The Battle of the Labyrinth

imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. It was hard to believe the tourists couldn’t see the supernatural storm brewing, but they didn’t give any hint that anything was wrong.
    “It’s even worse,” Annabeth said, gazing to the north. “The storms have been bad all year, but that—”
    “Keep moving,” Briares wailed. “She is behind us!”
    We ran to the far end of the yard, as far from the cell-block as possible.
    “Kampê’s too big to get through the doors,” I said hopefully.
    Then the wall exploded.
    Tourists screamed as Kampê appeared from the dust and rubble, her wings spread out as wide as the yard. She was holding two swords—long bronze scimitars that glowed with a weird greenish aura, boiling wisps of vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.
    “Poison!” Grover yelped. “Don’t let those things touch you or . . .”
    “Or we’ll die?” I guessed.
    “Well . . . after you shrivel slowly to dust, yes.”
    “Let’s avoid the swords,” I decided.
    “Briares, fight!” Tyson urged. “Grow to full size!”
    Instead, Briares looked like he was trying to shrink even smaller. He appeared to be wearing his absolutely terrified face.
    Kampê thundered toward us on her dragon legs, hundreds of snakes slithering around her body.
    For a second I thought about drawing Riptide and facing her, but my heart crawled into my throat. Then Annabeth said what I was thinking: “Run.”
    That was the end of the debate. There was no fighting this thing. We ran through the jail yard and out the gates of the prison, the monster right behind us. Mortals screamed and ran. Emergency sirens began to blare.
    We hit the wharf just as a tour boat was unloading. The new group of visitors froze as they saw us charging toward them, followed by a mob of frightened tourists, followed by . . . I don’t know what they saw through the Mist, but it could not have been good.
    “The boat?” Grover asked.
    “Too slow,” Tyson said. “Back into the maze. Only chance.”
    “We need a diversion,” Annabeth said.
    Tyson ripped a metal lamppost out of the ground. “I will distract Kampê. You run ahead.”
    “I’ll help you,” I said.
    “No,” Tyson said. “You go. Poison will hurt Cyclopes. A lot of pain. But it won’t kill.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Go, brother. I will meet you inside.”
    I hated the idea. I’d almost lost Tyson once before, and I didn’t want to ever risk that again. But there was no time to argue, and I had no better idea. Annabeth, Grover, and I each took one of Briares’s hands and dragged him toward the concession stands while Tyson bellowed, lowered his pole, and charged Kampê like a jousting knight.
    She’d been glaring at Briares, but Tyson got her attention as soon as he nailed her in the chest with the pole, pushing her back into the wall. She shrieked and slashed with her swords, slicing the pole to shreds. Poison dripped in pools all around her, sizzling into the cement.
    Tyson jumped back as Kampê’s hair lashed and hissed, and the vipers around her legs darted their tongues in every direction. A lion popped out of the weird half-formed faces around her waist and roared.
    As we sprinted for the cellblocks, the last thing I saw was Tyson picking up a Dippin’ Dots stand and throwing it at Kampê. Ice cream and poison exploded everywhere, all the little snakes in Kampê’s hair dotted with tutti-frutti. We dashed back into the jail yard.
    “Can’t make it,” Briares huffed.
    “Tyson is risking his life to help you!” I yelled at him. “You will make it.”
    As we reached the door of the cellblock, I heard an angry roar. I glanced back and saw Tyson running toward us at full speed, Kampê right behind him. She was plastered in ice cream and T-shirts. One of the bear heads on her waist was now wearing a pair of crooked plastic Alcatraz sunglasses.
    “Hurry!” Annabeth said, like I needed to be told that.
    We finally found the cell where we’d come in, but the back wall was completely smooth—no sign of a boulder or anything.
    “Look for the mark!” Annabeth said.
    “There!” Grover touched a tiny scratch, and it became a Greek L. The mark of Daedalus glowed blue, and the stone wall grinded open.
    Too slowly. Tyson was coming through the cellblock, Kampê’s swords lashing out behind him, slicing indiscriminately through cell bars and stone walls.
    I pushed Briares inside the maze, then Annabeth and