The Son of Storms 23

“Lancaster is destroyed…once again,” Hermes muttered, walking ahead of his brothers as they moved towards the city, clad in simple mortal clothing. Well, simple for him and Ares at least, he thought wryly, glancing at Apollo. The God of Sun and healing had gone with a beach shirt and shorts, sunglasses on his eyes as his blonde locks waved along with the wind. “One would think you would be sated after fooling around with those nymphs Apollo.”

“We are Gods, Hermes,” came the dry reply as Apollo lowered his glasses for a moment, giving him a disbelieving look, “Or are you so low on stamina and vigor? Now I feel shame in being associated with you by any means. But no, I am not interested in any mortal woman right now.”

Ares just snorted at that, showing what he thought of Apollo's words, but yet, if Apollo had said he wasn’t interested in some mortal woman, then he wasn’t. It was as simple as that.

He was the God of Truth after all…and one couldn’t betray, or go against their own domains, owing to one of the fundamental laws set in the cosmos by Ananke. That is why he couldn’t refuse any traveler his aid, and neither could Ares ignore war and battles.

“Now where is our little brother, it has been ages since I last saw him, “Apollo continued, and his eyes instantly turned to their right. “Ah, there he is.”

The said brother was walking towards them, Carlos’ amputated hand in his grip, and Hermes’ eyes narrowed as he saw the black dagger clasped in the fingers. While Harry might not have felt it at all, to his divine senses, and his domain of Travellers, the dagger felt like a…a malicious, hungering, evil void. He could feel the divine magic upon it, meant to breach dimensions, as well as the power laid into its blade, capable of carving through space and time as easily as a sword might cut a babe.

“Lord Hermes, Lord Apollo, Lord Ares,” the boy stopped in his place, his eyes flitting between the three Olympians before him, and the next moment, he dropped to his knees in the standard pose of fealty and worship, the hand that was holding Carlos’ arm raising it towards them like an offering. “The Dagger, as ordered. However, I beg your forgiveness, and another chance, for Carlos has managed to escape due to my own lackings.”

“I saved you from Artemis, healed your body, and gave you the honor of bringing justice to the demigods murdered by Carlos,” Ares growled, striding forwards until he was glaring down at the demigod, his massive arms crossing over his chest as he breathed in deeply, and were it not for the laws that governed them, Hermes would have truly feared that he would strike the boy, “and yet, this is how you perform. Letting the cur run away and escape his punishment. Why did you not use your powers boy? Had you not delayed summoning the winds and the thunder, Carlos might have very well been dead at my feet. Instead, now he is off to regions unknown, with some upstart power helping him out too!”

“I am sor-”

“Oh you are sorry?!” Ares hissed, losing just a tiny bit of control over his monstrous power, and Hermes sighed, shivering for a moment as he once again felt the grisly, brutal nature of a battlefield surrounding him, even as he heard Harry grunt in pain, “What the fuck do you think I am to do of your sorry?! You fucki-”

“Ares,” he spoke up, interrupting his brother’s tirade, and the God of War stopped instantly, the effects of his domain vanishing as he simply turned his neck, a single, blazing orange eye staring at him. “Tis I who changed Harry’s quest, and directed him to prioritize

 the dagger—and that too in your presence. Whatever qualms you have, they are to be sorted with me, not with the poor demigod.”

“Hn, fine,” he grunted out after a moment of silence, as Hermes stared him down, all of them looking at the gasping demigod. “Guess it's your lucky day, Harry Potter. However, do not make the mistake of defying or disappointing me again. The next time you encounter Carlos, you will kill him.”

Walking forward, Apollo hummed and waved his hand, cleaning away all the blood and filth from the demigod, as well as healing hs wounds completely. “There, that looks better, doesn’t it?”

“Thank you, milord,” Harry lowered his head, before looking up at the hand Apollo held out towards him with surprise. His eyes moved towards Apollo’s gentle, assuring ones, he slowly grasped the offered hand, rising up as his brother pulled him to his feet. Looking down at the chopped arm in his right hand, the demigod looked at them all and raised it towards them, his gaze flicking to the black knife. “The dagger… it's not of Olympian make, is it?”

