JASON WOKE TO the sound of a different ship's horn—a blast so loud it quite literally shook him out of bed.
As he recovered from hitting the floor, he wondered if Leo was pulling another joke. Then the horn sounded again, shaking the giant warship like rattle. It sounded like it was coming from several hundred yards away—from another vessel.
He got dressed quickly, grabbing his gladius as he made a dash for the deck. By the time he got up there, the most of the others had already gathered—all hastily dressed save for Coach Hedge, who'd pulled the night watch.
Frank's Vancouver Winter Olympics shirt was inside out. Percy wore pajama pants and a bronze breastplate, which was an interesting fashion statement. Ophelia looked like she was plotting the painful demise of the obnoxiously loud ship for waking her up, her sword clenched in her fist and her eyes murderous.
Yeah, she really wasn't a morning person.
About a hundred yards to port, a massive cruise ship glided past. Tourists waved at them from fifteen or sixteen rows of balconies. Some smiled and took pictures. None of them looked surprised to see an Ancient Greek warship.
The cruise ship blew its horn again, and the Argo II had a shaking fit.
Coach Hedge plugged his ears. "Do they have to be so loud?"
"They're just saying hi," Frank speculated.
"WHAT?" Hedge yelled back.
The ship edged past them, heading out to sea. The tourists kept waving. If they found it strange that the Argo II was populated with half-asleep kids in armor and pajamas and a man with goat legs, they didn't let on.
"Bye!" Leo called, raising a smoking hand in a wave.
"Can I man the ballistae?" Hedge asked.
"Go for it," Ophelia grumbled under her breath.
"Don't even think about it, you two," Leo said through a forced smile.
Hazel rubbed her eyes and looked across the glittering green water. "Where are—oh... Wow."
Jason followed her gaze, his eyes widening at the sight. Without the cruise ship blocking their view, he could see a mountain jutting from the sea less than half a mile to the north. Jason had seen plenty of mountains before—hell, he'd fought a Titan on the top of Mount Tam. But it wasn't nearly as impressive-looking as the massive fist of blinding white rock that seemed to reach for the sky.
On one side, the limestone cliffs were almost completely sheer, dropping into the sea over a thousand feet below, as near as Jason could figure. On the other side, the mountain sloped in tiers, covered in green forest, so that the whole thing reminded Jason of a colossal sphinx, worn down over the millennia, with a massive white head and chest, and a green cloak over its back.
"The Rock of Gibraltar," Annabeth said in awe. "At the tip of Spain. And over there—" She pointed south, to a more distant stretch of red and ochre hills. "That must be Africa. We're at the mouth of the Mediterranean."
Despite the warmth of the morning, Jason's skin prickled with goosebumps. Once they entered the Mediterranean—the Mare Nostrum—they would be in the ancient lands. They would break one of the most sacred laws for any Roman demigod.
He might have had his reservations about Camp Jupiter, but Jason was still a born-and-bred Roman. Entering the ancient lands felt like a betrayal in and of itself, like he was fully turning his back on the camp that had raised him.
A hand slipped into his, fingers fitting into the spaces between his own. As if she could read his mind—which Jason was sometimes convinced she could—Ophelia squeezed his hand.
Here she was, comforting him when she was the one who'd just found out her ex-girlfriend-turned-nemesis had come back to life.
He didn't deserve her. He wasn't sure he ever would.
"What now?" Piper asked, looking between the pillars at the open sea ahead. "Do we just... sail in?"
"Why not?" Leo asked. "It's a big shipping channel. Boats go in and out all the time."
Annabeth gazed up at the Rock of Gibraltar. "In the old days," she said, "they called this area the Pillars of Hercules. The Rock was supposed to be one pillar. The other is one of the African mountains. Nobody is sure which one."
"Hercules, huh?" Percy frowned. "That guy is like the Starbucks of Ancient Greece. Everywhere you turn—there he is."
A thunderous boom shook the Argo II, though Jason couldn't tell where it was coming from. There were no other ships that he could see, and the sky was clear. There was no storm in the air—not one he could sense, anyway.
