Back into the groove! This ended up being one of my favourite chapters for this book. I liked how I managed to get the situations and characters written out.
I have also written pieces where the gods react to the events in the story, along with other POVs, but these pieces have been put in an Extras document. The Extras will be posted at the very end of the series. This is because some of the Extra pieces I write end up getting used later; I don't want the trouble of posting something in Extras just to go back later and remove it because I end up using it.
Anyways, I think that's all for now. Enjoy!
Percy dragged his eyelids open, forcing himself out of Hypnos' hands.
It felt like a sisyphean-task. The air was filled with sea-salt caramel and crisp pine-leaves; he was safe and warm here. It was as if the ocean itself was tempting him back to sleep.
He angled his head up.
Ah.
That's because it was.
Poseidon was pacing along the pool at ten-feet-tall, muttering furiously.
"Πατέρα?" Percy asked, rubbing his eyes, "what're you doing here?"
"Tantalus," the god hissed, "how dare he put that man near my child—near my children."
Percy snorted, crawling off the bed and going for a hug.
Poseidon merely swiped him up on his next pass, holding him close as he continued moving from one end to the other. Percy set his head on his dad's shoulder, looking up at him through blurry vision.
Wasn't what he was going for, but oh well.
"Rooms," Poseidon muttered, coming to a sudden stop. "How would you like rooms, Percy?"
Percy tore his eyes back open, grumbling. Poseidon looked down at him with that familiar possessive fondness.
"Rooms would be nice," he managed to get out, "private but still in the same space. Would feel even worse about the other campers though, I had to sleep on the floor in Hermes' cabin because there were so many unclaimed."
The feral hiss could have scared the dead, but all Percy did was smile. He poked his dad's face to get him to resettle into something actually tangible.
"'S okay," he said, "Hermes has been working on it. Uncle Z's just a blockhead. Pretty sure he'll be resorting to prank tactics soon just to get him to listen."
Poseidon's eyes lit up. In the low light, it made him look manic. "I shall help," he said. "Now off to sleep you go, I have rooms to build."
Percy didn't argue. When he woke up he found that his little corner now had four sea-blue walls and was way bigger than what should fit within the cabin. His dresser had been pushed against the far wall parallel to the bed. In the corner next to it, there were two bookshelves, a desk, and a plush chair on a fluffy rug. A window nook was centered on the wall his bed was pushed up against. There was an obvious pearl motif to just about everything in the room.
Tyson looked star-struck when they met for breakfast, gesturing wordlessly to his own room next to Percy's. One half of it was a bedroom, the other half a forge.
There were four other empty rooms as well, and the living space Percy had created was now close to the door.
"Dad's amazing," Tyson whispered.
"Yeah," Percy grinned, "he is."
He spent the next two days introducing Tyson, who'd gotten claimed the first morning, to camp, tag-teaming with Glenn to get any that couldn't take a hint to shut up.
Tantalus never seemed to take the hint, but that was alright.
Percy had just as much fun taunting him as Dionysus did; they took turns on near dangling things in the man's face. It also appeared that the man had gained a few bird-like shadows that enjoyed swooping down and pecking at him when he least expected it.
It had done wonders for camp morale.
Annabeth avoided Percy and Tyson like they had the plague. Percy let her, knowing she would come around to talk about whatever was on her mind eventually.
The night before the race, they finished their chariot. Tyson had made the metal parts in the armory's forges. Percy had sanded the wood and put the carriage together. It was blue and white, with gold wave designs on the side and a trident painted on the front in green.
Just for laughs, he lined the top with pearls. If anything, they'd make good glittering distractions.
That night, he dreamed of Grover, the first concrete view he'd gotten since the last day of school.
He was wearing a wedding dress.
It didn't fit him very well. The gown was too long and the hem was caked in dried blood. The neckline kept falling off his shoulders. A tattered veil covered his face.
All in all, Percy gave in a two out of ten stars, because while it had all the pieces of a wedding dress, it looked like one of those zombie bride dresses. He was sure Grover could do better.
Dress-up thoughts aside, his friend was standing in a dank cave, lit only by torches. There was a cot in one corner and an old-fashioned loom in the other that Percy wanted the moment he saw it. On the frame was a length of white cloth half woven.
He was staring right at Percy. "Thank the gods!" He yelped. "Can you hear me?"
Percy nodded, but it was slow. Everything was moving so slowly. He took in the stalactite ceiling, the stench of sheep and goat and monster and something actually really sweet and warm; the growling and grumbling and bleating sounds that seemed to echo from behind a refrigerator-sized boulder, which was blocking the room's only exit, as if there were a much larger cavern beyond it.
Gee, he had a feeling he knew where this was.
"Percy?" Grover said. "Please, I don't have the strength to project any better."
