CHAPTER TEN

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

When you think "monster island," you think craggy rocks and bones scattered on the beach like the island of the Sirens.

The Cyclops's island was nothing like that. Well—okay—it had a rope bridge across a chasm, which was not a good sign. You might as well put up a billboard that said SOMETHING EVIL LIVES HERE. But except for that, the place looked like a Caribbean postcard. It had green fields and tropical fruit trees and white beaches. As they sailed toward the shore, Annabeth breathed in the sweet air. "The Fleece," she said.

Sylvie nodded. She couldn't see the Fleece yet, but she could feel its power. She could believe it would heal anything, even Thalia's poisoned tree. "If we take it away, will the island die?"

Look, Sylvie was very aware this was a monster's island, but she was still a Demeter kid at heart. She was very worried about the forestry here.

"It'll fade," Annabeth shook her head. "Go back to what it would be normally, whatever that is."

Sylvie felt guilty about ruining this paradise, but she remembered they had no choice. Camp Half-Blood was in trouble. And Tyson... Tyson would still be with them if it wasn't for this quest.

In the meadow at the base of the ravine, several dozen sheep were milling around. Sylvie's breath caught in her throat at the sight of them—she tended to steer clear away from sheep due to that fateful night in August so long ago.

They were huge—the size of hippos. Just past them was a path that led up into the hills. At the top of the path, near the edge of the canyon, was a massive oak tree. Something glittered in its branches.

"This is too easy," Percy said. "We could just hike up there and take it?"

"Don't say it's too easy," scolded Sylvie. "What's wrong with it being easy? For once, let's go with easy."

Annabeth's eyes narrowed. "No, there's supposed to be a guardian. A dragon or..."

That's when a deer emerged from the bushes. It trotted into the meadow, probably looking for grass to eat, when the sheep all bleated at once and rushed the animal. It happened so fast that the deer stumbled and was lost in a sea of wool and trampling hooves.

Grass and tufts of fur flew into the air.

A second later the sheep all moved away, back to their regular peace wanderings. Sylvie gasped, eyes tearing up when there was a pile of clean white bones where the deer had been.

"This is your fault for saying something," she hissed to Percy. Sylvie sounded choked up, the death of innocent animals always being a tear-jerker for her.

Percy's eyes were wide on the scene that just played out before him. "Uh. My bad," he mumbled.

"They're like piranhas," Annabeth said.

"Piranhas with wool," gulped Percy. "How will we—"

"Wait!" Annabeth gasped, grabbing their arms. "Look!"

She pointed down the beach, to just below the sheep meadow, where a small boat had been run aground... the other lifeboat from the CSS Birmingham.

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They decided there was no way they could get past the man-eating sheep—much to Sylvie's demise. Annabeth wanted to sneak up the path invisibly and grab the Fleece, but in the end Sylvie's anxious ramblings convinced her that something would go wrong. The sheep would smell her. Another guardian would appear. Something. And if that happened, she and Percy would be too far away to help.

Besides, their first job was to find Grover and whoever had come ashore in that lifeboat—assuming they'd gotten past the sheep. Sylvie was too nervous to say what she was secretly hoping... that Tyson might still be alive.

They moored the Queen Anne's Revenge on the back side of the island where the cliffs rose straight up a good two hundred feet. The ship was less likely to be seen there.

The cliffs looked climbable, barely—about as difficult as the lava wall back at camp. Surprisingly, Sylvie was a good climber, and it was free of sheep. She just hoped that Polyphemus didn't also keep carnivorous mountain goats.

They rowed a lifeboat to the edge of the rocks and made their way up, very slowly. Annabeth went first because she was the better climber, then—a shocking second best—Sylvie. She'd never been not last in anything before, so to end that losing streak to Percy Jackson was a crazy concept. Apparently the son of Poseidon wasn't too fond of steep cliffs.

They only came close to dying six or seven times, which Sylvie shouldn't have been surprised over. Once, Annabeth's foot kicked a rock down as she pushed up, and it hit Sylvie in the eye so hard she could already feel it bruising. A minute later Sylvie hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was Percy's face.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"S'okay," Percy grunted.

However, their nearest death experience wasn't as funny. Sylvie thought Percy was being humble about his lack of climbing skills—maybe he was just trying to make Sylvie feel better about herself—but he had been telling the truth.

