𝑨𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑺 • 𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐶𝑌 𝐽𝐴𝐶𝐾𝑆𝑂𝑁 ²

TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE
—dumb forges

🗡🗡🗡

—JUDITH could not believe that they were still able to follow Hephaestus' automaton spider after the Sphinx attack. They had Grover and Tyson's keen ears to thank for that. The cyclops himself was at the head of the group, bounding through the corridors with little abandon. No one had the heart to tell him to slow down and watch out for traps when his smile was illuminating.

Eventually, they all arrived at a giant metal door. It was the kind that you'd find on a submarine in the movies, bolts to seal the frame down. And where a circular port window would typically be, a brass plaque, green with rust was screwed in with a Greek Êta inscribed in the middle.

Judith's first thought was of Cabin Nine at camp when she'd first gone to Beckendorf. She'd improperly cared for her first ever sword and after a particularly brutal hit from Ellis' shield, the blade gained a hairline fracture. She'd stormed the Hephaestus' cabin, demanding they fix it up like new ( and she'd been very specific that only the best smither would touch her precious sword ). Beckendorf had been the one to show her the best way to keep her weapons from breaking and it was history.

The quest group looked at each other hesitantly as the spider knocked its head continuously against the barrier in front of them.

"Ready to meet Hephaestus?" Grover asked nervously.

"No," Percy admitted honestly. With his track-record for god interactions, it wasn't surprising.

But Judith smiled. If the god was anything like Charles Beckendorf, she knew he couldn't be that bad. "Yeah."

"Yes!" Tyson said gleefully, and he turned the wheel.

As soon as the door opened, the spider scuttled inside with Tyson right on its tail. The rest of the group followed closely behind.

The room was enormous. It looked like a mechanic's garage, with several hydraulic lifts. Some had cars on them, but others had stranger things: a bronze hippalektryon with its horse-head off and a bunch of wires hanging out its rooster tail, a metal lion that seemed to be hooked up to a battery charger, and a Greek war chariot made entirely of flames. Judith admired that one, knowing she'd definitely copy that design if Camp Half-Blood ever held another chariot race.

The larger robotic automaton flared down at them from some wiring, it's familiar build shocking Judith down to the core. Last winter flashed through her mind. It wasn't the same machine that they found in the junkyard, but it was obviously based on that prototype.

A hand landed on her elbow and she jerked back to the present, ready to pull away, but as she turned to Percy, she stilled. He and Grover stood at her sides, their eyes glued to the dangling project as well, eyes swirling with remorse. Judith's hand found Percy's and squeezed once before moving further into the shop.

Smaller projects cluttered a dozen worktables. Tools hung along the walls. Each had its own outline on a Peg-Board, but nothing seemed to be in the right place. Much like cabin nine. Whenever she visited for weapon tune-ups or replacements, the place was a mess. The only person who seemed to have any order in the chaos was Jake Mason.

Under the nearest hydraulic lift, which was holding a '98 Toyota Corolla, a pair of legs stuck out — the lower half of a huge man in grubby gray pants and shoes even bigger than Tyson's. One leg was in a metal brace, and the daughter of Ares almost thought it might be another bionic automaton.