The Tyrant's Tomb

and red. On top of all that, I realized I’d drawn the only arrow remaining in
my original quiver: the Arrow of Dodona.
HOLDEST THOU ON, APOLLO! the arrow said in my mind.
YIELDETH THYSELF NOT TO THE UNDEAD KING!
Through my fog of pain, I wondered if I was going crazy.
“Are you giving me a pep talk?” The idea made me giggle. “Whew, I’m
tired.”
I collapsed on my butt.
Meg stepped over me and slashed a zombie who had been about to eat
my face.
“Thank you,” I muttered, but she’d already moved on. The ghouls had
reluctantly put down their books and were now closing in on her.
Hazel stabbed at Tarquin, who had just flung Aristophanes off his face.
The cat yowled as he flew across the room. He managed to catch the edge of
a bookshelf and scramble to the top. He glared down at me with his green
eyes, his expression implying I meant to do that.
The Arrow of Dodona kept talking in my head: THOU HAST DONE
WELL, APOLLO! THOU HAST ONLY ONE JOB NOW: LIVE!
“That’s a really hard job,” I muttered. “I hate my job.”
THOU HAST ONLY TO WAIT! HOLD ON!
“Wait for what?” I murmured. “Hold on to what? Oh…I guess I’m
holding on to you.”
YES! the arrow said. YES, DOEST THOU THAT! STAYEST THOU WITH
ME, APOLLO. DAREST THOU NOT DIE UPON ME, MAN!
“Isn’t that from a movie?” I asked. “Like…every movie? Wait, you
actually care if I die?”
“Apollo!” yelled Meg, slashing at Great Expectations. “If you’re not
going to help, could you at least crawl someplace safer?”
I wanted to oblige. I really did. But my legs wouldn’t work.
“Oh, look,” I muttered to no one in particular. “My ankles are turning
gray. Oh, wow. My hands are, too.”
NO! said the arrow. HOLD ON!
“For what?”
CONCENTRATE UPON MY VOICE. LET US SING A SONG! THOU
LIKEST SONGS, DOST THOU NOT?
“Sweet Caroline!” I warbled.
PERHAPS A DIFFERENT SONG?