"What's going on?" Percy asked.
From behind the boulder, a monstrous voice yelled, "Honeypie! Are you done yet!"
Grover flinched. He called out in falsetto, "Not quite, dearest! A few more days!"
"Bah! Hasn't it been two weeks yet?"
"N-no, dearest. Just five days. That leaves twelve more to go."
Percy looked at him like he was watching a soap opera turn into a train wreck, one of those moments you just couldn't pull your eyes from.
The monster was silent, maybe trying to do the math Grover had messed with. He must've been worse at arithmetic than Percy was, because he said, "All right, but hurry! I want to SEEE under that veil, heh-heh-heh…"
Grover turned back to him. "Don't look at me like that—You have to help me! No time! I'm stuck in this cave. On an island in the sea."
"Do you know where?"
"I don't know exactly! I went to Florida and turned left."
"What? Into the sea?"
"It's a trap!" Grover said over him. "It's the reason no satyr has ever returned from this quest. He's a shepherd, Percy! And he has it. Its nature magic is so powerful it smells just like the great god Pan! The satyrs come here thinking they've found Pan, and they get trapped and eaten by Polyphemus!"
Oh, he had been hoping he was wrong.
"I almost got away. I made it all the way to St. Augustine."
"But he followed you," Percy picked up. "And trapped you in a bridal boutique—you clever satyr."
"That's right," Grover said. "My first empathy link must've worked then. Look, this bridal dress is the only thing keeping me alive. He thinks I smell good, but I told him it was just goat-scented perfume. Thank goodness he can't see very well. His eye is still half blind from the last time somebody poked it out. But soon he'll realise what I am. He's only giving me two weeks to finish the bridal train, and he's getting impatient!"
Percy swallowed any hint of laughter. His friend was scared—they could laugh about the hilarity later.
"I'll come to rescue you," Percy promised. "Where is his island?"
"The Sea of Monsters," Grover lamented. "And, o-oh, before I forget. Um, Percy, I'm really sorry about this, but this empathy link…well, I had no choice. Our emotions are connected now. If I die…"
"You're not going to die."
"But if I do…you might not die, but you might…live for years in a vegetative state. But, uh, it would be a lot better if you got me out of here."
"You're not going to die," Percy repeated.
The monster bellowed about dinner time.
Grover whimpered.
"Wait!" Percy said, "you said 'it' was here. What?"
Grover's voice grew fainter; Percy could barely make out the answer. The dream faded and he woke up with a start. Tyson looked down at him worriedly.
"Are you okay?" He asked, "you didn't answer the door…"
Percy blinked. Tyson would never hurt him, but for one small moment Percy couldn't fight the shiver down his spine. He sounded exactly like the monster he'd heard.
If that wasn't confirmation, he didn't know what was.
"I'm good, big guy. Let's get ready for the race."
Percy opened their cabin door to find it hot and humid and smelling absolutely putrid. Fog lay low on the ground like sauna steam. He soon found the source of the stench. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees—fat and giant grey-and-white pigeons, except they didn't coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound like that of a submarine radar.
He watched a few of the campers with sharp ears pass by wearing earplugs, looking downright murderous, and snorted at the gaggle of little ones around Dionysus, who for once had decided to grace the morning with his face. The god was glaring at the demonic bad-smelling birds, finding them at fault for his lack of personal space. Even then, Percy noted, he didn't shoo the children away, eyes ever tracking to make sure he hadn't lost one as they moved from the cabins to the track.
Percy would make sure to find a more expensive bottle of wine next time.
Glenn followed on the god's heel like a bodyguard, also eyeing the birds.
The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods. Beckendorf had come through. Him and the rest of the Hephaestus cabin had fixed up the bronze bulls and used them to plow an oval track in a matter of minutes.
There were rows of stone steps for spectators—Tantalus, looking worse for wear, stood on one end. The satyrs, a few dryads, and all the campers who weren't participating sat away from him, forming a clear divide.
"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate éclair across the judge's table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled like they were all naughty children.
The older campers shifted away from the man; The little campers around Dionysus crowded closer. The god's glare turned near-lethal. Glenn's expression said he was ready to help him hide the body.
"Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"
Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. Their chariot was made of bronze and iron—even the horses, which were magical automatons like the Colchis bulls. Percy had no doubt that it had all kinds of mechanical traps and more hidden fancy options. He murmured to Tyson in warning.
The Ares chariot was bloodied, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops, and a bunch of other nasty toys.
Apollo's chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful Palominos. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had promised not to shoot regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers.
Hermes' chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn't been out of the garage in years. It didn't look like anything special, but it was manned by the Stoll brothers, and Percy could only imagine what dirty tricks they'd schemed up.
