Here's the next chapter for all who may be reading. Thanks to Ink-Cola-Koala for the review! Everyone else who may be reading and not reviewing, please do review. Even a few words is more than welcome. Whatever you can manage. Anyways, enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 8: In Which We Witness the Work of the Algea

It took us a long time to convince Marcus not to try and stop us. Through a combination of Lydia politely begging, Croesus rudely intimidating, and me throwing in my two cents every few seconds, we managed to convince him to drive us as far as he accompanied Erik. However, by that time the sun was setting and we allowed ourselves to be talked into staying at Varro's house overnight. Well aware that the trail was growing even colder, the three of us prepared to spend the night.

We rose with the sun the next morning, ate a fast breakfast and drove across the border into Illinois. Marcus spent the whole time trying to talk us out of it. By the time we got to the outskirts of Fairfield, Croesus's face was strained white with irritation and it looked like even Lydia was ready to cut Varro's throat. He gave us a map with the route to Fort Hadrian pencilled in, and had one last ditch effort at convincing us not to go. We thanked him through clenched teeth and left really fast.

"Gods," Lydia said as we walked through Fairfield, "If that's how he tried to dissuade Erik from staying at the fort, the guy probably did it just to spite Marcus."

Croesus and I laughed at that, but the humor died away as we left Faifield behind us and walked through what seemed like endless farmland towards the ruins of the fort. We reached it in about fifteen minutes.

The fort was a sprawling expanse of stone and rotting wood. A mass of stone about six feet high formed what I assumed was the remains of the outer wall, but there were large chunks of it missing, and other parts of it looked perilously close to collapsing entirely. Standing on the tips of my toes, I could just see over the top of the wall, enough to get a glimpse of a cluster of ruined wooden building inside, gathered around a bulky center keep at least forty feet high that was missing parts of its infrastructure and looked like it was about to come crashing down. A stream ran gurgling through a gap in the part of the wall furthest away from us, through the main courtyard of the fort and out through a small barred gate off to the left of my line of sight.

Croesus walked off to the right, peering through gaps in the wall where it was to high even for him, or over it where it was low enough. I noticed that the fort seemed to shimmer every so often, fading in and out of focus. It even, alarmingly, disappeared entirely from view once. I opened my mouth to cry out to my friends, but just then it popped back into existence.

"What the..." I said, confused once again.

"Concentrate, Sander." Lydia said, punching me on the arm. "The place is wound up tightly in the Mist, so mortals can't find it. If you're not careful, it can fool demigods too."

"What the hell is the Mist?" I demanded as the fort faded out of existence again. I concentrated on the place, knowing it was there, and it reappeared, but more defined this time.

"It's a magical force that keeps mortals from seeing into our world." Lydia said as if that made everything obvious. "Keeps them from seeing monsters for what they really are, and occasionally more powerful demigods can manipulate it to make mortals see what we want them too. Croesus isn't too bad at that."

"Hey you two!" Speaking of Croesus. "Get over here!" he called. "I found the gate."

We hurried over to where Croesus was standing. Two short, broad stone towers flanked a decrepit wooden gate that looked like it had been blasted off its hinges. Croesus stood with his sword drawn and clenched tight in both hands, but it took me a moment to realize why,

"Holy shit!" I yelled when I saw it.

A mangled body dangled in front of the gate, strung up by the neck with rope. The eyes were open and bloodshot, a dark grey that seemed to follow our movements. It was the body of a boy, his bones broken nearly beyond recognition, his chest torn and bloodied so that his ribs were visible, mangled and shattered.

I shuddered and Lydia paled. Croesus sheathed his sword and pulled out his bow. A single arrow cut the rope from which the body hung, and it came crashing to the ground. Croesus walked over and knelt next to it, his brow furrowed.

"This is the work of the Algea." he pronounced grimly, "But it's not Erik."

"H-How do you know?" Lydia stammered, her eyes fixed on the torn up dead boy.

"He doesn't match the description Percy gave me." Croesus said simply. "Now lets explore the fort a bit, shall we?"

Lydia looked like she would enjoy nothing more than saying no, but she swallowed a few times and drew herself up, calm and composed. Croesus took the lead, and Lydia and I followed him with a few longing glances back at the gateway.

The courtyard was horrifying. The whole place smelled of decay and rotting flesh. Marcus hadn't specified how large Erik's party was, but by the number of dead Romans, it must have been pretty large.

"Holy mother of Zeus." Croesus said as he looked around. A series of at least a half a dozen spears stood point first out of the ground, each one topped with a human head. The mouths were open in pain and terror, the faces bloodied.

"What kind of person could do this?" I asked, shocked and incredulous.

"Not people." Croesus said grimly. "They may be immortal, but the Algea are still monsters, Sander."

I looked around, seeing the decapitated bodies whose heads were on the spears lying torn to pieces, and one more thing.

"Croesus." I said, pointing to the one remaining wall of what was once a wooden building surrounding the center keep.

"Mother of Zeus." he repeated. Another body, this one taller than the rest, almost as tall as Croesus, was impaled against the wall, a spear going straight through his abdomen and into the wood, holding him up. The body's legs were nearly torn off, and the skin on it's arms was shredded, revealing rotten muscle tissue and decaying bone beneath it. What drew my eye, however, was the writing on the wall next to the impaled corpse.

"Sanguis deorum terram rubrum faciet." I read aloud. "What does it mean?"

Croesus's face was grave. "It's Latin," he said softly, "'The blood of the gods will make the earth red.'"

Just as he finished, there was a scream from behind us.

I'll try and manage to update tomorrow so that you all don't have to wait that long with a mild cliffhanger. I'll do my best, but no promises. Please review! Hope you liked it!