S T A R   W A R S

C H A P T E R   N I N E

( golden gorgon )

⟶⭑🌣⭑⟵

          PERCY WAS NOT feeling the love.

Bad enough he'd been run out of Atlanta by evil sea gods. Then he had failed to stop a giant shrimp attack on the Argo II. Then the ichythyocentaurs, Chiron's brothers, hadn't even wanted to meet him.

After all that, they had arrived at the Pillars of Hercules and Percy had to stay aboard ship while Jason the Big Shot visited his half brother. Hercules, the most famous demigod of all time, and Percy didn't get to meet him either.

Okay, sure, from what Piper said afterward and from Aurora's own stories, Hercules was a jerk, but still . . . Percy was getting kind of tired of staying aboard ship and pacing the deck.

The open sea was supposed to be his territory. Percy was supposed to step up, take charge, and keep everybody safe. Instead, all the way across the Atlantic, he'd done pretty much nothing except make small talk with sharks and listen to Coach Hedge sing TV theme songs.

To make matters worse, Aurora had been a bit distant ever since they'd left Charleston for the open ocean. She would spend time with him, but it was like her head was somewhere else. Anytime he tried to have a conversation with her, especially during a time when her head was full to the brim, it would go a little something like this:

Percy: "Hey, are you okay?"

Aurora: "Wow, sounds cool."

Percy: "Okay . . . how have you been sleeping? Any nightmares recently?"

Aurora: "I completely agree with you."

Percy: "So, my hair is on fire."

Aurora: "Maybe later . . . WAIT, WHAT?"

At least she was easier to snap out of this state than Annabeth was. Poor Sarah was having a harder time trying to get Annabeth to eat or even leave her cabin these days. Annabeth spent more time in her cabin, looking over that map, than she spent in her cabin sleeping. But Sarah told him that she had it handled, so Percy allowed himself to pass his worries onto her and focus on his girlfriend.

He knew the reason why Aurora was being so distant and short with him sometimes. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. They were so close to Rome—her birthplace, the place her sister had died—and she was going through so much. But that was one of the challenges that came with dating a Roman legionnaire. Percy had learned from Lupa herself that emotions, if shown too much, could be dangerous. And Aurora was really taking that lesson to heart.

Usually, Aurora was an open book. She would tell you how she was feeling, whether it be happiness, sadness, anger, or confusion. Percy never had a problem figuring out how she felt because she was always honest with him. But with Rome nearing and the dangers of the prophecy coming true . . . Aurora was beginning to build up emotional walls. And Percy worried that once those walls were built, he'd never be able to bring them down.

After leaving the Pillars of Hercules—unscathed except for a few coconuts lodged in the hull's bronze plating—the ship traveled by air for a few hundred miles.

Percy hoped the ancient lands wouldn't be as bad as they'd heard. If Aurora could grow up there as a demigod, then they couldn't be all that terrible, right? But it was almost like a commercial: You'll notice the difference immediately!

Several times an hour, something attacked the ship. A flock of flesh-eating Stymphalian birds swooped out of the night sky, and Festus torched them. Storm spirits swirled around the mast, and Jason blasted them with lightning. While Coach Hedge was having dinner on the foredeck, a wild pegasus appeared from nowhere, stampeded over the coach's enchiladas, and flew off again, leaving cheesy hoof prints all across the deck.

"What was that for?" the coach demanded.

The sight of the pegasus made Percy wish Blackjack were here. He hadn't seen his friend in days. Tempest and Arion also hadn't shown themselves. Maybe they didn't want to venture into the Mediterranean. If so, Percy couldn't blame them. 

Finally around midnight, after the ninth or tenth aerial attack, Jason turned to him. "How about you get some sleep? I'll keep blasting stuff out of the sky as long as I can. Then we can go by sea for a while, and you can take point."

Percy wasn't sure that he'd be able to sleep with the boat rocking through the clouds as it was shaken by angry wind spirits, but Jason's idea made sense. He went belowdecks and crashed on his bunk.

His nightmares, of course, were anything but restful.

