Legends: Battles and Quests

Don't mess with the gods. And if they mess with you? Run like hell . . . Including King Arthur, The Minotaur, Inca legends and more! There was a time when monsters and dragons roamed the earth and the gods walked among us. A time of blood, swords and furious battles. A time of legends, heroes, darkness and death . . . Anthony Horowitz is a prolific writer for film, theatre and television, but he is best loved for his brilliant children's stories, which include the internationally best-selling series about teenage MI6 agent Alex Rider. He lives in London and has two teenage sons. DIVDIVThe Minotaur There was a time when Athens was not the major city that it is today, but a small town perched on the edge of a cliff some three miles from the sea. King Aegeus was on the throne and he was a good ruler. There were no wars, there was plenty of food to go round and no plagues or monsters inhabited the land. And yet, once every seven years, something strange would happen. There would be no alarm, no signal, but suddenly the streets would empty. Men and women would hurry home, avoiding each other’s eyes, gathering up their children and taking them indoors. It would seem as if Athens had been deserted. And inside their homes, families would sit together, hiding in the shadows, and nobody would speak. A stranger, walking through the town, might think that some terrible catastrophe had just occurred. And yet there would be no sign of any damage, like that caused by an earthquake or a fire. The streets would be clean and orderly, even if all the shops were closed for business. Trees carrying the first spring blossoms would surround him if he strolled into the parks. A mystery. Standing there, the stranger might feel a cold wind whisper through the streets and, if he listened carefully, he might just be able to hear what it was saying. ‘Minos is coming. Minos will soon be here . . . ’ And hearing that, he would understand. He would turn and hurry out of this accursed place, leaving the wretched people to their fate. Throughout Ancient Greece everyone knew what had happened to the son of King Minos and the cruel revenge that he had demanded. They also knew the terrible secret that lay hidden deep underneath his palace. But even the breeze was too afraid to speak that name. It would rush through the streets saying nothing more, twisting round the corners as if it too was in a hurry to get away. The Birth of the Minotaur Minos was the king of Crete, the Island of the Hundred Cities. He was one of the most powerful sovereigns in the world and his island was one of the most magnificent. Its harbour was huge, built to hold a hundred ships and surrounded by towering walls and guarded by turrets that were manned twenty-four hours a day. The capital – Knossos – was a mass of colour and life. The Cretan people, all too aware of their status, loved to wear expensive clothes and to eat the most luxurious food, brought to them from the furthest corners of the civilized world. The market stalls, jammed together in the narrow streets, were always piled high with the finest goods, including silks and satins, exotic spices, ivory and jewels, rare parrots, performing monkeys and much, much more. While the sun shone, the buying and selling never stopped and even at night, once the torches had been lit, dancers and fire-eaters, snake charmers and magicians would come out to entertain the crowds. And yet there was a darker side to Crete. And even Minos, for all his wealth and success, could not escape from its shadow. The Minotaur. It was like a cancer beneath the skin, the unpleasant truth t