The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm (22 page)

A pudgy badger waddled across his path, stopped to look at him lazily and meandered on. Gordie passed a bush that looked like a giant, radiantly blue fern, and stopped to feel its leaves, which had a texture like silk. In the heart of this wondrous plant was a white flower large enough to hold four flittering hummingbirds that were drinking from its nectar. The smallest member of this feast shot up at Gordie’s face, making him recoil, but the little bird just hovered in front of him, inspecting him. Across its eyes was a purple band, almost like a miniature Lone Ranger mask. Its wings were blurs of brilliant gold and emerald swirling together with the speed of their flapping, and its chest the electric orange of Tang.  After a minute of surveillance, it decided Gordie was uninteresting and flew back to its lunch.

Gordie marched on, becoming increasingly amazed by the undiscovered species in his path. A jackalope hopped past: a fluffy brown bunny with a rack of antlers three times the size of its body. A small koala-like creature—which mostly resembled the marsupial, save for the fact that it appeared to be made out of wood—munched on the leaves branching from its own arm while sitting on a log made of the same mahogany wood as its hide.

As Gordie walked under the canopy of a tree that had the umbrella of an acacia with the fronds of a palm, something cracked him on top of his head.

“Ow!” He rubbed his dome and looked up into the branches to see two-tailed monkeys of every shade of the rainbow tossing pink walnuts at him, cackling as they went. Gordie snatched one of the phosphorescent seeds out of the air and ran out of harm’s way. He opened his hand to inspect it when he was at a safe distance, and it started to tremble. Two little wings burst out of it and it flew back into the tree from whence it was hurled. “Must be a girl Snitch,” Gordie hypothesized before he carried on.

He had walked long enough that his clothes were almost completely dry, baked by the afternoon sun. As he walked past a cherry-red Douglas fir, he heard a clomping noise behind him. He wheeled around to see if he was being followed, hoping to find Chiron, but he was disappointed. When he turned back to follow his original path he was confronted by an uncomfortably close face.

“AAHH!” they both screamed in unison before the adolescent horned-boy jumped into the air and kicked Gordie square in the chest with both hooves.

Gordie went flying backwards, landing on his back with a thud, and clutching at his sternum, which was searing with pain, in addition to the horrible sensation of having the wind knocked out of him.

Gasping for breath and eyes bulging out of his head, a curious visage popped into view above Gordie as he writhed on his back. His attacker looked down on him with concern, and Gordie realized with pain-addled fascination that his initial assessment of him was true: he
did
have little horns poking out of his forehead beneath his dun colored curls, which matched the hair covering his shaggy, hooved legs.

He was a satyr: half goat, half boy. A bacchanal and a cavorter with centaurs. Outside of Chiron—who was the exception to the rule—centaurs were legendarily rowdy creatures known for excessive drinking and extreme misogyny, activities in which the satyrs often participated.

His brown eyes peered down at Gordie, but he hopped back, startled as the human began to sit up. He looked rather defensive, and Gordie was afraid of receiving another donkey-kick, so he held out his hand. “Wait,” he said. “It’s okay, just take it easy.”

He rose to his feet, but kept his distance. He reached into one of his cargo pockets, which made the satyr flinch again into a combative position, but he pulled out a date and offered it to him. The young satyr made a gesture with his hand as if to say ‘toss it over,’ like they were negotiating a hostage situation.

Gordie tossed him the fruit and he snatched it, popping it into his mouth with the greedy satisfaction that children exhibit on Christmas morning, which was fitting because he looked no older than ten. Despite the satyr’s youth, Gordie still had a yearning to beat him down for the throbbing in his chest, but he decided to pursue diplomacy instead by introducing himself in the same manner as he did with the water nymph.

“My name is Gordie,” he said with his hand on his aching breast. “Gordie.” He patted his chest again. “What’s your name?” He was not confident this time that his attempt at courtesy would be met with understanding. The nymph had understood him, but Gordie did not read nor speak Greek. He was pleasantly surprised however, that he received a spoken response this time.

