The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)(84)

The morning was warm, but Piper 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, Piper thought.

Annabeth gazed at the Rock of Gibraltar. Piper 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 Piper 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. Piper 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 Piper, 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. Piper 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,” Annabeth 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.”

Piper resisted the urge to use charmspeak. She wanted to yell at Leo: Fly! Get us out of here! Unfortunately, she had a feeling that Annabeth was right. If they wanted to pass into the Mediterranean, they couldn’t avoid this meeting.

“Won’t Hercules be on our side?” she 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.”

Piper remembered their meeting with Bacchus in Kansas—another god who used to be a demigod. He hadn’t been exactly helpful.

“Great,” Percy said. “Seven 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.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Annabeth said. “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.

She tried to avoid screaming and jumping over the side. A bad premonition gnawed at her gut. But if Jason was going ashore, she wanted to be with him. Maybe this hugely powerful god would turn out to be helpful. They had to have good luck once in a while, didn’t they?

“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.

Piper had heard tons of stories about Hercules. She’d seen several cheesy movies and cartoons. Before today, if she had thought about him at all, she’d just roll her eyes and imagine some stupid hairy dude in his thirties with a barrel chest and a gross hippie beard, with a lion skin over his head and a big club, like a caveman. She imagined he would smell bad, belch, and scratch himself a lot, and speak mostly in grunts.