The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm (28 page)

11

Stars, Stripes, and Stygian Ice

Two days later, Gordie had returned from Dasos soaking wet, but carrying twenty figs and twenty dates in a silk pouch. He had asked Chiron for a bag, impressing the centaur with his ability to plan ahead. When he had arrived in the forest, he sprinted to the nearby tree he remembered as the date palm and then to the spot Laktizon had led him to find figs. He only stopped on his way back to the river to inspect the pine tree where he fought the werewolf, and was shocked to see the body was gone, a black trail of blood leading out the other side of the pine. All that remained was a mysterious symbol where the beast had been slain: a circle around a jaguar lapping water from a forest pool molded out of a strange silvery dust. Gordie thought it was both beautiful and sad, but he did not afford himself time to ponder over this for fear of running into Dasos the satyr (or any other creatures for that matter), so he had run to the river and called for Pompeia with his head in the current. The naiad had arrived on cue and brought him back to Mount Pelion.

By this time, a few more swims in the eucalyptus pool had healed his shoulder back to pristine condition, and he had even tooled around the hot tub with his grandfather who said the pool made him ‘feel like a horny eighteen-year-old again,’ something Gordie was both repulsed and tickled to hear.

It had now been six days since Gordie walked out of the Underworld only to collapse under a surge of power. This meant that in less than a week his latent strength would resurface. For the time being, however, Chiron pressed to train him in his vulnerable state.

After snacking on some of the fruits Gordie had retrieved, the centaur led him, Ellie, and Atalo to a plateau overlooking the forest. The two relatives tagged along because they had both expressed a desire to spectate, although Ellie’s was out of fear for her son’s well-being while Atalo only wanted to see a good show. A gentle breeze rustled them as they reached the open space, which rested between two peaks: that of Mount Pelion itself and a lesser mountain of the chain. The plain was prairie-like with patches of dry, tall grass in a grainy, dusty soil.

“What a view, eh, Gordo?” Atalo boomed as they walked onto the elevated but flat terrain that presided over the dense greenery below.

“It is quite spectacular,” agreed Chiron as he gestured to a large rock for Ellie and her father to sit on, while he led Gordie to the middle of the field. Once there, Chiron turned to face Gordie head on, carrying the spear that Gordie had seen in the centaur’s bedroom. Student looked up at master with bat in hand. The late morning sun glinted off the blade of the spear.

“Now, Gordon, we will learn the basics of combat. Your weapon of choice is this club, a blunt instrument used to bash one’s opponents into submission.” Gordie tapped the bat against his open palm as he listened to Chiron’s instruction. “Normally, this would be a very limiting weapon, but its indestructibility lends it some value.”

“Why is it limited?” Gordie asked.

“A sword or javelin can cut, causing great internal damage or instantly deal a death blow. Your weapon will do bodily harm, but will require great precision, i.e., a blunt strike to the head, or repeated attacks to defeat your enemies,” Chiron explained. Gordie thought about hitting someone in the head with his bat and was repulsed by the idea.

“Now,” Chiron continued, “although you do not wield a sword, your club can repel attacks in much the same way, especially because it is indestructible. So if I were to do this—” Chiron swung his javelin down on Gordie’s head like he were chopping wood. Gordie squealed and lifted the bat above his head, holding it at each end. The javelin bounced off the solid wood.

“Very good,” Chiron nodded, before he swung the spear around and stopped it right before whacking Gordie in the side, “but I just broke your ribs.” Gordie huffed, but didn’t respond.

The training session went on like this. Chiron occasionally hit Gordie with the shaft of the spear to give him a dose of reality. He was soon speckled with bruises. The centaur attacked slowly and calculatedly, only speeding up his movements when he meant to make contact with his target. At one point Chiron thrust his spear forward and Gordie, not knowing how to block a straight on attack, leapt to the side a second before being skewered.

“Be careful!” Ellie yelled from the sideline. Gordie and Chiron ignored her.

