Click for Episode LIst

Having little choice, Hera went back to Olympus, satisfied that Troy would eventually be destroyed but still irked that Zeus was taking so long to get the job done. As a result, she risked a little more mischief. Looking solemn as the other gods greeted her, she passed quickly by them until she came to Themis, the goddess of justice, who greeted Hera with a worried look and offered her a cup of nectar.

“What has Zeus done now?” asked Themis. She was well acquainted with the king of the gods, by whom she became the mother of the Fates and the Seasons, at least in their current incarnations. “Why do you look so frightened?”

“I am not frightened,” said Hera, continuing to walk and drawing Themis after her. “But I cannot deny that I am dejected. You know how rigid Zeus is once he has made up his mind. But it is foolish for us to question his will, for just recently, Zeus reminded me of how how much strong he is than all of us combined and of how little he regards our opinions on every matter.”

By this point, Hera had maneuvered close enough for Ares to overhear the conversation, just as she had planned.

“We must all prepare ourselves to accept whatever Zeus has in store for us. Take poor Ares, for example. Even now Zeus intends to forbid him to take revenge on the Trojans for the slaughter of his son, Ascalaphus, whom he has so proudly claimed as his own.”

Alexander, you will recall how Prince Deiphobos killed Ascalaphus in battle. But Ares, recovering from his wounds during a deep sleep, had not yet realized that his son was dead. The god of war, never good at restraining his anger, forgot his fear of Zeus.

“How dare my father deny me the vengeance to which I am entitled? If he orders me to do so, I will defy him, even if he blasts me with a thunderbolt, and I end up lying among the mortal dead, bathed in my own blood.”

The other gods maintained at first a shocked silence. Ares had few friends among them, but they longed for him to be quiet, for an angry Zeus was not always a Zeus who aimed his retaliations as precisely as they might have liked.

Paying no attention to them, Ares donned his immortal armor and sent his sons, Deimos and Phobos, out to yoke his horses to his chariot.

As a result of Aphrodite’s influence, the god of war had favored the Trojans, but his fallen son was Greek, a prince of Orchomenos slain by a prince of Troy. Whatever form Ares’s cruel vengeance took, its weight seemed destined to fall upon the Trojans. Even worse for them, Poseidon, who was still near the battlefield, was an ancestor of Ascalaphus on his mother’s side. Who knew what might happen if the lord of sea, already ardently anti-Trojan, heard of Ares’s vendetta. Wouldn’t Poseidon joined him in his attack?

Hera had planned well—but she had not expected Athena to intervene on the Trojan side, despite her own hatred for Troy.

The goddess of wisdom pulled Ares’s helm from his head and his shield and spear from his hands. “Have you gone mad? Didn’t you hear Hera counseling us to be patient? Zeus’s will is clear, and if you try to avenge the death of Ascalaphus, our king, our father, will forget the ongoing war and come straight to Olympus, so enraged that he may lay his hands on both the innocent and the guilty.

“Ares, you are not the only god to lose children in this war. If each of us had insisted on saving our own flesh and blood, in defiance of Zeus and perhaps even fate itself, then we would become involved in an endless war ourselves.”

That was perhaps not the best argument, as Ares might well have liked perpetual war. And Athena, one of the few goddesses who was, by choice, a childless virgin, didn’t seem like someone that Ares would be inclined to listen to.

But the gods do not always think as we do. And while Ares liked all war, he much preferred a war in which he was on the winning side. Looking at the other gods, he realized that he would get little or no help from them. As for Athena, despite their opposing personalities and the fact that they were on opposite sides in this war, she had never before given him bad advice.

Though still angry, Ares allowed Athena to lead him back to his seat. If Zeus somehow spared the murderer of Ascalaphus, there would be time enough for revenge later. For now the war god, calmed by Athena, sat down to see what would happen next.

Hera tried to conceal her frustration as best she could. Doing as Zeus had ordered her to do, she instructed Iris and Apollo to go at once to Mount Ida to meet with Zeus.

From Apollo, Hera could expect little help. As a result of the advocacy of his sister, Artemis, Apollo supported Troy and would certainly heal Hector as Zeus was going to order him to do.

Iris’s case was somewhat different. She was much more likely to agree with Hera, even though she maintained a careful public neutrality in the conflict. And the mission Zeus intended for her—to give orders to Poseidon—had so much more potential to go wrong. Poseidon hated the Trojans almost as much as Hera did. And the king of the sea was almost as quick to anger as Ares. Poseidon was also touchy about the way in which Zeus sometimes encroached on Poseidon’s management of his own domain.

Hera smiled to herself. Perhaps another blow would be struck at the Trojans—despite Zeus’s orders. And if such a thing were to happen, she would deplore it publicly even as she celebrated privately.

Two book-length retellings of Greek myths are already available in the Whispers from Olympus series.

Paid subscribers are entitled to a certain number of free ebooks. Check out how the system works here.

Subscribe now

If you prefer, you can also buy the books here.

And speaking of mythology, Gilgamesh is now available in ebook format. This book is free for all free and paid subscribers.

Claim Your Copy

Go to episode list

Trapped in someone else’s dying body, I lost the sharp physical senses of my own. But I heard a thud as it hit the floor. I also heard Amicus and Harena trying to revive me, but I knew their efforts would fail. My body, now deprived of my soul, would die quickly unless I could escape from Tyrannus’s body.

I fought off unconsciousness with difficulty and tried to think. My magic, such as it was, was tied to my mind and soul. I still had access to it, but I had no idea how to use it to break free. Animaan magic was good at counteracting demonic magic, but if it could also be used against Nexan magic, I didn’t know how.

I couldn’t do out-of-body travel right now, even if Animaan magic could normally make such a thing possible. I still had a fair idea of what was going on in Tyrannus’s body—none of which was good. But if I was to survive, I needed to find something in this dying body that could help me.

The only possibility I could think of was the human soul implanted in Tyrannus to conceal his demonic nature. It was fading as fast as the body, but if I could use the strategy of giving energy to that soul, I might revive it and keep his body from dying. That would buy me a little time, if nothing else.

But that soul was now little more than a single spark in a vast abyss that contained no kindling with which I might start a bigger blaze. Nonetheless, I reach out to it. I touched it and felt how weak it was, how unlike a normal soul. With just a little pressure I could crush it. Yet souls were supposed to be indestructible—unless the church had lied about that as well.

“Tyrannus!” I said, trying to force him into some level of awareness. “You’re dying! I need you to hear me. I need you to fight. We’ve had our differences, but I do not wish you to die. You are by nature a fighter. I need you to fight now!”

“Sharp … Sharp-Eye?”

His mental voice was like the tiniest whisper from a thousand leagues away. But it was a sign that the princeps was still with me.

“Yes, it’s me. Your soul has somehow been injured. I think I can heal it, but to increase your chances, I need your help.”

Even as I thought those words, I had to admit that I wasn’t sure of their truthfulness. But at the very least, Tyrannus’s willingness couldn’t do any harm.

“What … what’s happening?”

“Your body is dying,” I said, trying to filter out as much of my irritation and tension as possible. “And your soul is … in distress as well. Hang on to me, focus on me, and I will help you.”

I could sense his confusion. The spark that was all that was left of his soul seemed more like half a spark now. And his heartbeat was frighteningly slow. We didn’t have time to wait for him to pull himself together—if he even could.

Doing whatever the spiritual equivalent of holding onto him firmly was, I focused on pouring energy into him as well as I could. I started slowly, with a trickle. When he showed no signs of being unable to tolerate the increased energy, I gradually increased the flow.

His soul brightened and seemed less fragile. He also seemed more aware of his surroundings, though he remained silent.

By the time I gradually started reducing the flow, the soul looked healthy, and both his heartbeat and his breathing had improved.

“How did this come to pass?” he asked. “My memory is … fuzzy.”

I explained what was happen as best I could. His soul twisted impatiently in my grip.

“So you did this to save yourself, then?” His tone made the words sound like an accusation.

“Yes, it is true that I have a stake in your recovery. But I am only in this position because I was trying to save you. This is not the only time my efforts to help you have put me at risk, by the way.”

“It is your job to protect members of the imperial family,” he replied, though he sounded a bit defensive.

As we talked, a room seemed to form around us, and I saw his soul as I would see his body with my physical eyes. Based on his facial expression, I guessed that he saw me in the same way.

“It is, and I do it gladly,” I said. He looked in my general direction but didn’t meet my eyes. “Nor do I ask for your gratitude.” Though a little would certainly have been nice. “What I ask is your cooperation in eradicating the demon menace.”

He did look at me then, but his face was expressionless. I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to conceal his feelings or whether he truly had none.

Listening through his physical ears, I could hear Amicus and Harena struggling to revive me. I needed to do something to keep my own body alive until I could get back to it.

I tightened my grip on his soul, which my mind visualized as me reaching over to him and grabbling both his hands. His eyes widened in shock, and he tried to pull away.

“Don’t struggle!” I said in the most commanding tone I could muster. “And tell me where Moon-Ray is.”

“Who are you—” he began angrily.

“TELL ME!” I demanded. “We both need her help. We could both still die. Without her, the best possibility is that my body dies, and I end up being trapped inside you until you die. Is that really what you want?”

“She’s … in a cell that only I can access. There is a trap door in the center of the great hall that leads to it.”

“Good. Now stay still, and you will soon be rid of me.”

“Amicus, Harena, I’m over here,” I said, talking through his mouth. Both of them looked over, shocked. To be honest, I had shocked myself. Apparently, as long as I gripped his soul, I could control his body. The situation felt uncomfortably like possession, but I had no choice. It would take time to get him to be more cooperative—and time was one thing I didn’t have right now.

“Tyrannus, you’re—”began Amicus, his hand going reflexively to his sword hilt

“Tyrannus is here, but you’re talking to me, Sharp-Eye.” I got Tyrannus’s body up. His muscles felt a little stiff, but I could cope with that.

I walked unsteadily over to where my body lay. I could not hear heartbeat and breath sounds as I normally would. But I could still tell that my chest was barely moving.

By some miracle, Tyrannus hadn’t started struggling again. I knelt, put a hand on my own forehead, and started to feed Animaan magic into my failing body.

“Amicus, check the pulse,” I said. I forgot to sound as deferential as protocol demanded, but the princeps didn’t appear to notice.

“The pulse is getting stronger,” he replied. “What are you doing?”

“Fooling my body into thinking it still has a soul. There’s Nexan magic in Tyrannus’s body that is holding my own soul hostage there. Tyrannus has told me where to find Moon-Ray, who can probably help me. But I need to keep my body alive long enough to get to her.”

I pulled my hand back. “How is the pulse now?”

Amicus looked grim. “Slower and fainter.”

“That means I need to constantly keep feeding my body energy to preserve the effect. I probably need the skin to skin contact, though.” I tested trying to send energy from a little distance away. Amicus reported that the pulse continued to slow.

“Can you carry it?” asked Harena.

Tyrannus, though his muscles still felt a little stiff, had not neglected the exercise necessary to maintain a warrior’s body. I could lift my own body in Tyrannus’s arms without difficulty. And transmitting energy into my body worked well as long as it remained in those arms.

I had to hope that we didn’t end up in a combat situation. But otherwise, I should be fine until we reached Moon-Ray.

“All right, where is Moon-Ray?” asked Amicus.

“Tyrannus tells me that she is in a cell underneath a trap door in the great hall.”

“But that’s where we last saw the strange magic,” said Harena. I’d been so excited to finally be close to rescuing Moon-Ray—and getting her help—that I had forgotten all about that problem.

“It has never before lingered in one place,” I said. But my words sounded unconvincing, even to me.

We had no idea if the manifestations we were aware of were the only ones. And the strange magic didn’t appear to have done anything at the time we escaped it. How it would react to a failure to complete its mission, I had no idea.

“We can’t get close to that … thing!” said Tyrannus from somewhere inside my head—well, his head, actually. I felt him start to pull away from me.

Subscribe now

Click for Episode LIst

Just as the retreating Trojans reached their chariots, they were so overcome by fear that they froze, unable to complete their retreat. Hector still lay on the ground, with his friends looking on, uncertain what to do. It was at this point that Zeus awoke, and sensing disaster, looked out over the battlefield. He immediately knew something was wrong. The Trojans should not have fallen back, and Hector should not be so badly injured. Even as Zeus watched, Hector once again vomited blood—a sign that horrified his friends and moved the king of the gods toward pity.

“Hera, what have you done? For I now see that you seduced me, not out of any real desire to sleep with me, but in an effort to once again thwart my will. Do you think I cannot see Poseidon himself hiding among the Greeks, no doubt urging them on? He could never have done such a thing if you hadn’t lulled me into a false sense of security so that you could once again defy my will.

“Have you forgotten, wife, how I punished you when you and Boreas, the cold north wind, blew Heracles off course when he was supposed to return to Argos, sending him instead to the distant island of Cos? Do you not recall that I hung you from the sky with shackles of unbreakable gold, with anvils hung from your feet, and how I was deaf to the protests of any of the other gods? Or that I threw them to earth if they tried to rescue you?

“You acted then against my own son, but what you have done to Hector is much worse, so even though he is more distantly related to me, why should not your punishment be equally brutal?”

Hera was many things, but she was neither a martyr nor a fool. She immediately thought about how she could cool his wrath.

“Dearest husband, I call upon the earth, the sky, the River Styx, your sacred person, and even on our marriage bed, by which I would never perjure myself, to bear witness that Poseidon acted on his own, perhaps because he pitied the suffering of the Greeks and sought to ease it.”

Zeus, who was no fool himself—most of the time, anyway—didn’t miss the fact that Hera hadn’t actually sworn by the Styx but merely called upon it as a witness. Her wording avoided the consequences of swearing falsely upon the Underworld river. And while Zeus knew well enough that Poseidon defied him occasionally, he had no doubt that his brother must have had at least some urging on Hera’s part to act as he did. After all, Poseidon had been punished in the past as well—by being enslaved to a Trojan king, a punishment the sea god could scarcely forget when Troy filled his thoughts and he stood such a short distance from the city itself.

But Zeus also knew when to make an issue of something and when to pretend not to notice it. A major conflict among the gods would only make more distractions, and he needed to focus on Troy right now. For that reason, he pretended to be fooled by Hera’s deception.

“My queen, if you speak the truth, and if you will now support me in the council of the gods, Poseidon will quickly realize the error of his ways. To make sure that he does, go to Olympus, summon Iris, and send her to Poseidon to inform him that I have ordered him to cease his interference in the war.”

Of course, Zeus could have gone in person to command Poseidon. But I suppose he wanted Hera to do it as a test of her current state of mind. Would she obey, or would she continue her scheming?

“Also, send Apollo to heal Hector and make him once more ready for battle. Once that has been done, events will progress as they are destined to.”

“And what course will they follow?” asked Hera, for it would make it easier for her to obey Zeus’s orders if she knew that Troy would still fall.

“I have promised Thetis that I will not allow the Greeks to triumph until they have learned that they cannot win without Achilles. But unfortunately, through your machinations and those of others, the Greeks keep winning often enough to stave off defeat. So now, a renewed Hector, unimpeded, must drive the Greeks back to their ships, inflicting casualties and threatening to destroy the entire Greek army.

“Achilles is not yet ready to rejoin the battle, but when disaster comes so near, he will be moved to allow Patroclus, his cousin and closest friend, disguised in Achilles’s own armor, to rally the Greeks. Patroclus will kill many fine men, even my own son, Sarpedon, before Hector kills him. Once that happens, Achilles will finally rejoin the fray, proving his worth and fulfilling the oath that I gave his mother. After that, the Greeks, advised by Athena, will take Troy at last. But I will permit no other god to hasten that outcome.”

Ah, Alexander, if only I had heard those words when Zeus first spoke them, or at least, shortly thereafter, how much would have been different!

I wished to have my petty revenge on Agamemnon for disrespecting me, and much Greek blood had already been shed on my behalf. My conscience was uneasy. I freely admit that. I should long since have rejoined the Greeks on the battlefield, but foolish pride held me back.

Had I known that the price I would pay would be the death of my dearest friend, I would have behaved so much differently. What? Do you think destiny is to blame. As I have said before, I know there is a greater force that shapes our actions, and perhaps even those of the gods. But can its dictates be absolute and irrevocable?

I have asked this question before. Think, Alexander, think! If there is such an absolute force, then how could Zeus’s oath to my mother change its course? How could so many other events before and during the war also seem to interfere?

It is fruitless for me to ask those questions now. I should have been asking them while I sulked in my tent as my comrades died. As is often true with mortals, by the time I realized how heart-rending a price I would pay for my actions, it was too late.

The future may not be carved in stone—but the past is.

Two book-length retellings of Greek myths are already available in the Whispers from Olympus series.

Paid subscribers are entitled to a certain number of free ebooks. Check out how the system works here.

Subscribe now

If you prefer, you can also buy the books here.

And speaking of mythology, Gilgamesh is now available in ebook format. This book is free for all free and paid subscribers.

Claim Your Copy

x

Go to episode list

“Run!” I yelled. Neither Amicus nor Harena needed the urging. They were already in motion. Ironically, it was my own hesitation that nearly got us all killed.

Tyrannus still lay there, unconscious. Given the strange magic’s earlier targeting of the throne room, I suspected that the princeps would be its first target. Just leaving him would the same thing as killing him. But trying to pick him up might cause my Animaan magic to attack him. In this present condition, that could be fatal, too.

