by Rick Riordan
It was an impressive sight, but all Nico could think was: No. Not now.
Clarisse yelled, ‘Romans, you have fired on our camp! Withdraw or be destroyed!’
Octavian wheeled on his troops. ‘You see? It was a trick! They divided us so they could launch a surprise attack. Legion, cuneum formate! CHARGE!’
XLVIII
Nico
Nico wanted to yell: Time out! Hold it! Freeze!
But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. After weeks of waiting, agonizing and steaming, the Greeks and Romans wanted blood. Trying to stop the battle now would be like trying to push back a flood after the dam broke.
Will Solace saved the day.
He put his fingers in his mouth and did a taxicab whistle even more horrible than the last. Several Greeks dropped their swords. A ripple went through the Roman line like the entire First Cohort was shuddering.
‘DON’T BE STUPID!’ Will yelled. ‘LOOK!’
He pointed to the north, and Nico grinned from ear to ear. He decided there was something more beautiful than an off-course projectile: the Athena Parthenos gleaming in the sunrise, flying in from the coast, suspended from the tethers of six winged horses. Roman eagles circled but did not attack. A few of them even swooped in, grabbed the cables and helped carry the statue.
Nico didn’t see Blackjack, which worried him, but Reyna Ramírez-Arellano rode on Guido’s back. Her sword was held high. Her purple cloak glittered strangely, catching the sunlight.
Both armies stared, dumbfounded, as the forty-foot-tall gold and ivory statue came in for a landing.
‘GREEK DEMIGODS!’ Reyna’s voice boomed as if projected from the statue itself, like the Athena Parthenos had become a stack of concert speakers. ‘Behold your most sacred statue, the Athena Parthenos, wrongly taken by the Romans. I return it to you now as a gesture of peace!’
The statue settled on the crest of the hill, about twenty feet away from Thalia’s pine tree. Instantly gold light rippled across the ground, into the valley of Camp Half-Blood and down the opposite side through the Roman ranks. Warmth seeped into Nico’s bones – a comforting, peaceful sensation he hadn’t had since … he couldn’t even remember. A voice inside him seemed to whisper: You are not alone. You are part of the Olympian family. The gods have not abandoned you.
‘Romans!’ Reyna yelled. ‘I do this for the good of the legion, for the good of Rome. We must stand together with our Greek brethren!’
‘Listen to her!’ Nico marched forward.
He wasn’t even sure why he did it. Why would either side listen to him? He was the worst speaker, the worst ambassador ever.
Yet he strode between the battle lines, his black sword in his hand. ‘Reyna risked her life for all of you! We brought this statue halfway across the world, Roman and Greek working together, because we must join forces. Gaia is rising. If we don’t work together –’
YOU WILL DIE.
The voice shook the earth. Nico’s feeling of peace and safety instantly vanished. Wind swept across the hillside. The ground itself became fluid and sticky, the grass pulling at Nico’s boots.
A FUTILE GESTURE.
Nico felt as if he was standing on the goddess’s throat – as if the entire length of Long Island resonated with her vocal cords.
BUT, IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY, YOU MAY DIE TOGETHER.
‘No …’ Octavian scrambled backwards. ‘No, no …’ He broke and ran, pushing through his own troops.
‘CLOSE RANKS!’ Reyna yelled.
The Greeks and Romans moved together, standing shoulder to shoulder as all around them the earth shook.
Octavian’s auxilia troops surged forward, surrounding the demigods. Both camps put together were a minuscule dot in a sea of enemies. They would make their final stand on Half-Blood Hill, with the Athena Parthenos as their rallying point.
But even here they stood on enemy ground. Because Gaia was the earth, and the earth was awake.
XLIX
Jason
Jason had heard of someone’s life flashing before his eyes.
But he didn’t think it would be like this.
Standing with his friends in a defensive ring, surrounded by giants, then looking up at an impossible vision in the sky – Jason could very clearly picture himself fifty years in the future.
He was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of a house on the California coast. Piper was serving lemonade. Her hair was grey. Deep lines etched the corners of her eyes, but she was still as beautiful as ever. Jason’s grandchildren sat around his feet, and he was trying to explain to them what had happened on this day in Athens.