“Hmm, what makes you say that?” the blond-haired god asked, peering down at the at said dagger, raising a single finger to separate the limb and the weapon, his eyes glowing golden as he looked over Carlos’ ripped hand, “Damn. Whatever it was, it was directly converting small amounts of his blood into nectar, to keep on healing him and preventing him from taking damage. A few more minutes, and he would have burnt up from inside out.”

“Well, if it had been of Olympian design, then the Forge God would have known about it, and he would be here too,” came the hesitant answer from the demigod, as he looked at Apollo examining the arm, before his eyes moved toward Ares, “or otherwise, Lord Ares would have known about such a thing being in Carlos’ possession. And whatever the entity helping him was, you would not be talking to me here if you knew what or who they were, and not on Olympus would be unknown to you—at least not someone powerful enough to do this.”

“We may be Gods Harry, but we are not omniscient,” Hermes laughed, waving a hand at the way Harry seemed so sure about what they knew and what they didn’t…though, he guessed the demigod was somewhat right in his deductions this time. Frowning slightly the next moment, the God of Travellers walked forward and raised the dagger to his eye level, piercing past the material with his domain of Travels and Pathways, as he unraveled the magics laid upon the decidedly non-Olympian metal. Waving a hand, Hermes created a small chariot of nothingness, pulled by a couple of horses as he gave Harry a small nod, “But, you seem to be right this time, little brother. Take this chariot back to the camp, it shall vanish on the border.”

“Yes Lord Hermes,” Harry nodded, lowering his head slightly before he got on the chariot, and Hermes felt how he was uncomfortable in the extreme at sitting on a seat before them, his eyes nervously flitting towards Ares, as if the ferocious God might eviscerate him at any moment for daring to sit on their eye level. An eyeblink later, the horses neighed and trotted forwards, before the space around them bent and they simply vanished from view, the remnants of Harry’s surprised shout echoing in the silence of the treeline.

“Well, that was exciting I suppose,” Apollo chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he nodded in the direction the chariot had taken off. “Did you look at his face?! He went all ‘ahhhhh!”

“It was amusing,” Ares agreed with a roll of his eyes, before he glared at the dagger that was floating between them “The brat was right. That’s not Celestial bronze, or Orichalcum or Tantalus. I can recognize and place every weapon ever created on Olympus and its forges, but this…this escapes my domain.”

“A weapon that you don’t recognize?” he raised an eyebrow, his interest, and his worry both rising as he stared at Ares’ disgruntled expression. The God of War wasn’t one to accept his faults, not even if they were thrown in his face. In that regard, Ares took the most after their father, but yet, for the first time in centuries, something had managed to flummox all three of them at the same time, and pride or not, Ares understood the gravity of the situation.

“Could it be the Norse? Or the Celts? No one else has the guts to stand against us—at least, on this side of the planet,” Apollo mused, correcting himself as Hermes shook his head at the thought. While things weren’t exactly friendly between them and the other Pantheons, no one still wanted a skirmish between two Pantheons, let alone something that could escalate into something more disastrous.

“The Allfather has no reason to subvert one of our demigods, and then make him escape after killing two of our own. If he wants something, he has his Valkyries to do it, and that is without counting his sons and servants,” Ares grunted, before looking them both in the eyes and cocking his head. “And the Celtics have always been a quiet bunch. That brat is also studying in their lands, so if they wanted a demigod dead, he would have been the first to get offed.”

“That seems true. Last I heard from Hestia, the Stormbringer had acted as the guide for them in their magical district, while also giving out some free advice to young Harry,” Apollo muttered, looking eastwards, before he sighed and looked in the direction of Olympus. “Maybe Hephaestus will be able to glean more than what you both are capable of. He is the God of Smiths after all.”

“Bah! What will the cripple be able to do that we can’t,” Ares scoffed, crossing his arms as he looked to the side, and Hermes chuckled, all of them remembering the last time the Forge God had humiliated both Ares and Aphrodite…though, he guessed it had nothing on the continued humiliation the God had been facing ever since his own birth.

“The crippled knows every metal on earth, and those that he does not, he can identify and decipher within moments. If there is someone on Olympus besides the Elder Gods who can identify this knife it will be him.”
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“Did you get him?”

