Page 38 of The Chalice of the Gods

“Lights-out,” Annabeth whispered.

We switched off our flashlights, though the snakes didn’t seem to have noticed us yet. They were too busy frolicking and power-washing their scales.

I scanned the horizon. “You think we can sneak around them, go farther upstream?”

Grover sniffed the air. “This whole place smells like monsters. I can’t tell if there’s more besides the snakes nearby. Anything could hide in that tall grass.”

“Including us,” Annabeth said. “If we can’t fight the serpents, sneaking around them sounds like our best option.”

“Okay,” Grover agreed. “Let me go first, though. I might be able to pick out a safe trail through the fields.”

It used to be a rare day when Grover volunteered to go first through dangerous territory. I was too impressed to argue. Look at my old friend... taking charge and kicking grass. Sometimes I forgot he wasn’t a scared junior satyr protector anymore, but a scared Cloven Council elder. I guess we’d both grown up a lot.

At least here, Grover was in his element, assuming this creepy cave still counted as nature.

We waded through neck-high grass as sharp as hacksaw blades. Grover managed to navigate us around the thickest patches, but I winced every time a wisp of yellow snagged my arm. To make matters worse, the field crackled like bubble wrap as we walked through it. I imagined we’d be audible to any monsters hiding in the undergrowth.

Finally, we reached one of the boulder islands. Grover scrambled to the top as only someone with goat legs could do, then peered toward the river. “That’s not good.”

“What?” I asked.

He helped us up.

From the summit, I could see the whole course of the river stretched out before us. The Elisson poured into the cavern from a crevice in the northern wall, then cascaded down a series of rocky ledges before widening and meandering across the plains. Everywhere you might be able to access the banks, in every shallow pool or swimming hole where you might want to wash off a grungy kerykeion, the water was full of snakes. Hundreds of them.

“At least I don’t see any Furies,” Grover offered.

“Yeah,” I said. “But spaghetti is definitely off the menu this week.”

“What?” Grover sounded hurt. He loves spaghetti.

“Nothing,” I said.

Annabeth scanned the river. “What about there?” She pointed to the northern end of the cave, where the river carved a ravine through jumbled heaps of granite. “That’s where the water will be cleanest. No easy access for snakes. Probably the current is too treacherous for them.”

“But not for a Poseidon kid?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

“Except there’s no way we can make it all the way over there without getting spotted. And if the snakes start chasing us... how fast do you think they can go?”

Grover shivered. “Through this grass? A lot faster than we can.”

“I kind of wish we had Luke’s flying shoes,” Annabeth said.

Grover winced. “Too soon.”

Five years ago, that pair of cursed shoes had almost dragged Grover into Tartarus. Trauma like that can leave a scar. But what surprised me most was that Annabeth mentioned Luke Castellan, our old friend-turned-enemy. Since the Battle of Manhattan, she’d almost never said his name. It seemed like a bad omen that she was bringing him up now.

“I have an idea,” Grover said. “It’s terrible, but it might work.”

“I love it already,” I said.

He pulled out his panpipes. “You guys head for the cliffs. I’ll keep watch from here. If you make it, great. But if the snakes start heading in your direction, I should be able to see them moving through the grass. Then I’ll distract them with my pipes. I know some pretty good snake songs.”

Chalk up another talent I didn’t know Grover had: serpent entertainer.

“As soon as you start playing, they’ll come for you,” Annabeth said. “Which I guess is the terrible part.”

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