“Laktizon,” the satyr said, mimicking Gordie’s hand-on-chest identifying movement.

“Laktizon,” Gordie parroted, pointing at him. The satyr smiled, nodded his head emphatically, and started hopping up and down.

“Laktizon! Laktizon!” he chirped. His jubilation was endearing and infectious. Gordie smiled and repeated his name again.

“Can you help me find figs?” Gordie asked, and his excitement melted as Laktizon looked at him confusedly. “Figs,” Gordie repeated. To his right there was a cactus nestled in a patch of sand. He walked over and tried to draw a picture of a fig in the grains.

Laktizon waddled over and looked at the sketch with no apparent comprehension. Gordie pulled out a date and pointed to it. “Like this,” he said, pointing back and forth between the two.

Laktizon inspected it for a second until enlightenment shone brightly on his face. He hopped up and down again before running off deeper into the glade, beckoning Gordie to follow. Gordie broke into a sprint to keep up with the agile goat-legs. The little satyr did not seem to grasp the fact that he was much faster than his pursuer. Gordie was panting within seconds as he fell farther and farther behind.

Just when Gordie thought he was going to lose him for good, Laktizon stopped next to a big bushy tree. Gordie slowed to a jog and caught up with him in a few seconds before he doubled over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. The searing pain in his chest was not only a result of the sprinting, but an after-effect of his bruised ribs, and another twinge of annoyance towards this little creature skirted through his mind. Laktizon pointed at the tree excitedly where Gordie saw clumps of little purple fruits hanging off the branches.

“Wow, there are hundreds of ‘em!” Gordie gasped at the bounty.

He plucked one and took a bite to confirm that it was the sweet nectar he had been seeking. The juicy deliciousness burst in his mouth, making him smile widely in relief. Laktizon copied him, returning his smile as he partook in the scrumptious delights. Gordie snatched a couple bunches of the figs and filled his already strained pockets to the brim.

There was now an early-evening orange glow in the mystical jungle. Gordie looked around with fascination as he noticed the plants seemed to change color with the fading sun. Green leaves darkened, their veins pulsating blues, reds, and purples. A band of creatures, which sounded simian in nature, chattered in a grove of yew trees, but they were hidden in the dense foliage of the boughs. It was more than a cackling debate—it sounded as though they were speaking some unknown language. Gordie noticed his hairy-legged friend observing him out of the corner of his eye and he turned back to him, feeling uncomfortable.

“Well, I guess I should go now,” he said. “Thanks for the help.”

Gordie turned to hike back to the river when his face met a great, round, sweaty, squishy belly. He bounced off the abdomen like a trampoline and fell onto his backside, completely caught off guard. Gordie looked up to take in the mass of his confronter—eyeing with revulsion the black hole of a belly button that had nearly swallowed him—and was astounded to see that this new arrival was nearly as tall as Chiron, which was impressive because his hairy goat-legs were naturally bent at the backwards-knee. The new satyr’s enormous girth did not only portray a tremendous appetite—his broad chest and titanic arms exuded power, reinforced by the look of stern authority on his full-moon-sized face. Like his kinsman, the horns on his forehead were proportionally small, but due to his great size, each protrusion was a good six inches in length with a menacing curve that made Gordie wonder if they had ever been used to eviscerate someone.

The great satyr leaned over to observe Gordie more closely as he cowered under him. The top of his head was bald, his curly locks wrapping around the sides—a look that was even more comical because of his horns. But Gordie was not in a laughing mood. He was blatantly aware of his mortal strength on this day, and prayed the satyr was not hostile, though his gaze suggested otherwise. What was most intimidating about this character, however, was the club he was wielding.

In one of his massive hands he was holding a knotted club that was as long as Gordie was tall. It was a weapon worthy of his legendary ancestor. He had no doubt that this satyr could shatter every bone in his body with one swing if he chose to do so, and he started scooting backwards like a crab in silent fear.

