The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm

by Zachary Howe

  Gordie described the mysterious appearance of the eruption—that dazzling blue illumination that set everything in motion. He described the scene in the school, including the carnage; the increasing severity of destruction between school and home; his return to their farm that stood as a smoking wasteland; and the discovery of his father, run through by a jagged dagger from the heavens.

  He stopped there because the next part of the story was even more unbelievable, and it was clear that his grandpa still did not understand anything he had said. It hurt to recount everything, but at the same time it was relieving to get it off his chest without having to conceal the truth.

  “Tell him what happened next,” Ellie said, and Gordie looked at her for reassurance. She gave him an exaggerated nod to let him know that it was important he continue.

  “Well, I was lying there next to Dad when somebody came up behind me.” Gordie could feel anger rising in his chest and he tried to suppress it. “I turned around and there was a young guy standing there. He had curly blond hair and he was wearing a toga. He was holding some kind of scepter, and his sandals and hat had little wings on them.”

  Gordie looked into his grandpa’s eyes expecting to see bewilderment, but instead comprehension dawned on his face for the first time. Gordie recognized it and it both excited and scared him. He knew. His mom had been right. Atalo definitely knew something because a normal person would be as confused as ever at this point. Atalo’s expression of enlightenment was replaced by a look of resignation. “And what did he have to say?” he asked in a low voice.

  Gordie dove into the tale of his encounter with Hermes in excruciating detail. The same fury he had felt on the battlefield was rising in him once again and, without realizing it, he was gripping his bat. When he got to the part where he had head-butted Hermes, Gordie slammed the bat down with gritted teeth and white knuckles, cracking the wood of the table. He regretted his loss of control as it startled his mom, causing her to spill coffee all over her hands. His anger was replaced with concern and he jumped to his feet, ran to the sink, soaked a towel with cold water, and brought it back to her in an instant.

  “I’m sorry, Mom!”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine.” Gordie started to realize that his grandpa had remained silent through his outburst. When he looked at him, he found Atalo deep in thought, staring at the baseball bat. “Continue your story,” Ellie said.

  Gordie sat back down and began to relay the conversation that had taken place between Hermes and himself. At the mention of Hercules, Atalo released a deep sigh and shook his head. Gordie went on to tell them that Hermes had admitted to watching him for some time. He even told his grandpa that Hermes had met Ellie before, at which Atalo cast a sideways glance at his daughter. Gordie then finished his story with retelling the surprising discovery of his bat. They sat in silence for a minute.

  “So it is true,” Atalo breathed.

  “What?! Dad,” Ellie sounded suddenly angry, “are you telling me you knew about all of this? How do you even know that any of this is real?”

  “Well, there’s a piece of evidence sitting on the table,” Atalo motioned towards Gordie’s bat. Gordie looked at it questioningly.

  “How is my son’s baseball bat involved?” she asked. Gordie thought this was a good question and was eager to hear the answer.

  “I gave you that bat when you found out you were having a son. It’s been in our family for generations and it seems that it was meant for Gordie.”

  “‘Meant for me?’ What is so special about my bat?”

  “You said it yourself.” Atalo pointed at his grandson. “The bat was one of the only things that survived the eruption. If it’s just a wooden bat then why didn’t it get destroyed inside the wooden house?” Gordie ran his hand over the smooth, unadulterated wood grain of the club, considering his grandfather’s suggestion that this bat was no ordinary piece of sporting equipment.

  “You know the stories.” Atalo interrupted Gordie’s reflection. “What was Hercules’s weapon of choice?”

  “His knotted club,” Gordie answered mechanically. Atalo nodded. Wondrous excitement flooded Gordie’s brain. But just then, he remembered that his bat was not knotted, it was as smooth as could be, so the two could not be one in the same.

  “Wait.” Gordie started to formulate his thoughts into words. “If Hercules had a knotted club, and this bat is indestructible, then where did the knots go?”

