Forge of the Gods 2

by Simon Archer

“Why do we have to do this story?” She asked for the thousandth time. “I mean, why can’t we just be two soldiers fighting over a woman or something.”

  “Because you are the woman,” Sasha said. She swung the skirt over her shoulder and approached her with open arms. Hailey flinched away, but she took hold of her upper arms and held her in place. “It would be a crime to disguise you as a man. Plus, Penthesilea and Achilles is a passionate love story with a mighty battle between equals. It’s perfect for the dance, especially if you’re trying to get Aphrodite to come.”

  Hailey leaned back from Sasha and groaned.

  “Just put it on, Hailey,” I said from the other side of the training room. I had my own arms crossed, and my practice rapier hung lazily from my hand. “The sooner it’s on, the sooner we can be done.”

  “Fine,” She relented as she held out her arms. Sasha swiftly swung the skirt around her hips and tied it in place, not giving her a chance to second guess her answer.

  “You know,” Sasha grumbled. She must have pulled the strings unnecessarily tight on the skirt, as Hailey released a pained hiss.“This isn’t going to work if you two don’t get over yourselves.”

  “We’re doing your show, Sasha,” I snapped. “That doesn’t mean we have to be happy about it.”

  “But it’s not going to work if you don’t feel it,” Sasha said as she whirled around to face me. She clutched her hands into fists, desperation all over her face. “It’s not as though I made it difficult. It’s a fight sequence which you both are naturals at and a love story. Considering how you feel about each other, it should be easy.”

  “It’s not like we have to be in love the whole time during this play,” I argued. I did a couple of practice swipes with the protected sword. “It’s only after Achilles takes off her mask that he falls in love with her.”

  Sasha stomped her foot like an insolent child and growled. “You’re missing the whole point.” The drama teacher walked over to us and put her hands together as if in prayer. “What is the story of Penthesilea and Achilles?”

  “We’ve been over this, Sasha,” Hailey said, but Sasha held out a hand and shushed her.

  “I’m asking the myth encyclopedia over here,” Sasha said, never taking her eyes away from me. “What is the story?”

  I inhaled deeply before speaking. “Penthesilea was one of the fiercest Amazonian warriors, being a daughter of Ares. She swore her chastity to the Amazons and was one of the twelve to help the Trojans in the war.”

  “Then?” Sasha prompted with her eyes and eager voice.

  “Then,” I said, mocking her tone, “she got into a one-on-one fight with Achilles. She was one of the only people to match him, but he managed to kill her. Before she died, he took off her mask and fell in love with her.”

  “Why did he fall in love with her?” Sasha asked.

  The question threw me off. My brain whirled for the answer, searching through various myths I read, but it came up empty.

  “I don’t know…” I stammered. “Because she was beautiful?”

  “Ah!” Sasha exclaimed. She held up a finger and straightened her back so that she stood at her full height. “That is the obvious answer. It’s because she was the only warrior to match Achilles blow for blow. They built a sexual tension during the course of their fight that by the end, they were in love with each other.”

  “There is no textual evidence to support that,” I reported, disturbed by this interpretation of the myth.

  “But there is no textual evidence to refute it either, is there?” Sasha countered with her suggestive eyebrows. She already knew the answer before I said it aloud.

  “No,” I grumbled.

  “But there is textual evidence to support the fact that they wouldn’t be fighting with rapiers,” Hailey pointed out cheekily.

  Sasha rolled her lips over her teeth and scowled at Hailey, who shrugged in response. I held back a chuckle which turned into an unintentional snort. Hailey shot me a wink while Sasha steamed. The daughter of Dionysus inhaled deeply, eyes closed, and re-centered herself.

  “So,” Sasha said as she clapped her hands. “This fight is going to be a journey. The tension will radiate off the two of you. It will be so loud and so intense that Eros will have no choice but to arrive to see what’s going on. He’s going to feel so left out. But instead of a kiss and a happy ending, we will give them tragedy and death.”

  “That’s…” Hailey searched for the word. “Disappointing.”

