The Last Olympian - Chapter 3

THREE
 
 I  GET   A  SNEAK  PEEK   AT
 MY   DEATH
 
 If you want to be popular at Camp Half-Blood, don't come back from a mission with bad news.
 Word of my arrival spread as soon as I walked out of the ocean. Our beach is on the North Shore of
Long Island, and it's enchanted so most people can't even see it. People don't just appear  on the beach
unless they're demi-gods or gods or really, really lost pizza delivery guys. (It's happened—but that's
another story.)
 Anyway, that afternoon the lookout on duty was Connor Stoll from the Hermes cabin. When he spotted
me, he got so excited he fell out of his tree. Then he blew the conch horn to signal the camp and ran to
greet me.
 Connor had a crooked smile that matched his crooked sense of humor. He's a pretty nice guy, but you
should always keep one hand on your wallet when he's around, and do not, under any circumstances,
give him access to shaving cream unless you want to find your sleeping bag full of it. He's got curly brown
hair and is a little shorter than his brother, Travis, which is the only way I can tell them apart. They are
both so unlike my old enemy Luke it's hard to believe they're all sons of Hermes.
 "Percy!" he yelled. "What happened? Where's Beckendorf?"
 Then he saw my expression, and his smile melted. "Oh, no.Poor Silena.  Holy Zeus, when she finds out . .
."
 Together we climbed the sand dunes. A few hundred yards away, people were already streaming
toward us, smil-ing and excited. Percy's back, they were probably thinking. He's saved the day! Maybe
he brought souvenirs!
 I stopped at the dining pavilion and waited for them. No sense rushing down there to tell them what a
loser I was.
 I gazed across the valley and tried to remember how Camp Half-Blood looked the first time I ever saw
it. That seemed like a bajillion years ago.
 From the dining pavilion, you could see pretty much everything. Hills ringed the valley. On the tallest,
Half-Blood Hill, Thalia's pine tree stood with the Golden Fleece hanging from its branches, magically
protecting the camp from its enemies. The guard dragon Peleus was so big now I could see him from
here—curled around the tree trunk, lending up smoke signals as he snored.
 To my right spread the woods. To my left, the canoe lake glittered and the climbing wall glowed from
the lava pour-ing down its side. Twelve cabins—one for each Olympian god—made a horseshoe pattern
around the commons area. Farther south were the strawberry fields, the armory, and the four-story Big
House with its sky blue paint job and its bronze eagle weathervane.
 In some ways, the camp hadn't changed. But you couldn't see the war by looking at the buildings or the
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fields. You could see it in the faces of the demigods and satyrs and naiads coming up the hill.
 There weren't as many at camp as four summers ago. Some had left and never come back. Some had
died fight-ing. Others—we tried not to talk about them—had gone over to the enemy.
 The ones who were still here were battle-hardened and weary. There was little laughter at camp these
days. Even the Hermes cabin didn't play so many pranks. It's hard to enjoy practical jokes when your
whole life feels like one.
 Chiron galloped into the pavilion first, which was easy for him since he's a white stallion from the waist
down. His beard had grown wilder over the summer. He wore a green T-shirt that said MY OTHER
CAR IS A CENTAUR and a bow slung over his back.
 "Percy!" he said. "Thank the gods. But where . . ."
 Annabeth ran in right behind him, and I'll admit my heart did a little relay race in my chest when I saw
her. It's not that she tried to look good. We'd been doing so many combat missions lately, she hardly
brushed her curly blond hair anymore, and she didn't care what clothes she was wear-ing—usually the
same old orange camp T-shirt and jeans, and once in a while her bronze armor. Her eyes were stormy
gray. Most of the time we couldn't get through a conversa-tion without trying to strangle each other. Still,
just seeing her made me feel fuzzy in the head. Last summer, before Luke had turned into Kronos and
everything went sour, there had been a few times when I thought maybe . . . well, that we might get past
the strangle-each-other phase.
 "What happened?" She grabbed my arm. "Is Luke—"
 "The ship blew up," I said. "He wasn't destroyed. I don't know where—"
 Silena Beauregard pushed through the crowd. Her hair wasn't combed and she wasn't even wearing
makeup, which wasn't like her.
 "Where's Charlie?" she demanded, looking around like he might be hiding.
 I glanced at Chiron helplessly.
 The old centaur cleared his throat. "Silena, my dear, let's talk about this at the Big House—"
 "No," she muttered. "No. No."
 She started to cry, and the rest of us stood around, too stunned to speak. We'dalready  lost so many
people over the summer, but this was the worst. With Beckendorf gone, it felt like someone had stolen
the anchor for the entire camp.
 Finally Clarisse from the Ares cabin came forward. She put her arm around Silena. They had one of the
strangest friendships ever—a daughter of the war god and a daugh-ter of the love goddess—but ever
since Silena had given Clarisse advice last summer about her first boyfriend, Clarisse haddecided she was
Silena's personal bodyguard.
 Clarisse was dressed in her bloodred combat armor, her brown hair tucked into a bandana. She was as
big and beefy as a rugby player, with a permanent scowl on her face, but she spoke gently to Silena.
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 "Come on, girl," she said. "Let's get to the Big House. I'll make you some hot chocolate."
 Everyone turned and wandered off in twos and threes, heading back to the cabins. Nobody was excited
to see me now. Nobody wanted to hear about the blown-up ship.
 Only Annabeth and Chiron stayed behind.
 Annabeth wiped a tear from her cheek. "I'm glad you're not dead, Seaweed Brain."
 "Thanks," I said. "Me too."
 Chiron put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure you did everything you could, Percy. Will you tell us what
hap-pened?"
 I didn't want to go through it again, but I told them the story, including my dream about the Titans. I left
out the detail about Nico. Nico had made me promise not to tell anybody about his plan until I made up
my mind, and the plan was so scary I didn't mind keeping it a secret.
 Chiron gazed down at the valley. "We must call a war council immediately, to discuss this spy, and other
matters."
 "Poseidon mentioned another threat," I said. "Some-thing even bigger than the Princess Andromeda. I
thought it might be that challenge the Titan had mentioned in my dream."
 Chiron and Annabeth exchanged looks, like they knew something I didn't. I hated when they did that.
 "We will discuss that also," Chiron promised.
 "One more thing." I took a deep breath. "When I talked to my father, he said to tell you it's time. I need
to know the full prophecy."
 Chiron's shoulders sagged, but he didn't look surprised. "I've dreaded this day. Very well.  Annabeth, we
will show Percy the truth—all ofit.  Let's go to the attic."
 
 * * *
 I’d been to the Big House attic three times before, which was three times more than I wanted to.
 A ladder led up from the top of  the staircase. I won-dered how Chiron was going to get up there, being
half horse and all, but he didn't try.
 "You know where it is," he told Annabeth. "Bring it down, please."
 Annabeth nodded. "Come on, Percy."
 The sun was setting outside, so the attic was even darker and creepier than usual. Old hero trophies
were slacked everywhere—dented shields, pickled heads in jars from various monsters, a pair of fuzzy
dice on a bronze plaque that read: STOLEN FROM CHRYSAOR'S HONDA CIVIC, BY GUS, SON
OF HERMES, 1988.
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 I picked up a curved bronze sword so badly bent it looked like the letter M. I could still see green stains
on the metal from the magical poison that used to cover it. The tag was dated last summer. It read:
Scimitar of Kampê, destroyed in the Battle of the Labyrinth.
 "You remember Briares throwing those boulders?" I asked.
 Annabeth gave me a grudging smile. "And Grover caus-ing a Panic?"
 We locked eyes. I thought of a different time last sum-mer, under Mount St. Helens, when Annabeth
thought I was going to die and she kissed me.
 She cleared her throat and looked away. "Prophecy."
 "Right."I put down the scimitar. "Prophecy."
 We walked over to the window. On a three-legged stool sat the Oracle—a shriveled female mummy in
a tie-dyed dress. Tufts of black hair clung to her skull. Glassy eyes stared out of her leathery face. Just
looking at her made my skin crawl.
 If you wanted to leave camp during the summer, it used to be you had to come up here to get a quest.
This summer, that rule had been tossed. Campers left all the time on com-bat missions. We had no
choice if we wanted to stop Kronos.
 Still, I remembered too well the strange green mist—the spirit of the Oracle—that lived inside the
mummy. She looked lifeless now, but whenever she spoke a prophecy, she moved. Sometimes fog
gushed out of her mouth and created strange shapes. Once, she'd even left the attic and taken a little
zombie stroll into the woods to deliver a message.  I wasn't sure what she'd do for the "Great Prophecy."
I half expected her to start tap dancing or something.
 But she just sat there like she was dead—which she was.
 "I never understood this," I whispered.
 "What?" Annabeth asked.
 "Why it's a mummy."
 "Percy, she didn't used to be a mummy. For thousands of years the spirit of the Oracle lived inside a
beautiful maiden. The spirit would be passed on from generation to generation. Chiron told meshe was
like that fifty years ago." Annabeth pointed at the mummy. "But she was the last."
 "What happened?"
 Annabeth started to say something, then  apparently changed her mind. "Let's just do our job and get out
of here."
 I looked nervously at the Oracle's withered face. "So what now?"
 Annabeth approached the mummy and held out her palms. "O Oracle, the time is at hand. I ask for the
Great Prophecy."
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 I braced myself, but the mummy didn't move. Instead, Annabeth approached and unclasped one of its
necklaces. I’d never paid too much attention to its jewelry before. I fig-ured it was just hippie love beads
and stuff. But when Annabeth turned toward me, she was holding a leather pouch—like a Native
American medicine pouch on a cord braided with feathers. She opened the bag and took out a roll of
parchment no bigger than her pinky.
 "No way," I said. "You mean all these years, I've been asking about this stupid prophecy, and it's been
right there around her neck?"
 "The time wasn't right," Annabeth said. "Believe me, Percy, I read this when I was ten years old, and I
still have nightmares about it."
 "Great," I said. "Can I read it now?"
 "Downstairs at the war council," Annabeth said. "Not infront of . . . you know."
 I looked at the glassy eyes of the Oracle, and I decided not to argue. We headed downstairs to join the
others. I didn't know it  then, but it would be the last time I ever visited the attic.
 
