Chapter 8: I Say Goodbye To My Mentor

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The firestorm that surrounded Tyson was like a volcanic eruption.

The bull held it for at least thirty seconds before it stopped to draw another breath. In the lull before it could deliver its second onslaught, Tyson sucker-punched the beast right in the nose, the same way I'd knocked out the bully at Meriwether Prep. The bull fell just as Sloan had, waving its legs in the air like an overturned tortoise. Its face had been completely smashed in.

I ran to Percy. Tyson had protected him from the full severity of the blast, so he was thankfully not a charred pile of ashes, but he'd suffered a bad burn nonetheless. His skin was raw and pink and the smell of burning hair hung off him. He crawled towards Tyson on his hands and knees, dragging his left leg. The ankle turned out at an awkward angle.

I uncapped my flask of nectar and handed it to him. Nectar could make you burn up from the inside if you drank it under ordinary circumstances, but with injuries this bad, it would be restorative instead. Percy sipped at it and the twisted expression of pain on his face subsided.

'Thanks,' he said. 'The other bull?'

Clarisse had won that fight. She'd chased the bull back down the hill and pinned its leg with her spear. Now, leaving the bull revolving uselessly around the shaft, she came stomping up the hill towards us. Her hair was smoking and her eyes were furious.

'You ruin everything! I had it under control!'

Clarisse was the daughter of Ares. She'd never liked Percy, and true to form for a child of the war god, she liked people interfering in her fights even less. I sighed. 'Good to see you too, Clarisse.'

She let out a cry of frustration. 'Don't ever, ever try saving me again!'

'Clarisse, you've got wounded campers,' I reminded her, pointing around the hill at the fallen patrol members. Most of the fires had been put out, but many of the demigods were groaning where they had collapsed.

Clarisse was the head counsellor for her cabin, same as me. Even though she might want to pick a fight with us, she'd prioritise taking care of the injured. She went off, promising to continue this later.

Percy, Tyson, and I looked at each other.

'You didn't die,' Percy said to Tyson, sounding awed and grateful at the same time.

'I am sorry,' Tyson said in his slow, deep voice. 'Came to help. Disobeyed you.'

'My fault,' I interrupted quickly. 'I had no choice. I had to let Tyson cross the boundary line to save you. Otherwise—' I gulped. 'Otherwise you would've died.' The thought made me shudder as though I'd gone from almost being scorched to diving into an ice bath.

'Let him cross the boundary line? But …' He looked back at Tyson and for the first time, I realised that when Percy looked at his friend, he seemed to stare only at Tyson's chin. It wasn't that the Mist was obscuring Tyson's true appearance to Percy—it was tricking him into not looking at all.

'Percy, have you ever looked at Tyson closely? I mean … in the face. Ignore the Mist, and really look at him.'

Slowly, Percy raised his eyes. His gaze locked on the single brown eye at the centre of Tyson's forehead and his jaw dropped.

'Tyson, you're a …'

Tyson's lip wobbled and he began to cry, tears spilling out of his eye and splitting into two streams down his chubby cheeks.

'Cyclops. A baby, by the looks of him.' Maybe that explained his trouble with the barrier. 'Probably why he couldn't get past the boundary line as easily as the bulls,' I mused. He wasn't fully grown yet, which might also explain why he wasn't as vicious as your typical wild street Cyclops. 'Tyson's one of the homeless orphans,' I ventured. From the look on Tyson's face, I figured I'd gotten that right.

'One of the what?' Percy asked.

'They're in almost all the big cities.' Like Brooklyn, I thought with a grimace. 'They're … mistakes, Percy. Children of nature spirits and gods … Well, one god in particular, usually,' I amended, with a wry smile at the irony. 'And they don't always come out right. No one wants them. They get tossed aside. They grow up wild on the streets. I don't know how this one found you, but he obviously likes you. We should take him to Chiron, let him decide what to do.' My stomach turned over lazily as I thought about bringing him into the heart of camp. I'd actually let a monster—a Cyclops, the kind I had a really bad experience with, no less—into my home and I would surely have to answer for it. Chiron would probably understand once I explained why, but I was more worried about what the camp director, Mr D, would say.

'But the fire,' Percy said, still looking confused. 'How—'

'He's a Cyclops.' Sometimes I wished he'd just do his reading on Greek mythology. 'They work the forges of the gods. They have to be immune to fire. That's what I was trying to tell you.'

Percy shook his head, as though trying to make sense of it all. While he turned all the information over in his head, Clarisse came marching back to us. Her temper had cooled off after assessing the injuries of her wounded border patrol.

'Jackson,' she said crisply, 'if you can stand, get up. We need to carry the wounded back to the Big House, let Tantalus know what's happened.'

Percy and I exchanged a look.

'Tantalus?' he said.

'The activities director,' Clarisse said.

An awful feeling curled around my heart like an icy tendril.

