Three

I Get a Cool Gift

The wooden sword arced down at me in an overhead swing. Luckily, being five foot tall had its advantages. All I had to do was duck down and it sailed harmlessly overhead.

Daedalus tsked and dropped into a defensive stance. Even after two months of training me he couldn't help but aim for an adult-sized target. His reflexes were working against him. It was also the only advantage I had, and probably the only thing keeping my number of bruises below fifty a day.

I rushed forward, raising my blunt training sword high over my head and preparing to slash it down. Daedalus simply stepped forward into my face and smacked my forehead with his hilt. I stumbled backwards and fell on my butt.

"How many times does that make?" Daedalus asked.

I poked at a growing bruise on my forehead sullenly. "A lot."

"Yes, a lot. sixty-eight, to be precise. That's how many times you've charged me recklessly like that. Swordsmanship is not just about force and power, Percy, you need finesse."

I could hear the frustration in his voice. The fact that it was nowhere near the first time we'd had this exact talk likely didn't help. But I couldn't help it! We'd dueled two hours a day for the last eight weeks, and in that time I'd yet to land a single hit on him. I knew it was silly to expect anything different, but that didn't keep my temper from flaring up as I was smacked around like a toy.

Besides, it wasn't like there was no progress. When I'd first picked up the mock sword I could barely hold it up long enough to get a swing in. Now I could run through Daedalus' practice exercises with barely any mistakes…But I still couldn't land a hit on the man himself.

I shuddered to think what it would've been like if I wasn't a demigod. The moment a duel started my world would kick into overdrive, just like it had with the Harpy. Daedalus said it was "ingrained battle instincts", which was a fancy way of saying my brain worked better in a fight than out of one.

I pushed myself back to my feet and dropped into my best stance, but Daedalus held up a hand to stop me.

"That's enough for today."

"What? But it's so early."

We usually went until the sun started going down, but looking out the glass wall I could see it was still high in the sky.

"I can't just take the day off," I complained. "I need to learn!"

"Losing one afternoon is not going to change anything in the long run. Today's a special occasion," Daedalus said, dropping his sword onto a holding rack. Reluctantly, I wandered over to do the same.

"And…what makes it special?"

"I have a gift for you. An important one."

There was a twinkle in his eyes that made me want to turn tail and run. I'd seen some of the things his mind could whip up, and most of them weren't the types you wanted to be anywhere near when he gave them their grand reveal.

Seriously, how anyone could think it was good idea to install an automated toilet paper machine – without testing it beforehand – was beyond me. It had taken all of two days before the thing went off the rails and wrapped me up like a mummy. I still found scraps of Charmin Ultra Soft on me while in the shower, and it happened a week ago.

"What sort of gift?" I asked warily.

The twinkle just got stronger. "Go shower and get cleaned up– if I spoiled the surprise now it would ruin the fun."

I watched him a moment longer before trudging away with a sigh.

"Yea," I muttered. "Fun."

(

I stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed. Water always gave me a nice burst of energy, even the kind that came from a faucet. With a sigh, I went about getting dressed.

Something I hadn't thought much about at the time was that I'd lost all my clothes. The harpy hadn't exactly given me time to pack. When I woke up in Daedalus' lair I'd had only what I was wearing, and even those were soaked and torn.

That was how I discovered that Daedalus was an excellent seamster. I suppose it made sense that an inventor as accomplished as him could build with more than just metal, but there was still something strange about seeing him pump out clothes as easily as breathing.

He'd left me with a few light blue hoodies, a set of black shirts, and a bunch of simple beige cargo pants. Practicality over aesthetics was Daedalus' approach to fashion, and as I pulled on a clean set of clothes I realized it had rubbed off on me.

My bedroom wasn't huge or fancy, but I didn't need either of those things. It opened onto a bathroom, had a bed, a desk, a comfy arm chair, and a bureau for my clothes. That was more than enough. A small backpack rested by the door. Scattered across the otherwise blank walls were small displays and hangers, all of them empty.

"You'll need a place to keep your trophies," Daedalus had said. When I asked him what kind of trophies, he'd just smiled mysteriously and said, "You'll see".

