Forged in Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Protector Book 5) Page 3

  He must’ve been talking about Ares being named after the Greek god of war. But bird of flame? Had to be an old Greek phrase for a phoenix, right?

  “Why were you expecting us?” I asked.

  He arched a brow. “I am a god.”

  I winced slightly. “Right. Yeah. So you know why we’re here?”

  “All the gods know. We have a betting pool going. Will you defeat Drakon? Or the other way around?”

  Oh man. Talk about pressure. “If the gods know that Drakon threatens all the magic in the world, why don’t they do anything about it?”

  Pan looked aghast. “We cannot. Nor would we. This is your fight, meant to occur on Earth, not in our realm. And the gods have heroes for a reason. You are one of those heroes, Phoenix Knight. Do not disappoint us.”

  Yikes. Was I really up to this? Meant to be a hero of the gods, like freakin’ Hercules? Even Hercules hadn’t fought to save all the magic in the world.

  I couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you betting on?”

  “You, for what it’s worth. Though after I saw that dragon…” He frowned. “I may have bet wrong.”

  My heart fell. “You’ve seen Drakon? Here?”

  Pan nodded. “Yesterday. He’s set off for the stone already.”

  Disappointment spread like black oil through my chest. “He’s beaten us, then.”

  I didn’t know where the stone was, exactly. But it wasn’t nearby, and if Drakon was a day ahead of us … We were screwed.

  Pan shrugged. “Possibly, though not necessarily. The stone is protected at the Temple of Athena. But there are two ways to access it. Drakon has taken the slow way.”

  That made no sense. “Why?”

  “It was the only way open to him. The faster way is more dangerous. It requires that the person passing be worthy. He is decidedly not worthy, and the trek would have killed him.”

  Worthiness. There it was again. It had been the point of the trials at the Illuminarium. Now here, again. Even though fate had chosen me to defeat Drakon, I still doubted my worthiness for that. So did the world, it seemed.

  “But the trek will not kill us?” Ares asked.

  Pan shrugged again, a relaxed gesture that he seemed to have perfected. “I’d say you at least have a chance. And should you pass through unharmed, you may even beat Drakon to the stone. But be warned—Athena will not let anyone have it easily. She protects it from all.”

  We just wanted to hide the stone to protect it. Hopefully she’d understand. But first, we had to beat Drakon.

  “We have to leave now,” I said. “Do you have any advice for our passage? Which way to go? What we will face?”

  “I cannot say what you will face, other than the gods themselves and the challenges that they have devised. Your dragon sense will lead you, but you must pass through the realms. Each territory is owned by a god and protected by them.”

  “So, like Hades and the Underworld, you mean?” I asked.

  “Exactly. Magic will allow you to pass through the realms, where the gods may help you or harm you. Perhaps even ignore you. But be wary of my father, Hermes. He is a trickster, and the only god who can go from realm to realm.”

  Don’t get on his bad side.

  Easier said than done. The gods were finicky. And the Greek gods … Well, they were jerks, if their myths were to be believed.

  Pan held his hand out, palm up. Magic swirled around, and a mirror appeared in his palm. He handed it to me. “This is the only thing that I can give you to aid your quest. Drakon will appear in that mirror. It will gradually grow darker as he nears the stone. When lightning strikes behind him, he is there. You must beat him.”

  “Thank you.” I looked into the mirror. The great black shadow dragon swooped through the sky, which was a pale gray behind him.

  We had time. Thank fates. I tucked the mirror into my pocket.

  Pan gestured to his left. “Go that way. Ask your dragon sense to take you the fastest way, regardless of danger. And don’t be afraid to make tributes. They are gods. They like sacrifices.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  He returned to playing his flute, a clear dismissal.

  Ares and I went left, making our way through the forest. I called upon my dragon sense, asking it to take us to the Synnaroe crystal. It tugged, directing us between the trees. The air around us sparked with magic.

  “We’re clearly in another kind of realm,” Ares said.

  “Yes. But it’s weird. It doesn’t feel like your vampire realm.” I could feel the prickly magic in the air—it was almost pleasant, rather than threatening. “It must be from the gods.”

