Centaur School

by Lucy Coats

  “And how may I do that?” the queen asked. But before Peleus could answer, there was a great banging and shaking. As the floor trembled, Demon gasped. Had the fire devils escaped already? Was this the end? Were they all to be burnt up? He was sure he could feel the floor getting even hotter under his feet.

  But then he heard a familiar voice shouting. Antaeus had found his courage at last and come to the rescue!

  “Peleus! Demon! Where are you? Let me in!” yelled the giant, his gruff tones echoing through the nest, which shook from his repeated blows. With an enraged chittering and clicking, the ant warriors charged out of the queen’s chamber and back toward the surface.

  “Oh no!” said Peleus. “Stupid giant! They’ll kill him! I’d better go and tell him we’re all right, before he’s stung to death.” He sprinted after the horde of ants, leaving Demon alone with the queen and her attendants.

  The queen tapped one pointy foot on the floor as Demon eyed her enormous pincerlike jaws. She could munch him up in an instant. “Well?” she asked. “What have you to say for yourself, small human?”

  Demon took a deep breath, trying not to think of being eaten. “Well, Your Majesty,” he said, stumbling a bit as he got his tongue around the difficult clicks. “The phoenix thought you might have some special medicine.” He drew a round shape in the air with his hands. “In a ball. Nectar, Peleus called it.” He looked up into the queen’s glittering eyes, willing her to help. “If the fire devils escape, it will be a disaster. This mountain will be the first to get burnt up. And if I can’t cure the phoenix’s voice so it can sing again, that’s what will happen, and there’s very little time left. The fire devil prison already has cracks in it.” His voice broke. “It’s . . . it’s a real emergency, Your Majestic Antness.”

  The queen didn’t waste any time. She turned to two of her attendants and clapped her front legs together. “Fetch me two globes of sweet acid nectar at once,” she commanded. “Hurry!” She looked down at Demon. “If the Prince of Ants had not brought you, I should have considered you a juicy morning snack,” she said. “You do know that, don’t you?”

  Demon nodded, just as the attendants scurried back, each carrying a round globe full of a milky liquid. Now he felt ashamed of doubting Peleus. He was indeed a true friend.

  “Thank you for not eating me, Your Majesty,” he said, tucking a globe carefully under each arm. They wobbled slightly, like jelly.

  “Don’t squash them,” said the queen sharply. “Now go! I have no wish to be burnt up in my bed.”

  Demon ran as quickly as he dared. He didn’t want the queen changing her mind.

  CHAPTER 11

  PHOENIX SONG

  As Demon emerged from the heat of the ant mound, he took in great gulps of fresh air. Antaeus and Peleus were waiting outside, surrounded by ant warriors. Antaeus still looked nervous, glancing around him with wild eyes, but his armor had obviously fended off the worst of the stings. Suddenly, the mountain gave a shudder. This time it was not Antaeus.

  “Quick,” Demon said, his heart clenching with dread. “Down the mountain. We must get back to the phoenix.”

  Antaeus scooped up him and Peleus at once, being extra-careful of the fragile sweet-acid globes.

  “Good-bye, my ant brothers!” called Peleus to the warriors.

  “Farewell, Prince of Ants,” they clicked back as the giant sprinted down the mountain so fast that the rocks became no more than a golden blur under his feet.

  As they approached the phoenix’s cave, the ground shuddered harder. Antaeus threw his feather cloak over both of them and ran through the firefall. There was no time to waste. Burns would mend, but not if the phoenix wasn’t saved.

  The floor of the cave was rippling like tiny black waves, and a thick smell of burning sulfur filled the air. A third and much larger crack had appeared in the crystal wall, and Demon was horrified to see that white-hot sparks were fizzing through it. The fire devils were screeching with triumph. They were nearly free. Demon jumped to the ground, almost falling on the unsteady floor in his panic to get to the phoenix.

  “Steady,” said Peleus as Demon handed him the second globe before cracking the first in half, like an egg. “Don’t spill it!”

  Demon didn’t answer. He was too busy tipping the sweet-sour-smelling liquid down the phoenix’s gaping beak. One half went in, then the other.

  “C’mon,” he whispered. “C’mon! Work!”

  All at once, the phoenix started to shine, all the way from beak to tail. Light poured out of its feathers in shades of flame from brightest white to deepest red, so dazzling that Demon had to cover his eyes. Its long tail feathers fanned out with a crisp snap like jade-gold lightning. Backing away, Demon took shelter under Antaeus’s cloak, where Peleus was already crouched.

  Then, with a flap like a billowing sail, the phoenix’s wings opened. It soared high up to the ceiling of the cave before swooping down to seize branch after branch. Almost quicker than the eye could see, it built its nest on top of the ruby. The majestic creature paid no attention to the enraged shrieking from the back of the cave, where even more white-hot sparks were escaping through the crystal wall.