Dressed and refreshed, I wandered back into the central room. Daedalus' workshop was the same as it had been back when I first saw it, save for one corner that had been cleared and covered with mats to operate as our training space.

The man himself was leaning over a desk, fingers blurring as he fiddled with something small. He didn't even notice me until I cleared my throat.

"Ah, you're here," he said, looking up. "Have a nice shower?"

He was dragging things out to annoy me and we both knew it. I crossed my arms. "If it was important enough to cut our training short, it's important enough for you to spit it out."

He laughed before tossing something small in the air and catching it. I tried to get a better look at what he was holding as he walked toward me, but it was clutched tightly out of sight.

"What do you think it is?" He asked, holding up his closed hand.

I thought for a second. "Did you finally manage to condense a container of Greek Fire?"

"Last week actually," he said, gesturing to a table by the door. There were a few canisters around the size of a thermos sitting on it. "Try again."

"Is it your instant coffee maker that's actually instant?"

"If I could get that prototype down to this size I'd never sleep again. No."

I was scraping the bottom of the barrel. "I don't know, an edible pen for if you get hungry while you're writing?"

"Getting warmer. Sort of."

I frowned. "There's no way I'll get it, is there?"

"Not with that attitude there's not."

I sighed and he gave up on hiding his chuckles.

"Fine, fine," he said. "See for yourself."

He opened his hand and I stared.

"It's a…mechanical pencil?"

"For now."

I growled. "Can you stop trying to be mysterious?"

"Sounds like I'm doing more than trying," Daedalus laughed. Still, he did start explaining.

"This, Percy, will be your weapon."

I was about to say a writing utensil didn't seem very dangerous to monsters, but before I could open my mouth Daedalus had clicked the eraser once, like he was extending the led. Instantly, the pencil whirred and somehow started expanding, until he was holding a straight-edged sword around three feet long.

"Woah," I said. "Cool."

"Yes. Very cool," Daedalus agreed proudly.

The sword had a solid bronze hilt that shone softly. The blade itself was mostly bronze as well, but it was speckled with spots of black that seemed to suck slightly at the light of the room, like miniature black holes. Even from a few feet away I could see how sharp the blade's edges were. It looked ready cut through even stone, just waiting for someone to give it the chance.

"Where is it from," I asked, eyes wide.

"From?" Dedalus scoffed. "From right here, in this room."

I blinked. "So it isn't an ancient relic passed down for generations, or the weapon of a hero you claimed in a duel, or anything like that?"

Dedalus stared at me. "I'm an inventor, Percy, not a treasure hunter. Besides, only the best will do for my protégée, and that, naturally, means my own work."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I settled for "How does it work?"

His face lit up at the chance to show his creation off. "That's the fun part."

He flipped the sword around into a reverse grip and rested a thumb on the end of its hilt. Then he tapped it's point against the ground once. The sound of whirring gears returned, and the sword compressed back into a mechanical pencil.

I opened my mouth to repeat how cool the thing was, but Daedalus cut me off.

"Now watch this," he said. His voice sounded like a parent watching their kid perform in a talent show. He clicked the pencil again, but this time twice.

This time when it expanded it was not a sword he was holding, but a spear as tall as I was.

Its handle was the same polished bronze. The tip, roughly 5 inches of curved metal, rounded out to a wicked point. Like the sword before it, the end was speckled with spots of black. The entire thing was so clean I could see the room's reflection in its polished surface.

"Are you going to teach me to use a spear?" I asked excitedly.

"You should focus on mastering the sword before looking for more to learn," Daedalus rebuked lightly. "But no, I won't be able to help with that. I'm a swordsman, and that's all I am. I never had the interest to learn a second weapon."

"Then how am I supposed to learn?" I frowned. "And why make it in the first place?"

He collapsed the weapon with two quick taps. "When the time comes for you to learn, we'll find a teacher. I already have a few ideas. As for why I made it, I get the feeling you will need options in your future. More than I ever did, anyway."

For some reason, I couldn't help but agree.

I almost asked how something so small could expand so much, before realizing it wasn't worth it. Talking common sense physics with Daedalus always ended with a headache. Instead I asked, "Does it have a name?"

He blinked like the thought hadn't ever occurred to him. Then he scrunched his brow in thought. When he finally spoke, he sounded amused, like he was telling a joke that only he seemed to understand.

