Poseidon's Trident

by A P Mobley

  Zoey glanced out one of the bakery’s windows, panic flooding through her as she realized the sun had already begun to set. She rushed to the Titan’s side and grabbed his arm. “We have to go meet Andy and Darko. It’s almost curfew.”

  “You can stay with me tonight,” Jasmine said. “I mean, I don’t know how long it will be before the gods discover Prometheus has come here, but it means everything to me that you helped bring him here and that I got to meet him. You’re welcome in my home.”

  Zoey’s chest tightened with guilt. After all, this poor girl had been alone for a whole year now, working herself to death and not gaining anything for it. She finally had a piece of her family back, but Zoey and Andy were taking him away. It’ll be for her own good, Zoey thought. Once the gods are defeated, she’ll be free.

  “No, thank you,” Zoey replied. “I’m sorry, but we have to go. It’s important.” Jasmine’s expression fell.

  Prometheus pulled away from Zoey’s grasp. “Important to who? It’s not to me.”

  Zoey’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious right now. We had a deal.”

  “That may be so,” Prometheus replied. “But I can’t go through with it. My family—or what’s left of it—needs me.”

  “The entire world needs you,” Zoey cried. “If you helped us save it, you’d be doing your family the greatest favor you ever could. Far greater than staying here with your great-great-granddaughter.”

  Jasmine glanced back and forth at Zoey and Prometheus, brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” She locked eyes with Zoey. “What do you mean when you say the entire world needs him?”

  Zoey sighed. “It’s better for your safety if you don’t know the details.”

  Jasmine opened her mouth to reply, but Prometheus stepped between them, narrowing his eyes at Zoey. “Which is why you won’t be telling her a single thing. Now leave, before the sun sets and you and your friends get arrested.”

  “As if you care,” Zoey spat.

  What was the group supposed to do now? The Fates had given them one way to get into Poseidon’s palace, and that was to ask Prometheus for his help. They’d freed him as best they could, taken him where he’d asked to go, and even agreed to break his chains before their three days with him were up—but he’d still backed out on the deal.

  Zoey’s fingers twitched with the urge to grab Prometheus by his hair and yell at him until he agreed to aid them, but she knew doing so wouldn’t help and would only waste more time they didn’t have. No matter what I say, this guy’s not going to help us, she thought. With that realization, she held her chin high and swung around, then stomped out of the bakery.

  When she reached the paths outside, she hurried through the Agora back to the fountain with the statue of Aphrodite. Very few people were out and about now, and most seemed to be wrapping up their business and heading into various surrounding neighborhoods. Satyrs that looked much older than Darko, with muscles like a bodybuilder’s and horns nearly a foot high, crept along every corner of the marketplace, eyes on the citizens and weapons in hand.

  It didn’t take long for Zoey to reach the fountain, and when she did she saw Darko, a couple of big bags slung over his back. The satyr’s worried gaze traveled up and down the streets. Andy was nowhere to be seen.

  “Darko,” Zoey called, racing to his side.

  The satyr met her eyes, relief washing over his face. “Phew. You made it. I got some more weapons and some thread for the—” The relief faded, replaced with concern. “Wait, where’s Andy?”

  “He ran off. He said he had to go somewhere, but that he’d meet us here.”

  “And Prometheus?”

  “He decided he’s not helping us now. He has family here and wants to stay.”

  The color drained from Darko’s face. “What’re we gonna do?”

  “I have no idea. Start over, I guess?”

  Farther ahead, a satyr barked orders at a citizen. Darko eyed the scene, then grabbed Zoey’s arm. “C’mon. The closer it gets to curfew, the more suspicious we’ll look. We need to hide.” The pair scurried between two buildings next to the fountain, now hidden from sight unless someone stepped straight in front of them.

  “I’ll watch for Andy,” Darko said. “But we need to stay quiet.” Zoey nodded, and they waited together in silence.

  As the sun fell farther in the sky, Zoey’s heart raced. Where was Andy? What if he’d stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to? What if he’d been discovered as one of the mortals from the Before Time? What if he’d been arrested, and she and Darko had to go break him out of whatever kind of jail they had here? If that happened, the gods would surely sniff out their trail.

