by Zachary Howe
“Hey,” Bridget said, without looking at him. Gordie’s confidence melted and his forehead wrinkled.
“Are you mad at me?”
“I’m not not mad at you,” she shrugged, her eyes fixed on her plate. Gordie’s heart sank.
“What did I do?”
“You went running off in the middle of the night even though I told you not to. We all told you not to.” Ellie was watching the debate with interest and Bridget leaned in to whisper to Gordie. “I came to your room last night and you were gone. I was terrified,” she said, and she grasped his wrist. In that instant, Gordie would have traded the priceless gryphon egg he held for an opportunity to go back in time to the second Bridget had walked into his room in the middle of the night.
“I’m really sorry, but I had to help Artemis. I completed another task,” he whispered, thinking that Bridget might be impressed enough to forgive him.
“Well, if you had to help her.” Bridget leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. He was at a loss, but relieved when his mother chimed in.
“I think we are all agreed that it was completely IDIOTIC for you to take off… again,” she said. “But you are here now and apparently safe, so let’s move on.” She turned to Artemis. Unlike the others, the tall goddess looked suited for this high table. She sat with her back straight and her head held high.
“So, Artemis, how is it that you have come here? I was under the impression that there was some sort of magical border,” Ellie tossed her hands up, “that would not allow the gods to move freely between the realms.” She sat with her hands in her lap and looked up at Artemis patiently.
“Gordon brought me back.” Artemis met Ellie’s gaze. Gordie looked at her with disgust. She had tricked him into destroying the borders between worlds, and had the audacity to blame him for it?
“It’s not exactly that simple,” he snapped, fixing Artemis with a look of disapproval. Bridget smirked. “I went to save her from danger, which she apparently made up, and when I came back to meet her—literally running from an army—she was nowhere in sight. I hopped in the river to come back and guess who showed up? She mooched a ride from me and here we are, with all the worlds just waiting to collide.” Gordie sat back and crossed his arms.
“Sounds like we’ve got a wily vixen on our hands, eh, Gordo?” Atalo had come out of his shock and pounded the table, never taking his eyes off Artemis as he guffawed stupidly.
“All right, keep it together, Dad.” Ellie rolled her eyes.
“Artemis?” A gentle whisper came from the entryway and Gordie looked around in total bemusement. The voice had sounded so weak, almost scared, that he was unable to reconcile it with its source. Chiron stood just inside the entrance with his arms hanging at his sides. His face captured the look of one who has found a long-lost love and is fighting the accompanying disbelief. His tears made it look as though his eyes were wavering in the half-light, but they were actually trained fixedly on the goddess.
Artemis rose from the table and walked towards him. Chiron began to walk forward, the clopping of his hooves sounded like the cavern’s heartbeat. As they approached each other, Chiron collapsed into a deep bow, his legs folded beneath him on the stone floor.
“Rise, Chiron.” Artemis placed her hand on his shoulder.
“My lady,” he whispered, ignoring her command, his eyes fixed on her toes. Artemis knelt down, placed her hand beneath his chin, and lifted his eyes to hers. They rose in perfect unison. Although Chiron looked down on her as much as she looked down on Gordie, his expression was one of deepest respect.
“How?” he breathed. “How is this possible?”
“I returned with the young hero,” she said. Gordie’s discontent with her version of the story was mollified when she referred to him as ‘the young hero.’ Chiron looked up and stared at Gordie, the same look of disbelief on his face. Then Chiron noticed the egg resting on the table. He stepped past Artemis and stared at the orb as he approached.
“Is that?” he continued to whisper. “That cannot be . . .” He reached the table and lifted the egg with reverence. Like Artemis, he held it to his ear with his eyes closed. Gordie watched him apprehensively. “How did you obtain this?” he asked, staring at Gordie when he finally lowered the egg. Gordie was about to explain, but Artemis did for him.
“The boy faced the mighty gryphon and lived to tell of it,” Artemis said, and Gordie thought he heard a hint of pride in her voice. “He battled her in her roost on the peak of Mount Pentro. He bested her, but showed her mercy, refusing to kill her for her invaluable hide. As a reward she gifted him with this egg, her child still aslumber within.”