Annabeth's chariot looked like one straight out of a museum. Like, they'd gone and just hijacked an original from some special collection somewhere. Knowing how determined they were to win and who their godly parent was, Percy was sure he wasn't too far off the mark.
He'd tried to reach out to Annabeth before the race about Grover, but she was distant. He could tell she didn't believe him.
As he climbed aboard the chariot, he noticed how many more pigeons were in the trees—screeching like crazy, making the whole forest rustle. Everyone else seemed to have pushed them from their mind, but Percy kept a close eye on them.
Their beaks blinked strangely. Their eyes seemed shinier than regular birds. And the smell—
Tyson was having trouble getting their horses under control. Percy soothed them with the promise of sugar cubes and apples.
He took the reins and maneuvered the chariot to the starting line. He then gave Tyson the lead, and took the ten-foot pole for himself.
"Just focus on keeping to the path," he said. "I'd like to win, but I have a feeling those demon birds are going to do something."
"We will win!" Tyson beamed. "I will keep us on the path, and watch out for bad birds."
Percy grinned. "That's the spirit."
As the chariots lined up, more shiny-eyed pigeons gathered in the woods. They were screeching so loudly the campers in the stands couldn't ignore them anymore, glancing nervously at the trees, which shivered under the weight of the birds. Tantalus didn't look concerned, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.
"Charioteers!" He shouted. "Attend your mark!"
He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd cheered.
Almost immediately there was a loud nasty crack!
The Apollo chariot had flipped over. The Hermes chariot had rammed into it—maybe by mistake, maybe not. The riders were thrown free, but their panicked horses dragged the golden chariot diagonally across the track. The Hermes team, Travis and Connor Stoll, were laughing at their good luck, but not for long. The Apollo horses crashed into theirs, and the Hermes chariot flipped too, leaving a pile of broken wood and four rearing horses in the dust.
Two chariots down in the first twenty feet.
They were making good time, pulling ahead of Ares, but Annabeth's chariot was way ahead. She was already making her turn around the first post, her javelin man grinning and waving.
The Hephaestus chariot was starting to gain.
Beckendorf pressed a button, and a panel slid open on the side of his chariot. "Sorry, Percy!" He yelled. Three sets of balls and chains shot straight toward our wheels.
They would've wrecked the chariot completely, except Percy swung his pole and sent the devices rearing back, while Tyson got the horses to move even faster, pulling ahead.
One of the balls landed a lucky hit—the Hephaestus chariot wobbled dangerously. Beckendorf fought with the wheel.
They didn't make the turn.
The chariot tumbled past the boundary, the riders jumping ship just as it collided with the line of trees. It exploded into a small mushroom cloud of smoke and flame.
"Birds!" Tyson yelled in warning, just as they made the turn.
They were gaining on Athena's chariot. Annabeth's fighter wasn't smiling anymore. He pulled a javelin from his collection and took aim. He was about to throw when the air filled with screaming.
The pigeons were swarming—thousands of them dive bombing the spectators in the stands, attacking the other chariots. Vines shot up from the ground, launching over the campers to form a protective wall, but the birds just kept coming, swooping down to peck and bite and scratch.
In the Ares chariot, Clarisse barked an order to her fighter, who quickly threw a screen of camouflage netting over their basket. The birds swarmed around it, pecking and clawing at the fighter's hands as he tried to hold up the net, but Clarisse just gritted her teeth and kept driving. Her skeletal horses seemed immune to the distraction. The pigeons pecked uselessly at their empty eye sockets and flew through their rib cages, but the stallions kept right on running.
"Stymphalian birds!" Annabeth yelled. She slowed down and pulled her chariot alongside theirs. "They'll strip everyone to bones if we don't drive them away!"
"Tyson!" Percy ordered, "turn us around! We've got to help!"
"The wrong way?" Tyson muttered, but did so.
Annabeth followed. "Heroes to arms!" She shouted, but no one heard her over the screeching of birds and the general chaos.
Percy uncapped Riptide as a wave of birds dived at them, their metal beaks snapping. He slashed them out of the air and they exploded into dust and feathers, but there were still millions of them left. One nailed him straight in the back, scraping along his shoulders.
Annabeth wasn't having much better luck. The closer they got to the stands, the thicker the cloud of birds became.
Some of the spectators were trying to fight back. The Athena campers were calling for shields. The archers from Apollo's cabin brought out their bows and arrows, but with so many campers mixed in with the birds, it wasn't safe to shoot.
At the center of the stands Dionysus stood, his arms out and covered in ivy, vines curled around his waist and feet. His eyes were almost sickening to look at, Madness and Insanity dancing below the surface. Around him, the smaller and younger campers were ducked down, unable to protect themselves but covered by green foliage. Birds were speared through and thrown back in waves, but there were still too many.
