by Joan Holub
Hera glanced over at Apollo, who was shooting arrow after arrow at the winged creatures with amazing speed. To her surprise the birds were falling as fast as the arrows hit them.
“How are you doing that?” she called out. “Hades’s and Demeter’s arrows are bouncing off the metal!”
“They’ve got a weak spot right in the center of their foreheads,” Apollo told the others. He drew an arrow in his bow and sent it flying. The arrow lodged in the bird’s forehead, and the bird dropped from the sky. “Bull’s-eye. Or rather, bird’s-eye. See?”
Hera shook her head. “I don’t get it. How come you couldn’t take down those one-footed metal guys like this?”
“I didn’t figure out their weak spot,” Apollo replied. “I got lucky this time.”
Suddenly the birds let out loud shrieks and began to dive straight at Demeter. Zeus pointed Bolt at the attackers and took out a line of them, but another line formed just behind the last.
“Demeter, catch!” Hades called out. Suddenly he appeared on the edge of the marsh, and Demeter was holding his Helm of Darkness. She was startled for a second, but then she recovered and quickly put on the helmet.
The confused birds flew away from Demeter—and zoomed down behind Poseidon. They gripped his orange tunic with their sharp talons and began to lift him off the ground.
“Hey! Let go!” he yelled.
Zeus immediately pointed Bolt toward the birds, but then he heard Hera behind him.
“No!” she yelled. “You’ll zap Poseidon, too!”
She held up a rock, squinting as she tried to aim it exactly.
“Don’t knock him out!” Zeus warned.
“I won’t,” Hera promised. She sent the rock flying, and hit one of the birds. The bird lost its grip on Poseidon and tumbled toward the lake. Now there were three birds holding him.
Then an arrow went whizzing past Hera and Zeus. It narrowly missed Poseidon and hit one of the three birds still holding him.
Hera spun around. “That was soo close!”
Apollo grinned. “Believe me when I tell you this—with my arrow I’ll never miss.”
Demeter was closest to Poseidon. Still wearing the helm, she tossed rocks at the remaining two birds, and Poseidon fell to the muddy ground with a thud.
“Oof! Thanks, guys!” he said, picking himself up.
Zap! Zeus blasted another line of birds out of the sky before they could reach Poseidon. Many of them were turning tail and squawking their way back to the forest in defeat. But there were still hundreds, maybe thousands more, all fixing their glowing red eyes on the Olympians.
“Get back into formation!” Zeus yelled. “Hestia, Poseidon, let’s see if we can supercharge again.”
Hestia and Poseidon raced toward Zeus, but before they could reach him, a boy their own age appeared at the edge of the marsh. He was holding a wicked-looking spear. And it was pointed right at Zeus.
CHAPTER SIX
The Boy with Red Eyes
Stop!” yelled the new mystery boy. “Those are my birds!”
“Then tell them to back off!” Zeus cried as one of the Stymphalian birds swooped toward him. He quickly hurled Bolt. It slammed into the bird’s metal body, causing it to spark and sizzle.
With a strangled cry the boy charged toward Zeus, crashed into him, and knocked him to the ground. Then the boy poked Zeus’s chest with the sharp end of his spear.
Realizing that the other Olympians were too busy fighting off birds to help him, Zeus shouted for Bolt. The magical weapon turned in midair, flew toward the boy, and zapped him in the shoulder.
“Yow!” The boy tumbled to the ground.
Zeus kicked the boy’s sharp spear away and quickly jumped to his feet. Bolt hovered over the strange boy’s chest, trapping him. There was no way he could move without getting zapped again.
Stepping closer, Zeus got a good look at his attacker for the first time. The boy’s dark brown hair stuck up all over the top of his head, like spikes. Then Zeus noticed his eyes. The part that should have been brown or blue or green was red, and that part glowed just like the eyes of the Stymphalian birds!
“Let me up,” the red-eyed boy demanded. “And stop attacking my birds!”
