by Rick Riordan
Trees had been cut down to make a towering purple bonfire. The outer rim of the clearing was littered with extra logs and construction equipment—an earthmover; a big crane thing with rotating blades at the end like an electric shaver—must be a tree harvester, Leo thought—and a long metal column with an ax blade, like a sideways guillotine—a hydraulic ax.
Why a giant needed construction equipment, Leo wasn’t sure. He didn’t see how the creature in front of him could even fit in the driver’s seat. The giant Enceladus was so large, so horrible, Leo didn’t want to look at him.
But he forced himself to focus on the monster.
To start with, he was thirty feet tall—easily as tall as the treetops. Leo was sure the giant could’ve seen them behind their ridge, but he seemed intent on the weird purple bonfire, circling it and chanting under his breath. From the waist up, the giant appeared humanoid, his muscular chest clad in bronze armor, decorated with flame designs. His arms were completely ripped. Each of his biceps was bigger than Leo. His skin was bronze but sooty with ash. His face was crudely shaped, like a half-finished clay figure, but his eyes glowed white, and his hair was matted in shaggy dreadlocks down to his shoulders, braided with bones.
From the waist down, he was even more terrifying. His legs were scaly green, with claws instead of feet—like the forelegs of a dragon. In his hand, Enceladus held a spear the size of a flagpole. Every so often he dipped its tip in the fire, turning the metal molten red.
“Okay,” Coach Hedge whispered. “Here’s the plan—”
Leo elbowed him. “You’re not charging him alone!”
“Aw, c’mon.”
Piper choked back a sob. “Look.”
Just visible on the other side of the bonfire was a man tied to a post. His head slumped like he was unconscious, so Leo couldn’t make out his face, but Piper didn’t seem to have any doubts.
“Dad,” she said.
Leo swallowed. He wished this were a Tristan McLean movie. Then Piper’s dad would be faking unconsciousness. He’d untie his bonds and knock out the giant with some cleverly hidden anti-giant gas. Heroic music would start to play, and Tristan McLean would make his amazing escape, running away in slow motion while the mountainside exploded behind him.
But this wasn’t a movie. Tristan McLean was half dead and about to be eaten. The only people who could stop it—three fashionably dressed teenaged demigods and a megalomaniac goat.
“There’s four of us,” Hedge whispered urgently. “And only one of him.”
“Did you miss the fact that he’s thirty feet tall?” Leo asked.
“Okay,” Hedge said. “So you, me, and Jason distract him. Piper sneaks around and frees her dad.”
They all looked at Jason.
“What?” Jason asked. “I’m not the leader.”
“Yes,” Piper said. “You are.”
They’d never really talked about it, but no one disagreed, not even Hedge. Coming this far had been a team effort, but when it came to a life-and-death decision, Leo knew Jason was the one to ask. Even if he had no memory, Jason had a kind of balance to him. You could just tell he’d been in battles before, and he knew how to keep his cool. Leo wasn’t exactly the trusting type, but he trusted Jason with his life.
“I hate to say it,” Jason sighed, “but Coach Hedge is right. A distraction is Piper’s best chance.”
Not a good chance, Leo thought. Not even a survivable chance. Just their best chance.
They couldn’t sit there all day and talk about it, though. It had to be close to noon—the giant’s deadline—and the ground was still trying to pull them down. Leo’s knees had already sunk two inches into the dirt.
Leo looked at the construction equipment and got a crazy idea. He brought out the little toy he’d made on the climb, and he realized what it could do—if he was lucky, which he almost never was.
“Let’s boogie,” he said. “Before I come to my senses.”
XLII
LEO
THE PLAN WENT WRONG ALMOST IMMEDIATELY. Piper scrambled along the ridge, trying to keep her head down, while Leo, Jason, and Coach Hedge walked straight into the clearing.
Jason summoned his golden lance. He brandished it over his head and yelled, “Giant!” Which sounded pretty good, and a lot more confident than Leo could’ve managed. He was thinking more along the lines of, “We are pathetic ants! Don’t kill us!”
Enceladus stopped chanting at the flames. He turned toward them and grinned, revealing fangs like a saber-toothed tiger’s.