Percy could feel the god's weakening aura from where he was, could see how his form flickered between this and that. The effects of being so far-removed from his domain were hitting hard and they were all suffering for it.
"Too many!" He yelled to Annabeth, uncapping his water bottle. The water shot out on his command, and joined the vines with slicing through the birds. "How did Hercules do it again?!"
She stabbed at a pigeon with her knife. "He used noise! Brass balls! He scared them away with the most horrible sound he could—"
Her eyes got wide. "Percy…Chiron's collection!"
"That'll work!" He agreed, "hop on!"
She handed her fighter the reins and leaped from her chariot into theirs like it was the easiest thing in the world. "To the Big House! It's our only chance!"
"Clarisse!" Percy barked at the girl as they turned towards the house. She had just crossed the finish line unopposed, and seemed to notice for the first time how serious the bird problem was. "Help Dionysus protect the kids!"
"Don't tell me what to do!" She yelled back, but drew her sword and charged for the stands.
Tyson urged their horses into a gallop. The chariot rumbled through the strawberry fields, across the volleyball pit, and lurched to a halt in front of the Big House. Annabeth and him went tearing inside and down the hall to Chiron's apartment.
His boombox was still on his nightstand. So were his favourite CDs. Percy grabbed the most repulsive one he could find, Annabeth snatched the boom box, and together they ran back outside.
Down at the track, the chariots were in flames. Wounded campers ran in every direction, with birds shredding their clothes and pulling out their hair, while Tantalus chased breakfast pastries around the stands, every once in a while yelling, "Everything's under control! Not to worry!"
Dionysus was flagging. He had moved from the stands and had worked his way to the stables, where he ushered children in. Clarisse was a blur of orange red around him, mouth pulled into a snarl as she fought through the birds; she was back to back with Glenn, his wolf-like eyes flared in rage. Beckendorf and his fighter had gotten free of their chariot mess, and they joined in, swinging their heavy hammers in the air.
They pulled up to the finish line. Annabeth got the boom box ready and Percy prayed the batteries weren't dead.
He pressed play. The air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian.
The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out. Then they abandoned the track altogether and flew skyward in a huge dark wave.
"Now!" Annabeth shouted. "Archers!"
With clear targets, Apollo's archers had flawless aim. Percy continued to strike the birds and Dionysus' vines hit the ones still stunned from the music.
Within minutes, the ground was littered with dead bronze-beaked pigeons, and the little survivors were a distant trail of smoke on the horizon.
The camp was saved, but the wreckage wasn't pretty. Most of the chariots had been completely destroyed. Almost everyone was wounded, bleeding from multiple bird pecks. The kids from Aphrodite's cabin were screaming because of the mess.
"Bravo!" Tantalus' grating voice said, but he wasn't looking at Percy and Annabeth. "We have our first winner!" He walked to the finish line and awarded the golden laurels for the race to a stunned-looking Clarisse.
Then he turned and smiled at them. "And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."
If looks could kill, Tantalus would be dead a thousand times over. Even Clarisse's stunned expression had made way for rage.
But no one could get a word in. The way Tantalus saw it, the Stymphalian birds had simply been minding their own business in the woods and would not have attacked if Annabeth, Tyson, and Percy hadn't disturbed them with their bad chariot driving.
"Go chase a donut!" Percy snapped at the man. He helped Justine up and made his way towards the god in their camp when they were steady. Everyone else got to moving, ignoring the prisoner.
Tantalus sputtered behind him, sentencing them to kitchen patrol. Glenn stepped in front of his path when he tried to follow Percy, a look in his eyes just daring the prisoner to push it.
"Are you okay?" He asked Dionysus. The god had sat straight down where he had been standing, his vines crawling back to him. "Dionysus?"
His eyes were dull pools of purple.
Percy silently cursed.
"Pollux! Castor!"
The twins melted out of the crowd, rushing over.
"What happened?" Castor asked, bending a knee at his father's side. "Oh…dad?"
"Please help him back to the Big House," Percy said, "and get him some…thing to drink."
They all glanced upward.
Nothing.
"I'll go," Pollux said, nodding. "Won't take long."
Percy nodded, watching the boy slip off. Castor thanked him and helped his father up. They made their way to the house.
"Lady Ariande," Percy murmured, "if you can hear me, Dionysus could use some support right now."
There was a small thrum, the image of unravelling thread in his head.
Good.
Percy spent the next few hours helping various campers to and from the infirmary, doing his best to stay away from agitated Apollo kids as they worked. One of the younger ones, Will if Percy remembered correctly, who smelled strongly of antiseptic, herbs, and something noxiously sweet, had nearly growled at him when he dropped another camper off.
