FIC: The Golden Fleece, chpt 10

Apr 15, 2017 15:24

Title: The Golden Fleece (Daughter of Wisdom 2)
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Tyson, Luke Castellan, Clarisse La Rue, Chiron, Thalia Grace, various others, Gen
Fandom: Percy Jackson

Summary: Annabeth Chase returns to Camp Half-Blood to find the safety of her home shattered: Thalia's tree has been poisoned, destroying the magic barriers protecting the camp, and Chiron is blamed. Only one thing can save the camp, and it's up to Annabeth and her best friend Percy to find it. The problem is, they set off with a monster in tow. Once again, the quest and the surprises it has in store is about to change everything she thinks she knows. An alternate PoV retelling of Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters.

In this chapter
Chapter Title: We Make Monster Bird Shish Kebabs
Rating: PG
Characters: Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Charles Beckendorf, Malcolm Pace, Tyson, Tantalus, various others
Word Count: 3,684

Chapter Summary: Annabeth puts together a winning chariot design, but the race turns deadly when monsters attack from the air.

A/N: While I do my best to put a new spin on the canon scenes, certain lines of dialogue are still taken out of Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters.

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The next day, I had a firm plan for the chariot race, if not to save Thalia's tree. I was going to team up with my brother Malcolm: I would drive with him riding shotgun. He'd become quite an expert with a javelin in the past year and with its long reach, it made a good weapon for our purposes.

We had a strategy meeting with the rest of our cabin, where we assessed the other teams and decided to build for speed. It wasn't hard to guess what the other teams would do. I had no doubt Ares would muscle their way through, while Hermes would rely on all manner of dirty tricks. Hephaestus was the one we needed to watch, as Beckendorf was a wizard with machines. But we figured the more fancy trappings he got on cabin nine's chariot, the more it would weigh them down. Percy was more of a wild card, since he was always full of surprises, plus he had a gift with horses. But he also had an Achilles heel the size of a Cyclops.

We built our chariot in the arts and crafts cabin, working out the most lightweight material possible that would withstand the demands of the race: the pull of the harnessed horses, centrifugal force on the hairpin turns, any jostling from other campers attempting foul play (although I didn't intend to let any of them get close enough to test it).

My dad's military aircraft book came in handy after all. I got a bunch of hints from it on how to factor in aerodynamics. Our finished design was sleek and simple, calling for a blend of titanium and aluminium to craft it. Celia Little, who was our best weaver, had come up with a shimmering, interlocking pattern for the sides that would make us less noticeable to the other racers-perfect for a quick, stealthy getaway off the start line.

I sent Malcolm and Arthur off to the stables to select the fastest steeds to pull us while I went to the forges in search of the scrap metal we needed. It would probably have been more convenient to just build the whole thing there, but I figured most of the teams would be doing that. I didn't want to give away our strategies too early.

When I entered the forge, however, only Beckendorf was inside, chiselling away at something that was way too small to be a chariot. Maybe a part for something. Next to him, I saw the reason why everyone else was probably avoiding the forges at the moment: Tyson was sitting on a low stool (well, it was actually normal height, but his size made it look tiny) and moulding a tiny figurine in his massive hands.

'Hi Annabeth,' Beckendorf said. 'Looking for something?'

'Hi Annabeth,' Tyson echoed. He broke into a grin, showing off his crooked teeth. Bits of something brown and sticky were stuck in them. He held up the figure he'd been working on for Beckendorf's inspection.

'Nice job, Tyson.' Beckendorf glanced between me and the bronze figurine. 'Good resemblance.'

With horror, I realised that it was a statue, the kind one might make of a goddess, only she was standing in a very un-goddess-like pose, with her hands on her hips. A mass of curls was cast in a splash of gold around her bronze face. It looked very much like … well, me.

Beckendorf shrugged. 'Figurines are good practice for detail work. I told him to model it on someone.'

Tyson nodded. 'You are pretty,' he said.

