Page 100 of Crown of Olympus
Gasps sounded across the room. Our animals responded in turn: a flap of feathered wings, a canine snarl, a dragon’s growl.
Woah. Half of us gone in one fell swoop.
You will win.Velira spoke in my mind, her conviction leaving no room for doubt.
I had to give it Ares — this was an ingenious way to cut down the competition. It ensured that only the strongest contenders, in hishumbleopinion, remained.
The primals all turned to the gateway as Hephaestus pressed his gigantic hand against the marble frame. The air within it shifted, still invisible but warped.
A wave of heat blasted out, so intense that I was instantly soaked in sweat despite ever setting foot in the legendary forge. The urge to shrug out of my leathers was intense, but I knew better — it would put me at a greater risk of getting burnt.
My eyes flicked towards Caelus’ imposing form.
Burnt in more ways than one.
“It’sone thing to simply create a weapon from metal and flame,” Hephaestus rumbled, standing almost too close to the open fire, “but to craft a weapon that serves you andonly you— you’ll need to give it more than that.”
He seemed thoroughly unaffected by the relentless heat. I, on the other hand, was already a dripping mess, as were most of the other champions. Archimedes, of course being the only exception. He glanced around at us all, his lips twitching up into a smug smirk.
“To forge something as loyal and infamous as Poseidon’s trident or Hades’ helm, you must give the metal part of your blood; part of your power; part of your soul.” The gargantuan god scanned our group slowly. “What that looks like is for you to determine. I will not hold your hand. You will need to choose which weapon best suits your needs and decide how much of yourself to give it.”
Hephaestus paused, his eyes resting heavily on each of us — especially his son.
“I will say this, however: weapons with too little power will obey anyone. But weapons with too much will take what you give it and always demand more. It will consume you until you are spent. And only the Fates know just how much devastation you will wrought before that occurs.”
With a wave of his large, scarred hand, nine workstations materialised in front of the enormous furnace. Each station was fully equipped with a hammer, an anvil, and a wealth of other tools I couldn’t even begin to name. A sheet of parchment with instructions sat at each and one glance confirmed I was undoubtedly in way over my head.
I inhaled deeply and looked upwards, trying to gather my wits as I mapped out a plan.
I would have to learn by observation.
Ignoring the parchment entirely, I kept a close eye on Archimedes. Since he was Hephaestus’ son and apprentice, I was willing to bet he knew his way around a blade — in both forging and wielding.
He approached the eastern wall where stone shelves housed rows upon rows of various metal blocks. They were sorted by colour but cut into all different sizes and shapes.
Archimedes selected a block of bluish-grey metal and took it back to his chosen workbench at the far end of the room.
I picked a slightly smaller block and followed suit. The raw metal was heavier than I expected, almost gritty in texture. But if this was to be my weapon, I would need to get adjust to the weight of it.
I ignored the other seven floundering champions — even my friends — and moved to the empty station next to him.
A static hum at my back and an odd tugging sensation in my chest drove me to look over my shoulder. Caelus had chosen the station beside mine and was also watching Archimedes intently. I smiled to myself, moving slightly sideways, to give him a better view of the blacksmith’s son at work.
When I chanced a second glance, Caelus was already looking right at me. He shot me a small smile and mouthed thanks, then nodded back to Archimedes, who had picked up a set of long handled tongs and gently placed his block of metal into the forge.
Caelus and I mimicked him. Together, we watched the blocks transform — bluish-grey to dark red, then a glowing scarlet. I squinted into the fiery blaze, wiping sweat from my brow as the blocks, at last, turned a bright yellow-orange.
Archimedes removed his block and carefully placed it atop the anvil. I hurried to retrieve mine. The fires were so scorchingly hot they’d easily melt the skin from my bone, so I was careful not to brush up against any part of the stone or flame. Velira had no such fears. She was curled up in front of the open furnace, asleep between mine and Caelus’ stations, snoring softly and wearing flames as her blanket. I stifled a perplexed giggle.
Barring Archimedes’ little red fox, the other bonded animals had remained behind, instinctively knowing a sweltering workshop was no place for their thick hides or flammable feathers.
“Fuck!” Aros swore from further down the line, followed by a metallic clatter.
Caelus huffed a laugh from behind me, coaxing a smile to my lips. His amusement triggered my own, and when I turned to look at him again, I found him already grinning. I bit my lip as my heartbeat stuttered, and if it were at all possible, my cheeks would have reddened further — though they were already hot and slick with sweat thanks to the stifling fire.
“Are you two watching or flirting?” Archimedes chided softly, startling us out of whatever it was we were doing. He peered down his pointed nose and gestured to the hammer in his hand.
“You need to hammer the steel into shape while it’s hot and malleable enough to do so.”