"The sword will be Anfisa, the spear Anthea, and the sheathed form Aelia. A fitting tribute to the three daughters of Cocalus, wonderful girls that they were."

My head spun. "I kinda meant, you know, one name?"

He rolled his eyes. "You need a bit of creativity."

"What I'll need is memory if you keep on like that."

He shook his head.

There was a pause, and when Daedalus spoke again all traces of humor had disapeared. "I need your full attention now, Percy. What I tell you next, I need you to understand and never forget."

I squared my shoulders and tried my best to look mature and responsible.

"You are, under no circumstances, to touch the blade of any of the forms. Do you understand?"

I nodded, but couldn't help asking "Why?"

"Because if it cuts you, it will suck your soul from your body."

I waited for him to laugh or smile, pleased with his joke, but it never came. He just stared me in the eyes, all business. I gulped as I realized he was very much serious.

"I won't," I told him. "But…"

"Why make it like this?" Daedalus filled in after I trailed off.

I gave him another nod.

"There are two types of metal capable of hurting monsters, immortals, and half-bloods: Celestial Bronze and Stygian Iron. Celestial Bronze is the most common and reliable. It will pass through mortals like air, but anything beyond that will feel its effects in full. This is the material of the weapon's handle and makes up most of its blade as well."

"The other is Stygian Iron. It originates from the underworld and works by assaulting its target's very soul. It absorbs their essence after defeating them, making it capable of slaying even the dead. It is far rarer than Celestial Bronze, both because so few travel to the underworld, and because only children of that realm can wield weapons made purely of it." He clicked the pencil – Aelia, I reminded myself – and it sprung back into the form of Anfisa, the sword. He pointed at the specks of black dotting the blade. "Those, are Stygian Iron."

"But how am I supposed to use it?" I asked. "I'm not a child of the underworld."

Daedalus waggled the finger of his free hand. "Only they can use weapons of pure Stygian iron. This is not that– It's a composite. The first of its kind." He showed off the bronze handle.

Now, I had to admit the idea of being able to suck out souls sounded pretty cool. But I also wasn't totally sold on the whole don't-let-it-touch-you-or-you-die thing. I couldn't think of a more embarrassing way to go out than rubbing my own weapon wrong and dropping dead on the spot.

"If it were that easy," I wondered. "Why doesn't everyone use composite weapons? Wouldn't everyone want one?"

Daedalus hummed. "Stygian Iron is very rare – even I only have a small supply – but I suppose most simply don't see the point. Children of the underworld can use the metal to direct their powers, but for the average demigod the benefits are quite sparse. It can occasionally disrupt monsters' ability to reform, and dispatch those that already dwell in the underworld. Not many see those things as being worth the risk of trapping their own soul."

That sounded like a very good reason to avoid it to me.

"But you don't," I said. "Why?

Daedalus stared at me – no, stared through me – with hollow, almost haunted eyes.

"Because," he said, "the worst monsters don't let death stop them from coming after you."

(

Without any windows, my bedroom was pitch-black with the lights out. Despite this, I turned Aelia over again and again above my head as I lay in bed, staring at the place I knew it was as if I could see it. And in a way, I could. I'd studied Daedalus' gift enough in the six weeks since receiving it that I knew its every inch by heart.

There was something fascinating about such a nondescript thing, what looked like a mechanical pencil straight from an office store, being able to transform like it could. Not one but two weapons, each totally different but equally beautiful, and they came from the simple little thing held above my head.

For a second, I wondered if there was a way to write with it like it was actually intended to, but I quickly brushed that off as unimportant.

What was important was that I had a weapon now. For months I'd heard all about my potential. About all the heroic stories Daedalus knew. He said I'd be able to make my own one day, but I'd never really felt the part. I was just some kid who couldn't even graze his teacher after months of learning to use a sword.

But with Aelia in my hands that was starting to change.

Both of the weapon's forms were amazing. Intricate, beautiful, and effective. They were the types of things you could see on an ancient bust in a museum and not bat an eye– the types made to go down in history for the great feats they had accomplished.

But more importantly, they were the types of things that could help people.