Amicus, whose battle training would have developed his ability to make decisions fast must have guessed what I was thinking. He reached down, pulled Tyrannus into his arms, and started running again.

The destructive magic, perhaps sensing us, stopped swirling around, which it had never done before, and swept straight toward us at a speed that we had no hope to match. My Animaan magic didn’t react to it at all.

I shoved my companions into the nearest shadow, then pulled them and Tyrannus through it with me. I put us as close to the portal as I could. “Get into the portal room now!”

“It’s br—” began Amicus.

“I know. Go there anyway!”

Since my magic had ripped the door off its hinges, we didn’t even have to waste time opening it. Of course, the room itself offered little protection without the door, but against magic that could ignore both doors and walls, that mattered little.

“I’m going to try to purify the portal so that you can get back to your residence unharmed.”

I knelt on the ground near the portal ring and tried to prepare myself. If I wasn’t careful, I could destroy the portal instead of repairing it. After all, I had ripped the door off its hinges instead of just breaking the demonic power within it.

“And so that you can go back, too, presumably,” said Harena, looking confused.

“You will complete your mission by bringing Tyrannus back to Audaxius. But part of my mission was to retrieve Moon-Ray. I have to stay and find her.”

“That seems like a suicide mission at this point,” said Amicus. “You are too valuable to the imperium to sacrifice yourself, even for such a worthy cause.”

I should have started my efforts to cleanse the portal, but Amicus and Harena were obviously not going to let me concentrate unless I found a way to placate them.

“It’s more like a risk than a sacrifice,” I said. “Whatever this magic is, so far, it has confined itself only to attacking people of high social rank. It slaughtered the Gemmaius family and all their guests, mostly from senatorial families, but it didn’t shed one drop of servant blood.”

“You’re a dux, not a servant,” said Amicus, watching the doorway rather than my reaction.

“I do have considerable rank—but any of the senators would tremble with rage at the very suggestion that I was their social equal.”

“Are you saying that this magic is somehow … political?” asked Harena.

“Its pattern suggests that whoever—or whatever—set it in motion definitely has an agenda, though precisely what that is, I can only speculate,” I replied. “I think that it will not target me, but even if it does, I can escape from it using shadow travel, and it does not seem capable of tracking people, or it would already have reached this room.”

“So far, your assumptions are sound,” said Amicus. “But you have forgotten one thing. You yourself suggested that Tyrannus must have an ally who summons demons for him, as his own blood would not be an appropriate sacrifice. Unless the strange magic has killed that ally, that person might still be at large in the villa. That there is no sign of that person could suggest that he isn’t in here—or it could suggest that his stealth rivals your own.”

“Besides, you might encounter security precautions on the way to find Moon-Ray,” added Harena. “You still need Amicus to disarm any traps you encounter.”

“Let us postpone this argument until later,” I said. “If I can get the portal working again, at least you have the option of leaving, should it become necessary.”

Neither of them could argue about that, so they fell silent, and I tried to concentrate—not the easiest thing, considering that Tyrannus’s confederate could be stalking us, and who knew what the strange magic might be up to. But my mind was well enough disciplined that eventually I forced myself into a more meditative state.

Focusing on removing the demonic energy without harming the underlying silver of the portal ring, I put my hand upon it and imagined it as it had been—pure, bright, and free of demonic interference. My Animaan magic flared, and demonic pollution dissolved. From what I could see of the magic, the portal would now work.

“That leaves the question—” I began.

“Which is no question at all,” replied Amicus. Despite his youth, he had taken on the air of someone who is not used to being contradicted. Even his father would not have sounded much more commanding. “We will remain to help you find Moon-Ray. We know the layout of the villa much better than you do.”

“And if the past offers us any clue, the strange magic is now gone,” said Harena.

“We don’t know a great deal about it,” I replied. “It has attacked only a couple of times before, with inconsistent results. The first time, it killed hundred, the second time it destroyed three thrones. This time, well, we don’t even know what it did. It may have done nothing at all. I don’t know if the past offers us any guidance.

“But that is a discussion for another time. Right now, we need to find Moon-Ray.” It was clear that Amicus and Harena weren’t going to budge, so I might as well make use of them. “Where might she be held?”

“Unlike the palace, there are no prison cells here,” said Amicus. “Tyrannus would have to have constructed something for the purpose.”

“Or she is under a sleep spell in one of the bedrooms,” said Harena.

We could do a room-by-room search, but I wanted to get Amicus and Harena out of here as soon as I could. Just the little part of the villa that we’d walked through before suggested that the building was much larger than a typical villa.

I glanced over at Tyrannus, who was still unconscious. “He knows where she is.”

“He knew where she is,” said Amicus. “Is there anything left of his mind?”

”I’m not a Mensan,” I said. “But my Animaan magic tells me the demon is only a shadow of its former self. His human soul seems to be fading. But I might be able to use Animaan magic to restore the human part.”

“I though you wanted to keep us safe,” said Harena, her eyes narrowing.

“I’ve been thinking about Tyrannus. There is risk in trying revive him. I’m not sure how his demon and his human soul are connected. But strengthening his soul might well restore him to consciousness without reviving his inner demon. And if his inner demon does revive, my Animaan magic can put it down again.

Both Amicus and Harena looked restless, though neither of them said anything.

“He was bred for an evil purpose, but as far as I can tell, his human soul is weak, not corrupted. And he did not wish to be as he is. He did not even know what he was until recently.”

“Try,” said Amicus. “But stop at the first sign of trouble.”

I couldn’t argue with that order. That was the very way my own instincts tended. I knelt next to Tyrannus, whose breathing and heartbeat were even weaker than before. I’d seen mortally wounded soldiers whose life signs were more robust than his.

Though I wasn’t a Vitaan, I had no doubt that he was dying.

I reached out with my Animaan magic as gently as I could. Luckily, it didn’t seem inclined to attack what was left of his inner demon. Perhaps the random remaining bits, by themselves, posed no threat.

I touched his soul, which did not respond. Focusing as intently as I could, I tried to will whatever energy I had into the soul. But the soul didn’t seem to want to receive it. Perhaps what I sought to do was impossible. But some instinct I hadn’t been aware of before pushed me to keep trying.

As I dove deeper into Tyrannus, my Animaan magic became restless, but I did what I could to compel it to accept my guidance. Tyrannus’s body shuddered at this point, but his heart continued to slow down. I didn’t have much longer.

At that moment, some other magic dug into me like claws. I tried to scream, but my mouth didn’t even open. I tried to use my Animaan magic to repel the threat, but what gripped me was evidently not demonic, and my magic churned around, confused about what to do next.

Too late, I realized that I’d fallen into a trap. As it died, Tyrannus’s inner demon must have managed to imitate Nexan death magic well enough to fool my Animaan power, at least for a short time. That magic lay dormant until I reached a certain point, masked by my inexperience and Tyrannus’s own nearness to death. Then it struck, binding me to Tyrannus’s dying body. If I couldn’t get out of it quickly, I would die when he did.

Subscribe now

Part List

I had intended this post to be two or three posts, but during the actual filming of the movie, the process pretty much swallowed me up, and it took me a while to recover afterward. so this may be only one post. We’ll see. I’ll follow up later as significant things happen in post production and distribution.

I mentioned before that making a microbudget movie has hundreds of moving parts, any one of which can break, threatening the whole movie in the process. It is for this reason that one needs to have nerves of steel to get all the way through the process.

Below is a partial list of things that came near breaking and how they were saved:

• Neither the director nor I realized that hotel rates and air travel became more expensive in and around the July 4th weekend—enough more expensive that the change could break the budget. Our original shooting dates began in June 30 and included the ill-fated weekend. Moving a shoot, however, requires that all the actors and the venues can accommodate the change. Luckily, they could, though it took quite a bit of time on the director’s part (and one additional schedule change after the first one) to get everything squared away.

• Recruiting background actors (otherwise known as extras) became something like a trip through the seventh circle of hell. What can I say? When I was a teacher, I had a lot of students who were aspiring actors and would have killed to get a dog food commercial—even if they had to play the dog. Working in a feature film, even a low-budget one and even as an extra, would have been a dream come true for them. For some reason, the local high school students, whom we needed for the high school scenes, weren’t particularly interested. Between our audition process and the work of our local associate producer, we got four. Needless to say, four does not a coming-to-school crowd make. We were also low on adult extras, though the first assistant director had some lined up. So we turned to Backstage and got enough to make the movie work. The first day went well. The second day, a large number of extras no-showed, many without advanced notice. And predominately, they were guys. I panicked at that point. Fortunately, the director is a genius at making a small group, filmed from various angles and with a wardrobe change thrown in, look like more people than it is. A few minor script changes created an explanation for the comparative absence of guys. The solution was not ideal, but as far as I can tell, it will work.

• Owing to a communication problem, we lost a bit player—and her house, where her scene and related scenes were to be filmed, less than twenty-four hours beforehand. Fortunately, the first assistant director polled the extras and got a house we could use. It also came with the extra’s mom, who filled in for the actress we lost. That will be her first movie appearance. Unlike the no-show extras, she was actually excited about to be in the movie.

• The restaurant we were supposed to use realized that the shooting day was Father’s Day, and unlike other Sundays, they would be open. Down goes another venue. By some miracle, the director found another one in the area willing to take us at the last minute.

• An outdoor night scene nearly got rained out. With a few minor script revisions, we were able to shift the scene indoors.

Keep in mind that the filming was going on in Ohio while I was in Los Angeles, so I heard about some of the problems only after they’d been solved—fortunately for my nervous system.

I don’t want to give the impression that the overall experience was negative. Despite a few pulse-pounding moments, watching the process was fascinating and delightful. How did I watch it from California? That’s thanks to the ingenuity of Troy Bakewell, the director. When he learned I couldn’t make it to Ohio, he started plotting how to enable me to watch remotely. He ended creating a Twitch feed, open for the first time on the third day of filming. Originally, it had only one of the camera feeds and camera audio. It quickly evolved into a setup with all three camera feeds and audio from the “sound bag” (which includes all audio inputs, including the ones from the actors’ microphones)—much better sound quality. I wish I had screen-captured the Twitch screen for you to see what the view was like.

In any case, being able to watch and listen also gave me the ability to contribute. Troy had his phone on vibrate, and I could call in between scenes and ask questions or make suggestions. Big problems would normally be caught by someone at the scene, but I did notice some little ones that I brought to Troy’s attention and got corrected.

Not quite as good as being there, but very much better than nothing.

Since one picture is worth a thousand words, here are a few shots taken by Dan Rinnert, the associate producer, on the two days before I could see on my own.

The last shot is a partial view of “video village,” from which someone (often the first assistant director) monitors all three camera feeds and audio all at once. I never knew such a thing existed, but it’s critical to catch problems (like an errant reflection or shadow) so that a scene can be reshot if needed. All three feeds must be high quality because the final film will draw pieces from all three.

Once I was properly connected, I could also see all three camera feeds as separate squares (with the third camera displayed twice because Twitch only accommodates one, two, or four cameras). I could also see through all three cameras during the time between takes and hear the conversations. And yeah, that does sound creepy, but it did give me a chance to come as close to being there as possible. Without that, I would never have known, for example, that Phi does a little dance each time a scene is finished or that some of the actors sang together between takes.

I was fortunate to virtually work with such great people (production staff, crew, and actors). If you ever like this, grab it with both hands!

I’ll post again whenever something significant happens in post production—and, of course, once the movie is released, at which time, I will probably have to fight the urge to talk incessantly about it.)

Want to read the source material before the movie comes out? The novella, The Devil Hath the Power, is now the prologue in Haunted by the Devil. You can get it and the two following novels by clicking the button below.

Check out the Soul Salvager Series Here

Some of the same characters also appear in Madisonville Murder (which takes place chronologically right after the action in the movie).

Subscribers are also entitled to a free ebook copy of this serial (among other things), so why not

Subscribe now

It did not take Hera long to spring her trap. As soon as she arrived at the summit of Mount Ida, she went to inform Zeus of her fictitious trip to reconcile Oceanus and Tethys—the very same lie that she had told Aphrodite.

Zeus, overwhelmed by the beauty of Hera, amplified by the belt of Aphrodite, was at once consumed by an overpowering desire to make love to his wife. “You shall go to Oceanus and Tethys … later,” he told her. “For I desire you now more than I have ever desired any woman or even any goddess.”

He could have stopped at that point. He should have stopped at that point. Instead, he felt the need to compare her specifically to others, reminding her in the process just how often he had proved himself unfaithful to their marriage vows.

“I desire you more than Danae, more than Europa, more than Alcmene, more than Leto, more than Demeter, more even than I desired you when we were young, and love first gripped me. Lay with me now, and do your errands later.”

“Son of Cronus, what is it that you ask of me?” she replied, feigning reluctance. “For if we lie together on this mountaintop, some other god is sure to see us and tell the others, after which I will not be able to show my face on Olympus.”

“Fear not,” replied Zeus, reaching out for her. “For I will conceal us in a golden cloud through which no god may see, not even Helios, who has the sharpest sight of them all.”

This was, of course, precisely what Hera wanted him to do. Hidden beneath a cloud of his own making, no pro-Trojan god would be able to find him in time to save the Trojans. No, the pro-Greek gods must have free reign until the forces of Troy faced utter ruin.

Zeus conjured the golden cloud, which watered the ground with dew. From that ground, rocky though it was, grew tall, green grass. Lotuses, crocuses, and hyacinths all bloomed. The mountaintop was now a comfortable place to lie.

Zeus took Hera in his arms, but he would not have the epic session of lovemaking that he so intensely desire. For at that moment, Hypnos, standing by, invisible even to the keen eyes of Zeus, plunged him into a deep sleep. Hera stayed with Zeus to distract him just in case he awoke. Hypnos flew down to the plains near Troy, where he told Poseidon that Zeus would no longer constrain the lord of the sea if he acted fast enough. His errand fulfilled, Hypnos sped back to the comforting darkness of the Underworld.

Poseidon, no longer troubling to work through mortals or even to disguise himself as one, cried out to the Greeks, urging them to arm themselves and strike now, for if they did so, they would be victorious, even without me fighting beside them. He also gave them a strategy tip that they quickly followed—to be sure that the best fighters also had the best weapons, for it was they, rather than the worst fighters, who would lead the army to victory.

Diomedes, Odysseus and Agamemnon, despite their wounds, joined those few leaders who remained unwounded as they rallied the men. In a remarkably short time, the Greek army was on the march, this time with Poseidon himself at its head. In his hand, he grasped his famous trident, flashing brightly as the lightning of Zeus. It could raise storms at sea or produce earthquakes on land. But Poseidon brandished it more to inspire terror than anything else. Even with Zeus asleep, the lord of the sea was not so bold as to slaughter the entire Trojan army with a weapon against which they had no defense. Nor did he wish to rob the Greeks of all the glory the next battle would produce.

Hector, realizing belatedly that Zeus’s attention had been elsewhere for some time, rallied his troops. They had pushed so close to the Greek ships, and the Greeks must be nearing exhaustion. Surely, they would not survive another determined Trojan assault.

When the troops came together, they clashed with a roar louder than that of the sea. Poseidon, having inspired the Greeks as much as he could, stepped aside as the fury for battle burned around him with the intensity of a forest fire. The Greeks might well win this battle without the need for further intervention on his part.

Hector spotted Ajax and, reasoning that taking Ajax down would quickly diminish Greek morale. cast his spear at him, but it bounced off Ajax’s armor without scratching or bruising the great Greek warrior. As the Greeks surged forward, Hector tried to pull back, but before he could get out of range, Ajax hurled a large stone at him. It struck Hector just below his neck but above his armor line. Like a mighty oak felled by the lightning of Zeus, Hector fell to the ground with a resounding clash, raising a dust cloud as he did so.

Thus did one stone dash the Trojan hopes of an easy victory. But they didn’t panic. Some of their greatest warriors, including Polydamas, Aeneas, Agenor, Sarpedon, and Glaucus, formed a shield wall in front of Hector to prevent further strikes. The troops behind them surged up like the river Xanthus in full flood, pulling Hector away from the Greek frontline before it was too late.

The Trojans had meant to carry him all the way back to Troy, but when they reached the bank of the Xanthus, they paused so that they could pour cold water on him in an effort to revive him.

He did indeed become conscious again, but only long enough to vomit dark blood onto the ground before falling over, his body and spirit both profoundly shaken by Ajax’s blow. The Trojans could hope for no further help from him in this battle.

The Greeks, seeing Hector carried away, were inspired to inflict even great harm upon the gradually withdrawing Trojans. Ajax struck first, killing Satnius, the son of a Trojan and a Naiad, with a single sword thrust. Even his divine mother could not save him from such a swift attack. But his fall precipitated a fight over his body—not the best strategic choice for either side.

Polydamas killed a Greek and mocked his friends. Ajax responded with a spear throw which missed its target but fatally wounded Archelocus, son of the noble Antenor. The blow struck him between head and neck, severing his spine in dropping him to the ground. His brother Acamas ran to his body in time to spear the Greek, Promachus, who was trying to drag the body away.

Peneleos, an Argonaut and a Boeotian commander, threw his spear at Acamas, but just as with Ajax’s earlier throw, fate willed that someone other than Acamas would die. In this case, it was Ilioneus, whose father Hermes loved enough to make him richest of all the Trojans. Neither wealth nor divine favor could save the poor young man, who was struck in the eye by the spear intended for Acamas. Not content with that, Peneleos struck off Ilioneus’s head with a single sword blow.