It should have been a compliment. If it had come from, say, Percy, I probably would have melted into a happy (albeit embarrassed) puddle. Seeing a replica of myself in a Cyclops's large hands, though, gave me a sense of revulsion.

Beckendorf saw the look on my face. He turned to Tyson. 'Hey, buddy, you wanna take the bronze bulls out to the field? Get them started ploughing. I'll join you in a sec.'

'Okay,' Tyson said. 'I will plough the fields.' He lumbered over to the entrance of the forge, where the Colchis bulls that had nearly burnt us to crisps were standing docilely, hitched to a plough. He grabbed their reins and led them out, repeating happily to himself, 'Buddy.'

'You managed to tame them?' I said to Beckendorf, impressed.

'Reprogrammed,' he corrected. 'They're automatons, after all.' He picked up an awl and continued his work-it was another figurine, like Tyson's. 'Used to be, camp had a dragon to guard against monsters. Before Thalia's tree,' he said as he worked. He seemed to be more comfortable talking when his hands were busy. 'I was hoping I could reconfigure the bulls to do the same. I haven't managed to figure that out yet, though.' His tone was wistful. 'Best I could do was set them up for manual labour.'

He finished the figurine he was working on and put down his tools. Like Tyson's, his was also cast in bronze, but she had a willowy figure and wavy hair, and the beautiful wide eyes and slender nose he'd carved intricately on her face were a stunning approximation of-

'Silena Beauregard?'

Beckendorf shoved the statue quickly into the pocket of his coveralls. He was so dark-skinned, it was impossible to tell for sure if he was blushing, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

'You like her, don't you?'

Beckendorf grunted. 'Doesn't matter. She's out of my league. Plus, Aphrodite and Hephaestus? Not exactly a good combination.'

'Don't think like that,' I chided. 'I mean, Athena and Poseidon are sworn rivals, but Percy and I became best friends anyway.' Well, we were best friends when he wasn't being a brat like he was now.

'Best friends?' Beckendorf raised an eyebrow as if to say, is that all?

'Yes, friends,' I said firmly, although I felt my ears heat up. I changed the subject quickly. 'Silena's okay.' I thought of what I knew of her. Last year, she'd been eyeing Luke, but everyone had liked Luke. Including me. When she'd realised that I had a crush on him, too, she'd been considerate of my feelings, which was kind of uncharacteristic for an Aphrodite girl. I guess with Luke gone now, Beckendorf had as good a chance with her as anyone. 'If you like her, you should ask her out.'

Beckendorf didn't answer. Now that his hands were no longer occupied, he was turning taciturn again.

'Or you could just give her that,' I suggested, pointing at the lump of the hidden figurine in his coverall pockets. 'I bet she'd get the hint.'

When he still didn't answer, I tried a different tack. 'Why were you making it anyway?'

'Oh, well, I'm teaching Tyson metalwork. Fine details are important when you get down to crafting magical items.'

'Oh.' I realised something else that struck me as odd about Beckendorf. 'You seem really okay working with a Cyclops.'

Beckendorf shrugged again. 'My dad has Cyclopes working in all his forges. They're the best blacksmiths-I mean, they made the gods' symbols of power! I wouldn't mind an internship with one of them some day.' He picked up a cloth and absently buffed the top of a shield lying on the countertop. 'Besides,' he continued, 'He's Percy's friend. I noticed Percy's a pretty good judge of character.'

I looked at him in surprise. 'You think so?'

'You're his best friend, aren't you? And I used to think you were really scary and all, but Percy kind of changed my mind about that.' He smiled a bit. 'You're nice enough when I'm actually talking to you, I guess. Or maybe he'd rubbing off on you. Anyway, anyone who's okay with Percy is okay in my book.'

It was my turn to be tongue-tied. He kind of had a point. Although I'd known Beckendorf for four years, in all that time I'd never actually had a proper conversation like this with him. And I couldn't really think of why.

Beckendorf got to his feet. 'Well, I'd better go help Tyson with the plough like I promised. See you on the start line tomorrow.'

