by Lucy Coats
Hephaestus sighed, tugging on his beard.
“He’s a terrible hundred-headed monster,” said the smith god. “Zeus put me in charge of him. He’s been asleep under a mountain for the last thousand years, but that alarm tells me he’s waking up for some reason. I need to go and see what’s up, and you’re coming with me, Pandemonius. Every one of his heads is some sort of animal—bears, lions, dragons, that sort of thing—so I’ve a feeling we’ll need those pipes of yours.”
“Can I come, too?” asked the Colchian Dragon. “I haven’t been out for ages, and I’ve cried out LOTS of fire jewels for you.” It looked sideways at Demon. “And I helped you with your display for the gods of the North, too,” it said.
“Oh, very well,” said Hephaestus. “But we’ll have to borrow Helios’s sun boat. You’re too big to fit in the Iris Express now.”
* * *
A short while later, Demon, Hephaestus, and the dragon were installed in a huge golden boat, round as a bowl, with a big oar at the back. Demon had his medicine bag, his pipes, and four enormous bags of charcoal for the dragon in case it got hungry.
“Now,” said the smith god, “let’s see if I remember how this thing works.” He wiggled the oar left, then right, and with a jerk, the sun boat shot up into the sky. Higher and higher they went, until the air turned cold and dark as the boat lurched from side to side, banging into stars along the way.
“By Zeus’s ears,” said Hephaestus, wrestling with the oar, which seemed to have a mind of its own, “I think this wretched contraption needs a steering modification.”
Tiny chips of bright silver stardust clinked and tinkled as they fell into the boat, flickering out and turning black. The dragon nibbled on them.
“Tasty!” it said. “Like charcoal but with a hint of sky.”
Clinging to the side to keep from being thrown out, Demon scooped some of the stardust into a wide-necked bottle. He’d show it to Chiron, his centaur teacher, and find out if it could be used as medicine, he thought. But before the bottle was more than half-full, Hephaestus gave a yell, wrenching the oar over to his right.
“Star nymphs, ahoy!” he shouted. “Watch out! Boat coming through!” Suddenly, there was a tremendous bang, and all at once the sun boat was full of thrashing limbs, angry screams, and the faint smell of deep cold, tinged with flowers.
“Oof!” said Demon as someone landed on him, knocking him backward into the Colchian Dragon, which roared angrily and let out a belch of purple flame. Everything was chaos for a few minutes as the boat veered and rocked, nearly tipping over. Eventually Hephaestus got it back under control, and as it resumed its progress through the sky, Demon saw that the limbs and the angry screams belonged to six nymphs, their floaty robes silver against the gold of the boat. Each had a crown of living stars whirling around her head, and they shone so brightly that Demon had to squint to see them properly. The smallest of them was standing in front of Hephaestus, shaking one long finger at him.
“Careless, clumsy oaf of a god!” she shrieked. “Take us back at once! How dare you kidnap us like this?”
Hephaestus looked embarrassed.
“Now, now, Maia,” he said. “It was an accident. This wretched sun boat of Helios’s isn’t easy to steer, you know . . .”
“She always gets so angry,” said a voice in Demon’s ear. It was the nymph who had fallen on him. “I’m Alcyone, by the way. One of the seven Pleiades, you know. Sorry if I squashed you.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Demon. “I’m Demon.” Then he frowned, counting noses. “But there are only six of you.”
Alcyone laughed.
“Oh, Electra’s invisible. She’ll be around here somewhere, but she’s rather shy.” Her eyes twinkled. “She’s looking at you right now. I think she might like you.”
Demon blushed. He wasn’t at all sure about an invisible nymph admirer.
CHAPTER 3
TERRIBLE TYPHON
The rest of the journey was taken up by quite a lot of arguing, and more shouting, as each of the visible Pleiades in turn tried to persuade Hephaestus to turn back. Demon spent the time trying to calm down the Colchian Dragon.
“This was supposed to be a nice treat,” it moaned. “All this aggravation can’t be good for my digestion. I’ll turn red, and it’ll all start again—you see if it doesn’t. I’m sure I can feel the gas building up now.”
