A/N: Certain ancient Greek names matches words use of foul language but no foul language was intentionally used. Also if you haven't read them yet read 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Early Adventures' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters' and 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Titan's Curse' before reading this story. Lastly, any one who wants to do a Demigods and Olympian reads story using 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon' is allowed as long as you inform me about it.
We Meet the Last Hundred-Handed One
The good news: the left tunnel was straight with no side exits, twists, or turns. The bad news: it was a dead end. After sprinting a hundred yards, we ran into an enormous boulder that completely blocked our path. Behind us, the sounds of dragging footsteps and heavy breathing echoed down the corridor. Something—definitely not human—was on our tail.
Not wanting to spend too much time trying to find the mark of Daedalus, I turned to Tyson. "Tyson," I said, "can you—"
"Yes!" He slammed his shoulder against the rock so hard the whole tunnel shook. Dust trickled from the stone ceiling.
"Hurry!" Grover said. "Don't bring the roof down, but hurry!"
The boulder finally gave way with a horrible grinding noise. Tyson pushed it into a small room and we dashed through behind it.
"Close the entrance!" Annabeth said.
We all got on the other side of the boulder and pushed. Whatever was chasing us wailed in frustration as we heaved the rock back into place and sealed the corridor.
"We trapped it," I said.
"Or trapped ourselves," Grover said.
I turned. We were in a twenty-foot-square cement room, and the opposite wall was covered with metal bars. We'd tunneled straight into a cell.
Annabeth tugged the bars. They didn't budge. Though the bars we could see rows of cells in a ring around a dark courtyard—at least three stories of metal catwalks.
"A prison," I said. "Maybe Tyson can break—"
"Shh," said Grover. "Listen."
Somewhere above us, deep sobbing echoed through the building. There was another sound, too, a raspy voice muttering something I couldn't make out. The words were strange, like rocks in a tumbler.
"What's that language?" I whispered.
Tyson's eye widened. "Can't be."
"What?"
He grabbed the two bars on our cell door and bent them wide enough for even a Cyclops to slip through.
"Wait!" Grover called.
But Tyson wasn't about to wait. We ran after him. The prison was dark, only a few dim fluorescent lights flickering above.
"I know this place," Annabeth said. "This is Alcatraz."
"That island prison near San Francisco?" I asked.
She nodded. "My school took a field trip here. It's now used as a museum."
As hard as it was to believe, I knew better to ask since Annabeth been living in San Francisco for a while keeping an eye on Mount Tamalpais just across the bay.
"Freeze," Grover warned.
But Tyson kept going. I ended up helping Grover pulled him back with all his strength.
"Stop, Tyson!" Grover whispered. "Can't you see it?"
I looked where he was pointing, and my stomach did a somersault. On the second-floor balcony, across the courtyard, was the most horrible monster I'd ever seen before.
It was sort of like a centaur, with a woman's body from the waist up. But instead of a horse's lower body, it had the body of a dragon—at least twenty feet long, black and scaly with enormous claws and a barbed tail her legs looked like they were tangled in vines, but then I realized they were spouting snakes, hundreds of vipers darting around, constantly looking for something to bite. The woman's hair was also made out of snakes, like Medusa's. Weirdest of all, around her waist, where the woman part met the dragon part, her skin bubbled and morphed, occasionally producing the heads of creatures.
"It's here," Tyson whimpered.
"Get down!" Grover said.
We crouched in the shadows, but the monster wasn't paying us any attention. It seemed to be talking to someone inside a cell on the second floor. That's where the sobbing was coming from. The dragon woman said something in her weird rumbling language.
"What's she saying?" I muttered. "What's that language?"
"The tongue of the old times," Tyson shivered. "What Mother Earth spoke to Titans and… her other children. Before the gods."
I got a good feeling who were the other children, one of them—or I should say three of them—were the eldest Cyclops. It could explain how Tyson knows the language. This ancient language might be hardwired into a Cyclops' brain just as ancient Greek is to demigods.
"Can you translate?" I asked.
I wish I didn't ask because Tyson closed his eye and began to use his Cyclops' ability to mimic voices around him, which in this case was a horrible raspy woman's voice. "You will work for the master or suffer."
