In Pursuit of Kronos' Scythe (Completed)

VII - The Boiling Grove of Ares - Part II

Piotr Mikolaj

Piotr found himself groping in a void of red, groping for life.

The tongues of the lava were like chainsaws, shredding off his flesh. Fiery rocks hammocked his limbs. Suddenly, the biggest rock he had ever seen zoomed towards his face. He yelled and woke up to a faint brightness, staring into the sky as it lapsed into the twilight zone.

Tharalea told him if he wanted to know whether he was dead or alive, he could simply pinch his arm. He did likewise. A torrent of pain speared up his charred hand but it eased off fast. He drew a long relieved sigh. It was just a horrid dream after all. The second thing to check was the sun. He looked around the surroundings. He was lying in an opening in a forest. The sky had donned itself a pink gown with orange lace. Dusk was approaching.

The sky had no sun in it, but did moon count? He tried to sit up but failed. His limbs were charcoal in colour and they were tied by fat tendrils. They ached, but not to the extent that would make him pass out. Something stirred beside him. He looked to his left and saw Tharalea opening her eyes. His trepidation assuaged as a wave of relief washed over him.

Tharalea is alive! His heart cheered.

She forced a smile at him, her blue eyes were misty. A dimple danced in one of her cheeks, beneath a faint cut caused by the bull sentry's lash. Tharalea seemed to have noticed Piotr staring at her injury, and she tilted her face. Fat tears struggled to leak out of the big sockets but she held them back, biting her lip in resoluteness.

What am I thinking, staring at a lady like that? Would she fear the scar leaving a permanent mark on her cheek? If Piotr's hands were free, he would've thrown himself at her, comforting her, easing off all her pain. Tharalea could have a body full of scars, but that wouldn't prune the growing bud of love he had for her. She would always be his goddess. And now, his goddess needed her. He needed to be strong for her.

They tried to wriggle themselves free from the tendrils but to no avail. Who or what had captured them when they were unconscious? That wasn't ethical. Piotr tried to search for answers but his head ached. He didn't even know where he was. Was he still at Ares' realm?

Tharalea tilted her head sideward, indicating something, and Piotr saw his other comrades lying still ten feet away. Oh no, Hephaestus, please bless them. Please don't let anything happen to them. "Hercules..." His dry eyes searched the forest floor in panic and found Hercules' small body lying next to Koby and Calyssa. At least all of them were here. He needed to stay calm and thought of a way to get them out of this forest. Luckily, his hands were tied to the front of his body, so he could still rummage his wooden chest. Nimbly, he summoned a shear and cut off the tendrils binding around his wrist. When he was free, he did the same to Tharalea.

The burned Platinumus Fleece slipped off her body. Tharalea shook off the ashes on it, and it returned to gleam in its boastful shine. Piotr remembered wrapping the fleece around Tharalea's body before they were washed away by the eruption. The fleece had protected both of them to have the least injury. He dared not think whether his comrades were still alive. Even though they were not, he would still get them out of here and find a good site to bury their bodies. No. Shut up, Piotr. Stop being pessimistic. They are going to survive.

His uncertainty and melancholic mood affected Tharalea.

She threw herself at him and started sobbing. "We've failed, Piotr. We've failed."

Piotr stroked her back and comforted her. Her blonde hair looked like a pile of knotted nylon and her clothes were torn. Piotr's heart squirmed. It pained him to see Tharalea in this state. Standing up, he put the fleece into his rucksack, when he heard a bubbling noise.