Percy Jackson's Greek Gods (Percy Jackson and the Olympians companion #5.5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,15

Zeus kept the nectar flowing. He entertained the guests with his jokes and his singing. Toward the end of the evening, when everybody was content and relaxed and sleepy, Zeus began boasting about the king’s drinking skill.

“Kronos is the boss at drinking!” he proclaimed. “You should see him. The guy is insane. I mean his record is, what—three seconds?”

“Urg,” Kronos said. He was full already and had been hoping to avoid a drinking contest.

“If he wanted to,” Zeus said, “he could drink faster than all of you! I bet he would set a new world record tonight. Wouldn’t you love to see that?”

Atlas, Hyperion, Koios, and the others cheered and called for a contest.

Kronos really wasn’t in the mood, but he couldn’t decline. His honor as a super-chugger was at stake. He gestured for Zeus to bring in another round.

Zeus ran to the kitchen and fetched his special concoctions. He offered the guests their sleepy-time nectar, then served Kronos last, giving the king no time to smell his brew before yelling, “Ready, set, go!”

The Titans gulped down their tasty beverages. Kronos immediately noticed that his nectar tasted weird, but it was a contest. He couldn’t stop chugging. The whole point was to drain the cup! Maybe his taste buds were just a little off. After all, Zeus had never steered him wrong.

Kronos drained his nectar in two and a half seconds. He slammed the goblet upside down on the table and shouted: “I win! I—”

The next sound out of his mouth was like a walrus getting the Heimlich maneuver.

There’s no pleasant way to say it. Kronos puked. He puked a puke worthy of the king of the universe. It was a kingly puke.

His stomach tried to propel itself out his throat. His mouth hinged open all by itself—the better to upchuck you with, my dear—and shot out five gods, a very slimy rock, quite a lot of nectar, some biscuits, and a chariot license plate. (No, I don’t know how all that got in there.)

The five disgorged gods immediately grew to full-size adults right there on the dining table. The Titan guests stared in amazement, their minds working slowly due to the spiked nectar.

As for Kronos, he was still trying to catapult his guts across the throne room.

“Get—” He retched. “—them!”

Atlas was the first to react. He yelled, “Guards!” and tried to stand, but he was so dizzy, he fell right into Hyperion’s lap.

Zeus wanted to lunge for his father’s scythe. He wanted to slice up the old cannibal on the spot, but the other Titans were starting to recover from their shock. They might be slow and sleepy, but they had weapons. Meanwhile, Zeus’s only weapon was a serving tray. His army consisted of five slimy, unarmed gods who had spent very little time outside a stomach, much less in combat.

Guards started pouring into the throne room.

Zeus turned to his confused siblings. “I’m your brother Zeus. Follow me, and I will give you freedom and revenge. Also honey and goat milk.”

That was good enough for the gods. While Kronos retched and his fighters fumbled with their weapons, Zeus and his siblings turned into eagles and soared out of the palace.

“Now what?” Hades asked.

The six gods had gathered at Zeus’s secret lair on Mount Ida, which his siblings refused to call the Zeus Cave. Zeus had briefed them on what was happening in the world, but they all knew they couldn’t stay on Mount Ida very long. The nymphs had heard rumors whispered through the earth: Kronos was sending his Titans to scour the world for the escapees. He wanted them brought back, either in chains or in small pieces. He wasn’t particular.

“Now we fight,” Zeus said.

Poseidon grunted. He’d only been out of Kronos’s gut for a day, but he was already starting to dislike his youngest brother—this upstart Zeus, who thought he should be in charge just because he had rescued them.

“I’m all for fighting Dad,” Poseidon said, “but that requires weapons. Do you have any?”

Zeus scratched his ear. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “Well, no….”

“Perhaps we can make peace,” Hestia suggested.

The others stared at her as if she were crazy. Hestia was the eldest and gentlest of the gods, but her siblings didn’t take her seriously. You have to wonder how the world might’ve been different if Hestia had been put in charge, but alas, she wasn’t.

“Uh, no,” said Demeter. “I will never forgive our father. Perhaps we could steal his scythe. We could chop him