What Liz saw nearly made her sick. There must have been more wind than she had anticipated. She was right on the edge. If she’d chosen a different bearing, she’d have taken a shortcut down to the bottom of the mountain. And another few yards of wind speed and she’d have been parachuting down to the others. Maybe there was more to this than she’d opened her big yap about. The lights were back there.
Then she realized that she had made yet another mistake. Cruz and McKenna were each carrying at least a thousand yards of light spider-line. She wasn’t. She was in a good position to get the line down, but she had no line. And maybe the other two had had similar problems. Maybe they’d gone over the edge. Maybe they’d landed in among the rocks. Broken legs or necks. Maybe their ‘chutes had failed. Maybe . . . Liz felt very alone and very scared as she made her way towards the lights.
Fortunately Argus of the hundred eyes, the last watchman of the access to heaven, coughed. Otherwise he’d have seen her before she saw him. He was standing at the rendezvous. If the others were not on this side of him . . . They’d have to get past him somehow. And short of major rock-climbing there didn’t seem to be a way.
Liz was not normally prey to indecision. She was now. Could she get close enough to stab, or should she try to throw that assegai, or—?
* * *
In the shelter of the rocks, Cruz took a careful bead. The sights on the half-assed crossbow were nearly as half-assed as the crossbow itself. It was just a bow set in a plank, really. With a groove to give the arrow a reasonably straight run, and a sort of curved fork at the end to provide a string-holder trigger. Even so, from this range he shouldn’t miss.
He missed.
McKenna was already running in, his Gerber in his hand. Argus lunged forward. Liz’s spear hit him in the shoulder instead of the spine. She, at least, had the sense to throw herself at his head and to grab his mouth. Cruz flung himself into the fray too. But Argus was a giant, and if he was of the blood of Cronus, he seemed immune to Medea’s potions. And even three to one, with Cruz choking and being choked, it could have no happy ending. Liz, clinging to his head, was knocked off against a rock. The Giant got McKenna by one leg and Cruz by both arms with the other immense hand.
“Ha. Now you die,” growled Argus. He was going to dash McKenna’s brains out against the wall.
Then Bes arrived. The little hooligan ran straight up the giant as if he were a staircase, grabbed him by the ears and head-butted him. Mac fell free. Then Bes wrapped those bandy legs of his around the giant’s throat. Argus wasn’t going to be screaming for a while. Then, just when Bes had hauled out that evil-looking dagger of his, Argus stumbled. Nearly squashed the dwarf as he fell. He gave a bubbling snore, all hundred eyes closed.
McKenna picked himself up. “I’m gonna have to talk to that girlfriend of yours about how long it takes for her potions to work,” he said quietly, flexing a bruised shoulder.
Bes grinned. “I don’t approve of all these potions. Sport and drugs don’t mix. Why did you start the fighting without me?”
Cruz took a deep breath. “Because we didn’t know you were there. Come on. Let’s get this big goon out of sight, and tied up, in case this shit wears off.”
* * *
Spotting the target for the drop was easy. One tiny fire burned down in the folds of Olympus. Getting the cord down was less so. It was extremely light, and it had to be weighted. The weight kept getting stuck on ledges, and, by the sound of it, causing minor avalanches. But eventually there came a tug. It was a good thing Prometheus had said to secure the cord and themselves first. Only the Titan could have tugged that hard. After a minute they began to haul.