TWENTY TWO, chariot disaster
❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
THE NEXT FEW DAYS were like hell. Probably like Tantalus wanted. He'd immediately taken a dislike to Aster and Percy, most likely because they had brought Tyson into camp. Aster wasn't too thrilled that he was there either, but she'd only allowed him in to save the camp. The more she gets to know Tyson—which is mostly against her will—the more she's convinced he can't do much of anything for himself besides getting bullied and breaking non-delicate things (like picnic tables). It also doesn't help that he doesn't understand any of it.
But Percy does. And he doesn't want to do anything about it. Not that Aster is jumping up to defend him either, but at least her and Annabeth have a reason; a cyclops terrorized them on the two worst nights of their lives, and had taken Thalia from them.
Naturally, as teenagers would be teenagers, the campers made comments to Percy about Tyson. Suddenly, he wasn't Percy Jackson, the cool guy who'd retrieved Zeus's lightning bolt last summer. Now he was Percy Jackson, the poor schmuck with the ugly monster for a brother. Honestly, with the way Percy was treating his (former) friend, Aster didn't feel too sorry for him.
"He's not my real brother!" Percy protested whenever Tyson wasn't around. "He's more like a half-brother on the monstrous side of the family. Like... a half-brother twice removed, or something."
Nobody bought it. Aster and Annabeth would say nothing. Percy got increasingly angry about the whole situation, and Aster knew it was more about the ridicule than anything.
Percy had been irritable the past few days, and Aster wasn't much better. Though they tended to bicker a lot, it had seemed to be even more recently. She wasn't sure what it was, but every little thing he did just pissed her off. Annabeth tried making them feel better; she suggested that they all team up for the chariot race to take their minds off their problems.
At the very least, they seemed to have two things in common—they all hated Tantalus and were worried sick about camp, but they didn't know what they could do about it. If Chiron couldn't even heal it, what chance did a bunch of thirteen year old demigods have? Until they could come up with some brilliant plan to save Thalia's tree, Annabeth figured they might as well go along with the races. After all, Annabeth's mom, Athena, had invented the chariot, and Percy's dad had created horses. Aster didn't have much interest in the race (besides maybe betting with Steve out of all his golden drachmas), but she had some design ideas. Besides, Tantalus had asked her—not very graciously, might she add—to grow the victory laurel wreaths. One of her siblings had told him her power of growing was the strongest, unfortunately.
One morning, the three of them were sitting by the canoe lake sketching chariot designs when some jokers from Aphrodite's cabin walked by and asked Percy if he needed to borrow some eyeliner for his eye... "Oh sorry, eyes."
As they walked away laughing, Aster glared at them and grumbled, "Just ignore them, Percy. It isn't your fault you have a monster for a brother."
"He's not my brother!" Percy snapped. "And he's not a monster, either!"
Annabeth chimed in without looking up from her paper. "Technically, he is a monster."
They both ignored her. Aster narrowed her eyebrows. "What are you getting mad at me for?"
"Well you gave him permission to enter the camp."
"To save your ass. I wasn't the one who was about to get run over by a fire-breathing bull!" Aster took a breath to calm herself, pinching her temple. "I mean... I'm sorry, Percy, I didn't expect Poseidon to claim him. It didn't even cross my mind. Cyclopes are the most deceitful, treacherous–"
"He is not! What have you got against Cyclopes, anyway?"
Aster could feel her cheeks growing warm. Annabeth looked up from her drawing suddenly, meeting Aster's gaze. Neither spoke. Percy looked in between the two of them, trying to figure out what was going on.
"Just forget it," Annabeth said, trying to change the subject. Aster could tell she was getting annoyed too. "Now, the axle for this chariot–"
"You two are treating him like he's this horrible thing," Percy said. "He saved my life."
Annabeth threw down her pencil and stood. "Then maybe you should design a chariot with him."
"Maybe I should."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
She stormed off, and Percy looked at Aster angrily. "Well? Anything else you want to say? "
His words came off like venom. Aster glared at him and stood. "Your head is really full of kelp. Erre es korakas! "
With that she followed Annabeth, weeds sprouting in her footsteps.