 * * *
 The senior counselors had gathered around the Ping-Pong table. Don't ask me why, but the rec room
had become the camp's informal headquarters for war councils. When Annabeth, Chiron, and I came in,
though, it looked more like a shouting match.
 Clarisse was still in full battle gear. Her electric spear was strapped to her back. (Actually, her second
electric spear, since I'd broken the first one. She called the spear "Maimer." Behind her back, everybody
else called it "Lamer.") She had her boar-shaped helmet under one arm and a knife at her belt.
 She was in the midst of yelling at Michael Yew, the new head counselor for Apollo, which looked kind
of funny since Clarisse was a foot taller. Michael had taken over the Apollo cabin after Lee Fletcher died
in battle last summer. Michael stood four feet six, with another two feet of atti-tude. He reminded me of a
ferret, with a pointy nose and scrunched-up features—either because he scowled so much or because he
spent too much time looking down the shaft of an arrow.
 "It's our loot!" he yelled, standing on his tiptoes so he could get in Clarisse's face. "If you don't like it, you
can kiss my quiver!"
 Around the table, people were trying not to laugh—the Stoll brothers, Pollux from the Dionysus cabin,
Katie Gardner from Demeter. Even Jake Mason, the hastily appointed new counselor from Hephaestus,
managed a faint smile. Only Silena Beauregard didn't pay any attention. She sat beside Clarisse and
stared vacantly at the Ping-Pong net. Her eyes were red and puffy. A cup of hot chocolate sat untouched
in front of her. It seemed unfair that she had to be here. I couldn't believe Clarisse and Michael standing
over her, arguing about something as stupid as loot, when she'd just lost Beckendorf.
 "STOP IT!" I yelled. "What are you guys doing?"
 Clarisse glowered at me. "Tell Michael not to be a self-ish jerk."
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 "Oh, that's perfect, coming from you," Michael said.
 "The only reason I'm here is to support Silena!" Clarisse shouted. "Otherwise I'd be back in my cabin."
 "What are you talking about?" I demanded.
 Pollux cleared his throat. "Clarisse has refused to speak to any of us, until her, um, issue is resolved. She
hasn't spoken for three days."
 "It's been wonderful," Travis Stoll said wistfully.
 "What issue?" I asked.
 Clarisse turned to Chiron. "You're in charge, right? Does my cabin get what we want or not?"
 Chiron shuffled his hooves. "My dear, as I've already explained, Michael is correct. Apollo's cabin has
the best claim. Besides, we have more important matters—"
 "Sure," Clarisse snapped. "Always more important matters than what Ares needs. We're just supposed
to show up and light when you need us, and not complain!"
 "That would be nice," Connor Stoll muttered.
 Clarisse gripped her knife. "Maybe I should ask Mr. D—"
 "As you know," Chironinterrupted,  his tone slightly angry now, "our director, Dionysus, is busy with the
war. He can't be bothered with this."
 "I see," Clarisse said."And the senior counselors?  Are any of you going to side with me?"
 Nobody was smiling now. None of them met Clarisse's eyes.
 "Fine." Clarisse turned to Silena. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get into this when you've just lost . . .
Anyway, I apologize.Toyou. Nobody else."
 Silena didn't seem to register her words.
 Clarisse threw her knife on the Ping-Pong table. "All of you can fight this war without Ares. Until I get
satisfaction, no one in my cabin is lifting a finger to help. Have fun dying."
 The counselors were all too stunned to say anything as Clarisse stormed out of the room.
 Finally Michael Yew said, "Good riddance."
 "Are you kidding?" Katie Gardner protested. "This is a disaster!"
 "She can't be serious," Travis said. "Can she?"
 Chiron sighed. "Her pride has been wounded. She'll calm down eventually." But he didn't sound
convinced.
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 I wanted to ask what the heck Clarisse was so mad about, but I looked at Annabeth and she mouthed
the words I'll tell you later.
 "Now," Chiron continued, "if you please, counselors. Percy has brought something I think you should
hear. Percy—the Great Prophecy."
 Annabeth handed me the parchment. It felt dry and old, and my fingers fumbled with the string. I
uncurled the paper, trying not to rip it, and began to read:
 "A half-blood of the eldest dogs . . ."
 "Er, Percy?" Annabeth interrupted.  "That's gods. Not dogs  ."
 "Oh, right," I said. Being dyslexic is one mark of a demigod, but sometimes I really hate it. The more
nervous I am, the worse my reading gets."A half~blood of the eldest gods . . . shall reach sixteen
against all odds . . ."
 I hesitated, staring at the next lines. A cold feeling started in my fingers as if the paper was freezing.
 "And see the world in endless sleep,
 The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."
 Suddenly Riptide seemed heavier in my pocket.A cursed blade? Chiron once told me Riptide had
brought many people sorrow. Was it possible my own sword could get me killed? And how could the
world fall into endless sleep, unless that meant death?
 "Percy," Chiron urged. "Read the rest."
 My mouth felt like it was full of sand, but I spoke the last two lines.
 "A single choice shall.  . . shall end his days.
 Olympus to per—pursue —"
 "Preserve," Annabeth said gently. "It means to save."
 "I know what it means," I grumbled. "Olympus to preserve or raze."
 The room was silent. Finally Connor Stoll said, "Raise is good, isn't it?"
 "Notraise," Silena said. Her voice was hollow, but I was startled to hear her speak at all. "R-a-z-e
meansdestroy."
 "Obliterate," Annabeth said. "Annihilate. Turn to rubble."
 "Got it." My heart felt like lead. "Thanks."
 Everybody was looking at me—with concern, or pity, or maybe a little fear.
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 Chiron closed his eyes as if he were saying a prayer. In horse form, his head almost brushed the lights in
the rec room. "You see now, Percy, why we thought it best not to tell you the whole prophecy. You've
had enough on your shoulders—"
 "Without realizing I was going to die in the end any-way?" I said. "Yeah, I get it."
 Chiron gazed at me sadly. The guy was three thousand years old. He'd seen hundreds of heroes die. He
might not like it, but he was used to it. He probably knew better than to try to reassure me.
 "Percy," Annabeth said. "You know prophecies always have double meanings. It might not literally mean
you die."
 "Sure," I said. "A single choice shall end his days. That has tons of meanings, right?"
 "Maybe we can stop it," Jake Mason offered. "The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap.  Maybe we
could find this cursed blade and destroy it. Sounds like Kronos's scythe, right?"
 I hadn't thought about that, but it didn't matter if the cursed blade was Riptide or Kronos's scythe. Either
way, I doubted we could stop the prophecy. A blade was supposed to reap my soul. As a general rule, I
preferred not to have my soul reaped.
 "Perhaps we should let Percy think about these lines," Chiron said. "He needs time—"
 "No." I folded up the prophecy and shoved it into my pocket. I felt defiant and angry, though I wasn't
sure who I was angry with. "I don't need time. If I die, I die. I can't worry about that, right?"
 Annabeth's hands were shaking a little. She wouldn't meet my eyes.
 "Let's move on," I said. "We've got other problems. We've got a spy."
 Michael Yew scowled. "A spy?"
 I told them what had happened on the Princess Andromeda —how Kronos had known we were
coming, how he'd shown me the silver scythe pendant he'd used to com-municate with someone at camp.
 Silena started to cry again, and Annabeth put an arm around her shoulders.
 "Well," Connor Stoll said uncomfortably, "we've sus-pected there might a spy for years, right?
Somebody kept passing information to Luke—like the location of the Golden Fleece a couple of years
ago. It must be somebody who knew him well."
 Maybe subconsciously, he glanced at Annabeth. She'd known Luke better than anyone, of course, but
Connor looked away quickly. "Um, I mean, it could be anybody."
 "Yes." Katie Gardner frowned at the Stoll brothers. She'd disliked them ever since they'd decorated the
grass roof of the Demeter cabin with chocolate Easter bunnies. "Like one of Luke's siblings."
 Travis and Connor both started arguing with her.
 "Stop!"Silena banged the table so hard her hot choco-late spilled. "Charlie's dead and . . . and you're all
arguing like little kids!" She put her head down and began to sob.
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 Hot chocolate trickled off the Ping-Pong table. Everybody looked ashamed.
 "She's right," Pollux said at last. "Accusing each other doesn't help. We need to keep our eyes open for
a silver necklace with a scythe charm. If Kronos had one, the spy probably does too."
 Michael Yew grunted. "We need to find this spy before we plan our next operation. Blowing up the
Princess Andromeda won't stop Kronos forever."
 "No indeed," Chiron said. "In fact his next assault is already on the way."
 I scowled. "You mean the 'bigger threat' Poseidon men-tioned?"
 He and Annabeth looked at each other like, It'stime.  Did I mention I hate it when they do that?
 "Percy," Chiron said, "we didn't want to tell you until you returned to camp. You needed a break with
your . . . mortal friends."
 Annabeth blushed. It dawned on me that she knew I'd been hanging out with Rachel, and I felt guilty.
Then I felt angry that I felt guilty. I was allowed to have friends outside camp, right? It wasn't like . . .
 "Tell me what's happened," I said.
 Chiron picked up a bronze goblet from the snack table. He tossed water onto the hot plate where we
usually melted nacho cheese. Steam billowed up, making a rainbow in the fluorescent lights. Chiron fished
a golden drachma out of his pouch, tossed it through the mist, and muttered, "O Iris, Goddess of the
Rainbow, show us the threat."
 The mist shimmered. I saw the familiar image of a smoldering volcano—Mount St. Helens. As I
watched, the side of the mountain exploded. Fire, ash, and lava rolled out. A newscaster's voice was
saying"  —even larger than last year's eruption, and geologists warn that the mountain may not be
done."
 I knew all about last year's eruption. I'd caused it. But this explosion was much worse. The mountain
tore itself apart, collapsing inward, and an enormous form rose out of the smoke and lava like it was
emerging from a manhole. I hoped the Mist would keep the humans from seeing it clearly, because what I
saw would've caused panic and riots across the entire United States.
 The giant was bigger than anything I'd ever encountered. Even my demigod eyes couldn't make out its
exact form through the ash and fire, but it was vaguely humanoid and so huge it could've used the
Chrysler Building as a baseball bat. The mountain shook with a horrible rumbling, as if the monster were
laughing.
 "It's him," I said. "Typhon."
 I was seriously hoping Chiron would say something good, like No, that's our huge friend Leroy! He's
going to help us!  But no such luck. He simply nodded. "The most horrible monster of all, the biggest
single threat the gods ever faced. He has been freed from under the mountain at last. But this scene is
from two days ago. Here  is what is happening today."
 Chiron waved his hand and the image changed. I saw a bank of storm clouds rolling across the Midwest
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plains. Lightning flickered. Lines of tornadoes destroyed every-thing in their path—ripping up houses and
trailers, tossing cars around like Matchbox toys.
 "Monumental floods," an announcer was saying. "Five states declared disaster areas as the freak
storm system sweeps east, continuing its path of destruction."  The cameras zoomed in on a column
of storm bearing down on some Midwest city . I couldn't tell which one. Inside the storm I could see the
giant—just small glimpses of his true form: a smoky arm, a dark clawed hand the size of a city block. His
angry roar rolled across the plains like a nuclear blast. Other smaller forms darted through the clouds,
circling the monster. I saw flashes of light, and I realized  the giant was trying to swat them. I squinted and
thought I saw a golden chariot flying into the blackness. Then some kind of huge bird—a monstrous
owl—dived in to attack the giant.
 "Are those . . . the gods?" I said.
 "Yes, Percy," Chiron said. "They have been fighting him for days now, trying to slow him down. But
Typhon is marching forward—toward New York. Toward Olympus."
 I let that sink in. "How long until he gets here?"
 "Unless the gods can stop him? Perhaps five days. Most of the Olympians are there . . . except your
father, who has a war of his own to fight."
 "But then who's guarding Olympus?"
 Connor Stoll shook his head. "If Typhon gets to New York, it won't matter who's guarding Olympus."
 I thought about Kronos's words on the ship: I would love to see the terror in your eyes when you
realize how I will destroy Olympus.
 Was this what he was talking about: an attack by Typhon? It was sure terrifying enough. But Kronos
was alwaysfooling  us, misdirecting our attention. This seemed too obvious for him. And in my dream, the
golden Titan had talked about several more challenges to come, as if Typhon were only the first.
 "It's a trick," I said. "We have to warn the gods. Something else is going to happen."
 Chiron looked at me gravely."Something worse than Typhon? I hope not."
 "We have to defend Olympus," I insisted. "Kronos has another attack planned."
 "He did," Travis Stoll reminded me. "But you sunk his ship."
 Everyone was looking at me. They wanted some good news. They wanted to believe that at least I'd
given them a little bit of hope.
 I glanced at Annabeth. I could tell we were thinking the same thing: What if the Princess Andromeda
was a ploy? What if Kronoslet us blow up that ship so we'd  lower our guard?
 But I wasn't going to say that in front of Silena. Her boyfriend had sacrificed himself for that mission.
 "Maybe you're right," I said, though I didn't believe it.
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 I tried to imagine how things could get much worse. The gods were in the Midwest fighting a huge
monster that had almost defeated them once before. Poseidon was under siege and losing a war against
the sea Titan Oceanus. Kronos was still out there somewhere. Olympus was virtu-ally undefended. The
demigods of Camp Half-Blood were on our own with a spy in our midst.
 Oh, and according to the ancient prophecy, I was going to die when I turned sixteen—which happened
to be in five  days, the exact same time Typhon was supposed to hit New York. Almost forgot that.
 "Well," Chiron said, "I think that's enough for one night."
 He waved his hand and the steam dissipated. The stormy battle of Typhon and the gods disappeared.
 "That's an understatement," I muttered.
 And the war council adjourned.

