The Mighty Ones' Fall

Chapter 5: Alec Finally Arrives

"Yeah, doesn't he have to be, like, a really good fighter to survive all on his own?" Layna asked, appearing quite amazed, her eyes wide.

"Duh. That's why the gods named him a hero," Damien said bluntly, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it kind of was.

Noticing the edge to Damien's voice, Layna rolled her eyes and turned to me. "Speaking of the gods, how did the last generation die? No one will give me a straight answer."

"That's because there is no straight answer," Darius informed her, crossing his arms.

"Why not?"

"My, you are just full of questions today, aren't you?" I mused at Layna, annoyed that we had to explain every little thing to her (Why hadn't Jason told her everything about the war himself?), but she only frowned at me and waited for me to continue. Therefore, I sighed before explaining reluctantly, "You see, each god in a generation finds out they're gods at about the same time, so they also die at about the same time. Unfortunately, only a couple living people in the Knowing, Alec included, knew about that rule before the war. What we know for sure about their deaths is that Hades was the first one to be killed, starting the chain reaction. We don't know how he was killed, though. Alec is the only one who knows the full story because he was there with a few other gods when Hades died, and he won't tell anyone what really happened. Hell, he won't even tell anyone about the times he went down to the Underworld."  

"Doesn't anyone find that suspicious?" Layna questioned, leaning forward in her seat. "He obviously knows who killed Hades, so he could be covering up some sort of conspiracy, or something like that."

Darius grinned, his blue eyes shining mischievously. "Oh, he most definitely is. But knowing Alec, he probably has a good reason for keeping this a secret. You'll understand when you meet him."

"I hope so," Layna whispered thoughtfully, eating another spoonful of cereal just as Jason started to call for people to start cleaning up. I knew that lessons would be cancelled again for the day, so the entire camp could prepare for the arrival of Alec instead.  

For the next few hours, every single Knowing members lent their hands in picking up trash, cleaning dishes, and tidying up their tents. Since no one knew exactly when he would be showing up, we did our chores as quickly as possible, and because we had time afterwards, we began double-checking our work. Some of the lazier folks, including Brady and his crew, chose to socialize back at the mess hall during the second part, though. Meanwhile, Layna, Hannah, the twins, and I were anxiously milling about the stage at the center of camp, knowing that Alec would be led there for a report as soon as he arrived. The entire camp even skipped lunch and reluctantly stayed put, since no one wanted to be in the middle of eating when Alec finally came.

I estimated it to be around two o'clock in the afternoon when excited screams began to sound from the south edge of the camp, a sure sign that Alec had finally arrived. Like magnets, the screams attracted the attention of more Knowing people, who then ran over to the edge of the camp and started screaming as well. But Hannah, the twins and I stayed directly in front of the stage to keep the best view and plugged our ears with our fingers to block out the noise, while Layna curiously peered at the growing crowd, trying to catch her first glimpse of the hero. Unfortunately for her, the mob of people surrounding Alec moved along with him, completely blocking our view of him, until they stopped right at the edge of the stage, eagerly pushing at the four of us from behind, but somehow we still managed to hold our ground.

And then he rose up, step by step. He only had to walk up three little steps to reach the stage, but it seemed to take him ages. Then again, maybe that was just because I was so anxious. Nevertheless, he strode up the steps very fluidly, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his dirty jeans. His blue t-shirt was covered in a slimy, greenish-gold substance, and a thin stream of his own dark blood was running slowly down his arm from an ugly puncture wound just above his right bicep, not to mention the couple visible scars he had recieved in previous battles. Apparently he had come all the way from Washington with only a sword and the black backpack on his shoulders, but without a single piece of armor. Crazy.