The Forgotten Olympian |BOOK 1| PJO X HP | Alexandra Marine

Chapter 29 - Alex - Chaos at the Battle

After that the battle was mayhem. Frank, Percy, Hazel and I waded through the enemy, plowing down anyone who stood in their way. The First and Second Cohorts—pride of Camp Jupiter, a well-oiled, highly disciplined war machine, from what I'd heard—fell apart under the assault and the sheer novelty of being on the losing side.

Percy and I fought like demons, whirling through the defenders' ranks in a completely what the Romans seemed to think an unorthodox style, rolling under their feet, slashing with our weapons instead of stabbing, whacking campers with the flat of the blade, and generally causing mass panic.

"Thirty four down, Kelp Head," Percy shrieked happily.

"Thirty four?" I laughed. "I am on fifty!"

Octavian screamed in a shrill voice—maybe ordering the First Cohort to stand their ground, maybe trying to sing soprano—but Percy put a stop to it. He somersaulted over a line of shields and slammed the butt of his sword into Octavian's helmet. The centurion collapsed like a sock puppet. I laughed.

"Thirty five!" he shouted.

Frank shot arrows until his quiver was empty, using blunt-tipped missiles that wouldn't kill but left some nasty bruises. He broke his pilum over a defender's head, then reluctantly drew his gladius.

"Bad centurion!" I shouted over the arena as I whacked Octavian on the head as he struggled to stand up. "Stay down." He promptly fainted.

"Fifty-six!" I shrieked.

Meanwhile, Hazel climbed onto Hannibal's back. She charged toward the center of the fort, grinning down at her friends. "Let's go, slowpokes!"

We ran to the center of the base. The inner keep was virtually unguarded. Obviously the defenders never dreamed an assault would get this far. Hannibal busted down the huge doors. Inside, the First and Second Cohort standard-bearers were sitting around a table playing Mythomagic with cards and figurines. The cohort's emblems were propped carelessly against one wall.

Hazel and Hannibal rode straight into the room, and the standard-bearers fell backward out of their chairs. Hannibal stepped on the table, and game pieces scattered.

By the time the rest of the cohort caught up with them, Percy, Frank and I had disarmed the enemies, grabbed the banners, and climbed onto Hannibal's back with Hazel. We marched out of the keep triumphantly with the enemy colors.

The Fifth Cohort formed ranks around us. Together they paraded out of the fort, past stunned enemies and lines of equally mystified allies.

Reyna circled low overhead on her pegasus. "The game is won!" She sounded as if she were trying not to laugh. "Assemble for honors!"

Slowly the campers regrouped on the Field of Mars. Plenty of injuries, but nothing that couldn't be fixed.

I slid off the elephant. Comrades swarmed Frank, pounding him on the back and complimenting him. It was all good- until we saw Gwen.

"Help!" somebody yelled. A couple of campers rushed out of the fortress, carrying a girl on a stretcher. They set her down, and other kids started running over. She was in bad shape. She lay on her side on the stretcher with a pilum sticking out of her armor—almost like she was holding it between her chest and her arm, but there was too much blood.

Frank shook his head in disbelief. "No, no, no..." he muttered as he ran to her side.

The medics barked at everyone to stand back and give her air. The whole legion fell silent as the healers worked—trying to get gauze and powdered unicorn horn under Gwen's armor to stop the bleeding, trying to force some nectar into her mouth. Gwen didn't move. Her face was ashen gray.