“Nah,” Harry shook his head, laying his head on the soft grass as he turned his eyes towards the rising sun, Chiron’s wheelchair coming to a stop a couple of feet to his left. “He had some god helping him out. Even gave him a black dagger that managed to rip open a portal in the forest floor. From what I saw, even the Olympians were unaware of its origins or powers.”

“That sounds worrisome,” the centaur replied, humming as he sipped his can of soda, his eyes flicking to the egg by his side. “It has been about a year since you got that egg, have you felt anything from it?”

“It has wobbled a few times, and I once even felt a small spark of power on its shell, but other than that? Nothing,” Harry rolled his eyes, running a finger over the scaly, bronze surface, giving the egg an irritated look. “I wonder if it's due to the curse Ollivander told me about.”

“Curse?” his mentor asked, and although he couldn’t see his face, Harry could hear the worry clear as day in his voice. Chiron wheeled himself a little closer, and with a groan, he turned his head towards the frowning centaur. “Why have you not yet informed me about this curse?”

“I didn’t really remember about it till now, to be honest,” he shrugged, “but Hestia knew about it, and she didn’t know of any way to remove it, since avians don’t fall under her domain, and it is a magical curse, instead of a divine one."

“You could pray to Arcas, or Periphas,” Chiron mused, explaining more as he saw the quizzical look thrown towards him by Harry. “They hold dominion over birds. Arcas is a demigod by birth, born from Lord Zeus and Callisto’s…coupling. He was the King of Arcadia, and an accomplished hunter. So much so, that Lord Zeus saw fit to grant him godhood, giving him dominion over the birds of prey. Given time and dedication, I am sure they would help you in the removal of the curse, or even outright remove it themselves.”

“Isn’t there something like a no-intrusion policy between the magicals and the divine?” Harry asked, skeptical of the whole idea as he pointed at the egg before them. “If Gods held any sway over magical creatures like Thunderbirds and Phoenixes, for example, then I would have been able to understand the one that attacked me, or even command it. The way it controlled the weather, and the sky around it was similar, yet different than how I do it.”

“‘Tis true,” the old trainer nodded wearily, looking at the rising sun, “The magicals and the divine, despite their numerous similarities, and merging points, don’t really co-exist in the knowledge of each other. They may share the same ecosystem, even the same names, but oftentimes, they are worlds apart at the same time. The sorcerers may pray to the gods, but they don’t live in supplication, in total adherence as the mortals of the old did. They have grown powerful, and despite the patronage of a few Gods that they still do enjoy, sorcerers have drifted apart to form something unique, and of their own make. Similarly, the creatures on your mother’s side of the world may have divine counterparts, but they are as mortal as they come. A chimera might share the same nature, and even the same skin as one bred in The Pit, but it shall never be its equal.”

“I do not know how the change in this energy came to be about, or if it was ever-present in the wizards from the start of their race,” Chiron continued, summoning a flute to his hands as he raised it to his lips, giving him a glance. “But their magic, it has properties not even the Gods can tangle with sometimes. Their power, and the absoluteness of their domain will win eventually, but they can’t control every aspect of magic like they can wield their own divinity and the materials of the world.”

“So…wizards and their magic is somewhat… resistant to the Gods?”

“In essence, I guess you could say that,” the centaur huffed, wondering just how the Son of Zeus had boiled down his explanation, and the metaphysical differences between the divine and the magical to just ‘somewhat resistant’, “Therefore, while the chances of it are less, mayhaps Arcas could help you out.”

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“Harry! Wake up!” a fist banged on his door, and his eyes snapped open, his xiphos appearing in his hand. “We are under attack! It's a fucking army attacking the walls and the palisades! We need you now!”

“Fuck it!” he shouted, jumping to his feet and summoning his wand, his eyes glowing a vibrant blue as the irritation of getting his sleep broken instantly turned into anger, and the clouds above churned with power, lightning flashing through the night as he walked out of the cabin, his eyes snapping towards the column of fire that shot up into the sky from the western border. Jumping off the ground, he raised his sword towards the sky, summoning a great bolt of lightning upon himself, empowering his demigod constitution even more. While he would have loved to just spam electricity on each and every one of these Pit be damned monsters, his power still wasn’t fully back from when he had expended himself against Carlos the day before.

