Percy Jackson: The Complete Series (Books 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

by Rick Riordan

  ‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘You act like this … whatever-it-is Grover found is the only thing in the world that could save the camp. What is it?’

  ‘I’ll give you a hint. What do you get when you skin a ram?’

  ‘Messy?’

  She sighed. ‘A fleece. The coat of a ram is called a fleece. And if that ram happens to have golden wool –’

  ‘The Golden Fleece. Are you serious?’

  Annabeth scraped a plateful of death-bird bones into the lava. ‘Percy, remember the Grey 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?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That old movie with the clay skeletons.’

  Annabeth rolled her eyes. ‘Oh my gods, Percy! You are so hopeless.’

  ‘What?’ I demanded.

  ‘Just listen. The real story of the Fleece: there were these two children of Zeus, Cadmus and Europa, okay? They were about to get offered up as human sacrifices, when they prayed to Zeus to save them. So Zeus sent this magical flying ram with golden wool, which picked them up in Greece and carried them all the way to Colchis in Asia Minor. Well, actually it carried Cadmus. Europa fell off and died along the way, but that’s not important.’

  ‘It was probably important to her.’

  ‘The point is, when Cadmus got to Colchis, he sacrificed the golden ram to the gods and hung the Fleece in a tree in the middle of the kingdom. The Fleece brought prosperity to the land. Animals stopped getting sick. Plants grew better. Farmers had bumper crops. Plagues never visited. That’s why Jason wanted the Fleece. It can revitalize any land where it’s placed. It cures sickness, strengthens nature, cleans up pollution –’

  ‘It could cure Thalia’s tree.’

  Annabeth nodded. And it would totally strengthen the borders of Camp Half-Blood. But Percy, the Fleece has been missing for centuries. Tons of heroes have searched for it with no luck.’

  ‘But Grover found it,’ I said. ‘He went looking for Pan and he found the Fleece instead because they both radiate nature magic. It makes sense, Annabeth. We can rescue him and save the camp at the same time. It’s perfect!’

  Annabeth hesitated. ‘A little too perfect, don’t you think? What if it’s a trap?’

  I remembered last summer, how Kronos had manipulated our quest. He’d almost fooled us into helping him start a war that would’ve destroyed Western Civilization.

  ‘What choice do we have?’ I asked. ‘Are you going to help me rescue Grover or not?’

  She glanced at Tyson, who’d lost interest in our 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.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  She stared at me like she thought I was playing dumb. ‘The Sea of Monsters. The same sea Odysseus sailed through, and Jason, and Aeneas and all the others.’

  ‘You mean the Mediterranean?’

  ‘No. Well, yes … but no.’

  ‘Another straight answer. Thanks.’

  ‘Look, Percy, the Sea of Monsters is the sea all heroes sail through on their adventures. It used to be in the Mediterranean, yes. But like everything else, it shifts locations as the West’s centre of power shifts.’

  ‘Like Mount Olympus being above the Empire State Building,’ I said. ‘And Hades being under Los Angeles.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘But a whole sea full of monsters – how could you hide something like that? Wouldn’t the mortals notice weird things happening … like, ships getting eaten and stuff?’

  ‘Of course they notice. They don’t understand, but they know something is strange about that part of the ocean. The Sea of Monsters is off the east coast of the U.S. now, just north-east of Florida. The mortals even have a name for it.’

  ‘The Bermuda Triangle?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  I let that sink in. I guess it wasn’t stranger than anything else I’d learned since coming to Camp Half-Blood. ‘Okay … so at least we know where to look.’

  ‘It’s still a huge area, Percy. Searching for one tiny island in monster-infested waters –’

  ‘Hey, I’m the son of the sea god. This is my home turf. How hard can it be?’

  Annabeth knitted her eyebrows. ‘We’ll have to talk to Tantalus, get approval for a quest. He’ll say no.’

  ‘Not if we tell him tonight at the campfire in front of everybody. The whole camp will hear. They’ll pressure him. He won’t be able to refuse.’