  Today couldn’t get any worse, Zoey thought, and with that, a blanket of night fell over Aphrodite City. She and Darko exchanged nervous glances but remained where they were, the surrounding area so quiet Zoey could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

  For a few minutes they remained like that, until the sound of hooves clopping and the familiar cries of a young man pierced the air. Darko squinted, peering into the dark marketplace. “A centaur astynomia got Andy,” he whispered, his voice panicked.

  Zoey pushed past Darko and looked into the Agora. Beside the fountain, Andy struggled against a shirtless man who, from the waist down, possessed the body of a black stallion. A centaur, she thought. That’s what Darko called him.

  The centaur stood nearly as tall as Prometheus when the Titan was in his true form. His cheekbones and jawline were as sharp as the daggers hanging from a belt around his waist, dark hair falling in braids down his back. He wrapped his beefy hands around Andy’s throat and lifted the boy off the ground. Andy choked as if he couldn’t breathe, struggling against the centaur’s grasp. “What were ya doin’ out past curfew, peasant scum?” the centaur asked, his voice gravelly and vicious.

  Zoey’s nostrils flared. She swung around and threw open the bag on Darko’s back to find several weapons. She rummaged through the bag, then pulled out an axe that was almost identical to the one she’d been using before it had been sucked into Tartarus along with her severed hand. “Okay,” she started, facing Darko. “We’re gonna fight this guy, save Andy, then get outta here as fast as we can.”

  The satyr set his jaw, dropped the extra bags slung over his shoulder, and readied his bow and an arrow. “You got it.”

  Zoey and Darko bolted into the marketplace, side by side and weapons ready. “Hey,” Zoey called to the centaur, brandishing her new axe. “Leave him alone!”

  The centaur turned to her and Darko. “Another one? Hey, satyr! What’re ya waitin’ for? Get the girl.” Darko shook his head. To Zoey’s surprise, the centaur’s eyes lit with excitement rather than darkening in anger, as she’d imagined they would when he witnessed a fellow astynomia breaking the rules. “So, we’re dealin’ with two peasants out past curfew—one of who thinks she’s real tough since she stole one of our axes—and with an insubordinate little satyr? Me’n the boys are gonna have fun t’night.”

  Zoey gripped the axe’s handle tight. She’d fought monsters and survived a battle against a goddess at the edge of Tartarus. Sure, she’d lost her hand and with it a good chunk of her fighting abilities, but she wasn’t alone. Darko was with her; what did she have to be scared of? Together, they'd take this centaur down no problem.

  Her resolve quickly faded as two more centaurs and four satyrs crept out from the shadows surrounding her and Darko, all of them nearly as huge as the one holding Andy captive. They smiled in malice, the blades of their weapons glinting in the moonlight.

  Before Zoey could make another move, the centaur holding Andy flung the boy to the side. Andy crashed headfirst into the street, and the seven astynomia galloped toward Zoey and Darko.

  CHAPTER SIX

  DISGUISE

  One of the centaurs charged straight for Zoey, sword ready. Zoey mustered her st
rength and slashed deep into his side. He cried out and fell back, blood spraying from his wound.

  Beside Zoey, Darko sent arrows flying. They whooshed past her head. Within moments, two satyrs who’d been galloping toward them lay motionless on the ground, arrows sticking out from their chests.

  A particularly large satyr—whose human torso and goat legs were so meaty he looked as if he could have been a sumo wrestler, the horns curling from his skull so massive they made him a foot taller than he really was—clopped toward Zoey, his body jiggling with every step. Dozens of small blades hung from his belt, even more held between his fingers.

  Zoey readied her axe, preparing to attack again. The colossal creature brought his hands back, then launched the blades between his fingers forward. Four of the weapons shot through the air toward Zoey. She yelped, ducking and throwing her arms up to protect her head, but it wasn’t enough to completely save her from the attack.

