by Alane Adams
“The oracle lives in Apollo’s temple at Delphi,” Damian informed us. “I’m sure if we ask for directions, someone will know how to get there.”
I rolled my eyes. For someone so smart, he was absolutely clueless at times. I pointed at our clothing. “We don’t exactly blend in, and I don’t speak Ancient Greek, do you?”
He frowned. “Good point.”
“Well, whatever we do, we better hurry,” Angie said. “This looks like a busy road. Someone could come by anytime.”
We crowded onto the driver’s bench. I gripped the reins. “Left or right?”
Damian pointed at the distant mountain. “Let’s head toward Olympus. I think Apollo’s temple is south of it.”
“Right it is.”
I snapped the reins, and Pepper started pulling the carriage down the road.
Strange excitement bubbled in my veins as I looked around, taking in the sights and smells. I was home. Even though my father had banished me from the place, I felt like I belonged here. Way more than I ever had back in New York. And somewhere out there was a brother I’d never met.
“Uh, guys? I think we might have a problem.” Angie pointed at the road ahead.
A battalion of men on horseback rode our way, stirring up a cloud of dust.
I jerked my head at Angie and Damian. “There’s a blanket in the back. Hide under it.” They scrambled over the seat, ducking out of sight.
I pulled back on the reins as the lead rider approached. He wore a red tunic with a shiny breastplate and red-crested helmet.
But that wasn’t what had me staring.
That would be the half man, half horse that pranced at his side.
The horse part appeared to be a black stallion and made up the back end and all four legs. The man part rose from the waist up. Silver armor covered his torso, leaving his muscly arms bare. Horse-man looked as though he could bench press a Mack truck. There were several others like him scattered among the troops.
The lead soldier held up a hand, halting the brigade. “I am General Egan, commander of the First Legion of the King of Argos. What business have you on the king’s road?”
Either I had suddenly mastered Greek, or he was speaking English.
I squared my shoulders, trying to sound as snooty as Julia Pillsbury. “Out of my way, soldier. I have official business in Olympus. Zeus himself is waiting to greet me.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Egan laughed. “If that’s true, then I’m on my way to meet the goddess Aphrodite.”
The men hooted and whistled.
Egan leaned in. “You know what I think? You stole this carriage, and you’re hoping to sell it for a profit in town.” He snapped his fingers and his men encircled us. They tore the blanket off the back, hauling Angie and Damian up by their collars.
The general frowned. “What strange garments you wear. And you possess a pegasus. Where did you say you were from?”
“I didn’t.”
Time to make ourselves scarce. A lightning bolt wouldn’t cut it, not with this many soldiers. But maybe something else weather-related …
In my mind I saw dark clouds forming. The temperature dropped as a chill wind rolled in, sending goosebumps up my arms.
“Don’t do it, Phoebe,” Damian warned, but he was too late.
My blood hummed with a clamoring energy, and a pressure built up inside my head. Gripped by a sudden impulse, I thrust my fist into the sky and shouted, “Chalazi!”
The general’s horse tossed its head, surprised by my outburst. The rest of his men looked around in confusion.
But when nothing happened, General Egan snapped his fingers. “Arrest these children and let the magistrate interrogate them.”
He turned his horse away as the first ball of hail pinged off his helmet. A second and third followed. Ice missiles shot from the sky in every direction.
Apparently chalazi is another word for freaky hailstorm.
The horses reared up, unseating several riders.
“Hold on!” I snapped the reins, urging Pepper forward.
She took three running steps before her wings lifted us off the ground. The carriage bobbed and weaved through the stinging storm as Pepper spirited us away from the mass of confused soldiers.
When we were a safe distance away, I guided the carriage down and parked on a grassy spot behind a stand of fig trees.
I jumped down, pumping my fist. “That was awesome!”
Damian and Angie climbed out. Damian wore a frown.
“That was reckless.”
“Why are you always so negative? I put those soldiers in their place.” I raised my hand to Angie, expecting a high five, but she folded her arms and glared at me.
“Have you forgotten you’ve been banished from Olympus?”
My excitement fizzled out. “So?”
“So quit showing off.”
“Angie’s right,” Damian said, a bit more gently. “We need to keep a low profile until we figure out what to do.”
I nodded, blinking back tears. It wasn’t fair. I’d just saved their hides from being tossed in some stinking jail, and they acted like I was out of line!
“Did you notice General Egan spoke English?” Angie asked.
Damian nodded. “It must be the magic of Olympus. I understood him perfectly. Did you see that centaur? It was massive.”
“You mean horse-man?”
“It’s like every myth I’ve ever read come to life. This place is remarkable.”
Flying lions and horse-men? No thanks. The sooner we got Carl and found our way back, the sooner life could go back to normal.
“One question—how do we get home?” Damian’s question hung in the air.
I bit my lip as it hit me—we hadn’t given a thought to how we were going to get back. Based on the tense looks on my friends’ faces, they had the same worry on their minds.
What if we’re stuck here forever?
I mustered all the confidence I had. “We’ll figure that out when the time comes. For now, the oracle awaits. Which way do we go?”
