The Burning Maze

by Rick Riordan

  I lay at the bottom of a cold, dark river. Above me floated a woman in black silky robes – the goddess Styx, the living incarnation of the infernal waters.

  ‘More broken promises,’ she hissed.

  A sob built in my throat. I did not need the reminder.

  ‘Jason Grace is dead,’ she continued. ‘And the young pandos.’

  Crest! I wanted to scream. He had a name!

  ‘Do you begin to feel the folly of your rash vow upon my waters?’ asked Styx. ‘There will be more deaths. My wrath will spare no one close to you until amends are made. Enjoy your time as a mortal, Apollo!’

  Water began filling my lungs, as if my body had just now remembered it needed oxygen.

  I woke up gasping.

  Dawn was breaking over the desert. I was hugging my ukulele so tightly it had left gouge marks on my forearms and bruised my chest. Meg’s sleeping bag was empty, but before I could look for her, she scrambled down the hill towards me – a strange, excited light in her eyes.

  ‘Apollo, get up,’ she said. ‘You need to see this!’

  46

  Second prize: road trip

  With Bon Jovi on cassette

  First prize: please, don’t ask

  The McCaffrey mansion had been reborn.

  Or rather, regrown.

  Overnight, desert hardwoods had sprouted and grown at incredible speed, forming the beams and floors of a multilevel stilt house much like the old one. Heavy vines had emerged from the stone ruins, weaving together the walls and ceilings, leaving room for windows and skylights shaded by awnings made of wisteria.

  The biggest difference in the new house: the great room had been built in a horseshoe shape around the Cistern, leaving the ash grove open to the sky.

  ‘We hope you like it,’ said Aloe Vera, taking us on a tour. ‘We all got together and decided it was the least we could do.’

  The interior was cool and comfortable, with fountains and running water in every room provided by living root pipes from subterranean springs. Blooming cacti and Joshua trees decorated the spaces. Massive branches had shaped themselves into furniture. Even Dr McCaffrey’s old work desk had been lovingly recreated.

  Meg sniffled, blinking furiously.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Aloe Vera. ‘I hope you’re not allergic to the house!’

  ‘No, this place is amazing.’ Meg threw herself into Aloe’s arms, ignoring the dryad’s many pointy bits.

  ‘Wow,’ I said. (Meg’s poetry must have been rubbing off on me.) ‘How many nature spirits did it take to accomplish this?’

  Aloe shrugged modestly. ‘Every dryad in the Mojave Desert wanted to help. You saved us all! And you restored the Meliai.’ She gave Meg a gooey kiss on the cheek. ‘Your father would be so proud. You have completed his work.’

  Meg blinked back tears. ‘I just wish …’

  She didn’t need to finish. We all knew how many lives had not been saved.

  ‘Will you stay?’ Aloe asked. ‘Aeithales is your home.’

  Meg gazed across the desert vista. I was terrified she would say yes. Her final command to me would be to continue my quests by myself, and this time she would mean it. Why shouldn’t she? She had found her home. She had friends here, including seven very powerful dryads who would hail her and bring her enchiladas every morning. She could become the protector of Southern California, far from Nero’s grasp. She might find peace.

  The idea of being free from Meg would have delighted me just a few weeks ago, but now I found the idea insupportable. Yes, I wanted her to be happy. But I knew she had many things yet to do – first among them was facing Nero once again, closing that horrible chapter of her life by confronting and conquering the Beast.

  Oh, and also I needed Meg’s help. Call me selfish, but I couldn’t imagine going on without her.

  Meg squeezed Aloe’s hand. ‘Maybe someday. I hope so. But right now … we got places to be.’

  Grover had generously left us the Mercedes he’d borrowed from … wherever.

  After saying our goodbyes to Herophile and the dryads, who were discussing plans to create a giant Scrabble-board floor in one of the back bedrooms at Aeithales, we drove to Santa Monica to find the address Piper had given me. I kept looking in the rear-view mirror, wondering if the highway patrol would pull us over for car theft. That would’ve been the perfect end to my week.

  It took us a while to find the right address: a small private airfield near the Santa Monica waterfront.

  A security guard let us through the gates with no questions, as if he’d been expecting two teenagers in a possibly stolen red Mercedes. We drove straight onto the tarmac.

