Legend

by Shayne Silvers

  He still managed to look like a stud.

  He was frowning curiously at Alvara who had returned to the fire with Alice. “Alvara and her daughter, Alice, are here to introduce me to a friend of theirs. Someone who may know some things that could help.”

  Alvara nodded politely. “She lives not too far from here, in fact,” she said, studying the wilderness in the distance—towards a forest of yellow trees with blue leaves.

  Mallory frowned, having tracked her gaze. “The Seer?”

  I turned away from the trees to look at him, and then Alvara. She studied Mallory. “And how do you know the Seer?” she asked, frowning.

  “I don’t. I’ve just heard of her.” Then his face grew somber. “She’s…been gone for a long time. Or maybe she died. I don’t know.”

  Alvara frowned at Mallory. “I highly doubt it. She’s a resilient old woman. She’s probably just hiding, but she will answer if I knock. We go way back.”

  I studied the two of them, not sure what to make of that conversation. If this Seer was dead, there went my only lead on the Catalyst thing, and I could return the women back home to focus on fixing the Bifröst without fear of bringing them into danger.

  Mallory shrugged absently, but he didn’t look too hopeful.

  “Gunnar is pregnant,” Alice chimed in, fiddling with about a dozen sticks for her marshmallows. I grinned. Was she planning on cooking all of them at once?

  Mallory was frowning until Alvara clarified. “Ashley is pregnant. Gunnar is not.”

  Gunnar nodded, smiling. “Twins,” he said.

  Mallory promptly ran up to Gunnar and enveloped him in a bear hug. “Congratulations!”

  Gunnar returned the gesture, but his eye was wary as he stared at me from over Mallory’s shoulder—probably thinking of our talk moments ago. Talon remained distant, staring out protectively. Cats were anti-social by nature, and Talon was allergic to touching others’ emotions.

  Mallory finally detached himself from Gunnar. “Here’s my advice. Simply being there is often the most important bit. The other things you’re probably concerned about usually fall into place naturally.”

  Yeah. Not so much, in my opinion.

  Mallory turned back to me. “Is that why you finally returned? To find the Seer? No offense to Alvara, but don’t you have more pressing matters to worry about?”

  “Like what, Mallory?” I asked with a cheerful smile. “I had nothing better to do, and according to my parents, unearthing secrets they kept from me is the most important thing in the world…and being the Catalyst is where X marks the spot, remember? You told me this.”

  He stilled, cocking his head at my tone. “I was referring to Mordred.” He looked me up and down critically but seemed to be looking beyond my physical appearance. “Or your Fae magic. You look like a fractured ray of light right now. Full of blockages and cracks.”

  The group grew silent. Except for Alice. “Oh, that’s exactly it,” she agreed.

  We all turned to look at her, but she had resumed roasting her dozen marshmallow on the fire.

  “Am I missing something? Why is everyone so tense?” Mallory asked warily. “Has something happened?”

  “It’s nothing. I just found out that Dean is Odin in disguise,” I said conversationally.

  Mallory’s mouth dropped open, and there wasn’t one bit of acting involved. “Impossible. You’ve been deceived.”

  I shook my head, watching him very closely. “Trust me. I have not. I saw him change.”

  “But…I would have known—” He stiffened in sudden understanding. “Ah. That’s exactly what this is about. You think I knew and never said anything. Because of my past omissions.” His shoulders slumped. “I understand, but you are wrong. So, so wrong.”

  Chapter 23

  I turned towards Talon and Gunnar. “Can you two show Alvara and Alice the cave? I want to take a walk with Mallory in private. We need to leave soon, so we won’t be long,” I told them, watching Mallory closely.

  He watched the group, too, looking haggard and disturbed by the news of Odin.

  I let out a sigh of regret. This next part was going to be hard.

  “I truly didn’t know—” he began.

  “The Knight isn’t here,” I said, cutting him off.

  Mallory froze, totally caught off-balance by my statement. It was why I had so casually mentioned the Odin thing in the first place. To shake him.

