The Heroes of Olympus: The Complete Series

by Rick Riordan

  Dreams and death were old friends of his. He knew how to navigate their dark borderland. He sent out his thoughts, searching for Thalia Grace.

  He rushed past the usual fragments of painful memories – his mother smiling down at him, her face illuminated by the sunlight rippling off the Venetian Grand Canal; his sister Bianca laughing as she pulled him across the Mall in Washington, D.C., her green floppy hat shading her eyes and the splash of freckles across her nose. He saw Percy Jackson on a snowy cliff outside Westover Hall, shielding Nico and Bianca from the manticore as Nico clutched a Mythomagic figurine and whispered, I’m scared. He saw Minos, his old ghostly mentor, leading him through the Labyrinth. Minos’s smile was cold and cruel. Don’t worry, son of Hades. You will have your revenge.

  Nico couldn’t stop the memories. They cluttered his dreams like the ghosts of Asphodel – an aimless, sorrowful mob pleading for attention. Save me, they seemed to whisper. Remember me. Help me. Comfort me.

  He didn’t dare stop to dwell on them. They would only crush him with wants and regrets. The best he could do was to stay focused and push through.

  I am the son of Hades, he thought. I go where I wish. The darkness is my birthright.

  He forged ahead through a grey-and-black terrain, looking for the dreams of Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus. Instead, the ground dissolved at his feet and he fell into a familiar backwater – the Hypnos cabin at Camp Half-Blood.

  Buried under piles of feather comforters, snoring demigods nestled in their bunks. Above the mantel, a dark tree branch dripped milky water from the River Lethe into a bowl. A cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace. In front of it, in a leather armchair, dozed the head counsellor for Cabin Fifteen – a pot-bellied guy with unruly blond hair and a gentle bovine face.

  ‘Clovis,’ Nico growled, ‘for the gods’ sake, stop dreaming so powerfully!’

  Clovis’s eyes fluttered open. He turned and stared at Nico, though Nico knew this was simply part of Clovis’s own dreamscape. The actual Clovis would still be snoring in his armchair back at camp.

  ‘Oh, hi …’ Clovis yawned wide enough to swallow a minor god. ‘Sorry. Did I pull you off course again?’

  Nico gritted his teeth. There was no point getting upset. The Hypnos cabin was like Grand Central Station for dream activity. You couldn’t travel anywhere without going through it once in a while.

  ‘As long as I’m here,’ Nico said, ‘pass along a message. Tell Chiron I’m on my way with a couple of friends. We’re bringing the Athena Parthenos.’

  Clovis rubbed his eyes. ‘So it’s true? How are you bringing it? Did you rent a van or something?’

  Nico explained as concisely as possible. Messages sent through dreams tended to get fuzzy around the edges, especially when you were dealing with Clovis. The simpler, the better.

  ‘We’re being followed by a hunter,’ Nico said. ‘One of Gaia’s giants, I think. Can you get that message to Thalia Grace? You’re better at finding people in dreams than I am. I need her advice.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ Clovis fumbled for a cup of hot chocolate on the side table. ‘Uh, before you go, do you have a second?’

  ‘Clovis, this is a dream,’ Nico reminded him. ‘Time is fluid.’

  Even as he said it, Nico worried about what was happening in the real world. His physical self might be plummeting to his death, or surrounded by monsters. Still, he couldn’t force himself to wake up – not after the amount of energy he’d expended on shadow-travel.

  Clovis nodded. ‘Right … I was thinking you should probably see what happened today at the council of war. I slept through some of it, but –’

  ‘Show me,’ Nico said.

  The scene changed. Nico found himself in the rec room of the Big House, all the senior camp leaders gathered around the ping-pong table.

  At one end sat Chiron the centaur, his equine posterior collapsed into his magic wheelchair so he looked like a regular human. His curly brown hair and beard had more grey streaks than a few months ago. Deep lines etched his face.

  ‘– things we can’t control,’ he was saying. ‘Now let’s review our defences. Where do we stand?’

  Clarisse from the Ares cabin sat forward. She was the only one in full armour, which was typical. Clarisse probably slept in her combat gear. As she spoke, she gestured with her dagger, which made the other counsellors lean away from her.

  ‘Our defensive line is mostly solid,’ she said. ‘The campers are as ready to fight as they’ll ever be. We control the beach. Our triremes are unchallenged on Long Island Sound, but those stupid giant eagles dominate our airspace. Inland, in all three directions, the barbarians have us completely cut off.’

