The Dark Prophecy by Rick Riordan

Son of a Midas

You, sir, are a stupid-head

Here, have an ostrich

IN MY FOUR THOUSANDyears of life, I had searched for many things—beautiful women, handsome men, the best composite bows, the perfect seaside palace, and a 1958 Gibson Flying V. But I had never searched for a perfect place to die.

“Calypso?” I said weakly.

“Yeah?”

“If we die here, I’d just like to say you aren’t as bad as I originally thought.”

“Thanks, but we’re not going to die. That would deprive me of killing you later.”

Lityerses chuckled. “Oh, you two. Bantering like you have a future. It must be hard for former immortals to accept that death is real. Me, I’ve died. Let me tell you, it’s no fun.”

I was tempted to sing to him the way I had with the griffins. Perhaps I could convince him I was a fellow sufferer. Something told me it wouldn’t work. And alas, I was all out of Tater Tots.

“You’re the son of King Midas,” I said. “You came back to the mortal world when the Doors of Death were open?”

I didn’t know much about that incident, but there’d been some massive Underworld jailbreak during the recent war with the giants. Hades had ranted nonstop about Gaea stealing all his dead people so they could work for her. Honestly, I couldn’t blame the Earth Mother. Good cheap labor is terribly difficult to find.

The swordsman curled his lip. “We came through the Doors of Death, all right. Then my idiot father promptly got himself killed again, thanks to a run-in with Leo Valdez and his crew. I survived only because I was turned into a gold statue and covered with a rug.”

Calypso backed toward the griffins. “That’s…quite a story.”

“Doesn’t matter,” snarled the swordsman. “The Triumvirate offered me work. They recognized the worth of Lityerses, Reaper of Men!”

“Impressive title,” I managed.

He raised his sword. “I earned it, believe me. My friends call me Lit, but my enemies call me Death!”

“I’ll call you Lit,” I decided. “Though you don’t strike me as very lit. You know, your father and I used to be great friends. Once, I even gave him ass’s ears.”

As soon as I said that, I realized it was perhaps not the best proof of my friendship.

Lit gave me a cruel smile. “Yes, I grew up hearing about that music contest you made my dad judge. Gave him donkey ears because he declared your opponent the winner? Heh. My father hated you so much for that, I was almost tempted to like you. But I don’t.” He sliced through the air in a practice swipe. “It’ll be a pleasure to kill you.”

“Hold on!” I shrieked. “What about all that take them alive business?”

Lit shrugged. “I changed my mind. First, that roof collapsed on me. Then my bodyguards got swallowed by a stand of bamboo. I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

My pulse boomed like timpani in my ears. “No.”

“Right.” He regarded Calypso. “I think I’ll keep you alive long enough to kill you in front of Valdez’s face. That’ll be fun. But this former god here…” Lit shrugged. “I’ll just have to tell the emperor he resisted arrest.”

This was it. After four millennia of glory, I was going to die in a griffin enclosure in Indianapolis. I confess I hadn’t envisioned my death this way. I hadn’t envisioned it at all, but if I had to go, I wanted a lot more explosions and blazing spotlights, a host of beautiful weeping gods and goddesses crying No! Take us instead!, and a lot less animal poop.

Surely Zeus would intercede. He couldn’t allow my punishment on earth to include actual death! Or perhaps Artemis would slay Lit with an arrow of death. She could always tell Zeus it was a freak longbow malfunction. At the very least, I hoped the griffins would come to my aid, since I’d fed them and sung to them so sweetly.

None of that happened. Abelard hissed at Lityerses, but the griffin seemed reluctant to attack. Perhaps Lityerses had used those sinister training implements on him and his mate.

The swordsman rushed me with blinding speed. He swung his blade horizontally—right toward my neck. My last thought was how much the cosmos would miss me. The last thing I smelled was the scent of baked apples.

Then, from somewhere above, a small humanoid form dropped between me and my attacker. With a clang and a burst of sparks, Lityerses’s blade stopped cold in the crook of a golden X—the crossed blades of Meg McCaffrey.

I may have whimpered. I had never been so happy to see anyone in my life, and that includes Hyacinthus the time he wore that amazing tuxedo on our date night, so you know I mean it.