Sylvie heard it before it happened.

They'd all been making struggling grunts as they climbed, so to hear Percy let out the sound didn't raise any suspicion in Sylvie. But then she heard something else: a sharp gasp, rocks crumbling, then—

"SHIT—HELP!"

Sylvie and Annabeth's heads whipped down scarily fast. The rocks had come loose, and so Percy's feet slipped, then his hands lost their grip against the wall. He was falling. Off a cliff.

"PERCY!"

Sylvie didn't even think about it.

Percy was falling, and then he wasn't.

She blinked. When Sylvie opened her eyes next, Percy wasn't falling because she caught him. Her right hand was tightly squeezing his forearm, and vice versa. Sylvie didn't understand how she—weak, frail Sylvie—was carrying his dangling weight, but then she realized she wasn't.

From forestry growing on the cliff, thick vines were wrapping around their shared grip and strengthening Sylvie's hold. Only Percy could see it, but her eyes glowed a pure, leafy green for just a moment.

Sylvie had just saved Percy from a one-way trip to death. A very hard fall.

She pulled her arm in, using the vines to bring Percy back up. When her gloved hand neared the rocky cliff again, the vines started crawling back onto the rock as well. Sylvie willed the greenery to hold Percy against it and give him enough time to grab ahold again.

I just did that, Sylvie thought. She looked just as shocked as Percy had. He was falling, and then he wasn't, and I just did that.

Sylvie was staring down at him, Percy was staring up at her. Neither of them moved, but both of them had the same widened eyes.

"All okay down there?" Annabeth called from above, grateful to see Percy hadn't plummeted to his death.

Sylvie and Percy looked back up to Annabeth.

"Uh?"

"Sure..."

So they kept climbing.

And, finally, when Sylvie's fingers felt like molten lead and her arms were shaking from exhaustion, they hauled themselves over the top of the clip and collapsed.

Percy stared at Sylvie, like he couldn't remember if what happened was a trick of his mind or not. He heaved, "Did you—?"

"Yeah," panted Sylvie, sounding just as shocked.

Then—

"Garrr!"

If Sylvie hadn't been so tired, she would've leaped another two hundred feet. She whirled around, but she couldn't see who'd spoken. Annabeth pointed for her.

The ledge they were sitting on was narrower than she'd realized. It dropped off on the opposite side, and that was where the voice was coming from—right below them.

"You're a feisty one!" the deep voice bellowed.

"Challenge me!" Clarisse's voice, no doubt about it. "Give me back my sword and I'll fight you!"

The monster roared with laughter.

Sylvie, Percy, and Annabeth crept to the edge. They were right above the entrance of the Cyclops's cave. Below them stood Polyphemus and Grover, fashionably rocking a wedding dress. Clarisse was tied up, hanging upside down over a pot of boiling water. Sylvie was half hoping to see Tyson down there, too. Even if he'd been in danger, at least Sylvie would've known he was alive. But there was no sign of him.

"Hmm," Polyphemus pondered. "Eat loudmouth girl now or wait for wedding feast? What does my bride think?"

He turned to Grover, who backed up and almost tripped over his completed bridal train. "Oh, um, I'm not hungry right now, dear. Perhaps—"

"Did you say bride?" Clarisse demanded. "Who—Grover?"

Next to Sylvie, Annabeth muttered, "Shut up. She has to shut the fuck up."

Polyphemus glowered. "What 'Grover'?"

"The satyr!" Clarisse yelled.

"Oh!" Grover yelped. "The poor thing's brain is boiling from that hot water. Pull her down, dear!"

Polyphemus's eyelids narrowed over his baleful milky eye, as if he were trying to see Clarisse more clearly.

The Cyclops was an absolutely horrible sight and he smelled rancid. He was dressed in his wedding outfit—a crude kilt and shoulder-wrap, stitched together from baby-blue tuxedoes, as if he'd skinned an entire wedding party.

"What satyr?" asked Polyphemus. "Satyrs are good eating. You bring me a satyr?"

"No, you big idiot!" bellowed Clarisse. "That satyr! Grover! The one in the wedding dress!"

