invisible string | f. zhang

xiv. the strangest reinforcements you'll ever see

"It looks like Santa's sleigh," Frank says, "Can Arion even pull that much?"

Arion huffs.

"Hazel," Percy says, "I am seriously going to wash your horse's mouth with soap. He says, yes, he can pull it, but he needs food."

Hazel picks up an old Roman dagger, a pugio.

"Here you go, Arion," She says, "High-performance fuel."

The horse takes the dagger in his teeth and chews it like an apple.

"I'm not doubting Arion's strength," Frank says carefully, "But will the chariot hold up? The last one —"

"This one has Imperial gold wheels and axle," Percy says, "It should hold."

"If not," Hazel says, "This is going to be a short trip. But we're out of time. Come on!"

Maribelle, Frank, and Percy climb into the chariot. Hazel swings up onto Arion's back.

"Giddyup!" She yells.

The horse's sonic boom echoes across the bay. They speed south, avalanches tumbling down the mountains as they passed.

Four hours.

That's how long it took the fastest horse on the planet to get from Alaska to San Francisco Bay.

And within those four hours, she'd managed to hold Frank Zhang's hand for two hours of the trip. The first hour was spent studying the string that was finally keeping them together, and then the next hour was thinking about Gabe and reminding herself Frank was nothing like him. And then, on the third hour, Frank Zhang had reached out and taken her hand in his.

The coastline ahead of them began to look familiar. They race past the Mendocino lighthouse, then Mount Tam and the Marin headlands loom out of the fog. Arion shoots straight under the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco Bay. They tear through Berkeley and into the Oakland Hills. When they reach the hilltop above the Caldecott Tunnel, Arion shudders like a broken car and comes to a stop, his chest heaving.

Hazel pats his sides lovingly, "You did great, Arion."

The trio jump off the chariot. Frank lets go of Maribelle's hand and she tries not to seem too disappointed. Maribelle's legs were achy from the ride, the seats hadn't been super comfortable.

"Guys . . . you need to see this," Frank says from the top of the hill.

Maribelle's heart sinks as she joins him at the top of the hill.

The battle had begun, and it didn't seem like it was going well. The Twelfth Legion was arrayed on the Field of Mars, trying to protect the city. Scorpions fire into the ranks of the Earthborn. Hannibal the elephant plow down monsters right and left, but the defenders were badly outnumbered.

On her pegasus Scipio, Reyna flies around the giant Polybotes, trying to keep him occupied. The Lares had formed shimmering purple lines against a mob of black, vaporous shades in ancient armor. Veteran demigods from the city had joined the battle, and were pushing their shield wall against an onslaught of wild centaurs.

Giant eagles circled the battlefield, doing aerial combat with two snake-haired ladies — Stheno and Euryale.

The legion itself was taking the brunt of the attack, but their formation was breaking. Each cohort was an island in a sea of enemies. The Cyclopes' siege tower shoots glowing green cannonballs into the city blasting craters in the forum, reducing houses to ruins.

"We're too late," Hazel says.

Maribelle fights down the bile rising in her throat.

"No," Percy says, "They're still fighting. We can do this."