So it often is with war. Bloodshed leads to more bloodshed, over and over, until one side annihilates the other or both are too overwhelmed in miserable grief. This is why the wisest course is to avoid war altogether.

Had the cycle continued, a Trojan would surely have tried to kill Peneleos, but by now, the Trojan morale had already started to collapse, and fear broke the cycle of endless and fruitless vengeance.

The Greeks naturally pursued their fleeing foes. Ajax, Antilochus, Meriones, and Menelaus were among those who killed their share of retreating Trojans. But it was the lesser Ajax, better at the chase than most, whose spear pierced the most Trojan hearts.

The Trojans seemed destined to suffer so much loss that they would have no hope of recovery. But then Zeus woke up.

Two book-length retellings of Greek myths are already available in the Whispers from Olympus series.

Paid subscribers are entitled to a certain number of free ebooks. Check out how the system works here.

Subscribe now

If you prefer, you can also buy the books here.

And speaking of mythology, Gilgamesh is now available in ebook format. This book is free for all free and paid subscribers.

Claim Your Free Copy

Go to episode list

”Where would that demon have taken Tyrannus?” I asked.

“There’s no way to be sure,” replied Amicus. “Somewhere within the grounds of the villa—and far away from you, I imagine.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Because of your Animaan magic,” he added. “The demon could sense it, right?”

I had no idea whether the demon could sense it or not. The question was an unpleasant reminder of just how much I didn’t know.

“Do you have a way of hiding the magic so that it is not apparent?” asked Harena.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “All this is new to me. But I think that my magic is much more apparent when it flares in response to the presence of a demon or demonic magic. That doesn’t matter, though. What matters is finding Tyrannus. Should the demon choose to open a portal and depart with him, we’d have no way to locate him.”

None that I knew of, anyway.

Neither Amicus nor Harena could argue with that, an they were just as eager to reach Tyrannus as I was. Amicus led the way, and Harena fell in behind. Normally, imperial protocol would have required that I defend them, but the order in which we walked made it seem as if they were defending me.

The hallway was as quiet as a tomb, even to my sensitive ears. Only our footsteps made any audible sound. Only our heartbeats and breaths indicated the presence of the living.

“There’s still no sign of earth power in the floor,” said Amicus quietly. Even a whisper would have sounded loud in the surrounding silence. “I fear Tyrannus has disconnected the entire villa.”

“The villa is too empty,” I said. “Even if the demon can’t sense my magic from a distance, it will certainly sense us coming. I can conceal myself but not the two of you.”

Harena’s eyes narrowed. “Strategically, that puts us in a terrible position. But what can be done about it?”

“Shadow travel,” I said. “We probably can’t use it to enter or leave the villa, but is it blocked internally?”

The principissa hesitated. “I’m not sure it’s blocked anywhere except the palace. But the imperator could easily have made such a modification here without my knowledge. I suggest you try. But can you take both of us with you?”

I nodded. “The process is slower than it would be with just me, though we might still catch someone by surprise. But since I don’t know the layout of the villa, I’ll need to jump quickly from one nearby shadow to another. That means we may confuse the demon a bit. It won’t expecting us to move so quickly.”

“That appears to be the only option we have,” said Harena.

“In that case, stand close to me and hold my hands,” I told them. “Physical contact ensured that we won’t get separated.”

I hadn’t really noticed until I started thinking about shadow travel, but the interior of the villa looked unusually gloomed. Only a few of phosphors in the walls remained lit. That created a lot of shadows, but whether that was to our advantage or not, I couldn’t tell. It could give us back the element of surprise, but it could just as easily be an attempt to make us overconfident so that we would walk right into a trap.

I felt the strain of drawing two people with me after two jumps, but the situation was tolerable, so I kept going.

Quickly moving from one shadow to another didn’t give me much time to observe my surroundings, but I could confirm that the villa seemed empty. I buried the thought of what could have become of all the servants and the guards. We would search for them later—if we lived long enough.

At least, there were no bloodstains or other obvious signs of mass murder. That made me think back to the massacre at the Gemmaius household, a crime I had not yet solved. Was it just a symptom of the corrupt nature of the imperium’s foundation, or was it something else entirely? I might never know.

I stopped thinking about the past and focused solely on the present when we emerged from a shadow in what looked like the main hall of the villa—with the demon standing right next to us. My Animaan magic reacted before I could, flaring toward the demon, then engulfing it, ripping to pieces its shadowy substance, already weak from exertion and wear. It was banished before either Amicus or Harena could even draw their swords.

There was no sign of any of Tyrannus’s other human allies or demons. But the princeps himself lay motionless on the table. I could still hear his breathing and even his heartbeat, though both were faint. He could not be a threat now, but I rushed toward him, anyway. He might be the only one who knew where he had imprisoned Moon-Ray.

As soon as I reached Tyrannus, I gathered what information I could from my magical senses His life force felt fragile as that of a single dying leaf. A Vitaan might be able to recharge him, but I had no such power.

“Is there a healer nearby?” I asked Harena and Amicus.

“There is at least one attached to every imperial residence, but I have no idea where the villa’s healer is,” replied Harena.

“Activate the alarm,” I said. “A healer will surely show up if one still remains here.”

“Is that wise?” asked Amicus. “If, as seems likely, the whole staff is … gone, than all we will do is summon Tyrannus’s allies. We don’t know how many there are or how powerful they may be.”

“If he dies, we have no way to find Moon-Ray.” I could have made some humanitarian argument for saving him, but I wouldn’t have believed such an argument myself, let alone been able to convince Amicus and Harena of its truth.

Amicus closed his eyes, and alarm bells echoed through the empty halls, but the sound summoned neither friend nor foe.

I ignored the noise as I sought what should have been a mortal injury to have brought Tyrannus so close to death. But I was no healer. The most I could determine was that he had no obvious wound. Why his body seemed to be failing remained a mystery to me.

“Before I revived, did I seem near death?” I asked.

“Neither of us can see most kinds of magic,” said Amicus. “But your pulse and breathing were both slow.”

“Perhaps his condition is similar to mine.” Focusing on whatever extra perceptions Animaan magic gave me, I tried to see his soul again. I found many indications that his soul was in a far greater mess than his body.

What I presumed to be his inner demon, with its energy that was a combination of utter blackness and red as deep as blood, looked as if my Animaan magic had seared it like an inferno. It was both broken and burned, though there remained within it some power that was trying to pull its shattered remnants together.

As for the “baby soul” implanted in him to deceive us, my magic hadn’t damaged it, but it seemed even more withered than before. And like my soul must have been, it looked as if Tyrannus’s soul was just barely attached to his body.

Perhaps Anima had been so eager to show me how to reconnect my soul in anticipation of this very moment. Images and feelings connected to what she had done flooded back into my mind. I didn’t fully comprehend them, but like a monkey who has seen a human perform some action, I thought I might be able to imitate them.

“His demon is nearly dead, or at least, so badly injured that its presence doesn’t trigger my Animaan magic. What little human soul he has is nearly detached,” I told Harena and Amicus. “I think Anima has shown me enough to allow me to reattach it. Soul magic has no direct power of the body, but it should heal the body/soul separation that may be what is causing his life force to fade away.”

“Wait!” said Harena, moving closer to me. “Is it wise to do that? What is the demon within is revived by that process and takes control once again?”

That was a fair question, especially since I had no clear idea of what I was doing. Perhaps the method Anima used to revive me would have a very different result in someone to whose body a demon was so closely attached.

If I inadvertently revived the demon, would my Animaan magic kill it? Possibly—but the last time that the two forces collided had nearly killed both Tyrannus and me. I had no guarantee of what would happen this time. Given how injured Tyrannus’s demon was, my guess was that it would be completely destroyed if my efforts started to heal it enough to make my magic lash out at it.

But if such a thing happened, would Tyrannus’s human soul be strong enough to take over—or would he just die instead?

I remembered the look on Tyrannus’s face when he pleaded with me to help him. When for the first time, his mask slipped enough to let me see his humanity. He was no saint. In fact, he was an egregious sinner. But he was not entirely demonic, either.

I didn’t want to be the one who decided whether he deserved to live or die. Nor did I want to pass that burden along to someone else. But I suddenly felt the weight of the world resting upon my shoulders, as if my next act would either save the world or damn it.

What I might have decided in that moment, I will never know for sure. A loud noise distracted me. Glancing up, I saw a magic with which I was all too familiar pass through the wall as if it wasn’t there.

I had first seen the residue of it at the Gemmaius house. It was the same magic that had shredded the flesh and broken the bones of every human nearby. And despite how much magic must have protected the villa from external attack, the magic had somehow slipped through, just as it had before, even in the palace itself. Now it was coming to shred and break. Its only obvious target in this deserted villa was the four of us.

Maybe my Animaan magic would be strong enough to overcome it, but faced with power of such magnitude, I doubted that. This force was at least as powerful as Tyrannus’s demon, and my power reserve felt weak. If it reached out for me, it might well take me.

Subscribe now

Click for Episode LIst

Having obtained the magic belt of Aphrodite that would enable the queen of the gods to equal the charms of the love goddess, Hera needed only one more thing: the help of Hypnos, the god of sleep.

Homer writes that Hera found Hypnos on the island of Lemnos, but in fact, though Hypnos can make his power felt anywhere in the realm of mortals and even the realm of gods, my mother assured me that he had no reason to show himself in broad daylight on an island sacred to Hephaestus, a place where the sound of busy forges would keep anyone from sleeping. Rather, Hera needed to journey as rapidly as she could through the Underworld, where Hypnos dwells.

Hades is not particularly welcoming to guests, not even—or perhaps especially—his brothers and sisters. But he tolerates the presence of any deity who has legitimate business in his realm. Zeus often visits Nyx, Night herself, who lives deep in the Underworld during the day, for her prophetic insights are superior even to his own, and she ruled the gods before him. Just as the followers of Orpheus proclaim, Eros, Love incarnate, was the first ruler, but busy nurturing the harmony needed to sustain the universe, he passed the scepter on to Nyx. She would have had Gaia rule after her, but the great Earth mother had no desire to rule, and so Nyx, with profound reluctance, passed the scepter to the Sky father, Uranus. Thereafter, the scepter never passed without bloodshed, but Nyx does what she can to advise her successors. If only all of them listened to her!

In any case, Hera announced her intention to consult with Nyx, but instead, she went to the nearby dwelling of Hypnos, one of her sons, whose gentle touch is enough to overcome even Zeus himself.

The god of sleep unsurprisingly appeared to be asleep as he lay on a couch of darkest ebony, a fitting contrast to his marble-white skin. Hera might rather have gone to his twin brother, Thanatos, Death himself, with skin as black as Hypnos’s is white, to bring about the deaths of all the Trojans. But though called death, Thanatos is gentle death. Even his savage sisters, the Keres, though they preside over violent death, take only those fated to die. Despite their thirst for blood, not even Hera, not even Zeus himself, can sway them to act against their natures. Hypnos, however, had no such restraints upon his actions.

“Hypnos,” said the queen of the gods. “I seek your assistance.” Only the slightest twitch betrayed the fact that Hypnos was aware of her at all.

“Tell me what you wish.” His voice was such a faint whisper that the duller senses of mortals might have missed it altogether, but Hera heard it.

“Master of mortals and immortals alike, I ask that when I next lie in Zeus’s arms, you plunge him into the deepest sleep that he has ever enjoyed. Knowing the effort that such an application of your power will require, I will reward you with the finest throne of ever-enduring gold and a matching footstool, both fashioned by my son, the skillful Hephaestus.”

A faint smile touched Hypnos’s lips. “Would I be right in assuming that Zeus will be unaware of the wonderful rest that you plan for him? For if that is the case, no mere throne nor footstool will move me. I well remember what happened when you tricked me into putting Zeus to sleep so that you might torture his son, Heracles. Zeus’s wrath would have fallen upon me with full force if my mother, Nyx, had not managed to convince him to restrain himself.

“Nor have I forgotten when you had your messenger, Iris, disguise herself as that very same Nyx to convince me it was necessary to put Zeus to sleep at a particular time. I did so, only to discover that the request came not from Nyx but from you, and that your goal was to thwart another son of Zeus, Dionysus, as he fought a war against the armies of India.”

“Do you refuse my request?” asked Hera in her coldest tone. Though it is certainly unwise to provoke the wrath of Zeus, it is almost equally dangerous to incur the colder but more enduring displeasure of Hera, as the Trojans had already become aware.

“I do not refuse,” whispered Hypnos. “But I would ask for a payment of greater value than any throne could be to me. Arrange for me a marriage with Pasithea, one of the Charites who wait upon Aphrodite, for I have loved her from the moment that I set eyes on her. And I do not think that you will find her unwilling, for it was she who helped me out of the mess with Dionysus.”

Hera could not help smiling. Aphrodite could be annoying, but the force she embodied had once again come to Hera’s assistance. The queen of the gods could see that Hypnos was sincere, and since his purpose was marriage and not some mere dalliance, Hera had no problem agreeing.

“Since Pasithea is my stepdaughter, one of the children of Zeus and Eurynome, it is within my power to arrange such a marriage, and I will do so if you will do as I ask.”

“And so I shall,” replied Hypnos. “But you must first swear by the Styx that Pasithea will be mine forever. This is not a sign that I mistrust you,” he added, for Hera could be quick to take offense. “Rather, I fear that Zeus will refuse to honor your agreement. If you swear upon the Styx, Zeus will have to honor your decision to avoid making you an oath breaker and bringing destruction upon you.”

Without hesitation, Hera swore all that Hypnos desired, making an oath so powerful that the very waters of the Styx stirred and even the Titans, imprisoned in gloomy Tartarus, felt the echoes of the solemn words.

With such a guarantee, Hypnos rose from his couch as he seldom did, and he accompanied Hera out into the daylight. Shrouded in a mist that she had summoned, they flew, faster than any bird, toward Mount Ida, there to ensnare Zeus and bring about a Trojan defeat.

Hera smiled even more broadly than before. She now had the power of both love and sleep to bend Zeus to her will.

Two book-length retellings of Greek myths are already available in the Whispers from Olympus series.

Paid subscribers are entitled to a certain number of free ebooks. Check out how the system works here.

Subscribe now

If you prefer, you can also buy the books here.

And speaking of mythology, Gilgamesh is now available in ebook format. This book is free for all free and paid subscribers.

Claim Your Copy

I couldn’t see, hear, smell, or feel anything. Nor could I sense anything magically.

I wasn’t surrounded by darkness. As far as I could tell, I was surrounded by blankness.

Was I dead? This was not how the sacred texts described death. But now that I knew that even the church had been corrupted by demons, perhaps the sacred texts and been rewritten at some point and no longer accurately represented the truth.

How had I ended up in this condition? I had to struggle to dredge up the memories. Tyrannus struck me with the full force of his demonic magic. The Animaan magic within me struck back. I remembered the agony I had felt, but it seemed unreal now, like a nightmare I might have had a long time ago rather than something I actually lived.

Perhaps it was a hallucination of some kind. But if it never really happened, then what did? Obviously, something had changed—unless the entire life I remembered had all been a dream or a hallucination.

I reached out for my Animaan magic and found nothing. Perhaps it was still there, but I couldn’t feel it. Or perhaps it had never really been there at all.

I wasn’t sure how long I floated in the blankness, asking questions that I had no way to answer. My sense of time had been blasted away with everything else. But eventually, I became aware of a subtle shift in the blankness, then a more obvious one.

There was light in front of me now, a pure whiteness that had not been there before. It looked a little like sunlight shining through thick fog, though there wasn’t really a way for human language to describe what I was seeing.

From that radiance, an indistinct female figure emerged as if she drew substance from it rather than simply moving out of it.

I would have asked who she was, but I didn’t seem to have a voice. Or perhaps I was speaking and just not hearing myself. There was no way to be sure.

“I am Anima, the spirit of the Animaan tribe.”

I heard that voice, which somehow managed to be both ethereal and familiar at the same time. Hearing it unlocked my own voice.

“Am … am I dead?”

“You will be soon if you do not fight for your life.”

“How can I fight when I don’t seem to have either physical or magical resources?”

“You have endured a great shock, one that nearly separated your soul from your body. It is that circumstance which allows me to speak to you directly. But the situation is inherently unstable. You will soon die if you do not repair the bond between your body and soul.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“As Moon-Ray has told you, magic is a question of will and focus. Do you want something enough to create it? Can you visualize it in enough detail?”

The reference to Moon-Ray returned some of my awareness to me. She was probably still in danger. I needed to help her! And to do that, I would have to follow the spirit’s advice. But how?

“I don’t know how to visualize what I want.”

After an uncomfortably long pause, Anima said, “Because of your current state, I can guide you. But I cannot intervene so forcefully in the normal lives of humans. You will have to learn how to use your gifts if you wish to survive for long.”

“Please guide me now!” I said, impatience clear in my tone.

“First, a warning. You will not have as long to learn as you might like … as I might like. But the corruption of Daemonan magic into the vile arts of the demons has upset the natural order of the universe. The almost total annihilation of the Animaan tribe made that imbalance even worse. What you have experienced is just the first visible sign of a long hidden problem. Successive jolts will become progressively worse, until the world itself will inevitably disintegrate back into the primal chaos from which it came.”

“It takes years to master magic. Yet now you tell me to do it in a short time. How is that possible?”

