𝐂œ𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬é𝐬 [Percy Jackson]

104

The most insulting part?

The drakon was easily the most beautiful thing Hadrian had seen since he had fallen into Tartarus. Its hide was dappled green and yellow, like sunlight through a forest canopy. Its reptilian eyes were Hadrian's favorite shade of sea green (just like Percy's). When its frills unfurled around its head, Hadrian couldn't help but think what a regal and amazing monster it was that was about to kill him.

It was easily as long as a subway train. Its massive talons dug into the mud as it pulled itself forward, its tail whipping from side to side. The drakon hissed, spitting jets of green poison that smoked on the mossy ground and set tar pits on fire, filling the air with the scent of fresh pine and ginger. The monster even smelled good. Like most drakons, it was wingless, longer, and more snakelike than a dragon, and it looked hungry.

"Bob," Hadrian said, "what are we facing here?"

"Maeonian drakon," Bob said. "From Maeonia."

More helpful information. Hadrian would've smacked Bob upside the head with his own broom if he could lift it. Hadrian drew his bow but Bob shook his head.

"Us?" Bob said. "No."

The drakon roared as if to accentuate the point, filling the air with more pine-ginger poison, which would have made an excellent car-freshener scent. Hadrian reached back into is quiver. Nothing. 

Shit. He had used up all his arrows with the arai.

"Get Percy to safety," Hadrian said. "I'll distract it."

He had no idea how he would do that, but it was his only choice. He couldn't let Percy die— He had to bring him to his mom, safe and sound. 

"You don't have to," Bob said. "Any minute—"

"ROOOOOAAAR!"

Hadrian turned as the giant emerged from his hut.

He was about twenty feet tall—typical giant height—with a humanoid upper body, and scaly reptilian legs, like a bipedal dinosaur. He held no weapon. Instead of armor, he wore only a shirt stitched together from sheep hides and green-spotted leather. His skin was cherry red; his beard and hair the color of iron rust, braided with tufts of grass, leaves, and swamp flowers.

He shouted in challenge, but thankfully he wasn't looking at Hadrian. Bob pulled him out of the way as the giant stormed toward the drakon.

They clashed like some sort of weird Christmas combat scene—the red versus the green. The drakon spewed poison. The giant lunged to one side. He grabbed the oak tree and pulled it from the ground, roots and all. The old skull crumbled to dust as the giant hefted the tree like a baseball bat.

The drakon's tail lashed around the giant's waist, dragging him closer to its gnashing teeth. But as soon as the giant was in range, he shoved the tree straight down the monster's throat.

Hadrian hoped he never had to see such a gruesome scene again. The tree pierced the drakon's gullet and impaled it to the ground. The roots began to move, digging deeper as they touched the earth, anchoring the oak until it looked like it had stood in that spot for centuries. The drakon shook and thrashed, but it was pinned fast.

The giant brought his fist down on the drakon's neck. CRACK. The monster went limp. It began to dissolve, leaving only scraps of bone, meat, hide, and a new drakon skull whose open jaws ringed the oak tree.

Bob grunted. "Good one."

The kitten purred in agreement and started cleaning his paws.

The giant kicked at the drakon's remains, examining them critically. "No good bones," he complained. "I wanted a new walking stick. Hmpf. Some good skin for the outhouse, though."

He ripped some soft hide from the drakon's frills and tucked it in his belt.

"Uh..." Hadrian wanted to ask if the giant really used drakon hide for toilet paper, but he decided against it. "Bob, do you want to introduce us?"

"Hadrian..." Bob patted Percy's legs. "This is Percy."

Hadrian hoped the Titan was just messing with him, though Bob's face revealed nothing.

He grit his teeth. "I meant the giant. You promised he could help."

"Promise?" The giant glanced over from his work. His eyes narrowed under his bushy red brows. "A big thing, a promise. Why would Bob promise my help?"

Bob shifted his weight. Titans were scary, but Hadrian had never seen one next to a giant before. Compared to the drakon-killer, Bob looked downright runty.

"Damasen is a good giant," Bob said. "He is peaceful. He can cure poisons."

Hadrian watched the giant Damasen, who was now ripping chunks of bloody meat from the drakon carcass with his bare hands.

"Peaceful," he said. "Yes, I can see that."

"Good meat for dinner." Damasen stood up straight and studied Hadrian, as if he were another potential source of protein. "Come inside. We will have stew. Then we will see about this promise."