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 actual The Son of Neptune; all the credit goes to Rick Riordan alone.
Critical reviews are always appreciated.
Chapter 8: Homecoming
Coming up from the Underworld was a real chore. Hazel strained against the earth, going purple in the face from how forcefully she was singing. Apparently, Gaea thought we'd be of more use to her underground than above, because she was constricting the tunnel to only two feet in diameter, Hazel only barely managing to push back the earth enough for us to squeeze through. I wanted to help, but it turned out that my powers only extended to creating massive, practically uncontrollable earthquakes. So Hazel drove forward by herself, muttering between breaths something about crushing the stupid earth goddess with the stupid sky to stop the stupid ground from squishing her stupid friends. I tried not to be insulted.
When we finally surfaced, crawling on all fours from the tube of earth, Hazel fell to the ground and let the tunnel collapse. She just lay there panting for five minutes, refusing to budge while she caught her breath.
I had time to survey my surroundings. We were in a field of dead grasses, the yellow husks rustling softly in an icy northern breeze. The sun sighed on the horizon, retreating into the dark of night. On every side were more snow-dappled fields, edged with the glinting light of a lake two miles away. On the edge of the reflective waters, a stand of coniferous trees protected a smoking city; I could barely make out the words on a billboard: Welcome to Duluth, city of lakeside views and snow. Population: 86918. We must be in Minnesota, I thought. I was struck by a refreshingly hopeful idea: We might actually have a chance at this.
Hazel seemed less hopeful; she sat up, groaning, her expression dangerously irritated. She wore her look that preceded a storm of flying tree branches, enraged deer, and heavy sword strikes. I was relieved when she settled for saying loudly, "Gaea, do that again and I'll start burying Styrofoam in you wherever I go." The earth rumbled, then stilled. Not if I crush you first, demigod ingrate, Gaea whispered in the grasses. Hazel looked satisfied with this and rose to her feet. "All right, I'm fine now. Let's find a deimone and get out of here."
"You trust them?" I mumbled. Hazel glanced at me sharply, though Bobby was nodding like I had a point. "What?" I demanded. "Every time we ask them for directions, we end up in a pinch with some psychopathic luck hippie, or a pile of monsters, or deranged Miss-Ancient-Beauty-Pageant winner with a cursed pool. Who knows what kind of trap they'll lead us into next," I said.
Before Reyna could argue the point, a wad of mist flew from the swaying grasses. The deimone huddled in the air, trying to stay in a solid form with the fierce wind. A whispering voice slid from the mist: it seemed like there was no sound, yet the message was clearly audible. "No path is without danger, demigod. On your journey, you have discovered something crucial to your success. Now, do you seek guidance or do you cower from your task?"
We all shared a look. Reyna gave a slight nod and motioned me forward.
"We seek guidance," I admitted grudgingly. As to what we had learned – other than to never, ever, trust strange women in the woods – I was at a loss. Still, if a god of advice and pathways said we'd learned something on a trek, it was probably true. "If you could take us to the nearest sacred staff, then to the rising ground of Gration and Damysos, that would be great."
If mist can nod, then that's what the deimone did. It then floated swiftly towards Lake Superior in the southeast. We chased it, crashing through the dead reeds and clomping across the frozen ground. Snow melted as it clung to my sweaty skin, soaking my tennis shoes, jeans, and zip-up jacket quickly. The sun fell and plunged us into night. The deimone led on unrelentingly, leaving us to our own devices to deal with the darkness. I tripped several times, looking stupid and clumsy – at least until Reyna fell flat onto her face, landing in a squelch of mud. When Bobby tried to stop and help her up, he slipped on a patch of marshy ground, skating forward several feet before crumpling to his knees. Only Hazel managed to stay standing, though she stepped in more mounds of snow than the rest of us in her effort to avoid the mud. By the time we got to the lake a quarter of an hour later, I was cursing (rather airily, my breath gone from running for so long) at my sea powers for not extending to sweat and snowmelt. I was dripping and cold from the wind. My knees were muddy and my pant legs trashed from brambles. The others weren't looking any better, breathing hard and caked with slop.
At the brisk edge of Lake Superior, the lack of solid ground failed to faze the guidance spirit. It flew across the lake, choppy water licking at the lower tier of its wispy body. We stood on the bank, wondering what to do.
That's when I spotted him.
He was standing a ways down the beach, his hands gripped together behind his back as he stared across the water. His mane of black hair swirled in the wind, the trimmed beard looking wild but majestic in the darkness. He glanced at me, smiling slightly, his sea-green eyes mirroring my own.
"I'll be back," I promised my friends, stumbling towards the seaman. His fishing rod lay in the dirt to one side, the tack box covered in a slight sheet of snow; both sat far enough away from him as to be clear that he wasn't here to fish. He was here for me.
I treaded swiftly across the beach, sure to step in the edge of the breaking waves. The lake water filled me with new strength, erasing my tiredness. As I reached him, I hazarded a nervous glance to see the deimone fading in the distance.
Then I met my father's eyes. He studied me intently for a moment, his mouth pulling into a frown. "I see they've Romanized you, my boy," he said, his voice soft. My eyebrows lowered, my mouth opened to protest, but – "I can see it in your eyes. So serious. Unsmiling. Where's the sarcasm and upbeat personality I've come to expect from you?" Now I frowned, realizing that he was right. I hadn't made a witty quip on almost the entire mission.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," I said bitterly.
Poseidon looked saddened by my response. "Exactly," he said.
We stood there for a moment in silence.
"Why didn't you tell me that I can create earthquakes?" I blurted.
"Why didn't Zeus tell Thalia that she can create lightning?" Poseidon answered lightly.
"Because Zeus is afraid to look nice?" I volunteered. The sky thrummed as Zeus sent a lightning bolt across the sky, throwing the waves of the lake into sharp relief.
Poseidon smiled softly. The joke was weak, like my ability to produce sarcastic remarks was an atrophying muscle; nonetheless, his eyes adopted a twinkle they had lacked the moment before. "Because the children of the gods must walk their paths alone," he corrected. "They can make friends, meet their parents, and fight together for the good of mankind, but ultimately, their journey is a solitary one. You have to learn your destiny, your skills, and your weaknesses by yourself. And in this, we come to the topic I am here to discuss."
