The Trials of Apollo, Book One: The Hidden Oracle

by Rick Riordan

The statue strode toward us. One more step, and it would be on top of us.

  “Isn’t there a control valve on its ankle?” Ellis asked. “If we can open it—”

  “No,” I said. “You’re thinking of Talos. This is not Talos.”

  Nico brushed his dark wet hair from his forehead. “Then what?”

  I had a lovely view of the Colossus’s nose. Its nostrils were sealed with bronze…I supposed because Nero hadn’t wanted his detractors trying to shoot arrows into his imperial noggin.

  I yelped.

  Kayla grabbed my arm. “Apollo, what’s wrong?”

  Arrows into the Colossus’s head. Oh, gods, I had an idea that would never, ever work. However, it seemed better than our other option, which was to be crushed under a two-ton bronze foot.

  “Will, Kayla, Austin,” I said, “come with me.”

  “And Nico,” said Nico. “I have a doctor’s note.”

  “Fine!” I said. “Ellis, Cecil, Miranda—do whatever you can to keep the Colossus’s attention.”

  The shadow of an enormous foot darkened the sand.

  “Now!” I yelled. “Scatter!”

  I love me some plague

  When it’s on the right arrow

  Ka-bam! You dead, bro?

  SCATTERING WAS THE EASY PART. They did that very well.

  Miranda, Cecil, and Ellis ran in different directions, screaming insults at the Colossus and waving their arms. This bought the rest of us a few seconds as we sprinted for the dunes, but I suspected the Colossus would soon enough come after me. I was, after all, the most important and attractive target.

  I pointed toward Sherman Yang’s chariot, which was still circling the statue’s legs in a vain attempt to electrocute its kneecaps. “We need to commandeer that chariot!”

  “How?” Kayla asked.

  I was about to admit I had no idea when Nico di Angelo grabbed Will’s hand and stepped into my shadow. Both boys evaporated. I had forgotten about the power of shadow-traveling—the way children of the Underworld could step into one shadow and appear from another, sometimes hundreds of miles away. Hades used to love sneaking up on me that way and yelling, “HI!” just as I shot an arrow of death. He found it amusing if I missed my target and accidentally wiped out the wrong city.

  Austin shuddered. “I hate it when Nico disappears like that. What’s our plan?”

  “You two are my backup,” I said. “If I miss, if I die…it will be up to you.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Kayla said. “What do you mean if you miss?”

  I drew my last arrow—the one I’d found in the grove. “I’m going to shoot that gorgeous gargantuan in the ear.”

  Austin and Kayla exchanged looks, perhaps wondering if I’d finally cracked under the strain of being mortal.

  “A plague arrow,” I explained. “I’m going to enchant an arrow with sickness, then shoot it into the statue’s ear. Its head is hollow. The ears are the only openings. The arrow should release enough disease to kill the Colossus’s animating power…or at least to disable it.”

  “How do you know it will work?” Kayla asked.

  “I don’t, but—”

  Our conversation was ruined by a sudden heavy downpour of Colossus foot. We darted inland, barely avoiding being flattened.

  Behind us, Miranda shouted, “Hey, ugly!”

  I knew she wasn’t talking to me, but I glanced back anyway. She raised her arms, causing ropes of sea grass to spring from the dunes and wrap around the statue’s ankles. The Colossus broke through them easily, but they annoyed him enough to be a distraction. Watching Miranda face the statue made me heartsick for Meg all over again.

  Meanwhile, Ellis and Cecil stood on either side of the Colossus, throwing rocks at his shins. From the camp, a volley of flaming ballista projectiles exploded against Mr. Gorgeous’s naked backside, which made me clench in sympathy.

  “You were saying?” Austin asked.

  “Right.” I twirled the arrow between my fingers. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t have godly powers. It’s doubtful I’ll be able to cook up the Black Death or the Spanish Flu. But still, if I can make the shot from close range, straight into its head, I might be able to do some damage.”

  “And…if you fail?” Kayla asked. I noticed her quiver was also empty.

  “I won’t have the strength to try twice. You’ll have to make another pass. Find an arrow, try to summon some sickness, make the shot while Austin holds the chariot steady.”

