Fragment

by Alvin Atwater

  The following morning, Jonas awoke to the tingling of an electrical shock to his forehead.

  “Wake up, nitwit, Lady Athena wishes to speak with you before you go to class. Be clean, be sharp, and present yourself well; we can’t have scum balls go before our princess.” Lare clapped.

  “I get it already,” Jonas said as he sat up. “Where should I meet her?”

  “Her room.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t know where it’s at, do you, nitwit?”

  “Not a clue,” Jonas said.

  Lare sighed. “I should make you wander around like a fool, but lucky for you, I’m in a generous mood. I’ll take you to her. Here.” He tossed Jonas a white cotton tunic top, red pants, and red shoes. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  Athena smiled when they arrived and invited them into her room. Jonas felt comforted by her kindness as she offered them tea and breakfast. He accepted the tea but denied the breakfast. He didn’t feel very hungry.

  “Can I ask you something?” Athena said.

  “Sure.”

  She studied Jonas’s face before speaking. “What do you think of Olympus?”

  “It’s too early for me to say,” Jonas replied. “I must see places . . . but not just here.”

  “The human realm too, right? I wish I could see it.”

  “Yes. That is why I cannot simply take your father’s place.” Jonas took a swallow of his tea. Athena nodded as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “I understand. Everything is happening too fast for you, but…you also must remember that if fate brought you here, then it is entirely up to you to conquer it or abandon it.” Athena turned toward her window. “Jonas, I see something within you. Something great, unlike anything I’ve seen before. I really . . . want you to stay and develop that light inside. I understand it’s tough. Sometimes destiny wants us to set aside our own desires and follow her path. It may not be a path you want, nor can you see every step of the way, but it can be a path forged to save lives or to achieve kingship.” Athena turned back to Jonas and gave him a smile warm enough to make him blush. “It’s up to you to see it through. You’ve proven that you’re more than capable of doing so.”

  Jonas looked at Athena with a new respect. He nodded as he allowed a strength like never before parade his thoughts. It is then he made his decision.

  Abaddon stood before his elites, arms folded, emotionless and expressionless. He felt a small sense of loss at Aaron’s empty chair at the library’s long table. He would avenge him soon. His elites dared not speak before him. Abaddon admired their undying loyalty and subconsciously promised to reward them after his great victory. His elites were like his eyes and ears to the outside world.

  “Prudus, I want your report fist,” Abaddon said to a bearded bald man. Prudus stood at attention, his height towering Abaddon by at least three inches. Though he wore thick, black armor, his muscular build was still outlined through it.

  “Sire,” he began in a powerful voice, “Aaron’s death was an unfortunate loss but his mission, too reckless. He did charge while Zeus was away but did not take into account the vast number of other titans that dwelled in the sky palace. Strong and proud but hotheaded. He should’ve contacted all of us the moment he planned to infiltrate the place. Worry not, I wouldn’t be titled Prudus the Deadly if I had no plan.”

  Abaddon nodded in approval. “We shall discuss it later,” Abaddon said. “For now, I simply need your thoughts and reports.” He turned to his only female elite. As a succubus containing natural beauty, wit, and extraordinary magic, Abaddon’s decision to put her in charge over an entire division didn’t take long. “Flow, report.” She stood at attention, her long, blonde hair draping between her bat-like wings. Normally she’d have them retracted, to blend in with humans, but at Abaddon’s fort, she was free to be herself.

  “My lord, I agree with Prudus. Aaron was reckless, but his efforts will not be in vain. He trained under you for years, achieving power strong enough to smash any titan to their knees. I strongly believe his defeat was due to the sword alone, that its power is even stronger than its legends.” Flow looked at the other elites, then faced Abaddon again. “If all of us band together and lure out the sword—”

  Abaddon raised a hand, silencing Flow. “Other than that, what personal plans could you use if all else fails?” he asked.

  “If the sword holder is identified, I could use my magic and make it so that he hand delivers it to me.” Abaddon nodded in approval, silently rejoicing the fact that he had the loyalty of one of the most powerful succubi in existence.

