Static electricity burned in Thalia's ears.
Around them, the cold military hallway's round concrete tunnels slowly morphed into a simple archway passage of stone and mortar, but Thalia hardly noticed. Sparks jumped between her fingertips, and each step she took left a black bootprint seared into the cobbles below.
Prometheus's threats echoed in her ears, pinning the fate of humanity squarely on Percy's shoulders. It didn't seem particularly fair to do that - surely if the Titans destroyed the human race it was the fault of the Titans. Percy couldn't be expected to bear that burden. He was still in high school. His biggest problems should have been physics homework and talking to girls, not the potential suffering and death of billions at the hands of the most powerful entities known to man.
But even as she raged at the unfairness of it all, she knew, she understood. Percy would shoulder that burden. He was a man before he should have been, forced into a war no child should fight, facing the choice between the ease of evil and the difficulty of good. Percy probably wasn't yet certain of it himself, but somehow Thalia knew beyond any shadow of doubt.
It is the responsibility of all honest men to stand against evil.
Twenty feet ahead, Percy stumbled over a stack of small ceramic squares into a massive, murky pit. Thalia dashed forwards, Grover and Tyson hot on her heels, too late to catch Percy from his fall but just in time to watch him disappear downwards into the blackness.
It was impossible to tell what was in the hole. It would have been impossible to see, except for what little light filtered down from the rim that she stood on to show Percy very faintly, tumbling end over end. There was no evidence that the pit had walls, or a floor, or any dimension whatsoever except for depth.
Desperately, Thalia thrust her hand out, praying and hoping against hope that she could accomplish now what she had not for Annabeth. But even as she grunted and summoned every last bit of willpower she possessed, her knees buckling under the strain and only Tyson's firm grasp keeping her upright, she knew that it was fruitless. Down here, a thousand feet under the earth, her father's wind powers were so greatly limited that she could hardly summon a faint breeze. The dim silhouette that was Percy's falling body grew smaller and darker, nearly winking out in the blackness light a quietly fading star. Only a pinprick of light remained to mark the existence of Percy Jackson.
Crushed, Thalia stood weakly, shaking off Tyson's steadying hand.
With no options left, she turned to the others. "You two - be safe. Go back to Camp. Try to figure out what Hera meant."
By the time Grover had worked out what she intended, Thalia had already stepped backwards off the same ledge that Percy had failed to notice. Her heart leapt into her throat as she watched the small square hole shrink rapidly above her, Grover and Tyson peering over its edge and reaching out in an exercise in futility.
Then she recovered and turned herself over, racing down into the blackness after her friend.
The air whipped at her face as she fell, an unwelcome change from aboveground where the wind never bothered her. She made herself as streamlined as possible as her heart fought indecision - should it leap to her throat from the fear of the stupendous drop below, or plunge to her stomach with vertigo and the speed of her descent? She fought to breathe, fought to focus, eyes fixating on the faintest outline of her friend even while it blurred, her eyes watered in the biting cold.
But slowly, it worked. In short order, she could make out Percy's shape, and then his limbs. He had the good sense to starfish and try to slow himself down as much as he could, and Thalia speared through the blackness towards him. Below them, a world slowly faded into focus. Shapes wandered across a vast plain, rivers snaking their way through them.
And, rapidly, it approached the demigods. Much as Percy once had over the Pacific Ocean, she caught up to his form and wrapped her arms around him, clinging as tightly to him as she could and summoning whatever air would obey her.
"Thalia?" Percy shouted over the whipping wind, surprised as hell to see her. "What the fuck-"
They plunged headlong into the ground.
But rather than the instantaneous death she had halfway expected, Thalia felt herself enveloped in soft, thick mud, a peat bog millenia old and stuffed to the brim with moss and water and dirt. It choked her, cloyed at her lungs and her throat, the impact much softer than packed soil but certainly not soft enough to save her shoulder. Percy also plummeted into the ground, separated from her grasp as Thalia felt her left shoulder shatter as it bore the impact.
And then, twenty feet under the surface, drowning in thick mud, fate decided that Thalia didn't really need to be there and that instead she should be shown a demigod vision instead.
Being a demigod really, really sucked.
