The ground around us finally starts to flatten out. It’s more forest than mountain in this area so I don’t have to worry about falling off a cliffside. I prefer this terrain to the take-one-wrong-step-you’re-dead terrain.
I can finally relax and let my mind wander more. As I’m trying not to think too hard on where we’re headed and what I might learn once I get there, I focus instead on the last conversation I had with Monstrat about controlling my powers.
Just find the lever, he said. If only it were that easy.
I’m not a light switch!
I just want someone to give me directions. Like Sura in the kitchen, trying to teach me how to bake a sweet cake. A cup of this. A spoon of that. Bake it for an hour. Wham bam. Cake in a pan.
If only there was an easy-to-follow recipe for turning deadly powers on and off.
Lost in thought, I nearly run smack into Haven when he stops on the trail. He’s staring at something ahead of us. Down a long slope, I spot Tarter and Russ circling a stranger.
But they aren’t snarling at the man.
It’s almost like they’re vying for his attention.
“What the—” I start.
Haven charges down the mountain toward the stranger and I chase after him. I skid on the rocky path when Haven comes to an abrupt stop and calls the dogs to heel.
Tarter and Russ ignore him. Their shadowy tails are wagging and he looks to me, with exasperation, to call them.
Not gonna lie, I like it when I can do something he can’t.
“Tarter! Russ!” I call and they glance between me and the stranger.
“Oh, hello,” the man says.
The dogs come and stand next to me after some consideration and it occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve seen them behave this way with a stranger. Even with Haven, it took a few tries to win them over. But this strange old man seems to have them tamed with no effort at all.
“What are you doing on Mount Ida?” Haven demands, sounding every inch a Knightfall, as though the ability to command and demand was born into him.
The old man straightens up as much as his withered body will allow. His loose robe hides his exact shape, but from his gaunt face he doesn’t look very big. Certainly not a threat to us.
I have a niggling sense that I’ve seen this man before, but I can’t place where.
“I was not aware that any entity owned the right to climb Mount Ida.”
Haven’s back gets impossibly straighter as he pulls himself up to his full height. He ignores the man’s challenge and says instead, “The mountain is a dangerous place. Especially for old men such as yourself.”
The old man gives us a crooked smile. He squints against the sunlight. “Dangerous indeed. Dangerous for children too.”
Haven growls, clearly taking the statement as an insult even though he just insulted the man’s age too.
Heat starts to rise around us and it’s not coming from me.
In all of my frustration at having little control over my own magic, I forgot that Haven received the same magical gift from Hades and the Orb of Life. I’ve just yet to see him actively use it.
I guess I’d hoped he was in the same boat as I was—unable to tap into it whenever he wanted.
Clearly I was wrong.
The old man raises a bushy eyebrow as the air wavers with heat. Haven’s good eye glows fiery orange.
I jump between him and the old man and spread out my arms acting like a shield. “I’m sorry for my friend,” I say.
Haven grumbles behind me, but the air settles.
“We’ve been traveling Mount Ida for two days now,” I add, “and his hunger has overcome his manners.”
“Hunger and trips up Mount Ida go hand in hand.” The man smiles kindly at me. “For many the trek up this mountain is a pilgrimage, done in conjunction with a fast for many days. To cleanse the body and the soul.”
“Is that what you’re doing on the mountain?” I ask. “Are you on a pilgrimage?” The old man’s eyes stare deeply into mine and a shiver races up my spine despite the heat of the sun on my neck. His eyes are ageless, contrasting sharply with how frail and elderly the rest of him is. Again I sense that kernel of recognition even though I’m pretty sure I don’t know him.
The old man shakes his head. “I’ve spent more days than I intended climbing Mount Ida in search of the elusive Fire Lily, which is known to grow at random on this mountain this time of year.”
“A fire lily?” I think back to the box in Sura’s office that we were never allowed to touch. The one she used for medicines that had a glowing orange bottle labeled Fire Lily. “I didn’t know they could still be found. I’ve only ever seen one powdered.”
“Ah, but you have seen one then!” he points out.
“True enough, I suppose.”
Haven looks exasperated. “Let’s end this insufferable conversation. If you want to chat about flowers, old man, go to Olympus City.”
“Haven!” I say in a whisper.
He rolls his eyes at me. Tarter and Russ whimper at my feet.
“How long have you been searching for this flower?” I ask, realizing he has no pack with him.
“I had hoped the gods would bless my way this time but I’ve been searching now for eight days.”
“Perhaps it’s not your fate to find this flower,” Haven says. “Perhaps your fate is to bore us to death.”
I punch him in the arm to get him to shut up. He doesn’t even budge beneath the hit.
The old man smiles again. “Perhaps it is not,” he says. “Instead it must have been my fortune to meet two young explorers who are journeying to...where did you say you were headed?”
“We didn’t,” snaps Haven and I glare at him.
“We’re on a journey for our House, as part of our trials,” I say kindly, not wanting to give up too much information but seeing no reason to be unkind to an old man who has likely just wasted eight days on a mountain that I’m ready to get off after only two.
