Author Note: This is only a work of fan fiction, not the real deal. I take no credit for the elements similar to and originating from the book The Lost Hero and the first published chapter of the actual The Son of Neptune; all the credit goes to Rick Riordan alone.
Chapter 5: The Venti
Just like I expected them to, all three agreed to come with me immediately. They actually looked relieved when I told them, like they thought I would invite someone else. Hazel was raring to go, Reyna looked excited but composed, her hands healed to full health with a few ambrosia squares. Bobby had been the most afraid that he couldn't go, given his serious injury. I considered leaving him to rest and repair his burns, but I knew that for him, the coolness of going on a quest to destroy a giant would far outweigh the pains of dealing with an injury on the road. Plus, I would never find anyone nearly as skilled with a sword and loyal.
All the teams gathered the next morning in front of the lake. It was flashing with sunlight on its loose waves, brisk morning air whisking through the hair of all demigods present. The other campers were still eating breakfast, rushing through the dining hall and chatting chaotically, par usual. Lupa prowled before us, her paws digging deep into the scummy sand and mud on the edge of the breaking water. She was thinking, her personality just as distant, cold, and brooding as normal, with an extra helping of unnerving. We all backed up a foot unconsciously when she stopped and surveyed us, sitting primly in the muck of the lake. Curiously, she wasn't getting dirty. I suppose it was a goddess thing.
"This will be exceedingly dangerous. I only approve of it because it is necessary," she grumbled. She sounded almost resentful, like we had pressured her into this. Like she was being manipulated. Yeah, right. "You will each receive a prophecy, if our Oracle deems you worthy. If not, he will –"
"Wait!" I burst. "There's already an Oracle. And it's a girl, a friend of mine, who I'm pretty sure doesn't live in a lake." That last bit I couldn't say with certainty. You never know with demigods.
"He will ignore you completely," Lupa finished, bludgeoning me with an irritated glare. "Perseus, while your personal breakthroughs are wonderful, I must ask you to reserve them for yourself and particularly boring conversations. Moving on. Some of you have had the pleasure of meeting the Oracle in the past. He is a disturbing figure, so I ask you to prepare yourselves."
I guessed, given that the Oracle lived in the lake, he was a naiad or- or- the lake monster. The glowing red eye in the murky depths, the scaled body slithering slowly through the murk; it carried the same human-level intelligence Lupa had: unnatural from a creature of its kind. Could it also tell the future?
Initiated by a mental call from Lupa, I assume, the lake water began to bubble and foam, a dome stretching the surface of the waves. The water exploded aside, revealing the whipping neck of the leviathan. Its glassy crimson eyes – those same eyes of the water dragon that had captured me in the arena – stared at the crowd with amusement, hovering to a stop on me for a moment before gliding on with a rumbling chuckle.
He then proceeded to stare into the eyes of the team captains, one by one, pausing longer on some than others. I didn't watch, instead choosing to stare avidly into the distant hills surrounding the lake on the far side. I had hiked up those hills a few weeks ago, on one of my lake excursions –
The lustrous eye of Python caught my gaze.
Sooner that you thought, no?
Yeah, I didn't know you were the lake monster –
Monster? When did I ever show malevolence to you in the water? I respect all beings that breathe water and pay them no attention. No matter. Your personal thoughts on my actions – which are interesting, I assure you, that bit with the sarcasm you thought just now, very clever – matter none to me. I am here to issue a prophecy. Though I feel I provided you with more information than I ought in the arena, I suppose I am obliged to offer you a slight bit more guidance now. For the sake of ritual, more than anything.
That's great. I appreciate guidance, because I have no idea what I'm doing. Though if this prophecy could exclude anything dealing death, that would be even better –
Your lack of knowledge is more acute than you realize. Regardless, I hope you return alive from this mission. Your future is held in these lines:
First rising of the earth yields
Total ruin of life and fields.
There, a foe transformed to a friend
Shall meet an untimely end;
So seek farther, deity's hero,
For relic of your horror,
Find a truth obscured in woe
To triumph and beat your foe.
Quite a doozy, that prophecy. I hope I fulfilled your wishes, in leaving out too much strife?
Not quite.
We broke eye contact, Python chuckling an ominous guttural hiss, and he shrunk back into the waves, leaving the lake's surface just as choppy and windswept as before. As if nothing had happened.
"So?" Reyna asked, ready to be debriefed on the future.
Other groups were sharing their futures, except Cesara's group. They were looking at each other in disappointment. I felt better at that, but turned to my team and said distractedly, "Uh, well, you know, sometimes knowing the future isn't good for you." But at Hazel's intense glare, I knew that keeping secrets at legion camp was the marking of a traitor. Perfect, considering I was harboring a secret that would warrant the entire camp ripping me to pieces without further investigation. I repeated the prophecy, leaving out the second couplet entirely. I didn't know which one of us it would be, but I would try as hard as I could to prevent that from coming true. They didn't need to know that one of us would die and untimely death, because I might be able to stop it. I had to. Besides, the ruin of our first attempt to destroy the giants would be enough to think about, for now.
"Well, it sounds like the trip won't be much fun, but at least we'll be successful," Bobby quipped as brightly as he could, considering the pained grimace creeping across his face. He quelled the expression quickly, switching disconcertingly to a confident smile.
"But at what cost?" Reyna asked perceptively, staring in my eyes with a questioning light.
I looked away, managing my hair distractedly, to disentangle it; this morning I had gone for a swim in the lake and barely endeavored to dry and comb my hair at all. I used this action as a vague thinking gesture, knowing that I was a horrible liar and couldn't get away with hiding the truth in this conversation much longer. Instead of answering, I changed topics abruptly, not bothering to segue smoothly. So much for subtlety. "How are we going to get to Minnesota?"
Reyna continued to leer at me thoughtfully, looking somewhat goaded by my refusal to allow her all the information, while Bobby trotted off happily, shouting over his shoulder, "I'm gonna go get us some transport! I know just the thing." He disappeared into the woods, clutching his chest when he thought we weren't looking. After Bobby left, Reyna dropped the subject, and we went to eat breakfast with the others before we departed.