It had played over and over again in my head in my head, every time Daedalus told me a story about an ancient hero: what if someone like that had been there when the harpy had attacked?

Would we have had to run? Would I have lost my arm? Most importantly, would my mom still be alive?

It was a fantasy. The people in those stories had been dead for thousands of years. But I just couldn't shake the idea.

What if?

Daedalus had told me newer stories, too. He said there were hundreds of half-bloods scattered across the country…and that most of them were picked off by monsters before ever learning what they were. I pictured a random kid in a random house, watching helplessly as their parent faced down a monster while telling them to run and not look back. Then I saw myself appearing, wielding Anthea in my hand. Stabbing the sword through the monsters back. Saving the day. The image seemed so right. So much better than me sleeping comfortably in a bed, tucked away and safe from the world above.

Even if I only took one monster down, that was one less threat to other kids like me.

The biggest roadblock was where I was. Daedalus' lair was deep in the Labyrinth– the ridiculously complicated maze he had created. Once I stepped outside, finding my way back would be near impossible.

Luckily, I now had a way around that.

I clenched my hand and held Aelia tight before slipping out of bed as quietly as I could, my mind made up.

I grabbed my small backpack from the bedroom floor, tossed some clothes in it, and pushed the door open. Every squeak from the hinges made me flinch, but it was over quickly enough, and I slipped out into the main room. Outside the glass wall a nearly full moon shone just brightly enough for me to see where I was going. Even though it was the middle of the night, I glanced around to make sure Daedalus wasn't pulling an all-nighter like he so often did. The coast was clear.

I picked my way across the room, working over to a table next to the workshop's main door.

Clang!

I cursed and ducked down, hoping Daedalus hadn't heard that. I'd improved by leaps and bounds at using my new foot and arm, but I still wasn't perfect. Things like, say, clipping the leg of a table I was trying to slip past weren't uncommon. But no lights flicked on, and no voice called out, so I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd gotten away with it.

Reaching the table without any more incidents, I started feeling around for what I was looking for. My hands closed around something metal and rounded. A cannister of some sort. I frowned. It wasn't what I was after, but what was it?

I held it up in the light to get a better look and found one of Daedalus' containers of condensed Greek fire. He'd said it wasn't the container's size that was revolutionary, but how much he had packed into a cannister of this size. He also said it still needed field testing, so I placed it carefully into my backpack. This seemed like as good an opportunity for that as any.

I returned to my search and groped around in the dark for a few more minutes. I knew it was here because Daedalus had used it as an example just yesterday…Ah! Right there. I gripped something soft and squishy and pulled a large ball of red yarn off the table.

Ariadne's string. He hadn't explained how it worked, but Daedalus was adamant that it could guide you through the maze. He'd used it while explaining the basics of magic items to me, citing it as an example. It had just looked like a string then – and still did now – but I trusted he knew what he was talking about.

I also thanked my lucky stars he hadn't bothered to put it away after showing it off. Talk about lucky.

I slung my pack over my shoulder and held the string in my left hand as I grabbed onto the door to the outside and swung it open.

A pitch-black corridor stretched out before me, the darkness complete save for the little bit of moonlight leaking in from behind me to illuminate tall and intimidating walls. The air was stale, like it wasn't made intended for human lungs, and a faint chill brushed against my skin. The scene was so ominous that I found myself frozen.

What was I doing? I had the sudden urge to turn around and run back to my room. Back to what was safe. But the scene flashed through my head again, of someone going through what I did, and I shoved down the fear as best I could.

A quick click Anthea sprung readily into my hand, the sword's glow illuminating the path in front of me and settling my nerves slightly. I took a deep breath and stepped into the Labyrinth.

I could do this, I told myself. This was what I had trained for. But as I started down the corridor, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was making a mistake.

When the door swung shut behind me, I could've sworn I saw a face in the shadows. A large, familiar, canine face. But by the time I blinked it was gone, and I rubbed at my eyes. The sudden darkness must've been playing tricks on me.

I kept walking

(-)

Apologies for the gap between this chapter and the last. My last two weeks were completely occupied writing an entry for a short story competition, and all my other projects ended up on hold for a bit. Good news, there should be no such waits for a while going forward. If I keep up with my plan, 2-3 more chapters should be out within the next week and a half.