'Chiron is the activities director,' Percy said. 'And where's Argus? He's head of security. He should be here.'

Somehow I knew what Clarisse was going to say before she said it, and it felt like the bottom had dropped out of my stomach.

'Argus got fired. You two have been gone too long. Things are changing.' Although she didn't say anything about Chiron, we read between the lines.

'But Chiron … He's trained kids to fight monsters for over three thousand years. He can't just be gone,' Percy insisted. 'What happened?'

'That happened.' Clarisse pointed to Thalia's tree.

It was just as I had seen in my dream. The leaves—whatever was left of them—were dried and yellow, curling at the ends with wisps of smoke rising from them. The ones on the bottom branches had already fallen off into a decomposing pile of pine needles at the base of the tree. Halfway up the trunk, where the hooded figure in my dream had stuck his syringe, was a puncture mark. Green sap the colour of the poisonous injection seeped out of it.

I blinked tears out of my eyes. Seeing the damage first-hand, actually watching Thalia's tree withering away before my own eyes—it made me feel like someone had punctured my chest and shoved poison into my heart. My limbs felt numb as I followed Clarisse over to the group of wounded campers.

'Is Chiron—he's really gone?' I asked Clarisse when I found my voice again.

Clarisse scowled. 'He's packing. Mr D fired him yesterday.'

Those of us who were still in shape to walk helped to carry the ones who couldn't on stretchers down to the Big House, where the infirmary was. This was more difficult than it sounded. Tyson, although strong enough to carry the ends of four stretchers at once, kept pausing every time he saw something that fascinated him.

'Whasthat!' he cried, dropping his end of the stretchers. A group of Apollo campers came up and took over, doing a double-take when they looked at Tyson properly. Clarisse led them into the infirmary.

I gave Tyson an irritated look while Percy patiently explained everything from the Pegasi stables to the toilets.

'Are you done?' I said at last after he'd explained the cabin arrangements. 'I want to find Chiron before he leaves.'

I dragged Percy to the Big House. Tyson, of course, followed, which annoyed me, even though I knew we had to bring him. I could hear Chiron's lounge music playing when we entered the hallway. I didn't really understand his fondness for the genre—it just sounded like a lot of wailing instruments to me—but I would have listened to it for hours on end if it meant that Chiron would be staying.

The door to Chiron's apartment was propped open by a saddlebag. Another one was on his desk, unzipped as he piled books and clothes into it. My throat seized up at the sight of him.

Tyson stood stock still, taking in Chiron's lower white stallion half, to which his human torso was seamlessly fused. 'Pony!'

Chiron turned with a look of indignation in his eyes. 'I beg your pardon?'

I threw my arms around his waist. Chiron hugged me back and my eyes grew misty again.

'Chiron, what's happening?' I asked, gesturing to his packing. 'You're not … leaving?'

'Hello, child,' Chiron said gently, patting the top of my head. He released me and extended his hand to Percy. 'And Percy, my goodness. You've grown over the year!'

Percy shook his proffered hand. When he spoke, he sounded like he had a lump in his throat. 'Clarisse said you were … you were …'

'Fired,' Chiron said grimly. He scratched his scraggly brown beard. 'Ah, well, someone had to take the blame. Lord Zeus was most upset. The tree he'd created from the spirit of his daughter, poisoned! Mr D had to punish someone.' Although he looked resigned, there was a note of resentment in his voice.

'Besides himself, you mean,' Percy said hotly.

'But this is crazy!' I'd seen the hooded figure in my dream,, and it definitely wasn't Chiron. Not to mention, Chiron would never have done something like this in a million years. His entire existence was based on training and protecting heroes. 'Chiron, you couldn't have had anything to do with poisoning Thalia's tree!' I insisted.

'Nevertheless, some in Olympus do not trust me, under the circumstances.'

'What circumstances?' Percy said.

Chiron didn't answer. His face grew dark and closed, and I had the feeling I knew what he meant. Although Zeus hadn't believed Percy last year when he'd told the gods Kronos was rising, this whole business reeked of the Lord of the Titans's plotting. At least some of the gods had to suspect Kronos was behind it, and despite Chiron's dedication to the camp, the fact remained that he was a son of Kronos.

Which was really stupid. I mean, half the Olympians were the children of Kronos as well. But most of the gods had never really been known for their wisdom (my mother excepted, of course). Chiron just made the most convenient scapegoat.

Tyson broke the silence—or at least the Frank Sinatra music. 'Pony?' he repeated, his hand twitching like he wanted to pat Chiron.

Chiron's eyes examined Tyson carefully. 'My dear young Cyclops,' he said disdainfully, 'I am a centaur. '

I bit my lip, thinking he would ask now what Tyson was doing here, but Percy jumped in.

'Chiron, what about the tree?' he asked. 'What happened?'

Chiron sighed. 'The poison used on Thalia's pine is something from the Underworld, Percy. Some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus.'

