The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm

by Zachary Howe

  When his sneakers started slipping in the gravel, the incline forced him to adapt something like a crawl, scrabbling his way upward, hands scratching away at the pebbles as he went. Some part of him wondered if he was drawing too much attention to himself. He didn’t know what might be watching: he didn’t want to tip off the gryphon to his pending arrival. But there was nothing for it, so he scrambled on, trying, and almost succeeding, to run on all fours like a beast. Soon he was struggling for purchase as the gravel-covered slope became sheer rock and the slope increased. The climb wasn’t yet vertical, but he was forced to crawl on his belly to remain fastened to the surface, pulling himself upward as he went. Then the climb became vertical.

  Gordie managed to find handholds easily enough as he hugged the cold stone. Occasionally, he would launch himself upward to grab a cleft that was just out of reach, and he would smile to himself. Although the cold still bit at him, he found that he was enjoying himself. There was something liberating about scaling a mountain, especially one that he presumed few humans had climbed before. Absorbed in his task, he became overconfident and nonchalant, until he found a handhold that did not want to be used.

  As he wedged his hand into a tight crack, the fissure began to widen. He experienced a moment of complete terror as he felt his grip slip and he slid down a foot before grabbing a small lip. Closing his eyes, he rested his face against the stone, trying to steady his breath. His anxiety was so acute that he felt something akin to vertigo, like the surface he was on was shifting and sliding beneath him. He waited for this sensation to pass, but it did not. He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly.

  The lip that he was holding onto was not a lip but a lid—a lower eyelid, to be exact. Six inches away, a blood-red iris the size of his head shifted back and forth, and Gordie’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. He felt a wave of nausea as he began to move outward. A loud cracking, earth-shaking sound accompanied his movement, and he realized the stone-giant, to whose face he clung, was pulling away from its bed in the sheer rock.

  Then Gordie nearly had the wind squeezed out of him as a giant rock fist closed around his body and pulled him off the wall, holding him like a hoagie. He could feel his feet dangling beneath the fingers, but fortunately, the massive digits blocked his view to the ground. Unfortunately, the giant stone face looked angry. Two massive eyebrows knitted together to form the world’s most indestructible unibrow. The plump lips of the creature were bared in a scowl, and those red eyes glared at him with pure loathing. The pressure increased.

  Slowly, painfully, the granite hand squeezed, and Gordie’s eyes started to pop out of his head. He was struggling for breath, kicking his feet, flailing to no avail. Little stars began bursting into his vision as the pain increased. A small voice in the back of his mind was whining, But I thought I was invincible. The night began to darken and panic started to set in. Then in an instant, the pressure abated and he sucked in an enormous breath.

  Color, sound, cold all flooded back into him. As he gasped for air, he looked up at the monster’s face, and the sight confused him. Its enormous eyes were closed and it was shielding its face with its free hand. Little pebbles pelted its open palm, somehow reaching this height from the ground like gravelly bottle rockets. Gordie looked around, whipping his head from side to side, until he looked down.

  Hundreds of feet below, Laktizon hopped back and forth on the loose pebbles, firing handfuls of rocks upward from a slingshot and stooping to reload, all with the agility of a cheetah. Gordie would have laughed if he weren’t in such a predicament; instead, he took advantage of the rock-giant’s distraction. He started spreading his limbs outward, first pushing his elbows away from their position where they had been pinned at his side, and pressing his toes against the rock on both sides, pushing until his legs began to spread apart. With an enormous strain, he was able to raise his arms and press his palms against the stone, pushing outward with more leverage.

  Slowly but surely, the rock gave way. After he loosened the vice, he scrabbled up on top of the monster’s wrist. Gordie took a good look at the giant in full in order to find an escape route. The stone-giant was hunched forward, its head and shoulders leaning out from the previously flat surface of the rock, leaving a massive, anthropomorphic hole in the rock wall. Looking down, Gordie could see the outline of the rest of its body, even the bulbous projections of legs made out of stacked boulders, which were still nested in the wall. The giant kept its eyes shut tight, its hand blocking the tiny projectiles. It moaned and groaned—a deep sad noise reminiscent of shifting tectonic plates.