We were packed and prepared to leave within the hour, sacks of demigod supplies (food, nectar and ambrosia, food, a few extra small weapons, rope, and food) dragging on our backs, the other five teams similarly. In our honor, the camp was flying flags with the emblems of the team leaders. A shining, gold-trimmed sapphire trident glowed on a field of sea green fabric for our team. All the campers attended to see us off, huddling around the portcullis like penguins in an arctic storm. Disciplined penguins, that is.
Reyna, Hazel and I stood independently from everyone else, like the other teams, skimming the crowd and grounds anxiously. Bobby was a no show so far – I hoped he hadn't meant Simba when he said 'transport'. That's what I was planning on using in the first place; I was going to call the silly bird just before leaving. As to how the griffon would support the combined weight of all four of us, I was still thinking of solutions. Then I a dull roar jerked me from my musings – I glanced to the mountain on first instinct. But since our last mission, it had been silent and still. I couldn't make sense of it, until the ground rumbled again, coming from the opposite direction.
The mass of demigods split aside hurriedly, stumbling backwards as a rift tore through the mass towards our group. Through the tunnel emerged a certain son of Mars appearing extremely pleased with himself, mounted on a steaming, roaring metal beast. The two wheeled chrome-and-crimson creature rolled sleekly towards us, while we all looked on in amused disbelief.
Bobby patted the fuel tank affectionately. "My girl. She's never let me down. What else would you expect from a gift from my dad?" He twisted one hand-grip with a flashy jerk, causing the motorcycle to roar obnoxiously again. His heavy bandages were obscured underneath a thick biker jacket, his head enveloped in a gleaming black helmet with graceful styling. He set his combat-booted feet solidly on the ground, halting the progress of the mechanical deathtrap.
"That's what you were talking about? I thought you were reasonable," Reyna announced incredulously, her eyebrows shooting sky high.
"Better than us all packing off to Minnesota on a griffon, isn't it?" he parried sharply, catching my eye.
I smiled and shrugged. "Whatever man. It's cool. Hazel, you want to ride with him on that thing? Reyna looks like she going to rip it apart."
Hazel nodded quickly, oddly quiet. Maybe she was nervous for our quest, because it was unlike her to waste an opportunity for a sarcastic quip or enthusiastic battle-cry. She boarded the motorcycle, swinging a leg over the second seat, careful to avoid burning a hole in her jeans against the exhaust pipe. While Bobby helped her into biker gear and a helmet, I turned to the woods and whistled loudly. For a moment nothing happened, except for the other groups marching formally out the portcullis, vanishing beyond the barrier. Then a roaring bird-cry answered, and a tawny shape emerged, flapping, from the far depths of the wood.
Simba trotted to a halt on the cobblestones beside me. He nibbled my shoulder affectionately with his beak, then allowed me to board him. Reyna, however, he wasn't too sure about. "Come on, Simba, you have to let her on. She's really not that much more of a burden. Light as a feather. You've got plenty of those, so what's one more, huh?" After several minutes of coaxing, during which I fashioned another reasonable harness of rope, Simba allowed Reyna to board his back slowly. The process was so slow that it was amusing to watch. If she went any faster than snail sludge, he snapped his beak at her, so it looked like she was getting on behind me in super slow mo.
Hazel was laughing tightly while Reyna got situated, and Bobby was sniggering, but holding his side weakly. Once we were all seated, and practically the entire camp was snorting openly at us or rolling their eyes, we took off. Bobby revved his bike through the gates and onto the tunnel outside in less than a second. I followed, pulling gently onto the reigns. Simba answered energetically, springing from the ground and swooping powerfully through the barrier. He made many of the same dangerous, definitely unnecessary dives and tumbles he'd executed on my first ride, as if he were still trying to throw me off. He plunged low, trotting across the roof of a mortal car, which then swerved wildly and crashed into the cement divider.
"That's enough," I hissed angrily in his ear. The mortals didn't do anything to deserve getting hurt. His flight patterned steadied out, he apparently understanding that testing my patience was a bad plan.
We glided from the tunnel, tracking Bobby on his bike closely. Reyna's arms were wrapped like a vice around my core, her head buried into my back. I shifted uncomfortably, realizing that Annabeth would have my head for this, but Reyna didn't notice. I resigned myself to the idea that if Annabeth were lucky enough to randomly fly past me, that I'd be dead meat.
I watched Bobby as he swerved along the curve of the interstate, doing at least eighty in a sixty-five zone. He looked his age – that is, not old enough to bust a shining crimson Harley down the interstate without a license – Hazel clinging to his back for dear life. In a flash, I understood why she'd been so tense this morning. For all her bluster and hardcore attitude, she was afraid of motorcycles and Bobby's wild driving.
With I chuckle, I directed Simba to soar just above the speeding bike. When our shadow fell across his controls, the guy looked up quizzically. I mouthed clearly at him: Speed limits? Try being discreet. He grinned sheepishly and fell back, just as a cop motorcycle zoomed past to catch some psychopathic driver in a semi a mile ahead.
The next several hours passed in a blur of travel. While I swooped low occasionally to remind Bobby to limit his wild, flashy swerving, Reyna and I stayed high in the clouds for the most part. It was chilly and moist and unpleasant, visibility reduced to nearly nothing, the flight rockier than usual as Simba bucked against his reigns. Still, it kept us out of the mortal's vision, which I knew innately – and because of a voice booming Mortals must not see you, my boy in my mind – was crucial to our success.
While somewhat jarred from receiving a god's advice like my mind was a radio (I had never viewed hearing voices in your head as a good thing), I followed the suggestion carefully, keeping as high out of sight of the interstate below as my freezing fingers could stand. The sky seemed ominous, the water of the brewing storm angrily latching onto my skin. For once, my powers didn't protect me from dampness. I was soaked through in minutes, and I could feel Reyna was too; when she reset her grip on my waist, the cool rainwater squelched between our clothes. That made me feel uncomfortable, but I didn't say anything against it. I focused on my willpower to resist the urge to hug Simba tightly around the neck the way Reyna gripped my torso. The clouds rumbled threateningly. I knew that the sky was not my domain: I needed to be on the ground to be out of danger.
