by Rick Riordan
“Up there,” he said. “Single shooter. See him?”
The sun was in her eyes, but Hazel spotted a tiny figure standing at the top of the ledge. His bronze armor glinted.
“Who the heck is he?” Leo demanded. “Why is he firing at us?”
“Guys?” Piper’s voice was thin and watery. “There’s a note.”
Hazel hadn’t seen it before, but a parchment scroll was tied to the arrow shaft. She wasn’t sure why, but that made her angry. She stormed over and untied it.
“Uh, Hazel?” Leo said. “You sure that’s safe?”
She read the note out loud. “First line: Stand and deliver.”
“What does that mean?” Coach Hedge complained. “We are standing. Well, crouching, anyway. And if that guy is expecting a pizza delivery, forget it!”
“There’s more,” Hazel said. “This is a robbery. Send two of your party to the top of the cliff with all your valuables. No more than two. Leave the magic horse. No flying. No tricks. Just climb.”
“Climb what?” Piper asked.
Nico pointed. “There.”
A narrow set of steps was carved into the cliff, leading to the top. The turtle, the dead-end channel, the cliff…Hazel got the feeling this was not the first time the letter writer had ambushed a ship here.
She cleared her throat and kept reading aloud: “I do mean all your valuables. Otherwise my turtle and I will destroy you. You have five minutes.”
“Use the catapults!” cried the coach.
“P.S.,” Hazel read, “Don’t even think about using your catapults.”
“Curse it!” said the coach. “This guy is good.”
“Is the note signed?” Nico asked.
Hazel shook her head. She’d heard a story back at Camp Jupiter, something about a robber who worked with a giant turtle; but as usual, as soon as she needed the information, it sat annoyingly in the back of her memory, just out of reach.
The weasel Gale watched her, waiting to see what she would do.
The test hasn’t happened yet, Hazel thought.
Distracting the turtle hadn’t been enough. Hazel hadn’t proven anything about how she could manipulate the Mist…mostly because she couldn’t manipulate the Mist.
Leo studied the cliff top and muttered under his breath. “That’s not a good trajectory. Even if I could arm the catapult before that guy pincushioned us with arrows, I don’t think I could make the shot. That’s hundreds of feet, almost straight up.”
“Yeah,” Frank grumbled. “My bow is useless too. He’s got a huge advantage, being above us like that. I couldn’t reach him.”
“And, um…” Piper nudged the arrow that was stuck in the mast. “I have a feeling he’s a good shot. I don’t think he meant to hit me. But if he did…”
She didn’t need to elaborate. Whoever that robber was, he could hit a target from hundreds of feet away. He could shoot them all before they could react.
“I’ll go,” Hazel said.
She hated the idea, but she was sure Hecate had set this up as some sort of twisted challenge. This was Hazel’s test—her turn to save the ship. As if she needed confirmation, Gale scampered along the railing and jumped on her shoulder, ready to hitch a ride.
The others stared at her.
Frank gripped his bow. “Hazel—”
“No, listen,” she said, “this robber wants valuables. I can go up there, summon gold, jewels, whatever he wants.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “If we pay him off, you think he’ll actually let us go?”
“We don’t have much choice,” Nico said. “Between that guy and the turtle…”
Jason raised his hand. The others fell silent.
“I’ll go too,” he said. “The letter says two people. I’ll take Hazel up there and watch her back. Besides, I don’t like the look of those steps. If Hazel falls…well, I can use the winds to keep us both from coming down the hard way.”
Arion whinnied in protest, as if to say, You’re going without me? You’re kidding, right?
“I have to, Arion,” Hazel said. “Jason…yes. I think you’re right. It’s the best plan.”
“Only wish I had my sword.” Jason glared at the coach. “It’s back there at the bottom of the sea, and we don’t have Percy to retrieve it.”
The name Percy passed over them like a cloud. The mood on deck got even darker.
Hazel stretched out her arm. She didn’t think about it. She just concentrated on the water and called for Imperial gold.
A stupid idea. The sword was much too far away, probably hundreds of feet underwater. But she felt a quick tug in her fingers, like a bite on a fishing line, and Jason’s blade flew out of the water and into her hand.