  Gordie crawled as quickly as he could up the outstretched arm, trying not to look down as he went. He scrambled up onto the thing’s shoulder and looked down its back. Dark rock melted into darkness. Shifting his body, he hugged the back of the giant’s head (hoping that its sense of touch was appropriately dull), until he hung from its shoulders like an undersized cape. He took a deep breath and said, “Here. We. Go.”

  He pushed off the thing, sliding down the rock wall behind it. The slide only took him ten feet before he was able to press his feet into the giant’s back. Gordie came to a halt with his back against the hard stone of the mountain behind the giant—in near total darkness. He began to push outward, the exertion making blood rush to his head as his jaw clenched and his temples throbbed. He knew he was supposed to breathe through it, but the strain wouldn’t allow him to exhale.

  His legs extended, inch by inch. When they were straight, he started to walk his way down further into the darkness. Down and down he went until he was certain the thing should be tumbling forward out of its cradle. He stopped for a moment with his legs stretched, taking a few breaths to prepare for one final push.

  Then his legs started to compress as the monster tried to reclaim its throne. The tiny sliver of sky above shrank and disappeared as Gordie’s knees buckled, and he was given a lesson on the definition of darkness.

  He pressed his back flat against the wall and dug his elbow into the rock as he pushed back. The stone ground into his limbs and the pain was excruciating, but he had, for the moment, stopped the giant’s momentum. His legs trembled. He heard the whisper of cracking stone and shifting rock as he strained. His head was fit to explode. He gritted his teeth, and slowly the giant-stone-body began to inch forward. As light from the starry sky broke back into the chamber, Gordie could see the tremble of his legs. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored them. The momentum stopped again, and—veins bulging, spittle seeping from his mouth—he summoned the strength for one final push.

  “HHHRRRAAAAHHHH!” he yelled as his legs extended and the giant went tumbling forward. Gordie began to fall too. The wall behind him was not completely vertical, so he rode it down like a slide until he was lurched forward onto his chest, his head hanging over the cliff that hadn’t existed before the monster was coerced from its seat. He heard a whistling noise and felt the wind whip past him, and was vaguely aware of a passage behind him, but he had no time to investigate.

  The rock-giant fell in slow-motion. Gordie saw Laktizon scrambling to get out from under it. Its shadow was enormous, and he feared the satyr wouldn’t get away in time. Without thinking, he pushed himself over the edge.

  As he dove, his view of Laktizon was obscured by the giant’s falling form. He approached it rapidly, having pinned his arms to his side to mimic the aerodynamics of a missile, until he neared the monolith that was the monster’s torso. Ten feet before he splattered his face on it, Gordie spread his arms and legs out wide. His momentum slowed and he landed on the giant’s back on all fours. He didn’t know how much time he had before they crashed to earth, so he unsheathed his bat and started wailing away.

  Each chop yielded a crack in the rock. The radial shattering spread further and further as the giant moaned in agony—another low, dull, lonely groan. Gordie became more frantic as he hammered. He leapt forward to the place where the giant boulder of a head met the thing’s bo
dy, and started swinging away at the joint. He hit it repeatedly just below and behind where an ear would be on a person. Unsure whether he was making any progress, his hopes to alter the giant’s course began to dissolve.

  “Just!” Thwack! “Break!” Thwack! “You!” Thwack! “Son!” Thwack! “Of!” Thwack! “A!” Crack! The sound of a thousand simultaneous gunshots exploded into the night. The head went flying off toward the forest. As it rotated around, Gordie saw the giant’s red eyes wide with shock, its mouth open in a perfect ‘O.’ Gordie threw his arms up in triumph.

  “I DID—” CRASH! He felt a rumble from beneath that jolted into his legs before he was launched into the air, feet flipping over his head. The sound of the great impact reverberated over the forest like a dragon’s roar. Gordie landed on his back hard, tumbled through the dirt a few times, and came to rest looking up at the night sky, his bat resting on his chest.

  After a few moments, he sat up, groaning. Facing down the dark forest corridor, the missing bonfire and Artemis’s absence did not register. He rolled over and pushed himself up.

