by Rick Riordan
Frank stared at him. ‘Unfair? You can breathe underwater and blow up glaciers and summon freaking hurricanes – and it’s unfair that I can be an elephant?’
Percy considered. ‘Okay. I guess you got a point. But next time I say you’re totally beast –’
‘Just shut up,’ Frank said. ‘Please.’
Percy cracked a smile.
‘If you guys are done,’ Hazel said, ‘we need to go. Camp Jupiter is under attack. They could use that gold eagle.’
Percy nodded. ‘One thing first, though. Hazel, there’s about a ton of Imperial gold weapons and armour at the bottom of the bay now, plus a really nice chariot. I’m betting that stuff could come in handy …’
It took them a long time – too long – but they all knew those weapons could make the difference between victory and defeat if they got them back to camp in time.
Hazel used her abilities to levitate some items from the bottom of the sea. Percy swam down and brought up more. Even Frank helped by turning into a seal, which was kind of cool, though Percy claimed his breath smelled like fish.
It took all three of them to raise the chariot, but finally they’d managed to haul everything ashore to a black sand beach near the base of the glacier. They couldn’t fit everything in the chariot, but they used Frank’s rope to strap down most of the gold weapons and the best pieces of armour.
‘It looks like Santa’s sleigh,’ Frank said. ‘Can Arion even pull that much?’
Arion huffed.
‘Hazel,’ Percy said, ‘I am seriously going to wash your horse’s mouth with soap. He says, yes, he can pull it, but he needs food.’
Hazel picked up an old Roman dagger, a pugio. It was bent and dull, so it wouldn’t be much good in a fight, but it looked like solid Imperial gold.
‘Here you go, Arion,’ she said. ‘High-performance fuel.’
The horse took the dagger in his teeth and chewed it like an apple. Frank made a silent oath never to put his hand near that horse’s mouth.
‘I’m not doubting Arion’s strength,’ he said carefully, ‘but will the chariot hold up? The last one –’
‘This one has Imperial gold wheels and axle,’ Percy said. ‘It should hold.’
‘If not,’ Hazel said, ‘this is going to be a short trip. But we’re out of time. Come on!’
Frank and Percy climbed into the chariot. Hazel swung up onto Arion’s back.
‘Giddyup!’ she yelled.
The horse’s sonic boom echoed across the bay. They sped south, avalanches tumbling down the mountains as they passed.
XLIX
Percy
Four hours.
That’s how long it took the fastest horse on the planet to get from Alaska to San Francisco Bay, heading straight over the water down the North-west Coast.
That’s also how long it took for Percy’s memory to return completely. The process had started in Portland when he had drunk the gorgon’s blood, but his past life had still been maddeningly fuzzy. Now, as they headed back into the Olympian gods’ territory, Percy remembered everything: the war with Kronos; his sixteenth birthday at Camp Half-Blood; his trainer Chiron the centaur; his best friend, Grover; his brother, Tyson; and most of all Annabeth – two great months of dating, and then BOOM. He’d been abducted by the alien known as Hera. Or Juno … whatever.
Eight months of his life stolen. Next time Percy saw the Queen of Olympus, he was definitely going to give her a goddess-sized slap upside the head.
His friends and family must be going out of their minds. If Camp Jupiter was in such bad trouble, he could only guess what Camp Half-Blood must be facing without him.
Even worse: saving both camps would be only the beginning. According to Alcyoneus, the real war would happen far away, in the homeland of the gods. The giants intended to attack the original Mount Olympus and destroy the gods forever.
Percy knew that giants couldn’t die unless demigods and gods fought them together. Nico had told him that. Annabeth had mentioned it, too, back in August, when she’d speculated that the giants might be part of the new Great Prophecy – what the Romans called the Prophecy of Seven. (That was the downside of dating the smartest girl at camp: you learn stuff.)
He understood Juno’s plan: unite the Roman and Greek demigods to create an elite team of heroes, then somehow convince the gods to fight alongside them. But first they had to save Camp Jupiter.
The coastline began to look familiar. They raced past the Mendocino lighthouse. Shortly afterwards, Mount Tam and the Marin headlands loomed out of the fog. Arion shot straight under the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco Bay.
