The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm (17 page)

“Still bitter, I see!” The echoing voice burst into satanic laughter. That was when Gordie realized to whom it belonged.

Zeus’s laugh was so similar to the one that had emanated from him in Gordie’s dream that he wondered how his subconscious had been able to recreate it so accurately. But wonder and fear were not alone in his head. A primordial rage erupted into his heart. His stomach filled with boiling blood and his head pounded. The strength that he had been imbued with overnight rapidly increased. He could feel it roiling inside him, even making his muscles swell. Gordie grabbed the silver door handle and tried to pull it open, but it did not budge. He started pounding on it, certain that he would be able to shatter the alien wood, but he became increasingly enraged that, with all his strength, he could not break down the door.

“Let me out!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Let me out! I’m gonna kill him!”

“What is this disturbance in your little shed, Brother?” Zeus asked.

“The harpies were acting up again, so I locked them in,” Hades invented, still sounding cool and collected.

“That is because they wish to join me!” Zeus thundered, sounding triumphant. “Will you not let them? Are you still determined to protect the humans?” he said in a playful voice, but then changed his tone. “Your little wife has made you weak. One way or another I will get your pets, as well as those creatures you have imprisoned in Tartarus!”

Gordie was still screaming, trying to escape from his cell.

“I beg you not to do this, Brother,” Hades said.

“I will do what I please!” Thunder cracked. “If you do not cooperate, I will destroy you! The time of the humans is at an end. I will crush them with or without your help!”

“You have no power here and you would do well to remember it.” Hades’s voice was still cool, but his threat was powerful, as it cut through Zeus’s intimidations.

“So be it. You have chosen your side and you will regret it,” Zeus growled, and after one last deafening thunder-boom, a faint buzzing—which Gordie hadn’t even realized was present—withdrew, like the moment a radio emitting subtle frequency disturbances is turned off. Just then, the door on which he had been pounding was pulled open, and Gordie fell onto the yard.

He stood up, fists at the ready. “Where is he?! I’ll kill him! Come out you mother-f—”

“Calm down, Gordon. He is not here. He
was
not here. There is an open line of communication between Hades and Olympus, which no longer exists on Earth. Our power is fading there, but it is still alive and well in our realms. When you spoke his name, it called him. Fortunately, he is too arrogant to see through his own notions, so I do not believe he was aware of your presence.”

Gordie’s anger was fading, but not entirely gone, and he prepared to shout—

“Don’t,” Hades commanded, somehow aware that Gordie had intended to call Zeus back. “It will only bring immediate destruction. You are not prepared to fight him yet. You must learn many things, Gordon Leonhart, including patience.”

Gordie felt ashamed, but still angry.

“What did you mean when you were telling him to stop what he is doing?” Gordie asked as his powwow with the Fates came floating back to memory. He recalled their warning of Zeus’s desire to reclaim control of the world.

“He intends to use the monsters in Tartarus to subjugate and destroy the humans. He cannot match my power here, however, so he has been unsuccessful in his attempts to recruit the demons residing there thus far. But I fear his efforts will redouble now. It seems things have been set in motion that cannot be undone.”

“What did you mean when you said that your power doesn’t exist on Earth, or whatever?”

“I am sure you have noticed the lack of divinity or magic in your realm. So too have the ancient beings dwindled and moved on from their earthly dwellings. For the last millennium or more they have all resided on Olympus, in the oceans, or here. But as I have said, that is changing now. Already the many prehistoric creatures of the sea are stirring from their watery slumbers. Some of the Olympians have left their place on high to find their own niches. Hermes successfully closed the pathways between the realms upon your birth—how, even I do not know—but I fear the boundaries are tenuous and fleeting, and may not last long. And the King of the Gods will try to free the monsters of Tartarus. He cannot reach them from his seat on Olympus, but he grows impatient, and I believe he will soon come here to take them by force.”

“Wait. Back up.” Gordie ignored his foreboding tone. “You said something about ocean monsters—shouldn’t Poseidon be dealing with them? Or is he a bad guy too?”

“My communications with Poseidon have recently ceased. Poseidon may be the most powerful of us all, so we must find a way to contact him. But first it is imperative that your training begins immediately. Great trials lie ahead of you, Gordon. You must be prepared.”

“Does that mean you’re going to train me?”

“No, not me—and you will not be remaining here much longer. You will be going back to Earth with Chiron.”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot about him. So where is he?” Gordie looked around as if he expected the centaur of legend to be waiting on him like a bellhop.

“He will come, trust in that. In fact, you are about to face your first task, Gordon.”

“My first task?” he asked, confused again. “What do you mean?” Hades gave him a startled look, the first time Gordie had seen him surprised—he was starting to think it wasn’t possible.

“
What do I mean?
” Hades parroted. “I mean your tasks! Like your ancestor Heracles, you must perform twelve tasks—twelve labors—but I am afraid the implications of these are far greater than his ever were. Did Hermes not tell you about the
tasks?
”

Feeling stupid, Gordie tried to backtrack. “Well, he did say something about the number twelve, but he didn’t tell me I had to complete any tasks. Do I have to do twelve?” he asked, like a kid trying to get out of chores. “Can’t I just do a couple?”

“Twelve is the most magically powerful number. It is why there are twelve Olympic gods—thirteen if you count myself, but I am often discounted for my residence is here. But it is why you have great power in one day of every twelve,” he explained. “When you were born, Hermes came to me and told me of the prophecy concerning your family. My brother had already begun to descend into evil by this time and I recognized the necessity for a hero. I cannot travel to Earth, and I can only go to Olympus but once a year, so I needed help to protect and groom you. Therefore, I delegated this responsibility to Hermes.