  There on the slope lay the headless body of a giant rock-man, half entombed in the dirt. Where its head should have been, a small, furry, bare-chested boy trembled, hugging his knees while rocking back and forth on his haunches, his little horns poking out over his curls. Gordie stumbled toward him: his legs felt like putty.

  He squatted down next to the satyr and put his hand on his shoulder. Laktizon jumped, pulling his head up from his legs, looking at Gordie with no recognition in his eyes.

  “It’s okay,” Gordie said and he smiled. Laktizon’s terror began to transform into amazement. He looked at Gordie, then back over his shoulder. He stared at the lifeless rock for a moment before turning back to Gordie. A smile spread across his face. Gordie’s smile brightened too. “We did it,” he said, and he clapped Laktizon on the shoulder again.

  Laktizon jumped to his feet so fast that Gordie fell back on his rear, but the little satyr just started dancing, spinning in circles and stomping his hooves. Gordie started to laugh, and he stood up, stomping his foot and clapping in time.

  “LEONHART!”

  Laktizon stopped dancing and Gordie wheeled around. Standing in the forest corridor, two hundred feet down the slope, Dasos, the great satyr, fixed Gordie with a stare full of loathing as his furious roar echoed around the mountain. Gordie looked back at him and recoiled at the fire in his eyes. The wind whipped at his wet clothes and he shivered.

  Then Dasos charged.

  Gordie was spun around by a hand on his shoulder. “Anabaine! Anabaine!” Laktizon was yelling in his face.

  “What? I don’t understand!” Gordie said. Then Laktizon started waving up the mountain.

  “Anabaine!” he yelled pointing upward. “Anabaine!” And Gordie finally caught on: climb.

  He leapt onto the vanquished giant’s back and looked up. The hole it left was hundreds of feet above. He looked over his shoulder. The angry satyr had already halved the distance. Clouds of dust kicked up every time one of his hooves pounded the ground. His massive club made its own trail as he dragged it through the dirt behind him.

  Gordie remembered how deftly Laktizon had climbed the slope, and was sure that if his father was similarly capable, he would easily be caught before reaching the mountain’s vertical wall. Of course, he could fight the satyr, but he did not wish to: Laktizon had just saved his life—beating up his dad would be sorry repayment. Plus, there was no guarantee of victory.

  Gordie looked around. The nearest tree was a tall palm. Its coconuts clung to the fronds high up in the night sky—he prayed that it was flexible. Knowing that if he ran straight for the tree, Dasos would likely take off his head with one mighty swing, so Gordie turned to face his aggressor straight-on. He leapt off the defeated giant and charged towards Dasos, ignoring Laktizon’s panicked protests.

  He had hoped to surprise the satyr, but instead his large face lit up with excitement. The two sped toward each other. Dasos raised his club overhead with two hands and sprang forward, releasing a deafening battle cry. Gordie yelled back, his roar sounding more like a lion cub. Dasos brought his mallet down like thunder. Gordie heard the dull thud just behind him, looking up at the massive belly and the hairy legs as he slid through the dirt beneath the bemused satyr. He smelled dank fur and must. Wrinkling his nose, he popped back to his feet behind the satyr and sprinted towards the tree.

  In seconds, he heard the giant goat-man hard on his heels, his club once again scraping the ground menacingly while his hooves thudded in quick succession. High above, Gordie heard the cry of an eagle, but the shear decibel level was nearing the turbines of a fighter jet. His blood curdled and he felt a shiver all the way up to his scalp where his hairs stood on end. Knowing exactly what produced the sound, he wondered if he would be better off dealing with his current foe than to escape into the lair of the monster atop the mountain. He remained resolute as he neared the awaiting palm.

  From ten feet away he jumped and wrapped his limbs around the smooth wood. He looked down and saw that he was ten feet above the satyr’s head, but he was approaching rapidly. Gordie wasn’t sure if Dasos would simply tear the tree from the ground, so he began to shimmy. He was not practiced in palm tree climbing and there was definitely an art to it—he slipped and slid down as he scrabbled, frantic now that the satyr had reached the base of the tree.

  “Come down you coward!” Dasos’s low voice rumbled, setting Gordie’s bones aquiver.

  “I’d rather not!” Gordie called back. “I have to go . . . see the gryphon!” He started to get the hang of the climb, moving up steadily.

