Chapter 4

James laughed out loud as he and Mars sparred under the high noon sun. Both wore only exercise shorts; the humidity and heat of the day being overbearing and brutal. Their shirtless torsos were glistening with sweat from the exertion of intense training, but James was clearly enjoying himself. He laughed once again as he easily deflected a strike from Mars. “You’ll have to do better than that!” he exulted tauntingly.

Mars bristled at the remark and his eyes flashed. He drove for-

ward with all his strength, aiming to deliver a forward thrust.

James took it on the shield, but this was what Mars had hoped for. With his flank exposed, Mars brought his blade around and swept a strike at James’s legs. However, quick as a bounding gazelle, James leapt high into the air and crashed into his opponent. As shield met shield with a loud resounding clang, James used the energy to vault over Mars and landed lithely on his feet.

Having been taken completely by surprise, Mars was at a loss.

James swiftly brought the sword of Achilles to rest at the base of Mars’s neck signaling victory once again. He laughed exuberantly. “Got you again.”

Mars dropped his sword in defeat and wiped his sweat-soaked brow. “How the hell did you get out of that one?” the man asked as turned around.

He shrugged. “I saw the rotation of your shoulder and seeing

how you had the advantage . . . I dunno, I guessed.” Mars shook his head dejectedly.

“Don’t feel bad, you’re doing a lot better,” he observed, lifting one

side of his mouth up in a cocky smile.

“You are one dangerous man, James Olympia,” stated Mars.

He chuckled softly. Spotting the young man striding towards them from across the field, he did a double take. “Look out,” James shouted then, “the British are coming! The British are coming!” He threw off his shield and slid the sword into the ground so the he could welcome the newcomer.

Oliver Burton laughed loudly and shook the outstretched hand.

“All right, James?”

“How you doing, man?”

“Well, you?” Oliver asked, eyeing James. “Have you been on ste-

roids?” he asked.

James smiled. “Nope. Good food and lots of exercise does won-

ders.”

By that time Blakeney, Romero, and Eliza had made their way

from across the field having seen Oliver themselves.

“Thank you for coming Oliver,” Blakeney greeted the Brit with

an extended hand.

“Of course, sir,” Oliver replied.

“You know Ms. Romero of course and I believe you’ve met Cap-

tain Roberts, correct?” the older man wanted to know.

Oliver nodded, his light gray eyes meeting each of them in turn.

“Ma’am. Sir.”

Mars stuck out a hand in greeting. “Please, call me Mars.”

“Thank you. I— “

“Alright, alright,” James interrupted the niceties. “Enough with the hellos. I want to see it.” He punched the skinny, pale Brit playfully in the shoulder.

Oliver cocked a brow quizzically.

“Oh, come on.” James rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’re like a freakin’

X-man with the fire thing. Please tell me you practiced?” The British boy sighed.

“Wait, what fire thing?” asked Romero.

Oliver shrugged indifferently. “It’s better to show you than tell you.” He dug into his back pocket and extracted a gold-plated lighter. “I’ve found that it’s much easier to manipulate it then to produce it within me. This way,” he continued as he pressed down on the button which caused a flame to appear, “it doesn’t drain all of my energy.”

With all eyes on the sandy-haired young man, he stared with

great intent at the dancing flame.

Then, Oliver stretched his hand towards the flame and like fire

licking up a dry branch, the gas-produced flame spread onto his outstretched hand. Oliver flicked the lighter closed and put it away.

Romero and Mars stared transfixed in wide-eyed wonder.

Oliver smiled slightly and touching one hand to another, spread

the fire to his right arm.

Blakeney nodded thoughtfully as James said, “Awesome.”

Not wanting to be a braggart, Oliver extinguished the flames with nothing more than a thought and met the eyes of all around him.

“So . . . ?”

James laughed with mirth at the incredible display. “Welcome to

the team, limey,” he said, moving to hug Oliver.

The Brit held him back at arm’s length and wrinkled his nose. “No, thank you. You’re filthy.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen when you train all day as you’ll soon

be finding out.”

“What . . . was that!?” asked Romero, finally finding her tongue.

Blakeney handled the question. “I didn’t want to tell you about Oliver until he got here. He’s quite gifted. Being a descendant of Hephaestus, he was blessed with the ability to control fire . . . well more than that actually. When we fought Cerberos, Oliver was able to produce incredibly strong flames from within himself and send fire pummeling at the beast. It was quite miraculous,” he finished in admiration.