  ‘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 afternoons bird attack. We all sat around a semicircle of stone steps, singing half-heartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo guys strummed their guitars and picked their lyres.

  We did all the standard camp numbers: ‘Down by the Aegean’, ‘I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandpa’, ‘This Land is Minos’s Land’. The bonfire was enchanted, so the louder you sang, the higher it rose, changing colour and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, I’d seen it six metres high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row’s marshmallows burst into flames. Tonight, the fire was only a metre high, barely warm, and the flames were the colour of lint.

  Dionysus left early. After suffering through a few songs, he muttered something about how even pinochle with Chiron had been more exciting than this. Then he gave Tantalus a distasteful look and headed back towards the Big House.

  When the last song was over, Tantalus said, ‘Well, that was lovely!’

  He came forward with a toasted marshmallow on a stick and tried to pluck it off, real casual-like. But before he could touch it, the marshmallow flew off the stick. Tantalus made a wild grab, but the marshmallow committed suicide, diving into the flames.

  Tantalus turned back towards us, smiling coldly. ‘Now then! Some announcements about tomorrow’s schedule.’

  ‘Sir,’ I said.

  Tantalus’s eye twitched. ‘Our kitchen boy has something to say?’

  Some of the Ares campers snickered, but I wasn’t going to let anybody embarrass me into silence. I stood and looked at Annabeth. Thank the gods, she stood up with me.

  I said, ‘We have an idea to save the camp.’

  Dead silence, but I could tell I’d got everybody’s interest, because the campfire flared bright yellow.

  ‘Indeed,’ Tantalus said blandly. ‘Well, if it has anything to do with chariots –’

  ‘The Golden Fleece,’ I said. ‘We know where it is.’

  The flames burned orange. Before Tantalus could stop me, I blurted out my dream about Grover and Polyphemus’s island. Annabeth stepped in and reminded everybody what the Fleece could do. It sounded more convincing coming from her.

  ‘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 Tantalus 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,’ I said.

  Annabeth leaned towards me and whispered, ‘You would?’

  I nodded, because Annabeth had jogged something in my memory when she reminded me about our taxi drive with the Grey Sisters. At the time, the information they’d given me made no sense. But now …

  ‘Thirty, thirty-one, seventy-five, twelve,’ I said.

  ‘Ooo-kay,’ Tantalus said. ‘Thank you for sharing those meaningless numbers.�
��

  ‘They’re sailing coordinates,’ I said. ‘Latitude and longitude. I, uh, learned about it in social studies.’

  Even Annabeth looked impressed. ‘Thirty degrees, thirty-one minutes north, seventy-five degrees, twelve minutes west. He’s right! The Grey Sisters gave us those coordinates. That’d be somewhere in the Atlantic, off the coast of Florida. The Sea of Monsters. We need a quest!’

  ‘Wait just a minute,’ Tantalus said.

  But the campers took up the chant. ‘We need a quest! We need a quest!’

  The flames rose higher.

  ‘It isn’t necessary!’ Tantalus insisted.

  ‘WE NEED A QUEST! WE NEED A QUEST!’

  ‘Fine!’ Tantalus shouted, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘You brats want me to assign a quest?’

  ‘YES!’

  ‘Very well,’ he agreed. ‘I shall authorize a champion to undertake this perilous journey, to retrieve the Golden Fleece and bring it back to camp. Or die trying.’

  My heart filled with excitement. I wasn’t going to let Tantalus scare me. This was what I needed to do. I was going to save Grover and the camp. Nothing would stop me.

  ‘I will allow our champion to consult the Oracle!’ Tantalus announced. ‘And choose two companions for the journey. And I think the choice of champions is obvious.’

  Tantalus looked at Annabeth and me as if he wanted to flay us alive. ‘The champion should be one who has earned the camp’s respect, who has proven resourceful in the chariot races and courageous in the defence of the camp. You shall lead this quest … Clarisse!’

