Daughter of Neptune, Book one

XLIV

Leo's pov. The next day

I hadn't felt this jumpy since I offered tofu burgers to the werewolves. When I got the limestone cliff in the forest, I turned to group and smiled nervously. "Here we go." 

I willed my hand to catch fire, and set it against the door. My cabinmates gasped.

"Leo!" Nyssa cried. "You're a fire user!"

"Yeah, thanks," I said. "I know."

Jake Mason, who was out of his body cast but still on crutches, said, "Holy Hephaestus. That means--it's so rare that--"

The massive stone door swung open, and everyone's mouth dropped. My flaming hand seemed insignificant now. Even Tori, Piper, and Jason looked stunned, and we'd seen enough amazing things lately.

Only Chiron didn't look surprised. The centaur knit his bushy eyebrows and stroked his beards, as if the group was about to walk into a minefield.

That made me even more nervous, but I couldn't change my mind now. My instincts told me it was meant to share this place—at least with the Hephaestus cabin—and I couldn't hide it from Chiron or my two best friends or crush.

"Welcome to Bunker Nine," I said, as confidently as I could. "C'mon in."

The group was silent as we toured the facility. Everything was just as I had left it—giant machines, worktables, old maps and schematics. Only one thing had changed. Festus's head was sitting on the central table, still battered and scorched from his final crash in Omaha.

I went over to it, a bitter taste in my mouth, and stroked the dragon's forehead. "I'm sorry, Festus. But I won't forget you."

Jason put a hand in my shoulder. "Hephaestus brought it here for you?"

I nodded.

"But you can't repair him," Jason guessed.

"No way," I said. "But the head is going to be reused. Festus will be going with us."

Piper and Tori came over and frowned. "What do you mean?"

Before I could answer, Nyssa cried out, "Guys, look at this!"

She was standing at one of the worktables, flipping through a sketchbook--diagrams for hundreds of different machines and weapons.

"I've never seen anything like these," Nyssa said. "there are more amazing ideas here than in Daedalus's workshop. It would take a century just to prototype them all."

"Who built this place?" Jake Mason said. "And why?"

Chiron stayed silent, but I focused on the wall map I'd seen my first visit. It showed Camp Half-Blood with a line of triremes in the Sound, catapults mounted in the hills around the valley, and spots marked for traps, trenches, and ambush sites.

"It's a wartime command center," I said. "The camp was attacked once, wasn't it?"

"In the Titan War?" Piper asked.

Nyssa shook her head. "No. Besides, that map looks really old. The date...does that say 1864?"

We all turned to Chiron.

The centuar's tail swished fretfully. "This camp has been attacked many times," he admitted. "That map is from the last Civil War."

Apparently, I wasn't the only one confused. The other Hephaestus campers looked at each other and frowned.

"Civil War..." Piper said. "You mean the American Civil War, like a hundred and fifty years ago?"

"Yes and no," Chiron said. "The two conflicts—mortal and demigod—mirrored each other, as they usually do in Western history. Look at any civil war or revolution from the fall of Rome onward, and it marks a time when demigods also fought one another. But that Civil War was particularly horrible. For American mortals, it is still their bloodiest conflict of all time—worse than their casualties in the two World Wars. For demigods, it was equally devastating. Even back then, this valley was Camp Half-Blood. There was a horrible battle in these woods lasting for days, with terrible losses on both sides."

"Both sides," I said. "You mean the camp split apart?"

"No," Tori spoke up, her eyes so purple they looked black. "He means two different groups. Camp Half-Blood was one side of the war."

Chiron glanced up at the tattered BUNKER 9 banner, as if remembering the day it was raised.

"The answer is dangerous," he warned. "It is something I swore upon the River Styx never to speak of. After the American Civil War, the gods were so horrified by the toll it took on their children, that they swore it would never happen again. The two groups were separated. The gods bent all their will, wove the Mist as tightly as they could, to make sure the enemies never remembered each other, never met in their quest, so that bloodshed could be avoided. This map is from the final dark days of 1864, the last time the two groups fought. We've had several close calls since then. The nineteen sixties were particularly dicey. But we've managed to avoid another civil war—at least so far. Just as Leo guessed, this bunker was a command center for the Hephaestus cabin. In the last century, it was been reopened a few times, usually as a hiding place in times of great unrest. But coming here is dangerous. It stirs old memories, awakens the old feuds. Even when the Titans threatened last year, I did not think it worth the risk to use this place."

Suddenly my sense of triumph to guilt. "Hey, look, this place found me. It was meant to happen. It's a good thing."

"I hope you're right," Chiron said.

"I am!" I pulled the old drawing out of my pocket and spread it on the table for everyone to see.

"There," I said proudly. "Aeolus returned that to me. I drew it when I was five. That's my destiny."

Nyssa frowned. "Leo, it's a crayon drawing of a boat."

"Look." I pointed at the largest schematic on the bulletin board—the blueprint showing a Greek trireme. Slowly, his cabinmates' eyes widened as they compared the two designs. The number of masts and oars, even the decorations on the shields and sails were exactly the same as in my drawing.

"That's impossible," Nyssa said. "That blueprint has to be a century old at least."

" 'Prophecy—Unclear—Flight,' " Jake Mason read from the notes on the blueprints. "It's a diagram for a flying ship. Look, that's the landing gear. And weaponry—Holy Hephaestus: rotating ballista, mounted crossbows, Celestial bronze plating. That thing would be one spankin' hit war machine. Was it ever made?"

"Not yet," I said. "Look at the masthead."

There was no doubt—the figure at the front of the ship was the head of a dragon. A very particular dragon.

"Festus," Piper said. Everyone turned and looked at the dragon's head sitting on the table.

"He's meant to be our masthead," I said. "Our good luck charm, our eyes at sea. I'm supposed to build this ship. I'm going to call it the Argo II. And guys, I'll need your help."

"The Argo II." Piper smiled. "After Jason's and Tori's ship."

Tori and Jason looked a little uncomfortable, but the nodded. And Jason said, "Leo's right. That ship is just what we need for our journey."

"What journey?" Nyssa said. "You just got back!"

Piper ran her fingers over the old crayon drawing. "We've got to confront Porphyrion, the giant king. He said he would destroy the gods at their roots."

"Indeed," Chiron said. "Much of Rachel's Great Prophecy is still a mystery to me, but one thing is clear. You four—Jason, Tori, Piper, and Leo—are among the eight demigods who must take on that quest. You must confront the giant's in the homeland, where they are strongest. You must stop them before they can wake Gaea fully, before they destroy Mount Olympus."

"Um..." Nyssa shifted. "You don't mean Manhattan, do you?"

"No," I said. "The original Mount Olympus. We have to sail to Greece."