No, I’m serious, he said. Just six demigods on the ground and one more in a burning ship above the Acropolis. We were surrounded by thirty-foot-tall giants who were about to kill us. Then the sky opened up and the gods descended!
Granddad, the kids said, you are full of schist.
I’m not kidding! he protested. The Olympian gods came charging out of the heavens on their war chariots, trumpets blaring, swords flaming. And your great-grandfather, the king of the gods, led the charge, a javelin of pure electricity crackling in his hand!
His grandkids laughed at him. And Piper glanced over, smiling, like Would you believe it, if you hadn’t been there?
But Jason was there. He looked up as the clouds parted over the Acropolis, and he almost doubted the new prescription lenses Asclepius had given him. Instead of blue skies, he saw black space spangled with stars, the palaces of Mount Olympus gleaming silver and gold in the background. And an army of gods charged down from on high.
It was too much to process. And it was probably better for his health that he didn’t see it all. Only later would Jason be able to remember bits and pieces.
There was supersized Jupiter – no, this was Zeus, his original form – riding into battle in a golden chariot, a lightning bolt the size of a telephone pole crackling in one hand. Pulling his chariot were four horses made of wind, each constantly shifting from equine to human form, trying to break free. For a split second, one took on the icy visage of Boreas. Another wore Notus’s swirling crown of fire and steam. A third flashed the smug lazy smile of Zephyrus. Zeus had bound and harnessed the four wind gods themselves.
On the underbelly of the Argo II, the glass bay doors split open. The goddess Nike tumbled out, free from her golden net. She spread her glittering wings and soared to Zeus’s side, taking her rightful place as his charioteer.
‘MY MIND IS RESTORED!’ she roared. ‘VICTORY TO THE GODS!’
At Zeus’s left flank rode Hera, her chariot pulled by enormous peacocks, their rainbow-coloured plumage so bright it gave Jason the spins.
Ares bellowed with glee as he thundered down on the back of a fire-breathing horse. His spear glistened red.
In the last second, before the gods reached the Parthenon, they seemed to displace themselves, like they’d jumped through hyperspace. The chariots disappeared. Suddenly Jason and his friends were surrounded by the Olympians, now human-sized, tiny next to the giants, but glowing with power.
Jason shouted and charged Porphyrion.
His friends joined in the carnage.
The fighting ranged all over the Parthenon and spilled across the Acropolis. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Annabeth fighting Enceladus. At her side stood a woman with long dark hair and golden armour over her white robes. The goddess thrust her spear at the giant, then brandished her shield with the fearsome bronzed visage of Medusa. Together, Athena and Annabeth drove Enceladus back into the nearest wall of metal scaffolding, which collapsed on top of him.
On the opposite side of the temple, Frank Zhang and the god Ares smashed through an entire phalanx of giants – Ares with his spear and shield, Frank (as an African elephant) with his trunk and feet. The war god laughed and stabbed and disembowelled like a kid destroying piñatas.
Hazel raced through the battle on Arion’s back, disappearing in the Mist whenever a giant came close, then appearing behind hi
m and stabbing him in the back. The goddess Hecate danced in her wake, setting fire to their enemies with two blazing torches. Jason didn’t see Hades, but whenever a giant stumbled and fell the ground broke open and the giant was snapped up and swallowed.
Percy battled the giant twins, Otis and Ephialtes, while at his side fought a bearded man with a trident and a loud Hawaiian shirt. The twin giants stumbled. Poseidon’s trident morphed into a fire hose, and the god sprayed the giants out of the Parthenon with a high-powered blast in the shape of wild horses.
Piper was maybe the most impressive. She fenced with the giantess Periboia, sword against sword. Despite the fact that her opponent was five times larger, Piper seemed to be holding her own. The goddess Aphrodite floated around them on a small white cloud, strewing rose petals in the giantess’s eyes and calling encouragement to Piper. ‘Lovely, my dear. Yes, good. Hit her again!’
Whenever Periboia tried to strike, doves rose up from nowhere and fluttered in the giantess’s face.
