Zeus Thunderheart's Arc

Chapter 8 of 9

Zeus did not follow the boy up the ridge. He heard the hound behind him, three throats baying at once, and he knew the truth. The dog no longer needed Hades to steer it. It had the child's scent now. Hades had loosed it and faded, content to let the beast do the killing while he carried the secret to Hera. If Zeus struck the hound down here, in the open valley, his bolt would light the sky for miles. Hera's watchers would see it. They would see his son. He needed the fight hidden. He turned and ran the other way, toward the shrine that warded old things. Chiyo Weathervane kept it. She had given him the cursed apple once, blunt and cold, asking no questions. She would not welcome him now. He found her at the wards, a sparrow on her shoulder, a squirrel clinging to her back. She did not rise. "You brought it here," she said, eyes on the tree line where the baying grew. "I need cover," Zeus said. "Walls that will hold the light in. Yours will." "My wards hold worse than that dog." She flicked a hand at the shrine door. "Bring it inside. Break my floor, I break your teeth." The hound crested the rise, coat cracked with fire, six eyes fixed past Zeus toward the ridge and the child beyond. Zeus stepped into its path. "The boy's gone," he said. "You want blood, take mine." The hound lunged. Zeus fell back through the shrine door, and Chiyo slammed it behind them. The old stone drank the sound. Inside, the beast's fire lit carved walls that had swallowed light before. Zeus raised the bolt. He drove it down into the middle head. The blast tore through the room, but the walls held it. No flash escaped to the valley sky. The hound staggered. Zeus struck again. The beast howled from three mouths and broke, not dead, but beaten. It turned and fled through the shattered door, back toward the cold country it came from. Chiyo watched it go, her animals still and quiet. "It'll heal," she said. "But it won't hunt him tonight." Zeus stood in the ruined shrine, breath heavy. The boy was safe. The light had stayed hidden. Hera's watchers had seen nothing. But the hound ran to Hades, and Hades ran to Hera. Zeus knew now that beating the dog had bought only hours. His brother still carried the prophecy. By dawn Hera would hear that Zeus had bred a hero to outlast her throne. Chiyo shoved a small vial into his hand, the healer's oil he had once used to sell his disguise. "For the burns," she said. "Now go tell your wife before he does. That's the only fight left." Zeus closed his fist around the vial and turned for Olympus.