“Smoke equals fire,” Jason said. “We’d better hurry. ”
The Wilderness School had taken Leo on several forced marches. He thought he was in good shape. But climbing a mountain when the earth was trying to swallow his feet was like jogging on a flypaper treadmill.
In no time, Leo had rolled up the sleeves on his collarless shirt, even though the wind was cold and sharp. He wished Aphrodite had given him walking shorts and some more comfortable shoes, but he was grateful for the Ray-Bans that kept the sun out of his eyes. He slipped his hands into his tool belt and started summoning supplies—gears, a tiny wrench, some strips of bronze. As he walked, he built—not really thinking about it, just fiddling with pieces.
By the time they neared the crest of the mountain, Leo was the most fashionably dressed sweaty, dirty hero ever. His hands were covered in machine grease.
The little object he’d made was like a windup toy—the kind that rattles and walks across a coffee table. He wasn’t sure what it could do, but he slipped it into his tool belt.
He missed his army coat with all its pockets. Even more than that, he missed Festus. He could use a fire-breathing bronze dragon right now. But Leo knew Festus would not be coming back—at least, not in his old form.
He patted the picture in his pocket—the crayon drawing he’d made at the picnic table under the pecan tree when he was five years old. He remembered Tía Callida singing as he worked, and how upset he’d been when the winds had snatched the picture away. It isn’t time yet, little hero, Tía Callida had told him. Someday, yes. You’ll have your quest. You will find your destiny, and your hard journey will finally make sense.
Now Aeolus had returned the picture. Leo knew that meant his destiny was getting close; but the journey was as frustrating as this stupid mountain. Every time Leo thought they’d reached the summit, it turned out to be just another ridge with an even higher one behind it.
First things first, Leo told himself. Survive today. Figure out crayon drawing of destiny later.
Finally Jason crouched behind a wall of rock. He gestured for the others to do the same. Leo crawled up next to him. Piper had to pull Coach Hedge down.
“I don’t want to get my outfit dirty!” Hedge complained.
“Shhh!” Piper said.
Reluctantly, the satyr knelt.
Just over the ridge where they were hiding, in the shadow of the mountain’s final crest, was a forested depression about the size of a football field, where the giant Enceladus had set up camp.
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.