The Battle of the Labyrinth (3 page)

“Hey, Peleus,” Annabeth said. “Keeping everything safe?”

The last time I’d seen the dragon he’d been six feet long. Now he was at least twice that, and as thick around as the tree itself. Above his head, on the lowest branch of the pine tree, the Golden Fleece shimmered, its magic protecting the camp’s borders from invasion. The dragon seemed relaxed, like everything was okay. Below us, Camp Half-Blood looked peaceful—

green fields, forest, shiny white Greek buildings. The four-story farmhouse we called the Big House sat proudly in the midst of the strawberry fields. To the north, past the beach, the Long Island Sound glittered in the sunlight. Still…something felt wrong. There was tension in the air, as if the hill itself were holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen. We walked down into the valley and found the summer session in full swing. Most of the campers had arrived last Friday, so I already felt out of it. The satyrs were playing their pipes in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow with woodland magic. Campers were having flying horseback lessons, swooping over the woods on their pegasi. Smoke rose from the forges, and hammers rang as kids made their own weapons for Arts & Crafts. The Athena and Demeter teams were having a chariot race around the track, and over at the canoe lake some kids in a Greek trireme were fighting a large orange sea serpent. A typical day at camp.

“I need to talk to Clarisse,” Annabeth said.

I stared at her as if she’d just said
I need to eat a large, smelly boot
.

“What for?”

Clarisse from the Ares cabin was one of my least favorite people. She was a mean, ungrateful bully. Her dad, the war god, wanted to kill me. She tried to beat me to a pulp on a regular basis. Other than that, she was just great.

“We’ve been working on something,” Annabeth said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Working on what?”

Annabeth glanced toward the forest.

“I’ll tell Chiron you’re here,” she said. “He’ll want to talk to you before the hearing.”

“What hearing?”

But she jogged down the path toward the archery field without looking back.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Great talking with you, too.”

* * *

As I made my way through camp, I said hi to some of my friends. In the Big House’s driveway, Connor and Travis Stoll from the Hermes cabin were hot-wiring the camps SUV. Silena Beauregard, the head counselor for Aphrodite, waved at me from her Pegasus as she flew past. I looked for Grover, but I didn’t see him. Finally I wandered into the sword arena, where I usually go when I’m in a bad mood. Practicing always calms me down. Maybe that’s because swordplay is one thing I can actually understand. I walked into the amphitheater and my heart almost stopped. In the middle of the arena floor, with its back to me, was the biggest hellhound I’d ever seen.

I mean, I’ve seen some pretty big hellhounds. One the size of a rhino tried to kill me when I was twelve. But
this
hellhound was bigger than a tank. I had no idea how it had gotten past the camp’s magic boundaries. It looked right at home, lying on its belly, growling contentedly as it chewed the head off a combat dummy. It hadn’t noticed me yet, but if I made a sound, I knew it would sense me. There was no time to go for help. I pulled out Riptide and uncapped it.

“Yaaaaah!” I charged. I brought down the blade on the monster’s enormous backside when out of nowhere another sword blocked my strike.
CLANG!

The hellhound pricked up its ears.
“WOOF!”

I jumped back and instinctively struck at the swordsman—a gray-haired man in Greek armor. He parried my attack with no problem.

“Whoa there!” he said. “Truce!”

“WOOF!”
The hellhound’s bark shook the arena.

“That’s a hellhound!” I shouted.

“She’s harmless,” the man said. “That’s Mrs. O’Leary.”

I blinked. “Mrs. O’Leary?”

At the sound of her name, the hellhound barked again. I realized she wasn’t angry. She was excited. She nudged the soggy, badly chewed target dummy toward the swordsman.

“Good girl,” the man said. With his free hand he grabbed the armored manikin by the neck and heaved it toward the bleachers. “Get the Greek! Get the Greek!”

Mrs. O’Leary bounded after her prey and pounced on the dummy, flattening its armor. She began chewing on its helmet.

