Sons of Zeus (The Warrior Trilogy #1)

He yelled — screamed was more like it — as if that would give him any more of a chance. At the last second, he leapt into the air, flying for what felt like a full minute, until he crashed, shoulder first, into the soldier holding Sera’s arms. Dak bounced off him like the guy was made of solid stone. He landed hard, feeling as if both his clavicles had broken, trying to focus on the spinning world of marble and stone around him, dread deflating his heart.

Then there were soldiers on him, grabbing at his limbs, and Dak reacted on instinct, punching and kicking worthlessly, squirming like a baby who’s decided a diaper change is not in the cards. In those few seconds before defeat finally settled in to stay, thoughts flew through Dak’s mind:

Had history been changed somehow?

Was the League of Corinth not what he’d read about in all the books?

Had Aristotle gone mad? Evil?

Tilda.

The guy at the fountain, with the scars and the chrome dome.

The SQ.

Had the SQ come here? Messed everything up? Had it all been for nothing?

The spin of questions stopped on a dime when someone punched him in the cheek, sending a swirl of stars around his head, even brighter than the marble on which he lay.

All Dak could do was look up at the soldiers and say the first thing that popped into his head.

“Why are you guys so mean?”





SERA SAT on a hard floor with her back against a hard wall, looking at iron bars through the scant light of a window she couldn’t see. She was alone, her friends taken somewhere else.

It had been a while since she’d had a Remnant. She didn’t know why, but assumed it was related to the fact they’d been changing the Breaks one by one. Whatever the reason, she didn’t know if it made her feel better or worse. At least phantom memories of parents she’d never met were memories. During a Remnant she could see her mom and dad, feel them, long for them. And what did she have now? What did you call the memory of a memory?

None of it might matter anyway. She and her friends were once again behind bars — she couldn’t help but think back to the tiny, dank cell in the lower decks of Christopher Columbus’s ship — and things were not quite what Dak had expected at this so-called League of Corinth. She could tell that much just by looking in her friend’s eyes as the three of them were dragged away by those less-than-kind soldiers.

Less than kind. That was being kind. They’d all been snakes, bordering on bloodthirsty. How could someone as intelligent as Aristotle have anything to do with such a group of bullies?

Time ticked on. Sera sat, her rear end getting sore, her muscles stiff all over, a bruise rising on her arm from where one of the men had punched her. A young girl. She thought of cataclysms and wormholes and time paradoxes to keep the boredom at bay. Eventually, her eyelids started to droop, and then finally sleep snuck in and took her.



Sometime later — in the middle of a dream where she and Dak were jumping on a trampoline and Dak kept yapping about the “long and sordid” history of metal springs — Sera was awakened by the clank of the door to her cell opening. After she rubbed the blurriness out of her eyes, she saw a soldier standing at the opening, looking slightly abashed. He reminded her of a kid who’d been caught picking his nose.

“Come,” he said, looking at the floor instead of her. “Our master wants to see you.”

Odd, Sera thought, but she jumped to her feet, not wanting to lose the chance to get out of the rank little prison. When she reached the soldier, he half-turned to leave but then stopped. After a long pause, he said, “I’m . . . sorry.”

“You are?” She immediately wished she could take it back, but the words had practically leapt out of her mouth. Why was this big, scary man apologizing?

“Just follow me.”

He headed off down a low-ceilinged tunnel, a perfect setting for a dungeon. Sera followed as they made their way through a few twists and turns and up a long, winding set of stairs. Neither one of them spoke as they walked. Sera breathed a satisfied sigh. It felt good to get the blood pumping and stretch her muscles a bit — not to mention seeing brighter walls and light from outside as they ascended from the depths of the building.

Soon, they reached a dark wooden door that led out to a balcony, where several chairs faced the railing and the city of Corinth beyond. To the far left Sera could make out the statue of the hegemon, where they’d met the bald stranger.

Dak and Riq were already sitting in a couple of the chairs, and they turned to see her as she walked onto the balcony. Riq waved, and Dak nodded, but neither said anything.

“Happy to see you guys are safe and sound, too,” she muttered. They both smiled as if they had completely missed her sarcasm. She plopped down in the chair between her two friends, wondering if they’d refused to sit by each other on purpose. “So, what in the world is going on?” she asked.

Dak shrugged, his face far too giddy for the situation. He’d obviously been scanning the city, relishing every moment of their latest peek into the past.

“Seems like someone goofed up,” Riq said. “A big, burly soldier told me how sorry he was for mistreating us, then brought me here.”