Rick Riordan: The Son of Neptune

The legion itself was taking the brunt of the attack, but their formation was breaking. Each cohort was an island in a sea of enemies. The Cyclopes’ siege tower shot glowing green cannonballs into the city, blasting craters in the forum, reducing houses to ruins. As Percy watched, a cannonball hit the Senate House and the dome partially collapsed.

‘We’re too late,’ Hazel said.

‘No,’ Percy said. ‘They’re still fighting. We can do this.’

‘Where’s Lupa?’ Frank asked, desperation creeping into his voice. ‘She and the wolves … they should be here.’

Percy thought about his time with the wolf goddess. He’d come to respect her teachings, but he’d also learned that wolves had limits. They weren’t front-line fighters. They only attacked when they had vastly superior numbers, and usually under the cover of darkness. Besides, Lupa’s first rule was self-sufficiency. She would help her children as much as she could, train them to fight – but in the end they were either predator or prey. Romans had to fight for themselves. They had to prove their worth or die. That was Lupa’s way.

‘She did what she could,’ Percy said. ‘She slowed down the army on its way south. Now it’s up to us. We’ve got to get the gold eagle and these weapons to the legion.’

‘But Arion is out of steam!’ Hazel said. ‘We can’t haul this stuff ourselves.’

‘Maybe we don’t have to.’ Percy scanned the hilltops. If Tyson had got his dream message in Vancouver, help might be close.

He whistled as loud as he could – a good New York cab whistle that would’ve been heard all the way from Times Square to Central Park.

Shadows rippled in the trees. A huge black shape bounded out of nowhere – a mastiff the size of an SUV, with a Cyclops and a harpy on her back.

‘Hellhound!’ Frank scrambled backwards.

‘It’s okay!’ Percy grinned. ‘These are friends.’

‘Brother!’ Tyson climbed off and ran towards Percy. Percy tried to brace himself, but it was no good. Tyson slammed into him and smothered him in a hug. For a few seconds, Percy could only see black spots and lots of flannel. Then Tyson let go and laughed with delight, looking Percy over with that massive baby brown eye.

‘You are not dead!’ he said. ‘I like it when you are not dead!’

Ella fluttered to the ground and began preening her feathers. ‘Ella found a dog,’ she announced. ‘A large dog. And a Cyclops.’

Was she blushing? Before Percy could decide, his black mastiff pounced on him, knocking Percy to the ground and barking so loudly that even Arion backed up.

‘Hey, Mrs O’Leary,’ Percy said. ‘Yeah, I love you, too, girl. Good dog.’

Hazel made a squeaking sound. ‘You have a hellhound named Mrs O’Leary?’

‘Long story.’ Percy managed to get to his feet and wipe off the dog slobber. ‘You can ask your brother …’

His voice wavered when he saw Hazel’s expression. He’d almost forgotten that Nico di Angelo was missing.

Hazel had told him what Thanatos had said about searching for the Doors of Death in Rome, and Percy was anxious to find Nico for his own reasons – to wring the kid’s neck for having pretended he didn’t know Percy when he first came to camp. Still, he was Hazel’s brother, and finding him was a conversation for another time.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘But, yeah, this is my dog, Mrs O’Leary. Tyson – these are my friends, Frank and Hazel.’

Percy turned to Ella, who was counting all the barbs in one of her feathers.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘We were worried about you.’

‘Ella is not strong,’ she said. ‘Cyclopes are strong. Tyson found Ella. Tyson took care of Ella.’

Percy raised his eyebrows. Ella was blushing.

‘Tyson,’ he said, ‘you big charmer, you.’

Tyson turned the same colour as Ella’s plumage. ‘Um … No.’ He leaned down and whispered nervously, loud enough for all the others to hear: ‘She is pretty.’

Frank tapped his head like he was afraid his brain had short-circuited. ‘Anyway, there’s this battle happening.’

‘Right,’ Percy agreed. ‘Tyson, where’s Annabeth? Is any other help coming?’

Tyson pouted. His big brown eye got misty. ‘The big ship is not ready. Leo says tomorrow, maybe two days. Then they will come.’

‘We don’t have two minutes ,’ Percy said. ‘Okay, here’s the plan.’

As quickly as possible, he pointed out which were the good guys and the bad guys on the battlefield. Tyson was alarmed to learn that bad Cyclopes and bad centaurs were in the giant’s army. ‘I have to hit pony-men?’

‘Just scare them away,’ Percy promised.

‘Um, Percy?’ Frank looked at Tyson with trepidation. ‘I just … don’t want our friend here getting hurt. Is Tyson a fighter?’

Percy smiled. ‘Is he a fighter? Frank, you’re looking at General Tyson of the Cyclops army. And, by the way, Tyson, Frank is a descendant of Poseidon.’

‘Brother!’ Tyson crushed Frank in a hug.

Percy stifled a laugh. ‘Actually he’s more like a great-great- … Oh, never mind. Yeah, he’s your brother.’

‘Thanks,’ Frank mumbled through a mouthful of flannel. ‘But if the legion mistakes Tyson for an enemy -’

‘I’ve got it!’ Hazel ran to the chariot and dug out the biggest Roman helmet she could find, plus an old Roman banner embroidered with SPQR.

She handed them to Tyson. ‘Put those on, big guy. Then our friends will know you’re on our team.’

‘Yay!’ Tyson said. ‘I’m on your team!’

The helmet was ridiculously small, and he put the cape on backwards, like a SPQR baby bib.

‘It’ll do,’ Percy said. ‘Ella, just stay here. Stay safe.’

‘Safe,’ Ella repeated. ‘Ella likes being safe. Safety in numbers. Safety deposit boxes. Ella will go with Tyson.’

‘What?’ Percy said. ‘Oh … fine. Whatever. Just don’t get hurt. And, Mrs O’Leary -’

‘ROOOF!’

‘How do you feel about pulling a chariot?’

THEY WERE, WITHOUT A DOUBT, the strangest reinforcements in Roman military history. Hazel rode Arion, who had recovered enough to carry one person at normal horse speed, though he cursed about his aching hooves all the way downhill.

Frank transformed into a bald eagle – which Percy still found totally unfair – and soared above them. Tyson ran down the hill, waving his club and yelling, ‘Bad pony-men! BOO!’ while Ella fluttered around him, reciting facts from the Old Farmer ’ s Almanac.

As for Percy, he rode Mrs O’Leary into battle with a chariot full of Imperial gold equipment clanking and clinking behind, the golden eagle standard of the Twelfth Legion raised high above him.

They skirted the perimeter of the camp and took the northernmost bridge over the Little Tiber, charging onto the Field of Mars at the western edge of the battle. A horde of Cyclopes was hammering away at the campers of the Fifth Cohort, who were trying to keep their shields locked just to stay alive.

Seeing them in trouble, Percy felt a surge of protective rage. These were the kids who’d taken him in. This was his family.

He shouted, ‘Fifth Cohort!’ and slammed into the nearest Cyclops. The last things the poor monster saw were Mrs O’Leary’s teeth.

After the Cyclops disintegrated – and stayed disintegrated, thanks to Death – Percy leaped off his hellhound and slashed wildly through the other monsters.

Tyson charged at the Cyclops leader, Ma Gasket, her chain-mail dress spattered with mud and decorated with broken spears.

She gawked at Tyson and started to say, ‘Who – ?’

Tyson hit her in the head so hard she spun in a circle and landed on her rump.