The Eye of Zeus

by Alane Adams

  For as long as I could remember, I’d never been the kind of person who had dreams. Some demigod genetic defect, I supposed. I’d slept like a zombie at night without a single memory the next morning.

  Which is why I didn’t know I was dreaming at first. One minute, I was listening to Damian drone on about alpha centauri, and the next, I was floating. It was kind of cool. My body was next to the fire, but I was above it, weightless and free. It was like being in a zero-gravity chamber. I drifted along, seeing the countryside below lit by moonlight, until weight returned. I floated downward, flinching when my bare feet touched the cold ground.

  It was stony and hard. Real. But it couldn’t be, I told myself, because this was obviously a dream.

  In front of me, a red door with a brass knob awaited. It hung in the air like an invitation.

  I looked around, but there were only silent trees and twinkling stars. A powerful curiosity seized me, and taking a tentative step forward, I lifted a hand to the knob, then let it drop, suddenly wary. I walked around the back.

  Nothing. Just the other side of the same door, hanging in place.

  I went back to the front and grasped the knob. It was warm under my hands. I twisted it, and the door swung open. I could see clean through it. So it went nowhere. Duh. What did I expect? On a whim, I stepped through, ready to have a laugh and maybe pinch myself to wake up.

  My foot touched down—and I found myself in a bright new world.

  I blinked several times in case I was seeing it all wrong, but no—on this side of the door, the sun was shining. Green grass spread out like a lush carpet, replacing the rocky soil. I wiggled my toes, testing out the feeling. Birds sang sweet music. A light breeze brought the smell of honeysuckle.

  I turned, gasping at the sight of a small lake. Weeping willows encircled it, touching their branches down to the water. A single swan paddled serenely across its mirrored surface. It was jet black, with gleaming feathers and massive wings folded at its side.

  I walked to the shore, curious to see if it would come closer. It swam in a slow circle, never looking at me.

  “Hey,” I called. “Here, birdy, birdy.” I wished I had some bread to feed it.

  The swan floated to a stop. Its elegant neck twisted around, as if seeing me for the first time. It began paddling smoothly toward me.

  “There’s a good birdy,” I crooned, holding my fingers out as if I had a treat.

  The bird’s feathered brows lifted, and then it spoke. “Do I look like a simpleton to you, child?”

  I backed up a step. “Sorry. I didn’t know you could talk. Who are you?”

  “You may call me Cygnus.” The bird tilted its head in a greeting.

  “I’m Phoebe.”

  “Ah, the destroyer of Olympus. Have you come to destroy my home?” Its round eyes gleamed at me curiously.

  I picked up a rock and skipped it across the water. “No. And I’m not going to destroy Olympus. That’s just a stupid prophecy.”

  “Aren’t you?” The swan paddled in a slow circle. “Word is the oracle’s temple at Delphi was ruined. The sphinx’s lair is rubble. And the city of Nemea burned to the ground. I won’t even mention the loom you destroyed.”

  “Hey, those weren’t my fault! And besides, they’re not part of the fancy-schmancy city of the gods.”

  Cygnus stopped and craned its head toward me. “Did you not cause them to happen?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then by definition, you are at fault.” It continued its paddling. “Everything here is connected to the city of the gods. Think of Olympus as a giant tree. The cities around it are its branches. Destroy one and it’s like cutting at the heart of it.”

  “But it was for a good reason,” I protested.

  The swan drifted a moment before answering. “So the ends justify the means?”

  “Sometimes.”

  It nodded its head. “So when your parents sent you away—justified or not?”

  “Not!” A flush of anger raised my voice. “They should have kept me, given me a chance.”

  Cygnus paddled closer, extending its head toward me. “Even if it meant you would have died?”

  “Well, no—but they should have found a way to stop that from happening. My father is a god, after all. What good is it to have all that power if you can’t stop something bad from happening?”

  The swan swung its head to the side, looking disappointed. “They did find a way. They sent you someplace safe. You weren’t supposed to return.”

