by Rick Riordan
Percy fell, crashing through tree branches until he slammed into a snowbank. He groaned, looking up at a massive pine tree he’d just shredded.
He managed to stand. Nothing seemed broken. Frank stood to his left, shooting down the creatures as fast as he could. Hazel was at his back, swinging her sword at any monster that came close, but there were too many swarming around them – at least a dozen.
Percy drew Riptide. He sliced the wing off one monster and sent it spiralling into a tree, then sliced through another that burst into dust. But the defeated ones began to re-form immediately.
‘What are these things?’ he yelled.
‘Gryphons!’ Hazel said. ‘We have to get them away from the train!’
Percy saw what she meant. The train cars had fallen over, and their roofs had shattered. Tourists were stumbling around in shock. Percy didn’t see anybody seriously injured, but the gryphons were swooping towards anything that moved. The only thing keeping them away from the mortals was a glowing grey warrior in camouflage – Frank’s pet spartus.
Percy glanced over and noticed Frank’s spear was gone. ‘Used your last charge?’
‘Yeah.’ Frank shot another gryphon out of the sky. ‘I had to help the mortals. The spear just dissolved.’
Percy nodded. Part of him was relieved. He didn’t like the skeleton warrior. Part of him was disappointed, because that was one less weapon they had at their disposal. But he didn’t fault Frank. Frank had done the right thing.
‘Let’s move the fight!’ Percy said. ‘Away from the tracks!’
They stumbled through the snow, smacking and slicing gryphons that re-formed from dust every time they were killed.
Percy had had no experience with gryphons. He’d always imagined them as huge noble animals, like lions with wings, but these things reminded him more of vicious pack hunters – flying hyenas.
About fifty yards from the tracks, the trees gave way to an open marsh. The ground was so spongy and icy Percy felt like he was racing across Bubble Wrap. Frank was running out of arrows. Hazel was breathing hard. Percy’s own sword swings were getting slower. He realized they were alive only because the gryphons weren’t trying to kill them. The gryphons wanted to pick them up and carry them off somewhere.
Maybe to their nests, Percy thought.
Then he tripped over something in the tall grass – a circle of scrap metal about the size of a tractor tyre. It was a massive bird’s nest – a gryphon’s nest – the bottom littered with old pieces of jewellery, an Imperial gold dagger, a dented centurion’s badge and two pumpkin-sized eggs that looked like real gold.
Percy jumped into the nest. He pressed his sword tip against one of the eggs. ‘Back off, or I break it!’
The gryphons squawked angrily. They buzzed around the nest and snapped their beaks, but they didn’t attack. Hazel and Frank stood back to back with Percy, their weapons ready.
‘Gryphons collect gold,’ Hazel said. ‘They’re crazy for it. Look – more nests over there.’
Frank nocked his last arrow. ‘So, if these are their nests, where were they trying to take Percy? That thing was flying away with him.’
Percy’s arms still throbbed where the gryphon had grabbed him. ‘Alcyoneus,’ he guessed. ‘Maybe they’re working for him. Are these things smart enough to take orders?’
‘I don’t know,’ Hazel said. ‘I never fought them when I lived here. I just read about them at camp.’
‘Weaknesses?’ Frank asked. ‘Please tell me they have weaknesses.’
Hazel scowled. ‘Horses. They hate horses – natural enemies, or something. I wish Arion was here!’
The gryphons shrieked. They swirled around the nest with their red eyes glowing.
‘Guys,’ Frank said nervously, ‘I see legion relics in this nest.’
‘I know,’ Percy said.
‘That means other demigods died here, or -’
‘Frank, it’ll be okay,’ Percy promised.
One of the gryphons dived in. Percy raised his sword, ready to stab the egg. The monster veered off, but the other gryphons were losing their patience. Percy couldn’t keep this stand-off going much longer.
He glanced around the fields, desperately trying to formulate a plan. About a quarter mile away, a Hyperborean giant was sitting in the bog, peacefully picking mud from between his toes with a broken tree trunk.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ Percy said. ‘Hazel – all the gold in these nests. Do you think you can use it to cause a distraction?’
