Chapter 22 #2
“Let the flames fire the forge and the hammer reveal.”
Remembering the searing pain, my hand trembles as it reaches out for the hammer. The brand glows, and I close my eyes and brace myself, then pick it up. My knees almost buckle at the searing pain, but I grit my teeth. “Now!”
I hear Gatlin curse a blue streak in the background.
Unlike last time when it was just Hawthorne, the two of them are able to get the flames white in thirty seconds flat. Through the haze of pain, I watch as sweat pours down their faces from the effort and heat.
This is where I have to start winging it. “Gatlin.” He places the gold on top of the anvil. Time to begin.
“Hephaestus, ingenious creator, master of the forge, and god of all artisans. Infuse this gold with your divine power. Help shape it into the most delicate and powerful of scepters, fitting for the Queen of Olympus. My only wish is to finish the quest you gave to me by removing the divine interference. Please hear my plea and shape this metal with the precision only you can wield. Blessings and praise for your true artistry in creating this masterpiece.”
With those words, I strike the anvil as hard as I can with the hammer until it grows cold in my palm. Then I set it down and step back. The fire dies, and all of it slowly disappears into the floor again.
Gatlin rushes over and runs his hands down my arm before picking up my left palm. When he sees it’s not burned, he scowls and mutters something about fucked-up gods. I lay a finger on his lips to quiet him, and he nips at it.
“Now what?” Jamison asks tiredly.
“We wait,” I tell him. “Either he’ll grant my plea, or he won’t.”
He nods and looks over at Hawthorne. “I can’t believe you did that on your own the first time. It’s a wonder you didn’t completely lose your magic.”
I stroll over to Hawthorne and wrap my arm around his waist. “Doing okay?”
He shoves his damp hair back from his face and wraps his arm around me. “Maybe we’ll have our anniversary date at your villa in Italy. After all, that’s where we first…”
I clamp a hand over his mouth. “The gods are always listening.”
My reminder makes his smile fade, and his hand on my waist tightens. Silence descends as we stroll over to the edge of the room and prop ourselves against the wall. Gatlin digs in his backpack and hands out some cheese and crackers, along with a few bottles of water, which we all gulp down.
I look up at the night sky and the stars above and wonder if the gods are looking at us right now. If so, surely they can see the three of them helping me on these quests. How close we are. I slip my hand into Jamison’s and Hawthorne’s and curl my legs closer.
For several hours, we sit on the hard, cold ground until my butt is completely numb, and my body has turned to ice. Sleepy, I lay my head on Jamison’s shoulder.
Jamison runs a hand down my face and swears. He motions to Gatlin. “Find some wood. We need a fire in here, or we’re going to freeze to death.”
Gatlin strides out and returns a few minutes later with half a tree in his large hands. He drops it to the floor and creates a stack for Jamison to light.
Fire erupts from Jamison’s hand, and he raises it high. All of a sudden, a rumbling comes from the center of the floor as it opens, and the anvil rises from its depths. Scrambling to our feet, we hurry forward. The gold is gone and lying in its place is a scepter.
I close my eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Now, we can exchange the scepter for the panel Hera is holding hostage.
As I reach out, I realize Hephaestus crafted Hera’s scepter out of Imperial Gold, not the gold we gave him. It’s extremely rare, can only be forged in sacred temples, and depending on what it’s crafted into, can kill immortals. It’s a scepter and a weapon.
“Is that what I think it is?” Hawthorne asks in a hushed tone, and I subtly dip my chin. He looks over at Gatlin and motions for him to pick it up, but I stop him.
“It won’t hurt me,” I tell him, absently rubbing my wrists. “When they cast me into limbo, the cuffs they threw on me were made of Imperial Gold.”
Hawthorne swears, but I ignore it. The past is long gone. Instead, I reach out and pick up the scepter. Surprisingly, it’s light.
Curious about the design, I carry it into a shaft of moonlight near us to examine it closer.
On the tip of the scepter is a crown. A replica of one I’ve only seen Hera wearing in ancient tombs and images.
Below the crown is a lightning bolt, and below that, the infinity symbol.
Each one delicately crafted and joined together to create an intricate homage to Hera and her power as Queen of Olympus.
Along the sides of the shaft are scenes depicting what I assume is Olympus, but it’s as if Hephaestus crafted the images as part of the gold because the surface is completely smooth to the touch.
I tip it over to look at the bottom and notice a small button on the side.
I press it, and a lethal-looking blade slides out of the scepter, startling me.
That’s terrifying. It truly is a weapon.
I wonder why he made that addition. I press the button again, and the blade disappears.
I turn back to the three of them and see them standing around the anvil, but when I get closer, the anvil disappears into the floor, and they’re already turning toward me.
“Where to next?” Jamison asks, eyeing the scepter in my hand.
“Perachora,” I reply with a tired but triumphant smile. “Wait. No, we need to hit two places. Argos first. Then Perachora.”
There’s not much to the ruins in Perachora, but it’s a beautiful place by the Ionian Sea. Perfect to end this farce of a quest she sent me on, but first I have to complete one task.