Percy was in a courtyard, chest heaving with exertion, back drenched with sweat. Riptide glowed faintly in the darkness, shimmering in the starlight from the black heavens above, but the tip swayed and shook over the cobbles to reveal just how exhausted he was. One arm hung limp at his side, quickly tied into his shirt to keep it out of the way. It was nearly severed at his shoulder, a cut clear through half of it gushing blood onto the floor.
Dozens of other cuts, gashes, and gouges littered his body. He favored one foot and his ring finger on his sword hand was bent at an awkward angle, twisted around onto itself.
And yet he stood defiantly before Luke, as much as he could stand, and glared with a fire that made Thalia's blood run cold.
Luke, for his part, was undamaged. His armor bore witness to half a dozen lethal wounds, but the skin beneath was without blemish, as though Luke had just taken a nice shower and the destroyed armor was actually a fashion choice. He wasn't even particularly sweaty. But when she met his eyes, Thalia froze.
Solid gold.
"It's over, Percy," Luke said. But it didn't sound like Luke, really. This voice was much deeper than Luke's usual surfer-dude voice, full of silk and dulcet smoothness. "There's still a chance to surrender. Many lives would be saved."
Above, the faintest sliver of crescent moon. On the edge of the courtyard, Annabeth stood, panting, in full battle dress. On the opposite side of the circular courtyard, the real Thalia and Clarisse were encircled by half a dozen demigods, taken prisoner and forced to watch Percy's battle with Luke.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Percy said with a twisted smile. "I'm not prepared to accept your surrender yet, though."
Luke's body laughed, running a hand through long blond hair, but the movements were alien, the smile only skin-deep.
"Kill them."
Thalia gasped, but the vision disintegrated before anything more could happen. The last thing to fade from her sight was Percy's battered body striking forwards in a last desperate thrust.
The next vision was very different. A workshop, bellows stoking a searing-hot forge fire, an old man bent over a bronze contraption, scooping hot wax out of a warming tub and slathering it onto what looked like bronze leafs before connecting them to the mechanism. The forge's exhaust was being pumped down into the ground, through what looked like a manhole cover. Overhead, a light blue sky, dotted with clouds. A lovely day by all measures, if not for the circumstances.
"Done," muttered the old man. "Finally, it's done."
He looked sickly, his beard white and his back humped. But the teenage boy helping him looked relatively healthy - wiry, tall, thin, but with the muscles of a worker. He was working the bellows that warmed the fire, and which also plumbed heat into the wax-warmer. At the old man's announcement, he left the bellows and dashed over to the table eagerly.
The old man picked up his creation and Thalia's heart skipped a beat at the beauty of it. A pair of twenty-foot wings expanded outwards, gleaming metal feathers dazzling in the mid-day light, interlocking like so many perfect pieces. The edge of each was sharp like a knife, and on the front was a simple leather harness to secure the wings to the wearer.
"Father, you're a genius!" The boy exclaimed. "These are wonderful!"
"I know, Icarus," said the old man with a soft smile. "But we must hurry - the wax will not last forever, and we should leave as soon as it has set fully."
"Very well," said the boy with a fiendish grin, "but you go first. You deserve the honor of wearing them first - they are your creation, after all."
Quickly the pair set about attaching the wax wings, first to the old man, and then to the son. As he worked on Icarus's harness, Daedalus cautioned the boy about the dangers of the wings. "We must watch our altitude carefully, my son. Too low, and the sea spray will wet the seals and loosen them, and -"
"Too high, the sun's heat will melt them. Yes, I know, father!" the boy insisted. "No one has ever been as smart as Daedalus, and that's your name, is it not? I have complete faith in these wings. Hurry, and let us fly away from this awful place!"
At that very moment, as if on cue from Icarus, a monstrous boom sounded from the heavy wooden doors to the workshop. Then another, and another. The beam bracing the doors began to splinter under the load. "Quick, father! Finish with my wings and help me open the grate!"
Daedalus's hands shook as he finished the last leather straps on the boy's harness, and together they raced towards a large bronze square in the floor next to the manhole cover. Next to the square, two tall levers extended into the air. The pair arrived at the levers and began to haul on them desperately, heaving with the entirety of their bodyweight, but nothing happened.