“That brings up an interesting point, Gordon.” Chiron set the butt of the spear in the dirt lifting a small plume of dust from its resting place. “The best way to block a thrust is to use a shield, of course. I wonder what that Stygian ice in your arm is capable of . . .” He nodded towards Gordie’s left hand, which Gordie raised to his face, turning it over while he inspected it. The skin was unremarkable, covered in peach-fuzz and a couple freckles here and there—no sign of jagged black ice.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to use it. I mean, it just came out—I didn’t plan it.” Gordie was certain he couldn’t do it again if he tried.

“You do not know how to use it
yet,
” Chiron corrected. “But in time you will learn. Try it.” Chiron watched him.

Gordie held out his arm and stared at it. He clenched his fist, flexed his forearm muscles, screwed up his face and squinted at it without breathing until he thought he might pass out, but nothing happened.

“Nothing’s happening,” he said, exhaling forcefully. “I don’t know how to control it.”

“I see that.” Chiron turned and walked away from him, knelt down twenty yards away and scooped up a handful of pebbles. He turned back to Gordie and threw a rock at him without warning. Gordie jumped out of the way.

“Hey!” he yelled, but another rock followed and hit him in the chest, stinging immensely. Another rock flew and another. Gordie dodged some and was pelted by others.

“Do not dodge—block!” Chiron picked up more ammo.

Gordie stood still and held his left arm in front of him bent at the elbow as if he were holding an invisible shield. He knew it wasn’t going to work, but he had to try once, so he waited for a rock to come flying and focused all his energy into his arm. The rock sailed just over it and caught him on the chin.

“Dammit!” he roared, rubbing his chin as he spun around. Another rock hit him square in the back and he jumped around in anger. He did not try to block again as he danced around the projectiles and squared up to hit the last one with his bat, which he did, sending it back at its hurler. He sneered as the stone hit Chiron in the navel, but scowled when he realized the centaur was unfazed.

Then Chiron reared and hurled his javelin at Gordie with lightning speed. Gordie only had time enough to register the whistling sound the projectile made as it cut through the air between him and his attacker. He thought of death as he tucked his head behind his arms in a meager attempt at self-defense. He waited for what he imagined would be unbearable pain—that of sharp steel tearing through flesh, but it never came. He heard a clattering sound and opened his tightly closed eyes to see the spear rattling to rest on the ground. A round shield of ebony crystal extruded from his forearm, and he looked at it in amazement as the Stygian ice sank back into his skin, converging from above and below his arm. He then registered the yelling coming from his mother as she sprinted towards him.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” she screamed at Chiron. “You could have killed him!” She reached Gordie and hugged him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom!”

“I’m gonna kill him,” she growled as she stomped off towards the centaur.

“Mom, stop!” Gordie grabbed at her, but she broke free.

“You stupid bastard!” she yelled at Chiron, who, Gordie was surprised to see, was backing away in alarm. “You almost killed him! I- Dad, put me down!” Atalo had raced over and lifted his daughter by her midsection while she kicked and screamed. Chiron looked at Gordie with wide-eyes and Gordie pointed at him, bursting into laughter.

“Maybe we will be done for the day.” Chiron looked shell-shocked as he approached Gordie. Ellie’s threats could still be heard over the wind as her father hauled her back to the path that led to the cave.

“Good idea.” Gordie smirked. That was the last time Gordie’s mom observed a training session.

***

That night Gordie lay awake in his silent chamber, a blue torch flickering in the corner despite the complete stillness. He thought about Apollo and his threats, wondered what Hermes was up to, wondered if Zeus was going to attack Hades and if it was even possible, all while craving a burger because he hadn’t had red meat in over a week. As he stared at the dark ceiling he heard the sound of Chiron’s hooves approaching and sat up, curious what the centaur might want with him in the middle of the night. A few seconds later Chiron peeked into the room and saw Gordie was waiting for him.

“You are awake—what disturbs you?” His green eyes seemed to repel the waves of blue light.

“Just thinking.” Gordie shrugged. “What brings you by at this time of night?”

