ᴾʰᵒᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ [ᴶᵃˢᵒⁿ ᴳʳᵃᶜᵉ]

xvii.

Aza woke to a ship's horn blasting so loud it shook her out of bed. She smacked against the floor with a thud and groaned, rubbing her head with a scowl. She wondered if Leo was blowing the horn to wake them all, but then it boomed again - it was different then theirs, she was certain about that. She ran out of the room, pulling her oversized Green Day shirt to cover her legs.

She met the others at the deck; clearly, all of them had gotten ready in a similar rush. Frank's Vancouver Winter Olympics shirt was inside out, and Percy wore green flannel pajama pants and a bronze chestplate; Leo had accidentally set himself on fire. His t-shirt was in charred tatters, and his arms were smoking.

About a hundred yards to their left, a massive cruise ship glided past. Tourists waved at them from at least fifteen stories of balconies, smiling and taking pictures. She slowly waved back and glanced at Jason, wondering what the tourists were seeing. The cruise ship blew their horn again, and the Argo II shook. Gleeson plugged his ears, "Do they have to be so loud?"

"They're just saying hi," Frank suggested.

"WHAT?"

The ship edged past them and headed out to sea. Leo waved with his smoking hand to the last tourists on the back of the ship and called, "Bye!"

"Can I man the ballistae?" Gleeson asked, batting his eyelashes. Aza ran a tired hand over her face and shook her head. Her voice was raspier from sleep, though still firm, "No, Gleeson."

Hazel rubbed her eyes and looked across the water, "Where are – oh. Wow."

Aza followed her gaze, her jaw dropping open slightly. The cruise ship had been blocking a spectacular view of a mountain jutting out from the sea; a massive fist of blinding white rock with one side a sheer, startling drop a thousand feet to the sea below. On the other side of the water, a forest-covered green mountain.

"The Rock of Gibraltar," Annabeth said in awe, her eyes sparkling, "At the tip of Spain. And over there," She pointed south, to a distant stretch of red and tawny hills, "That must be Africa. We're at the mouth of the Mediterranean."

"What now," Piper shivered, and Aza felt the slow lap of waves at her ankle as nerves began to rise in the group, "Do we just sail in?"

"Why not?" Leo asked. "It's just a big shipping channel. Boats go in and out all the time."

"In the old days," Annabeth gazed at the Rock of Gibraltar, her eyes turning stormy, "they called this area the pillars of Heracles. The Rock was supposed to be one pillar. The other was one of the African mountains. Nobody is sure which one."

"Heracles, huh," Percy frowned, "That guy was like the Starbucks of Ancient Greece. Everywhere you turn - there he is." He glanced at Aza, and the two smirked at each other. Their smiles dropped when a thunderous boom shook the Argo II, and she looked around but Aza couldn't find the source. The skies were clear, and the water was relatively smooth.

Piper cleared her throat, fiddling with a strand of her hair, "So - these Pillars of Heracles. Are they dangerous?"

Annabeth stared at the white cliffs, "For Greeks, the pillars marked the end of the known world. The Romans said the pillars were inscribed with a Latin warning –"

"Non plus ultra." Percy said.

Annabeth's eyes widened, and she glanced at Aza, who blinked slowly, "Yeah. Nothing Further Beyond. How did you know?"

Percy pointed, "Because I'm looking at it."

Directly ahead of them, in the middle of the straits, an island shimmered into existence where Aza was certain there hadn't been one before. It was a small forested hill, ringed with white beaches. It was small, and at the front of the island, jutting about a hundred yards in from the shore were two white Grecian columns as tall as the Argo's masts. Between the columns, huge silver words glittered underwater almost like an illusion: NON PLUS ULTRA.