The Veiled Legacy | PJO - Book Two

two

ARIANNA DRINKS A GHOST SMOOTHIE

When they reached the ledge, Ariana was sure she'd signed their death warrants.

The cliff dropped more than eighty feet. At the bottom stretched a nightmarish version of the Grand Canyon: a river of fire cutting a path through a jagged obsidian crevasse, the glowing red current casting horrible shadows across the cliff faces.

Even from the top of the canyon, the heat was intense. The chill of the River Cocytus hadnt left
Ariana's bones, but now her face felt raw and sunburnt. Every breath took more effort, as if her chest were filled with styrofoam peanuts.

All around Ariana could hear whispers, inviting her forwards; she gulped, trying to remain as vigilant as possible.

The cuts on her hands bled more rather than less. Annabeth's ankle, which had almost healed, now seemed to be broken again. She'd taken off her makeshift cast, but each step made her wince.

Assuming they could make it down to the fiery river, which she doubted, her plan seemed certifiably insane.

Not to mention, the complete creepiness off it all that awaited at the bottom - the whispers, the darkness, the death. All off it was waiting.

"Uh ..."

Percy examined the cliff. He pointed to a tiny fissure running diagonally from the edge to the bottom. "We can try that ledge there. Might be able to climb down."

He didn't say they'd be crazy to try. He managed to sound hopeful.

Ariana was grateful for that, but she also worried that she was leading him and Annabeth to their doom.

Of course if they stayed here they would die anyway. Blisters had started to form on their arms from exposure to the Tartarus air. The whole environment was about as healthy as a nuclear blast zone.

Percy went first. The ledge was barely wide enough to allow a toehold. Their hands clawed for any crack in the glassy rock.

A few steps below her, Percy grunted as he reached for another handhold. "So ... what is this fire river called?"

"The Phlegethon." Ariana told him. "You should concentrate on going down."

"The Phlegethon?" He shinned along the ledge. They'd made it roughly a third of the way down the cliff - still high enough up to die if they fell. "Sounds like a marathon for hawking spitballs."

"Please don't make me laugh." Annabeth said, from above Ariana.

"Just trying to keep things light."

"Thanks." Annabeth grunted, nearly missing the ledge with her bad foot. "I'll have a smile on my face as I plummet to my death."

They kept going, one step at a time. Ariana's eyes stung with sweat. Her arms trembled. But, to her amazement, they finally made it to the bottom of the cliff.

When Annabeth reached the ground, she stumbled. Percy caught her. Red boils had erupted on his face, so he looked like a smallpox victim.

Ariana's own vision was blurry. Her throat felt blistered, and her stomach was clenched tighter than a fist.

We have to hurry, she thought.

"Just to the river." she told Annabeth Percy, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

"We can do this." Annabeth nodded.

They staggered over slick glass ledges, around massive boulders, avoiding stalagmites that would've impaled them with any slip of the foot.