REDAMANCY | jason grace²

21

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21. Mediterranean

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The next morning Lorna woke to a different ship's horn—a blast so loud it literally shook her out of bed. She wondered if Leo was pulling another joke. Then the horn boomed again. It sounded like it was coming from several hundred yards away—from another vessel. She rushed to get dressed.

By the time she got up on deck, the others had already gathered—all hastily dressed except for Coach Hedge, who had 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. Hazel's hair was all blown to one side, as though she'd walked through a cyclone; and Leo had accidentally set himself on fire. His T-shirt was in charred tatters. His arms were smoking.

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 trireme. Maybe the Mist made it look like a fishing boat, or perhaps the cruisers thought the Argo II was a tourist attraction. 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 by half-asleep kids in armor and pajamas and a man with goat legs, they didn't let on.

"Bye!" Leo called, raising his smoking hand.

"Can I man the ballistae?" Hedge asked.

"No," Leo said through a forced smile.

Hazel rubbed her eyes and looked across the glittering green water. "Where are—oh...Wow."

Lorna followed her gaze and gasped. Without the cruise ship blocking their view, she saw a mountain jutting from the sea less than half a mile to the north. Lorna had seen impressive cliffs before but neither was as amazing as this massive fist of blinding white rock thrust into the sky. On one side, the limestone cliffs were almost completely sheer, dropping into the sea over a thousand feet below, as near as Lorna could figure. On the other side, the mountain sloped in tiers, covered in green forest, so that the whole thing reminded Lorna 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."

The morning was warm, but Lorna shivered. Despite the wide stretch of sea in front of them, she felt like she was standing at an impassable barrier. Once in the Mediterranean—the Mare Nostrum— they would be in the ancient lands. If the legends were true, their quest would become ten times more dangerous.

"What now?" she asked. "Do we just sail in?"

"Why not?" Leo said. "It's a big shipping channel. Boats go in and out all the time."

Not triremes full of demigods, Lorna thought.

Annabeth gazed at the Rock of Gibraltar. Lorna recognized that brooding expression on her friend's face. It almost always meant that she anticipated trouble.

"In the old days," Annabeth said, "they called this area the pillars of Hercules. The Rock was supposed to be one pillar. The other was one of the African mountains. Nobody is sure which one."

"Hercules, huh?" Percy frowned. "That guy was like the Starbucks of Ancient Greece. Everywhere you turn—there he is."

A thunderous boom shook the Argo II, though Lorna wasn't sure where it came from this time. She didn't see any other ships, and the skies were clear. Her mouth suddenly felt dry. "So...these Pillars of Hercules. Are they dangerous?"

Annabeth stayed focused on the white cliffs, as if waiting for the Mark of Athena to blaze to life. "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 stunned. "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. Lorna was positive no island had been there before. 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 waves about a hundred yards offshore, were two white Grecian columns as tall as the Argo'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—maybe because, like Lorna, they had noticed the figure standing on the beach. As the ship approached the columns, she saw a dark-haired man in purple robes, his arms crossed, staring intently at their ship as if he were expecting them. Lorna couldn't tell much else about him from this distance, but judging from his posture, he wasn't happy.

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," Lorna said. "I think he's guarding these straits. If that'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."

"Great," Percy said. "Eight of us against Hercules."

"And a satyr!" Hedge added. "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 said. "He's a son of Zeus. I'm the 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."

"I'm just stating the facts," Percy shrugged.

"Okaaay," Lorna rolled her eyes. "It's worth a shot."

Annabeth agreed. "At least Jason and Hercules have something in common. And we need our best diplomat. Somebody who's good with words."

All eyes turned to Piper. "Fine," she said. "Just let me change my clothes."

Before everyone went below deck, Lorna grabbed Jason's hand. "Be careful, alright? Percy's right, you two might not get along."

"It's fine," Jason chuckled. "At most, we'll just talk about how we both dislike our father. I'm sure Zeus was a jerk to him."

Lorna managed a smile. She reached up and gave him a kiss. "You'll come back, won't you."

"I promise. And hopefully, I won't be knocked out."