They tore through Berkeley and into the Oakland Hills. When they reached the hilltop above the Caldecott Tunnel, Arion shuddered like a broken car and came to a stop, his chest heaving.
Hazel patted his sides lovingly. ‘You did great, Arion.’
The horse was too tired even to cuss: Of course I did great. What did you expect?
Percy and Frank jumped off the chariot. Percy wished there’d been comfortable seats or an in-flight meal. His legs were wobbly. His joints were so stiff he could barely walk. If he went into battle like this, the enemy would call him Old Man Jackson.
Frank didn’t look much better. He hobbled to the top of the hill and peered down at the camp. ‘Guys … you need to see this.’
When Percy and Hazel joined him, Percy’s heart sank. The battle had begun, and it wasn’t going well. The Twelfth Legion was arrayed on the Field of Mars, trying to protect the city. Scorpions fired into the ranks of the Earthborn. Hannibal the elephant ploughed down monsters right and left, but the defenders were badly outnumbered.
On her pegasus Scipio, Reyna flew around the giant Polybotes, trying to keep him occupied. The Lares had formed shimmering purple lines against a mob of black, vaporous shades in ancient armour. Veteran demigods from the city had joined the battle, and were pushing their shield wall against an onslaught of wild centaurs. Giant eagles circled the battlefield, doing aerial combat with two snake-haired ladies in green Bargain Mart vests – Stheno and Euryale.
The legion itself was taking the brunt of the attack, but their formation was breaking. Each cohort was an island in a sea of enemies. The Cyclopes’ siege tower shot glowing green cannonballs into the city, blasting craters in the forum, reducing houses to ruins. As Percy watched, a cannonball hit the Senate House and the dome partially collapsed.
‘We’re too late,’ Hazel said.
‘No,’ Percy said. ‘They’re still fighting. We can do this.’
‘Where’s Lupa?’ Frank asked, desperation creeping into his voice. ‘She and the wolves … they should be here.’
Percy thought about his time with the wolf goddess. He’d come to respect her teachings, but he’d also learned that wolves had limits. They weren’t front-line fighters. They only attacked when they had vastly superior numbers, and usually under the cover of darkness. Besides, Lupa’s first rule was self-sufficiency. She would help her children as much as she could, train them to fight – but in the end they were either predator or prey. Romans had to fight for themselves. They had to prove their worth or die. That was Lupa’s way.
‘She did what she could,’ Percy said. ‘She slowed down the army on its way south. Now it’s up to us. We’ve got to get the gold eagle and these weapons to the legion.’
‘But Arion is out of steam!’ Hazel said. ‘We can’t haul this stuff ourselves.’
‘Maybe we don’t have to.’ Percy scanned the hilltops. If Tyson had got his dream message in Vancouver, help might be close.
He whistled as loud as he could – a good New York cab whistle that would’ve been heard all the way from Times Square to Central Park.
Shadows rippled in the trees. A huge black shape bounded out of nowhere – a mastiff the size of an SUV, with a Cyclops and a harpy on her back.
‘Hellhound!’ Frank scrambled backwards.
/> ‘It’s okay!’ Percy grinned. ‘These are friends.’
‘Brother!’ Tyson climbed off and ran towards Percy. Percy tried to brace himself, but it was no good. Tyson slammed into him and smothered him in a hug. For a few seconds, Percy could only see black spots and lots of flannel. Then Tyson let go and laughed with delight, looking Percy over with that massive baby brown eye.
‘You are not dead!’ he said. ‘I like it when you are not dead!’
Ella fluttered to the ground and began preening her feathers. ‘Ella found a dog,’ she announced. ‘A large dog. And a Cyclops.’
Was she blushing? Before Percy could decide, his black mastiff pounced on him, knocking Percy to the ground and barking so loudly that even Arion backed up.
‘Hey, Mrs O’Leary,’ Percy said. ‘Yeah, I love you, too, girl. Good dog.’
Hazel made a squeaking sound. ‘You have a hellhound named Mrs O’Leary?’
‘Long story.’ Percy managed to get to his feet and wipe off the dog slobber. ‘You can ask your brother …’
His voice wavered when he saw Hazel’s expression. He’d almost forgotten that Nico di Angelo was missing.