The swordsman smiled dryly. He was in his fifties. I guess, with short gray hair and a clipped gray beard. He was in good shape for an older guy. He wore black mountain-climbing pants and a bronze breastplate strapped over an orange camp T-shirt. At the base of his neck was a strange mark, a purplish blotch like a birthmark or a tattoo, but before I could make out what it was, he shifted his armor straps and the mark disappeared under his collar.

“Mrs. O’Leary is my pet,” he explained. “I couldn’t let you stick a sword in her rump, now, could I? That might have scared her.”

“Who are you?”

Promise not to kill me if I put my sword away?”

“I guess.”

He sheathed his sword and held out his hand. “Quintus.”

I shook his hand. It was as rough as a sandpaper.

“Percy Jackson,” I said. “Sorry about—How did you, um—”

“Get a hellhound for a pet? Long story, involving many close calls with a death and quite a few giant chew toys. I’m the new sword instructor, by the way. Helping out Chiron while Mr. D is away.”

“Oh.” I tried not to stare as Mrs. O’Leary ripped off the target dummy’s shield with the arm still attached and shook it like a Frisbee. “Wait, Mr. D is away?”

“Yes, well…busy times. Even Dionysus must help out. He’s gone to visit some old friends. Make sure they’re on the right side. I probably shouldn’t say more than that.”

If Dionysus was gone, that was the best news I’d had all day. He was only our camp director because Zeus had sent him here as a punishment for chasing some off-limits wood nymph. He hated the campers and tried to make our lives miserable. With him away, this summer might actually be cool. On the other hand, if Dionysus had gotten off his butt and actually started helping the gods recruit against the Titan threat, things must be looking pretty bad.

Off to my left, there was a loud
BUMP
. Six wooden crates the size of picnic tables were stacked nearby, and they were rattling. Mrs. O’Leary cocked her head and bounded toward them.

“Whoa, girl!” Quintus said. “Those aren’t for you.” He distracted her with the bronze shield Frisbee.

The crates thumped and shook. There were words printed on the sides, but with my dyslexia they took me a few minutes to decipher:

FRAGILE

Along the bottom, in smaller letters: OPEN WITH CARE. TRIPLE G

RANCH IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR PROPERTY DAMAGE,

MAIMING, OR EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATHS.

“What’s in the boxes?” I asked.

“A little surprise,” Quintus said. “Training activity for tomorrow night. You’ll love it.”

“Uh, okay,” I said, though I wasn’t sure about the “excruciatingly painful death” part.

Quintus threw the bronze shield, and Mrs. O’Leary lumbered after it.

“You young ones need more challenges. They didn’t have camps like this when I was a boy.”

“You—you’re a half-blood?” I didn’t mean to sound surprised, but I’d never seen an old demigod before.

Quintus chuckled. “Some of us
do
survive into adulthood, you know. Not all of us are the subject of terrible prophecies.”

“You know about my prophecy?”

“I’ve heard a few things.”

I wanted to ask
what
few things, but just then Chiron clip-clopped into the arena. “Percy, there you are!”

He must’ve just come from teaching archery. He had a quiver and bow slung over his #1 CENTAUR T-shirt. He’d trimmed his curly brown hair and beard for the summer, and his lower half, which was a white stallion, was flecked with mud and grass.

“I see you’ve met our new instructor.” Chiron’s tone was light, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes. “Quintus, do you mind if I borrow Percy?”

“Not at all, Master Chiron.”

“No need to call me ‘Master’,” Chiron said, though he sounded sort of pleased. “Come, Percy. We have much to discuss.”

I took one more glance at Mrs. O’Leary, who was now chewing off the target dummy’s legs.

“Well, see you,” I told Quintus.

As we were walking away, I whispered to Chiron, “Quintus seemed kind of—”

“Mysterious?” Chiron suggested. “Hard to read?”

“Yeah.”

Chiron nodded. “A very qualified half-blood. Excellent swordsman, I just wish I understood…”

Whatever he was going to say, he apparently changed his mind. “First things first, Percy. Annabeth told me you met some
empousai
.”

“Yeah.” I told him about the fight at Goode, and how Kelli had exploded into flames.

“Mm,” Chiron said. “The more powerful ones can do that. She did not die, Percy. She simply escaped. It is not good that the she-demons are stirring.”