I glanced behind me on instinct to see Reyna picking her way across the beach to us. I waved her back, mouthing, I'm fine. She nodded and didn't come closer. Then again, she didn't back away either. Her brown eyes watched with hawk-like concentration.
"Do you remember your fatal flaw?" Poseidon asked, reclaiming my attention. He said it like it was the most important thing in the world. I tried to remember, searching my empty brain, but…
"Uh… no," I replied. Dark clouds rolled over the lake, booming their displeasure through the air. The wind ripped at my soaked clothes.
"When you retrieve your memories, you will know what it is. I caution you: your fatal flaw will destroy the world if you cannot control it."
"Oh. Nice to know," I said, my heart sinking. Whatever it was, it didn't sound like it could be a good thing. I glanced distractedly at the disappearing deimone. "Well, in the meantime, while I'm not about to destroy the world and kill everyone, can we have a boat? Our guide is getting away."
"Of course," Poseidon said slowly. "After I give you one last piece of advice. I realize that as my son, you are used to Zeus's children taking control while leaving the brunt of responsibilities and hazards to you. I ask that you do not emulate their style of leadership. Your friends seem to resent that in a leader as much as you do. Trust them. They will not guide you into error."
I opened my mouth, baffled, until I thought of Bobby yelling at me earlier. I wasn't treating my friends like the skilled warriors and intelligent people they were. I closed my mouth, ashamed. Is this what it meant to be a Roman? No, I knew better. Reyna, Hazel, Bobby – they were Romans, and loyal, hardworking leaders to boot. Unlike me.
"Do not be so hard on yourself," Poseidon said, seeing my expression. "It's natural that you are unsure of your identity, given your loss of memories. For the Great Prophecy to succeed, and for your peace of mind, you must learn who you used to be and who the Fates will make you." He paused, a genuinely hopeless expression on his face. "It is unfortunate that the greatest leaders of each camp had to lose themselves in order to save the world."
I frowned. Both of the leaders? That meant… Jason was at my camp. My home. Whoever he was, I hoped he was smart enough to keep my friends out of danger. I looked over my shoulder at my new friends, weighed down by the responsibility to keep them safe. Not just because they were my surrogate family – waking up with no memories or home, I would have been lost without them – but because they were Jason's friends, too.
"Get going, Percy. You don't want to lose your guide," my father said.
A canoe appeared out of the waves and crashed to the shore beside Reyna. She startled and stepped back a few feet, then looked at me beseechingly. I couldn't hold back the smile tugging at my mouth. It was rare to see Reyna unnerved.
"Thank you," I said to my father. I wasn't sure which I appreciated more – the boat or Reyna's look of surprise.
"You're welcome," he intoned flatly. His eyes were sad, regretful. He wasn't telling me something. I got the feeling withholding information was pretty normal for gods. And given how much bad news he'd already given me, I didn't want him to break that habit now.
When I turned to leave, he called, "And Percy," his tone remorseful. I faced him. "I'm sorry. But your life was never meant to be peaceful." He disappeared in a flash of light, briefly illuminating the stormy beach. I wondered what he meant, then shrugged. I didn't have the free time to puzzle it out. My heart was already weighed down with his other gloomy warnings. I picked my way across the debris-littered dirt.
Reyna studied me with concern. "Who-"
"Family visit," I said. "Let's get this show on the road!" I waved Bobby and Hazel over, who were still looking at the canoe like it was from outer space. I pushed it with ease into the edge of the water and held it still, the waves crashing over my knees as I stood in the water.
"You can't honestly expect us to paddle across these waves," Reyna said doubtfully.
I rolled my eyes. "What am I, chopped liver? Son of Neptune here, at your service." Reyna's eyes laughed, even though her mouth only barely cracked a smile. "After you, madam."
I helped Reyna into the canoe like she was royalty and the canoe a noble trireme. Bobby was more skeptic, noticing a few holes in the hull, but he climbed in without complaint. Actually, he said, "I have to admit, a canoe called the U.S.S. Awesome commands a certain degree of respect." I noticed the painted purple letters on the hull and grinned like a Cheshire cat, sending a prayer to Poseidon: Thanks, dad. I feel much safer now. A warm wave lapped at my feet.
Hazel seemed delighted to have any mode of transportation at all. "I thought you were going to make us surf across," she admitted. I laughed this off like it was ridiculous, but secretly I thought, Well hey, that's not a bad backup plan.
As they climbed aboard, the steel boat barely shifted under their weight. I used a wave to throw me into the boat. I landed lightly on the steel floor, my clothes dry from their brief stint in the lake water. Funny thing about being a son of the sea god: if you go into a body of water, you come out dryer than you went in. How my mother managed to bathe me as a child would remain a mystery forever.
I settled down in the front of the boat, holding it in the same place with my powers. It took a disproportionately large amount of effort to combat the angry white-capped waves for such a small raft, but the canoe remained obediently in place. The others huddled low in the boat, hiding from the stinging wind. It seemed like the storm was getting more intense with every second. "Which way did it go?" I asked, scanning the lake for the deimone.
"That way," Bobby said, pointing. Unfortunately, he was behind me, so that didn't help much.
"Sort of northeast. Along the shore," Hazel clarified. I ordered the canoe wordlessly to the east-northeast, aligning myself with the appropriate directional planes in my mind. The waves presented no challenge, because I pushed them aside and cut through the gap with the tip of the canoe. We flew across the choppy water without a bump, the U.S.S. Awesome smoothly sailing through the flying specks of water that splashed our faces.
I looked behind me, grinning widely as we sped along. Bobby seemed taken aback by the speed of our sailing, his mouth hanging open until he got a mouthful of lake water. He hunched over, then came up spluttering, his eyes streaming from the wind. Hazel laughed at him as she lounged in the back, her arms lying along the sides of the boat, her fingertips skimming the tips of the waves. She learned her head back and stared through the cloud cover to the obscured stars.
Reyna was right behind me, hunkered against my back. She glanced up and mimed a theatrical shiver for my benefit. This only made me grin wider.
