The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm (24 page)

Large, jagged, black crystals erupted out of the wolf’s snout in every direction. They tore through bone, sinew, and skin, stabbing into its brain, killing it instantly. Gordie felt the pressure of the powerful jaws release, and examined his freed hand in midair as the black ice sank back into his skin, leaving his arm drenched in a tar-like fluid. He watched as the hulking body of the beast started to fall away from him, as if in slow-motion, and he unwillingly followed.

Unable to grab any branches with one useless arm, Gordie clawed and scratched at limbs on his way down as the wolf cleared the way for him like a fullback, its momentum slowing and increasing intermittently as it broke through branches of varying thickness.

Gordie twisted and spun in the air as he fell in the lifeless monster’s wake, becoming nauseated and panicked for lack of a lifeline. Then the wolf hit a thick branch and Gordie landed on its massive chest with a thud on his knees and elbows. The branch had caught the beast square in the back, and would have held if not for Gordie’s added weight. Together the living boy and dead werewolf broke through, and Gordie wove his fingers through the wolf’s long hair as he began to ride it down through the tree. His hands clenched the thick fur just above its chest with his knees tucked on the abdomen, while he tucked his head underneath the elongated chin. He was repulsed by the monster to which he clung, but he knew that he needed it to shield the blows.

Gordie’s nausea increased as he heard the bones of this beast shattering with every new limb they hit. He could feel the monster’s powerful form breaking beneath him and prayed that the body would remain intact long enough for him to ride all the way to the ground.

Just when Gordie thought they would never stop crashing through that mighty pine, he felt the solid earth beneath his hairy chariot and, with a stabbing pain in his shoulder (as well as most other body parts), he was launched off the beast, flipping over its head until he landed with a dull thud on his back. The impact knocked the wind out of him and he rolled onto his side just in time to vomit over his shoulder.

Gordie lay on his side next to a pool of his own sick for some time. He felt the pain of his dislocated left shoulder on which he was resting, but was too exhausted to roll onto his back. He felt the sting of the gash in his thigh, but was too drained to assess the damage. His left arm lay limply in front of him and he inspected the sludgy blood congealing on his hand. He realized now that beneath that viscous substance his arm was unscathed, and he thought back to his encounter with Cerberus and the power imbibed by the River Styx. A twinge of loneliness hit him as he remembered his three-headed companion.

He tilted his head back and flinched upon seeing the gaping mouth of his attacker. The werewolf stared at him upside-down through dead eyes, its mouth open and tongue lolling out the side, hanging upward toward earth. Black blood dripped from numerous wounds on the snout, and some even rolled off the long tongue. Gordie scooted away from it in disgust, but only putting a couple extra feet between he and the slain beast before he fell onto his back again, limbs sprawled in every direction.

He lay there, staring up into the demolished boughs. As far up as he could see in the gloom, limbs dangled, hanging by splintered strands of wood. Some branches that had fallen teetered on lower branches like needled Lincoln Logs. Gordie heard a soft crack and watched needles float downward leading the way for a small branch.

Too tired to move, he closed his eyes and allowed the piney limb to fall on him. He breathed in the scent of evergreen as the soft branch rested over him, sheltering him in a flawless camouflage. He smiled, grateful for the disguise, as he drifted to sleep.

10

Apollo’s Threat

Gordie awoke to birdsong. He blinked the morning haze out of his eyes, confused about his pokey blanket until some of the previous night’s memories came back. He pushed the light pine branch off him with one hand and sat up, the interior of his pine-house flooded with rays of morning light. He felt the needles crunch beneath his palms as he placed his hands at his side to push himself up. Then he fell over to his left side when his shoulder did not respond to the command, and felt a stab of pain as he remembered the injury.

He rolled over to his right and rocked himself to a side sit, then winced as he rose to his feet. His left thigh burned as well, and he looked down to see the gash swollen and caked in dried blood. Gordie held his left elbow in his right hand, thinking it best to stabilize his shoulder as he stepped over the body of a werewolf he had killed hours earlier. He knelt down to retrieve his bat, but had to release his arm to do so, leaving it to dangle so he could carry his only form of defense. Stumbling around the prodigious trunk of the tree while dragging his bat at his feet, he walked out the makeshift doorway created by his vanquished foe and blinked in the full morning light.

He looked left and then right in a stupor, and decided to make for the nearby river. Two birds floated down to have a look at him and tweeted their cheery tunes as they hovered alongside him, chaperoning his victory lap.

“I hate you,” he snarled at them, and they flew away in a racket, clearly offended.

He stumbled towards the water, desperate for a drink, and fell to his knees when he reached the bank. Looking at his reflection, he noted the road map of scratches and bruises painted on his face with indifference. He dipped his right hand into the water and brought the cup to his mouth. The cool river water enlivened him as it had the day before, and a stupid grin spread across his face. He dunked his whole head in the river, gurgled the water like a toddler in the bath tub, and pulled his head back out, laughing to the blue morning sky. 