I shivered, wondering once again who would have dared to retrieve such a thing. My mind flitted to Luke. Percy had told us he'd left to serve Kronos, and I had no reason not to believe it, but … it was Thalia. The night she'd died—it was the only time I'd ever seen Luke cry. And I remembered the year after we'd first arrived at camp, when we'd gone to the tree nearly everyday. Whatever Luke had become, whatever he'd done in the years since, I knew he'd really cared about Thalia.

While Percy argued that it had to be Luke, carrying out Kronos's bidding, my mind rebelled against the idea. There had to be someone else. Kronos had to have more than one servant.

Chiron inclined his head. 'Perhaps, but I fear I am being held responsible because I did not prevent it and I cannot cure it. The tree has only a few weeks of life left unless …'

'Unless what?' I said.

'No.' Chiron looked away, as though he wished he hadn't brought up the subject. 'A foolish thought.' He murmured about how the camp itself—its life, its magic—was dying and only strong magical intervention could reverse the damage. He looked a little wistful. 'It was lost centuries ago.'

'What is it? We'll go find it!' Percy said.

A fleeting thought flickered through my mind as I considered what Chiron said. A source of magic that could heal a tree. My mind landed on Leuke, the naiad-turned-poplar-turned-dryad. What if … I looked to Chiron, hoping I might see the confirmation in his eyes. But they were bleak and helpless. If he was indeed thinking of the Golden Fleece, he truly believed it was lost beyond reach.

Chiron turned off his music and snapped his saddlebag shut. He bent his front legs so that he was eye-level to Percy. His hand rested on Percy's shoulder. 'Percy,' he said gravely, 'you must promise me that you will not act rashly. I told your mother I did not want you to come here at all this summer. It's much too dangerous. But now that you are here, stay here. Train hard. Learn to fight. But do not leave.'

'Why? I want to do something!' Percy protested. I understood his agitation. It felt like too much to ask, to stay put and train like everything was normal when the camp was effectively crumbling all around us. 'I can't just let the borders fail. The whole camp will be—'

'Overrun by monsters—yes, I fear so. But you must not let yourself be baited into hasty action! This could be a trap of the Titan Lord. Remember last summer! He almost took your life.'

The words gave me pause. Chiron was right, of course. If Kronos was indeed behind the poisoning of Thalia's tree—and I had no doubt he was—there was probably a deeper reason beyond weakening our camp. Kronos was the master of twisted plots: deceptions within deceptions, agendas hidden beneath surface intentions. His strategies were nearly impossible to discern.

Chiron turned to me. His hand touched my cheek, gently wiping away a tear I hadn't felt trickle down. 'Stay with Percy, child. Keep him safe. The prophecy—remember it!'

I nodded shakily. There were many prophecies—every camper who went on a quest got one from the mummified Oracle of Delphi in the attic—but I knew exactly which one he was referring to. Many years ago, a prophecy had been issued predicting that a half-blood child of the Big Three gods—Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades—would turn sixteen and make a choice that could potentially destroy Olympus. Percy was the only living demigod who fit that bill, and aside from Kronos, there were plenty of gods who would also be happy to do away with him in an attempt to thwart the prophecy. He was still three years from his sixteenth birthday. We had to keep him safe until then.

'I—I will,' I said.

'Um … would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about?'

Both Chiron and I avoided looking at him. Percy frowned and muttered, 'Right, just checking.'

I looked at Chiron's concerned face and wondered yet again how anyone could suspect him of sabotaging the camp and endangering the heroes to whom he had dedicated his life to protect.

A horrifying thought suddenly crossed my mind. 'Chiron, you told me the gods made you immortal only so long as you were needed to train heroes. If they dismiss you from camp—'

Chiron interrupted me, side-stepping my question completely. 'Swear you will do your best to keep Percy from danger. Swear upon the River Styx.'

It was the most serious oath anyone could make. An oath on the Styx was a binding promise on pain of eternal torment. Asking me to take on the role of Percy's protector …

In a way, maybe it was an answer to my question. Chiron needed to make sure someone could continue to watch over Percy if he no longer existed to do so.

My vision blurred. I could barely choke out the words. 'I swear it upon the River Styx.'

Thunder shook the Big House, sealing my oath.

'Very well,' Chiron said, and I fought desperately to hold back my tears. Wild sobs erupted from me as Chiron mused about his immediate plans. He patted my shoulder, but that only made me lose control. Tears streamed down my cheeks as Chiron left us with a final warning to Percy not to let down his guard.

Percy patted my arm awkwardly, murmuring that it was going to be all right, but I was inconsolable. As the sound of Chiron's hooves echoed down the hallway outside, I buried my head in my hands and sobbed.

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A/N: Thank you, Kiki11Portman, Jessica'BlueBell'Potter-JPBBX, and strawberrygirl2000 for your reviews last chapter!