PERCY HAD FOUGHT MANY BATTLES. He’d even fought in a couple of arenas, but nothing like this. In the huge Colosseum, with thousands of cheering ghosts, the god Bacchus staring down at him, and the two twelve-foot giants looming over him, Percy felt as small and insignificant as a bug. He also felt very angry.
Fighting giants was one thing. Bacchus making it into a game was something else.
Percy remembered what Luke Castellan had told him years ago, when Percy had come back from his very first quest: Didn’t you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics—being pawns of the Olympians?
Percy was almost the same age now as Luke had been then. He could understand how Luke became so spiteful. In the past five years, Percy had been a pawn too many times. The Olympians seemed to take turns using him for their schemes.
Maybe the gods were better than the Titans, or the giants, or Gaea, but that didn’t make them good or wise. It didn’t make Percy like this stupid arena battle.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have much choice. If he was going to save his friends, he had to beat these giants. He had to survive and find Annabeth.
Ephialtes and Otis made his decision easier by attacking. Together, the giants picked up a fake mountain as big as Percy’s New York apartment and hurled it at the demigods.
Percy and Jason bolted. They dove together into the nearest trench and the mountain shattered above them, spraying them with plaster shrapnel. It wasn’t deadly, but it stung like crazy.
The crowd jeered and shouted for blood. “Fight! Fight!”
“I’ll take Otis again?” Jason called over the noise. “Or do you want him this time?”
Percy tried to think. Dividing was the natural course—fighting the giants one-on-one, but that hadn’t worked so well last time. It dawned on him that they needed a different strategy.
This whole trip, Percy had felt responsible for leading and protecting his friends. He was sure Jason felt the same way. They’d worked in small groups, hoping that would be safer. They’d fought as individuals, each demigod doing what he or she did best. But Hera had made them a team of seven for a reason. The few times Percy and Jason had worked together—summoning the storm at Fort Sumter, helping the Argo II escape the Pillars of Hercules, even filling the nymphaeum—Percy had felt more confident, better able to figure out problems, as if he’d been a Cyclops his whole life and suddenly woke up with two eyes.
“We attack together,” he said. “Otis first, because he’s weaker. Take him out quickly and move to Ephialtes. Bronze and gold together—maybe that’ll keep them from re-forming a little longer.”
Jason smiled dryly, like he’d just found out he would die in an embarrassing way.
“Why not?” he agreed. “But Ephialtes isn’t going to stand there and wait while we kill his brother. Unless—”
“Good wind today,” Percy offered. “And there’re some water pipes running under the arena.”
Jason understood immediately. He laughed, and Percy felt a spark of friendship. This guy thought the same way he did about a lot of things.
“On three?” Jason said.
“Why wait?”
They charged out of the trench. As Percy suspected, the twins had lifted another plaster mountain and were waiting for a clear shot. The giants raised it above their heads, preparing to throw, and Percy caused a water pipe to burst at their feet, shaking the floor. Jason sent a blast of wind against Ephialtes’s chest. The purple-haired giant toppled backward and Otis lost his grip on the mountain, which promptly collapsed on top of his brother. Only Ephialtes’s snake feet stuck out, darting their heads around, as if wondering where the rest of their body had gone.
The crowd roared with approval, but Percy suspected Ephialtes was only stunned. They had a few seconds at best.
“Hey, Otis!” he shouted. “The Nutcracker bites!”
“Ahhhhh!” Otis snatched up his spear and threw, but he was too angry to aim straight. Jason deflected it over Percy’s head and into the lake.
The demigods backed toward the water, shouting insults about ballet—which was kind of a challenge, as Percy didn’t know much about it.
Otis barreled toward them empty-handed, before apparently realizing that a) he was empty-handed, and b) charging toward a large body of water to fight a son of Poseidon was maybe not a good idea.
Too late, he tried to stop. The demigods rolled to either side, and Jason summoned the wind, using the giant’s own momentum to shove him into the water. As Otis struggled to rise, Percy and Jason attacked as one. They launched themselves at the giant and brought their blades down on Otis’s head.
The poor guy didn’t even have a chance to pirouette. He exploded into powder on the lake’s surface like a huge packet of drink mix.
Percy churned the lake into a whirlpool. Otis’s essence tried to re-form, but as his head appeared from the water, Jason called lightning and blasted him to dust again.
So far so good, but they couldn’t keep Otis down forever. Percy was already tired from his fight underground. His gut still ached from getting smacked with a spear shaft. He could feel his strength waning, and they still had another giant to deal with.
As if on cue, the plaster mountain exploded behind them. Ephialtes rose, bellowing with anger.
