The Blood of Olympus(124)

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.