Chapter Title: I Go Hunting For A Dragon
(A/N: Originally, this was supposed to be where Alyssa's chapter would have gone, but after closer inspection, I've decided to move it down to where Piper's next chapter after Aphrodite claims her canonically is. Also cutting out Leo's backstory here because it basically detracts a good bit from the plot that I have in mind, plus you all — or those of you who have read TLH have already seen it in countless fanfics by now, so no need to bore you with that.)
Leo hadn't really stuck around after Piper had turned beautiful. Sure, it was amazing and all—She's got makeup! It's a miracle! —but Leo had problems to deal with. He ducked out of the amphitheater and ran into the darkness, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.
He'd stood up in front of a bunch of stronger, braver demigods and volunteered—volunteered—for a mission that would probably get him killed. He also was dreading exactly what punishment one of those demigods currently missing from camp would give him all because Leo had asked out his girlfriend, who just so happened to be an absolutely major berserk button for her boyfriend, when he had been clearly told that she was taken. So yeah, he was basically between a rock and a hard place to put it simply.
Still, he wasn't sure which was worse. Being basically on the shit list of basically the most dangerous demigod to ever exist in his era or finding out some.. painful secrets.
He hadn't mentioned seeing Tía Callida, his old babysitter, but as soon as he'd heard about Jason's vision—the lady in the black dress and shawl—Leo knew it was the same woman. Tía Callida was Hera. His evil babysitter was the queen of the gods. Stuff like that could really deep-fry your brain.
He trudged toward the woods and tried not to think about his childhood—all the messed-up things that had led to his mother's death. But he couldn't help it.
He was almost to the woods when he imagined Tía Callida's voice: It wasn't your fault, little hero. Our enemy wakes. It's time to stop running.
"Hera," Leo muttered, "you're not even here, are you? You're in a cage somewhere."
There was no answer.
But now, at least, Leo understood something. Hera had been watching him his entire life. Somehow, she'd known that one day she would need him. Maybe those Fates she mentioned could tell the future. Leo wasn't sure. But he knew he was meant to go on this quest. Jason's prophecy warned them to beware the earth, and Leo knew it had something to do with that sleeping woman in the shop, wrapped in robes of shifting dirt.
You'll find your destiny, Tía Callida had promised, and your hard journey will finally make sense.
Leo might find out what that flying boat in his dreams meant. He might meet his father, or even get to avenge his mother's death.
But first things first. He'd promised Jason a flying ride.
Not the boat from his dreams—not yet. There wasn't time to build something that complicated. He needed a quicker solution. He needed a dragon.
So what exactly did Leo do? Simple. He knew about the problem that his cabin was suffering from, so he simply went towards where the most visible sign of it lurked.
He hesitated at the edge of the woods, peering into absolute blackness. Owls hooted, and something far away hissed like a chorus of snakes.
Leo remembered what Will Solace had told him: No one should go in the woods alone, definitely not unarmed. Though, if he had to be honest, he did suspect that exceptions were made if it was basically just Colton going in there alone. From what Leo had heard, Colton did seem like the type of guy that could survive such a situation. In his own thoughts, Leo imagined someone that towered over all of the other campers — a physically intimidating monstrously built boy or young adult that would make him look like a smurf.
Leo honestly hoped that when he finally had to face the music at Colton's hands, that this wouldn't be the case.
Regardless of what he thought about Colton though, Leo had nothing—no sword, no flashlight, no help. He was by himself, and himself was all he had for this.
He glanced back at the lights of the cabins. He could turn around now and tell everyone he'd been joking. Sike! Nyssa could go on the quest instead. He could stay at camp and learn to be part of the Hephaestus cabin, but he wondered how long it would be before he looked like his bunkmates—sad, dejected, convinced of his own bad luck.
They cannot stop me from breaking your spirit, the sleeping woman had said. Remember this night, little hero, when they ask you to oppose me.
That sleeping woman, supposedly Gaea from what Leo had heard, was bad enough. But there were two different factions that his side had to oppose. Porphyrion and his rogues were also out there, planning whatever it was they might be planning.
He had to do this.
For a future for his cabin.
For his own future.
"Believe me, lady," Leo muttered, "I remember. And whoever you are, I'm gonna face-plant you hard, Leo-style."
He took a deep breath and plunged into the forest. It was time to do some dragon hunting.