  He didn’t ask the obvious, but I explained anyway. “You didn’t warn my friends to leave the Knight alone, or to be quiet, or not to go to a certain room, or any of the other number of things one who was housing an invalid would have requested.” I met his eyes, walking backwards. “Where. Is. He?”

  Mallory hung his head. “He escaped last night. I went searching for him but have found no trail.”

  I clenched my fists. “You should probably start with the part where he woke up for the first time,” I growled, growing furious.

  “I swear—”

  “No more excuses and apologies. I want facts,” I interrupted, my voice laced with scorn as I continued walking backwards. He followed me around the side of the cave, dragging his feet like a guilty child. “You know what? Scratch that. I don’t care about the Knight. Maybe he’ll go take care of my Mordred problem for me. I want to know about your buddy, Dean.”

  Mallory was blinking rapidly at my onslaught, as if putting pieces of a puzzle together in his mind, “Odin? Are you absolutely certain it wasn’t some illusion?”

  I nodded resolutely. I thought about explaining how I had seen Odin shift into Dean but realized that didn’t address his illusion comment. And there was a certain god known for illusions—Loki. “Thor confirmed it,” I finally said.

  Mallory gasped. “Thor was there? What happened to him?”

  “Thor thought I had Mjolnir,” I told him, wondering why that mattered so much. It was all I could manage not to throttle him because my anger was just under the surface of my skin. “Thor has apparently been missing his hammer for quite some time. And his daddy has been working with my parents for quite some time. And you’ve been keeping this hammer safe for quite some time. So…let’s imagine a Venn fucking diagram. Following the overlapping logic, here’s my working theory. Decades ago, Odin fled from Asgard without leaving a goodbye note, stealing Mjolnir and hiding it in the chaos—I don’t know where. Then he secretly gave my parents—and you—this replica hammer, leading his entire pantheon to one irrefutable understanding. That as soon as I picked up this fucking hammer, Thor would eventually hear about it, and we would throw down.”

  I was resting my palm atop the hammer, panting. It felt warm under my skin, but I didn’t dare remove my hand because it needed to touch something. And I didn’t want to grab the handle, or I might just lose control. I could almost taste my anger as I watched Mallory’s eyes flicker back and forth, processing everything. Or pretending to. I couldn’t tell.

  And when Thor does finally pay me a visit—last night—and learns my hammer is not his precious Mjolnir, he grows violent. Dean hears about my battle with Thor and sends Grimm to keep me safe. Grimm destroyed the Bifröst, by the way. Good times.”

  “WHAT?” Mallory roared in utter disbelief.

  I went right on, not acknowledging the question. “Then the long-lost Odin appears to calm everyone down and chooses to side with me over his own son—who hasn’t seen him in decades, remember. Thor pieces together that Odin is, in fact, my butler, and Odin uses his spear to blast Thor into another realm—not appreciating his clever little boy unveiling his clever little lie. And now, I have to repair the Bifröst before all of Asgard puts me on their naughty list and destroys Midgard. So, yeah…fuck the whole Knight thing.”

  “Thor…fell?” he whispered, sounding defeated.

  “Yes!” I shouted, leaning closer. “But that’s not the important part. How do you expect me to believe you didn’t know any of this? You worked beside Dean for years, and you’re both gods! How do you expect me t
o believe that one of the best liars I have ever met—rivaled only by my asshole of a father—didn’t know who Dean really was? You guarded the fucking hammer, man! Gave me the target to put on my back for Thor!”

  Mallory took a deep breath and then very calmly looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot and full of pain. “Be careful with your accusations, Wylde. Words have repercussions.”

  I laughed. “I will accuse whoever the fuck I please, Mallory. Because I am right! You did lie to me. You all did! You knew so much that could have helped me…but you bought into my parents’ sadistic scheme. Let them infect you with their sociopathic treatment of a child—”

  “Be very careful, boy. It is not wise to disrespect the dead. Or your own blood. Especially when their friends are near. And it is not wise to anger the God of Panic…” Mallory warned, suddenly flickering into his godly form. Pan, the Wild God.

  He was a tall, gangly humanoid thing with the lower body of a goat. Great curling horns grew out from his head, and although slightly scrawny, his muscles were like cords of rope. A leather string around his neck held a set of pipes.