  “Hurry! Oh, do hurry!” Demon said, clutching Peleus’s hand without even noticing. “Oh, why doesn’t it sing? What if the queen’s medicine doesn’t work?”

  Peleus squeezed back. “It’ll be all right,” he said. “At least . . . I think it will. And we’ve got the other globe of nectar if we need to give it more.”

  Soon the nest was finished. It was square and perfect, laced with berries, fruit, bark, and flowers, which added flashes of color. The phoenix settled itself on top and opened its beak. For a breathless moment everything was still. Demon crossed every finger and toe he had.

  Then a note of diamond-pure sound erupted from the phoenix’s long beak, followed by another, and another, dropping like tiny jewels through the sulfur-laden air. The Song of Renewal was so beautiful that forever afterward both Demon and Peleus always compared it to each piece of music they heard. Nothing ever came close to the wonder of the phoenix’s song.

  The fire devils were not so happy with it, though. They cowered back, wailing high and shrill. Gradually, the cracks filled in and disappeared, and the crystal became less and less transparent. Soon it was so thick that no trace or sound of the fire devils could be seen or heard. They were safely trapped in their crystal prison for another hundred years, but still the phoenix sang.

  Wisps of smoke began to rise from the wooden nest, and then flames followed.

  “No!” Demon gasped, lurching forward. But Antaeus pulled him back with one ham-like hand.

  “Hush!” he said. “This must happen. Wait and see.”

  As the giant spoke, the nest blazed up in a tall white pillar of fire. A delightful scent of cinnamon, frankincense, and rose replaced the sulfur smell. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the column of flame was gone—and the phoenix with it. The top of the ruby was completely empty apart from a mass of fluttering phoenix feathers, drifting through the air, and a large sapphire-and-gold egg that began to rock back and forth.

  Soon small cracks appeared in the shell, and Demon could hear a tapping sound.

  “It’s going to hatch,” said Peleus, rushing forward and dragging Demon behind him. “Look!”

  The egg burst open in a shower of jagged blue-gold pieces, revealing a small golden chick that cheeped loudly. Before their astonished eyes, it grew and grew, until a full-size phoenix stood before them again, tail trailing magnificently down the side of the ruby, and crest raised high.

  “Ah!” it said, in a beautifully musical voice. “That’s more like it. It’s always so cramped in my egg.”

  “Are you all right?” Demon asked. He still couldn’t quite believe they’d succeeded.

  “Better than new,” it replied. “Thank you for curing me, Pandemonius—and you, to
o, young prince. I didn’t think you’d make it back in time.”

  “We nearly didn’t,” said Demon. “Luckily, Antaeus is fast.”

  The phoenix cocked its head. “I suppose you’ll want more of my feathers for that cloak of yours, giant?” it said.

  Antaeus nodded. “Someone . . .” He gave a sideways look at Demon. “Someone pulled a whole lot out.”

  Demon spluttered in protest. “I was only trying to help,” he said. Antaeus just gave his great rumbling laugh and ruffled Demon’s hair.

  The phoenix fluttered down and picked up two feathers in its beak, then gave one each to Demon and Peleus.

  “To thank you,” it said. “Those few who belong to the Legion of Phoenix Protectors can call on me if they are ever in great need or danger, and I will come. Just throw the feather into a fire made of sandalwood and say my name. Remember, though, it only works once.”

  It nudged Demon’s leg. “Take that globe of ant nectar with you, too,” it said. “It might come in handy one day. It is powerful stuff. You’ll know when to use it, I expect.”

  With that, it stretched out its wings and soared out through the firefall with a melodious cry of farewell.

  Demon repacked his medicine sack, tucking the phoenix feather carefully inside Chiron’s Book of Cures. “I suppose we’d better start getting back,” he said sleepily. He was tired, and hungrier than a starving Chimera.

  Demon woke from a deep sleep on Antaeus’s shoulder when they reached the bottom of the mountain. As he opened his eyes, he saw Keith and Sky Pearl frolicking around a familiar tall figure with an owl on her shoulder. The goddess of wisdom smiled a knowing smile as she heard the sound of three rumbling stomachs coming toward her. She snapped her fingers, and on the flowers at her feet there appeared a magnificent picnic, spread on a cloth of silver-embroidered purple. Demon’s mouth began to water, and he had to swallow hard to keep from dribbling.

  “Well done, Pandemonius,” Athena said, drawing him aside from the others as they fell on the food like starving wolves. “Before you eat, I have a reward for you. A certain owl told me you’d like it.” As Sophie hooted softly, the goddess reached into the air and drew out a beautiful book, bound in red leather and gold. Demon’s eyes grew as round as apples as he took it and opened it. It was full of creamy-white blank pages.

  “Oh,” he said, stroking its smoothness. “It’s so much better than my old slate! Now I can write my patient notes just like Chiron does.”

  Athena laughed. “I suggest you start with the case of the poorly phoenix,” she said.