I threw my senses across the water. After a few minutes of searching, I found the deimone, speeding in the distance. I doubled our speed, pushing the groaning steel boat to its maximum velocity. The smooth, age-wizened steel streaked through the protesting water; within minutes, I reached the scattered cloud. It tried to pull together and stay solid in the wind, but failed, its separate filaments spreading wide in the storm. The spirit's silent voice spoke to me again. "I cannot progress any further, demigod. Your journey must be your own." – I shivered, unnerved by the similarity between its words and my father's – "You will find what you seek in the ice palace of the gods of earthly time. The Lady is a curator of sacred artifacts. She will not part easily with the object of your want. Good luck." With that, the cloud dispersed into invisible cirrus.
Reyna rose to her knees. "Now what?" she called over the wind.
"We keep going. If we keep going in the right direction, we'll run into the palace eventually. I hope," I answered. It wasn't like we had much other choice.
Two hours later, we neared the Apostle Islands. The storm had abated just enough for the moon to squeeze through the heavy clouds, providing enough light to see a glacier between Outer and Stockton Island. The bright, gleaming white of it lit up the night, reflecting the moons rays across the windy waters. The islands looked dark and dangerous in comparison, their thick foliage obscuring whatever monsters might hide inside. The tall, rocky cliffs looked down thoughtfully on the bay. I could see the moon-highlighted silhouette of the ice palace atop the glacier; it gleamed in the night, unforgiving and bold.
"I think we're here," I murmured, nudging Reyna. She jolted awake, inadvertently kicking Bobby in the shin. He grunted, wincing unconsciously and stretching. His hands stretched back and his elbow connected with Hazel's gut. She gasped and sat up quickly, her eyes unfocused but blazing. Strangely, when she saw it was Bobby leaning back, she stayed her hand and sighed, settling back in to the rear of the boat instead of slapping him.
"If we don't all die fighting giants, remind me to get a steel canoe for my bed when we get back to camp. That was the best sleep I've gotten in a long time," Bobby said happily, a smile spreading across his face.
"Let's work on that whole 'not dying' thing first," Reyna said with equal verve.
"I'm glad you all got some rest. You'll need it. We're here," I said.
"Ugh. We have to climb that?" Hazel asked, looking dejected as her eyes raked the slope.
"I don't see a better way up," I agreed, sympathizing with her disgruntlement. No one in their right mind would want to climb an eight hundred foot ice face on two hours of sleep.
I guided the canoe to a calm bay in a nook under the ice. The miniature ice cave rocked slowly with the rolling waves outside. I summoned my power to create a thick ice ledge next to the U.S.S. Awesome so we could sit on (sort-of) solid ground. We all clambered from the boat, groaning as the stiffness in our muscles settled in. I almost forgot to tie up the canoe, until I realized it was floating into the choppier waters outside the cave.
"Mooring lines!" I called, and the bow, stern, and spring lines jumped to my waiting hands. I pulled a pair of ice anchors into existence on the back of the ledge and tied down the docking ropes with swift ease. I loved boating. Everything came so naturally.
Apparently, this was evident in my behavior. Reyna said, "You look so happy, Percy. It's kinda weird."
I hummed a little boating tune to myself as I sat down. "It helps me remember who I am," I answered softly, smiling unconsciously. Then I thought of the massive cliff we had to climb, and my pocket of happiness dissipated into sobriety. "I think we should camp here for the night. Get some rest. Eat some granola bars or something. I'm starving." I shrugged off my backpack and rummaged through the contents, digging into a pile of dehydrated fruit. The others followed my lead, munching on power bars and sweet snacks.
"We can't stay the whole night," Bobby said through a stuffed mouth. "We should get a move on. Those giants aren't going to kill themselves."
"Actually, they might…" Hazel said sarcastically.
We sat there in uncertain silence for a second. Then suddenly, we were all laughing, our voices rebounding off the white walls and swaying water. I fell to the ground holding my side, thinking of Otus' stupid expression when he'd glared at me. I tried not to choke on my dried pineapple when I saw Reyna's face was red with suppressed mirth, but I spluttered anyway, swallowing hard through my hysterics. I poked her knee, and a strain of wild, snorting laughter burst from her, as if I'd hit a hidden button.
We were inconsolable with splitting side stitches for well on five minutes, breaking up into more laughter every time we saw the flushed mash of another's face. Eventually, the cold wind nipped through the cave and startled us. Suddenly aware of my surroundings and situation again, I sat up and gulped a few bites of power bar ("Ambrosi-powerful! Taste the sweet food of the gods to keep up your strength!") before clearing my throat. Reyna and Bobby settled down, but Hazel was still giggling in a sleep-deprived manner. At my stony glance, she swallowed her hiccupping titters and pulled a falsely straight face.
"Who are the gods of earthly time?" I asked, looking to Hazel. She seemed to know all of the myths (or, as Chiron used to call them, "the old stories").
To my surprise, Bobby answered. "Well, I think the deimone meant the goddess of dawn, Aurora, and the god of dusk, Astraeus, who manage the flow of time on earth. From what I've heard, they're a couple now, living in the arctic somewhere. So it would make sense that this is their palace."
"I thought Apollo controlled the length of the day," I said slowly, confused.
Hazel answered swiftly, ready to talk, now that she'd composed herself. "In Greek times, that was true. But in the Roman Empire, when discipline was so important that even the gods had to be regulated, that changed. Astraeus and Aurora became the gatekeepers of the sky – in order to ride their celestial chariots across the sky, Apollo and Diana had to pass their borders. Because Apollo and Diana relied on Dawn and Dusk to speed and delay the chariots appropriate to the seasons, they, technically, were the gods of regulating earthly time."
"Ohh-kay," I said, even slower. "So Aurora will be busy a dawn, and she's the one who'll give us a relic. We need her to be there. From the stars, I estimate we've got about…" I peered through the entrance of our cave, into the murky sky. It took effort to identify the stars and moon, but – "we've got about six hours before sunrise. We can easily make it up the cliff, get a relic and leave in six hours. Besides, pre-dawn is the best time for a climb," I said, standing up. I offered a hand to Bobby, who smirked and used my help to get up. The girls clambered grudgingly to their feet and swung their packs onto their backs.