  ‘They’re Romans,’ said Rachel Dare, doodling with a marker on the knee of her jeans. ‘Not barbarians.’

  Clarisse pointed her dagger at Rachel. ‘What about their allies, huh? Did you see that tribe of two-headed men that arrived yesterday? Or the glowing red dog-headed guys with the big poleaxes? They look pretty barbaric to me. It would’ve been nice if you’d foreseen any of that, if your Oracle power didn’t break down when we needed it most!’

  Rachel’s face turned as red as her hair. ‘That’s hardly my fault. Something is wrong with Apollo’s gifts of prophecy. If I knew how to fix it –’

  ‘She’s right.’ Will Solace, head counsellor for the Apollo cabin, put his hand gently on Clarisse’s wrist. Not many campers could’ve done that without getting stabbed, but Will had a way of defusing people’s anger. He got her to lower her dagger. ‘Everyone in our cabin has been affected. It’s not just Rachel.’

  Will’s shaggy blond hair and pale blue eyes reminded Nico of Jason Grace, but the similarities ended there.

  Jason was a fighter. You could tell from the intensity of his stare, his constant alertness, the coiled-up energy in his frame. Will Solace was more like a lanky cat stretched out in the sunshine. His movements were relaxed and nonthreatening, his gaze soft and far away. In his faded SURF BARBADOS T-shirt, his cutoff shorts and flip-flops, he looked about as unaggressive as a demigod could get, but Nico knew he was brave under fire. During the Battle of Manhattan, Nico had seen him in action – the camp’s best combat medic, risking his life to save wounded campers.

  ‘We don’t know what’s going on at Delphi,’ Will continued. ‘My dad hasn’t answered any prayers, or appeared in any dreams … I mean, all the gods have been silent, but this isn’t like Apollo. Something’s wrong.’

  Across the table, Jake Mason grunted. ‘Probably this Roman dirt-wipe who’s leading the attack – Octavian what’s-his-name. If I was Apollo and my descendant was acting that way, I’d go into hiding out of shame.’

  ‘I agree,’ Will said. ‘I wish I was a better archer … I wouldn’t mind shooting my Roman relative off his high horse. Actually, I wish I could use any of my father’s gifts to stop this war.’ He looked down at his own hands with distaste. ‘Unfortunately, I’m just a healer.’

  ‘Your talents are essential,’ Chiron said. ‘I fear we’ll need them soon enough. As for seeing the future … what about the harpy Ella? Has she offered any advice from the Sibylline Books?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘The poor thing is scared out of her wits. Harpies hate being imprisoned. Ever since the Romans surrounded us … well, she feels trapped. She knows Octavian means to capture her. It’s all Tyson and I can do to keep her from flying away.’

  ‘Which would be suicide.’ Butch Walker, son of Iris, crossed his burly arms. ‘With those Roman eagles in the air, flying isn’t safe. I’ve already lost two pegasi.’

  ‘At least Tyson brought some of his Cyclops friends to help out,’ Rachel said. ‘That’s a little good news.’

  Over by the refreshment table, Connor Stoll laughed. He had a fistful of Ritz crackers in one hand and a can of Easy Cheese in the other. ‘A dozen full-grown Cyclopes? That’s a lot of good news! Plus, Lou Ellen and the Hecate kids have been putting up magic barriers, and the whole Hermes cabin has been lining the hills w
ith traps and snares and all kinds of nice surprises for the Romans!’

  Jake Mason frowned. ‘Most of which you stole from Bunker Nine and the Hephaestus cabin.’

  Clarisse grumbled in agreement. ‘They even stole the landmines from around the Ares cabin. How do you steal live landmines?’

  ‘We commandeered them for the war effort.’ Connor sprayed a glob of Easy Cheese into his mouth. ‘Besides, you guys have plenty of toys. You can share!’

  Chiron turned to his left, where the satyr Grover Underwood sat in silence, fingering his reed pipes. ‘Grover? What news from the nature spirits?’