‘I – I guess.’
‘Just give us enough time for a head start. When I say go, run for that giant.’
Frank gaped at him. ‘You want us to run towards a giant?’
‘Trust me,’ Percy said. ‘Ready? Go!’
Hazel thrust her hand upward. From a dozen nests across the marsh, golden objects shot into the air – jewellery, weapons, coins, gold nuggets and, most importantly, gryphon eggs. The monsters shrieked and flew after their eggs, frantic to save them.
Percy and his friends ran. Their feet splashed and crunched through the frozen marsh. Percy poured on speed, but he could hear the gryphons closing behind them, and now the monsters were really angry.
The giant hadn’t noticed the commotion yet. He was inspecting his toes for mud, his face sleepy and peaceful, his white whiskers glistening with ice crystals. Around his neck was a necklace of found objects – garbage cans, car doors, moose antlers, camping equipment, even a toilet. Apparently he’d been cleaning up the wilderness.
Percy hated to disturb him, especially since it meant taking shelter under the giant’s thighs, but they didn’t have much choice.
‘Under!’ he told his friends. ‘Crawl under!’
They scrambled between the massive blue legs and flattened themselves in the mud, crawling as close as they could to his loincloth. Percy tried to breathe through his mouth, but it wasn’t the most pleasant hiding spot.
‘What’s the plan?’ Frank hissed. ‘Get flattened by a blue rump?’
‘Lay low,’ Percy said. ‘Only move if you have to.’
The gryphons arrived in a wave of angry beaks, talons and wings, swarming around the giant, trying to get under his legs.
The giant rumbled in surprise. He shifted. Percy had to roll to avoid getting crushed by his large hairy rear. The Hyperborean grunted, a little more irritated. He swatted at the gryphons, but they squawked in outrage and began pecking at his legs and hands.
‘Ruh?’ the giant bellowed. ‘Ruh!’
He took a deep breath and blew out a wave of cold air. Even under the protection of the giant’s legs, Percy could feel the temperature drop. The gryphons’ shrieking stopped abruptly, replaced by the thunk, thunk, thunk of heavy objects hitting the mud.
‘Come on,’ Percy told his friends. ‘Carefully.’
They squirmed out from under the giant. All around the marsh, trees were glazed with frost. A huge swathe of the bog was covered in fresh snow. Frozen gryphons stuck out of the ground like feathery Popsicle sticks, their wings still spread, beaks open, eyes wide with surprise.
Percy and his friends scrambled away, trying to keep out of the giant’s vision, but the big guy was too busy to notice them. He was trying to figure out how to string a frozen gryphon onto his necklace.
‘Percy …’ Hazel wiped the ice and mud from her face. ‘How did you know the giant could do that?’
‘I almost got hit by Hyperborean breath once,’ he said. ‘We’d better move. The gryphons won’t stay frozen forever.’
XL
Percy
THEY WALKED OVERLAND FOR ABOUT an hour, keeping the train tracks in sight but staying in the cover of the trees as much as possible. Once they heard a helicopter flying in the direction of the train wreck. Twice they heard the screech of gryphons, but they sounded a long way off.
As near as Percy could figure, it was about midnight when the sun finally set. It got cold in the woods. The stars were so thick Percy was tempted to stop and gawk
at them. Then the northern lights cranked up. They reminded Percy of his mom’s gas stovetop back home, when she had the flame on low – waves of ghostly blue flames rippling back and forth.
‘That’s amazing,’ Frank said.
‘Bears,’ Hazel pointed. Sure enough, a couple of brown bears were lumbering in the meadow a few hundred feet away, their coats gleaming in the starlight. ‘They won’t bother us,’ Hazel promised. ‘Just give them a wide berth.’
Percy and Frank didn’t argue.
As they trudged on, Percy thought about all the crazy places he’d seen. None of them had left him speechless like Alaska. He could see why it was a land beyond the gods. Everything here was rough and untamed. There were no rules, no prophecies, no destinies – just the harsh wilderness and a bunch of animals and monsters. Mortals and demigods came here at their own risk.
Percy wondered if this was what Gaia wanted – for the whole world to be like this. He wondered if that would be such a bad thing.