  The fire flickered a thousand different colours. The Ares cabin started stomping and cheering, ‘CLARISSE! CLARISSE!’

  Clarisse stood up, looking stunned. Then she swallowed, and her chest swelled with pride. ‘I accept the quest!’

  ‘Wait!’ I shouted. ‘Grover is my friend. The dream came to me’.

  ‘Sit down!’ yelled one of the Ares campers. ‘You had your chance last summer!’

  ‘Yeah, he just wants to be in the spotlight again!’ another said.

  Clarisse glared at me. ‘I accept the quest!’ she repeated. ‘I, Clarisse, daughter of Ares, will save the camp!’

  The Ares campers cheered even louder. Annabeth protested, and the other Athena campers joined in. Everybody else started taking sides – shouting and arguing and throwing marshmallows. I thought it was going to turn into a fully fledged s’more war until Tantalus shouted, ‘Silence, you brats!’

  His tone stunned even me.

  ‘Sit down!’ he ordered. ‘And I will tell you a ghost story.’

  I didn’t know what he was up to, but we all moved reluctantly back to our seats. The evil aura radiating from Tantalus was as strong as any monster I’d ever faced.

  ‘Once upon a time there was a mortal king who was beloved of the gods!’ Tantalus put his hand on his chest, and I got the feeling he was talking about himself.

  ‘This king,’ he said, ‘was even allowed to feast on Mount Olympus. But when he tried to take some ambrosia and nectar back to earth to figure out the recipe – just one little doggy bag, mind you – the gods punished him. They banned him from their halls forever! His own people mocked him! His children scolded him! And, oh yes, campers, he had horrible children. Children – just – like – you!’

  He pointed a crooked finger at several people in the audience, including me.

  ‘Do you know what he did to his ungrateful children?’ Tantalus asked softly. ‘Do you know how he paid back the gods for their cruel punishment? He invited the Olympians to a feast at his palace, just to show there were no hard feelings. No one noticed that his children were missing. And when he served the gods dinner, my dear campers, can you guess what was in the stew?’

  No one dared answer. The firelight glowed dark blue, reflecting evilly on Tantalus’s crooked face.

  ‘Oh, the gods punished him in the afterlife,’ Tantalus croaked. ‘They did indeed. But he’d had his moment of satisfaction, hadn’t he? His children never again spoke back to him or questioned his authority. And do you know what? Rumour has it that the king’s spirit now dwells at this very camp, waiting for a chance to take revenge on ungrateful, rebellious children. And so … are there any more complaints, before we send Clarisse off on her quest?’

  Silence.

  Tantalus nodded at Clarisse. ‘The Oracle, my dear. Go on.’

  She shifted uncomfortably, like even she didn’t want glory at the price of being Tantalus’s pet. ‘Sir –’

  ‘Go!’ he snarled.

  She bowed awkwardly and hurried off towards the Big House.

  ‘What about you, Percy Jackson?’ Tantalus asked. ‘No comments from our dishwasher?’

  I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of punishing me again.

  ‘Good,’ Tantalus said. ‘And let me remind everyone – no one leaves this camp without my permission. Anyone who tries … well, if they survive the attempt, they will be expelled forever, but it won’t come to that. The harpies will be enforcing curfew from now on, and they are always hungry! Good night, my dear campers. Sleep well.’

  With a wave of Tantalus’s hand, the fire was extinguished, and the campers trailed off towards their cabins in the dark.

  I couldn’t explain things to Tyson. He knew I was sad. He knew I wanted to go on a trip and Tantalus wouldn’t let me.

  ‘You will go anyway?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘It would be hard. Very hard.’

  ‘I will help.’

  ‘No. I – uh, I couldn’t ask you to do that, big guy. Too dangerous.’

  Tyson looked down at the pieces of metal he was assembling in his lap – springs and gears and tiny wires. Beckendorf had given him some tools and spare parts, and now Tyson spent every night tinkering, though I wasn’t sure how his huge hands could handle such delicate little pieces.

