The Mark of Athena hoo-3

by Rick Riordan

  Leo didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help laughing. “Man, I’m not going to attack you.”

  “Fire,” Frank repeated, like that one word explained everything.

  Leo remembered what Hazel had said—that his fire made Frank nervous. He’d seen the discomfort in Frank’s face before, but Leo hadn’t taken it seriously. Frank seemed way more powerful and scary than Leo was.

  Now it occurred to him that Frank might have had a bad experience with fire. Leo’s own mom had died in a machine shop blaze. Leo had been blamed for it. He’d grown up being called a freak, an arsonist, because whenever he got angry, things burned.

  “Sorry I laughed,” he said, and he meant it. “My mom died in a fire. I understand being afraid of it. Did, uh…did something like that happen with you?”

  Frank seemed to be weighing how much to say. “My house…my grandmother’s place. It burned down. But it’s more than that…” He stared at the sea urchins on the floor. “Annabeth said I could trust the crew. Even you.”

  “Even me, huh?” Leo wondered how that had come up in conversation. “Wow, high praise.”

  “My weakness…” Frank started, like the words cut his mouth. “There’s this piece of firewood—”

  The abalone door rolled open.

  Leo turned and found himself face-to-face with Lima Bean Man, who wasn’t actually a man at all. Now that Leo could see him clearly, the guy was by far the weirdest creature he’d ever met, and that was saying a lot.

  From the waist up, he was more or less human—a thin, bare-chested dude with a dagger in his belt and a band of seashells strapped across his chest like a bandolier. His skin was green, his beard scraggly brown, and his longish hair was tied back in a seaweed bandana. A pair of lobster claws stuck up from his head like horns, turning and snapping at random.

  Leo decided he didn’t look so much like Chiron. He looked more like the poster Leo’s mom used to keep in her workspace—that old Mexican bandit Pancho Villa, except with seashells and lobster horns.

  From the waist down, the guy was more complicated. He had the forelegs of a blue-green horse, sort of like a centaur, but toward the back, his horse body morphed into a long fishy tail about ten feet long, with a rainbow-colored, V-shaped tail fin.

  Now Leo understood what Frank meant about fish-horse guys.

  “I am Bythos,” said the green man. “I will interrogate Frank Zhang.”

  His voice was calm and firm, leaving no room for debate.

  “Why did you capture us?” Leo demanded. “Where’s Hazel?”

  Bythos narrowed his eyes. His expression seemed to say: Did this tiny creature just talk to me? “You, Leo Valdez, will go with my brother.”

  “Your brother?”

  Leo realized that a much larger figure was looming behind Bythos, with a shadow so wide, it filled the entire cave entrance.

  “Yes,” Bythos said with a dry smile. “Try not to make Aphros mad.”

  A PHROS LOOKED LIKE HIS BROTHER, except he was blue instead of green and much, much bigger. He had Arnold-as-Terminator abs and arms, and a square, brutish head. A huge Conan-approved sword was strapped across his back. Even his hair was bigger—a massive globe of blue-black frizz so thick that his lobster-claw horns appeared to be drowning as they tried to swim their way to the surface.

  “Is that why they named you Aphros?” Leo asked as they glided down the path from the cave. “Because of the Afro?”

  Aphros scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” Leo said quickly. At least he would never have trouble remembering which fish dude was which. “So what are you guys, exactly?”

  “Ichthyocentaurs,” Aphros said, like it was a question he was tired of answering.

  “Uh, icky what?”

  “Fish centaurs. We are the half brothers of Chiron.”

  “Oh, he’s a friend of mine!”

  Aphros narrowed his eyes. “The one called Hazel told us this, but we will determine the truth. Come.”

  Leo didn’t like the sound of determine the truth. It made him think of torture racks and red-hot pokers.

  He followed the fish centaur through a massive forest of kelp. Leo could’ve darted to one side and gotten lost in the plants pretty easily, but he didn’t try. For one thing, he figured Aphros could travel much faster in the water, and the guy might be able to shut off the magic that let Leo move and breathe. Inside or outside the cave, Leo was just as much a captive.

  Also, Leo had no clue where he was.