Sylvie didn't have violent tendencies, but right now, she sort of wanted to tackle Clarisse like that one scene in Lindsay Lohan's Freaky Friday. Polyphemus turned and ripped off Grover's wedding veil—revealing his curly hair, his scruffy adolescent beard, his tiny horns.

Polyphemus breathed heavily, trying to contain his anger. "I don't see very well," he growled. "Not since many years ago when the other hero stabbed me in the eye. But YOU'RE—NO—LADY—CYCLOPS!"

The Cyclops grabbed Grover's dress and tore it away. Underneath, the old Grover reappeared in his jeans and T-shirt. He yelped and ducked as the monster swiped over his head.

"Stop!" Grover pleaded. "Don't eat me raw! I—I have a good recipe!"

Percy reached for his sword, but Sylvie grabbed his arm and hissed, "Wait!"

Polyphemus was hesitating, a boulder in his hand, ready to smash his would-to-be bride.

"Recipe?" he asked Grover.

"Oh y-yes! You don't want to eat me raw. You'll get E coli and botulism and all sorts of horrible things. I'll taste much better grilled over a slow fire. With mango chutney! You could go get some mangos right now, down there in the woods. I'll just wait here."

The monster pondered this. Sylvie's heart hammered against her ribs. She didn't know Grover, but she was certain she couldn't let the monster kill him.

"Grilled satyr with mango chutney," Polyphemus mused. He looked back at Clarisse, still hanging over the pot of boiling water. "You a satyr, too?"

"No, you overgrown pile of dung!" she yelled. "I'm a girl! The daughter of Ares! Now untie me so I can rip your arms off!"

Yep. Definitely Phoenix's sister.

"Rip my arms off," Polyphemus repeated.

"And stuff them down your throat!"

"You got spunk."

"Let me down!"

Polyphemus snatched up Grover as if he were a wayward puppy. "Have to graze sheep now. Wedding postponed until tonight. Then we'll eat satyr for the main course!"

"But... you're still getting married?" Grover sounded hurt. "Who's the bride?"

Polyphemus looked toward the boiling pot.

Clarisse made a strangled sound. "Oh, no! You can't be serious. I'm not—"

Before Sylvie, Percy, or Annabeth (really just Percy and Annabeth) could do anything, Polyphemus plucked her off the rope like she was a ripe apple and tossed her and Grover deep into the cave. "Make yourself comfortable! I come back at sundown for big event!"

Then the Cyclops whistled, and a mixed flock of goats and sheep—smaller than the man-eaters—flooded out of the cave and past their master. As they went to the pasture, Polyphemus patted some on the back and called them by name—Beltbuster, Tammany, Lockhart, etc.

When the last sheep had waddled out, Polyphemus rolled a boulder in front of the doorway as easily as Sylvie would close a refrigerator door, shutting off the sound of Clarisse and Grover screaming inside.

"Mangos," Polyphemus grumbled to himself. "Where are mangos?"

He strolled off down the mountain in his baby-blue groom's outfit, leaving them alone with a pot of boiling water and a six-ton boulder. They tried for what seemed like hours, but it was no good. The boulder wouldn't move. They yelled into the cracks, tapped on the rock, did everything they could think of to get a signal to Grover, but if he heard them, they couldn't tell.

Even if by some miracle they managed to kill Polyphemus, it wouldn't do them any good. Grover and Clarisse would die inside that sealed cave. The only way to move the rock was to have the Cyclops do it.

In total frustration, Percy stabbed Riptide against the boulder. Sparks flew, but nothing else happened. A large rock was not the kind of enemy you can fight with a magic sword.

Sylvie, Percy, and Annabeth sat on the ridge in despair and watched the distant baby-blue shape of the Cyclops as he moved among his flocks. He had wisely divided his regular animals from his man-eating sheep, putting each group on either side of the huge crevice that divided the island. The only way across was the rope bridge, and the planks were much too far apart for sheep hooves.

They watched as Polyphemus visited his carnivorous flock on the far side. Unfortunately, they didn't eat him. In fact, they didn't seem to bother him at all. He fed them chunks of mystery meat from a great wicker basket, which only served as a great example for why Sylvie was vegetarian.

"Trickery," Annabeth decided. "We can't beat him by force, so we'll have to use trickery."

"Okay," said Percy. "What trick?"

"I haven't figured that part out yet."

Sylvie nodded. "Great."

