Greeks, Gods & Other Problems

Chapter Twenty Seven

The odour suddenly grew more intense until it was almost unbearable. As one they both started to cough as it caught in the back of their throats. It was rancid. It blocked all of their other senses and violently assaulted the nostrils. Jon stumbled over to the nearest corner, gagging fitfully, and began to retch. Artemis felt like heaving, but instead studied the room behind her streaming eyes. It appeared to be cluttered with various bits of old junk. All she could identify were: dismembered hands, snake skins, what looked like a shag rug - but had ominous splotches of dark red splattered and matted into the fur -, broken swords - all cracked and blotchy with blood and rust -, and even a gold statue gleamed from the shadows. The rest of the stuff was mostly unidentifiable, or her eyes were still blurry from tears. It was all piled up in an invasive heap that spread across the floor and up the walls. It squished against the ceiling and stank to high Olympus. It appeared to be precariously stacked, as if one vital element was all that kept it from toppling over and crushing the two beings beneath it. However, when Artemis looked more closely at it, she saw how well built the structure was: it was stable.

My room at home looked like this, reflected Artemis. She glanced over at Jon but he was hunched over in the corner. The smell had started to abate now, but it still wasn't pleasant. At least they'd be able to search the room without gassing themselves, thought Artemis, as she stared at the reeking mound in front of her and considered where to start searching.

"Arty, look at this." Jon's voice was grating and quite throaty, as if he was suffering from a violent cold. Artemis wished she was.

"Yeah?" Artemis croaked back. Jon beckoned her over with his palm and shifted slightly so she could see what he was pointing at. As they moved the smell intensified as they disturbed the air around them. The stink swirled in the air before coming to rest on their clothing and hair, but they were too absorbed in the object to care. The object was small. It could easily have fitted in Artemis' palm. It had a soft, quiet sheen on it's surface, and glowed a smooth, pulsating blue. Through a hairline crack in the tiny window, lightning bolted across the sky and the light darted across the object. For the barest of moments, a rainbow shimmered in the air in front of it before disappearing again.

"Is that a pearl?" Jon asked softly, his breath misted up the glowing sphere. Artemis picked it up and handled it in her grimy palm.

"Yeah. I think it is."

"You would know," Jon got up and wiped his hands productively on his trousers, "you're the sea's daughter."

"The sea's daughter is still waiting for confirmation about whether she is the sea's daughter," Artemis reminded him, pocketing the turquoise ball. As she did so her fingers detected and located a miniscule scratch in its surface. Puzzling it over for a second she dismissed it as the natural grittiness of the pearl. Together they trudged back to the door, causing dust to rise up and settle on their shoes as they did so, and once again surveyed the attic.

"We ought to get going, Arty. There isn't going to be anything here. We're wasting time."

"But what if there is?"

"Yeah, 'if.' Even 'if' there is, it's gonna be outta date anyway and of no use to us."

"The pearl wasn't." It was a weak argument, and Artemis knew it, the pearl was just a keepsake. Jon sighed and turned away.

"Jon. Who knows what we might find here? Weapons. Maps. Potions. Books." As Artemis sounded the last word, Jon's face contorted with pain and Artemis knew she had won. Jon would do anything for knowledge, and he knew, that she knew, that he would. Without waiting for an answer, and silently congratulating herself, she pointedly began to rummage through the wreckage of what once must have been an organisational scheme of great proportions. Jon groaned inwardly and stooped to search a cardboard box. It was full of wigs. Ah, not the greatest start, winced Artemis as she felt Jon's eyes glaring at the back of her head.

By the time they'd finished just a small portion of the room, the ancient clock they'd unearthed told them that they'd been searching for nearly two hours. It was gonna get light soon. The storm had stopped, but they'd been too busy building up a neat, little inventory to notice. They had selected: two backpacks to put everything in, a dagger with a gold hilt, a ceremonial sword and sheath to hold it in, two bows - one made of sturdy oak, and another of beached bone patterned with hypnotic swirls, three deer-skin quivers - complete with a full set of arrows, two faded orange t-shirts, one torn vaguely purple shirt, a polyester, highly flammable white wig, and a set of handy lock picks. Not forgetting the pearl from earlier. Yet there was still no sign of any ambrosia and nectar. Sure all this stuff was handy, but they could have stolen all this stuff from elsewhere, what they really needed was the medicine. Artemis glanced longingly at the undisturbed heap in the middle and Jon paused in the process of packing the backpacks. The sword dangled from his waist and the oak bow was strung over his chest. He sat back on his heels and watched her.

"Arty. We've gotta go. We need the medicine and it's obviously not here. It's now or never. Unless... you've had a change of heart?" He hinted hopefully.

"Don't be an idiot," Artemis replied briskly, turning to face him.

And that's when the heap moved.

~~~

It has been almost a year since I last updated. I am so sorry. I am determined to write more over the summer and I'm only writing now because I'm supposed to be revising and this is my study leave. I wrote this pretty quickly so please point out an y grammatical errors etc. and I'll  try to update asap. Possibly again today. I don't know :-P

If you're still reading this (and I can't imagine that people still are) then thank you for your patience and I promise to be a better Wattpader - is that a word, maybe Wattpadawan is better :-P - in the future.

Over and out. Live long and prosper. And May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favour.

Liz