- — - — - — -
The woods weren't like anyplace that he'd been before. Leo had been raised in a north Houston apartment complex. The wildest things he'd ever seen were that rattlesnake in the cow pasture and his Aunt Rosa in her nightgown, until he was sent to Wilderness School.
Even there, the school had been in the desert. No trees with gnarled roots to trip over. No streams to fall into. No branches casting dark, creepy shadows and owls looking down at him with their big reflective eyes. This was the Twilight Zone, basically.
A Twilight Zone that on the edges of camp, also acted as a hunting ground of sorts for Colton. Leo had heard the stories in the short time he had been at Camp Half Blood of the network of pathways up in the trees that Colton used, and if he had to be honest, that made Colton all the more intimidating to him as a result. Not only did Leo imagine him to be physically intimidating, but the fact he could simply hide in a tree and not reveal himself to an opponent until he put a bullet in their head.. that was simply terrifying on a whole another level, at least in Leo's own opinion.
He stumbled along until he was sure no one back at the cabins could possibly see him. Then he summoned fire. Flames danced along his fingertips, casting enough light to see. He hadn't tried to keep a sustained burn going since he was five, at that picnic table. Since his mom's death, he'd been too afraid to try anything. Even this tiny fire made him feel guilty.
But in a situation like this, he had to do that. It was the only way for him to be able to find what it was that he was looking for.
He kept walking, looking for dragon-type clues—giant footprints, trampled trees, swaths of burning forest. Something that big couldn't exactly sneak around, right? But he saw nada. Once he glimpsed a large, furry shape like a wolf or a bear, but it stayed away from his fire, which was fine by Leo.
Then, at the bottom of a clearing, he saw the first trap—a hundred-foot-wide crater ringed with boulders.
Leo had to admit it was pretty ingenious. In the center of the depression, a metal vat the size of a hot tub had been filled with bubbly dark liquid—Tabasco sauce and motor oil. On a pedestal suspended over the vat, an electric fan rotated in a circle, spreading the fumes across the forest. Could metal dragons smell?
The vat seemed to be unguarded. But Leo looked closely, and in the dim light of the stars and his handheld fire, he could see the glint of metal beneath the dirt and leaves—a bronze net lining the entire crater. Or maybe see wasn't the right word—he could sense it there, as if the mechanism was emitting heat, revealing itself to him. Six large strips of bronze stretched out from the vat like the spokes of a wheel. They would be pressure sensitive, Leo guessed. As soon as the dragon stepped on one, the net would spring closed, and voilà—one gift-wrapped monster.
Leo edged closer. He put his foot on the nearest trigger strip. As he expected, nothing happened. They had to have set the net for something really heavy. Otherwise they could catch an animal, human, smaller monster, whatever. He doubted there was anything else as heavy as a metal dragon in these woods. At least, he hoped there wasn't.
That's when he turned and came face to face with a pair of white eyes. Leo jumped and used his non-fiery hand to cover his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. The figure from earlier was back.
"You.. you.." Leo said, muffled by his own hand.
Yes child, I am real — and I should be crushing you to a pulp for reasons that I will explain when the time is right, the figure said in return, in a deep, ominous tone. But for now, our goals are roughly the same — to rescue Hera — but for different reasons.
Leo lowered his hand from his mouth. He couldn't believe exactly what he was hearing. "They.. they are?" he asked. "Why?"
Again, the figure said. I shall explain when the time is right. Find the dragon, young hero — once you do, I'll lead you to a place that will help both you and this place.
"Really?" Leo asked.
You have my word, the figure said back to him and then disappeared.
Leo was honestly very confused now. Believe him, he totally was. Exactly who or what was that mysterious figure? Why exactly was it helping him when it even said it should be crushing him to a pulp? It was beyond bewildering to him. Either way, he couldn't really focus on that for long right now. He had stuff to do, very important stuff to do.
He picked his way down the crater and approached the vat. The fumes were almost overpowering, and his eyes started watering. He remembered a time when Tía Callida (Hera, whatever) had made him chop jalapeños in the kitchen and he'd gotten the juice in his eyes. Serious pain. But of course she'd been like, "Endure it, little hero. The Aztecs of your mother's homeland used to punish bad children by holding them over a fire filled with chili peppers. They raised many heroes that way."