Everyone stared at Gordie with awe and he fought with all his might to keep the smile from his face. He definitely had no more hard feelings for Artemis who was responsible for making Bridget look at him like that.
“It was nothing,” Gordie managed, and his grin forced its way through.
“And what of Dasos?” Chiron asked Artemis, ignoring Gordie.
“He organized a war party to destroy Gordon. He did not succeed,” Artemis added. “In the end, I believe he saw the folly of his ways. I will win him back to our side when the time comes.” Gordie was confused by this sentiment, but Chiron nodded gravely. There was some understanding between the two of them that Gordie had missed. He was not alone.
“When the time comes for what?” Ellie asked, with eyes narrowed.
“War.” Chiron stared at the egg in his hands, sadness etched on his features. Gordie looked from his mom to Artemis and then to Chiron, trying to see if they were as perplexed as him. Ellie looked afraid. Artemis looked resigned.
“War?” Gordie asked.
“Indeed.” Chiron turned his gaze on Gordie. “Because you brought Artemis back, the borders have been open, as I am sure you realize. Others will soon come to the same conclusion and this world will be invaded. I told you not to act rashly—” Chiron’s voice began to rise in anger, but Artemis cut him off.
“Do not blame him, Chiron. It is entirely my fault.” Artemis looked contrite as she spoke. Chiron watched her impassively. “I came to him in his sleep and convinced him that I was in danger. This was a lie, a ploy to lure him to Dasos so I could escape. It has cost me much and now I realize the full implications of my actions. I am sorry.”
Chiron held her gaze for a long time before he turned back to Gordie. “Gordon,” Chiron sighed, “it is true that you disobeyed my warnings once again, but it is also true that I was not open with you, and failed to express my concerns. I continue to underestimate you. I am truly sorry. It is clear that you have the trust of Artemis and thus you are worthy of mine, implicitly and fully.” Chiron handed the egg back to Gordie who looked back up at him.
“No,” Gordie said. “You were right. I may have completed one task, but I see now that it wasn’t worth it. I’m sorry. I promise to listen to you going forward.”
Chiron studied him for a moment. “Seeing as how none of us are infallible,” he said slowly, “we will advise one another going forward.” He grasped Gordie’s shoulder and smiled. “We cannot undo what has been done, but we will be victorious in the end.”
Master and student smiled at one another, and Gordie felt more strongly for Chiron than ever before—something caught his eye.
Framed in one of the skylights high above was a large black bird like a vulture. The only difference was that the creature’s long beak was actually a long, wrinkled, warty nose that fit perfectly on the wizened, dark-eyed, hag-like face from which it protruded. Gordie began to rise as he stared at it, ignoring the trembling coming from the egg held at his side. Seeing the fear transform Gordie’s features, Chiron’s smile faded and he turned to look up at the ceiling. The centaur’s expression slowly transformed as well.
“Harpy!” Chiron screamed, and the bird took flight. “Artemis, take it down! Gordon, you follow!” Chiron galloped at full speed into the corridor that led to his private chambers. Gordie tossed the egg on the
table as the shell began to splinter. He sprinted for the exit through which Artemis had already left.
“Gordie, what’s going—” Bridget started to rise.
“Just stay here!” Gordie yelled over his shoulder as he raced through the hall.
Just before he made the exit, he heard the thunder of Chiron’s hooves as he burst back into the chamber. He was carrying javelins in each hand with a load more slung over his back in some sort of enormous quiver.
“Go! Go!” he urged, and Gordie led him through the tunnel. A raucous squalor was seeping in from the outside world. It was a croaking, squawking sound accompanied by a rushing, beating noise. The clamor grew louder until they stepped into the distilled sunlight.
Hundreds—thousands—of great black birds filled the morning sky. They were rising from the boughs of the forest in droves, launching from the mountain’s slopes—a great black blanket lifting into the sky, a shrieking rolling void rending the air. The sheer volume of their cackling, throaty language pounded Gordie’s ear drums and he was mortified by what he understood.
“The boy lives!” they cawed to the heavens in unison. “The boy lives! The Descendant of Heracles survives! We must inform the King of Olympus! To Mount Olympus!”