“Attacking? We’re defending ourselves,” Zeus protested, gesturing towards the other Olympians, who were still doing just that. “Those birds attacked us first.”
“Only because you’re trespassing!” the boy shot back. “They’re just doing their job.”
“By shooting us with metal arrows and raining down poisonous poop?” Zeus asked. “Nice.”
The boy’s eyes flared angrily. “Listen, if you don’t—” He broke off and tried to sit up, but Bolt gave him a little jab, so he gave up and flattened onto the ground again.
“How about you call off your birds?” Zeus asked before the boy could speak again. “Then we can call a truce to talk about this.”
The boy blinked his red eyes, but didn’t answer. Instead, while still lying on his back, he put two fingers into his mouth and let out a loud, piercing whistle. At the sound the birds immediately stopped their attack.
They flew up above the lake, regrouping. Soon they began to zip in different directions, and Zeus realized that the birds were forming words again: “SO LONG, LOSERS!”
With squawks that almost sounded like laughter, they flew off over the forest.
The boy nodded at Bolt, his red eyes on Zeus. “Your turn. Can you call this thing off now?” he asked.
“Sure,” Zeus said. “Come, Bolt!” The magic thunderbolt flew back to his hand and shrunk to the size of a dagger. Zeus tucked it into his belt as the boy jumped to his feet and picked up his spear.
The other Olympians rushed over to check out the new boy. Hades helped Demeter along since her left ankle was obviously still bothering her. Apollo walked beside Hera, singing,
“The Stymphalian birds
were on the attack,
But the seven young heroes
did bravely fight back—”
He stopped midsong when he saw the boy up close, his blue eyes lighting up in surprise.
“Ares!” whooped Apollo. He raced to the boy and gave him a big hug.
The boy pushed him away and stepped back. “Huh?” He looked confused. “Do I know you?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
A New Olympian
Don’t you remember me?” Apollo asked. “It has been a long time. That old Titan Iapetos captured you, me, and my sister, Artemis, when we were just little kids. Artemis and I finally escaped, but you didn’t.”
The others looked at Apollo in surprise.
“How come you never told us this story before?” Hera asked.
He shrugged. “You never asked.”
Poseidon shook his head. “Dude, really? You spend two weeks on the road singing every song you can think up, but you couldn’t tell us something so important?”
Apollo brightened. “Good idea! I should write a song about it.”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told us?” asked Hera.
“I don’t think so,” Apollo said, beginning to strum his lyre. “Now let me see.” Then he started to sing, “The evil Titan Iapetos . . . What rhymes with Iapetos?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ares burst out. “Iapetos is my father!”
“If he told you he’s your father, then he’s a liar,” Apollo said. He swept his hand toward the group. “You’re an Olympian, just like all of us.”
Ares’s face turned bright red. His eyes started to glow like they were on fire, and his hands clenched into fists. “You’re the liar!” he yelled.
Zeus stepped between them. “You know, for a Titan you’re kind of small,” he pointed out to Ares. “Titans are giants, but you’re more our size—Olympian-size.”
“You look kind of like us too, even if you do have weird eyes,” Poseidon added.
Zeus shot him a warning look. Something—maybe that spear—reminded him that this A
res was not somebody you wanted to get riled up unnecessarily. Especially since he had a bunch of attack birds under his control.
“I can prove my story,” Apollo offered. “If I didn’t know you when you were three, then I wouldn’t know about that birthmark on your back. The one shaped like a dog.”
The anger in Ares’s face started to fade. “How do you know about that?” He quickly looked over his shoulder, to make sure the mark wasn’t showing.
“I told you, we grew up together,” Apollo said. “A birthmark like that isn’t easy to forget.”
“It really looks like a dog?” Hera asked.
Ares ignored her. He leaned back against a tree, dazed. “I just don’t know about this. . . . Why don’t I remember you?”
“Maybe you’ll remember this. I wrote my first song for us,” Apollo told him. He began to sing in a sweet, magical voice. It sounded like tinkling bells and chirping sparrows and gave you goose bumps when you listened to it.