He dreamed he was in a dark cavern. He could only see a few feet in front of him, but the space must have been vast. Water dripped from somewhere nearby, and the sound echoed off distant walls. The way the air moved made Percy suspect the cave's ceiling was far, far above.

He heard heavy footsteps, and the twin giants Ephialtes and Otis shuffled out of the gloom. Percy could distinguish them only by their hair—Ephialtes had the green locks braided with silver and gold coins; Otis had the purple ponytail braided with . . . were those firecrackers?

Otherwise they were dressed identically, and their outfits definitely belonged in a nightmare. They wore matching white slacks and gold buccaneer shirts with V-necks that showed way too much chest hair. A dozen sheathed daggers lined their rhinestone belts. Their shoes were open-toed sandals, proving that—yes, indeed—they had snakes for feet. The straps wrapped around the serpents' necks. Their heads curled up where the toes should be. The snakes flicked their tongues excitedly and turned their gold eyes in every direction, like dogs looking out the window of a car. Maybe it had been a long time since they'd had shoes with a view. Percy made a mental note not to let Aurora see their feet.

The giants stood in front of Percy, but they paid him no attention. Instead, they gazed up into the darkness.

"We're here," Ephialtes announced. Despite his booming voice, his words dissipated in the cavern, echoing until they sounded small and insignificant.

Far above, something answered, "Yes. I can see that. Those outfits are hard to miss."

The voice made Percy's stomach drop about six inches. It sounded vaguely female, but not at all human. Each word was a garbled hiss in multiple tones, as if a swarm of African killer bees had learned to speak English in unison.

It wasn't Gaea. Percy was sure of that. But whatever it was, the twin giants became nervous. They shifted on their snakes and bobbed their heads respectfully.

"Of course, Your Ladyship," Ephialtes said. "We bring news of—"

"Why are you dressed like that?" asked the thing in the dark. She didn't seem to be coming any closer, which was fine with Percy.

Ephialtes shot his brother an irritated look. "My brother was supposed to wear something different. Unfortunately—"

"You said I was the knife thrower today," Otis protested.

"I said I was the knife thrower! You were supposed to be the magician! Ah, forgive me, Your Ladyship. You don't want to hear us arguing. We came as you requested, to bring you news. The ship is approaching."

Her Ladyship, whatever she was, made a series of violent hisses like a tire being slashed repeatedly. With a shudder, Percy realized she was laughing.

"How long?" she asked.

"They should land in Rome shortly after daybreak, I think," Ephialtes said. "Of course, they'll have to get past the golden boy."

He sneered, as if the golden boy was not his favorite person.

"I hope they arrive safely," Her Ladyship said. "It would spoil our fun to have them captured too soon. Are your preparations made?"

"Yes, Your Ladyship." Otis stepped forward, and the cavern trembled. A crack appeared under Otis's left snake.

"Careful, you dolt!" Her Ladyship snarled. "Do you want to return to Tartarus the hard way?"

Otis scrambled back, his face slack with terror. Percy realized that the floor, which looked like solid stone, was more like the glacier he'd walked on in Alaska—in some places solid, in other places . . . not so much. He was glad he weighed nothing in his dreams.

"There is little left holding this place together," Her Ladyship cautioned. "Except, of course, my own skill. Centuries of Athena's rage can only be contained so well, and the great Earth Mother churns below us in her sleep. Between those two forces, well . . . my nest has quite eroded. We must hope this child of Athena proves to be a worthy victim. She may be my last plaything."

Esphialtes gulped. He kept his eyes on the crack in the floor. "Soon it will not matter, Your Ladyship. Gaea will rise, and we all will be rewarded. You will no longer have to guard this place, or keep your works hidden."

"Perhaps," said the voice in the dark. "But I will miss the sweetness of my revenge. We have worked well together over the centuries, have we not?"

The twins bowed. The coins glittered in Ephialtes hair, and Percy realized with nauseating certainty that some of them were silver drachma, exactly like the one Annabeth had gotten from her mom.

Annabeth had told them that in each generation, a few children of Athena were sent on the quest to recover the missing Parthenon statue. None had ever succeeded.

We have worked well together over the centuries . . .