He fell back onto his rump and giggled until the fit passed. Then the water in front of him began to gurgle and take form as a young female rose out of it, the river water flowing over and through her as if she were part of the stream.

“
You?
” Gordie shouted. “Where were you yesterday?” he asked, throwing his good arm in the air. “I was almost killed last night!”

The naiad tucked her chin and looked down in what was clearly a show of remorse.

“I’m sorry,” Gordie mumbled. “It was just a long night.”

She raised her head again and smiled, holding out her hand to beckon him. Desperate to get back to his mom for some comfort and reassurance, Gordie leapt to his feet and held out his right arm. She looked at it and washed her ethereal hand over it before looking back at him, shaking her head, and pointing at his other arm.

Gordie looked down at his limp left arm and shook his head, afraid that if she dragged him along by it again, the pain would be unbearable. She nodded, and he sighed. He stooped to pick up his bat, lifted his left arm in his right, and handed the limp limb to her. She smiled her sinuous smile before grabbing his hand and pulling him into the water.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Gordie raced along behind the water nymph. Fortunately, he did not fear drowning on the whitewater-tour-from-Hell this time. Unfortunately, he was only preoccupied from that carnal fear because of the screaming pain in his shoulder as he was dragged along like a tuna. 

Gordie was launched out of the stream unceremoniously before he landed in some pokey shrubbery. With only one good arm he struggled to untangle himself, but finally stood panting in the direction of his gondolier. She cocked her head and looked at him sideways which, for one horrifying second, reminded him of the werewolf. However, her friendliness shone through when she smiled at him, and his legs turned to Jell-O.

“Thank you,” he said.

She raised her fluid hand to her lips and blew Gordie a kiss before sinking back into the current—the heat that flared up in his face evaporated the spring water.

He stood there for a minute watching the gentle brook babble, pondering the science behind its ability to transform into a roaring torrent. Water dripped off him, down his limp and pained left arm, down his right arm and off the end of his bat. Little droplets splatted on a rock beneath his feet as they fell from his torn cargo shorts.

The forest was quiet. Every now and then he heard a lone warble, but it had not a fraction of the life abundant in the magical wood he had left behind. Despite his near death experience in that place, some part of him missed it. He lifted his eyes from the stream and looked around. The trees were lush, but again, it felt like something was missing, some light that could not exist here. He sighed before he started looking for the path, and realized with a start that this was not the spot where he had first met the naiad.

He spun around hoping to see a familiar landmark, but the forest was too thick. However, he noted that he stood on a slope and hope flared that he might be near the mouth of Chiron’s cave. He turned around and started uphill. There was no visible path, so he trundled through undergrowth and bushes, just focused on climbing. He swiped at the brush with his bat trying to clear the way, but this weapon was more apt for fighting werewolves, and he was repeatedly whapped in the face by swinging branches.

The slope increased and he picked up the pace, excited that he might be nearing his destination. His shins were being scratched up as he pushed on, but he ignored the stinging. Then he stopped as he heard something whisper in the dense wood. He stood still listening until he was sure of what he had heard.

“Gordie! Gordie!” His mom’s voice was calling for him from ahead, and he smiled as he started barreling through the thicket.

“Mom! Mom, I’m here!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, ignoring the points of burning pain on his body.

“Gordie! Gordie, I hear you! Where are you?” Her voice grew louder.

They shouted back and forth until he broke out of the undergrowth and fell face first in the dusty path. He heard running footsteps as he clambered to his feet and was thrown into a bone-crushing hug the instant he stood.

“Gyah!” he groaned as pain rifled through his shoulder.

“Oh, Gordie! Are you okay? I was so worried about you!” He could hear the tears in her voice.

“I’m fine,” he breathed through collapsed lungs as he patted her on the back with his right hand. “But you’re hurting me a little,” he moaned despite himself.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Ellie said as she pulled away, inspecting him from head to toe with her hands grasping his shoulders. She saw the gash on his leg and the left arm dipping lower than it should. She pulled her hand away quickly and asked, “What happened to you?” her voice suddenly stern.

“It’s a long story,” he sighed. “Are we close to Chiron’s?”

“Yeah, just a couple minutes. I can go get him and have him give you a ride.”

“No,” Gordie snapped without thinking, before softening his tone. “No. Thanks, Mom, but I have to finish this on my own.”

She nodded curtly and knelt to retrieve his bat before grasping his right hand and leading him onward. Normally, Gordie would have been repulsed by the idea of holding hands with his mom, but at the moment it was all he wanted, and he squeezed her hand in a show of gratitude.

They walked up the winding trail and reached Chiron’s cave in a matter of minutes. Gordie wasn’t limping exactly, just dragging his entire body along in beleaguered exhaustion. He couldn’t say for sure if he would have had the strength to make it back without his mom. As they stepped through the stone archway and out of the morning light, he smelled something delightful roasting within.

