The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus, Book Three) (21 page)

The new civil war had begun.

Leo had somehow escaped his fall unharmed. Annabeth saw him ducking from portico to portico, blasting fire at the giant eagles swooping down on him. Roman demigods tried to chase him, tripping over piles of cannonballs and dodging tourists, who screamed and ran in circles.

Tour guides kept yelling, “It’s just a reenactment!” Though they didn’t sound sure. The Mist could only do so much to change what mortals saw.

In the middle of the courtyard, a full-grown elephant—could that be Frank?—rampaged around the flagpoles, scattering Roman warriors. Jason stood about fifty yards away, sword-fighting with a stocky centurion whose lips were stained cherry red, like blood. A wannabe vampire, or maybe a Kool-Aid freak?

As Annabeth watched, Jason yelled, “Sorry about this, Dakota!”

He vaulted straight over the centurion’s head like an acrobat and slammed the hilt of his
gladius
into the back of the Roman’s head. Dakota crumpled.

“Jason!” Annabeth called.

He scanned the battlefield until he saw her.

She pointed to where the
Argo II
was docked. “Get the others aboard! Retreat!”

“What about you?” he called.

“Don’t wait for me!”

Annabeth bolted off before he could protest.

She had a hard time maneuvering through the mobs of tourists. Why did so many people want to see Fort Sumter on a sweltering summer day? But Annabeth quickly realized the crowds had saved their lives. Without the chaos of all these panicked mortals, the Romans would have already surrounded their outnumbered crew.

Annabeth dodged into a small room that must have been part of the garrison. She tried to steady her breathing. She imagined what it would have been like to be a Union soldier on this island in 1861. Surrounded by enemies. Dwindling food and supplies, no reinforcements coming.

Some of the Union defenders had been children of Athena. They’d hidden an important map here—something they didn’t want falling into enemy hands. If Annabeth had been one of those demigods, where would she have put it?

Suddenly the walls glistened. The air became warm. Annabeth wondered if she was hallucinating. She was about to run for the exit when the door slammed shut. The mortar between the stones blistered. The bubbles popped, and thousands of tiny black spiders swelled forth.

Annabeth couldn’t move. Her heart seemed to have stopped. The spiders blanketed the walls, crawling over one another, spreading across the floor and gradually surrounding her. It was impossible. This couldn’t be
real
.

Terror plunged her into memories. She was seven years old again, alone in her bedroom in Richmond, Virginia.
The spiders came at night.
They crawled in waves from her closet and waited in the shadows. She yelled for her father, but her father was away for work. He
always
seemed to be away for work.

Her stepmother came instead.

I don’t mind being the bad cop,
she had once told Annabeth’s father, when she didn’t think Annabeth could hear.

It’s
only your imagination,
her stepmother said about the spiders.
You’re scaring your baby brothers.

They’re not my brothers,
Annabeth argued, which made her stepmother’s expression harden. Her eyes were almost as scary as the spiders.

Go to sleep now,
her stepmother insisted.
No more screaming.

The spiders came back as soon as her stepmother had left the room. Annabeth tried to hide under the covers, but it was no good. Eventually she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. She woke up in the morning, freckled with bites, cobwebs covering her eyes, her mouth, and nose.

The bites faded before she even got dressed, so she had nothing to show her stepmother except cobwebs, which her stepmother thought was some sort of clever trick.

No more talk of spiders,
her stepmother said firmly.
You’re a big girl now.

The second night, the spiders came again. Her stepmother continued to be the bad cop. Annabeth wasn’t allowed to call her father and bother him with this nonsense. No, he would
not
come home early.

The third night, Annabeth ran away from home.

Later, at Camp Half-Blood, she learned that all children of Athena feared spiders. Long ago, Athena had taught the mortal weaver Arachne a hard lesson—cursing her for her pride by turning her into the first spider. Ever since, spiders had hated the children of Athena.

But that didn’t make her fear easier to deal with. Once, she’d almost killed Connor Stoll at camp for putting a tarantula in her bunk. Years later, she’d had a panic attack at a water park in Denver, when Percy and she were assaulted by mechanical spiders. And the past few weeks, Annabeth had dreamed of spiders almost every night—crawling over her, suffocating her, wrapping her in webs.

Now, standing in the barracks at Fort Sumter, she was surrounded. Her nightmares had come true.

A sleepy voice murmured in her head:
Soon, my dear. You will meet the weaver soon.

“Gaea?” Annabeth murmured. She feared the answer, but she asked: “Who—who is the weaver?”

The spiders became excited, swarming over the walls, swirling around Annabeth’s feet like a glistening black whirlpool. Only the hope that it might be an illusion kept Annabeth from passing out from fear.

I hope you survive, child,
the woman’s voice said.
I would prefer you as my sacrifice. But we must let the weaver take her revenge…

Gaea’s voice faded. On the far wall, in the center of the spider swarm, a red symbol blazed to life: the figure of an owl like the one on the silver drachma, staring straight at Annabeth. Then, just as in her nightmares, the Mark of Athena burned across the walls, incinerating the spiders until the room was empty except for the smell of sickly sweet ashes.

Go,
said a new voice—Annabeth’s mother.
Avenge me. Follow the Mark.

The blazing symbol of the owl faded. The garrison door burst open. Annabeth stood stunned in the middle of the room, unsure whether she’d seen something real, or just a vision.

An explosion shook the building. Annabeth remembered that her friends were in danger. She’d stayed here much too long.

She forced herself to move. Still trembling, she stumbled outside. The ocean air helped clear her mind. She gazed across the courtyard—past the panicked tourists and fighting demigods—to the edge of the battlements, where a large mortar pointed out to sea.