  I realized this was an impossible request, but they accepted it with grim silence. I wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful or guilty. Back when I was a god, I would’ve taken it for granted that mortals had faith in me. Now…I was asking my children to risk their lives again, and I was not at all sure my plan would work.

  I caught a flash of movement in the sky. This time, instead of a Colossus foot, it was Sherman Yang’s chariot, minus Sherman Yang. Will brought the pegasi in for a landing, then dragged out a half-conscious Nico di Angelo.

  “Where are the others?” Kayla asked. “Sherman and the Hermes girls?”

  Will rolled his eyes. “Nico convinced them to disembark.”

  As if on cue, I heard Sherman screaming from somewhere far in the distance, “I’ll get you, di Angelo!”

  “You guys go,” Will told me. “The chariot is only designed for three, and after that shadow-travel, Nico is going to pass out any second.”

  “No, I’m not,” Nico complained, then passed out.

  Will caught him in a fireman’s carry and took him away. “Good luck! I’m going to get the Lord of Darkness here some Gatorade!”

  Austin hopped in first and took the reins. As soon as Kayla and I were aboard, we shot skyward, the pegasi swerving and banking around the Colossus with expert skill. I began to feel a glimmer of hope. We might be able to outmaneuver this giant hunk of good-looking bronze.

  “Now,” I said, “if I can just enchant this arrow with a nice plague.”

  The arrow shuddered from its fletching to its point.

  THOU SHALT NOT, it told me.

  I try to avoid weapons that talk. I find them rude and distracting. Once, Artemis had a bow that could cuss like a Phoenician sailor. Another time, in a Stockholm tavern, I met this god who was smoking hot, except his talking sword just would not shut up.

  But I digress.

  I asked the obvious question. “Did you just speak to me?”

  The arrow quivered. (Oh, dear. That was a horrible pun. My apologies.) YEA, VERILY. PRITHEE, SHOOTING IS NOT MY PURPOSE.

  His voice was definitely male, sonorous and grave, like a bad Shakespearean actor’s.

  “But you’re an arrow,” I said. “Shooting you is the whole point.” (Ah, I really must watch those puns.)

  “Guys, hang on!” Austin shouted.

  The chariot plunged to avoid the Colossus’s swinging rudder. Without Austin’s warning, I would have been left in midair still arguing with my projectile.

  “So you’re made from Dodona oak,” I guessed. “Is that why you talk?”

  FORSOOTH, said the arrow.

  “Apollo!” Kayla said. “I’m not sure why you’re talking to that arrow, but—”

  From our right came a reverberating WHANG! like a snapped power line hitting a metal roof. In a flash of silver light, the camp’s magical barriers collapsed. The Colossus lurched forward and brought his foot down on the dining pavilion, smashing it to rubble like so many children’s blocks.

  “But that just happened,” Kayla said with a sigh.

  The Colossus raised his rudder in triumph. He marched inland, ignoring the campers who were running around his feet. Valentina Diaz launched a ballista missile into his groin. (Again, I had to wince in sympathy.) Harley and Connor Stoll kept blowtorching his feet, to no effect. Nyssa, Malcolm, and Chiron hastily ran a trip line of steel cable across the statue’s path, but they would never have time to anchor it properly.

  I turned to Kayla. “You can’t hear this arrow talking?”r />
  Judging from her wide eyes, I guessed the answer was, No, and does hallucinating run in the family?

  “Never mind.” I looked at the arrow. “What would you suggest, O Wise Missile of Dodona? My quiver is empty.”

  The arrow’s point dipped toward the statue’s left arm. LO, THE ARMPIT DOTH HOLD THE ARROWS THOU NEEDEST!

  Kayla yelled, “Colossus is heading for the cabins!”

  “Armpit!” I told Austin. “Flieth—er, fly for the armpit!”

  That wasn’t an order one heard much in combat, but Austin spurred the pegasi into a steep ascent. We buzzed the forest of arrows sticking out of the Colossus’s arm seam, but I completely overestimated my mortal hand-eye coordination. I lunged for the shafts and came up empty.

  Kayla was more agile. She snagged a fistful but screamed when she yanked them free.

  I pulled her to safety. Her hand was bleeding badly, cut from the high-speed grab.

  “I’m fine!” Kayla yelped. Her fingers were clenched, splattering drops of red all over the chariot’s floor. “Take the arrows.”