“Here,” she said, handing it over.
Jason’s eyes widened. “How… That was like half a mile!”
“I’ve been practicing,” she said, though it wasn’t true.
She hoped she hadn’t accidentally cursed Jason’s sword by summoning it, the way she cursed jewels and precious metals.
Somehow, though, she thought, weapons were different. After all, she’d raised a bunch of Imperial gold equipment from Glacier Bay and distributed it to the Fifth Cohort. That had worked out okay.
She decided not to worry about it. She felt so angry at Hecate and so tired of being manipulated by the gods that she wasn’t going to let any trifling problems stand in her way. “Now, if there are no other objections, we have a robber to meet.”
HAZEL LIKED THE GREAT OUTDOORS—but climbing a two-hundred-foot cliff on a stairway without rails, with a bad-tempered weasel on her shoulder? Not so much. Especially when she could have ridden Arion to the top in a matter of seconds.
Jason walked behind her so he could catch her if she fell. Hazel appreciated that, but it didn’t make the sheer drop any less scary.
She glanced to her right, which was a mistake. Her foot almost slipped, sending a spray of gravel over the edge. Gale squeaked in alarm.
“You all right?” Jason asked.
“Yes.” Hazel’s heart jackhammered at her ribs. “Fine.”
She had no room to turn and look at him. She just had to trust he wouldn’t let her plummet to her death. Since he could fly, he was the only logical backup. Still, she wished it was Frank at her back, or Nico, or Piper, or Leo. Or even…well, okay, maybe not Coach Hedge. But still, Hazel couldn’t get a read on Jason Grace.
Ever since she’d arrived at Camp Jupiter, she’d heard stories about him. The campers spoke with reverence about the son of Jupiter who’d risen from the lowly ranks of the Fifth Cohort to become praetor, led them to victory in the Battle of Mount Tam, then disappeared. Even now, after all the events of the past couple of weeks, Jason seemed more like a legend than a person. She had a hard time warming up to him, with those icy blue eyes and that careful reserve, like he was calculating every word before he said it. Also, she couldn’t forget how he had been ready to write off her brother, Nico, when they’d learned he was a captive in Rome.
Jason had thought Nico was bait for a trap. He had been right. And maybe, now that Nico was safe, Hazel could see why Jason’s caution was a good idea. Still, she didn’t quite know what to think of the guy. What if they got themselves in trouble at the top of this cliff, and Jason decided that saving Hazel wasn’t in the best interest of the quest?
She glanced up. She couldn’t see the thief from here, but she sensed he was waiting. Hazel was confident she could produce enough gems and gold to impress even the greediest robber. She wondered if the treasures she summoned would still bring bad luck. She’d never been sure whether that curse had been broken when she had died the first time. This seemed like a good opportunity to find out. Anybody who robbed innocent demigods with a giant turtle deserved a few nasty curses.
Gale the weasel jumped off her shoulder and scampered ahead. She glanced back and barked eagerly.
“Going as fast as I can,” Hazel muttered.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that the weasel was anxiou
s to watch her fail.
“This, uh, controlling the Mist,” Jason said. “Have you had any luck?”
“No,” Hazel admitted.
She didn’t like to think about her failures—the seagull she couldn’t turn into a dragon, Coach Hedge’s baseball bat stubbornly refusing to turn into a hot dog. She just couldn’t make herself believe any of it was possible.
“You’ll get it,” Jason said.
His tone surprised her. It wasn’t a throwaway comment just to be nice. He sounded truly convinced. She kept climbing, but she imagined him watching her with those piercing blue eyes, his jaw set with confidence.
“How can you be sure?” she asked.
“Just am. I’ve got a good instinct for what people can do—demigods, anyway. Hecate wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t believe you had power.”
Maybe that should have made Hazel feel better. It didn’t.
She had a good instinct for people too. She understood what motivated most of her friends—even her brother, Nico, who wasn’t easy to read.
But Jason? She didn’t have a clue. Everybody said he was a natural leader. She believed it. Here he was, making her feel like a valued member of the team, telling her she was capable of anything. But what was Jason capable of?
