by Rick Riordan
‘Oh, man!’ Frank looked up from his fish and chips. ‘Percy, you should have seen her! That’s how Hazel got her stripe. The unicorns decided to stampede -’
‘It was nothing,’ Hazel said.
‘Nothing?’ Frank protested. ‘Dakota would’ve been trampled! You stood right in front of them, shooed them away, saved his hide. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
Hazel bit her lip. She didn’t like to talk about it, and she felt uncomfortable, the way Frank made her sound like a hero. In truth, she’d been mostly afraid that the unicorns would hurt themselves in their panic. Their horns were precious metal – silver and gold – so she’d managed to turn them aside simply by concentrating, steering the animals by their horns and guiding them back to the stables. It had got her a full place in the legion, but it had also started rumours about her strange powers – rumours that reminded her of the bad old days.
Percy studied her. Those sea-green eyes made her unsettled.
‘Did you and Nico grow up together?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Nico answered for her. ‘I found out that Hazel was my sister only recently. She’s from New Orleans.’
That was true, of course, but not the whole truth. Nico let people think he’d stumbled upon her in modern New Orleans and brought her to camp. It was easier than telling the real story.
Hazel had tried to pass herself off as a modern kid. It wasn’t easy. Thankfully, demigods didn’t use a lot of technology at camp. Their powers tended to make electronic gadgets go haywire. But the first time she went on furlough to Berkeley, she had nearly had a stroke. Televisions, computers, iPods, the Internet … It made her glad to get back to the world of ghosts, unicorns and gods. That seemed much less of a fantasy than the twenty-first century.
Nico was still talking about the children of Pluto. ‘There aren’t many of us,’ he said, ‘so we have to stick together. When I found Hazel -’
‘You have other sisters?’ Percy asked, almost as if he knew the answer. Hazel wondered again when he and Nico had met, and what her brother was hiding.
‘One,’ Nico admitted. ‘But she died. I saw her spirit a few times in the Underworld, except that the last time I went down there …’
To bring her back, Hazel thought, though Nico didn’t say that.
‘She was gone.’ Nico’s voice turned hoarse. ‘She used to be in Elysium – like, the Underworld paradise – but she chose to be reborn into a new life. Now I’ll never see her again. I was just lucky to find Hazel … in New Orleans, I mean.’
Dakota grunted. ‘Unless you believe the rumours. Not saying that I do.’
‘Rumours?’ Percy asked.
From across the room, Don the faun yelled, ‘Hazel!’
Hazel had never been so glad to see the faun. He wasn’t allowed in camp, but of course he always managed to get in. He was working his way towards their table, grinning at everybody, sneaking food off plates, and pointing at campers: ‘Hey! Call me!’ A flying pizza smacked him in the head, and he disappeared behind a couch. Then he popped up, still grinning, and made his way over.
‘My favourite girl!’ He smelled like a wet goat wrapped in old cheese. He leaned over their couches and checked out their food. ‘Say, new kid, you going to eat that?’
Percy frowned. ‘Aren’t fauns vegetarian?’
‘Not the cheeseburger, man! The plate!’ He sniffed Percy’s hair. ‘Hey … what’s that smell?’
‘Don!’ Hazel said. ‘Don’t be rude.’
‘No, man, I just -’
Their house god Vitellius shimmered into existence, standing half embedded in Frank’s couch. ‘Fauns in the dining hall! What are we coming to? Centurion Dakota, do your duty!’
‘I am,’ Dakota grumbled into his goblet. ‘I’m having dinner!’
Don was still sniffing around Percy. ‘Man, you’ve got an empathy link with a faun!’
Percy leaned away from him. ‘A what?’
‘An empathy link! It’s real faint, like somebody’s suppressed it, but -’
‘I know what!’ Nico stood suddenly. ‘Hazel, how about we give you and Frank time to get Percy oriented? Dakota and I can visit the praetor’s table. Don and Vitellius, you come too. We can discuss strategies for the war games.’
‘Strategies for losing?’ Dakota muttered.
‘Death Boy is right!’ Vitellius said. ‘This legion fights worse than we did in Judea, and that was the first time we lost our eagle. Why, if I were in charge -’
‘Could I just eat the silverware first?’ Don asked.
