by Simon Archer
I picked myself up off the floor to see who had been speaking to me. Irema stood over me with her hands on her hips, looking pissed as all hell.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Irema scolded, her tone matching an elementary school teacher’s when punishing a child. “I swear to the gods that if you’ve gone and got yourself killed, I’m going to go to the Underworld, bring you back to life, just so I can kill you all over again.”
“Wait, I’m dead?” I balked as I scrambled up to my feet, worry making me move faster.
“No, you idiot, but you were close to it,” Irema informed me as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re just unconscious now, thanks to me.”
“Well, thank you,” I said sincerely. “But how did you save me?”
“I’ve been going around the battlefield, trying to keep near death soldiers alive,” Irema said as she cocked her hip out to the side. “I move from death dream to death dream, yanking them back to an unconscious state. I’ve had to bounce around a lot because we don’t want to be killing our fellow soldiers.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, desperate for updates.
“After Jade, Bethany, and Daniella broke Hailey’s soldiers out of jail, they attacked the graduation ceremony at the amphitheater,” Irema said slowly, as if she was explaining a complex math problem. “But the Elemental Officials and the other soldiers didn’t recognize them. They attacked, assuming they were intruders. We’ve been trying to fight non lethally because they're our comrades and it’s clear they’re not in control of their actions but it’s hard to do. Daniella and I have been running around doing damage control.”
Irema let out a heavy enough sigh to make her lips flutter. “But then you had to go and pass out so I popped into your dream.”
“This is my death dream?” I asked, looking around the room in wonder.
“It’s the last place you want to see before you die,” Irema explained. She also took a quick gander around the room. “Seems to suit you.”
“But I’ve never been here before,” I countered as my feet seemed to move of their own accord, exploring more of the space. I admired the high ceilings and the complexity of the equipment. Everything was the best of the best, the latest designs, and the toughest tools. It was a marvel in and of itself.
“Your death dream isn’t always somewhere you’ve been before,” Irema continued. She spun in a circle, following me around the room as I moved like she was a signal tuned into me. “It’s often a place that you’ve never been but always have wanted to go.”
My mind scrambled for the answer to the mystery of what this place was. My eyes roamed all over the walls and the benches, looking for some kind of clue. It wasn’t until I spotted the hammer sitting atop the anvil that I recognized it. The tools were in the exact same position as the drawing on the table, the symbol on my sash.
“This is Hephaestus’s forge,” I breathed out the words, knowing they were true.
Part of me hated the fact that my father still had this much hold over me after finding out what a deadbeat he was. But the other part couldn’t help but marvel at what the greatest blacksmith in the world’s forge looked like. It felt as though I got a peek into his mind.
“Again, it suits you,” Irema said with a shrug. Then she surprised me and took a seat on a nearby metal stool, looking as though she was settling in for the long haul.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I wondered, spinning on my heel to face her. I picked up the hammer off the anvil and twirled it around in my hand.
“Whatever you want,” Irema answered. “I’ve already stabilized you. We just have to wait for your body to wake up.”
“We?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you have more soldiers to save?”
“I mean yeah,” Irema’s tone brushed me off. But then she stiffened her neck and looked me dead in the eye. “But you’re the most important person on campus right now. You’re the only one who can stop this madness and save everyone. So as far as I’m concerned, I’m not leaving until I know you’re alive, back up on your feet, and making that goddamn weapon.”
As much as I appreciated her concern, I couldn’t help but scoff. “It’s not like I’m going to have time to make a whole weapon. The sun was already rising when I passed out.”
“Uh, yeah you do,” Irema said, giving me her own scoff. “Since I’ve stabilized you, time’s suspended in here. Or at least it’s longer in here than it is out there.” Irema pointed to a nearby door as if the real world laid just beyond it. “And you’re in a forge. I don’t think this is an accident.”
“Huh,” I said as I looked around. “Some deus ex machina you are.”
Irema shrugged like it was no big deal, but I caught the smile that played along her lips, her pride unmistakable.
Just over her shoulder on the workbench, I noticed that there were four essential items I needed just sitting there. They looked lopsided as if they had crash landed on the bench. The scissors were open and wide. The Helm was on its side with a dent in the top. The necklace pieces were scattered about like a garnish. And the girdle had a broken latch, but the base was still intact.
I eyed the four items and narrowed my gaze a bit. I couldn’t believe I had managed to get them to come with me. It had been a last-minute effort, in order to get the weapons away from Eris, but they’d actually followed me. All the way to my death. Or near death, anyway.
“I can hear those wheels turning in your head,” Irema said, a coy smile perking up on her face. “What are you planning to do?”
“I’m going to make the Ultimate Weapon,” I said confidently. My fellow soldier wasn’t wrong. There were wheels turning in my head as I thought about my next steps.
“Do you have everything you need?” Irema asked.
“Fire,” I whispered, thinking through the process. “The one thing I don’t have is fire.”
“You’ve got a propane tank and a flamethrower in here,” Irema said as she pointed to those items near the fall wall. “What do you mean you don’t have fire?”