The door beam finally shattered, sending splinters flying across the room, and through the door stepped a portly figure with an evil grin and two guards flanking him. "Well, well. Going somewhere?"
"We're leaving, Minos," Daedalus declared.
The king simply chuckled. "Alas, I don't think so. I must admit, I was curious how far you would get with this project. I'm quite impressed, even if you look like metal chickens."
Icarus quietly stepped to one side, placing his hands on the tub of hot wax. Nobody seemed to notice.
"You let my daughter escape, old man. You drove my wife to insanity. You killed my monster and robbed me of the respect the Mediterranean owes me." The king glowered darkly. "I will see that you suffer for this."
Icarus thrust forwards with his hands, and the wax flew across the room. It landed on the king and his guards, who all bellowed in pain as they were scalded by near-boiling wax. "The vent, father!" He yelled, spraying down the king again for good measure.
Daedalus made a Herculean effort and, once Icarus had joined him on the levers to help, the square in the floor changed. Somehow Thalia hadn't noticed but it was actually a grate, made up of dozens of interlaced slats that now turned to allow hot air from the furnace exhaust to vent skywards and provide a strong updraft. Together, the old man and his son leapt into the air, carried aloft by bronze wings away from the eyes of a disbelieving Minos. Nobody but Thalia noticed how half a dozen feathers shook themselves loose from Icarus's still-setting wings.
As the pair glided across the open ocean, the boy whooped with elation and danced through the air on his wings. Each maneuver ripped loose a feather, but Icarus took no notice. Daedalus was too clumsy and weak to notice, too focused on maintaining pace to keep up with his freedom-drunk son.
"Father! This is wonderful!" Icarus called, soaring upwards in a lazy circle. "I feel so-"
Just then, the left wing collapsed, shredding itself into a thousand sharp bronze feathers. Without so much as a terrified yelp, Icarus plummeted to the ocean below, fear clear on his face.
Suddenly, Thalia found herself jolted awake by the desperate, all-consuming need to breathe. She opened her mouth with a gasp, but no relief came. Mud poured itself down her throat and the daughter of Zeus came to the horrible realization that she was going to die. She thrashed helplessly, unable to break the suction of the peat bog which held her so sturdily under its surface.
And then, through the murk, a hand seized her. She rocketed to the surface, hauled bodily through twenty feet of slop by a gigantic fist. Her head broke through the surface and instantly her instincts turned her stomach inside out, retching up what felt like a hundred pounds of bog soil as she fought desperately to keep her consciousness as her vision faded around the edges. Finally her abused lungs were able to suck in some much-needed air and she nearly wept at the feeling, pulling herself up to her hands and knees and breathing in deeply.
Beside her, she heard Percy hack up a lung, and the relief she felt to see his heaving, mud-covered form was indescribable. The two spent a minute just recovering before either had the presence of mind to figure out what had saved their lives.
"Where did you two come from?" The voice was gruff, familiar. "And why are you drowning in my river?"
Thalia rolled onto her back, still reeling from the mud bath, and saw a familiar face. Akheron, the river that she and Percy had helped clean over the winter solstice, was standing over the pair with a disapproving look on his face. His face was much smaller now, no longer a mass of swirling and polluted water but instead a human-sized statue of mud with water for eyes, but Thalia could recognize him easily enough.
"Uh, Lord Akheron," she managed between heavy breaths. "Where exactly are we?"
The river god thought for a moment. "Mile three thousand, seven hundred and thirteen. The Triple G Ranch." He looked quite proud of himself. "Ever since you guys cleaned me up, mostly, I have a much better connection to my waters - even the ones in the Labyrinth."
Percy groaned, hauling himself up to his feet with great difficulty. "Thalia - your shoulder. Are you okay?" Thalia rolled her shoulder forwards experimentally and nearly blacked out from the pain. Seeing the look on her face, Percy decided for her. "No, you're not okay. Here, have some ambrosia," he said, holding out a crushed ziploc bag full of the food of the gods. She accepted it gratefully and steeled herself against the pain she knew was to come before swallowing a handful.
While the bones in her shoulder strained to knit themselves back together, she turned to Akheron. "We're still in the Labyrinth? There's a ranch in the Labyrinth?"
