Percy Jackson The Complete Collection (44 page)

‘I’m just a
kid
, Chiron,’ I said miserably. ‘What good is one lousy hero against something like Kronos?’

Chiron managed a smile. ‘ “What good is one lousy hero?’ Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain said something like that to me once, just before he single-handedly changed the course of your Civil War.’

He pulled an arrow from his quiver and turned the razor-sharp tip so it glinted in the firelight. ‘Celestial bronze, Percy. An immortal weapon. What would happen if you shot this at a human?’

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘It would pass right through.’

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Humans don’t exist on the same level as the immortals. They can’t even be hurt by our weapons. But you, Percy – you are part god, part human. You live in both worlds. You can be harmed by both, and you can affect both.
That’s
what makes heroes so special. You carry the hopes of humanity into the realm of the eternal. Monsters never die. They are reborn from the chaos and barbarism that is always bubbling underneath civilization, the very stuff that makes Kronos stronger. They must be defeated again and again, kept at bay. Heroes embody that struggle. You fight the battles humanity must win, every generation, in order to stay human. Do you understand?’

‘I … I don’t know.’

‘You must try, Percy. Because whether or not you are the child of the prophecy, Kronos thinks you might be. And, after today, he will finally despair of turning you to his side. That
is
the only reason he hasn’t killed you yet, you know. As soon as he’s sure he can’t use you, he will destroy you.’

‘You talk like you know him.’

Chiron pursed his lips. ‘I
do
know him.’

I stared at him. I sometimes forgot just how old Chiron was. ‘Is that why Mr D blamed you when the tree was poisoned? Why you said some people don’t trust you?’

‘Indeed.’

‘But Chiron … I mean, come on! Why would they think you’d ever betray the camp for Kronos?’

Chiron’s eyes were deep brown, full of thousands of years of sadness. ‘Percy, remember your training. Remember
your study of mythology. What is my connection to the titan lord?’

I tried to think, but I’d always got my mythology mixed up. Even now, when it was so real, so important to my own life, I had trouble keeping all the names and facts straight. I shook my head. ‘You, uh, owe Kronos a favour or something? He spared your life?’

‘Percy,’ Chiron said, his voice impossibly soft. ‘The titan Kronos is my father.’

We arrived in Long Island just after Clarisse, thanks to the centaurs’ travel powers. I rode on Chiron’s back, but we didn’t talk much, especially not about Kronos. I knew it had been difficult for Chiron to tell me. I didn’t want to push him with more questions. I mean, I’ve met plenty of embarrassing parents, but Kronos, the evil titan lord who wanted to destroy Western Civilization? Not the kind of dad you invited to school for career day.

When we got to camp, the centaurs were anxious to meet Dionysus. They’d heard he threw some really wild parties, but they were disappointed. The wine god was in no mood to celebrate as the whole camp gathered at the top of Half-Blood Hill.

The camp had been through a hard two weeks. The arts and crafts cabin had burned to the ground from an attack by a
Draco Aionius
(which as near as I could figure was Latin for ‘really-big-lizard-with-breath-that-blows-stuff-up’). The Big House’s rooms were overflowing with wounded. The kids in the Apollo cabin, who were the best healers, had been working overtime performing first aid. Everybody looked weary and battered as we crowded around Thalia’s tree.

The moment Clarisse draped the Golden Fleece over the lowest bough, the moonlight seemed to brighten,
turning from grey to liquid silver. A cool breeze rustled in the branches and rippled through the grass, all the way into the valley. Everything came into sharper focus – the glow of the fireflies down in the woods, the smell of the strawberry fields, the sound of the waves on the beach.

Gradually, the needles on the pine tree started turning from brown to green.

Everybody cheered. It was happening slowly, but there could be no doubt – the Fleece’s magic was seeping into the tree, filling it with new power and expelling the poison.

Chiron ordered a twenty-four/seven guard duty on the hilltop, at least until he could find an appropriate monster to protect the Fleece. He said he’d place an ad in
Olympus Weekly
right away.

In the meantime, Clarisse was carried on her cabin mates’ shoulders down to the amphitheatre, where she was honoured with a laurel wreath and a lot of celebrating around the campfire.

Nobody gave Annabeth or me a second look. It was as. if we’d never left. In a way, I guess that was the best thank-you anyone could give us, because if they admitted we’d snuck out of camp to do the quest, they’d have to expel us. And, really, I didn’t want any more attention. It felt good to be just one of the campers for once.

Later that night, as we were roasting marshmallows and listening to the Stoll brothers tell us a ghost story about an evil king who was eaten alive by demonic breakfast pastries, Clarisse shoved me from behind and whispered in my ear, ‘Just because you were cool one time, Jackson, don’t think you’re off the hook with Ares. I’m still waiting for the right opportunity to pulverize you.’