  “I shall, Your Cleverness,” he replied as she and Sophie disappeared in a flash of silver light.

  “Hey, Demon,” said Peleus. “Come and eat before Antaeus snaffles these honey cakes.”

  “Hands off!” said Demon happily. “Those are all mine!”

  THE GODS

  Aphrodite (AF-ruh-DY-tee): Goddess of love and beauty and all things pink and fluffy.

  Apollo (uh-POL-oh): The radiant god of music. More than a little sensitive to criticism.

  Artemis (AR-te-miss): Goddess of the hunt. Can’t decide if she wants to protect animals or kill them.

  Athena (a-THEE-na): Goddess of wisdom and defender of pesky, troublesome heroes.

  Chiron (KY-ron): God of the centaurs. Known for his wisdom and healing abilities.

  Dionysus (DY-uh-NY-suss): God of wine. Turns even sensible gods into silly goons.

  Eos (EE-oss): The Titan goddess of the dawn. Makes things rosy with a simple touch of her fingers.

  Eros (AIR-oss): The rascally, winged god of love.

  Hades (HAY-deez): Zeus’s brother, the gloomy, fearsome ruler of the Underworld.

  Helios (HEE-lee-us): The bright, shiny, and blinding Titan god of the sun.

  Hephaestus (Hih-FESS-tuss): God of blacksmithing, metalworking, fire, volcanoes, and most things awesome.

  Hera (HEER-a): Zeus’s scary wife. Drives a chariot pulled by screechy peacocks.

  Hermes (HUR-meez): The clever, fun-loving, jack-of-all-trades messenger god.

  Hestia (HESS-tee-ah): Goddess of the hearth and home. Bakes the most heavenly treats.

  Pan (PAN): God of shepherds and flocks. Frequently found wandering grassy hillsides, playing his pipes.

  Poseidon (puh-SY-dun): God of the sea and controller of natural and supernatural events.

  Zeus (ZOOSS): King of the gods. Fond of smiting people with lightning bolts.

  OTHER MYTHICAL BEINGS

  Antaeus (ahn-TAY-oos): Giant who likes to challenge everyone he meets to a fight.

  Asclepius (as-KLEE-pee-us): Born the half-god son of Apollo, but raised by Chiron the centaur as an apprentice. Doctors love him.

  Autolykos (ow-TOL-ih-kohs): A trickster who shape-shifts his stolen goods to avoid getting caught.

  Dryads (DRY-ads): Tree nymphs. Can literally sing trees to life.

  Endeis (en-DEE-es): Never a dull moment when you’re the daughter of Chiron, mother of Peleus, and official oread of Mount Pelion.

  Heracles (HAIR-a-kleez): The half-god “hero” who just loooves killing magical beasts.

  Myrmidons (MER-muh-donz): Zeus transformed this lean, mean, fighting colony of ants into human soldiers.

  Nymphs (NIMFS): Giggly, girly, dancing nature spirits.

  Oreads (OR-ee-adz): Nymphs that play in the mountains and hills.

  Peleus (PEE-lee-us): A hero and the prince of the ant-men. Relies a little too much on his magical sword.

  Prometheus (pruh-MEE-thee-us): Gave fire to mankind and was sentenced to eternal torture by bird-pecking.

  PLACES

  Aegina (ee-JYE-nuh): Island near Athens ruled by Peleus’s father. Home of the ant-men.

  Mount Pelion (PEEL-ee-un): A mountain in the Aegean Sea where Chiron the centaur lives.

  BEASTS

  Centaur (SEN-tor): Half man, half horse, and lucky enough to get the best parts of both.

  Colchian Dragon (KOL-kee-un): Ares’s guard dragon. Has magical teeth and supposedly never sleeps.

  Griffin (GRIH-fin): Couldn’t decide if it was better to be a lion or an eagle, so decided to be both.

  Hydra (HY-druh): Nine-headed water serpent. Hera somehow finds this lovable.

  Phoenix (FEE-nix): Wondrous bird with a burning desire to be reborn every hundred years.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lucy Coats studied English and ancient history at Edinburgh University, then worked in children’s publishing, and now writes full-time. She is a gifted children’s poet and writes for all ages from two to teenage. She is widely respected for her lively retellings of myths. Her twelve-book series Greek Beasts and Heroes was published by Orion in the UK. Beasts of Olympus is her first US chapter-book series. Lucy’s website is www.lucycoats.com. You can also follow her on Twitter @lucycoats.

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  As a kid, Brett Bean made stuff up to get out of trouble. As an adult, Brett makes stuff up to make people happy. Brett creates art for film, TV, games, books, and toys. He works on his tan and artwork in California with his wife, Julie Anne, and son, Finnegan Hobbes. He hopes to leave the world a little bit better for having him. You can find more about Brett and his artwork at www.2dbean.com.

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  Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.

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