  A gleaming white Cessna was parked near the terminal, right next to Coach Hedge’s yellow Pinto. I shuddered, wondering if we were trapped in an episode of The Oracle Is Right! First prize: the Cessna. Second prize … No, I couldn’t face the idea.

  Coach Hedge was changing Baby Chuck’s diaper on the hood of the Pinto, keeping Chuck distracted by letting him gnaw on a grenade. (Which was probably just an empty casing. Probably.) Mellie stood next to him, supervising.

  When she saw us, she waved and gave us a sad smile, but she pointed towards the plane, where Piper stood at the base of the steps, talking to the pilot.

  In her hands, Piper held something large and flat – a display board. She had a couple of books under her arm, too. To her right, near the tail of the aircraft, the luggage compartment stood open. Ground-crew members were carefully strapping down a large wooden box with brass fixtures. A coffin.

  As Meg and I walked up, the captain shook Piper’s hand. His face was tight with sympathy. ‘Everything is in order, Ms McLean. I’ll be on board doing preflight checks until our passengers are ready.’

  He gave us a quick nod, then climbed into the Cessna.

  Piper was dressed in faded denim jeans and a green camo tank top. She’d cut her hair in a shorter, choppier style – probably because so much had been singed off anyway – which gave her an eerie resemblance to Thalia Grace. Her multicoloured eyes picked up the grey of the tarmac, so she might have been mistaken for a child of Athena.

  The display board she held was, of course, Jason’s diorama of Temple Hill at Camp Jupiter. Tucked under her arm were Jason’s two sketchbooks.

  A ball bearing lodged itself in my throat. ‘Ah.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘The school let me clear out his stuff.’

  I took the map as one might take the folded flag of a fallen soldier. Meg slid the sketchbooks into her knapsack.

  ‘You’re off to Oklahoma?’ I asked, pointing my chin towards the plane.

  Piper laughed. ‘Well, yes. But we’re driving. My dad rented an SUV. He’s waiting for the Hedges and me at DK’s Donuts.’ She smiled sadly. ‘First place he ever took me to breakfast when we moved out here.’

  ‘Driving?’ Meg asked. ‘But –’

  ‘The plane is for you two,’ Piper said. ‘And … Jason. Like I said, my dad had enough flight time and fuel credit for one last trip. I talked to him about sending Jason home; I mean … the home he had the longest, in the Bay Area, and how you guys could escort him up there … Dad agreed this was a much better use of the plane. We’re happy to drive.’

  I looked at the diorama of Temple Hill – all the little Monopoly tokens carefully labelled in Jason’s hand. I read the label: APOLLO. I could hear Jason’s voice in my mind, saying my name, asking me for one favour: Whatever happens, when you get back to Olympus, when you’re a god again, remember. Remember what it’s like to be human.

  This, I thought, was being human. Standing on the tarmac, watching mortals load the body of a friend and hero into the cargo hold, knowing that he would never be coming back. Saying goodbye to a grieving young woman who had done everything to help us, and knowing you could never repay her, never compensate her for all that she’d lost.

  ‘Piper, I …’ My voice seized up like the Sibyl’s.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Just get to Camp Ju
piter safely. Let them give Jason the Roman burial he deserves. Stop Caligula.’

  Her words weren’t bitter, as I might have expected. They were simply arid, like Palm Springs air – no judgement, just natural heat.

  Meg glanced at the coffin in the cargo hold. She looked uneasy about flying with a dead companion. I couldn’t blame her. I’d never invited Hades to go sun cruising with me for good reason. Mixing the Underworld and the Overworld was bad luck.

  Regardless, Meg muttered, ‘Thank you.’

  Piper pulled the younger girl into a hug and kissed her forehead. ‘Don’t mention it. And, if you’re ever in Tahlequah, come and visit me, okay?’

  I thought about the millions of young people who prayed to me every year, hoping to leave their small hometowns across the world and come here to Los Angeles, to make their huge dreams come true. Now Piper McLean was going the other way – leaving the glamour and the movie glitz of her father’s former life, going back to small-town Tahlequah, Oklahoma. And she sounded at peace with it, as if she knew her own Aeithales would be waiting there.

  Mellie and Coach Hedge strolled over, Baby Chuck still happily chewing his grenade in the coach’s arms.