  “Cathartic, my dear, cathartic is the word you’re looking for,” Sasha said pointedly. “Now, let’s go over the beginning that we practiced last time.”

  Hailey and I positioned ourselves three feet apart and held out our rapiers. They were weak blades, made only for simple sparing. The ones Sasha designed would be stronger, able to withstand the intense blows. However, these were safer in case there was a mistake or two, a missed blow or mix up.

  I began the slow sequence. I never moved my feet but simply reached out with the tip of my sword, aiming for her right side. She lazily blocked me, and I moved quickly out of her way to swipe across the front of her, which Hailey shifted out of the way, able to see the blow coming.

  We paused and eyed one another.

  She was the first to move her feet. She walked to the side, as if along the edge of a circle. I followed, keeping our three feet between the two of us. We were predators, considering the other one prey. When we found our new positions, I reached out my sword to test her.

  Hailey’s sharp reflexes came out and knocked the tip of my sword away and aimed a swipe for my face. I dodged it, leaning my upper body away.

  After a breath, I moved the battle forward. I pursued her with a three-step combination that she expertly countered. Her next move was to follow me with those same moves, but forcing me back. I didn’t let her get me back more than three steps before I changed up the rhythm.

  Like a tennis match, we volleyed back and forth. We exchanged move after move, the clang of our thin blades sounding like twinkling bells in the expansive training hall. We moved through Sasha’s choreography, never letting up on one another.

  That was until the instructor stopped us.

  “Enough, enough!” She waved his hands dramatically and pushed her tall body between us. “This isn’t working.”

  “We’re doing what you told us,” Hailey defended.

  “You’re doing the moves, yes,” Sasha agreed, but she hissed the words through her teeth. “But where is the passion? Where is the intensity?”

  I dug the tip of the blade into the floor and leaned on it lightly. “We told you, Sasha, we’re not actors.”

  The daughter of Dionysus twirled a loose strand of her hair, lost in thought. “I have an idea.” She crooked a finger at Hailey. “Walk with me.”

  The two women ventured over to the other side of the hall. Feeling left out, I quickly picked up the pace to follow them, but Sasha held out a hand when I got close.

  “Not you, Cameron.” Sasha waved her hand, shooing me away. “Stay over there.”

  My expression clearly said: What the hell? But Sasha didn’t pay me any mind. She put her hand around Hailey’s shoulder. Their voices were too hushed for me to eavesdrop properly. So I obeyed and hung back.

  After a minute, the two came back to the center circle where we practiced our fight. Sasha shuffled over to the side and sat down in an oversized armchair she brought in specifically for our training sessions. She used it to fold her long legs up onto it and lounge like a tragic painting.

  Looking like a Queen on her throne, Sasha lifted her chin. “Start from the beginning.”

  I sighed and looked at Hailey, trying to share an exasperated look. But when I caught Hailey’s eye, there was something different from frustration in her eyes. It was a determined look, one I’d seen her use on the battlefield more than once. Her lips curled up into a half-smile, tempting and teasing.

  “Hailey?” I breathed, unsure about this new motivation she’
d been struck with.

  “Begin, Cameron!” Sasha called, breaking me out of my reverie.

  Like a robot, I began the first sequence. The difference in Hailey was immediate. She never looked away from me, and the snap in her movements was swift. I tried to find the difference as we circled one another, but she didn’t give me time to analyze. She picked up the speed and raced through the practiced choreography. I kept up at her new pace, so much so that I found myself panting as we completed the sequence.

  There was a brief pause as we finished, my chest heaving up and down from the extra exertion. I looked over at Sasha, who sat still in her chair, waiting for instruction.

  “What next?” I asked the teacher.

  The words barely left my mouth when a tingle ran up my spine. I knew that sensation as I sensed a blade of metal hurtling towards me. Only because of that instinct did I manage to avoid Hailey’s strike. She lunged for me, and I twirled out of the way to avoid getting pierced in the side.

