But things can always get worse.
Part Two
WHEN THE STORM WORSENS
Chapter 9
FOR OLYMPUS
I knew our group of gods was nearing the small meadow, as confirmed by the thinning trees, but the mounting clouds were so black and thick that, for once, it wasn’t any lighter outside the cover of pine trees than it was under. The meadow wasn’t in sight yet, though I could already hear the loud battle cries of monsters, nymphs, satyrs, and Knowing Warriors alike. Some were courageous shouts of rage while others were screams of pure terror that only sent shivers down my spine. I knew instantly that these were the terrible sounds of people dying, the sounds that no one but Ares really wanted to hear. And they were all dying for us, the gods and secret keepers. I still wasn’t sure if this fight was really worth that permanent collateral damage; unless you’re talking about monsters, you can’t bring back the dead.
I took a deep breath, readying myself for the gory sights to come and focusing on opening up all of my senses so I could fight even better with the help of my instincts. As we came closer to the battlefield with every heavy step, my peripheral vision seemed to widen in range, and I was now even more aware of the other gods gasping for breath beside me. Still, the sounds of wind whistling through the trees and the bushes trembling in fear from our urgent movements did not drown out the demoralized prayers ringing ceaselessly through my mind.
Behind me, Aphrodite was whimpering softly, dreading what lay ahead of us. Even though she had actually been involved in a battle the day before, these massacres didn’t get any easier to deal with—mentally or physically. Killing a couple monsters by yourself or with a friend is one thing, but facing five at once while watching your most devoted followers and people you don’t even know helplessly die around you is completely different. Most people don’t understand what post-traumatic stress disorder really feels like until they have actually been through a whole war or some other trauma; movies just can’t capture the right atmosphere. And although I, along with the other gods, was able to ignore the stress for the duration of a fight and keep it from affecting most of my decisions, I could honestly say that I understood PTSD perfectly:
Paranoia? Definitely. Hades could have been anywhere at any time, after all.
Nightmares? Check.
Difficulty falling/staying asleep? Duh. I probably mentioned having this symptom too many times throughout these pages.
Vivid flashbacks? Well, this entire book is a flashback so . . . check.
Hopelessness? Check.
Feeling of detachment from others? Absolutely (except from the other gods and Alec, of course). Since the start of the war, polite social interaction with un-Knowing humans had been one of the very last things on my mind.
The list goes on, but you get the point. Probably the only reason we gods didn’t suffer from more dramatic symptoms than these was that we always had each other for support.
“Poseidon and Hera, go to the river to protect the army camp. With all the different battles going on, it’s probably defenseless, and I doubt that Hades gives a damn about our injured soldiers,” Zeus ordered grimly as we slowed to a stop on a hillside riddled with bushes and tangled tree roots. Poseidon and Hera exchanged solemn glances and nodded obediently before changing their course, now running west.
“I’ll take Patrol Three to the north border of the forest,” Ares offered helpfully, rubbing his fingers through the bright red plume on his bronze helmet.
“Fair enough,” Zeus agreed, stroking his chin. “But go around the small meadow, not through it.” Although Ares frowned at the fact that he would be avoiding another fight by taking the detour, surprisingly, he didn’t argue. Ares simply motioned to Aphrodite and Dionysus, and the three of them bounded up the steep hill in perfect unison. Perhaps the god of war finally realized this was not the time to start fighting amongst ourselves again.
Next, Zeus turned to face Demeter, his stormy eyes meeting her determined brown ones. “Where would you like to go?” he asked her calmly, his voice flat and even, his body oddly still.
The goddess of the harvest and fertility closed her eyes thoughtfully and ran her fingers through her long, blonde hair as she took a minute to silently think over her options. “I’ll catch up with Hera and Poseidon,” she finally announced, raising her voice so she could be heard above the nearby screams.
