The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm

by Zachary Howe

  “This. Is. Ri. Dic. U. Lous!” he complained to the gods and nature.

  One last stretch of highway awaited him, which he was able to vaguely make out as a black streak in the living artwork of the mountain. Dust kicked up and clouded around him, filling his mouth and stinging his eyes. At the last second—more out of desperation than spatial awareness—he kicked both of his feet into the earth as hard as he could.

  He made eye contact with a driver of a car through her windshield as he flew overhead. Her eyes bulged and her mouth opened into a perfect ‘O,’ mirroring Gordie’s expression. This seemed to happen in slow-motion, but soon he was out of sight, and he watched the dirt and grass flying beneath him as it began to level out, before it turned into brilliant white sand. He then realized that the sand was getting closer as his height dropped, until he crashed face first into the beach.

  Boring into the sand, it was hot at first, but quickly cooled the deeper he dug. He came to a rest with his face in the ground and salt water lapping at the top of his head. After a few seconds he pushed himself up and spat repeatedly, trying to get the grains out from between his teeth. On all fours he shook his body like a dog drying off; granules flew in every direction. He rocked back and sat on his knees.

  For a minute he listened to the whisper of the waves rolling in and sweeping away. Gulls cried overhead. Salty spray misted his face. The spinning world soon slowed and then stopped, and he looked out across the water. He saw buildings across from his location, heard the bustle of the nearby city—mostly car horns. He smiled dazedly.

  Gordie clambered to his feet, stumbling in the uneven, shifting sand. He looked around to see that his beach was deserted—he stood in front of the sparkling waves alone. His face was crusted with sand and he brushed at it, feeling each granule scrape across his skin. He stood for a minute looking out over the water. Thinking about his path ahead, he was daunted by the distance to his destination. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the map. Twenty minutes had passed since he walked beneath the chimes of the little café.

  “Good time,” he chuckled to himself, but he knew that he had been aided by the topography to this point and the rest of his trip would not be so efficient. A small part of him longed to text his mom and tell her where he had gone, maybe even ask her for help, but a voice inside told him he had to do this on his own. Nevertheless, he knew that she would be searching for him, and soon. He turned off his phone.

  Westward down the coast laid the city where he considered going to take a bus. Maybe a two-hour bus ride would be the fastest way to Delphi. He had no way of knowing how long it had been since Bridget was abducted, and he started to panic. What is he doing to her? Why did he take her? “What do I do?!” he asked the sea.

  And the answer came to him. He took off his shoes and stepped into the surf.

  The water was cool, but not cold. The waves covered his ankles, then flowed out. After his next step the tide was at mid-shin. When the bottom of his shorts dipped into the brine he stopped. He glanced around, feeling like a fool for what he was about to do.

  “Um, Nereids?” he tried to call the nymphs of the ocean, but it came out as less of a call to assembly and more of a timid request. “Nereids!” he tried again, more confident and demanding, but still no response.

  “Nereids, assemble! . . . Come, Nereids! . . . Here, Nereids! . . . Water ladies, I need you!” He became increasingly frustrated, and his hopes faded as he looked around. The tide ebbed and flowed as usual. He slumped and, beneath hunched shoulders, looked down at the pellucid teal water lapping at his knees. The white sand glowed beneath it. Watching his distorted features shifting in the surf—his dark hair flowing above a dirt-smudged face—he had a revelation.

  He dunked his entire head in the water and shouted, “Nereids, to me!” Pulling his head out of the water, he felt blood rush to his cheeks, embarrassed by his heavy-handedness. But the next wave buffeted him, rolling in five times stronger than the last without even swelling. The next flow was just as strong, but he was prepared, and braced himself with one leg set back. Two more waves tried to force him back to no avail, and then a crest began to rise off shore.

  It was not the crest of an ordinary wave, however: it was one bulge rising out of the water, almost as if it were riding atop it. It approached quickly, very quickly. A glare shone off it from the midmorning sun, and the swell seemed to be even more crystalline than the waters of the gulf that bore it. Then without warning, a jet of water burst from its bow like the greatest fire-hose on earth. Gordie shrieked and brought his left arm up to block his face, which worked well, as a shield of black ice now protruded from his forearm.