  “So I suppose that makes everything my fault,” I said with heavy sarcasm. “Because they did alllll they could to help me.”

  “Correct.”

  “WRONG!” I shouted. “WRONG, WRONG, WRONG.”

  The swan flared its wings, backpedaling as I stomped toward the water.

  “They didn’t make sure I was okay. And they didn’t tell me who I was. I’ve spent my whole life thinking there was something fundamentally wrong with me, and guess what? There is, because I’m a DEMIGOD, so yeah, I think they should have told me that part.”

  The swan lowered its head as if in shame. “Perhaps you have a point, young Phoebe. These things are never easy. Doing what you think is best—it always carries a cost. On both sides.”

  I sighed, tiredness creeping into my bones. “This is a pretty sucky dream. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wake up now and count stars till morning.”

  I walked away from the edge of the lake back toward the floating red door.

  “Be well, daughter of Zeus,” the swan called. “Be well.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “Wake up.” Damian was shaking my arm. I groaned, rolling away onto my side. He shook me again.

  “Wake up, Phoebe. It’s time to go.”

  I opened my eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight.

  “You’ve been snoring like a chainsaw,” Angie said, squatting in front of me. With her shield strapped to her back and her headband on, she looked an awful lot like Athena.

  I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “I had a dream.”

  “I thought you didn’t dream,” Damian said.

  “I don’t, which is why it was so weird.” I told them about the red door and the swan.

  Damian’s eyes widened. “That swan sounds like Zeus. He has the power of transfiguration.”

  “Trans-fig-what?”

  “Transfiguration. The ability to take the shape of an animal. Maybe he was sending a message. Communicating with you in your dream.”

  “He’s right,” Macario said. “Zeus often appears in the form of a swan.”

  My head spun. “You think that dream swan was Zeus? Then why didn’t he tell me?”

  Damian shrugged. “Maybe he just wanted to talk.”

  I felt gobsmacked. If Damian was right, I had met my dad. He was a swan, but still—monumental.

  “Come on, time to find us a hydra before ol’ Hercules beats us to it,” Angie said, rising to her feet.

  As we walked, I played back every word the swan and I had exchanged. I’d shouted at him. Of course, I would do that. My first time meeting my dad and I had basically ripped his head off.

  A plus, Phoebe, A plus.

  The smell of sulphur and rotting vegetation was the first clue we were getting close to the swamps. That and the dark cluster of gnarled trees whose twisted limbs formed a solid wall before us.

  I couldn’t help the shiver of fear that ran up my spine as we stopped in front of the thorny barrier. We’d faced a hydra once, and it had been a close call. How many of these monsters were we going to face before something bad happened to one of us?

  “Welcome to the swamps of Lerna,” Macario said. “There is no road through it, because no one is foolish enough to enter.”

  “Except us,” Angie said.

  Damian hesitated. “Maybe we should wait for Hercules. You know, let him do the dangerous parts, and we get what we need.”

  “No. We do this on our own,” I argued. “He may not even head th
is way next. I can’t make Carl wait a second longer than necessary.”

  Angie drew her sword. “I got your back, Katzy. Let’s do this. I’m not afraid of a hydra.”

  “Well, you should be,” I snapped, feeling the scar on my leg throb at the memory of the first attack. “Because this isn’t a game.”

  A look of hurt flashed across her face, but then she nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  I studied the impenetrable wall of branches. “How do we get in?”

  “Like this.”

  Angie began hacking at the twisted brambles. It took a few minutes, but she managed to carve out a hole big enough for us to climb through.

  When we came out the other side, we were inside the swamp. Mist clung to the ground. Behind us, the branches knitted themselves back together, magically sealing the hole up as if it had never been there.

  The sun had disappeared behind a bank of gray fog, making it hard to see through the dense trees. Insects buzzed around our heads, and birds flew past above us, sending out shrill cries that pierced the air. Glowing eyes peered out from tangles of brush.