The next time we edged below the clouds to check on the motorcycle, I seemed to stare down at the sky. I blinked several times and nudged Reyna awake, pointing down. An eternal expanse of blue sky and booming clouds glistened back at us, infinitely deep. When I was about to start freaking out, I saw a griffon reflected in the glassy surface, soaring upside down right below us. Then a highway materialized out of the salty lake water, and a small glint of red told me we were in the right place. We were passing the Great Salt Lake, Utah, one of the most perfectly reflective bodies of water in the world. With a slightly comforted sigh, I steered Simba upward into the clouds.
We didn't stop for lunch. The sun had risen above the clouds at noon and descended again, casting the clouds in a silver glow from below. My stomach started to growl, but I felt no hunger. I was too preoccupied with my need to get out of the sky. Instead of feeling famished, I felt the definite need to vomit. I wanted to fly straight into the Great Salt Lake, but I mastered the urge, continuing our smooth progress across the clouds for what felt like ages. It must have stayed in the sky far past noon.
By the time we landed at a gas station that evening (the mortals scattering unconsciously, distaste etched subtly in their expressions), my nerves were so far gone, that my relief to be on solid ground washed soothingly over me like the saltiest wave in the sea. Bobby and Hazel leapt off the steaming motorcycle, rubbing their thighs with grimaces. Reyna unhinged her arms from my chest, leaning away from me and looking just as uncomfortable as I felt, though I sensed her discomfort had more to do with me than the threatening clouds blooming into being above. The clouds seemed to be chasing us, which was impossible, of course. That didn't make me like it, though.
I got up and stretched expansively, then guided Simba to a small, slimy creek trickling past the truck stop. I left him there, his eyes watching me reproachfully, seeming to say, This is the kind of water I get after hauling your sorry butt halfway across the country? But he ruffled his wings weakly and bent down to drink.
"How far did we go?" Reyna was asking. Bobby removed his helmet and scratched his head, blinking to adjust his eyes.
Hazel answered curtly, "We're just entered Wyoming. That's like, six hundred miles."
"Wait, how long have we been traveling?" Bobby said, pausing in his jacket adjustment and looking up, his eyes innocently wide.
"You were driving faster than you thought," Hazel answered bluntly, seeing through his question. "You drive like a maniac."
Bobby smirked his roguish grin, saying softly, "You tell me that every time, Haze."
"Because it's true every time," she snapped, looking murderous. Bobby grinned provocatively, and I understood suddenly why he drove like a drunk ten year old.
"Hey, hey, calm down," I interceded, standing solidly between them. Hazel snarled, disgusted, and turned away in a huff, crossing her arms. "We need to get some lunch. I'm freaking starving." At this, Hazel and Bobby forgot their disagreement and fastened onto the mention of sustenance. Their hunger was palpable, like the air of starving wild dogs.
Reyna pulled off her backpack and rummaged in the contents. She hummed, "I've got the makings of gyros. Let's find a good spot to rest and eat," which I took to mean, let's find someplace mortals won't find us. She glanced meaningfully at Simba, who was approaching us regally through a tunnel of shifting mortals, his feathered head held high while he ignored the people staring uncomprehendingly at him. They must have thought he was some kind of pompous Amish buggy horse, or a really pretentious minivan.
I nodded at Reyna motioned for her to board the bird while I gathered up his reins. "You guys follow us. We have to find a better place to eat."
While Bobby and Hazel mounted the bike, I noticed the shopkeeper of the restaurant attached to the gas station glowering at me. He must have thought I was leaving because I thought his food wasn't any good. Which was true, given that it was sketchy gas station food in the nowhere-lands of Wyoming, but not really why we were leaving. I afforded the keeper a jaunty wave before taking off, bursting into the sky.
I say bursting because the sky's wrath finally took form; instead of just following us in formidable silence, the air solidified into a wall, blocking our entrance into the higher atmosphere. Simba strained mightily against the currents that shoved his wings downward with massive force, until we broke through the barrier and into the clouds. At that point, I had no choice but to assume the gods were involved. Apparently, the Lord of the Sky did not want me in the sky. Or he just really, really didn't like me. Either way.
Reyna jerked her arms around me like steel vices, banding together across my stomach with crushing force. I wondered why, briefly, until the currents regained their intensity and blasted against our right flank. Simba faltered and sunk a few feet lower because of the gust. After the ephemeral minute of peace in the clouds, our presence was observed and attacked with a vengeance; we were buffeted in every direction, my griffon struggling valiantly against the malevolent winds to keep us aloft and still within the sights of our friends on the washed up backroads below. A foggy face materialized from the mist, half human, half devil. It made a sour expression at us and blasted us sideways several feet.
"Venti! Wind spirits! We have to get out of the air!" Reyna screamed at me hollowly, contending with the howling winds.
Not yet, I thought determinedly. "Keep us up for a bit longer, Simba," I murmured, the sound unintelligible in the racket, then scanned the surrounding air for the wraithlike face. One appeared a few feet above me, its features sown together with misty air currents. "You seen any giants?" I bellowed over the wind.
A mad cackled emanated from the face, its expression contorted in a kind of ferocious delight. "Never!" It screeched, and head slammed Simba's neck. We twirled disconcertingly, the winds turning into vague shapes and colors for a moment. "No, I do not see the servants of Terra. I see only those who try to reach them. And I kill them!" The wraith stared at Reyna, then a look of dawning recognition swept across his features. He then laughed frantically again, shrieking, "You! Yes, I saw your little friend many weeks ago. Not so hot is he, now? Torn to bits, I think, electrocuted, smashed beneath the feet of Gigantes! Destroyed, yes, killed and squished and more!" More merry laughter. "Serves him right, that brat of Jove's, locking us all up, giving the keys to Aeolus, that nutty King. Serves him right!"
Reyna shrieked in horror at some realization I lacked. I ordered Simba to dive away from the attacking winds, jerking a little more roughly than necessary on the reins. He obliged, dropping from the clouds like a stone, aiming for the pavement of the highway. "No, go back, go back!" Reyna screamed, tugging on my hair viciously.