Not because he was in the way, but because he'd been nursing the cuts on his shoulder and a sprained ankle and hadn't said anything.
It was quite adorable. The kid was terrifying, and that was coming from Percy.
As the sun came down and the special luncheon banquet celebrating a sour-faced Clarisse passed, Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson were forced by Tantalus into the underground kitchen with the cleaning harpies.
The only good thing about the punishment, other than the nice lava-given warmth, was that it gave Annabeth and him a chance to talk. After listening to Grover's dream again, she looked like she might be starting to believe him.
"If he's really found it," she murmured, "and if we could retrieve it—"
"Then it could help Thalia," Percy agreed.
Annabeth scraped a plateful of death-bird bones into the lava. "Percy, remember the Gray Sisters? They said they knew the location of the thing you seek. And they mentioned Jason. Three thousand years ago, they told him how to find the Golden Fleece. You do know the story of Jason and the Argonauts?"
He waved his hand in a so-so way, prompting her to roll her eyes.
She explained the story.
Percy let it wash over him, vaguely remembering the time his mom had told him about it. Actually, now that he thought about it…
"I think it was actually Phryxus and Helle, not Cadmus and Europa," Percy muttered.
Annabeth stared at him.
"Sorry," he coughed. "River hyper-fixation. Anyways, so Grover found it. He went looking for Pan and he found the Fleece instead because they both radiate nature magic, but it's being guarded."
Annabeth shook her head. "More than that—this is almost too perfect. The tree gets poisoned and somehow we magically find the one item that could help. This could be a trap…"
"What choice do we have?" Percy countered. "We can't lose Thalia's tree, and I'm not losing Grover. Are you going to help me or not?"
She glanced at Tyson, who'd lost interest in their conversation and was happily making toy boats out of cups and spoons in the lava.
"Percy," she said under her breath, "we'll have to fight a Cyclops. Polyphemus, the worst of the Cyclopes. And there's only one place his island could be. The Sea of Monsters."
He shrugged.
"Two words," he told her incredulous face, "brother, sea."
Annabeth knit her eyebrows. "We'll have to talk to Tantalus, get approval for a quest. He'll say no."
"Probably," Percy agreed, "or we can try asking tonight at the campfire in front of everyone. They'll pressure him. He won't be able to refuse, and if he does…I'm going anyway."
"Maybe." A little bit of hope crept into Annabeth's voice. "We'd better get these dishes done. Hand me the lava spray gun, will you?"
That night at the campfire, Apollo's cabin led the sing-along. They tried to get everybody's spirits up, but it wasn't easy after that afternoon's bird attack. They all sat around in a semicircle of stone steps, singing halfheartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo guys strummed their guitars and picked their lyres.
The bonfire was enchanted to reflect their singing. The louder one sang, the higher it rose, and it changed colour and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, Percy had seen it twenty feet high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row's marshmallows burst into flames.
Tonight, the fire was only five feet high, barely warm, and the flames were the colour of lint. Hestia would despair over it.
Dionysus had still not appeared from the Big House. It wasn't helping the atmosphere.
When the last song was over, Tantalus said, "Well, that was lovely!"
He played marshmallow chase for a moment, which ended in the tragic suicide of said marshmallow. He turned back to them, smiling coldly. "Now then! Some announcements about tomorrow's schedule."
"Sir," Percy said.
Tantalus' eyes twitched. "Our kitchen boy has something to say?"
No one laughed, the fire shrunk a foot.
"We have an idea to save the camp."
The fire turned bright yellow.
"Indeed," Tantalus said blandly. "Well, if it has anything to do with the chariots—"
"The Golden Fleece," Percy said. "We know where it is."
The flames burned orange.
Percy explained his dream about Grover and Polyphemus. Annabeth stepped in and reminded everybody what the Fleece could do.
"The Fleece can save the camp," she concluded. "I'm certain of it."
"Nonsense," said Tantalus. "We don't need saving."
Everybody stared at him until he started looking uncomfortable.
"Besides," he added quickly, "the Sea of Monsters? That's hardly an exact location. You wouldn't even know where to look."
"Yes, I would," Percy said. "Son of the Sea, remember?"
Annabeth looked at him curiously, but he only grinned.
"We need a quest," Annabeth finally said.
"Wait just a minute!" Tantalus interrupted.
But the campers took up the chant. "We need a quest! We need a quest!"
The flames rose higher, the chanting grew.
"Fine!" Tantalus shouted, his eyes blazing with anger. "You brats want me to assign a quest? Very well, I shall authorise a champion to undertake this perilous journey, to retrieve the Golden Fleece and bring it back to camp. Or die trying."
There was an explosion of celebration and joy, but Percy hung back.
