The Mark of Athena hoo-3

by Rick Riordan

  “Oh, gods.” Annabeth looked at Piper imploringly. “Can you cure them?”

  Piper wanted to whimper and hide under the table, but she had to help Jason. She couldn’t believe she’d held hands with…No, she refused to think about it.

  She focused on Leo because he was the least intimidating.

  “Are there more of you on this ship?” she asked.

  “No,” Leo said in a hollow voice. “The Earth Mother sent three. The strongest, the best. We will live again.”

  “Not here, you won’t,” Piper growled. “All three of you, listen carefully.”

  Jason and Percy turned toward her. Those gold eyes were unnerving, but seeing all three boys like that fueled Piper’s anger.

  “You will leave those bodies,” she commanded.

  “No,” Percy said.

  Leo let out a soft hiss. “We must live.”

  Frank fumbled for his bow. “Mars Almighty, that’s creepy! Get out of here, spirits! Leave our friends alone!”

  Leo turned toward him. “You cannot command us, child of war. Your own life is fragile. Your soul could burn at any moment.”

  Piper wasn’t sure what that meant, but Frank staggered like he’d been punched in the gut. He drew an arrow, his hands shaking. “I—I’ve faced down worse things than you. If you want a fight—”

  “Frank, don’t.” Hazel rose.

  Next to her, Jason drew his sword.

  “Stop!” Piper ordered, but her voice quavered. She was rapidly losing faith in her plan. She’d made the eidolons appear, but what now? If she couldn’t persuade them to leave, any bloodshed would be her fault. In the back of her mind, she could almost hear Gaea laughing.

  “Listen to Piper.” Hazel pointed at Jason’s sword. The gold blade seemed to grow heavy in his hand. It clunked to the table and Jason sank back into his chair.

  Percy growled in a very un-Percy-like way. “Daughter of Pluto, you may control gems and metals. You do not control the dead.”

  Annabeth reached toward him as if to restrain him, but Hazel waved her off.

  “Listen, eidolons,” Hazel said sternly, “you do not belong here. I may not command you, but Piper does. Obey her.”

  She turned toward Piper, her expression clear: Try again. You can do this.

  Piper mustered all her courage. She looked straight at Jason—straight into the eyes of the thing that was controlling him. “You will leave those bodies,” Piper repeated, even more forcefully.

  Jason’s face tightened. His forehead beaded with sweat. “We—we will leave these bodies.”

  “You will vow on the River Styx never to return to this ship,” Piper continued, “and never to possess any member of this crew.”

  Leo and Percy both hissed in protest.

  “You will promise on the River Styx,” Piper insisted.

  A moment of tension—she could feel their wills fighting against hers. Then all three eidolons spoke in unison: “We promise on the River Styx.”

  “You are dead,” Piper said.

  “We are dead,” they agreed.

  “Now, leave.”

  All three boys slumped forward. Percy fell face-first into his pizza.

  “Percy!” Annabeth grabbed him.

  Piper and Hazel caught Jason’s arms as he slipped out of his chair.

  Leo wasn’t so lucky. He fell toward Frank, who made no attempt to intercept him. Leo hit the floor.

  “Ow!” he groaned.

  “Are you all right?” Hazel asked.

  Leo pulled himself up. He had a piece of spaghetti in the shape of a 3 stuck to his forehead. “Did it work?”

  “It worked,” Piper said, feeling pretty sure she was right. “I don’t think they’ll be back.”

  Jason blinked. “Does that mean I can stop getting head injuries now?”

  Piper laughed, exhaling all her nervousness. “Come on, Lightning Boy. Let’s get you some fresh air.”

  Piper and Jason walked back and forth along the deck. Jason was still wobbly, so Piper encouraged him to wrap his arm around her for support.

  Leo stood at the helm, conferring with Festus through the intercom; he knew from experience to give Jason and Piper some space. Since the satellite TV was up again, Coach Hedge was in his cabin happily catching up on his mixed martial arts cage matches. Percy’s pegasus Blackjack had flown off somewhere. The other demigods were settling in for the night.