Categories: The Last Olympian

The Last Olympian - Chapter 2

TWO
 I MEET SOME FISHY
 RELATIVES
 
 Demigod dreams suck.
 The thing is ,they're never just dreams. They've got to be visions, omens, and all that other mystical stuff
that makes my brain hurt.
 I dreamed I was in a dark palace at the top of a moun-tain. Unfortunately, I recognized it: the palace of
the Titans on top of Mount Othrys, otherwise known as Mount Tamalpais, in California. The main
pavilion was open to the night, ringed with black Greek columns and statues of the Titans. Torchlight
glowed against the black marble floor. In the center of the room, an armored giant struggled under the
weight of a swirling funnel cloud—Atlas, holding up the sky.
 Two other giant men stood nearby over a bronze bra-zier, studying images in the flames.
 "Quite an explosion," one said. He wore black armor studded with silver dots like a starry night. His face
was covered in a war helm with a ram's horn curling on either side.
 "It doesn't matter," the other said. This Titan was dressed in gold robes, with golden eyes like Kronos.
His entire body glowed. He reminded me of Apollo, God of the Sun, except the Titan's light was harsher,
and his expression crueler. "The gods have answered the challenge. Soon they will be destroyed."
 The images in the fire were hard to make out: storms, buildings crumbling, mortals screaming in terror.
 "I will go east to marshal our forces," the golden Titan said. "Krios, you shall remain and guard Mount
Othrys."
 The ram horn dude grunted. "I always get the stupid jobs. Lord of the South. Lord of Constellations.
Now I get to babysit Atlas whileyou have all the fun."
 Under the whirlwind of clouds, Atlas bellowed in agony, "Let me out, curse you! I am your greatest
warrior. Take my burden so I may fight!"
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 "Quiet!" the golden Titan roared. "You had your chance, Atlas. You failed. Kronos likes you just where
you are. As for you, Krios, do your duty."
 "And if you need more warriors?" Krios asked. "Our treacherous nephew in the tuxedo will not do you
much good in a fight."
 The golden Titan laughed. "Don't worry about him. Besides, the gods can barely handle our first little
challenge. They have no idea how many others we have in store. Mark my words, in a few days' time,
Olympus will be in ruins, and we will meet here again to celebrate the dawn of the Sixth Age!"
 The golden Titan erupted into flames and disappeared.
 "Oh, sure," Krios grumbled. "He gets to erupt into flames. I get to wear these stupid ram's horns."
 The scene shifted. Now I was outside the pavilion, hiding in the shadows of a Greek column. A boy
stood next to me, eavesdropping on the Titans. He had dark silky hair, pale skin, and dark clothes—my
friend Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades.
 He looked straight at me, his expression grim. "You see, Percy?" he whispered. "You're running out of
time. Do you really think you can beat them without my plan?"
 His words washed over me as cold as the ocean floor, and my dreams went black.
 
 "Percy?" a deep voice said.
 My head felt like it had been microwaved in aluminum foil. I opened my eyes and saw a large shadowy
figure loom-ing over me.
 "Beckendorf?" I asked hopefully.
 "No, brother."
 My eyes refocused. I was looking at a Cyclops—a mis-shapen face, ratty brown hair, one big brown
eye full of concern."Tyson?"
 My brother broke into a toothy grin. "Yay! Your brain works!"
 I wasn't so sure. My body felt weightless and cold. My voice sounded wrong. I could hear Tyson, but it
was more like I was hearing vibrations inside my skull, not the regu-lar sounds.
 I sat up, and a gossamer sheet floated away. I was on a bed made of silky woven kelp, in a room
paneled with abalone shell. Glowing pearls the size of basketballsfloated around the ceiling, providing
light. I was under water.
 Now, being the son of Poseidon and all, I was okay with this. I can breathe underwater just fine, and my
clothes don't even get wet unless I want them to. But it was still a bit of a shock when a hammerhead
shark drifted through the bed-room window, regarded me, and then swam calmly out the opposite side
of the room.
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 "Where—"
 "Daddy's palace," Tyson said.
 Under different circumstances, I would've been excited. I'd never visited Poseidon's realm, and I'd been
dreaming about it for years. But my head hurt. My shirt was still speckled with burn marks from the
explosion. My arm and leg wounds had healed—just being in the ocean can do that for me, given enough
time—but I still felt like I'd been trampled by a Laistrygonian soccer team in cleats.
 "How long—"
 "We found you last night," Tyson said, "sinking through the water."
 "ThePrincess Andromeda?"
 "Went ka-boom," Tyson confirmed.
 "Beckendorf was on board. Did you find . . ."
 Tyson's face darkened. "No sign of him. I am sorry, brother."
 I stared out the window into deep blue water. Beckendorf was supposed to go to college in the fall. He
had a girlfriend, lots of friends,his whole life ahead of him. He couldn't be gone. Maybe he'd made it off
the ship like I had. Maybe he'd jumped over the side . . . and what? He couldn't have survived a
hundred-foot fall into the water like I could. He couldn't have put enough distance between him-self and
the explosion.
 I knew in my gut he was dead. He'd sacrificed himself to take out thePrincess Andromeda, and I had
abandoned him.
 I thought about my dream: the Titans discussing the explosion as if it didn't matter, Nico di Angelo
warning me that I would never beat Kronos without following his plan—a dangerous idea I'd been
avoiding for more than a year.
 A distant blast shook the room. Green light blazed out-side, turning the whole sea as bright as noon.
 "What was that?" I asked.
 Tyson looked worried. "Daddy will explain. Come, he is blowing up monsters."
 
 The palace might have been the most amazing place I'd ever -seen if it hadn't been in the process of
getting destroyed. We swam to the end of a long hallway and shot upward on a geyser. As we rose over
the rooftops I caught my breath—well, if you can catch your breath underwater.
 The palace was as big as the city on Mount Olympus, with wide courtyards, gardens, and columned
pavilions. The gardens were sculpted with coral colonies and glowing sea plants. Twenty or thirty
buildings were made of abalone, white but gleaming with rainbow colors. Fish and octopi darted in and
out of the windows. The paths were lined with glowing pearls like Christmas lights.
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 The main courtyard was filled with warriors—mermen with fish tails from the waist down and human
bodies from the waist up, except their skin was blue, which I'd never known before. Some were tending
the wounded. Some were sharpening spears and swords. One passed us, swimming in a hurry. His eyes
were bright green, like that stuff they put in glo-sticks, and his teeth were shark teeth. They don't show
you stuff like that inThe Little Mermaid.
 Outside the main courtyard stood large fortifications—towers, walls, and antisiege weapons—but most
of these had been smashed to ruins. Others were blazing with a strange green light that I knew
well—Greek fire, which can burn even underwater.
 Beyond this, the sea floor stretched into gloom. I could see battles raging—flashes of energy, explosions,
the glint of armies clashing. A regular human would've found it too dark to see. Heck, a regular human
would've been crushed by the pressure and frozen by the cold. Even my heat-sensitive eyes couldn't
make out exactly what was going on.
 At the edge of the palace complex, a temple with a red coral roof exploded, sending fire and debris
streaming in slow motion across the farthest gardens. Out of the dark-ness above, an enormous form
appeared—a squid larger than any skyscraper. It was surrounded by a glittering cloud of dust—at least I
thought it was dust, until I realized it was a swarm of mermen trying to attack the monster. The squid
descended on the palace and swatted its tentacles, smashing a whole column of warriors. Then a brilliant
arc of blue light shot from the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings. The light hit the giant squid, and the
monster dissolved like food coloring in water.
 "Daddy," Tyson said, pointing to where the light had come from.
 "He did that?" I suddenly felt more hopeful. My dad had unbelievable powers. He was the god of the
sea. He could deal with this attack, right? Maybe he'd let me help.
 "Have you been in the fight?" I asked Tyson in awe. "Like bashing heads with your awesome Cyclops
strength and stuff?"
 Tyson pouted, and immediately I knew I'd asked a bad question, "I have been . . . fixing weapons," he
mumbled. "Come. Let's go find Daddy."
 