  I did. I tugged the Brazilian-flag bandana from around my neck and gave it to her. “Bind your hand,” I ordered. “There’s some ambrosia in my coat pocket.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Kayla’s face was as green as her hair. “Make the shot! Hurry!”

  I inspected the arrows. My heart sank. Only one of the missiles was unbroken, and its shaft was warped. It would be almost impossible to shoot.

  I looked again at the talking arrow.

  THOU SHALT NOT THINKEST ABOUT IT, he intoned. ENCHANT THOU THE WARPED ARROW!

  I tried. I opened my mouth, but the proper words of enchantment were gone from my mind. As I feared, Lester Papadopoulos simply did not possess the power. “I can’t!”

  I SHALT ASSIST, promised the Arrow of Dodona. STARTEST THOU: “PLAGUEY, PLAGUEY, PLAGUEY.”

  “The enchantment does not start plaguey, plaguey, plaguey!”

  “Who are you talking to?” Austin demanded.

  “My arrow! I—I need more time.”

  “We don’t have more time!” Kayla pointed with her wrapped bloody hand.

  The Colossus was only a few steps away from the central green. I wasn’t sure the demigods even realized how much danger they were in. The Colossus could do much more than just flatten buildings. If he destroyed the central hearth, the sacred shrine of Hestia, he would extinguish the very soul of the camp. The valley would be cursed and uninhabitable for generations. Camp Half-Blood would cease to exist.

  I realized I had failed. My plan would take much too long, if I could even remember how to make a plague arrow. This was my punishment for breaking an oath on the River Styx.

  Then, from somewhere above us, a voice yelled, “Hey, Bronze Butt!”

  Over the Colossus’s head, a cloud of darkness formed like a cartoon dialogue bubble. Out of the shadows dropped a furry black monster dog—a hellhound—and astride his back was a young man with a glowing bronze sword.

  The weekend was here. Percy Jackson had arrived.

  Hey, look! It’s Percy

  Least he could do was help out

  Taught him everything

  I WAS TOO SURPRISED TO SPEAK. Otherwise I would have warned Percy what was about to happen.

  Hellhounds are not fond of heights. When startled, they respond in a predictable way. The moment Percy’s faithful pet landed on top of the moving Colossus, she yelped and proceeded to wee-wee on said Colossus’s head. The statue froze and looked up, no doubt wondering what was trickling down his imperial sideburns.

  Percy leaped heroically from his mount and slipped in hellhound pee. He nearly slid off the statue’s brow. “What the—Mrs. O’Leary, jeez!”

  The hellhound bayed in apology. Austin flew our chariot to within shouting distance. “Percy!”

  The son of Poseidon frowned across at us. “All right, who unleashed the giant bronze guy? Apollo, did you do this?”

  “I am offended!” I cried. “I am only indirectly responsible for this! Also, I have a plan to fix it.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Percy glanced back at the destroyed dining pavilion. “How’s that going?”

  With my usual levelheadedness, I stayed focused on the greater good. “If you could please just keep this Colossus from stomping the camp’s hearth, that would be helpful. I need a few more minutes to enchant this arrow.”

  I held up the talking arrow by mistake, then held up the bent arrow.

  Percy sighed. “Of course you do.”

  Mrs. O’Leary barked in alarm. The Colossus was raising his hand to swat the trespassing tinkler.

  Percy grabbed one of the crown’s sunray spikes. He sliced it off at the base, then jabbed it into the Colossus’s forehead. I doubted the Colossus could feel pain, but it staggered, apparently surprised to suddenly have grown a unicorn horn.

  Percy sliced off another one. “Hey, ugly!” he called down. “You don’t need all these pointy things, do you? I’m going to take one to the beach. Mrs. O’Leary, fetch!”

  Percy tossed the spike like a javelin.

  The hellhound barked excitedly. She leaped off the Colossus’s head, vaporized into shadow, and reappeared on the ground, bounding after her new bronze stick.

  Percy raised his eyebrows at me. “Well? Start enchanting!”

  He jumped from the statue’s head to its shoulder. Then he leaped to the shaft of the rudder and slid down it like a fire pole all the way to the ground. If I had been at my usual level of godly athletic skill, I could’ve done something like that in my sleep, of course, but I had to admit Percy Jackson was moderately impressive.

