Percy Jackson's Greek Gods (Percy Jackson and the Olympians companion #5.5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,107

never heard of a lyre,” Demeter admitted.

In fact, the lyre would be invented later, but that’s another story.

Apollo shrugged. “Fine. A guitar will do. Or a ukulele. Just not a banjo, please. I don’t do banjos.”

The goddesses rushed off to find what the kid wanted. Hephaestus made him a beautiful golden bow and a quiver of magic arrows. The best musical instrument they could come up with was a keras, which was like a trumpet.

By the time the goddesses returned to Delos, Apollo had grown so much he looked like a five-year-old, though he wasn’t even one day old. He had long golden hair, a super-bronze tan, and eyes that shone like the sun. He’d found himself a Greek robe woven from gold, so he was almost too flashy to look at.

He slung the bow and quiver over his shoulders and grabbed the keras. He played a beautiful melody on the trumpet, then began to sing a cappella.

“Oh, I am Apollo, and I’m so cool! La-la-la, something that rhymes with cool!”

Actually I have no idea what he sang, but he announced that he would be the god of archery and song and poetry. He also announced that he would become the god of prophecy, and interpret the will of Zeus and the words of the Oracle for all the poor little mortal peons.

When his song was finished, the goddesses clapped politely, though they still thought the whole scene was a little weird. The island of Delos rejoiced that it had a new patron god. Delos put down roots and anchored itself in the sea so that it wouldn’t move around anymore. The island covered itself with golden flowers in honor of the golden god Apollo. If you visit Delos today, you can still see those fields of wildflowers stretching out among the ruins, though thankfully Apollo doesn’t play the trumpet there very often.

Apollo grew with super-speed. In about a week, he’d become a regular adult god, which meant he totally skipped school, got an honorary diploma, and stopped aging when he looked twenty-one years old. Then he stayed that way forever. Not a bad deal, if you ask me.

His first act was to avenge his mother for her pain and suffering while she was trying to find a place to give birth. Sadly, he couldn’t destroy Hera, since she was the queen of heaven and all, but when he heard about the giant snake Python who’d chased his mother out of Delphi, Apollo was enraged.

“Be right back,” he told Leto.

Apollo flew to Delphi (yes, he could fly) and called out Python.

“Yo, snake!”

Python opened his eyes. “What do you want?”

“To sing you a song about my awesomeness!”

“Oh, please. Just kill me now.”

“Okay!” Apollo drew his bow and shot the snake between the eyes. Then he sang a song about his awesomeness. He threw the snake’s body into a fissure below the cave, where it rotted eternally and spewed all kinds of cool odors.

Apollo took over the Oracle of Delphi. He welcomed back the priests and the pilgrims. Because the Oracle had once belonged to his grandmother, Phoebe, he was sometimes called Phoebus Apollo. The main priestess who told the future became known as the Pythia, after the snake Python. Or maybe she was called that because she spoke a bunch of rot. Anyway, she would get her prophecies straight from the god Apollo, and the lines would always be riddles or bad poetry, or both.

She dwelt in the cave where the snake had died. Usually she sat on a three-legged stool next to one of the big fissures that vented gross volcanic gas, which smelled of dead snakes. If you made an offering, the Pythia would tell your fortune or answer any question. That didn’t mean you would understand the answer. If you did understand it, you probably wouldn’t like it.

Apollo claimed his place among the Olympian gods, and even Hera didn’t dare object. He just looked so…godly.

He was as tall and muscular and bronze as a Baywatch lifeguard. He kept his blond hair long, but tied back in a man bun so it didn’t interfere with his archery. He sauntered around Olympus in his gleaming robes with his bow and arrow, winking at the ladies and high-fiving the dudes, or sometimes winking at the dudes and high-fiving the ladies. Apollo didn’t care. He figured everybody loved him.

He was great with poetry and music…or at least, some people liked it. Me, I’m more of a straight-ahead rock ’n’ roll kind of