“Incredible,” Mars whispered, awestruck.

Blakeney cleared his throat. “Well, it seems we’ll be needing an additional weapon for you to train with. I will see what can be done.” He paused to eye James; a silent exchange seemed to have taken place.

“Why don’t we call it a day and pick back up tomorrow.”

Eliza, who hadn’t spoken a single word since Oliver’s arrival, spun on a heel and stalked down the field in the general direction of the discarded equipment. James saw this and darted to catch up with her. He studied her profile for a moment before speaking. “You alright with this?”

“With what?” she asked, refusing to meet his eyes.

“With Oliver being here.”

“How could I not be?” she shrugged nonchalantly. “He risked his

life to save me.”

“You didn’t exactly throw out the welcome mat,” he pointed out.

She rounded on him as they reached the spot where her spear and other equipment had been discarded. “Look. I’m extremely grateful for what he did, but don’t expect me to be his best friend or anything, okay?”

He narrowed his eyes and studied her more closely. James hadn’t exactly expected them to hug, but this aggression on her part was a bit much. There must be something more, he thought. “What’s really wrong?”

Eliza scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “Nothing,” she lied and be-

gan to gather the spears up off the ground, the divine metal casting beams of sunlight every which way.

“You can tell me, Eliza,” he probed gently.

She stood up, spears in hand, and sighed. Her hazel-green eyes flicked off towards the distance. “I just feel like . . . I don’t know . . . like I’m the least of everyone here.” Her eyes began to swim with moisture.

He remained quiet, allowing her all the room she needed to ex-

press herself.

“Everyone else is so much better than me. I mean you can beat anyone in a duel,” she huffed. “Probably all of us at once and now here comes Oliver with his ability with fire and I just feel like I don’t even matter. I mean what difference can I make?” she asked, her eyes meeting his. A lone tear streaked down her freckled cheek.

“But you do matter,” James countered.

“I don’t want to be just some stupid mascot for you or anyone

else.”

His brows pulled together in consternation. “Is that what you

think you are?”

Eliza shrugged noncommittally.

“You’re not.” James shook his head. “Not even close. You’re so much more than that. Just look at what you’ve been through. You were kidnapped and tortured and you still came out of it a fighter. Listen to me, Eliza.” He waited for her tearful eyes to remain steady on his, then pressed on. “You are an incredible person and before this is all over, I have no doubt that you will help to lead others. I don’t know exactly how each of us will fit in with everything, but I do know that what you do will matter to a lot of people, okay?”

She searched his eyes for a moment, nodded and wiped away a

glistening tear. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” James smiled. “Now let’s go eat some lunch Xena.” Eliza sniffed once and smiled with a giggle.

Lunch was always simple these days with sandwiches, fruit, and soda or some other type of beverage. The small breakfast table was no longer big enough—being only able to seat four— and as they didn’t want to congregate in the formal dining room, more often than not whenever Romero and Mars were present, they all ambled out onto the back porch and ate in the shade of the verandah. A soft breeze had provided a cooling edge to the afternoon and James reveled in the effect it had on his skin as he rocked away in the heavy, wooden rocking chair. He breathed deeply, gazing out towards the water in the distance. He was thinking about Eliza and the feelings she had expressed earlier. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel inadequate in comparison with he and Oliver. But how to prove this to her in a way beyond words plagued his mind with its elusiveness. It was like that last pea on your plate that refused to yield to a fork, right in front of you, but elusive all the same. She is so much more than just a mascot or even a fighter, she’s incredibly smart, he said to himself. Now how to use that . . .? In midthought, he paused as out of nowhere it him like a mallet to the head. “Of course,” he said aloud.

James glanced around and was startled to find that he was the

only person still out there. Apparently, he had been in such concentration that he hadn’t noticed everyone part ways. He stood up, the wooden slats of the deck creaking with his weight and made his way indoors.

Once he had struck out down the main hallway and found him-

self in the foyer, he hung a left and stopped at a sturdy wooden door. He rapped his knuckles smartly and waited.

“Come in,” a voice called from within.

James opened the door and stepped into Blakeney’s private study. It was handsome room floored with a dark, rich wood which matched the wall paneling. A large antique desk sat facing the door while bookshelves surrounded three walls of the office. A flat panel tv was situated to the right of the door, completing the ensemble.

