by Melody Rose
They were in full color and appeared to be depictions of various Greek myths. As I approached the man, I could make out the tales in more detail and quickly recognized them as Heracles’s twelve trials that Hera famously gave him. But there were thirteen tales on there, I noticed.
The last one was a depiction of Hebe and Heracles’s wedding near his right wrist. While Hera hated Heracles since before he was born, they reconciled and became friends after he rescued her from a giant who was going to rape her. Hera offered her daughter Hebe as Heracles’s wife as a thank you.
I couldn’t remember the giant’s name off hand. I knew that Cheyenne would use her Oracle powers and spit it out in less than a second. I smiled at the thought, unable to help myself.
“Something amusing, soldier?” the commanding officer said with a scowl as his head snapped in my direction, as sharp and quick as a bullet.
I hardened my expression. “No, sir.”
“What are you looking at?” the officer asked, his eyes narrowing.
“I was admiring your tattoos,” I answered honestly as I offered a nod towards his exposed arms. “I thought it was interesting that you would include Heracles and Hebe’s wedding as one of the trials.”
“It is the reconciliation of the battle between Heracles and my mother,” the officer replied, flexing his muscles. “I’m Officer Quinton, son of Hera.” He turned his attention away from me specifically and addressed the group at large. “Introduce yourselves,” he commanded.
The eleven new soldiers went around and did as they were asked. When it came to me, I complied in a loud voice, “Ansel Ballas, son of Apollo.”
Quinton’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Son of Apollo?”
“Yes sir,” I said with a confirming nod, but my throat went dry after I spoke. I wanted to know why he was so interested in my lineage.
“There was a message sent ahead for you,” Officer Quinton answered. “Well, I assume it’s for you since it was for a child of Apollo, and you are currently the only one. We’ll make sure it gets delivered to the Fotia barracks.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, keeping my voice even despite the fact that my curiosity was off the charts.
Did someone send a message ahead for me? My mind ran through millions of possibilities, wondering who could have sent it and what it could be about. As much as I wanted to rush to my bunk right then, I knew I would have to wait for the commanding officer to dismiss before I got to go anywhere.
“This base is currently in a holding pattern,” Officer Quinton informed the new soldiers. “They placed us in this location because of an abnormal level of magical activity in the area. So far, we have been unable to locate the source of that activity. The majority of your time will be on scouting missions and guarding the base against any potential attack.”
The son of Hera walked back and forth in front of the flag which hung limply up above him. While it was cold as an igloo, there was no wind, which was some small relief. The only noise came from the footprints of snow as soldiers walked from their barracks to the mess hall. There weren’t many to be seen. I knew that most of them had to be out surrounding the perimeter of the base or out on the scouting missions the officer mentioned.
“For now, you will return to your respective barracks, find a free bunk, and then report to the mess hall for your assignments,” Quinton finished. “Dismissed!”
He spun on his heel and left the group of us without another word. I stayed in my spot longer than normal as I watched my ten traveling companions scatter.
“You coming, Ansel?” Temperance, a daughter of Hypnos, asked as she put a hand on my shoulder. She was the only other Fotia soldier that came with this group. She was a great asset to Cheyenne and me when we went on my girlfriend’s first mission. It was to defeat a chimera, and while Cheyenne really was the hero that day, I remember how fearlessly Temperance had fought.
The following year, Temperance had almost been expelled for being in a relationship with a soldier while she was still a student. This was because of Eris’s love potion that the goddess had put into the apples. The following semester, I knew Temperance and Cheyenne had grown close. I noticed that Temperance and Cheyenne shared some sort of secret. I trusted the soldier and knew that we would work well together if needed.
“I’ve got to say, Temperance, I’m glad you’re here,” I said honestly. “It’s nice to have a familiar face.”
“Same,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Sometimes, I forget just how many demigods are out there.”
“I know it seems like a lot, but it always seems to be too few when it comes to the monsters,” I said, not bothering to hide the solemn tone in my voice.
“Especially with the recent surge of them,” Temperance said with a gulp.
There was a bit of a stretch as we walked to the barracks where neither one of us said anything. In order to keep some of the discomforting feelings at bay, I searched for another topic of conversation.
“How are you and… uh…” I struggled to remember the name of her boyfriend.
“Charlie?” she supplied with a smile.
“Yeah, Charlie,” I said, acting as if I had known his name all along.
“We’re good,” she said, unable to hide the spreading smile. “He’s stationed somewhere in the south, fighting some sea monster.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I said, meaning every word.
“Yeah, thanks,” Temperance replied with a shrug. “I’m jealous of you, though. You at least know where Cheyenne is right now.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” I said, feeling slightly guilty.
“If you ever want to…” Temperance started, but then her voice trailed off. We paused right before we entered the barracks, and the Fotia soldier bit her thumbnail nervously.
“If I ever want to what?” I prompted, curious by her sudden change in demeanor.
“Let’s just say that if you ever want to talk to Cheyenne, and not in a letter that the Officials are sure to read, just let me know.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, and before I had a chance to ask any questions, Temperance rushed into the barracks.