  “That’s a great question because that bat is indeed indestructible,” Atalo said. “It so happens that my father was the first in our family line to play baseball. He thought he would get a leg up on the competition, so he sent this family heirloom off to have some work done.”

  “But who could possibly change it if some kind of magical explosion didn’t harm it?”

  “Well, it would take a very good carpenter, wouldn’t it? Or maybe a weaponsmith . . .” Atalo’s smile was fraught with deeper meaning.

  “You mean Heph—”

  “Enough!” Ellie yelled, and pounded the table. In truth, Gordie had almost forgotten she was there, he and his grandfather having gotten lost in their enthusiasm about his bat. But that was quickly erased from his mind as he stared up into the livid face of his mother who had risen to her feet in a rage that he had never seen. Even with all the strength coursing through his body, Gordie shrunk beneath her glare.

  “What did I tell you, Gordon?” Ellie started on her son. “We are not going to get carried away with this!”

  “Ellie—”

  “No!” She rounded on her father. “My husband is dead, Dad! And you two want to gab about a goddamn bat?! I want some answers! How can any of this be true?” Her chest was heaving up and down and there was a frenzied look in her eyes. Even Atalo shrank beneath her furious look.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I realize I was being insensitive. I am very sorry about Robert. He was a good man.” Ellie retook her seat, looking worn. Atalo’s face darkened, looking pained as if he were preparing to do something taxing. “I have always known that the gods of Olympus are very real,” he began.

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?” Ellie asked, sounding like a hurt little girl.

  “I told you the stories, but would you’ve actually believed me if I said they were facts?” Atalo asked, and she responded by casting her head down, silently conceding his point. “Besides, there was another reason I didn’t tell you—I wanted to protect you.” Ellie looked at him quizzically. He sighed again and continued his story.

  “The day after you were born, Ellie, I got a visit from the same god the two of you met today.” This story sounded familiar to Gordie, but Ellie did not yet admit to her dad that she had shared a similar experience. “My dad had proven to me at a young age that we were in fact descendants of Hercules by showing me the truth about this bat . . . and through various other means,” he added. “So when I saw Hermes I knew immediately who he was. He told me I was the father of the first female in the line of Hercules and that this was gravely significant. He warned me that if my daughter grew up to mother a son that that child would possess within him the power of his heroic ancestor. He stressed to me how this could spell out danger for my daughter and her family, but didn’t go into detail. ‘All I ask is that you make an effort to maintain anonymity,’ were his last words,” Atalo finished with his eyes cast down upon the bat.

  “Small world,” Ellie said. “A couple days after Gordie was born I got a visit from a similar young man. Misinformed as I was, I assumed he was crazy when he claimed my boy was superhuman, especially after proclaiming himself a god.”

  “Well pot, after you called the kettle black I did not expect such a tale from you.” He grinned. “It seems you’ve kept some information from me, as well.” Ellie was looking at her father with unresolved anger, but her mood softened when he jibed at her.

  “I didn’t think it was a story worth repeating,” she retorted. “Why should I have believed we are descendants of gods?” />
  “In time I’ll put your doubts to rest, but right now we have to assume that it’s all true so we can prepare ourselves for what’s to come. If it is true that Hermes has told Zeus you’re dead,” he looked Gordie in the eyes, “then we’re safe for now. What do we know about Zeus?” Atalo asked his grandson. Gordie thought hard for a minute, running over all the stories his grandfather and mom had told him growing up.

  “Well . . .” Gordie lifted his shoulders to his ears like a turtle preparing to duck into its shell. “He’s arrogant,” he said, hoping this was relevant.

  “That he is,” Atalo nodded. “And due to that arrogance, I’m sure he’ll accept the tale of your death with no doubt whatsoever. Which is very good for us.” He smiled. An image of Zeus laughing at his perceived triumph popped into Gordie’s head. He clenched his jaw and pounded his fist on the table again, splintering the wood more. He spluttered his apologies to his grandfather, who waved him off. “That’s okay, Gordo. I know how ya feel.”

