Percy Jackson and the Greek Heroes by Rick Riordan
In another corner stood a whole crowd of guys in matching blue overalls with different times painted on their backs – 12:00 P.M., 1:00 A.M., 4:00 P.M. – and the words SCRUB TUB. Phaethon guessed they were the gods of the hours.
Yeah, every hour of the day had a minor god. Can you imagine being the god of two p.m.? All the schoolkids would hate you. They’d be like, Can it please be three thirty? I wanna go home!
In the centre of the room, the Titan Helios sat on a throne constructed entirely of emeralds. (No, he wasn’t showy at all. Dude probably had a toilet made out of diamonds, too. You’d go blind every time you flushed it.)
His purple robes showed off his tan. A wreath of gold laurels crowned his dark hair. He smiled warmly (well, he was the sun; he did everything warmly), which helped offset the creepiness of his eyes. His pupils blazed like pilot lights for industrial ovens.
‘Phaethon!’ he called. ‘Welcome, my son!’
My son. Those two words made Phaethon’s entire life. Pride filled him with warmth, or maybe he was just getting a fever from the throne room, where the thermostat was set to, like, a hundred and twenty Fahrenheit.
‘So it’s true?’ he asked in a small voice. ‘I am your son?’
‘Of course you are!’ said Helios. ‘Come here. Let me look at you!’
Phaethon approached the throne. The other gods gathered around, whispering comments like, He’s got his dad’s nose. Nice posture. Handsome young man. Too bad he doesn’t have flaming eyes.
Phaethon felt dizzy. He wondered if coming there was such a good idea. Then he remembered Epaphos making fun of him, doubting his parentage. Stupid prince with his stupid low-rider chariot.
Phaethon’s anger gave him renewed courage. He was a demigod. He had every right to be here. He stood up straight and met his father’s blazing eyes.
Helios regarded his son. ‘You have grown into a fine young man. You deserve the name The Shining. And by that I mean you are young and strong and handsome, not that you are associated in any way with that psycho axe-murderer movie.’
‘Um, thanks …’
‘So, my son,’ said the god, ‘why have you come to see me?’
A bead of sweat trickled down Phaethon’s cheek. He was tempted to answer, Because you never come to see me, you jerk, but he guessed that wouldn’t go over too well.
‘Father, I’m proud to be your son,’ Phaethon said. ‘But back home no one believes me. They laugh at me. They claim I’m lying.’
Helios scowled. ‘Why don’t they believe you? Didn’t they notice that I refrained from incinerating your mother when she made that oath?’
‘I don’t think that convinced anyone.’
‘Don’t they know that your name means The Shining?’
‘They don’t care.’
‘Mortals! There’s no pleasing them.’
Helios brooded. He hated the idea of his kid getting teased at the racetrack. He wanted to help Phaethon, but he wasn’t sure how. He should’ve gone for something easy, like a signed note, or a father-and-son photo on Instagram. Maybe he could’ve dragged a promotional banner behind the sun chariot: PHAETHON IS MY SON. DEAL WITH IT.
Instead, Helios did something rash.
‘To prove I am your father,’ said the god, ‘ask me one favour, anything at all, and I will grant it.’
Phaethon’s eyes lit up (not literally, like his dad’s, but almost that bright). ‘Really? Do you mean it?’
Helios chuckled. Kids today … He figured Phaethon would ask him for a magic sword or NASCAR tickets or something. ‘I promise on the River Styx.’
There it is again, that promise you should never make, and which gods and heroes always seemed to blurt out at the worst possible moment.
I understand why Helios did it, though. Like a lot of godly dads (and mortal dads, too) he felt guilty about not spending enough time with his kids. He tried to compensate with an expensive present – in this case, a way stupid promise.
Phaethon didn’t hesitate. Ever since he was a little boy, he’d wanted only one thing. He’d dreamed of it his whole life.
‘I want to drive the sun chariot tomorrow!’ he announced. ‘For one day, all by myself!’
A record-needle scratching noise filled the throne room as all the gods whipped their necks around like, Say what?