Before Damian could answer, a snicker of laughter came from some bushes behind the carriage.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
The shrubbery rattled, and a voice growled, “Stay back. I am a manticore with sharp teeth and a poisonous tail.”
“You don’t sound like a manticore,” I said. “Not that I know what one sounds like.”
“A manticore is a lion with a Neanderthal head and a serpent tail,” Damian explained.
The bush rattled louder, sending leaves flying. “Leave the carriage and be gone, or I will eat the flesh from your bones.”
“If you’re a big bad manticore, I’m a toaster oven.” Angie reached into the brush and hauled a figure out by the nape of his neck.
It was a scrawny boy, maybe nine or ten. His fair hair was ragged, his features grimed in dirt. His eyes shone a deep blue that reminded me of the sea.
He twisted in her grip. “I am a son of Apollo. I command you to leave me be.”
“Son of Apollo?” Damian said. “Perfect! You must know the way to his temple!”
The boy flushed, slipping free of Angie’s grip, and straightened his tunic. “’Course I do. Been there loads of times.”
“So you’ll take us there?” I asked.
“That depends.” He folded his arms. “Can you pay?”
“Pay?” I looked at the others. “We don’t have any money.”
He plucked a worn knapsack from the bush. “Then I’ll be on my way.” He whistled as he strode off.
“Wait!” I cried. “Please. We haven’t a clue where we are.”
He stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “No money, no help. That’s the rule of Macario.”
“Rule of Macario?”
He gave a short bow. “Macario, favored son of Apollo.”
“I prefer the rule of Brooklyn,” Angie growled, punching one hand into the other.
He arched one eyebrow. “I
f you so much as touch me, my father will send a bolt of sunlight so powerful you will sizzle to ash in the blink of an eye.”
Something was off. For a son of an important god, Macario’s clothes were as ragged as his haircut.
“Look, Macario, give us a break. We’re not from around here.”
He wavered a moment, then gave a slight shrug. “Maybe we can work something out.”
“I’m listening,” I said warily.
“Take me with you to see the oracle, and I’ll guide you there.”
I looked at my friends for approval. Seemed simple enough.
Damian hesitated. “Why do you need us to take you to your own father’s temple?”
He eyed Damian coolly. “That’s my business. Do we have a deal or not?”
I thrust my hand out. “Deal. I’m Phoebe, by the way, and that’s Angie and Damian.”
Macario flashed a grin. “Phoebe, did you say? How interesting.”
CHAPTER 12
The son of Apollo took the reins, insisting he knew the way. We bounced along a hard-packed road through low hills and stands of olive trees. I sat up front while the other two lounged in the back.
Macario flicked me a curious glance. “So what parts do you hail from? They dress very funny there.”
“Actually, I’m from around here somewhere. But I’ve been away.”
“Where’d you go, Sparta?”
I laughed. “Nope. New York City.”
“Where is New York City? Is that one of the new territories?”
“You could say that.” So new it hasn’t been discovered yet. “We met a guy earlier, General Egan. Seemed pretty intense.”
“You’re lucky he didn’t conscript you into his army. King Acrisius is behind on his duty to provide more troops to fight in the Trojan War.”
The name sounded familiar. Isn’t he my grandfather or something? The one who wanted my brother dead?
“How long until we reach this oracle’s temple?” Angie asked from the back. “I’m so hungry I could gnaw my arm off.”
“There is a small village not far from here,” Macario said idly. “We can stop there, if you like?”
There was a chorus of assents, but Macario had a secretive look on his face I didn’t like. The sooner we were rid of this pest, the better.
Spirals of smoke soon rose through the trees, trickling up from whitewashed houses. The town itself was small, just a few buildings and a marketplace in the center plaza. Colorful stands displayed wares for sale. Earthen pots hung from wires, and the smell of roasted lamb turning on a spit made my mouth water.
“Come on,” Angie said, jumping down and rubbing her hands together. “Let’s have some of that.”
“We don’t have any money,” Damian reminded her.
“Here.” Macario flipped them a silver coin. “A drachma should be enough for all of us. Phoebe and I will see to the pegasus.”
Damian and Angie rushed off with shouts of thanks.
While Macario led Pepper to a water trough, I wandered over to a stall stacked with beautiful fabrics. Three spinsters sat behind the counter, their gray hair piled up on top of their heads in knotted messes.
The first spinster had a loom in front of her. She racked and wove the thread so fast it was a blur. The second one held a needle, her fingers flying as she stitched her handiwork into the fabric as it came off the loom. The cloth was marked with beautiful symbols in all shapes and colors, like a strange language. The third one waited, a pair of scissors clasped in a swollen, clawlike hand.
“That’s so beautiful,” I said.
“She likes it, does she?” the one with the scissors said, snapping them open and closed.
“Yes, very much. How much is it?”
The three brayed with laughter. “She thinks she can buy her fate,” the middle one said.
“Her fate is not worth much,” the first one said, never slowing in her weaving.
“Not even half a drachma,” the third one said. “See, it says here, dead she is by end of day.” She pointed with the tip of her scissors at a silver arrow with a flaming tip next to a broken lightning bolt.