“In order to make the Ultimate Weapon, I need a piece of the Eternal Flame,” I said as my hand inadvertently went up to my bare neck. I thought back to the moment that Eris took the locket and cursed. I curled that hand on my chest into a fist and slammed it against the workbench.
“Dammit!” I shouted. The weapons on the bench jumped up from the force of my blow, shifting their positions ever so slightly.
There was a heat in my hand and I unclenched my fist, wiggling my fingers to relieve some of the tension. I grabbed my wrist with my other hand and rotated it around. As I did that, I noticed the scorch mark on the bench. It was in the shape of a lopsided circle. Just like my fist…
“Looks like you’ve got some fire inside of you already,” Irema commented with wide eyes as she looked at the scorch mark. “Damn boy, I bet your whole soul’s on fire.”
The words tossed around in my mind, like clothes in a washing machine. They tumbled over and over as I tried to dissect them. I had the ability to create my own fire using my emotions, that much I knew. But was it even possible for me to tap into the Eternal Flame?
I thought back to the form I took in my mom’s apartment and the form Katlynn had adopted when she was a spirit. Was it possible that there was a piece of the Eternal Flame living inside me, a child of Hephaestus?
There wasn’t anything flammable down here like the sticks we used to throw on the beach. I could use the flint or lighter provided but something about that felt wrong. I needed to use a piece of myself for it to really connect.
Immediately, an idea came to mind. I ripped off my sash. It was the symbol of my branch, my status as a soldier, and my father with his anvil and hammer etched into the top.
“What are you doing?” Irema whispered, as though she knew she was interrupting something.
“Shh,” I hushed her and my friend leaned back against the bench, closing her mouth dutifully.
I held the sash
in my two hands, laying across my palms like an offering. I closed my eyes and focused my energy inward. I applied the same techniques I’d used on Calypso's island towards the sticks, or in the forest with the Nymphs, or even out on the ice, trying to free the Argo. I slowed my breathing as my thoughts ventured to sensitive topics.
It began with anger as I thought about the sadness on my mother’s face as she remembered her young love and the promise he made and then later broke. I thought about how Eris had scared my dogs and threatened the livelihood of this entire military all for a stupid misunderstanding. Sadness stirred inside me at the loss of Sarah and my half sister Katlynn. I wanted so much to learn more from them and about them but would never get the chance to.
But then, something shifted inside of me. I thought about happy moments too, like hanging out with my friends in the kitchens, or the pride I felt when I shocked all the students in Mythology 101 on that first day. I remembered Hailey’s lips on my own and the different kind of inner fire that ignited.
Finally, I thought about how I felt in the forge. It was the happiest place in the world for me. There was nothing that could replace that feeling of accomplishment when I completed a project. I recreated the atmosphere in my mind.
The clanging of the hammer.
The singing of the metal.
The sizzling of the fire.
As if on cue, the sash in my hands replicated that very same sizzle. The fabric caught fire right away and to my utter surprise, it was blue.
The blue flames spread along the sash. Quickly, I put all three of the weapons into the fire. Once I established a connection with the flame I’d created, it turned a lime green color. This wasn’t the one to communicate with the Fates, but the one that indicated the fire was hot enough to melt metal.
Then I went to work.
I had everything I needed in order to make my greatest masterpiece yet. The organization of the forge was so ingrained in my mind that I didn’t even need to go searching for anything. It was as though the space had been built for me, as though I had been working in it for years.
Soon, the familiar smells and sounds filled the air. I was the conductor of an orchestra, manipulating every part of this masterpiece. It was obvious that the end result would be a scythe of some kind, as that had been plaguing my thoughts for the past two years.
I stretched the metal and modeled it into the ideal curved shape, two for each side of the weapon. The fire attached the metal with vigor, magically heating it to the necessary temperature.
The Helm was the blade for one of the scythes while the scissors took up the other blade. I flattened out the curve of the girdle, but it was still just a bit shorter than I wanted it to be. I could see the uses of having the double-bladed weapon having a shorter handle, but I also needed a little bit more reach.
The necklace was the perfect solution. I used the pieces as a sort of chain between the bottom of the two hands. Then I crafted a way for the handles to connect, concealing the chain in the middle. So I could wield the weapon like a staff or like nunchucks.
I stopped dead as that thought occurred to me. I could wield the weapon? It was my choice? Since when was I taking possession of the Ultimate Weapon? That wasn’t my job. All I was supposed to do was make the damn thing and then I could pass it off to someone else. Someone stronger, better, more of a hero than I ever would be.
My hands continued the process of making the weapon, but my mind whirled, suddenly distracted. I realized that this whole time I’d been making the weapon for me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had done that.
Ever since Hailey stepped into my old timey forge three years ago, I’d only ever made weapons for other people, other soldiers. I worked on commission for the Demigod Academy for the Elemental Military, but also for the Olympic Gods themselves.
I had lost sight of my desires as a blacksmith. While this was another weapon I was making for someone else, I realized that it didn’t have to be.
“Fuck the prophecy,” I muttered to myself as I dipped the blades into the oil. Steam rose up into my face, almost as though it was cleansing my soul and my pours.