My mouth opened and closed for a bit, wanting to know more about that strange but kind offer from my comrade. However, it seemed like she didn’t want to talk about it. So wordlessly, I followed my comrade into the barracks.
There were a dozen bunk beds in two rows, parallel to one another. They were rickety, iron things with flat, thin mattresses resting atop them. The blankets were thick but looked poorly made and worn. Each bunk had a lantern hanging off the end of it. Only two were lit, and the soldiers in the barracks huddled around them both, stationed at the dead center of the tent.
When Temperance and I entered, the room suddenly dipped into silence. I could tell right away that our arrival interrupted something important and rather tense.
There were six soldiers in the room, five men and one woman. Two of the men immediately shot to their feet and turned towards us, clearly blocking something. I only got a glimpse of a crate on the floor between the two beds with some papers on it, held down by small gray stones. But what was on the papers themselves, I couldn’t decipher the specifics.
Temperance and I froze in the doorway. The six soldiers stared us down with serious expressions. The two men blocking our view from the others appeared to be twins, or at least related to one another. They were of the same bulky build and had the same black hair, with matching widow's peaks, giving their faces a bird-like quality.
“Hello,” I said in an attempt to break the tension. “We’ve just arrived and were told to pick available bunks. Could you point to the ones that aren’t occupied?”
As much as I wanted to ask about their secretive behavior, I knew it was better to change the subject rather than to pry. While it could have been a covert assignment from Officer Quinton, trained soldiers such as these wouldn’t be so foolish as to have them out in the open like this. So I kept my mouth shut and acted
like we saw nothing.
Temperance followed my lead and shot our Fotia soldiers a smile as she flipped back her head of black braids. “Dibs on the bottom bunk.”
“This one’s available,” one of the twins said, his voice tight. He pointed to the bottom bunk closest to the tent flap. That made sense considering I knew it to be the coldest bed of the bunch.
Nevertheless, Temperance kept up her smile. “Thanks.” She set her stuff down on it and began to unpack, putting her supplies in the trunk at the end of her bed.
“Got another one?” I asked innocently.
The other twin looked over his shoulder. “It’s back here on the other side of the barracks.”
“Oh,” I said. There was a pause as I waited for one of the soldiers to move so I could get past. When everyone held their positions, I widened my stance and shifted my weight. “Am I going to have to fight my way through or what?”
“We’ll be done in a minute,” the first twin announced. “You can set your stuff down on my bunk until then.”
“I’d like to get to my bunk now,” I protested, keeping my tone flat.
“You can wait,” the second twin said as he took a step forward. I didn’t move, refusing to show any sort of weakness.
“What is this?” I asked as I raised an eyebrow. “Is there, like, some new rule about harassing new soldiers or something?”
As I spoke, I saw both twins clench their jaws. Their fingers curled into fists, the size of t-bone steaks. Even their companions behind them stiffened in defense.
Something I’d said clearly triggered them. I didn’t know whether or not to be glad or more concerned. This was one of the weirdest greetings I had ever gotten when coming to a new barracks. Usually, the barrack was the one safe space where soldiers could shoot the shit, relax, and find solace from the hard day. But there was no solace to be found here. Not a single ounce.
There was a rush of cold behind me as someone else entered the tent. I hated looking away from the stubborn soldiers, but when the person called out my name, I had no choice.
“Ansel Ballas?” the soldier asked as he held out a letter in his hand.
“That’s me,” I replied. “Is that the message sent ahead of me?”
“Yeah,” the soldier said. She was a petite woman with two long blond braids swinging down past her Nero sash. “Here you go.”
She handed over the letter which was nothing special save for a half sheet of paper folded in half with a note scrawled on the inside. I opened it and nearly fell over right there.
I had gotten a letter like this once before in my life. But only once, ever. I recognized the handwriting instantly. It wasn’t anything fancy. Just a simple cursive though it always looked as though he typed it out on a computer. The font was tiny, barely legible. Still, I deciphered the message which only worsened my mood.
Meet me within the hour down by where you dropped off the pegasus. I have something that will help you.
I grunted and folded the note back over again. While I seriously doubted the second sentence, I knew very well that he would be pissed if I didn’t adhere to the scheduled meeting time, despite the fact it was vague as hell. I removed my packs and set them down by Temperance’s trunk.
“Watch my stuff, will you?” I asked with a pointed look. “I have to meet someone.”
“Sure thing,” Temperance said while giving me a once over. “You okay?”
“No, but this is just one of those things I have to do,” I said with a shrug. I adjusted my sash and didn’t give our hostile bunkmates a passing glance as I walked out of the tent.
I knew I should have asked permission to leave the base. It was the proper thing to do. But if I did that, then I would have to explain the note and why I needed to leave. Which also meant mentioning who I had to go and meet, which was the last thing I wanted to do.