“Ah, you are chosen descendants!” The old man starts to cough in his excitement. “It’s truly an honor to meet you. Of which noble house do you hail?”
“We’re from Hades’s House,” I say quickly before Haven can snap at the poor man again.
“I should have guessed.” He nods at Tarter and Russ who’ve abandoned me again and are butting their heads against the man’s legs.
Why’re they suddenly docile with everyone? Where have my vicious hounds gone?
The man says, “These two are the sweetest hell hounds I’ve ever encountered.”
“They’re not usually this nice.”
The man bends down to scratch at the dogs’s ears. “I have a way with vicious beasts,” he says.
“We should be going,” Haven says. “We’ve a ways to go and we’re on a deadline.” I can tell he’s also being intentionally vague with the details of our mission.
“Might I ask, or beg even, if you have any extra food you can spare?” The old man holds open the pocket of his robe to show it’s empty. “I didn’t plan well and have long since run out of food. It will take me many days to get home.”
I reach into my bag and see Haven roll his eyes in my periphery. He may not have any problem leaving this poor old man on this crazy mountain with nothing, but I’m a daughter of Hestia and we don’t leave those in need to rot. I hand the old man what I have left of my bread.
“Please take this with my wishes that the gods will guide you to your Fire Lily on your journey home.”
“Your kindness will be rewarded many-fold, my child. Of this the Fates are certain.” He winks at me as he passes and then bends down to pet Tarter and Russ once more before leaving.
I stare after him until I can no longer see him through the trees.
“Orphan!” Haven shouts from the next slope. “We don’t have eternity to waste worrying about poor old flower hunters. Let’s go.”
I readjust my pack and turn to follow Haven deeper into the woods. When I rea
ch his side, I shove him lightly.
“You didn’t have to be such a jerk to him,” I say, but my heart isn’t in it, knowing that jerk is Haven’s default setting. “He was just an old man.”
“We’re on Mount Ida,” Haven says, like he’s explaining something very simple to a dense child. “We have no idea what or who that old man was.”
“He’s hardly a crocotta in a human disguise,” I retort.
“How would you know that?” Haven shoots back. “You’ve never been on Mount Ida. You’ve never been on Mount Anywhere that wasn’t happiness and rainbows and mountain goats. The world isn’t a sparkly place full of nice old people, Hearthtender. You have to be smarter than that. You have to be careful.”
“And you need to be willing to admit that maybe not everyone in the world is like your family. There’re actually nice people in the world who aren’t out to get you at every turn…” I can sense more than see that I’ve gone too far with this remark. Energy ripples over his body. I step back.
“I’m sorry,” I add quickly. “I just don’t think you should consider me stupid for showing compassion. Even the dogs were fine with him and they don’t like anyone.”
Haven starts to say something but then closes his mouth and shakes his head. He loosens his fists and the anger rolling off him dispels. He turns and starts walking again in what I hope is the direction of the Well of the Moirai, because this trip cannot be over soon enough.
Chapter 11
I really am starting to wonder if Haven knows where we’re going when he stops at a beautiful mountain lake and its beachside cove and says we’re going to camp for the night.
I’d assumed that we’d reach the Well by nighttime on our second day. I think the worst part about this journey is having no sense of when it will end.
Tarter and Russ, on the other hand, are loving life. They bound into the shallow water, shifting in and out of their smoke forms as they nip and tug at each other.
I’m sitting on the shore of the cove too tired to move, too miserable to be useful.
Haven scowls at me as he drops his pack. “Stop pouting, orphan.”
“I’m not,” I argue. I kick my shoes off and sink my feet deep into the blue-black sand. It feels soft and warm between my toes. “I just assumed that when Hades said a few days he meant two. Three at the most. I didn’t think he was sending me on a week long trek with you.”
“It’s not going to be a week.” Haven gathers silvery driftwood from around the beach, presumably to make a fire. “We’re almost there. There’s just no point arriving to meet the Fates after dark—they’ll just make us wait until morning. Plus, it’s better to be out of the woods during the night hours whenever possible.”
I infuse a sigh with all of the frustration that I feel, not only at having this trip prolonged by another day but also at having Haven back to his sharper and decidedly less-fun-to-be-around version of himself.
I look out over the water. With the sun setting on the other side of Ida, there’s no sharp sunlight here, only the softer shade of dusk. The lake is still as glass. The water pulls in and out from the shore softly like a child’s breath.
This place would be almost paradise if I wasn’t constantly worrying that a mythical monster was going to come charging out of the woods to eat me at any moment.
I watch as Haven takes the driftwood I had hoped he was going to use to make a fire and heads down into the water with it. His pants are rolled up to his knees and he starts to place the driftwood down into the sand in a standing circle with an opening toward the lake. He shoos the dogs away from what he’s doing and they race off down the shore.