  Grover heaved a sigh. ‘Even on a good day, it’s hard to organize nymphs and dryads. With Gaia stirring, they’re almost as disoriented as the gods. Katie and Miranda from the Demeter cabin are out there right now trying to help, but if the Earth Mother wakes …’ He looked around the table nervously. ‘Well, I can’t promise the woods will be safe. Or the hills. Or the strawberry fields. Or –’

  ‘Great.’ Jake Mason elbowed Clovis, who was starting to nod off. ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘Attack.’ Clarisse pounded the ping-pong table, which made everyone flinch. ‘The Romans are getting more reinforcements by the day. We know they plan to invade on August first. Why should we let them set the timetable? I can only guess they’re waiting to gather more forces. They already outnumber us. We should attack now, before they get any stronger; take the fight to them!’

  Malcolm, the acting head counsellor for Athena, coughed into his fist. ‘Clarisse, I get your point. But have you studied Roman engineering? Their temporary camp is better defended than Camp Half-Blood. Attack them at their base, and we’d be massacred.’

  ‘So we just wait?’ Clarisse demanded. ‘Let them get all their forces prepared while Gaia gets closer to waking? I have Coach Hedge’s pregnant wife under my protection. I am not going to let anything happen to her. I owe Hedge my life. Besides, I’ve been training the campers more than you have, Malcolm. Their morale is low. Everybody is scared. If we’re under siege another nine days –’

  ‘We should stick to Annabeth’s plan.’ Connor Stoll looked about as serious as he ever did, despite the Easy Cheese around his mouth. ‘We have to hold out until she gets that magic Athena statue back here.’

  Clarisse rolled her eyes. ‘You mean if that Roman praetor gets the statue back here. I don’t understand what Annabeth was thinking, collaborating with the enemy. Even if the Roman manages to bring us the statue – which is impossible – we’re supposed to trust that will bring peace? The statue arrives and suddenly the Romans lay down their weapons and start dancing around, throwing flowers?’

  Rachel set down her marker pen. ‘Annabeth knows what she’s doing. We have to try for peace. Unless we can unite the Greeks and Romans, the gods won’t be healed. Unless the gods are healed, there’s no way we can kill the giants. And unless we kill the giants –’

  ‘Gaia wakes,’ Connor said. ‘Game over. Look, Clarisse, Annabeth sent me a message from Tartarus. From fricking Tartarus. Anybody who can do that … hey, I listen to them.’

  Clarisse opened her mouth to reply, but when she spoke it was Coach Hedge’s voice: ‘Nico, wake up. We’ve got problems.’

  XIV

  Nico

  Nico sat up so quickly he head-butted the satyr in the nose.

  ‘OW! Jeez, kid, you got a hard noggin!’

  ‘S-sorry, Coach.’ Nico blinked, trying to get his bearings. ‘What’s going on?’

  He didn’t see any immediate threat. They were camped on a sunny lawn in the middle of a public square. Beds of orange marigolds bloomed all around them. Reyna was sleeping curled up, with her two metal dogs at her feet. A stone’s throw away, little kids played tag around a white marble fountain. At a nearby pavement café, half a dozen people sipped coffee in the shade of patio umbrellas. A few delivery vans were parked along the edges of the square, but there was no traffic. The only pedestrians were a few families, probably locals, enjoying a warm afternoon.

  The square itself was paved with cobblestones, edged with white stucco buildings and lemon trees. In the centre stood the well-preserved shell of a Roman temple. Its square base stretched maybe fifty feet wide and ten feet tall, with an intact facade of Corinthian columns rising another twenty-five feet. And at the top of the colonnade …

  Nico’s mouth went dry. ‘Oh, Styx.’

  The Athena Parthenos lay sideways along the tops of the columns like a nightclub singer sprawled across a piano. Lengthwise, she fitted almost perfectly, but with Nike in her extended hand she was a bit too wide. She looked like she might topple forward at any moment.

  ‘What is she doing up there?’ Nico asked.

  ‘You tell me.’ Hedge rubbed his bruised nose. ‘That’s where we appeared. Almost fell to our deaths, but luckily I’ve got nimble hooves. You were unconscious, hanging in your harness like a tangled paratrooper until we managed to get you down.’

  Nico tried to picture that, then decided he’d rather not. ‘Is this Spain?’

  ‘Portugal,’ Hedge said. ‘You overshot. By the way, Reyna speaks Spanish; she does not speak Portuguese. Anyway, while you were asleep, we figured out this city is Évora. Good news: it’s a sleepy little place. Nobody’s bothered us. Nobody seems to notice the giant Athena sleeping on top of the Roman temple, which is called the Temple of Diana, in case you were wondering. And people here appreciate my street performances! I’ve made about sixteen euros.’

