To 8Ball3- I WILL READ IT AND THEN I WILL REWRITE, JUST LET ME GET FURTHER AHEAD ON LOU'S PAST FIRST ^_^
To Imagine Coldplay- I can assure you, no spoilers anytime soon!
To Guest- I don't know how did that little creature, but I love it XD
Apollo decided to omit the fact that he had drawn the wrong arrow from his quiver from his memory, venturing back into the zone of silence to ignore the girls' smirks. It was only when all sound washed away did he realise that the zone of silence might bring a few communication problems. No matter. He was too proud to retreat. If it didn't work, he could at least pretend he was having an intelligent conversation with the arrow. The girls would be none the wiser.
"Oh, prophetic missile!" He said. His vocal chords vibrated, but no sound came out. "I need your guidance."
CONGRATULATIONS, the arrow chimed, its voice resonating so forcefully in his head, his eyeballs rattled.
"Thanks." Apollo said dimly, touching his aching forehead. "Wait, what? Congratulations for what?"
THOU HAST FOUND THY GROOVE. AT LEAST THE BEGINNINGS OF THY GROOVE. I SUSPECTED THIS WOULD BE SO, GIVEN TIME. CONGRATULATIONS ARE MERITED.
"Oh." Apollo stared at the arrow's point, waiting for a 'but'. None came, surprising him to his core. "Th-thanks."
THOU ART MOST WELCOME.
"Did we just have a polite exchange?"
AYE. MOST TROUBLING.
"Can you help me? Please? My memory needs a jumpstart. This soundless god… he's that guy from Egypt, isn't he?"
WELL REASONED, SIRRAH. THOU HAST NARROWED IT DOWN TO ALL THE GUYS IN EGYPT.
"You know what I mean. There was that- that one Ptolemaic god. Strange dude. God of silence and secrets. But he wasn't, exactly. If you can just give me his name, I think the rest of my memories will shake loose."
IS MY WISDOM SO CHEAPLY BOUGHT? DOST THOU EXPECT TO WIN HIS NAME WITH NO EFFORT?
"What do you call climbing Sutro Tower?! And getting slashed to be pieces by ravens, kicked in the face and forced to sing Dean Martin?"
AMUSING. Apollo allegedly yelled a few non-child-friendly insults, censored by the encompassing silence- basically, it was open to discussion, and he would not admit anything.
"Fine." He huffed. "Can you at least give me a hint?"
VERILY. THE NAME DOTH BEGIN WITH AN H.
"A lot of gods' names begin with H."
THINK OF THY FAVOURITE PHYSICIAN.
"Me. Wait, no. My son, Asclepius."
YOUR FAVOURITE MORTAL PHYSICIAN.
"Doctor Kildare. Doctor Doom. Doctor House. Doctor Strange. Doctor Who. Oh! You mean Hippocrates! But he's… he's not a Ptolemaic god."
THOU ART KILLING ME. The arrow complained. Apollo wasn't sure how it was possible, but the arrow did seem to wilt a little. HIPPOCRATES IS THY HINT. THE NAME THY SEEKEST IS MOST LIKE IT. THOU NEEDEST CHANGE BUT TWO LETTERS.
"Which two?" Apollo felt petulant, but he had never enjoyed word puzzles, even less so after the Burning Maze.
THINK OF THY FAVOURITE MARX BROTHER.
"The Marx Brothers? How do you even-? They were from the nineteen-thirties! Yes, of course, I loved them, they brightened a dreary decade." The arrow buzzed impatiently.
FAVOURITE.
"Harpo. I always found his music sweet and sad and oh my gods, it's Harpocrates. Arrow, please tell me that's not the answer. Please tell me he's not waiting in that box." The arrow did not respond. Apollo took that as confirmation of his worst fears.
He returned the missile to his quiver and trudged back to Meg and Reyna. Meg frowned.
"I don't like that look on your face."
"Me neither." Reyna agreed. "What did you learn?"
"I know which god we face." Apollo tried for a smile. "The good news is he's not very powerful, as gods go, a real D-lister. But, uh…" Reyna folded her arms and fixed him with a Look™. Apollo winced. "Harpocrates and I didn't exactly get along. He might have, er… sworn that someday he would see me vaporised."
"Vaporised." Reyna echoed. Meg sighed, rolling her eyes.
"What did you do this time?"
"Nothing! I may have teased him a bit, but he was a very minor god. Rather silly-looking. I… may have made some jokes at his expense in front of the other Olympians." Reyna's eyebrows drew together, lacing her fingers as if imagining them around his neck.
"You bullied him."
"No! I mean… I did write 'zap me' on the back of his toga. And, uh," he scratched at his head, "I may have been a bit harsh when I tied him up and locked him in the stalls with my fiery horses overnight-"
"Oh my gods!" Meg protested. "You're awful!" Apollo couldn't argue with that. He had been awful to Harpocrates. If someone was to treat him, Lester, like that now, he would have wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But even as a god, he knew the impact of bullying- the bully being his father. He should have known better than to share the pain.