A total psycho, that lady. Leo was so glad he was on a quest to rescue her. It was more or less sarcasm if he had to be completely honest here. But still, it brought up another question in his brain about that mysterious figure. What exactly did it expect to gain from rescuing Hera?
Either way though, Tía Callida would've loved this vat, because it was way worse than jalapeño juice. Leo looked for a trigger—something that would disable the net. He didn't see anything.
He had a moment of panic. Nyssa had said there were several traps like this in the woods, and they were planning more. What if the dragon had already stepped into another one? How could Leo possibly find them all?
He continued to search, but he didn't see any release mechanism. No large button labeled off. It occurred to him that there might not be one. He started to despair—and then he heard the sound.
It was more of a tremor—the deep sort of rumbling you hear in your gut rather than your ears. It gave him the jitters, but he didn't look around for the source. He just kept examining the trap, thinking, Must be a long way off. It's pounding its way through the woods. I gotta hurry.
Then he heard a grinding snort, like steam forced out of a metal barrel. A moment of panic flared through him. Shit, he thought to himself.
His neck tingled. He turned slowly. At the edge of the pit, fifty feet away, two glowing red eyes were staring at him. The creature gleamed in the moonlight, and Leo couldn't believe something that huge had sneaked up on him so fast. Too late, he realized its gaze was fixed on the fire in his hand, and he extinguished the flames.
He could still see the dragon just fine. It was about sixty feet long, snout to tail, its body made of interlocking bronze plates. Its claws were the size of butcher knives, and its mouth was lined with hundreds of dagger-sharp metal teeth. Steam came out of its nostrils. It snarled like a chain saw cutting through a tree. It could've bitten Leo in half, easy, or stomped him flat. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, except for one problem that completely ruined Leo's plan.
"You don't have wings," Leo said.
The dragon's snarl died. It tilted its head as if to say, Why aren't you running away in terror?
"Hey, no offense," Leo said. "You're amazing! Good god, who made you? Are you hydraulic or nuclear-powered or what? But if it was me, I would've put wings on you. What kind of dragon doesn't have wings? I guess maybe you're too heavy to fly? I should've thought of that."
The dragon snorted, more confused now. It was supposed to trample Leo. This conversation thing wasn't part of the plan. It took a step forward, and Leo shouted, "No!"
The dragon snarled again.
"It's a trap, bronze brain," Leo said. "They're trying to catch you."
The dragon opened its mouth and blew fire. A column of white-hot flames billowed over Leo, more than he'd ever tried to endure before. He felt as if he were being hosed down with a powerful, very hot fire hose. It stung a little, but he stood his ground. When the flames died, he was perfectly fine. Even his clothes were okay, which Leo didn't understand, but for which he was grateful. He liked his army jacket, and having his pants seared off would've been pretty embarrassing.
The dragon stared at Leo. Its face didn't actually change, being made of metal and all, but Leo thought he could read its expression: Why no crispy critter? A spark flew out of its neck like it was about to short-circuit.
"You can't burn me," Leo said, trying to sound stern and calm. He'd never had a dog before, but he talked to the dragon the way he thought you'd talk to a dog. "Stay, boy. Don't come any closer. I don't want you to get caught. See, they think you're broken and have to be scrapped. But I don't believe that. I can fix you if you'll let me—"
The dragon creaked, roared, and charged. The trap sprang. The floor of the crater erupted with a sound like a thousand trash can lids banging together. Dirt and leaves flew, metal net flashing. Leo was knocked off his feet, turned upside down, and doused in Tabasco sauce and oil. He found himself sandwiched between the vat and the dragon as it thrashed, trying to free itself from the net that had wrapped around them both.
The dragon blew flames in every direction, lighting up the sky and setting trees on fire. Oil and sauce burned all over them. It didn't hurt Leo, but it left a nasty taste in his mouth.
"Will you stop that!" he yelled.
The dragon kept squirming. Leo realized he would get crushed if he didn't move. It wasn't easy, but he managed to wriggle out from between the dragon and the vat. He squirmed his way through the net. Fortunately the holes were plenty big enough for a skinny kid.
He ran to the dragon's head. It tried to snap at him, but its teeth were tangled in the mesh. It blew fire again, but seemed to be running out of energy. This time the flames were only orange. They sputtered before they even reached Leo's face.
"Listen, man," Leo said, "you're just going to show them where you are. Then they'll come and break out the acid and the metal cutters. Is that what you want?"