We nudged our way along the edge of the glacier, sticking to the thin ledge formed by lapping waters. When I sensed into the ice and felt the palace directly above us, I motioned for everyone to start climbing.
Like I suspected, it was grueling work. The ice was – you guessed it – freezing, which made my hands numb and achy. The continued strain of wedging my fingers into tight recesses for handholds nearly broke my will to continue. Nevertheless, I climbed on, keeping pace with my friends, who were all wincing and stopping occasionally to warm the fingers of one hand. I saw Hazel having the most difficulty, painstakingly wrapping her palms in gauze while clinging to the ice with just her considerable leg strength. We looked like Germanic invaders scaling the walls of Constantinople*, in one line of fighters climbing at the same height and speed. It took nearly four hours to climb the cliff – slower than what I remembered to be my usual pace, but I didn't have any lava or boulders to encourage me to climb faster. Give me a break.
At the top of the cliff, I slung my arm over the edge, grabbing on to a conveniently located rock. I slid up and over the precipice, stopping only to unhook my backpack strap from a snag. When I slithered onto the solid, icy ground, I laid there for a moment, letting my aching muscles rest. I yearned for sleep, but I didn't have time to waste. I pushed myself to my feet and helped the others over the ledge.
"That was fun," Bobby said brightly, and I saw in his eyes that he wasn't being sarcastic.
I laughed. "Yeah, it was a fantastic time. Nearly broken fingers, frostbite, and the every-present possibility of falling to our deaths – Yup, I'd do that again any day."
Bobby glared at me briefly in an I-see-where-you're-coming-from-but-I-don't-necessarily-agree kind of way; he said decisively, "You can't break your fingers," and ignored my laughter.
Hazel, on the other hand, chuckled bitterly, kneading her bandaged hands together for warmth. Reyna clipped, "Come on, we need to get there before dawn. Let's go."
We turned to the ice palace, which loomed like a ghost of a different age. It's regal, indifferent façade cracked with fissures, yet held together with glossy solidarity. We marched toward it, breathing heavily in the gasping night. My breath fogged in front of my face in a white cloud, obscuring my vision hazily in short intervals. It took us almost a quarter of an hour to walk to the towering palace, avoiding fissures in the ice and fighting to stay upright against the gusting wind. When we stood in the shadow of the front portcullis, provided with a brief hiatus from the fierce wind, we all shared a look. Here it goes, I was thinking.
I knocked on the thick door. Each connection between ice and invulnerable fist boomed through the palace. No one answered; instead, the door swung in on itself, allowing us entrance to the surprisingly warm foyer. Bobby swung his arms in an attempt to enliven his muscles, while Hazel automatically gravitated to a small hearth burning against the left wall. Reyna, like me, was studying our surroundings for danger and escape routes.
The foyer was a massive affair, the ceilings standing nearly twenty feet high and the hall decked with thick, fussy decorations. A bronzed oak door soared at the far side of the room, inviting visitors further into the mansion. The entrance hall gave every impression of a ski resort lodge, with plush carpets, stone tiles floors, plump stuffed furniture, multiple fireplaces, and antiques of all sorts mounted on the walls. The only thing that broke the illusion was the glassy ice walls that refused to melt, gleaming bright bluish-white in the cozy light.
"I'm taking my next vacation to the middle of Lake Superior," I noted aloud.
"Come on. They're deeper in," Reyna said, grabbing a recalcitrant Hazel by the hand and tugging her towards the door. Bobby followed, still stretching expansively. I brought up the rear, watching the dark niches of the room carefully. In the poor illumination from four crackling hearths, there were plenty of recesses for things to hide in.
As I was about to leave the room and shut the door behind me, a girl in a plain brown dress caught my eye. Her eyes crackled with the warmth of a flame, bright red in the coziness of the room. She stared at me, her face devoid of emotion, and I tried to place her. I knew her from somewhere. How was she important? "Yield," she whispered, the one word floating across the interceding distance like a peace offering.
"Percy," Bobby called, watching me.
"Coming," I answered, snapping the great door shut with the conclusive groan of aged wood.
I caught up quickly, drawing Riptide and taking comfort in the light glow from the sword. The glow illuminated the path around us: the halls were winding and fluid, not quite straight but not curved either. They turned sharply at corners and split multiple times, leaving us to the old children's selection trick, though altered slightly for the benefit of demigods everywhere:
"Eenie meenie miney moe
Catch a nymph by the toe;
If she hollers, make her pay
Ten denarii everyday."
By this method of random selection, we passed some halls multiple times and wound through others in subtle circles. Along the ice walls of the maze, antiques hummed with energy. We passed mounted monster heads several times, each seeming to want to jump off its plaque and eat us. Spears were frequent among the walls, each purring with a faint glow of power. Shields, swords of all variations, scaled armor, and plain gold staves passed our eyes, and we touched none of them. On one occasion, Bobby looked at a tasseled arm guard – the ancient version of a shield – practically trembling with power. The face of a ghastly woman with snake hair was pressed into the surface of the gold metal and leather, and milky white spirits roamed across the surface of the material. Bobby reached out to touch it, fascinated, until Reyna let out a startled bark and slapped his hand away. "Don't touch that," she snapped, sounding breathless. "That's Jupiter's original aegis."
"It's cursed," Hazel guessed lazily.
"Yeah," Reyna answered. Hazel shot me a knowing look, then rolled her eyes, like, Practically everything is cursed in spooky old palaces like this. "The spirits of the darker deimones are embedded in the aegis. Eris, the spirit of Strife, Phobos, the spirit of Terror, and Ioke, the spirit of Onslaught. They're not the sort of spirits you want touching your flesh."
Bobby shied away and shivered. We continued on, passing Zeus's aegis several times in the repeating hallways, but no one made a reach for it. After almost an hour of meandering around in the maze, we made it to a very official-looking door. It was made of shimmering light in the colors of twilight. Reyna knocked on the energy-field door, and it dissipated, leaving the doorway open and unguarded. Reyna looked back to me, uncertain for a moment, and waited until I gave her an encouraging nod before she proceeded.