Percy and Jason waited as he lumbered toward them, his spear in hand. Apparently, getting flattened under a plaster mountain had only energized him. His eyes danced with murderous light. The afternoon sun glinted in his coin-braided hair. Even his snake feet looked angry, baring their fangs and hissing.
Jason called down another lightning strike, but Ephialtes caught it on his spear and deflected the blast, melting a life-size plastic cow. He slammed a stone column out of his way like a stack of building blocks.
Percy tried to keep the lake churning. He didn’t want Otis rising to join this fight, but as Ephialtes closed the last few feet, Percy had to switch focus.
Jason and he met the giant’s charge. They lunged around Ephialtes, stabbing and slashing in a blur of gold and bronze, but the giant parried every strike.
“I will not yield!” Ephialtes roared. “You may have ruined my spectacle, but Gaea will still destroy your world!”
Percy lashed out, slicing the giant’s spear in half. Ephialtes wasn’t even fazed. The giant swept low with the blunt end and knocked Percy off his feet. Percy landed hard on his sword arm, and Riptide clattered out of his grip.
Jason tried to take advantage. He stepped inside the giant’s guard and stabbed at his chest, but somehow Ephialtes parried the strike. He sliced the tip of his spear down Jason’s chest, ripping his purple shirt into a vest. Jason stumbled, looking at the thin line of blood down his sternum. Ephialtes kicked him backward.
Up in the emperor’s box, Piper cried out, but her voice was drowned in the roar of the crowd. Bacchus looked on with an amused smile, munching from a bag of Doritos.
Ephialtes towered over Percy and Jason, both halves of his broken spear poised over their heads. Percy’s sword arm was numb. Jason’s gladius had skittered across the arena floor. Their plan had failed.
Percy glanced up at Bacchus, deciding what final curse he would hurl at the useless wine god, when he saw a shape in the sky above the Colosseum—a large dark oval descending rapidly.
From the lake, Otis yelled, trying to warn his brother, but his half-dissolved face could only manage: “Uh-umh-moooo!”
“Don’t worry, brother!” Ephialtes said, his eyes still fixed on the demigods. “I will make them suffer!”
The Argo II turned in the sky, presenting its port side, and green fire blazed from the ballista.
“Actually,” Percy said. “Look behind you.”
He and Jason rolled away as Ephialtes turned and bellowed in disbelief.
Percy dropped into a trench just as the explosion rocked the Colosseum.
When he climbed out again, the Argo II was coming in for a landing. Jason poked his head out from behind his improvised bomb shelter of a plastic horse. Ephialtes lay charred and groaning on the arena floor, the sand around him seared into a halo of glass by the heat of the Greek fire. Otis was floundering in the lake, trying to re-form, but from the arms down he looked like a puddle of burnt oatmeal.
Percy staggered over to Jason and clapped him on the shoulder. The ghostly crowd gave them a standing ovation as the Argo II extended its landing gear and settled on the arena floor. Leo stood at the helm, Hazel and Frank grinning at his side. Coach Hedge danced around the firing platform, pumping his fist in the air and yelling, “That’s what I’m talking about!”
Percy turned to the emperor’s box. “Well?” he yelled at Bacchus. “Was that entertaining enough for you, you wine-breathed little—”
“No need for that.” Suddenly the god was standing right next to him in the arena. He brushed Dorito dust off his purple robes. “I have decided you are worthy partners for this combat.”
“Partners?” Jason growled. “You did nothing!”
Bacchus walked to the edge of the lake. The water instantly drained, leaving an Otis-headed pile of mush. Bacchus picked his way to the bottom and looked up at the crowd. He raised his thyrsus.
The crowd jeered and hollered and pointed their thumbs down. Percy had never been sure whether that meant live or die. He’d heard it both ways.
Bacchus chose the more entertaining option. He smacked Otis’s head with his pinecone staff, and the giant pile of Otismeal disintegrated completely.
The crowd went wild. Bacchus climbed out of the lake and strutted over to Ephialtes, who was still lying spread-eagled, overcooked and smoking.
Again, Bacchus raised his thyrsus.
“DO IT!” the crowd roared.
“DON’T DO IT!” Ephialtes wailed.
Bacchus tapped the giant on the nose, and Ephialtes crumbled to ashes.
The ghosts cheered and threw spectral confetti as Bacchus strode around the stadium with his arms raised triumphantly, exulting in the worship. He grinned at the demigods. “That, my friends, is a show! And of course I did something. I killed two giants!”
As Percy’s friends disembarked from the ship, the crowd of ghosts shimmered and disappeared. Piper and Nico struggled down from the emperor’s box as the Colosseum’s magical renovations began to turn into mist. The arena floor remained solid, but otherwise the stadium looked as if it hadn’t hosted a good giant killing for eons.
“Well,” Bacchus said. “That was fun. You have my permission to continue your voyage.”