Hazel had told him what Thanatos had said about searching for the Doors of Death in Rome, and Percy was anxious to find Nico for his own reasons – to wring the kid’s neck for having pretended he didn’t know Percy when he first came to camp. Still, he was Hazel’s brother, and finding him was a conversation for another time.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘But, yeah, this is my dog, Mrs O’Leary. Tyson – these are my friends, Frank and Hazel.’
Percy turned to Ella, who was counting all the barbs in one of her feathers.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘We were worried about you.’
‘Ella is not strong,’ she said. ‘Cyclopes are strong. Tyson found Ella. Tyson took care of Ella.’
Percy raised his eyebrows. Ella was blushing.
‘Tyson,’ he said, ‘you big charmer, you.’
Tyson turned the same colour as Ella’s plumage. ‘Um … No.’ He leaned down and whispered nervously, loud enough for all the others to hear: ‘She is pretty.’
Frank tapped his head like he was afraid his brain had short-circuited. ‘Anyway, there’s this battle happening.’
‘Right,’ Percy agreed. ‘Tyson, where’s Annabeth? Is any other help coming?’
Tyson pouted. His big brown eye got misty. ‘The big ship is not ready. Leo says tomorrow, maybe two days. Then they will come.’
‘We don’t have two minutes,’ Percy said. ‘Okay, here’s the plan.’
As quickly as possible, he pointed out which were the good guys and the bad guys on the battlefield. Tyson was alarmed to learn that bad Cyclopes and bad centaurs were in the giant’s army. ‘I have to hit pony-men?’
‘Just scare them away,’ Percy promised.
‘Um, Percy?’ Frank looked at Tyson with trepidation. ‘I just … don’t want our friend here getting hurt. Is Tyson a fighter?’
Percy smiled. ‘Is he a fighter? Frank, you’re looking at General Tyson of the Cyclops army. And, by the way, Tyson, Frank is a descendant of Poseidon.’
‘Brother!’ Tyson crushed Frank in a hug.
Percy stifled a laugh. ‘Actually he’s more like a great-great- … Oh, never mind. Yeah, he’s your brother.’
‘Thanks,’ Frank mumbled through a mouthful of flannel. ‘But if the legion mistakes Tyson for an enemy –’
‘I’ve got it!’ Hazel ran to the chariot and dug out the biggest Roman helmet she could find, plus an old Roman banner embroidered with SPQR.
She handed them to Tyson. ‘Put those on, big guy. Then our friends will know you’re on our team.’
‘Yay!’ Tyson said. ‘I’m on your team!’
The helmet was ridiculously small, and he put the cape on backwards, like a SPQR baby bib.
‘It’ll do,’ Percy said. ‘Ella, just stay here. Stay safe.’
‘Safe,’ Ella repeated. ‘Ella likes being safe. Safety in numbers. Safety deposit boxes. Ella will go with Tyson.’
‘What?’ Percy said. ‘Oh … fine. Whatever. Just don’t get hurt. And, Mrs O’Leary –’
‘ROOOF!’
‘How do you feel about pulling a chariot?’
L
Percy
They were, without a doubt, the strangest reinforcements in Roman military history. Hazel rode Arion, who had recovered enough to carry one person at normal horse speed, though he cursed about his aching hooves all the way downhill.
Frank transformed into a bald eagle – which Percy still found totally unfair – and soared above them. Tyson ran down the hill, waving his club and yelling, ‘Bad pony-men! BOO!’ while Ella fluttered around him, reciting facts from the Old Farmer’s Almanac.
As for Percy, he rode Mrs O’Leary into battle with a chariot full of Imperial gold equipment clanking and clinking behind, the golden eagle standard of the Twelfth Legion raised high above him.
They skirted the perimeter of the camp and took the northernmost bridge over the Little Tiber, charging onto the Field of Mars at the western edge of the battle. A horde of Cyclopes was hammering away at the campers of the Fifth Cohort, who were trying to keep their shields locked just to stay alive.
Seeing them in trouble, Percy felt a surge of protective rage. These were the kids who’d taken him in. This was his family.
He shouted, ‘Fifth Cohort!’ and slammed into the nearest Cyclops. The last things the poor monster saw were Mrs O’Leary’s teeth.