The giant Ephialtes had centuries' worth of coins in his braids—hundreds of trophies. Percy pictured Annabeth standing in this dark place alone. He imagined the giant taking that coin she carried and adding it to his collection. Percy wanted to draw his sword and give the giant a haircut starting at the neck, but he was powerless to act. He could only watch.

"Uh, Your Ladyship," Ephialtes said nervously. "I would remind you that Gaea wishes the girl to be taken alive. You can torment her. Drive her insane. Whatever you wish, of course. But her blood must be spilt on the ancient stones."

Her Ladyship hissed. "Others could be used for that purpose."

"Y-yes," Ephialtes said. "And Gaea has her preferences, but she wishes that this girl be kept alive in case the other does not make it through her birthplace." Aurora! "And the boy—the son of Poseidon. You can see why those two would be most suited for the task."

Percy wasn't sure what that meant, but he wanted to crack the floor and send these stupid gold-shirted twins down to oblivion. He'd never let Gaea spill his blood for any task—and there was no way he'd let anyone hurt Aurora. Especially after what happened in Charleston.

"We will see," Her Ladyship grumbled. "Leave me now. Tend to your own preparations. You will have your spectacle. And I . . . I will work in darkness."

The dream dissolved, and Percy woke with a start.

Jason was knocking at his open doorway.

"We've set down in the water," he said, looking utterly exhausted. "Your turn."

⟶⭑🌣⭑⟵

Percy debated waking Annabeth up for a few minutes. Recently, Sarah had been handing out death threats to anyone who tried to interrupt Annabeth's sleeping, so Percy momentarily thought of waking Aurora up and filling her in on this specific dream. Maybe she'd know who this Your Ladyship was and actually tell him, as opposed to Annabeth, who would deal with it herself. But, he ended up waking the blonde up.

They stood on deck, alone except for Leo, who was still manning the helm. The guy must have been shattered, but he refused to go to sleep.

"I don't want anymore Shrimpzilla surprises," he insisted.

They'd all tried to convince Leo that the skolopendra attack hadn't been his fault, but he wouldn't listen. Percy knew how he felt. Not forgiving himself for mistakes was on of Percy's biggest talents. Like how he'd nearly failed to protect Aurora back in Charleston. There had been this darkness that had come out when seeing her in danger, something inside him urging him to kill all the Romans for harming her and threatening her, but he'd pushed it aside. He wasn't like that.

It was about four in the morning. The weather was miserable. The fog was so thick, Percy couldn't see Festus at the end of the prow, and warm drizzle hung in the air like a bead curtain. As they sailed into twenty-foot swells, the sea heaving underneath them, Percy could hear poor Hazel down in her cabin . . . also heaving.

Despite all that, Percy was grateful to be back on the water. He preferred it to flying through storm clouds and being attacked by man-eating birds and enchilada-trampling pegasi.

He stood with Annabeth at the forward rail while he told her about his dream.

Percy wasn't sure how she'd take the news. Her reaction was even more troubling than he anticipated: she didn't seem surprised.

She peered into the fog. "Percy, you have to promise me something. Don't tell the others about this dream."

"Don't what? Annabeth—"

"What you saw was about the Mark of Athena," she said. "It won't help the others to know. It'll only make them worry, and it'll make it harder for me to go off on my own."

"Annabeth, you can't be serious. That thing in the dark, the big chamber with the crumbling floor—"

"I know." Her face looked unnaturally pale, and Percy suspected it wasn't just the fog. "But I have to do this alone."

Percy swallowed back his anger. He wasn't sure if he was mad at Annabeth, or his dream, or the entire Greek/Roman world that had endured and shaped human history for five thousand years with one goal in mind: to make Percy Jackson's life suck as much as possible.

"You know what's in that cavern," he guessed. "Does it have to do with spiders?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice.

"Then how can you even . . . ?" He made himself stop.

Once Annabeth had made up her mind, arguing with her wouldn't do any good. He remembered the night three and a half years ago with they'd saved Nico and Bianca di Angelo in Maine. Annabeth had been captured by the Titan Atlas. For a while, Percy wasn't sure if she was alive or dead. He'd traveled across the country to save her from the Titan with Sarah, who'd been a wreck. It had been the hardest few days of his life—not just the monsters and the fighting, but the worry for his best friend.