“Moon-Ray can help you, but you must act quickly if you want to succeed in saving her. Now, pay attention to what I am doing.”

That was easier said than done, for Anima flooded my mind with images I couldn’t understand and then pushed me this way and that in an attempt to tie me more closely to my body. Even that much I only knew because she had already told me what her purpose was. Without that earlier explanation, I would have been unable to discern what was happening at all.

However, I did feel what was happening, though I had never experienced such feelings before. After a while, I became aware of my body. Judging by the coldness beneath me, I was lying on the stone floor. I also became aware of voices. They belonged to Amicus and Harena, and they were discussing me.

I opened my eyes.

“Thank the spirits!” said Harena. “He is alive.”

All my senses returned to me with their usual sharpness. I could hear the sincerity of Harena’s relief in the beating of her heart. I could also hear Amicus’s breathing slowing as his anxiety diminished.

With his help, I managed to sit up. “I saw Anima, the spirit of of the Aminaan tribe,” I said, not worried that they might think me crazy. I sounded hoarse, even to myself, but that couldn’t be helped.

“What did the spirit tell you?” asked Harena. There was no trace of doubt in her voice.

“That … that we are fast approaching the end of the world if we do not act.”

It was true that Anima had mentioned only my action, but it sounded arrogant to say that. Besides, I knew perfectly well that I alone could never do all that was necessary.

“What must we do?” asked Amicus.

“The Animaan magic within me is crucial,” I replied. “But I do not yet understand how to use it. Anima told me that Moon-Ray could help.”

“Then we must act quickly,” said Harena. “Tyrannus was left stunned, just as you were. But before we could secure him, a demon appeared. Tyrannus must have summoned it in advance, perhaps as an escape strategy if something went wrong. It grabbed him in its arms and then vanished.”

I frowned. “So … so he is perhaps still alive, but we know not where. And he has a demon helping him.”

“The demon looked weak,” said Amicus. “I think it had nearly exhausted whatever blood was used to summon it. And Tyrannus, if what you say is true, cannot use his own blood for the summons, for he is not truly human.”

“And anyway, he is unconscious. So he must have at least one ally here,” I said slowly.

“It seems likely. But the ally need not donate blood. There was a large staff here, yet we have seen no sign of any of them,” said Harena.

I felt a slight headache as Amicus helped me to my feet, and my mind was moving much too slowly for such an urgent occasion. “You fear that he is forcibly taking blood from the servants to summon demons.”

“I would not put it past him,” said Amicus, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “But we must move as fast as we can. For there is one other source of blood available, and that blood would be among the most powerful.”

“You … you mean …” I said, struggling to get the words out.

“Yes, I speak of Moon-Ray. Her blood could be used to provide demons with ample power to heal Tyrannus and stop us. And if he chose to drain her dry, we dare not even imagine how much damage he could do.”

For a second, I cared little for what Tyrannus might do with the blood. My mind focused totally on the possible death of Moon-Ray. Anima had warned me of the danger, and now Amicus had confirmed it.

I would save Moon-Ray … no matter what the cost.

Subscribe now

Click for Episode LIst

Hearing the battle cry, Nestor picked up a bronze shield and a bronze-tipped spear. He moved cautiously over to find a better vantage point to see what was happened.

The battle that had started with the confrontation between Hector and Ajax had not gone well for the Greeks, and they were now in full retreat. The Trojans raged after them, intending to make this day of battle the last. Now that the Greek wall had finally been breached, the Trojans might have their wish.

Too many Greek commanders now lay wounded or dead, and the Trojans had the advantage of momentum on their side. Knowing that the end was near unless the tide of battle could somehow be turned, Nestor hurried back toward the ships to find such commanders as might still be able to help.

At least in that respect, luck was with him, for he quickly found the wounded Diomedes, Odysseus, and Agamemnon, all coming forth despite their injuries to see what was happening. Nestor reported the bad news to them as quickly as he could.

“It is a wonder we have survived this long,” said Agamemnon. “For it is evident that Zeus desires our defeat. I wish that were not so, but it clearly is. Any many with eyes to see can perceive how desperate is out situation.”

Agamemnon looked over at the nearest ships. Given the constrained space in the nearby bay, the ships had to be beached in rows. There was no fast way to put them all back out to sea.

“One thing is clear,” he continued. “There is no glory in dying for no reason. With victory out of reach, it would be best for us to flee while we can, or else we shall surely perish. Perhaps if we put the row of ships closest to water out to sea and then take them some distance from the shore, we can return after nightfall and recover some of the others. Then we can set sail back to our homes.”

Odysseus stared at Agamemnon as if the Mycenean king had just sprouted an extra head. “How could you possibly suggest such a thing? We have only a slender chance of survival, let alone victory. That much I will concede. But the course of action you suggest will doom us. We cannot get even the first row of ships back into the water without our soldiers at least delaying the Trojans. Once someone sees us moving the ships, the word will spread, and our army will lose whatever little cohesion it still has. The Trojans will at once be upon us, burning our ships and slaughtering us.”

Agamemnon nodded reluctantly. “These are hard word to hear, yet you speak truth, son of Laertes. But if my plan will not work, what else is there for us to do?”

“We still have enough men left to fight,” said Diomedes. “But they must be properly motivated. Let us draw nearer to the battlefield, even though we put ourselves at greater risk. We go not to fight, for we are still wounded. But from a closer vantage point, we can better encourage our men, whom we can still rally.”

The four of them moved toward the battlefield as quickly as they could. It was moving toward them even faster. Poseidon, watching from a distance, would not allow their efforts to be in vain. Taking the form of an old man, he raced to the side of Agamemnon and took his hand.

“Son of Atreus, fear not, for the Greeks are not yet beaten. Hard-hearted Achilles might wish it so. May the blessed gods destroy him for his stubbornness! But they are by no means all opposed to you, great king, nor to your cause. I foresee the moment when the Trojans flee so rapidly that the air around them will become one giant dust cloud.”

Having inspired the commander, who must certainly have realized that he was talking to a god, Poseidon went on to inspire the men as well. The lord of the sea gave a great battle cry, so loud that it would have taken ten thousand men shouting in unison to create a similar roar. Hearing the sound, the embattled soldiers sensed the presence of a god, and their exhaustion faded as new strength surged within them.

Hera looked down from Olympus with approval at the way in which Poseidon had filled the Greeks with new hope. But she also saw Zeus, still perched at the summit of Mount Ida and still distracted from Troy. How long could he remain unaware of what Poseidon was up to? Hera realized that if Zeus focused his attention once more on the war, all might be lost. She could not allow that to happen.

Zeus could always defeat Hera—or any of the gods—in a raw contest of strength. That was, after all, why he ruled them in the first place. But Hera knew well enough that Zeus had a weakness—his insatiable sexual appetite. She had cursed him for that characteristic many times, but now it would serve her purposes.

Hera went quickly to her chamber, whose door had been lovingly designed by her son, Hephaestus, so that only she could open its bolt. Once inside, she anointed herself with ambrosial and put on her best gown, the handiwork of Athena herself. She fastened the gown with gold clasps and bound it with a belt of a hundred tassels. She fastened triple-drop earrings in her ears and tied gracefully made sandals onto her feet. Last, she placed on her head a shimmering veil, bright as the sun.

She was more than alluring enough to distract Zeus now. But the stakes were so high that she needed to tip the scales as much in her favor as possible.

To accomplish her goal Hera needed the help of Aphrodite, but such help would not be easy to come by. Hera and Aphrodite had often collaborated in the past, particularly during Jason’s quest for the golden fleece, but they were on opposite sides now. How could Hera, the goddess of marriage, possibly endorse Paris’s wife stealing? Yet in Aphrodite’s eyes, Paris could do no wrong—especially when he used love to justify his claims. As with so many other conflicts of the time, this one was created by the curse of the golden apple. But the differing natures of the two goddesses would have brought them into conflict in such a situation even if Aphrodite herself had not used Helen as a bribe to win Paris’s judgment.

When Hera visited Aphrodite, she asked to borrow the inlaid belt in which was replicated the love goddess’s control of desire. But rather than telling her what it was for, Hera told her she intended to use the belt to reconcile the titans of the ocean, Oceanus and Tethys, who had been quarreling.

Despite the split between Hera and Aphrodite over the Trojan War, the goddess of desire, troublemaker though she might be at times, was also a believer in the power of love to reconcile differences. Without a moment’s thought, she handed over the priceless accessory, unaware that in so doing, she was thwarting her own plans.

Hera could not help smiling. She would ensnare Zeus before he even knew what was happening.

Two book-length retellings of Greek myths are already available in the Whispers from Olympus series.

Paid subscribers are entitled to a certain number of free ebooks. Check out how the system works here.

Subscribe now

If you prefer, you can also buy the books here.

And speaking of mythology, Gilgamesh is now available in ebook format. This book is free for all free and paid subscribers.

Claim Your Copy

Go to episode list

Harena looked around warily. “Where are the guards?”

I thought that they had been right behind us. But as I looked back at the portal ring, I saw that its silver had been polluted by demonic red. The magic within it sputtered and sparked. Tyrannus had only sealed the door as a backup plan. His real intent had been to block us from coming through at all. But we had managed to slip through before the magic had been completely disrupted.

“Surely, this problem can be repaired quickly,” said Harena. She didn’t sound as if she was asking a question, but she looked at me pointedly, clearly expecting a response.

“Moon-Ray is the expert on portal magic,” I said. “Worse, there are no other Lunaans that I know of in the capital and very few anywhere else.”

I didn’t mentioned that most of those few were gathered in the Frozen Waste. Without Moon-Ray to communicate with them, we had no way to reach them.

Amicus looked down. “That’s not our only problem. There’s something wrong with the floor.”

His feet were bare, as the feet of dragon warriors generally were, so that they could absorb earth power from the stone if they needed to.

I looked down and realized that the stone beneath us no longer had the brownish glow of raw earth power within it. Somehow, Tyrannus had broken the natural connection that existed between earth power and all its physical manifestations.

I knelt down and touched the floor, just to be sure. My Animaan magic didn’t react, which meant that there wasn’t any active demonic magic in the floor. The damage had been done some time ago. Only a little residue of Tyrannus’s magic was left behind. That was an uncomfortable reminder of just how long Moon-Ray had been trapped here with him.

“What’s wrong with the floor?” asked Harena. Despite her well-developed self-control, I could hear her heartbeat speed up just a little. Or perhaps she was more troubled by the portal’s damage than by the floor. Without Mensan magic, I had no way to find out for sure.

“Tyrannus has somehow blocked the passage of earth power through it,” I said. “I don’t know how to fix such a problem—or if it is even possible to fix it. I must recommend that the princeps withdraw.”

“Withdraw how?” asked Harena. “The portal appears to be destroyed.”

I looked over at what admittedly seemed to be a ruined portal and examined its condition more closely. The silver portal magic was twisted underneath the red layer that gripped it—but there didn’t seem to be any breaks in the silver.

“Given time, I can cleanse it of demonic magic. That might be enough to enable it to function again.”

Amicus’s usually friendly face looked hard as rock as he stared at me, and his sapphire eyes, which now reminded me of blue fire, glared at me.

“For the moment, we need to forget the portal. What Tyrannus has done to impede the flow of earth power does not make the rescue of Moon-Ray any less important, does it? Surely, you do not expect me to leave her fate in my cousin’s hands just because I don’t have my usual physical advantages, do you?”

“I meant no offense—” I began.

“Then let us proceed with the mission.”

“Son, he has a point,” said Harena in an unusually quiet and gentle tone. “It is becoming clearer by the minute that you are now heir to the throne. Part of your duty in such a circumstance is to survive.”

“But what good will it do if I survive at the cost of my honor?” he replied. Despite Harena’s lack of special powers, she was a warrior every bit as much as her son was, and now they stood staring at each other like two fighters, each looking for a sign of weakness to exploit.

“If I am, as you say, the heir, and there is no more senior member of the family present, then I am the one in charge here,” said Amicus, his voice firm as granite.

Harena, clearly not used to such defiance, didn’t have a quick rejoinder to his assertion of authority—because technically, he was correct. She was imperial by marriage, not by blood, and thus, she was not in the line of succession.

“Your father—” she began.

“Is not here,” replied Amicus before she could finish. “And as he has not given me specific orders to cover this particular situation, I am free to do as I wish.”

“But I am not,” I said slowly. Much as I wanted and needed his help, the risk now looked too great. “The acting imperator ordered me to bring you and your mother back safely. Besides that, I have standing orders to protect members of the imperial family from harm.”

Amicus looked at me with disbelief. “First, you question my honor. Now, you question my knowledge of the law. As the senior member of the imperial family present, I can order you to stand down—and now I do. You are to follow all my orders instead of your normal protocols. As for my father’s instructions, since he is not here, it is my responsibility to interpret those orders. He intended my safety and that of my mother to be a priority but not the only priority. If he had intended our safety to outweigh the need to stop Tyrannus, he would never have allowed us to come in the first place.”

I’d only seen Amicus play the dutiful son in the past. I’d never before seen this young hot-head who would throw caution to the winds—and I didn’t like him much. But once again, he was technically correct.

I would have no choice now but to reject the orders of Roburius and of Tyrannus, both of whom had betrayed the imperium that they were supposed to serve. I might even question the orders of Audaxius, whom I now had reason to suspect. But I had no evidence whatsoever against Amicus. My path was clear.

“What are your order, Princeps?”

Harena stared daggers at me, but she still remained silent.

“The door is warded, is it not?” I wasn’t sure how he knew that without having the same magical perceptions that I did, but I nodded my agreement.

“Then if you can break the wards, do it.”

I stepped forward cautiously and put my hands on the door. The demonic energy reacted instantly, but so did my Animaan magic. The result was a momentary red flash, followed by a blazing whiteness that quickly swallowed it up. The door flew open so rapidly that it almost tore itself off of its hinges.

But Tyrannus instantly became aware of our presence if he hadn’t already noticed us. I could hear the pounding of his feet as he ran down a nearby hallway. And I could sense a shockingly large amount of demonic energy, more than I had ever felt before.

“He is coming,” I said. “Prepare yourselves.”

I became undetectable and put on the invisibility ring just in case Tyrannus thought to use bright light against me. Amicus and Harena both drew their swords. We would know all too soon whether or not any of our moves were good defensive preparations or just futile gestures.

The running footsteps became louder and more insistent until Tyrannus appeared in the doorway.

At least, I had to assume it was Tyrannus, but my blood ran cold in my veins as I realized that the man I had known by that name must have died some time ago. Whatever imitation of a human soul had once lived in that body had now fled. How else could I explain the utter inhumanity of his facial expression, the emptiness of his ruby eyes that now looked more like burning blood than any gem, and the way demonic energy flowed from him unchecked?

Amicus and Harena readied themselves to charge him, but from what I could see, neither would survive a battle with him. And if they did not, whatever Tyrannus now was could slip back through the portal, murder Audaxius, perhaps even murder his own father, and become sole ruler of the imperium.

Acting more on instinct that on rational calculation, I threw myself into him, grabbing him with the all the strength that I could muster as Animaan magic exploded from me in response to his presence.

The subsequent war between our incompatible forms of magic was so far beyond human experience that I could never describe it even if I had a lifetime to make the attempt.

But I would not have a lifetime to do that. As far as I could tell, I would not even have a few seconds. How could mere flesh withstand the nearness of such a large amount of magic with so many contradictions sizzling within it?

For the first time in my life, I screamed. Every nerve ending in my body screamed with me.

Subscribe now

By the time we reached the front gate, the evacuation had already started, so our exit was delayed, not by the guards, as I feared it might be, but by the large number of people swarming through the courtyard.

Audaxius could have asserted his authority to clear a path for himself, but he didn’t. I’d always thought his willingness to ignore protocol that placed him on a high level was a mark of his leadership skill and compassion. But now that I suspected him of being corrupted by the same forces that had claimed his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew, I was more tempted to see it as some kind of manipulation. Was he trying to win popular favor so that he could more easily become imperator and perpetuate the same rotten system?

“You will come with us,” said Audaxius as we finally got out of the gate. “My home will be a better place to plan without distraction than the palace could possibly be now.”

“But if you are now acting imperator, should you not use the palace as your headquarters?” I asked, watching him carefully for any sign of the evil I suspected lay within him. I saw none, but he had a tremendous amount of self-discipline, as he had demonstrated over and over. Even now, his heartbeat and breathing betrayed no reaction to the turmoil all around us.

Audaxius nodded. “That would have been my preference. But there is no way to tell when that demon will run out of the energy it gained from Sanctimonia’s sacrifice. When it does, my brother will be free to pursue us. And none of us will do the imperium any good from a dungeon cell.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic, but I’d always thought of Audaxius is the kind of person who would have stayed and fought rather than making a strategic retreat. In what other ways might I have been wrong about him?

“I fear your brother will not be deterred by putting a few blocks between him and us,” said Harena, glancing back toward the palace.

“True enough, but our men are loyal, and rumors detrimental to my brother’s continuation in power are already spreading. Many guards witnessed his attempt to arrest me illegally and to declare himself free of any legal restraints. No doubt, at least a few of them talked. Is that not true, Sharp-Eye?”

His question caught me by surprise. I might be a master of intelligence gathering, but how could I possibly know the answer to that question? I quickly realized the truth. He knew that I didn’t have that information yet. He wanted me to listen and discern what the disorderly masses around us were talking about.

