Tyson Plays With Fire is the eighty-second chapter of The Gift of a Best Friend. It was first published on March 24th, 2019.
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Chapter Mythologically speaking, if there’s anything I hate worse than trios of ridiculously arguing old dead ladies, it’s bulls. Bulls can be a real pain in the ass, especially when their horns hit you in the ass. I know, I know. I love animals of every kind, even bulls. But not these ones. At the top of Half-Blood Hill, there wasn’t just one bull, but two bulls. And not just regular bulls—bronze ones the size of elephants. And even that wasn’t bad enough. These ones breathe fire, too. As soon as we exited the taxi, the Gray Sisters peeled out, heading back to New York, where life was safer—well, safer than here right now. They didn’t even wait for their extra three-drachma payment. They just left us on the side of the road, Annabeth and me with nothing but our backpacks and weapons, Tyson and Percy still in their burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes. “Oh, man,” Annabeth said, looking at the battle raging on the hill. What worried me the most weren’t the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated asses kicked. What worried me was that the bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree. That shouldn’t have been possible. The camp’s magic boundaries didn’t allow monsters to cross past Thalia’s tree. But the metal bulls were doing it anyway. One of the heroes shouted, “Border patrol, to me!” A girl’s voice—gruff and familiar. Border patrol? The camp didn’t have a border patrol. “It’s Clarisse,” Annabeth said. “Come on, we have to help her.” Normally, rushing to Clarisse’s aid is hardly ever high on my “to do” list. She was one of the biggest bullies at camp. I remember her trying to put Percy’s head into a toilet in the girls’ bathroom, and Annabeth doing nothing to stop it. She was also the daughter of Ares, the bastard god we met last summer. Still, she was in trouble. Her fellow warriors were scattering, running in panic as the bulls charged. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horsehair plume on his helmet blazing like a fiery Mohawk. Clarisse’s own armor was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bulls’ shoulder. I turned Toothless back to full-size. Percy uncapped his ballpoint pen. It shimmered, growing longer and heavier until he held the bronze sword Anaklusmos in his hands. “Tyson, stay here,” he said. “I don’t want you taking any more chances.” “No!” Annabeth said. “We need him.” “She’s right,” I agreed. Percy stared at us. “He’s mortal. He got lucky with the dodge balls but he can’t—” “Percy, do you know what those are up there?” Annabeth said. “The Colchis bulls, made by Hephaestus himself. We can’t fight them without Medea’s Sunscreen SPF 50,000. We’ll get burned to a crisp.” “Medea’s what?” Annabeth rummaged through her backpack and cursed. “I had a jar of tropical coconut scent sitting on my nightstand at home. Why didn’t I bring it?” “Because you were in too much of a hurry to properly make a list of everything you might need,” I suggested. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not going to let Tyson get fried,” Percy said. “Percy—” Annabeth and I both tried. “Tyson, stay back.” He raised his sword. “I’m going in.” Tyson tried to protest, but he was already running up the hill toward Clarisse. I looked at Annabeth. “He still has no idea what he really is.” She shook her head in agreement. “No.” We ran up the hill. Clarisse was yelling at her patrol, trying to get them into phalanx formation. It was a good idea. The few who were listening lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, locking their shields to form an ox-hide-and-bronze wall, their spears bristling over the top like porcupine quills. Unfortunately, Clarisse could only muster six campers. The other four were still running around with their helmets on fire. Annabeth ran toward them, trying to help. She taunted one of the bulls into chasing her, then turned invisible, completely confusing the monster. The other bull charged Clarisse’s line. If they were real bulls, I could’ve easily used my powers to calm them down. But they weren’t. They didn’t have any part of a real animal. They were just robots that resembled animals. Percy was halfway up the hill. I was close behind, but neither of us were close enough to help. Clarisse hadn’t even seen us yet. The bull moved deadly fast for one that probably weighed more than a real one. Its metal hide gleamed in the sun. It had fist-sized rubies for eyes, and horns of polished silver. When it opened its hinged mouth, a column of white-hot flame blasted out. “Hold the line!” Clarisse ordered her warriors. Whatever else you could say about Clarisse, even I had to admit she was brave. She was a big girl with cruel eyes like her father’s. She looked like she was born to wear Greek battle armor, but I didn’t see how even she could stand against that bull’s charge. Unfortunately, at that moment, the other bull lost interest in finding Annabeth. It turned, wheeling around behind Clarisse on her unprotected side. “Behind you!” Percy yelled. “Look out!” He