  “Very well.” Abaddon turned to a young man who looked to be in his early twenties. The boy had curly, black hair and strange, purple eyes. Abaddon thought of him as quiet but deadly and mischievous. This boy, this fearless destructive enforcer, proved himself time and time again as an elite. The smirk that rarely left his face warned Abaddon that the boy feared not even him. Deep down, Abaddon felt that if the boy wasn’t his triumph card, then his betrayal would be inevitable. “Riley, report.”

  Riley didn’t pop to attention like the others. In fact, he grinned when they glared at him. After a half a minute, he stood, his grin retracting to a smirk, and said, “Most Great Abaddon, I have little to report. Aaron was a fool, and if he died to a simple titan, despite your intense training, then he deserved to die.” He chuckled as he felt the other elites silently hate him even more. Before Abaddon could speak, Riley continued, “As for reporting, I have something grand to tell you, Your Greatness. I saved it for this meeting.” He winked at Flow. She looked at Riley in disgust. “Some of my men engaged in battle with Ares’s men and emerged victorious. We captured the commander, tortured him until we got some useful information.”

  “Excellent,” Abaddon said, proud of his elite once again. “Thanatos, the demon from Northville was the man selected to be your replacement years ago.”

  That name shot an enormous burst of rage into Abaddon. He took a deep breath and let it out to control it.

  “So the snake himself finally slithers out if someone’s tongue.” A thick, fiery, white light outlined Abaddon in response to his anger. “To taunt me by stealing my title. I’ll snap that neck of his!”

  “Oh, but that’s not all of it, Your Greatness,” Riley said. “Odin may have been involved in the setup. That commander accidentally spilled his name; he may have given the order to most of the Twelve.”

  Abaddon’s eyes widened. Odin and he never crossed paths, never spoke to each other, nothing. He even once declared he wanted nothing to do with the Twelve. His involvement made no sense to Abaddon. “Bring me that commander, Riley. For this great find, I shall promote you again, this time to arc commander, second to me.”

  Riley’s eyes widened in surprise along with those of the other elites. Abaddon knew his promotion was inevitable. He also hoped that it would motivate him even more. “You’ve got me a brilliant lead, Riley. I want your use at my highest command.”

  Riley bowed. “You’ve made the best decision, Most Great Abaddon. I can hardly wait to watch as the entire universe kneel to you, tears of blood melting from their eyes.” He raised his head. “I will return with the prisoner.”

  As soon as Riley stepped out of the room, Abaddon shifted his gaze to his other elites. They didn’t dare question his decision. He turned to Gia, his remaining elite. “Report.”

  Gia popped to attention. “My lord, I agree with the others in this room about Aaron. I am impressed that Riley captured a commander and made him talk. Let us not forget his victory in battle which brought us this moment. However, my report pertains to information about her.”

  “You’re not talking about . . .”

  “The White Witch of the Twelve,” Gia finished. Abaddon remembered her smug face as if his banishment happened the previous day. He remembered how her power brought forth intense physical pain during his sealing. He also recalled how thrilled she was upon receiving direct orders from a higher-up whom h
e originally believed to be Zeus. The letter presented to him did bear Zeus’s royal seal, but if Odin was behind the order, then the fight would spread into Asgard.

  “State your report,” Abaddon ordered. The hastiness in his voice sent shivers through the spines of his minions.

  “My patrolling men spotted her in the Heaven Mountains, harvesting fruit there. They watched her for days and confirmed she lives here.”

  A grin curled across Abaddon’s face, one his minions hadn’t seen in decades. Abaddon was ecstatic. He wanted to find the sword faster than ever so he could personally kill the White Witch. Two great reports in one day, he couldn’t be more proud of his men.

  “Now that I know where she’s hiding, it is time I take vengeance.” He turned his back. “I want all of you to execute an all-out attack on the sword holder. He’s . . .” Abaddon paused, realizing his excitement almost caused him to make a poor decision. “No. Let us use your plan, Prudus.” He turned to him. Prudus stood at attention, opened his mouth, and spoke.

  Chapter 24

  Jonas sat next to Sif and Bacchus, Lare on his shoulder. The instructor, Larius, stood in front of the class, grinning.