  ‘What are you building?’ I asked.

  Tyson didn’t answer. Instead he made a whimpering sound in the back of his throat. ‘Annabeth doesn’t like Cyclopes. You … don’t want me along?’

  ‘Oh, that’s not it,’ I said half-heartedly. ‘Annabeth likes you. Really.’

  He had tears in the corners of his eye.

  I remembered that Grover, like all satyrs, could read human emotions. I wondered if Cyclopes had the same ability.

  Tyson folded up his tinkering project in an oilcloth. He lay down on his bunk bed and hugged his bundle like a teddy bear. When he turned towards the wall, I could see the weird scars on his back, like somebody had ploughed over him with a tractor. I wondered for the millionth time how he’d got hurt.

  ‘Daddy always cared for m-me,’ he sniffled. ‘Now … I think he was mean to have a Cyclops boy. I should not have been born.’

  ‘Don’t talk that way! Poseidon claimed you, didn’t he? So … he must care about you … a lot…’

  My voice trailed off as I thought about all those years Tyson had lived on the streets of New York in a cardboard refrigerator box. How could Tyson think that Poseidon had cared for him? What kind of dad let that happen to his kid, even if his kid was a monster?

  ‘Tyson … camp will be a good home for you. The others will get used to you. I promise.’

  Tyson sighed. I waited for him to say something. Then I realized he was already asleep.

  I lay back on my bed and tried to close my eyes, but I just couldn’t. I was afraid I might have another dream about Grover. If the empathy link was real … if something happened to Grover … would I ever wake up?

  The full moon shone through my window. The sound of the surf rumbled in the distance. I could smell the warm scent of the strawberry fields, and hear the laughter of the dryads as they chased owls through the forest. But something felt wrong about the night – the sickness of Thalia’s tree, spreading across the valley.

  Could Clarisse save Half-Blood Hill? I thought the odds were better of me getting a ‘Best Camper’ award from Tantal
us.

  I got out of bed and pulled on some clothes. I grabbed a beach blanket and a six-pack of Coke from under my bunk. The Cokes were against the rules. No outside snacks or drinks were allowed, but if you talked to the right guy in Hermes’s cabin and paid him a few golden drachmas, he could smuggle in almost anything from the nearest convenience store.

  Sneaking out after curfew was against the rules, too. If I got caught I’d either get in big trouble or be eaten by the harpies. But I wanted to see the ocean. I always felt better there. My thoughts were clearer. I left the cabin and headed for the beach.

  * * *

  I spread my blanket near the surf and popped open a Coke. For some reason sugar and caffeine always calmed down my hyperactive brain. I tried to decide what to do to save the camp, but nothing came to me. I wished Poseidon would talk to me, give me some advice or something.

  The sky was clear and starry. I was checking out the constellations Annabeth had taught me – Sagittarius, Heracles, Corona Borealis – when somebody said, ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’

  I almost spewed soda.

  Standing right next to me was a guy in nylon running shorts and a New York City Marathon T-shirt. He was slim and fit, with salt-and-pepper hair and a sly smile. He looked kind of familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why.

  My first thought was that he must’ve been taking a midnight jog down the beach and strayed inside the camp borders. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Regular mortals couldn’t enter the valley. But maybe with the tree’s magic weakening he’d managed to slip in. But in the middle of the night? And there was nothing around except farmland and state preserves. Where would this guy have jogged from?

  ‘May I join you?’ he asked. ‘I haven’t sat down in ages.’

  Now, I know – a strange guy in the middle of the night. Common sense: I was supposed to run away, yell for help, etc. But the guy acted so calm about the whole thing that I found it hard to be afraid.

  I said, ‘Uh, sure.’

  He smiled. ‘Your hospitality does you credit. Oh, and Coca-Cola! May I?’

  He sat at the other end of the blanket, popped a soda and took a drink. ‘Ah … that hits the spot. Peace and quiet at –’

  A cell phone went off in his pocket.