Crimson Rivers [1] - Percy jackson

Chapter 14: The Truth- Sorta

“Maybe we should search some of the other places first,” Grover suggested. “Like, Elysium, for instance…”

“Come on, goat boy.” Annabeth grabbed his arm.

Grover yelped. His sneakers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward, pulling him away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass. “Grover,” Annabeth chided. “Stop messing around.”

“But I didn’t—” He yelped again. His shoes were flapping like crazy now. They levitated off the ground and started dragging him away from us. “Maia!” he yelled, but the magic word seemed to have no effect. “Maia, already! Nine-one-one! Help!”

I got over being stunned and made a grab for Grover’s hand, but too late.
He was picking up speed, skidding downhill like a bobsled.vWe ran after him. Annabeth shouted, “Untie the shoes!”

It was a smart idea, but I guess it’s not so easy when your shoes are pulling you along feetfirst at full speed. Grover tried to sit up, but he couldn’t get close to the laces. We kept after him, trying to keep him in sight as he zipped between the
legs of spirits who chattered at him in annoyance. I was sure Grover was going to barrel straight through the gates of
Hades’s palace, but his shoes veered sharply to the right and dragged him in
the opposite direction.

The slope got steeper. Grover picked up speed. Annabeth, Percy and I had to
sprint to keep up. The cavern walls narrowed on either side, and I realized we’d entered some kind of side tunnel. No black grass or trees now, just rock
underfoot, and the dim light of the stalactites above. “Grover!” Percy yelled, his voice echoing. “Hold on to something!”

“What?” he yelled back. He was grabbing at gravel, but there was nothing big enough to slow him down.
The tunnel got darker and colder. The hairs on my arms bristled. It smelled evil down here. It made me think of things I shouldn’t even know about—blood spilled on an ancient stone altar, the foul breath of a murderer.

Then I saw what was ahead of us, and I stopped dead in my tracks. The tunnel widened into a huge dark cavern, and in the middle was a chasm the size of a city block. Grover was sliding straight toward the edge. “Come on, Syrus!” Percy yelled, tugging at my wrist.

“But that’s—”

“I know!” He shouted. “The place you described in your dream! But Grover’s going to fall if we don’t catch him.” He was right, of course. Grover’s predicament got me moving again.

He was yelling, clawing at the ground, but the winged shoes kept dragging him toward the pit, and it didn’t look like we could possibly get to him in time. What saved him were his hooves.bThe flying sneakers had always been a loose fit on him, and finally Grover hit a big rock and the left shoe came flying off. It sped into the darkness, down into the chasm. The right shoe kept tugging him along, but not as fast. Grover was able to slow himself down by grabbing on to the big
rock and using it like an anchor.

He was ten feet from the edge of the pit when we caught him and hauled
him back up the slope. The other winged shoe tugged itself off, circled around us angrily and kicked our heads in protest before flying off into the chasm to join its twin. We all collapsed, exhausted, on the obsidian gravel. My limbs felt like
lead. My body seemed heavier, as if somebody had filled it with rocks.

Grover was scratched up pretty bad. His hands were bleeding. His eyesbhad gone slit-pupiled, goat style, the way they did whenever he was terrified. “I don’t know how…” he panted. “I didn’t…”

“Wait,” Percy said. “Listen.”

I heard something—a deep whisper in the darkness. Another few seconds, and Annabeth said, “Percy, this place—”

“Shh.” We stood looking at eachother thinking the same thing. The sound was getting louder, a muttering, evil voice from far, far below us. Coming from the pit.

Grover sat up. “Wh—what’s that noise?”

Annabeth heard it too, now. I could see it in her eyes. “Tartarus. The entrance to Tartarus.”

Percy uncapped Anaklusmos and i hrabbed Regulus. Percys bronze sword expanded, gleaming in the darkness, and the evil voice seemed to falter, just for a moment, before resuming its chant. I could almost make out words now, ancient, ancient words, older even
than Greek. As if… “Magic,” I said.