I gave her a grudging smile.
‘What?’ she demanded.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Just good to be home.’

 

The next morning, after the party ponies headed back to Florida, Chiron made a surprise announcement: the chariot races would go ahead as scheduled. We’d all figured they were history now that Tantalus was gone, but completing them did feel like the right thing to do, especially now that Chiron was back and the camp was safe.

Tyson wasn’t too keen on the idea of getting back in a chariot after our first experience, but he was happy to let me team up with Annabeth. I would drive, Annabeth would defend, and Tyson would act as our pit crew. While I worked with the horses, Tyson fixed up Athena’s chariot and added a whole bunch of special modifications.

We spent the next two days training like crazy. Annabeth and I agreed that if we won, the prize of no chores for the rest of the month would be split between our two cabins. Since Athena had more campers, they would get most of the time off, which was fine by me. I didn’t care about the prize. I just wanted to win.

The night before the race, I stayed late at the stables. I was talking to our horses, giving them one final brushing, when somebody right behind me said, ‘Fine animals, horses. Wish I’d thought of them.’

A middle-aged guy in a postal carrier outfit was leaning against the stable door. He was slim, with curly black hair under his white pith helmet, and he had a mailbag slung over his shoulder.

‘Hermes?’ I stammered.

‘Hello, Percy. Didn’t recognize me without my jogging clothes?’

‘Uh…’ I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to kneel or buy stamps from him or what. Then it occurred to me why he must be here. ‘Oh, listen, Lord Hermes, about Luke…’

The god arched his eyebrows.

‘Uh, we saw him, all right,’ I said, ‘but –’

‘You weren’t able to talk sense into him?’

‘Well, we kind of tried to kill each other in a duel to the death.’

‘I see. You tried the diplomatic approach.’

‘I’m really sorry. I mean, you gave us those awesome gifts and everything. And I know you wanted Luke to come back. But … he’s turned bad.
Really
bad. He said he feels like you abandoned him.’

I waited for Hermes to get angry. I figured he’d turn me into a hamster or something, and I did
not
want to spend any more time as a rodent.

Instead, he just sighed. ‘Do you ever feel your father abandoned
you
, Percy?’

Oh, man.

I wanted to say, ‘Only a few hundred times a day.’ I hadn’t spoken to Poseidon since last summer. I’d never even been to his underwater palace. And then there was the whole thing with Tyson – no warning, no explanation. Just
boom
, you have a brother. You’d think that deserved a little heads-up phone call or something.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I realized I
did
want recognition for the quest I’d completed, but not
from the other campers. I wanted my dad to say something. To notice me.

Hermes readjusted the mailbag on his shoulder. ‘Percy, the hardest part about being a god is that you must often act indirectly, especially when it comes to your own children. If we were to intervene every time our children had a problem … well, that would only create more problems and more resentment. But I believe if you give it some thought, you will see that Poseidon
has
been paying attention to you. He has answered your prayers. I can only hope that some day, Luke may realize the same about me. Whether you feel like you succeeded or not, you reminded Luke who he was. You spoke to him.’

‘I tried to kill him.’

Hermes shrugged. ‘Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we’re related, for better or worse … and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum.’

It didn’t sound like much of a recipe for the perfect family. Then again, as I thought about my quest, I realized maybe Hermes was right. Poseidon had sent the hippocampi to help us. He’d given me powers over the sea that I’d never known about before. And there was Tyson. Had Poseidon brought us together on purpose? How many times had Tyson saved my life this summer?

In the distance, the conch horn sounded, signalling curfew.

‘You should get to bed,’ Hermes said. ‘I’ve helped you get into quite enough trouble this summer already. I really only came to make this delivery.’

‘A delivery?’

‘I
am
the messenger of the gods, Percy.’ He took an electronic signature pad from his mailbag and handed it to me. ‘Sign there, please.’

I picked up the stylus before realizing it was entwined with a pair of tiny green snakes. ‘Ah!’ I dropped the pad.

Ouch
, said George.

Really, Percy
, Martha scolded.
Would
you
want to be dropped on the floor of a horse stable?

‘Oh, uh, sorry.’ I didn’t much like touching snakes, but I picked up the pad and the stylus again. Martha and George wriggled under my fingers, forming a kind of pencil grip like the ones my special ed teacher made me use in second grade.

Did you bring me a rat?
George asked.

‘No…’ I said. ‘Uh, we didn’t find any.’

What about a guinea pig?

George!
Martha chided.
Don’t tease the boy.

