Page 181 of Blood of Olympus

“Nike?” she asked.

The goddess of victory joined us, sans her usual golden laurel wreath. “It is done,” she said. “My wreath has been buried, my favour granted, this battlefield blessed.”

“Let us hope it is enough,” Nyssa murmured, tilting her face to the warmth of the sun.

“And so it begins,” I murmured.

“And so it begins,” she echoed.

CHAPTER 44

Nyssa

It’s a pain in the fucking ass not being able to see things for myself, I griped to my dragon, who had sent me yet another update of the advancing tidal wave that was Kronos’ army. They were a third of the way across the open field, trampling Theris’ most disposable crops.

It was far better than the alternative of trampled people and eviscerated towns.

I tightened the leather strap around my left thigh as Vel made a third pass along the front line of our warriors. Their fear was ripe in the air, their shifting armour audible even over a dragon’s thunderous footsteps.

“I do not have a great rousing speech for you today, nor does your Blade — your Harrow. You may have noticed that he is missing from our ranks along with several other of our most capable fighters.”

Not an inspiring start, Vel warned.

Shh, I’m still speaking.

She huffed, releasing a hot, rolling breath out her nostrils — a breath that happened to smack me right in the face.

Ugh. I grimaced, ignoring her chortling.

“Fear not! They have not abandoned us, but will return with reinforcements of the godly variety.”

A chorus of cheers rent the air, though one voice rang out above the others. A mortal called out from somewhere in the middle of the Caldrian phalanx: “They won’t return today, though — will they?”

I straightened in the saddle; allowed my face to fall into solemnity. “No, they won’t.”

The words fell like daggers — their meaning, like icicles to the heart.

“The point of today is not to win, but to halt them. To stop them from murdering your families, our loved ones. To make them think twice about staking this claim on Ephemeron, because its people will not willingly lay down and submit.” I paused, as a lethal smirk twisted my lips. “The point of today… is to steal something from them.”

Cheers and gasps echoed down the lines of armoured men and women.

“What are we stealing?” someone called out, swiftly followed by a grunt — as though someone else had elbowed them in the ribs.

“You fool. We’re not stealing anything. They are. She is.”

My smirk grew, now a full-fledged grin. “Time,” I answered.

Another image filtered in of his army, now midway across, almost in range of our traps and our arrows. The slithering black mass began to take shape — serpents and shadows, mutant creatures, and pure black nightmares — around the feet of slowly moving mountains and a column of pure white light.

The muscles around my eyes squeezed reflexively as if I were the one actively peering at that bastard Hyperion, lit up like a beacon in the middle of the trampled field.

At least he wouldn't be hard to find.

“Hold!” Athena bellowed. “Hold!”

“Archers, on Apollo’s count!” Haras shouted on behalf of the voiceless god. Three heartbeats passed before he cried, “LOOSE!” and the sound of twanging bowstrings followed.

A swarm of buzzing arrows filled the sky, so thick in number they blanketed every other sense left available to me, blocking even the warmth of the sun on my skin for several seconds, until at last, they found homes in the screeching bodies of monstrous creatures.