  Gordie privately disagreed with him—he was only trying to help, so he didn’t argue, but his grandpa couldn’t know how he felt. Just then, another thought popped into his head.

  “Do you have powers too, Grandpa?” Gordie asked with boyish excitement. He imagined his grandfather battling gods and monsters alongside him.

  “No,” Atalo said. “I’ve got good genes, which explains why I’m in such great shape at this age, but I don’t have any kind of superhuman strength.” Then he changed his tone to a cautionary one. “But let’s not call your abilities ‘powers.’ You’re occasionally stronger than most people, but don’t let that go to your head.”

  “’Stronger than most?’” Gordie repeated. “I just beat the crap out of a god!”

  “What did we just say about Zeus?” Atalo continued in that pedantic tone. “Arrogance can be a very dangerous quality.” Gordie ran his finger over the crack in the table as he brooded. “I don’t mean to belittle you, Gordo. I’ve seen a number of your unbelievable feats of strength, but it’s important that you stay grounded. That’s all I meant,” he said with a sympathetic smile, which softened Gordie, and he made a note to heed his grandfather’s warning.

  “You said Grandpa proved your lineage to you,” Ellie interjected. “How did he prove it?” It was clear she was still skeptical about this whole tale. Gordie, on the other hand, had accepted it with open arms, as it meant that he literally possessed Herculean strength.

  “Look at my bat, Mom,” Gordie said. “When I left this morning it was in my room, which later exploded. My bat doesn’t have a scratch on it!”

  “So what?” she snapped. “You’ve got a strong bat! Or it’s just lucky. I want proof, Dad.”

  “Follow me,” Atalo said with an exasperated sigh, his chair squealing as he rose from the table. “Bring the bat, Gordo.”

  He led them through the kitchen and into the garage where a tennis ball hung from the ceiling to rest on the windshield of a large black SUV.

  Gordie had spent a fair amount of time in that garage with his grandfather. Atalo was a carpenter (albeit a rather untalented one), and they used to make bird houses together. Sure enough, Atalo walked right over to his table saw and held his hand out for Gordie’s bat. A crooked birdhouse with bent nails sticking in all directions rested on a shelf above the saw. Gordie hesitated as he looked at it. Minutes ago, he had believed his bat to be a weapon of godly proportions, but now he feared for its well-being. He was too attached to it to watch it be sawn in half.

  “I don’t think we should . . .” he said, hugging the club close to his chest.

  “I promise it’ll be all right,” Atalo said, looking Gordie in the eyes. “In fact, I think you should do it.” He held his grandson’s gaze, which Gordie returned, searching for a hint of doubt in those powerful brown eyes. He decided to trust him and approached the table.

  “Why don’t we stand back, honey,” Atalo suggested to his daughter. She looked at Gordie with concern.

  “It’s gonna be fine, Mom,” he chirped. “I’ve used this before.” Ellie shot her dad a stern, disapproving look, but then turned back to Gordie to give him the okay with a nod. He turned on the saw and watched the blade spin, looking down at his bat reluctantly.

  “Let’s get a move on,” Atalo said. Gordie raised the bat to the table and placed it in front of the saw, gripping it at both ends. He took a deep breath and pushed the bat forward.

  Sparks started flying everywhere as the teeth of the saw started to grind down. Gordie could feel the heat pouring from it, smoke billowing around him. Then the blade was dislodged from its harness before it launched off the table. Gordie shot out his right hand and grabbed the jagged disc that was headed straight for his grandpa.

  “Two birds with one stone,” Atalo chortled, as Ellie looked on in shock. He grabbed Gordie’s bat and handed it to Ellie. “Good as new,” he said. She inspected it, the utmost scrutiny recognizable in her eyes. She turned it over in her hands looking for imperfections, feeling for nicks or divots. After a few moments of silence, she handed it back to her father, apparently mollified.

  “If it’s indestructible, how was it chiseled into a baseball bat? Wasn’t Hercules’s club supposed to be three times the size of this?” Ellie asked, still trying to poke holes in her father’s story.

