Olympian Challenger

by Astrid Arditi

  His fingertips skim my cheek lightly. “Your humanity—that is your greatest beauty.”

  Chapter 29

  Erebus still frightens me, especially after offending the Death God, but my relief at having made up with Kieron surpasses my fear. I’m thrilled to be back in his cottage. I want to open every drawer, look into each room, touch every object that belongs to him. The more I spend time with him, the more I learn there are many layers to my sponsor, like a puzzle I really would like to solve.

  “What do you know about Orestes’s quest?” Kieron interrupts my musings.

  I shake myself. The fourth quest will start in only a few hours, and I have to focus.

  “His father was murdered; he killed his mother.” I shrug. “Typical hero drama.”

  “And then he was sent on a quest to Attica. But the Furies wouldn’t leave him alone—”

  “They showed mirrors to remind him of his crime,” I continue.

  He wrings his hands together. “There’s no escaping your sins.”

  “The gods seem to be faring fairly well,” I point out. “They have enough blood on their hands to fill a river in Erebus, and yet they spend their time partying in Heaven.”

  “They are for now…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know you talked to the Pythia. What did she tell you?”

  “She explained why we can’t leave.”

  “Do you still want to?” Kieron asks.

  “Not until I win,” I reply. Shadows flicker in the depth of his eyes. I wonder what I said that offended him. “The Pythia said the fabric between our worlds has been closed for a while, that gods are trapped here while humans are stuck on the other side.”

  “It has been sealed shut for nearly two millennia, Hope. Do you know what happens to gods trapped in a cage?”

  “They drink too much and have tons of sex?”

  Blood surges to my cheeks. I can’t believe I said that. Kieron chuckles but his laughter doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “They fought. For dominion over one another, a chance to rule again; they tore each other apart for centuries.”

  “What made them stop?”

  “The Pythia’s prophecy. It gave them hope.”

  Hope for what exactly? I have a more pressing question though. “How old are you?”

  “I am the youngest god on Mount Olympus. I was born just after the divide between our worlds.”

  “So that would make you?”

  His shoulders sag under the weight of his years. “Too old to keep track, Hope.”

  I want to go to him, hold him. “So you’ve never been on Earth?”

  “All I’ve known is this. This thirst for power, this cruelty that divided brothers and sisters, father and children. I used to think it was normal.” I understand why Kieron likes to keep to himself. He shies away from all these bad feelings, all these dark thoughts he’s forced to hear.

  “But the war has stopped now. The gods aren’t fighting anymore.”

  He sighs. “For now…”

  I can’t stand the pain on his face, so instead I change the subject. “What other powers do you have?”

  “Beside shadow listening? I’m a shadow traveler.”

  “What does it mean?”

  In lieu of answering, Kieron stands up and walks until he finds a dark corner in the surprisingly bright living room. He calls the shadows to him, and they coil around him until he’s enshrouded in them. Then he disappears, and his voice calls to me from the hallway.

  “This is shadow traveling.”

  A smug grin is etched on his face, making him look younger than he usually does, lighter. Just another teenage boy proud of his latest trick.

  “It looks cool,” I admit. “But how is it different than Aphrodite’s shimmering or Poseidon’s liquefying?”

  “They need to have a clear image in mind to travel that way. The darkness can lead me anywhere I want, even places I don’t know.”

  “Like Earth?”

  “You forget the fabric is shut—”

  “Do you have other powers?”

  “One. Maybe someday I’ll show you,” he says.

  “Can you transport other people with your power?”

  He grins. “I’ve never tried. Want to be my first passenger?” He laughs as he grabs me in his arms. His whisper tickles my ear. “Where do you want to go?”

  “I am hungry,” I admit sheepishly.

  “Then let’s go.”

  He takes me back to the shadowy corner, holding me close to his chest. The cool darkness slithers around us, but I’m not afraid.

  A second later, we’re standing in Helen of Troy’s atrium. The girls seated down for lunch gawk at us both, while we chuckle conspiratorially, our cheeks flushed with excitement.

