𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [Jason Grace]

30

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐝— past the panicked tourists and fighting demigods—to the edge of the battlements, where a large mortar pointed out to sea.

It might have been Dante's imagination, but the old artillery piece seemed to be glowing red. He dashed toward it, beckoning Annabeth to follow. The mark in the garrisson had given him an unsettling feeling in his stomach. The mortar felt the same. Going toward it on a hunch was a long shot, but better than nothing. An eagle swooped at him, but he ducked and kept running.

Roman demigods had formed ranks and were advancing toward the Argo II, but a miniature storm had gathered over their heads. Though the day was clear all around them, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed above the Romans. Rain and wind pushed them back.

Dante didn't stop to think about it.

The two reached the mortar and Dante put his hand on the muzzle. On the plug that blocked the opening, the Mark of Mercury began to glow—the red outline of a caduceus.

"Do you see it? The mark?"

"Yeah, right here" He pointed at it.

"In the mortar," Annabeth said. "Of course."

Annabeth pried at the plug with her fingers. No luck. Dante drew his dagger Remus. As soon as the Imperial gold touched the plug, the plug shrank and loosened. Dante pulled it off. He hesitated.

"You don't think there's more spiders in there, do you?" He looked up at Annabeth.

"Only one way to find out, stick your hand in there"

Dante pulled a face.

"Come on, Pierce, you're a Centurion! You can do this!" She snickered as she gave encouragements.

Dante bit his tongue not to remind her of her anxiety attack like five minutes ago and stuck his hand inside the cannon.

"Feminism means equality" He scowled at her. His fingers touched something cold, smooth, and metal. He pulled out a small disk of bronze the size of a tea saucer, etched with delicate letters and illustrations. He decided to examine it later. He handed it to Annabeth who thrust it in her pack and turned.

"Rushing off?" Reyna asked.

The praetor stood ten feet away, in full battle armor, holding a golden javelin. Her two metal greyhounds growled at her side.

Dante scanned the area. They were more or less alone. Most of the combat had moved toward the docks. Hopefully all their friends had all made it on board, but they'd have to set sail immediately or risk being overrun. The two had to hurry.

"Reyna," Dante said, sliding his dagger back into its sheath. "what happened at Camp Jupiter was Gaea's fault. Eidolons, possessing spirits—"

"Save your explanations," Reyna said. "You'll need them for the trial."

The dogs snarled and inched forward. It didn't seem to matter to them that Dante was telling the truth.

"If you let Gaea drive our camps apart," Annabeth said, "the giants have already won. They'll destroy the Romans, the Greeks, the gods, the whole mortal world."

"Don't you think I know that?" Reyna's voice was as hard as iron. "What choice have you left me? Octavian smells blood. He's whipped the legion into a frenzy, and I can't stop it. Surrender to me. I'll bring you back to New Rome for trial. It won't be fair. You'll be painfully executed. But it may be enough to stop further violence. Octavian won't be satisfied, of course, but I think I can convince the others to stand down"