  “It was, but Hephaestus knew what he was doing,” Atalo responded airily. Gordie was taken aback by the nonchalant suggestion that the Greek god of metallurgy did indeed have a hand in crafting his bat. Judging by how high his mother’s eyebrows raised at this statement, he would say she was experiencing a comparable degree of surprise.

  “Hephaestus?” Ellie asked, sounding exasperated. “The blacksmith of Olympus fashioned the stick I’m holding?”

  “Yes,” Atalo said. “But he was hesitant to alter such a fine instrument, so my father had to coerce him.”

  “How?” There was a hint of genuine curiosity in Ellie’s voice. Gordie thought she was starting to come to terms with all this, but still too slowly for his taste.

  “Barter,” Atalo said. Seeing the hungry look on Gordie and Ellie’s faces, he expounded, “My father traded him the Nemean Lion Skin that had been passed down for generations—which, incidentally, is more existing proof of our heritage.” He shot his daughter a smug smile. Shocked again, Gordie and his mom traded glances. He doubted her look of disbelief was reflected in his excitement. She changed her expression to a stern one before she turned away to address her father.

  “Well, it’s not very good proof if you don’t have it.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re gonna have to retrieve it sooner than later.” Atalo’s smile widened at the look on their faces.

  The prospect of traveling to Greece in search of Hercules’s iconic adornment, the Nemean Lion Skin, propelled Gordie into a state of pure fantasy in which he battled the Minotaur and wrestled Cyclopes. Then a whole new idea sprang to life, and he began to wonder if such creatures existed and if he would meet them on his quest for glory.

  “We are not shipping off to Europe to go gallivanting with gods.” Ellie dragged Gordie out of his daydream with another disapproving look. “This is getting out of hand! Dad, you need to stop putting these ideas in his head!” Her temper was rising as she spoke.

  “But, Mom—”

  “No!” she snapped at him. “It is out of the question! I won’t allow it!” Gordie’s pipedreams of befriending mythological beings and slaying evil creatures were slipping away from him, dissolving into rainbow colored mist in his mind’s eye.

  “Ellie—”

  “NO!” Ellie threw her father’s consoling hands off of her. “This can’t be happening! I lost my husband today! I will not lose my son!” Her eyes were brimming with tears, bulging out of her head with a look of severity bordering on the depraved. Again her breathing was heavy, intense.

  Meanwhile, Gordie was hurled into a state of renewed devastation and crushing guilt as he thought about his father again. He had been so busy imagining adv
entures that he had nearly forgotten the pain of losing his dad just hours earlier. His heart sank as he recalled the other painful experiences. How could I have been so thoughtless? At the very least he felt he should have masked his excitement for his mother’s sake. She at least had the decency to mourn for more than two hours.

  Lost in his conscience, Gordie did not notice his mom sobbing in her dad’s embrace. He put his head down and continued the internal berating of himself for the lack of compassion he had shown. He forced himself to relive the horror of finding his dad’s body because he felt it was an insult to his memory to be thinking of anything else at the moment. He closed his eyes and let fresh tears roll down his face while he shuddered. For the second time that day, the strong arm of his grandfather pulled him in close as he wept next to his mother.

  After a few minutes, Atalo suggested they go back inside, and Gordie nodded his assent. When they broke apart, he grabbed his mother’s hand and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have been thinking about Dad, not pretending to be a hero.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I just can’t do this today.”

  They traipsed back to the kitchen and reformed their seating arrangement from earlier. They sat in silence for some time before Atalo broke it with yet another apology. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I lost my head. I was acting like a child pretending to be in a fairy tale.”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Ellie said. “I think a little break from this stuff would do us all some good.”

  With this proclamation came a new session of quiet reflection. They sipped their drinks alternatingly, staring into their cups as if they contained the answers they sought. Gordie was only drinking his lukewarm cocoa because he didn’t know what else to do, and he knew that was what his mom and grandpa were doing. Only slurping broke the silence.