"They'll kill us!" I bellowed assertively, holding steady on the reins while Reyna snatched for them with her searching hands.
"We have to question them! We have to do something – no, go back, you idiot – " She commenced on a quest to rip every hair from my head. I grimaced, clenched my teeth, and leaned forward to aid our aerodynamics. The griffon escaped the grip of the wicked winds, pulling from his dive just above the highway, trotting two hooves on the smooth hot pavement before darting back into the air with a powerful wing stroke.
We coasted for a few minutes, searching for the shining motorcycle bearing our friends. Or at least, I was looking. Reyna was collapsed limply against my back, shaking with what I assumed were silent sobs. They slowed and eventually stopped, but she showed no signs of recovering anything resembling life. I glanced over my shoulder once to check on her, she was lying so lifelessly, and saw two closed eyes ringed in tears and furrowed skin, her lids clenched tight in internal pain. I didn't dare to see more. I had glimpsed enough to remind me of a huge pain inflected on me in my past life. Annabeth had been in danger. I saw a flash of her, exhausted and in pain, a shock of grey hair blossoming on her scalp, clouds looming like a solid mass above her outstretched arms, and my insides burned with agony. I flashed back to the present, staring determinedly at the road, scanning for the others, but my heart still throbbed with that recalled ache. I knew from one glance that Reyna felt the same way now that I had in seeing Annabeth in that state. What would Reyna do to save Jason? I wondered. I knew, from seeing her eyebrows bent in that screaming expression, that internal hurt spreading across her face, that she would do anything. I had.
"Jason's alive," I murmured to her. While quiet, the statement was clear above the noise of the road and wind. She didn't respond. "I may not have ever known him, but I know you. And anyone who has earned your respect has the skill to take down a hundred giants."
Two words floated towards me, nearly brushed aside by the wind. "I know."
We drifted along in silence until I made out the form of Bobby and Hazel speeding along the two-lane road. Simba swooped to them automatically, acting on his hours of experience earlier today. I called over the rushing wind, "Pull off at the next road!" Hazel nodded mutely, and I drove us back into the air.
When the road split, the red motorcycle raced down the more rural end, pulling into a shady wood. Simba dived smoothly of his own accord into the tunnel of trees, landing and trotting slowly along the pavement. He tucked his wings against his body as he jogged, which I took to mean as his statement against going any farther. Bobby pulled back, U-turning in the middle of the road, and drifted to a stop in front of us. He killed the engine, the noise dying, leaving us in an empty road in the middle of the woods.
"Lunch under the comfort of some trees?" Bobby proposed.
"I guess so," I said with a shrug. Though Hazel glanced curiously at Reyna for a moment, no one said anything more, so we turned into the darkness of the wooded area, leaving the road behind. Bobby found a protective, arching bough farther in, and parked his Harley underneath it. Reyna and I got off Simba, who promptly collapsed on the woody floor and fell asleep. We decided to make camp there.
Reyna immediately busied herself with preparing food. She set up a stone fire pit ringed with damp, rotting logs, lit the crisp shredded tinder with a match, and readied some pre-cooked lamb on a spit. Meanwhile, the rest of us sliced a portion of the trunk out of a fallen tree, using Bobby's conveniently flaming sword (another gift of his father's. When I asked, Hazel rolled her eyes while he impulsively twirled it proudly in a small but complex maneuver that was beyond me. He hacked through the tree easily – it practically melted away, its edges smoking). Then we hauled it back to camp, extinguishing the flames erupting on the end, and sat on it next to the blossoming fire pit. The lamb was already a glossy flushed brown, its juices dripping into the fire with squelching hisses. Reyna's face was clear of emotion, her tears dry and gone, but pinkish splotches crowded on her forehead and eyes to betray her. She was silent and lashed out furiously with a wooden meat fork whenever we tried to help her fix the cucumber sauce (Tzatziki. Don't ever ask me to pronounce that word again. It may be Greek, but that doesn't mean I want to say it more than once). Bobby seemed indifferent, watching the rustling leaves above, but Hazel watched with befuddled contemplation, finally looking to me with the question in her eyes, admitting defeat. She couldn't figure out Reyna, but then, I wasn't so sure I could either.
"All right, what happened?" Hazel demanded bluntly. She had no patience with theatrics.
Reyna's eyes took on the appearance of granite: dark, solid, regal, and cold. She set down the meat fork, stabbing it in the dirt, and crouched next the fire while she explained. "-and then this idiot," she finished, glancing at me with an unnerving lack of emotion, "pulled us away from the spirits that could've led us straight to him. Because I know Jason's too strong to be killed by a giant, whoever he was fighting would've had to capture him. We were so close," she murmured.
"You can't blame Percy, though," Bobby said, without glancing down from the leaves. We were so surprised to hear him playing the mediator, that we all listened in stunned quiet while he mulled it over. "You know as well as any of us that venti are the lying scum of Jove's skivvies. You can't trust them."
Hazel chimed in, consoling, "You heard the Mercury reports, all sorts of spirits are escaping. He was probably just one of the venti you captured last summer and he wanted to mess with you."
"Or kill you," Bobby said pensively, leaning back a little farther to see the higher canopy.
"Thanks, Captain Positive," Hazel said with a snort. We all laughed, even Reyna, though hers was quiet and somewhat flat. We had to. The alternative was to be struck by the reality of the words and scum up your own skivvies.
"Let eat," Reyna said with a faint smile, slicing into the delicately roasted meat and laying strips on emmer bread. We drowned the meat, tomatoes, onions, and bread in the cucumber sauce, wrapping it into a sloppy Roman version of a burrito and munching like carnivorous horses. All of us, except Bobby, were done in a few minutes. He was staring at the sky.
"Seri 'sly?" Hazel yelled at him through a mouthful of meaty goodness. "Drop the Cicero act and eat your gyro." Bobby shrugged and faced a dripping sandwich in his hands to chow down, but I had caught something in the way his eyes were squinted, the way his body was stacked defensively, the way his hands, full of emmer and meat, had drifted to his flaming coin sword clipped to his belt. There was something out there.