"Oh, yes," said Akheron. "I hate it here. So filthy and muddy and… well. The horses. But no matter. I have decided that I rather like you, and to see you both drown in my waters would be most unfriendly of me." The mud man flopped around a little bit, before turning to face away from them. "Ah, and here comes the rancher now. I must go."
Unceremoniously, the mud flopped down into a large pile, splattering Thalia and Percy some more. To be honest, it wasn't really noticeable, given that they were already dripping with mud from head to toe.
From over the horizon came an enormous man in a tiny Jeep that looked as if it had been through World War Two. It was rusty and battered and pockmarked with bullet holes. There wasn't a single straight panel on the thing. The passenger seat held an even bigger dog - and here Thalia couldn't help but wonder if the fall actually had killed her after all - with two snarling, barking, drooling heads.
"You're seeing this too, right?" She muttered to Percy.
"Don't Mess With Texas," Percy read off the approaching man's T-shirt, printed in font big enough to write on a billboard. "Oh, and the two-headed dog, of course."
"Of course," Thalia repeated. "Just a two-headed dog. No biggie. 'Yeah, Thalia, of course the dog has two heads, what are you, dumb?'" She snarked in a purposely poor imitation of Percy.
"Hey," he said, vaguely offended. "I've seen a three-headed dog too, okay? Two is almost normal." When he met Thalia's incredulous look, the best he could offer her was a simple shrug.
The Jeep slid to a halt in the cloying mud. Now that the driver was much closer, Thalia could make out more than the T-shirt print and his superhuman stature. He was dressed like a particularly cliche cowboy, straw hat, denim jacket, jeans, boots, and all. As he unfolded himself from the Jeep he seemed to grow even bigger, until he towered over even Percy. The man had to be eight feet tall and five hundred pounds of raw muscle.
The dog, itself also comically large relative to the Jeep but looking rather miniature next to its owner, leapt over the windshield and barreled towards the pair. Thalia dropped into a combat stance as the snarling dog raced nearer, turning her still-broken shoulder to face away from the dog , but it was already upon them.
Or rather, upon Percy, both of the dog's heads giving the demigod sloppy licks and kisses as he fell backwards into the mud once more.
"Huh," said the cowboy. "Well, that's a new one. Orthus, heel." He whistled and the dog obediently left Percy, returning to its owner's side but still staring at where Percy sat, astonished, in the mud. The dog - Orthus - was shaking its entire body with enthusiasm as it wagged its tail. "Now, you two. What are you doing on my ranch?"
"Uh," Percy said.
"Ow," Thalia said, nursing her shoulder.
"Well, okay," said the giant man. "My name is Eurytion. I'm the son of Ares. You got here through the Labyrinth, I assume. Like the other ones."
"You could say that," Thalia grumbled. "I'm Thalia. The dope over there is Percy. We're on a quest, but, uh… the Labyrinth kind of made Percy fall into a hole that dropped us out here?"
"Huh," Eurytion said. "That's a new one." He looked mildly surprised. "We get a lot of visitors from the Labyrinth, but most of them come out at ground level."
"Yeah," Percy agreed. "It wasn't nice. But, uh, we'd really appreciate some help, if you don't mind. We're on a quest, and Thalia is hurt." Thalia winced at the slip of potentially tactically important information, but the cowboy didn't seem to care.
The cattle man checked over his shoulder, then spoke quietly. "Look, kids. You don't wanna be here. It's a bad place for demigods. Go find another way into the maze and get out of here."
"We don't really know how," Percy admitted. "And by the way - what 'other ones?' Other demigods have come through this way?"
Eurytion shrugged. "Yeah, a few. Lots of visitors, like I said. Some demigods. A couple specifically looking for us, even."
"Looking for you? Why?" Percy blurted.
"Well, I gotta take you to the boss, since you won't leave," said the son of Ares. "I'll show you on the way. Get in the Jeep."
Once the three of them (and, of course, Orthus, who curled up in Percy's lap and demanded attention) had crammed themselves into the Jeep, they set off down the incredibly bumpy gravel path towards… something. It was nighttime, fortunately, or at least Thalia assumed it was. There was no evidence they were aboveground - but the sky was cloudy and dark, and she couldn't quite feel its power like she did aboveground, either.
