The Tyrant's Tomb (The Trials of Apollo, #4)(86)

“Let’s focus on what we can control,” Frank said, though he looked shaken that Reyna wouldn’t be coming back to help. “Apollo, we’ll buy you as much time as possible for your summoning. Terminus is doing what he can to slow the emperors down. Right now, I’ve got ballistae and catapults targeting the myrmekes. If we can’t bring them down, we’ll never stop the advance.”

Hazel grimaced. “The First through Fourth Cohorts are spread pretty thin across these hills. Arion and I have been zipping back and forth between them as needed, but…” She stopped herself from stating the obvious: We’re losing ground. “Frank, if you can spare me for a minute, I’ll get Apollo and Meg to Temple Hill. Ella and Tyson are waiting.”

“Go.”

“Wait,” I said—not that I wasn’t super anxious to summon a god with a jelly jar, but something Hazel said had made me uneasy. “If the First through Fourth Cohorts are here, where’s the Fifth?”

“Guarding New Rome,” said Hazel. “Dakota’s with them. At the moment, thank the gods, the city is secure. No sign of Tarquin.”

POP. Right next to me appeared a marble bust of Terminus, dressed in a World War I British Army cap and khaki greatcoat that covered him to the foot of his pedestal. With his loose sleeves, he might have been a double amputee from the trenches of the Somme. Unfortunately, I’d met more than a few of those in the Great War.

“The city is not secure!” he announced. “Tarquin is attacking!”

“What?” Hazel looked personally offended. “From where?”

“Underneath!”

“The sewers.” Hazel cursed. “But how—?”

“Tarquin built the original cloaca maxima of Rome,” I reminded her. “He knows sewers.”

“I remembered that! I sealed the exits myself!”

“Well, somehow he unsealed them!” Terminus said. “The Fifth Cohort needs help. Immediately!”

Hazel wavered, clearly rattled by Tarquin outfoxing her.

“Go,” Frank told her. “I’ll send the Fourth Cohort to reinforce you.”

Hazel laughed nervously. “And leave you here with only three? No.”

“It’s fine,” Frank said. “Terminus, can you open our defensive barriers here at the main gate?”

“Why would I do that?”

“We’ll try the Wakanda thing.”

“The what?”

“You know,” Frank said. “We’ll funnel the enemy into one location.”

Terminus glowered. “I do not recall any ‘Wakanda thing’ in the Roman military manuals. But very well.”

Hazel frowned. “Frank, you’re not going to do anything stupid—”

“We’ll concentrate our people here and hold the tunnel. I can do this.” He mustered another confident smile. “Good luck, guys. See you on the other side!”

Or not, I thought.

Frank didn’t wait for more protests. He marched off, shouting orders to form up the troops and send the Fourth Cohort into New Rome. I remembered the hazy images I’d seen from the holographic scroll—Frank ordering his workers around in the Caldecott Tunnel, digging and toting urns. I recalled Ella’s cryptic words about bridges and fires…. I didn’t like where those thoughts led me.

“Saddle up, kids,” Hazel said, offering me a hand.

Arion whinnied indignantly.

“Yes, I know,” Hazel said. “You don’t like carrying three. We’ll just drop off these two at Temple Hill and then head straight for the city. There’ll be plenty of undead for you to trample, I promise.”

That seemed to mollify the horse.

I climbed on behind Hazel. Meg took the rumble seat on the horse’s rear.

I barely had time to hug Hazel’s waist before Arion zoomed off, leaving my stomach on the Oakland side of the hills.





O insert name here

Please hear us and fill in blank

What is this, Mad Libs?

TYSON AND ELLA WERE not good at waiting.

We found them at the steps of Jupiter’s temple, Ella pacing and wringing her hands, Tyson bouncing up and down in excitement like a boxer ready for round one.

The heavy burlap bags hanging from a belt around Ella’s waist swung and clunked together, reminding me of Hephaestus’s office desk toy—the one with the ball bearings that bounced against each other. (I hated visiting Hephaestus’s office. His desk toys were so mesmerizing I found myself staring at them for hours, sometimes decades. I missed the entire 1480s that way.)

Tyson’s bare chest was now completely covered with tattooed lines of prophecy. When he saw us, he broke into a grin.

“Yay!” he exclaimed. “Zoom Pony!”

I was not surprised Tyson had dubbed Arion “Zoom Pony,” or that he seemed happier to see the horse than me. I was surprised that Arion, despite some resentful snorting, allowed the Cyclops to pet his snout. Arion had never struck me as the cuddly type. Then, again, Tyson and Arion were both related through Poseidon, which made them brothers of a sort, and…You know what? I’m going to stop thinking about this before my brain melts.

Ella scuttled over. “Late. Very late. Come on, Apollo. You’re late.”