  The force of the blast was immense, but Gordie stood his ground, his teeth bared behind his Stygian shield, his toes curled into the soft sand of the shore bed. The pressure on his arm grew, and he took this to mean that the source was approaching, nearly upon him. Just before he thought he would be blown backward, sprawling onto the beach, the pressure ceased. He opened his eyes (not realizing that he had even closed them) and waited for his quickened breaths to slow. As his breathing returned to normal he lowered his shield, apprehensive about what might be waiting on the other side, until he peeked over to see a towering woman.

  She was no ordinary woman, as he expected, but neither was she like the coquettish nymph that bore him to Dasos not so long ago, except for the swirling torrent of water that formed her body. Even this was unlike the naiad, however. The water that had constituted Pompeia was a swirling eddy like the flow of a lazy spring. This water nymph’s body told the tale of an angry ocean, both beautiful and terrible to behold. Waves collided within the frame of her body: some the brilliant teal of the surf in which Gordie stood, some a raging indigo that swallowed the light of the other as they crashed violently together. She was twice the size of Pompeia, as well; a good two feet taller than Gordie himself. Pompeia was a girl. This nereid was a woman. His eyes crawled over her form until they met hers, and he recoiled under her furious gaze.

  Her pupils actually reflected light that looked like lightning bolts over a virulent sea. The scene depicted in those angry eyes was so honest that Gordie believed it was really occurring somewhere, and imagined a tiny fishing boat being thrashed around at this storm’s mercy. His mouth hung open. He tried to speak, but only gurgling sounds came out. Then her tremendous voice filled the silence.

  “Who are you to beckon me so, mortal?” Gordie watched her mouth move, but the sound rose as if it came from every molecule of the sea around him. The voice sent shivers down his spine and goose bumps erupted all over his body. It was deep, but not masculine. It spoke of endless depth, in every meaning. “Speak!” The lightning in her eyes flashed as the water around Gordie jumped and crashed.

  “I-I’m sorry,” he spluttered. “I am Gordie. Gordie Leonhart. I-I just wanted to ask for help,” he chuckled, but his sheepish smile faded as her eyes narrowed.

  “And why should I help you?” she asked, quieter, but more fierce.

  “I’m not sure I have a good answer to that.” He tried to smile again, but his lips quivered and then fell. “Because I’m a descendant of Hercules!” he said in a stroke of brilliance. Her eyes widened and she leaned over him, bending at the waist, her face coming within inches of his, at which point her eyes narrowed again to pinpricks.

  “Yes, that is apparent. You are as much a fool as he was.” Water sprinkled Gordie’s face as she spoke, but he remained transfixed. “He also learned that I am not to be beckoned like a cur, but it seems he did not pass this wisdom along. You are only a boy so I will spare you this once. You have been warned.” She rose back to her significant height and turned away. Gordie’s heart began to sink.

  “But wait! I have to get to Delphi. Please.” He reached toward her, but pulled his arm back as she whipped around.

  “Then swim!” she snarled before she turned back to the open water and began to drift away. Gordie’s head dropped in defeat. He shivered as the sea b
reeze swept across his damp shorts. The waves resumed their normal ebb and flow over his shins. And then he felt a strange sensation.

  Rising from the bottom of his feet up his body, he felt a tingling. It rose steadily to a pulse, and he looked up to see that the nereid had stopped and remained hovering above the water, facing the deep. The pulse beat like a drum, every third beat twice as strong: dum-dum-DUM, dum-dum-DUM!

  Gordie’s own pulse began to quicken. He could hear the drums inside his head. Feel the drums inside his head. The waves ceased around him, no more ebb and flow, but the water began to ripple. Then, slow but strong, a voice replaced the beating drums.

  “Take him,” the voice said, and like the nereid’s, it seemed to come from the water itself, but also from within Gordie’s own head. This voice was deep as a well, as deep as a bass drum, as deep as thunder, as deep as the vacuous space between sound waves. It was not a shout but a sonorous whisper, as gentle as it was powerful. The nereid stood on the water, frozen and tense, and did not respond. “Take him,” the whisper rumbled again.

