The Warrior and his Blacksmith

Maxwell and Darren Wileman. The apparent names of the blacksmith and the warrior. Darren was a total adrenaline junkie, his brother Maxwell a genius in automobile repair and a hobby-time blacksmith. Athena found the fifteen and seventeen year olds while perusing the queues for different sporting events taking place near Dublin. It was logical to think that another one of the greek gods would show up eventually. Darren competed in Motocross, and Maxwell was his bike's repairman/ upgrader. Athena wanted to go to the event, it would be simpler than any other way, and it wasn't hard to talk to the non professionals after the race.

"Everyone should come," she said. "It's like with you, Kaity, even though we didn't need the others where they were, their auras made it easier to convince you not to just brush me aside."

"But that's such a muddy sport," the woman said crossly.

"You may enjoy it more than you think," Trevor muttered, and Kaity turned to cross gaze to him. They were all staying at Kaity's mansion for the weekend, getting everything ready. She was the only person there, so they had elected to have it as their 'Mount Olympus'. (Fowl manor was out for many reasons, chief among them being their parents and the fairies, who would find out quickly that something odd was happening around their human ally.) Kaity Keenan was largely happy about this, she had a big heart despite her otherwise shallow ways. Still, the woman was not well-versed in greek mythology, so finding out that Trevor (Eros) was Aphrodite's son, had her a little jittery around him, even if she did make an alright motherly figure. It was nice to have him out of the manor though, Athena supposed. Most girls don't share a house with their boyfriend less than a month after meeting him.

"What do you mean by that?"

"He means that you should read more into Aphrodite," Artemis said, sounding a bit annoyed. "Hephaestus is her husband, and she has flings with Ares."

"Which one is Ares?" is the next thing out of Kaity's mouth, and Athena rolled her eyes.

"Darren is seventeen, though by all accounts, he both acts, and looks, older. They both do." The picture Athena pulls up is the one that had drawn the brothers to her attention. Darren has his tan, muscular arm thrown around the shoulders of a smaller boy with the same muscled structure, but paler, and with a twisted left leg that was probably the cause of the crutch under that shoulder. The pendant hanging around Darren's neck was black, with the imprint of a sword. Maxwell's was orange with a hammer. The cords were black, as with everyone else's.

"Great. A beefcake with no brains."

"Erica," Athena said, reprimand in her voice. The Archer had come out of the mansion and stood looking at the flat screen over Athena's shoulder. Erica shrugged, and went to sit beside her brother around the large, glass-topped table. She was very fond of making first impressions . . . unimpressive, sometimes.

"When's the race?" Trevor asked.

"Tomorrow, just about two miles east of Dublin. See? I was right. There is a pattern. Dublin."

"Also, we're able to get to them pretty quickly once we know who they are. We never really have to wait," Ethan put in.

"Hm." Athena gazed down at the screen as she sat back down in the metal wicker chair. "Very true." So she saved the page and opened a new tab, searching new parameters.

. . .

In the end, they all went. Athena supposed that eventually they might hit the 'law of diminishing returns' block with how many gods were in one place at once while convincing someone, but whatever. They hadn't yet, so that counted for something.

The junior motocross competition (ages eighteen and under) was thrilling, though Kaity complained about the hot July sun enough to almost make Athena wish she had let the woman stay home. Even Artemis seemed to get tired of her whining if the slight crease between his eyebrows was anything to go on.

After the race, Athena grabbed onto Erica's hand and dragged her towards where Maxwell and Darren were looking over Darren's mud-splattered bike.

"Hello," Maxwell said, looking up at them from where he sat, legs splayed in front of him as he leaned back to grab a wrench.

"Maxwell Wileman?"

"Yup." Then all she could see of him was a mop of dark brown hair and a black T-shirt as he bent back inside the engine.

Athena pulled the pendant out of the pouch she had tied to her belt and let it dangle from her fingers. "You and your brother have necklaces like this?" she asked.

His light brown eyes went wide at the sight of the pendant, and Athena nudged Erica to take hers out as well. "I . . . yeah. We've had them for a while."

"Do you remember where you got them?" Wordlessly, he shook his head.

"I um . . . tried melting mine down a time or two, but nothing ever happened. Don't know what those big medallions are made of, but it's not glass."

"Maxwell?" Darren came jogging up, still in his leather racing-wear, an expression that could only be described as protective on his face.

"Look Darren, they've got medallions like ours! Help me stand, would you?"

The Darren grabbed Maxwell under the arms and hoisted his to his feet as Maxwell snatched his crutch from the ground.

Out of his jeans pocket, Maxwell tugged the two pendants, one black, one orange.

"May I see them?" Athena asked, holding out her hand. When Darren nodded, Maxwell handed them to her. When she put them with her own in her hand, they emitted a bright light that left the pendant with swirls of color when it dimmed.

"What was that?" Darren asked aggressively.

Once everything had been explained, and their pendants had been given back, their biggest issue seemed to be their parents.

"My aunt doesn't mind my brother and I going off when we want," Erica said when it was brought up.

"Yeah, but our parents don't like us traveling all the time. We live about three hours from Dublin, and they're not even that big on us coming here." Maxwell said.

"Dude," interjected Darren, ruffling his younger brother's hair. "If we tell them we made friends, they'll all but ship us up here." He turned to Athena, his black hair glinting in the sun. "We don't have any real friends apart from each other," he explained. "We're home schooled, and we don't get out of our garage often enough to have any lasting friendships."

Five down. Seven to go.