Sons of Zeus (The Warrior Trilogy #1)

“Philip is a rich man,” Aristotle said, looking on with the rest of them at the grand structure. “Let’s just say this is his way of keeping his former wife happy.”


Dak started to say something, but before he could even get one word out, a door burst open on the side of the palace and three men came charging out with swords in their hands. Three huge, vicious black dogs, barking and growling, followed on their heels, and then one of the guards shouted, his voice a boom of thunder.

“There they are! Appeared out of nowhere! Sic ’em, hounds, sic ’em!”



Dak had always thought dogs were cute. These things weren’t dogs. These things were big, hungry monsters that wanted to eat him alive. And with his luck, he would probably be the tastiest of his friends.

“Aristotle!” he yelled. “Tell them who we are!” He’d expected to fight Tilda, but not the people they’d come to save from her.

The philosopher appeared to think for a second about shouting at the men with the swords, but then gave up. Those nasty dogs were charging in way too fast.

“I think at times like this it may be wisest to run,” he said. Even on the cusp of death-by-slobbery-fangs, the dude sounded like a philosopher.

“Run!” Dak yelled, getting to the point a lot more quickly. But then he saw that Riq and Sera had already done that, heading for an area with a bunch of those tall hedges — maybe thinking they could find a place to hide. Aristotle took off after them, lifting his robes like a lady in a dress tiptoeing through a mud puddle. He was fast for an older guy.

Dak took a step to go in the same direction, but then the dogs were on him, seeming like they’d leapt ahead at an impossible speed. The beasts got between Dak and the rest of his friends, and to his chagrin they all decided they wanted to focus on the history nerd.

For some reason the words sweet meat ran through his head as he froze, staring at the hideous, slavering monsters, who stared right back at him, their thick throats vibrating with deep growls.

“Nice pups,” Dak said, slowly backing away. They inched forward, matching his movement, telling him with their eyes that he’d better stay put if he wanted to live another five minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the guards themselves were sprinting through the gardens, almost on him.

Dak held his hands up to the sky, as if someone had a gun pointed at him. “I’m a good guy!” he yelled. “I’m here to save —”

The dogs didn’t like him talking. All three of them jumped forward, jaws snapping.

A horrible shriek escaped Dak’s throat as adrenaline exploded inside of him. He dove to his left and rolled, barely avoiding the teeth of the lead dog. Then he was on his feet, scrambling around the corner of the original hedge they’d all rolled into when the Infinity Ring warped them there.

The howls and barks of the dogs sounded behind him, and he swore he could feel their breaths on the back of his neck. Dak ran as hard as he could, knowing that he had zero chance of outrunning the drooling monsters. He rounded another corner and saw a big stone dais that had a statue of Plato standing on top of it. It was his only chance.

He jumped onto a small square ledge at the bottom, then vaulted himself onto the dais itself. One of the dogs got the bottom of his robe in its mouth, but Dak was able to rip it free, then climb a little higher onto Plato, who didn’t seem to mind too much.

Dak was just high enough to stay alive. Below him, the dogs leapt and barked and snapped those sharp teeth at him.

“Nice pups,” Dak repeated, feeling about as ridiculous as he ever had before in his life. He wondered for a moment whether these beasts might be the ancestors of his old friend Vígi.

Just then one of the soldiers arrived — the others must have pursued Aristotle and his friends. The man was young, only nineteen or twenty by the look of it. Dark, curly hair covered his head, and eyes of steel — one blue and one brown — looked on Dak with anger. The guy had a breastplate that gleamed, and huge muscles in all the right places. One tough dude.

“I swear I’m a good guy,” Dak pleaded, his arms getting tired from clinging to the statue.

“I bet you are,” the guard responded. He hefted his bright, shiny, sharp sword and pointed it at Dak. “But I’ll never become Alexander the Great if I believe the lies of my enemies.”

Dak’s jaw dropped even as the man he was supposed to save stepped forward to kill him.





SERA WALKED briskly beside Aristotle, Riq, and two of the three guards who’d come bursting out of the house with the dogs. It hadn’t taken long for the philosopher to convince them that they meant no harm. But they still had a problem. There was no sign of Dak, and no sign of the dogs, who’d looked awfully hungry when they’d chased him through the gardens.

“I hope Dak isn’t dog food,” Riq muttered as they searched the hedges for their friend.