Even for someone with hearing as keen as mine, focusing on individual conversations was difficult when there was so much extraneous noise. Fortunately, I had been trained to do exactly that.

“Rumors do indeed abound,” I replied. “But not all of them are accurate.”

I couldn’t help noticing that a number of people nearby, in spite of their obvious panic, were becoming more aware of the presence of Audaxius and his family. Some even changed course to follow him, presumably because they assumed he was going to someplace safe.

As far as I could tell, no place in the capital was safe. But I couldn’t very well say that to any of them while Audaxius was so near. I might not say it, anyway. As yet, I had no proof against the princeps.

In any case, I had a more pressing issue, one that started to make my heart beat faster despite my best efforts to keep its beat even.

“Highness, we must attempt to rescue Moon-Ray before it is too late. I was on my way to do just that when the imperator intercepted me.”

“I remember what you said to me earlier,” replied Audaxius. “I would not see Moon-Ray come to harm. In fact, I have much need of her here. But if Tyrannus has her at the villa in Urbs Victoriae, you will not be able to rescue her easily. My nephew can turn all the protective magic of the place against you if he so chooses. You may not even be able to enter the grounds. And circumstances being as they are, I cannot leave the capital to help you get past that magic.”

“I can go with him,” said Amicus. “I also have access to the security precautions and should be able to open the way for him.”

“We have no idea how powerful Tyrannus may have become,” said Harena, her tone hard as rock. “And if he is as compromised as you suggest, I will not let my son become his next victim.”

Both Harena and I looked toward Audaxius, but he didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he quickened his pace as if he might run away from the question. But it would hound him wherever he went, no matter how fast he went.

Just as Harena’s frustration became noticeable from her accelerate heart rate, Audaxius slowed his steps and turned to us.

“If Tyrannus is indeed compromised, then I am effectively imperator, and Amicus is my heir. That should be enough reason to keep him here. But unfortunately, Tyrannus is likely to oppose us. We cannot afford to allow him time to recruit followers from among the guard and the army.”

“If he must go, then I shall join him,” said Harena.

“Risking a son is bad enough,” replied Audaxius with surprising gentleness. “Must I now risk a wife as well?”

“By going, I lessen Amicus’s risk,” she said firmly. “And in any case, I help you here more by my absence than my presence. You know as well as I that some of the senatorial families have never accepted me. They don’t need to be reminded of me as you try to persuade them to support you.”

“Your argument has merit,” admitted Audaxius, shifting back to a more official tone. “However, if both of you are going, I am sending a large guard detachment with you.”

“Will you not need every warrior you can get?” asked Harena.

“Not as much as you will need them. Sharp-Eye, we have a portal that can be used to access any of the imperial residences, just as the palace did. You will use that as soon as we assemble the guards.

I didn’t waste a moment being surprised by yet another hidden fixed portal of which I had no knowledge, even though someone should have briefed me on the portal system.

I was eager to get to Moon-Ray before it was too late. Audaxius was determined to protect his family. I couldn’t blame him, but once we reached his modestly decorated home, he took an inordinately long time adjusting the arrangements. Never in my entire life had I felt so impatient. But I knew it would do me no good.

By the time we finally got down to the portal, fifty guards trailed after us—an unusually large number by an standard. But who knew what we find in Urbs Victoriae? I might have preferred an operation that rested more on stealth than on numbers, but I didn’t try to argue that point.

As the portal’s silver glow flared, Audaxius looked at me intently. “Bring them back safely.”

I felt as if an enormous weight had settled on my shoulders, and I was confused about how to react. Should I feel honored by the trust he placed on me or irked that he didn’t place the responsibility on the senior guard, who by protocol should have been the one responsibility for the safety of the party?

“I will do everything I can,” I replied. I was normally good at modulating my voice, but this time it sounded hollow, even to me.

Audaxius nodded, but his face had no real expression, so it was hard to tell what he was thinking. I didn’t really have time to worry about that. What I should be focusing on was staying alert to the inevitable danger we were about to walk into.

After passing through the portal, we found ourselves in what was no doubt a hidden chamber somewhere in the villa. Amicus and Harena knew the layout of the place, so I wasn’t worried about finding my way to Tyrannus.

What I was worried about was the intense magic pulsing through the door. It was clearly demonic, and it was designed to hold the door shut as securely as any lock.

I felt confident that I could break the spell with my Animaan magic. My real concern was what its presence signified.

Tyrannus knew we were coming.

Click for Episode LIst

The battle continued to rage. Would it go on until after particle of dirt was soaked in blood? Some on the field may have thought so.

Helenus, son of Priam and renown for his prophetic abilities, might have been able to answer that question. But he was more focused on slaughtering Greeks, for his ties to the divine had not tempered his desire to avenge his fallen countrymen.

His first target was Deipyrus, who had fought side by side with Idomeneus but who was now isolated by the movements of both Greeks and Trojans around him. Helenus got close enough to strike Deipyrus on the head with a Thracian longsword. The blow carried enough force to rip the Greek’s helmet off his head. By the time he hit the ground, the light had already faded from his eyes.

Filled with grief, Menelaus charged toward Helenus like a raging boar would charge its prey. The king of Sparta raised his spear just as Helenus raised his bow. Menelaus flung his spear at the same time Helenus shot his arrow. The arrow bounced harmlessly off Menelaus’s breastplate, but the spear thrust through Helenus’s hand, forcing him to drop the bow. The Trojan prince had no option but to flee. Other Trojan’s blocked Menelaus’s path, and Agenor hurried to Helenus’s side to extract the spear and bind the wound.

Peisander was one the Trojans who covered Helenu’s retreat, but he wasn’t prudent enough to be satisfied with a mere rescue. What he really wanted was the blood of Sparta’s king, but neither his bloodlust nor his skill were the equal of those of Menelaus.

At first, Peisander looked as if he might prevail. He turned aside Menelaus’s spear and struck the king’s shield with his own spear. However, he didn’t penetrate the king’s defenses, and his spear broke.

Peisander should have taken that as a sign that following Helenus’s example and retreating would have been the best course. Instead, he drew his bronze axe even as Menelaus drew his silver sword. Their weapons collided as they thrust, and each managed to drive his weapon past the other’s defenses. Peisander’s axe struck Menelaus’s helm, but the blow neither stunned the king nor cracked his helm. But Menelaus’s thrust, much better aimed, struck Peisander right between the eyes and penetrated his forehead with such force that it knocked his eyes from the sockets. They fell to the ground only slightly faster than Peisander did.

Menelaus’s victory stunned the Trojans to such an extent that the king was able to strip Peisander of his armor before any Trojan could interfere. As he did so, he even had time to berate the Trojans.

“Sons of Troy, drunk on the sounds of battle, this is how we will drive you from our ships. This is how we will conquer you. For you should never have supported the schemes of the wicked Paris, who broke the sacred laws of hospitality, ordained by Zeus himself. As my guest, he stole my wife and my treasure. Then he compounded his crime by refusing to return to me what is mine.

“Instead of condemning him, as you should have if you respected the laws of gods and men, you made war upon us, even though we only came to your shores to have justice. Now, through your own fault, we will have blood instead. Zeus may have favored you for a time, though I know not why. But he will never continue to favor your doomed city at the expense of his own laws. No, even he will be on our side at the end.”

Menelaus had only started to rejoin the Greek lines when Harpalion, the Paphlagonian prince, charged him. He managed to strike Menelaus’s shield, though he didn’t pierce it. But while he was focused on Menelaus, Meriones shot a bronze tipped arrow into the prince’s right buttock. The arrow penetrated deeply enough to kill him. His fellow Paphlagonians rescued his body, but faced by the ferocious Greeks, they retreated rather than seeking revenge.

As it turned out, they had no need, for another would seek revenge on their behalf. The Paphlagonians has hosted Paris on the way to his ill-fated trip to Sparta, and he knew Harpalion well enough to grieve for him. Paris’s sorrow compelled him to shoot a bronze-tipped arrow of his own. It struck the Corinthian, Euchenor, whose father Polyidus, the seer, had told him that he would either die of a fatal illness at home or be killed on the battlefield of Troy. Paris’s arrow struck him in the jaw, just below the ear.

Euchenor’s prophecy was not the same as mine, but like me, he chose glory. Or at least he thought he did, for he had performed no great deeds of valor—nor would he, now that his fatal wound drew him toward the kingdom of Hades.

Unlike him, though, I could have lived if I had just stayed at home. He could justify his choice because he would have died either way. I could have stayed home, forsaking glory, to be the husband to my wife and the father to my child. Perhaps I should have.

Despite the occasional Greek loss, the strength of Poseidon enabled the Greeks to keep pushing the Trojan left wing further and further back. So vast was the battlefield that Hector was still unaware of the Greek success. He knew only of his own relentless advance, which had now brought him close to where the ships of Salamis were anchored.

Several groups of Greeks had managed to rally enough to slow his advance, but Hector, bright as a flame that ached to burn the Greek ships, would not halt, no matter what the obstruction. Menestheus, king of Athens, led a group of picked Athenians to obstruct the Trojans as much as possible. Medon and Podarces led the Phthians in the same effort. Locrian Ajax tried to lead the Locrians into a clash with the Trojans, but they hung back, afraid of what might befall them if they tried to fight with Hector. They did make some shots with slings and bows, but if the Trojans advanced far enough, the Locrian line would break, and they would flee.

Needless to say, my cousin, Ajax of Salamis, did not hang back. Instead, he fought side by side with his namesake, encouraging other men to follow his example. Behind him stood Salamis’s best soldiers, ready to follow his example.

So strong was the defense put up by the two Ajaxes and a growing number of allies that, much to Hector’s surprise, the Trojan offensive ground to a halt. What had become of the victory that Zeus had promised?

Polydamas, seeing what was happening, ran to Hector.

“A god may have made you a great warrior, to no man has every possible gift. Some of us have been given the gift of wise counsel, and it is important that you heed us in a time such as this. I propose that you call the leaders together to work out a new strategy. We cannot afford to squander the opportunity your skill at arms has brought to us, for there is yet a great warrior sulking in the Greek camp who will not sulk much longer. We must finish the Greeks before their ultimate hero returns to the fight.”

Hector realized immediately that the advice Polydamas had given offered the Trojans the best hope of success. The Trojan prince raced to the left flank to find some leaders that he knew had been there.

But when he arrived, he discovered that only Paris, finally behaving like the warrior he should have been all along, was there. Helen’s abductor was encouraging the other Trojans to keep up the fight, no matter what. But Hector, who had been furious with Paris over his brother’s starting the war and then not initially fighting much in it, was not in a forgiving mood.

Paris listened carefully to Hector’s impatient requests and then shook his head.

“All of those you aske for are dead except for Deiphobus and Helenus, both of whom are wounded. My men can hold the line here for a while. Let us move closer to the front and see if we can find anyone else who might be of use to you now.”

Hector still felt the sting of grief, but Paris’s reasonable words had reduced his anger at his brother, whom he now willingly accompanied to the front.

Polydamas had already to the front himself and fought side by side with Cebriones, Hector’s half brother, as well as with the Ascanians, allies of Troy who had arrived just that day. Eager and inspired by Zeus, they flung themselves at the Greeks like the heaviest of winter storms.

Heartened by what he saw, Hector for a moment forgot his plan to summon the leaders and pushed toward the Greeks instead, thinking to break their spirits by his presence. Ordinarily, such a plan might have worked, but Ajax saw Hector coming and confronted him.

“Prince of Troy, are you mad? For only someone struck with lunacy would think to so carelessly approach us. You have been given victory by Zeus. Yet we are Greeks who still stand, despite the relentless whip of Zeus falling upon us. If he has not bowed us, why would you think that you can? You thought to burn our ships and slaughter us, yet they still float, safe in their anchorage, and we still stand, our blood still flowing in our veins rather than watering the ground.

“Your city may be proud now, but we will sack it. And as for you, the time will come when you flee from us. Your horse’s hooves will raise a cloud of dust as you pray to Zeus for a deliverance that he will not grant you.”

As if in answer to Ajax’s words, an eagle flew high above them, an obvious omen that caused the Greeks to shout joyfully. But Hector, still relying on a promise that Zeus seemed to have forgotten, remained unmoved.

“Foolish words, Ajax! For you Greeks this day have already lost far more than you have won, and the day is not yet done. Evil will fall upon the Greeks, even upon you, Ajax, if you are brave enough to face me. My spear will rip your pale flesh and flood the plain with your blood.”

By now, the troops on both sides, driven into a frenzy by the dueling words of Ajax and Hector, threw themselves at each other, more like beasts than men. Their battle cries echoed to the high heavens, perhaps audible even on Olympus itself.

As is so often the case with men, Hector’s pride had for a moment overcome any sense of strategy. Zeus had given him victory, yet the Trojan prince, unsatisfied, sought for more and almost lost everything.

Two book-length retellings of Greek myths are already available in the Whispers from Olympus series.

Paid subscribers are entitled to a certain number of free ebooks. Check out how the system works here.

Subscribe now

If you prefer, you can also buy the books here.

And speaking of mythology, Gilgamesh is now available in ebook format. This book is free for all free and paid subscribers.

Claim Your Copy

X

Go to episode list

Since I was still invisible, I had no choice but to roll out of the way of the guards’ feet. My bruised body protested but obeyed. Roburius’s eyes shot back and forth as he tried to figure out which way I might have moved.

Amicus and Harena did the best they could in the crowded hallway to block the guards from reaching me. Harena’s quick sword strokes forced them to devote some attention to her. Amicus, a dragon warrior just like his father, drew earth power into himself and tried to act like a human shield. Because he was in the line of succession, the guards didn’t want to strike him without a direct order.

The guards who had gotten between me and by would-be rescuers aimed their swords, not at me, whom they still couldn’t see, but at Audaxius, who continued to grip Roburius with stony arms through which earth power continued to ripple. But these guards hesitated as well, though whether from divided loyalty or from a self-preservation instinct, I wasn’t sure.

“Arrest him,” demanded Roburius.

Audaxius could have reiterated his legal argument, but instead he said, “Why are you hiding behind your guards?”

I wasn’t sure what Audaxius thought he could gain by switching to such a deliberately provocative approach, but I managed to pull myself to my feet. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, either. I didn’t have a clear idea of how I could help Audaxius, and there was still no point in running away.

“If you wish me to drag you to the dungeon myself, so be it!” snapped Roburius, drawing on yet more earth power as he wrapped his own arms around his brother and tried to pull him down the hall. A few of the guards sighed with relief, but not many. The more perceptive must have realized that this unprecedented situation was bound to lead to more trouble—and fast.

As the two brothers struggled, the earth power thickened around them, until they appeared to my magic sight to be encased in stone and soil. I thought about trying to stab Roburius, but that might have tipped the guards in his direction, and in any case, his own skin had now hardened to match that of Audaxius. I had no hope of breaking through such rocklike flesh with any weapon at my disposal.

Sanctimonia seemed not to know what to do, either. She looked back and forth between her struggling husband and brother-in-law, but she said nothing.

Then she looked up and down the hall, obviously trying to find me. She couldn’t, of course, even if she still had access to demonic magic. Her lips moved too slightly for most people to notice, but my sharp vision served me well, for I could read lips.

At first, I thought that she was trying to speak to me. But no, she was invoking demons instead. Despite my normally firm control of myself, my heart skipped a beat. But did I really have anything to worry about? She had no way to offer a blood sacrifice now without being obvious about it. Unless she offered blood, the demons wouldn’t respond at all.

I felt a small tremor like a mild earthquake. It took me a moment to realize that it was the imperator and his brother who were causing it. The stone floor beneath them strained as they both tried to draw earth power from it. They were pulling faster than the power could flow up from the ground, its ultimate source. If they continued, they might break the floor and send all of us tumbling down a level. But I had no way to stop their fight.

Neither did Amicus nor Harena, and Amicus stopped trying to draw earth power in an effort to save the floor. The most either of them could do was drive back as many guards as possible. Their skillful sword work kept most of the guards out of the way despite how many guards there were. Somehow, chaotic as the situation was, they also managed to avoid seriously wounding any of the guards. Given the guards’ reluctance to harm them, the result looked more like a carefully choreographed fight scene on the stage than a real battle.

The scent of blood and a scream drew my attention back to Sanctimonia. The scream came from one of the servants. The blood belonged to the imperatrix. Somehow, she had concealed a knife in her clothing. She drew it while the servants were distracted and slit her left wrist before they could stop her. As the blood gushed out and splashed on the floor, tendrils of red demonic energy reached out to take it.

That I knew I could stop, but I hesitated. What was Sanctimonia trying to do? No good could come of demonic magic—in the long run. But what if she stopped her husband long enough for Audaxius to take control? Wasn’t that a good thing?

Both men stopped struggling as they stared for a second at Sanctimonia. Audaxius responded first, teared away from his brother and ordering the guards to fetch a healer.

Roburius, more sensitive to demonic magic than his brother, tried to seize control of the blood as he had once before. The magic shifted as he tugged on it, but it didn’t submit to him. Sanctimonia, despite how shaky she was, had managed to infuse the blood with enough of her will to resist him.

The red light flared, and from it, a demon emerged, black and red power pulsing around it in a way that made it hard to look at. Without a sound, it swung toward Roburius and raised what looked like a claw to strike.

I was the only one who could stop it—but I still wasn’t sure I wanted to. The soul magic within me surged, though. It knew what it wanted. Perhaps I should follow its lead.