  “Whoa, Hailey!” I exclaimed. “What the--?”

  Once again, the soldier didn’t give me a second’s pause. She attacked upward, and I parried from the fifth position. Hailey pushed down on my sword, but I slid my blade along her and knocked the hilt of my sword against her blade, a resounding ting flying through the air. Hailey maintained a hold on her sword and forced me farther back.

  She kept her blade aloft, taking the upper hand. I had to crouch lower, especially when she swept through the air and aimed for my head. My breathing labored as I found a surge of energy and pushed back, so I wasn’t always on the defensive.

  Our blades clicked together, countering one another like a dance. Hailey never relented. She pushed the fight around the room as she forced my feet where she wanted them. I managed to find a pause in her sequence to aim low, my blade missing her calf by an inch. However, the soldier blocked me with a sudden move to the third position.

  I quickly recovered my blade and aimed for her side. Anticipating me, however, Hailey twisted herself and blocked me with her sword hand behind her back. I continued my momentum and spun around so that my back was to Hailey, a cardinal sin of dueling.

  I sensed her rapier come up behind me over my right shoulder. My blade stuck out awkwardly, but I managed to get the block. Next, she dove low, surprising me by sticking the blade between my legs. My stance was weak, and I knew I couldn’t get the block in time.

  So I jumped.

  It was the first moment I had away from actively fighting. With my back already turned away from the daughter of Apollo, I dashed off away from her.

  “What the hell, Hailey?” I called out over the pounding of my own heart. I leaped up on one of the elevated platforms, used to teach territorial and various terrain combat. I hoped the higher ground would give me an advantage and take Hailey out of the fight long enough to talk some sense into her.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

  Her answer didn’t come in the form of a verbal response. Instead, the soldier joined me up on the platform and pointed her sword at me again. I sensed the direction of her blade as she swiped it violently across the front of her, from left to right.

  I met the blade at the bottom of the swing and blocked it, though the force of her blow vibrated all up my arm. I almost dropped the weapon but managed to regain myself as I prepared for another strike from Hailey.

  I didn’t know what the hell Sasha said to her, but whatever it was had lit a fire under her ass. The whole time, she seemed to be enjoying herself. It was clear that she was winning, and she loved being in this position of power.

  Normally, I would have found her smirk endearing, cute even. But right now, I was annoyed. I couldn’t stand this onslaught. I was tired and busy and didn’t need to be pushed to the end of my limits. I was already there.

  So I switched up the game. I didn’t directly block one of Hailey’s jabs. Instead of meeting her with my sword, I met her with my hand. I grabbed the blade in mid-air and clutched it in my fist.

  Normally, this would be a stupid thing to do with a rapier, considering it would rip my skin to shreds. If used with enough force, the whole thing could chop my hand right off. However, these were practice blades. They were dulled for safety, and I used that to my advantage.

  A sharp inhale of breath echoed throughout the training arena. I didn’t know where it had come from. Instead, I put all of my focus on holding tight to that blade.

  Hailey tugged and tried to rip the thing from my hands, but I reinforced my grip and latched on with two hands, dropping my own rapier. Hailey’s lips curled into a smile, and she yanked me back harder.

  I lost my footing and tumbled forward on the platform. Hailey opened her arms and caught my falling self. She wrapped me up in herself. I let myself stay there for a moment and caught a whiff of his scent: pine and sweat and campfires.

  Suddenly, I felt her arms wrap around my back and press me closer into her. Then the steel of the blade, the flat end pushed against my spine, trapping me in.

  We were breaths apart, sharing the same air. My eyes met her green ones, and I swam deep inside them. I lost myself in them. There was no more arrogance there, no more determination. It was compassion, kindness, and a question.

  “Cameron,” she whispered. I felt her breath on my lips, and I licked them to get rid of the tingling that lingered there.

  Fear snuck into my mind. This wasn’t real. This look she was giving me, no matter how much it made my insides burn with desire. It wasn’t real. It was a trick. Something Sasha had cooked up. Fear twisted in my stomach. I didn’t know how to get away. So with instinct instead of thought guiding me, I tried to get out of Hailey’s hold.