How could he intentionally let her go now, knowing she was heading into something even more dangerous?

Then it dawned on him: the way he had felt back then, for a few days, was probably how Annabeth had felt for the six months he had been missing with amnesia.

That made him feel guilty, and a little bit selfish, to be standing here arguing with her. She had to go on this quest. The fate of the world might depend on it. But part of him wanted to say: Forget the world. He didn't want to lose his best friend.

Percy stared into the fog. He couldn't see anything around them, but he had perfect bearings at sea. He knew their exact latitude and longitude. He knew the depth of the ocean and which way the currents were flowing. He knew the ship's speed, and could sense no rocks, sandbars, or other natural dangers in their path. Still, being blind was unsettling.

They hadn't been attacked since they had touched the water, but the sea seemed different. Percy had been in the Atlantic, the Pacific, even the Gulf of Alaska, but this sea felt more ancient and powerful. Percy could sense its layers swirling below him. Every Greek or Roman hero had sailed these waters—from Hercules to Aeneas. Monsters still dwelt in the depths, so deeply wrapped in the Mist that they slept most of the time; but Percy could feel them stirring, responding to the Celestial bronze hull of a Greek trireme and the presence of demigod blood.

They are back, the monsters seemed to say. Finally, fresh blood.

"We're not far from the Italian coast," Percy said, mostly to break the silence. Worry for Aurora spiked in his chest. What was she thinking right now? "Maybe a hundred nautical miles to the mouth of the Tiber."

"Good," Annabeth said. "By daybreak, we should—"

"Stop." Percy's skin felt washed with ice. "We have to stop."

"Why?" Annabeth asked.

"Leo, stop!" he yelled.

Too late. The other boat appeared out of the fog and rammed them head-on. In that split second, Percy registered random details: another trireme; black sails painted with a gorgon's head; hulking warriors, not quite human, crowded at the front of the boat in Greek armor, swords and spears ready; and a bronze ram at water level, slamming against the hull of the Argo II.

Annabeth and Percy were almost thrown overboard.

Festus blew fire, sending a dozen very surprised warriors screaming and diving into the sea, but more swarmed aboard the Argo II. Grappling lines wrapped around the rails and the mast, digging iron claws into the hull's planks.

By the time Percy had recovered his wits, the enemy was everywhere. He couldn't see well through the fog and the dark, but the invaders seemed to be humanlike dolphins, or dolphinlike humans. Some had gray snouts. Others had their swords in stunted flippers. Some waddled on legs partially fused together, while others had flippers for feet, which reminded Percy of clown shoes.

Leo sounded the alarm bell. He made a dash for the nearest ballista but went down under a pile of chattering dolphin warriors.

Annabeth and Percy stood back-to-back, as they'd done many times before, their weapons drawn. Percy tried to summon the waves, hoping he could push the ships apart or even capsize the enemy vessel, but nothing happened. It almost felt like something was pushing against his will, wrestling the sea from his control.

He raised Riptide, ready to fight, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. Several dozen warriors lowered their spears and made a ring around them, wisely keeping out of striking distance of Percy's sword. The dolphin-men opened their snouts and made whistling, popping noises. Percy had never considered just how vicious dolphin teeth looked.

He tried to think. Maybe he could break out of the circle and destroy a few invaders, but not without the others skewering him and Annabeth.

At least the warriors didn't seem interested in killing them immediately. They kept Percy and Annabeth contained while more of their comrades flooded belowdecks and secured the hull. Percy's fear rose as he heard them breaking down the cabin doors, worry for his friends and Aurora growing inside his chest. Even if the other demigods hadn't been fast asleep, they wouldn't have stood a chance against so many. 

Leo was dragged across the deck, half-conscious and groaning, and dumped on a pile of ropes. Below, the sounds of fighting tapered off. Either the others had been subdued, or . . . or Percy refused to think about it.