Helios’s godly jaw dropped. His godly butt felt uncomfortable on his emerald throne.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa.’ He tried for a laugh, but it sounded more like somebody choking to death. ‘Kid, let’s not go crazy here. Pick something else. Seriously, that’s the only thing I can’t give you.’
‘You promised anything,’ Phaethon said. ‘You didn’t put an asterisk next to it.’
‘The asterisk was implied! Come on, kid. The sun chariot? It’s too dangerous! How about a nice set of Matchbox chariots?’
‘Dad, I’m sixteen.’
‘A real chariot, then! I’ll give you one that’s way better than all the other kids’. The Mark V Zephyr has bronze radials and –’
‘Dad!’ said Phaethon. ‘Will you honour your promise or not?’
Helios felt trapped – worse than the time he blew a wheel at four o’clock and was stuck waiting for roadside assistance in the middle of the afternoon sky. ‘Phaethon, okay, I promised. I can’t back out. But I can try to talk some sense into you. This is a bad idea. If there was a god of bad ideas, he’d paint “letting a mortal drive the sun chariot” on his shield, because it’s the ultimate bad idea.’
Phaethon’s excitement didn’t waver. For sixteen years his mother and sisters had been telling him that everything he wanted to do was a bad idea – too dangerous, too risky. He wasn’t going to be dissuaded now.
‘Let me drive the sun chariot,’ he said. ‘It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. It’s my dream!’
‘But, son …’ Helios looked around at his courtly attendants for help, but they were all suddenly very interested in their breakfast tacos. ‘Nobody can handle the heat of the chariot except me. Even Zeus couldn’t do it, and he’s the most powerful god of all. My four horses are almost impossible to control. Then there’s the course. At first you climb straight up, like the craziest roller coaster ever. At the top, you’re so high up, you’re scraping against the heavens; and all those starry constellation monsters might attack you! Then there’s the descent, which is the most terrifying, super-horrible adrenalin rush … I’m not convincing you, am I?’
‘It sounds awesome!’ Phaethon said. ‘When can I start?’
‘Let me drive you instead. You can ride shotgun and wave and throw candy.’
‘No, Dad.’
‘Let me train you for a few months before you take the reins. Or a few centuries. Going tomorrow – that’s nuts.’
‘No.’
Helios heaved a sigh. ‘You’re breaking my heart, kid. All right. Come on.’
The sun garage wasn’t one of those garages that get crammed with storage boxes, broken furniture and old Christmas decorations. The marble floor was spotless. The horse stables were freshly scrubbed. The pit crew of hour gods rushed around in their matching Scrub Tub uniforms, polishing the chariot’s trim, vacuuming the interior and yoking the elephant-size fiery horses to the draught pole.
The chariot’s wheels stood twice as tall as Phaethon. The axle and rims were solid gold, with silver spokes and Maserati brake pads. The sides of the carriage were inlaid with Hephaestus’s metalwork – fluid images of Mount Olympus in various hues of gold, silver and bronze. The black-leather interior had a tricked-out stereo system, twenty-four-carat drink holders and a pine-tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror.
Phaethon was anxious to climb aboard, but when he grabbed the rails the metal burned like a stovetop.
‘Hold up.’ His father took out a bottle of what looked like sunscreen. ‘Let me put this on you so you don’t burst into flames.’
Phaethon squirmed impatiently while Helios applied magic lotion to his face and arms. He’d had
‘There,’ said Helios. ‘That should prevent instant death. Once the wheels start turning, the chariot’s temperature goes up to about three hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and that’s inside, with the AC on full blast.’
‘It can’t be that hot,’ Phaethon said, though his palms were covered with blisters.
‘Listen, kid, we don’t have much time before sunrise. I’ll try to give you some tips to save your life.’
‘Whoa!’ Phaethon climbed into the carriage and ran to the dashboard. ‘You have built-in Bluetooth?’
‘Phaethon, please!’ Helios jumped in next to him, just in time to stop him from firing the rocket thrusters. ‘Don’t touch the buttons! And, whatever you do, don’t whip the horses to go faster.’