"So..." Piper said, sounding unnerved. "These Pillars of Hercules. Are they dangerous?"
Annabeth stayed focused on the white cliffs. "For Greeks, the pillars marked the end of the known world. The Romans said the pillars were inscribed with a Latin warning—"
"Non plus ultra," Percy said.
Annabeth looked surprised. "Yeah. Nothing Further Beyond. How did you know?"
Percy pointed. "Because I'm looking at it."
Directly ahead of them, in the middle of the straits, an island had shimmered into existence. It was a small, hilly mass of land, covered in forests and ringed with white beaches. Not very impressive compared to Gibraltar, but in front of the island, jutting from the waves about a hundred waves offshore, were two white Grecian columns as tall as their ship's masts. Between the columns, huge silver words glittered underwater—maybe an illusion, or maybe inlaid in the sand: NON PLUS ULTRA.
"Guys, do I turn around?" Leo asked nervously. "Or..." No one answered—probably because, like Jason, they'd noticed the figure standing on the beach. As the ship approached the columns, he saw a dark-haired man in purple robes, his arms crossed, staring intently at their ship as if he were expecting them. Jason couldn't tell much else about him from so far away, but judging from his posture, he didn't seem too thrilled.
Even from a distance, Jason knew who it had to be.
Frank inhaled sharply. "Could that be—?"
"Hercules," Jason said. "The most powerful demigod of all time."
The Argo II was only a few hundred yards from the columns now.
"Need an answer," Leo said urgently. "I can turn, or we can take off. The stabilizers are working again. But I need to know quick—"
"We have to keep going," Annabeth said. "I think he's guarding these straits. If it's really Hercules, sailing or flying away wouldn't do any good. He'll want to talk to us."
"Won't Hercules be on our side?" Piper asked hopefully. "I mean... he's one of us, right?"
Jason grunted. "He was a son of Zeus, but when he died, he became a god. You can never be sure with gods."
Ophelia sighed. "Awesome," she muttered. "Eight of us against Hercules. And we haven't even had breakfast yet."
"Eight plus a satyr, Imai!" Hedge said. "We can take him."
"I've got a better idea," Annabeth said. "We send ambassadors ashore. A small group—one or two at most. Try to talk with him."
"I'll go," Jason volunteered. "He's a son of Zeus. I'm a son of Jupiter. Maybe he'll be friendly to me."
"Or maybe he'll hate you," Percy suggested. "Half-brothers don't always get along."
Jason scowled. "Thank you, Mr. Optimism."
"It's worth a shot," Annabeth said. "At least Jason and Hercules have something in common. And we need our best diplomat. Somebody who'd be good with words."
All eyes turned to Piper.
She sighed. "Fine," she said. "Just let me change my clothes."
❖
Once Leo had anchored the Argo II between the pillars, Jason summoned the wind to carry him and Piper ashore.
The man in purple was waiting for them.
Jason had heard plenty of stories about Hercules, mostly from his teachers in New Rome. He'd even seen the animated film when he was younger, though he preferred the old stories to the Disney-fied version—probably because Dakota went through a phase where he started singing Go the Distance every time he saw Jason during training.
Suffice to that got old quick.
Hercules's feet were bare, covered in white sand. His robes made him look like a priest, though Jason didn't really know much about priests, so that might have just been a stereotype. His beard was fashionably scruffy—the sort of I just happened not to shave for two days and I still look awesome look.
He was well-built, but not too stocky. His dark hair was close-cropped, Roman style. He had startling blue eyes, almost a mirror-image to Jason's, but his skin was coppery, as if he'd spent his entire life on a tanning bed. The most surprising thing: he looked about twenty. Jason could picture him on the New Rome University campus, or maybe some other college with fraternities for him to rush.
He had a club that lay in the sand next to him, but it was little more than an oversized baseball bat—a five-foot-long polished cylinder of mahogany with a leather handgrip studded in bronze. Coach Hedge would have been jealous.
