Rick Riordan The Battle of the Labyrinth- 04
sword in sheer terror and swatted at my clothes. Fire was engulfing me. Strangely, it felt only warm at first, but it was getting hotter by the instant.
“ Your father’ s nature protects you,” one said.“ Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, youngling. Not impossible.”
They threw more lava at me, and I remember screaming. My whole body was on fire. The pain was worse than anything I’ d ever felt. I was being consumed. I crumpled to the metal floor and heard the sea demon children howling in delight. Then I remembered the voice of the river naiad at the ranch: The water is within me. I needed the sea. I felt a tugging sensation in my gut, but I had nothing around to help me. Not a faucet or a river. Not even a petrified seashell this time. And besides, the last time I’ d unleashed my power at the stables, there’ d been that scary moment when it had almost gotten away from me.
I had no choice. I called to the sea. I reached inside myself and remembered the waves and the currents, the endless power of the ocean. And I let it loose in one horrible scream.
Afterward, I could never describe what happened. An explosion, a tidal wave, a whirlwind of power simultaneously catching me up and blasting me downward into the lava. Fire and water collided, superheated steam, and I shot upward from the heart of the volcano in a huge explosion, just one piece of flotsam thrown free by a million pounds of pressure. The last thing I remember before losing conscious was flying, flying so high Zeus would never have forgiven me, and then beginning to fall, smoke and fire and water streaming from me. I was a comet hurtling toward the earth.
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Chapter Twelve
I Take A Permanent Vacation
I woke up feeling like I was still on fire. My skin stung. My throat felt as dry as sand.
I saw blue sky and trees above me. I heard a fountain gurgling, and smelled juniper and cedar and a bunch of other sweet-scented plants. I heard waves, too, gently lapping on a rocky shore. I wondered if I was dead, but I knew better. I’ d been to the Land of the Dead, and there was no blue sky. I tried to sit up. My muscles felt like they were melting.“ Stay still,” a girl’ s voice said.“ You’ re too weak to rise.” She laid a cool cloth across my forehead. A bronze spoon hovered over me and liquid was dribbled into my mouth. The drink soothed my throat and left a warm chocolaty aftertaste. Nectar of the gods. Then the girl’ s face appeared above me.
She had almond eyes and caramel-color hair braided over one shoulder. She was … fifteen? Sixteen? It was hard to tell. She had one of those faces that just seemed timeless. She began singing, and my pain dissolved. She was working magic. I could feel her music sinking into my skin, healing and repairing my brain.“ Who?” I croaked.“ Shhh, brave one,” she said.“ Rest and heal. No harm will come to you here. I am Calypso.” *** The next time I woke I was in a cave, but as far as caves go, I’ d been in a lot worse. The ceiling glittered with different-color crystal formations— white and purple and green, like I was inside one of those cut geodes you see in souvenir shops. I was lying on a comfortable bed with feather pillows and cotton sheets. The cave was divided into sections by white silk curtains. Against one wall stood a large loom and a harp. Against the other wall were shelves neatly stacked with jars of fruit preserves. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling: rosemary, thyme, and a bunch of other stuff. My mother could’ ve named them all.
There was a fireplace built into the cave wall, and a pot bubbling over the flames. It smelled great, like beef stew.
I sat up, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my head. I looked at my arms, sure that they