  I kneed Hailey in the groin and dashed out of the training facility.

  20

  My legs pushed me all the way to the forge. I ran away from Hailey, from Sasha, from the tension that swirled between the two of us. I ran away from Jade and Daniella. I ran from the confusion with Beth and Bella. I tried to run away from my own thoughts, but they pounded against my skull as hard as my feet pounded the pavement.

  I couldn’t believe Sasha. What was she thinking, having the two of us reenact Achilles and Penthesilea? It was a stupid love story, anyway. It could barely be called a love story because all they did was fight. They pummeled each other until the man ended up winning, and then when he realized she was pretty, he ‘fell in love with her.’ The only thing it led to was the requirement that every great hero had to best an Amazon warrior in order to be considered a hero. Or so one of the myths went, anyway. So a man had to best a woman in order to show his superiority. Yeah, that was definitely something I wanted to participate in.

  I respected my girls too much to think so lowly of them. I didn’t want to perpetuate the stereotype.

  Who did that daughter of Dionysus think she was? It wasn’t right. That tall, dramatic teacher was messing with everything with her stupid show. It was a dance! Why did we need a show in the first place? We had music, food, and dancing. We didn’t need some dramatic performance in the middle of it all.

  I burst into the doors of the forge and found it surprisingly empty. No students practicing for their exams or Sarah were in sight. The concrete floors stretched out with possibilities, the fires ready to be started, and the metal ready to be bent.

  I didn’t waste a minute. I jogged to my favorite station and fired up the forge. Flames blazed through either end with a violent blast as I turned the propane tank up a little too high. I blindly selected the metal, not caring what I was going to bang out. I just needed something to hammer into little pieces, to bend to my will. I needed something I could be in control of.

  So I buried myself in blacksmithing. I left all of my thoughts and feelings about Hailey, Jade, Daniella, Beth, the dance, Tainted Love, and the rest of it at the door. My whole world shrunk to the hammer, the metal, and the fire. There was no image in my head. I had no idea what I was creating. I simply created.

  When the metal stopped
talking to me, I ventured to grab another piece. I picked something challenging, a collection of ball bearings, and threw them into the forge with my bare hands. Even though I could resist fire, I often wore gloves and goggles to keep up the appearance of safety. Here, though, completely alone in the forge, I worked with reckless abandon. I relished the feeling of the fire on my skin, the heat that radiated up my arm.

  I held the white-hot metal between my fingers and felt none of the searing heat that sizzled off the substance. Vibrations rocketed up my arm as I pounded, pounded, pounded on the metal. Sparks flew in every direction with each strike of my hammer.

  I dug through the scrap metal pile and made weapon after weapon. I didn’t pay attention to the details. I only turned the grinder on once but quickly abandoned finishing any of the blades. All I wanted to do was hammer out everything I was feeling. All of my exhaustion, confusion, and frustration came out with every blow.

  I was in the zone, losing track of my own mind and the time of day. I curled into the comfort of repetitive motions. My heart rate slowed into something more manageable. My mind cleared, filled with only thoughts of metal and heat. The hiss from the oil when I quenched each blade marked the satisfying end of each project, a sign I got to move on to the next piece of metal.

  The first interruption came when all of the lights went out in the smithy. Suddenly, I was plunged into darkness. The hum of the electric lights ceased, and not only was I surrounded by black, but silence accompanied it as well. The only source of light came from the fire in the forge itself. It wasn’t enough to see by, but luckily, I wasn’t without sight for long.

  The lights buzzed back on, but the spell was broken. The jarring change to my environment threw me off my groove. I stood frozen as the lights clicked back on, the overhead lamps zapping to life. My eyes found the source of the interruption, and I didn’t say anything.

  Sarah didn’t offer any words, either. She simply leaned against the door frame, one hand on the light switch that controlled all of the lights in the smithy. Her lips were pursed, and one eyebrow was raised in a question.