She couldn’t talk to anyone about her doubts. Frank was in awe of the guy. Piper, of course, was head-over-heels. Leo was his best friend. Even Nico seemed to follow his lead without question.
But Hazel couldn’t forget that Jason had been Hera’s first move in the war against the giants. The Queen of Olympus had dropped Jason into Camp Half-Blood, which had started this entire chain of events to stop Gaea. Why Jason first? Something told Hazel he was the linchpin. Jason would be the final play, too.
To storm or fire the world must fall. That’s what the prophecy said. As much as Hazel feared fire, she feared storms more. Jason Grace could cause some pretty huge storms.
She glanced up and saw the rim of the cliff only a few yards above her.
She reached the top, breathless and sweaty. A long sloping valley marched inland, dotted with scraggly olive trees and limestone boulders. There were no signs of civilization.
Hazel’s legs trembled from the climb. Gale seemed anxious to explore. The weasel barked and farted and scampered into the nearest bushes. Far below, the Argo II looked like a toy boat in the channel. Hazel didn’t understand how anyone could shoot an arrow accurately from this high up, accounting for the wind and the glare of the sun off the water. At the mouth of the inlet, the massive shape of the turtle’s shell glinted like a burnished coin.
Jason joined her at the top, looking no worse for the climb.
He started to say, “Where—”
“Here!” said a voice.
Hazel flinched. Only ten feet away, a man had appeared, a bow and quiver over his shoulder and two old-fashioned flintlock dueling pistols in his hands. He wore high leather boots, leather breeches, and a pirate-style shirt. His curly black hair looked like a little kid’s do and his sparkly green eyes were friendly enough, but a red bandana covered the lower half of his face.
“Welcome!” the bandit cried, pointing his guns at them. “Your money or your life!”
Hazel was certain that he hadn’t been there a second ago. He’d simply materialized, as if he’d stepped out from behind an invisible curtain.
“Who are you?” Hazel asked.
The bandit laughed. “Sciron, of course!”
“Chiron?” Jason asked. “Like the centaur?”
The bandit rolled his eyes. “Sky-ron, my friend. Son of Poseidon! Thief extraordinaire! All-around awesome guy! But that’s not important. I’m not seeing any valuables!” he cried, as if this were excellent news. “I guess that means you want to die?”
“Wait,” Hazel said. “We’ve got valuables. But if we give them up, how can we be sure you’ll let us go?”
“Oh, they always ask that,” Sciron said. “I promise you, on the River Styx, that as soon as you surrender what I want, I will not shoot you. I will send you right back down that cliff.”
Hazel gave Jason a wary look. River Styx or no, the way Sciron phrased his promise didn’t reassure her.
“What if we fought you?” Jason asked. “You can’t attack us and hold our ship hostage at the same—”
BANG! BANG!
It happened so fast, Hazel’s brain needed a moment to catch up.
Smoke curled from the side of Jason’s head. Just above his left ear, a groove cut through his hair like a racing stripe. One of Sciron’s flintlocks was still pointed at his face. The other flintlock was pointed down, over the side of the cliff, as if Sciron’s second shot had been fired at the Argo II.
Hazel choked from delayed shock. “What did you do?”
“Oh, don’t worry!” Sciron laughed. “If you could see that far—which you can’t—you’d see a hole in the deck between the shoes of the big young man, the one with the bow.”
“Frank!”
Sciron shrugged. “If you say so. That was just a demonstration. I’m afraid it could have been much more serious.”
He spun his flintlocks. The hammers reset, and Hazel had a feeling the guns had just magically reloaded.
Sciron waggled his eyebrows at Jason. “So! To answer your question—yes, I can attack you and hold your ship hostage at the same time. Celestial bronze ammunition. Quite deadly to demigods. You two would die first—bang, bang. Then I could take my time picking off your friends on that ship. Target practice is so much more fun with live targets running around screaming!”
Jason touched the new furrow that the bullet had plowed through his hair. For once, he didn’t look very confident.
Hazel’s ankles wobbled. Frank was the best shot she knew with a bow, but this bandit Sciron was inhumanly good.