The dragon's jaw made a creaking sound, like it was trying to talk.
"Okay, then," Leo said. "You'll have to trust me."
And Leo set to work.
It took him almost an hour to find the control panel. It was right behind the dragon's head, which made sense. He'd elected to keep the dragon in the net, because it was easier to work with the dragon constrained, but the dragon didn't like it.
"Hold still!" Leo scolded.
The dragon made another creaking sound that might've been a whimper.
Leo examined the wires inside the dragon's head. He was distracted by a sound in the woods, but when he looked up it was just a tree spirit—a dryad, Leo thought they were called—putting out the flames in her branches. Fortunately, the dragon hadn't started an all-out forest fire, but still the dryad wasn't too pleased. The girl's dress was smoking. She smothered the flames with a silky blanket, and when she saw Leo looking at her, she made a gesture that was probably very rude in Dryad. Then she disappeared in a green poof of mist.
Leo returned his attention to the wiring. It was ingenious, definitely, and it made sense to him. This was the motor control relay. This processed sensory input from the eyes. This disk ...
"Ha," he said. "Well, no wonder."
Creak? the dragon asked with its jaw.
"You've got a corroded control disk. Probably regulates your higher reasoning circuits, right? Rusty brain, man. No wonder you're a little ... confused." He almost said crazy, but he caught himself. "I wish I had a replacement disk, but ...this is a complicated piece of circuitry. I'm gonna have to take it out and clean it. Only be a minute." He pulled out the disk, and the dragon went absolutely still. The glow died in its eyes. Leo slid off its back and began polishing the disk. He mopped up some oil and Tabasco sauce with his sleeve, which helped cut through the grime, but the more he cleaned, the more concerned he got. Some of the circuits were beyond repair. He could make it better, but not perfect. For that, he'd need a completely new disk, and he had no idea how to build one.
He tried to work quickly. He wasn't sure how long the dragon's control disk could be off without damaging it—maybe forever—but he didn't want to take chances. Once he'd done the best he could, he climbed back up to the dragon's head and started cleaning the wiring and gearboxes, getting himself filthy in the process.
"Clean hands, dirty equipment," he muttered, something his mother used to say. By the time he was through, his hands were black with grease and his clothes looked like he'd just lost a mud-wrestling contest, but the mechanisms looked a lot better. He slipped in the disk, connected the last wire, and sparks flew. The dragon shuddered. Its eyes began to glow.
"Better?" Leo asked.
The dragon made a sound like a high-speed drill. It opened its mouth and all its teeth rotated.
"I guess that's a yes. Hold on, I'll free you."
Another thirty minutes to find the release clamps for the net and untangle the dragon, but finally it stood and shook the last bit of netting off its back. It roared triumphantly and shot fire at the sky.
"Seriously," Leo said. "Could you not show off?"
Creak? the dragon asked.
"You need a name," Leo decided. "I'm calling you Festus."
The dragon whirred its teeth and grinned. At least Leo hoped it was a grin.
"Cool," Leo said. "But we still have a problem, because you don't have wings."
Festus tilted his head and snorted steam. Then he lowered his back in an unmistakable gesture. He wanted Leo to climb on.
"Where we going?" Leo asked.
But he was too excited to wait for an answer. He climbed onto the dragon's back, and Festus bounded off into the woods.
Leo lost track of time and all sense of direction. It seemed impossible the woods could be so deep and wild, but the dragon traveled until the trees were like skyscrapers and the canopy of leaves completely blotted out the stars. Even the fire in Leo's hand couldn't have lit the way, but the dragon's glowing red eyes acted like headlights.
Finally they crossed a stream and came to a dead end, a limestone cliff a hundred feet tall—a solid, sheer mass the dragon couldn't possibly climb.
Festus stopped at the base and lifted one leg like a dog pointing.
"What is it?" Leo slid to the ground. He walked up to the cliff—nothing but solid rock. The dragon kept pointing.
"It's not going to move out of your way," Leo told him.
The loose wire in the dragon's neck sparked, but otherwise he stayed still. Leo put his hand on the cliff. Suddenly his fingers smoldered. Lines of fire spread from his fingertips like ignited gunpowder, sizzling across the limestone. The burning lines raced across the cliff face until they had outlined a glowing red door five times as tall as Leo. He backed up and the door swung open, disturbingly silently for such a big slab of rock.