“Well,” the giant rumbled. “What a nice surprise.”
Leo didn’t like the sound of that. His hand closed on his windup gadget. He stepped sideways, edging his way toward the bulldozer.
Coach Hedge shouted, “Let the movie star go, you big ugly cupcake! Or I’m gonna plant my hoof right up your—”
“Coach,” Jason said. “Shut up.”
Enceladus roared with laughter. “I’ve forgotten how funny satyrs are. When we rule the world, I think I’ll keep your kind around. You can entertain me while I eat all the other mortals.”
“Is that a compliment?” Hedge frowned at Leo. “I don’t think that was a compliment.”
Enceladus opened his mouth wide, and his teeth began to glow.
“Scatter!” Leo yelled.
Jason and Hedge dove to the left as the giant blew fire—a furnace blast so hot even Festus would’ve been jealous. Leo dodged behind the bulldozer, wound up his homemade device, and dropped it into the driver’s seat. Then he ran to the right, heading for the tree harvester.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason rise and charge the giant. Coach Hedge ripped off his canary yellow jacket, which was now on fire, and bleated angrily. “I liked that outfit!” Then he raised his club and charged, too.
Before they could get very far, Enceladus slammed his spear against the ground. The entire mountain shook.
The shockwave sent Leo sprawling. He blinked, momentarily stunned. Through a haze of grassfire and bitter smoke, he saw Jason staggering to his feet on the other side of the clearing. Coach Hedge was knocked out cold. He’d fallen forward and hit his head on a log. His furry hindquarters were sticking straight up, with his canary yellow pants around his knees—a view Leo really didn’t need.
The giant bellowed, “I see you, Piper McLean!” He turned and blew fire at a line of bushes to Leo’s right. Piper ran into the clearing like a flushed quail, the underbrush burning behind her.
Enceladus laughed. “I’m happy you’ve arrived. And you brought me my prizes!”
Leo’s gut twisted. This was the moment Piper had warned them about. They’d played right into Enceladus’s hands.
The giant must’ve read Leo’s expression, because he laughed even louder. “That’s right, son of Hephaestus. I didn’t expect you all to stay alive this long, but it doesn’t matter. By bringing you here, Piper McLean has sealed the deal. If she betrays you, I’m as good as my word. She can take her father and go. What do I care about a movie star?”
Leo could see Piper’s dad more clearly now. He wore a ragged dress shirt and torn slacks. His bare feet were caked with mud. He wasn’t completely unconscious, because he lifted his head and groaned—yep, Tristan McLean all right. Leo had seen that face in enough movies. But he had a nasty cut down the side of his face, and he looked thin and sickly—not heroic at all.
“Dad!” Piper yelled.
Mr. McLean blinked, trying to focus. “Pipes … ? Where …”
Piper drew her dagger and faced Enceladus. “Let him go!”
“Of course, dear,” the giant rumbled. “Swear your loyalty to me, and we have no problem. Only these others must die.”
Piper looked back and forth between Leo and her dad.
“He’ll kill you,” Leo warned. “Don’t trust him!”
“Oh, come now,” Enceladus bellowed. “You know I was born to fight Athena herself? Mother Gaea made each of us giants with a specific purpose, designed to fight and d
estroy a particular god. I was Athena’s nemesis, the anti-Athena, you might say. Compared to some of my brethren—I am small! But I am clever. And I keep my bargain with you, Piper McLean. It’s part of my plan!”
Jason was on his feet now, lance ready; but before he could act, Enceladus roared—a call so loud it echoed down the valley and was probably heard all the way to San Francisco.
At the edge the woods, half a dozen ogre-like creatures rose up. Leo realized with nauseating certainty that they hadn’t simply been hiding there. They’d risen straight out of the earth.
The ogres shuffled forward. They were small compared to Enceladus, about seven feet tall. Each one of them had six arms—one pair in the regular spot, then an extra pair sprouting out the top of their shoulders, and another set shooting from the sides of their rib cages. They wore only ragged leather loincloths, and even across the clearing, Leo could smell them. Six guys who never bathed, with six armpits each. Leo decided if he survived this day, he’d have to take a three-hour shower just to forget the stench.
Leo stepped toward Piper. “What—what are those?”