OoOoO

The morning of the race was hot and muggy, more like summer in swampy Virginia than a typical Long Island June. Malcolm and I chose our spot on the starting line carefully, between the Aphrodite and Demeter teams, neither of whom we'd pegged as serious competitors. Aphrodite's chariot was gilded with jewels, and if the competition had been for best decorations, they probably would have won. Demeter's horses kept reaching back to nibble at the hay on their chariot.

I was satisfied to see that the other chariot designs were exactly as predicted. Ares had the largest, painted blood-red like their cabin, and they'd found massive skeletal horses to pull them. Clarisse and her brother Mark were flexing their muscles and sharpening their swords.

Beckendorf saluted me from his ride, which was bulky as expected and looked like it concealed all manner of hidden compartments. His wingman Jake Mason was on his back under the wheels, doing some last-minute touch-ups.

Percy and Tyson were lined up next to Beckendorf. Their blue and white chariot had undulating sides reminiscent of ocean waves. It didn't appear to have any special trappings, but I wasn't going to take that for granted, given Tyson's work with Beckendorf. The horses hitched to the front looked extremely jittery. They shied away from Tyson whenever he came near, whinnying nervously.

I smirked. Percy was going to have his hands full getting his steeds to co-operate with Tyson on board.

A screech rang out overhead, like the raking of hard nails on steel. I glanced apprehensively at the sky. Tantalus had insisted that everyone be at the race, participating or not. With the entire camp either on the starting line or spectating on the sidelines, we'd been unable to organise a morning patrol. I saw nothing but a flock of fat pigeons in the trees, which didn't look particularly threatening. We hadn't been attacked since the Colchis bulls, but I felt like the shoe was just waiting to drop.

Percy came up to me, looking serious. 'Annabeth,' he said, 'I have to tell you something.'

I guessed he was over being mad at me. His timing sucked, but I was glad he was talking to me again.

'I dreamt about Grover again,' Percy continued. 'He made an empathy link with me. He's being held prisoner-he said he followed the smell of Pan but it turned out to be a trap. This guy … er, I forgot the name, Poly-something-anyway, a Cyclops has been luring satyrs to their death with some nature magic thing.'

My heart leapt. Nature magic thing? And powerful enough to give off the scent of the god of the wild himself. Could it be …?

Then the other thing Percy mentioned sunk in. A Cyclops. Poly-something. Did he mean Polyphemus? The most famous, vicious, bloodthirsty Cyclops in Greek mythology?

I glanced over at Tyson, who was still trying vainly to win over the horses. Percy had to be making fun of me, telling a tale about an evil Cyclops right before I was going into a dangerous race against one. And why not throw in more things that could grab my attention: Grover in danger, and a hint about the Golden Fleece?

'You're trying to distract me,' I said, calling his bluff. He must really be uneasy about his chances if he was resorting to such a blatant strategy. I had to hand it to him, though. He'd almost had me going for half a second.

'What? No, I'm not!'

'Oh, right,' I scoffed. 'Like Grover would just happen to stumble across the one thing that could save the camp.'

Percy feigned ignorance. 'What do you mean?'

'Go back to your chariot, Percy.' I wasn't falling for his tricks. I'd seen before what a smooth-talker he could be when he put his mind to it.

Percy grabbed my arm. 'I'm not making this up,' he insisted. 'He's in trouble, Annabeth.' He looked at me earnestly.

I really shouldn't have listened. I knew Percy was a master at distracting his enemies-mostly by yelling stupid things during a fight-and his story was really farfetched, even for a demigod. But it was hard to resist when his sea-green eyes bore straight into mine like that. Maybe he wasn't lying. Maybe he really had dreamed it.

But … an empathy link? That was really advanced magic. Last we'd seen Grover, he'd barely mastered three songs on his reed pipes. Also, if he'd really run into a Cyclops, he'd already be eaten. I remembered how Polyphemus's son, the Cyclops I'd once met in Brooklyn, had described satyrs as a special delicacy. What Cyclops would bother to imprison a satyr when he could just eat him right away?

