The Lost Hero hoo-1

by Rick Riordan

  “Perfectly safe,” Medea promised. “And Jason, strike him hard. Show me you are worthy of your namesake.”

  “No!” Piper ordered. She knew it was her last chance. “Jason, Leo—she’s tricking you. Put down your weapons.”

  The sorceress rolled her eyes. “Please, girl. You’re no match for me. I trained with my aunt, the immortal Circe. I can drive men mad or heal them with my voice. What hope do these puny young heroes have against me? Now, boys, kill each other!”

  “Jason, Leo, listen to me.” Piper put all of her emotion into her voice. For years she’d been trying to control herself and not show weakness, but now she poured everything into her words—her fear, her desperation, her anger. She knew she might be signing her dad’s death warrant, but she cared too much about her friends to let them hurt each other. “Medea is charming you. It’s part of her magic. You are best friends. Don’t fight each other. Fight her!”

  They hesitated, and Piper could feel the spell shatter.

  Jason blinked. “Leo, was I just about to stab you?”

  “Something about my mother … ?” Leo frowned, then turned toward Medea. “You … you’re working for Dirt Woman. You sent her to the machine shop.” He lifted his arm. “Lady, I got a three-pound hammer with your name on it.”

  “Bah!” Medea sneered. “I’ll simply collect payment another way.”

  She pressed one of the mosaic tiles on the floor, and the building rumbled. Jason swung his sword at Medea, but she dissolved into smoke and reappeared at the base of the escalator.

  “You’re slow, hero!” She laughed. “Take your frustration out on my pets!”

  Before Jason could go after her, the giant bronze sundials at either end of the fountain swung open. Two snarling gold beasts—flesh-and-blood winged dragons—crawled out from the pits below. Each was the size of a camper van, maybe not large compared to Festus, but large enough.

  “So that’s what’s in the kennels,” Leo said meekly.

  The dragons spread their wings and hissed. Piper could feel the heat coming off their glittering skin. One turned his angry orange eyes on her.

  “Don’t look them in the eye!” Jason warned. “They’ll paralyze you.”

  “Indeed!” Medea was leisurely riding the escalator up, leaning against the handrail as she watched the fun. “These two dears have been with me a long time—sun dragons, you know, gifts from my grandfather Helios. They pulled my chariot when I left Corinth, and now they will be your destruction. Ta-ta!”

  The dragons lunged. Leo and Jason charged to intercept. Piper was amazed how fearlessly the boys attacked—working like a team who had trained together for years.

  Medea was almost to the second floor, where she’d be able to choose from a wide assortment of deadly appliances.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Piper growled, and took off after her.

  When Medea spotted Piper, she started climbing in earnest. She was quick for a three-thousand-year-old lady. Piper climbed at top speed, taking the steps three at a time, and still she couldn’t catch her. Medea didn’t stop at floor two. She hopped the next escalator and continued to ascend.

  The potions, Piper thought. Of course that’s what she would go for. She was famous for potions.

  Down below, Piper heard the battle raging. Leo was blowing his safety whistle, and Jason was yelling to keep the dragons’ attention. Piper didn’t dare look—not while she was running with a dagger in her hand. She could just see herself tripping and stabbing herself in the nose. That would be super heroic.

  She grabbed a shield from an armored manikin on floor three and continued to climb. She imagined Coach Hedge yelling in her mind, just like back in gym class at Wilderness School: Move it, McLean! You call that escalator-climbing?

  She reached the top floor, breathing hard, but she was too late. Medea had reached the potions counter.

  The sorceress grabbed a swan-shaped vial—the blue one that caused painful death—and Piper did the only thing that came to mind. She threw her shield.

  Medea turned triumphantly just in time to get hit in the chest by a fifty-pound metal Frisbee. She stumbled backward, crashing over the counter, breaking vials and knocking down shelves. When the sorceress stood from the wreckage, her dress was stained a dozen different colors. Many of the stains were smoldering and glowing.

  “Fool!” Medea wailed. “Do you have any idea what so many potions will do when mixed?”

  “Kill you?” Piper said hopefully.