  I scoffed, my rage bubbling up to the surface as I glared back at Pan. My chest was heaving, and I really felt like hitting him. Hard. “I can say whatever I please about my parents, Old One. They earned it.”

  “There he is,” Pan snarled viciously. “The spoiled Temple boy. The one who got everything he ever wanted. His life perfectly ordered and perfectly safe. Tastes a little chaos and he wilts like a frozen flower rather than remembering where he was really born. I thought I had beaten that weakness out of you long ago, but it seems you can take the spoiled brat out of the mansion, but you can never take the mansion out of the spoiled brat. I liked you better as Wylde, and I’m not surprised he’s ignoring you. He’s ashamed of what you’ve become.”

  My eyes narrowed in outrage, my skin tingling at the rush of blood. “How dare you…”

  “How dare you?” he roared right back. “You forgot your real fucking name!? But I’ll remind you,” he promised. “Even if I have to beat it out of you.”

  Pan punched me in the gut, sending me flying.

  “Come on out, Wylde! Uncle Pan wants to play!” he bellowed, rocks crumbling from the top of the cave at the concussive shout. “No city-slickers allowed!”

  My rage exploded at the challenge, and I felt Wylde roar up from within me like a shark from the depths of a black ocean. I climbed to my feet, clenching my knuckles until they cracked, my vision red with anger.

  “Ahhh…” Pan sang in a loud shout. “So Wylde can hear me. He answers me, but not you, I get one boy for the price of two!” He was cackling like a lunatic.

  Wylde roiled furiously within me.

  “Why do you not bleed, Wylde? A god just punched you in the stomach, yet you do not bleed. Explain that, boy. Maybe it was all part of your parents’ plan, you insolent, vapid child!”

  My hammer was crackling at my hip, bloated with power and begging to be let loose. To take the power in for myself. To use it. To teach this liar his own lesson.

  But this required a more personal touch. Flesh to flesh.

  “I want to know if a god can cry,” I snarled, licking my lips hungrily.

  Pan laughed. “Your parents loved you more than any parent has ever loved their child. Trust me. I saw it in their eyes. Otherwise, I would have handed them and you over to Oberon and the Queens when I found you in the first place. But instead, I fell in love with a violent, dangerous, beautifully compassionate, and loyal boy. I even gave you Talon. I saw hope for the first time in centuries!”

  “And you helped drown that hope in despair,” I snarled.

  He began running at me. “You’ve forgotten your name, Wylde. You traded it away for a mansion and a fancy car!”

  “You helped me do that by hiding the truth!” I screamed, planting my feet.

  “Boo-fucking-hoo! You think you’re the only boy who is angry at the world? At his parents? Have you ever read about any of the gods, from any pantheon? It’s par for the course! And to answer your question…”

  He was pounding closer on his sharp hooves, and he was laughing so hard he was crying.

  “Yes, Wylde. Gods cry…” Pan snarled, throwing a fist at me. “Every time they see their sons and witness disappointment.”

  Chapter 24

  My vision flared from red to white.

  Wylde snarled savagely, grabbing ahold of the powers suddenly swirling all around us. I punched Pan’s fist with my own, and a shockwave flattened the field of purple grass all around us, buffeting us both back. I slammed into the ground, furrowing a divot deep enough to sleep in and ten paces long. Pan had struck the cavern, sinking a few feet into it. He shook off the rock and debris and stepped out right as I climbed to my feet.

  I felt no pain. Just rage.

  We ran at each other and I leapt into the air, driving my knee up into his chin with a bone jarring crack as I dodged his swing. I landed as he hunched over, dazed, and I began punching the side of his head as hard as I could, Wylde snarling through my own lips. My fist was encased in wood as hard as iron, and I pounded the horn on the side of Pan’s head, cracking it with each strike. My blood rushed to my brain with excitement, making my skin tingle. And I realized I was now laughing.

  Although dazed and taking a beating, Pan laughed along with me before stomping on my foot with his hoof. I heard a cracking sound, but my foot was still functional, so I shoved him back, and kicked him with my damaged foot to get some space. Chunks of gravel slid off my leg like a broken cast, showing that Wylde had protected me from Pan’s stomp.