  Birds twittered in the trees around us, and leaves rustled. I’d almost grown comfortable when the air in front of us shimmered darkly.

  I looked at Ares. His gaze was wary as he nodded to the black mist. “We go in there?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed hard. “Whatever god’s realm this is, I bet I’m not going to like it.”

  Ares reached for my hand and squeezed, then dropped it, no doubt so that we could step through ready to fight. We approached, our footsteps light. The black mist was cold and wet against my skin.

  I held my breath, then stepped through.

  The chill disappeared immediately, replaced by molten heat, dry and fierce. All around, flames flickered. There was a blank space in the middle that formed a path. It was dark everywhere, save the bright orange fire.

  I tensed, taking it all in. Slowly, I sucked in a shallow breath.

  Though hot, the air was clean and smoke free. Whew. At least we could breathe.

  “Only one way,” Ares said.

  I nodded, then stepped forward, muscles tensed. The heat grew as we neared the flames. The passage was only about ten feet wide, with walls of fire on either side.

  The sound of clanging metal filled the space, as if a blacksmith were really going to town on his latest project.

  “Hephaestus,” I murmured. “God of fire and metal.”

  “And patron of the arts,” Ares said. “Albeit second to Athena.”

  “I think we should run for it,” I said. “On the count of three.”

  Ares nodded.

  I counted down.

  On three, we ran.

  The heat inside the corridor was blistering—worse than Death Valley and the volcano in the Vampire realm. My lungs burned as we sprinted.

  When the first whip of fire struck out, lashing for my legs, I jumped to avoid it. It struck the air below my feet. Another lick of flame struck for my head. I ducked.

  Ares dodged another branch of flame.

  Shit.

  Quickly, I conjured a metal shield with a leather grip, then tossed it to Ares. “Take this!”

  He grabbed it, using it to deflect a bolt of flame that lashed for his stomach. It collided with the shield, sending a blast of sparks. But not melting the metal, thank fates.

  I conjured my own shield, using it to fend off another jet of orange fire. It slammed against the shield, harder than real fire would have. Enchanted, of course.

  “Faster!” Ares yelled as he darted ahead of me.

  He didn’t leave me behind, just used his position to block the worst of the flames, his shield vibrating with every blow of the fire.

  We sprinted, dodging and deflecting the blasts that whipped out faster and faster. Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes, and my heart thundered like the beat of a thousand drums.

  It felt like we ran for miles.

  Would this ever end?

  By the time we spilled out into a clearing, my lungs felt like they were about to explode. I sucked in the cooler air, propping my hands on my knees.

  “Holy fates,” I panted.

  “That was rough.” Ares wiped at his brow, studying the space around us. “It looks like we’re in a mountain.”

  I straightened. He was right. Though I didn’t recall entering one—the black mist had only been dark, but hadn’t had any structure—this was definitely a
large cavern. It was the size of a football stadium, the stone dark and shiny. Overhead, thousands of sparkling red lights glinted in the rock above. They illuminated the space.

  Ares pointed across the cavern. “There. An exit.”

  I squinted, barely able to make out the hole in the wall. A faint light glowed from it.

  “That way, then.” I stepped forward, muscles wobbly from the run.

  We’d only gone a hundred feet—roughly to the middle of the cavern—when a massive wall of fire burst from the ground. It blocked our passage. Through the flickering flames, I could almost make out the figure of a man—huge and carrying a massive anvil.

  “Hephaestus is on the other side,” I said.

  “I saw.” Ares inspected the flames. “It’s thick. There’s no way through.”

  “I could conjure a flame retardant suit.” But somehow, the idea felt wrong. I spun in a circle, studying my surroundings. “This is a game. There’s a way to cross, but I don’t think it’s by just plowing through. Otherwise, why would Hephaestus be watching us?”

  “He’s a sadistic bastard who wants to watch us burn?”

  “Ha. You have a point—the Greek gods were known for their ruthlessness.” I tapped my chin. “But I don’t think that’s it.”