They wound their way through the cool, dark rock, until the sound of a crackling fire met his ears. As they rounded another bend, the mouth of the Great Hall yawned before them, and he smiled as he saw his grandfather sitting at the table, large mug in hand.

“Gordo!” Atalo rose to his feet and rushed to meet his grandson.

Just before Gordie was wrapped in a hug he thought would kill him, his mom stepped between them and held up a hand. “Hang on, Dad. He’s hurt.”

Atalo stopped and looked at Gordie, placing a large hand on his good shoulder. “Come on, boy. Let’s take a seat. We’ve got some roasted veggies you can munch on.”

Gordie gave him a tired smile. “Thanks, Grandpa.”

Atalo led him to the table and sat him down. He pulled over a large ceramic bowl of steaming vegetables. It was a medley of cucumbers, eggplant, carrots, potatoes, and more. Gordie was not usually an herbivore, but this smelled wonderful. The second his grandfather filled his wooden plate, he started shoveling the warm salad into his mouth.

After he pounded down two plates in as many minutes, Gordie released an enormous belch and sat back in his chair, a blissful smile plastered on his face as he closed his eyes. He felt like he could fall asleep right there, but he heard the clip-clop of horse hooves before he had the chance, and he opened his eyes to see Chiron entering through a side passage.

“Gordon,” the centaur greeted him in his soothing rumble. “You have returned. I am glad.”

“Er, thanks.” Gordie wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Had Chiron expected him to die?

“Did you retrieve the fruits?” Chiron asked.

Gordie’s heart sank. He shoved his right hand in his damp pocket and pulled it out, covered in a thick jelly. He did not do the same on the other side due to his injury, but he assumed the result would be similar.

“Look,” Gordie started to explain, “I had them all. I had more than enough! My pockets were full of ‘em, but—”

“No excuses, Gordon,” Chiron said. “When you are healed, you will go back to the forest and retrieve the fruit.”

Gordie jumped to his feet. “I’m really sorry!” he screamed, mustering as much sarcasm as he could. “Obviously, I failed miserably! I guess I just got distracted when I was attacked by a goddamn werewolf!” Spittle flew out of his mouth and he panted like the beast he had slain.

Chiron’s expression remained unchanged, infuriating Gordie even more.

“What?” Ellie snorted, while her dad stared at Gordie with slack-jawed awe. She looked back and forth between her son and the centaur, noting the anger in her son’s eyes and the sternness in his adopted tutor’s. “Hang on. That’s not true, right?” She rose to her feet, and her voice rose with her. “Werewolves aren’t real. That’s ridiculous. He didn’t fight a werewolf, right?”

“Lycanthrope’s do exist, yes,” Chiron stated. “But I had thought, after you killed the beast, that you would have plucked a couple new fruits, Gordon. You let your fear and fatigue cloud your judgment.”

“What?!” Gordie and his mom screamed in unison.

“Chiron, you told me he would not be in danger! You promised me! And now you tell me there are werewolves out there?”

“Cloud my judgment?” Gordie ranted in turn. “I killed a
werewolf!
”

“You did, after I gave you specific directions not to harm anything in the forest.” Chiron remained calm, so Gordie nearly lost his mind.

“You . . . I . . . you can’t . . . are you . . . you can’t be serious? Are you
out of your mind?!
” he spluttered.

“No, but perhaps I overestimated you.” Chiron’s cool disappointment cut through Gordie like a knife. It felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him again.

“Just hang on a minute!” Ellie interrupted again. “You sent my son into a werewolf infested forest to retrieve fruits and you are reprimanding him for coming back with squashed figs?”

“I sent Gordon on a task—a rather simple task at that,” Chiron added. “He failed. He will not get second chances on those tasks appointed by the gods, and I assure you they will not involve fruit gathering. You can be angry with me if you wish, but it will not further your pursuit of your ultimate goal.” He fixed Gordie with an onyx gaze, who fell into his chair feeling overwhelmed by betrayal.

“As it so happens, Gordon was in very little danger.” Chiron turned back to Ellie. “I was there the whole time and I would have intervened had it been necessary.”

Gordie looked up from the floor in disbelief. “You were there the whole time?” he asked in a whisper. “You were there the whole time and saw me get chased up a tree by a frickin’ wolf-man before falling a thousand feet, and you thought I was not in any danger?”

“It was a good fight. The lycanthrope fought and died bravely. As for the tactics you employed, they were completely illogical. Please explain to me why it would be a good idea to climb a tree when being hunted by such a creature?” Chiron looked at Gordie, patiently awaiting an answer.

“My bad!” Gordie shot back to his feet. “The last time I fought a werewolf it was in downtown Chicago, so I guess I was out of my element!”

“You jest, but you will face graver dangers than a single lycanthrope. You lack discipline and wits. In such a situation, you would have been best served making for the river. It was not far and his kind fear water.” He sounded like Gordie’s biology teacher giving a lecture about the hunting habits of dingoes in the Outback.

Gordie looked at him in shock. Logs popped in the fire and echoed around the chamber.