  “No.” The one word response came from the floating form of the nereid, strong and defiant with no hint of trepidation. Gordie couldn’t help but admire her courage. If that voice had told him to do something, he would hop to with an immediate, ‘Sir, yes sir!’

  “Thetis, this is imperative,” the voice persisted, but not angrily. “Put aside your pride.” Gordie knew the name Thetis, but couldn’t place it.

  “He does not deserve my help,” she responded in a sharp tone that stung Gordie. She didn’t yell or shout—she just said it with the utmost disdain.

  “The two are not the same. He has not proven himself unworthy. Help him.” Then the voice cut out like a PA system, taking with it the persistent hum that had drowned all other noise during its speech. The air around Gordie returned to normal, its temporarily increased density dissipated. He heard the cry of the gulls again and slow roar of the waves. The nereid before him bobbed up and down atop the waves, facing out to sea, not stirring. He waited with mounting apprehension.

  She turned slowly, gracefully, completely inhumanly, spinning atop the water without moving her legs until she faced him. She drifted over to him, her eyes still narrowed. Gordie swallowed hard. She loomed over him and scrutinized him. He remained silent.

  “Hold out your arm.” When she spoke this time the voice did not emanate from everywhere, just from her lips. Her tone was still cold, but her eyes no longer showed scenes of maritime storms: they were the swirling indigo that had crashed inside her body before—now only the aquamarine of the water beneath Gordie tumbled lazily inside her form. He did as he was told and held out the left, knowing exactly to which arm she was referring. She turned his palm over and held the back of his hand in one of hers while running the fingers of her other fluid hand over the surface of his forearm. Gordie blushed and butterflies filled his stomach—or maybe they were sea horses.

  “Styx,” she said, as she looked down at it. “How did you harness it?” She looked him in the eyes, and he noted that her features had softened. In fact, she now looked sad.

  “At first I couldn’t control it.” Gordie’s discomfort had transformed to sympathy, although he didn’t know why she was so unhappy. “Chiron taught me how to focus it.”

  She nodded solemnly. “My son always did lack discipline.” A wave licked Gordie’s knees as she sighed. She returned to inspecting his hand again, almost longingly. Gordie then remembered why he knew the name Thetis.

  “You’re Achilles’s mom,” he said, and she looked back into his eyes. “I’m sorry. For your loss,” he said. He wasn’t sure if this was necessary since it had been millennia since Achilles fell to Paris at Troy, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Thetis remained silent as she regarded him. Her eyes rolled over his face. Gordie began to feel uncomfortable again until she spoke.

  “Maybe you are not like him,” she said, and her cheeks rose in a soft smile. It was beautiful, but it did not reach her eyes.

  “Not like who?”

  “Your brutish ancestor.” She placed his hand back at his side. Gordie heard a hint of pain in her mention of Hercules, and wondered if something had occurred between the two of them. “Tell me, what is your business in Delphi?”

  “Erm . . .” Gordie wasn’t sure if he should share too much information, but then he appraised her as she had him, and decided she was trustworthy. “Apollo kidnapped . . . my friend.” He looked away, blushing.

  “Ah, young love.” He jerked his head up to look at her, and meant to give her a scathing look of defiance, but he was softened by her smile. He did not deny the allegation. She held out her hand. “Shall we?”

  “Sure.” He smiled and grasped her hand.

  “This may be unpleasant,” she said. His grin broadened.

  “I can handle it.” He winked at her and laughed as she recoiled. For an instant she reminded him of his mother.

  “If you insist.” She smirked and gave no further warning as she dragged him into the surf.

  Gordie spluttered as he bounced atop the waves like a speedboat. His face and eyes stung as they slapped the salty water. They occasionally dipped below the surface into the other world that is the sea. Schools of fish exploded as they tore through them. Jellyfish blinked in and out of view. Gordie had a minor panic attack as he glimpsed a shark knifing upwards towards him, but seconds later, the shark was nowhere to be seen. In and out of the water they went. The nereid never held him under long enough to affect his breathing for which he was grateful, but he started to grow weary of their breakneck pace. And then they stopped.