  “What about that?” Ares pointed to a circular indention in the ground.

  I walked over, realizing that it was an inlaid stone circle, made of a beautiful black obsidian that flickered in the firelight. Tentatively, I touched my toe to it. Nothing happened. So I stood on it.

  A vision flashed in my mind. An image of a woman, laying a small golden statue upon the obsidian slab. I gasped, stumbling back, and the vision faded. “I think we’re meant to make an offering.”

  “That makes sense. Gods are partial to tributes.”

  “What would Hephaestus want, though?”

  Ares frowned. “Well, he’s a metalworker. A creator. Patron of the arts.”

  I grinned. “It’s obvious, then, isn’t it?”

  “You want me to make him something.”

  I recalled the gorgeous statues in his backyard—ones that he’d created with his own hands. “Well, you are a metalsmith and an artist. And you’re fast. I’d say it’s almost too good to be true.”

  He nodded. “It’s worth a try. Can you conjure me some heat resistant gloves? Leather on the inside, with fine chainmail on the outside. And several iron plates? At least two feet by four feet.”

  “On it.” I called upon my magic, letting it flow through me, strong and true.

  Thick gloves appeared in my hand. I passed them off to Ares, and he tugged them on. Then I conjured the metal plates. Three of them appeared at my feet, neatly stacked.

  I stepped back, and Ares got to work. He moved so quickly I could hardly see his individual motions. He was a blur, stooping to pick up a metal plate and then thrusting it into the fire. It glowed as it heated—not molten, but certainly hot enough to become bendable.

  He pulled it free and molded it with his special gloves. Sweat popped out on his skin. Though the metal was now bendable, it was clearly still a difficult task. He worked quickly, his vampire speed and strength making the job possible.

  Finally, he stepped back, revealing a fabulous bird about to take flight.

  “Wow.” I circled the bird, eyeing its broad wings and swooping tail. It was so beautiful that my heart raced. “Is it a phoenix?”

  “It is.”

  “Fit for a god.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of Ares’s mouth. A pleased smile. He went to it, picking it up as if it were made of feathers, then deposited it on the obsidian plate.

  “I hope we read this right,” Ares said.

  “Me too.” I stepped back, inspecting the wall of flame.

  Suddenly, it dropped like a curtain. Hephaestus stood on the other side, anvil propped on his shoulder.

  “Whoa,” I whispered.

  He was easily eight feet tall, with muscles stacked on top of muscles. Even human bodybuilders didn’t look like he did. His face was blunt and broad, handsome in the way of bruisers and hitmen. It was impossible to mistake him as anything other than a Greek god.

  This guy could snap us in half. Even Ares, though I doubted he could catch the vampire.

  Hephaestus stepped forward, limping slightly. It didn’t detract from his deadliness. Up close, he was even taller. His magic hit me like a sack of bricks, feeling like a burning wind and crackling flames beneath my feet.

  I stiffened my stance, and it took everything I had to stay upright.

  He approached the statue, his gaze riveted to the graceful lines of the phoenix as he circled the obsidian slab.

  “It is impressive.” His voice sounded like he spoke through a throat full of gravel.

  “Thank you,” Ares said.

  “You have chosen a worthy offering.” He swung his anvil toward the exit. “You may pass.”

  “Thank you.” I said nothing more. Just snapped my mouth shut and walked for the exit tunnel.

  Ares bowed to Hephaestus and followed.

  The back of my neck tingled as we walked. We were being watched. No question.

  Finally, I reached the exit, a tunnel with light gleaming at the other end. I risked one look back at Hephaestus. He had one eye on us and one on his statue. I swallowed hard and turned back, hurrying through the tunnel.

  “I think that did it,” I whispered.

  “I think you’re—”

  The rock around us creaked and groaned—two sounds that rocks should never make. Then a big chunk of the ceiling fell, crashing to the ground.

  “Run!” I sprinted.

  Ares followed.

  Rocks fell all around us. The tunnel was collapsing. I dodged boulders and leapt over debris, glancing behind me briefly to see that the tunnel was gone behind us. Rocks fell in greater numbers at our backs, closing off that direction.