Once the door swung wide, I blinked dumbly for a moment. A harebrained thought tracked through my head – had we somehow circled back to the foyer? It was a near exact replica. Some dusty furniture, stuffy décor. However, inlaid in the stone floor, a polished compass rose pointed stoically in all directions, aligned with the winds of the Mediterranean (or, nowadays, the Caribbean). The east and west walls of the room featured a bay window each. The clear portals to the outside world were forged of platinum bands and heavily faceted diamond sheets, which glittered brilliantly, even in moonlight.
Oh yeah, and that's not to mention the god and goddess. They lounged in tall, gilded thrones, casting dusky light on the aged gold. Because, you know, they literally exuded light. Their forms looked barely solid, shifting and changing with undulations of light. Their matching stern expressions struck me silent with their terrible beauty. To look at them was both horrible and wonderful at the same time.
The next thing I thought: my gods, that dude is old. Astraeus looked ancient. Creases of shadow ran down his face in deep lines. He peered curiously through rheumy eyes. He coughed up catarrh, then swallowed to speak. With surprising force for an old god, Astraeus barked, "Get off my compass, demigod brats!"
Now, I'd never known my grandfather (as far as I could remember) but I guessed he'd sound just like that if he happened to be about a bajillion years old and saw some "hooligans" standing on his lawn. We all hurried to step off the stone compass before he whipped out a godly shotgun or something.
"Peace, husband," soothed the goddess Aurora. In total contrast to Astraeus, she was the picture of strong youth. Standing tall in her formal white toga, she descended the steps of the throne platform to greet us, and probably dole out some serious butt kicking. I could see Bobby thinking the same thing. Unconsciously, almost, he drew his flaming sword, leaning forward in the swordsman's crouch. Aurora squinted at his body position, got ready to vaporize us, and –
"Uh, hold on, calm down everyone," I said, leaping between them. Simultaneously a brilliant and stupid move. Now they could both to kill me - Aurora, for getting in her way, and Bobby, for stealing his spotlight again. Curiously, neither one of them attacked.
"Why should I reward your plea?" Aurora demanded, her focus shifting to my face. I scrambled for a good reason, and as I was opening my mouth to make something up, she saw my bead necklace.
The air shimmered. Aurora look stunned for a moment, then her body pulsed, releasing a wave of blinding light. I shielded my eyes; when the burst subsided, I dared to peek in her direction.
Aurora stood in the same place – or, wait, maybe it wasn't Aurora. She had the same molten, color-shifting curls, same glowing grey eyes, same thin rouge lips, but something was fundamentally different. Her clothes matched that of the average college party-girl: skimpy dress, high heels, arm bangles and all. With one hand rested cockily on her hip, her weight edged effervescently to the side, she grinned wickedly at me, taking in my tattered clothes and haggard countenance.
"Don't look so surprised," she bubbled. "It's not like we're strangers."
When I still looked nonplussed, she sighed in mock frustration and offered a hand. "Let's try this again. Hi, I'm Eos, goddess of dawn. And you must be Percy Jackson, the hero of the gods. You're certainly my hero," she added in a flirtatious purr. Her eyelashes flickered in what I supposed was a wink as she gave a breezy laugh.
I shook her hand. Her grip was painfully firm on my hand after climbing all night. "Nice to meet you," I managed, still confused.
"You don't remember?" Eos asked, looking crestfallen as her eyes searched my face hungrily.
"J-Hera stole my memories," I explained shortly, feeling it best to stick with Greek names. I didn't want to trigger a reverse transformation. I much preferred the happy dawn goddess to the frumpy Roman one. Besides, it didn't matter anymore – When Aurora switched to her Greek persona upon seeing me, it made my heritage obvious to my previously oblivious friends.
"I'll get Hera someday," Eos groused, her expression sour. "Locking me away in a forlorn ice palace, not giving me any real powers, saying 'Here, take care of these old time-cycle gods, it'll be fun!' Yeah, some bucket of laughs Artemis is when she's in a mood. All snappy and snooty. 'Don't touch me, married tart!' And now Hera's gone and stolen your memories, of all people! You'd figure hero status would earn you some measure of peace in your life. Ridiculous."
"Excuse me," I interrupted, "How do we know each other?" I extracted my hand from her iron grip.
"Well," Eos said brightly, ignoring her grumping husband, "Right after you defeated Kronos," – insert huge gasps here, courtesy of my friends. I could explain later, but they were spluttering at each other, "What? What?" – "the gods threw that awesome party on Olympus, right? And you were dancing with that horrible daughter of Athena – Annie-bell something or other, but of course, you won't remember her, you've had your mind wiped! One thing to be grateful for, I suppose –" I bristled but kept my mouth shut "– So naturally, I interceded, breaking up that silly slow dance you were doing and inviting you instead to a lovely few waltzes with me! You were absolutely charming, all polite and handsome in your monster-gored armor and tattered clothes; and if I remember correctly, when you finally took off you armor at Annie's suggestion – when I had already recommended it myself, several times, might I say, it's not appropriate to wear armor at a party – your shirt was so ripped it fell right off! Which wasn't surprising of course, but I remember that the shirt wasn't the only thing that was ripped, if you catch my drift, but that wasn't terribly surprising either –" Here, I cleared my throat uncomfortably, remembering the moment with sudden clarity. I could hear Bobby gasping for air between loud guffaws behind me, and Hazel nudging him to shut up even though she was sniggering too.
"Uh, yeah, I remember now. You were nice to dance with. I mean, in a totally friend-like way. Yeah. Definitely," I bumbled awkwardly, only to hear Reyna's composure break into her signature snorting giggles. So much for loyalty.
"Thank you!" Eos burbled, and did a little swaying dance. "If you've come here for an extended visit with me, you can be sure the accommodations will be most plentiful, anything you ask, dear –"
"Actually," I clipped, "I'm here to visit you, of course, but I'm on a quest that requires your help. Do you think you could?"
"Certainly!" the goddess squealed. "Whatever you need!"
"Well," I said slowly, and recited the prophecy of our quest. The look in her eyes hardened, no longer adoration. "I would really appreciate it if you could give – lend – me a relic of some kind, one that has the power to control a major god. My team and I will need it to kill the giants."