‘Let’s go!’ Nico stood and grabbed Don and Vitellius by the ears.
Nobody but Nico could actually touch the Lares. Vitellius spluttered with outrage as he was dragged off to the praetor’s table.
‘Ow!’ Don protested. ‘Man, watch the ’fro!’
‘Come on, Dakota!’ Nico called over his shoulder.
The centurion got up reluctantly. He wiped his mouth – uselessly, since it was permanently stained red. ‘Back soon.’ He shook all over, like a dog trying to get dry. Then he staggered away, his goblet sloshing.
‘What was that about?’ Percy asked. ‘And what’s wrong with Dakota?’
Frank sighed. ‘He’s okay. He’s a son of Bacchus, the wine god. He’s got a drinking problem.’
Percy’s eyes widened. ‘You let him drink wine?’
‘Gods, no!’ Hazel said. ‘That would be a disaster. He’s addicted to red Kool-Aid. Drinks it with three times the normal sugar, and he’s already ADHD – you know, attention deficit/hyperactive. One of these days, his head is going to explode.’
Percy looked over at the praetor’s table. Most of the senior officers were in deep conversation with Reyna. Nico and his two captives, Don and Vitellius, stood on the periphery. Dakota was running back and forth along a line of stacked shields, banging his goblet on them like they were a xylophone.
‘ADHD,’ Percy said. ‘You don’t say.’
Hazel tried not to laugh. ‘Well … most demigods are. Or dyslexic. Just being a demigod means that our brains are wired differently. Like you – you said you had trouble reading.’
‘Are you guys that way too?’ Percy asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Hazel admitted. ‘Maybe. Back in my day, they just called kids like us “lazy”.’
Percy frowned. ‘Back in your day?’
Hazel cursed herself.
Luckily for her, Frank spoke up: ‘I wish I was ADHD or dyslexic. All I got is lactose intolerance.’
Percy grinned. ‘Seriously?’
Frank might’ve been the silliest demigod ever, but Hazel thought he was cute when he pouted. His shoulders slumped. ‘And I love ice cream, too …’
Percy laughed. Hazel couldn’t help joining in. It was good to sit at dinner and actually feel like she was among friends.
‘Okay, so tell me,’ Percy said, ‘why is it bad to be in the Fifth Cohort? You guys are great.’
The compliment made Hazel’s toes tingle. ‘It’s … complicated. Aside from being Pluto’s kid, I want to ride horses.’
‘That’s why you use a cavalry sword?’
She nodded. ‘It’s stupid, I guess. Wishful thinking. There’s only one pegasus at camp – Reyna’s. The unicorns are just kept for medicine, because the shavings off their horns cure poisoning and stuff. Anyway, Roman fighting is always done on foot. Cavalry … they kind of look down on that. So they look down on me.’
‘Their loss,’ Percy said. ‘What about you, Frank?’
‘Archery,’ he muttered. ‘They don’t like that either, unless you’re a child of Apollo. Then you’ve got an excuse. I hope my dad is Apollo, but I don’t know. I can’t do poetry very well. And I’m not sure I want to be related to Octavian.’
‘Can’t blame you,’ Percy said. ‘But you’re excellent with the bow – the way you pegged those gorgons? Forget what other people think.’
Frank’s face turned as red as Dakota’s Kool-Aid. ‘Wish I could. They all think I should be a s
word fighter because I’m big and bulky.’ He looked down at his body, like he couldn’t quite believe it was his. ‘They say I’m too stocky for an archer. Maybe if my dad would ever claim me …’
They ate in silence for a few minutes. A dad who wouldn’t claim you … Hazel knew that feeling. She sensed Percy could relate, too.
‘You asked about the Fifth,’ she said at last. ‘Why it’s the worst cohort. That actually started way before us.’
She pointed to the back wall, where the legion’s standards were on display. ‘See the empty pole in the middle?’
‘The eagle,’ Percy said.
Hazel was stunned. ‘How’d you know?’
Percy shrugged. ‘Vitellius was talking about how the legion lost its eagle a long time ago – the first time, he said. He acted like it was a huge disgrace. I’m guessing that’s what’s missing. And from the way you and Reyna were talking earlier, I’m guessing your eagle got lost a second time, more recently, and it had something to do with the Fifth Cohort.’
