The Mark of Athena (Heroes of Olympus Book 3) (Heroes Of Olympus Series)

Nothing like total failure to generate great ideas.

As Percy stood there, disarmed and outmatched, the plan formed in his head. He was so used to Annabeth providing Greek legend information that he was kind of stunned to actually remember something useful, but he had to act fast. He couldn’t let anything happen to his friends. He wasn’t going to lose Annabeth—not again.

Chrysaor couldn’t be beat. At least not in single combat. But without his crew…maybe then he could be overwhelmed if enough demigods attacked him at once.

How to deal with Chrysaor’s crew? Percy put the pieces together: the pirates had been turned into dolphin-men millennia ago when they had kidnapped the wrong person. Percy knew that story. Heck, the wrong person in question had threatened to turn him into a dolphin. And when Chrysaor said the crew wasn’t afraid of anything, one of the dolphins had nervously corrected him. Yes, Chrysaor said. But he’s not here.

Percy glanced toward the stern and spotted Frank, in human form, peeking out from behind a ballista, waiting. Percy resisted the urge to smile. The big guy claimed to be clumsy and useless, but he always seemed to be in exactly the right place when Percy needed him.

The girls…Frank…the ice chest.

It was a crazy idea. But, as usual, that’s all Percy had.

“Fine!” Percy shouted, so loudly that he got everyone’s attention. “Take us away, if our captain will let you.”

Chrysaor turned his golden mask. “What captain? My men searched the ship. There is no one else.”

Percy raised his hands dramatically. “The god appears only when he wishes. But he is our leader. He runs our camp for demigods. Doesn’t he, Annabeth?”

Annabeth was quick. “Yes!” She nodded enthusiastically. “Mr. D! The great Dionysus!”

A ripple of uneasiness passed through the dolphin-men. One dropped his sword.

“Stand fast!” Chrysaor bellowed. “There is no god on this ship. They are trying to scare you.”

“You should be scared!” Percy looked at the pirate crew with sympathy. “Dionysus will be severely cranky with you for having delayed our voyage. He will punish all of us. Didn’t you notice the girls falling into the wine god’s madness?”

Hazel and Piper had stopped the shaking fits. They were sitting on the deck, staring at Percy, but when he glared at them pointedly, they started hamming it up again, trembling and flopping around like fish. The dolphin-men fell over themselves trying to get away from their captives.

“Fakes!” Chrysaor roared. “Shut up, Percy Jackson. Your camp director is not here. He was recalled to Olympus. This is common knowledge.”

“So you admit Dionysus is our director!” Percy said.

“He was,” Chrysaor corrected. “Everyone knows that.”

Percy gestured at the golden warrior like he’d just betrayed himself. “You see? We are doomed. If you don’t believe me, let’s check the ice chest!”

Percy stormed over to the magical cooler. No one tried to stop him. He knocked open the lid and rummaged through the ice. There had to be one. Please. He was rewarded with a silver-and-red can of soda. He brandished it at the dolphin warriors as if spraying them with bug repellent.

“Behold!” Percy shouted. “The god’s chosen beverage. Tremble before the horror of Diet Coke!”

The dolphin-men began to panic. They were on the edge of retreat. Percy could feel it.

“The god will take your ship,” Percy warned. “He will finish your transformation into dolphins, or make you insane, or transform you into insane dolphins! Your only hope is to swim away now, quickly!”

“Ridiculous!” Chrysaor’s voice turned shrill. He didn’t seem sure where to level his sword—at Percy or his own crew.

“Save yourselves!” Percy warned. “It is too late for us!”

Then he gasped and pointed to the spot where Frank was hiding. “Oh, no! Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!”

Nothing happened.

“I said,” Percy repeated, “Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!”

Frank stumbled out of nowhere, making a big show of grabbing his throat. “Oh, no,” he said, like he was reading from a teleprompter. “I am turning into a crazy dolphin.”

He began to change, his nose elongating into a snout, his skin becoming sleek and gray. He fell to the deck as a dolphin, his tail thumping against the boards.