"I will allow our champion to consult the Oracle!" Tantalus announced. "And choose two companions for the journey. The champion is, of course, obvious. One who has the camp's respect, who has proven resourceful in the chariot races and courageous in the defense of the camp. You shall lead this quest…Clarisse!"
The fire flickered a thousand different colours.
No one said anything until the Ares' cabin broke into dampened cheers. Clarisse's face shifted through a hundred emotions, before she swallowed and stood. "I accept this quest!"
"But—!" Annabeth looked aghast.
"Excellent," Tantalus purred. "Ah, I see no objections?"
He looked straight at Percy.
Percy…smiled.
Something in Tantalus' eyes flickered, something like fear.
With a wave of Tantalus' hand, Clarisse was sent off to the Oracle, the fire was extinguished, and the rest of the campers trailed off toward their cabins in the dark.
"Let's head back," Percy said, "and get a good night's rest."
As they made their way to the cabin, Percy paused. His head tilted up the hill, where Thalia's tree stood limp and weak.
"Brother?"
"Go back to the cabin, I'll be right there." Percy waved Tyson off, moving towards Half-Blood Hill as if hypnotised.
The tree called to him—Thalia called to him. He could hear her faint whispering, and could smell the sickness.
He approached the tree, circling to where the wound was.
It continued to ooze, but every other blink it tinted a shimmery red that looked so much like his own blood.
In the earth below, he could feel the poison circling through the roots, burrowing its way into the ground. It was a burning, dull feeling. The Chimera's venom had been the circulation of a light burn which soon took one's breath away; the Pit Scorpion was a rush of knives stabbing from the inside out, intent on destroying everything in its path. This felt like snakes.
Slow, coiling, a predator patiently waiting for its victim to succumb before it swallowed them whole.
The barrier would not survive a few weeks, despite what Chiron had said. Percy could not let it fall, could not allow it, not when they were so close to a cure. Even now, he could smell the monsters outside the camp, circling, biding their time.
They would dare—
His knees gave out, the ground rose up to meet him. He barely caught himself from falling on his face. His stomach curled. He hadn't noticed—he'd been so focused on the tree, on Thalia, on his anger.
On the poison below.
Blood and sick clawed up his throat, the taste of iron tainting his tongue. Next to him, a small puddle of green venom had collected, pulled out by—
The world went black.
He was moving, being moved. He hurt, his head hurt, his heart hurt; it thrummed an unsteady rhythm. He fought against unconsciousness, focusing instead on ivy and wine instead.
"Dionysus?" He could barely keep his eyes open against the dizziness and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.
Wine purple seared down at him, swirling like a fine bottle of expensive wine. The god looked better, stronger—the golden glow had returned to his skin and the wilted grapevines had returned to their near-bursting state.
It almost hurt to look at him.
The farther they got from the tree, the more Percy felt some kind of loss. He let his eyes trail upwards.
"I like…" He couldn't hold on anymore; everything felt so wrong. "Your horns…thread…pretty…"
He dreamt of Hermes.
He was on the beach at camp. A blanket was spread out under him, another one on top of him, and he was looking up at the constellations Annabeth had taught him.
The waves tickled his heels; the smell of strawberries and envelopes blew in the wind.
"Beautiful, aren't they, lil cuz?"
"Hermes," Percy greeted, still looking up. "They are…"
Hermes leaned over him, a sly smile on his face.
He looked like a regular jogger, wearing nylon running shorts and a New York City Marathon T-shirt. His salt-and-pepper hair had considerably more white than the last time Percy had seen him.
Percy asked, "You want to sit down, or keep looming? Actually, I get enough of the looming from dad, so I'd appreciate you sitting down…"
The god laughed before sitting on the other side of the blanket. He hummed. "I haven't sat down in ages. Peace and quiet's just so hard to come by."
"You need more free time."
He opened his mouth to comment, but was interrupted by a cellphone.
He sighed and pulled out his phone. It glowed blue. When he extended the antenna, two creatures began writhing around it—green snakes, no bigger than earthworms.
Hermes didn't give them much attention, checking the LCD display, but Percy did, twisting to his side and sticking his hand out.
The little snakes happily left the phone antenna, twisting and curling around his fingers. Their little tongues felt like soft feathers. Even with Hermes' mouth moving a mile a minute on the phone, arguing about a lost package and an unhappy customer with his customer service agent named Helen, Percy got the distinct feeling that he was being watched very, very closely.
"What're your names?" He asked. He carefully moved his arm closer, looking over the intricate scale patterns along their backs.
George, a raspy male voice said inside his head.
Martha, a female voice said.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Percy."
We know, George laughed. You're the hot topic on Olympus…and everywhere else!
George! Martha scolded.
