Zeus's Eagle

by Lucy Coats

  “I heard that a certain queen has been taking care of the beasts. And that you”—the goddess pointed a sharp-nailed finger at him—“have been lazing about down on earth. I wonder how Hera would feel if I told her about that.” Demon started to shake. It wasn’t true, but Hera was not known for her patience, and he knew she was already in a terrible mood. This was beginning to look very bad for him. He looked at Psyche, begging her with his eyes not to tell on him.

  “I see you take my point,” said Psyche. “It so happens that I need a boy who is good with beasts. I have to do a tiny little task for Aphrodite. But I need the help of Zeus’s Eagle, and I can’t get at the wretched bird. I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem for a clever lad like you to persuade him to do what I need?” She made the twisting gesture again, and Demon found he could speak.

  “Why exactly do you need Zeus’s Eagle, your Divinity?” he asked. All at once, Psyche sat down beside him with a thump, bursting into tears for a second time.

  “Aphrodite won’t let me marry my lovely Eros till I get her some water from the Spring of Eternal Youth,” she wailed. “It’s guarded by a horrid three-headed snake, and Eagle is the only one who can defeat it. I have to get him to come with me. I HAVE to!” She glared at Demon again.

  “You WILL bring me Zeus’s Eagle, boy. Meet me here tomorrow night, or Hera shall hear of your neglect. You’ll be a dung beetle before you know it, and then”—she stamped her foot and ground it into the dust—“squelch!”

  CHAPTER 7

  THE MAGIC GOAT

  Demon’s mind was racing as fast as his legs as he stumbled away from the grove. Who could he turn to now? He had no idea how to get to Zeus’s Eagle. It lived in its own special aerie at the very top of Zeus and Hera’s palace. Who to ask? Hephaestus? No! He might tell Aphrodite that Psyche was cheating on her task. The nymphs? No! They never went near Zeus and Hera except to deliver flowers.

  “Who?” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair till it stood up like a mad brush. Then he stopped dead. Chiron was Zeus’s brother. Surely Chiron would know. He ran for the Iris Express, detouring by the hospital shed to pick up some of his most fragrant rose and cinnamon oil for her.

  Iris wasn’t there.

  “She’s on a job for Artemis,” squeaked a passing cherub. “Special arrow delivery. She won’t be long.” Demon paced up and down as he waited, trying to think of a plan. But no plan came. Minutes dripped slowly by and still there was no sign of Iris. By the time the rainbow goddess arrived, Demon was practically dancing with impatience. Luckily, Iris was pleased with her gift, and just as Helios drove his chariot over the horizon, Demon arrived at Chiron’s cave again.

  “I have orders to wait,” Iris said, but Demon wasn’t listening.

  “Chiron!” he called softly, just in case Hygeia was asleep. “Chiron!” But there was no reply, only a deep humming sound. He tiptoed inside the cave. Chiron was rocking Hygeia in his arms. The baby was unnaturally quiet, and the centaur god’s face was set in lines of deep sadness.

  “Oh no!” Demon whispered.

  “She’s fading fast,” Chiron said. “I’ve been waiting for you, Pandemonius. The milk you brought didn’t work. There’s only one hope now. You must bring Amaltheia to me. Iris is waiting. Quick as you can. Even I can’t keep the baby alive much longer.”

  “Who’s Amalth . . . ,” Demon began. But then he shook his head. He’d find out soon enough. His mission for Psyche would have to wait, whatever the cost to himself. Hygeia must be saved!

  Traveling with Iris in the dark was a new experience. She glowed around him, and Demon saw the stars through a transparent veil of colors. Below him shone the occasional glint of lamp or firelight, but the only real light came from the moon, shining full and yellow above.

  “Beautiful,” he said, staring about him with wide, wondering eyes.

  “I know I am,” said Iris. “Glad you finally noticed,” He didn’t correct her.

  They came to a halt on a wild rocky mountainside in the middle of an island. Demon was baffled. Where were they? And more important—where was Amaltheia?

  “Did you bring me to the right place, Iris?” he asked.

  “Of course I did,” the rainbow snapped. “In there!” A long finger of light pointed the way into a dark opening in the side of the mountain. Cautiously, Demon followed it in. The scent of thyme and rosemary rose from under his feet, but as soon as he entered the cave, he began to smell something different. A rank, musky stench, familiar as his own fingernails.

