The Blood of Olympus(123)
Nico couldn’t think of anything more beautiful than an off-course projectile. At least, not today. From the three sabotaged machines, the payloads veered sideways, arcing towards the barrage from the other three onagers.
The fireballs didn’t collide directly. They didn’t need to. As soon as the missiles got close to one another, all six warheads detonated in midair, spraying a dome of gold and fire that sucked the oxygen right out of the sky.
The heat stung Nico’s face. The grass hissed. The tops of the trees steamed. But, when the fireworks faded, no serious damage had been done.
Octavian reacted first. He stomped his feet and yelled, ‘NO! NO, NO! RELOAD!’
No one in the First Cohort moved. Nico heard the tromping of boots to his right. The Fifth Cohort was marching towards them double-time, Dakota in the lead.
Further downhill, the rest of the legion was trying to form up, but the Second, Third and Fourth Cohorts were now surrounded by a sea of ill-tempered monstrous allies. The auxilia forces didn’t look happy about the explosion overhead. No doubt they’d been waiting for Camp Half-Blood to go up in flames so they’d get chargrilled demigod for breakfast.
‘Octavian!’ Dakota called. ‘We have new orders.’
Octavian’s left eye twitched so violently it looked like it might explode. ‘Orders? From whom? Not from me!’
‘From Reyna,’ Dakota said, loud enough to make sure everyone in the First Cohort could hear. ‘She’s ordered us to stand down.’
‘Reyna?’ Octavian laughed, though no one seemed to get the joke. ‘You mean the outlaw I sent you to arrest? The ex-praetor who conspired to betray her own people with this Graecus?’ He jabbed his finger in Nico’s chest. ‘You’re taking orders from her?’
The Fifth Cohort formed up behind their centurion, uneasily facing their comrades in the First.
Dakota crossed his arms stubbornly. ‘Reyna is the praetor until voted otherwise by the Senate.’
‘This is war!’ Octavian yelled. ‘I’ve brought you to the brink of ultimate victory and you want to give up? First Cohort: arrest Centurion Dakota and any who stand with him. Fifth Cohort: remember your vows to Rome and the legion. You will obey me!’
Will Solace shook his head. ‘Don’t do this, Octavian. Don’t force your people to choose. This is your last chance.’
‘My last chance?’ Octavian grinned, madness glinting in his eyes. ‘I will SAVE ROME! Now, Romans, follow my orders! Arrest Dakota. Destroy these Graecus scum. And reload those onagers!’
What the Romans would have done left to their own devices, Nico didn’t know.
But he hadn’t counted on the Greeks.
At that moment, the entire army of Camp Half-Blood appeared on the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Clarisse La Rue rode in the lead, on a red war chariot pulled by metal horses. A hundred demigods fanned out around her, with twice that many satyrs and nature spirits led by Grover Underwood. Tyson lumbered forward with six other Cyclopes. Chiron stood in full white stallion mode, his bow drawn.
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!’