The pirate crew disbanded in terror, chattering and clicking as they dropped their weapons, forgot the captives, ignored Chrysaor’s orders, and jumped overboard. In the confusion, Annabeth moved quickly to cut the bonds on Hazel, Piper, and Coach Hedge.

Within seconds, Chrysaor was alone and surrounded. Percy and his friends had no weapons except for Annabeth’s knife and Hedge’s hooves, but the murderous looks on their faces evidently convinced the golden warrior he was doomed.

He backed to the edge of the rail.

“This isn’t over, Jackson,” Chrysaor growled. “I will have my revenge—”

His words were cut short by Frank, who had changed form again. An eight-hundred-pound grizzly bear can definitely break up a conversation. He sideswiped Chrysaor and raked the golden mask off his helmet. Chrysaor screamed, instantly covering his face with his arms and tumbling into the water.

They ran to the rail. Chrysaor had disappeared. Percy thought about chasing him, but he didn’t know these waters, and he didn’t want to confront that guy alone again.

“That was brilliant!” Annabeth kissed him, which made him feel a little better.

“It was desperate,” Percy corrected. “And we need to get rid of this pirate trireme.”

“Burn it?” Annabeth asked.

Percy looked at the Diet Coke in his hand. “No. I’ve got another idea.”

It took them longer than Percy wanted. As they worked, he kept glancing at the sea, waiting for Chrysaor and his pirate dolphins to return, but they didn’t.

Leo got back on his feet, thanks to a little nectar. Piper tended to Jason’s wounds, but he wasn’t as badly hurt as he looked. Mostly he was just ashamed that he’d gotten overpowered again, which Percy could relate to.

They returned all their own supplies to the proper places and tidied up from the invasion while Coach Hedge had a field day on the enemy ship, breaking everything he could find with his baseball bat.

When he was done, Percy loaded the enemy’s weapons back on the pirate ship. Their storeroom was full of treasure, but Percy insisted that they touch none of it.

“I can sense about six million dollars’ worth of gold aboard,” Hazel said. “Plus diamonds, rubies—”

“Six m-million?” Frank stammered. “Canadian dollars or American?”

“Leave it,” Percy said. “It’s part of the tribute.”

“Tribute?” Hazel asked.

“Oh.” Piper nodded. “Kansas.”

Jason grinned. He’d been there too when they’d met the wine god. “Crazy. But I like it.”

Finally Percy went aboard the pirate ship and opened the flood valves. He asked Leo to drill a few extra holes in the bottom of the hull with his power tools, and Leo was happy to oblige.

The crew of the Argo II assembled at the rail and cut the grappling lines. Piper brought out her new horn of plenty and, on Percy’s direction, willed it to spew Diet Coke, which came out with the strength of a fire hose, dousing the enemy deck. Percy thought it would take hours, but the ship sank remarkably fast, filling with Diet Coke and seawater.

“Dionysus,” Percy called, holding up Chrysaor’s golden mask. “Or Bacchus—whatever. You made this victory possible, even if you weren’t here. Your enemies trembled at your name…or your Diet Coke, or something. So, yeah, thank you.”

The words were hard to get out, but Percy managed not to gag. “We give this ship to you as tribute. We hope you like it.”

“Six million in gold,” Leo muttered. “He’d better like it.”

“Shh,” Hazel scolded. “Precious metal isn’t all that great. Believe me.”

Percy threw the golden mask aboard the vessel, which was now sinking even faster, brown fizzy liquid spewing out the trireme’s oar slots and bubbling from the cargo hold, turning the sea frothy brown.

Percy summoned a wave, and the enemy ship was swamped. Leo steered the Argo II away as the pirate vessel disappeared underwater.

“Isn’t that polluting?” Piper asked.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Jason told her. “If Bacchus likes it, the ship should vanish.”

Percy didn’t know if that would happen, but he felt like he’d done all he could. He had no faith that Dionysus would hear them or care, much less help them in their battle against the twin giants, but he had to try.

As the Argo II headed east into the fog, Percy decided at least one good thing had come out of his sword fight with Chrysaor. He was feeling humble—even humble enough to pay tribute to the wine dude.