  “Goat!” he said.

  “Who are you calling goat, young man?” A creaky bleat came from the shadows. “My name is Amaltheia, and don’t you forget it. I was nurse to Zeus himself once, you know. Show some respect.” Very slowly, one cloven hoof at a time, an enormous nanny goat emerged into the rainbow-lit dimness, groaning at each step. Her gray fleece hung from her in matted, tangled ribbons, and she was so thin that her ribs stuck out. On her head was a pair of huge, curling horns, which shone with a silvery light.

  “Oh, thank Olympus,” said Demon. “I’ve found you.”

  “Who are you? And why do I need to be found?” asked the goat. But before he could answer, there was a rustling of straw, and something bright and golden leaped out of the shadows at him, knocking him to the ground. A long tongue licked at his face, and an even longer tail beat a rhythm against his legs, small gold stars rising from it with every wag. There was a loud bark, and then a nose snuffled into his armpits, making him giggle.

  “Get off,” he said, trying to struggle out from underneath the hairy animal on top of him. He didn’t have time for this.

  “Yes, get off, Golden, dear,” bleated the goat. “He can’t talk with you sitting on his stomach.”

  “Smells nice!” barked the dog, snuffling some more. He leaped off Demon and padded away to sit by Amaltheia, panting loudly. The small golden stars hovered over his head. This was no ordinary dog.

  “I’m Demon,” said Demon when he had his breath back. “And I need you to come with me, Amaltheia. Chiron needs you right now. It’s urgent.”

  “Nothing is urgent when you’re my age, young man,” said the goat gloomily. “Why should I come? What’s Chiron ever done for me? I’m quite happy here with Golden Dog, sunning my old bones and taking a little morsel of thyme and a little stardust when I fancy it. Which isn’t often these days. My horns hurt, my hooves hurt. Everything hurts. No, my young friend. You’ll have to find some other goat to help you.”

  “Please,” Demon begged. “There’s this baby . . .” He explained about Hygeia as quickly as he could. The old goat’s eyes brightened for a moment at the mention of a baby, but then she was shaking her horns from side to side.

  “It would do no good,” she said with another mournful bleat. “I’m nearly dead myself. My milk is almost dry, and what would Golden do without me?”

  “He could come, too,” said Demon. “And I’m sure Chiron would have something to make your old bones feel better. He’s the greatest of all healers. If anyone can cure you, he can.” He crossed his fingers, hoping it was true.

  Amaltheia snorted, spraying Demon with a fine mist of goat snot.

  “Then why hasn’t he done it before?” she grumbled. “Or one of the other gods. None of them want me now. Even my little Zeusie.” She gave Demon a sideways look out of her slitted yellow eyes. “I could tell you a thing or two about him, you know! If I wanted to. The naughty boy!”

  Demon’s heart started to pitter-patter. Was this the answer? Could Amaltheia tell him how to get to Zeus’s Eagle? He got down on his knees beside the ancient beast.

  “Won’t you come?” he asked softly. “To save the baby? Chiron says you’re our last hope. He wants you, even if none of the others do.”

  Golden Dog licked the old goat’s ear once, very gently.

  “Go!” he barked. “I am!” Then, right befo
re Demon’s astonished eyes, he vanished.

  “That dog!” Amaltheia said. “Always running off without thinking. Very well then, I’ll come. But it’ll do no good. I’m not what I once was, you know.”

  Chiron was waiting for them. Golden Dog pranced around his hooves, wagging his tail so hard that a whole rush of stars shot out of it, settling on the grass stems like shiny, pointy flowers.

  “What took you so long?” he barked. Demon stared as he helped Amaltheia off the rainbow. Who was this dog? And how had he traveled here so fast? But now Chiron was looking at the old goat and frowning.

  “Oh dear,” he said. “You are in a state, aren’t you?”

  “Well, hello to you, too, Horse Man,” she said. Then she looked sideways at Demon. “Your boy here says you can heal my old bones. Can you?”

  Chiron sighed.

  “I’ll do my best,” he said. Trotting into the cave, he returned with a bowl of thick white liquid, which frothed and bubbled. “Drink this,” he told her.

