The Battle of the Labyrinth

fall asleep, but when I finally did, I dreamed of a prison.
    I saw a boy in a Greek tunic and sandals crouching alone in a massive stone room. The ceiling was open to the night sky, but the walls were twenty feet high and polished marble, completely smooth. Scattered around the room were wooden crates. Some were cracked and tipped over, as if they’d been flung in there. Bronze tools spilled out of one—a compass, a saw, and a bunch of other things I didn’t recognize.
    The boy huddled in the corner, shivering from cold, or maybe fear. He was spattered in mud. His legs, arms, and face were scraped up as if he’d been dragged here along with the boxes.
    Then the double oak doors moaned open. Two guards in bronze armor marched in, holding an old man between them. They flung him to the floor in a battered heap.
    “Father!” The boy ran to him. The man’s robes were in tatters. His hair was streaked with gray, and his beard was long and curly. His nose had been broken. His lips were bloody.
    The boy took the old man’s head in his arms. “What did they do to you?” Then he yelled at the guards, “I’ll kill you!”
    “There will be no killing today,” a voice said.
    The guards moved aside. Behind them stood a tall man in white robes. He wore a thin circlet of gold on his head. His beard was pointed like a spear blade. His eyes glittered cruelly. “You helped the Athenian kill my Minotaur, Daedalus. You turned my own daughter against me.”
    “You did that yourself, Your Majesty,” the old man croaked.
    A guard planted a kick in the old man’s ribs. He groaned in agony. The young boy cried, “Stop!”
    “You love your maze so much,” the king said, “I have decided to let you stay here. This will be your workshop. Make me new wonders. Amuse me. Every maze needs a monster. You shall be mine!”
    “I don’t fear you,” the old man groaned.
    The king smiled coldly. He locked his eyes on the boy. “But a man cares about his son, eh? Displease me, old man, and the next time my guards inflict a punishment, it will be on him!”
    The king swept out of the room with his guards, and the doors slammed shut, leaving the boy and his father alone in the darkness.
    “What will we do?” the boy moaned. “Father, they will kill you!”
    The old man swallowed with difficulty. He tried to smile, but it was a gruesome sight with his bloody mouth.
    “Take heart, my son.” He gazed up at the stars. “I—I will find a way.”
    A bar lowered across the doors with a fatal BOOM , and I woke in a cold sweat.
    I was still feeling shaky the next morning when Chiron called a war council. We met in the sword arena, which I thought was pretty strange—trying to discuss the fate of the camp while Mrs. O’Leary chewed on a life-size squeaky pink rubber yak.
    Chiron and Quintus stood at the front by the weapon racks. Clarisse and Annabeth sat next to each other and led the briefing. Tyson and Grover sat as far away from each other as possible. Also present around the table: Juniper the tree nymph, Silena Beauregard, Travis and Connor Stoll, Beckendorf, Lee Fletcher, even Argus, our hundred-eyed security chief. That’s how I knew it was serious. Argus hardly ever shows up unless something really major is going on. The whole time Annabeth spoke, he kept his hundred blue eyes trained on her so hard his whole body turned bloodshot.
    “Luke must have known about the Labyrinth entrance,” Annabeth said. “He knew everything about camp.”
    I thought I heard a little pride in her voice, like she still respected the guy, as evil as he was.
    Juniper cleared her throat. “That’s what I was trying to tell you last night. The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it.”
    Silena Beauregard frowned. “You knew about the Labyrinth entrance, and you didn’t say anything?”
    Juniper’s face turned green. “I didn’t know it was important. Just a cave. I don’t like yucky old caves.”
    “She has good taste,” Grover said.
    “I wouldn’t have paid any attention except . . . well, it was Luke.” She blushed a little greener.
    Grover huffed. “Forget what I said about good taste.”
    “Interesting.” Quintus polished his sword as he spoke. “And you believe this young man, Luke, would dare use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?”
    “Definitely,” Clarisse said. “If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about