 I know this might sound weird to people with, like, regular parents, but I'd only seen my dad four or five
times in my life, and never for more than a few minutes. The Greek gods don't exactly show up for their
kids' basketball games. Still, I thought I would recognize Poseidon on sight.
 I was wrong.
 The roof of the temple was a big open deck that had been set up as a command center. A mosaic on the
floor showed an exact map of the palace grounds and the sur-rounding ocean, but the mosaic moved.
Colored stone tiles representing different armies and sea monsters shifted around as the forces changed
position. Buildings that col-lapsed in real life also collapsed in the picture.
 Standing around the mosaic, grimly studying the battle, was a strange assortment of warriors, but none of
them looked like my dad. I was searching for a big guy with a good tan and a black beard, wearing
Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.
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 There was nobody like that. One guy was a merman with two fish tails instead of one. His skin was
green, his armor studded with pearls. His black hair was tied in a ponytail, and he looked young—though
it's hard to tell with non-humans. They could be a thousand years old or three. Standing next to him was
an old man with a bushy white beard and gray hair. His battle armor seemed to weigh him down. He had
green eyes and smile wrinkles around his eyes, but he wasn't smiling now. He was studying the map and
leaning on a large metal staff. To his right stood a beautiful woman in green armor with flowing black hair
and strange little horns like crab claws. And there was a dolphin—just a regular dolphin, but it was
staring at the map intently.
 "Delphin," the old man said. "Send Palaemon and his legion of sharks to the western front. We have to
neutralize those leviathans."
 The dolphin spoke in a chattering voice, but I could understand it in my mind:Yes, lord! It  sped away.
 I looked in dismay at Tyson, then back at the old man.
 It didn't seem possible, but . . . "Dad?" I asked.
 The old man looked up. I recognized the twinkle in his eyes, but his face . . . he looked like he'd aged
forty years.
 "Hello, Percy."
 "What—what happened to you?"
 Tyson nudged me. He was shaking his head so hard I was afraid it would fall off, but Poseidon didn't
look offended.
 "It's all right, Tyson," he said. "Percy, excuse my appear-ance. The war has been hard on me."
 "But you're immortal," I said quietly. "You can look . . . any way you want."
 "I reflect the state of my realm," he said. "And right now that state is quite grim. Percy, I should introduce
you—I'm afraid you just missed my lieutenant Delphin, God of the Dolphins. This is my, er, wife,
Amphitrite. My dear—"
 The lady in green armor stared at me coldly, then crossed her arms and said, "Excuse me, my lord. I am
needed in the battle."
 She swam away.
 I felt pretty awkward, but I guess I couldn't blame her. I'd never thought about it much, but my dad had
an immor-tal wife. All his romances with mortals, including with my mom . . . well, Amphitrite probably
didn't like that much.
 Poseidon cleared his throat. "Yes, well . . . and this is my son Triton. Er, my other son."
 "Your son and heir," the green dude corrected. His double fish tails  swished back and forth. He smiled at
me, but there was no friendliness in his eyes. "Hello, Perseus Jackson. Come to help at last?"
 He acted like I was late or lazy. If you can blush under-water, I probably did.
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 "Tell me what to do," I said.
 Triton smiled like that was a cute suggestion—like I was a slightly amusing dog that had barked for him
or something. He turned to Poseidon. "I will see to the front line, Father. Don't worry.I will not fail."
 He nodded politely to Tyson. How come I didn't get that much respect? Then he shot off into the water.
 Poseidon sighed. He raised his staff, and it changed into his regular weapon—a huge three-pointed
trident. The tip glowed with blue light, and the water around it boiled with energy.
 "I'm sorry about that," he told me.
 A huge sea serpent appeared from above us and spiraled down toward the roof. It was bright orange
with a fanged mouth big enough to swallow a gymnasium.
 Hardly looking up, Poseidon pointed his trident at the beast and zapped it with blue energy. Ka-boom!
The monster burst into a million goldfish, which all swam off in terror.
 "My family is anxious," Poseidon continued as if  nothing had happened. "The battle against Oceanus is
going poorly."
 He pointed to the edge of the mosaic. With the butt of his trident he tapped the image of a merman
larger than the rest, with the horns of a bull. He appeared to be riding a chariot pulled by crawfish, and
instead of a sword he wielded a live serpent.
 "Oceanus," I said, trying to remember. "The Titan of the sea?"
 Poseidon nodded. "He was neutral in the first war of gods and Titans. But Kronos has convinced him to
fight. This is . . . well, it's not a good sign. Oceanus would not commit unless he was sure he could pick
the winning side."
 "He looks stupid," I said, trying to sound upbeat. "I mean, who fights with a snake?"
 "Daddy will tie it in knots," Tyson said firmly.
 Poseidon smiled, but he looked weary. "I appreciate your faith. We have been at war almost a year
now. My pow-ers are taxed. And still he finds new forces to throw at me—sea monsters so ancient I
had forgotten about them."
 I heard an explosion in the distance. About half a mile away, a mountain of coral disintegrated under the
weight of two giant creatures. I could dimly make out their shapes. One was a lobster. The other was a
giant humanoid like a Cyclops, but he was surrounded by a flurry of limbs. At first I thought he wearing a
bunch of giant octopi. Then I realized they were his own  arms—a hundred flailing, fight-ing arms.
 "Briares!" I said.
 I was happy to see him, but he looked like he was fight-ing for his life. He was the last of his kind—a
Hundred-HandedOne , cousin of the Cyclopes. We'd saved him from Kronos's prison last summer, and
I knew he'd come to help Poseidon, but I hadn't heard of him since.
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 "He fights well," Poseidon said. "I wish we had a whole army like him, but he is the only one."
 I watched as Briares bellowed in rage and picked up the lobster, which thrashed and snapped its
pincers. He threw it off the coral mountain, and the lobster disappeared into the darkness. Briares swam
after it, his hundred arms spin-ning like the blades of a motorboat.
 "Percy, we may not have much time," my dad said. "Tell me of your mission. Did you see Kronos?"
 I told him everything, though my voice choked up when I explained about Beckendorf. I looked down at
the court-yards below and saw hundreds of wounded mermen lying on makeshift cots. I saw rows of
coral mounds that must've been hastily made graves. I realized Beckendorf wasn't the first death. He was
only one of hundreds, maybe thousands. I'd never felt so angry and helpless.
 Poseidon stroked his beard. "Percy, Beckendorf chose a heroic death. You bear no blame for that.
Kronos's army will be in disarray. Many were destroyed."
 "But we didn't kill him, did we?"
 As I said it, I knew it was a naive hope. We might blow up his ship and disintegrate his monsters, but a
Titan lord wouldn't be so easy to kill.
 "No," Poseidon admitted. "But you've bought our side some time."
 "There were demigods on that ship," I said, thinking of the kid I'd seen in the stairwell. Somehow I'd
allowed myself to         concentrate on the monsters and Kronos. I'd convinced myself that destroying their
ship was all right because they were evil, they were sailing to attack my city, and besides, they couldn't
really be permanently killed. Monsters just vaporized and re-formed eventually. But demigods . . .
 Poseidon put his hand on my shoulder. "Percy, there were only a few demigod warriors aboard that
ship, and they all chose to battle for Kronos. Perhaps some heeded your warning and escaped. If they
did not . . . they chose their path."
 "They were brainwashed!" I said. "Now they're dead and Kronos is still alive. That's supposed to make
me feel better?"
 I glared at the mosaic—little tile explosions destroying tile monsters. It seemed so easy when it was just
a picture.
 Tyson put his arm around me. If anybody else had tried that, I would've pushed him away, but Tyson
was too big and stubborn. He hugged me whether I wanted it or not. "Not your fault, brother. Kronos
does not explode good  . Next time we will use a big stick."
 "Percy," my father said. "Beckendorf's sacrifice wasn't in vain. You have scattered the invasion force.
New York will be safe for a time, which frees the other Olympians to deal with the bigger threat."
 "The bigger threat?" I thought about what the golden Titan had said in my dream: The gods have
answered the challenge. Soon they will be destroyed.
 A shadow passed over my father's face. "You've had enough sorrow for one day. Ask Chiron when you
return to camp."
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 "Return to camp? But you're in trouble here. I want to help!"
 "You can't, Percy. Your job is elsewhere."
 I couldn't believe I was hearing this. I looked at Tyson for backup.
 My brother chewed his lip. "Daddy . . . Percy can fight with a sword. He is good."
 "I know that," Poseidon said gently.
 "Dad, I can help," I said. "I know I can. You're not going to hold out here much longer."
 A fireball launched into the sky from behind the enemy lines. I thought Poseidon would deflect it or
something, but it landed on the outer corner of the yard and exploded, sending mermen tumbling through
the water. Poseidon winced as if he'd just been stabbed.
 "Return to camp," he insisted. "And tell Chiron it is time."
 "For what?"
 "You must hear the prophecy. Theentire prophecy."
 I didn't need to ask him which prophecy. I'd been hear-ing about the "Great Prophecy" for years, but
nobody would ever tell me the whole thing. All I knew was that I was supposed to make a decision that
would decide the fate of the world—but no pressure.
 "What if this  is the decision?" I said. "Staying here to light, or leaving? What if I leave and you . . ."
 I couldn't say die. Gods weren't supposed to die, but I'd seen it happen. Even if they didn't die, they
could be reduced to nearly nothing, exiled, imprisoned in the depths of Tartarus like Kronos had been.
 "Percy, you must go," Poseidon insisted. "I don't know what your final decision will be, but your fight lies
in the world above. If nothing else, you must warn your friends at camp. Kronos knew your plans. You
have a spy. We will hold here. We have no choice."
 Tyson gripped my hand desperately. "I will miss you, brother!"
 Watching us, our father seemed to age another ten years. "Tyson, you have work to do as well, my son.
They need you in the armory."
 Tyson pouted some more.
 "I will go," he sniffled. He hugged me so hard he almost cracked my ribs. "Percy, be careful! Do not let
monsters kill you dead!"
 I tried to nod confidently, but it was too much for the big guy. He sobbed and swam away toward the
armory, where his cousins were fixing spears and swords.
 "You should let him fight," I told my father. "He hates being stuck in the armory. Can't you tell?"
 Poseidon shook his head. "It is bad enough I must send you into danger. Tyson is too young. I must
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protect him."
 "You should trust him," I said. "Not try to protect him."
 Poseidon's eyes flared. I thought I'd gone too far, but then he looked down at the mosaic and his
shoulders sagged. On the tiles, the mermaid guy in the crawfish char-iot was coming closer to the palace.
 "Oceanus approaches," my father said. "I must meet him in battle."
 I'd never been scared for a god before, but I didn't see how my dad could face this Titan and win.
 "I will hold," Poseidon promised. "I will not give up my domain. Just tell me, Percy, do you still have the
birthday gift I gave you last summer?"
 I nodded and pulled out my camp necklace. It had a bead for every summer I'd been at Camp
Half-Blood, but since last year I'd also kept a sand dollar on the cord. My father had given it to me for
my fifteenth birthday. He'd told me I would know when to "spend it," but so far I hadn't figured out what
he meant. All I knew was that it didn't fit the vending machines in the school cafeteria.
 "The time is coming," he promised. "With luck, I will see you for your birthday next week, and we will
have aproper celebration."
 He smiled, and for a moment I saw the old light in his eyes.
 Then the entire sea grew dark in front of us, like an inky storm was rolling in. Thunder crackled, which
should've been impossible underwater. A huge icy presence was approaching. I sensed a wave of fear roll
through the armies below us.
 "I must assume my true godly form," Poseidon said. "Go—and good luck, my son."
 I wanted to encourage him, to hug him or something, but knew better than to stick around. When a god
assumes his true form, the power is so great that any mortal looking on him will disintegrate.
 "Good-bye, Father," I managed.
 Then I turned away. I willed the ocean currents to aid me. Water swirled around me, and I shot toward
the surface at speeds that would've caused any normal human to pop like aballoon.
 When I looked back, all I could see were flashes of green and blue as my father fought the Titan, and
the sea itself was torn apart by the two armies.