“Okay—” Zeus began, but all of a sudden, Demeter took a few steps closer to him, her brown eyes burning with a mixture of frustration and desire. Before anyone could protest, she pulled his handsome head in toward hers and planted her lips on his, kissing him passionately and entangling her fingers in his hair. I hoped Zeus would have been smart enough to just push her away and wreck their meaningless attraction once and for all, but he only wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his body into hers because, in the end, he couldn’t resist the kiss. He never could. It was the thrilling type of kiss that would make one’s insides squirm, that would feel so dirty yet so passionate at the same time. It was the type of kiss I would never have.
As I watched Demeter disappear into the undergrowth, I did nothing but frown in surprise, flashing back to the start of summer when Zeus’s previous affair with Demeter had almost caused a different war. To be honest, I had thought she had long since moved on from her infatuation with Zeus, especially since she knew more drama really was the last thing we needed.
“So . . . I’m assuming that the rest of us are heading to the meadow?” Artemis spoke up, breaking the awkward silence as she readjusted the tight bun in her wavy hair. She had to pause again, however, in order to quickly load her bow and shoot down a screeching Stymphalian bird that had suddenly swooped down toward us from a high tree branch. Luckily, it disappeared in a puff of ash just before its bronze talons could reach out to latch onto her vulnerable throat. A bit of advice: always be prepared for the unexpected.
“That’s correct,” Zeus answered her, his face beginning to lose its bright pink color in response to the immediate danger of the giant, metallic bird. “I want you to take half of the archers to the east edge of the meadow and—” Zeus paused and turned to face Apollo, who was twirling around an arrow in his fingers absentmindedly before he continued, “Apollo, take the rest of the archers to the west edge, and hopefully we can set a trap.” Then the blonde twins nodded grimly and stalked off in opposite directions, arrows already placed in each of their bows.
That left only Zeus and me.
“Ready, Father?” I asked him quietly, and he nodded. I followed him slowly up the hill, rolling my left shoulder in an effort to prevent my arm from tiring of holding for so long my heavy, round shield known as aegis. With every cautious step toward the bloody battlefield, I heard more and more voices echoing in my head—the voices of the soldiers praying desperately for my help. My frown only deepened as my headache began to worsen and, taking a glance at Zeus, I could tell he was having the same issue, though perhaps not quite as bad.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Zeus said suddenly, breaking our state of tense silence. I raised one eyebrow at him questioningly as we picked up the pace and he continued, “That getting involved with Demeter right now is a bad idea.”
“It is a bad idea,” I interjected as I brushed a stray piece of dark hair out of my face.
Zeus just sighed, scratching his head as he kicked his way through a thick bush. Trying to come up with a good explanation, he scrunched up his nose. “I know, but it’s fine, really. Hera doesn’t even know.”
“The fact that Hera doesn’t know about your affairs doesn’t make the situation any better. Don’t forget that she can read minds,” I argued, rolling my eyes impatiently. “Plus, you were ‘getting involved’ with Aphrodite only a couple of days ago.”
Zeus sighed again as we reached the top of the hill and looked like he was about to protest my logic, but I waved him off, signaling that I didn’t want to talk about his troubled love life any more. Besides, the b
usy field below us had just captured our full attention. There was no order—only mayhem.
The normally bright green meadow was now dull and dismal, littered with the blood, bodies, and limbs of Knowing Warriors and covered in the gray dust or ashes of killed monsters, centaurs, nymphs, and satyrs. Right below where Zeus and I stood was a group of about twelve sword fighters and a few centaurs who were attempting to surround a giant troop of dark, hooded undead warriors. On the north side of the meadow, more troops of undead warriors filed out of the trees in seemingly endless lines. There was no sign of Artemis or Apollo yet and to say that we were greatly outnumbered was an understatement.
Then a random rock fell from the sky, and I looked up to see where it had come from, my mouth all of a sudden seeming very dry. Circling in the black thunderheads above the battlefield were three of Hades’s most trusted servants, the Erinyes (aka Furies)—pale women with large, leathery wings who wore black robes and living snakes as belts and armbands. In the bony, paper-white hands of these psychotic Erinyes were large, heavy rocks not quite big enough to be called boulders, which they were trying to drop onto the poor, fragile soldiers fighting below.