Evidently, Apollo had just healed his physical wounds but left his energy as it had been.

Therefore, it was time for some physical exercise.

Solidifying the air beneath his feet for just a moment, Harry pushed off the makeshift platform like a comet, his eyes finding the largest monsters in the blackened night easily. As if recognizing that fact, a torrent of fire blew up into the air once again, throwing back a couple of campers trying to attack the mechanical, shining Colchis Bulls. “Dammit,” he cursed, landing before the bulls, counting seven of the rampaging at the palisades and trying to push their way in, no doubt attracted to the metals present in the Hephaestus cabin and their forge. Two of the bulls turned towards him, attracted by the lightning sparking up and down his body, as well as the gleaming sword in his hands.

Mouth chomping down upon a spear tip trying to stab out its eyes, the bull simply ate through the celestial bronze, dissolving the metal and absorbing it into its body as if drinking a sip of water.

Oh right. He had forgotten about that

Lord Hephaestus had created the bulls to act as security for his forges, but once in a while, a couple of them were contaminated by the very monsters they were meant to fight. A claw here, a bite there, and the mystical energy that made up the monsters what they were would seep into the mechanical creations. Somehow, the aspect of creation that Hephaestus embodied didn’t differentiate what should be considered as raw material for refurbishment, as it also incorporated those monster-energy attacks into its build, just the same way it consumed metals.

The result was monsterized Colchis Bulls—who were attracted to demigod flesh, the same way the monsters were, to consume the divine energy in their bodies and souls. And like the one in front of him, sometimes they absorbed just more than the essence of the monsters attacking them, Harry thought with a grimace, blocking the venomous shards of metal with a muttered protego.  A wandless banisher later, they rocketed back towards the bull, but owing to its celestial bronze skin, they just fell off harmlessly on the ground, the churned grass sizzling and melting from the dracanae venom.

To his side, Agatha, the chief of Demeter cabin raised her hands, thorny vines sprouting from the ground and wrapping around the Laestrygonians, cutting into their flesh and stopping their movement entirely. With a hoarse shout, she slammed her hands on the ground, and her vines followed suit, dragging down the giant monsters with a violent slam, outright killing a few of them with snaps of twisting necks and broken bones. “Violent,” he grinned taking a step forwards and slashing a lunging hellhound into two, his sword cutting through its face in one go, even as his eyes took the sight of the Ares and Hephaestus campers falling upon the struggling Laestrygonians like ants upon a carcass, slashing and slamming their weapons into the bound youngsters until each was dead. However, his eyes widened as ducked, a fireball shooting over his head and detonating upon the barely standing wooden barrier. Oh right, the Colchis Bulls, he remembered, cursing the small amounts of ADHD that still remained in his brain. “How about you restrain these bulls now too, huh?”

“They burn through the vines,” one of the Demeters grunted out, his sword hacking through a Dracanae, and Harry grunted back in acknowledgment, grabbing the charging bull’s horn and swinging himself into the air, hissing as he saw the green sparks dance upon his skin.

Of course Hephaestus imbued the skin with Greek fire.

But still, from here, he had a better chance of damaging the bull without getting damaged in return, he thought, grasping his sword with both hands, and plunging it through the plates that covered the bull’s neck, the lightning-infused sword cutting through the softer metal on the inside. The living machine bucked underneath him wildly, roaring loudly as a gout of fire erupted off its back, burning through his clothes. However, he gripped his weapon tightly, not letting go in the slightest as he summoned the wind to do his bidding, sending the torrent of flames towards the rest of the monsters, his glowing blue eyes narrowing as he pushed down upon his sword, solidifying the air behind his feet again to get the necessary leverage.

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Abigail panted heavily, but yet, despite the sweat dripping into her eyes and the torn skin on her fingers, her arrows didn’t stop. Glowing bolts of energy and celestial bronze left her bow, piercing through the hide of the Bulls rampaging on the ground below, and before they could consume the metal to replenish the chipped parts, she focused upon the energy coating the arrow shafts, and her arrows exploded with the force of small atomic suns.

