The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus #1)(119)

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.

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.