Did it say something about the future of their quest when they managed to tunnel into a jail cell? Probably.
But the five friends had found their way into a six-metre square cement room with one wall made of metal bars.
"What in Hades?" Annabeth exclaimed as she tugged on the bard that didn't budge, their cell one of many in the ring around the dark courtyard.
"A prison," Percy said.
"Not shit, Barnacle Brain," Cressida snapped and he just gave her annoyed look.
"Maybe Tyson can break -"
"Shh," said Grover. "Listen."
It sounded like...sobbing. It was a raspy voice muttering about something, the words strange and definitely not any language Percy knew.
"What's that language?" he whispered.
Tyson's eye widened. "Can't be."
"I think it's -" but Cressida was cut off as Tyson bent two of the bars on the cell door, creating an opening wide enough for him to fit through.
"Wait!" Grover called.
"Tyson!" Cressida bellowed but he wasn't waiting as they ran after him.
The prison was dark, only a few dim fluorescent lights flickering above.
"I know this place," Annabeth told them. "This is Alcatraz."
"You mean that island near San Francisco?" Percy clarified.
She nodded. "My school took a field trip here. It's like a museum."
Cressida would've stopped to make some comment about how he shouldn't have been surprised seeing as it was a magic maze that screwed up time, of course it would screw up location.
"Freeze," Grover warned, but Tyson didn't stop, causing Grover and Cressida to pull him back. "Stop, Tyson!" he whispered. "Can't you see it?!"
And they followed to where he was pointing. On the second-floor balcony, across the courtyard, was a monster more horrible than anything they'd ever seen before.
It was a hybrid sort of creature. The top half was a woman's body but the bottom was that of a dragon, at least seven metres long, black and scaly with enormous claws and a barbed tail. Her legs looked like they were tangled in vines, but they were sprouting snakes, hundreds of vipers darting around, constantly looking for something to bite. The woman's hair was also made of snakes, like Medusa's. Weirdest of all, around her waist, where the woman part met the dragon part, her skin bubbled and morphed, occasionally producing the heads of animals – a vicious wolf, a bear, a lion, as if she were wearing a belt of ever-changing creatures.
"It's her," Tyson whimpered.
"Tyson, it's going to be ok," Cressida promised even though it was probably a lie and Percy wondered how she knew who it was.
"Get down!" Grover said.
They crouched into the shadows but the monster wasn't even paying attention to them, it seemed to be talking to someone inside a cell on the second floor - where the sobbing was coming from.
"What's she saying?" Percy muttered. "What's that language?"
"The tongue of the old times." Tyson shivered. "What Mother Earth spoke to Titans and... her other children. Before the gods."
"You understand it?" Percy asked. "Can you translate?"
Tyson closed his eyes and began to speak in a horrible, raspy woman's voice. "You will work for the master or suffer."
Annabeth shuddered. "I hate it when he does that."
"I will not serve," Tyson said in a deep, wounded voice. He switched to the monster's voice: "Then I shall enjoy your pain, Briares." Tyson faltered when he said that name - he'd never broken when mimicking somebody but he let out a strangled gulp.
Then he continued in the monster's voice. "If you thought your first imprisonment was unbearable, you have yet to feel true torment. Think on this until I return."
The dragon-lady then spread her wings and soared across the courtyard, a hot sulphurous wind blasting their faces as she flew overhead before disappearing around the corner.
"H-h-horrible," Grover said. "I've never smelled any monster that strong."
"Cyclopes' worst nightmare," Tyson murmured. "Kampê."
And he really needed the hug Cressida gave him, her smell of grapes oddly calming.
"Who?" Percy asked, watching how his brother hunched over so she could cradle his head to her shoulder in an attempt to make him feel better.
"You think Kronos was a bad parent," Cressida said. "Well, his parents were worse. They had Kampe jail their first children. Cyclopes and the Hekatonheires. Every Cyclops knows about her."
"Hekatonheries! I remember now!" Annabeth exclaimed quietly. "Gaia and Ouranos had them imprisoned when the Titans ruled."
"The Heka-what?" Percy asked.
"The Hundred-Handed Ones," Annabeth said. "They called them that because... well, they had a hundred hands. They were elder brothers of the Cyclopes."
Cressida was now hugged to Tyson's side as he played with her braid absentmindedly, a finger trailing down the white stripe of hair that was weaved through it.
"Very powerful. Wonderful!" Tyson said. "As tall as the sky. So strong they could break mountains!"
"Cool," Percy said. "Unless you're a mountain."
Cressida glared at him. As someone who had literally been tied up and jailed for years of her life, she knew that this was absolutely no joking matter. "And Kampe was the creature that imprisoned them, even when Kronos ruled. It wasn't until Zeus came and killed Kampe that they were all freed from Tartarus. They helped fight in the first Titan War."
"And now Kampe is back," Percy said.
"Bad," Tyson summed up.
"So, who's in that cell? You said a name -"
"Briares!" Tyson perked up. "'He is a Hundred-handed One. They are as tall as the sky and –"
"Yeah," Percy said with a small smile. "They break mountains."
"I guess we should check it out. we're already here," Annabeth said.
"You're the boss," Cressida said as she let go of Tyson. "But let's make this quick before Kampe comes back."
As they approached the cell, the weeping got louder. He was human-size and his skin was very pale, the colour of milk. He wore a loincloth like a big diaper. His feet seemed too big for his body, with cracked dirty toenails, and eight toes on each foot. But the top half of his body was the weird part. He made Janus look downright normal. His chest sprouted more arms than you could count, in rows, all around his body. The arms looked like normal arms, but there were so many of them, all tangled together, that his chest looked kind of like a forkful of spaghetti somebody had twirled together. Several of his hands were covering his face as he sobbed.