  A small voice inside of me whispers that I could have stayed in the shadows with him forever.

  The teachers take us to a plain high on Mount Olympus. The divinities have resumed their places in the grandstands and thrones overlooking the flat expanse of grass. In the distance, I can make out some sort of animal pen that looks empty save for an immobile silhouette.

  My heart makes a happy somersault in my chest when I spy Kieron standing aside with the old heroes. He’s come for me. I try to remember what we talked about this morning before shadow traveling. From my readings about Orestes, it is hard to define which deity we’re honoring today. I look at the flags flanking each side of the grandstand—an owl is emblazoned on the white fabric: this quest is for Athena.

  Aphrodite sends her glitter our way, and my black dress turns pristine white to confirm my deduction. I’m proud of wearing Athena’s colors, especially after the way she defended me yesterday.

  Heracles stomps before us. “Time for your fourth quest!” he roars. “This one commemorates Orestes’s quest, as well as Athena’s mercy on him. To win, find an offering worthy of our wise goddess and place it at the foot of her statue, which resides in the pen beyond the plain. You have thirty minutes. Good luck, challengers.”

  Athena flips the delicate hourglass in her hand upside down, marking the beginning of our quest. The sand falls to the bottom with incredible speed.

  “Heracles always makes it sound so easy,” Amy mutters. “How are we supposed to find a gift for Athena in under an hour?”

  “And where?” Gabriel asks.

  “Something on the plain,” I answer. “We don’t have time to go anywhere else in such a small amount of time.”

  I set off at a jogging pace, scanning my surroundings as my sandaled feet hit the grass.

  “Just flowers and rocks. Nothing that would suit a goddess,” Amy says, keeping up with my hastened strides easily.

  “Aphrodite would be happy with flowers,” Gabriel says.

  “We need to find something that represents her powers. What is Joan doing? She knows her best.”

  I look for Athena’s last contestant. She’s busy studying the rocks on the plain. I veer toward her, followed by Gabriel and Amy.

  “These rocks won’t do,” Joan mutters as we reach her. She moves onto another pile of rocks without paying us any heed.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask.

  “Something to represent Athena’s wisdom. It’s her greatest strength,” she answers.

  “There are rocks that do that?” Gabriel asks.

  “Rocks, trees, flowers.”

  We have more chances finding a wise tree on the outskirt of the plain than a wise rock among a thousand others.

  “Do you have a kind of tree in mind?” I ask Joan.

  Her wild curls jiggle as she scowls at me. “You don’t expect me to tell you, do you?”

  Amy pulls on my arm. “Elm trees symbolize wisdom.”

  “How do you know?”

  She shrugs. “One of my foster dads was a botanist.” She points to a tall cluster of trees. “Let’s go over there. I think I see one.”

  We run toward the trees just as powerful squawks fill the air, fo
llowed by the roar of flapping wings.

  “Not the eagles again!” Gabriel whines, his ashen face turned toward the sky as he runs.

  When the dark formation gets closer, I wish for eagles. Three monstrous women clad in leather, with black silky wings sprouting from their backs, descend toward us. Their eyes drip blood while snakes coil in their raven hair. I read about them just this morning, and even in a book they were frightening.

  “Furies,” I scream, running for cover under the trees. Gabriel and Amy are only too eager to follow.

  We hide amidst the branches of a centenarian oak, watching aghast as the Furies launch their attacks on the contenders. Their sharp talons slash through skin and pull hair, eliciting shrieks of outrage and pain. The only weapons they wield are hand-held mirrors that they thrust before them. The contenders scatter across the plain, forgetting about their tasks while they run for their lives.

  I beckon Joan and Marcus toward us, careful not to be noticed by the Furies, while Amy moves along the edge of the trees, looking for an elm. Joan reaches us first, clutching a stone in her fist. Marcus looks as dazed as the day Emily opened her box.

  “I found them!” Amy calls. “Elm leaves.”