‘There’s a whip? Cool!’ Phaethon grabbed it from its holster. He flicked the golden lash and tongues of fire curled into the air.
‘Don’t use it!’ Helios pleaded. ‘The horses will go plenty fast enough. By the way, their names are Blaze, Dawn, Fire and Flame. Don’t call them Donner, Blitzen, Comet and Cupid. They hate that.’
‘Why?’
‘Never mind. If you have to slow them down, use the reins. Keep a firm hand, or they’ll know you’re inexperienced. They’ll start to misbehave.’
‘Oh, please,’ said Phaethon. ‘These horses look like sweethearts.’
The stallions shook their fiery manes. They exhaled plumes of volcanic ash and clopped their hooves, scorching the marble floor.
‘Um, sure,’ Helios said. ‘Most important – stick to the middle of the sky. Once you’re up there, you’ll see my tracks – kind of like vapour-trail skid marks. Follow those. The horses know the way. Don’t go too high or you’ll set the heavens on fire. Don’t go too low or you’ll destroy the earth.’
‘Got it.’
‘Don’t go too far north or too far south. The middle of the sky. As long as you do that, and you don’t do anything stupid, there’s a small percent chance you might live.’
To Phaethon, all of this was the usual blah, blah, blah. His mom and sisters had been lecturing him since the beginning of time. All he could think about was that sweet fiery whip, those awesome smoking horses and how epic he would look driving this golden chariot into the morning sky.
The alarm tone went off on Helios’s smartphone: ‘Here Comes the Sun’. He climbed out of the carriage.
The dawn goddess, Eos, ran into the garage. She hit a button on the wall and the garage door rolled up. A spotlight switched on, illuminating the early morning sky. Eos put her rosy-coloured hands over the light and started making shadow-puppet designs. Phaethon had never realized the daily sunrise was such a weird gig.
‘Last chance,’ Helios implored his son. ‘Please, don’t do this.’
‘I’ll be fine, Dad! Jeez! I’ll bring your chariot back, not a scratch.’
‘No loud music. And keep your hands on the reins. And if you have to parallel park –’
‘See you, Dad! Thanks!’ Phaethon flicked the reins. ‘Giddyap!’
The horses lurched forward, pulling Phaethon and the chariot into the sky as Helios yelled after him, ‘The insurance card is in the glove compartment!’
The ride was even more awesome than Phaethon had imagined.
He whooped and hollered and did his happy dance as the chariot shot upward at a billion miles an hour.
‘YEAH, BABY!’ he shouted. ‘Who’s the sun? I’m the sun!’
The horses were already going crazy. Blaze, Dawn, Fire and Flame didn’t appreciate how lightly Phaethon held their reins. They weren’t big fans of his happy dance, either. They ran at twice their normal speed but, since they were climbing straight up and since Phaethon had never driven the chariot before, he didn’t realize anything was wrong.
The folks down on the earth must have noticed, though. They woke up at, like, six a.m. Twenty minutes later it was lunchtime.
The chariot levelled out at the top of the sky. Phaethon’s excitement started to level out, too. He gazed at all the dashboard buttons he wasn’t supposed to push. He kept one hand on the reins and rummaged through his dad’s CDs, looking for some non-lame music, but the selection was hopeless: ‘Good Day, Sunshine’, ‘Walking on Sunshine’, ‘You Are the Sunshine of My Life’ – the sun-related oldies just kept on coming.
Phaethon tried to concentrate on the smoky trail of wheel marks across the sky, following them the way his dad had told him to; but that got monotonous after, like, five minutes. Besides, even with the AC on full blast, even with his magical sunscreen, the chariot was hot. Soon Phaethon felt sweaty and cranky and fidgety.
‘I’m bored,’ Phaethon said. ‘This is boring.’
That may sound unbelievable, but I can relate. Most demigods are ADHD. No matter how awesome or terrifying an experience, after a few minutes we’re ready for something else. Still … when you’re hurtling through the stratosphere in a million-degree fiery death chariot, saying ‘I’m bored’ might be tempting fate just a teensy bit.
