“Hazel,” Percy said, “I am seriously going to wash your horse’s mouth with soap. He says, yes, he can pull it, but he needs food.”
Hazel picked up an old Roman dagger, a pugio. It was bent and dull, so it wouldn’t be much good in a fight, but it looked like solid Imperial gold.
“Here you go, Arion,” she said. “High-performance fuel.”
The horse took the dagger in his teeth and chewed it like an apple. Frank made a silent oath never to put his hand near that horse’s mouth.
“I’m not doubting Arion’s strength,” he said carefully, “but will the chariot hold up? The last one—”
“This one has Imperial gold wheels and axle,” Percy said. “It should hold.”
“If not,” Hazel said, “this is going to be a short trip. But we’re out of time. Come on!”
Frank and Percy climbed into the chariot. Hazel swung up onto Arion’s back.
“Giddyup!” she yelled.
The horse’s sonic boom echoed across the bay. They sped south, avalanches tumbling down the mountains as they passed.
FOUR HOURS.
That’s how long it took the fastest horse on the planet to get from Alaska to San Francisco Bay, heading straight over the water down the Northwest Coast.
That’s also how long it took for Percy’s memory to return completely. The process had started in Portland when he had drunk the gorgon’s blood, but his past life had still been maddeningly fuzzy. Now, as they headed back into the Olympian gods’ territory, Percy remembered everything: the war with Kronos, his sixteenth birthday at Camp Half-Blood, his trainer Chiron the centaur, his best friend Grover, his brother Tyson, and most of all Annabeth—two great months of dating, and then BOOM. He’d been abducted by the alien known as Hera. Or Juno…whatever.
Eight months of his life stolen. Next time Percy saw the Queen of Olympus, he was definitely going to give her a goddess-sized slap upside the head.
His friends and family must be going out of their minds. If Camp Jupiter was in such bad trouble, he could only guess what Camp Half-Blood must be facing without him.
Even worse: Saving both camps would be only the beginning. According to Alcyoneus, the real war would happen far away, in the homeland of the gods. The giants intended to attack the original Mount Olympus and destroy the gods forever.
Percy knew that giants couldn’t die unless demigods and gods fought them together. Nico had told him that. Annabeth had mentioned it too, back in August, when she’d speculated that the giants might be part of the new Great Prophecy—what the Romans called the Prophecy of Seven. (That was the downside of dating the smartest girl at camp: You learn stuff.)
He understood Juno’s plan: Unite the Roman and Greek demigods to create an elite team of heroes, then somehow convince the gods to fight alongside them. But first, they had to save Camp Jupiter.
The coastline began to look familiar. They raced past the Mendocino lighthouse. Shortly afterward, Mount Tam and the Marin headlands loomed out of the fog. Arion shot straight under the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco Bay.
They tore through Berkeley and into the Oakland Hills. When they reached the hilltop above the Caldecott Tunnel, Arion shuddered like a broken car and came to a stop, his chest heaving.
Hazel patted his sides lovingly. “You did great, Arion.”
The horse was too tired even to cuss: Of course I did great. What did you expect?
Percy and Frank jumped off the chariot. Percy wished there’d been comfortable seats or an in-flight meal. His legs were wobbly. His joints were so stiff, he could barely walk. If he went into battle like this, the enemy would call him Old Man Jackson.
Frank didn’t look much better. He hobbled to the top of the hill and peered down at the camp. “Guys…you need to see this.”
When Percy and Hazel joined him, Percy’s heart sank. The battle had begun, and it wasn’t going well. The Twelfth Legion was arrayed on the Field of Mars, trying to protect the city. Scorpions fired into the ranks of the Earthborn. Hannibal the elephant plowed down monsters right and left, but the defenders were badly outnumbered.
On her pegasus Scipio, Reyna flew around the giant Polybotes, trying to keep him occupied. The Lares had formed shimmering purple lines against a mob of black, vaporous shades in ancient armor. Veteran demigods from the city had joined the battle, and were pushing their shield wall against an onslaught of wild centaurs. Giant eagles circled the battlefield, doing aerial combat with two snake-haired ladies in green Bargain Mart vests—Stheno and Euryale.
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.