Chapter 79
Get It Right
LYRA
Boone is not a huge fan of this plan, but I argued that there’s got to be a reason why the horned monster is the only one we’ve seen every time we’ve been in here.
I don’t think the stars are the key to this Lock.
I think the stars are a distraction, a decoy, Hera’s way of making sure whoever comes in here is going to fail.
Because it’s impossible to guide this boat by those stars.
The monsters don’t attack as long as we stay on course, but there is no way to stay on course.
And I know this goddess well enough to be certain of how wily she is and that she’s never unfair without a specific purpose.
Look at the protection she provided her champion in the Crucible, Amir, with one of her gifts.
Anyone who messed with him would have that karma revisited on them a hundredfold.
Was it brutal, and did it end up killing Dae-hyeon’s grandmother?
Yes. Was there a purpose and not just brutality for the sake of violence? Also yes.
Eventually, we’ll land on the right purpose in this Lock, too.
“There!”
This time, I do look to see Boone pointing aft. Is it sad that my first reaction when I see what’s coming is a burst of relief? Because we’ve encountered this one a few times and figured it out.
A kappa.
Usually found in rivers and lakes in Japan.
Both Boone and I scramble up to the deck cover and formally bow at the waist. The turtle-like creature also bows, which spills the water from the bowl on its head—an act that seems to weaken it, but the resulting swell of water pushes us away, and I jump back down to the slightly lower platform.
Which is when I see it.
Seriously, did all the classics writers follow Hera?
Melville must’ve seen one of these in his nightmares when he wrote Moby Dick.
A massive, white beast breaches the water ahead.
From its forehead protrudes a spiraled horn with a nasty pointed tip that I know firsthand feels like fire when it’s shoved into my belly before it cleaves me in half.
Basically, a demonic, gargantuan narwhal.
I have to try to whistle twice, because fear is messing with the muscles of my lips. The second one comes out extra loud out of desperation, and I point.
Then hold on as the ship starts to turn straight toward the monster. Hopefully I’m about to be smarter than Ahab was with his white whale.
At ungodly speeds, the monster heads for us, cutting a frothing swath through the churning waters. And Boone, following my pointing, keeps us dead on to it as much as possible. I keep losing sight of it with the swells and the masthead between us, but we are on a collision course.
On purpose.
“Hold,” I say through clenched teeth, keeping it in sight and my hand pointed right at the creature coming for us. “Hold.”
Then, focusing on the swells instead, hoping I’m right about how fast the boat will turn with the direction of the water, I drop my hand, whistling the signal for Now!
And we turn.
The oars get into it. One side stops while the other rotates backward. The Fates must be on my side for once today, because the waves give us an added push, and the ship lists hard.
Right into the oncoming path of the monster.
It’s coming at us so fast, planning to do what it’s done before and ram us head-on.
Twice, it’s essentially split our boat in half.
It doesn’t realize the problem until it’s too late, and when it rams us, instead of splitting the boat, it impales us.
The horn goes through the oar holes, in one side and out the other.
The boat doesn’t shatter like before. It lodges on that long horn.
Holy shit. That worked.
Boone and I immediately jump down into the galley, lashing its horn to the ship with whatever ropes we can get our hands on quickly.
Water pours in from above and the sides as the beast thrashes and bellows, and I gasp as I’m almost thrown deeper into the tiered levels below deck. But for the second time, a grim-faced Boone grabs me around the waist to keep me from falling.
“This was a bad idea,” he shouts into the side of my head.
He’s probably right. “We had to try it.”
Another gush of water surges in through the oar holes, hitting hard enough that we’re both thrown back. Luckily, we’re shoved toward the wall, not the drop.
“Swim!” Boone yells.
We start fighting through the torrent toward the somewhat protected spot by the tiller. More than once, Boone has to hold us both in place, wrapping around me and holding on to whatever he can. But we eventually drag ourselves up there and manage to peer over the deck cover.
I grin. And maybe laugh slightly maniacally. “It’s working.”
The massive creature can’t rid itself of us easily, and the boat is so large that unless it breaks—which is a possibility—it’s too much to drag under. And all of this is on purpose, because I’m pretty sure this briny bastard is going to ram us into—
I gasp and point. “There! The lighthouse.”
Our destination. If we reach land, we win.
“I’ll be damned.” Boone grins, looking entirely like the pirate I’ve always pictured him as.
We stay where we are for as long as we dare, but we can’t be in the boat when it hits. Our currently frail mortal forms won’t survive it.
“Let’s go,” Boone says. He holds on tight to me as we make our way topsides.
When we’re in position to jump, clinging to the edge, we both look back at the lighthouse growing larger and larger and larger in our sights.
Not yet, I think to myself.
“Not yet,” Boone says a second later, echoing my thoughts.
He also tightens his grip on me like he’s worried I’m not going to listen.
He’s taller and can see better, so of course I plan to listen. Even as my heart pounds so hard and fast against the underside of my ribs that I worry it might punch its way out.
“Go!” Boone yells.
But before I can take the leap, he wraps his entire body around me, hefting me off the deck, and jumps for both of us. Then he rolls us so that he hits the hardest, taking the brunt of our impact against the water. It must feel like hitting cement.
All I know is that I’m thrown out of his grasp, and I skip like a rock across the surface of the water.
Right to the base of the lighthouse, somehow.
A huge crash sounds off to my left, and the ship explodes into the land with a horrific sound of rending timber. I don’t look. I swim.
I swim for the shore so close to me. Boulders piled up. Please don’t mean that I have to get my feet on dry land. Just touch it.
Which is when I see him.
The child.
When the Titans showed us the map of the seven Locks, the icon etched in Hera’s was a creepy kid, and here he is. White-blond hair curling on his head and lightning whispering over his skin.
Zeus?
She put a childlike version of Zeus in here?
The child raises his hands over his head, lightning jumping from palm to palm, and I realize what he intends to do.
I swim harder, pushing my way through the water, fighting with everything I have, waiting for the instant he shocks me to death or another monster rises out of the waves behind me to kill me another way.
When my hand touches rock below the surface, I don’t even realize at first what I’m touching. Suddenly, I’m not in a churning ocean but lying on a smooth rock floor, dripping wet and spreading water everywhere.
“Fuck me, Lyra-Loo-Hoo,” Boone groans beside me, using my old nickname for once. “That plan sucked.”
I turn my head to find him lying down, too, knees bent and hands on his stomach, which is moving with every harsh gulp of air he sucks in as he stares up at the nothingness overhead.
Breathing hard, I frown, looking around. “Did it work?”
The resets have never returned us here before.
“Very smart.” Hera’s voice slices through the labored sounds of our breathing. “Congratulations,” the goddess says. “You have unsealed my Lock.”
The door at one end opens on a rush of air, letting in the heat of Tartarus.
The cheer that hits us from the Titans waiting on the other side is whispered because of the damned Pandemonium, but even so, I feel it down to my toes.
The fact that even Tethys smiles, the emotion bringing color to her cheeks, says it all.
We did it!
We damned well did it. I honestly thought it would take us another hundred and fifty years of painful deaths to figure that one out.
I look at Boone, and we laugh, trying to swallow the sound as we do. We’re both too exhausted to do more than that.
“Thank the gods,” I say between breaths.
“About fucking time,” Iapetus says.
And, maybe for the first time ever, I grin at the jerk.