So I kept my posture casual and my steps measured as I made my way back down the hill. Luckily, most of the soldiers were still posted in their positions, though I knew there would be a change in shifts soon. That would mean more soldiers coming and going before things settled again. If I wanted to lessen my chances of being seen, then I needed to go now.
The second I crested over the hill and out of sight of the base, I picked up the pace. As a child of Apollo, I wasn’t a fan of the cold and the snow. I knew how to trek across it and fight in it, but it wasn’t my favorite kind of terrain.
I must have been moving too fast because I lost my footing as I descended. My boot slipped on a slick patch of ice, and I landed right on my rear. The momentum took me down the hill, sliding as though I were on a makeshift sled.
Somehow, my legs got out from in front of me, and I tumbled, head over heel down the bottom of the hill. I landed with an oof and a smack. Snow blasted up around me and then flitted down as though from the clouds.
I closed my eyes and assessed my body, hoping I hadn’t broken anything. When I figured that the only thing bruised was my ego, I reopened my eyes to one of the most unpleasant sights in the universe.
My features immediately warped into a grimace. My eyes narrowed on the figure hovering over me, who was openly laughing.
“Hi, Dad,” I grumbled. “Good to see you too.”
13
It was official. Drama class sucked balls.
Not only was I struggling with being anywhere near Horace, but I couldn’t stand the actual work. I was used to creativity in the forge where I got to make weapons and play with fire. But this kind of creativity in my body and with my emotions was completely foreign to me.
Plus, I wasn’t as quick as the other students. Oliver would force us to do these improv scenes, which meant that we had to make everything up on the spot. I didn’t even know this kind of theatre existed. I thought everything had a script, words already written for you. Not only was I expected to act, but now I had to write on the spot too?
The whole thing was absurd, and I hated every second of it.
However, each class I attended meant another session with the nymphs. It was an even trade. But the results were pretty much the same in both lessons. I was an utter failure at drama class, weaving, and wood carving.
While I set fewer things on fire, I managed to create a huge knot in the spinning wheel that put it out of commission for a week. Pomona had to take the whole thing apart before she was able to find the source of the break. It was like the worst copier jam that I’d ever seen as she pulled out a rat's nest of yarn that wove its way between the wheel and the spindle.
Wood carving wasn’t much better. I managed to get a better handle on the knife, but I couldn’t manage to even out my strokes. And I sliced through my fingers more than once, which always resulted in a sigh from Iynx as she yanked my hand into her lap and healed me so I could start over.
I had survived Tartarus. I’d fought beasts three times my size. I’d handled dangerous materials every single day in the forge. But none of those compared to the torture of these mundane tasks and the absurdity of drama class.
That didn’t stop me from trying, though. And, not that would admit this to anyone, there were some brief moments of amusement in drama class. I found myself laughing more at some of the improv scenes, keeping my smiles behind my hand. While I didn’t do a very good job of making the other students laugh, I got better at crafting a story and keeping the scene going. Even though I didn’t enjoy it as much as the others, it felt good that I was making some improvements.
Learning the trades with the nymphs was a little different, considering I kept making things catch fire unexpectedly. However, I started using something I rarely used: fireproof gloves. I borrowed them from the forge, and while they made my fingers feel large and clunky, I stopped setting the materials on fire, so that was an improvement. I used my connection with metal to start manipulating the knife in midair instead of using my hands with the gloves, and that helped. It was slow going, but I appreciated the identifiable marks of improvement.
A few weeks into dr
ama class, Oliver finally started the dreaded scene work he spoke about when he first pitched the class to me.
“These are your sides,” Oliver said as he walked around the room and handed out pieces of paper. “Your partner’s name is written at the top. Normally, I would have you split off into your groups and read the scenes together, but I want to throw you into the action today. I want to see what comes out of you naturally. So you’re going to get right up in front of the class and perform the scene cold.”
My eyebrows shot up into my hairline. “We have to perform these? Like, right now?”
“I don’t expect it to be perfect,” Oliver said as if that had been my main concern. “It’s supposed to be raw, unrehearsed. We will experiment and refine it later.”
“I…” I started to protest, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words. The son of Dionysis just thrust the paper into my hand, and I let it fall like a large snowflake in my lap.
I had just gotten used to the weird spontaneous exercises. But now he was giving me a script, and I had to act… in front of everyone.
Give me a chimera any day. This shit was awful.
I resigned myself to the fact that I needed as much time with the nymphs as possible, so I glanced down at the packet of papers in my hand. At the top of the page, it read Scene Partner: Horace in Oliver’s cursive handwriting.
Even though I knew this was coming, as Oliver had told Horace and me that he paired us together, I still felt like someone had socked me in the stomach.
I had been doing a decent job avoiding Horace since that first day, choosing to sit away from him on the classroom floor, leaving first, so he didn’t have a chance to talk to me. But it was as though Oliver could sense my repulsion to the soldier. He constantly paired us up in the improv scenes or put us together in the warm-up exercises.
“It’s because you are the tallest in the group,” he said by way of an excuse when I dared to ask for a different partner. “Your bodies work well together.”