  Gordie lay on his back in shallow water that lapped at him as he stared into the blue sky. He heard the familiar sounds of the shore as well as those of the city. He sat up and looked into the coursing legs of his carrier. He put a hand in the soft sand and pushed himself to his feet. A shower of water fell off him and splashed back into the tide. A steady dripping sound played beneath him as his soaking clothes discharged their moisture. He looked up at the nereid and felt awkward again.

  “Well, thank you very much.” He cocked his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “You are very welcome. The temple you seek is northeast of here—not far.” Thetis pointed over his shoulder, and he turned to look in that direction. Directly behind him a small city bustled with buildings pressed right up to the coast. Mountains rose away from it in every direction. Gordie turned back to her.

  “What temple?” he asked.

  She raised a watery eyebrow. “The Temple of Apollo, of course.”

  “Oh, right. That makes sense.” He shuffled his bare feet in the water, and realized, with a twinge of annoyance, that he had left his shoes on the beach near Volos.

  “This is where we part. Safe travels, young man.” She smiled and turned back toward open water.

  “It’s Gordie,” he called after her. “And I’m sorry if I offended you before.”

  Thetis turned and looked over her shoulder. “No apology necessary, Gordie. Good luck.” And with that she drifted out to sea, sinking back into the water until she was out of sight. For a minute Gordie stared at the spot where her glimmering head dipped into the water. He turned toward the beach and stepped out of the sea.

  The sand was warm on his wet feet and it clung to his soles. To his right a marina extended out into the open water. It was far enough away that the people milling around on it were the size of ants, so Gordie didn’t worry about being discovered. The beach was not very large and had no apparent street access—it was deserted. A small copse of trees butted up against the beach, and he made for them.

  As he breeched the foliage, he found a road on the other side. The traffic was steady, but not busy. He walked through bristly grass until he reached the sidewalk a hundred feet from the tree line. Across the boulevard a number of red-roofed houses sprawled along the street forming a tightknit development. He looked left up the street and then right. To the left, the architecture g
rew sparse; he could see a highway in the near distance stretching out of the city. To the right, the buildings grew closer together and the traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian, became thicker as well. He headed inward.

  Smudgy footprints followed him to a nearby side-street as the wet sand fluffed off the soles of his feet. This street did not cross the broad thoroughfare he walked along, but originated here like a delta, and curled off back toward the coast line. Most notable about this lane was a grand hotel on the corner, pearly white and stretching up toward the sky, like a fallen cloud trying to return to the heavens.

  Each floor was wrapped in balconies except for the ground floor, which had great bay windows every few feet, each replete with their own green awning. Gordie could see that the front entrance was on the main road, so he crossed the side-street and approached the tetrastyle façade: four columns holding up a gleaming pediment adorned with four metallic stars. Three-dimensional, pseudo-Greek letters floated above the pediment reading, “ITEA PALACE.” Gordie imagined these lit up at night and thought the effect would be spectacular.

  “Good morning, Mr. No-Shoes! Welcome to Itea Palace!”

  Gordie started as an olive-skinned young man greeted him from the great gold-plated revolving door. He had been so immersed in the brilliance of the hotel that he hadn’t even noticed the bellhop’s presence until he had hailed him as ‘Meester No-Shoes.’ Now that he did notice the doorman, he took in his robin’s-egg-blue, gold-buttoned uniform with matching hat. But his most noticeable accessory was an ear-to-ear grin, which Gordie imagined must have gotten him the job on the spot.

  “Uh, good morning.” Gordie did a half wave, feeling very out of place in his soppy attire. “You couldn’t give me directions to Delphi, could you?”

  “To Delphi?” The door man hopped off the marble steps and clapped Gordie on the shoulder. “Why would you want to go there? The beach is the place to be, no? All the pretty ladies.” He nudged Gordie with his elbow and winked. Gordie chuckled.