After their bout with the pirates, they decided to fly the rest of the way to Rome. Jason insisted he was well enough to take sentry duty, along with Coach Hedge, who was still so charged with adrenaline that every time the ship hit turbulence, he swung his bat and yelled, “Die!”

They had a couple of hours before daybreak, so Jason suggested Percy try to get a few more hours of sleep.

“It’s fine, man,” Jason said. “Give somebody else a chance to save the ship, huh?”

Percy agreed, though once in his cabin, he had trouble falling asleep.

He stared at the bronze lantern swaying from the ceiling and thought about how easily Chrysaor had beaten him at swordplay. The golden warrior could’ve killed him without breaking a sweat. He’d only kept Percy alive because someone else wanted to pay for the privilege of killing him later.

Percy felt like an arrow had slipped through a chink in his armor—as if he still had the blessing of Achilles, and someone had found his weak spot. The older he got, the longer he survived as a half-blood, the more his friends looked up to him. They depended on him and relied on his powers. Even the Romans had raised him on a shield and made him praetor, and he’d only known them for a couple of weeks.

But Percy didn’t feel powerful. The more heroic stuff he did, the more he realized how limited he was. He felt like a fraud. I’m not as great as you think, he wanted to warn his friends. His failures, like tonight, seemed to prove it. Maybe that’s why he had started to fear suffocation. It wasn’t so much drowning in the earth or the sea, but the feeling that he was sinking into too many expectations, literally getting in over his head.

Wow…when he started having thoughts like that, he knew he’d been spending too much time with Annabeth.

Athena had once told Percy his fatal flaw: he was supposedly too loyal to his friends. He couldn’t see the big picture. He would save a friend even if it meant destroying the world.

At the time, Percy had shrugged this off. How could loyalty be a bad thing? Besides, things worked out okay against the Titans. He’d saved his friends and beaten Kronos.

Now, though, he started to wonder. He would gladly throw himself at any monster, god, or giant to keep his friends from being hurt. But what if he wasn’t up to the task? What if someone else had to do it? That was very hard for him to admit. He even had trouble with simple things like letting Jason take a turn at watch. He didn’t want to rely on someone else to protect him, someone who could get hurt on his account.

Percy’s mom had done that for him. She’d stayed in a bad relationship with a gross mortal guy because she thought it would save Percy from monsters. Grover, his best friend, had protected Percy for almost a year before Percy even realized he was a demigod, and Grover had almost gotten killed by the Minotaur.

Percy wasn’t a kid anymore. He didn’t want anybody he loved taking a risk for him. He had to be strong enough to be the protector himself. But now he was supposed to let Annabeth go off on her own to follow the Mark of Athena, knowing she might die. If it came to a choice—save Annabeth or let the quest succeed—could Percy really choose the quest?

Exhaustion finally overtook him. He fell asleep, and in his nightmare, the rumble of thunder became the laughter of the earth goddess Gaea.

Percy dreamed he was standing on the front porch of the Big House at Camp Half-Blood. The sleeping face of Gaea appeared on the side of Half-Blood Hill—her massive features formed from the shadows on the grassy slopes. Her lips didn’t move, but her voice echoed across the valley.

So this is your home, Gaea murmured. Take a last look, Percy Jackson. You should have returned here. At least then you could have died with your comrades when the Romans invade. Now your blood will be spilled far from home, on the ancient stones, and I will rise.

The ground shook. At the top of Half-Blood Hill, Thalia’s pine tree burst into flames. Disruption rolled across the valley—grass turning to sand, forest crumbling to dust. The river and the canoe lake dried up. The cabins and the Big House burned to ashes. When the tremor stopped, Camp Half-Blood looked like a wasteland after an atomic blast. The only thing left was the porch where Percy stood.

Next to him, the dust swirled and solidified into the figure of a woman. Her eyes were closed, as if she were sleepwalking. Her robes were forest green, dappled with gold and white like sunlight shifting through branches. Her hair was as black as tilled soil. Her face was beautiful, but even with a dreamy smile on her lips she seemed cold and distant. Percy got the feeling she could watch demigods die or cities burn, and that smile wouldn’t waver.