Before I could make a move, Audaxius pushed the distracted Roburius aside and lashed out at the demon, striking it in what appeared to be its head with a blow that would have pulverized any normal skull. But the princeps yelled in pain and pulled back. His hand had blackened as if burned.

The demon swirled after Roburius, who scrambled to his feet. Having seen Audaxius’s futile blow, the imperator didn’t try to stand up to the demon. Instead, he ran as fast as he could. The demon pursued in a way that looked lazy to me. It didn’t try to keep up.

Since it had been summoned to deal with Roburius, perhaps it had some way of tracking him. It was gone before I could study it further, which was just as well. Looking at it made me feel pressure building behind my eyes. The guards, frozen by the shocking sight, began to revive, though none of them tried to pursue the demon, who was already out of sight. It and the imperator could have gone in a number of directions form here. The guards would need to organize a careful search if they wanted to find either one.

Quick-Curer raced toward us, no doubt in response to Audaxius’s earlier demand for a healer, but the Vitaan didn’t seem to know that it was Audaxius who had summoned him. His eyes widened when he saw that it was the princeps, not Roburius, that knelt next to the imperatrix. They widened further at the sight of the outline of a pool of blood on the floor. The blood itself had been consumed by the demon summoning, leaving only a dark residue at the very edge of where the pool had been.

Unfortunately, the demon hadn’t stopped to cauterize the wound. The servants had tried to bind the wrist, but the binding already had a red blotch on it. The imperatrix was still alive, but she would have lost a large amount of blood quickly from such a wound.

To his credit, the healer got to work as quickly as he could. I didn’t think much of his skill, but the injury was sufficiently straightforward that he could probably save Sanctimonia.

“Summon all available sorcerers,” said Audaxius in a confident tone, as if his brother hadn’t just ordered his arrest. “We will need them to contain this … thing.”

“Yes, Princeps,” said the eldest guard present, perhaps the most senior one in rank.

“Very good. Quick-Curer, how is the imperatrix doing?”

“She lives,” said the healer, not looking up. He had stopped the bleeding but hadn’t yet started on mending the damage. “How … how did this injury come about?”

“The wound appears to be self-inflicted,” said Audaxius. “I have heard that the imperatrix was not well.” Quick-Curer opened his mouth to ask another question, but Audaxius had already moved on.

“Send word to the front gate that Sharp-Eye, Harena, Amicus, and I will be departing immediately. We have urgent imperial business to attend to. In fact, given the current situation, everyone not directly involved in fighting that … menace should be evacuated immediately.”

The guards all knew that Roburius had tried to place Audaxius under arrest, and some of them had probably figured that the imperator had tried to crush my skull with his foot. They looked at each other nervously.

“The imperator is clearly under magic attack of some kind,” added the princeps. “He is not himself. And Tyrannus is … not here. Under such circumstances, I must declare myself acting imperator until such time as circumstances change.”

Audaxius was lucky that none of the guards present knew enough about magic to start asking questions, much less to see with their own eyes what had really happened. Anyway, faced with what must have looked like the imperatrix’s suicide, not to mention the imperator’s erratic behavior and the supernatural creature that now pursued him, the guards would have their hands full. I hoped too full to try to detain Audaxius, his kin, or me.

The senior guard nodded and ordered one of the more junior guards to carry Audaxius’s instructions to the front gate. Without showing any further deference to the princeps, he turned away from us and started issuing orders to other guards.

Audaxius looked around, which I took as a signal to become visible.

“Let us go,” he said as soon as I appeared. Harena and Amicus fell in behind him without a word.

They had already started walking. I rushed to catch up with them.

“Shouldn’t we try to do something about the demon?” I asked, though I was still conflicted on the subject myself.

“I thought that might be what it was,” said Audaxius. “But no, the best we can do right now is get out of here.” He had already been quiet but lowered his voice still further. “I have heard that Tyrannus is … not quite himself, either. As I am next in line for the throne, I cannot allow myself to be exposed to the same forces that seem to have corrupted my brother’s family. As for you, you will serve me as long as I remain acting imperator. I have need of more information—and it is obvious that you know more about this situation than I do, perhaps much more. I cannot afford to risk you right now.”

He raised his injured hand so that I could see it. The skin remained badly burned.

“Shouldn’t that already have healed?”

He nodded. “I can feel it healing, but it is doing so very much more slowly than normal. That demon is powerfully protected. All the more reason to stay away from it. The sorcerers are better equipped to contain it than we are.”

“I have recently discovered … that I have some Animaan blood—and Animaan magic. I might actually have the best chance of stopping the demon.”

Amicus, normally as controlled in public as his parents, stared at me openly. Harena’s heart skipped a beat, though she resisted the temptation to look at me.

Audaxius raised an eyebrow. “You have already proved your value as an information source. But what you have just told me confirms that you are too valuable to risk. What direct contact have you had with demons?”

“None, but I have had contact with demonic magic.” I briefly explained what had happened earlier.

“If I am reading the situation correctly, you have dealt with smaller manifestations of demonic power successfully. But from what I have heard, the more blood a demon has to draw on, the more power it has in this plane of existence. Sanctimonia gave it a great deal—and almost her life in the process. The demon is strong—too strong for a spellcaster who does not yet have full control of his magic. You might injure such a powerful demon, but you are unlikely to be able to banish it.”

“But the possible threat to the capital—”

“Is negligible if I accurately remember my lessons on the subject. Demons are evil, but they will follow at least the letter of the instructions that a blood donor gives to them, though they may try to find a way around the spirit. From what I saw, Sanctimonia has ordered the demon to capture or perhaps kill her husband. If it had been given more general instructions or none, it would have likely killed all of us before chasing after my brother. I suppose Sanctimonia ordered it specifically not to harm anyone but her husband. If it can, it will fulfill its instructions. But it cannot do more unless she gave it that latitude.”

“If that’s the case, why did you order the palace evacuated?”

“Truly, that was just a way of encouraging the guards to let us out if they decided against obeying my orders.”

I had to admire his craftiness. But it also made me sad that even someone like him had to be so crafty to get what he wanted.

Then another thought struck me, and I had to fight to keep myself from shuddering.

Audaxius seemed to know a lot about demons. What if he knew even more—like the part about demonic magic being the foundation of the imperium, for example?

Such a thing did not seem possible. But I would have thought the same about any suggestion of use of demonic magic by Roburius and Sanctimonia,

Audaxius had been the heir for several years before the birth of Tyrannus. Would Audaxius have been briefed about the foundation on which the imperium apparently rested? I couldn’t rule it out.

And if he knew that much, he now also knew that I had the one kind of magic that could easily defeat demonic magic.

I couldn’t help myself. I shuddered. I could only hope that Audaxius hadn’t noticed.

Subscribe now

Click for Episode LIst

Idomeneus saw Aeneas coming when the Trojan prince was still far off, but the king of Crete was not a man to be panicked easily, not even by the appearance of the son of a goddess. Rather than retreating, the king called upon his nearby friends, who rushed to help him stand his ground.

Among these was Ascalaphus, prince and one of the leaders of the army of Orchomenus. When he was young, he had sailed with Jason on the Argo. Later, he had been one of Helen’s suitors, which is one reason he ended up fighting in Troy. Just as Aeneas was a son of Aphrodite, Ascalaphus was a son of Ares and a worthy counterweight to the Trojan prince. Warlike as his father, he was never slow to answer the call to battle.

Aeneas saw men gather around Idomeneus and summoned his own friends, Deiphobus, Agenor, and Paris. Paris might have been tempted to slip away, for he wasn’t known for his valor, but any possible retreat was blocked by the large number of Trojan troops who fell in line behind Aeneas.

The Trojans quickly clashed with the Greeks in an effort to rescue Alcathous’s corpse. Idomeneus and Aeneas led their respective sides, trading spear thrusts long enough to tire the arms of any ordinary man. Each was skillful enough at defending himself to avoid a wound, though the men around them began to suffer. Idomeneus struck at Aeneas and missed, but his thrust tore through the armor of a nearby Trojan, piercing the man so deeply that the stroke disemboweled him, creating such a gory mess that even Death might have paused for a moment, horrified once again by the savagery of ordinary mortals.

Idomeneus failed to strip the body because the Trojans rained down arrows upon him. Not as fleet-footed as he had been in his younger days, he nonetheless managed to recover his spear and retreat slowly, with his fellow Greeks providing as much help as they could.

Still furious at the Cretan king, Deiphobus threw his spear with all the strength he could muster. But just as Idomeneus had hit the wrong target, so too did Deiphobus, whose spear buried itself in Ascalaphus’s shoulder. Ares’s son fell, hitting the ground so hard that he raised a cloud of dust. This was one day during which he should have been slower to answer a battle call. His close adherence to his duty had made him yet another victim of circumstance.

Despite Ares’s savage nature, he loved his son just as much as Poseidon loved his fallen grandson. And though Ares fought on the Trojan side, Ascalaphus had been a Greek struck down by a Trojan spear. Would Deiphobus’s faulty aim lose the Trojans one of their divine allies?

What might have happened if Ares had seen his son fall, we will never know. As it was, Ares, unwillingly restrained by Zeus’s commands, sat on Olympus, his eyes deliberately averted from the battle to avoid the temptation to intervene. Thus, he did not yet know his son had perished, but once he learned the truth, the Trojans might well have trembled at the possible consequences.

The battle switched focus now from the body of Alcathous to that of the freshly killed Ascalaphus. Deiphobus snatched the shining helmet from the son of Ares’s head, but Meriones, fierce as Ares himself, thrust his spear point deep into Deiphobus’s arm. The Trojan prince dropped the helm he had coveted. Meriones pulled the spear out, causing Deiphobus’s blood to flow onto the ground at a much faster rate. The young Cretan would have followed with an even more deadly stroke, but the nearby Trojans charged, forcing Meriones to fall back. Polites, one of Deiphobus’s many brothers, helped him from the field, still alive but much in need of medical attention.

The Greeks and Trojans, like animals smelling blood, could not escape the grip of battle frenzy, and the slaughter continued. With a single, brutal thrust to the throat, Aeneas brought down Aphareus, a friend of Idomeneus. Antilochus struck down poor Thoön, who turned his back for only a moment. The son of Nestor cut Thoön’s spinal cord with a single blow remarkable both for its force an for its accuracy.

But to make that strike, Antilochus had moved somewhat away from his comrades, enabling the Trojans to surround him. He might have died that day, but Poseidon, determined not to lose a great-grandson just as he had earlier lost a grandson, stood close to Antilochus and fended off all the missiles that the Trojans flung at the prince of Pylos. Antilochus kept his spear constantly in motion to keep his adversaries as far back as possible.

The Trojans, unable to see Poseidon and now too filled with battle rage to deduce that a god must be helping the son of Nestor, continued to attack. The most bold of all was Adamas, a friend of Hector’s, who hurled his spear with such force that it should have pierced Antilochus’s shield and dug deep into his flesh. But Poseidon robbed the thrust of its force. The spear struck the shield but broke in half rather than penetrating it.

Adamas, realizing his mistake, fell back, but Meriones pursued the retreating Trojan. The Cretan flung his spear, catching Adams midway between his crotch and his navel, piercing his guts. The Trojan fell, and by the time Meriones had ripped his spear free, the light had faded from Adamas’s eyes.

Where was Hector while the Greeks drove back the Trojans from the ships and inflicted such heavy casualties? Fighting far enough away that the news had still not reached him. Hector had trusted in the word of Zeus, but he was soon to discover that Zeus’s words could be interpreted in different ways.

And where was Zeus? Still preoccupied with events in other parts of the world and still oblivious to the fact that one of his own brothers was defying him. Because he had not visualized such a possibility, he had made no preparation for it.

Let us face it, Alexander. No matter how well we prepare for war, the whims of the gods can still rob us of victory. Only if we know what fate holds in store for us can we have any certainty at all—but fate is notoriously difficult to interpret. The Greeks had fulfilled all the prophesized requirements to defeat Troy, and yet Troy still fought on, still with the upper hand, despite Poseidon.

More than anyone else, I was responsible for the Trojan resilience. If I hadn’t quarreled with Agamemnon, the war would have ended before this point. After all, Zeus had aided the Trojans this day because my mother had asked him to force the Greeks to see how invaluable my support was. How many good men died because of my choices?

Too many! And the death toll would continue to rise.

Two book-length retellings of Greek myths are already available in the Whispers from Olympus series.

Paid subscribers are entitled to a certain number of free ebooks. Check out how the system works here.

Subscribe now

If you prefer, you can also buy the books here.

And speaking of mythology, Gilgamesh is now available in ebook format. This book is free for all free and paid subscribers.

Claim Your Copy

X

Go to episode list

“Stop!” yelled Audaxius. The palace guards, acting under the imperator’s direct command, didn’t let me go. But they didn’t drag me away, either.

Roburius turned toward Audaxius and stared at him with cold eyes. Entirely focused on his brother, the imperator seemed not to notice Harena and Amicus, both of whom maintained a disciplined stillness.

“Do you presume to countermand my orders?” the imperator asked, his tone icy. Harena tensed like a predator looking for an opportunity to jump on her prey. Roburius remained totally focused on his brother.

“I don’t recall you ordering the guards to seize him,” replied Audaxius, his voice calm and even, his heartrate normal. “What I do recall is that Sharp-Eye is a dux and commander of the Watchers. As such, the law requires that he be given a chance to defend himself before he can be convicted. Even you cannot simply declare him guilty.”

“True,” said Roburius as if he had to force the word out. “But I can imprison him until his trial. As I have said, Sanctimonia herself condemns him. As imperiatrix, her word is above question.”

“It is indeed,” replied Audaxius. “But I would hear that word from her own lips before this matter proceeds any further.”

His brother stared at him with undisguised anger. “I have heard her with my own ears—and my word is even more unquestionable than hers is. Do you deny that?”

“Of course not! But the law acknowledges that it is important for us not only to do good, but also to appear to do good. Only thus can the citizens of our great imperium be reassured that we serve the cause of justice. Only thus can we retain their loyalty.”

Audaxius was technically correct. But now that my eyes were open to the truth about the imperator and his forebears, I realized that such legal niceties were often ignored. Sadly, I had no choice but to depend upon those niceties now. I no longer had any hope of escape.

“You will hear the imperatrix at trial,” said Roburius. “She is still recovering from her injuries now.”

“Did you not say that she is being attended to by Quick-Curer?” asked Audaxius. “Surely, if she has been healed, she is capable of answering a couple of simple questions.”

“I am,” said a voice so quiet and scratchy that I was surprised the men around me could even hear.

Roburius spun around to stare at his wife. Flanked by a couple of servants who were clearly holding her up, she looked like a much older woman. Her body trembled slightly, and her light blue eyes looked almost gray. But at least there was no flare of demonic red in them.

“As you can see, she is still not well,” said the imperator as quickly as he could. “Servants,” he said, looking at them for a moment as if trying to remember their names, “take her Majesty back to her chambers.”

“I will speak,” Sanctimonia said in a barely audible whisper. “I must speak.”

Audaxius raised an eyebrow. “The imperatrix shouldn’t be in such bad shape after being treated by a healer—by a competent one, anyway. But if she wishes to speak, are we not all obligated to listen to her words, which are, as your Majesty as so recently reminded us, beyond question?”

“Her medical needs—” began Roburius as he placed himself firmly between Audaxius and Sanctimonia.

“I will speak!” By some miracle, Sanctimonia made herself heard over her husband’s increasingly loud voice. “Too long have I remained silent. Too long—”

“Quiet!” yelled Roburius. Even a few of the hardened veterans among the guards flinched at his tone. Some of them looked at each other, puzzled.

The imperatrix, still full of surprises, didn’t flinch or back down. If anything, she stood up straighter and met her husband’s angry gaze without hesitation.

“Sharp-Eye is innocent!”

“Enough!” yelled the imperator. The guards holding me loosened their grips slightly. I could feel faint tremors in their hands. I didn’t need to be able to read minds to know that they were confused.

“We have heard her unquestionable words—” began Audaxius.

“She is not well!” shouted the imperator. “All of you can see that.”

Audaxius reached out for his brother’s shoulder, perhaps in an attempt to calm him down. Roburius slapped his hand away.

“Guards, take Audaxius into custody!”

For a moment, time seemed to grind to a halt. The guards all froze, uncertain how to respond to an arrest order against a princeps who had not broken any law. Harena and Amicus waited, their impatience buried behind passive facades, for Audaxius to give them a signal. Roburius also hesitated, his face momentarily blank, his heart racing. Did he wonder if he had gone too far? Or was he trying to figure out who else he needed to arrest to get his order against Audaxius carried out?

Sanctimonia stared at him, her lips trembling. If she had ever loved him, I imagined that love was withering within her. Did she even recognize the out-of-control dictator who stood before her?

Audaxius moved first. “Release Sharp-Eye, whom Sanctimona has just liberated with her testimony.”

Roburius might have been able to salvage the situation if he had agreed to what seemed a simple enough request. But perhaps he didn’t know what else, if anything, Sanctimonia might say next.

With one smooth movement, the imperator drew his sword and pointed it at Audaxius. “Surrender now, and I will spare your life!” Several of the guards gasped. Amicus and Harena still waited with inhuman patience, though they did shift slightly closer to the princeps.

“Having done nothing wrong, I appeal your command to the Senate.”