"Good to know," Percy said dryly. Then he grinned. "Say, know anything embarrassing about Hermes—"
"Aaaaand, back to me you go!" Hermes scooped the little snakes up.
Nooooooooo, George complained. We like the boy.
"Uh huh," Hermes said. "I'm sure it's not just because you want to spill all my most embarrassing moments."
Of course not, Martha assured, we would never.
Percy snickered at the disbelief on Hermes' face.
"Anyways." He ushered the snakes back to the phone, and snapped the antenna down. They disappeared and he slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Where were we…ah, yes. Peace and quiet."
He crossed his ankles and stared up at the stars. "Been a long time since I've gotten to relax. Ever since the telegraph—rush, rush, rush. Do you have a favourite constellation, Percy?"
"I'm not sure," he mused, looking back to the stars. "I haven't given it much thought…The sky is full but it looks empty."
Hermes was quiet for a moment, before he said, "What an interesting response. And so, what now?"
What did he intend to do?
"I'm going to go find the Fleece," he said immediately. "I'm going to save Grover, and save Thalia, and hopefully save camp."
Before Hermes could answer, Martha's muffled voice came from his pocket: I have Demeter on line two.
"Not now," Hermes said. "Tell her to leave a message."
She's not going to like that. The last time you put her off, all the flowers in the floral delivery division wilted.
"Just tell her I'm in a meeting!" He rolled his eyes. "Sorry again, Percy."
"When was the last time you had a vacation?" Percy asked curiously.
Hermes waved his hand as if to say, 'who knows?'
"So you know what to do, why're you still here then?"
"I did something." Percy paused, sitting up. He looked out at the waves. "I'm…not sure it was a good thing, actually."
Hermes hummed. He was watching him closely.
"But you already knew that," Percy tilted his head back to look at the god. "Didn't you?"
"Yes, maybe," Hermes admitted. "Word spreads fast. Camp's been under watch since the tree took a hit. Would be a nightmare if the barrier falls, as you know. We saw what happened with the birds and with Dionysus—thank you for that, by the way—so we saw what happened with the tree…"
Percy winced. "Who's 'we'?" He asked.
A smile crawled back across Hermes' face; he shrugged.
"Helpful," Percy muttered.
"Indeed! I do come bearing gifts."
He pulled back out his phone and it began glowing a brilliant blue. It stretched into a three-foot-long wooden staff with dove wings sprouting out the top. George and Martha, now full-sized green snakes, coiled together around the middle. It was his caduceus.
We haven't been this way for months, Martha thanked. It is nice to stretch.
"Martha," Hermes' eyes twinkled, "the first gift, please?"
Martha opened her mouth…and kept opening it until it was as wide as Percy's arm. She belched out a stainless steel canister—an old-fashioned lunch box thermos with a black plastic top. The sides of the thermos were enameled with red and yellow Ancient Greek scenes—a hero killing a lion; a hero lifting up Cerberus, the three-headed dog.
"Hercules," Percy said.
Hermes preened. "A collector's item from Hercules Busts Heads. The first season."
"Hercules Busts Heads?"
"Great show," Hermes sighed. "Back before Hephaestus-TV was all reality programming. Of course, the thermos would be much more if I had the whole lunch box—"
Or if it hadn't been in Martha's mouth, George added.
I'll get you for that. Martha began chasing him around the caduceus.
Hermes ignored their bickering. "Go on," he gestured, "pick it up."
It was freezing cold on one side and burning hot on the other. The weird thing was, when he turned the thermos, the side facing the ocean—north—was always the cold side…
"A compass!" Percy said in delight.
Hermes looked surprised. "Very clever. I never thought of that. But its intended use is a bit more dramatic. Uncap it, and you will release the winds from the four corners of the earth to speed you on your way. Not now! And please, if the time comes, only unscrew the lid a tiny bit. The winds are a bit like me—always restless. Should all four escape at once…ah, but I'm sure you'll be careful. And now my second gift, George!"
She's touching me, George complained as he and Martha slithered around the pole.
"She's always touching you," Hermes said. "You're intertwined. And if you don't stop that, you'll get knotted again!"
The snakes stopped wrestling.
George unhinged his jaw and coughed up a little plastic bottle filled with chewable vitamins.
"Minotaur-shaped?" Percy asked, amused.
Hermes picked up the bottle and rattled it. "The lemon ones, yes. The grape ones are the Furies, I think. Or are they hydras? At any rate, these are potent. Don't take one unless you really, really need it."
"And how will I know if I really, really need it?"
"You'll know, believe me. Nine essential vitamins, minerals, amino acids…oh, everything you need to feel yourself again."
"Has anyone ever told you gods that you're very good at being helpful while also being equally unhelpful?"