She sobered, her expression a dangerous likeness of her Roman form. "I'll grant your wish. But understand, it's not just because you're an impossibly attractive and famous hero – it's also because my children, the wind gods, have placed their allegiances in the wrong hands. I hope that my aid may somehow make amends for their disappointing failures. You'll tell Poseidon or Zeus if you get the chance? That the Dawn still rises with Olympus?"
"Of course," I said, infinitely more comfortable with her more controlled, official manner.
"Then I think this will be the relic for you," she said, and whipped her fingers through the air like a flail. One second, her hand was empty, the next, after a loud pop, it held a gleaming pole. It was short and thick, one end tapering to a spike. The other end fattened to a tarnished gold eagle. The red gem eyes of the figurehead glared at me with a strangely familiar hatred. "I keep my best artifacts in a special plane of existence. It ensures their safety," she explained, and held the staff out to me. With unwilling fingers, I grasped the pole.
It sent a jolt of painful energy up my arm. It felt like Thalia had zapped me with a bolt of lightning. I held back a yelp, visualizing smoke from my fried brain flowing from my gaping mouth. I smiled hesitantly with clenched teeth and said, "Uh" – I coughed – "Thanks."
"Are you sure we can't vaporize him?" whined Astraeus as I stepped away. "The fabric of twilight could use a little demigod dust. It adds that extra eerie sparkle everyone likes."
"Uh, thanks, but no thanks," I said, retreating faster.
Astraeus sighed. "There used to be a time where replenishing the fabric of twilight was a great honor, a noble end! Ever since that Twilight book was published, male demigods always refuse my offer. I'll turn that awful Meyer woman's head into a constellation!"
"You do that," I mumbled, then turned my back to the deities.
I heard Eos mutter, "He's always so grumpy when he's in his old form. Can't wait til I get to be the older one. Just a few more minutes…"
My friends rested their fingers readily on their weapons, prepared to spring into action if need be. "Go, go, go," I whispered to them, frantically motioning that they turn and leave the room. From the sound of it, Eos would age a few millennia in a minute, and she'd probably be infinitely more cantankerous for it. She might try to retrieve the artifact. But now that I had my hand on it, I wasn't letting go. The others understood my order and quickly spun on their heels, walking stiffly in front of me. I hid the staff with my body, like if Eos couldn't see it, she couldn't change her mind.
"I thought the deimone said this wasn't going to be this easy," Reyna whispered to me. Her voice was full of suspicious tension. I shrugged, moving through the giant doorway swiftly.
"When have they ever been right?" I answered quietly, daring to hope. We were through the threshold, pounding down the corridor. Safe.
"Every time," Reyna said, as she glanced over her shoulder.
Then two things went wrong at once, and we were lucky the entire palace didn't blow up. Reyna waved politely at the gods, accidentally flashing her black legion tattoo; in the same instant, my grip on the staff slipped, allowing Eos a short glimpse of the object.
"Romans!" recognized the goddess, suddenly bursting into her Empiric form. "With my best weapon!" Faint sunlight slipped through the faceted eastern window, the room exploding into the magnificent colors of just-barely dawn.
Yet that was nothing compared to Aurora's fury. She bellowed, releasing wave after wave of godly light. Hazel shoved us all to the ground and shouted, "Cover your eyes!"
When the attack stopped, we scrambled to our feet. A legion of hideous, leathery-skinned, black-cloaked demons milled at the hem of Aurora's toga; the spirits roamed next to the artifacts of their origin. They lumbered like sloths, yet darted agilely when provoked into motion. Thankfully, hoods covered the majority of the faces; a few were left bare, exposing the pus-spewing, bloody-toothed, eyeless, fleshy faces to the open air. I saw Bobby gag, pinching his nose for some safety from the smell." Well?" Aurora boomed. "After them!" The demons surged forward, charging through the doorway. Some demons blew through the wall like the ice was a sheet of tissue paper, sending shards of ice flying in all directions.
"Run?" I asked.
"Run!" Reyna confirmed solidly, and tugged my wrist. We darted through hallways, following Reyna's lead. She picked turns at random, knowing that trying to follow the path we used to enter might well land us in a dead end. And by dead end, I mean literally. The demons bayed like dogs at our heels, their weird, inhuman voices clawing out orders. I heard them planning to flank us, using their extensive knowledge of the path against our ignorance.
Aurora yelled in the distance, and the palace rumbled. The ground shook, throwing us all off balance for a moment. We quickly re-gathered our wits and fast pace, running like marathoners through the tunnels; yet something shifted in the palace. For a moment, I couldn't place it. Then I knew. The white spider web of thin fissures in the ice I had taken for granted earlier was splitting. The walls cracked violently, opening foot wide gashes in the walls and ceiling. Artifacts we passed in the halls crashed to the floor, knocking their spirits free.
I saw the aegis of Zeus ahead. I called for Reyna to look out, and she spotted it – but too late. We passed its primly shining plinth, and the splitting fissures caught up with it, and an ice spike burst from the wall, knocking over the pedestal, and the tassels seemed to flutter for ages as they hung in midair, about to impact with the floor. With a flump, the arm guard connected with the ice. Ioke, Phobos, and Eris burst from the leathery tassels, spinning to see us running for our lives.
"Free at last!" shrieked Ioke, sounding horribly like the banshees in legion camp training.
With the worst of the Spirits of Suffering now in tow, we bolted through the halls with renewed speed. Minivan sized chunks of the ceiling fell to the floor behind us, crushing some of the demons. It was too soon to be cheerful though: at this rate, the ice would catch up with us, and we'd look just like the monster gore currently blossoming in our wake.
"We're not going to make it," Hazel gasped in alarm, massaging a quad cramp as she sprinted. She hazarded a glance over her right shoulder, apparently saw we were losing ground, and redoubled her speed, a faint expression of panic sliding unconsciously onto her sharp features. Cracks in the walls split with increasing speed in my peripheral vision, finally overtaking us and threatening us with the weight of the whole hall. The fissures crackled around the next corner, from which a pack of demons bounded, completing their flanking maneuver.
"Ideas?" Reyna demanded, sliding to a halt. A glint of Imperial Gold flashed into form in her hand.
"Fight forward, I'll cover the back," Bobby shot back, in full warrior mode.