  They drifted between rows of kelp as tall as apartment buildings. The green-and-yellow plants swayed weightlessly, like columns of helium balloons. High above, Leo saw a smudge of white that might have been the sun.

  He guessed that meant they’d been here overnight. Was the Argo II all right? Had it sailed on without them, or were their friends still searching?

  Leo couldn’t even be sure how deep they were. Plants could grow here—so not too deep, right? Still, he knew he couldn’t just swim for the surface. He’d heard about people who ascended too quickly and developed nitrogen bubbles in their blood. Leo wanted to avoid carbonated blood.

  They drifted along for maybe half a mile. Leo was tempted to ask where Aphros was taking him, but the big sword strapped to the centaur’s back sort of discouraged conversation.

  Finally the kelp forest opened up. Leo gasped. They were standing (swimming, whatever) at the summit of a high underwater hill. Below them stretched an entire town of Greek-style buildings on the seafloor.

  The roofs were tiled with mother-of-pearl. The gardens were filled with coral and sea anemones. Hippocampi grazed in a field of seaweed. A team of Cyclopes was placing the domed roof on a new temple, using a blue whale as a crane. And swimming through the streets, hanging out in the courtyards, practicing combat with tridents and swords in the arena were dozens of mermen and mermaids—honest-to-goodness fish-people.

  Leo had seen a lot of crazy stuff, but he had always thought merpeople were silly fictional creatures, like Smurfs or Muppets.

  There was nothing silly or cute about these merpeople, though. Even from a distance, they looked fierce and not at all human. Their eyes glowed yellow. They had sharklike teeth and leathery skin in colors ranging from coral red to ink black.

  “It’s a training camp,” Leo realized. He looked at Aphros in awe. “You train heroes, the same way Chiron does?”

  Aphros nodded, a glint of pride in his eyes. “We have trained all the famous mer-heroes! Name a mer-hero, and we have trained him or her!”

  “Oh, sure,” Leo said. “Like…um, the Little Mermaid?”

  Aphros frowned. “Who? No! Like Triton, Glaucus, Weissmuller, and Bill!”

  “Oh.” Leo had no idea who any of those people were. “You trained Bill? Impressive.”

  “Indeed!” Aphros pounded his chest. “I trained Bill myself. A great merman.”

  “You teach combat, I guess.”

  Aphros threw up his hands in exasperation. “Why does everyone assume that?”

  Leo glanced at the massive sword on the fish-guy’s back. “Uh, I don’t know.”

  “I teach music and poetry!” Aphros said. “Life skills! Homemaking! These are important for heroes.”

  “Absolutely.” Leo tried to keep a straight face. “Sewing? Cookie baking?”

  “Yes. I’m glad you understand. Perhaps later, if I don’t have to kill you, I will share my brownie recipe.” Aphros gestured behind him contemptuously. “My brother Bythos—he teaches combat.”

  Leo wasn’t sure whether he felt relieved or insulted that the combat trainer was interrogating Frank, while Leo got the home economics teacher. “So, great. This is Camp…what do you call it? Camp Fish-Blood?”

  Aphros frowned. “I hope that was a joke. This is Camp __________.” He made a sound that was a series of sonar pings and hisses.

  “Silly me,” Leo said. “And, you know, I could really go for some of those brownies! So what do we have to do to get to the not killing me sta
ge?”

  “Tell me your story,” Aphros said.

  Leo hesitated, but not for long. Somehow he sensed that he should tell the truth. He started at the beginning—how Hera had been his babysitter and placed him in the flames; how his mother had died because of Gaea, who had identified Leo as a future enemy. He talked about how he had spent his childhood bouncing around in foster homes, until he and Jason and Piper had been taken to Camp Half-Blood. He explained the Prophecy of Seven, the building of the Argo II, and their quest to reach Greece and defeat the giants before Gaea woke.

  As he talked, Aphros drew some wicked-looking metal spikes from his belt. Leo was afraid he had said something wrong, but Aphros pulled some seaweed yarn from his pouch and started knitting. “Go on,” he urged. “Don’t stop.”