Reyna, who was looking marginally more reassured and cheerful, hadn't noticed. She made a second gyro and said with a happy sigh, "Man, I know I say this every time, but the Greeks got something right when they invented these."
I choked on my fifth bite of my second gyro. I chewed and swallowed quickly, to clear my mouth and say, "I thought the Greeks were worthless." It came out of his mouth as a question.
"Dear Mars, didn't they teach you anything where you came from?" Bobby said incredulously after a thick gulp. "They invented practically everything. They were geniuses."
"It was just easier for Rome to copy everything they did, because a lot of it was so brilliant. Don't get me wrong, we made some of our own stuff, but there was pretty much no way we could invent anything better than what they had. Except armies. When it came right down to it, our armies beat the snot out of theirs," Reyna said.
"That's not true," I blurted, before I could stop myself. Thirty seconds ago I had claimed that Greece sucked. Now I was defending them. Oh, gods. "Rome didn't crush Greece immediately. Besides, Greece only fell because of corruption of the government. It was weak already when the Germanic tribes attacked from the north, Turks from the east, and Rome from the west."
The three Romans stared at me. Bobby said slowly, "Uh, okay. If you say so, man. But I think your amnesia it messing with your history a little." He changed tack suddenly. "My gods! I knew it!" He stuffed one end of his half-a-gyro in his mouth and rose to his feet, drawing his sword. He flipped it into a long, flaming weapon. The rest of us stood, scanning the sky like he was, drawing our weapons. Reyna's compound appeared from nowhere on my left and Hazel's sword poked at my peripheral vision to the right. The sky was an empty, innocent blue behind the leaves.
"Okay, I give up," I said. "What are we supposed to be seeing?"
"I swear, there's something up there," he mumbled through his dripping gyro. He chewed quickly and swallowed, while I scanned the sky and trees. A rustling shadow caught my attention just to the north, and I swiveled to face it. It was already gone. We circled up unconsciously, protecting our backs against each other.
A form dropped from the branches in front of me. The others didn't break form while I charged the dracaenae. The snake-woman slithered towards me, hissing menacingly and drawing twin swords. Without worrying for my safety, I sliced through her abdomen, cutting off her weird, squirming, trunk-like snake legs and watching her explode into powder.
The next few minutes passed in the crashing blur that it always did: reliant on reflexes and deeply engrained sword maneuvers only, my mind flying into hyper drive and analyzing the best attack patterns to chop up the enemy, everything non-essential fading into nonbeing while the battlefield became intensely clear and sharp. It was a whole horde of wild dracaenae, leaping with strange dexterity from the trees. How they managed it with serpent tails for legs, I'll never know. Regardless, the herd was like a virus; every time you cut down one, another would appear. I covered my side of the field, wiping out all the monsters that ran at me, then went to help Hazel, who was struggling to keep up. Reyna was behind Bobby, sniping snake-women with imperial gold arrows from an un-empty-able quiver, so he was able to deal with the onslaught pretty well. But Hazel was fending for herself against the same number of monsters. I rushed to her side and we fought together, me guarding the points weakest in her defense while she advanced into the masses.
It came on slowly, but I could tell each of us felt it: a shimmer in the air, a hazy fog in our thoughts. My vision took on a lurid tint while I became more and more frustrated and angry. My strokes gained power, Hazel attacked faster – a horrible snarl blossoming on her sweet face, Reyna yanked with more force than necessary on her bowstring, flinging arrows vengefully into the faces of the approaching dracaenae; Bobby was the sole calm soul, his mouth set in a stiff line of concentration disproportionate to the effort required for sword fighting. We started to utterly destroy the enemy, the evil, the horrors of our past – the snake-women began to morph in my eyes into the face of a handsome college guy with molten gold eyes laughing at me derisively. The echoes of his voice resounded in my ears, and I forced the dracaenae back, roaring in my rage. A few took the forms of Ares, as I remembered him, his brutal complexion glaring at me, his eye sockets pits of fire, his mouth set hard. I took particular joy in slicing through those dracaenae. I covered Hazel's weak points with an out-of-body ferocity, protecting her from every attack while trying my hardest not to obstruct her furious swipes at snake-women.
When a lone dracaenae was the only threat to us, suddenly the fire died out of me. The clearing in the woods swung back into focus, and the rage that had consumed me dissipated without warning. I shook my head experimentally and blinked, confused. I saw Ares face just as clearly in my mind as if he'd actually been there – and was abruptly reminded of Bobby expression in the battle.
They were identical. Bobby had been using the magic of his ancestry.
"That was surreal," I commented, my inflection making it sound almost like a complaint.
"Sorry, I forgot you didn't know my power. I should've told you before we went on the mission," he said apologetically, ruffling his hair and flipping his sword. He caught the coin, stuffed it in his pocket, surveying the damage of the battlefield that was our campsite. The fire had been trampled into nonexistence, the log decimated, our packs brushed carelessly against trees. The dirt and leaf floor was covered in a thick layer of monster ash, making it seem like we were walking on a lake of gold. It glinted in the dappled light of the sunset. After a moment of pause, Bobby looked to the remaining dracaenae. It measured us in its slimy eyes, watching our progress in surveying the damage.
"Why didn't we kill that one?" Hazel asked, shaking her head to clear it. She knew Bobby's magic, but it didn't make her immune to the effects. She still had to refresh her vague memory like the rest of us.
"It'll have information," Reyna said simply. She watched, unsurprised, while Bobby bowed his head in concentration and the rest of us stood around awkwardly.
The dracaenae seemed to understand something bad was going to happen, because it cowered, but didn't move. I thought that was strange, but didn't have time to mull it over. A brobdingnagian voice, powerful like a god's, a roar, a rumble, a sheer blast of power from the earth, shook through the clearing, pressing like a physical force against the demon. "Who do you work for?"
The demon squealed in a manner most unimpressive and shrieked, "I sssshould ssssshow you, if you jussssst let me!"
"You WILL show us?"
"Of courssssse, you idiot, you fool, I wassss going to in the firsssst place!"