When one Erinye ran out of rocks to throw, it quickly dove down toward the field, arms outstretched like the talons of an eagle going in for a kill. I gasped when the terrifying creature somehow mustered the strength to pick up Nicholas, the biggest Knowing Warrior out there, and began to fly higher and higher with the flailing, buff man still in her clutches. Sadly, there were no archers on the field yet and, therefore, no one could stop the flying monster. I could only hope that the Erinye wouldn’t drop Nicholas, as he surely would have died on impact with the cold, hard ground or at the very least be seriously injured.
Zeus must have noticed the malicious Erinyes as well, because the next thing out of his mouth was, “I’m going to call Pegasus.” I nodded grimly and instinctively plugged my ears as Zeus put two of his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. Seconds later, the gleaming white horse appeared out of nowhere, his wings outstretched as he gracefully glided down and landed on the hillside next to us, bravely ignoring the chaos going on around him. Mouth set straight in determination, Zeus launched himself onto the horse without a saddle or bridle then took off into the black sky, his strong fingers gripping the long mane of Pegasus for dear life. The rain had just started to fall.
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I readjusted my helmet and white-knuckled grip on my spear in silent preparation for my bold charge onto the field. I shook my arms again to keep the blood flowing as my mind whirled around a thousand different things at once, from my human parents to school to Hades. I vowed to myself that I would avenge the deaths of all of my nymph and satyr friends as well as the Knowing Warriors whom I did not even know very well. After all, a goddess should treat her people with just as much respect as they treat her.
Only a mere second later, my eyes were wide open and I was racing down the steep hill at top speed, pushing thoughts of anything besides the battle out of my mind for the time being. My heart began to pound, and I felt as if I couldn’t get to flat ground fast enough. The terrified pleas for help from the soldiers that echoed loudly through my thoughts pushed me forward faster and faster. I was too focused on the battle ahead of me to worry about tripping and rolling down the rest of the slick slope. However, I was also very aware (and thankful) of the fact that the undead warriors weren’t archers because I was definitely a clear target at the moment.
Finally, as if on some unspoken cue, Artemis ran straight out onto the field followed by five other determined archers. They planted their feet firmly in the long, knee-high, wet grass a few yards from the east edge of the trees, aiming their arrows at the undead warriors on the north edge across from me. Not a minute later, Apollo and five more archers appeared on the west side of the meadow, also aiming their weapons to the north. I had to squint my eyes against the blinding lightning flashing across the sky in order to watch twelve slim arrows soar gracefully through the air in perfect arcs. Within the blink of an eye, they had disappeared into the dense formation of undead warriors.
“This is Hermes calling to report on the fire,” the messenger god’s voice suddenly crackled through the speaker on my walkie-talkie, stopping me in my tracks. “The firemen said that the car fire was caused by a severed gas line. In other words, the fire was not an accident. Over.”
“Roger that. Get down to Hades ASAP and give me a report when you get back,” Zeus responded to Hermes. “But leave your walkie-talkie at the army camp. We don’t want Hades accidentally getting hold of it, and you won’t be in range all the way down there anyway.” Once Hermes agreed with Zeus, the line went quiet again.
As the short conversation ended, however, I noticed that the arrows continued to pelt the undead warriors, but also that the persistent undead only advanced faster toward the sword fighters on my side of the meadow. The brainless soldiers were apparently following an invisible Hades’s orders and somehow understood that it was too dangerous for the archers to try to kill them near our own living soldiers. Even though Artemis and Apollo were the best archers in the world, they had to compensate for the wind, flashing sky, heavy rain, and other distractions that could cause an arrow to stray from its planned course. Plus, the sword fighters were beginning to fall out of formation due to obvious fatigue and confusion. I knew something drastic had to be done before we lost any more ground.