  “Hey, Bronze Butt!” he yelled again. “Come get me!”

  The Colossus obliged, slowly turning and following Percy toward the beach.

  I began to chant, invoking my old powers as the god of plagues. This time, the words came to me. I didn’t know why. Perhaps Percy’s arrival had given me new faith. Perhaps I simply didn’t think about it too much. I’ve found that thinking often interferes with doing. It’s one of those lessons that gods learn early in their careers.

  I felt an itchy sensation of sickness curling from my fingers and into the projectile. I spoke of my own awesomeness and the various horrible diseases I had visited upon wicked populations in the past, because…well, I’m awesome. I could feel the magic taking hold, despite the Arrow of Dodona whispering to me like an annoying Elizabethan stagehand, SAYEST THOU: “PLAGUEY, PLAGUEY, PLAGUEY!”

  Below, more demigods joined the parade to the beach. They ran ahead of the Colossus, jeering at him, throwing things, and calling him Bronze Butt. They made jokes about his new horn. They laughed at the hellhound pee trickling down his face. Normally I have zero tolerance for bullying, especially when the victim looks like me, but since the Colossus was ten stories tall and destroying their camp, I suppose the campers’ rudeness was understandable.

  I finished chanting. Odious green mist now wreathed the arrow. It smelled faintly of fast-food deep fryers—a good sign that it carried some sort of horrible malady.

  “I’m ready!” I told Austin. “Get me next to its ear!”

  “You got it!” Austin turned to say something else, and a wisp of green fog passed under his nose. His eyes watered. His nose swelled and began to run. He scrunched up his face and sneezed so hard he collapsed. He lay on the floor of the chariot, groaning and twitching.

  “My boy!” I wanted to grab his shoulders and check on him, but since I had an arrow in each hand, that was inadvisable.

  FIE! TOO STRONG IS THY PLAGUE. The Dodona arrow hummed with annoyance. THY CHANTING SUCKETH.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” I said. “Kayla, be careful. Don’t breathe—”

  “ACHOO!” Kayla crumpled next to her brother.

  “What have I done?” I wailed.

  METHINKS THOU HAST BLOWN IT, said the Dodona arrow, my source of infinite wisdom. MOREO’ER, HIE! TAKEST THOU THE REINS.

  “Why?”

  You woul
d think a god who drove a chariot on a daily basis would not need to ask such a question. In my defense, I was distraught about my children lying half-conscious at my feet. I didn’t consider that no one was driving. Without anyone at the reins, the pegasi panicked. To avoid running into the huge bronze Colossus directly in their path, they dove toward the earth.

  Somehow, I managed to react appropriately. (Three cheers for reacting appropriately!) I thrust both arrows into my quiver, grabbed the reins, and managed to level our descent just enough to prevent a crash landing. We bounced off a dune and swerved to a stop in front of Chiron and a group of demigods. Our entrance might have looked dramatic if the centrifugal force hadn’t thrown Kayla, Austin, and me from the chariot.

  Did I mention I was grateful for soft sand?

  The pegasi took off, dragging the battered chariot into the sky and leaving us stranded.

  Chiron galloped to our side, a cluster of demigods in his wake. Percy Jackson ran toward us from the surf while Mrs. O’Leary kept the Colossus occupied with a game of keep-away. I doubt that would hold the statue’s interest very long, once he realized there was a group of targets right behind him, just perfect for stomping.

  “The plague arrow is ready!” I announced. “We need to shoot it into the Colossus’s ear!”

  My audience did not seem to take this as good news. Then I realized my chariot was gone. My bow was still in the chariot. And Kayla and Austin were quite obviously infected with whatever disease I had conjured up.

  “Are they contagious?” Cecil asked.

  “No!” I said. “Well…probably not. It’s the fumes from the arrow—”

  Everyone backed away from me.

  “Cecil,” Chiron said, “you and Harley take Kayla and Austin to the Apollo cabin for healing.”

  “But they are the Apollo cabin,” Harley complained. “Besides, my flamethrower—”

  “You can play with your flamethrower later,” Chiron promised. “Run along. There’s a good boy. The rest of you, do what you can to keep the Colossus at the water’s edge. Percy and I will assist Apollo.”

  Chiron said the word assist as if it meant slap upside the head with extreme prejudice.