Hazel made a mental note not to underestimate Percy again. When he’d first arrived, she’d thought he was a little goofy from the questions he’d asked – about the Feast for Tuna and all – but clearly he was smarter than he let on.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘That’s exactly what happened.’
‘So what is this eagle, anyway? Why is it a big deal?’
Frank looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. ‘It’s the symbol of the whole camp – a big eagle made of gold. It’s supposed to protect us in battle and make our enemies afraid. Each legion’s eagle gave it all sorts of power, and ours came from Jupiter himself. Supposedly Julius Caesar nicknamed our legion “Fulminata” – armed with lightning – because of what the eagle could do.’
‘I don’t like lightning,’ Percy said.
‘Yeah, well,’ Hazel said, ‘it didn’t make us invincible. The Twelfth lost its eagle the first time way back in ancient days, during the Jewish Rebellion.’
‘I think I saw a movie like that,’ Percy said.
Hazel shrugged. ‘Could be. There have been lots of books and movies about legions losing their eagles. Unfortunately it happened quite a few times. The eagle was so important … well, archaeologists have never recovered a single eagle from ancient Rome. Each legion guarded theirs to the last man, because it was charged with power from the gods. They’d rather hide it or melt it down than surrender it to an enemy. The Twelfth was lucky the first time. We got our eagle back. But the second time …’
‘You guys were there?’ Percy asked.
They both shook their heads.
‘I’m almost as new as you.’ Frank tapped his probatio plate. ‘Just got here last month. But everyone’s heard the story. It’s bad luck to even talk about this. There was this huge expedition to Alaska back in the eighties …’
‘That prophecy you noticed in the temple,’ Hazel continued, ‘the one about the seven demigods and the Doors of Death? Our senior praetor at the time was Michael Varus, from the Fifth Cohort. Back then the Fifth was the best in camp. He thought it would bring glory to the legion if he could figure out the prophecy and make it come true – save the world from storm and fire and all that. He talked to the augur, and the augur said the answer was in Alaska. But he warned Michael it wasn’t time yet. The prophecy wasn’t for him.’
‘But he went anyway,’ Percy guessed. ‘What happened?’
Frank lowered his voice. ‘Long, gruesome story. Almost the entire Fifth Cohort was wiped out. Most of legion’s Imperial gold weapons were lost, along with the eagle. The survivors went crazy or refused to talk about what had attacked them.’
I know, Hazel thought solemnly. But she kept silent.
‘Since the eagle was lost,’ Frank continued, ‘the camp has been getting weaker. Quests are more dangerous. Monsters attack the borders more often. Morale is lower. The last month or so, things have been getting much worse, much faster.’
‘And the Fifth Cohort took the blame,’ Percy guessed. ‘So now everyone thinks we’re cursed.’
Hazel realized her gumbo was cold. She sipped a spoonful, but the comfort food didn’t taste very comforting. ‘We’ve been the outcasts of the legion since … well, since the Alaska disaster. Our reputation got better when Jason became praetor -’
‘The kid who’s missing?’ Percy asked.
‘Yeah,’ Frank said. ‘I never met him. Before my time. But I hear he was a good leader. He practically grew up in the Fifth Cohort. He didn’t care what people thought about us. He started to rebuild our reputation. Then he disappeared.’
‘Which put us back at square one,’ Hazel said bitterly. ‘Made us look cursed all over again. I’m sorry, Percy. Now you know what you’ve got yourself into.’
Percy sipped his blue soda and gazed thoughtfully across the dining hall. ‘I don’t even know where I come from … but I’ve got a feeling this isn’t the first time I’ve been an underdog.’ He focused on Hazel and managed a smile. ‘Besides, joining the legion is better than being chased through the wilderness by monsters. I’ve got myself some new friends. Maybe together we can turn things around for the Fifth Cohort, huh?’
A horn blew at the end of the hall. The officers at the praetor’s table got to their feet – even Dakota, his mouth vampire-red from Kool-Aid.
‘The games begin!’ Reyna announced. The campers cheered and rushed to collect their equipment from the stacks along the walls.