  Three of the blades pierced her: one in each of her forearms and one in her thigh. Sharp pain seared from the wounds and she shrieked, dropping her axe and stumbling backward. She toppled into a cobblestone path, her eyes watering. Warm, sticky blood gushed from her injuries and seeped into her dress. A metallic odor filled her nostrils.

  Darko launched an arrow. It sailed for Zoey’s attacker, but the creature dodged the projectile with a speed Zoey could hardly believe. As the assailant regained his footing, he thrust his hands in Darko’s direction. More blades went flying. Darko lunged to the side. However, he wasn’t fast enough. Two of the weapons sank into his shoulder. He yelped, dropping his bow.

  “Darko!” Zoey cried.

  The centaur who’d originally held Andy captive clopped toward Zoey. When he reached her, he seized her by the throat and yanked her off the path. He brought her face so close to his she could smell wine on his breath.

  The centaur’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “Thought you’d get away with murderin’ a couple’a hard-workin’ astynomia, huh? Thought you’d get away with stealin’ one of our own, gettin’ him to betray us? How’d that work out for ya, little girl? Ya woulda just spent a month or two in jail and had to pay some hefty fines if you’d’ve cooperated in the first place, but now . . . oh, little girl, yer in a heapin’ amount’a trouble. In fact”—the centaur gave Zoey’s throat a hard squeeze, her vision going starry—“yer in so much trouble, the both a ya, I think it’d be best to kill ya now. That’ll be more merciful than what the aristocracy will wanna do with ya, and it’ll be more fun for me.”

  The centaur flung Zoey to the ground, and the three remaining astynomia dragged Darko to her side and kicked him down. All four of the astynomia gathered around Zoey and Darko, and the centaur raised his sword above his head, ready to strike.

  Zoey closed her eyes. I guess this is the end, she thought. I’m sorry, Diana. I’m sorry, Andy. A tear trickled down her cheek, the handsome face of Spencer, Son of Hades, flashing across her mind. I’m sorry, Spencer. I’m sorry you died for nothing.

  The sound of a blade slicing through guts filled the air. The centaur gasped.

  Zoey’s eyes shot open and she glanced up at the creature. A sword had been thrust through the centaur’s chest, and Zoey guessed the weapon belonged to one of the other creatures she and Darko had knocked down earlier. The centaur’s dark eyes grew wide, blood trickling from his wound and the corners of his mouth.

  The weapon was twisted, then pulled from his body. He went stiff and fell onto his back. Andy stood before them, battered and bruised with a bump the size of a golf ball on his head, bloody sword in hand.

  Relief flooded Zoey. Andy was up and fighting; they still had a chance to escape this.

  Dread replaced relief as the two remaining satyrs—the huge one with dozens of knives on his belt, and a smaller one with a curved dagger in hand—knocked the sword from Andy’s grasp. It clattered into the street. Andy groaned and swayed to the side, as if he was dizzy.

  The smaller satyr brandished his knife in Andy’s face. “Just for that, you’ll be the first to die. Have fun in the Fields of Punishment, you filthy peasant sc—”

  As if it had appeared from thin air, a long bulky chain swooped in from the left and wrapped itself around the smaller satyr’s neck before the satyr could finish his sentence. Like a python snaring its prey, the chain tightened its hold. The satyr dropped his dagger and clawed at the iron links, but they only seemed to grow tighter. His eyes bulged. He choked for breath.

  The last remaining centaur ran to the aid of the choking satyr and tried to pry the chain off his companion, while the larger satyr with the throwing knives turned to the left and glared into the darkness, where the rest of the chain remained suspended in the air. “Who goes there? Who else dares attack the astynomia of Aphrodite City?”

  The chain rattled, and Zoey smiled as the familiar behemoth of a man stepped into view.

  Prometheus.

  The Titan’s disguise had melted away to reveal his true form. He dragged the rest of his chains behind him.

  The Titan narrowed his eyes at the astynomia and pulled so hard on the links wrapped around the smaller satyr’s throat that the creature’s skin turned blue. The satyr choked for a few moments, then went limp. Prometheus allowed the chain to loosen, and the astynomia fell to the ground.