“No,” Gordie whispered.
Artemis stood on the earthen ramp firing arrows into the sky with blazing speed. Dozens of the harpies fell, one after another, sometimes two or three skewered on the same arrow, and still the mass rose. The wily birds streaked in every direction.
“To me!” Chiron yelled as he pounded the trail that led to the plateau near the mountain top. Gordie chased him while Artemis worked her way backwards, firing incessantly.
Gordie watched the birds rise in horror as he raced up the mountain, heard their grating boasts of triumph as they fled.
“What do we do?” he screamed at Chiron.
“Kill them all!” Chiron yelled back.
Soon they reached the flat, dusty terrain of the training grounds and Chiron halted, assessing the skies. He scowled and began hurling his javelins. Gordie watched as bird after bird fell, but he could not see any way they could kill them all, neither could he see any way for him to help. Artemis had made her way up the path now and was loosing four arrows at a time into the living cloud. Gordie continued to watch helplessly. But then an idea came to him and he looked up at Chiron.
“Throw me!” he yelled at him. Chiron continued to fire his spears and glanced in his direction before shaking his head curtly with a growl. “Throw me, dammit!” Gordie yelled again. Chiron scowled and grabbed him by the back of his hoodie, lifting him from the ground. “Don’t you dare hit me with one of those.” Gordie nodded towards the sling of javelins, and Chiron grunted in assent as he swept him down before launching him in the air.
Despite the dire situation, Gordie experienced a moment of elation as he rocketed skyward. He unslung his bat and produced his Stygian blade in his left arm as he neared the flock. Carnage ensued.
Gordie reached the unfortunate monsters that lagged behind, and shattered bodies with each swing of his bat while slicing open and decapitating the hideous creatures on his other side with his black ice blade. His brain was enveloped with a battle-induced rage and he reveled in each drop of hot, black blood that sprayed over him.
Gordie’s ascent began to plateau. As he reached the peak of Chiron’s toss, he began hopping onto the backs of the humanoid birds, dispatching them through various means before he would propel off the lifeless bodies onto his next victim. He barely registered the incoming projectiles that slayed the winged beasts all around him.
Upon one of his dismounts, Gordie approached a would-be escapee with blind zeal. A harpy came swooping in from the side and shouldered into him. Eviscerating the demon as he fell away from it, he began to tumble downward through the flock, killing anything in his path, but unable to resume his springboard tactic. He plummeted through the cloud and out the bottom of the swarm.
As he flipped over and over, he began to despair. Above him, hundreds of the monsters still soared into the sky. He knew there was no way they could stop them all. Spears and arrows whizzed past him, exacerbating his terror as he dropped through the air, all battle frenzy long forgotten in his reawakened panic.
Then the wind was knocked out of him as he landed on the back of a black horse. He looked around wildly, trying to figure out what had happened. Two black feathery wings beat the sky around him and he became aware of another rider sitting astride the horse in front of him, firing flaming arrows into the sky.
“Greetings, Gordon!” Apollo called. His voice rang with an unfamiliar glee. “Meet Pegasus, my trusty steed!” He did not look back when he addressed Gordie, but continued to fell harpies. “Ready yourself! We will be in the heart of the flock soon!” And he was correct.
Gordie sliced and diced as Apollo turned back and forth, igniting the hideous bird-ladies. More spears and arrows rained from below as the flock began to thin.
“We’re doing it!” Gordie screamed to the wind. “We’re gonna get them all!” He stabbed through the nearest harpy, looking into its evil eyes as it dropped away. Up close the faces were monstrous, and he felt no remorse for killing them, especially in this blood-thirsty rage.
Pegasus circled through the swarm as the combatants continued to deal death until a single harpy remained. Gordie did not wait for the others. Springing from the back of the flying horse, he sliced the last bird’s head off. He watched the two pieces tumble to the ground with supreme satisfaction until Pegasus swooped beneath him and he landed squarely behind Apollo.
“Well done, Gordon!” Apollo said as they circled lower and lower. The upturned faces of Chiron and Artemis watched from below. Chiron’s features were once again unreadable as he waited, but Artemis was fixed on Apollo, hate frozen on her face.
