CHAPTER ONE-HUNDRED TWO
Reunions, Part 1
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“What is that?” Sam asked.
He’d opened the bronze chest only to discover it was empty except for the dirty white crystal shard at the bottom of it. He picked up this shard which fit snugly into his palm and recalled the final half of the clue that had been etched on the surface of the Norn Coin in Medea’s possession.
Yet to open its bright Gates one requires the keys
Found in the Tribulation hidden among the trees
“This is the key?” he wondered skeptically.
“It’s a sunstone,” Chiron answered.
The centaur had appeared behind him as if by magic because he didn’t think the centaur’s bottom half could scale up the tower as he had.
“How’d you get up here?” Sam asked, his eyebrow arching.
“I’m nimble,” the centaur chuckled.
The invisible crowd laughed along with him.
“The show’s still not over?” Sam asked.
“Never mind them,” Chiron said as he pointed to the shard in Sam’s hand. “Do you know what a sunstone is used for?”
Sam glanced down to inspect the shard in his hand. The crystal was about a foot and a half in size and was transparent enough that Sam could just barely see his palm on the other side of it. He wracked his brain for any information he might have gleaned about sunstones from past lessons or sermons but eventually admitted to Chiron that he didn’t have a clue.
Chiron whinnied. “You’re too focused on the Olympian myths, kid.”
“Um, well, I am on their team…so I kind of have to study them more,” he reminded his master.
“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take the time to learn about other cultures and pantheons, lame-brain,” Chiron countered.
He plucked the sunstone from Sam’s hand and raised it to the sky. But, apart from catching the light on its surface, the sunstone hadn’t done anything spectacular. It was a fact Sam happily pointed out to Chiron after a few seconds of waiting.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Chiron said, shaking his head afterward.
He tossed the sunstone back into Sam’s hand.
“Do you know what the Norse Vikings were most famous for?” Chiron asked.
“Raping and pillaging,” Sam replied quickly. “Wanton death and destruction, too.”
Chiron raised a thick eyebrow at Sam. “Well, how’d they get to pillaging and destruction, wise guy?”
Sam frowned. He thought about it for a half minute.
“They, um, sailed the seas to get there?”
“That’s right. The Vikings were famous seamen… almost like they had just a bit of Atlantean blood in their veins.”
“Atlantis isn’t real.”
“Atlantis is very real, lame-brain… It’s just lost. Not fiction.”
“Seriously?”
While he gave his master a skeptical look, Chiron’s expression was one of utter surprise at Sam’s ignorance.
“Yes, it’s real. Didn’t you learn anything at the temple?”
At that, Sam couldn’t help but shrug. “Temple sermons are all about making excuses for why the gods can’t be bothered with us mortals.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Chiron neighed.
The sudden rumbling of the heavens forced the pair of them to send nervous glances up at an afternoon sky that was currently devoid of clouds.
“Well, ah”—Chiron cleared his throat—“as I was saying, the Vikings were capable seafarers who used their longboats to get from Norway and Sweden to other lands across Europe—”
“To pillage, rape, and destroy stuff,” Sam chimed in.
“Yeah, sure, to do all of that stuff and more…” Chiron emphasized that last bit. “But did you ever wonder how they sailed the open seas in an age where conventional navigational tools hadn’t been invented yet?”
Sam wanted to say, “They were probably guided by their gods,” but he didn’t think Chiron would accept that answer. Luckily, he remembered what his master had done with the sunstone earlier, and so his actual answer sounded less ridiculous to his ears. “They used the sun to navigate like the ancient Egyptians did?”
“Well, yes and no… Their geographical location compared to the Egyptians would have made it harder to navigate by star charts,” Chiron explained.
“They’d have more storm clouds in the north Atlantic,” Sam realized.
“Exactly.” The centaur crossed his arms over his chest. “So how do you think they’d navigate on a cloudy day?”
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“Um,” Sam glanced down at the sunstone in his hand, “they used this?”
Chiron tapped his finger against the sunstone’s surface. “That’s right.”
“But how?” Sam asked.
“You’ll figure it out when the time comes,” Chiron answered. “And if you don’t, well, you’ve got smart people on your journey with you so it shouldn’t be too hard to discover the answer.”
Sam wanted to complain that now was not the time to be vague, but he was stopped by the nearby explosion that disrupted the relative silence of the surrounding forest. It was quickly followed by a plume of black smoke rising above the tree line on the right of the Tribulator.
“Chiron—”
“Don’t mind it for now…” Chiron grabbed Sam by the shoulders to keep Sam’s focus fixed on him. “We’ve got more to discuss and not a lot of time for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You need to know why Chimera’s also after the Golden Fleece…”
Chiron had a utility belt like Sam’s strapped around his waist. He plucked a scroll out of one of its pouches and then handed it to Sam.
Sam unfurled the scroll, and his eyes widened at its content. “Styx…”
It was an ancient Greek-style sketch of a muscular man wielding a bow while surrounded by a group of…
“…Gigantes,” Sam breathed.
He’d seen this exact image scrawled on the wall of the hidden room in Maeve’s bedroom.
“This is Gigantomachia,” Sam guessed.
With this remembrance came another; a great prophecy that seemed even now to be slowly moving toward becoming a very possible and terrifying future.
A shadow’s curse rises from the earth, immortal in the land of its birth.
The great horrors it shall awaken, to snuff the source of all creation.
Even Death shall lose its hold on life, and a hero’s choice might end in strife
But if a healing hand gathers the blessed, to roam the world and finish the quest
Champions might rise to answer the call or to fear and pain mankind shall fall
Sam glanced warily into Chiron’s expectant face.