The pressure in the air popped and the voice was gone. Bobby looked up and demanded, "Take us to your leader," with a wink at us. The demon crouched forward in a snakelike slink, inviting us to follow. We did, from a safe distance behind, in case she set up an ambush. Simba had woken in the battle and decided to follow us and the demon.
"'Take me to your leader'? 'Who do you work for?' Really? Are you trying to copy every bad movie ever made?" I asked Bobby in a exasperated whisper.
"Meh, it sounded good, didn't it?" he said with a grin and a shrug. "Got her talking."
"She said she was going to help us in the first place, and you could see it in her eyes," Hazel said offhandedly, unimpressed and clearing dust from under her fingernails. Reyna just listened, smiling.
We walked for ten minutes through brambles and ferns, doing the limbo under downed trees in our path, just to ease the tension. Reyna pulled off a magnificently low move, practically bending her entire body at a right angle at the knees and inching under a two foot high branch. We applauded enthusiastically while she took several playful bows, grinning widely. She was back to her usual personality, unaffected by the incident in the sky earlier. I was glad to see it.
When we cheered Hazel through an awesome limbo of a three foot high branch, the dracaenae hissed angrily, "Sssssilence, foolssss, you don't want her to think you are as sssstupid as you are." We must be close. We stuck close to the demon, scanning the surrounding woods for some sign of a dwelling. I didn't see anything but indiscriminate woods. A chipmunk fled before us, the demon unnerving it.
When I least expected it, the snake-woman stopped. She put her hand against a small rise next the trail and pushed, revealing a solid, circular door nearly three feet in diameter. "Inssssside, ssssshe waitssss." She motioned us in, then wandered away, not bothering to close the door. I led the way, descending a narrow, steep flight of stone steps into an underground cavern. Simba stayed outside, watching us with reproachful eyes.
I descended the staircase carefully, my hand against the low ceiling and my griffon's eyes boring into my back. The tunnel widened into a room, the stairs smoothing in a mini-ramp into the solid clay floor. If I hadn't just come in through the door, I wouldn't have known that it was underground: It was a capacious room, light and airy, a vine-smothered skylight providing golden light in the room. Additional industrial lighting lined the room along the crevice between the ceiling and walls. Shelves of wooden kitchen implements sat humbly against the far side of the room, a small twin bed nestled against the near wall to the right, and a mini-living room of a tattered couch, wireless box TV, and several broken-in armchairs dominated the left half of the room. Thick, loose carpeting squished under my shoes. It was possibly the most humble, cozy home I'd ever been in. A flash of a memory struck me – an apartment in New York, my gentle mother studying notes of some kind with a squirrelly scholar-type – and bitterness stung my tongue. I blinked the memory away, aware of my teammates behind me and the mysterious leader of a dracaenae herd reading a book cross-legged in an armchair.
She couldn't be any older than thirteen. Her plain, glossy brown hair cascaded to her mid-back, unadorned but somehow pretty in its simplicity. Her skin was pale – unhealthy pale – but her expression was serene. She dressed in a shapeless pink t-shirt, khaki pants, and smooth suede slides with black socks. She was an unimposing figure, calm, with the radiant aura of a college student. Her intelligence exuded from her every pore.
She looked up with a vague smile upon our entrance, like we were long-lost friends. "Welcome. I have not hosted visitors for a long time, but you seemed to be… perfect."
I couldn't tell what she meant by that, but I knew she'd been preparing for an encounter like this for a long time. Longer than her apparent age allowed. I knew, deep down, that a situation like this wasn't good, especially the creepy comment part, so I stayed on my guard.
"My name is Megara. I can tell, we will be excellent friends. Please, sit." While she bookmarked her page, we all gathered together on the couch, sitting uncomfortably close to each other, practically overlapping our legs. "Really, there's no need for that," she insisted, and pulled Bobby by the arm to another armchair while the rest of us remained stuck in the couch. The likelihood of Megara being an evil witch, demoness, or malevolent goddess was increasing by the second. She definitely wasn't human. No human actually tried to make their guests comfortable.
"Uh, hi," Bobby said quizzically, a thousand questions laced in his uncertainty.
The girl laughed breezily and nodded, murmuring, "Definitely the ones." Then she said, "Well, nice to meet you. You must have questions, so I will try to answer as many as possible right now. I saw you tramping through my woods with that massive griffon of yours – wherever did you find one so large? In my days of experience, they were half that size – and silly metal contraption, and I thought I would test you. You see, mortals these days cannot understand the world as it is. They have lost the faith in it, and thus it no longer allows them to see truth. So I knew you could not be mortals, as you rode the griffon. I sent my many followers, the dracaenae – they have been loyal to me for many years, though last summer and the spring before it, they seemed distracted and would not respond to me – to test your skills in battle. If sufficient, Alexia was to bring you here, as she did. I have been hiding for many years – years beyond counting. I wished to rejoin the world. It may have changed drastically, but I am sick of hiding."
"How old are you?" Bobby asked without tact.
Normally, a woman would respond violently to such a question. Megara merely looked slightly pensive. "Well, that's interesting. What millennium are we in?"
Bobby was stunned silent, and I answered, "Two thousand AD."
She smiled and said offhandedly, "Then I suppose I am roughly three thousand years old."
We didn't know how to answer. At least, I didn't. Reyna asked respectfully, "Why do you want to travel with us? You don't know where we're going."
"It is not a matter of where we're going," she said sweetly. I noted the use of the world 'we'. She was already set on coming, whether we liked it or not. "I want to see the world. I don't wish to be pushed into hiding by that pig, Apollo, any longer."
Reyna's respect dissipated fast. "Apollo is my father!" she shouted, standing.
"Well I'm sorry to upset you, my dear," Megara said with genuine apology. Reyna accepted it and sat slowly, keeping her eyes locked with faint distaste on the other girl's form. "But the gods are imperfect. They have their faults. I am Apollo's fault. He won't let history die…" She sounded so wistful, I actually sighed. I would have been embarrassed, but I wasn't the only one enraptured by her genuine emotions.
"Who are you?" I asked. There was history behind her, I knew it.
"I told you, I am Megara. You may call me Meg, if you wish. But that is the end of that matter." Her tone implied she would reveal nothing else.
