| |
The next day, when Nick got up, he saw Orion hunched in his corner, with Helen outside the cave. Good, he thought, easing into his armor. His words—and weapons—must have had an effect.
He walked out and stretched, then heard a welcome sound: the clatter of nearby hooves. From around a cliff came a centaur about as old as his dad. This one’s coat was light and his arms clutched a wineskin.
“Son of Chiron!” the centaur cried, giving Nick a muscular bow. “Your father has sent me to you since my cave lies nearby.”
“Sweet.”
Did that mean his dad cared?
“I am Pholus.”
“Nice to meet you.” Nick extended a hand as Orion emerged. “This is Helen, and that’s Orion.”
“Son of Poseidon, eh?” asked Pholus.
“None other,” said Orion.
He smiled, revealing perfect teeth.
“Come,” said Pholus, gesturing. “Please be my guests before you face the boar.”
“Well . . .” Nick hesitated.
“You must eat!” the centaur insisted. “And I have a newly killed deer.”
“I’m in!” cried Orion, striding up to Pholus.
Nick and Helen reluctantly brought up the rear.
“I don’t want to stay long,” Nick told her.
She nodded as they passed a line of deeps caves. Pholus swept into one of them, bidding them all to enter.
Wow, Nick thought, once he had, his folk must be into simple living. There wasn’t a stick of furniture and Pholus’s breakfast was . . . strewn all over the floor.
“Come!” cried the centaur. “Eat!”
He picked up a chunk of meat and tore at it with his teeth. Nick couldn’t help but notice that it was bloody and raw. He had to turn away as Helen went out again: he hoped, to gather wood for a fire.
“Wine?” Pholus asked. He gave Orion a wink. “Shall I dilute it with water?”
“NO,” the giant roared, taking up the large skin and emptying it.
“There’s more,” Pholus said merrily, trotting up to a bag on the floor which contained nothing but wineskins. He raised one to his lips, and, like Orion, drained it in one gulp.
“To Pan,” he yelled. “And Dionysus, God of Wine.”
This, Nick thought, is what Helen warned me about. He pretended to take some big sips, and, when she came back, beckoned her into a corner.
“What should we do?” he asked, nodding toward their . . . increasingly lively friends.
“I’m not sure,” she whispered. “Once a centaur starts, I don’t think they can stop.”
“Great,” Nick hissed. “They’re worse than the kids in my school.”
Helen shook her head as she bent to unload some twigs. The two drinkers were getting loud, and, Nick thought, singing would surely follow.
“Good times!” Orion roared. “Artemis frowns on drink, but not this Demi here.”
Nick rolled his eyes. More wineskins hit the floor, enough to rebuild a cow.
“Take it easy, huh?” he said to Orion.
But the hunter was totally gone. He threw back his shaggy head and started to howl like a wolf.
“Thas’ th’ way!” cried Pholus, and, in a sing-song, shouted: “Paaarty . . . Fi-eesta!”
Two drunks were bad enough. But the smell of wine must have drawn Nick’s “people,” for, out of nowhere, a whole herd came charging in.
“Yas!” cried Pholus, “enou’ fer all. Drink up, my fres’!”
They didn’t need to be told. The party spilled outside, and Nick saw centaurs do things he never could have imagined: trying to ride each other; kicking back like donkeys; biting, bucking, and wrestling like the world’s worst-behaved kids. The sheer level of noise was starting to hurt Nick’s ears: if that Boar was around, he had probably fled.
Nick shook his head, keeping a close watch on Helen. He didn’t want to hurt his own kind, but, the way they were acting, he might have to kick a few tails.
“Look, I’m Nick!” roared Orion, getting down on all fours in the dirt. He “loped” into the herd, which had formed into two drunken circles.
“And I’m Orion,” said Nick, pointing to his rear.
Helen tried to laugh but Nick saw her concern.
“I wish I had some bits—and spurs,” he growled.
He could barely look as the party swung out of control. Now two centaurs came into Pholus’, rummaging for snacks.
“Hey, wass this?” asked a slurred voice behind him.
“NO, DON’T—” Nick yelled.
But it was too late. Pholus, having seized an arrow from Nick’s quiver, stabbed himself through the leg.
“Oops,” said Pholus, then stiffened and fell over, dead.
Word flew among the herd, which quickly went silent.
“The poison,” Helen told them. “Dipped in Hydra’s blood.”
They didn’t care if it had been dipped in nectar. The centaurs gathered tightly, then hurled themselves at Nick.
“You must shoot them!” Helen cried.
With great reluctance, Nick let his arrows fly, bringing down three. The sight of their motionless bodies filled his eyes with tears.
“Enough,” said a voice clearly used to command. “Centaurs, disburse. Nikólaos, come with me.”