I tried to explain this to Percy, but he shook his head stubbornly.

'The Oracle-we could consult the Oracle.'

My eyes widened. The Oracle issued all the prophecies that set the blueprints for a quest. In addition, she had also been responsible for the Great Prophecy-the scary prediction that a child of the Big Three, on reaching sixteen, would make a choice that could destroy Olympus. That prophecy was the reason why Kronos had made Luke draw Percy into Tartarus last year, why many of the gods would like to see Percy dead. It was the prophecy Chiron wanted me to heed (even though I only knew some of the lines) and protect Percy from. Knowing stuff like that could really mess with your mind. There were stories that some campers, long ago, had gone mad from the things the Oracle had shown them about the future. Consulting the Oracle wasn't something you suggested lightly.

A conch horn sounded. 'Charioteers, to your mark!' Tantalus shouted. The race was beginning.

'Come on, Annabeth!' Malcolm called. He was already on board our chariot, holding our horses steady.

I told Percy we could talk later. If he still stuck to his story after I won, I'd know he was serious.

Cheers rang out as we pulled our chariots to the start line. The pigeons shrieked along in unison. Tantalus gave the signal to start, and we were off.

Our horses leapt into action. Malcolm and I shot into an early lead. The other teams were so predictable. The Stoll brothers, true to form, took down the Apollo chariot right away, but they obviously hadn't thought things through as their sabotage came back on them and their own chariot flipped. Aphrodite's pretty chariot was pulled by Pegasi. Silena urged them into the skies, which I had to admit was a clever move. Unfortunately for them, vines shot from cabin twelve's chariot, holding them back. The Pegasi reared and Dionysus's sons were dragged through the mud, unable to control their chariot properly. Clarisse and Mark powered their way through, bashing Demeter's chariot into a messy haystack as they went.

I watched all this from up ahead. Our swift steeds and aerodynamic design were paying off. Celia's woven pattern shimmered in the morning fog, making it hard for the others to aim attacks at us.

'See ya!' Malcolm yelled in jubilation as we made it to the first post clear ahead. I navigated the first turn easily, feeling confident. Only three other chariots were still in the running: Ares, Hephaestus, and Poseidon. Percy was coming along surprisingly fast. He'd managed to spur his horses on in spite of Tyson. Beckendorf tried to take him out, but Tyson fought off the attack easily. Against all odds, they were actually advancing on us. I felt Malcolm ready his javelin in defence.

The flutter of a million wings overhead distracted me suddenly. The pigeons in the trees had risen en masse and they were hurtling towards us like rockets. Instead of aiming at Percy, Malcolm had to skewer the line of birds flying at us with his javelin. I heard Clarisse yell out behind me. Mark raised a net over their heads to keep the birds off.

I figured Tantalus must have cooked this up to make the races more entertaining, until I noticed that the screams coming from the stands were no longer cheers but actual screams of terror. A fat white blob landed on the side of my chariot and sizzled like poison. It was the foulest-smelling pigeon poop I'd ever encountered.

'Monsters!' Malcolm yelled, brandishing his skewer of birds. They were no longer disguised as pigeons. I took in their nastily curved bronze beaks and razor-sharp talons before they disintegrated into a cloud of ashy feathers, leaving behind the smell of overcooked meat.

'Stymphalian birds!' It was the attack I'd been dreading, and it couldn't have come at a worse time. Everyone was out in the open and half our best fighters were stuck in chariot pile-ups, out of commission. I grit my teeth and pulled up next to Percy. 'They'll strip everyone to bones if we don't drive them away.'

He caught on immediately. 'Tyson, we're turning around!'

We charged back towards the stands. I tried to galvanise the campers and get them organised, but they were already swarmed. There must have been millions of birds. Malcolm chucked his javelins as fast as he could, but he was quickly running out of weaponry. Percy got out his sword, Riptide, and somehow managed to slash at the birds while steering one-handed.