Annabeth's voice tickled my mind urgently, Keep your back protected, Percy, always keep it protected… and in the meantime, protect mine too – "Square up," I disagreed, forcing the others into formation. They quickly agreed, each taking one of the cardinal points in a back-to-back circle. Bobby afforded me a short nod of agreement before his eyes started to glow red and I lost sense of who I was. Battle rage overtook me and the sense of victory, victory, victory, thrummed through my body, and Riptide seemed to slash in a deadly, swirling arc of its own accord, my hand leading my body in a set of complex defensive forms like a dance. The demons didn't evaporate at all when I wounded them, instead healing with impossible speed. Somehow, our combined attacks managed to gain ground in the groaning hall while the demons shrieked with pained frustration. The ice was threatening to fall above us, but I just thought, kill them, slash them, hack them, get out alive, protect the others…
I heard someone yelling – loudly, jaggedly, distantly – then realized it might be me, and I saw Hazel and Reyna's mouths open in muted support of the call. The girls and I swept through balking, nightmarish creatures, deaf to the world but for our weapons as Bobby pushed us forward. Several long seconds (it might've been weeks, months, or years) of slashing the demons, spirits, freakish creatures: then their wounds started to ooze oily mist and I thought we had a chance. Bobby ordered us forward with a bellow and a gesture of his flaming sword; unfortunately, I noticed distantly, the flames on the metal licked up the walls, splitting the fissures abruptly wide, and setting free the storm of ice boulders that had threatened us the whole time.
Bobby knelt in exhaustion as the boulders began to fall; the mindless rage left me as he released his magic, and I came to my senses in time to watch a rough block of ice topple from the crumbling ceiling towards us.
Instinctively, I threw my hands in the air to intercept the weight. With my feet automatically braced wide for support, my back straight and poised, my arms bent and ready, I felt it smash down onto my outstretched fingertips. I grunted, squinting my eyes, knowing that I'd held heavier things (like the sky, for one; I remembered vaguely, realizing the origin of the mysterious grey streak in my hair) but it didn't stop me from thanking the gods for my invincibility. Without it, pretty much every bone in my body would have been shattered on the impact, and Hazel and Bobby and Reyna would've been crushed – Reyna –
My eyes sprung fully open as I heaved the ice aside. I ignored my friends' amazed stares and barked, "Keep the demons away, Bobby. Hazel, get over here!" She saw what I'd spotted and gasped, rushing to my side. Reyna struggled weakly under a chunk of ice the size of a small horse. The fight burnt out of her and she fell unconscious, unable to breathe under the tremendous weight.
Though it was unusually taxing, probably because of how little sleep I'd gotten, I managed to summon my power over the sea and melt the block. As it poured off her in a cold slough, I breathed a sigh of relief – it hadn't stabbed her with a serrated edge. Yet if there were no external injures (except the nasty bruise blossoming on her arm), that meant –
"Her injuries are internal. The most dangerous kind. We've got to get her out of here," Hazel shouted over the din. Demons were screeching at the commotion Bobby had rustled up to buy us time.
"Out of the way, brother," a gruff male spirit grunted, attempting to push past our friend. He protested, shoving back, threatening the spirits with something I had no time to see. Probably the staff.
"We're getting out now!" I bellowed over the raucous spirits. Bobby caught my meaning and danced around to be behind me, holding the gleaming staff in hand. At my side, they eased Reyna's arms over their shoulders and drug the unconscious girl to her feet. "Hold on," I grunted, and plunged Riptide into the floor of the palace. I called the sea to well up in the crack.
The already frail surface splintered easily, creating a foot wide fault; at first, the hideous demons attempted to cross the mere crevice in the ground. Bobby fended them off handily, thrusting them back before the gap widened with a series of ferociously resounding cracks; the braying spirits scrambled for the precipice as they struggled to stay on top of the ice, and not land in the crashing waves below. The gap expanded still, from a mere crevice, to a fissure, to a ravine, then to a canyon of frozen, airy space, lengthening the distance between our crumbling portion of the glacier and that of the howling, pacing demons. Their black forms shrunk in the distance, standing in stark contrast to the white of the ice.
Saline waves pushed us away from the collapsing palace, the seawater mixing badly with the fresh water of the lake. Oops, I thought, watching several schools of bass float to the surface of the restless water as the salt poisoned them to death. Sorry, fish.
With the morning breeze snapping through my hair, I looked up to see the black crumbling on the white, sinking into the lake with each rumble of the iceberg collapsing. The palace was almost entirely gone, and as I watched, a massive burst of white light ripped through the remaining rubble of the glacier. Smiling wanly, I sheathed Riptide and tucked it away, turning to friends to see how I could help.
Hazel glanced up to see the light. Her eyes went wide, and she shouted, "The shockwave!" just before it hit. The air pressure blast from the explosion of light washed over us within the second, throwing us all off our feet. I clung to the ice with my powers, but there was nothing I could do when our portion of the glacier split and crumbled like the palace had. Massive sheets of ice tumbled from the sides with a sound like a lion's roar, plunging into the lake and sending swells through the water. The ice directly beneath our bodies shifted, and suddenly, we were falling into the water too.
Managing to keep our chunk of ice in one piece, I guided it as smoothly into the water below as I could. This, for you people out there, meant not smoothly at all. We were practically in free fall. Bobby and Hazel were clinging to Reyna with stricken expressions; that was more encouraging than anything else they could've done. Determination to keep them alive surged through me like a wave, and my face set in concentration as I summoned all the sea power that I could. Falling ice chunks swiftly arranged themselves to support us in a loose slope downward, catching the bottom of our suddenly titanium-hard ice floe in a controlled slide. Wind whipped across my dry eyes as I waited for the impact.
With a thump, our floe connected with the water. A ripple-wave splashed over the slick surface, soaking my friends through to the bone and enveloping us all in a blanket of sheer cold. Unable to do anything else, I let our floe rock like an unsteady raft across the waves (made larger by the ice still collapsing into the lake with significant force).
I crawled across the slickness to Reyna, who was lying motionless. The others clustered next to her, supremely worried.
"How is she?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. I felt sick from the knowledge of it.
"Not good," Bobby murmured, trembling from exhaustion, cold, and fear.