The flying horse’s hooves touched down in a gentle plume of dust and it whinnied a greeting to Chiron. Chiron nickered back and Gordie looked at him with surprise. Of course Gordie had understood the conversation.
“Hile, Centaur, Master of Heroes!” Pegasus had called.
“It is an honor, Master of the Fields and Sky,” Chiron had responded with a bow of his head. Chiron noticed Gordie’s surprise. “You thought I could not speak horse?” he asked Gordie with a slight chuckle.
“Sure I did,” Gordie laughed as he slid off Pegasus, “but I bet you didn’t know I could, Master of Heroes!” Chiron looked at him with genuine surprise. Then he smiled and guffawed.
“Very good, young Leonhart!” He slapped Gordie on the shoulder who smiled up at him from his side. Gordie turned his attention back to Apollo.
The God of the Sun had slid off his mount and stood facing his twin sister nervously. Only now did Gordie realize how much the two looked alike with their high cheek bones and thin lips. The only difference was that, while Artemis exuded a silvery glow, Apollo had a pale golden aura about him. Also, where one displayed eyes pained with remorse, the other’s burned with fury.
“Sister,” Apollo whispered.
“Spare me your quibbling! The only reason I have not pierced your brow with an arrow is out of my begrudging affinity for this young man.” She did not gesture towards Gordie or even look his way, but all parties knew to whom she was referring. Gordie could not decide if he was offended by her sentiment or not. He shrugged and thought he would take what he could get at the moment. Still, his confidence in a possible reconciliation had reached its depths.
“Let us not fight just yet,” Chiron interjected in soothing tones. “We have won a great victory. It is a time for celebration. Please, join me in my home. We can regale the mortals with the tale of our triumph.” Artemis shot one last sneer at Apollo, spun on her heel, and stalked back to the path that led to the cave.
“Thank you, Chiron,” Apollo said. Chiron looked down on him as if trying to decide if he held contempt or concern for him.
“A long overdue thanks indeed,” Chiron rumbled, “but I will accept
it.” He held out his hand. The two of them grasped forearms. “Come. Let us revel in merriment.” He smiled and led the way back to the trail.
Gordie breathed a sigh of relief and fell in line. The sun continued to climb above them. He heard the happy tweets of real birds around them, singing love songs to one another in the glorious morning. The juices of the fresh bodies squished beneath the victors as they strode off the battlefield.
***
Bridget ran to greet Gordie when the victory party returned, but stopped a few feet short, holding her nose.
“Good god! What is all that?” she asked.
“Um, this is victory.” Gordie held his arms wide to display the tapestry of death painted across him.
“Well, it’s gross. Never mind that, though. You gotta come see this.” She beckoned him, and turned to walk back to the table. Gordie removed his gore-smattered sweatshirt and followed. Artemis was nowhere in sight and Apollo stood near the doorway talking to Chiron in hushed tones. Atalo and Ellie sat at the table, looking back and forth between the latest deity to arrive and an equally wondrous creature cooing atop the dining surface.
Gordie stopped a few feet short of the table and stared in amazement at the baby gryphon that cheerily munched away on fruits and veggies. From the shoulders down it had the body of a lion cub, although its fur was a confused blur of colors—almost as if it had been tie-dyed. Oddly enough, the tiny feathers that had already plumed were all monochromatic—a steely gray, not rainbow-hued like its mother. Shards of golden egg lay scattered over the tabletop and the little beast’s tail swished back and forth. Gordie approached.
The tiny eagle head rose from its meal and fixed him with a knowing stare. Its iris was a dark brown, similar to Gordie’s own. I know you, the voice rang clearly in Gordie’s mind, that of a very young boy, one just old enough to string words together.
Yes, Gordie smiled at him, I am Gordie. Your mother asked me to care for you.
Well met, Gordie. I . . . The little creature cocked its head away for a moment and then looked back at him, I am Lytrotis. The gryphon walked to the edge of the table and hopped onto Gordie’s chest. Gordie smiled and hugged him as the sharp beak affectionately nipped at his ear.
