The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo #5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,40
To be fair, though, I hadn’t believed in rocs, either, until the day one flew over my sun chariot and bowel-bombed me. That was a bad day for me, the roc, and several countries that my swerving chariot set on fire.
“If you say so. But do you know how to find the troglodytes again?” I asked. “Do you think they would help us?”
“Those are two different questions,” Nico said. “But I think I can convince them to help. Maybe. If they like the gift I got them. And if they don’t kill us on sight.”
“I love this plan,” Will grumbled.
“Guys,” Rachel said, “you forgot about me.”
I stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“I’m coming, too.”
“Certainly not!” I protested. “You’re mortal!”
“And essential,” Rachel said. “Your prophecy told you so. A Dare reveals the path that was unknown. All I’ve done so far is show you blueprints, but I can do more. I can see things you can’t. Besides, I’ve got a personal stake in this. If you don’t survive the Tower of Nero, you can’t fight Python. And if you can’t defeat him…”
Her voice faltered. She swallowed and doubled over, choking.
At first, I thought some of her Yoo-hoo might have gone down the wrong way. I patted her on the back unhelpfully. Then she sat up again, her back rigid, her eyes glowing. Smoke billowed from her mouth, which is not something normally caused by chocolate drinks.
Will, Nico, and Meg scooted away in their beanbags.
I would have done the same, but for half a second I thought I understood what was happening: a prophecy! Her Delphic powers had broken through!
Then, with sickening dread, I realized this smoke was the wrong color: pallid yellow instead of dark green. And the stench…sour and decayed, like it was wafting straight from Python’s armpits.
When Rachel spoke, it was with Python’s voice—a gravely rumble, charged with malice.
“Apollo’s flesh and blood shall soon be mine.
Alone he must descend into the dark,
This sibyl never again to see his sign,
Lest grappling with me till his final spark
The god dissolves, leaving not a mark.”
The smoke dissipated. Rachel slumped against me, her body limp.
CRASH! A sound like shattering metal shook my bones. I was so terrified, I wasn’t sure if the noise was from somewhere outside, or if it was just my nervous system shutting down.
Nico got up and ran to the windows. Meg scrambled over to help me with Rachel. Will checked her pulse and started to say, “We need to get her—”
“Hey!” Nico turned from the window, his face pale with shock. “We have to get out of here now. The cows are attacking.”
IN NO CONTEXT CAN THE COWS ARE ATTACKING be considered good news.
Will picked up Rachel in a firefighter’s carry—for a gentle healer, he was deceptively strong—and together we jogged over to join Nico at the window.
In the railyard below, the cows were staging a revolution. They’d busted through the sides of their cattle cars like an avalanche through a picket fence and were now stampeding toward the Dare residence. I suspected the cattle hadn’t been trapped in those cars at all. They’d simply been waiting for the right moment to break out and kill us.
They were beautiful in a nightmarish way. Each was twice the size of a normal bovine, with bright blue eyes and shaggy red hair that rippled in dizzying whorls like a living van Gogh painting. Both cows and bulls—yes, I could tell the difference; I was a cow expert—possessed huge curved horns that would have made excellent drinking cups for the largest and thirstiest of Lu’s Celtic kinfolk.
A line of freight cars stood between us and the cows, but that didn’t deter the herd. They barreled straight through, toppling and flattening the cars like origami boxes.
“Do we fight?” Meg asked, her voice full of doubt.
The name of these creatures suddenly came back to me—too late, as usual. Earlier, I’d mentioned that troglodytes were known for fighting bulls, but I hadn’t put the facts together. Perhaps Nero had parked the cattle cars here as a trap, knowing we might seek out Rachel’s help. Or perhaps their presence was simply the Fates’ cruel way of laughing at me. Oh, you want to play the troglodyte card? We counter with cows!
“Fighting would be no use,” I said miserably. “Those are tauri silvestres—forest bulls, the Romans called them. Their hides cannot be pierced. According to legend, the tauri are ancestral enemies of Nico’s friends, the troglodytes.”