On one side of the ring of spears, the dolphin warriors parted to let someone through. He appeared to be fully human, but from the way the dolphins fell back before him, he was clearly the leader. He was dressed in Greek combat armor—sandals, kilt, and greaves, a breastplate decorated with elaborate sea monster designs—and everything he wore was gold. Even his sword, a Greek blade like Riptide, was gold instead of bronze.

The golden boy, Percy thought, remembering his dream. They'll have to get past the golden boy.

What really made Percy nervous was the guy's helmet. His visor was a full face mask fashioned like a gorgon's head—curved tusks, horrible features pinched into a snarl, and golden snake hair curling around the face. Percy had met gorgons before. The likeness was good—a little too good for his taste.

Annabeth turned so she was shoulder to shoulder with Percy. He wanted to put his arm around her protectively for Sarah's sake—the daughter of Ares would kill him if Annabeth got hurt while he was there—but he knew she wouldn't appreciate the gesture. And he thought it was best to not give this golden guy any indication that Annabeth was important to him. No sense giving the enemy more leverage than they already had.

"Who are you?" Percy demanded. "What do you want?"

The golden warrior chuckled. With a flick of his blade, faster than Percy could follow, he smacked Riptide out of Percy's hand and sent it flying into the sea.

He might as well have thrown Percy's lungs into the sea, because suddenly Percy couldn't breathe. He'd never been disarmed so easily.

"Hello, brother." The golden warrior's voice was rich and velvety, with an exotic accent—Middle Eastern, maybe—that seemed vaguely familiar. "Always happy to rob a fellow son of Poseidon. I am Chrysaor, the Golden Sword. As for what I want . . ." He surveyed the deck and Percy feared what he was searching for. "Well, that's easy. I want everything you have."

Percy's heart did jumping jacks while Chrysaor walked back and forth, inspecting them like prized cattle. A dozen of his dolphin-man warriors stayed in a ring around them, spears leveled at Percy's chest, while dozens more ransacked the ship, banging and crashing around belowdecks. One carried a box of ambrosia up the stairs. Another carried an armful of ballista bolts and a crate of Greek fire.

"Careful with that!" Annabeth warned. "It'll blow up both our ships."

"Ha!" Chrysaor said. "We know all about Greek fire, girl. Don't worry, we've been looting and pillaging ships on the Mare Nostrum for eons."

"Your accent sounds familiar," Percy said. "Have we met?"

"I haven't had the pleasure." Chrysaor's golden gorgon mask snarled at him, though it was impossible to tell what his real expression might be underneath. "But I've heard all about you, Percy Jackson. Oh, yes, the young man who saved Olympus. And his faithful sidekicks, Annabeth Chase and Sarah Chang."

"I'm nobody's sidekick," Annabeth growled. "And neither is Sarah. And, Percy, his accent sounds familiar because he sounds like his mother. We killed her in New Jersey."

Percy frowned. "I'm pretty sure that accent isn't New Jersey. Who's his—? Oh."

It all fell into place. Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium—the lair of Medusa. She'd talked with that same accent, at least until Percy had cut off her head.

"Medusa is your mom?" he asked. "Dude, that sucks for you."

Judging from the sound in Chrysaor's throat, he was now snarling under the mask, too.

"You are as arrogant as the first Perseus," Chrysaor said. "But, yes, Percy Jackson. Poseidon was my father. Medusa was my mother. After Medusa was changed into a monster by that so-called goddess of wisdom . . ." The golden mask turned on Annabeth. "That would be your mother, I believe . . . Medusa's two children were trapped inside her, unable to be born. When the original Perseus cut off Medusa's head—"

"Two children sprang out," Annabeth remembered. "Pegasus and you."

Percy blinked. "So your brother is a winged horse. But you're also my half brother, which means all flying horses in the world are my . . . You know what? Let's forget it."

He'd learned years ago it was better not to dwell too much on who was related to whom on the godly side of things. After Tyson the Cyclops adopted him as a brother, Percy decided that that was about as far as he wanted to extend the family.

"But if you're Medusa's kid," he said, "why haven't I ever heard of you?"