“You’re a son of Poseidon?” she managed. “I would’ve thought Apollo, the way you shoot.”
The smile lines deepened around his eyes. “Why, thank you! It’s just from practice, though. The giant turtle—that’s due to my parentage. You can’t go around taming giant turtles without being a son of Poseidon! I could overwhelm your ship with a tidal wave, of course, but it’s terribly difficult work. Not nearly as fun as ambushing and shooting people.”
Hazel tried to collect her thoughts, stall for time, but it was difficult while staring down the smoking barrels of those flintlocks. “Uh…what’s the bandana for?”
“So no one recognizes me!” Sciron said.
“But you introduced yourself,” Jason said. “You’re Sciron.”
The bandit’s eyes widened. “How did you— Oh. Yes, I suppose I did.” He lowered one flintlock and scratched the side of his head with the other. “Terribly sloppy of me. Sorry. I’m afraid I’m a little rusty. Back from the dead, and all that. Let me try again.”
He leveled his pistols. “Stand and deliver! I am an anonymous bandit, and you do not need to know my name!”
An anonymous bandit. Something clicked in Hazel’s memory. “Theseus. He killed you once.”
Sciron’s shoulders slumped. “Now, why did you have to mention him? We were getting along so well!”
Jason frowned. “Hazel, you know this guy’s story?”
She nodded, though the details were murky. “Theseus met him on the road to Athens. Sciron would kill his victims by, um…”
Something about the turtle. Hazel couldn’t remember.
“Theseus was such a cheater!” Sciron complained. “I don’t want to talk about him. I’m back from the dead now. Gaea promised me I could stay on the coastline and rob all the demigods I wanted, and that’s what I’m going to do! Now…where were we?”
“You were about to let us go,” Hazel ventured.
“Hmm…” Sciron said. “No, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t it. Ah, right! Money or your life. Where are your valuables? No valuables? Then I’ll have to—”
“Wait,” Hazel said. “I have our valuables. At least, I can get them.”
Sciron pointed a flintlock at Jason’s head. “Well, then, my dear, hop to it, or my next shot will cut off more than your friend’s hair!”
Hazel hardly needed to concentrate. She was so anxious, the ground rumbled beneath her and immediately yielded a bumper crop—precious metals popping to the surface as though the dirt was anxious to expel them.
She found herself surrounded by a knee-high mound of treasure—Roman denarii, silver drachmas, ancient gold jewelry, glittering diamonds and topaz and rubies—enough to fill several lawn bags.
Sciron laughed with delight. “How in the world did you do that?”
Hazel didn’t answer. She thought about all the coins that had appeared at the crossroads with Hecate. Here were even more—centuries’ worth of hidden wealth from every empire that had ever claimed this land—Greek, Roman, Byzantine, and so many others. Those empires were gone, leaving only a barren coastline for Sciron the bandit.
That thought made her feel small and powerless.
“Just take the treasure,” she said. “Let us go.”
Sciron chuckled. “Oh, but I did say all your valuables. I understand you’re holding something very special on that ship…a certain ivory-and-gold statue about, say, forty feet tall?”
The sweat started to dry on Hazel’s neck, sending a shiver down her back.
Jason stepped forward. Despite the gun pointed at his face, his eyes were as hard as sapphires. “The statue isn’t negotiable.”
“You’re right, it’s not!” Sciron agreed. “I must have it!”
“Gaea told you about it,” Hazel guessed. “She ordered you to take it.”
Sciron shrugged. “Maybe. But she told me I could keep it for myself. Hard to pass up that offer! I don’t intend to die again, my friends. I intend to live a long life as a very wealthy man!”
“The statue won’t do you any good,” Hazel said. “Not if Gaea destroys the world.”
The muzzles of Sciron’s pistols wavered. “Pardon?”
“Gaea is using you,” Hazel said. “If you take that statue, we won’t be able to defeat her. She’s planning on wiping all mortals and demigods off the face of the earth, letting her giants and monsters take over. So where will you spend your gold, Sciron? Assuming Gaea even lets you live.”