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Nick went from plain kitchen floor tiles to those with big swirly patterns. Once his vision cleared, he looked up to see the palace: same gold thrones, painted lions, and . . . Helen!
“Nikólaos,” she cried, running over. “Where have you been? The Thracians are getting restless.”
Nick sprang to his feet. Looking down, he saw he wore his old tunic.
“How long was I gone?” he asked.
“Almost a lunar month. Call me a fool, but I stayed in case you came back.”
Nick nodded, drawing her to him and kissing the top of her head.
“I vow,” he said, “on the graves of the gods, never to leave you again.”
“That’s sweet,” she said, “but they’re immortal.”
“Right.” Nick took a deep breath. “What’s going on here?” he asked.
Helen rubbed her eyes with a hand.
“Of course, the queen is frantic—she wants to know her fate. And the Thracians need a king.”
Nick released her and folded his arms.
“No,” he said.
“But—”
“I won’t marry that woman. I don’t care if she’s Aphrodite. And I’m not in this thing for a title. I just want to be like my dad.”
“Nikólaos,” said Helen softly, “you are more like him now than ever. But . . .”
“Yes?”
“The queen will not let you go, for her heart is set on a Hero.”
“She doesn’t even know me!” Nick cried. “What if I eat Tostitos in bed?”
“I don’t think she would care.”
“C’mon,” he urged, “we gotta blow this taco stand.”
“What?”
“Escape. Like now.”
“Perhaps,” said Helen, “it would be best to wait. Then leave under cover of darkness.”
“Of course,” Nick answered. “How did I get by without you?”
They spent the rest of the day in the palace, where Nick paced before tall columns. Man, these royals sure knew how to live. He circled those empty gold thrones, remembering Diomedes. No way, he thought, am I taking the place of a guy who served people as snacks.
Nick saw occasional soldiers come in to talk to Helen. They all seemed pretty tight, which made him twitch with jealousy. He made sure to stand close and glower in his best impression of Herc. Finally, the sun went down, and the moon (Artemis’ baby) waxed or waned or whatev.
“Okay . . . goodnight,” Nick told Helen as they both shut themselves in their rooms. Nick put on his armor, making sure he had all his weapons. Then, he padded next door.
“What now?” he whispered to Helen, who was wrapped in a cloak. They both hunkered down in the hallway, avoiding the moon’s white glare.
“Shhh,” she warned as they crept back to the throne room. Its painted lions seemed ready to roar. Then she stopped so abruptly that Nick tread on her heel. “Oh no.”
“Oh no what?”
“The watch!”
They both slipped behind columns as eight Thracian guards marched in. The stomp of their sandals on tile was not a happy sound.
“Sorry, guys,” said Nick, raising his sword. He was just about to emerge.
“Wait,” said Helen, “don’t look.”
Nick pressed his face into marble, and, when it was safe, found the guards encased in the same. He let out a low whistle. The watch days for these dudes were over: unless they could roll.
“Nice one,” Nick said to Helen as they crept down another hallway leading to the front doors. A slipped bolt, a creak, and they were standing outside.
Helen gave him a nudge.
“Right,” Nick said, handing over his armor. “Allagí,” he mumbled, prepared to leave Thrace the same way he’d arrived.
Helen leapt on his back.
“Where to?” he asked, loping away from the palace and its steep mountain home.
“I’ve had some time,” said Helen, “to really study your shield. I think you’ll like this next Labor.”
“For real?” Nick asked.
So far, none had been what he’d call “fun.”
“What you won’t like,” she said, “is how far it is.”
“Okay,” said Nick, “lay it on me.”
“You see . . . it’s at the end of the world.”
Nick nearly reared.
“What?”
“The Caucasus,” she said. “The best way to get there would be the Black Sea—”
“—No water.”
“I know. We’ll need to travel by land. Unless . . .”
“Yes?”
“Please. Could you stop?”
Nick did, watching her hit the ground.
“Help me,” she said.
“I think you’re good,” said Nick. “I mean, those eight guards—”
“No, no. Help me pray to Athena. You are, after all, her favorite.”
“So where’s she been?” Nick muttered. Still, he lowered his head.
“O Pallas Athena,” said Helen, “Goddess of Wisdom and War . . .”
She shot Nick a look.