Her blade reflected the purple light of the bonfire. “Gegenees.”
“In English?” Leo asked.
“The Earthborn,” she said. “Six-armed giants who fought Jason—the first Jason.”
“Very good, my dear!” Enceladus sounded delighted. “They used to live on a miserable place in Greece called Bear Mountain. Mount Diablo is much nicer! They are lesser children of Mother Earth, but they serve their purpose. They’re good with construction equipment—”
“Vroom, vroom!” one of the Earthborn bellowed, and the others took up the chant, each moving his six hands as though driving a car, as if it were some kind of weird religious ritual. “Vroom, vroom!”
“Yes, thank you, boys,” Encedalus said. “They also have a score to settle with heroes. Especially anyone named Jason.”
“Yay-son!” the Earthborn screamed. They all picked up clumps of earth, which solidified in their hands, turning to nasty pointed stones. “Where Yay-son? Kill Yay-son!”
Enceladus smiled. “You see, Piper, you have a choice. Save your father, or ah, try to save your friends and face certain death.”
Piper stepped forward. Her eyes blazed with such rage, even the Earthborn backed away. She radiated power and beauty, but it had nothing to do with her clothes or her makeup.
“You will not take the people I love,” she said. “None of them.”
Her words rippled across the clearing with such force, the Earthborn muttered, “Okay. Okay, sorry,” and began to retreat.
“Stand your ground, fools!” Enceladus bellowed. He snarled at Piper. “This is why we wanted you alive, my dear. You could have been so useful to us. But as you wish. Earth-born! I will show you Jason.”
Leo’s heart sank. But the giant didn’t point to Jason. He pointed to the other side of the bonfire, where Tristan McLean hung helpless and half conscious.
“There is Jason,” Enceladus said with pleasure. “Tear him apart!”
Leo’s biggest surprise: One look from Jason, and all three of them knew the game plan. When had that happened, that they could read each other so well?
Jason charged Enceladus, while Piper rushed to her father, and Leo dashed for the tree harvester, which stood between Mr. McLean and the Earthborn.
The Earthborn were fast, but Leo ran like a storm spirit. He leaped toward the harvester from five feet away and slammed into the driver’s seat. His hands flew across the controls, and the machine responded with unnatural speed—coming to life as if it knew how important this was.
“Ha!” Leo screamed, and swung the crane arm through the bonfire, toppling burning logs onto the Earthborn and spraying sparks everywhere. Two giants went down under a fiery avalanche and melted back into the earth—hopefully to stay for a while.
The other four ogres stumbled across burning logs and hot coals while Leo brought the harvester around. He smashed a button, and on the end of the crane arm the wicked rotating blades began to whir.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Piper at the stake, cutting her father free. On the other side of the clearing, Jason fought the giant, somehow managing to dodge his massive spear and blasts of fire breath. Coach Hedge was still heroically passed out with his goat tail sticking up in the air.
The whole side of the mountain would soon be ablaze. The fire wouldn’t bother Leo, but if his friends got trapped up here—No. He had to act quickly.
One of the Earthborn—apparently not the most intelligent one—charged the tree harvester, and Leo swung the crane arm in his direction. As soon as the blades touched the ogre, he dissolved like wet clay and splattered all over the clearing. Most of him flew into Leo’s face.
He spit clay out of his mouth and turned the harvester toward the three remaining Earthborn, who backed up quickly.
“Bad vroom-vroom!” one yelled.
“Yeah, that’s right!” Leo yelled at them. “You want some bad vroom-vroom? Come on!”
Unfortunately, they did. Three ogres with six arms, each throwing large, hard rocks at super speed—and Leo knew it was over. Somehow, he launched himself in a backward somersault off the harvester half a second before a boulder demolished the driver’s seat. Rocks slammed into metal. By the time Leo stumbled to his feet, the harvester looked like a crushed soda can, sinking in the mud.
“Dozer!” Leo yelled.
The ogres were picking up more clumps of earth, but this time they were glaring in Piper’s direction.
Thirty feet away, the bulldozer roared to life. Leo’s makeshift gadget had done its job, burrowing into the earthmover’s controls and giving it a temporary life of its own. It roared toward the enemy.