"Polyphemus will have to move the rock to let the sheep inside."

"At sunset," Sylvie said. "Which is when he'll marry Clarisse..."

"...and have Grover for dinner," Percy finished. His nose wrinkled. "I'm not sure which is grosser."

Annabeth said, "I could get inside."

"What about me and Sylvie?" asked Percy. 

"The sheep," Annabeth mused. She gave them sly looks that Sylvie had learned to be wary of. "How much do you like sheep?"

Sylvie felt her heart speed up tenfold at what she was implying.

"Oh, no. No," Sylvie panicked. "No, I really don't like sheep."

Confusedly, Percy pointed out, "You live on a farm."

"So?" Sylvie questioned, even if she fully understood where Percy was coming from. She was just defensive and couldn't tell them her actually grudge against the animal. "They're stupid."

"You're getting on one," Annabeth ordered.

"No way," she shook her head. "I'm not."

She wasn't.

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She was.

"Just don't let go!" Annabeth said, standing invisibly somewhere off to their right. That was easy for her to say. She wasn't hanging upside down from the belly of a sheep.

Now, Sylvie would admit—fear aside, it wasn't as hard as she'd thought. Even the Cyclops's smallest sheep were big enough to support Sylvie's weight, and they had thick wool. She just twirled the stuff into handles—internally wondering if this was how her sheep's coats felt to her mother—for her hands, hooked her feet against the sheep's thigh bones, and presto. Percy did the exact same. He joked that he was a baby wallaby, and Sylvie was not amused. They rode around against the sheep's chests, trying to keep the wool out of their mouths and noses.

The sun was going down.

No sooner were Sylvie and Percy in position than the Cyclops roared, "Oy! Goaties! Sheepies!"

The flock dutifully began trudging back up the slopes toward the cave.

"This is it!" Annabeth whispered. "I'll be close by. Don't worry."

"Do you know who you're talking to?" Sylvie hissed.

Her sheep taxi started plodding up the hill. After a hundred yards, her hands and feet started to hurt from holding on. She wondered if Percy felt the same—she'd lost him long ago as her sheep treaded faster than his. Sylvie gripped the sheep's wool more tightly, and the animal made a grumbling sound. It put Sylvie even more on edge. She really didn't like sheep.

"Bloppen!" the Cyclops said, patting Sylvie's sheep and nearly knocking her to the ground. "Hasenpfeffer! Einstein! Widget—eh there, Widget!"

Polyphemus patted Percy's sheep.

"Putting on some extra mutton there?"

Uh oh, here it comes, Sylvie thought. Percy couldn't be any lighter?

But Polyphemus just laughed and swatted the sheep's rear end, propelling them forward. "Go on, fatty! Soon Polyphemus will eat you for breakfast!"

And just like that, Percy was in the cave with Sylvie.

"Put on some extra mutton, Fishstick?" Sylvie teased.

Percy blushed, grumbled, "Shuddup."

Sylvie could see the last of the sheep coming inside. If Annabeth didn't pull off her distraction soon...

The Cyclops was about to roll the stone back into place, when from somewhere outside Annabeth shouted, "Hello, ugly!"

Polyphemus stiffened. "Who said that?"

"Nobody!" Annabeth yelled.

That got exactly the reaction she'd been hoping for. The monster's face turned red with rage.

"Nobody!" Polyphemus yelled back. "I remember you!"

"You're too stupid to remember anybody," Annabeth taunted. "Much less nobody."

Sylvie hoped to the gods she was already moving when she said that, because Polyphemus bellowed furiously, grabbed the nearest boulder (which happened to be his front door), and threw it toward the sound of Annabeth's voice. Sylvie heard the rock smash into a thousand fragments.

For a terrible moment, there was silence. Then Annabeth shouted, "You haven't learned to throw better, either!"

Polyphemus howled. "Come here! Let me kill you, Nobody!"

"You can't kill Nobody, you stupid oaf," she taunted. "Come find me!"

Polyphemus barreled down the hill toward her voice.