  ‘Hey,’ Coach said. ‘You about ready, Piper? Long road ahead.’

  The satyr’s expression was grim and determined. He looked at the coffin in the cargo bay, then quickly fixed his eyes on the tarmac.

  ‘Just about,’ Piper agreed. ‘You sure the Pinto is up for such a long trip?’

  ‘Of course!’ Hedge said. ‘Just, uh, you know, keep in sight, in case the SUV breaks down and you need my help.’

  Mellie rolled her eyes. ‘Chuck and I are riding in the SUV.’

  The coach harrumphed. ‘That’s fine. It’ll give me time to play my tunes. I’ve got Bon Jovi’s entire collection on cassette!’

  I tried to smile encouragingly, though I decided to give Hades a new suggestion for the Fields of Punishment if I ever saw him again: Pinto. Road trip. Bon Jovi on cassette.

  Meg bopped Baby Chuck on the nose, which made him giggle and spit grenade shavings. ‘What are you guys going to do in Oklahoma?’ she asked.

  ‘Coach, of course!’ said the coach. ‘They’ve got some great varsity sports teams in Oklahoma. Plus, I hear nature is pretty strong there. Nice place to raise a kid.’

  ‘And there’s always work for cloud nymphs,’ Mellie said. ‘Everybody needs clouds.’

  Meg stared into the sky, maybe wondering how many of those clouds were nymphs making minimum wage. Then, suddenly, her mouth fell open. ‘Uh, guys?’

  She pointed north.

  A gleaming shape resolved against a line of white clouds. For a moment, I thought a small plane was making its final approach. Then its wings flapped.

  The ground crew scrambled into action as Festus the bronze dragon came in for a landing, Leo Valdez riding on his back.

  The crew waved their orange flashlight cones, guiding Festus to a spot next to the Cessna. None of the mortals seemed to find this at all unusual. One of the crew shouted up at Leo, asking if he needed any fuel.

  Leo grinned. ‘Nah. But if you could give my boy a wash and wax, and maybe find him some Tabasco sauce, that would be great.’

  Festus roared in approval.

  Leo Valdez climbed down and jogged towards us. Whatever adventures he may have had, he seemed to have come through with his curly black hair, his impish smile and his small, elfish frame intact. He wore a purple T-shirt with gold words in Latin: MY COHORT WENT TO NEW ROME AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT.

  ‘The party can now start!’ he announced. ‘There’s my peeps!’

  I didn’t know what to say. We all just stood there, stunned, as Leo gave us hugs.

  ‘Man, what’s up with you guys?’ he asked. ‘Somebody hit you with a flash grenade? So, I got good news and bad news from New Rome, but first …’ He scanned our faces. His expression began to crumble. ‘Where’s Jason?’

  47

  In-flight beverages

  Include the tears of a god

  Please have exact change

  Piper broke down. She fell against Leo and sobbed out the story until he, thunderstruck, red-eyed, hugged her back and buried his face in her neck.

  The ground crew gave us space. The Hedges retreated to the Pinto, where the coach clasped Mellie and their baby tight, the way one should always do with family, knowing that tragedy could strike anyone, anytime.

  Meg and I stood by, Jason’s diorama still fluttering in my arms.

  Next to the Cessna, Festus raised his head, made a low, keening sound, then blasted fire into the sky. The ground crew looked a little nervous about that as they hosed down his wings. I supposed private jets didn’t often keen or spew fire from their nostrils, or … have nostrils.

  The air around us seemed to crystallize, forming brittle shards of emotion that would cut us no matter which way we turned.

  Leo looked like he’d been struck repeatedly. (And I knew. I had seen him struck repeatedly.) He brushed the tears from his face. He stared at the cargo hold, then at the diorama in my hands.

  ‘I didn’t … I couldn’t even say goodbye,’ he murmured.

  Piper shook her head. ‘Me neither. It happened so fast. He just –’

  ‘He did what Jason always did,’ Leo said. ‘He saved the day.’

  Piper took a shaky breath. ‘What about you? Your news?’

  ‘My news?’ Leo choked back a sob. ‘After that, who cares about my news?’

  ‘Hey.’ Piper punched his arm. ‘Apollo told me what you were up to. What happened at Camp Jupiter?’