“When I reclaim the earth,” Gaea said, “I will leave this spot barren forever, to remind me of your kind and how utterly powerless they were to stop me. It doesn’t matter when you fall, my sweet little pawn—to Phorcys or Chrysaor or my dear twins. You will fall, and I will be there to devour you. Your only choice now…will you fall alone? Come to me willingly; bring the girl. Perhaps I will spare this place you love. Otherwise…”

Gaea opened her eyes. They swirled in green and black, as deep as the crust of the earth. Gaea saw everything. Her patience was infinite. She was slow to wake, but once she arose, her power was unstoppable.

Percy’s skin tingled. His hands went numb. He looked down and realized he was crumbling to dust, like all the monsters he’d ever defeated.

“Enjoy Tartarus, my little pawn,” Gaea purred.

A metallic CLANG–CLANG–CLANG jolted Percy out of his dream. His eyes shot open. He realized he’d just heard the landing gear being lowered.

There was a knock on his door, and Jason poked his head in. The bruises on his face had faded. His blue eyes glittered with excitement.

“Hey, man,” he said. “We’re descending over Rome. You really should see this.”

The sky was brilliant blue, as if the stormy weather had never happened. The sun rose over the distant hills, so everything below them shone and sparkled like the entire city of Rome had just come out of the car wash.

Percy had seen big cities before. He was from New York, after all. But the sheer vastness of Rome grabbed him by the throat and made it hard to breathe. The city seemed to have no regard for the limits of geography. It spread through hills and valleys, jumped over the Tiber with dozens of bridges, and just kept sprawling to the horizon. Streets and alleys zigzagged with no rhyme or reason through quilts of neighborhoods. Glass office buildings stood next to excavation sites. A cathedral stood next to a line of Roman columns, which stood next to a modern soccer stadium. In some neighborhoods, old stucco villas with red-tiled roofs crowded the cobblestone streets, so that if Percy concentrated just on those areas, he could imagine he was back in ancient times. Everywhere he looked, there were wide piazzas and traffic-clogged streets. Parks cut across the city with a crazy collection of palm trees, pines, junipers, and olive trees, as if Rome couldn’t decide what part of the world it belonged to—or maybe it just believed all the world still belonged to Rome.

It was as if the city knew about Percy’s dream of Gaea. It knew that the earth goddess intended on razing all human civilization, and this city, which had stood for thousands of years, was saying back to her: You wanna dissolve this city, Dirt Face? Give it a shot.

In other words, it was the Coach Hedge of mortal cities—only taller.

“We’re setting down in that park,” Leo announced, pointing to a wide green space dotted with palm trees. “Let’s hope the Mist makes us look like a large pigeon or something.”

Percy wished Jason’s sister Thalia were here. She’d always had a way of bending the Mist to make people see what she wanted. Percy had never been very good at that. He just kept thinking: Don’t look at me, and hoped the Romans below would fail to notice the giant bronze trireme descending on their city in the middle of morning rush hour.

It seemed to work. Percy didn’t notice any cars veering off the road or Romans pointing to the sky and screaming, “Aliens!” The Argo II set down in the grassy field and the oars retracted.

The noise of traffic was all around them, but the park itself was peaceful and deserted. To their left, a green lawn sloped toward a line of woods. An old villa nestled in the shade of some weird-looking pine trees with thin curvy trunks that shot up thirty or forty feet, then sprouted into puffy canopies. They reminded Percy of trees in those Dr. Seuss books his mom used to read him when he was little.

To their right, snaking along the top of a hill, was a long brick wall with notches at the top for archers—maybe a medieval defensive line, maybe Ancient Roman. Percy wasn’t sure.

To the north, about a mile away through the folds of the city, the top of the Colosseum rose above the rooftops, looking just like it did in travel photos. That’s when Percy’s legs started shaking. He was actually here. He’d thought his trip to Alaska had been pretty exotic, but now he was in the heart of the old Roman Empire, enemy territory for a Greek demigod. In a way, this place had shaped his life as much as New York.