“But…why is this important now?” he frowned. “Don’t tell me…”
“It looks like you and Chimera have similar plans for the fleece,” Chiron answered.
“But I just want to heal Thunder!” Sam raised his voice so he could be heard over another explosion that resounded across the forest below—and this one was too close for comfort.
“The Golden Fleece is more than just a relic of vitality. It is a symbol of authority and kingship,” Chiron reminded Sam.
“What does that have to—”
“Think, kid,” Chiron interrupted. “Why would Chimera need a powerful symbol of authority in their hands?”
“Authority…” Sam repeated.
It wasn’t a very big leap. After all, there were only a few reasons why anyone would need a symbol of power and authority.
“To impose their will on someone…or something that won’t like following their orders,” Sam realized.
Chiron gave Sam three slow claps.
“A relic as ancient and powerful as the Golden Fleece has enough juice that whoever wore it could theoretically command even the most ancient of horrors,” Chiron replied in a grave tone.
“Even…” Sam found it hard to say the last word. “…giants?”
Chiron’s silence was answer enough.
“Holy Zeus,” Sam breathed.
He leaned against the bronze chest behind him while he imagined someone like Medea or Apex with the Golden Fleece draped over their shoulders and an army of the worst monsters in existence looming ominously behind them. It was a frightening visual, one that sent a chill snaking up Sam’s back.
“The Golden Fleece will awaken the cleansing fire that will roll over Mother Earth and usher in the twilight of the gods,” Sam repeated Medea’s words.
His fingers tightened on the sunstone in his hand while he repressed another shudder.
“Medea said they wanted to free men from the tyranny of the, um, gods…” Sam sent a wary eye up at the sky,” …not that I agree with her or anything.”
Chiron snorted irritably. “And keep the power for herself and her partners probably.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed, “Do you think Chimera wants to control the ancient giants to kill the gods? Is that even possible?”
“Lesson Number Fifty, kid,” Chiron began, “when you’ve cut out the impossible, whatever’s leftover no matter how unlikely, can only be the truth.”
Sam frowned as he repeated Chiron’s words in his mind. “Dude, you ripped that off Sherlock Holmes, didn’t you?”
“I’m the ancient one here, lame-brain,” Chiron whinnied. “Anything I say is thousands of years before anyone else says it.”
Sam rolled his eyes at his master because he knew Chiron liked to take credit for almost anything good that had happened in the last four thousand years.
“You’re so—”
Another explosion rocked the forest, and this one was within a hundred yards of Chiron’s backyard.
“Seriously, how many traps did you set up?” Sam asked, sounding impressed.
“A lot more than what we’re hearing out loud,” Chiron said in an ominous tone. “Even more the closer you get to my house.”
Sam’s gaze followed the flock of birds streaking out of the forest. “You don’t like guests, do you?”
“What do you think?” Chiron replied.
Two more explosions occurred, each arriving within seconds of each other. Worryingly, a third explosion followed, but this one was in the opposite direction of the first two explosions.
“Styx…” Sam’s fingers reached out for his hammer’s handle. “We’ve got more than one incoming.”
“It’s not what you think, kid.” A grinning Chiron patted Sam gingerly on the shoulder. “The fates just have wicked timing.”
Sam didn’t understand what he meant, but the centaur gave him no further explanation. He seemed too preoccupied with wanting to finish the rest of his explanation before any of the new visitors arrived.
“One last thing,” Chiron began, although he seemed hesitant in continuing, “I know you met the new Pandora…”
Sam wasn’t sure why, but the foreboding feeling that was slowly growing in him at the thought of their unwelcome guests suddenly tightened its grip on his chest after Chiron mentioned Pandora the 8th.
“Do you know the story of Pandora?” Chiron asked, his brow creasing.
“Once every few centuries, a girl is chosen by the priestesses of the gods to take the name and become the guardian of the box the immortals put all their dirty laundry in,” Sam answered.
He recalled the myth from one of the Saturday temple sermons he’d heard, which remembered vividly because it had been his first temple visit since his parents passed away.
“The priestess of Zeus who’d given the sermon claimed that the title of Pandora was a great honor, but…” Sam knew that the burden of Pandora’s Box proved too difficult for most of the Pandoras who came after the original. They couldn’t hack it. It’s why most of them turned to a life of villainy while the few that hadn’t just lost their minds and met tragic ends. “…I’m not sure she knew what she was talking about.”
The vision of a girl in a veil whose eyes cast a familiar teal color appeared in Sam’s mind.
“Chiron…why are you bringing this up now?” Sam asked.
Chiron didn’t respond though. He wouldn’t look Sam in the face either.
“Chiron,” Sam’s voice was insistent now, strained even, “why did you bring Pandora the 8th up?”
Chiron let out a long sigh. “Because you can’t afford distractions right now.”
“Why would a villain distract me?” Sam pressed.
However, no answer would come. Because, at that moment, something big stepped past the tree line on the right of the Tribulator. It was a lion, one so massive it might have rivaled one of Medea’s solar dragons in size.
“Wh-what is that?” Sam gasped.
“That would be the Nemean Lion,” Chiron sighed. “Things are about to get tougher for you, kid.”
The great beast bounded toward the tower. Its golden eyes fixed entirely on Sam.
“Hold on…I’ve seen that murderous look before,” Sam realized, his eyes widening with each second. “Oh, Styx…is that Apex?!”
He wouldn’t get an answer to this question either. Because, while the Nemean Lion raced toward the tower, a second large interloper crashed through the tree line on the left of the Tribulator. A familiar black school bus rocketed onto Chiron’s backyard, and the sight of it lifted Sam’s spirits considerably.
“Yes!” He pumped his fists in the air. “Yes~~s!”