“Your permission?” Percy snarled.
“Yes.” Bacchus raised an eyebrow. “Although your voyage may be a little harder than you expect, son of Neptune.”
“Poseidon,” Percy corrected him automatically. “What do you mean about my voyage?”
“You might try the parking lot behind the Emmanuel Building,” Bacchus said. “Best place to break through. Now, good-bye, my friends. And, ah, good luck with that other little matter.”
The god vaporized in a cloud of mist that smelled faintly of grape juice. Jason ran to meet Piper and Nico.
Coach Hedge trotted up to Percy, with Hazel, Frank, and Leo close behind. “Was that Dionysus?” Hedge asked. “I love that guy!”
“You’re alive!” Percy said to the others. “The giants said you were captured. What happened?”
Leo shrugged. “Oh, just another brilliant plan by Leo Valdez. You’d be amazed what you can do with an Archimedes sphere, a girl who can sense stuff underground, and a weasel.”
“I was the weasel,” Frank said glumly.
“Basically,” Leo explained, “I activated a hydraulic screw with the Archimedes device—which is going to be awesome once I install it in the ship, by the way. Hazel sensed the easiest path to drill to the surface. We made a tunnel big enough for a weasel, and Frank climbed up with a simple transmitter that I slapped together. After that, it was just a matter of hacking into Coach Hedge’s favorite satellite channels and telling him to bring the ship around to rescue us. After he got us, finding you was easy, thanks to that godly light show at the Colosseum.”
Percy understood about ten percent of Leo’s story, but he decided it was enough since he had a more pressing question. “Where’s Annabeth?”
Leo winced. “Yeah, about that…she’s still in trouble, we think. Hurt, broken leg, maybe—at least according to this vision Gaea shown us. Rescuing her is our next stop.”
Two seconds before, Percy had been ready to collapse. Now another surge of adrenaline coursed through his body. He wanted to strangle Leo and demand why the Argo II hadn’t sailed off to rescue Annabeth first, but he thought that might sound a little ungrateful.
“Tell me about the vision,” he said. “Tell me everything.”
The floor shook. The wooden planks began to disappear, spilling sand into the pits of the hypogeum below.
“Let’s talk on board,” Hazel suggested. “We’d better take off while we still can.”
They sailed out of the Colosseum and veered south over the rooftops of Rome.
All around the Piazza del Colosseo, traffic had come to a standstill. A crowd of mortals had gathered, probably wondering about the strange lights and sounds that had come from the ruins. As far as Percy could see, none of the giants’ spectacular plans for destruction had come off successfully. The city looked the same as before. No one seemed to notice the huge Greek trireme rising into the sky.
The demigods gathered around the helm. Jason bandaged Piper’s sprained shoulder while Hazel sat at the stern, feeding Nico ambrosia. The son of Hades could barely lift his head. His voice was so quiet, Hazel had to lean in whenever he spoke.
Frank and Leo recounted what had happened in the room with the Archimedes spheres, and the visions Gaea had shown them in the bronze mirror. They quickly decided that their best lead for finding Annabeth was the cryptic advice Bacchus had provided: the Emmanuel Building, whatever that was. Frank started typing at the helm’s computer while Leo tapped furiously at his controls, muttering, “Emmanuel Building. Emmanuel Building.” Coach Hedge tried to help by wrestling with an upside-down street map of Rome.
Percy knelt next to Jason and Piper. “How’s the shoulder?”
Piper smiled. “It’ll heal. Both of you did great.”
Jason elbowed Percy. “Not a bad team, you and me.”
“Better than jousting in a Kansas cornfield,” Percy agreed.
“There it is!” Leo cried, pointing to his monitor. “Frank, you’re amazing! I’m setting course.”
Frank hunched his shoulders. “I just read the name off the screen. Some Chinese tourist marked it on Google Maps.”
Leo grinned at the others. “He reads Chinese.”
“Just a tiny bit,” Frank said.
“How cool is that?”
“Guys,” Hazel broke in. “I hate to interrupt your admiration session, but you should hear this.”
She helped Nico to his feet. He’d always been pale, but now his skin looked like powdered milk. His dark sunken eyes reminded Percy of photos he’d seen of liberated prisoners-of-war, which Percy guessed Nico basically was.
“Thank you,” Nico rasped. His eyes darted nervously around the group. “I’d given up hope.”
The past week or so, Percy had imagined a lot of scathing things he might say to Nico when they met again, but the guy looked so frail and sad, Percy couldn’t muster much anger.
“You knew about the two camps all along,” Percy said. “You could have told me who I was the first day I arrived at Camp Jupiter, but you didn’t.”
