The Battle of the Labyrinth (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, #4)

by Rick Riordan

“A vampire, you say?” Kelli laughed. “That silly legend was based on us, you fool. We are empousai, servants of Hecate.”

“Yes, well…busy times. Even Dionysus must help out. He’s gone to visit some old friends. Make sure they’re on the right side. I probably shouldn’t say more than that.”

At least I thought that’s what she said, but that made no sense. Grover with a girlfriend? Then I looked at Juniper more closely, and I realized her ears were slightly pointed. Her eyes, instead of being red from crying, were tinged green, the color of chlorophyll. She was a tree nymph—a dryad.

“Lots of bad people above the sea, too,” Tyson said. “We can make them go boom.”

He knew that the next child of the Big Three gods—Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades—who turned sixteen was prophesied to either save or destroy Mount Olympus.

Nico was alive. He was trying to bring his sister back from the dead. And I had a feeling I knew what soul he wanted to exchange—someone who had cheated death. Vengeance. Nico di Angelo would come looking for me.

His voice faltered. I remembered the Sea of Monsters, when he’d been stuck in a Cyclops’s cave.

I had a bad feeling I wasn’t going to see Blackjack for a long time.

I told her about the Iris-message. When I was done, she stared into the shadows of the woods. “He’s summoning the dead? That’s not good.” “The ghost was giving him bad advice,” I said. “Telling him to take revenge.” “Yeah…spirits are never good advisers. They’ve got their own agendas. Old grudges. And they resent the living.”

“He’s going to come after me,” I said. “The spirit mentioned a maze.” She nodded. “That settles it. We have to figure out the Labyrinth.”

“Wait a second,” I said. “What do you mean? What did we find?” Annabeth turned toward me, her eyes dark with worry. “An entrance to the Labyrinth. An invasion route straight into the heart of the camp.”

ANNABETH BREAKS THE RULES

The arena was silent except for Mrs. O’Leary’s toy yak getting disemboweled: SQUEAK! SQUEAK!

Annabeth took a deep breath. “I, ah…well, it said, You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze…” We waited. “The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise.” Grover perked up. “The lost one! That must mean Pan! That’s great!” “With the dead and the traitor,” I added. “Not so great.” “And?” Chiron asked. “What is the rest?” “You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand,” Annabeth said, “the child of Athena’s final stand.”

Annabeth shifted on her bench. “Something about…Destroy with a hero’s final breath

Then she did something that really surprised me. She blinked back tears and put out her arms. I stepped forward and hugged her. Butterflies started turning my stomach into a mosh pit.

“No. Something else. I was thinking the last line usually rhymes with the one before it. Was it something about—did it end in the word death

I left her there, staring at maps that led from nowhere to nowhere; but I couldn’t shake the feeling that one of us wasn’t going to come back from this quest alive.

“Our spies report success, my lord,” he said. “Camp Half-Blood is sending a quest, as you predicted. Our side of the bargain is almost complete.”

The coffin glowed, golden light filling the room. Then make ready the strike force. As soon as the bargain is done, we shall move forward. First, Camp Half-Blood will be reduced to ashes. Once those bothersome heroes are eliminated, we will march on Olympus.

“A presence,” Kelli said. “Your senses are getting dull, Luke. We’re being watched.”

I didn’t know how Kelli could sense me in a dream, but I’d heard more than I wanted to know. An army was ready. Kronos would lead it personally. All they needed was a way to navigate the Labyrinth so they could invade and destroy Camp Half-Blood, and Luke apparently thought that was going to happen very soon.

No voice spoke out of the water this time, asking for a deposit. I got the feeling the fountain was waiting for me to make the first move. I probably should’ve gone back to bed. Instead I thought about what I’d seen last night—the weird image of Nico at the banks of the River Styx. “You’re trying to tell me something,” I said. No response from the fountain. “All right,” I said. “Show me Nico di Angelo.”

I didn’t even throw a coin in, but this time it didn’t matter. It was like some other force had control of the water besides Iris the messenger goddess. The water shimmered. Nico appeared, but he was no longer in the Underworld. He was standing in a graveyard under a starry sky. Giant willow trees loomed all around him.

Nico ignored him. He reached into his Wal-Mart bag and pulled out a twelve-pack of Coke. He popped open a can. Instead of drinking it, he poured it into the grave. “Let the dead taste again,” he murmured. “Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember.”

