Daughter of Wine

Percy

My heart does jumping jacks while Chrysaor walks back and forth, inspecting us like prized cattle. A dozen of his dolphin warriors stay in a ring around us, spears leveled at my chest, while dozens more ransack the ship, banging and crashing belowdecks. One carries a box of ambrosia up the stairs. Another carries an armful of Greek fire.

"Careful with that!" Annabeth warns. "It'll blow up both out ships."

"Ha!" Chrysaor says. "We know all about Greek fire, girl. Don't worry. We've been looting and pillaging ships on the Mare Nostrum for eons."

"Your accent sounds familiar." I note. "Have we met?"

"I haven't had the pleasure." Chrysaor's golden gorgon mask snarls at me, though it's impossible to tell what his real expression might be underneath. "But I've heard all about you, Percy Jackson. Oh, yes, the young man who saved Olympus. And his faithful sidekick, Annabeth Chase."

"I'm nobody's sidekick," Annabeth growls. "And, Percy, his accent sounds familiar because he sounds like his mother. We killed her in New Jersey."I frown. "I'm pretty sure that accent isn't New Jersey. Who's his—? Oh."

It all falls into place. Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium—the lair of Medusa. She'd talked with that same accent, at least until I'd cut off her head.

"Medusa is your mom?" I ask. "Dude, that sucks for you."

Judging from the sound in Chrysaor's throat, he's now snarling under the mask, too.

"You are as arrogant as the first Perseus," Chrysaor says. "But, yes, Percy Jackson. Poseidon was my father. Medusa was my mother. After Medusa was changed into a monster by that so-called goddess of wisdom..." The golden mask turns on Annabeth. "That would be your mother, I believe...Medusa's two children were trapped inside her, unable to be born. When the original Perseus cut off Medusa's head—"

"Two children sprang out," Annabeth remembers. "Pegasus and you."

I blink. "So your brother is a winged horse. But you're also my half brother, which means all the flying horses in the world are my...You know what? Let's forget it."

I've learned years ago it's better not to dwell too much on who is related to whom on the godly side of things. After Tyson the Cyclops adopted me as a brother, I decided that that was about as far as I want to extend the family.

"But if you're Medusa's kid," I say, "why haven't I ever heard of you?"

Chrysaor sighs in exasperation. "When your brother is Pegasus, you get used to being forgotten. Oh, look, a winged horse! Does anyone care about me? No!" He raises the tip of his blade to my eyes. "But don't underestimate me. My name means the Golden Sword for a reason."

"Imperial gold?" I guess.

"Bah! Enchanted gold, yes. Later on, the Romans called it Imperial gold, but I was the first to ever wield such a blade. I should have been the most famous hero of all time! Since the legend-tellers decided to ignore me, I became a villain instead. I resolved to put my heritage to use. As the son of Medusa, I would inspire terror. As the son of Poseidon, I would rule the seas!"

"You became a pirate," Annabeth sums up.

Chrysaor spreads his arms, which is fine with me since it gets the sword point away from my eyes.

"The best pirate," Chrysaor says. "I've sailed these waters for centuries, waylaying any demigods foolish enough to explore the Mare Nostrum.  This is my territory now. And all you have is mine."

One of the dolphin warriors drags Coach Hedge up from below.

"Let me go, you tuna fish!" Hedge bellows. He tries to kick the warrior, but his hoof clanges off his captor's armor. Judging from the hoof-shaped prints in the dolphin's breastplate and helmet, the coach has already made several attempts.

"Ah, a satyr," Chrysaor muses. "A little old and stringy, but Cyclopes will pay well for a morsel like him. Chain him up."

"I'm nobody's goat meat!" Hedge protests.

"Gag him as well," Chrysaor decides.

"Why you gilded little—" Hedge's insult is cut short when the dolphin puts a greasy wad of canvas in his mouth. Soon the coach is trussed like a rodeo calf and dumped with the other loot—crates of food, extra weapons, even the magical ice chest from the mess hall.

"You can't do this!" Annabeth shouts.

Chrysaor's laughter reverberates inside his gold face mask. I wondered if he's horribly disfigured under there, or if his gaze can petrify people the way his mother's could.

"I can do anything I want," Chrysaor says. "My warriors have been trained to perfection. They are vicious, cutthroat—"

"Dolphins," I note.