  “Does anyone else have the creeps right now?” Angie asked.

  “Let’s move,” I said.

  The hard earth gave way to marshy reeds. Soon we were wading in shallow water. We tugged our boots off and tucked them under the belts of our tunics. The water got deeper, reaching our knees. Something brushed against my leg, and I screamed, making everyone jump. A small water snake poked its diamond-shaped head up once before it swam rapidly away, leaving an S trail.

  Hours passed, and we continued slogging through muck and water. There was nothing to guide us but the never-ending grim landscape. Occasional clumps of rock poked out of the water. An algae-covered spire twisted up into the fog. Another stinging insect landed on my neck. I slapped at it, grimacing at the green-splattered goo on my palm. At the rate I was getting bitten, I would run out of blood before the hydra had a chance to kill me.

  “Katzy?” Angie stopped in front of me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” All I heard was the sound of my breathing.

  “Exactly.”

  One second the place had been abuzz with swamp noises; the next, silence, as if someone had pulled the plug.

  Angie drew her blade. Damian touched my arm. “Careful, if you use lightning, the Erinyes might come.”

  “Or we might get eaten by a hydra. I’ll risk it. Maybe they’re still stuck in my tornado.”

  I called up a lightning bolt, and Macario drew a sunbeam.

  We walked on, listening intently for any sound.

  “Do you hear anything?” Damian whispered.

  “No,” I said. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

  The attack came from behind.

  One second Angie was beside me; the next she was gone. A scaly green tentacle had wrapped around her legs, dragging her backward. The spire of rock began to untwist, revealing nine separate long necks.

  The hydra.

  Angie’s scream was cut off by a mouthful of water. She recovered quickly, hacking at the limb as I sent a lightning bolt at it. It released her, and she staggered to her feet, dripping with muddy water. The hydra’s swamp-green body was as big as a school bus, with nine different serpentine heads. A pair of jutting fangs curved upward from each of its lower jaws. The eyes were glowing emeralds. Wide nostrils exhaled steam. A row of jagged fins ran from its skulls down its back to a tail that arched up high, the end spiked and lethal looking. The tail was what had wrapped around Angie.

  We ducked as all nine heads darted toward us, hungrily trying to eat us in one single attack.

  Macario and I launched our missiles, momentarily shocking it in an explosion of sun sparks and electrical energy.

  “Take cover!” I shouted.

  We fled in different directions. Damian took refuge behind a scraggly tree. Angie ducked into some brush. I dropped behind a pair of fallen logs with Macario.

  The nine heads spun every which way, searching for its meal. The tail slashed out, knocking the top off the tree shielding Damian. It clawed forward, moving its massive body toward him.

  I knew better than to hack off a head until I had a way to get rid of them all. I took mental stock of our meager weapons.

  “Damian?”

  “Don’t ask me to be the decoy,” he shouted.

  “I need you to be the decoy.”

  “So not fair.”

  “I know. But Angie has a sword, and Macario and I can use our powers. Please.”

  “No.”

  “If we each take three heads, we can defeat this thing in one go. Angie, are you up for this?”

  She grinned at me from her hiding spot, not looking the least bit afraid. “Does a duck walk backward?”

  “No? I’m not sure.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m saying yes, I got this.”

  “The son of Apollo is ready,” Macario called, gripping his sunbeam.

  “Okay. Damian, I promise you’ll be fine.”

  “That’s what you said about the python, and then it ate me!”

  “But I freed you.”

  “After it swallowed me. And you let that lion nearly take my head off.”

  “But I didn’t let it. I know I promised I wouldn’t ask again, but are you in or not?”

  There was a heavy moment of silence, then he grunted, “I’m in.”

  I pointed Macario off to my left. Angie took up a position to my right, her shield in front of her. Damian stepped out from behind the tree. His toga was stained gray with mud. He looked really small, not nearly strong enough to take on a hydra. He wasn’t a demigod. He was just a kid.