The grave started to bubble. Frothy brown liquid rose to the top like the whole thing was filling with soda. The fog thickened. The frogs stopped croaking. Dozens of figures began to appear among the gravestones: bluish, vaguely human shapes. Nico had summoned the dead with Coke and cheeseburgers.

“I’ve got it under control,” Nico said, though his voice sounded fragile. He drew his sword—a short blade made of solid black metal. I’d never seen anything like it. It wasn’t celestial bronze or steel. Iron, maybe? The crowd of shades retreated at the sight of it. “One at a time,” Nico commanded. A single figure floated forward and knelt at the pool.

It made slurping sounds as it drank. Its ghostly hands scooped french fries out of the pool. When it stood again, I could see it much more clearly—a teenage guy in Greek armor. He had curly hair and green eyes, a clasp shaped like a seashell on his cloak. “Who are you?” Nico said. “Speak.” The young man frowned as if trying to remember. Then he spoke in a voice like dry, crumpling paper: “I am Theseus.”

“He is coming,” Theseus said fearfully. “He has sensed your summons. He comes.” “Who?” Nico demanded. “He comes to find the source of this power,” Theseus said. “You must release us!”

I sank to the ground, shivering from what I’d seen. Tyson found me there in the morning, still staring at the shattered remains of the saltwater fountain.

“Last night,” I said, “I dreamed about Luke and Kronos.” I told him the details. The news seemed to weigh on his shoulders. “I feared this,” Chiron said. “Against my father, Kronos, we would stand no chance in a fight.”

“I’m Janus,” both faces said in harmony. “God of Doorways. Beginnings. Endings. Choices.”

With a sudden chill, I remembered the words of the prophecy: the child of Athena’s final stand.

“I see,” the lady said. “You know very well your visit is premature. The girl’s time has not yet come. So I give you a choice: leave these heroes to me, or I shall turn you into a door and break you down.”

“I am Hera.” The woman smiled. “Queen of Heaven.”

Hera waved her hand dismissively. “Water under the bridge, my dear. Besides, he was one of my loving husband’s children by another woman. My patience wore thin, I’ll admit it. But Zeus and I have had some excellent marriage counseling sessions since then. We’ve aired our feelings and come to an understanding—especially after that last little incident.”

“One last thing, Annabeth. I have postponed your day of choice. I have not prevented it. Soon, as Janus said, you will have to make a decision. Farewell!”

“What’s she saying?” I muttered. “What’s that language?” “The tongue of the old times.” Tyson shivered. “What Mother Earth spoke to Titans and…her other children. Before the gods.”

“The wax compound should hold for several hours,” Daedalus said nervously as his son worked. “But we must let it set first. And we would do well to avoid flying too high or too low. The sea would wet the wax seals—”

“And the sun’s heat would loosen them,” the boy finished. “Yes, Father. We’ve been through this a million times!” “One cannot be too careful.”

The three-bodied man sighed. “Well you see, Nico— can I call you Nico?” “No.” “You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering very good money for half-bloods. Especially powerful half-bloods. And I’m sure when he learns your little secret, who you really are, he’ll pay very, very well indeed.”

I came up on the back of the amphitheater. Nobody noticed me. They were all looking forward, watching as Annabeth took a long green silk burial cloth, embroidered with a trident, and set it on the flames. They were burning my shroud.

They ran down the corridor, and I woke with a start, staring into the dark. A lone half-blood, wandering in the maze. It was a long time before I got to sleep again.

“I told them you were all right,” my mom said, but she sounded like the weight of the sky had just been lifted off her shoulders—and believe me, I know firsthand how that feels.

MY BROTHER DUELS ME TO THE DEATH

She hissed, which might have been a laugh. “Oh, you’ll sssssee. You’ll get along famousssly. He’ssss your brother, after all.” “My what?” Immediately I thought of Tyson, but that was impossible. What was she talking about?

I felt my pen return to my pocket, but Antaeus wouldn’t know about that. He would think Riptide was still in the dirt behind him. He would think my goal was to get my sword. It wasn’t much of an advantage, but it was all I had.

WE STEAL SOME SLIGHTLY USED WINGS

“You’re impossible,” Annabeth grumbled. She sheathed her dagger and looked at Rachel. “So which way now, Sacagawea?”

“Hey, I’m usually about to die,” I promised. “Don’t feel bad.”