The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)

The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3) Page 48

“Behold!” Percy shouted. “The god’s chosen beverage. Tremble before the horror of Diet Coke!”

The dolphin-men began to panic. They were on the edge of retreat. Percy could feel it.

“The god will take your ship,” Percy warned. “He will finish your transformation into dolphins, or make you insane, or transform you into insane dolphins! Your only hope is to swim away now, quickly!”

“Ridiculous!” Chrysaor’s voice turned shrill. He didn’t seem sure where to level his sword—at Percy or his own crew.

“Save yourselves!” Percy warned. “It is too late for us!”

Then he gasped and pointed to the spot where Frank was hiding. “Oh, no! Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!”

Nothing happened.

“I said,” Percy repeated, “Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!”

Frank stumbled out of nowhere, making a big show of grabbing his throat. “Oh, no,” he said, like he was reading from a teleprompter. “I am turning into a crazy dolphin.”

He began to change, his nose elongating into a snout, his skin becoming sleek and gray. He fell to the deck as a dolphin, his tail thumping against the boards.

The pirate crew disbanded in terror, chattering and clicking as they dropped their weapons, forgot the captives, ignored Chrysaor’s orders, and jumped overboard. In the confusion, Annabeth moved quickly to cut the bonds on Hazel, Piper, and Coach Hedge.

Within seconds, Chrysaor was alone and surrounded. Percy and his friends had no weapons except for Annabeth’s knife and Hedge’s hooves, but the murderous looks on their faces evidently convinced the golden warrior he was doomed.

He backed to the edge of the rail.

“This isn’t over, Jackson,” Chrysaor growled. “I will have my revenge—”

His words were cut short by Frank, who had changed form again. An eight-hundred-pound grizzly bear can definitely break up a conversation. He sideswiped Chrysaor and raked the golden mask off his helmet. Chrysaor screamed, instantly covering his face with his arms and tumbling into the water.

They ran to the rail. Chrysaor had disappeared. Percy thought about chasing him, but he didn’t know these waters, and he didn’t want to confront that guy alone again.

“That was brilliant!” Annabeth kissed him, which made him feel a little better.

“It was desperate,” Percy corrected. “And we need to get rid of this pirate trireme.”

“Burn it?” Annabeth asked.

Percy looked at the Diet Coke in his hand. “No. I’ve got another idea.”

It took them longer than Percy wanted. As they worked, he kept glancing at the sea, waiting for Chrysaor and his pirate dolphins to return, but they didn’t.

Leo got back on his feet, thanks to a little nectar. Piper tended to Jason’s wounds, but he wasn’t as badly hurt as he looked. Mostly he was just ashamed that he’d gotten overpowered again, which Percy could relate to.

They returned all their own supplies to the proper places and tidied up from the invasion while Coach Hedge had a field day on the enemy ship, breaking everything he could find with his baseball bat.

When he was done, Percy loaded the enemy’s weapons back on the pirate ship. Their storeroom was full of treasure, but Percy insisted that they touch none of it.

“I can sense about six million dollars’ worth of gold aboard,” Hazel said. “Plus diamonds, rubies—”

“Six m-million?” Frank stammered. “Canadian dollars or American?”

“Leave it,” Percy said. “It’s part of the tribute.”

“Tribute?” Hazel asked.

“Oh.” Piper nodded. “Kansas.”

Jason grinned. He’d been there too when they’d met the wine god. “Crazy. But I like it.”

Finally Percy went aboard the pirate ship and opened the flood valves. He asked Leo to drill a few extra holes in the bottom of the hull with his power tools, and Leo was happy to oblige.

The crew of the Argo II assembled at the rail and cut the grappling lines. Piper brought out her new horn of plenty and, on Percy’s direction, willed it to spew Diet Coke, which came out with the strength of a fire hose, dousing the enemy deck. Percy thought it would take hours, but the ship sank remarkably fast, filling with Diet Coke and seawater.

“Dionysus,” Percy called, holding up Chrysaor’s golden mask. “Or Bacchus—whatever. You made this victory possible, even if you weren’t here. Your enemies trembled at your name…or your Diet Coke, or something. So, yeah, thank you.”

The words were hard to get out, but Percy managed not to gag. “We give this ship to you as tribute. We hope you like it.”

“Six million in gold,” Leo muttered. “He’d better like it.”

“Shh,” Hazel scolded. “Precious metal isn’t all that great. Believe me.”

Percy threw the golden mask aboard the vessel, which was now sinking even faster, brown fizzy liquid spewing out the trireme’s oar slots and bubbling from the cargo hold, turning the sea frothy brown.

Percy summoned a wave, and the enemy ship was swamped. Leo steered the Argo II away as the pirate vessel disappeared underwater.

“Isn’t that polluting?” Piper asked.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Jason told her. “If Bacchus likes it, the ship should vanish.”

Percy didn’t know if that would happen, but he felt like he’d done all he could. He had no faith that Dionysus would hear them or care, much less help them in their battle against the twin giants, but he had to try.