  By the time Leo had explained the eidolons, the problem with the Romans, and all the troubles the Argo II had encountered crossing the United States and embarking from Charleston, Aphros had knitted a complete baby bonnet.

  Leo waited while the fish centaur put away his supplies. Aphros’s lobster-claw horns kept swimming around in his thick hair, and Leo had to resist the urge to try to rescue them.

  “Very well,” Aphros said. “I believe you.”

  “As simple as that?”

  “I am quite good at discerning lies. I hear none from you. Your story also fits with what Hazel Levesque told us.”

  “Is she—?”

  “Of course,” Aphros said. “She’s fine.” He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, which sounded strange underwater—like a dolphin screaming. “My people will bring her here shortly. You must understand…our location is a carefully guarded secret. You and your friends showed up in a warship, pursued by one of Keto’s sea monsters. We did not know whose side you were on.”

  “Is the ship all right?”

  “Damaged,” Aphros said, “but not terribly. The skolopendra withdrew after it got a mouthful of fire. Nice touch.”

  “Thank you. Skolopendra? Never heard of it.”

  “Consider yourself lucky. They are nasty creatures. Keto must really hate you. At any rate, we rescued you and the other two from the creature’s tentacles as it retreated into the deep. Your friends are still above, searching for you; but we have obscured their vision. We had to be sure you were not a threat. Otherwise, we would have had to…take measures.”

  Leo gulped. He was pretty sure taking measures did not mean baking extra brownies. And if these guys were so powerful that they could keep their camp hidden from Percy, who had all those Poseidonish water powers, they were not fish dudes to mess with. “So…we can go?”

  “Soon,” Aphros promised. “I must check with Bythos. When he is done talking with your friend Gank—”

  “Frank.”

  “Frank. When they are done, we will send you back to your ship. And we may have some warnings for you.”

  “Warnings?”

  “Ah.” Aphros pointed. Hazel emerged from the kelp forest, escorted by two vicious-looking mermaids, who were baring their fangs and hissing. Leo thought Hazel might be in danger. Then he saw she was completely at ease, grinning and talking with her escorts, and Leo realized that the mermaids were laughing.

  “Leo!” Hazel paddled toward him. “Isn’t this place amazing?”

  They were left alone at the ridge, which must have meant Aphros really did trust them. While the centaur and the mermaids went off to fetch Frank, Leo and Hazel floated above the hill and gazed down at the underwater camp.

  Hazel told him how the mermaids had warmed up to her right away. Aphros and Bythos had been fascinated by her story, as they had never met a child of Pluto before. On top of that, they had heard many legends about the horse Arion, and they were amazed that Hazel had befriended him.

  Hazel had promised to visit again with Arion. The mermaids had written their phone numbers in waterproof ink on Hazel’s arm so that she could keep in touch. Leo didn’t even want to ask how mermaids got cell-phone coverage in the middle of the Atlantic.

  As Hazel talked, her hair floated around her face in a cloud—like brown earth and gold dust in a miner’s pan. She looked very sure of herself and very beautiful—not at all like the shy, nervous girl in that New Orleans schoolyard with her smashed canvas lunch bag at her feet.

  “We didn’t get to talk,” Leo said. He was reluctant to bring up the subject, but he knew this might be their only chance to be alone. “I mean about Sammy.”

  Her smile faded. “I know…I just need some time to let it sink in. It’s strange to think that you and he…”

  She didn’t need to finish the thought. Leo knew exactly how strange it was.

  “I’m not sure I can explain this to Frank,” she added. “About you and me holding hands.”

  She wouldn’t meet Leo’s eyes. Down in the valley, the Cyclopes work crew cheered as the temple roof was set in place.

  “I talked to him,” Leo said. “I told him I wasn’t trying to…you know. Make trouble between you two.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  Did she sound disappointed? Leo wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  “Frank, um, seemed pretty freaked out when I summoned fire.” Leo explained what had happened in the cave.

  Hazel looked stunned. “Oh, no. That would terrify him.”

  Her hand went to her denim jacket, like she was checking for something in the inside pocket. She always wore that jacket, or some sort of overshirt, even when it was hot outside. Leo had assumed that she did it out of modesty, or because it was better for horseback riding, like a motorcycle jacket. Now he began to wonder.