Then he put the thought aside. Gaia wasn’t a gentle goddess. Percy had heard what she planned to do. She wasn’t like the Mother Earth you might read about in a children’s fairy tale. She was vengeful and violent. If she ever woke up fully, she’d destroy human civilization.
After another couple of hours, they stumbled across a tiny village between the railroad tracks and a two-lane road. The city limit sign said: MOOSE PASS. Standing next to the sign was an actual moose. For a second, Percy thought it might be some sort of statue for advertising. Then the animal bounded into the woods.
They passed a couple of houses, a post office and some trailers. Everything was dark and closed up. On the other end of town was a store with a picnic table and an old rusted petrol pump in front.
The store had a hand-painted sign that read: MOOSE PASS GAS.
‘That’s just wrong,’ Frank said.
By silent agreement they collapsed around the picnic table. Percy’s feet felt like blocks of ice – very sore blocks of ice. Hazel put her head in her hands and passed out, snoring. Frank took out his last sodas and some granola bars from the train ride and shared them with Percy.
They ate in silence, watching the stars, until Frank said, ‘Did you mean what you said earlier?’
Percy looked across the table. ‘About what?’
In the starlight, Frank’s face might have been alabaster, like an old Roman statue. ‘About … being proud that we’re related.’
Percy tapped his granola bar on the table. ‘Well, let’s see. You single-handedly took out three basilisks while I was sipping green tea and wheat germ. You held off an army of Laistrygonians so that our plane could take off in Vancouver. You saved my life by shooting down that gryphon. And you gave up the last charge on your magic spear to help some defenceless mortals. You are, hands down, the nicest child of the war god I’ve ever met … maybe the only nice one. So what do you think?’
Frank stared up at the northern lights, still cooking across the stars on low heat. ‘It’s just … I was supposed to be in charge of this quest, the centurion, and all. I feel like you guys have had to carry me.’
‘Not true,’ Percy said.
‘I’m supposed to have these powers I haven’t figured out how to use,’ Frank said bitterly. ‘Now I don’t have a spear, and I’m almost out of arrows. And … I’m scared.’
‘I’d be worried if you weren’t scared,’ Percy said. ‘We’re all scared.’
‘But the Feast of Fortuna is …’ Frank thought about it. ‘It’s after midnight, isn’t it? That means it’s June twenty-fourth now. The feast starts tonight at sundown. We have to find our way to Hubbard Glacier, defeat a giant who is undefeatable in his home territory and get back to Camp Jupiter before they’re overrun – all in less than eighteen hours.’
‘And when we free Thanatos,’ Percy said, ‘he might claim your life. And Hazel’s. Believe me, I’ve been thinking about it.’
Frank gazed at Hazel, still snoring lightly. Her face was buried under a mass of curly brown hair.
‘She’s my best friend,’ Frank said. ‘I lost my mom, my grandmother … I can’t lose her, too.’
Percy thought about his old life – his mom in New York, Camp Half-Blood, Annabeth. He’d lost all of that for eight months. Even now, with the memories coming back … he’d never been this far away from home before. He’d been to the Underworld and back. He’d faced death dozens of times. But sitting at this picnic table, thousands of miles away, beyond the power of Olympus, he’d never been so alone – except for Hazel and Frank.
‘I’m not going to lose either of you,’ he promised. ‘I’m not going to let that happen. And, Frank, you are a leader. Hazel would say the same thing. We need you.’
Frank lowered his head. He seemed lost in thought. Finally he leaned forward until his head bumped the picnic table. He started to snore in harmony with Hazel.
Percy sighed. ‘Another inspiring speech from Jackson,’ he said to himself. ‘Rest up, Frank. Big day ahead.’
At dawn, the store opened up. The owner was a little surprised to find three teenagers crashed out on his picnic table, but when Percy explained that they had stumbled away from last night’s train wreck, the guy felt sorry for them and treated them to breakfast. He called a friend of his, an Inuit native who had a cabin close to Seward. Soon they were rumbling along the road in a beat-up Ford pick-up that had been new about the time Hazel was born.