‘So we’re the attacking team?’ Percy asked over the noise. ‘Is that good?’
Hazel shrugged. ‘Good news: we get the elephant. Bad news -’
‘Let me guess,’ said Percy. ‘The Fifth Cohort always loses.’
Frank slapped Percy on the shoulder. ‘I love this guy. Come on, new friend. Let’s go chalk up my thirteenth defeat in a row!’
IX
Frank
AS HE MARCHED TO THE WAR GAMES, Frank replayed the day in his mind. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to death.
That morning on sentry duty, before Percy showed up, Frank had almost told Hazel his secret. The two of them had been standing for hours in the chilly fog, watching the commuter traffic on Highway 24. Hazel had been complaining about the cold.
‘I’d give anything to be warm,’ she said, her teeth chattering. ‘I wish we had a fire.’
Even with her armour on, she looked great. Frank liked the way her cinnamon-toast-coloured hair curled around the edges of her helmet, and the way her chin dimpled when she frowned. She was tiny compared to Frank, which made him feel like a big clumsy ox. He wanted to put his arms round her to warm her up, but he’d never do that. She’d probably hit him, and he’d lose the only friend he had at camp.
I could make a really impressive fire, he thought. Of course, it would only burn for a few minutes, and then I’d die …
It was scary that he even considered it. Hazel had that effect on him. Whenever she wanted something, he had the irrational urge to provide it. He wanted to be the old-fashioned knight riding to her rescue, which was stupid, as she was way more capable at everything than he was.
He imagined what his grandmother would say: Frank Zhang riding to the rescue? Ha! He’d fall off his horse and break his neck.
Hard to believe it had been only six weeks since he’d left his grandmother’s house – six weeks since his mom’s funeral.
Everything had happened since then: wolves arriving at his grandmother’s door, the journey to Camp Jupiter, the weeks he’d spent in the Fifth Cohort trying not to be a complete failure. Through it all, he’d kept the half-burnt piece of firewood wrapped in a cloth in his coat pocket.
Keep it close, his grandmother had warned. As long as it is safe, you are safe.
The problem was that it burned so easily. He remembered the trip south from Vancouver. When the temperature dropped below freezing near Mount Hood, Frank had brought out the piece of tinder and held it in his hands, imagining how nice it would be to have some fire. Immediate
ly, the charred end blazed with a searing yellow flame. It lit up the night and warmed Frank to the bone, but he could feel his life slipping away, as if he were being consumed rather than the wood. He’d thrust the flame into a snowbank. For a horrible moment it kept burning. When it finally went out, Frank got his panic under control. He wrapped the piece of wood and put it back in his coat pocket, determined not to bring it out again. But he couldn’t forget it.
It was as though someone had said, ‘Whatever you do, don’t think about that stick bursting into flame!’
So, of course, that’s all he thought about.
On sentry duty with Hazel, he would try to take his mind off it. He loved spending time with her. He asked her about growing up in New Orleans, but she got edgy at his questions, so they made small talk instead. Just for fun, they tried to speak French to each other. Hazel had some Creole blood on her mother’s side. Frank had taken French in school. Neither of them was very fluent, and Louisiana French was so different from Canadian French it was almost impossible to converse. When Frank asked Hazel how her beef was feeling today, and she replied that his shoe was green, they decided to give up.
Then Percy Jackson had arrived.
Sure, Frank had seen kids fight monsters before. He’d fought plenty of them himself on his journey from Vancouver. But he’d never seen gorgons. He’d never seen a goddess in person. And the way Percy had controlled the Little Tiber – wow. Frank wished he had powers like that.
He could still feel the gorgons’ claws pressing into his arms and smell their snaky breath – like dead mice and poison. If not for Percy, those grotesque hags would have carried him away. He’d be a pile of bones in the back of a Bargain Mart by now.
After the incident at the river, Reyna had sent Frank to the armoury, which had given him way too much time to think. While he polished swords, he remembered Juno, warning them to unleash Death.
Unfortunately Frank had a pretty good idea of what the goddess meant. He had tried to hide his shock when Juno had appeared, but she looked exactly like his grandmother had described – right down to the goat-skin cape.