The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm (32 page)

“I-I don’t think so.” His grin faded.

“Because I heard the forest, I heard creatures you displaced and I heard the trees screaming under your tyranny.” He stared at Gordie with his unwavering eyes.

“Tyranny? You heard the forest? Wha—”

“Did you destroy any trees?” Chiron’s eyes burned into him.

“No! I mean, I just used them like . . . like catapults, but none of them broke or anything!”

“Catapults?!” Ellie broke in. Atalo just smiled.

“I see.” Chiron’s glare softened. “It was not a very conscientious approach, but it was certainly innovative. In the future I would ask you to please treat nature with more respect.”

“I will.” Gordie put his head down in a show of contrition.

“Good. I may not approve of your methods, but I cannot deny that you are the victor. Well done, in that regard.” Gordie wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a hint of bitterness in Chiron’s concession, which tickled him all the more.

“Great! Yes! Good job!” Gordie looked back at his mom who had her hands on her hips and daggers in her eyes. She walked over to him and snapped his shirt. “Now look at you! You’re covered in dirt and I have to walk around with my heathen son looking like a hobo!”

“I’m fine!” Gordie threw up his hands. “Remember, it’s one of my strong days.”

“Don’t call it a ‘strong day.’” She made air quotes with a snarl on her face. “You sound like an idiot.”

“Okay, jeez. I’m sorry! We can buy new clothes when we get to town!” He realized this was the wrong thing to say the second he said it.

“Oh,
we
can, can
we?
” she asked, throwing her hands in the air. “Because
you
buy all your own clothes, right?”

“All right! All right! I’m sorry!” he said again. “I’ll just wear this, its fine.”

She rolled her eyes and started swatting him all over in an attempt to get the dirt off, but probably harder than was required.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” She brushed past him and he turned to see where she was headed. He hadn’t noticed before, but nearby there was a windy, single-lane highway with a railing running alongside it where it appeared to drop off a cliff. He looked back at his grandpa and Chiron. Atalo shrugged, still smiling, and followed his daughter.

“I will wait for you just inside the forest,” Chiron said. “I think it would be best if you returned before nightfall.”

“Will do,” Gordie said with a grin.

“Goodbye then.” Chiron nodded, before he turned and started sauntering back to the tree line.

“See ya,” Gordie called, before turning the opposite way to follow his family.

Gordie caught up with his mom and grandfather who were now walking on the side of the empty highway. He had expected the slope on the other side of the road to drop right into the sea, but he could now see that it just rolled off into a sporadically foliated hill with other roadways below, and even houses sprinkled here and there. As the landscape fell away, it finally met the water, but that appeared to be miles from where they were. The town ahead lay in the midst of this hilly terrain.

They walked in silence, save for the scrape of feet on grit. His mom walked a few feet ahead of Gordie and his grandfather, and he could see by the tenseness of her shoulders that she was still grumpy.

“Beautiful day!” Gordie called to no one in particular. He looked sideways at his grandpa, who did the same back at him, and they both grinned. Ellie made no response.

“You can really smell the ocean, huh?” Gordie said, trying to coax his mother back to good spirits.

“Sea,” she spat, and kept walking.

“Yeah, you can see it too!” Gordie agreed. His mother wheeled around to face him.

“No. That. Is. The. Sea.” She jabbed her finger towards the water with each word. “The ocean is that way.” She pointed behind her towards the city that lay in wait, red roofs lit ablaze in the morning sun.

“I hate to correct you dear, but that’s actually the gulf.” Atalo pointed towards the water. A second later he faltered under her stern gaze.

“Whatever, it goes to the sea!” She spun around and resumed her fervent pace. Again, the two boys looked at each other and stifled laughter before they followed.

The sun tickled the nape of Gordie’s neck as they approached the waking village. Within minutes they passed a sign reading:

Πορταριά.