Chrysaor shrugs. "Yes. So? They had some bad luck a few millennia ago, kidnapped the wrong person. Some of their crew got turned completely into dolphins. Others went mad. But these...these survived as hybrid creatures. When I found them under the sea and offered them a new life, they became my loyal crew. They fear nothing!"

One of the warriors chatters at him nervously.

"Yes, yes," Chrysaor growls. "They fear one thing, but it hardly matters. He's not here."

An idea begins tickling at the base of mys skull. Before I can pursue it, more dolphin warriors climb the stairs, hauling up the rest of my friends. Jason is unconscious. Judging from the new bruises on his face, he'd tried to fight. Hazel and Piper are bound hand and foot. Piper has a gag in her mouth, so apparently the dolphins have discovered she can charmspeak. Frank and Calli are missing, though two of the dolphins have bee stings covering their faces.

Can Frank actually turn into a swarm of bees? I hope so. If he and Calli are free aboard the ship somewhere, that could be an advantage, assuming I can figure out how to communicate with him. I have no idea where Calli could be hiding. But I'm extremely glad she isn't caught. She's not someone I'd bet against.

"Excellent!" Chrysaor gloats. He directs his warriors to dump Jason by the crossbows. Then he examines the girls like they're Christmas presents, which makes me grit my teeth. 

A couple dolphin warriors chatter something to Chrysaor. "Hmm." He mutters and looks to me. "My warriors say there's an empty room. Did I miss a friend of yours?"

I shake my head quickly. "We... we lost one of our crewmates."

"Shame." He sighs, and turns to his crew again. "The boy is no use to me. But we have an understanding with the witch Circe. She will buy the women, either as slaves or trainees, depending on their skill. But not you, lovely Annabeth."

Annabeth recoils. "You are not taking me anywhere."

I notice Leo, looking straight up. I carefully follow his gaze, and can just make out a figure crouched in the crow's nest of the ship. Long brown waves blow gently in the wind. It's Calli. She waves, and tries to mime something. She mimics drinking something, but I don't understand what she's trying to say. In fact, it almost looks like she's miming celebrating our capture. I shake my head lightly, and she throws her arms up in frustration. 

My hand creeps to my pocket. Riptide is back in my jeans. I only need a moment's distraction to draw my sword. Maybe if I can take down Chrysaor quickly, his crew will panic. 

I wish I knew something about Chrysaor's weakness. Usually, Annabeth provides me with information like that, but apparently Chrysaor doesn't have any legends, so we're both in the dark. 

The golden warrior tuts. "Oh, sadly, Annabeth, you will not be staying with me. I would love that. But you and your friend Percy are spoken for. A certain goddess is paying a high bounty for your capture, alive, if possible, though she didn't say you had to be unharmed."

At that moment, Piper causes the disturbance we need. She wails so loudly, it can be heard through her gag. Then she faints against the nearest guard, knocking him over. Hazel simultaneously does the same and crumples to the deck, kicking her legs like she's having a fit. They're incredibly convincing. 

I draw Riptide and lash out. The blade should so straight through Chrysaor's neck, but the golden warrior is incredibly fast. He dodges and parries as the dolphin warriors back up, guarding the other captives while giving their captain room to battle. They chatter and squeak, egging him on, and I get the sinking suspicion the crew is used to this sort of entertainment. They don't feel that their leader is in any sort of danger. 

I haven't crossed swords with an opponent like this since...well, since I'd battled the war god Ares. Chrysaor is that good. Many of my powers have gotten stronger over the years, but now, too late, I realize sword-fighting isn't one of them. 

I'm rusty, at least against an adversary like Chrysaor. 

We battle back and forth, thrusting and parrying. Without meaning to, I hear the voice of Luke Castellan, my first sword-fighting mentor at Camp Half-Blood, throwing out suggestions. But it doesn't help. 

The golden gorgon mask is too unnerving. The warm fog, the slick deck boards, the chattering of the warriors, none of it helps. And in the corner of my eye, I can see one of the dolphin-men holding a knife to Annabeth's throat in case she tries anything tricky. 

I feint and thrust at Chrysaor's gut, but Chrysaor anticipates the move. He knocks my sword out of my hand again, and once more Riptide falls into the sea. 

Chrysaor laughs easily. He isn't even winded. He presses the tip of his golden sword against my sternum. 

"A good try," Says the pirate. "But now you'll be chained and transported to Gaea's minions. They are quite eager to spill your blood and wake the goddess."