shouldn’t have said anything, because all he did was startle her. Bull Number One crashed into her shield, and the phalanx broke. Clarisse went flying backward and landed in a smoldering patch of grass. The bull charged past her, but not before blasting the other heroes with its fiery breath. Their shields melted right off their arms. They dropped their weapons and ran as Bull Number Two closed in on Clarisse for the kill. Percy lunged forward and grabbed Clarisse by the straps of her armor. He dragged her out of the way just as Bull Number Two freight-trained past. He gave it a good swipe with Riptide and cut a huge gash in its flank, but the monster just creaked and groaned and kept on going. “Let me go!” Clarisse pummeled his hand. “Percy, curse you!” He dropped her in a heap next to the pine tree and turned to face the bulls. We were on the inside slope of the hill now, the valley of Camp Half-Blood directly below us—the cabins, the training facilities, the Big House—all of it at risk if these bulls got past us. Annabeth shouted orders to the other heroes, telling them to spread out and keep the bulls distracted. Bull Number One ran a wide arc, making its way back toward me and Percy. As it passed the middle of the hill, where the invisible boundary line should’ve kept it out, it slowed down a little, as if it were struggling against a strong wind; but then it broke through and kept coming. Bull Number Two turned to face us, fire sputtering from the gash Percy had cut in its side. I couldn’t tell if it felt any pain, because it wasn’t a real animal, but its ruby eyes seemed to glare at Percy like he’d just made things personal. You usually do when you cut someone with your sword. Percy looked tired. I guess it’s been a while since he’s been in combat, especially since he hasn’t been attacked all year. I had to think of a way to beat these bulls. Since they were mechanical, the best way to defeat them was usually to break into it and pull out all of their wires. But only someone who was fire-resistant could do that with these bulls. Someone like me. “Toothless!” I called. “Fly above me.” He flapped his wings and flew a few feet directly above me. I grabbed onto his claws. “Fly up.” He took off, soaring to a hundred feet with me holding on. “Get me close to the one about to charge Percy so that I can get on top of him.” Are you sure? he asked. “Yes! Hurry!” He swooped down fast toward the bull. Once we were a few feet away, I let go and landed on Bull Number One’s back, almost falling off of it since it was very unstable. The bull seemed to be too distracted by its anger toward Percy to notice I had landed on it. I managed to get into a sitting position, and it was uncomfortably hot, but bearable for me. Using my super strength, I ripped open its back to get to its wires, and it still didn’t seem to feel my presence. Percy lunged at Bull Number Two, but it blew flames at him. He rolled aside as the air turned to pure heat. Percy managed to slash with his sword and lop off part of the monster’s snout. It galloped away, wild and disoriented. Percy tried to stand, and his left leg buckled underneath him. I didn’t realize that his foot had gotten caught on a tree root. Bull Number One charged straight toward him. I fell back and managed to grab onto its tail and held on for dear life. I’ve watched people try to ride bulls, real or otherwise, on TV and try to hold on for a long time but ultimately fail, and I always thought I could do better. So far, I was. There was no way Percy could crawl out of its path with his possibly sprained ankle. “Tyson, help him!” Annabeth shouted. That was a good idea. Somewhere near, toward the crest of the hill, Tyson wailed, “Can’t—get—through!” He can’t get through, even though the bulls seemed to get through quite easily? “I, Annabeth Chase, give you permission to enter camp!” Annabeth said. Wow. I never thought she’d ever do that, and I bet she didn’t either. Thunder shook the hillside. Suddenly Tyson was there, barreling toward Percy, yelling: “Percy needs help!” He dove between Percy and the bull just as it unleashed a nuclear firestorm. “Tyson!” Percy yelled. The blast swirled around him like a red tornado. I could only see the black silhouette of his body. I knew that even Tyson couldn’t be hurt anywhere near as bad by the flames like anyone else would be. When the fire died, Tyson was still standing there, completely unharmed. Not even his grungy clothes were scorched. The bull must’ve been as surprised as Percy still seemed to be, because before it could unleash a second blast, Tyson balled his fists and slammed them into the bull’s face. “BAD COW!” His fists made a crater where the bronze bull’s snout used to be. Two small columns of flame shot out of its ears. Tyson hit it again, and the bronze crumpled under his hands like aluminum foil. The bull’s face now looked like a sock puppet pulled inside out. “Down!” Tyson yelled. “Hey!” I complained. I quickly climbed back up the bull’s tail to the tear I made in its back. I grabbed onto the wires and yanked them out of their sockets. The bull staggered and started to fall on its back with me still on top of it. Thank God for my fast-acting dragon. Toothless