  The Argo II raced east, cruising several hundred feet above the ground. Below them small towns passed by like lit-up islands in a dark sea of prairie.

  Piper remembered last winter, flying Festus the dragon over the city of Quebec. She had never seen anything so beautiful, or felt so happy to have Jason’s arms around her—but this was even better.

  The night was warm. The ship sailed along more smoothly than a dragon. Best of all, they were flying away from Camp Jupiter as fast as they possibly could. No matter how dangerous the ancient lands were, Piper couldn’t wait to get there. She hoped Jason was right that the Romans wouldn’t follow them across the Atlantic.

  Jason stopped amidships and leaned against the rail. The moonlight turned his blond hair silver.

  “Thanks, Pipes,” he said. “You saved me again.”

  He put his arm around her waist. She thought about the day they’d fallen into the Grand Canyon—the first time she’d learned that Jason could control the air. He’d held her so tightly, she could feel his heartbeat. Then they’d stopped falling and floated in midair. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

  She wanted to kiss him now, but something held her back.

  “I don’t know if Percy will trust me anymore,” she said. “Not after I let his horse knock him out.”

  Jason laughed. “Don’t worry about that. Percy’s a nice guy, but I get the feeling he needs a knock on the head every once in a while.”

  “You could have killed him.”

  Jason’s smile faded. “That wasn’t me.”

  “But I almost let you,” Piper said. “When Gaea said I had to choose, I hesitated and…”

  She blinked, cursing herself for crying.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Jason said. “You saved us both.”

  “But if two of our crew really have to die, a boy and a girl—”

  “I don’t accept that. We’re going to stop Gaea. All seven of us are going to come back alive. I promise you.”

  Piper wished that he hadn’t promised. The word only reminded her of the Prophecy of Seven: an oath to keep with a final breath.

  Please, she thought, wondering if her mom, the goddess of love, could hear her. Don’t let it be Jason’s final breath. If love means anything, don’t take him away.

  As soon as she had made the wish, she felt guilty. How could she stand to see Annabeth in that kind of pain if Percy died? How could she live with herself if any of the seven demigods died? Already, each of them had endured so much. Even the two new Roman kids, Hazel and Frank, whom Piper barely knew, felt like kin. At Camp Jupiter, Percy had recounted their trip to Alaska, which sounded as harrowing as anything Piper had experienced. And from the way Hazel and Frank tried to help during the exorcism, she could tell they were brave, good people.

  “The legend that Annabeth mentioned,” she said, “about the Mark of Athena…why didn’t you want to talk about it?”

  She was afraid Jason might shut her out, but he just lowered his head like he’d been expecting the question. “Pipes, I don’t know what’s true and what’s not. That legend…it could be really dangerous.”

  “For who?”

  “All of us,” he said grimly. “The story goes that the Romans stole something important from the Greeks, back in ancient times, when the Romans conquered the Greeks’ cities.”

  Piper waited, but Jason seemed lost in thought.

  “What did they steal?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sure anyone in the legion has ever known. But according to the story, this thing was taken away to Rome and
hidden there. The children of Athena, Greek demigods, have hated us ever since. They’ve always stirred up their brethren against the Romans. Like I said, I don’t know how much of that is true—”

  “But why not just tell Annabeth?” Piper asked. “She’s not going to suddenly hate you.”

  He seemed to have trouble focusing on her. “I hope not. But the legend says that the children of Athena have been searching for this thing for millennia. Every generation, a few are chosen by the goddess to find it. Apparently, they’re led to Rome by some sign…the Mark of Athena.”

  “If Annabeth is one of those searchers…we should help her.”

  Jason hesitated. “Maybe. When we get closer to Rome, I’ll tell her what little I know. Honest. But the story, at least the way I heard it—it claims that if the Greeks ever found what was stolen, they’d never forgive us. They’d destroy the legion and Rome, once and for all. After what Nemesis told Leo, about Rome’s being destroyed five days from now…”

  Piper studied Jason’s face. He was, without a doubt, the bravest person she’d ever known, but she realized he was afraid. This legend—the idea that it might tear apart their group and level a city—absolutely terrified him.