Meg pushed with her blades and sent Lityerses stumbling backward. Her dark pageboy hair was festooned with twigs and blades of grass. She wore her usual red high-tops, her yellow leggings, and the green dress Sally Jackson had lent her the first day we met. I found this strangely heartwarming.

Lityerses sneered at her, but he did not look particularly surprised. “I wondered if threatening this idiot god would smoke you out of hiding. You’ve signed your death warrant.”

Meg uncrossed her blades. She retorted in her typical poetic fashion. “Nope.”

Calypso glanced at me. She mouthed the question, THISis Meg?

This is Meg,I agreed, which encompassed a lot of explanation in a very short exchange.

Lityerses stepped sideways to block the exit. He was limping slightly, probably from his incident with the canopy. “You dropped that ivy-covered roof on me,” he said. “You made the bamboo attack my men.”

“Yep,” Meg said. “You’re stupid.”

Lit hissed in annoyance. I understood this effect Meg had on people. Still, my heart was humming a perfect middle C of happiness. My young protector had returned! (Yes, yes, she was technically my master, but let’s not mince words.) She had seen the error of her ways. She had rebelled against Nero. Now she would stay by my side and help me retain my godhood. Cosmic order had been restored!

Then she glanced back at me. Instead of beaming with joy, or hugging me, or apologizing, she said, “Get out of here.”

The command jarred me to the bones. I stepped back as if pushed. I was filled with the sudden desire to flee. When we’d parted, Meg had told me I was released from her service. Now it was clear that our master-servant relationship could not be so easily broken. Zeus meant me to follow her commands until I died or became a god again. I wasn’t sure he cared which.

“But, Meg,” I pleaded. “You just arrived. We must—”

“Go,” she said. “Take the griffins and get out. I’ll hold off stupid-head.”

Lit laughed. “I’ve heard you’re a decent sword fighter, McCaffrey, but no child can match the Reaper of Men.”

He spun his blade like Pete Townshend windmilling his guitar (a move I taught Pete, though I never approved of the way he smashed his guitar into the speakers afterward—such a waste!).

“Demeter is my mother, too,” Lit said. “Her children make the best swordsmen. We understand the need to reap. It’s just the flipside of sowing, isn’t it, little sister? Let’s see what you know about reaping lives!”

He lunged. Meg countered his strike and drove him back. They circled each other, three swords whirling in a deadly dance like blender blades making an air smoothie.

Meanwhile, I was compelled to walk toward the griffins as Meg had ordered. I tried to do it slowly. I was reluctant to take my eyes off the battle, as if merely by watching Meg, I was somehow lending her strength. Once, when I was a god, that would’ve been possible, but now, what good could a spectating Lester do?

Calypso stood in front of Heloise, protecting the mother-to-be with her body.

I made it to Calypso’s side. “You’re lighter than I,” I said. “You ride Heloise. Be careful of her gut. I’ll take Abelard.”

“What about Meg?” Calypso demanded. “We can’t leave her.”

Just yesterday, I had toyed with the idea of leaving Calypso behind to the blemmyae when she was wounded. I’d like to say that wasn’t a serious thought, but it had been, however briefly. Now Calypso refused to leave Meg, whom she barely knew. It was almost enough to make me question whether I was a good person. (I stress the word almost.)

“You’re right, of course.” I glanced across the arena. In the opposite enclosure, the combat ostriches were peering through their Plexiglas, following the sword fight with professional interest. “We need to move this party.”

I turned to address Abelard. “I apologize in advance. I’m terrible at riding griffins.”

The griffin squawked as if to say, Do what you gotta do, man. He allowed me to climb aboard and tuck my legs behind the base of his wings.

Calypso followed my example, carefully straddling Heloise’s spine.

The griffins, impatient to be gone, bounded past the sword fight and into the arena. Lityerses lunged as I passed him. He would have taken off my right arm, but Meg blocked his strike with one sword and swept at Lit’s feet with the other, forcing him back again.

“Take those griffins and you’ll only suffer more!” Lit warned. “All the emperor’s prisoners will die slowly, especially the little girl.”

My hands shook with anger, but I managed to nock an arrow in my bow. “Meg,” I yelled, “come on!”