  The carpet began to steam around Medea’s feet. She coughed, and her face contorted in pain—or was she faking?

  Below, Leo called, “Jason, help!”

  Piper risked a quick look, and almost sobbed in despair. One of the dragons had Leo pinned to the floor. It was baring its fangs, ready to snap. Jason was all the way across the room battling the other dragon, much too far away to assist.

  “You’ve doomed us all!” Medea screamed. Smoke was rolling across the carpet as the stain spread, throwing sparks and setting fires in the clothing racks. “You have only seconds before this concoction consumes everything and destroys the building. There’s no time—”

  CRASH! The stained glass ceiling splintered in a rain of multicolored shards, and Festus the bronze dragon dropped into the department store.

  He hurtled into the fray, snatching up a sun dragon in each claw. Only now did Piper appreciate just how big and strong their metal friend was.

  “That’s my boy!” Leo yelled.

  Festus flew halfway up the atrium, then hurled the sun dragons into the pits they’d come from. Leo raced to the fountain and pressed the marble tile, closing the sundials. They shuddered as the dragons banged against them, trying to get out, but for the moment they were contained.

  Medea cursed in some ancient language. The whole fourth floor was on fire now. The air filled with noxious gas. Even with the roof open, Piper could feel the heat intensifying. She backed up to the edge of the railing, keeping her dagger pointed toward Medea.

  “I will not be abandoned again!” The sorceress knelt and snatched up the red healing potion, which had somehow survived the crash. “You want your boyfriend’s memory restored? Take me with you!”

  Piper glanced behind her. Leo and Jason were on board Festus’s back. The bronze dragon flapped his mighty wings, snatched the two cages with the satyr and the storm spirits in his claws, and began to ascend.

  The building rumbled. Fire and the smoke curled up the walls, melting the railings, turning the air to acid.

  “You’ll never survive your quest without me!” Medea growled. “Your boy hero will stay ignorant forever, and your father will die. Take me with you!”

  For one heartbeat, Piper was tempted. Then she saw Medea’s grim smile. The sorceress was confident in her powers of persuasion, confident that she could always make a deal, always escape and win in the end.

  “Not today, witch.” Piper jumped over the side. She plummeted for only a second before Leo and Jason caught her, hauling her aboard the dragon.

  She heard Medea screaming in rage as they soared through the broken roof and over downtown Chicago. Then the department store exploded behind them.

  XXIX

  LEO

  LEO KEPT LOOKING BACK. HE HALF EXPECTED to see those nasty sun dragons toting a flying chariot with a screaming magical saleswoman throwing potions, but nothing followed them.

  He steered the dragon toward the southwest. Eventually, the smoke from the burning department store faded in the distance, but Leo didn’t relax until the suburbs of Chicago gave way to snowy fields, and the sun began to set.

  “Good job, Festus.” He patted the dragon’s metal hide. “You did awesome.”

  The dragon shuddered. Gears popped and clicked in his neck.

  Leo frowned. He didn’t like those noises. If the control disk was failing again—No, hopefully it was something minor. Something he could fix.

  “I’ll give you a tune-up next time we land,” Leo promised. “You’
ve earned some motor oil and Tabasco sauce.”

  Festus whirled his teeth, but even that sounded weak. He flew at a steady pace, his great wings angling to catch the wind, but he was carrying a heavy load. Two cages in his claws plus three people on his back—the more Leo thought about it, the more worried he got. Even metal dragons had limits.

  “Leo.” Piper patted his shoulder. “You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah … not bad for a brainwashed zombie.” He hoped he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. “Thanks for saving us back there, beauty queen. If you hadn’t talked me out of that spell—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Piper said.

  But Leo worried a lot. He felt terrible about how easily Medea had set him against his best friend. And those feelings hadn’t come from nowhere—his resentment of the way Jason always got the spotlight and didn’t really seem to need him. Leo did feel that way sometimes, even if he wasn’t proud of it.

  What bothered him more was the news about his mom. Medea had seen the future down in the Underworld. That was how her patron, the woman in the black earthen robes, had come to the machine shop seven years ago to scare him, ruin his life. That’s how his mother had died—because of something Leo might do someday. So in a weird way, even if his fire powers weren’t to blame, Mom’s death was still his fault.