“What do you suppose that says?” Gordie asked. His mother wheeled around again and his eyes widened. “I mean, why don’t I try to read it,” he suggested, with a quivering smile. He walked up to the board and stared at the Greek symbols. Some part of him felt that if he could get this right, it might put him back in his mother’s good graces. After all, there’s no better way to please a teacher than to show them you’ve learned something.

He stared at the letters and wanted to pronounce it ‘
Hoptoppia,
’ but knew that was not correct because the Greek ‘P’ is ‘π,’ like in math class. Those little ‘ρ’s in the middle were really throwing him off, though. Then a dawning realization came to him, and he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

“It says Portaria!” He tried to sound bright and proud. “But it’s all Greek to me, am I right, Grandpa?” He nudged his grandfather with his elbow and guffawed.

“Nice work, doofus.” Ellie tried to sound grumpy, but he saw her lip curl at the corner, and he knew her bad mood was melting away.

“Thanks! Hey, do you think they have Cinnabon here?” Gordie asked.

“Seriously?” Ellie rolled her eyes and turned back toward the nearby town.

“What?!”

“No Cinnabon, Gordo,” his grandpa said, chuckling. “But I’m sure we can get some baklava. Come on.” Gordie mouthed the word ‘Baklava’ with an eyebrow raised, then shrugged before falling in step with his family.

As they walked the main road, which led into the village, the white center lane disappeared, and to Gordie this meant they had reached the city-proper. Clusters of mortared buildings with red tile roofs lined the side of the winding and descending main drag. They passed little side-streets where the asphalt vanished and was replaced by flagstone. People milled around on these. Gordie craned his neck to search the crowd for notable individuals—namely sixteen-year-old girls.

“Come on, let’s go down here.” Ellie turned down the second flagstone street. “Looks like there’s a café up there.” She pointed to a bunch of tables, two of which were occupied: one by a man with a leg crossed over his knee reading a newspaper, and another by a young couple holding hands and leaning over the table to be as close as possible to one another. Gordie rolled his eyes at this, but he also felt a pang of envy.

The flagstone street was pristine, somehow smoother than the asphalt, and level. They passed a hunched old lady carrying a bag of fresh vegetables, and she smiled at them. They passed a middle aged couple holding hands and prattling on in a language Gordie didn’t understand.
Greek, stupid,
he thought to himself.

When they reached the café, there was a large window with a counter, which displayed two baristas working feverishly, a young man and woman, both with short dark hair. A door led to the interior of the café where Gordie eyed a few more patrons sipping their pick-me-ups at scattered tables.

“Why don’t you two grab a seat.” Atalo nodded towards the al fresca dining area. “I’ll grab the drinks.”

“Coffee, please. Thanks, Dad.”

“I’m good.” Gordie waved a dismissive hand. Atalo lumbered over to the counter where he towered over an old man ordering his beverage. Gordie and Ellie grabbed an open table and groaned as they sat down.

“Tired already?” Gordie asked his mother with a playful smile.

“Hey, that ride was no picnic.” She shook her head, and blew out an exaggerated breath.

“Yeah, that must have been rough.” Gordie rolled his eyes. “Meanwhile, I was launched through the air for eight miles.”

“Of your own accord.”

“Touché.” He shrugged and smiled.  

“Tell me something.” Ellie leaned in and lowered her voice. “Are you really okay? I mean, falling out of the sky doesn’t hurt?”

“Oh no, it hurts,” Gordie’s smile broadened, “but I had to win.”

“Unbelievable.” Ellie leaned back in her chair and shook her head again.

“Why was your ride so rough, anyway? I mean, isn’t it basically like riding a horse?”

“Yeah, with the upper body of a man!” Ellie puffed. Gordie was well aware that Chiron was a centaur, but he remained silent. “I mean, it was . . .” Ellie paused and shifted uncomfortably, “awkward.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Well, I was just, like, grabbing him around the waist! It was weird! I didn’t even want to hang onto him, but he was going so fast and I kept getting smacked in the face with branches! Your grandpa must have really gotten beat up behind me.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself. Gordie finally realized why she was so uncomfortable and changed the subject.