“Halt.” Gordie froze at the undeniable tyranny of his command—not shouted, just spoken, but still possessing absolute supremacy. “Why are you here, human?” His voice was slow and controlled, but Gordie sensed anger beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry. I just came to get some fruits, but I’m leaving now, I promise.” He was hopeful that this would be an option, but was disappointed.

“You believe you can simply harvest my food and leave?” He chuckled humorlessly. “How did you come to this place? Speak quickly for I grow weary.” His eyes narrowed as he slapped his club into his free hand.

“I don’t know,” Gordie began spurting words, “I was just in the forest and I met a naiad and she brought me here! Chiron just told me to get some fruit! I didn’t try to come here!” The panic in Gordie’s voice was clear to himself, and he guessed the satyr sensed it too. He hoped the behemoth didn’t thrive on fear.

“Chiron sent you? So he has returned,” he added ponderously. “That must make you one of his heroes, then. You smell like a mortal, though, and you quiver like one too.”

“I- I’m not a hero, I just . . . well, I guess technically I might . . . I don’t really know. But I’m in training!”

“Well, let us see how well trained you are.” He raised his club above his head, preparing to pound Gordie into oblivion.

Gordie’s eyes flung open wide as he started to scramble backwards before Laktizon hopped in front of him with his hands raised above his head.

“Pauou, Pater!” he shouted in a squeaky little voice. Gordie didn’t know what the words meant, but it had halted both his would-be attacker and himself in place.

A gentleness that he would not have thought possible slid across the large satyr’s face as he lowered his weapon. He patted the young goat-boy on the head with a massive hand and turned his attention back on Gordie.

“It seems you have befriended my son.” His voice was calm, but still not devoid of anger. Gordie exchanged looks with Laktizon, hoping he understood his gratitude through the look of bewilderment. “You may leave this place, but go at once and do not return. Tell Chiron not to send his puppets here again. I shall not be so forgiving next time. Come, Laktizon.” He guided his child by the arm through a grove of trees, and the young boy looked over his shoulder at Gordie sadly.

Gordie was still shaking from the encounter as they disappeared into the leaves, and although he was pleased with their departure, he now feared this darkening forest when facing it on his own. The cackling monkeys having their evening war council were no longer intriguing but threatening and frightful.

Gordie rose to his shaky feet and looked around. For the first time since arriving here, he was aware that he had left his bat sitting on the banks of the stream before the naiad took him. Not only was he afraid to wander back through this wood without protection, but he was doubly afraid that the bat may be gone if and when he returned.

Gordie broke into a slow jog, leery of the strange shapes in the twilight, but desperately wanting to return to the normal forest. His only thought was to get back to the river, hoping that the naiad would be waiting for him there; if not, he had no idea what he would do—most likely panic.

A turtle with a stained-glass shell watched Gordie lazily as he hurried past. A family of raccoons with azure stripes and masks sat in a half-circle, passing fruits back and forth. They looked up from their dinner party as he dashed by.

Two flaming-pink hummingbirds flittered next to his head like they were escorting him, but then they flew past him, weaving in between one another like an aerial stunt show. Their twirling synchronization was so fast and precise it appeared as though a strand of DNA was leading Gordie onward. Amazed by this show, he was momentarily relieved from his frenzy, until they both shot off like bullets in opposite directions—one flying into the shrubbery to his right, the other blazing past a line of birches to his left, its pink trail only visible when it streaked past the snow-white bark of the trees. Coming to his senses, Gordie realized that he had stopped to spectate. He shook his head and broke into a jog again.

After running for twenty minutes his breaths became ragged and he slowed to a reluctant walk. The plants and animals here were more recognizable, giving him a sense of hope that he was nearing the river and the known-world. After five minutes of walking he had recovered enough to speed up again.

The last rays of rainbow-hued sunlight faded into darkness, and the sky started to display the twinkling cosmos above. Gordie’s fear grew with the approaching gloom, giving him flashbacks of the oppressively dark tunnel he had recently escaped.