"All right, then!" Hazel said, rising to her feet and clapping decisively. "We could use a place to stay for tonight, because I really don't want to camp outside if we don't have to. Plus, we could use a little dinner."
I almost objected, thinking of the gyros we'd already eaten, but I saw the glint in Hazel's eyes. She was still hungry. Now that I thought about it, so was I. "I can make something quick and easy, and you can sleep here for tonight. We'll set off in the morning," Meg said cheerfully. Already, her English, so elaborate and formal to begin with, had begun to morph to our modern dialect.
Meg clipped swiftly to the kitchen and assembled a legion of raw ingredients in under a minute. The rest of us pulled out our smaller-than-a-rabbit-ultra-mini-lightweight-super-micro-stuff-bag sleeping rolls and laid them out in the middle of Meg's house. We sat on our "beds", rooting through our packs to take stock of our supplies for the rest of the mission. That done, Reyna and Bobby used their bags as pillows and passed out, Hazel started carving a wooden harmonica (don't ask me how that works), and I stared through the skylight.
The skylight dark with the colors of twilight now; vines and ferns dripping shadows into the scattered light of the room. A light patter of rain dribbled onto the glass, cool air rustling down the staircase to brush away the accumulating steam from the active kitchen. I sat there, thinking about Annabeth, my hand rummaging through the clay beads chilling against my shirt. The rain, and the darkness, and the breeze had triggered the new memory.
Annabeth's fingers twisted through mine, her palm and forearm pressed against mine. The waves of the Atlantic played at our feet, sand softly pressing against our legs and free hands. The rain puttered down, but nothing touched us. We sat Camp Half-Blood's beach, alone and happy, the rest of the camp gone on a night trip to the Ancient Greece History Museum to troll on tour guides, telling them the true story of certain "myths". Annabeth's notes for Mount Olympus sat forgotten to her other side, Daedelus's laptop whirring dejectedly next to them. Annabeth leaned her head against my shoulder and sighed softly.
"What?" I asked her.
"Nothing." Her voice was warm, like fresh baked bread.
"C'mon," I chastised her.
I felt her jaw move against my shoulder as she smiled. "I just thought, we have the rest of our lives to be together. No more insane prophecies for us."
My memory self sighed too, content and relaxed, yet excited at the idea of a life with Annabeth. "True." My voice was uncharacteristically smooth and affectionate. For some reason, I thought of a solid architectural structure, Annabeth and I working on it together.
The sea breeze blew back my hair and made me blink to keep sand out of my eyes. When I opened my eyes, a form of shifting sand stood before us, her arms crossed and face serious. "Annabeth Chase, Juniper wishes to see you," the naiad said in a crackly voice. We both started to stand, not once losing our grip on the other's fingers. "No, Perseus Jackson. Just Annabeth," the naiad said, her voice pushing me down. A tingle started in the base of my spine, a nervous prickle, a warning, but I bit it down. Juniper and Annabeth were good friends. There was no reason to worry.
"Okay," I said, my tone of voice back to its brusque usual, and I sat down. It pained me to remove my fingers from Annabeth's hands. My palm felt bare and cold without her. I could see the same feeling in her eyes as she finished standing and brushed the sand from her butt. "I'll be here when you get back."
Annabeth nodded, said in her usual sly tones, "Don't go on a midnight swim without me, Seaweed Brain," and trotted off to the woods.
Unlike what I expected, the sea naiad didn't disappear into the rocky, sandy shore from which it came. It stood there, glaring down at me regally, until Annabeth was out of sight. Then, sand blasted everywhere, erupting from the skin of the naiad, to reveal the glowering form of Hera. She didn't look pleased. "I'm sorry if I offended you Lady Hera," I said immediately, though I had no idea what I could've done.
Hera shook her head, a new look taking over her eyes and the set of her lips. "There's nothing wrong with you, Percy." I took that to mean, "It's Annabeth that's the problem," and reacted appropriately, shooting to my feet and drawing Riptide.
"There's nothing wrong with Annabeth either." Hera was sizing me up gravely, her lips twisted into a frown. My mind started to weaken and fade. I suddenly couldn't remember where I was. My family – Paul, Mom, Tyson, Poseidon – started to blank from my mind, leaving holes in my memory. Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, my mind plugged along, refusing to let her name fade. The black hole in the back of my head sucked up her face, her laugh, her personality, robbing me of everything but the pounding beat of Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, until my own name deserted me, leaving me with only one word.
Annabeth.
"It's me, Percy. There's something wrong with me." But as I blacked out, the words meant nothing to me, nor did the expression the goddess wore. It was regret.
I knew now who it was that had wiped my mind. Who it was that had messed up my entire life. Hera, goddess of marriage, sister and wife of Zeus. I couldn't fathom her reasons, but I knew her identity. Still, I couldn't be sure until I knew which god or goddess had created Python. Then I could be certain. I rolled the black bead with green lettering between two fingers of my right hand, feeling the Braille-like rises on the smoothness of the clay. I felt like I should know why I had this bead…
"Percy," Reyna snapped. I popped back into reality and looked around, wondering what was going on.
"Huh?" I decided to say, feigning innocence.
Meg had served our second dinner, offering us each a plate of tilapia fillet with vegetables. Hazel was done eating already, turning back to her carving, Bobby was shoveling steamed broccoli in his mouth and glancing discreetly at me, and Reyna was staring at me like I was dying. Meg picked serenely at her tilapia, unconcerned with my state. "Did you remember something?" Reyna asked gently.
"Yeah," I said, but I didn't really want to talk about it. I said quickly, "But I was just thinking…What if we don't make it to Minnesota in time?"
Reyna could tell I was lying, but Bobby said, muffled, "Well, at this rate, we'll be there in two days…" and he went on about our progress and tried to plan how to find the rising point of the giants.
"We might not have two days," Hazel cut in. "Hyllon wasn't exactly specific on telling us the time that they would rise, but we have to assume that its faster than we can get there easily."