“You won’t turn red, and I’m sure your stomach will be fine,” Demon said soothingly. “Have some of this nice charcoal, and then you can clean up the stardust so nobody slips on it.” He tipped half a sack of charcoal down the dragon’s throat, and soon it was munching and mumbling contentedly. It was a beast of simple needs.
“BE QUIET, ALL OF YOU!” Hephaestus roared finally. “OR I’LL SEND YOU TO APHRODITE!”
There was a small silence.
“Oh, please don’t,” said Alcyone. “You know how we hate being her nymphs-in-waiting. She’s so very . . . well . . . pink and fluffy. But we really do need to be back in our part of the sky soon, or everything will get in a terrible muddle. The stars do wander so, and if we’re not there to herd them back into place, all the earth humans in their ships will get terribly confused.”
“Where are we going, anyway?” Maia butted in.
By the time Hephaestus had explained about the Typhon alarm, the boat was swooping low over the sea. Beneath them lay a large island, shaped like a strange dog’s head, with a mountain just where the dog’s ear would be. Large boulders flew up into the air around the mountain, raining down onto the ground, which shook with the impact. There was a huge hole in the top, which seemed to be getting bigger as they watched. The mountain was also roaring, so loudly that even with his fingers in his ears, Demon could feel the sound through his whole body, as if it were being buffeted by an enormous wind. He saw Hephaestus’s mouth move but couldn’t tell what he was saying.
“Take us out of range!” Demon yelled, but he couldn’t even hear his own words, so he pointed upward instead, hoping Heffy would understand. Immediately, the sun boat swooped toward the heavens again, leaving the dreadful racket behind.
“Well,” said the smith god, “I think it’s safe to say Typhon’s awake. But how are we going to put him back to sleep? He’ll never hear those pipes of yours, Pandemonius.” He turned to the star nymphs.
“You nymphs sing, don’t you?”
Maia nodded.
“Well, yes,” she said. “We sing to soothe the stars when they get upset. But I don’t see how—”
“Sing, then,” Hephaestus commanded her. “Sing for all you’re worth.” And he turned the boat downward again.
* * *
It wasn’t so much a song, Demon thought as the Pleiades opened their mouths. More like the chiming of a thousand silvery bells. But as soon as they got close to Typhon again, it was completely drowned out. The hole in the top of the mountain was even bigger now, and out of it poked at least forty beast heads on very long necks, of all types, with more appearing every minute. Each head was a hundred times the size of the actual animal, and each was clearly furious. Hephaestus steered the boat upward again hurriedly, as several of the heads lunged at them.
“He’s nearly free!” the god yelled when they could hear again. “We have to do something fast! Zeus will be furious if he escapes!”
Demon shuddered. He didn’t want to be anywhere near a furious Zeus.
“But what?” he shouted back. Then his eyes fell on the Colchian Dragon. The beast was curled into a shivering ball, and the back half of it had turned bright red with fear. An idea flicked into his mind. It was a very dangerous idea, but it was the only thing he could come up with.
“Do you think a dragon fart might stun Typhon long enough for me to play my pipes?” he asked slowly.
Hephaestus’s mouth fell open, and the Pleiades all let out tiny shrieks of horror.
; “Noooo!” moaned the dragon. “Don’t make me. Mustkeepitinmustkeepitinmustkeepitin!”
Demon stroked its purple head gently.
“Just the one,” he said. “I promise you can have all the charcoal right afterward to turn you purple again. And I’ll never ever ask you to do it again.”
Hephaestus scratched his head with one grimy finger.
“I don’t know, young Pandemonius,” he said. “It’s very risky. What if there’s a spark from somewhere? It could blow us all to kingdom come.”
“And think of the smell!” all the star nymphs chorused, holding their noses.
“Oh, the shame, the terrible shame!” the dragon groaned, curling itself into an even smaller ball of red and purple misery.
Demon scrambled to his feet, making the boat rock.
“If we don’t do something soon, Typhon will be free, and I for one don’t want to face Zeus’s wrath. Do you?” he asked.