Annabeth shuddered. "I hate it when he does that."
I nodded, before I met Tyson, I had two bad experiences with monsters that supposedly mimic human voices—which was one more than Annabeth. My first one was when Luke Thalia and I met Hal who had leucrotas that had the same ability only charmed to speak for Hal whose own voice was cursed. Then again after we met Annabeth, in Brooklyn when we encountered our first rogue Cyclopes.
"I will not serve," Tyson said in a deep, wounded voice.
He switched to the monster's voice: "Then I shall enjoy your pain, Briares." Tyson faltered when he said that name. I'd never heard him break character when he was mimicking somebody, but he let out a strangled gulp. Then he continued in the monster's voice. "If you thought your first imprisonment was unbearable, you have yet to feel true torment. Think on this until I return."
The dragon lady tromped toward the stairwell, vipers hissing around her legs like grass skirts. She spread wings that I hadn't noticed before—huge bat wings she kept folded against her dragon back. She leaped off the walk and soared across the courtyard. We crouched lower in the shadows. A hot sulfurous wind blasted my face as the monster flew over. Then she disappeared around the corner.
"H-h-horrible," Grover said. "I've never smelled any monsters that strong.
"Kampê," Tyson murmured. "Every Cyclops knows her. It's our worse nightmare. Stories about her scares us when we're babies. She was our jailer in the bad years."
Annabeth nodded. "I remember now. When the Titans ruled, they imprisoned Gaea and Ouranos' earlier children—the Cyclopes and the Hekatonkheires."
"The Hundred-handed ones…" I translated as my eyes widened, "Wasn't one of them name Briares?"
Annabeth nodded. "He was one of the three elder brothers of the Cyclopes."
"Very powerful," Tyson said. "Wonderful! As tall as the sky. So strong they could break mountains. But the Kampê, it was their jailer. She worked for Kronos. She kept our brothers locked up in Tartarus, tortured them always, until Zeus came. He killed Kampê and freed Cyclopes and Hundred-Handed Ones to help fight against the Titans in the war.
"And now the Kampê is back, and if she's successful in getting Briares on Kronos' side or worse—" My eyes widened. "We got to break Briares out."
I turned to Annabeth and judging from her expression even she can tell how bad things could be if something happened to Briares or if he joined Kronos. After all, just because some of the Olympians former allies didn't join Kronos the first time doesn't mean they won't this time.
"We better act quickly before the Kampê gets back," Annabeth responded.
As we approached the cell, the weeping got louder. When I first saw the great hundred-handed one Briares, even I was surprise to find what I saw.
He was human-size and his skin was very pale, the color of milk. He wore a loincloth like a diaper. His feet seemed too big for his body, with cracked dirty toenails, eight toes on each foot. But his chest sprouted out a hundred arms, all around his body. The arms looked like normal arms, but they were so many of them, all tangled together, that his chest looked kind like a forkful of spaghetti somebody had twirled together. Several of his hands were covering his face as he sobbed.
Tyson fell to his knees as he called, "Briares!"
The sobbing stopped.
"Great Hundred-Handed One!" Tyson said. "Help us!"
Briares looked up. His face was long and sad, with a crooked nose and bad teeth. He had deep brown eyes with no whites or black pupils, as if they were formed out of clay.
"Run while you can, Cyclops," Briares said miserably. "I cannot even help myself."
"You are a Hundred-Handed one!" Tyson insisted. "You can do anything!"
Briares wiped his nose with five or six hands. Several others were fidgeting with little pieces of metal and wood from a broken bed, the way Tyson always played with spare parts. It was amazing to watch. The hands seemed to have a mind of their own. They built a toy boat out of wood, then disassembled it just as fast. Other hands were scratching at the cement floor for no apparent reason. Others were playing rock paper scissors. A few others were making ducky and doggie shadow puppets against the wall.
"I cannot," Briares moaned. "Kampê is back! The Titans will rise and throw us back into Tartarus."
"Put on your brave face!"
Immediately Briares' face morphed into something else. Same brown eyes, but otherwise totally different features. He had an upturned nose, arched eyebrows, and a weird smile, like he was trying to act brave. But then his face turned back to what it had been before.