Aster tried to keep her mind off it for the next few days. The dreams that she started having the previous summer had returned, just without Thalia. It was just the booming voice, telling her that she would not be ready for him when he would come.
Now, Aster had heard Kronos speak. She had stood at the edge of Tartarus, and almost got sucked in. She had seen the effect the Lord of Time could have on people, even gods. But the presence in her dream... it wasn't him. It was just different, in some way. This voice had nothing to do with Luke or Kronos, but it had an entirely different agenda. Aster just didn't know what that was yet.
That night, she had another dream.
Aster was on Half-Blood Hill. They always started on Half-Blood Hill. Once a place so comforting had turned into a sickly, pointed area. Aster could barely go near Thalia's tree anymore without feeling sick herself. That had always been an unfortunate side-effect of Aster's powers; she felt what the plants did. Since the whole camp felt like it was dying, Aster did too.
Aster turned to Thalia's tree. There was still a ring of yellow pine needles around the trunk, roots poking out, turning an unsavory color. It made her feel sick to see it, but even worse that Luke had done it. Aster had been angry for what he'd done last summer, but it was nothing compared to the rage she felt now.
Turning to face the cabins, Aster was relieved to see that they were not destroyed this time—yet. It always seemed to end that way, but it was too early to tell if it was one of those dreams.
"Hello, little one," a familiar voice said, from below the ground. It felt like pure evil, the syllables sounding like abominations themselves. Like it was a universal crime for this thing to even speak. Something on the same level as Kronos, but almost darker. "It is good to be back to you, my sworn enemy."
Aster had grown enough confidence by now that she could challenge whatever haunted her dreams. "How about you tell me who you are? Because I didn't have any sworn enemies the last time I checked."
The voice laughed. The ground rumbled, and Aster swallowed hard. Where was that confidence again? "How naive of you, little godling. You know nothing of what you are. You know nothing of who I am. You will never be able to face me."
"How do I know you're not just bluffing?"
It laughed again; it always left Aster feeling like she'd been turned inside out.
"You'll see, in time, godling. They think you can defeat me? How pathetic. You don't even know who you are."
Aster straightened. "I am Aster Reed, daughter of Demeter. I know exactly who I am."
"Try again."
Aster was dumbfounded—there wasn't another answer.
Her stomach did a somersault when the voice laughed for a third time.
"Oh, how entertaining it is to see you squirm godling, knowing something that you do not. You see in time, be assured. But you will be too late."
Then, the camp started burning. But it wasn't regular fire; it was a fierce, black fire. It was burning faster than Aster had ever seen anything burn. It caught to all the cabins and the Big House in a matter of seconds, catching on to the forest moments later. It was extremely destructive, buildings collapsing almost immediately under it. It burned into the blue sky, turning it blacker than night.
Aster just shut her eyes as tears streamed down her face, watching her home be destroyed before her eyes.
Aster shot up from her bed in a cold sweat. Her cheeks were wet with tears, which she wiped away with her comforter. Her eyes darted around the room; she hadn't woken any of her siblings, thank the gods. Not that it would have been abnormal—demigods always had dreams, ones that gave omens for the future or that were scenes happening in real time.
Aster looked out the window that was next to her bed, breathing in the fresh air the breeze blew in. The scent of the sea calmed her, as it had since she'd come to camp. As Aster looked up at the almost-full moon, she wondered if her dream was just an omen, or the future to come.
– ❀ –
CAMP FELT EMPTY without Chiron. Archery was unbearable with just the Apollo kids there to guide it—not that they were bad at it, but it just wasn't the same. Tantalus became more reminiscent of a dictator as the days crept along, and Aster had a feeling that he was enjoying his little power trip of bullying Tyson and making fun of Aster and her friends.
One afternoon, Aster watched from afar as Percy bested the Apollo cabin easily in sword fighting. He'd always been a natural, and he was probably the best at the camp. Percy was most likely the best sword fighter in the last hundred years, except for maybe Luke. Percy hated whenever someone compared them, and Aster didn't like it any better.