“Good night, good night, good night,
The stars are in the sky.
Good night, good night, good night,
The owls are going to fly—”
“That’s a pretty lame song,” Poseidon chimed in.
Apollo stopped singing. “Hey, I was only three.”
Zeus looked over at Ares and saw that his red eyes were starting to fill with tears. Ares quickly brushed them away.
By now the other Olympians had gathered closer, curious and eager to hear Ares’s story. The swampy air was damp and chilly around them, and Hestia gave a little shiver.
“I think . . . I remember,” Ares said. “It makes sense. My Titan brothers—I wondered why they’re all way bigger than I am. And Clymene—our mom—has nicknames for all of us. Prometheus is the Smart One, Epimetheus is the Silly One, Atlas is the Strong One, and Menoetius is the Vain One.”
“And what about you?” Hera asked.
Ares frowned. “She always just calls me the Other One. And my brothers used to tell me that they found me in a cabbage patch when I was a baby, all curled up and no bigger than a slug.”
“Aw, that’s kind of cute,” said Demeter.
“What about Iapetos?” Apollo asked.
“You know, he never has been very nice to me,” Ares said carefully. “He always makes me clean out the in-between part of his toes.”
“Ew!” shrieked Hera, looking grossed out.
“And when we get dinner, he never gives me any good parts of the chicken,” Ares went on. “I get the beak and the feet. And he just laughs when my Titan brothers call me Slug. But if he ever hears me call Atlas ‘Muscle Brain,’ he makes me clean out the chicken coop all by myself.”
“Because those so-called brothers of yours are big Titans, and you’re just a puny human—at least in his eyes,” Apollo said. “Don’t you see?”
Ares nodded. “Yeah. I think I get it,” he said, his voice flat.
Zeus stepped up to him. “This is so great, because we’ve been looking for you!” he said encouragingly.
“We didn’t know it was you, specifically, but now we do,” said Hera. “Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi, told us that we would find a new Olympian on this quest.”
“You guys are on a quest?” Ares asked, looking interested.
“Well, right now we’re just standing around talking,” Poseidon joked lamely.
Zeus ignored his brother.
“King Cronus wants to destroy all the Olympians,” Zeus told Ares. “But Pythia said we can fight back. We have to find magical objects to use against Cronus”—he patted Bolt—“and gather all the Olympians for the final battle against him and the other Titans.”
Ares’s red eyes flashed. “Battle? And I get to come with you?”
“For sure,” Zeus answered.
As they talked, Hestia started a small fire using some dry leaves, and Hades grabbed some rocks to put around it. Demeter took some bread and cheese from her pack.
“Who’s up for some grilled cheese?” she asked. The other Olympians all eagerly shouted, “Me!”
Whatever sad feelings Ares had had about finding out that Iapetos had kidnapped him vanished. “Battle! This is gonna be awesome!” he cried. He grabbed his spear in both hands and started moving around the marsh like he was fighting. “Take that! And that! Let’s go!”
“Not so fast,” Hera said. “Pythia sent us to find something else too—a magical object called an aegis. It’s like a shield with golden tassels hanging from it. Do you know where it is?”
Ares shook his head. “No,” he answered. “But it sounds kind of familiar. Like I might have seen it when I was younger. I have a dim memory of my brothers—I mean, those Titan guys who aren’t my brothers—fighting over it once. But they fight over a lot of stuff.”
“Maybe it’s in your house?” Hestia suggested.
Ares nodded. “Yeah, we could go look.”
“Is everybody forgetting something?” Poseidon asked. “Ares lives with six Titans. Not one, not two—six!”
“And they’re probably wondering where I am right now,” Ares said, looking up at the sky. Night was falling fast. “I’ve got to cook dinner.”
“Maybe you can sneak around your house and look for it this evening,” Hera suggested. “We could camp here tonight and wait for you to join us with the aegis in the morning.”
