The Last Olympian

“But a little more!”
    Lightning flickered around me. The clouds darkened and the rain swirled faster. I closed in on Hyperion and blew him off his feet.
    “Percy!” Grover called again. “Bring him over here!”
    I slashed and jabbed, letting my reflexes take over. Hyperion could barely defend himself. His eyes kept trying to ignite, but the hurricane quenched his flames.
    I couldn’t keep up a storm like this forever, though. I could feel my powers weakening. With one last effort, I propelled Hyperion across the field, straight to where Grover was waiting.
    “I will not be toyed with!” Hyperion bellowed.
    He managed to get to his feet again, but Grover put his reed pipes to his lips and began to play. Leneus joined him. Around the grove, every satyr took up the song—an eerie melody, like a creek flowing over stones. The ground erupted at Hyperion’s feet. Gnarled roots wrapped around his legs.
    “What’s this?” he protested. He tried to shake off the roots, but he was still weak. The roots thickened until he looked like he was wearing wooden boots.
    “Stop this!” he shouted. “Your woodland magic is no match for a Titan!”
    But the more he struggled, the faster the roots grew. They curled about his body, thickening and hardening into bark. His golden armor melted into the wood, becoming part of a large trunk.
    The music continued. Hyperion’s forces backed up in astonishment as their leader was absorbed. He stretched out his arms and they became branches, from which smaller branches shot out and grew leaves. The tree grew taller and thicker, until only the Titan’s face was visible in the middle of the trunk.
    “You cannot imprison me!” he bellowed. “I am Hyperion! I am—”
    The bark closed over his face.
    Grover took his pipes from his mouth. “You are a very nice maple tree.”
    Several of the other satyrs passed out from exhaustion, but they’d done their job well. The Titan lord was completely encased in an enormous maple. The trunk was at least twenty feet in diameter, with branches as tall as any in the park. The tree might’ve stood there for centuries.
    The Titan’s army started to retreat. A cheer went up from the Athena cabin, but our victory was short-lived.
    Because just then Kronos unleashed his surprise.
    “REEEEET!”
    The squeal echoed through upper Manhattan. Demigods and monsters alike froze in terror.
    Grover shot me a panicked look. “Why does that sound like . . . It can’t be!”
    I knew what he was thinking. Two years ago we’d gotten a “gift” from Pan—a huge boar that carried us across the Southwest (after it tried to kill us). The boar had a similar squeal, but what we were hearing now seemed higher pitched, shriller, almost like . . . like if the boar had an angry girlfriend.
    “REEEEEET!” A huge pink creature soared over the reservoir—a Macy’s Day nightmare blimp with wings.
    “A sow!” Annabeth cried. “Take cover!”
    The demigods scattered as the winged lady pig swooped down. Her wings were pink like a flamingo’s, which matched her skin beautifully, but it was hard to think of her as cute when her hooves slammed into the ground, barely missing one of Annabeth’s siblings. The pig stomped around and tore down half an acre of trees, belching a cloud of noxious gas. Then it took off again, circling around for another strike.
    “Don’t tell me that thing is from Greek mythology,” I complained.
    “Afraid so,” Annabeth said. “The Clazmonian Sow. It terrorized Greek towns back in the day.”
    “Let me guess,” I said. “Hercules beat it.”
    “Nope,” Annabeth said. “As far as I know, no hero has ever beaten it.”
    “Perfect,” I muttered.
    The Titan’s army was recovering from its shock. I guess they realized the pig wasn’t after them.
    We only had seconds before they were ready to fight, and our forces were still in a panic. Every time the sow belched, Grover’s nature spirits yelped and faded back into their trees.
    “That pig has to go.” I grabbed a grappling hook from one of Annabeth’s siblings. “I’ll take care of it. You guys hold the rest of the enemy. Push them back!”
    “But, Percy,” Grover said, “what if we can’t?”
    I saw how tired he was. The magic had really drained him. Annabeth didn’t look much better from fighting with a bad shoulder wound. I didn’t know how the Hunters were doing, but the right flank of the enemy army was now between them and us.
    I didn’t want to leave my