Chrysaor sighed in exasperation. "When your brother is Pegasus, you get used to being forgotten. Oh, look, a winged horse! Does anyone care about me? No!" He raised the tip of his blade to Percy's eyes. "But don't underestimate me. My name means Golden Sword for a reason."

"Imperial gold?" Percy guessed.

"Bah! Enchanted gold, yes. Later on, the Romans called it Imperial gold, but I was the first to ever wield such a blade. I should have been the most famous hero of all time! Since the legend-tellers decided to ignore me, I became a villain instead. I resolved to put my heritage to use. As the son of Medusa, I would inspire terror. As the son of Poseidon, I would rule the seas!"

"You became a pirate," Annabeth summed up.

Chrysaor spread his arms, which was fine with Percy since it got the sword point away from his eyes.

"The best pirate," Chrysaor said. "I've sailed these waters for centuries, waylaying any demigods foolish enough to explore the Mare Nostrum. This is my territory now. And all you have is mine."

One of the dolphin warriors dragged Coach Hedge up from below.

"Let me go, you tuna fish!" Hedge bellowed. He tried to kick the warrior, but his hoof clanged off his captor's armor. Judging from the hoof-shaped prints in the dolphin's breastplate and helmet, the coach had already made several attempts.

"Ah, a satyr," Chrysaor mused. "A little old and stringy, but Cyclopes will pay well for a morsel like him. Chain him up."

"I'm nobody's goat meat!" Hedge protested.

"Gag him as well," Chrysaor added.

"Why you gilded little—" Hedge's insult was cut short when the dolphin put a greasy wad of canvas in his mouth. Soon the coach was trussed like a rodeo calf and dumped with the other loot—crates of food, extra weapons, even the magical ice chest from the mess hall.

"You can't do this!" Annabeth shouted.

Chrysaor's laughter reverberated inside his gold face mask. Percy wondered if he was horribly disfigured under there, or if his gaze could petrify people the way his mother's could.

"I can do anything I want," Chrysaor said. "My warriors have been trained to perfection. They are vicious, cutthroat—"

"Dolphins," Percy noted.

Chrysaor shrugged. "Yes. So? They had some bad luck a few millennia ago, kidnapped the wrong person. Some of their crew got turned completely into dolphins. Others went mad. But these . . . these survived as hybrid creatures. When I found them under the sea and offered them a new life, they became my loyal crew. They fear nothing!"

One of the warriors chattered at him nervously.

"Yes, yes," Chrysaor growled. "They fear one thing, but it hardly matters. He's not here."

An idea began tickling at the base of Percy's skull. Before he could pursue it, more dolphin warriors climbed the stairs, hauling up the rest of his friends. Jason was unconscious. Judging from the new bruises on his face, he'd tried to fight. Hazel, Sarah, and Piper were bound hand and foot. Piper had a gag in her mouth, so apparently the dolphins had discovered she could charmspeak. Frank was missing, though two of the dolphins had bee stings covering their faces.

Could Frank actually turn into a swarm of bees? Percy hoped so. If he was free aboard the ship somewhere, that could be an advantage, assuming Percy could figure out how to communicate with him.

Aurora was dragged aboard as well, her arms held behind her back and a cut on her cheek. Her eyes were blazing with anger, which only got worse when they fell on Chrysaor. Percy wondered if she'd dealt with him before, and if she had, that she knew how to get rid of him. After all, she was the only one who'd been in the Mare Nostrum before. She'd probably seen it all.

"Excellent!" Chrysaor gloated. He directed his warriors to dump Jason by the crossbows. Then he examined the three girls like they were Christmas presents, which made Percy grit his teeth. He ignored Aurora, however.

"The boy is no use to me," Chrysaor said. "But we have an understanding with the witch Circe. She will buy the women—either as slaves or trainees, depending on their skill. But not you, lovely Aurora." He turned to Aurora, her eyes gold with anger. "Oh, what a treat this is."

Aurora glowered at him. "I'm no one's treat, Chrysaor! I'm a fucking meal!" She wrestled with the warriors holding her back but failed at freeing her hands. "When I get out of this, I'm going to kick your ass just like I did all those years ago!"