That statement caused another round of gasps. High-ranking members of the imperial family did have such a privilege, but it hadn’t been invoked for at least a century. Even the imperator opened his mouth but seemed unable to speak.

“The church stands with the princeps,” whispered Sanctimonia. Perhaps she had already spent what little energy she had. But her words were audible enough to initiate a third round of gasps. This one made some of the guards sound as if they were struggling to breathe.

“As imperator, my authority is final!” Roburius’s spoke slowly and quietly, but like Sanctimonia’s earlier whisper, his words were clearly audible to all those standing in the corridor. “I am the source of all law. As such, no law is binding upon me. Nor is any sanction of the church.”

I couldn’t help but shudder. There had been past imperators who behaved as if they believed that they were above the law. But until now, none had dared advanced such a belief so publicly.

“Let us see what the Senate will say about that,” said Audaxius.

I doubted that the Senate would publicly endorse such a legal theory, but I wasn’t sure. Apparently, neither was Roburius, who charged at his brother, his blade still drawn.

Rather than draw his own sword, which would escalate the situation and place him in a more dubious legal position, Audaxius gestured for his family to stay put and drew earth power from the stone floor into himself. Roburius, still running, couldn’t do the same, but he swung with what power he had. By the time the blade hit, Audaxius’s skin was like stone. The sword stroke raised sparks but didn’t even nick the princeps, who looked more like a statue than a man.

At that point, Harena’s well-disciplined heartrate finally sparked. “This attack was unwarranted!” she said as every muscle in her body tensed. But even so, she didn’t draw her sword, nor did Amicus.

Roburius paused, but not because of Harena. He waiting long enough to draw earth power into himself. Could a strong enough swing fueled by enough dragon warrior fury wound Audaxius or even kill him? I didn’t intend to find out.

The imperator had so thoroughly distracted the guards by this point that I had no problem breaking their grip and putting distance between us. I made myself invisible and also slipped on the invisibility ring, just in case anybody showed up with light magic. The hallway was crowded enough that the guards should still have been able to catch me, but they hesitated. Holding on to me was hardly their only priority at this point.

Trying to escape was still pointless. My only hope lay in helping Audaxius and Sanctimonia. Roburius might have weakened the loyalty of those guards that had witnessed what he was doing right now, but only his wife and his brother could really capitalize on those feelings.

Roburius, now bursting with earth power, raised his sword to strike again. Audaxius, still reluctant to openly attack the imperator, drew more earth power into himself in an effort to make his skin impenetrable, even to a blow struck with earth power. But I had no way to know whether that strategy would work.

Harena and Amicus both drew their blades, but they pointed them at the guards, not at the imperator. “Do your duty!” yelled Harena. “Enforce the law!”

The guards had been trained to believe that their only responsibility was to the imperator. I doubted that they’d attempt to restrain him, no matter how clearly he broke imperial law. Certainly, they wouldn’t intervene fast enough to save Audaxius.

I couldn’t tell whether Roburius was channeling any kind of demonic power or not, but I knew he had to be linked to demons in some way. With that in mind, I threw myself in his direction, grabbing him around the waist before he could swing his blade again.

My blood ran cold in my veins as I realized I had miscalculated. The soul magic within me didn’t flare. If the imperator had some demon connection, it was too subtle for my magic to react to it, or perhaps the connection was inactive at the moment.

Roburius tore me away from him, flung me hard on the stone floor, and raised a foot which, if it stomped on me with all that accumulated earth power, would shatter my bones. He still couldn’t see me, but he knew well enough where he had thrown me.

Audaxius, sword still undrawn, could only move slowly in his stone form. But somehow, despite that, he managed to reach us fast enough to collide with Roburius, throwing him off balance and getting his foot away from me.

As I tried to get up, the guards charged in all around me. I hoped that they might be coming to stop Roburius, but that was a foolish hope. They were coming to aid him, and I didn’t have enough room to get away from them.

Subscribe now

Part List

One of the most important factors in adapting a book into a film is the casting. Here, too, distinguishing the essential from the incidental is a critical part of the process.

Here is the way Chris describes himself in DHTP:

I couldn’t say I’d had much luck with the ladies up to this point. Though guys always got ridiculed for being superficial, in my experience, girls could be exactly the same way. I would have liked to think I was at least a little cute, but my fairly bright red hair, pale skin, freckles, and lack of conspicuous muscles set me apart from the image of the ideal guy in the minds of most girls. My elementary school nickname, Leprechaun, kind of summarized my public image. I supposed such a nickname was inevitable, given my looks and my very Irish name, Christopher Patrick Murphy—why use just one saint’s name when you can squeeze in two? Anyway, the nickname stuck like Krazy Glue, even though I was now in high school—in a different state!

Later on, in comparing himself with Gavin, Chris says,

One thing I knew about Gavin, despite his Goliath nickname, was that he was no bully. Still, he was being so intense, and he was two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle to my hundred and twenty of pure scrawniness. I was David to his Goliath—if David hadn’t been handy with a sling.

Before I explain how these descriptions changed during the course of casting, I need to mention how the process works.

Troy was eager to have me participate in casting, and I was just as eager to be involved. Particularly for a microbudget movie, auditions typically won’t be done in person unless the casting call only goes out in the local area. A production can probably do that if the director and producer are based someplace like Los Angeles, where the talent pool is pretty big. But putting out a nationwide call is probably better if the goal is to find the best talent one can on a small budget.

Rather than being in-person, auditions for a national call will typically be done on a platform like Zoom. (Even the free plan offers the ability to host forty-minute meetings—more than enough for each audition.) I recommend recording the auditions for later review. That was particularly important for me, because in a lot of the auditions, I had to serve as a scene partner to read the other parts of the dialogue. (A microbudget film can’t afford to hire a reader for something like that.) That meant I couldn’t keep an eye on each actor’s facial expressions and body language during the audition. The recordings were also important for Troy, who is in demand as a director-for-hire and was sometimes shooting another project during the times when we’d scheduled some of the auditions.

We used Backstage for recruiting purposes. It’s a great platform on which are enrolled a huge number of actors. Once our project was posted on March 2, we quickly developed a large pool of applications. By April 2, we had over 2,200.

After joining Backstage, each actor creates a profile designed to attract a casting team. It typically includes a head shot, other photos, video with clips from other projects and/or self-tapes prepared especially for Backstage and similar platforms, as well as physical details like height and weight, a list of skills, and a resume. My first casting-related job was sorting through the applications to determine who got shortlisted (and thus got an audition). At first, I was very thorough and examined every aspect of each application. That proved to take too long, so I focused mostly on people who looked the part and/or had an extensive resume. That said, the tapes are usually more indicative than the resume of how good a performer each actor is.

Backstage has a system for requesting a self-tape as what amounts to a first audition step, but Troy and I preferred to do a Zoom audition. We had one round of auditions, a round of callbacks, and a second round of callbacks to winnow down the pile of applications until we found the best person for each part. Given how important it is for the writer and the director to agree on casting in an adaptation project, we spent a lot of time discussing the applicants and their performances.

Those of you who read the descriptions of Chris in the previous post may have noticed an immediate problem with casting the role: most young male actors are not scrawny. That’s not even a choice when they select their body type on Backstage. Slender is as thin as it gets.

This is not an insurmountable obstacle. For years, productions have camouflaged the muscles of male actors beneath baggy clothing. A lot of film and TV nerds are, in fact, in better shape than they at first appear to be.

Red hair proved to be an even bigger problem. Of the more than 450 people who applied to be Chris, only three had red hair. A couple more offered to dye their hair, and one brought along a red wig to the audition as a joke. Freckles weren’t exactly abundant, either.

Troy and I quickly agreed that, when possible, we’d go with the best actor rather than the one who most looked the part. Someone playing Chris would need to look as if he could claim some Irish ancestry. And he couldn’t have massive muscles or be too tall, but anyone whose body type could be camouflaged with the appropriate wardrobe would be fine. The line about a hundred and twenty pounds of pure scrawniness, which got moved into one of the conversations with Martin, had to go, as did any reference to red hair.

In the end, we were able to cast leads who are all suitable for bringing my vision to life, even though some of them look little like my mental image of those characters. All of the actors do an outstanding job of capturing those characters’ personalities.

Reaching that point wasn’t easy, not because of physical appearance, but because we had so many great actors to choose from. You might wonder how a microbudget movie would draw so much talent. The answer is a simple one. Just as there are more talented authors than there are traditional publishing slots, there are more talented actors than there are available roles.

Troy believes that a microbudget project can attract the right kind of actors if if is feature film length, if it has a good script, and if, in the case of nationally cast projects, it pays for travel and accommodations—even if the salary is relatively low. I was skeptical, but based on the way actors were drawn to this project, I think he was right.

Some commercials pay more than we’re paying our leads, and the big commercial shoots are often very competitive for that reason. But a feature film is apparently a better resume builder that leads more naturally to other feature films. That’s why the people that Troy refers to as “the stars of the future” would find such a film attractive. They’re looking for their big break. That’s not quite as unrealistic as it sounds. With modern distribution models, even a microbudget movie can get in front of a lot of eyes. And assuming the film has good production values (which, as Troy points out, can be achieved even on a microbudget), it can provide good footage for someone’s audition reel. Self tapes can be effective, but being able to show off an actor in an actual movie? That’s resume gold.

A casting director watching someone in a movie clip can see the quality of the performance but also is reminded that someone already cast the actor, particularly important if the actor was cast in a leading role. Even seeing this in a resume is not as effective as seeing part of the movie itself. It’s hard to judge the quality of the production without a clip, and some actors with impressive looking resumes aren’t actually that good.

I chuckled at the note in one of the applications that said, “I will travel for good footage.” There is much truth in that.

All of that said, there was one part of the casting process that I truly hated. Some of the aspects of my personality that made me a good teacher would also make me a terrible casting director.

And why is that, you ask? Because I didn’t want to drop people. It was relatively easy when someone didn’t audition well. (Troy would refer to some of them as “terrible,” and I was more likely to think, “the acting skills have not yet developed fully,” but we both agreed that they just couldn’t do the part at this point.) But saying goodbye to someone who was a strong actor, but just not quite as strong as someone else, was painful to me. My heart broke a little each time I had to do that.

In the classroom, it’s possible for everyone to succeed. That isn’t always what happens, of course, but it could happen, and teachers can help to bring that outcome about. In casting, only one person for each part can succeed, no matter how many good people have applied for that part.

I comfort myself with the fact that while it would be wonderful to help the career of every deserving person, it is better to help some than none.

On that note, it is my honor to make the public introduction of our leading cast members (in order of appearance):

Phi Hamens Nelson as Chris Murphy:

A graduate of the New York Film Academy, Phi has experience in many areas. He’s done Shakespeare (Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet, Puck in Midsummer Night’s Dream, and MacDuff in Macbeth), as well as more modern plays (Hans Scholl in Antigone in Munich and Lord Farquaad in Shrek the Musical, among others). He’s been a lead in several short films and one longer one, playing everything from a supportive best friend to a serial killer in the movie Tim, which he also directed. He was co-cinematographer on another of his films, Wheel and Foot. In addition to his scripted acting, he has considerable improv experience.

Visit Phi on IMDB

Julian Wesley Ford as Martin (and the voice of Legion):

An actor since the age of eleven, a recent graduate of Lampeter-Strasburg High School (known for its fine theater program) and currently working toward a degree in musical theater, Julian is no stranger to the stage. He has thus far appeared in sixteen plays (portraying Mr. Bundles in Annie, Friedrich von Trapp in The Sound of Music, Lawrence in School of Rock, Peter Pan in Shrek, Vince Fontaine in Grease, Troy Bolton in High School Musical, Sky in Mamma Mia, Chuck Cranston in Footloose, and Hades and Orpheus in Hadestown, among others). He’s also been a featured singer at a number of public events. Somehow, he also found time to launch himself in the film industry, playing Alex, the leading role in the YA short film, Lost in Time and also playing Jack in the feature length horror movie, Final Act.

Visit Julian on IMDB

Dannie Duke as Amanda:

Interested in acting from a young age and trained at HB Studio and T. Schreiber Studio, Dannie’s acting resume includes several short films, in which she played a lead at least three times. Her TV appearances include a leading role in How Not To Get Rid of a Body and supporting roles in six other miniseries. Dannie has also worked as a model in campaigns for brands like L’Oreal Cosmetics, Meta, Redken, Essie, and Remington.

Visit Danni on IMDB

Visit Danni on Substack

Darien Batista as Gavin Johnson:

A recent graduate of Alexander W. Dreyfoos School of the Arts, Darien has already had six stage appearances, including Steve, the leading role in She Kills Monsters, as well as playing Scorpius Malfoy in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child and Jack in Through the Woods, among other roles. His film resume includes playing Devon, the leading role in the short film, Psychosis, and young Marcel in The Rebirth, as well as roles in two other films.

Visit Darien on IMDB

Veronika Babina as Carla Rinaldi

A student at Hunter College who has taken acting classes there and has also trained at the Stella Adler Acting Academy, the Barrow Group, and HB Studio, Veronika has made two stage appearances (in Electra and The Dark at the Top of the Stairs), but her primary emphasis has been film, including leading roles in four short films, another leading role in the feature film, New Jersey Devil and in the upcoming feature film, The Girl We Let in, on which she also served as co-producer.

Visit Veronika on IMDB

Any or all of these people could easily be a future star. Only time will tell. But they are all excellent actors who will do a great job in this movie. Of that much, I’m sure. And even early in the audition process, it was a clear that they had a thorough understanding of the characters that they were playing. For that reason, they are all good choices to bring my characters to life on the big screen.

Check out the Soul Salvager Series Here

Subscribe now

Click for Episode LIst

Filled with grief for his slaughtered grandson, Poseidon sought out Idomeneus, King of Crete. The king had gone back to camp with an injured comrade and probably intended to return as soon as he could. But Poseidon, speaking with the voice of Thoas, made sure that Idomeneus returned as quickly as possibly. The Cretan king took with him as many men as he could find.

Instead of moving on, Poseidon led the way, looking for yet another opportunity to keep the Trojans from winning a total victory. In remaining so near the battlefield, Poseidon, a god among men, knew that he might arouse the wrath of Zeus, but he willingly took the risk. His grandson must be avenged.

Moments later, Idomeneus encountered Meriones, still looking for a spear. The Cretan king lent him one from the many captured from the Trojan dead, and together they marched, like Ares and his dreadful son, Phobos, toward the battlefield, intending to strengthen the Greek lines wherever they were weakest.

Satisfied for the moment, Poseidon withdrew a little, though he stayed close enough to the battlefield to intervene if needed.

By now, the Trojans had pushed through the Greek encampment far enough to be near some of the ships, and they saw Idomeneus and Meriones returning to the battle. Raising their spears and uttering a battle cry that echoed across the land, The Trojans attacked the two Cretans with great force and skill. More blood flowed, mostly Trojan, for the two Cretans fought with fury even greater than normal. Perhaps Poseidon pushed them to a higher level of excellence than they could normally achieve. Perhaps not. Either way, the Trojans could not inflict the tiniest scratch on either of them.

Yet Death stalked the battlefield that day, as he always does. No mortal man could see the invisible net in which the Greeks and Trojans were caught like fish out of water. The conflicting desires of the gods had fashioned the net, and even Poseidon and Zeus, each in his own way, added to its strength and weight. It would crush or smother many men on both sides, but I am not sure what gave the most cause for sorrow—that it had such deadly effect, or that none of the combatants ever noticed it. They went to their doom without truly grasping what the gods had done to them.

Othryoneus, a recently arrived Trojan ally who had lent his aid to the beleaguered city in exchange for he hand of Princess Cassandra, perished after Idomeneus’s spear pierced his armor and tore into his stomach. He fell to ground with a thud, but he didn’t immediately die.

“Ah, Othryoneus,” said Idomeneus as the man lay dying in front of him. “I fear you will never lie in the arms of the sweet Cassandra. If only you had agreed to fight with us, you would surely be destined for the bed of Agamemnon’s loveliest daughter. If you are to find a bride now, you will have to seek her in the realm of Hades.”

Idomeneus stopped his mockery once Othryoneus breathed his last. The Cretan king began to drag his body away, but Asius, his earlier attack on the Greek camp thwarted, tried to rescue his fallen comrade. The rescued effort came to a quick and bloody end when Idomeneus drove his spear through Asius’s neck. He died even faster than the warrior whose body he came to rescue. His charioteer, frozen by fear, fell to Antilochus’s sword, a victory which Nestor wasted no time in exploiting by driving the chariot back to the Greek camp.

The Trojans, stunned by their rapid losses, decided they would try to hang on until Hector could bring the main Trojan force to their rescue. Prince Deiphobus, eager to shed Greek blood to avenge the fallen Asius, flung his spear at Idomeneus. The Cretan king dropped down, and the spear went right past him, wounding Hypsenor instead. Before Deiphobus could move in for the kill, though, Antilochus drove him back and, with some friends, carried the wounded Hypsenor from the field.

The situation on the battlefield was too uncertain for Deiphobus to follow, so instead, he looked for another target on whom to inflict his vengeance. Idomeneus, his first choice, was only a second away from slaughtering another Trojan, the noble Alcathous, a member by marriage of the Dardanian royal line and brother-in-law to Aeneas.