Aster knew why Percy wasn't fighting against the Ares and Athena cabins, although he should be. Contrary to popular belief, Percy wasn't too difficult to figure out, especially as one of his best friends. He didn't want to fight against Clarisse and her siblings because of the stupid rivalry they have, and he just flat out didn't want to see either Aster or Annabeth after their fight.
Aster had tried visiting Thalia's tree even more frequently than she did before. Maybe, just maybe, she could do something to help now that the tree was poisoned. Or else, Thalia's spirit would die with the pine, and the protection of the camp with it. A part of her hoped that maybe with the tree and its magic weakened, then she could speak to her. So she went multiple times a day to just sit there and try.
The dryads and satyrs had done their best, singing and playing their reed pipes for the tree, but everything was a temporary fix. While the music played, the air would feel more alive, the roots would look healthy, and some green returned to the needles of the tree. But as soon as the last note rang out, it would go back to what it was before: a dying tree. When Aster was there, she felt nauseous, but she tried anyway.
When Aster went this time, she found another figure sitting there. Percy looked over the camp, a faraway look in his sea green eyes. She could tell that he was thinking deeply, and he didn't seem to see her approach. Aster took a seat next to Percy in the grass, staring out at the camp she called home.
Again, the camp looked the same. But there were subtle differences—campers no longer played in the volleyball pits, only satyrs and certain Demeter kids took to the strawberry fields. Campers holed up in their cabins when they weren't in activities or on border patrol, whose cries and yells sounded far away.
Aster couldn't take the silence anymore. "I'm sorry, Percy. For what I said. It wasn't fair to you."
Percy kept staring ahead. "What do you have against him? Against all cyclopes? You and Annabeth didn't even give him a chance." He finally turned to her, his sea green eyes looking even brighter than before.
Aster stayed silent for a few moments, thinking over what she would say. "Let's just say me and Annabeth had a bad run-in with a cyclops once. It didn't end well. I just assume they're all the same, because I have to. And don't forget that you're denying you're his brother too."
"But, we're only half-brothers. Either way, he's still my friend. He's not a monster."
Aster resisted the urge to correct him. "Sure. Technically, all of my siblings are my half-siblings. But that doesn't make them any less family. Sometimes, blood isn't what makes a family." Aster's eyes flickered to Thalia's tree, and she tried to push down all the memories of her year on the run.
Percy pondered this for a moment. He stared down at his palm. The scar from where the pit scorpion had sung him was white and fading, but Aster knew it would always be there. Scars from monsters don't fade, and Aster had her fair share of them.
Percy stared back up at the tree. "Right before he tried to kill me, Luke told me good-bye. He said a new Golden Age is coming, and that I wouldn't be a part of it." Percy looked back up at Aster. "Do you think he really wants to raise a Titan army?"
Aster pulled her legs into her chest, resting her chin on her knees. "Seems that way. I can't believe he changed so much, right under our noses. He saved me. I might not be here today if it wasn't for him and Thalia. And, gods, what he did to Thalia... it makes me–"
"–sick to your stomach." Percy finished. "Yeah, me too." He glanced over, seeing the worried expression on her face. He smiled slightly, bumping his shoulder against hers. "Don't worry, we'll catch him. He won't win."
Aster met his eyes. She held out her pinky to him. "Promise?"
Percy rolled his eyes with a grin, then wrapped his pinky around hers. "Promise. We're in this together, Flower Power."
"Right back at you, Seaweed Brain."
Percy grinned. "So does this mean all is forgiven?"
"I guess," Aster sighed, but she pointed a threatening finger at him. "But if you ever speak to me like that again, I will turn you into a strawberry bush."
Percy paled. "Got it. You can be scary sometimes."
Aster grinned gleefully. "I know."
Time went on, and Percy and Aster went back to normal. But Annabeth still didn't want to speak to Percy, and Percy was the same way. He had more dreams about Grover, which he was hesitant to tell Annabeth about. For once, Aster was the peacekeeper between them—and she was terrible at it. Aster was running around camp, talking between her two best friends. But she didn't know how to interpret dreams like Annabeth did, or do really anything that Annabeth could do. She was really hurting while her friends were fighting. But Annabeth and Percy didn't want to even try to talk, and Aster just had to go with it, despite her countless suggestions.
