The Battle of the Labyrinth

it seemed pretty spacious considering the whole place was underground. The dirt floor was circular, just big enough that you could drive a car around the rim if you pulled it really tight. In the center of the arena, a fight was going on between a giant and a centaur. The centaur looked panicked. He was galloping around his enemy, using sword and shield, while the giant swung a javelin the size of a telephone pole and the crowd cheered.
    The first tier of seats was twelve feet above the arena floor. Plain stone benches wrapped all the way around, and every seat was full. There were giants, dracaenae , demigods, telekhines, and stranger things: bat-winged demons and creatures that seemed half human and half you name it— bird, reptile, insect, mammal.
    But the creepiest things were the skulls. The arena was full of them. They ringed the edge of the railing. Three-foot-high piles of them decorated the steps between the benches. They grinned from pikes at the back of the stands and hung on chains from the ceiling like horrible chandeliers. Some of them looked very old—nothing but bleached-white bone. Others looked a lot fresher. I’m not going to describe them. Believe me, you don’t want me to.
    In the middle of all this, proudly displayed on the side of the spectator’s wall, was something that made no sense to me—a green banner with the trident of Poseidon in the center. What was that doing in a horrible place like this?
    Above the banner, sitting in a seat of honor, was an old enemy.
    “Luke,” I said.
    I’m not sure he could hear me over the roar of the crowd, but he smiled coldly. He was wearing camouflage pants, a white T-shirt, and bronze breastplate, just like I’d seen in my dream. But he still wasn’t wearing his sword, which I thought was strange. Next to him sat the largest giant I’d ever seen, much larger than the one on the floor fighting the centaur. The giant next to Luke must’ve been fifteen feet tall, easy, and so wide he took up three seats. He wore only a loincloth, like a sumo wrestler. His skin was dark red and tattooed with blue wave designs. I figured he must be Luke’s new bodyguard or something.
    There was a cry from the arena floor, and I jumped back as the centaur crashed to the dirt beside me.
    He met my eyes pleadingly. “Help!”
    I reached for my sword, but it had been taken from me and hadn’t reappeared in my pocket yet.
    The centaur struggled to get up as the giant approached, his javelin ready.
    A taloned hand gripped my shoulder. “If you value your friendsss’ livesss,” my dracaena guard said, “you won’t interfere. This isssn’t your fight. Wait your turn.”
    The centaur couldn’t get up. One of his legs was broken. The giant put his huge foot on the horseman’s chest and raised the javelin. He looked up at Luke. The crowd cheered, “DEATH! DEATH!”
    Luke didn’t do anything, but the tattooed sumo dude sitting next to him rose. He smiled down at the centaur, who was whimpering, “Please! No!”
    Then the sumo dude held out his hand and gave the thumbs down sign.
    I closed my eyes as the gladiator giant thrust his javelin. When I looked again, the centaur was gone, disintegrated to ashes. All that was left was a single hoof, which the giant took up as a trophy and showed the crowd. They roared their approval.
    A gate opened at the opposite end of the stadium and the giant marched out in triumph.
    In the stands, the sumo dude raised his hands for silence.
    “Good entertainment!” he bellowed. “But nothing I haven’t seen before. What else do you have, Luke, Son of Hermes?”
    Luke’s jaw tightened. I could tell he didn’t like being called son of Hermes . He hated his father. But he rose calmly to his feet. His eyes glittered. In fact, he seemed to be in a pretty good mood.
    “Lord Antaeus,” Luke said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “You have been an excellent host! We would be happy to amuse you, to repay the favor of passing through your territory.”
    “A favor I have not yet granted,” Antaeus growled. “I want entertainment!”
    Luke bowed. “I believe I have something better than centaurs to fight in your arena now. I have a brother of yours.” He pointed at me. “Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon.”
    The crowd began jeering at me and throwing stones, most of which I dodged, but one caught me on the cheek and made a good-sized cut.
    Antaeus’s eyes lit up. “A son of Poseidon? Then he should fight well! Or die