Hazel and Frank sat in the back. Percy rode up front with the leathery old man, who smelled like smoked salmon. He told Percy stories about Bear and Raven, the Inuit gods, and all Percy could think was that he hoped he didn’t meet them. He had enough enemies already.
The truck broke down a few miles outside Seward. The driver didn’t seem surprised, as though this happened to him several times a day. He said they could wait for him to fix the engine, but since Seward was only a few miles away, they decided to walk it.
By mid-morning, they climbed over a rise in the road and saw a small bay ringed with mountains. The town was a thin crescent on the right-hand shore, with wharves extending into the water and a cruise ship in the harbour.
Percy shuddered. He’d had bad experiences with cruise ships.
‘Seward,’ Hazel said. She didn’t sound happy to see her old home.
They’d already lost a lot of time, and Percy didn’t like how fast the sun was rising. The road curved round the hillside, but it looked like they could get to town faster going straight across the meadows.
Percy stepped off the road. ‘Come on.’
The ground was squishy, but he didn’t think much about it until Hazel shouted, ‘Percy, no!’
His next step went straight through the ground. He sank like a stone until the earth closed over his head – and the earth swallowed him.
XLI
Hazel
‘YOUR BOW!’ HAZEL SHOUTED.
Frank didn’t ask questions. He dropped his pack and slipped the bow off his shoulder.
Hazel’s heart raced. She hadn’t thought about this boggy soil – muskeg – since before she had died. Now, too late, she remembered the dire warnings the locals had given her. Marshy silt and decomposed plants made a surface that looked completely solid, but it was even worse than quicksand. It could be twenty feet deep or more, and impossible to escape.
She tried not to think what would happen if it were deeper than the length of the bow.
‘Hold one end,’ she told Frank. ‘Don’t let go.’
She grabbed the other end, took a deep breath and jumped into the bog. The earth closed over her head.
Instantly, she was frozen in a memory.
Not now! she wanted to scream. Ella said I was done with blackouts!
Oh, but, my dear, said the voice of Gaia, this is not one of your blackouts. This is a gift from me.
Hazel was back in New Orleans. She and her mother sat in the park near their apartment, having a picnic breakfast. She remembered this day. She was seven years old. Her mother had just
sold Hazel’s first precious stone: a small diamond. Neither of them had yet realized Hazel’s curse.
Queen Marie was in an excellent mood. She had bought orange juice for Hazel and champagne for herself, and fritters sprinkled with chocolate and powdered sugar. She’d even bought Hazel a new box of crayons and a pad of paper. They sat together, Queen Marie humming cheerfully while Hazel drew pictures.
The French Quarter woke up around them, ready for Mardi Gras. Jazz bands practised. Floats were being decorated with fresh-cut flowers. Children laughed and chased each other, decked in so many coloured necklaces they could barely walk. The sunrise turned the sky to red gold, and the warm steamy air smelled of magnolias and roses.
It had been the happiest morning of Hazel’s life.
‘You could stay here.’ Her mother smiled, but her eyes were blank white. The voice was Gaia’s.
‘This is fake,’ Hazel said.
She tried to get up, but the soft bed of grass made her lazy and sleepy. The smell of baked bread and melting chocolate was intoxicating. It was the morning of Mardi Gras, and the world seemed full of possibilities. Hazel could almost believe she had a bright future.
‘What is real?’ asked Gaia, speaking through her mother’s face. ‘Is your second life real, Hazel? You’re supposed to be dead. Is it real that you’re sinking into a bog, suffocating?’
‘Let me help my friend!’ Hazel tried to force herself back to reality. She could imagine her hand clenched on the end of the bow, but even that was starting to feel fuzzy. Her grip was loosening. The smell of magnolias and roses was overpowering.
Her mother offered her a fritter.
No, Hazel thought. This isn’t my mother. This is Gaia tricking me.
‘You want your old life back,’ Gaia said. ‘I can give you that. This moment can last for years. You can grow up in New Orleans, and your mother will adore you. You’ll never have to deal with the burden of your curse. You can be with Sammy -’
‘It’s an illusion!’ Hazel said, choking on the sweet scent of flowers.