  He picked up his baseball cap, which jangled with coins.

  Nico felt ill. ‘Street performances?’

  ‘A little singing,’ the coach said. ‘A little martial arts. Some interpretive dance.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘I know! The Portuguese have taste. Anyway, I supposed this was a decent place to lie low for a couple of days.’

  Nico stared at him. ‘A couple of days?’

  ‘Hey, kid, we didn’t have much choice. In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been working yourself to death with all that shadow-jumping. We tried to wake you up last night. No dice.’

  ‘So I’ve been asleep for –’

  ‘About thirty-six hours. You needed it.’

  Nico was glad he was sitting down. Otherwise he would’ve fallen down. He could’ve sworn he’d only slept a few minutes, but as his drowsiness faded he realized he felt more clear-headed and rested than he had in weeks, maybe since before he went looking for the Doors of Death.

  His stomach growled. Coach Hedge raised his eyebrows.

  ‘You must be hungry,’ said the satyr. ‘Either that, or your stomach speaks hedgehog. That was quite a statement in hedgehog.’

  ‘Food would be good,’ Nico agreed. ‘But first, what’s the bad news … I mean, aside from the statue being sideways? You said we had trouble.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ The coach pointed to a gated archway at the corner of the square. Standing in the shadows was a glowing, vaguely human figure outlined in grey flames. The spirit’s features were indistinct, but it seemed to be beckoning to Nico.

  ‘Burning Man showed up a few minutes ago,’ said Coach Hedge. ‘He doesn’t get any closer. When I tried to go over there, he disappeared. Not sure if he’s a threat, but he seems to be asking for you.’

  Nico assumed it was a trap. Most things were.

  But Coach Hedge promised he could guard Reyna for a little longer and, on the off chance the spirit had something useful to say, Nico decided it was worth the risk.

  He unsheathed his Stygian iron blade and approached the archway.

  Normally ghosts didn’t scare him. (Assuming, of course, Gaia hadn’t encased them in shells of stone and turned them into killing machines. That had been a new one for him.)

  After his experience with Minos, Nico realized that most spectres held only as much power as you allowed them to have. They pried into your mind, using fear or anger or longing to influence you. Nico had learned to shield himself. Sometimes he could even turn the tables and bend ghosts to
his will.

  As he approached the fiery grey apparition, he was fairly sure it was a garden-variety wraith – a lost soul who had died in pain. Shouldn’t be a problem.

  Still, Nico took nothing for granted. He remembered Croatia all too well. He’d gone into that situation smug and confident, only to have his feet swept out from under him, literally and emotionally. First Jason Grace had grabbed him and flown him over a wall. Then the god Favonius had dissolved him into wind. And as for that arrogant thug, Cupid …

  Nico clenched his sword. Sharing his secret crush hadn’t been the worst of it. Eventually he might have done that, in his own time, in his own way. But being forced to talk about Percy, being bullied and harassed and strong-armed simply for Cupid’s amusement …

  Tendrils of darkness were now spreading out from his feet, killing all the weeds between the cobblestones. Nico tried to rein in his anger.

  When he reached the ghost, he saw it wore a monk’s habit – sandals, woollen robes and a wooden cross around his neck. Grey flames swirled around him – burning his sleeves, blistering his face, turning his eyebrows to ashes. He seemed to be stuck in the moment of his immolation, like a black-and-white video on a permanent loop.

  ‘You were burned alive,’ Nico sensed. ‘Probably in the Middle Ages?’

  The ghost’s face distorted in a silent scream of agony, but his eyes looked bored, even a little annoyed, as if the scream was just an automatic reflex he couldn’t control.

  ‘What do you want of me?’ Nico asked.

  The ghost gestured for Nico to follow. It turned and walked through the open gateway. Nico glanced back at Coach Hedge. The satyr just made a shooing gesture like, Go. Do your Underworld thing.

  Nico trailed the ghost through the streets of Évora.

  They zigzagged through narrow cobblestone walkways, past courtyards with potted hibiscus trees and white stucco buildings with butterscotch trim and wrought-iron balconies. No one noticed the ghost, but the locals looked askance at Nico. A young girl with a fox terrier crossed the street to avoid him. Her dog growled, the hair on its back standing straight up like a dorsal fin.