“Right.” He took it from there. “She who saved us against that tool Poseidon . . .”
“We have no sacrifice,” said Helen, “but beg you to hear our plea. Please, O Goddess of Heroes, speed us to the Caucasus. Nikólaos, son of Chiron, was . . . briefly absent—”
“Sorry!” Nick yelled.
“If you grant us this boon,” said Helen, “we will worship you forever.”
Athena must have liked that, since, the next second, they found themselves in a wide valley. Whoa, Nick thought, this was definitely not Thrace. The only mountains around were pretty far away, and these were fronted by trees which looked like firs and maples.
“Wow,” Nick breathed, delighting in the woody smell. They hadn’t been in a forest since . . . that pesky Hind.
“Beautiful,” said Helen, looking up at those snow-dusted peaks. Closer in were some low hills completely covered with green.
“So,” Nick asked, “where do we need to be?”
Helen pointed to the summit . . . of the tallest mountain there.
“C’mon,” said Nick. “Not Everest.”
“Yes.”
“Why in God’s—I mean, the gods’—names, didn’t Athena drop us off there?”
“We cannot know her mind,” said Helen. “Perhaps she didn’t wish to make this Labor too easy.”
“Easy?” Nick yelled. “Do I look like a mountain climber? I’m a horse, not a goat!”
“I too have never climbed. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try.”
“Sure,” said Nick. “Back home, people die on mountains all the time.”
He stubbornly dug in his hooves.
“Well,” said Helen. “That is the mountain, and it is where we must go.”
“Insane,” said Nick. “For now, let’s just find a place to camp.”
Helen nodded, trudging beside him as he cut a path with his sword. The trees here were just nonstop!
“This okay?” he asked, pointing to a clearing where they could at least lie down.
“Sure.”
Nick made himself less bulky by saying “Allagí” again. As he hastily slipped down his tunic, Helen kindled a fire. Though it really wasn’t that cold, those peaks above looked frigid.
“Don’t tell me,” he said. “We don’t have any food.”
“Wrong.”
Helen pulled out a skin bursting with Thracian goodies. They supped on salt fish in oil which seemed a little odd when you were basically in the Alps . . .
As always, Nick wished he had a blanket, since the night was quiet, but cold. When he woke the next morning, he felt pretty good, like the trees had given him oxygen. While they both ate a quick breakfast, Nick surveyed that gnarly peak.
“Look,” he said, “that thing is ginormous.” He pointed. “It’s gotta be . . . like twenty-thousand feet. That’s like-like Everest!”
Helen nodded.
“What we need is a way to fly there.”
“Oh. Is Pegasus around?”
“What? No. But, I think someone else is.”
She froze in place and began to move her lips.
Oh no, Nick thought, not that prayer thing again!
He thought she started to look weird. Her pupils clouded as she cocked her head and listened. For what? he wondered. Is she hearing voices? In a sort of trance, she led him out of the woods and back to that wide valley. There, she threw her arms to the heavens, crying out, and was answered by a loud screech.
“Help?” Nick said.
It wasn’t exactly bright here, but even the pale sun vanished. When Nick looked up, all he saw were two giant claws. And, like a monster movie, they were trying to snatch him!
“HEEELP!” he yelled for real.
“It’s all right,” Helen told him, but when he spotted a beak the size of a VW, he didn’t exactly feel great.
“Hey!” Nick protested, as this bird—which he saw was a giant eagle—plucked him up in one claw, holding Helen in the other.
“I’m scared of birds,” Nick whispered, not liking the way his legs dangled. Why couldn’t they stay in their flock?
“Helen?” Nick called, his stomach in his throat. He closed his eyes while they quickly gained height. “Tell me,” he yelled over the flapping of wings, “what is this thing?”
“The Caucasian Eagle’s mate.”
“And that’s good?”
“Athena sent her,” called Helen.
“I liked the owl better.”
As they went higher, Nick noticed the air getting thin.
“I need oxygen,” he cried. “And a winter coat.”
Nick thought he heard Helen laugh, but—Thank the gods!—the eagle was gaining on the mountain. After what seemed like hours, she glided over the summit. Nick was relieved until she released them . . . onto a pile of frozen snow.
“Many thanks!” Helen yelled, as the bird fastened her . . . eagle eye on Nick and slowly shook her head. With a last cry, she vanished.