Thalia was grateful it wasn't day, because it was still over ninety-five and painfully humid. Lights sparked into and out of existence in the distance, and she'd thought they were fireflies until Eurytion told her the truth. "Fire-breathing horses. Descendants of the Mares of Diomedes," he said, like that explained everything.
"What are they for?" Thalia asked. Percy couldn't have cared less - he had found a spot behind Orthus's ear third that made the dog stretch his back and kick his leg.
The cowherd shrugged. "We raise animals for a lot of clients. Apollo, Diomedes… others."
"Like who?" Thalia pressed. She was feeling particularly on edge, and the pain she felt as her shoulder muscles ground her still-shattered bones together while they healed was making her not especially comfortable either.
"No more questions."
The ride passed in uncomfortable silence, the only noises being Thalia's pained grunts when they hit a bump and Percy playing with the giant, horrifically dangerous, two-headed lapdog. They drove past red cows, pens full of scorpions, hellhounds, and even a few hydras. The hydras were tiny, barely ten feet from head(s) to tail, but they still made Thalia shudder with the memory of her time in the South being brought to an abrupt close when she, Annabeth, and Luke had to run.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a way, it was.
Luke was once a good friend. A good person, perhaps. Angry, yes, but caring, thoughtful, protective. She'd come to terms with the fact that he wasn't that anymore. That he wasn't, couldn't be, her friend, or anything more like she'd once wanted. But she still didn't understand why. How he could abandon the memory of his friends, how he could leave Annabeth behind and fight for the Titans in the vain hope they might possibly be better than the Gods.
But then she thought of what Prometheus had promised Percy - and, indirectly, Thalia - for joining the Titans. The protection of the human race. Not just power, not just fame, but glory, heroism, if you could call it that. Betraying humanity, yes, but in so doing preserving it. For someone like Luke, who'd always felt second best, like he was destined for glory that he just couldn't attain…
Yeah, the Titans were probably pretty attractive to him. Now, for better or worse, everybody knew Luke's name. He was respected, in command, in control of his subordinates. Even if it was borne only of fear, Luke had power. Power felt good, Thalia knew. She could still feel the violent, churning desire that had nearly overcome her on Mount Tamalpais when Luke had offered her power over the world.
"Rules," the cowherd said, interrupting Thalia's thoughts. "No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don't say anything about how the boss looks." They pulled up in front of an expansive, beautifully painted ranch home. It stood in stark contrast to the filth and mud and barbed wire which surrounded it, and Thalia had to do a double take to make sure the agony of her healing shoulder wasn't causing hallucinations.
"Why?" Percy said. "What does he - oh."
"Welcome to the Triple G Ranch," said a new voice. Looking at its source, Thalia could tell why she wasn't supposed to say anything.
The man on the porch looked like an Italian mobster from one of the movies Luke had made her watch. He'd insisted on explaining the history of the mafia families in Chicago, and how they were all sons of Hermes, and Thalia had done her absolute best to stay awake. The man's oily black hair was slicked back close to his scalp from his receding hairline, and a similarly oily pencil-thin mustache crowned his upper lip as he attempted a smile - though to be honest it was much closer to a sneer than anything friendly.
The rest of his head was pretty normal too, down to his shoulders. But at his shoulders, things got weird. Because he had six shoulders - three sets, joined at the sides, and three chests beneath them, all of which were also connected at the midriff to form one enormous barrel-chest with two enormous, sturdy legs below. All in all, he had two legs, two arms, one head, but three chests wearing three shirts. Thalia couldn't really wrap her head around it anatomically.
"Hey, nice che-… uh, nice ranch," Percy blurted out.
If the man had noticed Percy's slip, he gave no indication. "Thank you," he beamed. "Biggest ranch in the Tri-River area. Hundreds of satisfied and loyal customers."
"The Tri-River area?" Thalia asked. "I've never heard of that."
"Really?" The triple-chested man looked deeply saddened, but only momentarily. "The Tri-River area. Biggest agricultural center in the Underworld. Confluence of the Acheron, Styx, and Cocytus. Great for grazing cattle and horses!" He shrugged, which looked particularly weird because of the whole 'six shoulders' deal, and sighed. "But I guess there's no reason a demigod would know that. We don't get many demigod customers, at least, not usually."
