Daughter of Wine

Jason

I rise from my deathbed so I can drown with the rest of the crew.

The ship is tilting so violently I have to climb the floor to get out of the sickbay. The hull creaks. The engine groans like a dying water buffalo. Cutting through the roar of the end, the goddess Nike screams from the stables: "YOU CAN DO BETTER, STORM! GIVE ME A HUNDRED AND TEN PERCENT!"

I climb the stairs to the middle deck. My legs shake. My head spins. The ship pitches to port, knocking me against the opposite wall. I feel some of my stitches pop. I know Calli did her best, but she's not an expert medic, and my wound isn't healiing at all.

Hazel stumbles out of her cabin, hugging her stomach. " I hate the ocean!"

When she sees me, her eyes widen. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I'm going up there!" I insist. "I can help!"

Hazel looks like she wants to argue. Then the ship tilts to starboard and she staggers toward the bathroom, her hand over her mouth.

I fight my way to the stairs. I haven't been out of bed in a day and a half, ever since the girls got back from Sparta and I'd unexpectedlyy collapsed. My muscles rebel at the effort. My gut feels liike Michael Varus is standing behind me, repeatedly stabbing me and yelling: Die like a Roman! Die like a Roman!

I force down the pain. I'm tired of people taking care of me, whispering how worried they are. I'm tired of dreaming about being a shish kebob. I've spent enough time nursing the wound in my gut. Either it'll kill me or it won't. I'm not going to wait around for the wound to decide. I have to help my friends.

Somehow, I make it above deck.

What I see makes me almost as nauseous as Hazel. A wave the size of a skyscraper crashes over the forward deck, washing the front crossbows and half the port railing out to sea. The sails are ripped to shreds. Lightning flashes all around, hitting the sea like spotlights. Horizontal rain blasts my face. The clouds are so dark. I honestly can't tell if it's day or night.

The crew is doing what they can, which isn't much.

Leo has lashed himself to the console with a bungee cord harness. That may have seemed like a good idea when he rigged it up, but every time a wave hits he's washed away, then smacked back into his control board like a human paddleball.

Calli stands by the helm, close enough to help Leo but also keeiping en eye on everyone else. She shouts commands to our crewmates, her ability to throw her voice making her the only one audible over the sounds of the storm.

Annabeth and Piper are trying to save the rigging. Since Sparta, the three girls have become quite a team. They're able to work together without even talking, which is just as well, since there's no way Piper or Annabeth could hear the other.

Frank, at least I assume it's Frank, has turned into a gorilla. He's swinging upside down off the starboard rail, using his massive strength and his flexible feet to hang on while he untangles some broken oars. Apparently the crew is trying to get the ship airborne, but even if they manage to take off, I'm not sure the sky will be any safer.

Even Festus the figurehead is trying to help. He spews fire at the rain, though that doesn't seem to discourage the storm.

Only Percy is having much luck. He stands by the center mast, his hands extended like he's on a tightrope. Every time the ship tilts, he pushes in the opposite direction and the hull stabilizers. He summons giant fists of water from the ocean to slam into the larger waves before they can reach the deck, so it looks like the ocean is hittng itself repeatedly in the face.

With the storm as bad as it is, I realize the ship would've already capsized or been smashed to bits if Percy wasn't on the job.

I stagger toward the mast. Calli yells something and waves me away, probably go downstairs! but I only wave back. I make it to Percy's side and grab his shoulder.

Percy nods like 'sup. He doesn't look shocked, or demand that I go back to the sickbay, which I appreciate.

Percy can obviously stay dry if he concentrates, but obvioiusly he has bigger things to worry about right now. His dark hair is plastered to his face. His clothes are soaked and ripped.

He shouts something in my ear, but I can only make out a few words: "THING...DOWN...STOP IT!"

Percy points over the side.

"Something is causing the storm?" I ask.

Percy grins and taps his ears. Clearly he can't hear a word. He makes a gesture with his hand like diving overboard. Then he taps me on the chest.

"You want me to go?" I feel kind of honored. Everybody else has been treeating me like a glass vase, but Percy...well, he seems to figure that if I'm on deck, I'm ready for action.

"Happy to!" I shout. "But I can't breathe underwater!"

Percy shrugs. Sorry, can't hear you.

He turns to Calli, waving and clearly signalling for her to take over with a grin. Then, Percy runs to the starboard rail, pushes another massive wave away from the ship, and jumps overboard.

I lock eyes with Calli, who is standing in shock at the helm. We have a silent conversation.

Are you going to do something about that? She seems to ask me.

Are YOU going to do something about that? I ask back.

What do you expect me to do?

What do you expect ME to do?

She throws up her hands in annoyance and runs to where Percy was standing, mimicking his stance. Another mega-wave approaches, and she lifts her arm. A second wave of water crashes into the oncoming destructo-wave, and here eyes widen. She stares at her own hand, as if shocked that she did that. The ship tilts, and she tilts in the opposite direction. The hull stabilizers again, but her face reddens at the effort. She's not as strong with water as Percy is. We don't have much time.

I stagger to the railing and look up at the storm.

Winds rage. Clouds churn. I sense an entire army of venti swirling above me, too angry and agitated to take physical form, but hungry for destrucition.

I raise my arm and summon a lasso of wind. I learned long ago that the best way to control a crowd of bullies it to pick the biggest, meanest kid and force him into submission. Then the others will fall in line. I lash out with my wind rope, searching for the strongest, most ornery ventus in the storm.

I lasso a nasty patch of storm cloud and pull it in. "You're servng me today."

Howling in protest, the ventus encircles me. The storm above the ship seems to lessen just a bit, as if the other venti are thinking Oh, crud. That guy means business.

I levitate off the deck, encased in my own miniature tornado. Spinning like a corkscrew, I plunge into the water.