Hermes grinned.
"Hermes," Percy started, sensing their time together was coming to a close. "Why are you helping me right now? Gifts are never free, not in this family."
He gave Percy a melancholy smile. "Family, yeah. That's the point. I hope that you can save many people on this quest, Percy. Not just your friend Grover, or Thalia's tree, or the camp."
Percy sighed. "Luke," he said softly.
Hermes gazed up at the stars. "My dear young cousin, if there's one thing I've learned over the eons, it's that you can't give up on your family, no matter how tempting they make it. It doesn't matter if they hate you, or embarrass you, or simply don't appreciate your genius for inventing the Internet—"
"What I mean to say," Hermes interrupted himself, "is that at the end of the day, family is all you have."
Percy was quiet.
"I won't swear," he said. "But I'll try, Hermes, for you."
Hermes' shoulders dipped, like a weight had lifted off them. He smiled. "I guess it's time for you to go. Good luck, Percy, and know we are watching."
Hermes reached out and touched his forehead.
Percy woke up.
He was back in his cabin, a sticky note stuck to his forehead.
Don't you dare even think about it! The little note said in curly, pink glittering script. I will turn you into a bottle-nosed dolphin!
"Dad would turn me back," Percy muttered in amusement. He pushed himself up, knuckles tight on his sheets as the world spun. "No time to be sick, Jackson, we got a goat and tree to save."
He almost tripped over the yellow duffel bag in front of his door. On looking at it closer, he huffed in amusement at the little seahorse charm attached to the zipper. The compass and vitamins were inside.
Do think about it! The note on it said in a messy, shimmery black script. Actually, don't even think! Just do it!
He chuckled, setting the notes aside. He collected his things—Riptide, a bag of drachmas, his credit card, the small dagger he really needed to name, his prized water bottle, sweater, and rain jacket.
Tyson met him by the door with his own packed yellow duffel. "An adventure!" He cheered, "a trip with brother!"
It was super early, the sun not yet above the horizon. Annabeth stood waiting for them on the beach with her own bag.
"So," she said, "how are we doing this?"
"Like this…" Percy made his way into the water. "Hey dad, can I get an early birthday present?" He asked, grinning down at his reflection. For a moment, nothing happened, then the air filled with almost eager-tinged taffy.
The waves pushed him back, a gentle 'move-please-and-behold.'
A boat sailed out of the waves, growing bigger and bigger until it was fully revealed. It was a wooden sloop, a small pirate ship, with a modernised interior. Its larger white sail was printed with a blue-green trident above a great black kraken who's inky black tendrils reached out from every angle along the white canvas. The smaller sails were white. On its side, in bold black carved letters, Ανεμοστρόβιλος.
Hurricane.
Percy whistled in appreciation, hopping onto its surface.
"Thank you, dad," he muttered, looking over the clean wooden deck. It was a beautiful thing, small and fast.
Perfect for their needs; Perfect for him.
"Shall we?" He asked the others.
They hopped on in response, and with one nudge from Percy, they were off.
I really like the storyline for Sea of Monsters even though it's so short—it's a good lead-in to the bigger events coming, and I liked how it gave us Thalia by using the Golden Fleece. I'm hoping the show continues its 'what truly makes a monster' theme, because you have Tyson (who's absolutely awesome!), Tantalus, Luke, Polyphemus, heck even Circe, Charybdis, and Scylla, etc. Just SO many characters that work to and against this idea of a monster, and Percy really gets the chance to grow in the world he has to live in.
Also, the fact that I'm heavily focusing on family and Sea of Monsters includes a lot of family members from Poseidon's side is just so helpful for what I'm building towards.
I talked about it in the last note, but again, I've increased the hostility towards Tantalus. A lot of the kids at camp have more "other" features like Percy, so they're well-aware of what it feels like to be othered. Percy is a part of camp and he has the backing of a lot of respected campers, Tantalus is new and replaced one of the people who made them feel safe while also actively making them feel unsafe. On top of that, he promptly tried to attack one of their members, so: Target Identified. Clarisse is also more disgusted with Tantalus because, with the way I have her written, her pride would hate getting awarded for something she didn't do, like taking down the bulls or being the only one to fight the birds.
Dionysus is also more present, as I've promptly tossed that bitter, uncaring god to the curb and embraced one who begrudgingly cares for camp. This might have been helped along by the demigod who sneaks him wine every now and then, but who knows.
Hermes was also super fun to write, and his family-oriented motif was extremely helpful. I also like to imagine that Hermes is particularly protective about his snakes, so Percy was playing with fire a bit there. All good though! Percy would never hurt George and Martha.
Translations:
Πατέρα = Father
Ανεμοστρόβιλος = Hurricane, though it can mean Typhoon as well