Hephaestus glared at him, but Demon didn’t back down, and after a short pause, they all shook their heads, even the dragon.
“All right, then,” Demon said, delving into his medicine bag. “Let’s do this. Luckily, I’ve got a whole bunch of Chiron’s special masks in here. Put them on.”
“Ordering me about,” Hephaestus grumbled as he fitted the mask of cotton and reeds to his hairy face with one hand. “Those gods of the North gave you too much freedom, I reckon. What happened to all those nice manners?”
* * *
Down they went again into the maelstrom of noise. Demon helped the dragon to position its bottom over the edge of the boat, draping its tail out of the way, and as Hephaestus steered as close as he could to Typhon’s gnashing, roaring heads, the dragon squeezed its eyes shut, aimed, and let out an enormous blast of gas. Immediately, the heads were shrouded in a hazy cloud of noxious green. Shortly afterward, the roars turned to choking and then fell silent. Zooming even closer, Hephaestus took the boat down to hover just above the huge hole in the mountain. Through the haze they could see Typhon’s many heads slumped on the edge. Demon spotted every animal he knew, and some he didn’t.
“Mmphrm pmphrm?” Hephaestus asked, his voice muffled by the mask. Demon turned from helping the dragon down.
“Whmph?” he said as he poured three bags of charcoal down its eager throat, avoiding the very sharp rows of teeth. The star nymphs were all fanning the green smoke away with little moans of dismay.
The smith god pointed urgently to where Demon’s pipes stuck out of his tunic, and then to where one of Typhon’s heads was beginning to stir. Demon pulled them out, about to put them to his lips, when he realized the problem. How was he going to play them with his mask on? The smith god must have realized at the same time. Reaching down, he picked up one of the charcoal bags and began to flap it very fast. The green haze around the boat disappeared, just as Demon heard a small roar from below, and then another. He’d have to risk it. If Typhon woke up, all the dragon’s work would have been for nothing.
Taking a deep breath, he ripped off the mask and put the pipes to his lips, blowing Pan’s special twiddle notes. The roars stopped immediately, and as he peered over the edge of the sun boat, all of Typhon’s heads, eyes closed and sleeping, slithered back down into the ground and disappeared.
The dragon hiccupped. One tiny purple-blue spark floated over the side of the boat, and then downward. With a different kind of roar, the green gas below them exploded, sending the boat spiraling upward, rocking from side to side and spinning out of control. Underneath, the hole in the top of the mountain fell in on itself, boulders bouncing and bounding down the sides, until all that was left was a small round depression in the ground.
Hephaestus wrestled with the steering oar, and eventually the sun boat was back under his control. Though everyone was tumbled and mussed and bruised, they all cheered as they sped high over the sea and away from Typhon’s lair.
“Well done, Dragon,” said Demon as it munched on its charcoal, slowly turning purple again.
“Double-extra rations for you when we get back,” said Hephaestus, grinning, as the star nymphs crowded around it, patting its scaly flanks.
CHAPTER 4
NOTE FROM NOWHERE
“Whoa!” said the smith god suddenly, pointing downward. “What’s that? I’m sure it wasn’t here when I came by before.” Demon and the star nymphs rushed to the side of the sun boat, making it tip dangerously.
Two enormous pillars of rock loomed up out of the land beneath, one on either side of the sea. Clouds of gray dust hung about them as they shifted and settled, rumbling slightly.
“I don’t remember seeing them before, either,” said Maia. “How could they have got there?”
“I don’t know,” Hephaestus said slowly. “But you can be sure I’ll make it my business to find out. I think we found out where the disturbance that woke Typhon up came from.”
“Look!” said Alcyone softly, poking him in the ribs as they flew past. At first Demon couldn’t see anything, but then he noticed a tiny figure striding away southward from the mess. It was a figure he thought he recognized, though he’d only seen it once before, in the desert near the Mountains of Burning Sand.
“Horrible Heracles,” he muttered. “I bet you he caused all this.” He was about to tell Hephaestus, when all the star nymphs screamed.