  The satyr with the knives snarled, thrusting several of his blades in Prometheus’s direction. However, even as they pierced the Titan’s chest, he barely flinched. Prometheus swung the chains attached to his wrists into the air toward the last two astynomia.

  The links snaked themselves around the necks of the creatures, and Prometheus yanked his arms backward, securing the hold of his chains with titanic strength. The astynomia tried to cry out, but all they could muster were garbled sounds of panic.

  For a few moments the astynomia remained that way, choking and clawing at their necks, until finally their skin turned a similar blue as their companion’s, and they went still. Prometheus loosened the grip of his chains, and the satyr and centaur fell to the ground. The Titan pulled the links back to his side.

  “You came back for us,” Zoey said, her jaw clenched while she tried to ignore her wounds as they screamed in agony.

  Prometheus chuckled, plucking the knives from his chest and tossing them into the street. “Way to state the obvious.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “My great-great-granddaughter . . . the last piece of Nylah I have left. All you need to know is if my chains aren’t gone in the next two days, no one gets my help into Poseidon’s palace.”

  Andy stumbled to Zoey’s side, crinkling his nose at the dead bodies scattered around the Agora. “In other news, the people of Aphrodite City have a big mess to clean up in the morning.”

  “No,” Darko replied, his voice strained with pain. “Wait. Watch them.” Zoey raised an eyebrow at the satyr but did as he said, watching the bodies of the dead astynomia.

  Within seconds, something incredibly strange happened. The blood splattered in the street—the blood of the satyr and centaur aystynomia—evaporated. Their torsos trembled and shrank, their limbs twisting and lengthening. Their skin shifted from various shades of brown into rich forest greens, and then sprouted a variety of flowers, thorns, and leaves. They shook for a while, then went still.

  “What the hell was that?” Andy asked.

  “It’s what happens to all satyrs and centaurs when we die,” Darko replied. “We weren’t always astynomia in the cities, doing the gods’ dirty work. In fact, we’re more like the nymphs: nature spirits, but in physical form. When we die, our souls return to nature—as a bush, a tree, a flower, or whatever else the universe decides for us.”

  Andy knit his brow. “What about your brother? What about Phoenix? He was turned to stone. Will he ever return to nature?”

  “I’m not sure,” Darko said, his expression falling at the mention of
his lost brother. “I don’t know if Medusa trapped her victims or just killed them. I know his body won’t change now, but I hope his spirit was able to escape at least.”

  “I’m sure it did,” Zoey said. “There’s no doubt about it.”

  Prometheus turned toward Zoey and Darko. “Get up. We need to leave.”

  Darko climbed to his hooves wearily, clutching his injuries, while Zoey placed her hand on the ground for support and tried to push herself up to stand. She cried out, sharp pain shooting through her arm and leg. Blood trickled freely from her wounds, making her head spin.

  “That satyr really messed you up,” Andy said. “Let me help you.” He kneeled next to Zoey, then gently placed his hands on either side of her waist, and to Zoey’s surprise, a sensation unlike anything she’d ever experienced whizzed from his fingertips throughout her entire body.

  The feeling hurt but wasn’t unbearable. It started where Andy touched her, then rushed through her body like dozens of tiny lightning bolts electrocuting her insides.

  Zoey jumped, but within half a second of the sensation beginning, it ended.

  “Whoa, you okay?” Andy asked.

  Zoey raised an eyebrow and looked to him. “Did you not feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  “The shock.”

  “The shock?”

  “Oh my— Yes, the shock! I don’t know how you didn’t feel that.”

  Prometheus cleared his throat. “C’mon, you two. We don’t have all night.” He glanced at the buildings around them. “In fact, I’m not sure if we even have five minutes. More astynomia could show up at any time, and I’m not in the mood to kill anyone else tonight. At least, not right here and now. As we get closer to the edge of the city, I might change my mind . . .” He paused for a moment, scratching his chin. “Ahem. Well. As I was saying. We need to hurry. Get your stuff so we can skedaddle.”

  Andy tightened his grip on Zoey’s waist and hoisted her to her feet. “You gonna be okay to walk?”