It might have been Annabeth’s imagination, but the old artillery piece seemed to be glowing red. She dashed toward it. An eagle swooped at her, but she ducked and kept running. Nothing could possibly scare her as much as those spiders.

Roman demigods had formed ranks and were advancing toward the
Argo II
, but a miniature storm had gathered over their heads. Though the day was clear all around them, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed above the Romans. Rain and wind pushed them back.

Annabeth didn’t stop to think about it.

She reached the mortar and put her hand on the muzzle. On the plug that blocked the opening, the Mark of Athena began to glow—the red outline of an owl.

“In the mortar,” she said. “Of course.”

She pried at the plug with her fingers. No luck. Cursing, she drew her dagger. As soon as the Celestial bronze touched the plug, the plug shrank and loosened. Annabeth pulled it off and stuck her hand inside the cannon.

Her fingers touched something cold, smooth, and metal. She pulled out a small disk of bronze the size of a tea saucer, etched with delicate letters and illustrations. She decided to examine it later. She thrust it in her pack and turned.

“Rushing off?” Reyna asked.

The praetor stood ten feet away, in full battle armor, holding a golden javelin. Her two metal greyhounds growled at her side.

Annabeth scanned the area. They were more or less alone. Most of the combat had moved toward the docks. Hopefully her friends had all made it on board, but they’d have to set sail immediately or risk being overrun. Annabeth had to hurry.

“Reyna,” she said, “what happened at Camp Jupiter was Gaea’s fault. Eidolons, possessing spirits—”

“Save your explanations,” Reyna said. “You’ll need them for the trial.”

The dogs snarled and inched forward. This time, it didn’t seem to matter to them that Annabeth was telling the truth. She tried to think of an escape plan. She doubted she could take Reyna in one-on-one combat. With those metal dogs, she stood no chance at all.

“If you let Gaea drive our camps apart,” Annabeth said, “the giants have already won. They’ll destroy the Romans, the Greeks, the gods, the whole mortal world.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Reyna’s voice was as hard as iron. “What choice have you left me? Octavian smells blood. He’s whipped the legion into a frenzy, and I can’t stop it. Surrender to me. I’ll bring you back to New Rome for trial. It won’t be fair. You’ll be painfully executed. But it
may
be enough to stop further violence. Octavian won’t be satisfied, of course, but I think I can convince the others to stand down.”

“It wasn’t me!”

“It doesn’t
matter
!” Reyna snapped. “Someone must pay for what happened. Let it be you. It’s the better option.”

Annabeth’s skin crawled. “Better than what?”

“Use that wisdom of yours,” Reyna said. “If you escape today, we won’t follow. I told you—not even a madman would cross the sea to the ancient lands. If Octavian can’t have vengeance on your ship, he’ll turn his attention to Camp Half-Blood. The legion will march on your territory. We will raze it and salt the earth.”

Kill the Romans,
she heard her mother urging.
They can never be your allies.

Annabeth wanted to sob. Camp
Half
-
Blood
was the only real home she’d
ever known, and in a bid for friendship, she had told Reyna exactly where to find it. She couldn’t leave it at the mercy of the Romans and travel halfway around the world.

But their quest, and everything she’d suffered to get Percy back…if she didn’t go to the ancient lands, it would all mean nothing. Besides, the Mark of Athena didn’t have to lead to revenge.

If I could find the route,
her mother had said,
the way home…

How will you use your reward?
Aphrodite had asked.
For war or peace?

There
was
an answer. The Mark of Athena could lead her there—if she survived.

“I’m going,” she told Reyna. “I’m following the Mark of Athena to Rome.”

The praetor shook her head. “You have no idea what awaits you.”

“Yes, I do,” Annabeth said. “This grudge between our camps…I can fix it.”

“Our grudge is thousands of years old. How can one person fix it?”

Annabeth wished she could give a convincing answer, show Reyna a 3-D diagram or a brilliant schematic, but she couldn’t. She just knew she had to try. She remembered that lost look on her mother’s face:
I must return home.

“The quest has to succeed,” she said. “You can try to stop me, in which case we’ll have to fight to the death. Or you can let me go, and I’ll try to save both our camps. If you must march on Camp Half-Blood, at least try to delay. Slow Octavian down.”

Reyna’s eyes narrowed. “One daughter of a war goddess to another, I respect your boldness. But if you leave now, you doom your camp to destruction.”

“Don’t underestimate Camp Half-Blood,” Annabeth warned.

“You’ve never seen the legion at war,” Reyna countered.

Over by the docks, a familiar voice shrieked over the wind: “Kill them! Kill them all!”

Octavian had survived his swim in the harbor. He crouched behind his guards, screaming encouragement at the other Roman demigods as they struggled toward the ship, holding up their shields as if that would deflect the storm raging all around them.

On the deck of the
Argo II
, Percy and Jason stood together, their swords crossed. Annabeth got a tingle down her spine as she realized the boys were working as one, summoning the sky and the sea to do their bidding. Water and wind churned together. Waves heaved against the ramparts and lightning flashed. Giant eagles were knocked out of the sky. Wreckage of the flying chariot burned in the water, and Coach Hedge swung a mounted crossbow, taking potshots at the Roman birds as they flew overhead.

“You see?” Reyna said bitterly. “The spear is thrown. Our people are at war.”

“Not if I succeed,” Annabeth said.

Reyna’s expression looked the same as it had at Camp Jupiter when she realized Jason had found another girl. The praetor was too alone, too bitter and betrayed to believe anything could go right for her ever again. Annabeth waited for her to attack.

Instead, Reyna flicked her hand. The metal dogs backed away. “Annabeth Chase,” she said, “when we meet again, we will be enemies on the field of battle.”