"What do you mean, 'not usually?'" Percy asked.
Geryon waved his hand nonchalantly as though swatting the question away like it were a moderately annoying fly. "No worries. Come inside, you must be famished! Questing takes a lot out of a demigod… or so Eurytion tells me. Not to worry! Only the finest sacred cow beef here." He chuckled like it was an inside joke. Promptly, the three-chested man turned and walked back inside
"Hey, Thalia," Percy whispered as they followed the man, herded forwards by a bored-looking Eurytion. "Why does 'Triple G Ranch' seem familiar? Like, I feel like I know that name from somewhere."
Somehow, it clicked. "Quintus's griffins, remember? They came from here. 'Not responsible for death or dismemberment.'" Percy nodded, but ahead of them, Geryon seemed to overhear.
"Quintus, you say? Short, gray-haired, muscular? Swordsman," he asked.
"Uh, yeah," Percy answered uncertainly.
"Never heard of him." Geryon guided them into a dining room with comfortable leather-lined chairs and a large oak table, already set for dinner. "Please, take your seats. Let us have a civil dinner."
Slowly, they did, Thalia nursing her shoulder. It shouldn't have taken this long for it to heal. Usually the ambrosia would have made her perfectly healthy by now, especially with how much Percy had given her. Perhaps it was the same reason Percy's magic wasn't working? Maybe the Labyrinth was feeding off of them, sustaining itself off the power and life of those who wandered into it. Perhaps that was how it had stayed alive for so long after the death of its creator.
Gods, she really hated being underground.
Dinner was an awkward affair, but it was over mercifully quickly. Unfortunately, after dinner came business. Principally, Thalia and Percy had to get out of there and find not only Daedalus, but also now Grover and Tyson too. Oh, and of course, they had to figure out whatever Hera's cryptic, worthless clues had meant.
They explained as much to Geryon, though they managed to be tacit enough about it that they didn't give away too much weakness and instead seemed just like lost, somewhat inexperienced demigods on a quest. Eurytion seemed completely disinterested, and Geryon wasn't much help either, but he did offer them a pretty simple deal. "Tame a horse for me," he said, "And I'll tell you how to get through the maze. Maybe I'll even throw in some info on some of my customers if you do a good enough job."
"Uh," Thalia said.
"I'm sorry, my friends," Geryon said, clearly not sorry at all. "But I am a simple businessman. I must sustain myself somehow, no?"
"What's the deal with the horse?" Percy asked, uncharacteristically cautious.
"Oh, nothing major," insisted the three-chested man. "She just needs to be trained. Broken. Made ready for her new owner." Geryon smiled. "He's a very hard charging fellow, but he has… very little time on his hands. She's one of the Mares of Diomedes. One of the originals, actually. I understand you saw some of her descendants on the way over."
"Percy, tell me you're not going to try to ride a fire-breathing horse," Thalia whispered.
"I won't," Percy said. "Besides, she doesn't breathe fire, she eats flesh." He turned to their host. "You can't expect me to train this horse for you, Geryon. That would take months. Years, probably."
"Well," said the man amicably. "Then I suppose you'll have to find your own way home. And I won't tell you who's been visiting and buying my wares, either. Your choice, demigod. I trust you shall make the right decision."
And there it was. They didn't have a choice, not really, and Geryon knew it.
And so it was that Percy came to be standing in a round corral with a flesh-eating horse that did, in fact, also breathe fire. The horse - Deinos, which Eurytion had gleefully informed them meant "The Terrible" - snorted and trotted nervously, unhappy to have been tricked into leaving its expansive, mud filled pasture. Each snort shot gouts of flame three feet out of its nostrils, but the horse itself was positively miniscule - a tiny little fireplug of a thing. Thalia didn't know much about horses, but apparently Percy did - something to do with Poseidon, she supposed.
"Fourteen hands," he'd muttered, "but still thirteen hundred pounds. She'll be wild."
Somehow, that hadn't made Thalia feel any better about him getting in the ring with the mare.