  Demon had never seen an animal gobble down medicine so quickly. Amaltheia practically inhaled it. She looked up, her muzzle dripping with foam.

  “More!” she bleated. Chiron smiled.

  “Come in and lie down, and I’ll mix it up right away,” he said. “But first I’ve got someone here who needs you very badly.” As Demon settled the old goat on some soft fleeces, Chiron returned with Hygeia in his arms. Her deep blue eyes were very big in her tiny face, which was pinched and white. He laid her gently by the old goat’s belly.

  “Do you think you might manage a little milk for her?” the centaur god asked, as Amaltheia nuzzled the baby’s head.

  “I’ll try, but she’s too weak to do it herself, poor mite,” she said. “Let the boy help.”

  The first few drops of milk dribbled out of Hygeia’s mouth, and Demon felt a cold claw of fear grip his stomach.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “Come on, drink.” As if she had understood him, she swallowed. Almost at once, a flush of pink ran over her face. She swallowed more. And more. And more. Then Amaltheia’s milk ran out.

  “No!” Demon said as Hygeia looked up at him reproachfully. “You can’t . . .” His voice trailed off as the old goat slumped into the fleeces, her eyes closed. What were they going to do now?

  “We must cure her,” he almost shouted at Chiron over the sound of Golden Dog howling. “Hygeia needs her, and I . . . I need to talk to her.” The story of Psyche and her task came spilling out of him. “Unless . . . unless you have a way of getting to Zeus’s Eagle,” he finished.

  Chiron shook his head as Golden Dog gave one final howl and ran outside.

  “I have as little to do with my brother as possible,” he said. “But Amaltheia is sure to know.” There was a grave look on his bearded face.

  “We must try everything we can,” he said. “I think it’s time for you to fetch that magic box of yours. It may come up with a cure that works more quickly than any of mine.”

  CHAPTER 8

  ZEUS’S EAGLE

  Demon lifted the lifeless magic medicine box into his arms. It was a little dusty, so he blew on it.

  “Achoo,” he sneezed as a cloud of fine gray particles rose into the air.

  “Got a cold, Pan’s scrawny kid?” said the griffin, poking its head around the hospital shed door. “Where’s that meat you promised me?” It clacked its beak in a menacing manner.

  Demon groaned. He’d completely forgotten. “Go and find Bion the faun,” he said. “From Hestia’s kitchens. He’ll give you some.”

  The griffin flapped its wings. “Bion the faun, eh? Sounds tasty!” It took off and soared into the air in the direction of the domestic goddess’s realm.

  “Don’t you dare eat him,” shouted Demon. But the griffin was gone. Demon hesitated for a moment, then hoisted a bale of sun hay under his other arm and started to run. Every moment he was away from Hygeia and Amaltheia made the danger of them both dying greater. He couldn’t risk it.

  “I’ve got it,” he panted as he rushed into the cave and dumped the box and the hay beside the goat. Chiron tapped the box with one great hoof.

  “Unblock,” he said. Immediately, the box began to glow its normal silvery-blue color around the edges.

  “Hello, box,” said Demon, grinning. Although he didn’t really need it any more, it was nice to have it back. He’d kind of missed it.

  “‘Hellobox’ not a recognized medical condition,” said the box in its metallic squawk. “State nature of ailment.”

  Demon sighed. Perhaps he hadn’t missed it all that much.

  “Very old, bald goat with achy everything and no milk,” he said, without much hope. The box lid opened a fraction and out shot two silvery tentacles, one with a trumpet-like attachment at the end, and the other with a set of sharp, snapping scissors. The scissors snipped at the matted hair and the trumpet roamed all over Amaltheia’s limp body.

  “Mind the baby,” said Chiron, grabbing her out of the way.

  “Request denied,” said the box as the tentacles shot back into it. “Estimating symptoms.” It began to whir and flash, making a grinding noise.

  “Extreme paliokatsikatitis detected by data center.”

  “Cat sicka what?” Demon asked, but the box was continuing.

  “Also osteoponosis, galasterepsis, and falakratitis,” said the box in a smug voice.

  Demon ground his teeth. He turned to Chiron.

  “Can you make head or tail of what it’s saying?” he said.

  Chiron shook his head.

