Chapter 28

Diana shot up to the palace, no more Missus Nice Girl, no more playing in the shadows. Time was running out and if she did not reach Arthur and manage to break Circe's spell on him soon, he would be lost to her forever.

She allowed her mind to wonder, a risky plan, but why was she so concerned about Circe's desire to posses Arthur. He hadn't shown anything other than complete disdain, and outright hatred, of her in the years since the start of the war. Her mind wandering wasn't a good thing; it did her no good to think about the possible ulterior motives she had to saving Arthur. One, because it did not matter how she felt about him, he did not love her, it was possible he had never loved her, but she would not push the past, and two because it did nothing to get her closer to saving him.

Ultimately, Circe was evil and needed to be stopped. End of story.

Diana had Arthur's trident on her back and Medusa's head in her hand, inside Circe's temple she would find her sabre and axe, as well as her shield. If all other justifications failed, she could always call upon the need to have her own weapons back in her possession as reason to attack the witch.

Half way up the mountain Diana began to experience fire from archers posted as garrison fighters on the lower levels of Circe's castle like temple. She drew the trident with her right hand, using it to swat away the sloppy shots that got too close for comfort, but for the most part, compared to Medusa, these men were amateurs. In her left hand she carried the head, holding it out in front of her as she went, hoping to turn as many of her slaves into stone statues as she could; the more she turned this way, the fewer she would have to outright kill.

Her feet touched the stone of the upper most terrace balcony and Diana looked around. There were five men, one armed with her axe. He must be one of her favourites, Diana thought to herself, eyeing the young man with dark hair and light coloured eyes set against bronze skin. The head was good enough to stall one of them, but she knew she couldn't trust the same trick to work multiple times, even if they were just Circe's stooges. There was also the risk that Arthur might come out and fall victim to the gaze as well.

Diana held the head out to the man wielding her axe, intending to turn him to stone and retrieve her weapon. She knew she was gaining comfort with the trident, but going up against Arthur, as she assumed she would be shortly, she wanted to have a weapon she was completely comfortable with on hand.

The handsome bronze statue of a man rushed Diana, his voice a mixture of anger and honey, but he spoke a language she did not recognize but could only imagine he was saying unflattering and hateful things judging by his tone. He did not look at the face, which forced Diana to move to plan B.

Still holding the head out in front of her, she dropped it, kicking it like a football, towards her rushing attacker. If nothing else, she hoped having a disembodied head coming towards him would slow him in his tracks.

She was correct. He moved to catch the head, but while she was preoccupied in reclaiming her weapon, another defender had gotten too close for comfort. She readied the trident, trying to replicate the blast she had fired earlier but to no avail. Never mind that nonsense, she thought bitterly to herself, throwing the trident with expert skill. It sunk into the guard, knocking him clean off his feet and back into the pillar behind him.

Diana allowed herself a satisfied smirk before turning her attention back to the man with the axe. Medusa's face had turned him to stone, the axe had become part of him. Though still golden and gilded, it was held by a stone hand. Diana, with no weapon and still three guards to fight off, did what she had to do.

She rushed forward and, with her silver bracered forearm, smashed through the man's wrist, freeing her axe before turning around to face the remaining three guards. They had all been Heroes of Legend, or famous people in Man's World. Circe had a taste for extravagance and power, hence her interest in Ares in the first place.

"We cannot let you harm Mistress Circe!" one of them called out, dashing towards her while the other two to remain on the flank in case the charging man failed.

And fail he did. Diana's axe cut across his centre of his body, cleaving him clean in two, the top half of his body sliding to the ground as his legs crumbled and fell as well, a pile of mess and gore before her as she looked at the remaining two guards.

She caught the one on the left eyeing the Trident of Poseidon, still pinning his dead comrade to the support pillar. He must have thought himself quick, but he failed to beat Diana to the trident, catching her axe across his shoulder and chest. The blade imbedded itself in his chest, Diana had to brace her foot against his chest and push off with her heel, her boots cracking ribs as she dislodged the blade.

The final guard was running towards her but she freed the trident and let lose again, a sharp crack of lightning shot out from the tree tines as the weapon let loose from her hand. The electric jolt of the lightning caused his body to go rigid. Unable to dodge the trident, he was impaled and fell backwards.

She walked over to the corpse, putting her foot down on his midsection as she freed the trident from his chest, an eruption of blood squirting up as she did so, licking and staining her leg.

Once more covered in blood, Diana was a vision of her mother with her father's spirit, blue eyes cold and ready for the final, hardest stage of her fight.

This was almost too easy, she thought.

"Diana!" His voice was like the roar of the Nemian Lion; pure aggression without a filter, angry and rough.

Almost.