  His brain shifted into high gear. He remembered what Frank had said about his weakness…a piece of firewood. He thought about why this kid would have a fear of fire, and why Hazel would be so attuned to those feelings. Leo thought about some of the stories he’d heard at Camp Half-Blood. For obvious reasons, he tended to pay attention to legends about fire. Now he remembered one he hadn’t thought about in months.

  “There was an old legend about a hero,” he recalled. “His lifeline was tied to a stick in a fireplace, and when that piece of wood burned up…”

  Hazel’s expression turned dark. Leo knew he’d struck on the truth.

  “Frank has that problem,” he guessed. “And the piece of firewood…” He pointed at Hazel’s jacket. “He gave it to you for safekeeping?”

  “Leo, please don’t…I can’t talk about it.”

  Leo’s instincts as a mechanic kicked in. He started thinking about the properties of wood and the corrosiveness of salt water. “Is the firewood okay in the ocean like this? Does the layer of air around you protect it?”

  “It’s fine,” Hazel said. “The wood didn’t even get wet. Besides, it’s wrapped up in several layers of cloth and plastic and—” She bit her lip in frustration. “And I’m not supposed to talk about it! Leo, the point is if Frank seems afraid of you, or uneasy, you’ve got to understand…”

  Leo was glad he was floating, because he probably would’ve been too dizzy to stand. He imagined being in Frank’s position, his life so fragile, it literally could burn up at any time. He imagined how much trust it would take to give his lifeline—his entire fate—to another person.

  Frank had chosen Hazel, obviously. So when he had seen Leo—a guy who could summon fire at will—moving in on his girl…

  Leo shuddered. No wonder Frank didn’t like him. And suddenly Frank’s ability to turn into a bunch of different animals didn’t seem so awesome—not if it came with a big catch like that.

  Leo thought about his least favorite line in the Prophecy of Seven: To storm or fire the world must fall. For a long time, he’d figured that Jason or Percy stood for storm—maybe both of them together. Leo was the fire guy. Nobody said that, but it was pretty clear. Leo was one of the wild cards. If he did the wrong thing, the world could fall. No…it must fall. Leo wondered if Frank and his firewood had something to do with that line. Leo had already made some epic mistak
es. It would be so easy for him to accidentally send Frank Zhang up in flames.

  “There you are!” Bythos’s voice made Leo flinch.

  Bythos and Aphros floated over with Frank between them, looking pale but okay. Frank studied Hazel and Leo carefully, as if trying to read what they’d been talking about.

  “You are free to go,” Bythos said. He opened his saddlebags and returned their confiscated supplies. Leo had never been so glad to fit his tool belt around his waist.

  “Tell Percy Jackson not to worry,” Aphros said. “We have understood your story about the imprisoned sea creatures in Atlanta. Keto and Phorcys must be stopped. We will send a quest of mer-heroes to defeat them and free their captives. Perhaps Cyrus?”

  “Or Bill,” Bythos offered.

  “Yes! Bill would be perfect,” Aphros agreed. “At any rate, we are grateful that Percy brought this to our attention.”

  “You should talk to him in person,” Leo suggested. “I mean, son of Poseidon, and all.”

  Both fish-centaurs shook their heads solemnly. “Sometimes it is best not to interact with Poseidon’s brood,” Aphros said. “We are friendly with the sea god, of course; but the politics of undersea deities is…complicated. And we value our independence. Nevertheless, tell Percy thank you. We will do what we can to speed you safely across the Atlantic without further interference from Keto’s monsters, but be warned: in the ancient sea, the Mare Nostrum, more dangers await.”

  Frank sighed. “Naturally.”

  Bythos clapped the big guy on the shoulder. “You will be fine, Frank Zhang. Keep practicing those sea life transformations. The koi fish is good, but try for a Portuguese man-of-war. Remember what I showed you. It’s all in the breathing.”

  Frank looked mortally embarrassed. Leo bit his lip, determined not to smile.

  “And you, Hazel,” Aphros said, “come visit again, and bring that horse of yours! I know you are concerned about the time you lost, spending the night in our realm. You are worried about your brother, Nico.…”