Blakeney sat studying at the desk, eying his visitor curiously.

“Yes, James?”

“I had an idea,” he stated simply.

“Then by all means.” Blakeney waved to one of the comfortable

leather chairs situated in front of the desk. “Please, sit.”

James plopped down into a chair and gathered his thoughts. “I

was thinking about taking Eliza down to the Archives,” he began, causing the older man to raise an eyebrow in question, “because I have an idea for a project which she’d be good at.”

“Go on.”

He cleared his throat, crossing a leg. “Since we need to be pre-

pared for any eventuality, I’d like to compile a list of the families who have split off from the Academy, maybe go back a couple generations. Basically, I figured if there was to be a war then we’ll need everyone we can get.”

“Hmm . . .” Blakeney mused. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers thoughtfully under his chin. “If we’re to have an army, how exactly would we equip them?”

“I don’t know,” James admitted with a shrug. “Didn’t there used

to be a lot more weapons somewhere?”

He nodded. “Yes, but most of it was cached after World War II

and anyone who knew where is dead.”

“Well, maybe there will be a reference to the stash somewhere in

the more recent archives.”

“I see your reasoning, but why take Eliza down there?” Blakeney

wanted to know.

James scoffed with a self-deprecating grin. “Cause she’s ten times

the researcher I am.”

Blakeney chucked appreciatively. “That’s true.” He sighed in res-

ignation. “Alright, but only while you are down there, okay?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” responded Blakeney.

James stood to leave and crossed the room, but before he had

a chance, the muted news program caught his attention. The text rolling across the bottom of the screen stated that in the past two weeks, six people from the ages of 16-24 had been brutally murdered up and down the east coast of the southeastern United States. “That’s sad,” he mumbled with a sigh. He shook his head and walked out of the office, putting the serious of killings far from his mind.

Knock, knock, knock, the door in the upstairs corridor sounded softly.

James had already stopped by his room to don a pair of shoes and to place his mother’s necklace back around his neck, before coming to get Eliza.

“One second,” she called as a bed creaked from behind the door.

He smiled as she flung open the door. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself mister,” she fired back and turned to the bed with-

out another word.

James stepped into the room after her and sat onto the silver and green clad full-size bed as she made room for him. He propped himself on an elbow and studied her. From the daily sun exposure, her tan had deepened a bit causing her freckles to be brought into stark relief. Each layer shown like a dusting of dark golden stars across a beautiful goldenbronze canvas. With her enhanced coloring, the green and gold in her eyes had brightened bringing the brilliant colors to the foreground.

Blood boiled beneath her skin as she blushed from the blatant

attention. “Will you stop staring?”

He ignored the comment, moving on to more pressing matters. “Whatcha up to?”

Eliza pointed wordlessly to the medical journal she had been

reading as if it should be obvious.

“Well, if you can tear yourself away from that incredibly exciting

read, I have a surprise for you.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes alight with curiosity. “What?”

“I’m not telling,” he sang. “You’ve got to come with me to find

out.”

“Ugh!” she grumbled. “You can be so annoying sometimes.”

James chortled. “Quit complaining and put your shoes on.”

She unfolded her long legs, stood up off the bed, and slid into her boat shoes. Waling from the room, she followed James out of the house.

“Blah!” he complained as they emerged into the now breeze-less

afternoon. “It feels like a sauna out here.”

“Who’s complaining now?” she chided him.

“Not complaining, just . . . observing,” James said with mock

indignation.

“Sure, you are.” Eliza saw that they were walking along the cobble-stoned path that skirted the remainder of the staff housing and stitched her brows together. “Where exactly are you taking me?” “To the school,” he responded simply.

“Why?” she pushed.

James shrugged knowing it would only annoy her further. “You’ll

see.”

She huffed and grumbled something under her breath that

sounded an awful lot like, “So annoying.”

He laughed, continuing along the path.

They skirted around the front of the main hall, James glancing up at the exquisite detail in the building and arrived at the side door by the elevator. He dug in his pocket and produced a brass key.

Eliza was surprised. “You have a key?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, fitting the key into the lock.

With a soft click, he unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door.

As soon as he stepped into the marble hallway a shrill beep sounded loudly, echoing off the granite stone. He crossed to a white speaker set to the side into the wall and spoke clearly. “James Olympia.”

Immediately the beeping stopped; the alarm system was effec-

tively deactivated.