He hadn't thought about Harpocrates in aeons. Teasing him had seemed like no big deal and that's what made it even worse; Apollo could shrug off their encounters. He doubted Harpocrates could, or had.
It was no wonder Koronis's ravens and Harpocrates were here. Tarquin had set this all up with him in mind, forcing Apollo to confront some of his greatest hits of dreadfulness. Even if he did survive, his friends would see exactly what kind of dirtbag he was.
"Alright," he said, "I was a bully. I see that now. I- I will march right into the box and apologise. And then hope he doesn't vaporise me." Reyna did not look thrilled. She pushed up her sleeve to check her watch, maybe calculating how long it would take for him to be vaporised and get back to camp.
"Assuming we can get through the doors," she reminded him, "what are we up against? Tell me about Harpocrates." Apollo tried to summon a mental image of him.
"He usually looks like a child, maybe ten years old."
"You bullied a ten-year-old." Meg noted, raising an eyebrow.
"He looks ten."
"That doesn't make it better!"
"He has a shaved head, except for a ponytail on one side."
"Is that an Egyptian thing?"
"Yes, for children- he's still not ten, don't look at me like that. Harpocrates was originally an incarnation of the god Horus- Harpa-Khruti, Horus the Child." They still did not look impressed with him. Apollo hurried on. "Anyway, when Alexander the Great invaded Egypt, the Greeks found all these statues of the god and didn't know what to make of him. He was usually depicted with his finger to her lips." Apollo demonstrated. Meg mimicked, adding a shush and a warning glare. "The Greeks thought it meant 'be quiet'." Apollo agreed, electing to pretend it wasn't an order. "But the gesture had nothing to do with shushing. It symbolised the hieroglyph for 'child'. Nevertheless, the Greeks decided he was the god of silence and secrets, changed his name to Harpocrates, built some shrines and started worshipping him. Boom, he's a Greek-Egyptian hybrid god."
"It can't be that easy to make a new god, surely?" Meg queried with a snort.
"Never underestimate the power of thousands of human minds all believing the same thing. They can make reality, sometimes for the better, sometimes not."
"And now he's in there." Reyna twirled a finger in the direction of the box. "You think he's powerful enough to cause all our communication failures?"
"He shouldn't be. I don't understand-"
"The cables." Meg pointed. "They're connecting to the box. Could they be boosting his signal somehow? Maybe that's why he's up here."
"Could we not just cut the cables?" Reyna asked.
"Too easy, won't work." Apollo shook his head. "Bellona's daughter has to open the door to the soundless god. And for our ritual summoning to work, we need the last breath of the god, after his, um… soul is cut free." It had been one thing discussing this in the praetorium, but a whole other, much worse thing on Sutro Tower, facing the god's big red shipping container. Judging by the girls' expressions, his unease was shared.
"We don't really have to… you know?" Meg cut a hand across her throat. "Do we? Even if this Harpo guy is working for the emperors, it doesn't seem… right."
"I don't think he's working for them." Reyna announced. "Look at those chains. He's a prisoner."
"That's worse." Meg scowled.
"There has to be another way." Apollo insisted. "The prophecy can't mean for us to kill him. Let's talk to him, figure something out."
"How can we," Reyna flicked him in the head, "if he radiates silence?"
"Uh, good question. Maybe charades? No, no. Let's just see if we can get the doors open first. Can you two cut the chains?"
"With my swords?" Meg demanded, scandalised.
"No, your teeth, but go off."
"Guys." Reyna made a T with her hands. "Imperial gold blades hacking away at Imperial gold chains? Maybe we could cut through, but we'd be here until nightfall. We don't have that kind of time." She looked to her Apollo, her gaze searching for something beyond his Lester façade. "We need godly strength."
"But I don't have any!"
"You got your archery skills back, and your musical skills."
"That Valerie song didn't count." Meg said, picking dirt from under her nails.
"Volare!" Apollo corrected indignantly.
"Don't matter." Reyna stressed through a smile of gritted teeth. "I may be able to boost your strength, I think that's why I'm here." Apollo blinked at her. "I can amplify other people's abilities. The bigger the group, the better it works, but even with three people… it might be sufficient to enhance your power enough to rip open those doors."
"Does that count?" Meg puzzled. "If Reyna doesn't open the door herself, isn't that cheating the prophecy?"
"Prophecies never mean what you think, right?" Reyna shrugged. "If Apollo is able to open it thanks to my help, I'm still responsible, wouldn't you say?"
"Besides," Apollo pointed to the horizon, "we're running out of time." Hours of daylight remained, but the full moon was rising, enormous and white over the hills of Marin County. Soon, it would turn blood-red. "If we can cheat, let's cheat." He realised those would make terrible last words. Nevertheless, Meg and Reyna followed him into the cold silence.