The birds just kept coming.

Malcolm pierced a flock with his last javelin. 'I'm out!' he gasped.

I shifted the reins to my right hand, the way I saw Percy doing, and drew my knife with my left. I wasn't as good with my non-dominant hand, but I managed to slash away the next bird to attack.

Percy yelped as a bird pecked him from behind. 'Too many! How do you get rid of them?'

'Heracles used noise,' I recalled. 'Brass bells-he scared them away with the most horrible sound he could …' I saw the Apollo campers, alternating between beating at the birds with their bows and trying to get a clear shot into the fray. Will Solace put his fingers in his mouth and let out a screeching whistle. The nearest bird squawked and flapped away from Will, who then sent an arrow through its heart. In the time it took him to load and shoot, however, the next bird descended. We would need something louder, more continuous …

The thought of wailing operatic violins flashed in my head suddenly. 'Percy, Chiron's collection.'

'You think it'll work?'

I nodded. It had to-I didn't have any other ideas. I told Malcolm to take the reins and go help the spectators. Once he had them firmly in hand, I swung myself over the side of our chariot, straight into Percy's. I bumped up against Tyson, and it was a mark of how dire the situation was that I barely noticed it.

'To the Big House,' I said. 'It's our only chance!'

Percy retracted his sword and concentrated on getting us across the lawn as quickly as possible, while I stabbed birds and Tyson wrung their necks with his bare hands. We zipped past Clarisse going in the other direction, shouting, 'The fight is here, cowards!' Before Percy even pulled to a stop by the back porch of the Big House, I was already leaping off at a run.

Everything in Chiron's apartments was exactly as he'd left it. Tantalus must have taken different accommodations. I hefted Chiron's boom box into my arms while Percy got the records, and we raced back to the track.

When we got back, the entire race track had exploded into flame. It looked like someone-I guessed Beckendorf-had tried to barbecue the birds with Greek fire, but they'd only succeeded in making a bonfire out of the remaining chariots. Tyson kept the birds off us while Percy and I set up the boom box.

The moment we pressed play, the birds went into a panic. They lifted off in a swirl of feathers, banging into each other in their frenzy to escape the warbling opera music blasting from the speakers.

The Apollo campers, no longer hampered by birds at close range, looked up.

'Now!' I yelled at them. 'Archers!'

They fired at my signal, and soon it was raining Stymphalian shish kebabs.

Percy turned the boom box off. In the silence, my ears still felt like they were ringing from the shrieks of the birds and the wail of the music.

Tantalus crawled out from under the stands where he'd gone for cover, the coward.

'Bravo!' he said, as though the chariots weren't wrecked and burning before him, as if we weren't all bleeding and reeking of Stymphalian bird poop. 'We have our first winner!'

Clarisse's mouth was open in shock as Tantalus draped a laurel wreath around her neck. I guess technically she had won, only it didn't seem to matter given the circumstances. A bird had pecked her face, leaving a painful-looking red welt on her cheek.

'And now,' Tantalus continued with a nasty smile on his face, 'to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race.' He matched over to Percy and me. 'Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.'

'We didn't do anything!' I protested.

'If not for your awful chariot driving,' Tantalus spat, 'those pigeons would never have gotten involved. They were minding their own business until you provoked them.'

My jaw dropped.

'We didn't provoke them!' Percy said.

'Provoked them,' Tantalus repeated, 'with your abysmal driving.'

'That's not fair!' I said, while Percy spluttered angrily. Tantalus just smiled coldly at us.

'You-you-oh, go chase a doughnut!' Percy snarled.

It was hardly the gravest (or smartest) of insults, but Tantatlus's face darkened angrily.

'Punishment,' he snapped. 'Ares cabin is exempt from chores all month. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase … and yes, of course, the Cyclops. You will take over their duties. Beginning with Kitchen Patrol, right now.'

Chapter 11

the golden fleece

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