  “No, wait!” I shouted as Damian jumped in front of the hydra.

  He waggled his hands and started shouting, “Here hydra, hydra, come eat me, you revolting nine-headed beast.”

  The heads swiveled toward him, nine pairs of eyes flickering, as if they were all thinking, What is this puny human up to? There was no way he could take them on. It was a suicide mission.

  “Damian, no!”

  The first head swooped down. I moved forward, throwing the lightning bolt in a spinning arc at the beast’s head, hoping to slice it clean off. Instead, the beast snapped up the lightning in its jaws and swallowed it. Macario tried with his sunbeam, flinging it at the nearest hydra. It stuck into the side of its neck, glowing with yellow fire. The hydra howled, smashing down at the water to put it out.

  Angie let out a rebel yell and launched herself at the closest head. She smashed at its snout with her shield, then brought the blade down on the fleshy part of its neck. She managed to cut deeply, getting sprayed with green blood in the process, but her arm didn’t have the power to sever the head.

  The hydra’s body started to shake and shudder. I blinked away green slime. Was it—was it getting larger?

  The beast rose out of the water, glowing with an inner white light. Not only did it swell three sizes, but more heads appeared, thrusting upward out of its body until the thing had—I counted nineteen heads.

  “What did we do?” I shouted. A wall of water sprayed us as its tail slapped at the surface.

  “I think your lightning supercharged it,” Angie said.

  Damian was still all alone out in front of it. The heads towered over him. He was paralyzed with fear, unable to move.

  Everything went quiet. It was as if the world slowed down. Molecules of water floated in the air. I could see everything in slow motion. The position of the nineteen heads. Angie’s sword over her head. Macario with his arm cocked back, holding another sunbeam.

  This wasn’t going to work.

  No matter what we did, we were going to lose.

  Not cool. Phoebe Katz doesn’t give up.

  And then it came to me.

  The heart. The hydra might have nineteen heads, but it had only one heart. At least I hoped so.

  “Forget the heads!” I yelled.
“Go for the heart.”

  The beast crawled forward, parting the water, roaring so loud the wind peeled my hair back. The heads swarmed over Damian. He swayed on his feet, too terrified to move, his hands limp at his sides as the heads snapped closer.

  The lightning bolt I drew was cold fire in my hand. “Macario, the biggest sunbeam you have.”

  “Got it.” He drew a flaming yellow beam of pure sunshine.

  The hydra’s green-scaled chest was built like a tank. The heart was in there—but could we penetrate the skin?

  “Angie, got your sword?”

  “Yeah, it’s ready.” She held it over her head, feet planted like a warrior.

  “On my count, Macario and I send our bolts at its chest and crack it open, then Angie finishes it off. One, two, now!”

  Macario threw his beam. It exploded in a burst of yellow fire on the hydra’s chest. The beast reared up as flames danced on its skin. In the next instant, I launched my lightning bolt. Electricity crackled on the green surface of the creature, and it bellowed in pain. I threw another and then another until a small opening appeared, a crack in the skin.

  Angie ran in with both hands on the hilt of her sword. “Taste my steel!” She jumped up, thrusting her sword into the crack.

  The blade sunk in with a sickening sound. The hydra heads all screamed in unison, splitting our ears with the noise. It reeled backward, jerking Angie off her feet as she clung to the hilt. The hydra thrashed back and forth, trying to shake her off, and then took off across the water. I dove after Angie, grasping her ankles. Macario latched onto mine as green blood spattered us, staining the water.

  We had failed.

  The hydra would probably grow another ten heads, and we would never survive another attack. The beast dragged us backward through the swamp until, suddenly, it stopped. I let go of Angie and got to my feet, prepared to do what I could. I didn’t even have the strength to call up a single lightning bolt, but I would use my fists if I had to.

  The hydra staggered once, and then one after another, the heads tumbled into the water, slapping down until the beast lay still.

  Angie pulled her blade free and turned to grin at us. She was covered head to toe in green hydra blood.