Jason and Piper landed at the edge of the surf. They approached slowly, careful not to make any threatening moves. Hercules watched them with no particular emotion, as if they were some form of seabird he had never noticed before.
"Hello," Piper said politely.
"What's up?" Hercules said. His voice was deep but casual, very modern. He could've been greeting them in the high school locker room.
"Uh, not much," Piper replied. Then she winced. "Well, actually, a lot. I'm Piper. This is Jason. We—"
"Where's your lion skin?" Jason blurted out.
Piper looked like she was about to elbow him, but Hercules looked more amused than annoyed.
"It's ninety degrees out here," he said. "Why would I wear my lion skin? Do you wear a fur coat to the beach?"
Jason blinked. "I guess that makes sense," he admitted, though he couldn't hide his disappointment. "It's just that the pictures always show you with a lion skin."
Hercules glared at the sky accusingly, like he wanted to have words with his father, Zeus. Jason understood the feeling. "Don't believe everything you hear about me. Being famous isn't as fun as you might think."
"Tell me about it," Piper sighed.
Hercules looked at her. "Are you famous?"
"My dad... he's in the movies."
Hercules snarled. "Don't get me started on the movies. Gods of Olympus, they never get anything right. Have you seen one movie about me where I look like me?"
"I'm surprised you're so young," Piper admitted.
"Ha! Being immortal helps. But, yes, I wasn't so old when I died. Not by modern standards. I did a lot during my years as a hero... too much, really." His eyes drifted to Jason. "Son of Zeus, eh?"
"Jupiter," Jason corrected, mostly out of habit.
"Not much difference," Hercules grumbled. "Dad's annoying in either form. Me? I was called Heracles. Then the Romans came along and named me Hercules. I didn't really change that much, though lately just thinking about it gives me splitting headaches..."
The left side of his face twitched. His robes shimmered, momentarily turning white, then back to purple.
"At any rate," Hercules said, "if you're Jupiter's son, you might understand. It's a lot of pressure. Enough is never enough. Eventually it can make a guy snap."
He turned to Piper. There was a mixture of sadness and darkness in his eyes that seemed not quite sane, and definitely not safe.
"As for you, my dear," Hercules said, "be careful. Sons of Zeus can be... well, never mind."
Piper frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, we're not... we're not together."
Hercules looked from Piper to Jason for a moment. "Why not?" he asked, as if he didn't quite understand.
"I have a girlfriend," Jason explained at the same moment Piper said, "I'm a lesbian."
Understanding flickered across Hercules's face. "Ah, like Sappho, huh?" He nodded at Piper. "Understandable." He looked behind them, toward the Argo II. "And I'm guessing that brunette watching you like a hawk's your girlfriend?"
Jason glanced behind him, where three figures were at the standing at the head of the ship—Annabeth, Percy, and Ophelia from the looks of it. Although Percy could have just been Leo standing on something—it was a little hard to tell from where Jason stood.
"Uh, yeah," Jason said.
"She's pretty."
Jason fought a scowl. He knew Ophelia was pretty, but he didn't like Hercules pointing it out.
"Yeah, I've noticed," Jason quipped.
"So, Lord Hercules," Piper spoke up, "we're on a quest. We'd like permission to pass into the Mediterranean."
Hercules shrugged. "That's why I'm here. After I died, Dad made me the doorkeeper of Olympus. I said, Great! Palace duty! Party all the time! What he didn't mention is that I'd be guarding the doors to the ancient lands, stuck on this island for the rest of eternity. Lots of fun."
He pointed at the pillars rising from the surf. "Stupid columns. Some people claim I created the whole Strait of Gibraltar by shoving mountains apart. Some people say the mountains are the pillars. What a bunch of Augean manure. The pillars are pillars."
"Right," Piper said. "Naturally. So... can we pass?"