“I told you to leave!” she complained. “You’re a bad slave.”

On that, at least, we agreed.

Lityerses advanced on Meg again, slashing and stabbing. I was no expert on swordplay, but as good as Meg was, I feared she was outmatched. Lityerses had more strength, speed, and reach. He was twice Meg’s size. He’d been practicing for countless more years. If Lityerses hadn’t recently been injured from having a roof dropped on him, I suspected this fight might have been over already.

“Go on, Apollo!” Lit taunted. “Fire that arrow at me.”

I had seen how fast he could move. No doubt he would pull an Athena and slash my arrow out of the sky before it hit him. So unfair! But shooting at him had never been my plan.

I leaned toward Abelard’s head and said, “Fly!”

The griffin launched himself into the air as if my added weight was nothing. He circled around the stadium tiers, screeching for his mate to join him.

Heloise had more trouble. She lumbered halfway across the arena floor, flapping her wings and growling with discomfort before getting airborne. With Calypso clinging to her neck for dear life, Heloise began flying in a tight circle behind Abelard. There was nowhere for us to go—not with the net above us—but I had more immediate problems.

Meg stumbled, barely managing to parry Lit’s strike. His next cut sliced across Meg’s thigh, ripping her legging. The yellow fabric quickly turned orange from the flow of blood.

Lit grinned. “You’re good, little sister, but you’re getting tired. You don’t have the stamina to face me.”

“Abelard,” I murmured, “we need to get the girl. Dive!”

The griffin complied with a bit too much enthusiasm. I almost missed my shot. I let my arrow fly not at Lityerses, but at the control box next to the emperor’s seat, aiming for a lever I had noted earlier: the one that read OMNIA—everything.

WHANG!The arrow hit its mark. With a series of satisfying ka-chunks, the Plexiglas shields dropped from all the enclosures.

Lityerses was too busy to realize what had happened. Being dive-bombed by a griffin tends to focus one’s attention. Lit backed away, allowing Abelard to snatch Meg McCaffrey in his paws and soar upward again.

Lit gaped at us in dismay. “Good trick, Apollo. But where will you go? You’re—”

That’s when he was run over by a herd of armored ostriches. The swordsman disappeared under a tidal wave of feathers, razor wire, and warty pink legs.

As Lityerses squawked like a goose, curling up to protect himself, the winged serpents, fire-breathing horses, and Aethiopian Bull came out to join the fun.

“Meg!” I stretched out my arm. While precariously gripped in Abelard’s paws, she willed her swords to shrink back into golden rings. She caught my hand. Somehow I managed to pull her onto Abelard and seat her in front of me.

The flying serpents fluttered toward Heloise, who squawked defiantly and beat her mighty wings, climbing toward the netting. Abelard followed.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Surely we couldn’t bust through the net. It would be designed to withstand brute force, beaks, and claws. I imagined us hitting the barrier and getting bounced back to the arena floor as if on a reverse trampoline. It seemed an undignified way to die.

A moment before we would have slammed into the net, Calypso thrust up her arms. She howled in rage and the net blasted upward, ripped from its moorings, and was tossed into the sky like a giant tissue in a gale-force wind.

Free and unhurt, we soared out of the arena. I stared at Calypso in amazement. She seemed as surprised as I was. Then she slumped and listed sideways. Heloise compensated, shifting her pitch to keep the sorceress on board. Calypso, looking only semiconscious, clung weakly to the griffin’s fur.

As our two noble steeds rose into the sky, I glanced down at the arena. The monsters were engaged in a vicious free-for-all, but I saw no sign of Lityerses.

Meg twisted to face me, her mouth set in a ferocious scowl. “You were supposed to go!”

Then she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me so tightly I felt new fracture lines developing on my ribs. Meg sobbed, her face buried in my shirt, her whole body shaking.

As for me, I did not weep. No, I’m sure my eyes were quite dry. I did not bawl like a baby in the slightest. The most I will admit is this: with her tears moistening my shirt, her cat-eye glasses digging uncomfortably into my chest, her smell of baked apples, dirt, and sweat overwhelming my nostrils, I was quite content to be annoyed, once again, by Meg McCaffrey.