

Aphrodite nodded. “Well said. And you have passed your first trial. Pass on—and—good luck.”

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

She stepped aside and vanished into the mist. Hermes had been waiting for him, and now continued to lead the way.

 

When that barely clad hussy had tried to seduce Leopold right under her nose, it had taken all of Bru's self-control to keep from running up to her and shield bashing her. “Goddess of love,” was she? All well and good, she was as promiscuous as Freya, but Freya didn't go around trying to seduce other people's husbands!

Bru's hand tightened on the hilt of her sword, and she ground her teeth together.

And the way she was eyeing up Leo, like someone examining a particularly choice bit of roast she was about to devour—it just made Bru's blood boil!

And that very anger was what woke her up to the fact that this might very well be one of
her
trials, and the monster she was facing was her own jealousy.

So she stood, and seethed, and clamped her jaws shut on everything she wanted to shout, told her feet that they were not going anywhere just now, and waited.

And inside, besides the anger, she discovered a hard, cold core of fear. Because she
wasn't
anything like the lush, dark-haired Olympian beauty. Oh, she wasn't ugly, but she wasn't like
that.
Her body was muscular and hard, not soft and curved. She knew how to kill a man, but all she knew about how to please one, she had learned from Leo.

The more the woman spoke, with her dulcet voice and beguiling ways, the more her anger faded and her fear grew. She couldn't deny that most men wanted as many women as they could get. She couldn't deny that she herself was no great bargain unless you were looking for someone who could dispatch your enemies and then share a little bit of tickle-and-poke afterward.

But still, she did not move, or speak. How often had she seen her father running after some wench, and not anything Fricka could say or do would prevent him? In fact, her jealousy and railing seemed to make things worse. Whereas Freya, who actually led the Valkyria, could make virtually any male do her will in the same way that Aphrodite did. Why, she persuaded the gods to let her husband, Odr, enter Vallahalia even though he hadn't died in battle! None of the male gods, and few of the female, could resist her!

Bru was no Freya…but she was no Fricka, either. She would not rail at Leo like a fishwife. He would be himself, and though he might choose to change, she would not try to make him.

She was afraid to lose him, but if she could not keep him at her side and still be herself…had she ever really had him?

In the end, as her thoughts twisted and turned in confusion, all that she really knew was this: if she violated the terms of the trial, she
would
lose him, forever.

Just as she was about to close her eyes or look away, he said something that made Aphrodite step back a pace and blink. And both fear and jealousy fell away as she realized she had won.

At least, this time.

 

Leo could not recall a time when he had felt so battered in body and soul. He had thought that the fight to reach Hades's palace had been the hardest he had ever undertaken—harder than facing the Huntsman and Prince Desmond, harder than fighting off the Children of the Dragon's Teeth.