  “I know of the errand on which Artemis has sent you! I told you I would not suffer your presence in my forest, and I will die before you deal more death here!” Dasos dropped his club and began shaking the tree with his massive hands. Gordie’s climbing was hampered as the tree swayed, but still he rose.

  Three quarters of the way up, a coconut shook loose and went whizzing by his head, missing him by inches. Seconds later, he heard a dull thud and an, “Oof!” The tree stopped shaking for a moment, and Gordie took advantage of the reprieve to shimmy as quickly as he could until he reached the top. Sitting in a coconut nest, crouching below the fronds, he looked down. Four stories below, Dasos had begun to shake the tree again.

  Gordie plucked a coconut and hurled it downward. He fist-pumped when he saw it make contact with his target’s head, resulting in a satisfying Thunk! The tree stopped shaking again and Gordie looked outward. He could see the cove created by the mining of the rock-giant, comically man-shaped. As he studied it, he was discouraged to see that the peak was thousands of feet above that—he hadn’t made a dent in the climb. There was nothing for it. He had to make it back to that fissure. He began to sway.

  The tree rocked back and forth, and much to his pleasure, the rocking was aided by the angry satyr below. As the arc became more pronounced—and ultimately violent—Gordie positioned himself on the side facing the mountain. He put his back against the trunk and wrapped his arms around it behind him. Coconuts battered his head, clunking and thunking, but he ignored the abuse.

  “I almost have you now, hero!” Dasos snarled.

  “Yeah, almost!” Gordie said. The tree rocked back, nearly doubling over on itself, and he pressed his legs against the trunk. As it hurtled towards its apex, he released his arms and pushed off with his legs, putting as much into the jump as he could muster. He flew.

  “NOOOOO!” Gordie heard the angry satyr below as he rocketed towards the mountain. He was approaching fast. Based on his trajectory, he was unsure of whether he would make it into the chasm left by the giant. If he was lucky, he was going to just scoot into where the thing’s left foot had been imbedded in the mountain.

  Closer and closer he flew until he realized that he was going to make it. He could see a passageway glittering within the mountain, a twinkling light show of minerals and diamonds. Some sort of crystal cave awaited him and
he was eager to explore.

  Until his world was rent by pain.

  At first he didn’t know what had happened. His momentum had ceased in an instant. He had been watching the ground as he hurtled above it, but was now looking up at brown fur and rainbow-colored feathers. Something had pierced his shoulder straight through, and he could feel warm blood running down his left arm. Wind buffeted and beleaguered his face as two massive wings beat the air above him. Every time the wings lifted out of sight he caught a glimpse of the shining cosmos—it felt as though the stars were mocking him. The feeling of weightlessness returned as he ascended into the sky, prone and maimed, waiting to be dropped onto an eyrie and torn to shreds.

  He was cold and warm at the same time; in excruciating pain, but oddly comforted, like a swaddled baby. Most of all he felt small and terrified. This was undoubtedly the beast he had searched for and now he was in its clutches. He supposed he had succeeded, insofar as he had found it, but how was he supposed to kill it? Did he even want to? He knew the answer, but thought it didn’t matter. He may not want to kill the gryphon, but he was sure it wanted to kill him. He waited, resigned, sad, and alone, as the hunter carried him high into the night sky.

  18

  Gryphon on the Mountain Top

  Gordie was dropped onto a hard stone floor as the gryphon entered a towering cathedral of a cave. It was freezing up on the mountain top. Gordie landed on his left side and felt a surge of pain in his shoulder so strong that he didn’t even register his place on the peak as he looked out over the realm of Dasos. He heard a clicking noise approaching from behind and rolled over to see the gryphon skulking towards him. Despite his predicament, he couldn’t help but stare in awe for a moment.

  The eyes of the eagle were fierce. Enormous irises of blazing orange enveloped the contracted pupils: there were no whites of the eyes. The long, hooked beak, made for tearing creatures apart, was a deep crimson—no doubt an evolutionary trait so as not to be stained by the blood of its prey. The feathers around the face were sleek, a smoky steel color, but they gradually became polychromatic. Gordie could see every color of the rainbow on the beast’s elegant neck, and even some colors that he could not name. The gryphon pounced.