  “None of you care about the fundamentals of Zeus’s powers; you just want to wield it, am I right?” Everyone around Jonas cheered. “Wielding it early means a jump in the competition, no?” The class cheered again, everyone except for Jonas. The instructor looked right at him. “Jonas Ariel, human and somewhat hero of the palace, why do you not agree?” All eyes turned to him. Jonas blushed, embarrassed. “Is it because a human cannot tame such a force? Do you not want to win?”

  Jonas stared at him for nearly a minute before answering. “I do not believe the fundamentals of something as great as the king’s power should be ignored. At least for me.”

  Larius clapped. “That’s the right answer—the answer I’m looking for. It’s quite ironic that the only person to impress me early on is a non-bloodthirsty human.”

  “Not quite,” Thor said. “I neither hailed nor answered because I already know lightning fundamentals.”

  “your lightning abilities, not Zeus’s abilities,” Larius said. “Zeus’s lightning is a spirit named Pila. She strains even the noblest of hosts; someone who portrays pure arrogance cannot possibly control her. To use Zeus’s lightning, one must have strength, training of the heart and soul, and a noble mindset, but you also must defeat your competition.” Larius shifted his gaze to Jonas again. The intensity in his eyes sent chills through Jonas’s spine. “Do you think a human like you can triumph against every titan in this palace?” Jonas didn’t respond. “Of course I’m not picking on you. You risked your life to selflessly take down one of Abaddon’s demons.”

  Jonas stood up, annoyed but otherwise unfazed. “Let’s throw that question to the side for now because there’s something I must know.”

  “Ask away, curious human,” Larius said, folding his arms.

  “Who is Abaddon?”

  The grin on Larius’s face dropped. Jonas thought maybe he had overstepped his boundaries, but Larius answered.

  “Abaddon was our former carrier of death or what you humans called the Grim Reaper. Before sealed and banished, he delivered souls of the dead to the land of the dead, filling it adequately and carrying out his pitiful duty.”

  “What hap—?”

  “Are you not going to have this conversation with someone else?” Larius interrupted, eyeing Jonas. Jonas gasped as he thought of Medusa. Did Larius know of their meetings?

  “Forgive me,” Jonas said as he sat.

  “I understand you just want answers,” Larius said calmly, “but humans should know to stay safely within their boundaries. Abaddon isn’t someone you should concern yourself with.”

  Jonas fought back his anger. So what if he was human. That didn’t mean he should be left in the dark. He wanted to say more, to give the instructor a piece of his mind, but held back on the account of not disturbing the class any further. After all, Medusa was actually willing to tell him anything about Olympus and its conflicts. “Now that the short history lesson is over, let me say this: for each of you, titan or human, this is your last chance to back out. This competition will be deadly, furious, and deceitful. In fact, many of you may die. In a plane of titans, this isn’t a get-together of milk and honey.”

  “So what’s the point of teaming up just to backstab?” Cupid challenged.

  “It’s all a part of the king’s test. If you cannot handle it, then you’re not fit to take ahold of his will anyway.” Larius pointed at Venus.

  “You—state the competition’s motto.”

  “I–I don’t know it,” Venus replied, flustered.

  “It’s under your feet,” Larius said.

  She gasped as she picked up a sheet of paper beneath her. “The motto is . . . kill or be killed?”

  Larius grinned. “The first test of the competition will begin tonight.” Whispers and talking burst among the candidates. “Silence!” Everyone obeyed. “Each test will consist of either individual aspects or team tasks. If you are smart, you’ll make sure your entire team pulls through for the advantage.”

  Cupid stood up. Jonas could see the irritation on his face. “So you want us to help each other out only to end up face-to-face with that arrogant Thor?”

  Thor stood up. “I doubt you’ll make it far with or without our help, pretty boy.”

  “Thor, you’ll be the man of your own downfall,” Cupid said with a hardened voice.

  “Do not speak as if you know me,” Thor said intimidatingly. Jonas figured if Thor wasn’t two rows away from Cupid, he’d crush him. He was twice Cupid’s size.

