The Impossible Race: Cragbridge Hall, Volume 3 (21 page)

“
What?
” Derick blurted out. “Was its mother a cow and its dad a dragon? What kind of bull can do that?”

“I’m looking it up,” Piper responded, “but I don’t think your strength is going to do much against that fire.”

“What do I do?” Derick asked. The bull circled around again.

“Hang on,” Piper said. “I’m finding it.”

Faking one way and jumping the other, Derick managed to dodge again, but the flames nearly singed his face as the bull passed. His spear caught on fire and Derick had to discard it onto the labyrinth floor. “There has to be someone who conquered this thing, right?”

“The oil,” Piper said. “You have to go back and bathe in the oil. That’s how Jason killed it.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah, like Jason and the Argonauts. He bathed in some oil that made him invincible to the flames.”

“Great,” Derick said. “Just one problem. The bull is between me and the barrel.”

• • •

A bird rocketed around the corner and Abby fell to the ground as it swooped by. She screamed as the bird shot metallic feathers at her, one barely missing her leg.

“I hate this thing,” Abby cried out. “Why did I volunteer for this?”

“Pesky stymphalian bird,” Carol said. “I’m not sure I said that right. Why aren’t Greek words easier to say?”

“I don’t care what it is,” Abby said. “It’s shooting knifey feather things at me! I want it to leave me alone!” She nocked a poison arrow to the bow and let it fly.

Not even close. Turns out it takes a lot more practice to shoot a soaring bird in the dark than Abby had ever had.

It didn’t have room to circle around. The bird had to perch and then change directions. While it slowed to land on a rock, Abby turned and ran. She ran up some stairs, and hid behind the first thing she saw that could block her from view—a box.

“Oh good, you found another box,” Carol said. “Open it up.”

“I’m more worried about the crazy bird that shoots evil feathers at me,” Abby said.

“It may hold something that can help get rid of Mr. Flappy Deathfeathers,” Carol said.

Abby heard the beating of wings. She didn’t move. It grew louder and closer. She pushed herself as far up against the box as she could.

The stymphalian flew past.

Abby still waited, making sure the bird wasn’t just perching to come back again. When she hadn’t heard anything for a few more seconds, she got up and lifted the latch on the box. The lid was heavy, but a light flashed and flickered as she finally got it open. She gazed inside.

“
Lightning?
Oh, yeah!” Carol celebrated. “You just got the power from the big guy himself. Grab that stuff and let’s go find us a minotaur. We’ll light him up from his human feet to his cow face.”

Abby smiled. Several bolts flickered inside a long pouch.

“What if this is a trick and it electrocutes me?” Abby asked.

“Just grab it,” Carol commanded. “You’ve got the power of Zeus and you’re second-guessing?”

Abby touched it and quickly pulled back. It felt hot, but didn’t hurt. She grabbed the entire pouch, and put its lid over the top. Good. You couldn’t see the amazing light when it was capped. That might be important when trying to sneak up on the minotaur.

“I know you’re trying to be careful,” Carol said. “But you’ve got lightning. You don’t have to hide from anything.”

“Yeah,” Abby said, “but it looks like I’ve only got four bolts. I’d better make sure to use them wisely.”

Flapping.

The caw of a bird.

The stymphalian was back.

“Sounds like an awesome time to use them wisely,” Carol said. “Let’s fry this chicken.”

Abby opened the pouch and grabbed a bolt. The bird came into view. Knowing she would have to throw it, she waited for a good shot. It came closer and closer.

Abby reared back and threw the lightning. She never felt very confident throwing anything. Derick said she threw like a girl, which was of course accurate, but assumed that girls couldn’t throw well. She threw well this time. The lightning struck the bird and a flash filled the corridor of the maze. The bird squawked and a thunderclap echoed off the labyrinth walls.

But when the light and smoke faded, the bird was still there. It was stunned and regrouping, but appeared to be unharmed.

“Why didn’t that work?” Abby asked, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, that thing should be charred bird, ready for some ancient Greek dipping sauce.”

If lightning didn’t get rid of it, nothing would. Abby ran.

She raced down the stairs. But what about the next challenge she faced? What about the minotaur?

Suddenly Abby had an idea. “It’s all based on myth,” she said.

“Well, duh,” Carol said. “It’s not like throwing lightning at birds that shoot metal feathers is something that happens every day.”

“No,” Abby said. “I mean, I think we have to do this based on the myths. The only way to kill the bird is to do it the same way it happened in Greek mythology.”

The flapping came closer.

“Because no one killed this kind of bird with lightning in a myth, it doesn’t work.”

“Oh, that’s kind of a cool twist,” Carol said.

The wing beats grew louder.

“I’m not a huge fan of it right now,” Abby said. “Find me a story when someone killed one of these things before it shoots me with one of its metal feathers.”

The Minotaur

Derick sprinted, the bull charging behind him. He could feel the heat of the fire from the bull’s breath, but it hadn’t reached him.

Yet.

“You see that large rock up ahead?” Piper asked. “Wait until the last second and then jump behind it. The bull should go past and you can double back to the oil.”

“That’s if . . . I’m not burned . . . to nothing . . . before then,” Derick said, panting. He wasn’t sure he could run there fast enough, but with a fiery bull on his tail, he had good motivation.

He heard the snorts as the bull gained ground, its large brass hooves churning the dirt.