  Piper wondered what could have been stolen from the Greeks that would be so important. She couldn’t imagine anything that would make Annabeth suddenly turn vengeful.

  Then again, Piper couldn’t imagine choosing one demigod’s life over another, and today on that deserted road, just for a moment, Gaea had almost tempted her.…

  “I’m sorry, by the way,” Jason said.

  Piper wiped the last tear from her face. “Sorry for what? It was the eidolon who attacked—”

  “Not about that.” The little scar on Jason’s upper lip seemed to glow white in the moonlight. She’d always loved that scar. The imperfection made his face much more interesting.

  “I was stupid to ask you to contact Reyna,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Oh.” Piper looked up at the clouds and wondered if her mother, Aphrodite, was somehow influencing him. His apology seemed too good to be true.

  But don’t stop, she thought. “Really, it’s okay.”

  “It’s just…I never felt that way toward Reyna,” Jason said, “so I didn’t think about its making you uncomfortable. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Pipes.”

  “I wanted to hate her,” Piper admitted. “I was so afraid you’d go back to Camp Jupiter.”

  Jason looked surprised. “That would never happen. Not unless you came with me. I promise.”

  Piper held his hand. She managed a smile, but she was thinking: Another promise. An oath to keep with a final breath.

  She tried to put those thoughts out of her mind. She knew she should just enjoy this quiet moment with Jason. But as she looked over the side of the ship, she couldn’t help remembering how much the prairie at night looked like dark water—like the drowning room she’d seen in the blade of her knife.

  F ORGET THE CHICKEN-NUGGET SMOKE SCREEN. Percy wanted Leo to invent an anti-dream hat.

  That night he had horrible nightmares. First he dreamed he was back in Alaska on the quest for the legion’s eagle. He was hiking along a mountain road, but as soon as he stepped off the shoulder he was swallowed by the bog—muskeg, Hazel had called it. He found himself choking in mud, unable to move or see or breathe. For the first time in his life, he understood what it was like to drown.

  It’s just a dream, he told himself. I’ll wake up.

  But that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

  Percy had never been scared of water. It was his father’s element. But since the muskeg experience, he’d developed a fear of suffocation. He could never admit this to anyone, but it had even made him nervous about going in the water. He knew that was silly. He couldn’t drown. But he also suspected that if he didn’t control the fear, it might start controlling him.

  He thought about his friend Thalia, who was scared of heights even though she was the daughter of the sky god. Her brother, Jason, could fly by summoning the winds. Thalia couldn’t, maybe because she was too afraid to try. If Percy started to believe he could drown…

  The muskeg pressed against his chest. His lungs wanted to burst.

  Stop panicking, he told himself. This isn’t real.

  Just when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, the dream changed.

  He stood in a vast gloomy space like an underground parking garage. Rows of stone pillars marched off in every direction, holding up the ceiling about twenty feet above. Freestanding braziers cast a dim red glow over the floor.

  Percy couldn’t see very far in the shadows, but hanging from the ceiling were pulley systems, sandbags, and rows of dark theater lights. Piled around the chamber, wooden crates were labeled PROPS, WEAPONS, and COSTUMES. One read: ASSORTED ROCKET LAUNCHERS.

  Percy heard machinery creaking in the darkness, huge gears turning, and water rushing through pipes.

  Then he saw the giant…or at least Percy guessed that he was a giant.

  He was about twelve feet tall—a respectable height for a Cyclops, but only half as tall as other giants Percy had dealt with. He also looked more human than a typical giant, without the dragonlike legs of his larger kin. Nevertheless, his long purple hair was braided in a ponytail of dreadlocks, woven with gold and silver coins, which struck Percy as a giantish hairstyle. He had a ten-foot spear strapped to his back—a giantish weapon.