"Perfectly balanced," he muttered. "That's some first-rate engineering."
The dragon unfroze and marched inside, as if he were coming home.
Leo stepped through, and the door began to close. He had a moment of panic, remembering that night in the machine shop long ago, when he'd been locked in. What if he got stuck in here? But then lights flickered on—a combination of electric fluorescents and wall-mounted torches. When Leo saw the cavern, he forgot about leaving.
"Festus," he muttered. "What is this place?"
The dragon stomped to the center of the room, leaving tracks in the thick dust, and curled up on a large circular platform.
The cave was the size of an airplane hangar, with endless worktables and storage cages, rows of garage-sized doors along either wall, and staircases that led up to a network of catwalks high above. Equipment was everywhere—hydraulic lifts, welding torches, hazard suits, air-spades, forklifts, plus something that looked suspiciously like a nuclear reaction chamber. Bulletin boards were covered with tattered, faded blueprints. And weapons, armor, shields—war supplies all over the place, a lot of them only partially finished.
Hanging from chains far above the dragon's platform was an old tattered banner almost too faded to read. The letters were Greek, but Leo somehow knew what they said: bunker 9.
Did that mean nine as in the Hephaestus cabin, or nine as in there were eight others? Leo looked at Festus, still curled up on the platform, and it occurred to him that the dragon looked so content because it was home. It had probably been built on that pad.
"Do the other kids know ... ?" Leo's question died as he asked it. Clearly, this place had been abandoned for decades. Cobwebs and dust covered everything. The floor revealed no footprints except for his, and the huge paw prints of the dragon. He was the first one in this bunker since ... since a long time ago. Bunker 9 had been abandoned with a lot of projects half finished on the tables. Locked up and forgotten, but why?
Leo looked at a map on the wall—a battle map of camp, but the paper was as cracked and yellow as onionskin. A date at the bottom read, 1864.
"No way," he muttered.
Then he spotted a blueprint on a nearby bulletin board, and his heart almost leaped out of his throat. He ran to the worktable and stared up at a white-line drawing almost faded beyond recognition: a Greek ship from several different angles. Faintly scrawled words underneath it read: prophecy? unclear. flight?
It was the ship he'd seen in his dreams—the flying ship. Someone had tried to build it here, or at least sketched out the idea. Then it was left, forgotten ... a prophecy yet to come. And weirdest of all, the ship's masthead was exactly like the one Leo had drawn when he was five—the head of a dragon. "Looks like you, Festus," he murmured. "That's creepy."
It might be a forebearer of things to come and it might not, he heard a familiar voice say to him. Leo turned around, to find the same figure from earlier leaning up against a wall, those same pure white eyes staring at him once more. Those things were absolutely creepy, Leo thought to himself.
"So this is what you meant by a place that would help me and the others?" he asked. The figure simply nodded.
Rescue Hera, recover Jason's memories, and this place will start to make way more sense, the figure said to Leo.
"How exactly?" Leo said back.
When the time comes, you will see how, the figure said and then disappeared once more. Leo honestly - he was left with more questions than answers now in his own opinion. But he knew something important now. This place would start to make way more sense if he rescued his former babysitter and recovered Hera's memories. Leo didn't want to, but he knew deep down inside if they was any chance he was going to maybe help his cabin and the others fend off what was coming, he had to. He had no other choice, and he knew it.
He turned back to the drawings. The masthead gave him an uneasy feeling, but Leo's mind spun with too many other questions to think about it for long. He touched the blueprint, hoping he could take it down to study, but the paper crackled at his touch, so he left it alone. He looked around for other clues. No boats. No pieces that looked like parts of this project, but there were so many doors and storerooms to explore.
Festus snorted like he was trying to get Leo's attention, reminding him they didn't have all night. It was true. Leo figured it would be morning in a few hours, and he'd gotten completely sidetracked. He'd saved the dragon, but it wasn't going to help him on the quest. He needed something that would fly.
Festus nudged something toward him—a leather tool belt that had been left next to his construction pad. Then the dragon switched on his glowing red eye beams and turned them toward the ceiling. Leo looked up to where the spotlights were pointing, and yelped when he recognized the shapes hanging above them in the darkness.
"Festus," he said in a small voice. "We've got work to do."