As she took a momentary breather, a hoarse shout drew her attention to her right, and she saw Harry stab a bull through its neck, lightning arcing off his body as the bull exploded in vibrant orange flames, only for them to suddenly blow to the side towards the reading monsters, and shrieks of agony echoed in the air as the dracanaes and hellhounds were burned to death.

“Abigail, concentrate on the bulls, blow off their armor again,” Chiron commanded, and she sighed, knocking another arrow and dredging up the last remains of her power, the rest of the Apollo campers who were capable of doing the same standing beside her, all of them weary and tired after the long day, and the equally hellish night this was turning out to be. Below them, the Ares campers had brought down another two of the bulls, Deimos’ spear lodging itself inside the throat of the bull from the side and spearing out of the other, dropping it dead instantly, while Deborah had simply hacked her way through the face of the bull, taking advantage of the disorientation their arrows had caused the monsters.

Most of the campers were gone to their homes for the upcoming school season and thus, they were left with a far smaller force than what they usually had. But still, things were not as bad as they could have gotten, Abigail thought with yet another bull being killed, her brother Peter’s sword sinking into its brain through the ruby that made its right eye, the struggling monster instantly stilling underneath the large amount of vines holding it to the ground.

“Aight, that leaves two!” Brandon, the burly, big son of Hephaestus shouted, picking up his warhammer from the ruins of the Colchis before him, the orichalcum head of the weapon crushing through the bull’s exoskeleton easily, especially with the monstrous strength wielded by the son of Hephaestus. He jumped off the sparking metal carcass, his warhammer already raised above his shoulder as he neared the next Colchis, and a roar of fury smashed it into the bull’s weakened, chipped armor. The celestial bronze warped around the silver, glinting metal and Abigail winced as she saw the savage grin upon the usually mild-mannered Brandon’s face, his eyes glowing orange in the light of the fire that exploded out of the Colchis, splashing harmlessly against his iron-tough skin.

“I wish we got some of that heat resistance,” Robert, one of her older brothers rolled his eyes, absently shooting a dozen arrows in a single second, each one targeting the eyes of the remaining Colchis bulls, temporarily blinding them. The rest of the campers took advantage of it, with Harry jumping upon the last one to once again stab it through the neck, while a couple of Ares campers cut through the exposed softer metal with giant heaves of their broadswords, bringing down the last of the monsters. Sighing loudly, he jumped down the archer tower to the ground, rolling his shoulders as he healed his fingers with a soft golden glow shining off them. “Well, that's a wrap. Alright, everyone who is injured and can walk, move to the hospital. And those who cannot, find some to move your dumb, dead asses!”

“Speaking a lot for someone who got their ass whooped by a hellhound of all things,” Agatha snorted, carrying a couple of campers upon her shoulders, while the rest of the Demeter cabin got back on repairing the destroyed landscape. Snorting at the disgruntled look on Robert’s face, the eldest of Demeter shook her head and ruffled his hair. “Chill out Robby. We all have our bad days…though those are still better than your skills, I must say.”

“Says the girl who can’t grow a fucking flower,” Robert shot back, only to yelp as a thorn shot through the sole of his foot instantly. “Bloody hell, you are a cunt, Agatha!”

“And don’t you forget it,” came the swift reply, as the daughter of Demeter sniffed and walked just a tad faster, however before Abigail could begin to focus on what she said next, a strong arm slung across her shoulders, and she sighed, turning her eyes slightly down to glare at the smugly grinning…mostly naked Son of Zeus.

“And what the fuck do you think you are doing?”

“Well, basking in your radiance, your Sunlyness,” the arrogant son of a bitch grinned, and she yelped as a tiny bolt of electricity lanced off his wagging finger onto her hand, and she grunted as she felt her body freeze for just a moment, Harry leaving her stranded as he continued onwards, “Damn Abigail, aren’t you little slow for a daughter for Apollo?”

“Not everyone is a once-in-a-century freak of nature like you dimwit!” she shouted back, the seizure of her muscles finally passing away, and she kicked a stone at his back, only for him to lean out of the way without even looking. And despite the fact that she was behind him, Abigail knew that the insufferable prick was sporting that damned smirk, “Fuck you, Harry Evans!”

“Maybe when we are older!”