After the Cyclops disintegrated – and stayed disintegrated, thanks to Death – Percy leaped off his hellhound and slashed wildly through the other monsters.
Tyson charged at the Cyclops leader, Ma Gasket, her chain-mail dress spattered with mud and decorated with broken spears.
She gawked at Tyson and started to say, ‘Who –?’
Tyson hit her in the head so hard she spun in a circle and landed on her rump.
‘Bad Cyclops Lady!’ he bellowed. ‘General Tyson says GO AWAY!’
He hit her again, and Ma Gasket broke into dust.
Meanwhile Hazel charged around on Arion, slicing her spatha through one Cyclops after another, while Frank blinded the enemies with his talons.
Once every Cyclops within fifty yards had been reduced to ashes, Frank landed in front of his troops and transformed into a human. His centurion’s badge and Mural Crown gleamed on his winter jacket.
‘Fifth Cohort!’ he bellowed. ‘Get your Imperial gold weapons right here!’
The campers recovered from their shock and mobbed the chariot. Percy did his best to hand out equipment quickly.
‘Let’s go, let’s go!’ Dakota urged, grinning like a madman as he swigged red Kool-Aid from his flask. ‘Our comrades need help!’
Soon the Fifth Cohort was equipped with new weapons and shields and helmets. They weren’t exactly consistent. In fact they looked like they’d been shopping at a King Midas clearance sale. But they were suddenly the most powerful cohort in the legion.
‘Follow the eagle!’ Frank ordered. ‘To battle!’
The campers cheered. As Percy and Mrs O’Leary charged onward, the entire cohort followed – forty extremely shiny gold-plated warriors screaming for blood.
They slammed into a herd of wild centaurs that were attacking the Third Cohort. When the campers of the Third saw the eagle standard, they shouted insanely and fought with renewed effort.
The centaurs didn’t stand a chance. The two cohorts crushed them like a vice. Soon there was nothing left but piles of dust and assorted hooves and horns. Percy hoped Chiron would forgive him, but these centaurs weren’t like the Party Ponies he’d met before. They were some other breed. They had to be defeated.
‘Form ranks!’ the centurions shouted. The two cohorts came together, their military training kicking in. Shields locked, they marched into battle against
the Earthborn.
Frank shouted, ‘Pila!’
A hundred spears bristled. When Frank yelled, ‘Fire!’ they sailed through the air – a wave of death cutting through the six-armed monsters. The campers drew swords and advanced towards the centre of the battle.
At the base of the aqueduct, the First and Second Cohorts were trying to encircle Polybotes, but they were taking a pounding. The remaining Earthborn threw barrage after barrage of stone and mud. Karpoi grain spirits – those horrible little piranha Cupids – were rushing through the tall grass abducting campers at random, pulling them away from the line. The giant himself kept shaking basilisks out of his hair. Every time one landed, the Romans panicked and ran. Judging from their corroded shields and the smoking plumes on their helmets, they’d already learned about the basilisks’ poison and fire.
Reyna soared above the giant, diving in with her javelin whenever he turned his attention to the ground troops. Her purple cloak snapped in the wind. Her golden armour gleamed. Polybotes jabbed his trident and swung his weighted net, but Scipio was almost as nimble as Arion.
Then Reyna noticed the Fifth Cohort marching to their aid with the eagle. She was so stunned that the giant almost swatted her out of the air, but Scipio dodged. Reyna locked eyes with Percy and gave him a huge smile.
‘Romans!’ Her voice boomed across the fields. ‘Rally to the eagle!’
Demigods and monsters alike turned and gawked as Percy bounded forward on his hellhound.
‘What is this?’ Polybotes demanded. ‘What is this?’
Percy felt a rush of power coursing through the standard’s staff. He raised the eagle and shouted, ‘Twelfth Legion Fulminata!’
Thunder shook the valley. The eagle let loose a blinding flash, and a thousand tendrils of lightning exploded from its golden wings – arcing in front of Percy like the branches of an enormous deadly tree, connecting with the nearest monsters, leaping from one to another, completely ignoring the Roman forces.
When the lightning stopped, the First and Second Cohorts were facing one surprised-looking giant and several hundred smoking piles of ash. The enemy’s centre line had been charred to oblivion.