“I wish to show you something, if you would follow me. You may want to wear something warm.” Chiron waited as Gordie stepped out of bed in his sweatpants and threw a sweatshirt over his tee. When he was dressed, he followed Chiron out of his room and through the corridor that led to the Great Hall.

Squares of moonlight poured through the skylights above and shone brightly on the dark floor. Chiron didn’t speak. The only sound was the echoing clip-clop of his hooves. Gordie followed him into the corridor that led to the eucalyptus pool and Chiron’s room. He started to get anxious when they took the path to the right, which he had been down once without permission.

As it had the last time, the path began to climb, and the pair walked up the slope as they neared the place where Chiron slept. In a few minutes they passed his room and continued on.

“Where are we going?” Gordie whispered in the silent night, nervous that Chiron was aware of his eavesdropping and was preparing to punish him.

“You will see.”

Gordie’s heart pounded and blood filled his stomach as Chiron turned into the very room where Apollo had shown his face. Gordie stopped in the hallway. After a few seconds he heard Chiron’s clopping halt, and then a smattering of hooves on stone as the centaur turned around and stuck his head out of the chamber.

“Gordon? Is something wrong?”

“Uh no, I just, well, what’s in there?” Gordie tried to keep the nerves out of his voice.

“It is just my observatory,” Chiron said with a blank stare.

“Okay.” Chiron backed into the chamber as Gordie stepped forward and poked his head into the room. His fears transformed into astonishment as he looked out onto a precipice that melted into a sea of stars. “Whoa,” he breathed. “I thought this was just a room.”

“You thought it was a room?” Chiron sounded suspicious.

“I mean, you know,” he stammered, “from the hall I just figured it was a closed room, not an open, I don’t know, porch?”

“It is my balcony.” Chiron walked to the edge of the rock. “From here I watch the cosmos.”

The night air was still and quiet, only occasionally punctuated by the cry of an owl far below. Gordie inched forward—he was still nervous around heights after his fall from the pine tree, not to mention the airplane. The ledge extended thirty feet out of the door, and he slowly walked to the centaur’s side. When he was within five feet of the edge he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the brink, embarrassed by his fright, but not enough to risk standing. He looked over the edge, which dropped straight away to a distant plain.

“I chose this point because it extends far enough from the mountain that you can see nearly the entire sky.” Chiron stood motionless, staring out into the night. Gordie looked up at him from his knees and decided that the shame of his prostrated position now outweighed his fear. He rose to his feet.

“It’s pretty amazing,” Gordie said.

“There is Ursa Major.” Chiron pointed at a grouping of stars. “The constellation you call the Big Dipper marks the bear’s tail.” Chiron traced the constellation with his finger. “Follow that along the back until you reach the head,” he brought his finger down, “and then the legs.” He traced back around to the tail.

“Cool,” Gordie whispered.

“Callisto was a beautiful nymph, a wood nymph—a disciple of Artemis. She was so beautiful that she caught Zeus’s attention. He came down from his seat and took the form of a bear to stalk her in the forest. He had his way with her and left her crying on a bed of moss.” Chiron’s fists clenched, and Gordie looked away.

“Hera was angry with Callisto, as she was with all of Zeus’s victims, so she transformed the nymph into a bear—just the form her attacker had taken . . . She called it cosmic justice. The nymph’s son, Arcas, was a hunter. One night he came across a giant bear in the forest. As her son prepared to shoot her, Callisto appealed to Zeus as he had cursed her so. The King of Olympus transformed Arcas into a bear and placed them both in the night sky.” Chiron pointed to a nearby constellation Gordie recognized as the Little Dipper. “Ursa Minor, the little bear,” Chiron explained.

“That sounds terrible,” Gordie breathed; a little puff of steam rose into the air.

“It was. Such are the actions of the gods. When beings are given power over others they will almost always abuse it.” Chiron’s tone was informative, but Gordie could sense the hidden anger and sadness. He had no idea what to say to make his mentor feel better. Looking out into the stars, he noticed a familiar constellation.