  She gathers a bunch and distributes them among our group. Only Joan refuses hers, having already found her own tribute.

  “Indigo crystal,” she explains as she opens her palm to show us.

  I nod like I know what she means when in fact I don’t know the first thing about stones or crystals. We did go to see a shaman once to heal my mother. After he applied crystals all over her and chanted for hours, we knew he was just another charlatan.

  “How do we get to the pen now?” Marcus eyes the two Furies that cornered Jessica’s teammate, Dexter, and keep pressing their mirrors into his face.

  He screams louder than if they had clawed at him, a cry of pure anguish that resonates in my bones and makes me cringe.

  “Don’t even think of trying to save him,” Amy clutches at my arm to keep me in place. “He’s just as bad as Jessica anyway. No need to risk your own neck for him.”

  I want to tell her how even Jessica has excuses for her behavior, and so does Dexter probably. But Amy is an orphan as well, and she doesn’t cheat and bully like Jessica. People may have reasons for the way they behave but they always have a choice—and some choose wrongly.

  “Let’s keep to the trees until the last moment,” Amy says. “Then we can make a run for the pen.”

  “What if the Furies follow us?” Joan asks.

  “We’ll figure it out then, I guess,” Amy replies. “We don’t have a choice anyway.”

  We creep under the thorny branches silently, careful not to reveal our location to the Furies. Gabriel gets a nasty slash on his cheek, and my arms are covered in scratches.

  I touch his cheek. “I’ll fix it as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t worry. Besides, scars are badass.” He winces from an attempt at a smile.

  “Ready?” Amy murmurs as we near the pen.

  I inhale deeply to calm my jittery nerves then nod. The rest of our group imitates me.

  She abandons our cover first while we follow at her heels, clustered in a tight formation in case the Furies attack. One is busy tormenting Heath and Bob Jr., who came out from the other side of the plain. Their gazes are haunted as they stare into the mirror held to their faces. Another follows Josh relentlessly. The third one spots us and soars our way.

  I accelerate, running so fast my heart threatens to burst out from my chest. The pen is near. Amy reaches the gate first, smashing both her hands against the wood planks to burst it open. The gate doesn’t budge, so her whole body slams against it when she can’t slow down in time. She falls back against the ground, looking stunned.

  Gabriel helps her stand up while I take a go at the gate. Once again it doesn’t move, it’s so heavy.

  “I need help!”

  Marcus and Joan join me. After we all lean with all our weight against the gate, it gives way and opens slightly. Gabriel goes in first, dragging Amy, then Heath and Bob Jr. use the opportunity to slide inside, away from the Fury that flaps after them. Joan, Marcus and I slip through as one, jumping as the gate slams shut again.

  The Furies try to attack us from above, but every time they dive, some invisible force repels them. The pen must be warded against them. They shriek in outrage, but after a few more unfruitful attempts, they zoom in on the contenders that have yet to reach the pen.

  I keep watching until all the challengers have made it inside, pairing together to open the gate. The Furies stand guard outside, their bloody eyes surveying the flock of humans.

  I look away from them, at Athena’s majestic marble statue wearing a crown of gold on her head, with a pile of offerings at her feet. I drop my elm leaf on top of Joan’s indigo crystal, next to a purple iris. These seem like pitiful offerings for a goddess.

  I take a few steps back to allow the other contenders to drop their gifts. I’m so close to the edge of the pen that I can feel the wind the Furies make as they bat their wings.

  Heath appears to recover from his fright first. “We should all head back together. It will be harder for the Furies to attack us as a group.”

  I’m nearest to the gate, but I can’t open it alone. Heath, unexpectedly, comes to help me. We can open it just enough for one contender to slip through at a time but not if we want to go as a group. Josh tries to elbow his way to the front of the group to be one of the first out.

  Heath’s voice rings with imperious authority as he calls to him. “Josh. Come help us.”