Chrysaor just laughed. "Ah, just as fiery as I remember."

Percy's hand crept to his pocket. His pen had appeared back in his jeans. He only needed a moment's distraction to draw his sword. Maybe if he could take down Chrysaor quickly, his crew would panic. And it would be a nice feeling to kill him for how he was treating Aurora.

He wished he knew something about Chrysaor's weaknesses. Usually Annabeth provided him with information like that, but apparently Chrysaor didn't have any legends, so they were both in the dark.

The golden warrior tutted. "Oh, sadly, Aurora, you will not be staying with me. I would love that. But you and your friend Percy are spoken for. A certain goddess is paying a high bounty for your capture—alive, if possible, though she didn't say you had to be unharmed.

At that moment, Piper caused the disturbance that they needed. She wailed so loudly it could be heard through her gag. Then she fainted against the nearest guard, knocking him over. Hazel got the idea and crumpled to the deck, kicking her legs and thrashing like she was having a fit.

Percy drew Riptide and lashed out. The blade should have gone straight through Chrysaor's neck, but the golden warrior was unbelievably fast. He dodged and parried as the dolphin warriors backed up, guarding the other captives while giving their captain room to battle. They chattered and squeaked, egging him on, and Percy got the sinking suspicion that the crew was used to this sort of entertainment. They didn't feel their leader was in any sort of danger.

Percy hadn't crossed swords with an opponent like this since . . . well, since he'd battled the war god Ares. Chrysaor was that good. Many of Percy's powers had gotten stronger over the years, but now, too late, Percy realized that swordplay wasn't one of them.

He was rusty—at least against an adversary like Chrysaor.

They battled back and forth, thrusting and parrying. Without meaning to, Percy heard the voice of Luke Castellan, his first sword-fighting mentor at Camp Half-Blood, throwing out suggestions. But it didn't help.

The golden gorgon mask was too unnerving. The warm fog, the slick deck boards, the chattering of the warriors—none of it helped. And in the corner of his eye, Percy could see one of the dolphin-men holding a knife at Aurora's throat in case she tried anything tricky. Same with Annabeth.

He feinted and thrust at Chrysaor's gut, but Chrysaor anticipated the move. He knocked Percy's sword out of his hand again, and once more Riptide flew into the sea.

Chrysaor laughed easily. He wasn't even winded. He pressed the tip of his golden sword against Percy's sternum. 

"A good try," said the pirate. "But now you'll be chained and transported to Gaea's minions. They are quite eager to spill your blood and wake the goddess."

⟶⭑🌣⭑⟵

Nothing like total failure to generate great ideas. 

As Percy stood there, disarmed and outmatched, the plan formed in his head. He was so used to Annabeth providing Greek legend information that he was kind of stunned to actually remember something useful, but he had to act fast. He couldn't let anything happen to his friends. He couldn't let anything happen to Aurora—not again.

Chrysaor couldn't be beat. At least not in single combat. But without his crew . . . maybe then he could be overwhelmed if enough demigods attacked him at once.

How to deal with Chrysaor's crew? Percy put the pieces together: the pirates had been turned into dolphin-men millennia ago when they had kidnapped the wrong person. Percy knew that story. Heck, the wrong person in question had threatened to turn him into a dolphin. And when Chrysaor said the crew wasn't afraid of anything, one of his dolphins had nervously corrected him. Yes, Chrysaor said. But he's not here.

Percy glanced toward the stern and spotted Frank, in human form, peeking out from behind a ballista, waiting. Percy resisted the urge to smile. The big guy claimed to be clumsy and useless, but he always seemed to be in exactly the right place when Percy needed him.

The girls . . . Frank . . . the ice chest.

It was a crazy idea. But, as usual, that's all Percy had.

"Fine!" Percy shouted, so loudly that he got everyone's attention. "Take us away, if our captain will let you."

Chrysaor turned his golden mask. "What captain? My men searched the ship. There is no one else."

Percy raised his hands dramatically. "The god appears only when he wishes. But he is our leader. He runs our camp for demigods. Doesn't he, Annabeth?"

