The Battle of the Labyrinth

Hera’s dad, too, along with being father to Zeus, Poseidon, and all the eldest Olympians. I guess that made Kronos my grandfather, but that thought was so weird I put it out of my mind.
    “We must watch the minor gods,” Hera said. “Janus. Hecate. Morpheus. They give lip service to Olympus, and yet—”
    “That’s where Dionysus went,” I remembered. “He was checking on the minor gods.”
    “Indeed.” Hera stared at the fading mosaics of the Olympians. “You see, in times of trouble, even gods can lose faith. They start putting their trust in the wrong things, petty things. They stop looking at the big picture and start being selfish. But I’m the goddess of marriage, you see. I’m used to perseverance. You have to rise above the squabbling and chaos, and keep believing. You have to always keep your goals in mind.”
    “What are your goals?” Annabeth asked.
    She smiled. “To keep my family, the Olympians, together, of course. At the moment, the best way I can do that is by helping you. Zeus does not allow me to interfere much, I am afraid. But once every century or so, for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish.”
    “A wish?”
    “Before you ask it, let me give you some advice, which I can do for free. I know you seek Daedalus. His Labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But if you want to know his fate, I would visit my son Hephaestus at his forge. Daedalus was a great inventor, a mortal after Hephaestus’s heart. There has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would have kept up with Daedalus and could tell you his fate, it is Hephaestus.”
    “But how do we get there?” Annabeth asked. “That’s my wish. I want a way to navigate the Labyrinth.”
    Hera looked disappointed. “So be it. You wish for something, however, that you have already been given.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “The means is already within your grasp.” She looked at me. “Percy knows the answer.”
    “I do?”
    “But that’s not fair,” Annabeth said. “You’re not telling us what it is!”
    Hera shook her head. “Getting something and having the wits to use it . . . those are two different things. I’m sure your mother Athena would agree.”
    The room rumbled like distant thunder. Hera stood. “That would be my cue. Zeus grows impatient. Think on what I have said, Annabeth. Seek out Hephaestus. You will have to pass through the ranch, I imagine. But keep going. And use all the means at your disposal, however common they may seem.”
    She pointed toward the two doors and they melted away, revealing twin corridors, open and dark. “One last thing, Annabeth. I have postponed your day of choice. I have not prevented it. Soon, as Janus said, you will have to make a decision. Farewell!”
    She waved a hand and turned into white smoke. So did the food, just as Tyson chomped down on a sandwich that turned to mist in his mouth. The fountain trickled to a stop. The mosaic walls dimmed and turned grungy and faded again. The room was no longer any place you’d want to have a picnic.
    Annabeth stamped her foot. “What sort of help was that? ‘Here, have a sandwich. Make a wish. Oops, I can’t help you!’ Poof!”
    “Poof,” Tyson agreed sadly, looking at his empty plate.
    “Well,” Grover sighed, “she said Percy knows the answer. That’s something.”
    They all looked at me.
    “But I don’t,” I said. “I don’t know what she was talking about.”
    Annabeth sighed. “All right. Then we’ll just keep going.”
    “Which way?” I asked. I really wanted to ask what Hera had meant—about the choice Annabeth needed to make. But then Grover and Tyson both tensed. They stood up together, like they’d rehearsed it. “Left,” they both said.
    Annabeth frowned. “How can you be sure?”
    “Because something is coming from the right,” Grover said.
    “Something big,” Tyson agreed. “In a hurry.”
    “Left is sounding pretty good,” I decided. Together we plunged into the dark corridor.

SEVEN

TYSON LEADS A JAILBREAK
    The good news: the left tunnel was straight with no side exits, twists, or turns. The bad news: it was a dead end. After sprinting a hundred yards, we ran into an enormous boulder that completely blocked our path. Behind us, the sounds of dragging footsteps and heavy breathing echoed down the corridor. Something—definitely not human— was on our tail.
    “Tyson,” I said, “can you—”
    “Yes!” He slammed his