"Either the sky isn't as tall as it used to be," Percy muttered, "or he's short."
And Cressida smacked the back of his head. Hard.
"Take this seriously and have some compassion for once in your life," she scolded as he rubbed his head. Percy looked to Annabeth but the girl gave him a glare that meant two things, one, she wasn't going to get in the middle and two, she agreed with Cressida.
Tyson didn't pay any attention. He fell to his knees. "Briares!" he called. The sobbing stopped. "Great Hundred-handed One!" Tyson said. "Help us!"
Briares looked up. His face was long and sad, with a crooked nose and bad teeth. "Run while you can, Cyclops," Briares said miserably. "I cannot even help myself."
"You are a Hundred-handed One!" Tyson insisted. "You can do anything!"
Briares wiped his nose with five or six hands. Several others were fidgeting with little pieces of metal and wood from a broken bed, the way Tyson always played with spare parts. It was amazing to watch. The hands seemed to have a mind of their own. They built a toy boat out of wood, and then disassembled it just as fast. Other hands were scratching at the cement floor for no apparent reason. Others were playing rock, paper, scissors. A few others were making ducky and doggie shadow puppets against the wall.
"I cannot," Briares moaned. "Kampê is back! The Titans will rise and throw us back into Tartarus."
"Put on your brave face!" Tyson said.
Immediately Briares's face morphed into something else. Same brown eyes, but otherwise totally different features. He had an upturned nose, arched eyebrows and a weird smile, like he was trying to act brave. But then his face turned back to what it had been before.
"No good," he said. "My scared face keeps coming back."
"How did you do that?" Percy asked.
Annabeth elbowed him this time. "Don't be rude. The Hundred-handed Ones have fifty different faces."
And he refrained from the comment he was about to make about yearbook pictures.
Tyson was still entranced. "It will be okay, Briares! We will help you! Can I have your autograph?"
Briares sniffled. "Do you have one hundred pens?"
"Guys," Grover interrupted. "We have to get out of here. Kampê will be back. She'll sense us sooner or later."
"He's right. We're running out of time," Cressida agreed. "We can lose her in the maze."
"Break the bars," Annabeth said.
"Yes!" Tyson said, smiling proudly. "Briares can do it. He is very strong. Stronger than Cyclopes, even! Watch!"
Briares whimpered. A dozen of his hands started playing pat-a-cake, but none of them made any attempt to break the bars.
"If he's so strong," Percy said, "why is he stuck in jail?"
"My gods, I'm going to feed you to Kampe," Cressida hissed through gritted teeth. "A vicious monster imprisoned him in a place literally worse than hell for thousands of years. How would you feel?"
The Hundred-handed One covered his face again.
"Briares?" Tyson asked. "What... what is wrong? Show us your great strength!"
"Tyson," Annabeth said, "I think you'd better break the bars."
Tyson's smile melted slowly. "I will break the bars," he repeated. He grabbed the cell door and ripped it off its hinges like it was made of wet clay.
Cressida was the one to reach her hand out. "Let's get you out of here. Come on, Braisres," she said in a voice that was soft and caring, like the way she spoke to Nico last winter before he ran off.
For a second, Briares's face morphed into a hopeful expression. Several of his arms reached out, but twice as many slapped them away.
"I cannot," he said. "She will punish me."
"No, she won't. You fought the Titans before, and you won. You can fight again," Cressida encouraged.
"'I remember the war." Briares's face morphed again – furrowed brow and a pouting mouth. His brooding face, perhaps. "Lightning shook the world. We threw many rocks. The Titans and the monsters almost won. Now they are getting strong again. Kampê said so."
"Don't listen to her!" Percy insisted. "Come on!"
He didn't move and they were running out of time they definitely didn't have. But yet, they couldn't leave him here.
"Briares-"
"One game of rock, paper scissors," Percy blurted, interrupting Cressida and stopping her probably before she could use her powers to convince Braires to come. They stared at Percy like he was the one with a hundred hands and fifty faces. "If I win, you come with us. If I lose, we'll leave you in jail."
Briares's face morphed to doubtful. "I always win rock, paper, scissors."
"Then let's do it!" Percy said.
"What are you doing?" Cressida whispered as Percy curled one hand into a fist.
"Another quality Positive Thinking Percy Jackson Plan. Just trust me," he replied as he pounded his fist in his palm three times.
Briares did the same with all one hundred hands, which sounded like an army marching three steps forward. He came up with a whole avalanche of rocks, a classroom set of scissors and enough paper to make a fleet of aeroplanes.
"I told you," he said sadly. "I always –" His face morphed to confusion. "What is that you made?"
And Cressida's mouth dropped open in amazement.
"A gun," Percy answered as he brandished his finger gun.
She remembered this. Percy wrote to her in a letter a couple of months ago complaining that Paul Blofis had pulled this trick on him. She'd told him to get used to the feeling of defeat when he returned to camp.
"A gun beats anything," Cressida recalled and Percy glanced at her, something resembling hope glimmering in his eyes.
"That's not fair!" Briares whined.
"I didn't say anything about fair. Kampê's not going to be fair if we hang around. She's going to blame you for ripping off the bars. Now come on!"
Briares sniffled. "Demigods are cheaters."
"We call it levelling the playing field," Cressida commented as he began to rise to his feet and follow them out of the cell. The hope in Percy's eyes began to grow, before it was utterly crushed as they came downstairs to the Labyrinth entrance and Tyson froze.
On the ground floor right below, Kampê was snarling at us.
"Perfect," Cressida sighed heavily just as Percy said,
"Shit."
Yeah, that was nowhere near a strong enough word for how bad this situation was.