As the Argo II headed east into the fog, Percy decided at least one good thing had come out of his sword fight with Chrysaor. He was feeling humble—even humble enough to pay tribute to the wine dude.

After their bout with the pirates, they decided to fly the rest of the way to Rome. Jason insisted he was well enough to take sentry duty, along with Coach Hedge, who was still so charged with adrenaline that every time the ship hit turbulence, he swung his bat and yelled, “Die!”

They had a couple of hours before daybreak, so Jason suggested Percy try to get a few more hours of sleep.

“It’s fine, man,” Jason said. “Give somebody else a chance to save the ship, huh?”

Percy agreed, though once in his cabin, he had trouble falling asleep.

He stared at the bronze lantern swaying from the ceiling and thought about how easily Chrysaor had beaten him at swordplay. The golden warrior could’ve killed him without breaking a sweat. He’d only kept Percy alive because someone else wanted to pay for the privilege of killing him later.

Percy felt like an arrow had slipped through a chink in his armor—as if he still had the blessing of Achilles, and someone had found his weak spot. The older he got, the longer he survived as a half-blood, the more his friends looked up to him. They depended on him and relied on his powers. Even the Romans had raised him on a shield and made him praetor, and he’d only known them for a couple of weeks.

But Percy didn’t feel powerful. The more heroic stuff he did, the more he realized how limited he was. He felt like a fraud. I’m not as great as you think, he wanted to warn his friends. His failures, like tonight, seemed to prove it. Maybe that’s why he had started to fear suffocation. It wasn’t so much drowning in the earth or the sea, but the feeling that he was sinking into too many expectations, literally getting in over his head.

Wow…when he started having thoughts like that, he knew he’d been spending too much time with Annabeth.

Athena had once told Percy his fatal flaw: he was supposedly too loyal to his friends. He couldn’t see the big picture. He would save a friend even if it meant destroying the world.

At the time, Percy had shrugged this off. How could loyalty be a bad thing? Besides, things worked out okay against the Titans. He’d saved his friends and beaten Kronos.

Now, though, he started to wonder. He would gladly throw himself at any monster, god, or giant to keep his friends from being hurt. But what if he wasn’t up to the task? What if someone else had to do it? That was very hard for him to admit. He even had trouble with simple things like letting Jason take a turn at watch. He didn’t want to rely on someone else to protect him, someone who could get hurt on his account.

Percy’s mom had done that for him. She’d stayed in a bad relationship with a gross mortal guy because she thought it would save Percy from monsters. Grover, his best friend, had protected Percy for almost a year before Percy even realized he was a demigod, and Grover had almost gotten killed by the Minotaur.

Percy wasn’t a kid anymore. He didn’t want anybody he loved taking a risk for him. He had to be strong enough to be the protector himself. But now he was supposed to let Annabeth go off on her own to follow the Mark of Athena, knowing she might die. If it came to a choice—save Annabeth or let the quest succeed—could Percy really choose the quest?

Exhaustion finally overtook him. He fell asleep, and in his nightmare, the rumble of thunder became the laughter of the earth goddess Gaea.

Percy dreamed he was standing on the front porch of the Big House at Camp Half-Blood. The sleeping face of Gaea appeared on the side of Half-Blood Hill—her massive features formed from the shadows on the grassy slopes. Her lips didn’t move, but her voice echoed across the valley.

So this is your home, Gaea murmured. Take a last look, Percy Jackson. You should have returned here. At least then you could have died with your comrades when the Romans invade. Now your blood will be spilled far from home, on the ancient stones, and I will rise.

The ground shook. At the top of Half-Blood Hill, Thalia’s pine tree burst into flames. Disruption rolled across the valley—grass turning to sand, forest crumbling to dust. The river and the canoe lake dried up. The cabins and the Big House burned to ashes. When the tremor stopped, Camp Half-Blood looked like a wasteland after an atomic blast. The only thing left was the porch where Percy stood.

Next to him, the dust swirled and solidified into the figure of a woman. Her eyes were closed, as if she were sleepwalking. Her robes were forest green, dappled with gold and white like sunlight shifting through branches. Her hair was as black as tilled soil. Her face was beautiful, but even with a dreamy smile on her lips she seemed cold and distant. Percy got the feeling she could watch demigods die or cities burn, and that smile wouldn’t waver.

“When I reclaim the earth,” Gaea said, “I will leave this spot barren forever, to remind me of your kind and how utterly powerless they were to stop me. It doesn’t matter when you fall, my sweet little pawn—to Phorcys or Chrysaor or my dear twins. You will fall, and I will be there to devour you. Your only choice now…will you fall alone? Come to me willingly; bring the girl. Perhaps I will spare this place you love. Otherwise…”

Gaea opened her eyes. They swirled in green and black, as deep as the crust of the earth. Gaea saw everything. Her patience was infinite. She was slow to wake, but once she arose, her power was unstoppable.

Percy’s skin tingled. His hands went numb. He looked down and realized he was crumbling to dust, like all the monsters he’d ever defeated.