“Oh no!” Maia yelled, looking up into the heavens. “I KNEW this would happen. All the stars are wandering. Take us back quick, Hephaestus.” Demon felt a brush of something against his back as he stared upward at the jumble of stars, and then the Pleiades all started to sing. Louder and louder their silvery voices got as they headed into the emptiness of the heavens, and he sat down, leaning against the warm bulk of the dragon again, and drifted off to sleep listening to their soothing melody.
* * *
A long time later, he woke to a rough hand shaking his shoulder.
“Out you get, young Pandemonius,” Hephaestus said. “We’re home, and I have to clean this boat out before I return it to Helios. Stardust and charcoal are all over.”
“I’ll help,” Demon mumbled, but Hephaestus shook his head.
“The Colchian Dragon and I will do it,” he said. “It’s all purple and perky now. You get off to bed. You’ve got a lot of poo shoveling to do tomorrow, I expect.” He ruffled Demon’s hair. “And find your manners again, young Stable Master. If you try ordering the other gods about like you did me today, you’ll find yourself turned into a fried sardine, I shouldn’t wonder.”
As Demon stumbled sleepily down the mountain toward the Stables, he couldn’t help wishing for a bit of peace. He’d had a lot of adventures lately, and all he wanted was to spend some time quietly with his beasts.
“And I’ve got homework from Chiron to catch up on, too,” he grumbled to himself. Chiron was his centaur teacher who lived down on earth, in a cave on Mount Pelion, and was also the greatest healer who’d ever lived. Climbing slowly up to his loft, Demon was just about to fall into bed and go to sleep again, when he saw a bit of paper lying on his bed. It was very mangled around the edges, with strange, uneven holes on one side. When he picked it up, it was also sticky, as if somebody or something had drooled on it.
“What in the name of Zeus’s big toenail . . . ?” he said, picking it up and opening it.
COME QUICKLY! UNICORN EMERGENCY! it said in glowing green-gold letters.
Wiping his damp hand on his tunic, he went over to Bion’s side of the loft and shook him awake.
“What’s this?” he asked the bleary-eyed faun. “Where did it come from, and who’s it from?”
Bion shook his head, yawning.
“Dunno,” he said. “It was here when I came to bed. Nobody came to the Stables to deliver it.”
Demon ran down the stairs again, wide awake now. He rushed over to the unicorn’s stall at the far end, but she was curled up and fast asleep,
tiny, whiffling snores coming from her nostrils. Opening the door very gently, he tiptoed in, careful not to wake her. Unicorns didn’t really like boys very much, so normally the nymphs looked after her and milked her when Aphrodite needed her weekly bath. Unicorn milk was very good for beautiful skin, according to the goddess. Holding his breath, he checked her shining horn and flanks and legs for damage, but he could see nothing that was in any way an emergency. Backing away carefully, he felt for the door behind him. A large splinter ran into his thumb.
“Ouch!” he said, without thinking. The unicorn’s eyes, blue as a summer sky, flicked open.
“Aargh!” she scream-whinnied. “A boy-hoy-hoy in my stable! A nasty, dirty boy-hoy-hoy!” Scrambling to her feet and lowering her horn, she charged. Demon whipped around and ran, slamming the door shut behind him. The horn came through the bars, scraping hard along the side of his scalp. It hurt. A lot. And what felt like a whole river of blood was now running down beside his ear. Immediately, Offy and Yukus, the two magical healing snakes who lived around his neck as a golden necklace, flashed into action, mending the wound.
“Thanks, boys,” he said shakily once he had retreated to a safe distance.
“It wasss our pleasure,” said the snakes, settling back around his neck again.
Demon sat down on a bale of sun hay to recover. Suddenly, there was a rustle nearby and the scent of something he thought he recognized. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, as if someone was watching him.
“Is anyone there?” he called. But there was no reply.
“What’s up, Pan’s scrawny kid?” asked a sleepy griffin voice. “What are you making such a racket for? You’re ruining my beauty sleep.”
“Never mind,” Demon said, as he climbed back up to the loft. “Go back to sleep. It’ll keep till morning.”