“And you’ve been added to the security system,” she observed.

“Yup,” he nodded. “Until you got here, I spent all of my free time here. Mr. Blakeney thought it would make more sense if I had my own way to get in.” As he spoke, he stepped in front of the elevator door and allowed his biometrics to be scanned. The door flashed green and slid quietly opened. He waved her in and entered as well.

“The Lair?” she asked sarcastically.

He held up a hand. “Cool your jets.” James placed his palm

against the scanner and a cool voice asked, “What level?” “Three,” he enunciated perfectly.

With a whir the elevator descended rapidly, their stomachs

thrown up into their throats.

The brushed metal doors slid open as the elevator came to a stop deep beneath the school. James stepped out into the cool, stone-lined passageway and reached for the torch. With a flick of a lighter, he lit the ancient torch and smiled back at Eliza who had yet to move. “You coming?”

Not waiting for her to answer, he began to walk down the long corridor into the impenetrable darkness. The usual smells of dust and moisture filled his senses as he could make out her hurried footsteps. Obviously, she was trying to catch up.

“Is there a dungeon down here that I don’t know about?” Eliza whispered as if she was afraid to disturb a ghostly presence. She hugged herself and shivered.

“Something like that.”

The pair continued along the stone corridor silently, their thoughts to themselves, and finally after what seemed to be a football field in length, they arrived at a descending spiral staircase. Without a word, James began to go down, his shoes echoing against the rough stone steps. At the bottom, a blank wall met the flickering flames of the torch.

Eliza scoffed—and if he could see he was sure she had rolled her

eyes, too. “All this way for a dead end?”

“Will you have a little patience, please?” James admonished her. He stuck the torch into a wall bracket just for that purpose, took his necklace off, and said, “Watch this.”

As soon as the golden eagle pendant was fit snugly into the in-

dentation in the wall, a brilliant golden light began to outline a doorway. Eliza gasped and flinched away, her nails digging into his arm.

Where there was nothing but stone before, now a golden handle shown at roughly waist height, a soft light still shining around the edges of the wall.

He laughed at the look of incredulity painted all over her face. “Blakeney brought me down here a while back. It’s called The Archives.” With an easy pull, the door swung open allowing her first glance into the cavernous interior.

She was speechless as she crossed the threshold into the large, cathedral-like room, her legs moving of their own accord. “Oh . . . my . . . God,” Eliza barely managed to say. Her eyes took in the statues from the various empires and with numb disbelief, she walked to golden statue of Athena and placed a careful hand on the goddess’s face. “How . . . how . . .” She swallowed noisily. Beaming with wonder, she asked, “How is this possible?”

“You didn’t think the demigods would actually let all of this dis-

appear, did you?”

She bit her lip and turned back to continue her study of the

sculpture.

“What you see here,” he went on, “is a collection dating back to a time before the Pharaohs of Egypt. Anything that could be saved that dealt with the divine, was stored for us.” He stopped speaking and allowed her to take it all in on her own time.

Moving from one work of art to the next, Eliza was like a kid in a candy store. But as she came to the center of The Archives and saw the scrolls, codices, and tomes, she gasped louder still. “No way,’ she observed breathlessly. She moved quickly to a leather-bound book, removed it from the shelf, and studied the pages greedily. “A diary from

1465?”

James grinned indulgently.

She moved her eyes back to the ancient pages, scanning quickly.

Before she could get too wrapped up in secret knowledge, he spoke up. “The reason I brought you down here was because of a little project I have for you. I know how good you are at research and compiling results, so I thought you’d be perfect.”

Eliza nodded vehemently, her eyes barely leaving the held pages.

“If there is to be a war,” he forged on seriously, “we’ll need all the soldiers we can get. What I’d like you to work on is a compilation of all the families that have split off from the Academy. Basically, those that decided to no longer be a part of us after the Decree of Humanity.”

“And how do I do all that? There must be a ton of them.”

James led her to a section of the shelving. “I figured the geneal-

ogy section would be a start,” he told her wryly.

She frowned at him. “Don’t be an ass.”

He chuckled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “The school records will be helpful too . . . for maybe thirty years or so before the start of World War II, I figured. To narrow it down, just start with the descendants of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, then work your way from there.”

She nodded again.

“Think you can handle it?” he asked.

Eliza’s hazel-green eyes flashed with excitement as she smiled

confidently. “You don’t even have to ask.”