  When they had left Medea in that exploding store, Leo had felt a little too good. He hoped she wouldn’t make it out, and would go right back to the Fields of Punishment, where she belonged. Those feelings didn’t make him proud, either.

  And if souls were coming back from the Underworld …was it possible Leo’s mom could be brought back?

  He tried to put the idea aside. That was Frankenstein thinking. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right. Medea might’ve been brought back to life, but she hadn’t seemed quite human, with the hissing nails and the glowing head and whatnot.

  No, Leo’s mom had passed on. Thinking any other way would just drive Leo nuts. Still, the thought kept poking at him, like an echo of Medea’s voice.

  “We’re going to have to put down soon,” he warned his friends. “Couple more hours, maybe, to make sure Medea’s not following us. I don’t think Festus can fly much longer than that.”

  “Yeah,” Piper agreed. “Coach Hedge probably wants to get out of his canary cage, too. Question is—where are we going?”

  “The Bay Area,” Leo guessed. His memories of the department store were fuzzy, but he seemed to remember hearing that. “Didn’t Medea say something about Oakland?”

  Piper didn’t respond for so long, Leo wondered if he’d said something wrong.

  “Piper’s dad,” Jason put in. “Something’s happened to your dad, right? He got lured into some kind of trap.”

  Piper let out a shaky breath. “Look, Medea said you would both die in the Bay Area. And besides … even if we went there, the Bay Area is huge! First we need to find Aeolus and drop off the storm spirits. Boreas said Aeolus was the only one who could tell us exactly where to go.”

  Leo grunted. “So how do we find Aeolus?”

  Jason leaned forward. “You mean you don’t see it?” He pointed ahead of them, but Leo didn’t see anything except clouds and the lights of a few towns glowing in the dusk.

  “What?” Leo asked. “That … whatever it is,” Jason said. “In the air.”

  Leo glanced back. Piper looked just as confused as he was.

  “Right,” Leo said. “Could you be more specific on the ‘whatever-it-is’ part?”

  “Like a vapor trail,” Jason said. “Except it’s glowing. Really faint, but it’s definitely there. We’ve been following it since Chicago, so I figured you saw it.”

  Leo shook his head. “Maybe Festus can sense it. You think Aeolus made it?”

  “Well, it’s a magic trail in the wind,” Jason said. “Aeolus is the wind god. I think he knows we’ve got prisoners for him. He’s telling us where to fly.”

  “Or it’s another trap,” Piper said.

  Her tone worried Leo. She didn’t just sound nervous. She sounded broken with despair, like they’d already sealed their fate, and like it was her fault.

  “Pipes, you all right?” he asked.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Okay, fine. You don’t like any of the names I make up for you. But if your dad’s in trouble and we can help—”

  “You can’t,” she said, her voice getting shakier. “Look, I’m tired. If you don’t mind …”

  She leaned back against Jason and closed her eyes.

  All right, Leo thought—pretty clear signal she didn’t want to talk.

  They flew in silence for a while. Festus seemed to know where he was going. He kept his course, gently curving toward the southwest and hopefully Aeolus’s fortress. Another wind god to visit, a whole new flavor of crazy—Oh, boy, Leo couldn’t wait.

  He had way too much on his mind to sleep, but now that he was out danger, his body had different ideas. His energy level was crashing. The monotonous beat of the dragon’s wings made his eyes feel heavy. His head started to nod.

  “Catch a few Z’s,” Jason said. “It’s cool. Hand me the reins.”

  “Nah, I’m okay—”

  “Leo,” Jason said, “you’re not a machine. Besides, I’m the only one who can see the vapor trail. I’ll make sure we stay on course.”

  Leo’s eyes started to close on their own. “All right. Maybe just …”

  He didn’t finish the sentence before slumping forward against the dragon’s warm neck.

  In his dream, he heard a voice full of static, like a bad AM radio: “Hello? Is this thing working?”

  Leo’s vision came into focus—sort of. Everything was hazy and gray, with bands of interference running across his sight. He’d never dreamed with a bad connection before.