“What was that?” Irema asked from the other side of the room.
“I said, fuck the prophecy,” I hollered back. Unashamed, I added a laugh to the end of my sentence. As the steam cleared, all Irema saw was a laughing demigod. I probably looked as though I’d lost my mind but I didn’t care.
I didn’t care who “the child of the betrayed” was. No one did. It was vague and unhelpful. So who was to say that it wasn’t me? I claimed ownership of this weapon and styled it to my hands, my grip, and my technique.
As I sharpened the blade, I leaned into my desires and paid extra attention to the spots where I knew I could connect.
The metal spoke to be throughout the whole process. It guided me through the details, molding it into the ideal shape. We worked in tandem, our wants complementing one another. These were all pieces I made before. All I was doing now was reworking the metal into something new. Not only was the metal transforming before my very eyes, but so was I.
However, one of the blades was shorter than the other. It made the weapon out of balance and felt awkward in my hand. I examined the metal and knew that if I thinned it out any more, it would be too brittle to be useful. It wouldn’t hold up under the weight of a full battle.
“Damnit,” I cursed as I put the weapon on the anvil and took a step back to examine it.
“What now?” Irema wondered.
“I need more metal but I don’t have any more to work with,” I informed her.
“Uh… ” Irema gestured around to the plethora of materials around us. “What do you think all this is for?”
“No,” I said as I shook my head. “It had to be special metal, blessed by the gods or it won’t work. Gods!” I cursed again, my frustration coming through. “I only need like this much.” I held up my fingers to measure out about two inches.
But when I saw the size, something struck me. A memory from not too long ago as Hephaestus held up a small figurine just that size.
“Holy shit,” I muttered to myself as I slapped my thighs in search of the one thing my father had actually given me.
“You gotta stop doing that,” Irema scolded as she crossed her arms over her chest.
I pulled the algana out of my pocket. “Volia!” I exclaimed.
“What is that?” Irema asked as though I pulled a dead mouse out of my pocket rather than the metal figurine.
“An algana of Hephaestus,” I answered, the light coming back into my eyes as I approached the forge. “It’s supposed to make your hammer swing true. Hopefully it will do the same for my scythe.”
Then I threw the figure into the fire and watched it melt.
After manipulating the final piece of the puzzle, the metal told me to stop. I held the weapon aloft to examine it in all of its beauty.
It was a glorious piece. The rod in the center was nearly six feet long, whereas the scythe blades curved in opposite directions, almost two feet themselves. It was a beast of a weapon, intimidating to anyone who saw it.
Irema whistled when I held up the completed piece. “So, now what? Who are you going to hand this off to?”
I shook my head, my eyes never leaving the blade. “Nobody. This one’s all mine.”
34
“You ready?” Irema said pointedly. She got up from her spot on the stool and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yes,” I said with confidence. I swung the scythe in the air, twirling it a full three-sixty. The blade cut through the air with a whistle.
Irema shook her head slowly, a smile on her face. It was a clear sign of her approval. “You’re going to be one dangerous motherfucker out there.”
“Damn right I am,” I agreed.
“I mean, that is if you can get out of the pit,” Irema said with a smirk.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, returning her smile with my own devious one. “I will.”
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Then, surprising the both of us, Irema reached out her hand and put it right atop my chest. I felt her solidness there, the pressure of her touch, and allowed myself to be comforted by it. But she didn’t linger. Instead, she shoved me backward. It was a simple push, but I found myself toppling backward.
I felt as though I was falling down the pit again, like Alice down the rabbit hole. This time, however, I was awake when I found the bottom. My back slammed against the dirt ground and my breath expelled from my lungs as if someone was giving me CPR.
I heaved, my chest heavy from the lack of air. I thought I’d broken every bone in my body for a second, but then realized I could move. Inch by inch, I sat up and examined my surroundings.
All around me was dirt. It squeezed against me like a coffin, with barely enough room for me to turn around in. I looked above to see how far I had fallen and saw a crack in the dark sky, streaks of light shining through.
“Hello!” I hollered, but it seemed as though Echo herself swallowed my cries. My voice extended down the length of the crevasse but refused to go upward, towards the surface where some rescuers might hear it.
I used the Ultimate Weapon to help me up to my feet. Even though I knew that it would come with me from the dreamscape, I couldn’t help the relief that spread over me knowing that it was in my hand.
I looked up at the climb before me and swiped any perspiration from my forehead. I twisted the handle of the scythe so that the two sides came apart, revealing the chain that had once been a necklace. The two pieces swung nicely, and I weighed both of them in my hands for a brief moment.
With a grunt, I slammed the tip of the first weapon, still wrapped in flame, right into the dirt wall. Some brown bits flicked off onto me, but I brushed it off and buried the second scythe in a little high.
So I began my climb.
It was grueling and there were many times I wanted to quit the whole process, let myself fall back down to the bottom. I didn’t know how often I wished for Hailey’s chariot, or a pegasus, or Hermes’s winged shoes. Anything to make this easier.