  I sprinted harder, lungs burning, desperate to outrace the falling stones.

  Damned tricky gods.

  The ground vibrated with every falling boulder, shaking my bones. Light glowed at the exit, growing larger as we neared. A beacon of hope.

  We spilled out onto the forest floor as the tunnel collapsed entirely behind us. Dust billowed out, choking me.

  I rolled onto my back, gasping.

  “You all right?” Ares asked.

  “Yeah.” I conjured a bottle of water and gulped, then handed it over to him. I lay on my back, staring at the canopy overhead.

  Ares drank.

  “Hephaestus is a jerk.” Had the god done that just for kicks?

  “Agreed.” He turned to me. He was flat on his back too. “You did good.”

  “So did you.” I leaned over and kissed him. “Great phoenix.”

  “Great job figuring out what we needed to do.” He cupped my face. “You can do this, Nix. I believe in you. I’ve never believed in anything so much in my life.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. “Thanks.”

  I squeezed his hand, then heaved myself up and took in our surroundings. The forest was bright, as if day had come.

  “Shouldn’t it be night?” I asked. “It was nearly dark when we met Pan.”

  “Should be, but I don’t think this place is normal.”

  “Definitely not.” I pulled the mirror from my pocket and looked at Drakon. The sky was slightly darker.

  Shit.

  We needed to hurry. I called on my dragon sense, letting it catch me around the middle and drag me forward.

  I pointed ahead of us. “That way.”

  We set off through the woods, weaving between large trees.

  My hair stood on end. “Feel that?”

  “Like we’re being watched.” He looked around, his eyes alert. “But I hear no footsteps.”

  “Neither do I.” Nor did I see anyone lurking in the trees. It was more a feeling than anything else.

  Soon, we came upon a shore of a glittering blue sea. Fine white sand covered
the beach. Twenty yards down, a large rock sat on the shore.

  “We have to cross.” I looked around for a clue. This seemed too simple. I could just conjure a boat, and we could row across. That seemed pretty easy.

  Too easy.

  Chapter Four

  “Hey!” A voice sounded from down the beach, garbled and strange.

  I turned, spotting the same rock resting on the beach. But it was moving toward us.

  “A giant turtle,” Ares said.

  He was pale green, and at least ten feet across. I’d never seen one so big. His eyes gleamed a brilliant emerald. They stayed glued to us as he moved nearer, his flippers awkward on dry land.

  “A sea turtle,” I said.

  “Points for the lady,” the sea turtle said. “I am Nestor.”

  As he neared, I realized that he looked far too big for his shell. His softer bits positively burst out of the holes. Even his expression looked uncomfortable, like he was wearing a too-small shoe. Up close, the shell itself was beautiful—a shimmering green.

  “What are you doing here?” Nestor demanded.

  “We need to cross the sea,” I said.

  A crafty look entered his eyes. “Do you, now?”

  “Yes. We’re after the stone of Synnaroe. We need to protect it from great evil.”

  “Which would make this a quest!” he crowed.

  “I suppose so, yes.”

  “Then you will need my help,” the turtle said. “You cannot cross the sea of Poseidon in anything other than a material from the sea itself.”

  “Really?” Ares looked skeptically at the sea. “It looks like a regular sea.”

  “Hardly.” Nestor shook his massive head. “But I can help you. And it won’t cost you hardly a thing.”

  “What do you mean?” A rustling sounded from behind me. I turned and looked, but saw nothing in the forest at our backs. I turned back to the turtle.

  “Well, you see, a turtle’s shell can make an excellent boat. If you help me find a newer, larger shell, then I will give you my old one, and you can ride across the sea in it.”

  “Turtles don’t change their shells. Hermit crabs, yes. Not turtles.”

  “You’re in the land of the gods, sugar. You really think turtles follow earthly rules here?”

  Sugar? Was this turtle watching TV from the 80s? “You have a point. But it’s round. I’ve never seen a round boat. How do we steer?”