Categories: The Last Olympian

The Last Olympian - Chapter 1

I GO CRUISINGWITH
 EXPLOSIVES
 
 The end of the world started when a pegasus landed on the hood of my car.
 Up until then, I was having a great afternoon. Technically I wasn't supposed to be driving because I
wouldn't turn sixteen for another week, but my mom and my stepdad, Paul, took my friend Rachel and
me to this pri-vate stretch of beach on the South Shore, and Paul let us borrow his Prius for a short spin.
 Now, I know you're thinking, Wow, that was really irrespon-sible of him, blah, blah, blah,  but Paul
knows me pretty well. He's seen me slice up demons and leap out of exploding school buildings, so he
probably figured taking a car a few hundred yards wasn't exactly the most dangerous thing I'd ever done.
 Anyway, Rachel and I were driving along. It was a hot August day. Rachel's red hair was pulled back in
a ponytail and she wore a white blouse over her swimsuit. I'd never seen her in anything but ratty T-shirts
and paint-splattered jeans before, and she looked like a million golden drachmas.
 "Oh, pull up right there!" she told me.
 We parked on a ridge overlooking the Atlantic. The sea is always one of my favorite places, but today it
was especially nice—glittery green and smooth as glass, as though my dad was keeping it calm just for
us.
 My dad, by the way, is Poseidon. He can do stuff like that.
 "So."Rachel smiled at me. "About that invitation."
 "Oh . . . right." I tried to sound excited. I mean, she'd asked me to her family's vacation house on St.
Thomas for three days. I didn't get a lot of offers like that. My family's idea of a fancy vacation was a
weekend in a rundown cabin on Long Island with some movie rentals and a couple of frozen pizzas, and
here Rachel's folks were willing to let me tag along to the Caribbean.
 Besides, I seriously needed a vacation. This summer had been the hardest of my life. The idea of taking
a break even for a few days was really tempting.
 Still, something big was supposed to go down any day now. I was "on call" for a mission. Even worse,
next week was my birthday. There was this prophecy that said when I turned sixteen, bad things would
happen.
 "Percy," she said, "I know the timing is bad. But it's always  bad for you, right?"
 She had a point.
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 "I really want to go," I promised. "It's just—"
 "The war.”
 I nodded. I didn't like talking about it, but Rachel knew. Unlike most mortals, she could see through the
Mist—the magic veil that distorts human vision. She'd seen monsters. She'd met some of the other
demigods who were fighting the Titans and their allies. She'd even been there last summer when the
chopped-up Lord Kronos rose out of his coffin in a terrible new form, and she'd earned my perma-nent
respect by nailing him in the eye with a blue plastic hairbrush.
 She put her hand on my arm. "Just think about it, okay? We don't leave for a couple of days. My dad . .
." Her voice faltered.
 "Is he giving you a hard time?" I asked.
 Rachel shook her head in disgust. "He's trying to be nice  to me, which is almost worse. He wants me to
go to Clarion Ladies Academy in the fall."
 "The school where your mom went?"
 "It's a stupid finishing school for society girls, all the way in New Hampshire. Can you see me in finishing
school?"
 I admitted the idea sounded pretty dumb. Rachel was into urban art projects and feeding the homeless
and going to protest rallies to "Save the Endangered Yellow-bellied Sapsucker" and stuff like that. I'd
never even seen her wear a dress. It was hard to imagine her learning to be a socialite.
 She sighed. "He thinks if he does a bunch of nice stuff for me, I'll feel guilty and give in."
 "Which is why he agreed to let me come with you guys on vacation?"
 "Yes . . . but Percy, you'd be doing me a huge favor. It would be so  much better if you were with us.
Besides, there's something I want to talk—" She stopped abruptly.
 "Something you want to talk about?" I asked. "You mean . . . so serious we'd have to go to St. Thomas
to talk about it?"
 She pursed her lips. "Look, just forget it for now. Let's pretend we're a couple of normal people. We're
out for a drive, and we're watching the ocean, and it's nice to be together."
 I could tell something was bothering her, but she put on a brave smile. The sunlight made her hair look
like fire.
 We'd spent a lot of time together this summer. I hadn't exactly planned it that way, but the more serious
things got at camp, the more I found myself needing to call up Rachel and get away, just for some
breathing room. I needed to remind myself that the mortal world was still out there, away from all the
monsters using me as their personal punching bag.
 "Okay," I said. "Just a normal afternoon and two nor-mal people."
 She nodded. "And so . . . hypothetically, if these two people liked each other, what would it take to get
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the stu-pid guy to kiss the girl, huh?"
 "Oh . . ." I felt like one of Apollo's sacred cows—slow, dumb, and bright red. "Um . . ."
 I can't pretend I hadn't thought about Rachel. She was so much easier to be around than . . . well, than
some other girls I knew. I didn't have to work hard, or watch what I said, or rack my brain trying to
figure out what she was thinking. Rachel didn't hide much. She let you know how she felt.
 I'm not sure what I would have done next—but I was so distracted, I didn't notice the huge black form
swooping down from the sky until four hooves landed on the hood of the Prius with a
WUMP-WUMP-CRUNCH!
 Hey, boss, a voice said in my head.Nice car!
 Blackjack the pegasus was an old friend of mine, so I tried not to get too annoyed by the craters he'd
just put in the hood; but I didn't think my stepdad would be real stoked.
 "Blackjack," I sighed. "What are you—"
 Then I saw who was riding on his back, and I knew my day was about to get a lot more complicated.
 " 'Sup , Percy."
 Charles Beckendorf, senior counselor for the Hephaestus cabin, would make most monsters cry for their
mommies. He was huge, with ripped muscles from working on the forges every summer, two years older
than me, and one of the camp's best armorsmiths. He made some seri-ously ingenious mechanical stuff. A
month before, he'd rigged a Greek firebomb in the bathroom of a tour bus thatwas carrying a bunch of
monsters across country. The explosion took out a whole legion of Kronos's evil meanies as soon as the
first harpy went flush.
 Beckendorf was dressed for combat. He wore a bronze breastplate and war helm with black camo
pants and a sword strapped to his side. His explosives bag was slung over his shoulder.
 "Time?"I asked.
 He nodded grimly.
 A clump formed in my throat. I'd known this was coming. We'd been planning for it for weeks, but I'd
half hoped it would never happen.
 Rachel looked up at Beckendorf. "Hi."
 "Oh, hey. I'm Beckendorf. You must be Rachel. Percy's told me . . . uh, I mean he mentioned you."
 Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Really? Good." She glanced at Blackjack, who was clopping his hooves
against the hood of the Prius. "So I guess you guys have to go save the world now."
 "Pretty much," Beckendorf agreed.
 I looked at Rachel helplessly. "Would you tell my mom— "
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 "I'll tell her. I'm sure she's used to it. And I'll explain to Paul about the hood."
 I nodded my thanks. I figured this might be the last time Paul loaned me his car.
 "Good luck." Rachel kissed me before I could even react. "Now, get going, half-blood.  Go kill some
monsters for me."
 My lastview  of her was sitting in the shotgun seat of the Prius, her arms crossed, watching as Blackjack
circled higher and higher, carrying Beckendorf and me into the sky. I wondered what Rachel wanted to
talk to me about, and whether I'd live long enough to find out.
 "So," Beckendorf said, "I'm guessing you don't want me to mention that little scene to Annabeth."
 "Oh, gods," I muttered. "Don't even think about it."
 Beckendorf chuckled, and together we soared out over the Atlantic.
 
 It was almost dark by the time we spotted our target. The Princess Andromeda glowed on the
horizon—a huge cruise ship lit up yellow and white. From a distance, you'd think it was just a party ship,
not the headquarters for the Titan lord. Then as you got closer, you might notice the giant figurehead—a
dark-haired maiden in a Greek chiton, wrapped in chains with a look of horror on her face, as if she
could smell the stench of all the monsters she was being forced to carry.
 Seeing the ship again twisted my gut into knots. I'd almost died twice on the Princess Andromeda. Now
it was heading straight for New York.
 "You know what to do?" Beckendorf yelled over the wind.
 I nodded. We'd done dry runs at the dockyards in New Jersey, using abandoned ships as our targets. I
knew how little time we would have. But I also knew this was our best chance to end Kronos's invasion
before it ever started.
 "Blackjack," I said, "set us down on the lowest stern deck."
 Gotcha, boss,he said. Man, I hate seeing that boat.
 Three years ago, Blackjack had been enslaved on the Princess Andromeda until he'd escaped with a
little help from my friends and me. I figured he'd rather have his mane braided like My Little Pony than be
back  here again.
 "Don't wait for us," I told him.
 But, boss —
 "Trust me," I said. "We'll get out by ourselves."
 Blackjack folded his wings and plummeted toward the boat like a black comet. The wind whistled in my
ears. I saw monsters patrolling the upper decks of the ship— dracaenaesnake-women, hellhounds, giants,
and the humanoid seal-demons known as telkhines—but we zipped by so fast, none of them raised the
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alarm. We shot down the stern of the boat, and Blackjack spread his wings, lightly coming to a landing
on the lowest deck. I climbed off, feeling queasy.
 Good luck, boss, Blackjack said. Don't let 'em turn you into horse meat!
 With that, my old friend flew off into the night. I took my pen out of my pocket and uncapped it, and
Riptide sprang to full size—three feet of deadly Celestial bronze glowing in the dusk.
 Beckendorf pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. I thought it was a map or something. Then I
realized it was a photograph. He stared at it in the dim light—the smiling face of Silena Beauregard,
daughter of Aphrodite. They'd started going out last summer, after years of the rest of us saying, "Duh,
you guys like each other!" Even with all the dangerous missions, Beckendorf had been happier this
summer than I'd ever seen him.
 "We'll make it back to camp," I promised.
 For a second I saw worry in his eyes. Then he put on his old confident smile.
 "You bet," he said. "Let's go blow Kronos back into a million pieces."
 