As for Leo, he was racing across the deck of the Argo II, shooting ballistae, dropping hammers on the giants’ heads and blowtorching their loincloths. Behind him at the helm, a burly bearded guy in a mechanic’s uniform was tinkering with the controls, furiously trying to keep the ship aloft.
The strangest sight was the old giant Thoon, who was getting bludgeoned to death by three old ladies with brass clubs – the Fates, armed for war. Jason decided there was nothing in the world scarier than a gang of bat-wielding grannies.
He noticed all of these things, and a dozen other melees in progress, but most of his attention was fixed on the enemy before him – Porphyrion, the giant king – and on the god who fought by Jason’s side: Zeus.
My father, Jason thought in disbelief.
Porphyrion didn’t give him much chance to savour the moment. The giant used his spear in a whirlwind of swipes, jabs and slashes. It was all Jason could do to stay alive.
Still … Zeus’s presence felt reassuringly familiar. Even though Jason had never met his father, he was reminded of all his happiest moments – his birthday picnic with Piper in Rome; the day Lupa showed him Camp Jupiter for the first time; his games of hide-and-seek with Thalia in their apartment when he was tiny; an afternoon on the beach when his mother had picked him up, kissed him and showed him an oncoming storm. Never be afraid of a thunderstorm, Jason. That is your father, letting you know he loves you.
Zeus smelled of rain and clean wind. He made the air burn with energy. Up close, his lightning bolt appeared as a bronze rod a metre long, pointed on both ends, with blades of energy extending from both sides to form a javelin of white electricity. He slashed across the giant’s path and Porphyrion collapsed into his makeshift throne, which crumbled under the giant’s weight.
‘No throne for you,’ Zeus growled. ‘Not here. Not ever.’
‘You cannot stop us!’ the giant yelled. ‘It is done! The Earth Mother is awake!’
In answer, Zeus blasted the throne to rubble. The giant king flew backwards out of the temple and Jason ran after him, his father at his heels.
They backed Porphyrion to the edge of the cliffs, the whole of modern Athens spread out below. Lightning had melted all the weapons in the giant’s hair. Molten Celestial bronze dripped through his dreadlocks like caramel. His skin steamed and blistered.
Porphyrion snarled and raised his spear. ‘Your cause is lost, Zeus. Even if you defeat me, the Earth Mother shall simply raise me again!’
‘Then perhaps,’ Zeus said, ‘you should not die in the embrace of Gaia. Jason, my son …’
Jason had never felt so good, so recognized, as when his father said his name. It was like last winter at Camp Half-Blood, when his erased memories had finally returned. Jason suddenly understood another layer of his existence – a part of his identity that had been cloudy before.
Now he had no doubt: he was the son of Jupiter, god of the sky. He was his father’s child.
Jason advanced.
Porphyrion lashed out wildly with his spear, but Jason cut it in half with his gladius. He charged in, jabbing his sword through the giant’s breastplate, then summoned the winds and blasted Porphyrion off the edge of the cliff.
As the giant fell, screaming, Zeus pointed his lightning bolt. An arc of pure white heat vaporized Porphyrion in midair. His ashes drifted down in a gentle cloud, dusting the tops of the olive trees on the slopes of the Acropolis.
Zeus turned to Jason. His lightning bolt flickered off, and Zeus clipped the Celestial bronze rod to his belt. The god’s eyes were stormy grey. His salt-and-pepper hair and his beard looked like stratus clouds. Jason found it strange that the lord of the universe, king of Olympus, was only a few inches taller than he was.
‘My son.’ Zeus clasped Jason’s shoulder. ‘There is so much I would like to tell you …’
The god took a heavy breath, making the air crackle and Jason’s new glasses fog up. ‘Alas, as king of the gods, I must not show favouritism to my children. When we return to the other Olympians, I will not be able to praise you as much as I would like, or give you as much credit as you deserve.’
‘I don’t want praise.’ Jason’s voice quavered. ‘Just a little time together would be nice. I mean, I don’t even know you.’