Alcathous might have lived if the fight had been fair. But Poseidon, having seen Hypsenor fall, wanted to make sure that the Trojans did not gain momentum. Disobeying Zeus’s direct order, the lord of the sea dimmed Alcathous’s bright eyes and froze his limbs, so that he could neither flee nor defend himself. Reduced to complete helplessness, he was easy prey for Idomeneus, who pierced Alcathous’s armor with his spear, the tip of which pierced the Trojan’s still beating heart.

Pausing only for a second, Idomeneus turned to the shocked Deiphobus. “Are you now done with your endless bragging, prince of Troy? If not, come face me, and we will see how you fare against a warrior four generations closer to Zeus than you are.”

Deiphobus was no coward, but having seen Alcathous fall, he realized some god who favored the Greeks was nearby. Rather than risk a god rendering him helpless in the way that Alcathous had been brought down, the Trojan prince decided to seek someone he knew the gods favored to help him against Idomeneus.

Withdrawing with as much dignity as he could manage, Deiphobus ran to find Aeneas, son of Aphrodite. He found the man well behind the Trojan lines. Aeneas had been much annoyed that Priam did not treat him with proper honor. In some ways, his grievance was like a pale shadow of my own, but when Deiphobus called on him to save at least the body of Aeneas’s fallen brother-in-law, since it was too late to save his life, Aeneas didn’t hesitate.

If only I had shown the same character when the Greeks had been threatened. But I still sulked in my tent, allowing the war to continue its uneven course without me. By doing so, I would bring unendurable grief upon myself.

But I would not be alone. For this day’s battles were not yet done, and it would not be long before men on both sides lost both friends and relatives.

Two book-length retellings of Greek myths are already available in the Whispers from Olympus series.

Paid subscribers are entitled to a certain number of free ebooks. Check out how the system works here.

Subscribe now

If you prefer, you can also buy the books here.

And speaking of mythology, Gilgamesh is now available in ebook format. This book is free for all free and paid subscribers.

Claim Your Copy

Go to episode list

By the time the imperator got out of the chamber and started shouting orders to the guards, I had put so much distance between him and me that i could barely hear him. But his orders to seal off the palace would reach all of its exits long before I could.

I had three options. I could search for another secret portal. If there was one that even I hadn’t known about, there could hypothetically be others. But even if there were, it would take me far too long to find any of them, and even if I could, they were probably protected against anyone not of the imperial bloodline.

I could try to find one of the sorcerers that might conceivably believe me that the imperator was using demonic magic and might therefore help me escape. Wall-Builder would be a good candidate. The problem was that I had no easy way to locate him, even if he happened to be in the palace. And given the imperator’s earlier paranoia, he might well order all the sorcerers arrested again.

That left me with only one other option. Though the imperator had just used his wife’s blood to invoke demonic magic, if he were a regular user, he’d have to have some way of drawing blood—from himself or others—that could be easily camouflaged.

Sanctimonia’s gloves had enabled her to draw blood without drawing attention. However, the imperator was always barehanded, and I’d never seen evidence that any of his other clothing was creating small wounds and siphoning blood from him.

It was the subtle movement of Sanctimonia’s gloves that drew my attention to them. What if the imperator had a much more subtle way of drawing blood, one that did not cause any of his garments to move? Like the imperatrix, he was warded against any form of magical detection. If the demonic magic didn’t betray itself in any way discernible to my senses, then it could certainly go undetected by anyone else as well.

It was possible that the imperator wasn’t a regular user, but demonic magic tended to be addictive. It was highly unlikely that he’s escaped that general pattern.

If there was nothing about his clothing that facilitated blood sacrifice, then perhaps there was a location that did—and that location would logically be in the palace.

If so, I might have a marginally better chance at finding such a place than I had at finding another fixed portal. Thanks to the Animaan magic within me, I was more sensitive to the presence of demonic magic than most people. It would just take a little residue here and there to lead me to the chamber in which the imperator violated our most sacred laws.

Finding such a place would give me the proof I needed to convince others. Failing that, it would give me something to destroy, so that I could hinder the imperator’s evil work.

That sounded like such a good idea—for the first few hours. But I sought any clue that might lead me to the hypothetical chamber in vain. There wasn’t a single speck of demonic magic, at least not in the places that I could reach. Sensitive areas, such as the imperator’s bedroom, accumulated more and more guards. In other cases, guards formed a solid line that blocked an entire hallway. Breaking through would give away my location.

I thought about fleeing to the library. I could climb up one of the shelves and hide on the top, where I could no doubt remain concealed for a long time if I had to. But the only way into the library was from the throne room, all the entrances to which had been blocked.

Old Roburius had managed a higher lever of cleverness than I would have expected from someone so emotionally agitated. Systematically sealing off whole areas of the palace would eventually trap me—if the imperator continued to have enough men to maintain such a complicated array of human barriers.

I felt cold inside and had to fight to keep from shuddering. My carefully controlled emotions twisted within me. I needed a quick solution to calm myself, but instead, all I had was—

A miracle?

Down the hall came Audaxius, Harena, and Amicus Fidelis, though their heartbeats and breathing remained tightly controlled.

Audaxius had a far better reputation than Tyrannus and even Roburius. And Audaxius, even though he had no way of knowing yet, with Tyrannus either gone completely or hopelessly compromised, was now heir to the throne.

If I could somehow get—or create—a chance to tell Audaxius what was really going on, there might yet be a chance of removing the demonic magic user from the throne without the destroying the imperium in the process. No one aside from my friends would ever believe what I had to say. But if Audaxius told people that Roburius had become corrupt and needed to go, everyone would believe him—or so I hoped.

They were obviously headed for the throne room. I might be able to enter with them if I could time my movements exactly.

Normal protocol required Audaxius, as the highest ranking member of his immediate family, to take the lead. Instead, he allowed Harena to do so, followed by Amicus. The princeps himself followed Amicus. The arrangement seemed to show his love for his family rather than desire to emphasize their subordination to him. I couldn’t help smiling a little, though I was sure certain civil servants would be discretely frown at the arrangement.

The trio was unaccompanied by guards, and the palace guards made a point of not pressing too close to them. They also would to create a momentary opening in their line for Audaxius and his family to enter. That would be my chance, small as it was, to remain with Audaxius.

There was a little distance between Audaxius and Amicus. Moving as precisely as I could, I inserted myself into that space, doing my best to fall into the same walking rhythm as the father-and-son pair. Stepping on Audaxius’s foot or Amicus’s heel might well prove fatal.

Somehow, I managed to remaining in the space between Audaxius and Amicus as they moved without ever touching either one of them. As soon as we were in the throne room, I jumped to one side just the family shifted position, presenting themselves to the imperator in a line, with Audaxius in the center.

The imperator looked superficially calmer than when I had seen him before. But his heart sounded as if it were pounding hard enough to be in danger of ripping out of his chest. His eyes stayed fixed on the door until the line of guards sealed it off once again. Then he looked at Audaxius but did not at first acknowledge him.

The thrones twisted in the earlier attack had been removed. Audaxius sat in a much simpler chair. He must have told the servants not to bring in chairs for Sanctimonia and Tyrannus. Having such chairs sit empty would only have prompted more speculation that Roburius would most likely want to avoid.

“I have grave tidings,” said the imperator after a long, awkward delay.

“What news could leave you looking so grim?” asked Audaxius.

“Sharp-Eye has engineered a revolt against me. He did not succeed in killing me, but he attacked my wife, and my son is missing.”

The imperator assumed correctly that I intended to try to reveal the truth about him at some point, and he wanted to poison everyone’s mind against me before I had the chance. It took every ounce of discipline I had not to shout at him.

“He has always been loyal to you,” replied Audaxius carefully. “Why is now suddenly a rebel?”

“There is nothing sudden about it. He has been plotting against me for months.”

“Are you sure of that?” asked Harena in a tone less diplomatic than her husband’s. “He was raised to serve the imperium.”

“Documents have been found in his room in the palace that prove his guilt,” replied the imperator. If I hadn’t already known he was lying, his heartbeat would have given him away. I wondered who had created such vile forgeries for him. No doubt some imperial employee about whom I knew nothing.

“Whatever else he might be, Sharp-Eye is certainly intelligent,” said Audaxius slowly. “Is it not hard to imagine an intelligent person who leaves incriminating documents lying around in a room in the palace? That sounds more like someone’s attempt to frame him for something he didn’t do.”

“Perhaps,” said Roburius, making the word sound more like a condemnation of the whole idea rather than an admission that it could be true. “But the testimony of Sanctimonia, one of his victims, makes his guilt unquestionable.”

“She is not here,” said Audaxius. I wasn’t sure whether that was a statement or a question.

“She was very badly injured,” said Roburius. “She is under the care of the healer, Quick-Curer, who was also attacked by Sharp-Eye but is now recovered.”

I could tell that Audaxius would have liked to question Sanctimonia himself, but nonetheless, he seemed shocked by what Roburius was telling him.

The imperator’s plan to poison Audaxius’s mind against me was working. If this process continued much longer, I would never be able to convince the princeps. There was only one thing I could do now—an intensely risky thing.

Pocketing the invisibility ring and making myself audible, I yelled, “He lies! It was he who struck down Sanctimonia, not I. His accusation against me is but—”

In seconds, the guards were upon me. They would silence me and drag me away. I would never be able to reveal the truth—but it would be the death of me, nonetheless.

Subscribe now

I’ve already alluded to the need to decide what is essential for a successful adaptation of your work and what is more incidental. This is important not only to work within budgetary constrains but also to create an optimal screenplay, select the best location, and cast the best actors. I’ll deal with the first two in this post and with casting next week.

Before we plunge into the discussion of how to get the adaptation process to work well for you, let me give you a quick introduction to the novella involved so that you can more readily understand my examples later on.

The main character in The Devil Hath the Power is Chris Murphy, a sixteen-year-old high school student who accidentally sells his soul to the devil. You might be thinking, “How can someone sell his soul accidentally?” Well, while surfing the web, Chris runs across an ad offering him all kinds of amazing benefits in exchange for selling his soul. Of course, he didn’t believe that the ad was real. What sane person would? But he did think it was funny. As he looked more closely, he saw that the offer included a no-obligation, thirty-day free trial. He chuckled over that and clicked on the link just to see what would happen. In Chris’s own words, here is what happened.

The web page I found myself staring at now had all kinds of alluring graphics: exotic vacation destinations, piles of money, sports trophies, and scantily clad, beautiful girls. Floating in this sea of tempting images was the instruction, “Select the benefit you wish to test during your free trial.” Underneath that was a long list of potential benefits, all clickable.

I raised an eyebrow as I read through the choices. Some of them, like, “Make your enemy suffer,” seemed tasteless and not even a bit funny. Others, like, “Become a millionaire,” might have been tempting if I had really believed such a thing were possible.

My eyes finally came to rest on, “Have a smokin’ hot girlfriend.” That option was at least funny. I wondered how many poor nerds clicked on it and actually expected to have their wish fulfilled.

Well, this poor nerd clicked without a second thought—just for laughs, you understand.

After clicking through the Terms of Service without reading them, Chris chuckles again and goes to bed.

He continues to believe that the whole thing was just a joke until the next day, when he goes to school and immediately runs into his “smokin’ hot girlfriend,” the beautiful Amanda, who draws every male eye and who, irrationally, acts as if she and Chris have been together for a long time. Chris quickly lapses into a kind of mental haze that is partly hormonal and partly Satanic magic. As a result, he misses all the red flags that he would have noticed ordinarily.

Fortunately for him, there are people at his school with more knowledge of the supernatural than he has. Gavin Johnson, a star athlete and president of every organization to which he belongs—an authentic BMOC (Big Man on Campus)—has encountered the supernatural before and realizes that something is off.

When Gavin’s efforts to convince Chris that he’s in danger fail, he enlists the aid of Carla Rinalda, a girl from out of town who knows the supernatural even better than Gavin. Carla has the distinction of having sold her own soul and managed to escape from the deal. Together, she and Gavin chip away at Chris’s denial and try to force him to realize that he needs to get out of his deal—before it’s too late.

Chris finally agrees that they’re right—except for one thing. He still believes that he’s in love with Amanda. He wants more than just his own escape. He wants to free her from Hell.

That’s about as far as we can go without horrendous spoilers, but that should be enough to give you a general idea of what the characters and plot are like.

Since The Devil Hath the Power is a novella, I didn’t have to worry about cutting for length, something that often has to happen when adapting a novel. But the novella did have at least one feature that would need adaptation to work properly on screen: a fairly heavy use of internal monologue.

As originally written, DHTP uses internal monologue to bring in elements of Chris’s background, such as his religious attitude—agnosticism verging on atheism—that make it harder for him to fight Satan effectively. They also shows personality traits such as his love of tradition that suggest that perhaps his agnosticism is not as total as he leads everyone to believe. I needed to keep at least some of this material in order to communicate Chris’s personality and situation accurately. But how would I do that? I’ve seen movies that make some use of voice-over internal monologues, but there are limits to how much of that one can do and still have an effective movie. And some of monologues wouldn’t have lent themselves to conversion into action, except through the use of lots of flashbacks, which some viewers might have found confusing.

However, converting some of the monologue material into ordinary dialogue could work a lot more smoothly than the other options. After paring the monologue material down to the bare minimum needed to communicate the character’s past effectively, I created Martin, a character who doesn’t exist in the original book. He is based on a type of character who crops up a lot later on the series—some poor soul who has been tempted by Satan at some point and who is now being manipulated into attacking Chris. Martin is a key element in a frame story at the beginning and end of the movie that creates a high-adrenaline opening scene and an unexpected but emotionally satisfying ending. The original book material becomes what amounts to a flashback in between the two parts of the frame story. Within the frame story and sometimes as voice-overs at other times, Chris tells Martin his story in an attempt to convince Martin that he can free himself from Satan.

In other words, I rearranged some of the material and presented it in a different way, but I didn’t have to part with any essential element in the book to do it. If anything, I reinforced the essential feel and message of the original. Of course, screenplays evolve during the course of production, so the final form of the film may be somewhat different from the original screenplay. But hopefully, the essence of the book will still be retained.

Some much more drastic adaptations have still retained the original spirit of the books on which they were based. The example that most readily comes to mind is Ready Player One. The characters, the basic plot, and the messages are all the same in the movie and in the book. The details are almost totally different. For instance, to get the first key in the book, Wade has to play a video game against a lich. In the movie, getting the first key involves a wild race through a cityscape while trying to find a way to avoid getting crushed by Godzilla or King Kong. The book version appealed well to readers. The movie version is a much better fit for an action movie audience.

You can easily see how deciding what’s essential and what’s incidental can be critical in creating a movie adaptation. This is just as true for the location as it is for the screenplay.

DHTP takes place in the fictional town of Madisonville, California, somewhat east of where the real city of Merced is. I know what Madisonville is like. But the problem, at the risk of stating the obvious, is that Madisonville doesn’t exist in the real world. There is no way to shoot a movie there. And no real place is going to be exactly like it. Once again, I had to separate essential details from incidental ones.

Madisonville is a relatively new town, mostly tract housing. Chris, who moved to Madisonville from the real Eau Claire, Wisconsin, acutely feels Madisonville’s lack of tradition, particular in James Madison High School, which he once describes as a glass and chrome monstrosity.

Chris’s attachment to tradition is important to understanding him. The specifics of the town aren’t. And no high school is going to want to play host to a movie that refers to it as a glass and chrome monstrosity. (I know—shocker!) So the principal question became, “Where can we find a small town (or suburb, carefully filmed so as not to show off the nearby big-city skyline) that will let us film there without charging us a king’s ransom?

Our quest for location was complicated by the fact that, as a microbudget movie, we wouldn’t give the local economy a big boost. But that big disadvantage is also an advantage in that our shoots would be minimally invasive. (It’s important to minimize requests like street closings and other things that interfere with the normal course of life for a town’s citizens.)

We also had one other advantage working for us: people are still fascinated by movies. I’m not sure why, but having a movie made nearby still retains much of the glamor it had during the early days of Hollywood. I don’t see that as much in the Los Angeles area, where so many movies and TV shows have been shot over the years that a lot of people don’t really notice anymore. But in a small community where a movie has never been shot before, the old excitement still lingers.

As a result of the efforts of a local businessman (the same author who goes by Post-Doctorate-D that I mentioned in an earlier post), we ended being welcomed in West Chester, Ohio, a township that is also a suburb of Cincinnati. The township is the home of West Lakota High School, where the school scenes will be shot. The Lakota School District has been just as welcoming as the town, and the school is architecturally interesting, which is certainly an added plus.

Does West Chester look anything like my mental image of Madisonville? Not at all, but the essential story can easily fit into a different place. We had to do some creative thinking to make that happen. A bakery that was used in an earlier film Troy shot in the area is now going to be Madisonville’s Main Street Diner. (West Chester has neither a Main Street nor a diner. One improvises when one must.)

Location scouting can be very time consuming. The fact that Troy has shot in the Cincinnati area five times before certainly helped. I couldn’t travel to Ohio to pitch in, but I was able to use Google Earth to check some locations. I’ve found it a good tool in the past when I was writing about real locations. It only works for buildings and other sites on or very near a public street, but for those kind of locations, it can reveal exactly what a place looks like. While not a substitute for on-the-ground scouting, it can be a way to expedite the process by pre-identifying certain areas that might serve particular purposes.

As you can see, it is possible to implement the essence of writer’s vision while adapting a work, but the process is complicated. Next week, we’ll talk about how casting is affected by the need to preserve an author’s vision.

Check out the Soul Salvager Series Here

Subscribe now