The god scratched his fashionable beard. "Well, I have to give you the standard warning about how dangerous the ancient lands are. Not just any demigod can survive the Mare Nostrum. Because of that, I have to give you a quest to complete. Prove your worth, blah, blah, blah. Honestly, I don't make a big deal of it. Usually I give demigods something simple like a shopping trip, singing a funny song, that sort of thing. After all those labors I had to complete for my evil cousin Eurystheus, well... I don't want to be that guy, you know?"
"Appreciate it," Jason said.
"Hey, no problem." Hercules sounded relaxed and easygoing, but Jason wasn't naïve enough to let his guard down that easily. There was something in his dark eyes that reminded Jason of a piece of charcoal soaked in kerosene, ready to go up at a moment's notice.
"So anyway," Hercules said, "what's your quest?"
"Giants," Jason said. "We're off to Greece to stop them from awakening Gaea."
"Giants," Hercules muttered. "I hate those guys. Back when I was a demigod hero... ah, but never mind. So which god put you up to this—Dad? Athena? Maybe Aphrodite?" He raised an eyebrow at Piper. "As pretty as you are, I'm guessing that's your mom."
In hindsight, Jason really should have known better than to tell the truth. But there was something creepy in the way Hercules was looking at his friend, and he was already a little unsettled just in general, so he didn't think before answering, "Hera sent us. She brought us together to—"
"Hera." Hercules's expression turned as solid and unforgiving as the cliffs of Gibraltar.
"We hate her too," Piper said quickly. "We didn't want to help her. She didn't give us much choice, but—"
"But here you are," Hercules said, all friendliness gone. "Sorry, you two. I don't care how worthy your quest is. I don't do anything that Hera wants. Ever."
Jason blinked, trying to think of something to save them. "But... didn't you make up with her when you became a god?"
"Like I said," Hercules grumbled, "don't believe everything you hear. If you want to pass into the Mediterranean, I'm afraid I've got to give you an extra-hard quest."
"But we're like brothers," Jason protested. "Hera's messed with my life, too. I understand—"
"You understand nothing," Hercules said coldly. "My first family: dead. My life wasted on ridiculous quests. My second wife dead, after being tricked into poisoning me and leaving me to a painful demise. And my compensation? I got to become a minor god. Immortal, so I can never forget my pain. Stuck here as a gatekeeper, a doorman, a... a butler for the Olympians. No, you don't understand. The only god who understands me even a little bit is Dionysus. And at least he invented something useful. I have nothing to show except bad film adaptations of my life."
"That's horribly sad, Lord Hercules," Piper said, turning on the charmspeak. "But please go easy on us. We're not bad people."
Jason thought she'd done it. Hercules hesitated. Then his jaw tightened, and he shook his head. "On the opposite side of this island, over those hills, you'll find a river. In the middle of that river lives the old god Achelous."
Achelous. It didn't ring any bells.
Hercules waited, as if this information was supposed to send them running in terror.
"And...?" Jason ventured.
"And," Hercules said with a bit of attitude, "I want you to break off his other horn and bring it to me."
"He has horns," Jason said. "Wait... his other horn? What—?"
"Figure it out," the god snapped. "Here, this should help."
He said the word help like it meant hurt. From under his robes, Hercules took a small book and tossed it to Piper. She barely caught it.
Jason glanced at it over her shoulder. The book's glossy cover showed a photographic montage of Greek temples and smiling monsters. The Minotaur was giving a thumbs-up. The title read: The Hercules Guide to the Mare Nostrum.
"Bring me that horn by sundown," Hercules said. "Just the two of you. No contacting your friends. Your ship will remain where it is. If you succeed, you may pass into the Mediterranean."
"And if we don't?" Piper asked.
"Well, Achelous will kill you, obviously," Hercules said. "And I will break your ship in half with my bare hands and send your friends to an early grave."
Jason bristled at that. "Can't we just sing a funny song?"
"I'd get going," Hercules said coldly. "Sundown. Or your friends are dead."
❖
just found out i'll probably have to pay $139 out of my own pocket to get a covid test so i can attend the ONE in-person class i have this semester... fuck.
hope y'all enjoyed this little peek into jason's head. see y'all friday!