"Hey, girl," Percy said quietly, standing in the center of the ring. "I'm sorry about all this. I don't blame you for being angry, but… I got a lot on the line here."
Watching on from the stands, Geryon laughed. "Pansy!" He called. "You're gonna break a horse like this by talking to her?" Eurytion rolled his eyes at Geryon's remarks, but leaned forwards. He seemed interested in what Percy was going to do - maybe he did more than just dress like a cowboy, Thalia thought.
Percy, as usual, ignored everything else. "C'mon, girl," he called softly. "I don't wanna hurt you, and you don't wanna hurt me. Let's work this out." He held a rope halter in his hand, but left it hanging low at his side, as though Deinos was going to run off at the sight of it. "You're not terrible," he continued. "You just have your own ideas, huh? You're smarter than us dumb bastards who try to ride you."
The mare stopped trotting and tossed her head violently up and down, staring at Percy, as though she was nodding. Geryon stayed silent, but Eurytion whistled quietly, obviously impressed.
"Wanna come over here?" Percy offered softly. "You can't eat me, sorry, but I did bring you some peppermint?"
That sent Deinos into a dead gallop straight at Percy, muscles rippling under what Percy had called her 'blue roan' coat, mud and white hairs over black undercoat showing every single sinew and crease as the mare thundered up to Percy - and then stopped dead short, dropping her hindquarters nearly to the ground as she skidded through the dirt to stop herself eye to eye with Percy and just inches away from him. She tossed her mane expectantly.
Thalia had to force herself to exhale the breath she was holding as Percy gently held out his open, flat palm with a peppermint for Deinos. "You'd make a hell of a cutting horse, girl," he said as she took the snack and tossed her head, prancing off to turn another circle around Percy once more. "You're real pretty, too."
Again, the horse returned, and again, Percy gave her a peppermint. This time, though, she didn't race off to prance and show off. Instead, she simply turned and walked in a slow circle, and Percy turned to watch her. He held out his hand low, without a peppermint this time, and the mare slowly approached his hand. Then, shockingly, she nuzzled her nose into it, rubbing his hand up and along her neck with a happy nicker.
"How the hell did he do that?" Geryon asked Eurytion angrily. "He's gotten further with this horse in ten minutes than you did in ten years."
Eurytion shrugged.
"I'm gonna put this halter on you, girly, and this rigging strap," Percy said, absently grooming some of the caked-up mud from the mare's coat, "and then I'm gonna climb up, okay? And we're just gonna walk around."
The mare nickered again, and Percy grinned. Thalia's knees felt weak with worry, and by instinct, she checked her shoulder - not perfect, still painful, but not crippled anymore. Useable in a fight, if they had to get out of there.
When she looked back into the corral, Percy was already astride Deinos, a massive smile on his face. His left hand held the rigging strap loosely and just as loosely held the halter rope.
And then, suddenly, Deinos gave a mighty buck, launching her front legs into the air before her hindquarters followed. Her hooves flashed out back in a kick and Percy was left hanging on for dear life.
And yet, he sat on her back like he was born there.
Howdy. Kind of unconventional, I guess. Skipping Kampe and Briares (for now?) and moving straight to Triple G, also ditching Grover and Tyson. Really not confident in the quality or direction this chapter took, so feel free to let me know if you loved it or it pissed you off. I hope the change in the mini-quest is okay, though - the whole "clean the stables" might have been a Hercules thing, but so were the Mares of Diomedes, and I figured this was an interesting option that wasn't as big a change as Thanatos/Hecate but kept the relevance to Triple G Ranch.
Quick note on that: I have a lot of horse experience. Absolutely do not try to do this with a fire-breathing, flesh-eating horse. Or any horse you don't know. It takes a lot more than 10 minutes to get a horse that's been abused or mistreated to be comfortable with you. Also: don't 'break' a horse. Work with them. Horse rant over.
Sorry about the delay, by the way - more than a month now, month and a half, even. I've got a lot going on and haven't really had much time or desire to write anything. I'm still interested in the story, but... life comes first, I guess.
5500ish words, though. Certainly more than I expected - my goal was about 4k, and it took me a while to even get there.
Hope you enjoyed. See you when I see you.