“What were they doing there?” I asked. “Waiting for me?”

“Possibly,” Chiron frowned. “It is amazing you survived. Their powers of deception…almost any male hero would’ve fallen under their spell and been devoured.”

“I would’ve been,” I admitted. “Except for Rachel.”

Chiron nodded. “Ironic to be saved by a mortal, yet we owe her a debt. What the
empousa
said about an attack on camp—we must speak of this further. But for now, come, we should get to the woods. Grover will want you there.”

“Where?”

“At his formal hearing,” Chiron said grimly. “The Council of Cloven Elders is meeting now to decide his fate.”

* * *

Chiron said we needed to hurry, so I let him give me a ride on his back. As we galloped past the cabins, I glanced at the dining hall—an open-air Greek pavilion on a hill overlooking the sea. It was the first time I’d seen the place since last summer, and it brought back bad memories. Chiron plunged into the woods. Nymphs peeked out of the trees to watch us pass. Large shapes rustled in the shadows—monsters that were stocked in here as a challenge to the campers.

I thought I knew the forest pretty well after playing capture the flag here for two summers, but Chiron took me a way I didn’t recognize, through a tunnel of old willow trees, past a little waterfall, and into a glade blanketed with wildflowers.

A bunch of satyrs were sitting in a circle in the grass. Grover stood in the middle, facing three really old, really fat satyrs who sat on topiary thrones shaped out of rose bushes. I’d never seen the three old satyrs before, but I guessed they must be the Council of Cloven Elders.

Grover seemed to be telling them a story. He twisted the bottom of his Tshirt, shifting nervously on his goat hooves. He hadn’t changed much since last winter, maybe because satyrs age half as fast as humans. His acne had flared up. His horns had gotten a little bigger so they just stuck out over his curly hair. I realized with a start that I was taller than he was now. Standing off to one side of the circle were Annabeth, another girl I’d never seen before, and Clarisse. Chiron dropped me next to them. Clarisse’s stringy brown hair was tied back with a camouflage bandanna. If possible, she looked even buffer, like she’d been working out. She glared at me and muttered, “Punk,” which must’ve meant she was in a good mood. Usually she says hello by trying to kill me.

Annabeth had her arm around the other girl, who looked like she’d been crying. She was small—petite, I guess you’d call it—with wispy hair the color of amber and a pretty, elfish face. She wore a green chiton and laced sandals, and she was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s going terribly,” she sniffled.

“No, no,” Annabeth patted her shoulders. “He’ll be fine, Juniper.”

Annabeth looked at me and mouthed the words
Grover’s girlfriend
. At least I thought that’s what she said, but that didn’t make any sense. Grover with a girlfriend? Then I looked at Juniper more closely, and I realized her ears were slightly pointed. Her eyes, instead of being red from crying, were tinged green, the color of chlorophyll. She was a tree nymph—

a dryad.

“Master Underwood!” the council member on the right shouted, cutting off whatever Grover was trying to say. “Do you seriously expect us to believe this?”

“B-but Silenus,” Grover stammered. “It’s the truth!”

The Council guy, Silenus, turned to his colleagues and muttered something. Chiron cantered up to the front and stood next to them. I remembered he was an honorary member of the council, but I’d never thought about it much. The elders didn’t look very impressive. They reminded me of the goats in a petting zoo—huge bellies, sleepy expressions, and glazed eyes that couldn’t see past the next handful of goat chow. I wasn’t sure why Grover seemed so nervous.

Silenus tugged his yellow polo shirt over his belly and adjusted himself on his rosebush throne. “Master Underwood, for six months—
six months
—

we have been hearing these scandalous claims that you heard the wild god Pan speak.”

“But I did!”

“Impudence!” said the elder on the left.

“Now, Maron,” Chiron said. “Patience.”

“Patience, indeed!” Maron said. “I’ve had it up to my horns with this nonsense. As if the wild god would speak to…to
him
.”

Juniper looked like she wanted to charge the old satyr and beat him up, but Annabeth and Clarisse held her back. “Wrong fight, girlie,” Clarisse muttered. “Wait.”