I’m about to ask what in Zeus he’s doing when suddenly a school of fish comes swimming up into the trap he’s made and he slams the last piece of wood down to close the circle. He starts picking the fish up by their tails and tossing them out of the water farther up on the shore.
“Do you want to get a fire started, Hearthtender?” Haven asks, still throwing fish. “Or am I going to have to catch dinner and prepare it?”
“How did you get the fish to swim right into your trap?” I’m stunned enough that I ask it without snark.
“I showed them something inside the circle that they wanted.” He appraises his pile of fish on the shore and then lifts the last piece of driftwood out of his makeshift trap and lets the few remaining fish swim free.
I have so many questions I don’t know where to start.
“Your illusions work on fish? Do they work on other animals? How did you know what fish wanted?”
Haven comes back up the beach and scoops up the pile of what is now our dinner.
“They want what all fish want.” He grins at me a little as he starts arranging some rocks he found nearby in a circle. “A bunch of smaller fish. Now about the wood?”
With a groan, I wander back to the edge of the woods to gather fallen branches and sticks. Tarter and Russ come running back, both their corporeal forms soaked to the bone. Russ grabs one of the branches from my arms and immediately the two dogs start playing tug of war with it. It’s as I’m watching the dogs play that it hits me.
“Wait a second...” I drop the bundle of wood on the ground beside Haven and narrow my eyes at him. “Did you use an illusion on my dogs?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, orphan.” He smirks as he makes a pile of kindling. “Could you start a fire?”
“What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Dogs?” I make every word clear, mirroring the tone he took with me earlier as he scolded me about the old man.
“I didn’t do anything to them,” Haven protests, gesturing to the dogs still playing with the stick. “They’re right there. They’re obviously fine.”
“Yes, but they like you.”
“Lots of people like me, Hearthtender,” he says, his grin growing even larger. “In fact, you’re in the minority.”
“First of all, that is absolutely not true. And second of all, one minute my dogs want to eat your face every time I think of you and the next they’re in love with you.”
“Maybe they changed their minds when you did?”
“EXCUSE ME?” I sputter, unable to process what he’s saying and breathe at the same time. A blush creeps up my neck. “You’re using an illusion on yourself! Aren’t you?”
“It’s possible,” he hedges, “that I may have showed them an illusion of how much they like me and of me giving them minotaur steaks as a snack.”
“I knew it!” I shout. “I cannot believe you illusioned my dogs into liking you!”
“Considering the alternative was to get eaten by them every time I tried to come near you, it’s more surprising that I didn’t think of it earlier.” He slaps a fish on a rock and then stuns it with a blow to its head.
My stomach churns seeing the barbaric treatment, even though I know that’s the most humane way to kill a fish before eating it. I’m not cut out for this wilderness way of life.
Next, Haven runs his knife over the fish’s body to remove its scales. They gather on his hand and around the rock and gleam pearlescent in the fading sunlight.
“I would like it very much if you stopped using your illusions around me,” I say.
“Oh, would you?” he looks up at me and raises the line of his brow. “So you’d rather sleep in the dirt would you?”
I fold my arms over my chest. Gods, he is frustrating!
“I hear you, orphan,” he says and goes back to his work. “Now, are you going to make a fire?”
Biting back my irritation, I grab a small log and hold it over the piled kindling. Since I nearly lost my arms the day before trying to start a fire, I go for a new tactic today—instead of rubbing sticks together, I stare intently at the log.
Haven snickers.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you trying to ignite it with the power of your mind?”
“Is that not how you control your power?” I challenge as embarrassment burns in my cheeks.
“My illusions? Yes. Because that ability happens in the mind. The power we got from the Orb of Life is different and even before then, your main ability manifested in your hands.”
“It’s one thing to say it, it’s another to put it into practice. I don’t know how to not use my mind to try to manifest.”
“Think of it like this, orphan. In the mortal world, a surgeon and a psychiatrist are both doctors, right?” He scales another fish with a deft slide of his blade. “But one doctor makes his magic happen with his hands—and yes he uses his mind too, but without his hands, his magic wouldn’t work. The psychiatrist uses his mind to create his magic.”
I’m not overly familiar with mortal medicine, but I have read a little about the different types of healers they have.
What Haven says actually makes a lot of sense to me.
“So…how do I use it then?”
I might’ve started this journey making him think I had control of my magic, but that ruse is long over now. I need help, even if it’s from Haven.
“You’re overthinking it,” he says and tosses a fish each to Tarter and Russ. They gobble them up with excitement.
“That doesn’t help me.”
He turns to me and nods at a rock at my feet. “Pick that up.”
I frown, but do as he says. “Okay. Now what?”
“Did you have to think about reaching out for the rock? Did you have to think about using your energy to unfurl your fingers or to close them again? Did you have to think about lifting your hand with the rock held inside of it so you didn’t drop it?”
“No?”
“Orphan,” he warns like I’m purposefully being difficult.
“What? Okay. No, I didn’t have to think about it.”
“So…stop thinking about the magic so much and just feel it.”
Vicious Champion (Games of the Gods Book 2) Page 6