But, nonetheless, Percy's dreams sounded concerning; like seeing Grover in a wedding dress, having to marry Polyphemus. The cyclops. That fought Odysseus. A lot of what Percy told Aster didn't make much sense, and he didn't understand it either.
The morning of the race was hot and humid. Fog laid low on the ground like sauna steam. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees—fat gray-and-white pigeons, except they didn't coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound that reminded Aster of submarine radar.
The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods. Hephaestus's cabin had used the bronze bulls, which were completely tame since they'd had their heads smashed in, to plow an oval track in a matter of minutes. Aster was slightly annoyed that they had plowed a perfectly good field for a chariot race that no one even wanted to do, but she let it slide because she didn't want to deal with Tantalus and his power trip.
There were rows of stone steps for the spectators—Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads, and all of the campers who weren't participating, including Aster and her siblings. Mr. D didn't show; coming would require him to wake up before ten o'clock.
The teams had ended up splitting up by cabins, and cabin four knew they didn't really stand a chance, nor did they want to build a chariot themselves. Aster, with some help from Steve, had grown a magnificent flower garland for the two winning drivers and their cabin—by Tantalus' request. They were magical, and would change color to match whatever cabin won them. Aster really hoped she wouldn't be seeing her magnificent white roses and hydrangeas turn blood red.
"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate éclair across the judge's table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled at them like they were all naughty children—which is just as uncomfortable as it sounds. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment... no s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"
Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had a sweet ride made of bronze and iron—even the horses, which were magical automatons like the Colchis bulls. Aster had no doubt that their chariot had all kinds of mechanical traps and more fancy options than a fully loaded Maserati.
The Ares chariot was blood red, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops, and a bunch of other nasty toys. She looked gleeful as she looked them all over, lustfully.
Apollo's chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful palominos. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had promised not to shoot regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers.
Hermes's chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn't been out of the garage in years. It didn't look like anything special, but it was manned by the Stoll brothers, which meant there was no limit to the possible dirty tricks they'd possibly schemed up.
That left two chariots: one driven by Annabeth, and the other by Percy. Aster stood in the stands next to Steve, not sure of who to support. She was torn between her two best friends. She had grown them each a good luck flower, which she was happy to see on each of her friends' chariots.
Aster had been discussing their predictions for the race with Annabeth when Percy approached them, a troubled look on his face. He mentioned something about a dream and Grover being in trouble, and both Annabeth and Aster perked up. Though what he said Grover conveyed to him sounded strange, and Annabeth took a step back from him, looking Percy over suspiciously.
"You're trying to distract me," she decided.
Percy looked astounded. "What? No I'm not!"
Aster decided it would be best not to get involved. Playing peacekeeper was hard; she didn't know how Katie did it everyday.
"Oh, right!" Annabeth scoffed. "Like Grover would just happen to stumble across the one thing that could save the camp."
"What do you mean?"
She rolled her eyes. "Go back to your chariot, Percy."
"I'm not making this up. He's in trouble, Annabeth." He turned to Aster with pleading eyes. "Aster. You believe me, right?"
Aster sighed, looking at Annabeth. She did, whether the daughter of Athena believed it or not. "He sounds legit. Grover could very well be in trouble."
Annabeth hesitated. She was looking between Percy and Aster, deciding if she should trust what they were saying. Though Aster hadn't seen it with her own two eyes, the story was crazy enough that Percy couldn't have just made that up. And he would never lie about Grover, Aster knew that much. Annabeth would never want anything bad to happen to Grover, nor did Aster. He was one of their oldest friends, after all. Annabeth finally seemed to decide on an answer: more questions.
"Percy, an empathy link is so hard to do. I mean, it's more likely you really were dreaming."
"The Oracle," Percy said. "We could consult the Oracle."
Annabeth frowned. Aster shuddered.
