Rick Riordan
The Battle of the Labyrinth - 04
Stop! The horses cried. Meat is good! Baths are bad!
Then I noticed the water wasn’t running out of the stables or flowing downhill like water
normally would. It simply bubbled around each spring and sank into the ground, taking the dung with
it. The horse poop dissolved in the saltwater, leaving regular old wet dirt.
“More!” I yelled.
There was a tugging sensation in my gut, and the waterspouts exploded like the world’s
largest carwash. Salt water shot twenty feet into the air. The horses went crazy, running back and
forth as the geysers sprayed them from all directions. Mountains of poop began to melt like ice.
The tugging sensation became more intense, painful even, but there was something
exhilarating about seeing all that salt water. I had made this. I had brought the ocean to this hillside.
Stop, lord! a horse cried. Stop, please!
Water was sloshing everywhere now. The horses were drenched, and some were panicking
and slipping in the mud. The poop was completely gone, tons of it just dissolved into the earth, and
the water was now starting to pool, trickling out of the stable, making a hundred little streams down
toward the river.
“Stop,” I told the water.
Nothing happened. The pain in my gut was building. If I didn’t shut off the geysers soon, the
salt water would run into the river and poison the fish and plants.
“Stop!” I concentrated all my might on shutting off the force of the sea.
Suddenly the geysers shut down. I collapsed to my knees, exhausted. In front of me was a
shiny clean horse stable, a field of wet salty mud, and fifty horses that had been scoured so
thoroughly their coats gleamed. Even the meat scraps between their teeth had been washed out.
We won’t eat you! the horses wailed. Please, lord! no more salty baths!
“On one condition,” I said. “You only eat the food your handlers give you from now on. Not
people. Or I’ll be back with more seashells!”
The horses whinnied and made me a whole lot of promises that they would be good flesh-
eating horses from now on, but I didn’t stick around to chat. The sun was going down. I turned and
ran full speed toward the ranch house.
***
I smelled barbecue before I reached the house, and that made me madder than ever,
because I really love barbecue.
The deck was set up for a party. Streamers and balloons decorated the railing. Geryon was
flipping burgers on a huge barbecue cooker made from an oil drum. Eurytion lounged at a picnic
table, picking his fingernails with a knife. The two-headed dog sniffed the ribs and burgers that were
frying on the grill. And then I saw my friends: Tyson, Grover, Annabeth, and Nico all tossed in a
corner, tied up like rodeo animals, with their ankles and wrists roped together and their mouths
gagged.
“Let them go!” I yelled, still out of breath from running up the steps. “I cleaned the stables!”
Geryon turned. He wore an apron on each chest, with one word on each, so together they
spelled out: KISS—THE—CHEF. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it?”
I was pretty impatient, but I told him.
He nodded appreciatively. “Very ingenious. It would’ve been better if you’d poisoned that
pesky naiad, but no matter.”
“Let my friends go,” I said. “We had a deal.”
“Ah, I’ve been thinking about that. The problem is, if I let them go, I don’t get paid.”
“You promised!”
Geryon made a tsk-tsk noise. “But did you make me swear on the River Styx? No you didn’t.
So it’s not binding. When you’re conducting business, sonny, you should always get a binding oath.”
I drew my sword. Orthus growled. One head leaned down next to Grover’s ear and bared its
fangs.
“Eurytion,” Geryon said, “the boy is starting to annoy me. Kill him.”
Eurytion studied me. I didn’t like my odds against him and that huge club.
“Kill him yourself,” Eurytion said.
Geryon raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Eurytion grumbled. “You keep sending me out to do your dirty work. You
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