The Demigod Files(11)

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Let’s go find a headless dragon.’

We searched forever, or maybe it just seemed that way, because the whole time, I was imagining Beckendorf in the Ant Hill, scared and paralysed, while a bunch of armoured critters scuttled around him, waiting for him to be tenderized.

It wasn’t hard to follow the ants’ trail. They’d dragged the dragon’s head through the forest, making a deep rut in the mud, and we dragged the head right back the way they’d come.

We must’ve gone five hundred metres – and I was getting worried about the time – when Annabeth said, ‘Di immortales.’

We’d come to the rim of a crater – like something had blasted a house-size hole in the forest floor. The sides were slippery and dotted with tree roots. Ant tracks led to the bottom, where a large metal mound glinted through the dirt. Wires stuck up from a bronze stump on one end.

‘The dragon’s neck,’ I said. ‘You think the ants made this crater?’

Annabeth shook her head. ‘Looks more like a meteor blast…’

‘Hephaestus,’ Silena said. ‘The god must’ve unearthed this. Hephaestus wanted us to find the dragon. He wanted Charlie to…’ She choked up.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s reconnect this bad boy.’

Getting the dragon’s head to the bottom was easy. It tumbled right down the slope and hit the neck with a loud, metallic BONK! Reconnecting it was harder.

We had no tools and no experience.

Annabeth fiddled with the wires and cursed in Ancient Greek. ‘We need Beckendorf. He could do this in seconds.’

‘Isn’t your mom the goddess of inventors?’ I asked.

Annabeth glared at me. ‘Yes, but this is different. I’m good with ideas. Not mechanics.’

‘If I was going to pick one person in the world to reattach my head,’ I said, ‘I’d pick you.’

I just blurted it out – to give her confidence, I guess – but immediately I realized it sounded pretty stupid.

‘Awww…’ Silena sniffled and wiped her eyes. ‘Percy, that is so sweet!’

Annabeth blushed. ‘Shut up, Silena. Hand me your dagger.’

I was afraid Annabeth was going to stab me with it. Instead she used it as a screwdriver to open a panel in the dragon’s neck. ‘Here goes nothing,’ she said.

And she started to splice together the celestial bronze wires.

It took a long time. Too long.

I figured capture the flag had to be over by now. I wondered how soon the other campers would realize we were missing and come looking for us. If Annabeth’s calculations were correct (and they always were), Beckendorf probably had five or ten minutes left before the ants got him.

Finally Annabeth stood up and exhaled. Her hands were scraped and muddy. Her fingernails were wrecked. She had a brown streak across her forehead where the dragon had decided to spit grease at her.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘It’s done, I think…’

‘You think?’ Silena asked.

‘It has to be done,’ I said. ‘We’re out of time. How do you, uh, start it? Is there an ignition switch or something?’

Annabeth pointed to its ruby eyes. ‘Those turn clockwise. I’m guessing we rotate them.’

‘If somebody twisted my eyeballs, I’d wake up,’ I agreed. ‘What if it goes crazy on us?’

‘Then… we’re dead,’ Annabeth said.

‘Great,’ I said. ‘I’m psyched.’

Together we turned the ruby eyes of the dragon. Immediately they began to glow. Annabeth and I backed up so fast we fell over each other. The dragon’s mouth opened, as if it were testing its jaw. The head turned and looked at us. Steam poured from its ears and it tried to rise.

When it found it couldn’t move, the dragon seemed confused. It cocked its head and regarded the dirt. Finally, it realized it was buried. The neck strained once, twice… and the centre of the crater erupted.

The dragon pulled itself awkwardly out of the ground, shaking clumps of mud from its body the way a dog might, splattering us from head to toe. The automaton was so awesome, none of us could speak. I mean, sure it needed a trip through the car wash, and there were a few loose wires sticking out here and there, but the dragon’s body was amazing – like a high-tech tank with legs. Its sides were plated with bronze and gold scales, encrusted with gemstones. Its legs were the size of tree trunks and its feet had steel talons. It had no wings – most Greek dragons don’t – but its tail was at least as long as its main body, which was the size of a school bus. The neck creaked and popped as it turned its head to the sky and blew a column of triumphant fire.

‘Well…’ I said in a small voice. ‘It still works.’

Unfortunately, it heard me. Those ruby eyes zeroed in on me, and it stuck its snout five centimetres from my face. Instinctively, I reached for my sword.

‘Dragon, stop!’ Silena yelled. I was amazed her voice still worked. She spoke with such command that the automaton turned its attention to her.

Silena swallowed nervously. ‘We’ve woken you to defend the camp. You remember? That is your job!’

The dragon tilted its head as if it were thinking. I figured Silena had about a fifty-fifty chance of getting blasted with fire. I was considering jumping on the thing’s neck to distract it when Silena said, ‘Charles Beckendorf, a son of Hephaestus, is in trouble. The Myrmekes have taken him. He needs your help.’