  He shakes his head no, tries to progress further into the group, but the challengers have grown tired of his pettiness and cruelty. They kick him out of their midst, toward the gate.

  It is time Josh learned his lesson. The challengers won’t yield if he doesn’t help this one time. He wedges himself between Heath and me, pulling on the gate until it widens enough to let everyone through.

  The Furies shriek savagely as they see their prey come out, but with such an overwhelming number against them, they don’t know where to attack. Instead, they see the three of us holding the gate, isolated, and while two follow the group, one plunges for us.

  One Fury against three kids is already too much; we don’t stand a chance. But she doesn’t seem interested in tearing us apart, what she wants is for us to look into her damned mirror, which is probably worse judging by Josh’s panic as he’s confronted to his reflection.

  Heath is farthest from the Fury. Without a second glance for us, he dashes away, leaving Josh and me struggling against the weight of the gate. I curse his desertion—so typical of him—but Josh’s whimpers distract me. He’s folding over the gate so he doesn’t have to watch himself any longer, but the Fury grips his hair, forcing his face back up. The distress I see on his face, looking so much more honest and raw than I’ve ever seen it, stirs the compassionate voice within me. Whatever he sees in the Fury’s mirror, it’s killing him. I can’t watch and do nothing.

  To free him from his torment, I pull on the mirror, stealing it from the Fury’s claws, and stare straight into it. The Fury looks at me with unabashed curiosity as she lets go of Josh. He runs away, stumbling like a drunk across the deserted plain.

  I recoil at both the sharp talons hovering close to my face and my reflection in the glass. An older version of me, with a cruel smile and ugly warts, stares back at me. I can hardly feel my muscles screaming in agony as I struggle to keep the gate open, or hear it as it finally breaks through my resolution and closes with a loud bang.

  I’m stuck inside, but all I care about is my evil reflection, the young woman whose crimes have aged and uglified her until she now looks like an old hag. She’s the result of this competition, of the lies told and the lives sacrificed to win. She’s everything I swore to myself I’d never become.

  The Fury smiles cruelly as she watches the image take its toll on me, as she feels my spirit break, faced with my odious crimes. I
hate this woman, hate myself for letting her become what she is, for feeding her dark desires. My mother would be so disappointed in me.

  A cheer emanates from down the plain, zinging me with a realization. The other contenders have made it back. They made it thanks to me, and my sacrifice. Heath tricked me and left me behind, but I chose to let Josh go. I protected him without care or concern for my own safety or victory. The image morphs in the mirror. I see myself, with my flaws and selfish desires, my love and compassion—not prettier or uglier—just as I am.

  I’m not afraid anymore, not repulsed by my dark side. Kieron is wrong. People aren’t pure light or total darkness, but flames flickering in the shadows, trying to shine beyond the obscurity.

  I release my grip on the mirror and hand it back to the Fury, who gazes at me in confusion. She feeds on fear and despair, but I will give her none.

  When she senses my newfound serenity, she turns around in defeat and flies away toward Josh, who still ambles over the plain without a clear direction. Before I can warn him, a flame dances before my mind’s eye. It beckons to me, demanding I trust it. As I gaze into it, my body grows lighter, immaterial.

  When the flame vanishes, I’m standing in front of Athena, who smiles fondly at me. “Welcome back, Hope.”

  Chapter 30

  Dexter and Josh succumbed to the Furies’ assaults. Their maimed bodies lie on the plain for everyone to see.

  I’m still reeling after my experience with the mirror, and winning the quest despite not making it back on time. As Athena reminded us, the quest was to find a worthy offering and place it in front of her statue in less than thirty minutes. They never mentioned returning from our quest.

  Hades is furious to have lost Josh to the Furies. I’m not really his challenger, which means he’s left with no one to sponsor and his son won their bargain. Considering Kieron’s relieved expression, the stakes must have been high. I make a mental note to ask him about it later.

  “Kieron, take the defeated to the underworld,” Hades barks.

  Kieron’s shoulders tense at the command, but he obliges his father all the same.