Poseidon anxiously looked up at the sky. “I’m not staying here with those birds.”
“Don’t worry,” Ares said. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
Poseidon’s eyes narrowed. “Why do they listen to you, anyway?”
Ares shrugged. “I’m not sure. I used to escape to the swamp whenever I could when I was little. The birds always liked hanging around me. I started listening to their cries, and it was like I could understand them. I’m the only one who can command them.”
“Kind of like how I can command Cerberus, my dog in the Underworld,” Hades said. “Maybe it’s part of your power as an Olympian.”
Ares grinned. “Yeah, maybe,” he said. “So we have a plan, right? I’ll look for the aegis tonight, and tomorrow we’ll go look for a battle!”
“Well, the first part of the plan sounds good,” Zeus said. Then a thought struck him. “How do we know you’re not going to bring the Titans back here?”
“Because I know I’m an Olympian now,” Ares replied. “I wouldn’t betray my real brothers and sisters. See you in the morning.”
Zeus and the others watched the strange boy disappear into the darkness. Zeus was prety sure that they were all thinking the same thing.
Would Ares really return to help them? Or would her bring the Titans—and trouble—back with him?
CHAPTER EIGHT
A Shattered Hope
Zeus had a troubled sleep that night—but the next morning Ares showed up bright and early. And alone, thankfully.
“So, what’s our plan of attack?” Ares asked eagerly.
“Did you find the aegis?” Hera asked right away.
Ares shook his head. “My four brothers—I mean the four Titans—kept me busy doing stuff for them all night, like they usually do. The vain Menoetius dyed his hair blond and made me help style it. As if I didn’t have enough chores. I barely had time to sleep.”
Zeus was thoughtful. “We can’t leave until we have the aegis. It’s part of our quest! What if we got the Titans out of the house so we could search it?”
“You could trick them!” Hades chimed in. “Tell them there’s some kind of emergency or something.”
“They’re always worried about the family sheep flock,” Ares said. “I guess I could say the sheep got loose.”
Hades pointed to his helmet. “Or I could conveniently set them loose.”
Ares suddenly frowned. “Only, the Titans will make me go find the sheep with them.”
“We’ll search the house for the aegis while you help round up the sheep,” Hera suggested. “Then you can sneak away and meet us back here. We won’t leave without you.”
“Of course!” Zeus answered. “No Olympians left behind.”
“Thanks,” said Ares, smiling for the first time.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Hera asked. “Let’s go get that aegis!”
Ares nodded. “Follow me.”
When they stepped back onto the marsh, the Stymphalian birds didn’t move a single metal feather. Ares led the Olympians around the lake. It was the blackest water Zeus had ever seen. Quiet and still, with flies and other water bugs hovering over its surface. A musty, moldy stench rose up from it.
“Sorry you had to grow up here, Ares,” Apollo said, wrinkling his nose.
Ares shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”
Hades sniffed the air. “Smells pretty nice to me!” Hera rolled her eyes at that.
When they reached the opposite shore, it opened up to a big, green field surrounded by a fence.
“Epimetheus and Atlas are probably outside,” Ares warned. “But they’re lazy and are likely over by the fig trees, lounging around. We should be okay if we stick to the east side of the pasture.”
The eight Olympians carefully made their way along the edge of the field, which was dotted with dozens of white sheep. Demeter was still limping, so Hades and Hestia lent her an arm to lean to keep her upright. Across the field they could see a Titan-size house. It was made of stone, with a roof of thatched straw. Smoke rose from its chimney.
Suddenly Ares let out a cry. “My ex-brothers are coming!” he hissed, squinting into the distance. “Everybody, get behind that boulder!” All seven Olympians quickly crouched down behind a boulder just a few yards in front of them.
Zeus turned to Hades. “Can you scout ahead for us?” he asked in a whisper. “And see where they go?”
Hades nodded, put on his Helm of Darkness, and disappeared just as the sound of voices reached them.
“I hate sheep,” a Titan was saying in a whiny voice.