Aster had never visited the oracle herself, but she had heard enough about it that she didn't really want to. A shriveled up hippie who made freaky images out of glowing green mist? No thanks. When Percy had gone to see the oracle in the Big House attic last summer, he was freaked out for months afterward. Aster knew he'd never suggest going back there if he wasn't completely serious. And Annabeth knew it too.
Before she could answer, the conch horn sounded.
"Charioteers!" Tantalus called. "To your mark!"
"We'll talk later," Annabeth told them, "after I win."
Percy looked at Aster, who just shrugged. He made his way to his own chariot to start the race. More metallic squeaking sounded, and Aster turned to find even more pigeons had gathered in the trees—screeching like crazy, making the whole forest rustle. Nobody else seemed to be paying them much attention, but they made her nervous. Their beaks glinted strangely. Their eyes seemed shinier than regular birds.
Aster heard familiar whispers just then; the trees of Camp Half-Blood.
Do not trust the birds.
Do not trust the spirit.
Aster gasped to herself, but she had been the only one to hear it. Even more birds gathered, and she swallowed hard. This could not end well. Aster turned back to the track, hoping to ignore the warnings and the pigeons.
Now, if you'd never seen a Greek chariot, it was built for speed, not safety or comfort. It's basically a wooden basket, open at the back, mounted on an axle between two wheels. The driver was standing up the whole time, and you could feel every bump in the road. The carriage was made of such light wood that if you wiped out making the hairpin turns at either end of the track, you'd probably tip over and crush both the chariot and yourself. It's the kind of rush that Aster didn't particularly enjoy.
As the chariots lined up, more shiny-eyed pigeons gathered in the woods. They were screeching so loudly the other campers in the stands were starting to take notice, glancing nervously at the trees, which shivered under the weight of the birds. Tantalus didn't look concerned, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.
"Charioteers!" he shouted. "Attend your mark!"
He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd cheered.
Almost immediately there was a loud nasty crack! The Apollo chariot flipped over, sending Lee Fletcher and Micheal Yew scrambling. The Hermes chariot had rammed into it—maybe by mistake, maybe not. The riders were thrown free, but their panicked horses dragged the golden chariot diagonally across the track. The Hermes team, Travis and Connor Stoll, were laughing at their good luck, but not for long. The Apollo horses crashed into theirs, and the Hermes chariot flipped too, leaving a pile of broken wood and four rearing horses in the dust.
Two chariots down in the first twenty feet. Aster was horrified by this sport—she was usually competitive, but she'd never liked chariot racing. She could tell by the looks on Percy and Annabeth's faces that they loved it.
Percy's chariot had been making good time, pulling ahead of Ares, but Annabeth's was way ahead of them. The Athena chariot was already making the turn around the first post, and Aster cheered.
The Hephaestus chariot was starting to gain on Percy's, too.
Beckendorf pressed a button, and a panel slid open on the side of his chariot.
"Sorry, Percy!" he yelled. Three sets of balls and chains shot straight toward their wheels.
Aster's hand flew over her mouth. That was why hated chariot racing; she could stand the thought of people she cared about being hurt. The gadgets would've wrecked the Poseidon chariot completely if Tyson hadn't whacked them aside with a quick swipe of his pole. He gave the Hephaestus chariot a good shove and sent them skittering sideways while they pulled ahead.
The screeching had gotten unseasonably loud—like it was getting closer. Aster turned to see the pigeons rise from the trees. They were spiraling like a huge tornado, heading toward the track.
At first, it seemed like no big deal. Then they started swarming—thousands of them dive-bombing the spectators in the stands, attacking the other chariots. Beckendorf was mobbed. His fighter tried to bat the birds away, but he couldn't see anything. The chariot veered off course and plowed through the strawberry fields, the mechanical horses steaming. Aster threw knives at every bird she could see, but there were too many. She tried to get out of the stands, closer to the trees. If only she could reach the roots...
As she rushed into the familiar long grasses, Aster recalled the myth. Stymphalian birds. They liked to eat human flesh, and got even more turned on at the suffering of humans. If they weren't stopped soon, then they would strip everyone to bones. Aster tried to think what had deterred the birds in the original myth. . .