Nico slumped against the helm. “Percy, I’m sorry. I discovered Camp Jupiter last year. My dad led me there, though I wasn’t sure why. He told me the gods had kept the camps separate for centuries and that I couldn’t tell anyone. The time wasn’t right. But he said it would be important for me to know…” He doubled over in a fit of coughing.
Hazel held his shoulders until he could stand again.
“I—I thought Dad meant because of Hazel,” Nico continued. “I’d need a safe place to take her. But now…I think he wanted me to know about both camps so I’d understand how important your quest was, and so I’d search for the Doors of Death.”
The air turned electric—literally, as Jason started throwing off sparks.
“Did you find the doors?” Percy asked.
Nico nodded. “I was a fool. I thought I could go anywhere in the Underworld, but I walked right into Gaea’s trap. I might as well have tried running from a black hole.”
“Um…” Frank chewed his lip. “What kind of black hole are you talking about?”
Nico started to speak, but whatever he needed to say must have been too terrifying. He turned to Hazel.
She put her hand on her brother’s arm. “Nico told me that the Doors of Death have two sides—one in the mortal world, one in the Underworld. The mortal side of the portal is in Greece. It’s heavily guarded by Gaea’s forces. That’s where they brought Nico back into the upper world. Then they transported him to Rome.”
Piper must’ve been nervous, because her cornucopia spit out a cheeseburger. “Where exactly in Greece is this doorway?”
Nico took a rattling breath. “The House of Hades. It’s an underground temple in Epirus. I can mark it on a map, but—but the mortal side of the portal isn’t the problem. In the Underworld, the Doors of Death are in…in…”
A cold pair of hands did the itsy-bitsy spider down Percy’s back.
A black hole. An inescapable part of the Underworld where even Nico di Angelo couldn’t go. Why hadn’t Percy thought of this before? He’d been to the very edge of that place. He still had nightmares about it.
“Tartarus,” he guessed. “The deepest part of the Underworld.”
Nico nodded. “They pulled me into the pit, Percy. The things I saw down there…” His voice broke.
Hazel pursed her lips. “No mortal has ever been to Tartarus,” she explained. “At least, no one has ever gone in and returned alive. It’s the maximum-security prison of Hades, where the old Titans and the other enemies of the gods are bound. It’s where all monsters go when they die on the earth. It’s…well, no one knows exactly what it’s like.”
Her eyes drifted to her brother. The rest of her thought didn’t need to be spoken: No one except Nico.
Hazel handed him his black sword.
Nico leaned on it like it was an old man’s cane. “Now I understand why Hades hasn’t been able to close the doors,” he said. “Even the gods don’t go into Tartarus. Even the god of death, Thanatos himself, wouldn’t go near that place.”
Leo glanced over from the wheel. “So let me guess. We’ll have to go there.”
Nico shook his head. “It’s impossible. I’m the son of Hades, and even I barely survived. Gaea’s forces overwhelmed me instantly. They’re so powerful down there…no demigod would stand a chance. I almost went insane.”
Nico’s eyes looked like shattered glass. Percy wondered sadly if something inside him had broken permanently.
“Then we’ll sail for Epirus,” Percy said. “We’ll just close the gates on this side.”
“I wish it were that easy,” Nico said. “The doors would have to be controlled on both sides to be closed. It’s like a double seal. Maybe, just maybe, all seven of you working together could defeat Gaea’s forces on the mortal side, at the House of Hades. But unless you had a team fighting simultaneously on the Tartarus side, a team powerful enough to defeat a legion of monsters in their home territory—”
“There has to be a way,” Jason said.
Nobody volunteered any brilliant ideas.
Percy thought his stomach was sinking. Then he realized the entire ship was descending toward a big building like a palace.
Annabeth. Nico’s news was so horrible Percy had momentarily forgotten she was still in danger, which made him feel incredibly guilty.
“We’ll figure out the Tartarus problem later,” he said. “Is that the Emmanuel Building?”
Leo nodded. “Bacchus said something about the parking lot in back? Well, there it is. What now?”
Percy remembered his dream of the dark chamber, the evil buzzing voice of the monster called Her Ladyship. He remembered how shaken Annabeth had looked when she’d come back from Fort Sumter after her encounter with the spiders. Percy had begun to suspect what might be down in that shrine…literally, the mother of all spiders. If he was right, and Annabeth had been trapped down
there alone with that creature for hours, her leg broken…At this point, he didn’t care if her quest was supposed to be solo or not.
“We have to get her out,” he said.
“Well, yeah,” Leo agreed. “But, uh…”
He looked like he wanted to say, What if we’re too late?
Wisely, he changed tack. “There’s a parking lot in the way.”
Percy looked at Coach Hedge. “Bacchus said something about breaking through. Coach, you still have ammo for those ballistae?”
The satyr grinned like a wild goat. “I thought you’d never ask.”
0 comments:
Post a Comment