  He seemed to be in a workshop. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw bench saws, metal lathes, and tool cages. A forge glowed cheerfully against one wall.

  It wasn’t the camp forge—too big. Not Bunker 9—much warmer and more comfortable, obviously not abandoned.

  Then Leo realized something was blocking the middle of his view—something large and fuzzy, and so close, Leo had to cross his eyes to see it properly. It was a large ugly face.

  “Holy mother!” he yelped.

  The face backed away and came into focus. Staring down at him was a bearded man in grimy blue coveralls. His face was lumpy and covered with welts, as if he’d been bitten by a million bees, or dragged across gravel. Possibly both.

  “Humph,” the man said. “Holy father, boy. I should think you’d know the difference.”

  Leo blinked. “Hephaestus?”

  Being in the presence of his father for the first time, Leo probably should’ve been speechless or awestruck or something. But after what he’d been through the last couple of days, with Cyclopes and a sorceress and a face in the potty sludge, all Leo felt was a surge of complete annoyance.

  “Now you show up?” he demanded. “After fifteen years? Great parenting, Fur Face. Where do you get off sticking your ugly nose into my dreams?”

  The god raised an eyebrow. A little spark caught fire in his beard. Then he threw back his head and laughed so loudly, the tools rattled on the workbenches.

  “You sound just like your mother,” Hephaestus said. “I miss Esperanza.”

  “She’s been dead seven years.” Leo’s voice trembled. “Not that you’d care.”

  “But I do care, boy. About both of you.”

  “Uh-huh. Which is why I never saw you before today.”

  The god made a rumbling sound in his throat, but he looked more uncomfortable than angry. He pulled a miniature motor from his pocket and began fiddling absently with the pistons—just the way Leo did when he was nervous.

  “I’m not good with children,” the god confessed. “Or people. Well, any organic life forms, really. I thought about speaking to you at your mom’s funeral. Then again when you were in fifth grade … that scien
ce project you made, steam-powered chicken chucker. Very impressive.”

  “You saw that?”

  Hephaestus pointed to the nearest worktable, where a shiny bronze mirror showed a hazy image of Leo asleep on the dragon’s back.

  “Is that me?” Leo asked. “Like—me right now, having this dream—looking at me having a dream?”

  Hephaestus scratched his beard. “Now you’ve confused me. But yes—it’s you. I’m always keeping an eye on you, Leo. But talking to you is, um … different.”

  “You’re scared,” Leo said.

  “Grommets and gears!” the god yelled. “Of course not!”

  “Yeah, you’re scared.” But Leo’s anger seeped away. He’d spent years thinking about what he’d say to his dad if they ever met—how Leo would chew him out for being a deadbeat. Now, looking at that bronze mirror, Leo thought about his dad watching his progress over the years, even his stupid science experiments.

  Maybe Hephaestus was still a jerk, but Leo kind of understood where he was coming from. Leo knew about running away from people, not fitting in. He knew about hiding out in a workshop rather than trying to deal with organic life forms.

  “So,” Leo grumbled, “you keep track of all your kids? You got like twelve back at camp. How’d you even—Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Hephaestus might’ve blushed, but his face was so beat up and red, it was hard to tell. “Gods are different from mortals, boy. We can exist in many places at once—wherever people call on us, wherever our sphere of influence is strong. In fact, it’s rare our entire essence is ever together in one place—our true form. It’s dangerous, powerful enough to destroy any mortal who looks upon us. So, yes … lots of children. Add to that our different aspects, Greek and Roman—” The god’s fingers froze on his engine project. “Er, that is to say, being a god is complicated. And yes, I try to keep an eye on all my children, but you especially.”

  Leo was pretty sure Hephaestus had almost slipped and said something important, but he wasn’t sure what.

  “Why contact me now?” Leo asked. “I thought the gods had gone silent.”

  “We have,” Hephaestus grumped. “Zeus’s orders—very strange, even for him. He’s blocked all visions, dreams, and Iris-messages to and from Olympus. Hermes is sitting around bored out of his mind because he can’t deliver the mail. Fortunately, I kept my old pirate broadcasting equipment.”