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meeting
with my life. All I gained was the experience."
"That can be the most valuable prize of all."
My companion told me that my mentors yearned more than ever to fathom the
mysteries of the enemy's weapon that robbed gods of their memories.
"I would not be surprised if Atlas was equipped with even more marvelous
weapons
than that," I told him. "But I saw nothing of any of them."
The god and I continued our discussion as the chariot carried us along.
We were flying over land, just above a patchy layer of thin clouds, and the
god
who was transporting me was talking to me about something when he was cut off
abruptly in midsentence.
The chariot swerved suddenly, and I had the impression that some gigantic,
invisible hand had swiped at us, almost knocking us out of the sky for a
moment
I did not understand that the only real impact we had suffered came from some
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Giant's magic weapon, which was felt in Apollo's mind, and from there
transmitted through his hands and the reins to his great white horses.
I thought that Apollo was able to recognize our attacker, for he cried out a
name: "Alkyoneus!"
Even as we lurched about in midair, my eye fell on a towering figure that
stood
on a hilltop hundreds of feet below us. It was a Giant, both arms raised,
fingers extended and pointing straight at us. This was Antaeus writ large,
the
tufted hair, blank eyes, and grainy skin, equal to the worst my imagination
might have done. I stared at a figure of the same almost-human shape as the
Giant I had killed, standing among trees as if they were small bushes, kilted
in
what seemed a patchwork sail of animal skins, but enlarged, engorged, to what
appeared in my shocked eyes as a height of perhaps a hundred feet.
In a moment the weapon struck again, an invisible club whose impact seemed to
be
felt only in my companion's brain. Nothing happened to affect the chariot
directly, nor the wondrous animals who bore it after them, nor even me, the
helpless passenger. But this time the blow to the god's memory was severe
enough
to make him lose all control. His hands jerked awkwardly at the reins, as if
he
had no idea of what he ought to do with them.
My escort was now clinging to the rail as desperately as I was. Apollo turned
a
strangely distorted countenance in my direction and was looking at me wildly,
as
if he had never seen me before. As if he did not know who I was, what we
might
be doing together, or where we were going.
I grabbed him by the arm and tried to shake him, but it was like gripping a
marble statue.
In the next few moments it became plain that he had utterly lost control over
his chariot. It seemed that he could only stare stupidly as the ground came
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rushing up at us.
As in my battle with Antaeus, I was not directly affected by the weapon, or
curse, or whatever the right name was for the thing that struck at us. But
now
it seemed quite possible that I was going to die anyway.
As we spiraled lower, I was able to get one last clear look at the
man-mountain
who had shot us down. His great, slab-sided, rock-grained face was as blank
in
triumph as I supposed it would have been in defeat.
Now we were so close above the treetops that from time to time the chariot's
wheels tore at a branch. My last glimpse of the Giant showed him walking, his
huge body moving with surprising quickness, as he attempted to get in one
more
invisible shot. I had the impression that he was uncertain of his aim, and I
could only hope that this time he would miss.
Looking at the form beside me, I saw to my horror that my god-pilot had
temporarily lost consciousness. I again tried to rouse him, but failed.
The magic team that pulled the chariot still retained their full strength.
But
the injury to their great master had upset them, thrown them into a panic. We
were flying low now, barely skimming the tree-tops, and still performing wild
gyrations.
I grasped the reins and tried to exert control. I shouted commands at the
backs
of the great plunging beasts that pulled us through the air, but the animals
ignored me. I might have pulled harder, but feared that if I did so, I was
going
to break their necks.
In seizing the reins, I had released my two-handed grip upon the railing. As
the
chariot swayed back and forth, scraping tall branches in a wild ride, a sharp
turn suddenly hurled me out over the side. At the last moment I grabbed
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