Just as Piper cut her father free and caught him in her arms, the giants launched their second volley of stones. The dozer swiveled in the mud, skidding to intercept, and most of the rocks slammed into its shovel. The force was so great it pushed the dozer back. Two rocks ricocheted and struck their throwers. Two more Earthborn melted into clay. Unfortunately, one rock hit the dozer’s engine, sending up a cloud of oily smoke, and the dozer groaned to a stop. Another great toy broken.
Piper dragged her father below the ridge. The last Earth-born charged after her.
Leo was out of tricks, but he couldn’t let that monster get to Piper. He ran forward, straight through the flames, and grabbed something—anything—from his tool belt.
“Hey, stupid!” he yelled, and threw a screwdriver at the Earthborn.
It didn’t kill the ogre, but it sure got his attention. The screwdriver sank hilt-deep into the Earthborn’s forehead like he was made of Play-Doh.
The Earthborn yelped in pain and skittered to a halt. He pulled out the screwdriver, turned and glared at Leo. Sadly, this last ogre looked like the biggest and nastiest of the bunch. Gaea had really gone all out creating him—with extra muscle upgrades, deluxe ugly face, the whole package.
Oh, great, Leo thought. I’ve made a friend.
“You die!” the Earthborn roared. “Friend of Yay-son dies!”
The ogre scooped up handfuls of dirt, which immediately hardened into rock cannonballs.
Leo’s mind went blank. He reached into his tool belt, but he couldn’t think of anything that would help. He was supposed to be clever—but he couldn’t craft or build or tinker his way out of this one.
Fine, he thought. I’ll go out blaze-of-glory style.
He burst into flames, yelled, “Hephaestus!” and charged at the ogre barehanded.
He never got there.
A blur of turquoise and black flashed behind the ogre. A gleaming bronze blade sliced up one side of the Earthborn and down the other.
Six large arms dropped to the ground, boulders rolling out of their useless hands. The Earthborn looked down, very surprised. He mumbled, “Arms go bye-bye.”
Then he melted into the ground.
Piper stood there, breathing hard, her dagger covered with
clay. Her dad sat at the ridge, dazed and wounded, but still alive.
Piper’s expression was ferocious—almost crazy, like a cornered animal. Leo was glad she was on his side.
“Nobody hurts my friends,” she said, and with a sudden warm feeling, Leo realized she was talking about him. Then she yelled, “Come on!”
Leo saw that the battle wasn’t over. Jason was still fighting the giant Enceladus—and it wasn’t going well.
XLII
JASON
WHEN JASON’S LANCE BROKE, he knew he was dead.
The battle had started well enough. Jason’s instincts kicked in, and his gut told him he’d dueled opponents almost this big before. Size and strength equaled slowness, so Jason just had to be quicker—pace himself, wear out his opponent, and avoid getting smashed or flame-broiled.
He rolled away from the giant’s first spear thrust and jabbed Enceladus in the ankle. Jason’s javelin managed to pierce the thick dragon hide, and golden ichor—the blood of immortals—trickled down the giant’s clawed foot.
Enceladus bellowed in pain and blasted him with fire. Jason scrambled away, rolling behind the giant, and struck again behind his knee.
It went on like that for seconds, minutes—it was hard to judge. Jason heard combat across the clearing—construction equipment grinding, fire roaring, monsters shouting, and rocks smashing into metal. He heard Leo and Piper yelling defiantly, which meant they were still alive. Jason tried not to think about it. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.
Enceladus’s spear missed him by a millimeter. Jason kept dodging, but the ground stuck to his feet. Gaea was getting stronger, and the giant was getting faster. Enceladus might be slow, but he wasn’t dumb. He began anticipating Jason’s moves, and Jason’s attacks were only annoying him, making him more enraged.
“I’m not some minor monster,” Enceladus bellowed. “I am a giant, born to destroy gods! Your little gold toothpick can’t kill me, boy.”
Jason didn’t waste energy replying. He was already tired. The ground clung to his feet, making him feel like he weighed an extra hundred pounds. The air was full of smoke that burned his lungs. Fires roared around him, stoked by the winds, and the temperature was approaching the heat of an oven.