Phaethon looked down at the earth far below. The view was scary amazing. He’d never been so high up. No mortal had, since this was before aeroplanes and whatnot. He was pretty sure he could make out the blue line of the River Nile. His hometown would be in the middle, right about there.
‘Hey, Epaphos!’ he shouted down. ‘How do you like this ride?’
But of course Epaphos couldn’t hear him. Nobody at home would know Phaethon was driving the sun. In a few days, after the most thrilling experience in his life, Phaethon would return and brag about it, and no one would believe him. He’d be right back where he started – ridiculed, shunned, forced to wear a safety helmet and a life jacket for the rest of his sheltered, boring life.
‘Unless …’ He grinned. ‘Unless I did something unusual that would prove it was me driving the chariot.’
The horses had reached the zenith of their path. The sky above was black. The air was thin, but I don’t think you can blame a lack of oxygen for what Phaethon did next.
His fatal flaw was recklessness. That’s pretty obvious.
Sure, you can accuse his mom and sisters of being overprotective. Maybe their obsessive worrying made Phaethon reckless. Or maybe they understood him well enough to know what would happen if they ever stopped looking out for him.
Whatever the case, Phaethon decided it would be a great idea to fly low enough over his hometown that he could shout to the folks and make it clear he was in the driver’s seat.
‘Dive!’ he told the horses.
The horses were already running way too fast. They were confused and annoyed that their driver didn’t have his normal steady hand on the reins. But they knew their usual path, and they stubbornly stuck to it.
Phaethon grabbed the whip. He flicked it, lashing tongues of fire across the horses’ backsides. ‘Dive!’
The horses snorted and whinnied, like, You asked for it, buddy.
They dived. Fortunately, Phaethon’s left hand was wrapped around the reins. Otherwise, he would’ve flown out of the back of the chariot along with the whip, the floor mats and his dad’s CD collection.
He screamed as he became the first human to experience zero-G, but part of him was thrilled. He could see his town clearly now – the houses, the palace and the racetrack all coming into focus as he hurtled towards the earth.
‘They’re going to notice me!’ he shouted.
They noticed, all right. Their first clue was when the palm trees burst into flames. Then the River Nile began to boil. The thatched roofs of the houses caught fire. Phaethon watched in horror as the entire northern part of Africa, which had always been green and lush, withered and burned, turning into a vast desert.
‘No,’ he murmured. ‘No, no, no! Up! Go up, Comet or Blitzen or whatever your names are!’
More by luck than design, they banked up and to the north. They climbed into the sky above Europe. As they got higher, the northern parts of the continent began to freeze. Snow collected on the mountaintops. Glaciers expanded across the landscape, swallowing entire towns. The temperature inside the chariot became uncomfortably cool, which was not good, considering it was supposed to be three hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Frost formed on the yokes of the horses. Their fiery breath turned to steam.
Stars appeared in the midday sky – monstrous constellations in the shapes of a rampaging bull, a coiled serpent, a scorpion poised to strike.
I’m not sure what Phaethon saw up there in space, but it drove him mad with terror. He realized, too late, that he should never have asked to drive this chariot. He wished he’d never been born.
Please, he prayed, just let me go back to my family. I’ll never misbehave again.
Down on the earth, the mortals were praying, too. The shortest morning in history had turned into the longest, worst afternoon ever. The southern parts of the earth were scorched and barren. The northern parts were frozen and icy. People were dying. Crops were burning. People’s vacation plans were ruined. Meteorologists were curled into the foetal position on the TV studio floor, sobbing and cackling hysterically.
According to some versions of the story, Phaethon’s little joyride also burned the people of Africa so their skin became darker. I don’t know about that. I guess the Greeks were trying to explain why people have different skin colours, but I think it’s just as likely that humans were originally dark and some god of laundry washed the Europeans with Clorox by accident and they got all bleached out.
Anyway, Phaethon was now totally out of control. The sun did loops through the sky and zigzagged around. The mortals screamed prayers to the king of the gods: ‘Hey, Zeus! We’re dying down here! A little help?’