Annabeth was quick. "Yes!" She nodded enthusiastically. "Mr. D! The great Dionysus!"

A ripple of uneasiness passed through the dolphin-men. One dropped his sword.

"Stand fast!" Chrysaor bellowed. "There is no god on this ship. They are trying to scare you."

"You should be scared!" Percy looked at the pirate crew with sympathy. "Dionysus will be severely cranky with you for having delayed our voyage. He will punish all of us. Didn't you notice the girls falling into the wine god's madness?"

Hazel and Piper had stopped the shaking fits. They were sitting on the deck, staring at Percy. Aurora got the message quickly and let out a yelp that echoed over the seas. She slumped into the warriors' grips and the other girls quickly followed in pursuit, trembling and flopping around like fish. The dolphin-men fell over themselves trying to get away from their captives, freeing Aurora's hands in the process and dropping her to the ground.

"Fakes!" Chrysaor roared. "Shut up, Percy Jackson. Your camp director is not here. He was recalled to Olympus. This is common knowledge."

"So you admit Dionysus is our director!" Percy said.

"He was," Chrysaor corrected. "Everyone knows that."

Percy gestured at the golden warrior like he'd just betrayed himself. "You see? We are doomed. If you don't believe me, let's check the ice chest!"

Percy stormed over to the magical cooler. No one tried to stop him. He kicked open the lid and rummaged through the ice. There had to be one. Please. He was rewarded with a silver-and-red can of soda. He brandished it at the dolphin warriors as if spraying them with bug repellent.

"Behold!" Percy shouted. "The god's chosen beverage. Tremble before the horror of Diet Coke!"

The dolphin-men began to panic. They were on the edge of retreat. Percy could feel it.

"The god will take your ship," Percy warned. "He will finish your transformations into dolphins, or make you insane, or transform you into insane dolphins! Your only hope is to swim away now, quickly!"

"Ridiculous!" Chrysaor's voice turned shrill. He didn't seem sure where to level his sword—at Percy or his own crew.

"Save yourselves!" Percy warned. "It is too late for us!"

Then he gasped and pointed to the spot where Frank was hiding. "Oh, no! Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!"

Nothing happened.

"I said," Percy repeated, "Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!"

Frank stumbled out of nowhere, making a big show of grabbing his throat. "Oh, no," he said, like he was reading from a teleprompter. "I am turning into a crazy dolphin."

He began to change, his nose elongating into a snout, his skin becoming sleek gray. He fell to the deck as a dolphin, his tail thumping against the boards.

The pirate crew disbanded in terror, chattering and clicking as they dropped their weapons, forgot their captives, ignored Chrysaor's orders, and jumped overboard. In the confusion, Annabeth moved quickly to cut the bonds on Hazel, Piper, Sarah, and Coach Hedge.

Within seconds, Chrysaor was alone and surrounded. Percy and his friends had no weapons except for Annabeth's knife, Hedge's hooves, and Aurora's blade, which was out and active, light flickering off of it dangerously. But the murderous looks on all their faces evidently convinced the golden warrior he was doomed.

He backed to the edge of the rail.

"This isn't over, Jackson," Chrysaor growled. "I will have my revenge—"

His words were cut short by Frank, who had changed form again. An eight-hundred-pound grizzly bear can definitely break up a conversation. He sideswiped Chrysaor and raked the golden mask off his helmet. Chrysaor screamed, instantly covering his face with his arms and tumbling into the water.

They ran to the rail. Chrysaor had disappeared. Percy thought about chasing him, but he didn't know these waters, and he didn't want to confront that guy again.

"That was amazing!" Aurora kissed him, which made him feel a little better. "You'd make an amazing actor, you know?"

"It was desperate," Percy said with a chuckle. "And we need to get rid of this pirate trireme."

"Burn it?" Sarah asked.

Percy looked at the Diet Coke in his hand. "No. I've got another idea."

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A U T H O R S   N O T E

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This chapter was insane but we got a Percy chapter again! We are so close to reaching Rome and the end of this book and it's so sad! But that means greater things are coming! Greater things!

Please comment and vote!

Love you all!

~ a.h.