“Hermes is young and rash, and as such, he gave you some of his power right from birth without requiring you to complete a task. I was angry with him for this, but it now seems it may have been necessary, given my brother’s attack on your home. Each task you complete will be associated with a god and, upon completion of said task, you will attain a portion of their power. These powers may manifest themselves in different ways, but I have performed the magic so that you will gain one more day of power with the completion of each task.”

“Wait. So my power is a result of your . . . magic?” Gordie felt embarrassed talking about magic as if it was real, but then again, he was surrounded by it. “What if the other gods don’t want to give me their power?”

“They do not have that choice. Being one of the patriarchs of Olympus, I am blessed with great power—as are my two brothers, Poseidon and the king—superior to those powers of the remaining Olympians. In fact, Poseidon and I have combined our powers so that each god will have no choice but to relinquish a fraction of their power to you, and we have given Hermes the ability to control this magic. The other Olympians are not yet aware of your existence, but they soon will be, and your path will become very taxing.

“You will find that some are less willing to relinquish any of their magic to you, but if you complete their task, the magic is beyond them to resist. Think of each interaction as a contract—if you perform the task to which they set you, they are required, by Olympian law, to hold up their end of the bargain.”

Gordie tried to soak up all this information, thinking about the potential tasks that he would have to complete with a growing sense of pressure over the impossibility of his road.

Hades pressed on. “You will not be able to defeat the King of Olympus until you have the power of all the other gods. Your defeat of him will be your final task. You will have only completed eleven before facing him, in part because Hermes did not require you to do one. You must complete all of your trials before reaching him, or you will not prevail. Defeating him will be your twelfth and final task.”

“So, what happens if I somehow complete all of these tasks and kill
him?
” Gordie finished cautiously, pointing upward.

“I cannot be sure,” Hades’s looked across the fields of Asphodel, “but I believe it will be the end of Olympus.”

Gordie took a minute to let the heaviness of this notion sink in. He found that it was hard to appreciate on a conceptual level. He had not believed in Mount Olympus, yet here he was confronted with its existence. What would it mean if such a place passed into extinction?

“Are you just doing this to spite them?” Gordie asked, not thinking about the implications of this question, but then holding his breath once he realized what he had said.

“That would have been true once,” Hades sounded sad again, “but now I fight the evil that once consumed my heart to make up for the atrocities I have committed in the past. And because it is right,” he added. “As I said, I do not know what will happen. This realm may even be destroyed along with Olympus, taking me with it.” Gordie was again awed into silence by the weight of this statement. A stony-faced Hades looked out over his domain.

“Before you said you were mad at Hermes for giving me his power without a task,” Gordie began again, ready to resume this game of twenty questions. “Why would that matter? If Poseidon is in on this, shouldn’t he do the same?”

“It matters because it bypasses the magic, negating it in a way. I do not know if there will be ramifications for Hermes’s actions, but it is too late to rectify. Your power does not appear to be unstable, and that is very good. In fact, by what Hermes tells me, it seems you may have even acquired some portion of his speed.”

Gordie replayed the fight he had with Hermes in his head, recalling the agility he had displayed that day, and he began to understand.

“Well, that’s pretty cool,” he said, pleased with himself.

“But Poseidon should not, and will not, do the same,” Hades continued, ignoring his interruption. “Do not be surprised if his task is the greatest of all. To earn great power, one must prove their worth.”

“So what happens? I just walk up to each god and ask them their to-do list?” Sarcasm was the defense mechanism Gordie had decided to go with because he was skeptical of (and completely overwhelmed by) these new developments.

“An oath activates the magic. It may sound simple—even silly—but all you must do is approach the god, address them by name, and say these words: I, Gordon Leonhart, demand the opportunity to prove my worth!” The fields echoed with the strength of Hades’s voice. The fact that he was impersonating Gordie made him feel vastly important. Unfortunately, Hades noticed Gordie’s smugness.

“Gordon, you are destined for greatness, but one of the greatest weaknesses of any hero is arrogance. It is my brother’s greatest flaw and I implore you not to allow it into your heart.” Gordie hung his head in another display of contrition, although its sincerity was in question as he was becoming wary of this same admonishment.

“I’m sorry. I won’t.”

“Good. Now, unless you have further questions, the time is here for you to undertake your first task.” Hades gave him a very meaningful look . . . and Gordie did nothing.

“Gordon?” he asked. “How do we begin a task?” Hades prompted, like he was asking a child which hole the square-shaped block goes in.

“Oh, right,” Gordie said, color rising to his face because he
did
feel silly saying the words. “Um, Hades,” the addressee nodded approvingly, “I, Gordon Leonhart . . . what was it again?” Gordie was now completely tomato-faced in his embarrassment.

“I, Gordon Leonhart, demand the opportunity to prove my worth,” Hades repeated again, patiently.

“Right,” Gordie continued. “Demand the oppor—”

“No,” Hades cut him off, “from the beginning.”

“Right,” Gordie said through nervous giggles. “Hades, I, Gordon Leonhart, demand the opportunity to prove my worth!”

His childish amusement was replaced by amazement as a web of silvery gossamer strands shot out of Hades’s chest, swirled around each of their bodies, then weaved together between them, before disappearing as suddenly as they had exploded into existence.

“What the hell was that?!” he asked, but Hades did not respond.

Gordie looked at him with concern as Hades stood, rigid, his arms glued to his sides, trembling, as if he were trying to escape from invisible bindings. Veins pulsed in his arms, neck, and forehead. His jaw was clenched so tightly Gordie thought his teeth would shatter. Most alarming of all were his eyes: the once pitch-black irises were gone, clouded over with a lively purple reminiscent of the radioactive ooze in the aquarium on Hades’s shelf. Gordie thought Hades might start foaming at the mouth from his convulsions, but when his mouth finally opened his voice rang clear as an earthquake.