I signed my name and gave the pad back to Hermes.

In exchange, he handed me a sea-blue envelope.

My fingers trembled. Even before I opened it, I could tell it was from my father. I could sense his power in the cool blue paper, as if the envelope itself had been folded out of an ocean wave.

‘Good luck tomorrow,’ Hermes said. ‘Fine team of horses you have there, though you’ll excuse me if I root for the Hermes cabin.’

And don’t be too discouraged when you read it, dear
, Martha told me.
He
does
have your interests at heart.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

Don’t mind her
, George said.
And next time, remember, snakes work for tips.

‘Enough, you two,’ Hermes said. ‘Goodbye, Percy. For now.’

Small white wings sprouted from his pith helmet. He began to glow, and I knew enough about the gods to avert my eyes before he revealed his true divine form. With a brilliant white flash he was gone, and I was alone with the horses.

I stared at the blue envelope in my hands. It was addressed in strong but elegant handwriting that I’d seen once before, on a package Poseidon had sent me last summer.

Percy Jackson
c/o Camp Half-Blood
Farm Road 3.141
Long Island, New york 11954

An actual letter from my father. Maybe he would tell me I’d done a good job getting the Fleece. He’d explain about Tyson, or apologize for not talking to me sooner. There were so many things that I wanted that letter to say.

I opened the envelope and unfolded the paper.

Two simple words were printed in the middle of the page:

Brace yourself.

The next morning, everybody was buzzing about the chariot race, though they kept glancing nervously towards the sky like they expected to see Stymphalian birds gathering. None did. It was a beautiful summer day with blue sky and plenty
of sunshine. The camp had started to look the way it should look: the meadows were green and lush; the white columns gleamed on the Greek buildings; dryads played happily in the woods.

And I was miserable. I’d been lying awake all night, thinking about Poseidon’s warning.

Brace yourself.

I mean, he goes to the trouble of writing a letter, and he writes two words?

Martha the snake had told me not to feel disappointed. Maybe Poseidon had a reason for being so vague. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what he was warning me about, but he sensed something big was about to happen – something that could completely knock me off my feet unless I was prepared. It was hard, but I tried to turn my thoughts to the race.

As Annabeth and I drove onto the track, I couldn’t help admiring the work Tyson had done on the Athena chariot. The carriage gleamed with bronze reinforcements. The wheels were realigned with magical suspension so we glided along with hardly a bump. The rigging for the horses was so perfectly balanced that the team turned at the slightest tug of the reins.

Tyson had also made us two javelins, each with three buttons on the shaft. The first button primed the javelin to explode on impact, releasing razor wire that would tangle and shred an opponent’s wheels. The second button produced a blunt (but still very painful) bronze spearhead designed to knock a driver out of his carriage. The third button brought up a grappling hook that could be used to lock on to an enemy’s chariot or push it away.

I figured we were in pretty good shape for the race, but Tyson still warned me to be careful. The other chariot teams had plenty of tricks up their togas.

‘Here,’ he said, just before the race began.

He handed me a wristwatch. There wasn’t anything special about it – just a white-and-silver clock face, a black leather strap – but as soon as I saw it I realized that this was what I’d seen him tinkering on all summer.

I didn’t usually like to wear watches. Who cared what time it was? But I couldn’t say no to Tyson.

‘Thanks, man.’ I put it on and found it was surprisingly light and comfortable. I could hardly tell I was wearing it.

‘Didn’t finish in time for the trip,’ Tyson mumbled. ‘Sorry, sorry.’

‘Hey, man. No big deal.’

‘If you need protection in race,’ he advised, ‘hit the button.’

‘Ah, okay.’ I didn’t see how keeping time was going to help a whole lot, but I was touched that Tyson was concerned. I promised him I’d remember the watch. ‘And, hey, um, Tyson…’

He looked at me.

‘I wanted to say, well…’ I tried to figure out how to apologize for getting embarrassed about him before the quest, for telling everyone he wasn’t my real brother. It wasn’t easy to find the words.

‘I know what you will tell me,’ Tyson said, looking ashamed. ‘Poseidon did care for me after all.’

‘Uh, well –’

‘He sent you to help me. Just what I asked for.’

I blinked. ‘You asked Poseidon for … me?’

‘For a friend,’ Tyson said, twisting his shirt in his hands. ‘Young Cyclopes grow up alone on the streets, learn to make things out of scraps. Learn to survive.’

‘But that’s so cruel!’

He shook his head earnestly. ‘Makes us appreciate blessings, not be greedy and mean and fat like Polyphemus. But I got scared. Monsters chased me so much, clawed me sometimes –’