  “It’s a mystery,” he said. “Worse than useless.” The centaur god tapped the box again with his hoof. “Do you have a cure, you infuriating thing?” he asked. So it wasn’t just him that got annoyed by the box’s weird language, Demon thought.

  “Searching cloud for solutions,” said the box as a small rainbow-colored wheel of light began to revolve on its lid, over and over and over again. Finally, with a creak and a groan, it shot out a tiny bottle of bright green liquid, hitting Demon on the foot.

  “Temporary solution only,” it said. “All ailments incurable except by water from Spring of Eternal Youth. Access currently denied.” Then it gave a high-pitched whine and shut down.

  “That,” said Chiron, “is one of Hephaestus’s more annoying creations. Still, let’s see what it’s given us.” Nestling Hygeia into Amaltheia’s flank again, he bent down and picked up the bottle, uncorking it and holding it up to his nose to sniff.

  “What is it?” Demon asked. “Will it work?” He was trying hard not to think about the other thing the box had said. If water from the Spring of Eternal Youth was the only true cure for Amaltheia, he had even more reason to help Psyche get some.

  “Smells like strong extract of alfalfa mixed with another thing—algae, I think. And a touch of something else I can’t work out. Can’t do any harm to try it.” He handed the bottle to Demon.

  “Drip it into her mouth, young healer. Only one drop, mind. Let’s see what it does.” Carefully, Demon opened the old goat’s jaws, prying the long yellow teeth apart, and let one drop of the green liquid fall. Nothing.

  “Give her another,” said Chiron.

  It took five drops before Amaltheia’s eyelids fluttered open.

  “Meh,” she bleated, her nostrils flaring. “Is that hay I smell? I fancy a nice bite of hay!” She looked at her belly. “And I do believe my milk is back!”

  With Hygeia in Chiron’s arms and contentedly sucking away at a bottle, Demon sat down by Amaltheia and repeated the story he’d told the centaur god.

  “Can you help?” he asked.

  “Well,” said Amaltheia, “since it seems that eternal water is the only thing that will cure me, I suppose I’d better. Golden used to be friends with Eagle. I’ll send him with you. He’ll sniff out the way. He’s good at slipping in and out of pla
ces.” She gave another loud meh, and Golden Dog came prancing in, his fur covered in burrs and grass seeds.

  “Take this Demon boy to my Zeusie’s Eagle, will you?” she said. “And don’t get caught by that Hera. She’ll turn you into a bone as soon as she looks at you.”

  “Wait!” said Chiron as Golden Dog leaped up on Demon, his big paws smearing Demon’s shoulders with mud. Chiron reached over to a shelf and grabbed two stone bottles, handing them over. “Eagle will like this oil for his feathers, and here’s an empty one for the water.”

  Demon tucked them into his tunic, turning his head to avoid a swipe from Golden Dog’s long, wet tongue.

  “Hold onto my ears,” woofed the hairy animal.

  “Ugh! What?” said Demon, trying to wipe away the dog slobber.

  “Hold onto my ears,” repeated the dog. So Demon took a soft, furry ear in each hand. Immediately, a dizzy whooshing sensation surrounded him. His stomach felt as if it was falling out of his feet, but before he could even draw a single breath he was standing in a white marble room full of gold-pink light. It was very high up, and out of the arched windows, he could see Hephaestus’s mountain. Demon had a bad feeling about this.

  “Where are we?” he whispered. But before Golden Dog could answer, there was an ear-shattering shriek from the room next door, a flash of light, and the smell of singed flowers. Demon’s knees turned to water. He knew that voice. It was Hera, the scary Queen of the Gods—and she was not in a good mood.

  “Run!” barked Golden Dog as the next shriek sent tiny pieces of flaming ash skittering through the door and across the marble floor. Demon didn’t need telling twice. He took to his heels and followed Golden Dog up a narrow flight of twisty stairs in the corner of the room. Around and around they climbed, up and up, till, panting, they fell out onto a marble platform, open to the air. Demon had just enough time to notice that it was covered in bloody shards of bone and what looked like a pile of shredded sky-blue robes before his whole body was pinned by a gigantic beak, then battered by enormous golden wings. Zeus’s Eagle was most definitely at home—and it looked like he thought Demon was his supper!