The Battle of the Labyrinth

well!”
    “If his death pleases you,” Luke said, “will you let our armies cross your territory?”
    “Perhaps!” Antaeus said.
    Luke didn’t look too pleased about the “perhaps.” He glared down at me, as if warning me that I’d better die in a really spectacular way or I’d be in big trouble.
    “Luke!” Annabeth yelled. “Stop this. Let us go!”
    Luke seemed to notice her for the first time. He looked stunned for a moment. “Annabeth?”
    “Enough time for the females to fight afterward,” Antaeus interrupted. “First, Percy Jackson, what weapons will you choose?”
    The dracaenae pushed me into the middle of the arena.
    I stared up at Antaeus. “How can you be a son of Poseidon?”
    Antaeus laughed, and the rest of the crowd laughed too.
    “I am his favorite son!” Antaeus boomed. “Behold, my temple to the Earthshaker, built from the skulls of all those I’ve killed in his name! Your skull shall join them!”
    I stared in horror at all the skulls—hundreds of them—and the banner of Poseidon. How could this be a temple for my dad? My dad was a nice guy. He’d never asked me for a Father’s Day card, much less somebody’s skull.
    “Percy!” Annabeth yelled at me. “His mother is Gaea! Gae—”
    Her Laistrygonian captor clamped his hand over her mouth. His mother is Gaea. The earth goddess. Annabeth was trying to tell me that this was important, but I didn’t know why. Maybe just because the guy had two godly parents. That would make him even harder to kill.
    “You’re crazy, Antaeus,” I said. “If you think this is a good tribute, you know nothing about Poseidon.”
    The crowd screamed insults at me, but Antaeus raised his hand for silence.
    “Weapons,” he insisted. “And then we will see how you die. Will you have axes? Shields? Nets? Flamethrowers?”
    “Just my sword,” I said.
    Laughter erupted from the monsters, but immediately Riptide appeared in my hands, and some of the voices in the crowd turned nervous. The bronze blade glowed with a faint light.
    “Round one!” Antaeus announced. The gates opened, and a dracaena slithered out. She had a trident in one hand and a weighted net in the other—classic gladiator style. I’d trained against those weapons at camp for years.
    She jabbed at me experimentally. I stepped away. She threw her net, hoping to tangle my sword hand, but I sidestepped easily, sliced her spear in half, and stabbed Riptide through a chink in her armor. With a painful wail, she vaporized into nothing, and the cheering of the crowd died.
    “No!” Antaeus bellowed. “Too fast! You must wait for the kill. Only I give that order!”
    I glanced over at Annabeth and Rachel. I had to find a way to get them free, maybe distract their guards.
    “Nice job, Percy.” Luke smiled. “You’ve gotten better with the sword. I’ll grant you that.”
    “Round two!” Antaeus yelled. “And slower this time! More entertainment! Wait for my call before killing anybody, OR ELSE!”
    The gates opened again, and this time a young warrior came out. He was a little older than me, about sixteen. He had glossy black hair, and his left eye was covered with an eye patch. He was thin and wiry so his Greek armor hung on him loosely. He stabbed his sword into the dirt, adjusted his shield straps, and pulled on his horsehair helmet.
    “Who are you?” I asked.
    “Ethan Nakamura,” he said. “I have to kill you.”
    “Why are you doing this?”
    “Hey!” a monster jeered from the stands. “Stop talking and fight already!” The others took up the call.
    “I have to prove myself,” Ethan told me. “Only way to join up.”
    And with that he charged. Our swords met in midair and the crowd roared. It didn’t seem right. I didn’t want to fight to entertain a bunch of monsters, but Ethan Nakamura wasn’t giving me much choice.
    He pressed forward. He was good. He’d never been at Camp Half-Blood, as far as I knew, but he’d been trained. He parried my strike and almost slammed me with his shield, but I jumped back. He slashed. I rolled to one side. We exchanged thrusts and parries, getting a feel for each other’s fighting style. I tried to keep on Ethan’s blind side, but it didn’t help much. He’d apparently been fighting with only one eye for a long time, because he was excellent at guarding his left.
    “Blood!” the monsters cried.
    My opponent glanced up at the stands. That was his weakness, I realized. He needed to impress them. I