  “Enough!” Larius barked. “No more bickering. If you cannot handle Zeus’s test, then return to your realm in shame.” Cupid and Thor muttered curses as they sat down. “This class has a lot to learn. You’ll end up eliminating yourselves rather than the other classes. Try not to forget that there are opponents even more fierce than you, among them, and at least try to work together. If your class wins, you won’t leave the palace empty-handed—that is, if you’re strong enough to not die.” Larius sighed. “Never mind that. Let’s get on with the basics. Jonas, since you lack magic, you’ll be the volunteer.”

  “Try not to splash his guts everywhere,” Loki said with a laugh.

  “Don’t say things like that,” Sif retorted. Loki replied with a mocking grin.

  “Worry not, boy. I’m not getting paid to harm you,” Larius assured Jonas. He faced the class as Jonas approached him. Lare remained in Jonas’s seat. “The only humans that managed to manifest forms of magic were sorcerers, witches, and druids. Obviously our friend here is neither of those things, so is it possible for him to use Pila’s power or any lightning? Thor, you’re the lightning expert here. Let’s hear your arrogant answer.” Jonas felt himself blushing from the embarrassment of having all eyes on him, the eyes that saw him as easy prey.

  “Well, he’s not an apprentice of any of that, so no,” Thor said.

  “For a normal human, you’d be absolutely right,” Larius said, “but Jonas is no ordinary human. He’s still alive and standing after facing off with Abaddon’s servants. Mere swordplay wouldn’t affect demons.”

  “Wait . . . that’s why you carry that sword around?” Cupid asked.

  Before Jonas could answer, Larius gestured for him to stay silent.

  “Why does Thor keep a hammer strapped to his belt?” Larius said.

  “Prince Thor has magic,” Venus said. “So comparing them isn’t fair.”

  “My hammer has nothing to do with my magic. I can summon lightning and storms without it. Mjolnir . . .”

  “Is your partner,” Larius finished for him. “You and Jonas are similar but like the sun and the moon. While your hammer is not the source of your power, that sword is the source of Jonas’s power.” Larius pointed at the class. “Don’t quote me on that; I’m only making a guess. Jonas could be hiding something, but as we are here for the compe
tition only, we have no right to pester him for answers.”

  Jonas sighed. “Can we just get back to the basics? This is starting to get old.”

  Larius laughed. “Alright, then, unsheathe your sword and point it at Thor.”

  Thor stood up. “If you dare.”

  “Don’t be a coward, great and powerful son of Odin.” Larius chuckled. “Now point! This lesson is dedicated to the both of you.” Jonas unsheathed his sword and took aim. “Now use your head with this one. That sword of yours has the ability. You must visualize, imagine it. Imagine the lightning while focusing on Thor. Let it attack him. Thor, you may want to block it . . . that is, if it even comes.”

  “Don’t doubt me,” Jonas said, hyped. “Watch.” Jonas imagined a fresh bolt of electricity—its pure mysteriousness pushing at Thor. He focused on Thor with an intent of sending a moderate amount of lightning at him. He didn’t want to ask the sword to create a miracle; he simply wanted it to happen, just like in the fight with Aaron. Jonas felt a course of power leaving his body like a rushing river, entering the sword. The tip glowed. A spark emitted a shape the size of a grapefruit. A second later, it unleashed a bolt of lightning at Thor, streaming for ten seconds. Thor placed his hand in the path of the bolt and blocked it.

  “Not bad, not bad at all,” Larius said as the lightning cleared. “Thor, since you’re impervious to lightning, I needed you to protect the class just in case things grow out of control.” Larius turned to Jonas. “Not bad. You’ll do just fine. However, you’ll need practice. That sparky delay can cause you to be killed by faster foes.” Larius turned to the class. “As for the rest of you, creating lightning should be easier since you’re titans. It’s a matter of focus, changing the shape of your magic, and releasing it. Jonas and Thor . . . it’s quite different, and I’m sure none of you could create storms like Thor. The basics here will enable you to control Pila in the near future. Our next lesson may be about her, but if you don’t survive tonight, it won’t matter. Dismissed. No afternoon lessons, so go enjoy your lunch.”