lunged at me from the air and quickly pushed me out of the way before the bull crushed me under its heavy metal. Its legs moved feebly in the air, steam coming out of its ruined head in odd places. Toothless landed me safely onto the ground next to Percy. I put my hand on his head. “Thanks, Toothless.” He nuzzled into my hand. Annabeth ran over to check on Percy. So did I. I knelt down and touched his ankle and he winced in pain. Yep, he sprained it. Annabeth gave him some nectar to drink from her canteen, and he seemed to immediately start to feel better. He smelled like he was burning. The hair on his arms had been completely singed off. “The other bull?” he asked. Annabeth pointed down the hill. Clarisse had taken care of Bad Cow Number Two. She’d impaled it through the back leg with a celestial bronze spear. Now, with its snout half gone and a huge gash in its side, it was trying to run in slow motion, going in circles like some kind of merry-go-round animal. Clarisse pulled off her helmet and marched toward us. A strand of her stringy brown hair was smoldering, but she didn’t seem to notice. “You—ruin—everything!” she yelled at Percy. “I had it under control.” I sighed. “Here we go.” “Good to see you too, Clarisse,” Annabeth grumbled. “Not really,” I said. “It never has been.” “Argh!” Clarisse screamed. “Don’t ever, EVER try saving me again!” “Clarisse,” Annabeth said, “you’ve got wounded campers.” That sobered her up. Even Clarisse cared about the soldiers under her command. “I’ll be back,” she growled, then trudged off to assess the damage. Percy stared at Tyson. “You didn’t die.” Tyson looked down like he was embarrassed. “I am sorry. Came to help. Disobeyed you.” “My fault,” Annabeth said. “I had no choice. I had to let Tyson cross the boundary line to save you. Otherwise, you would’ve died.” “Let him cross the boundary line?” Percy asked. “But—” “Percy,” she said, “have you ever looked at Tyson closely? I mean . . . in the face. Ignore the Mist, and really look at him.” The Mist makes humans see only what their brains can process. It could also fool demigods too, though it was rare. Percy looked Tyson in the face, though he hesitated. Yeah, I guess it was a little hard to look at someone who only had one large, calf-brown eye, right in the middle of his forehead, with thick lashes and big tears trickling down his cheeks on either side versus your two regular eyes. “Tyson,” Percy stammered. “You’re a . . .” “Cyclops,” Annabeth offered. “A baby, by the looks of him. Probably why he couldn’t get past the boundary line as easily as the bulls. Tyson’s one of the homeless orphans.” “One of the what?” “They’re in almost all the big cities,” Annabeth said distastefully. “They’re . . . mistakes, Percy. Children of nature spirits and gods . . . Well, one god in particular, usually . . . and they don’t always come out right. No one wants them. They get tossed aside. They grow up wild on the streets. I don’t know how this one found you, but he obviously likes you. We should take him to Chiron, let him decide what to do.” “But the fire. How—” “He’s a Cyclops.” Annabeth paused, clearly remembering our last encounter with one and the fire he was stoking. “They work the forges of the gods. They have to be immune to fire. That’s what I was trying to tell you.” Percy seemed completely shocked. How had he never realized what Tyson was until now? The whole side of the hill was burning. Wounded heroes needed attention. And there were still two banged-up bronze bulls to dispose of, which I didn’t figure would fit in our normal recycling bins. Clarisse came back over and wiped the soot off her forehead. “Jackson, if you can stand, get up. We need to carry the wounded back to the Big House, let Tantalus know what’s happening.” “Tantalus?” Percy asked. “Who the hell is he?” I asked. “The activities director,” Clarisse said impatiently. “Chiron is the activities director,” Percy said. “And where’s Argus? He’s the head of security. He should be here.” Clarisse made a sour face. “Argus got fired. You three have been gone too long. Things are changing.” “I guess things are,” I said. “But Chiron . . . He’s trained kids to fight monsters for over three thousand years. He can’t just be gone. What happened?” “That happened,” Clarisse snapped. She pointed to Thalia’s tree. Thalia’s spirit inside the pine had reinforced the magic borders of the camp, protecting it from monsters, staying strong and healthy. But now, its needles were yellow. A huge pile of dead ones littered the base of the tree. In the center of the trunk, three feet from the ground, was a puncture mark the size of a bullet hole, oozing green sap. I fell to my knees next to it and put my hand close to the puncture mark, examining it. Now I understood why the camp was in danger. The magical borders were failing because Thalia’s tree was dying. Someone had poisoned it. You may or may not have noticed some contradictions in this chapter. That will happen sometimes because I don't want to change quotes at all unless necessary, even if sometimes it doesn't make sense. Happy St. Patrick's Day! Please review here. |
Character Appearances[]
Main Characters[]
Minor Characters[]
Pets[]
Enemies[]
- Colchis Bulls