“An excellent idea.” In my Latin headspace I called to the elemental of England, Albion, and requested that he bring Diana’s various parts up out of the earth so that we may talk to her. I continued to speak to Jupiter in the other. “May I offer a suggestion that might also urge her to accept a truce?”
The Roman god of the sky nodded, and I continued: “I’ll remain out of sight and you talk to her. Please relay my offer that the Druids will speak to Gaia and take special care of the grove in which the dryads live—we will be sure the trees flourish, in other words, and their dryads along with them. I sincerely regret the unpleasantness and want to make it right, so long as I secure her pledge not to hunt me or have others seek my death.”
“Understood.” He nodded once and then asked, “What news regarding this Ragnarok business?”
“We are still in the opening moves of the chess match. I’m leaving tomorrow to try to secure a new ally—the dark elves of Svartálfheim. It’s why I wished to do this now—I’m not sure when or even if I’ll be back.”
The earth parted between us and Diana emerged, severally. I stepped back behind her head—or, I suppose, at the top of her head, where she couldn’t see me. She had an excellent view of Jupiter, though, which must have been very intimidating.
“Welcome back to the light, Diana,” he said. “I hope it will be permanent. The Druids are offering concessions and I hope you will consider carefully, because it specifically addresses the injury you claim to be fighting for.”
Diana’s confident voice contained a bite of scorn. She had not been cowed by nearly two months of solitary confinement in the darkness. Mortals would have broken in mere days, but not an Olympian. “Go on, then,” she said.
“They will protect the dryads and their groves and make sure that they flourish with the strength of Gaia. And they sincerely regret inspiring your anger. All that they ask is that you allow them to live and do not conspire against them.”
The goddess of the hunt did not answer, and Jupiter eventually had to prompt her, eyes flashing.
“Well? What say you? You go free and the dryads will be better off.”
“I … accept.”
The thunder god’s expression softened and the lightning in his eyes faded. “This pleases me. Swear to me that you will abide by the conditions of your release. You will no longer hunt the Druids and will not seek to bring them harm by any other means.”
“I swear all this in your name.”
“Good.” His eyes flicked up in my direction and I asked Albion to set Diana free. The chalky soil native to the area crumbled away, allowing Jupiter to reattach Diana’s limbs and head to her torso. From there the divine healing abilities of the Olympian immortals took over, and in minutes she was whole again. Jupiter helped her up, she brushed some dirt and dust off her arms and clothes, and then turned to see me standing there with Oberon.
She clenched her jaw and then her fists, and I immediately regretted not casting camouflage, as the mere sight of me was a clear provocation to her. Such a provocation that a cry of rage ripped loose from her throat, and she charged me barehanded. I drew Fragarach, which set off spasms of pain all down my back, tried to set myself on a gammy leg, and warned Oberon to stay out of the way.
“Diana!” Jupiter shouted. “You swore!”
She kept coming. I readied a low swing at her midsection, something she couldn’t duck. And then Diana exploded into golden ichor and organ chunks, and Oberon and I both got covered in her viscera and cut up with little pieces of bone shrapnel. A crack of thunder accompanied the explosion and explained what happened: Jupiter had obliterated her with a thunderbolt rather than see her break her word.
<Ow! Auughh! Dang it, I just had a bath!>
Oberon, do not lick any of that off! Ichor is poison to us. Let it sit and we’ll wash you as soon as we can.
Jupiter growled a few choice curses in Latin and then apologized in English. “Sorry about that. I thought she would keep to her word.”
“Blech. I thought so too.”
“I’ll deal with her on Olympus,” he said, for she would re-spawn there after a while. The Olympians had a pretty sweet immortality deal compared to most other pantheons: They really couldn’t die. Get rid of their bodies and they’d come back in new ones. Most other pantheons just got a long life in one body, and after they shuffled off their original mortal coil they could manifest every so often for short periods of time, like the Morrigan did, depending on the power they derived from their believers.
“How exactly will you do that, if I may ask?” I said, wiping golden gunk off my face. “She obviously can’t be trusted. Her word means nothing.”
“No, but she can be watched and dealt with, as you just saw.”
“And if you’re too late? If she slips past your guard? If she employs someone else to assassinate me?”