 Beckendorf led the way. We followed a narrow corridor to the service stairwell, just like we'd
practiced, but we froze when we heard noises above us.
 "I don't care what your nose says!" snarled a half-human, half-dog voice—a telkhine. "The last time you
smelled half-blood, it turned out to be a meat loaf sandwich!"
 "Meat loaf sandwiches are good!" a second voice snarled. "But this is half-blood scent, I swear. They
are on board!"
 "Bah, your brain isn't on board!"
 They continued to argue, and Beckendorf pointed downstairs. We descended as quietly as we could.
Two floors down, the voices of the telkhines started to fade.
 Finally we came to a metal hatch. Beckendorf mouthed the words "engine room."
 It was locked, but Beckendorf pulled some chain cutters out of his bag and split the bolt like it was
made of butter.
 Inside, a row of yellow turbines the size of grain silos churned and hummed. Pressure gauges and
computer termi-nals lined the opposite wall. A telkhine was hunched over a console, but he was so
involved with his work, he didn't notice us. He was about five feet tall, with slick black seal fur and
stubby little feet. He had the head of a Doberman, but his clawed hands were almost human. He growled
and muttered as he tapped on his keyboard. Maybe he was mes-saging his friends on uglyface.com.
 I stepped forward, and he tensed, probably smelling something was wrong. He leaped sideways toward
a big red alarm button, but I blocked his path. He hissed and lunged at me, but one slice of Riptide, and
he exploded into dust.
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 "One down," Beckendorf said. "About five thousand to go."  He tossed me a jar of thick green
liquid—Greek fire, one of the most dangerous magical substances in the world. Then he threw me
another essential tool of demigod heroes—duct tape.
 "Slap that one on the console," he said. "I'll get the turbines."
 We went to work. The room was hot and humid, and in no time we were drenched in sweat.
 The boat kept chugging along. Being the son of Poseidon and all, I have perfect bearings at sea. Don't
ask me how, but I could tell we were at 40.19° North , 71.90° West, making eighteen knots, which
meant the ship would arrive in New York Harbor by dawn. This would be our only chance to stop it.
 I had just attached a second jar of Greek fire to the con-trol panels when I heard the pounding of feet on
metal steps—so many creatures coming down the stairwell I could hear them over the engines. Not a
good sign.
 I locked eyes with Beckendorf."How much longer?"
 "Too long." He tapped his watch, which was our remote control detonator. "I still have to wire the
receiver and prime the charges. Ten more minutes at least."
 Judging from the sound of the footsteps, we had about ten seconds.
 "I'll distract them," I said. "Meet you at the rendezvous point."
 "Percy—"
 "Wish me luck."
 He looked like he wanted to argue. The whole idea had been to get in and out without being spotted.
But we were going to have to improvise.
 "Good luck," he said.
 I charged out the door.
 