In the Ares chariot, Clarisse barked an order to her fighter, who quickly threw a screen of camouflage netting over their basket. The birds swarmed around it, pecking and clawing at the fighter's hands as he tried to hold up the net, but Clarisse just gritted her teeth and kept driving. Her skeletal horses seemed immune to the distraction. The pigeons pecked uselessly at their empty eye sockets and flew through their rib cages, but the stallions kept right on running.
The spectators weren't so lucky. The birds were slashing at any bit of exposed flesh, driving everyone into a panic. Now that the birds were closer, it was clear they weren't normal pigeons. Their eyes were beady and evil-looking. Their beaks were made of bronze, and judging from the yelps of the campers, they must've been razor sharp. Aster got nipped a few times herself, and it wasn't pleasant.
Aster turned to see Annabeth and Percy side by side on the track, slowing down. They both seemed to have come to the same conclusion she had. Then it came to her—noise. Hercules had used brass bells to drive them away from a village.
Aster yelled at the top of her lungs so that her friends would hear her. "ANNABETH! PERCY! NOISE! LOUD!" She frantically motioned towards the Big House, where she hoped Chiron's boom box collection still lived. Annabeth got what she was saying, and exchanged a few words with Percy, then jumped onto his chariot, effortlessly handing her fighter her own reins.
They rode in Aster's direction, which also happened to be towards the Big House. It seemed like they were going to run her right over, but at the last second, Tyson grabbed onto her arms and pulled her into the chariot, landing at Percy's feet. He glanced down at her, a sly smirk on his face.
"Nice landing, Flower Girl."
Aster scowled at him. "Shut up, Kelp Head."
Clarisse had just pulled across the finish line, completely unopposed, and seemed to notice for the first time how serious the bird problem was.
When she saw them driving away, she yelled, "You're running? The fight is here, cowards!" She drew her sword and charged for the stands.
Aster tried her best to control some tree roots to swing into the crowd of birds to get some of them down, but it wasn't very accurate. Not to mention that she was on a chariot racing away from the conflict. She got a few dozen birds down, but they just kept coming.
Percy urged the horses into a gallop. The chariot rumbled through the strawberry fields, across the volleyball pit, and lurched to a halt in front of the Big House. Percy and Aster darted inside, tearing down the hallway to Chiron's apartment.
His boombox was still on his nightstand. So were his favorite CDs. While Percy grabbed the most repulsive one he could find, Aster snatched the boom box, and together they ran back outside. Annabeth had a hold on the reins now, which would get them back to the track the fastest.
They raced back towards the track, which was in bad shape, to say the least. The chariots were in flames. Wounded campers ran in every direction, with birds shredding their clothes and pulling out their hair, while Tantalus chased breakfast pastries around the stands, every once in a while yelling, "Everything's under control! Not to worry!"
They pulled up to the finish line. Aster got the boom box ready, holding it like a love interest in a nineties romantic comedy. She prayed the batteries weren't dead.
Percy pressed PLAY and started up Chiron's favorite—the All-Time Greatest Hits of Dean Martin. Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian.
The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out. Then they abandoned the track altogether and flew skyward in a huge dark wave.
"Now!" Annabeth shouted. "Archers!"
With clear targets, Apollo's archers had flawless aim. Most of them could knock five or six arrows at once. Within minutes, the ground was littered with dead bronze-beaked pigeons, and the survivors were a distant trail of smoke on the horizon.
The camp was saved, but the wreckage wasn't pretty. Most of the chariots had been completely destroyed. Almost everyone was wounded, bleeding from multiple bird pecks. Aster had a few cuts herself. The kids from Aphrodite's cabin were screaming because their hairdos had been ruined and their clothes were pooped on.
"Bravo!" Tantalus said, but he wasn't looking at Aster, Percy, or Annabeth. "We have our first winner!" He walked to the finish line and awarded the blooming laurels for the race to a stunned-looking Clarisse, which turned blood red as it fell around her neck. Aster scowled, and Percy didn't look much happier.
Then he turned and smiled at Aster and her friends. "And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."