“So, what do you want to do today? Should we go down to Volos?”

“I don’t really know, hon. I’m as familiar with the area as you. Maybe we can find some brochures or something.” She smiled, and Gordie was glad to see she was in better spirits.

“I guess we can hang out here, too.” Gordie looked around at the bustling village with its little shops. “I mean, I was kinda looking forward to going to a big city, but this place is pretty cool. All these hills and alleyways and stuff.” He shrugged. He tried to sound enthusiastic because he thought his mom would enjoy a day in this busy village more than a trip to what he imagined as a booming metropolis. Atalo came over with two coffee mugs grasped by the handle in one hand, and two small plates with towering pastries balancing on his opposite forearm.

“Here you are,” he said, as he set one of the coffees in front of his daughter and one of the plates in front of his grandson. “Baklava!” he said. Gordie looked at the layers of flaky dough and brown sugary filling.

“What’s in it?” Gordie asked.

“Phyllo dough layered with nuts and sugar. Bon appetite!” Atalo smiled and stabbed at his breakfast. Gordie followed suit.

“Hory crap, zas zerizous!” Gordie said through a mouthful of baklava.

“I mow, righ?!” Atalo sprayed the table with crumbs.

“You two are animals.” Ellie sipped her coffee.

After a couple minutes of smacking and grunting, the boys sat back in their chairs and patted their bellies.

“Wow, Gramps, that stuff is awesome!” Gordie licked his lips.

“Damn straight! Cinnabon of the old country.” Atalo shot Gordie a wink, who smiled back. “So, kiddos, what’s the plan?”

“We’re not entirely sure. Let’s just walk around a bit,” Ellie suggested. Gordie fought to roll his eyes because this was the type of boring activity in which he did not want to participate.

“Oh, wait!” Gordie jumped to his feet. “I gotta charge my phone! Mom do you have the charger?” He held out his hand, making a ‘gimme’ gesture.

“All right, all right, keep your shorts on.”

She rummaged in her purse and pulled out the charger. Gordie snatched it and entered the café. A little bell chimed over his head. He smiled at the familiarity of the sound. The scent of coffee bombarded his nose. The interior of the shop had warm colors: sunshine-yellow walls and dark brown stone flooring, which accented the oak counter. In the back there was a loveseat next to an end table, and Gordie made his way there, expecting to see an outlet. He was not disappointed.

He sat in the cushy grass-colored seat and plugged the charger into the wall, then the phone. He stared at his device with hungry anticipation. The little orange light in the upper corner shined solid, indicating that it had enough juice to be turned on. He squeezed the power button. The screen lit up, and his eyes did as well.

“Come on, come on,” he prompted it, as a number of loading screens greeted him. He was excited because he was hoping against hope that Bridget had texted him. Blood filled his stomach as anxiety grew with that excitement. Finally, the home screen loaded and his inbox showed zero texts. His heart sank.
Why didn’t she text me? I really thought she was going to?

He started to spiral into depression when a loud ‘ding dong’ rang in his ear, indicating that he had a text. He started to grin, when another went off, and another, and another. People were starting to look at him, so he turned the volume off as the messages continued to pile up. His phone vibrated incessantly. Ten texts. Twenty texts. Thirty texts.

Bewildered at this point, he opened his inbox wondering why so many people were trying to reach him. His inbox opened slowly as the phone threatened to explode from the sheer amount of data pouring into it. Finally, the vibrating stopped, and Gordie stared at Bridget’s name with a little number ‘1200’ next to it. His resolve wavered.
A little needy, isn’t she?
a voice whispered in his head. He touched her name and again the phone loaded slowly, over-encumbered as it was. It grew hot in his hand. Then the message log finally opened to display a text that read, “Delphi.”

Gordie stared at the word for a second. He scrolled up to see the previous text, which said the same: “Delphi.” His forehead wrinkled as he continued to scroll up and up.
Delphi. Delphi. Delphi. Delphi
.