 A half dozen telkhines were tromping down the stairs. I cut through them with Riptide faster than they
could yelp. I kept climbing—past another telkhine, who was so startled he dropped his Lil' Demons
lunch box. I left him alive—partly because his lunch box was cool, partly so he could raise the alarm and
hopefully get his friends to follow me rather than head toward the engine room.
 I burst through a door onto deck six and kept running. I'm sure the carpeted hall had once been very
plush, but over the last three years of monster occupation the wallpa-per, carpet, and stateroom doors
had been clawed up and slimed so it looked like the inside of a dragon's throat (and yes ,unfortunately, I
speak from experience).
 Back on my first visit to the Princess Andromeda, my old enemy Luke had kept some dazed tourists on
board for show, shrouded in Mist so they didn't realize they were on a monster-infested ship. Now I
didn't see any sign of tourists. I hated to think what had happened to them, but I kind of doubted they'd
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been allowed to go home with their bingo winnings.
 I reached the promenade, a big shopping mall that took up the whole middle of the ship, and I stopped
cold. In the middle of the courtyard stood a fountain.  And in the fountain squatteda giant crab.
 I'm not talking "giant " like $7.99 all-you-can-eat Alaskan king crab. I'm talking giant like bigger than the
fountain. The monster rose ten feet out of the water. Its shell was mottled blue and green, its pincers
longer than my body.
 If you've ever seen a crab's mouth, all foamy and gross with whiskers and snapping bits, you can imagine
this one didn't look any better blown up to billboard size. Its beady black eyes glared at me, and I could
see intelligence in them—and hate. The fact that I was the son of the sea god was not going to win me
any points with Mr. Crabby.
 " FFFFffffff,"it hissed, sea foam dripping from its mouth. The smell coming off it was like a garbage can
full of fish sticks that had been sitting in the sun all week.
 Alarms blared. Soon I was going to have lots of com-pany and I had to keep moving.
 "Hey, crabby." I inched around the edge of the court-yard. "I'm just gonna scoot around you so—"
 The crab moved with amazing speed. It scuttled out of the fountain and came straight at me, pincers
snapping. 1 dove into a gift shop, plowing through a rack of T-shirts. A crab pincer smashed the glass
walls to pieces and raked across the room. I dashed back outside, breathing heavily, but Mr. Crabby
turned and followed.
 "There!" a voice said from a balcony above me."Intruder!"
 If I'd wanted to create a distraction, I'd succeeded, but this was not where I wanted to fight. If I got
pinned down in the center of the ship, I was crab chow.
 The demonic crustacean lunged at me. I sliced with Riptide, taking off the tip of its claw. It hissed and
foamed, but didn't seem very hurt.
 I tried to remember anything from the old stories that might help with this thing. Annabeth had told me
about a monster crab—something about Hercules crushing it under his foot? That wasn't going to work
here. This crab was slightly bigger than my Reeboks.
 Then a weird thought occurred to me. Last Christmas, my mom and I had brought Paul Blofis to our old
cabin at Montauk, where we'd been going forever. Paul had taken me crabbing, and when he'd brought
up a net full of the things, he'd shown me how crabs have a chink in their armor, right in the middle of
their ugly bellies.
 The only problem was getting to the ugly belly.
 I glanced at the fountain, then at the marble floor, already slick from scuttling crab tracks. I held out my
hand, concentrating on the water, and the fountain exploded. Water sprayed everywhere, three stories
high, dousing the balconies and the elevators and the windows of the shops. The crab didn't care. It
loved water. It came at me sideways, snapping and hissing, and I ran straight at it, screaming,
"AHHHHHHH!"
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 Just before we collided, I hit the ground baseball-style and slid on the wet marble floor straight under the
creature. It was like sliding under a seven-ton armored vehicle. All the crab had to do was sit and squash
me, but before it realized what was going on, I jabbed Riptide into the chink in its armor, let go of the hilt,
and pushed myself out the backside.
 The monster shuddered and hissed. Its eyes dissolved. Its shell turned bright red as its insides
evaporated. The empty shell clattered to the floor in a massive heap.
 I didn't have time to admire my handiwork. I ran for the nearest stairs while all around me monsters and
demigods shouted orders and strapped on their weapons. I was empty-handed. Riptide, being magic,
would appear in my pocket sooner or later, but for now it was stuck somewhere under the wreckage of
the crab, and I had no time to retrieve it.
 In the elevator foyer on deck eight, a couple of dracaenae  slithered across my path. From the waist up,
they were women with green scaly skin, yellow eyes, and forked tongues. From the waist down, they
had double snake trunks instead of legs. They held spears and weighted nets, and I knew from
experience they could use them.
 "What isss thisss?" one said. "A prize for Kronosss!"
 I wasn't in the mood to play break-the-snake, but in front of me was a stand with a model of the ship,
like a YOU ARE HERE display. I ripped the model off the pedestal and hurled it at the first iracaena.
The boat smacked her in the face and she went down with the ship. I jumped over her, grabbed her
friend's spear, and swung her around. She slammed into the elevator, and I kept running toward the front
of the ship.
 "Get him!" she screamed.
 Hellhounds bayed. An arrow from somewhere whizzed past my face and impaled itself in the
mahogany-paneled wall of the stairwell.
 I didn't care—as long as I got the monsters away from the engine room and gave Beckendorf more
time.
 As I was running up the stairwell, a kid charged down. He looked like he'd just woken up from a nap.
His armor was half on. He drew his sword and yelled, "Kronos!" but he sounded more scared than
angry. He couldn't have been more than twelve—about the same age I was when I'd first arrived at
Camp Half-Blood.
 That thought depressed me. This kid was getting brain-washed—trained to hate the gods and lash out
because he'd been born half Olympian. Kronos was using him, and yet the kid thought I was his enemy.
 No way was I going to hurt him. I didn't need a weapon for this. I stepped inside his strike and grabbed
his wrist, slamming it against the wall. His sword clattered out of his hand.
 Then I did something I hadn't planned on. It was probably stupid. It definitely jeopardized our mission,
but I couldn't help it.
 "If you want to live," I told him, "get off this shipnow.  Tell the other demigods." Then I shoved him down
the stairs and sent him tumbling to the next floor.
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 I kept climbing.
 Bad memories: a hallway ran past the cafeteria. Annabeth, my half brother Tyson, and I had sneaked
through here three years ago on my first visit.
 I burst outside onto the main deck. Off the port bow, the sky was darkening from purple to black. A
swimming pool glowed between two glass towers with more balconies and restaurant decks. The whole
upper ship seemed eerily deserted.
 All I had to do was cross to the other side. Then I could take the staircase down to the helipad—our
emergency ren-dezvous point. With any luck, Beckendorf would meet me there. We'd jump into the sea.
My water powers would pro-tect us both, and we'd detonate the charges from a quarter mile away.
 I was halfway across the deck when the sound of a voice made me freeze. "You're late, Percy."
 Luke stood on the balcony above me, a smile on his scarred face. He wore jeans, a white T-shirt, and
flip-flops, like he was just a normal college-age guy, but his eyes told the truth. They were solid gold.
 "We've been expecting you for days." At first he sounded normal, like Luke. But then his face twitched.
A shudder passed through his body as though he'd just drunk something really nasty. Hisvoice became
heavier, ancient, and powerful—the voice of the Titan lord Kronos. The words scraped down my spine
like a knife blade. "Come, bow before me."
 "Yeah, that'll happen," I muttered.
 Laistrygonian giants filed in on either side of the swim-ming pool as if they'd been waiting for a cue. Each
was eight feet tall with tattooed arms, leather armor, and spiked clubs. Demigod archers appeared on the
roof above Luke. Two hellhounds leaped down from the opposite balcony and snarled at me. Within
seconds I was surrounded. A trap: there's no way they could've gotten into position so fast unless they'd
known I was coming.
 I looked up at Luke, and anger boiled inside me. I didn't know if Luke's consciousness was even still
alive inside that body. Maybe, the way his voice had changed . . . or maybeit was just Kronos adapting
to his new form. I told myself it didn't matter. Luke had been twisted andevil long before Kronos
possessed him.
 A voice in my head said: I have to fight him eventually. Why not now?
 According to that big prophecy, I was supposed to make a choice that saved or destroyed the world
when I was sixteen. That was only seven days away. Why not now? If I really had the power, what
difference would a week make? I could end this threat right here by taking down Kronos. Hey, I'd fought
monsters and gods before.
 As if  reading my thoughts, Luke smiled. No, he was Kronos. I had to remember that.
 "Come forward," he said. "If you dare."
 The crowd of monsters parted. I moved up the stairs, my heart pounding. I was sure somebody would
stab me in the back, but they let me pass. I felt my pocket and found my pen waiting. I uncapped it, and
Riptide grew into a sword.
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 Kronos's weapon appeared in his hands—a six-foot-long scythe, half Celestial bronze, half mortal steel.
Just looking at the thing made my knees turn to Jell-O.  But before I could change my mind, I charged.
 Time slowed down. I mean literally slowed down, because Kronoshad that power. I felt like I was
moving through syrup. My arms were soheavy, I could barely raise my sword. Kronos smiled, swirling his
scythe at normal speed and waiting for me to creep toward my death.
 I tried to fight his magic. I concentrated on the sea around me—the source of my power. I'd gotten
better at channeling it over the years, but now nothing seemed to happen.
 I took another slow step forward. Giants jeered. Dracaenae hissed with laughter.
 Hey, ocean, I pleaded. Any day now would be good.
 Suddenly there was a wrenching pain in my gut. The entire boat lurched sideways, throwing monsters off
their feet. Four thousand gallons of salt water surged out of the swimming pool, dousing me and Kronos
and everyone on the deck. The water revitalized me, breaking the time spell, and I lunged forward.
 I struck at Kronos, but I was still too slow. I made the mistake of looking at his face— Luke's face—a
guy who was once my friend. As much as I hated him, it was hard to kill him.
 Kronos had no such hesitation. He sliced downward with his scythe. I leaped back, and the evil blade
missed by an inch, cutting a gash in the deck right between my feet.
 I kicked Kronos in the chest. He stumbled backward, but he was heavier than Luke should've been. It
was like kicking a refrigerator.
 Kronos swung his scythe again. I intercepted with Riptide, but his strike was so powerful, my blade
could only deflect it. The edge of the scythe shaved off my shirtsleeve and grazed my arm. It shouldn't
have been a serious cut, but the entire side of my body exploded with pain. I remem-bered what a sea
demon had once said about Kronos's scythe: Careful, fool. Onetouch,  and the blade will sever your
soul from your body. Now I understood what he meant. I wasn't just losing blood. I could feel my
strength, my will, my identity draining away.
 I stumbled backward, switched my sword to my left hand, and lunged desperately. My blade should've
run him through, but it deflected off his stomach like I was hitting solid marble. There was no way he
should've survived that.
 Kronos laughed. "A poor performance, Percy Jackson. Luke tells me you were never his match at
swordplay."
 My vision started to blur. I knew I didn't have much time. "Luke had a big head," I said. "But at least it
washis head."
 "A shame to kill you now," Kronos mused, "before the final plan unfolds. I would love to see the terror
in your eyes when you realize how I will destroy Olympus."
 "You'll never get this boat to Manhattan." My arm was throbbing. Black spots danced in my vision.
 "And why would that be?" Kronos's golden eyes glittered. His face—Luke's face—seemed like a mask,
unnatural and lit from behind by some evil power. "Perhaps you are count-ing on your friend with the
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explosives?"
 He looked down at the pool and called, "Nakamura!"
 A teenage guy in full Greek armor pushed through the crowd. His left eye was covered with a black
patch. I knew him, of course: Ethan Nakamura, the son of Nemesis. I'd saved his life in the Labyrinth last
summer, and in return, the little punk had helped Kronos come back to life.
 "Success, my lord," Ethan called. "We found him just as we were told."
 He clapped his hands, and two giants lumbered for-ward, dragging Charles Beckendorf between them.
My heart almost stopped. Beckendorf had a swollen eye and cuts all over his face and arms. His armor
was gone and his shirt was nearly torn off.
 "No!" I yelled.
 Beckendorf met my eyes. He glanced at his hand like he was trying to tell me something. His watch.
They hadn't taken it yet, and that was the detonator. Was it possible the explo-sives were armed? Surely
the monsters would've dismantled them right away.
 "We found him amidships," one of the giants said, "try-ing to sneak to the engine room. Can we eat him
now?"
 "Soon."Kronos scowled at Ethan. "Are you sure he didn't set the explosives?"
 "He was going toward  the engine room, my lord."
 "How do you know that?"
 "Er . . ." Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "He was heading in that direction. And he told us. His bag is still
full of explosives."
 Slowly, I began to understand. Beckendorf had fooled them. When he'd realized  he was going to be
captured, he turned to make it look like he was going the other way. He'd convinced them he hadn't
made it to the engine room yet. The Greek fire might still be primed! But that didn't do us any good
unless we could get off the ship and detonate it.
 Kronos hesitated.
 Buy the story, I prayed. The pain in my arm was so bad now I could barely stand.
 "Open his bag," Kronos ordered.
 One of the giants ripped the explosives satchel from Beckendorf's shoulders. He peered inside, grunted,
and turned it upside down. Panicked monsters surged backward. If the bag really had been full of Greek
fire jars, we would've all blown up. But what fell out were a dozen cans of peaches.
 I could hear Kronos breathing, trying to control his anger.
 "Did you, perhaps," he said, "capture this demigod near the galley?"
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 Ethan turned pale. "Um—"
 "And did you, perhaps, send someone to actually CHECK THE ENGINE ROOM?"
 Ethan scrambled back in terror, then turned on his heels and ran.
 I cursed silently. Now we had only minutes before the bombs were disarmed. I caught Beckendorf's
eyes again and asked a silent question, hoping he would understand: How long?
 He cupped his fingers and thumb, making a circle. Zero.T here was no delay on the timer at all. If he
managed to press the detonator button, the ship would blow at once. We'd never be able to get far
enough away before using it. The monsters would kill us first, or disarm the explosives, or both.
 Kronos turned toward me with a crooked smile. "You'll have to excuse my incompetent help, Percy
Jackson. But it doesn't matter. We have you now. We've known you were coming for weeks."
 He held out his hand and dangled a little silver bracelet with a scythe charm—the Titan lord's symbol.
 The wound in my arm was sapping my ability to think, but I muttered, "Communication device . . . spy at
camp."
 Kronos chuckled. "You can't count on friends. They will always let you down. Luke learned that lesson
the hard way. Now drop your sword and surrender to me, or your friend dies."
 I swallowed. One of the giants had his hand around Beckendorf's neck. I was in no shape to rescue him,
and even if I tried, he would die before I got there. We both would.
 Beckendorf mouthed one word: Go.
 I shook my head. I couldn't just leave him.
 The second giant was still rummaging through the peach cans, which meant Beckendorf's left arm was
free. He raised it slowly—toward the watch on his right wrist.
 I wanted to scream, NO!
 Then down by the swimming pool, one of thedracaenae hissed, "What isss he doing? What isss that on
hisss wrissst?"
 Beckendorf closed eyes tight and brought his hand up to his watch.
 I had no choice. I threw my sword like a javelin at Kronos. It bounced harmlessly off his chest, but it did
star-tle him. I pushed through a crowd of monsters and jumped off the side of the ship—toward the
water a hundred feet below.
 I heard rumbling deep in the ship. Monsters yelled at me from above. A spear sailed past my ear. An
arrow pierced my thigh, but I barely had time to register the pain. I plunged into the sea and willed the
currents to take me far, far away—a hundred yards, two hundred yards.
 Even from that distance, the explosion shook the world. Heat seared the back of my head. The Princess
Andromeda  blew up from both sides, a massive fireball of green flame roiling into the dark sky,
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consuming everything.
 Beckendorf, I thought.
 Then I blacked out and sank like an anchor toward the bottom of the sea.