Zeus’s gaze was as far away as the ozone layer. ‘I am always with you, Jason. I have watched your progress with pride, but it will never be possible for us to be …’
He curled his fingers, as if trying to pluck the right words out of the air. Close. Normal. A true father and son. ‘From birth, you were destined to be Hera’s – to appease her wrath. Even your name, Jason, was her choice. You did not ask for this. I did not want it. But when I gave you over to her … I had no idea what a good man you would become. Your journey has shaped you, made you both kind and great. Whatever happens when we return to the Parthenon, know that I do not hold you accountable. You have proven yourself a true hero.’
Jason’s emotions were a jumble in his chest. ‘What do you mean … whatever happens?’
‘The worst is not over,’ Zeus warned. ‘And someone must take the blame for what has happened. Come.’
L
Jason
Nothing was left of the giants except heaps of ash, a few spears and some burning dreadlocks.
The Argo II was still aloft, barely, moored to the top of the Parthenon. Half the ship’s oars were broken off or tangled. Smoke streamed from several large splits in the hull. The sails were peppered with burning holes.
Leo looked almost as bad. He stood in the midst of the temple with the other crew members, his face covered in soot, his clothes smouldering.
The gods fanned out in a semicircle as Zeus approached. None of them seemed particularly joyful about their victory.
Apollo and Artemis stood together in the shadow of a column, as if trying to hide. Hera and Poseidon were having an intense discussion with another goddess in green and gold robes – perhaps Demeter. Nike tried to put a golden laurel wreath on Hecate’s head, but the goddess of magic swatted it away. Hermes sneaked close to Athena, attempting to put his arm around her. Athena turned her aegis shield his way and Hermes scuffled off.
The only Olympian who seemed in a good mood was Ares. He laughed and pantomimed gutting an enemy while Frank listened, his expression polite but queasy.
‘Brethren,’ Zeus said, ‘we are healed, thanks to the work of these demigods. The Athena Parthenos, which once stood in this temple, now stands at Camp Half-Blood. It has united our offspring, and thus our own essences.’
‘Lord Zeus,’ Piper spoke up, ‘is Reyna okay? Nico and Coach Hedge?’
Jason couldn’t quite believe Piper was asking after Reyna’s health, but it made him glad.
Zeus knitted his cloud-coloured eyebrows. ‘They succeeded in their mission. As of this moment they are alive. Whether or not they are okay –’
‘There is still work to be done,’ Queen Hera interrupted. She spread her arms like she wanted a group hug. ‘But my h
eroes … you have triumphed over the giants as I knew you would. My plan succeeded beautifully.’
Zeus turned on his wife. Thunder shook the Acropolis. ‘Hera, do not dare take credit! You have caused at least as many problems as you’ve fixed!’
The queen of heaven blanched. ‘Husband, surely you see now – this was the only way.’
‘There is never only one way!’ Zeus bellowed. ‘That is why there are three Fates, not one. Is this not so?’
By the ruins of the giant king’s throne, the three old ladies silently bowed their heads in recognition. Jason noticed that the other gods stayed well away from the Fates and their gleaming brass clubs.
‘Please, husband.’ Hera tried for a smile, but she was so clearly frightened that Jason almost felt sorry for her. ‘I only did what I –’
‘Silence!’ Zeus snapped. ‘You disobeyed my orders. Nevertheless … I recognize that you acted with honest intentions. The valour of these seven heroes has proven that you were not entirely without wisdom.’
Hera looked like she wanted to argue, but she kept her mouth shut.
‘Apollo, however …’ Zeus glared into the shadows where the twins were standing. ‘My son, come here.’
Apollo inched forward like he was walking the plank. He looked so much like a teenage demigod it was unnerving – no more than seventeen, wearing jeans and a Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, with a bow over his shoulder and a sword at his belt. With his tousled blond hair and blue eyes, he might’ve been Jason’s brother on the mortal side as well as the godly side.
Jason wondered if Apollo had assumed this form to be inconspicuous, or to look pitiable to his father. The fear in Apollo’s face certainly looked real, and also very human.
The Three Fates gathered around the god, circling him, their withered hands raised.
‘Twice you have defied me,’ Zeus said.
Apollo moistened his lips. ‘My – my lord –’
‘You neglected your duties. You succumbed to flattery and vanity. You encouraged your descendant Octavian to follow his dangerous path, and you prematurely revealed a prophecy that may yet destroy us all.’