The Battle of the Labyrinth

breakfast.
    Apparently around three in the morning an Aethiopian drakon had been spotted at the borders of camp. I was so exhausted I slept right through the noise. The magical boundaries had kept the monster out, but it prowled the hills, looking for weak spots in our defenses, and it didn’t seem anxious to go away until Lee Fletcher from Apollo’s cabin led a couple of his siblings in pursuit. After a few dozen arrows lodged in the chinks of the drakon’s armor, it got the message and withdrew.
    “It’s still out there,” Lee warned us during announcements. “Twenty arrows in its hide, and we just made it mad. The thing was thirty feet long and bright green. Its eyes—” He shuddered.
    “You did well, Lee.” Chiron patted him on the shoulder. “Everyone stay alert, but stay calm. This has happened before.”
    “Aye,” Quintus said from the head table. “And it will happen again. More and more frequently.”
    The campers murmured among themselves.
    Everyone knew the rumors: Luke and his army of monsters were planning an invasion of the camp. Most of us expected it to happen this summer, but no one knew how or when. It didn’t help that our attendance was down. We only had about eighty campers. Three years ago, when I’d started, there had been more than a hundred. Some had died. Some had joined Luke. Some had just disappeared.
    “This is a good reason for new war games,” Quintus continued, a glint in his eyes. “We’ll see how you all do with that tonight.”
    “Yes . . .” Chiron said. “Well, enough announcements. Let us bless this meal and eat.” He raised his goblet. “To the gods!”
    We all raised our glasses and repeated the blessing.
    Tyson and I took our plates to the bronze brazier and scraped a portion of our food into the flames. I hoped the gods liked raisin toast and Froot Loops.
    “Poseidon,” I said. Then I whispered, “Help me with Nico, and Luke, and Grover’s problem . . .”
    There was so much to worry about I could’ve stood there all morning, but I headed back to my table.
    Once everyone was eating, Chiron and Grover came over to visit. Grover was bleary-eyed. His shirt was inside out. He slid his plate onto the table and slumped next to me.
    Tyson shifted uncomfortably. “I will go . . . um . . . polish my fish ponies.”
    He lumbered off, leaving his breakfast half eaten.
    Chiron tried for a smile. He probably wanted to look reassuring, but in centaur form he towered over me, casting a shadow across the table. “Well, Percy, how did you sleep?”
    “Uh, fine.” I wondered why he asked that. Was it possible he knew something about the weird Iris-message I’d gotten?
    “I brought Grover over,” Chiron said, “because I thought you two might want to, ah, discuss matters. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some Iris-messages to send. I’ll see you later in the day.” He gave Grover a meaningful look, then trotted out of the pavilion.
    “What’s he talking about?” I asked Grover.
    Grover chewed his eggs. I could tell he was distracted, because he bit off the tines of his fork and chewed those down, too. “He wants you to convince me,” he mumbled.
    Somebody else slid next to me on the bench: Annabeth.
    “I’ll tell you what it’s about,” she said. “The Labyrinth.”
    It was hard to concentrate on what she was saying, because everybody in the dining pavilion was stealing glances at us and whispering. And Annabeth was right next to me. I mean right next to me.
    “You’re not supposed to be here,” I said.
    “We need to talk,” she insisted.
    “But the rules . . .”
    She knew as well as I did that campers weren’t allowed to switch tables. Satyrs were different. They weren’t really demigods. But the half-bloods had to sit with their cabins. I wasn’t even sure what the punishment was for switching tables. I’d never seen it happen. If Mr. D had been here, he probably would’ve strangled Annabeth with magical grapevines or something, but Mr. D wasn’t here. Chiron had already left the pavilion. Quintus looked over and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything.
    “Look,” Annabeth said, “Grover is in trouble. There’s only one way we can figure to help him. It’s the Labyrinth. That’s what Clarisse and I have been investigating.”
    I shifted my weight, trying to think clearly. “You mean the maze where they kept the Minotaur, back in the old days?”
    “Exactly,” Annabeth said.
    “So . . . it’s not under the