I looked to Hazel. She just shook her head and stroked the rapidly paling girl's hand.
A sense of injustice welled up in me, eclipsing the aches and utter fatigue. I refused – simply refused – to allow two of my friends to die on one mission. It may have been too late to save Meg, but maybe not for Reyna…
"You're not going to die on me," I asserted sternly, kneeling at her right shoulder. I recalled the words of the incantation in my head – they'd never been gone, not really, just floating in the back of my mind – and thought them with all my might. Head bowed in focus, spent muscles trembling, and every inch of me aching, I murmured, "Rescind your gift, Lady Styx, nymph of the river…" –I thought, Thank you, Meg, for sacrificing your life so I can save Reyna's now. How did you know? Hazel was staring at the fluttering eyelids of our friend, silently willing her to stay alive –"Deny the spirit of Reyna entrance to the Underworld…" – I didn't feel anything. Not at first. Then my lower back began to tingle, then sting painfully, as I realized what my mortal point was: Annabeth, in my lower back; she'd been with me, in my heart, the whole time. I felt emboldened, and finished the last phrase to save Reyna's life with determined intensity – "And send her back to us, alive and whole."
There was a terrible moment, when I prayed, please, Styx, please, and none of my friends breathed, and the air was thick with tension; then there was a sudden rush of sound and color, the lapping waves sounding more pronounced, the air more vibrant and alive, and the power of the sea swooping through me; then, abruptly, it was all gone – my strength, my conviction, my consciousness – abandoning me in the vacuum of some other existence, leaving me with nothing but the cold, the howling of the demons in the distance, and the view of breath rushing involuntarily into Reyna's blushing mouth.
I didn't notice when my head hit the ice; I was drowning in Reyna's chocolate eyes as they lit up with intelligence and flickered to life. Then my own eyes went black.
"Wake up, Seaweed Brain," I heard Annabeth coax me impatiently. "You'll be late to capture the flag. We haven't lost in weeks, and I don't want to start now."
My entire body pounded with pain. Every nerve ending was tingling, like pinpricks, and my muscles felt like lead. I couldn't lift a finger, let alone my eyelids.
My head throbbed as memories came back to me in a rush; my head, which had felt empty for so long, was finally full to the brim with everything Hera had stolen. I couldn't figure out what had brought about the change, but it didn't matter. I tried to unclog my crowded brain, puzzle out my current situation and put my life into chronological order. I abandoned the effort, dazed and confused, and knew only that Annabeth had downed me in a fight and I'd been unconscious too long; I was going to miss the best Camp Half-Blood event of the week. Five more minutes, I wanted to groan. But I couldn't. My mouth was clenched shut tight as exhausted muscles seized in my jaw. I breathed through my nose, my chest heavy, like Mrs. O'Leary was sitting on me.
Something wet splashed against my face, and I laboriously lifted a hand to wipe it away, letting out a slight groan. Go away, girl. Stop licking me. But then a human voice, one that was definitely not my hellhound's, said, "Percy, are you okay? Come on, fish boy, wake up… wake up, please, you have to… I don't want to splash you again…"
The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. "Annabeth," I complained, hoping she would make whoever it was go away.
"He's alive," I heard a different voice murmur, with something like relief. I didn't puzzle over it; instead, I fought against my body to open my eyes breathe properly. With all the aches throbbing through me, it was weird to feel a small point on my back not entering the chorus of bodily complaints. My Achilles' point was completely fine, giving me a point to focus my energy on and drive to wake up.
After a minute of struggling and hearing whispers like, "He definitely groaned, he's got to wake up soon", "Are you sure you're okay, Reyna? You still look a little off", and "Whose sacred staff is it, do you think?" I forced my eyes to flutter open. The quiet commentary and scene that awaited my eyes threw me off balance.
"This isn't my cabin," I mumbled. I'd been expecting the cool, grey slate of my bunker-like cabin at Camp, the soft trickle of the Iris-message fountain caressing my ears. Instead, blinding whiteness, interspersed with dawn light smeared across dark clouds, assaulted my eyes; my body rocked like I was resting on a ship in the middle of a turbulent sea. Instead of Annabeth's grey eyes and blonde princess curls, two figures loomed over me, hunched around my head.
"Are you okay?" a boy asked me, concern etched into every line of his face.
"Where am I?"
"Safe," a girl with a severe-looking French braid answered. "And alive, thank the gods." I studied her murkily, thinking through my more recent memories. They came back to me slowly, extracting themselves from the throng of old ones.
"Hazel?" I asked. She nodded. "Bobby," I said with more confidence.
"He's a bright one," he replied sarcastically, though his face split into a wide grin.
A terrible thought occurred to me. "Reyna?" I demanded, sitting up like an old man in a hospice bed.
"Right here, thanks to you," she replied, sitting nearby, hunched and cold, a small smile pulling at her lips.
"I thought you died," Bobby said bluntly, and though I knew he said it to express his anxiety and relief, it still shook me. Had I almost died? "Are you okay?" Bobby asked again, and this time, I nodded a response. Weakly, yes, but what can you expect from someone that just woke up from being nearly dead?
"Are you okay, Reyna?" I croaked through a locked jaw and cramped throat.
She nodded and smiled wider, though she looked a little puzzled. "You gave up your curse for me," she said, almost asking. She went on, "Why'd you do it?"
I shrugged. Maybe not an endearing response, but it would have to do. I didn't trust my voice to lie.
Because I did know why I'd done it. Why I'd given up my invincibility to save Reyna. "Do you remember your fatal flaw, Percy?" Poseidon's voice thundered in my memory.
I do now.
* Constantinople was the capitol of the eastern portion of the Roman Empire, Byzantium. It was eventually brought down by Germanic invaders seizing the city by climbing its many-terraced outer walls.
Author Note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. (And that I'm publishing it at such a late hour. The alert may have disturbed some of you in your sleep. But I just couldn't wait to post it!) Thanks to those of you who are sticking with my version til the end, even though the official's been published. I'm nearly done, and hope to finish the next few chapters with greater speed. But sometimes life gets in the way, you know? Nothing's perfect. Anyway, please review! It makes me absurdly happy when you do. :)