Almost there. As soon as Derick passed the rock, he jumped to the side. The bull tried to follow, but scraped into the edge of the boulder and bounced off-balance farther down the corridor. It managed to breathe out fire at him as he passed. Derick ducked, the flames barely missing his face.

As Derick got up and doubled back toward the oil, he smelled something burning.

“Um, Derick,” Piper said, “your hair is on fire.”

He reached his hand up to the top of his head and felt flames.

“Aaaggh!” Derick screamed as he patted it down with his hands and then pulled his shirt over his head to smother the flames.

Piper giggled.

“Sure,” Derick said. “Laugh at the guy who just got his hair burned by a giant fire-breathing bull.”

“I am,” she said.

Normally, Derick didn’t worry too much about how he looked, but he wondered what his head looked like now.

“It’s not that bad,” Piper said. “I mean, you have a bald spot, but it’s just virtual.”

“Great,” Derick said. “Well, I doubt the minotaur will care. In fact, he might appreciate it that I’ve been a little cooked before he tries to eat me.” Derick ran back toward the oil. He knew the angry bull wasn’t done with him yet.

“Oh, wait a second,” Piper said. “I just got an update. Maria is out. She was turned to stone by a Gorgon. And it sounds like four others have been eliminated too. We are down to nine. Rafa and Abby are both still going strong, though Rafa is closer to the center. In fact, Anjum thinks he’s approaching the minotaur.”

Derick stepped into the barrel of oil. “Go, Rafa,” he said, the oil up to his waist. “Hopefully I can get there soon to help him out.” Derick couldn’t imagine that the minotaur would be an easy challenge. “And that’s awesome that Abby has lasted this long.” He sank deeper into the oil.

“Anjum didn’t give her much credit at first,” Piper said, “but you’ve got a pretty amazing sister.”

Derick would have answered, but he had already taken a big gulp of air and descended all the way into the tub of slimy oil. It felt so wrong, so ineffective. He was taking a bath that got him so much dirtier than he was already. But Piper was right; Abby was amazing. The more he watched her work and try, the more he was impressed with her. He hadn’t always been. Perhaps time shows some of people’s greatest qualities.

As he came up, he saw the bull.

“All right. Let’s see if this oil stuff works.” Derick stepped out of the barrel of oil and walked toward the bull. It had begun its charge.

Derick felt much more confident knowing he had the strength of Hercules as well. At least if he survived the fire, he would have a chance to beat the bull.

Derick began to run at the monster. Crazy. He was charging the largest enemy he had ever faced, hoping to survive a blast of fire and defeat it with his super-strength—so many different levels of completely awesome.

The bull let out a stream of fire, longer and larger than any before. Derick actually reached into it, to see if the oil would work. He didn’t feel the heat. No burn. Nothing.

Oh, yeah!

Derick slammed into the bull and, with his super-strength, throttled it off to the side. It hit the wall and fell to the ground. In moments, it was back up again, but completely confused.

The two wrestled, smashed, and hit, all within clouds of fire the bull breathed out. In a few moments, the bull lay unconscious on the ground. It’s hard to wrestle with Hercules and win.

Derick panted.

“Great job, Derick,” Piper praised. “If it wasn’t for your singed hair and bald spot . . . and being covered in oil and dirt, that could totally be a movie highlight.”

Derick touched his head again. It was still a bit sore. He knew it was a trick. His real hair was still there, but the virtual machine deceived his mind into thinking it wasn’t. “That was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever done,” Derick said. “If only my hair were still here to enjoy it with me.”

He only took a moment to rest.

“Tell Rafa I’m on my way.”

• • •

“Man, I don’t like these birds,” Carol said. “I guess they were the pets of Ares, the god of war. They eat people—and their little birdy bombs are toxic.”

“Really?” Abby said, running away from the flapping.

“Put that at the top of my list of ways that I don’t want to kick the bucket,” Carol said.

“Just tell me how to get rid of it,” Abby called out.

“Almost there,” Carol said, obviously reading over information. “The poison arrows. That’s how Hercules did it. And you’ve got some!”

“I already tried that,” Abby said. “I’m a terrible shot.”

“Try again,” Carol encouraged. “I’m pretty sure that’s the only way to get rid of them.”

Abby slowed to a stop. She had a case of lightning bolts, but she was going to have to try to shoot poison arrows. That felt foolish.

She pulled the bow off her shoulder and nocked an arrow, careful not to touch the tip.

The bird came into view. She waited until the stymphalian came close enough that she thought she could actually hit it. The arrow shot straighter than she thought it would, true to its target. But the bird, taking lessons from the lightning bolt, was on guard and dodged to one side.

“Try again,” Carol said.

Abby did. She nocked another arrow, pulled back, and released. Again the bird evaded.

After the third time, Abby had to do a little dodging of her own; the metallic feathers whizzed past her. She wanted to run, but by now it was too late. The bird was almost on her. She reached into her quiver and discovered one more arrow. This was it.

She nocked the last arrow and pulled back, but had to elude another feather. As she stepped to one side, the arrow slipped and fell to the ground.

Abby quickly scooped it up and tried to nock it again. The bird was dangerously close, but it wasn’t shooting any more feathers. Abby realized that the bird’s beak was made of metal. It opened once and then closed with a clank. It was coming to stab her.

Abby only had a moment.

The bird dove.

Abby felt a sharp sting.

And then she was out.

The bird must have shot another feather at the last moment.