Jason pointed to the base of the archers’ wall, where steps led down into some kind of tunnel.

“I think I know where we are,” he said. “That’s the Tomb of the Scipios.”

Percy frowned. “Scipio…Reyna’s pegasus?”

“No,” Annabeth put in. “They were a noble Roman family, and…wow, this place is amazing.”

Jason nodded. “I’ve studied maps of Rome before. I’ve always wanted to come here, but…”

Nobody bothered finishing that sentence. Looking at his friends’ faces, Percy could tell they were just as much in awe as he was. They’d made it. They’d landed in Rome—the Rome.

“Plans?” Hazel asked. “Nico has until sunset—at best. And this entire city is supposedly getting destroyed today.”

Percy shook himself out of his daze. “You’re right. Annabeth…did you zero in on that spot from your bronze map?”

Her gray eyes turned extra thunderstorm dark, which Percy could interpret just fine: Remember what I said, buddy. Keep that dream to yourself.

“Yes,” she said carefully. “It’s on the Tiber River. I think I can find it, but I should—”

“Take me along,” Percy finished. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Annabeth glared daggers at him. “That’s not—”

“Safe,” he supplied. “One demigod walking through Rome alone. I’ll go with you as far as the Tiber. We can use that letter of introduction, hopefully meet the river god Tiberinus. Maybe he can give you some help or advice. Then you can go on alone from there.”

They had a silent staring contest, but Percy didn’t back down. When he and Annabeth started dating, his mother had drummed it into his head: It’s good manners to walk your date to the door. If that was true, it had to be good manners to walk her to the start of her epic solo death quest.

“Fine,” Annabeth muttered. “Hazel, now that we’re in Rome, do you think you can pinpoint Nico’s location?”

Hazel blinked, as if coming out of a trance from watching the Percy/Annabeth Show. “Um…hopefully, if I get close enough. I’ll have to walk around the city. Frank, would you come with me?”

Frank beamed. “Absolutely.”

“And, uh…Leo,” Hazel added. “It might be a good idea if you came along too. The fish-centaurs said we’d need your help with something mechanical.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, “no problem.”

Frank’s smile turned into something more like Chrysaor’s mask.

Percy was no genius when it came to relationships, but even he could feel the tension among those three. Ever since they’d gotten knocked into the Atlantic, they hadn’t acted quite the same. It wasn’t just the two guys competing for Hazel. It was like the three of them were locked together, acting out some kind of murder mystery, but they hadn’t yet discovered which of them was the victim.

Piper drew her knife and set it on the rail. “Jason and I can watch the ship for now. I’ll see what Katoptris can show me. But, Hazel, if you guys get a fix on Nico’s location, don’t go in there by yourselves. Come back and get us. It’ll take all of us to fight the giants.”

She didn’t say the obvious: even all of them together wouldn’t be enough, unless they had a god on their side. Percy decided not to bring that up.

“Good idea,” Percy said. “How about we plan to meet back here at…what?”

“Three this afternoon?” Jason suggested. “That’s probably the latest we could rendezvous and still hope to fight the giants and save Nico. If something happens to change the plan, try to send an Iris-message.”

The others nodded in agreement, but Percy noticed several of them glancing at Annabeth. Another thing no one wanted to say: Annabeth would be on a different schedule. She might be back at three, or much later, or never. But she would be on her own, searching for the Athena Parthenos.

Coach Hedge grunted. “That’ll give me time to eat the coconuts—I mean dig the coconuts out of our hull. Percy, Annabeth…I don’t like you two going off on your own. Just remember: behave. If I hear about any funny business, I will ground you until the Styx freezes over.”

The idea of getting grounded when they were about to risk their lives was so ridiculous, Percy couldn’t help smiling.

“We’ll be back soon,” he promised. He looked around at his friends, trying not to feel like this was the last time they’d ever be together. “Good luck, everyone.”

Leo lowered the gangplank, and Percy and Annabeth were first off the ship.