  Leo tapped his fingers on his thighs, as if carrying on two simultaneous conversations in Morse code. ‘We – we stopped this attack. Sort of. There was a lot of damage. That’s the bad news. A lot of good people …’ He glanced again at the cargo hold. ‘Well, Frank is okay. Reyna, Hazel. That’s the good news …’ He shivered. ‘Gods. I can’t even think right now. Is that normal? Like, just forgetting how to think?’

  I could assure him that it was, at least in my experience.

  The captain came down the steps of the plane. ‘Sorry, Miss McLean, but we are queued for departure. If we don’t want to lose our window –’

  ‘Yeah,’ Piper said. ‘Of course. Apollo and Meg, you guys go. I’ll be fine with the coach and Mellie. Leo –’

  ‘Oh, you’re not getting rid of me,’ said Leo. ‘You just earned a bronze dragon escort to Oklahoma.’

  ‘Leo –’

  ‘We’re not arguing about this,’ he insisted. ‘Besides, it’s more or less on the way back to Indianapolis.’

  Piper’s smile was as faint as fog. ‘You’re settling in Indianapolis. Me, in Tahlequah. We’re really going places, huh?’

  Leo turned to us. ‘Go on, you guys. Take … take Jason home. Do right by him. You’ll find Camp Jupiter still there.’

  From the window of the plane, the last I saw of Piper and Leo, Coach and Mellie, they were huddled on the tarmac, plotting their journey east with their bronze dragon and their yellow Pinto.

  Meanwhile, we taxied down the runway in our private jet. We rumbled into the sky – heading for Camp Jupiter and a rendezvous with Reyna, the daughter of Bellona.

  I didn’t know how I would find Tarquin’s tomb, or who the soundless god was supposed to be. I didn’t know how we would stop Caligula from attacking the damaged Roman camp. But none of that bothered me as much as what had happened to us already – so many lives destroyed, a hero’s coffin rattling in the cargo hold, three emperors who were all still alive, ready to wreak more havoc on everyone and everything I cared about.

  I found myself crying.

  It was ridiculous. Gods don’t cry. But, as I looked at Jason’s diorama in the seat next to me, all I could think about was that he would never get to see his carefully labelled plans finished. As I held my ukulele, I could only picture Crest playing his last chord with broken fingers.

  ‘Hey.’ Meg turned in the seat in front of me. Desp
ite her usual cat-eye glasses and preschool-coloured outfit (somehow mended, yet again, by the magic of the ever-patient dryads), Meg sounded more grown-up today. Surer of herself. ‘We’re going to make everything right.’

  I shook my head miserably. ‘What does that even mean? Caligula is heading north. Nero is still out there. We’ve faced three emperors, and defeated none of them. And Python –’

  She bopped me on the nose, much harder than she had Baby Chuck.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Got your attention?’

  ‘I – Yes.’

  ‘Then listen: You will get to the Tiber alive. You will start to jive. That’s what the prophecy said back in Indiana, right? It will make sense once we get there. You’re going to beat the Triumvirate.’

  I blinked. ‘Is that an order?’

  ‘It’s a promise.’

  I wished she hadn’t put it that way. I could almost hear the goddess Styx laughing, her voice echoing from the cold cargo hold where the son of Jupiter now rested in his coffin.

  The thought made me angry. Meg was right. I would defeat the emperors. I would free Delphi from Python’s grasp. I would not allow those who had sacrificed themselves to do so for nothing.

  Perhaps this quest had ended on a suspended fourth chord. We still had much to do.

  But from now on I would be more than Lester. I would be more than an observer.

  I would be Apollo.

  I would remember.

  Guide to Apollo-Speak

  aeithales Ancient Greek for evergreen

  Aeneas a prince of Troy and reputed ancestor of the Romans; the hero of Virgil’s epic the Aeneid

  Alexander the Great a king of the Ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon from 336 to 323 BCE; he united the Greek city-states and conquered Persia

  ambrosia the food of the gods; it gives immortality to whoever consumes it; demigods can eat it in small doses to heal their injuries

  Aphrodite Greek goddess of love and beauty; Roman form: Venus

  arbutus any shrub or tree in the heath family with white or pink flowers and red or orange berries