"No good," he said. "My scared face keeps coming back.
"It'll be okay, Briares! We will help you!" Tyson said, still entranced. "Can I have your autograph?"
Briares sniffled. "Do you have one hundred pens?"
"Guys," Grover interrupted. "We have to get out of here. Kampê will be back. She'll sense us sooner or later."
"But we can't leave Briares here," I responded.
"Break the bars," Annabeth said.
"Yes!" Tyson said, smiling proudly. "Briares can do it. He is very strong. Stronger than Cyclopes, even! Watch!"
Briares whimpered. A dozen of his hands started playing patty-cake, but none of them made any attempt to break the bars.
I remembered the stories of how the Kampê prisoned the Hundred Handed Ones.
The Hundred-Handed One covered his face again.
"Briares?" Tyson asked. "What… what is wrong? Show us your strength!"
"Tyson," Annabeth said, "I think you'd better break the bars."
Tyson's smile melted slowly.
"I will break the bars," he repeated. He grabbed the cell door and ripped it off its hinges like it was made of wet clay.
"Come on, Briares," Annabeth said. "Let's get you out of here."
She held out her hand. For a second, Briares' face morphed to a hopeful expression. Several of his arms reached out, but twice as many slapped them away.
"I cannot," he said. "She will punish me."
"It's all right," Annabeth promised. "You fought the Titans before, and you won, remember?"
"I remember the war," Briares' face morphed again—furrowed brow and a pouting mouth. His brooding face, I guess. "Lightning shook the world. We threw many rocks. The Titans and the monsters almost won. Now they are getting strong again. Kampê said so."
"Don't listen to her!" I said, "What about your other brothers? Cottus and Gyges, right? Where are they?"
"They faded! We weren't needed anymore, so they disappeared," Briares said.
My heart sank when I heard that. Only way for an immortal being to die is if either humans stopped believing in them all together or if their domain has diminished to that point. They don't simply die, though. Instead the immortals faded from existence.
I tried my hardest to sound upright, "But you're still here, that means Fate still have plans for you."
"To be work with Kronos or locked up until I decide to fade and join my brothers," Briares said.
When Briares said brothers an idea hit me as I remembered something from Hal's book.
"But you're not out of brothers," I said. "You married Kymopoleia, right? Daughter of Poseidon—"
"Goddess of violent storms, and mean wife. Always says mean things about me," Briares said.
"What I'm trying to say is Tyson and I are both sons of Poseidon—which make us your brother-in-laws—your family," I responded, "And we're here to break you out so you won't be forced to join the Titans, or be tortured, or fade. But we can't do it unless you're willing to let your new brothers help you, so how about it?"
I stretched my arm out and this time Briares hesitated.
"This is not a trick, is it?" Briares asked.
"No," I responded, "I promise we won't abandoned you."
"Brother means well," Tyson said, "When brother makes promises, he keeps them."
I hope he believed me, because I wasn't planning to make an oath of the River of Styx when we don't know when the kampê will return, especially since that oath is made, there tend to be thunder and that was the last thing we need since I had to reveal my heritage in order to hopefully gain Briares' trust.
Thankfully Briares took my hand and we helped led him out of the cell.
However, we didn't get far before we could hear the Kampê snarling bellow us.
"The other way," I said.
We bolted down the catwalk, this time finding ourselves following Briares, who had sprinted out front of us with his hundred arms waving in panic.
Behind us, I heard the sound of giant wings as Kampê took the air. She hissed and growled in her ancient language, but I didn't need a translation to know she was planning to kill us.
We scrambled down the stairs, through a corridor, and past a guard's station—out into another block of prison cells.
"Left," Annabeth said. "I remember this from the tour."
We burst outside and found ourselves in the prison yard, ringed by security towers and barbed wire. After being inside so long, the daylight almost blinded me. Tourist were milling around, taking pictures. The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. Despite all that, due to the Mist, the mortals didn't seem to have noticed.
"It's even worse," Annabeth said, gazing to the north. "The storms have been bad all year, but that—"
"Keep moving," Briares wailed. "She is behind us!"