"We can check on your destination, if you'd like," Meg said quietly. We all looked at her. She shrugged, as she'd seen us do several times, and motioned one hand vaguely over her shoulder. A cloud materialized in the air and floated into her lap. She waved her hands through it, and the vapor reacted, shaping as her hands moved. Soon it was in the form of a compacted disc of milky vapor. She tapped the surface and it rippled, reforming into a glassy screen that showed a picture of an open stretch of ground. It was surrounded by mountains of snow and the edge of a lake, barely visible through the woods and a downward slope. In the center of the clearing, two small mounds of earth poked through the top of the three-feet of snow, looking totally innocuous; the little piles of dirt didn't betray the fact that they carried two of the most dangerous beings to exist in this millennium, who both wanted to rip the fabric of the universe apart and destroy the gods. For now, they were just two muddy molehills.
"May I ask what your quest is?" Meg asked, intrigued.
"Well…" Bobby started, looking at me. I nodded, and he said, "The giants are rising to destroy the gods. We're supposed to stop them."
For once, Meg looked shocked. "That's preposterous! How do your leaders honestly expect you to achieve such a thing? The Gigantes are massive, super powerful brutes that nearly killed the gods the last time they rose! Demigods, sent to destroy Gigantes… My gods, I'll tell you, the world has grown to be a strange place in my absence…" Her English slipped back into its older form as she frothed, furious."I suppose Chiron sent you? That old horse, he used to be wise…This is ridiculous."
The others were confused, but I had remembered my old teacher at the mention of his name. "Uh, I've never met Chiron. He died when he sacrificed his life to save Prometheus from the eagle eating his liver. We were sent here by Lupa," said Reyna.
"Oh," Meg said, her eyes widening. Then she recovered her poise and went on, "Of course, of course, it would be Lupa. She took over from Chiron ages ago. I must have forgotten…" The others believed her implicitly. I knew she knew the truth, because I had just realized that I came from a whole camp of Greeks. Chiron wasn't just my trainer, he was a trainer of all demigods. Meg could tell that she didn't have me convinced, but she went on, "Regardless, this que- mission is far beyond you. I discourage you from continuing."
"We can't go back unless we've tried," Hazel said frostily.
Meg didn't look happy about it, but she swallowed our determination and nodded. "Fine. It's your choice. I will accompany you on your journey. I take it we're going after Gration and Damysos? They are the only two Gigantes that rise together."
Reyna nodded. "We don't know how we're going to kill them, but the first step is to get there before they rise. After that, we know we can't do anything."
"At least Lupa had the sense to tell you that," Meg muttered bitterly. "Anyway," she continued brightly, "let's worry about that in the morning. We'll need a good night of sleep to travel far tomorrow."
Hazel stuffed her carving into her pack and wrist-flicked her knife closed. "First, we should tell some stories. Then everybody will sleep better." Bobby chuckled and settled into a cross-legged position, apparently expecting nothing less from Hazel.
"Very well," Meg said somewhat formally. She conjured another cloud, and formed it into a large, shallow bowl. When she tapped its surface, it formed into a thin pewter disk the size of a car tire and dropped onto the floor in the center of our circle. Meg drew a thin vial of dust from her pocket and threw it into the disk, where it exploded into a set of flames; the flames fed off nothing, exuding warmth and reaching towards the skylight above. Meg mimed a push at the glass, which then burst open, swinging wide and blasting the vines and ferns away. "Can't tell stories without a campfire," she said somewhat hazily.
The flickering tongues of fire set a strange mood that hadn't existed a few moments ago: it was one of mystery and anonymity, making anything we said in front of it five times more frightening and memorable, but the speaker completely enshrouded in secrecy. A brisk wind of cool air dropped from the open skylight, stray dew and rain drops falling below occasionally. The fire countered the chill with equal vigor, exuding an aura of stinging heat.
The night was darker than it had seemed only moments ago, throwing the faces closest to the fire in sharp relief. Hazel's voice floated into the light of the flames, but it was almost hard to tell who was speaking. Tales of frightening beasts, the accomplishments of Hercules, the years of hopelessness under the reign of the Titans twisted around us, worming into the back of our brains. For no apparent reason, the night became foreboding, every shadow frightening and foreign. The Titans seemed to loom out of the darkness, reaching towards the flames and attempting to extinguish them. After nearly an hour, Hazel's voice stopped, leaving the air open and intimidating in every respect. Then a new voice picked up Hazel's slack, and it took me a moment to recognize it. Meg.
"There was once a brave young god. He stole the world from the Titans, forcing them into submission in Tartarus, slamming the gate on them forever. This god was Jupiter. He assigned the realms of the world to each of the gods, saving the best three for himself and his brothers. For eons, the gods were happy. Jove married his sister Juno, and they had two children, Mars and Vulcan. For some reason, neither young god pleased Jove, so he searched for a different goddess with which to have children. He chose Latona, goddess of wildlife, and she bore him a set of twins. However, before the children were born, he fled, fearing Juno's wrath. Juno's wrath was mighty indeed; when she discovered Jove's unfaithfulness, she devised and evil plan to punish Latona and her children. On the day of the twin's birth, she sent a powerful snake of her own creation to destroy them. Somehow, through a feat of miraculous strength, the baby boy managed to slay the beast and protect his younger sister.
"Juno's plan had failed. To further her vengeance, she played upon the Latona's son's weakness: his desire to protect all beautiful, independent women. Juno created a young maiden from a lark, making the lady beautiful in a plain sort of way and giving her a remarkable strength of personality. When Juno saw the god coming, she dropped the maiden off a steep cliff, which ended in the sea below. The naïve god, upon seeing the girl dropping to her doom, saved her life. Immediately smitten with the girl, he attempted to woo her without success. She spurned him for years, running from his presence and hiding in the most obscure places of the earth. She grew old in this manner, forever running from the god, until her death. The god was crushed, his heart broken."
There was a chilly silence, in which the stars twinkled with mute cheeriness above.
"What a horrible way to live," Hazel said quietly.
"Indeed," Meg agreed, a grimace in her voice. Without any further conversation, we unanimously decided it was time to sleep. We each laid down, consumed by a nameless fear of the dark and our own thoughts. I fell asleep almost instantly.