A trickle of fear made my hands clench. “Dead? That’s not funny.”
The second one paused in her sewing. “We only sew what we see, dear. It’s perfectly clear your fate is to die today. Best to accept it.”
Accept it? I wanted to plant a fat lightning bolt in her face for being so horrid to a stranger, but before I could open my mouth, a blast of white fire hit the ground next to me.
“Daughter of Zeus, you have broken the laws of Olympus,” a voice boomed.
A woman with silvery wings descended from the sky. Her face was framed by long dark locks and a shiny headband. She wore a simple tunic and golden boots laced up to her knees. In her hands, she held a bow nocked with an arrow. A ball of white fire encased the tip—exactly like the arrow stitched in the fabric.
“I am Alekto of the Erinyes. You were banished for all eternity for the treasonous acts you will one day commit.”
Without thought, I clenched my hands and called up a bolt of lightning. I launched it forward, aiming straight at her head. She spun away as she released her arrow, dodging my blast but sending the arrow wide. Another winged being came in from the other side.
“You are a traitor to Olympus!” the second one shouted. “You must die!”
She sent her own flaming arrow at me. I dove to the side, and it exploded in the dirt, sending clods flying.
A third one appeared, arrow nocked and ready.
Jeez, how many of them does it take to kill me!
I ducked under the table for shelter. The three spinsters continued to work on their weaving.
“Dead she will be, wait and you will see,” they sang in unison, repeating the verse over and over again.
I scrambled along the length of the table past their stubby legs and fat feet. More arrows pinged in the dirt. If I could only get to the end, I might be able to dash to the next stall.
The table was flung backward, exposing me.
“We told you, daughter of Zeus, your fate was at an end,” scissor-hands sneered in my face, catching me by the collar and lifting me up.
“The story ends here, princess,” the middle one screeched, clutching the fabric. “It says so right here.”
I wrenched free, a lightning bolt in my hand. I was really getting tired of being told what my fate was. In one swift move I brought the bolt down, splitting the loom into a pile of kindling.
The three hags screamed like banshees, wringing their hands over their ruined machine.
The marketplace erupted into chaos as villagers ran for shelter. A pair of squealing pigs ran by. An empty carriage thundered past, pulled by frightened horses. Another arrow struck the ground next to me, stinging my legs with sharp stones.
“Phoebe, over here,” Damian called.
He waved from behind a low wall in front of the stables.
I sent three bolts in the direction the arrow had come from and darted in their direction, diving over the wall. Arrows pinged against the masonry, exploding with silvery light.
“Now who did you cheese off?” Angie said.
“I don’t think my dad’s all that happy I came back,” I gritted out. “Who are these Erinyes anyway?”
“They deliver justice in Olympus,” Damian said, sounding slightly awed. “If you break the law, they hand out the punishment.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong,” I protested.
Like most things in my life, it wasn’t fair, but if they thought I was giving up without a fight, they didn’t know me. I needed something bigger than my lightning bolt. Something better than hail.
The idea formed in my head like a dark storm cloud. I stood, hands clenched tightly, chin down. The trio of avengers hovered in the air across the market, bows drawn. As one they flew straight for me, unleashing their arrows at the same time I clapped my hands over my head.
“Megalo Fortuna!”
Forked lightning speared down from the sky, incinerating the arrows in a three-pronged strike. A black cloud blotted out the sun, and a blast of thunder shook the ground hard enough to rattle my teeth.
And then the rain came.
It rained so hard sheets of water quickly flooded the ground. Wind whipped across the empty marketplace, sending the rain sideways, tearing the flimsy stalls to shreds, and making it impossible to see. The Erinyes winged toward me, but they were tossed and tumbled backward.
“Over here!”
The faint shout came from the trees. Macario waved, holding on to Pepper’s bridle with one hand.
I hooked arms with Angie and Damian, and crouching low, we fought our way against the buffeting wind to the carriage. We jumped in as Macario flicked the reins over Pepper’s head, and we lifted off. The carriage swayed wildly as Pepper mightily winged us away from the storm.
My stomach was twisted into knots. I couldn’t breathe. The same thought kept turning over and over in my head.
Zeus wanted me dead.
My own father.
“Put us down,” I said.
“In a minute,” he answered.
Bile rose up in my throat. “Put us down now.”
The carriage dropped, hitting with a thump, and rolled forward.
I leaped out and rushed to some bushes, where I proceeded to empty my guts.
Angie jumped down and started shouting, “You little rat, you sold us out. Get down here so I can teach you a lesson.”
Macario said nothing, but I could see guilt smeared all over his face like a rash.
Wiping my mouth, I stalked over to the carriage and hauled him down. “Tell us what you did, or so help me, I don’t care if your dad is god of the universe, I will shove a lightning bolt down your throat.”
He pushed my hand away and stepped back. “Fine. The Old Three said if I found a girl named Phoebe to bring her by. I was going to get five drachmas if it was the right girl.”
“The Old Three?” I asked. “Who are they, and why do they care about me?”
“I think those were the Fates,” Damian said, a deep frown etched in his brow. “They record the destinies of the gods on their loom—which you just destroyed. That can’t be good.”