Categories: The Last Olympian

The Battle of the Labyrinth - Chapter 19

Chapter 19


 THE COUNCIL GETS CLOVEN
 
 T here were too many good-byes.
 That night was the first time I actually saw camp burial shrouds used on bodies, and it was not something
I wanted to see again.
 Among the dead, Lee Fletcher from the Apollo cabin had been downed by a giant’s club. He was
wrapped in a golden shroud without any decoration. The son of Dionysus who’d gone down fighting an
enemy half-blood was wrapped in a deep purple shroud embroidered with grapevines. His name was
Castor. I was ashamed that I’d seen him around camp for three years and never even bothered to learn
his name. He’d been seventeen years old. His twin brother,Pollux , tried to say a few words, but he
choked up and just took the torch. He lit the funeral pyre in the middle of the amphitheater, and within
seconds the row of shrouds was engulfed in fire, sending smoke and sparks up to the stars.
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 We spent the next day treating the wounded, which was almost everybody. The satyrs and dryads
worked to repair the damage to the woods.
 At noon, the Council of Cloven Elders held an emergency meeting in their sacred grove. The three senior
satyrs were there, along with Chiron, who was in wheelchair form. His broken horse leg was still
mending, so he would be confined to the chair for a few months, until the leg was strong enough to take
his weight. The grove was filled with satyrs and dryads and naiads up from the water—hundreds of them,
anxious to hear what would happen. Juniper, Annabeth, and I stood by Grover’s side.
 Silenus wanted to exile Grover immediately, but Chiron persuaded him to at least hear evidence first, so
we told everyone what had happened in the crystal cavern, and what Pan had said. Then several
eyewitnesses from the battle described the weird sound Grover had made, which drove the Titan’s army
back underground.
 “It was panic,” insisted Juniper. “Grover summoned the power of the wild god.”
 “Panic?” I asked.
 “Percy,” Chiron explained, “during the first war of the gods and the Titans,
 Lord Pan let forth a horrible cry that scared away the enemy armies. It is—it was his greatest power—a
massive wave of fear that helped the godswin the day. The wordpanic is named after Pan, you see. And
Grover used that power, calling it forth from within himself.”
 “Preposterous!” Silenus bellowed.“Sacrilege! Perhaps the wild god favored us with a blessing. Or
perhaps Grover’s music was so awful it scared the enemy away!”
 “That wasn’t it, sir,” Grover said. He sounded a lot calmer than I would have if I’d been insulted like
that. “He let his spirit pass into all of us. We must act. Each of us must work to renew the wild, to protect
what’s left of it. We must spread the word. Pan is dead. There is no one but us.”
 “After two thousand years of searching, this is what you would have us believe?” Silenus cried. “Never!
We must continue the search! Exile the traitor!”
 Some of the older satyrs muttered assent.
 “A vote!” Silenus demanded. “Who would believe this ridiculous young satyr, anyway?”
 “I would,” said a familiar voice.
 Everyone turned. Striding into the grove was Dionysus. He wore a formal black suit, so I almost didn’t
recognize him, a deep purple tie and violet dress shirt, his curly dark hair carefully combed. His eyes
were bloodshot as usual, and his pudgy face was flushed, but he looked like he was suffering from grief
more than wine-withdrawal.
 The satyrs all stood respectfully and bowed as he approached. Dionysus waved his hand, and a new
chair grew out of the ground next to Silenus’s —a throne made of grapevines.
 Dionysus sat down and crossed his legs. He snapped his fingers and satyr hurried forward with a plate
of cheese and crackers and a Diet Coke.
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 The god of wine looked around at the assembled crowd. “Miss me?”
 The satyrs fell over themselves nodding and bowing. “Oh, yes, very much, sire!”
 “Well, I did not miss this place!” Dionysus snapped. “I bear bad news, my friends.Evil news.  The minor
gods are changing sides.Morpheus  has gone over to the enemy. Hecate,Janus , and Nemesis, as well.
Zeus knows how many more.”
 Thunder rumbled in the distance.
 “Strike that,” Dionysus said. “Even Zeus  doesn’t know. Now, I want to hear Grover’s story. Again, from
the top.”
 “But, my lord,” Silenus protested. “It’s just nonsense!”
 Dionysus’s eyes flared with purple fire. “I have just learned that my son Castor is dead, Silenus. I am not
in a good mood. You would do well to humor me.”
 Silenus gulped, and waved at Grover to start again.
 When Grover was done, Mr. D nodded. “It sounds like just the sort of thing Pan would do. Grover is
right. The search is tiresome. You must start thinking for yourselves.” He turned to a satyr. “Bring me
some peeled grapes, right away!”
 “Yes, sire!” The satyr scampered off.
 “We must exile the traitor!” Silenus insisted.
 “I say no,” Dionysus countered. “That is my vote.”
 “I vote no as well,” Chiron put in.
 Silenus set his jaw stubbornly. “All in favor of the exile?”
 He and the two other old satyrs raised their hands.
 “Three to two,” Silenus said.
 “Ah, yes,” Dionysus said. “But unfortunately for you, a god’s vote counts twice. And as I voted against,
we are tied.”
 Silenus stood, indignant. “This is an outrage! The council cannot stand at an impasse.”
 “Then let it be dissolved!” Mr. D said. “I don’t care.”
 Silenus bowed stiffly, along with his two friends, and they left the grove. About twenty satyrs went with
them. The rest stood around murmuring uncomfortably.
 “Don’t worry,” Grover told them. “We don’t need the council to tell us what to do. We can figure it out
ourselves.”
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 He told them again the words of Pan—how they must save the wild a little at a time. He started dividing
the satyrs into groups—which ones would go to the national parks, which ones would search out the last
wild places, which ones would defend the parks in the big cities.
 “Well,” Annabeth said to me, “Grover seems to be growing up.”
 ***
 Later that afternoon I found Tyson at the beach, talking to Briares. Briares was building a sand castle
with about fifty of his hands. He wasn’t really paying attention to it, but his hands had constructed a
three-story compound with fortified walls, a moat, and a drawbridge.
 Tyson was drawing a map in the sand.
 “Go left at the reef,” he told Briares. “Straight down when you see the sunken ship. Then about one mile
east, past the mermaid graveyard, you will start to see fires burning.”
 “You’re giving him directions to the forges?” I asked.
 Tyson nodded. “Briares wants to help. He will teach Cyclopes ways we have forgotten, how to make
better weapons and armor.”
 “I want to see Cyclopes,” Briares agreed. “I don’t want to be lonely anymore.”
 “I doubt you’ll be lonely down there,” I said a little wistfully, because I’d never even been in Poseidon’s
kingdom. “They’re going to keep you really busy.”
 Briares’s face morphed to a happy expression. “Busy sounds good! I only wish Tyson could go, too.”
 Tyson blushed. “I need to stay here with my brother. You will do fine, Briares. Thank you.”
 The Hundred-Handed One shook my hand about a hundred times. “We will meet again, Percy. I know
it!”
 Then he gave Tyson a big octopus hug and waded out into the ocean. We watched until his enormous
head disappeared under the waves.
 I clapped Tyson on the back. “You helped him a lot.”
 “I only talked to him.”
 “You believed in him. Without Briares, we never would’ve taken down Kampê  .”
 Tyson grinned. “He throws good rocks!”
 I laughed. “Yeah.  He throws really good rocks. Come on, big guy. Let’s have dinner.”
 ***
 It felt good to have a regular dinner at camp. Tyson sat with me at the Poseidon table. The sunset over
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Long Island Sound was beautiful. Things weren’t back to normal by a long shot, but when I went up to
the brazier and scraped part of my meal into the flames as an offering to Poseidon, I felt like I really did
have a lot to be grateful for. My friends and I were alive. The camp was safe. Kronos had suffered a
setback, at least for a while.
 The only thing that bothered me was Nico, hanging in the shadows at the edge of the pavilion. He’d
been offered a place at the Hermes table, and even at the head table with Chiron, but he had refused.
 After dinner, the campers headed toward the amphitheater, where Apollo’s cabin promised an awesome
sing-along to pick up our spirits, but Nico turned and disappeared into the woods. I decided I’d better
follow him.
 As I passed under the shadows of the trees, I realized how dark it was getting. I’d never been scared in
the forest before, though I knew there were plenty of monsters. Still, I thought about yesterday’s battle,
and I wondered if I’d ever be able to walk in those woods again without remembering the horror of so
much fighting.
 I couldn’t see Nico, but after a few minutes of walking I saw a glow up ahead. At first I thought Nico
had lit a torch. As I got closer, I realized the glow was a ghost. The shimmering form of Biancadi  Angelo
stood in the clearing, smiling at her brother. She said something to him and touched his face—or tried to.
Then her image faded.
 Nico turned and saw me, but he didn’t look mad.
 “Saying good-bye,” he said hoarsely.
 “We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.”
 “No.”
 “Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an
exception and put you in the Big House. They’ve got plenty of rooms.”
 “I’m not staying, Percy.”
 “But…you can’t just leave. It’s too dangerous out there for a lone half-blood. You need to train.”
 “I train with the dead,” he said flatly. “This camp isn’t for me. There’s a reason they didn’t put a cabin to
Hades here, Percy. He’s not welcome, any more than he is on Olympus. I don’t belong. I have to go.”
 I wanted to argue, but part of me knew he was right. I didn’t like it, but Nico would have to find his
own, dark way. I remembered in Pan’s cave, how the wild god had addressed each one of us
individually…except Nico.”
 “When will you go?” I asked.
 “Right away.I’ve got tons of questions. Like who was my mother? Who paid for Bianca and me to go to
school? Who was that lawyer guy who got us out of the Lotus Hotel? I know nothing about my past. I
need to find out.”
 “Makes sense,” I admitted. “But I hope we don’t have to be enemies.”
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 He lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry I was a brat. I should’ve listened to you about Bianca.”
 “By the way…” I fished something out of my pocket. “Tyson found this while we were cleaning the
cabin.Thought you might want it.” I held out a lead figurine of Hades—the little Mythomagic statue Nico
had abandoned when he fled camp last winter.
 Nico hesitated. “I don’t play that game anymore. It’s for kids.”
 “It’s got four thousand attack power ,” I coaxed.
 “Five thousand,” Nico corrected. “But only if your opponent attacks first.”
 I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue.
 Nico studied it in his palm for a few seconds,then  slipped it into his pocket. “Thanks.”
 I put out my hand. He shook reluctantly. His hand was as cold as ice.
 “I’ve got a lot of things to investigate,” he said. “Some of them…Well, if I learn anything useful, I’ll let
you know.”
 I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I nodded. “Keep in touch, Nico.”
 He turned and trudged off into the woods. The shadows seemed to bend toward him as he walked, like
they were reaching out for his attention.
 A voice right behind me said, “There goes a very troubled young man.”
 I turned and found Dionysus standing there, still in his black suit.
 “Walk with me,” he said.
 “Where to?”I asked suspiciously.
 “Just to the campfire,” he said. “I was beginning to feel better, so I thought I would talk with you a bit.
You always manage to annoy me.”
 “Uh, thanks.”
 We walked through the woods in silence. I noticed that Dionysus was treading on air, his polished black
shoes hovering an inch off the ground. I guess he didn’t want to get dirty.
 “We have had many betrayals,” he said. “Things are not looking good for Olympus. Yet you and
Annabeth saved this camp. I’m not sure I should thank you for that.”
 “It was a group effort.”
 He shrugged. “Regardless, I suppose it was mildly competent, what you two did. I thought you should
know—it wasn’t a total loss.”
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 We reached the amphitheater, and Dionysus pointed toward the campfire. Clarisse was sitting shoulder
to shoulder with a big Hispanic kid who was telling her a joke. It was Chris Rodriguez, the half-blood
who’d gone insane in the Labyrinth.
 I turned to Dionysus. “You cured him?”
 “Madness is my specialty. It was quite simple.”
 “But…you did something nice. Why?”
 He raised an eyebrow. “I am nice! I simply ooze niceness, Perry Johansson. Haven’t you noticed?”
 “Uh—”
 “Perhaps I felt grieved by my son’s death. Perhaps I thought this Chris boy deserved a second chance.
At any rate, it seems to have improved Clarisse’s mood.”
 “Why are you telling me this?”
 The wine god sighed. “Oh, Hades if I know. But remember, boy, that a kind act can sometimes be as
powerful as a sword. As a mortal, I was never a great fighter or athlete or poet. I only made wine. The
people in my village laughed at me. They said I would never amount to anything. Look at me now.
Sometimes small things can become very large indeed.”
 He left me alone to think about that. And as I watched Clarisse and Chris singing a stupid campfire song
together, holding hands in the darkness, where they thought nobody could see them, I had to smile.

Categories: The Battle of the Labyrinth