The Battle of the Labyrinth

“Then we’ll all go.”
    “No,” I said. “It’s too dangerous. If they got hold of Nico, or Rachel for that matter, Kronos could use them. You stay here and guard them.”
    What I didn’t say: I was also worried about Annabeth. I didn’t trust what she would do if she saw Luke again. He had fooled her and manipulated her too many times before.
    “Percy, don’t,” Rachel said. “Don’t go up there alone.”
    “I’ll be quick,” I promised. “I won’t do anything stupid.”
    Annabeth took her Yankees cap out of her pocket. “At least take this. And be careful.”
    “Thanks.” I remembered the last time Annabeth and I had parted ways, when she’d given me a kiss for luck in Mount St. Helens. This time, all I got was the hat.
    I put it on. “Here goes nothing.” And I sneaked invisibly down the dark stone tunnel.
    Before I even got to the exit I heard voices: the growling, barking sounds of sea-demon smiths, the telekhines.
    “At least we salvaged the blade,” one said. “The master will still reward us.”
    “Yes! Yes!” a second shrieked. “Rewards beyond measure!”
    Another voice, this one more human, said: “Um, yeah, well that’s great. Now, if you’re done with me—”
    “No, half-blood!” a telekhine said. “You must help us make the presentation. It is a great honor!”
    “Gee, thanks,” the half-blood said, and I realized it was Ethan Nakamura, the guy who’d run away after I’d saved his sorry life in the arena.
    I crept toward the end of the tunnel. I had to remind myself I was invisible. They shouldn’t be able to see me.
    A blast of cold air hit me as I emerged. I was standing near the top of Mount Tam. The Pacific Ocean spread out below, gray under a cloudy sky. About twenty feet downhill, two telekhines were placing something on a big rock— something long and thin and wrapped in black cloth. Ethan was helping them open it.
    “Careful, fool,” the telekhine scolded. “One touch, and the blade will sever your soul from your body.”
    Ethan swallowed nervously. “Maybe I’ll let you unwrap it, then.”
    I glanced up at the mountain’s peak, where a black marble fortress loomed, just like I’d seen in my dreams. It reminded me of an oversized mausoleum, with walls fifty feet high. I had no idea how mortals could miss the fact that it was here. But then again, everything below the summit seemed fuzzy to me, as if there were a thick veil between me and the lower half of the mountain. There was magic going on here—really powerful Mist. Above me, the sky swirled into a huge funnel cloud. I couldn’t see Atlas, but I could hear him groaning in the distance, still laboring under the weight of the sky, just beyond the fortress.
    “There!” the telekhine said. Reverently, he lifted the weapon, and my blood turned to ice.
    It was a scythe—a six-foot-long blade curved like a crescent moon, with a wooden handle wrapped in leather. The blade glinted two different colors—steel and bronze. It was the weapon of Kronos, the one he’d used to slice up his father, Ouranos, before the gods had taken it away from him and cut Kronos to pieces, casting him into Tartarus. Now the weapon was re-forged.
    “We must sanctify it in blood,” the telekhine said. “Then you, half-blood, shall help present it when the lord awakes.”
    I ran toward the fortress, my pulse pounding in my ears. I didn’t want to get anywhere close to that horrible black mausoleum, but I knew what I had to do. I had to stop Kronos from rising. This might be my only chance.
    I dashed through a dark foyer and into the main hall. The floor shined like a mahogany piano—pure black and yet full of light. Black marble statues lined the walls. I didn’t recognize the faces, but I knew I was looking at images of the Titans who’d ruled before the gods. At the end of the room, between two bronze braziers, was a dais. And on the dais, the golden sarcophagus.
    The room was silent except for the crackle of the fires. Luke wasn’t here. No guards. Nothing.
    It was too easy, but I approached the dais.
    The sarcophagus was just like I remembered—about ten feet long, much too big for a human. It was carved with elaborate scenes of death and destruction, pictures of the gods being trodden under chariots, temples and famous world landmarks being smashed and burned. The whole coffin gave off an aura of extreme cold, like I was walking into a freezer. My breath began to steam.
    I drew Riptide and took a little