The Tyrant's Tomb

a flare gun going off nearby. A tennis-ball-size globe of orange fire arced
into the sky, trailing Tang-colored smoke.
The troops turned toward the bay, waiting for the fireworks show that
would destroy Camp Jupiter. I’ll admit—as tired and helpless and
emotionally shattered as I was, all I could do was watch, too.
On fifty aft decks, green dots flickered as the Greek fire charges were
uncovered in their mortars. I imagined pandos technicians scrambling about,
inputting their final coordinates.
PLEASE, ARTEMIS, I prayed. NOW WOULD BE A GREAT TIME TO
SHOW UP.
The weapons fired. Fifty green fireballs rose into the sky, like emeralds
on a floating necklace, illuminating the entire bay. They rose straight
upward, struggling to gain altitude.
My fear turned to confusion. I knew a few things about flying. You
couldn’t take off at a ninety-degree angle. If I tried that in the sun chariot…
well, first of all, I would’ve fallen off and looked really stupid. But also, the
horses could never have made such a steep climb. They would have toppled
into each other and crashed back into the gates of the Sun Palace. You’d
have an eastern sunrise, followed immediately by an eastern sunset and lots
of angry whinnying.
Why would the mortars be aimed like that?
The green fireballs climbed another fifty feet. A hundred feet. Slowed.
On Highway 24, the entire enemy army mimicked their movements,
standing up straighter and straighter as the projectiles rose, until all the
Germani, Khromandae, and other assorted baddies were on their tippy-toes,
poised as if levitating. The fireballs stopped and hovered in midair.
Then the emeralds fell straight down, right onto the yachts from which
they had come.
The display of mayhem was worthy of the emperors themselves. Fifty
yachts exploded in green mushroom clouds, sending confetti of shattered
wood, metal, and tiny little flaming monster bodies into the air. Caligula’s
multi-billion-dollar fleet was reduced to a string of burning oil slicks on the
surface of the bay.
I may have laughed. I know that was quite insensitive, considering the
environmental impact of the disaster. Also terribly inappropriate, given how
heartbroken I felt about Frank. But I couldn’t help it.
The enemy troops turned as one to stare at me.