“Zeus, Artemis, Apollo, I need you all to draw attention to the north side of the meadow so the sword fighters can take a few minutes to regroup. Got it?” I ordered through the walkie-talkie, slowly jogging over to meet the troops. In accordance with my exigent request, the lighting and thunder temporarily faded away.
No more than two minutes later, bright flashes were lighting up the sky again, one after another, followed by the continuous rolling of deafening thunder. At the exact same time, more arrows were released from the ground. I held my breath as one long, jagged lightning bolt reached down from the sky, striking the ground between the sword fighters and the advancing undead. As I felt the intense heat of the bright bolt radiate across the entire battlefield, I realized that if it had not been for the rain, the long meadow grass probably would have caught fire, creating a very different kind of divide. A couple sword fighters were blown backward when the lightning bolt touched down, and a few undead warriors standing in its target area had completely disintegrated.
I knew I had little time to reorganize the troops’ formations, so I shouted at the top of my lungs, “RETREAT!” Straight away, the muscular sword fighters and the two centaurs turned and sprinted toward me, a mixture of surprise, fear, and determination in their eyes. Their prayers to me stopped momentarily, giving my brain a much needed second of rest. I rapidly gestured to the group, giving each of them specific directions, and they slowed to a stop, catching their breaths as they faithfully formed into two rigid rows of six behind me. Unfortunately, there were still two missing: Nicholas, who I was forced to consider lost for the time being, and Alec.
I gulped, reluctantly forcing myself to carry on without him. After all, he was a hero; he could protect himself and carry out his own missions. So I took a deep breath, triumphantly thrusting my spear into the air, and yelled at the top of my lungs, “FOR OLYMPUS!”
“FOR OLYMPUS!” the troops echoed. With renewed hope, the soldiers all around the edges of the meadow raised their weapons as well. Then we charged in unison toward the undead monsters in the center, our swords and spears glinting brightly under the electric sky. Admittedly, I had not seen the battles from the day before, but I had a strong feeling that this one was going to be the biggest and bloodiest.
The rain pelted us, drenched us, battered us as we sprinted farther into the storm, into the battle, and I couldn’t help but hold my breath as my gold and silver shield collided with the first undead warrior’s burning iron sword, the loud clang drowned out by the battle cries and thunder. Before the cloaked skeleto
n could take another swing at me, I slammed my shield as hard as I could into its rib cage, and it fell to the ground, dropping its sword. Before it could retrieve its blade, I stomped my boot down onto its brittle, yellowed spine, and the undead warrior crumbled to dust, mixing with the tiny pools of rainwater in the soil.
One undead down, a countless number to go, I thought to myself bitterly.
I looked up, boldly glaring down the next undead warrior in line to face me, and twirled the spear around in my hand once or twice. But I just gaped in surprise when, from behind, the tip of someone else’s sword suddenly punched a good-sized hole through the undead’s long cloak and then its spine. Finally, the undead warrior crumbled to dust as it fell forward onto its bony knees, thus revealing its killer: the mighty Alec, his sword still raised menacingly. Due to the torrential rainfall, his hair was plastered to his skull, hiding the brightness in his blue eyes, but his subtle sigh of relief was unmistakable and so was mine. To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure what I would have done if he had died.
“You’re here,” he breathed gratefully, taking a few steps closer to me while temporarily loosening his grip on the hilt of his kopis sword. In that moment, I saw the fatigued hero find something to believe in, whether it was a greatly improved chance at winning the battle or just someone he could always count on.
Downplaying my significance to him, I simply rolled my eyes; he was acting like we were the only two people around. “Move,” I grunted, keeping my face emotionless as I pushed him to the side and stabbed my spear into the rib cage of an undead that was about to slice at Alec from behind; it was killed instantly and cleanly. The main benefit of fighting undead warriors was that because they were made up of only bones, their deaths resulted in much less blood spatter and ruined articles of clothing.
The Forest Gods' Fight Page 15