Now, the "Nobody" thing wouldn't have made sense to anybody, but to Sylvie it did. One time—when she was younger, may she remind you—Sylvie had gotten Orpheus confused with Odysseus. A tired Eurydice had to explain to little Sylvie that Odysseus was just the "guy who tricked Polyphemus with the name Nobody before he poked the Cyclops's eye out with a hot stick." Annabeth knew of this, and figured Polyphemus would still have a grudge about that name. She was right. In his frenzy to find his old enemy, he forgot about resealing the cave entrance. Apparently, he didn't even stop to consider that Annabeth's voice was female, whereas the first Nobody had been male. On the other hand, he'd wanted to marry Grover, so he wasn't all that bright about recognizing one being from another.

Sylvie just hoped Annabeth could keep distracting him long enough for Sylvie and Percy to find Grover and Clarisse.

They both dropped off their rides—Sylvie gave Bloppen a parting glare. She and Percy searched the main room, but there was no sign of Grover or Clarisse. They had to push through the crowd of sheep and goats toward the back cave.

Sylvie and Percy had a hard time finding their way through the maze. They ran down corridors littered with bones, past rooms full of sheepskin rugs and life-size cement sheep. Finally, they found the spinning room, where Grover was huddled in the corner, trying to cut Clarisse's bonds with a pair of safety scissors.

"It's no good," Clarisse said. "This rope is like iron!"

"Just a few more minutes!"

"Grover," she cried, exasperated. "You've been working at it for hours!"

And then Clarisse saw them.

"Jackson?" Clarisse said. "Sylvie? You're both supposed to be blown up!"

Percy scowled, "Good to see you, too. Now hold still while I—"

"Perrrrrcy!" Grover bleated and tackled him with a goat-hug. "You heard me! You came!"

Sylvie let them have their reunion. She sent Clarisse a shy smile, because being under the older girl's fiery gaze was honestly terrifying. Still, Sylvie turned her fingerless glove into Halcyon and sliced off Clarisse's ropes. Clarisse rubbed her wrists and nodded approvingly Sylvie's way.

"I'm glad my brother keeps you around," Clarisse said, shocking Sylvie completely. "Thanks."

Sylvie gaped, closed her mouth, gaped again. "Uh... You're welcome—"

She was suddenly being tackled in a hug much similar to Percy's. In shock, Sylvie noted that Grover was the one squeezing her so tight. Goat-hugs were much different than mortal hugs—Sylvie couldn't really breathe, but she was oddly comforted at the same time.

"Hi," Sylvie wheezed awkwardly. "I'm Sylvie."

"I know who you are!" Grover cheered, grinning brightly when he pulled away. "You helped save me!"

Sylvie flushed at the praise, which made Percy snort in amusement. "I don't know how much work I contributed, but, uh... yeah, dude. For sure."

A strange sense of déjà vu overcame Sylvie when she spotted Grover beam at Percy like Can we keep her?

"Look, we've gotta get going," Percy said, but he seemed pleased. "Now, Clarisse, was anyone else on board your lifeboat?"

Clarisse looked surprised. "No. Just me. Everybody else aboard the Birmingham... well, I didn't even know you guys made it out."

Sylvie looked down, trying not to believe that her last hope of seeing Tyson alive had just been crushed.

"Okay," Percy whispered dryly. "Come on, then. We have to help—"

An explosion echoed through the cave, followed by a scream that told Sylvie they might be too late. It was Annabeth crying out in fear.

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BAILEY YAPS...

OKAY DOUBLE DIGIT CHAPTERS!! And flayedcrank nation wahoos

Sylvie trying not to cry over a deer's death. She's just so precious and little. she's just so me.

FELLAS IS IT CASUAL WHEN YOU FELL OFF A CLIFF AND I SAVED YOUR LIFE USING THE POWERS I SWORE I COULD NEVER TAKE CONTROL OF BUT I TOOK CONTROL OF THEM FOR YOU!!

Persylv "Uh?" "Sure..." excellence. Persylv "Did you?" "Yeah" excellence." Persylv "I really don't like sheep" "You live on a farm" excellence. Persylv "Put on some extra mutton, Fishstick?" "Shuddup" excellence. Persylv...

Please go watch that scene in Freaky Friday where she tackles the singing boyfriend it actually makes me pee my pants every time I watch it or think about it Why don't more people speak about this

This might be too soon to say but Blackjack... and Sylvie... aka... Applejack...

Grover and Sylvie bestfriendism, you mean Schmidt and Jess????

Anyways Viabailey nation solos your favs Hi wife