  He wore the largest black turtleneck Percy had ever seen, black pants, and black leather shoes with points so long and curly, they might have been jester slippers. He paced back and forth in front of a raised platform, examining a bronze jar about the size of Percy.

  “No, no, no,” the giant muttered to himself. “Where’s the splash? Where’s the value?” He yelled into the darkness, “Otis!”

  Percy heard something shuffling in the distance. Another giant appeared out of the gloom. He wore exactly the same black outfit, right down to the curly shoes. The only difference between the two giants was that the second one’s hair was green rather than purple.

  The first giant cursed. “Otis, why do you do this to me every day? I told you I was wearing the black turtleneck today. You could wear anything but the black turtleneck!”

  Otis blinked as if he’d just woken up. “I thought you were wearing the yellow toga today.”

  “That was yesterday! When you showed up in the yellow toga!”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry, Ephie.”

  His brother snarled. They had to be twins, because their faces were identically ugly.

  “And don’t call me Ephie,” Ephie demanded. “Call me Ephialtes. That’s my name. Or you can use my stage name: The BIG F!”

  Otis grimaced. “I’m still not sure about that stage name.”

  “Nonsense! It’s perfect. Now, how are the preparations coming along?”

  “Fine.” Otis didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “The man-eating tigers, the spinning blades…But I still think a few ballerinas would be nice.”

  “No ballerinas!” Ephialtes snapped. “And this thing.” He waved at the bronze jar in disgust. “What does it do? It’s not exciting.”

  “But that’s the whole point of the show. He dies unless the others rescue him. And if they arrive on schedule—”

  “Oh, they’d better!” Ephialtes said. “July First, the Kalends of July, sacred to Juno. That’s when Mother wants to destroy those stupid demigods and really rub it in Juno’s face. Besides, I’m not paying overtime for those gladiator ghosts!”

  “Well, then, they all die,” Otis said, “and we start the destruction of Rome. Just like Mother wants. It’ll be perfect. The crowd will love it. Roman ghosts adore this sort of thing.”

  Ephialtes looked unconvinced. “But the jar just stands there. Couldn’t we suspend it above a fire, or dissolve it in a pool of acid or something?”

  “We need him alive for a few more days,” Otis reminded his brother. “Otherwise, the seven won’t take the
bait and rush to save him.”

  “Hmm. I suppose. I’d still like a little more screaming. This slow death is boring. Ah, well, what about our talented friend? Is she ready to receive her visitor?”

  Otis made a sour face. “I really don’t like talking to her. She makes me nervous.”

  “But is she ready?”

  “Yes,” Otis said reluctantly. “She’s been ready for centuries. No one will be removing that statue.”

  “Excellent.” Ephialtes rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “This is our big chance, my brother.”

  “That’s what you said about our last stunt,” Otis mumbled. “I was hanging in that block of ice suspended over the River Lethe for six months, and we didn’t even get any media attention.”

  “This is different!” Ephialtes insisted. “We will set a new standard for entertainment! If Mother is pleased, we can write our own ticket to fame and fortune!”

  “If you say so,” Otis sighed. “Though I still think those ballerina costumes from Swan Lake would look lovely—”

  “No ballet!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Come,” Ephialtes said. “Let’s examine the tigers. I want to be sure they are hungry!”

  The giants lumbered off into the gloom, and Percy turned toward the jar.

  I need to see inside, he thought.

  He willed his dream forward, right to the surface of the jar. Then he passed through.

  The air in the jar smelled of stale breath and tarnished metal. The only light came from the dim purple glow of a dark sword, its Stygian iron blade set against one side of the container. Huddled next to it was a dejected-looking boy in tattered jeans, a black shirt, and an old aviator jacket. On his right hand, a silver skull ring glittered.

  “Nico,” Percy called. But the son of Hades couldn’t hear him.

  The container was completely sealed. The air was turning poisonous. Nico’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. He appeared to be meditating. His face was pale, and thinner than Percy remembered.

  On the inner wall of the jar, it looked as though Nico had scratched three hash marks with his sword—maybe it had been three days that he’d been imprisoned?