  “Wylde, Wylde, such a sweet boy, until you take away his toys!” Pan hooted, taunting me in a sing-song rhyme. He pointed at the War Hammer he had slipped from my belt. He threw it into the grass near the cave and rolled his shoulders in anticipation.

  I roared, hurling a fist at him and striking with a blow of air that knocked him on his ass. Pan was cackling, still, despite the whooping.

  “Likes his cars, likes his drinks, but in the woods, he forgets how to think!”

  “SHUT UP!” I roared, hurling more blasts of air at him, knowing that it wasn’t my wizard’s magic, but my Fae side, even though I couldn’t keep track of how Wylde was doing it.

  It sounded like he was humming to himself while chopping wood.

  “Cries for his mom, cries for his dad, but to anyone who listens, he hates them so bad!” Pan cried out gleefully, and a boulder was suddenly sailing right at me.

  I held up a palm and the boulder dissolved to dust, but I hadn’t considered choking to death on the cloud, so bent over double, coughing and wiping my eyes.

  Pan had closed the distance and grabbed me by the belt to throw me into the side of the cave. I struck hard, sensing magic encasing me at the last moment to protect my head. The rock wall cracked, and a cascade of gravel and boulders rolled down all around me, sliding off the unseen shield I had thrown up. My head still spun, even though I had blocked the force of the initial blow.

  “With all his baggage, and no Fae magic, this little Manling is oh, so tragic.”

  “ENOUGH!” I screamed, and I picked up the boulder beside me—easily twice my size—and hurled it at the taunting goat. It struck him like a tidal wave, sending him stumbling towards the edge of the cliff.

  And Wylde’s magic abruptly winked out, sending a wave of ice down my neck as I realized what I had just done. Like waking up from a night of drinking and suddenly seeing a video of yourself doing something you would never normally do.

  I sprinted at Pan, screaming as I watched him trip, stumble, and fall back into open air.

  I dove face-first and grabbed at anything I could find, managing to snag something hard and calloused. I dug the toes of my boots into the earth behind me and stared down to find Pan looking up at me through bloody teeth. His fingers gripped the edge of the cliff, and I was holding him by the horn I had pummeled and cracked during our fight. I felt my feet sliding so I latched onto the
boulder I had thrown at Pan, digging my fingers into a crevice to help support Pan’s weight.

  I was panting frantically, and the sudden departure of Wylde was making me shiver.

  What the hell had come over me? I had gone fucking postal.

  And now…

  “HELP!” I screamed, my throat raw from shouting at Pan. But I knew it wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear. My only hope was that Gunnar and Talon would come running to see what the hell had caused all the destruction outside the cave. We had basically obliterated one side of the mountain and torn up the field around it. They couldn’t have missed it. They would come running, thinking I was under attack.

  A cold chill rolled over my neck. Except I had told Gunnar to take the girls to safety if things got messy with Pan…

  I didn’t think I was going to be able to hold onto Pan for very long. I was too exhausted from the fight. Even though Wylde had done all the heavy lifting, my body was now feeling the repercussions. And Pan looked even worse, his fingertips were white where they clutched at the edge of the cliff.

  I felt his horn creaking beneath my grip. I knew if I let go even for one second to switch to his forearm or other horn, his fingers would give out and that would be it. He was barely assisting me, and my shoulders and chest were beginning to burn from the strain. We were at a stale-mate. But this time not in a fight—to save him from dying.

  “I’m so sorry, Pan. I don’t know what came over me.” I wheezed. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

  Pan coughed up blood, his face now entirely calm, no longer maddened with blood-frenzy. My eyes widened in chilling understanding. Pan nodded slowly.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Wylde. I made you panic. It’s what I do. I used my power to push you over the edge. To Force you to rely upon Wylde. It was always going to be this way. What I promised your parents so long ago. I know this moment hurts—will continue to hurt long after I’m gone—but I’ve known about this day for years. It was my part to play. To know that I had to hurt you, to lie to you, to Force you…all so that we could save you. To help you save yourself, so that you could go on to one day help save everyone.”