The Burning Maze (The Trials of Apollo #3)(5)

He started up the narrow ramp, my paralysed feet dragging behind us. Meg followed, glancing back every so often at the rapidly deteriorating tomato plants.

‘Apollo,’ she said, ‘tell me about strixes.’

I sifted through my brain, panning for useful nuggets among the sludge.

‘They … they are birds of ill omen,’ I said. ‘When they show up, bad things happen.’

‘Duh,’ said Meg. ‘What else?’

‘Er, they usually feed on the young and weak. Babies, old people, paralysed gods … that sort of thing. They breed in the upper reaches of Tartarus. I’m only speculating here, but I’m pretty sure they don’t make good pets.’

‘How do we drive them off?’ she said. ‘If we can’t kill them, how do we stop them?’

‘I – I don’t know.’

Meg sighed in frustration. ‘Talk to the Arrow of Dodona. See if it knows anything. I’m going to try buying us some time.’

She jogged back down the ramp.

Talking to the arrow was just about the only way my day could get worse, but I was under orders, and when Meg commanded me I could not disobey. I reached over my shoulder, groped through my quiver and pulled forth the magic missile.

‘Hello, Wise and Powerful Arrow,’ I said. (Always best to start with flattery.)

TOOKEST THEE LONG ENOUGH, intoned the arrow. FOR FORTNIGHTS UNTOLD HAVE I TRIED TO SPEAK WITH THEE.

‘It’s been about forty-eight hours,’ I said.

VERILY, TIME DOTH CREEP WHEN ONE IS QUIVERED. THOU SHOULDST TRY IT AND SEEST HOW THOU LIKEST IT.

‘Right.’ I resisted the urge to snap the arrow’s shaft. ‘What can you tell me about strixes?’

I MUST SPEAK TO THEE ABOUT – HOLD THE PHONE. STRIXES? WHEREFORE TALKEST TO ME OF THOSE?

‘Because they are about to killeth – to kill us.’

FIE! groaned the arrow. THOU SHOULDST AVOID SUCH DANGERS!

‘I would never have thought of that,’ I said. ‘Do you have any strix-pertinent information or not, O Wise Projectile?’

The arrow buzzed, no doubt trying to access Wikipedia. It denies using the Internet. Perhaps, then, it’s just a coincidence the arrow is always more helpful when we are in an area with free Wi-Fi.

Grover valiantly lugged my sorry mortal body up the ramp. He huffed and gasped, staggering dangerously close to the edge. The floor of the room was now fifty feet below us – just far enough for a nice, lethal fall. I could see Meg down there pacing, muttering to herself and shaking out more packets of gardening seeds.

Above, the ramp seemed to spiral forever. Whatever waited for us at the top, assuming there was a top, remained lost in the darkness. I found it very inconsiderate that the Labyrinth did not provide an elevator, or at least a proper handrail. How were heroes with accessibility needs supposed to enjoy this death trap?

At last the Arrow of Dodona delivered its verdict: STRIXES ART DANGEROUS.

‘Once again,’ I said, ‘your wisdom brings light to the darkness.’

SHUT THEE UP, the arrow continued. THE BIRDS CAN BE SLAIN, THOUGH THIS SHALT CURSE THE SLAYER AND CAUSETH MORE STRIXES TO APPEARETH.

‘Yes, yes. What else?’

‘What’s it saying?’ Grover asked between gasps.

Among its many irritating qualities, the arrow spoke solely in my mind, so not only did I look like a crazy person when I conversed with it but I had to constantly report its ramblings to my friends.

‘It’s still searching Google,’ I told Grover. ‘Perhaps, O Arrow, you could do a Boolean search, “strix plus defeat”.’

I USE NOT SUCH CHEATS! the arrow thundered. Then it was silent long enough to type strix + defeat.

THE BIRDS MAY BE REPELLED WITH PIG ENTRAILS, it reported. HAST THOU ANY?

‘Grover,’ I called over my shoulder, ‘would you happen to have any pig entrails?’

‘What?’ He turned, which was not an effective way of facing me, since I was duct-taped to his back. He almost scraped my nose off on the brick wall. ‘Why would I carry pig entrails? I’m a vegetarian!’

Meg clambered up the ramp to join us.

‘The birds are almost through,’ she reported. ‘I tried different kinds of plants. I tried to summon Peaches …’ Her voice broke with despair.

Since entering the Labyrinth, she had been unable to summon her peach-spirit minion, who was handy in a fight but rather picky about when and where he showed up. I supposed that, much like tomato plants, Peaches didn’t do well underground.

‘Arrow of Dodona, what else?’ I shouted at its point. ‘There has to be something besides pig intestines that will keep strixes at bay!’

WAIT, the arrow said. HARK! IT APPEARETH THAT ARBUTUS SHALL SERVE.

‘Our-butt-us shall what?’ I demanded.

Too late.

Below us, with a peal of bloodthirsty shrieks, the strixes broke through the tomato barricade and swarmed into the room.





3


Strixes do sucketh

Yea, verily I tell you

Much sucking is theirs





‘Here they come!’ Meg yelled.

Honestly, whenever I wanted her to talk about something important, she shut up. But, when we were facing an obvious danger, she wasted her breath yelling, Here they come.