We ran to the far end of the yard, as far from the cell block as possible.
Just then the wall exploded.
Tourist screamed as Kampê appeared from the dust and rubble, her wings spread out as wide as the yard. She was holding two swords—long bronze scimitars that glowed with a weird greenish aura, boiling wisps of vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.
"Poison!" Grover yelped. "Don't let those thing touch you or you shriveled up slowly to dust and die."
"Briares, fight!" Tyson urged. "Grow to full size!"
Instead, Briares looked like he was trying to shrink even smaller. He appeared to be wearing his absolutely terrified face.
Kampê thundered toward us on her dragon legs, hundreds of snakes slithering around her body.
"Run!" Annabeth ordered.
We ran through the jail yard and out of the gates of the prison, the monster right behind us. Mortals screamed and ran. Emergency sirens began to blare.
We hit the wharf just as a tour boat was unloading. The new group of visitors froze as they saw us charging toward them, followed by a mob of frightened tourist, followed by whatever the Mist made the Kampê looked like.
"The boat?" Grover asked.
"Too slow," Tyson said. "Back in the maze. Only chance."
"We need a diversion," Annabeth said.
Tyson ripped a metal lamppost out of the ground. "I will distract Kampê. Poison will hurt Cyclopes. A lot of pain. But it won't kill me. You run ahead."
I hated the idea. I'd almost lost Tyson once before, and I didn't want to ever risk that again. But there was no time to argue, and none of us had a better idea.
"Stay safe, Tyson," I responded.
"Yes," Tyson responded.
With that, Annabeth, Grover and I each took one of Briares' hands and dragged him toward the concession stands while Tyson bellowed, lowered his pole, and charged Kampê like a jousting knight.
She'd been glaring at Briares, but Tyson got her attention as soon as he nailed her in the chest with the pole, pushing her back into the wall. She shrieked and slashed with her swords, slicing the pole to shreds. Poison dripped in pools around her, sizzling into the cement.
Tyson jumped back as Kampê's hair lashed and hissed, and the vipers around her legs darted their tongues in every direction. A lion popped out of the weird half-formed faces around her waist and roared.
As we sprinted for the cellblocks, the last thing I saw was Tyson picking up a Dippin' Dots stand and throwing it at the Kampê. Ice cream and poison exploded everywhere, all the little snakes in Kampê's hair dotted with tutti-frutti. We dashed back into the jail yard.
"Can't make it," Briares huffed.
"You will make it," I responded.
As we reached the door of the cellblock, I heard an angry roar. I glanced back and saw Tyson running toward us at full speed, Kampê right behind him. She was plastered in ice cream and T-shirts. I guess Tyson threw a souvenir stand at her before coming to us because one of the bear heads on her waist was now wearing a pair of crooked plastic Alcatraz sunglasses.
"Hurry!" Annabeth said.
We finally found the cell we come in, but the back wall was completely smooth—no sign of a boulder or anything.
"Look for the mark!" Annabeth said.
"There!" Grover touched a tiny scratch, and it became a Greek L. The mark of Daedalus glowed blue, and the stone wall grinded open.
Too slowly, Tyson was coming through the cellblock, Kampê's swords lashing out behind him, slicing indiscriminately through the cell bars and stone walls.
"You guys go ahead, I'll help Tyson," I responded as I uncapped my thermos.
Annabeth nodded as she shoved Briares and Grover into the maze.
I headed out of the cell block and faced the Kampê.
I focus all my power into the Thermos, praying to my dad for help. I got the worse churning feeling in my stomach ever as my thermos burst out a powerful blast of water that nearly send me flying backwards.
It hit the Kampê with enough force to cause her to falter as Tyson headed into the cell toward the maze.
I headed in myself, keeping my thermos in full blast until I was safely inside. Then I ended my attack just as the magical stone wall closed itself. The Kampê charged at us, but it was too late as the door was already sealed. The whole tunnel shook as the Kampê pounded against it, roaring furiously. We didn't stick around to play knock, knock, though. We raced into the darkness, and for the first time (and the last) I was glad to be back in the Labyrinth.