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“It’s c-c-cold,” said Nick, flapping his arms like a chicken. He was glad the eagle was gone so she couldn’t laugh. He cautiously drew in his breath, expecting to die from lack of air. Though it was thin, he found his lungs could take it.
“This d-doesn’t make s-sense,” he told Helen. “At th-this height, we should be dead.” He asked a question that was odd even for him. “Wh-why are we even alive?”
“The gods don’t want us to fail,” said Helen.
“It’s s-so nice of them not to k-kill us. A-and to not give us frostbite.”
Helen took her Thracian cloak and put it around him. Clearly, she was not cold.
Nick stepped to the edge of the summit, daring himself to look down. He saw swirling mists, jagged edges, and enough snow for a Winter Olympics.
“W-whoa,” he breathed. “W-wish I had my phone. This would make a great s-selfie.”
Helen rolled her eyes, shaking her head like the eagle’s.
“Try not to look down,” she said. “Want to hear about your next Labor?”
Nick sighed, his breath visible.
“H-hit me.”
“Well,” she said, “you need to slay the Caucasian Eagle.”
“N-not Mrs. Eagle’s bae?”
“Her husband. Like me, he was born of Typhon.”
“Won’t she be sad?” Nick asked, starting to feel a bit warmer. “I-I mean, I don’t want to break up a marriage.”
“He is vicious,” said Helen, “and delights in torture.”
“O-okay then,” said Nick. “W-where can we find this b-bird brain?”
“He will come to us.”
“G-great. And how am I supposed to fight a g-giant eagle?’
“I can’t help you there,” said Helen. “But I do know something that can give you strength.”
Nick waited, his breath icing over.
“The Caucasian Eagle is the one that torments your father.”
“Whaaa-t?!” Nick nearly lost his footing. “The-the one who eats livers?”
She nodded.
“You m-mean we’re on Mount—”
“—Elbrus,” she finished. “Yes.”
“Where is it?” Nick yelled, brandishing his cold sword.
“Shhh,” Helen warned. “You don’t want to cause an avalanche.”
“If it k-kills that eagle, I do. Come out!” he cried. “Show yourself!”
“Softly,” whispered Helen. “It shows up only once a day.”
“Where?”
Nick lifted his spear.
Helen climbed down from the summit, which, without ropes, was impressive. She offered Nick her hand, and, when they’d gone a few steps, pointed to a second peak, just a few yards below. What Nick saw there made him furious. It was his dream, but worse, ‘cause it was a real: a black centaur hung against the white of a cliff!
Nick could no longer feel the cold.
“Dad, hang on!” he yelled.
He used his sword as a kind of ice ax as he lowered himself, grasping rocks with his bare hands. Though he groaned from their sharp edges, Nick refused to halt until he stood below Chiron.
“Nikólaos,” his dad said softly. He had that same look of pain as when he’d been shot by the arrow.
“Dad,” Nick whispered, tears freezing on his lower lashes. “How can I help you get out?”
Chiron just shook his head. The chains that held him were thick and looked like they couldn’t be broken. Nick wished he could reach up and touch him, but the cliff face was too far away.
“I saw you,” Nick yelled. His words, echoing, caused a groan of snow. “Did you know I would come?”
“I hoped,” came the weak reply. “No. I knew.”
Despite the torn flesh of his side, Chiron gave him a smile.
“Dad,” asked Nick, “when does the eagle come?”
“Midday,” said his dad. “And he will come forever, unless you succeed in your Labor.”
“Don’t worry,” said Nick, clutching his shield. “Compared to the Mares of Diomedes, this thing’s just a bird brain.”
“No,” said Chiron. “The Caucasian Eagle is worse. Its talons are sharp as razors, and its beak can bend iron.”
“Great,” Nick muttered. “Sounds like he was made by Heph.”
As he stood at his dad’s feet, waiting, he tried to come up with a strategy. I could hurl my spear, he thought, but what if its skin can’t be broken? My sword is no good—I don’t want this thing on top of me. Bow, he finally decided. That’s the only thing that makes sense.
To get ready, he swung it around, then turned to Helen.
“You better go,” he told her. “We don’t want a stone eagle.”
Reluctantly, she nodded, slogging away from the cliff.
Nick waited. He watched Helios drag the sun ‘till it seemed to be on Nick’s shoulder.
“Here goes.”
His muscles tensed as he saw a shadow arc from out of the sun. Of course, it was the Eagle, but what Nick hadn’t expected was just how massive it was. He shook from fear and now cold, glancing up at his dad. Trying to steady himself, he loaded a poisoned arrow.
The eagle swooped so close that its wings generated a wind. This thing, Nick thought, was no bird: it was more like a jet! As its beak dipped down toward his dad, Nick fought to keep his footing, letting his arrow fly. Missed! There was no way to aim in this gale. He couldn’t even reach ‘round to retrieve a second dart.
“Here,” said a musical voice, and Nick saw a perfect white arm hand him another arrow. Artemis? he wondered. Had she come to help since he’d made friends with Orion?
“No,” said the voice and Nick realized it was a guy.
“Apollo?” he asked, amazed.
“Who else?” said the god, floating above Nick’s head. “Look,” he said, the wind blowing around him harmlessly. “I was wrong. That’s not easy for me to admit. But seeing how Artemis mourned her lover, I went with her to Zeus. Orion now lies in the stars, where she can visit him nightly.”
“Wow,” said Nick, keeping one eye on the eagle.
“He won’t harm you while I’m here,” said Apollo. “Now, shoot your dart. I will calm the winds.”
“Are you allowed to help me?”
“I’m a god. I can do what I want.”
Leaning into the wind, Nick no longer saw Apollo.
“Okay,” Nick said, and, just like he’d promised, the god ended the gale.
Standing completely still, Nick notched his new arrow and pulled back the string to his chin. There went the bolt . . . past Helios and the sun, plummeting down toward the Eagle. The four sky-horses neighed, but, in the glare of noon, Nick couldn’t tell if he’d hit. As Apollo’s power faded, the winds howled back, colder and fiercer than ever.
Nick didn’t know how long he stood there, waiting for a claw to swipe. But then, the wind failed, and he watched the eagle fall, first close to the mountain, then lower and out of sight.
“Wow,” Nick breathed. That Hydra’s poison was something! “Dad,” he yelled. “How do I cut you loose?”
“You can’t,” Chiron called. “I fear I am doomed forever.”
“No,” Nick cried, “not while I’m still alive!”
“My son,” said his dad, “I’m afraid you have no choice. You must get down before nightfall. Or you and Medusa will perish.” Nick wanted to protest, then saw Helen coming toward him. “Save yourselves,” said Chiron. “At least my torture is over. Climb down, I command you, as your father and head of all centaurs!”
Nick let his head droop as Helen took his cold hand.
“It’s not over,” she whispered, nodding toward his dad. “I know one day you will free him.”
