He summoned all his strength and yelled, “Cohorts—lock shields!”
The zombies around him stirred. They lined up in front of Frank, putting their shields together in a ragged defensive formation. But they were moving too slowly, like sleepwalkers, and only a few had responded to his voice.
“Frank, how did you do that?” Jason yelled.
Frank’s head swam with pain. He forced himself not to pass out. “I’m the ranking Roman officer,” he said. “They—uh, they don’t recognize you. Sorry. ”
Jason grimaced, but he didn’t look particularly surprised. “How can we help?”
Frank wished he had an answer. A gryphon soared overhead, almost decapitating him with its talons. Nico smacked it with the scepter of Diocletian, and the monster veered into a wall.
“Orbem formate!” Frank ordered.
About two dozen zombies obeyed, struggling to form a defensive ring around Frank and his friends. It was enough to give the demigods a little respite, but there were too many enemies pressing forward. Most of the ghostly legionnaires were still wandering around in a daze.
“My rank,” Frank realized.
“All these monsters are rank!” Piper yelled, stabbing a wild centaur.
“No,” Frank said. “I’m only a centurion. ”
Jason cursed in Latin. “He means he can’t control a whole legion. He’s not of high enough rank. ”
Nico swung his black sword at another gryphon. “Well, then, promote him!”
Frank’s mind was sluggish. He didn’t understand what Nico was saying. Promote him? How?
Jason shouted in his best drill-sergeant voice: “Frank Zhang! I, Jason Grace, praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, give you my final order: I resign my post and give you emergency
field promotion to praetor, with the full powers of that rank. Take command of this legion!”
Frank felt as if a door had opened somewhere in the House of Hades, letting in a blast of fresh air that swept through the tunnels. The arrow in his arm suddenly didn’t matter. His thoughts cleared. His eyesight sharpened. The voices of Mars and Ares spoke in his mind, strong and unified: Break them!
Frank hardly recognized his own voice when he yelled: “Legion, agmen formate!”
Instantly, every dead legionnaire in the cavern drew his sword and raised his shield. They scrambled toward Frank’s position, pushing and hacking monsters out of their way until they stood shoulder to shoulder with the comrades, arranging themselves in a square formation. Stones, javelins, and fire rained down, but now Frank had a disciplined defensive line sheltering them behind a wall of bronze and leather.
“Archers!” Frank yelled. “Eiaculare flammas!”
He didn’t hold out much hope the command would work. The zombies’ bows couldn’t be in good shape. But to his surprise, several dozen ghostly skirmishers nocked arrows in unison. Their arrowheads caught fire spontaneously and a flaming wave of death arced over the legion’s line, straight into the enemy. Cyclopes fell. Centaurs stumbled. A telkhine shrieked and ran in circles with a burning arrow impaled in his forehead.
Frank heard a laugh behind him. He glanced back and couldn’t believe what he saw. Nico di Angelo was actually smiling.
“That’s more like it,” Nico said. “Let’s turn this tide!”
“Cuneum formate!” Frank yelled. “Advance with pila!”
The zombie line thickened in the center, forming a wedge designed to break through the enemy host. They lowered their spears in a bristling row and pushed forward.
Earthborn wailed and threw boulders. Cyclopes smashed their fists and clubs against the locked shields, but the zombie legionnaires were no longer paper targets. They had inhuman strength, hardly wavering under the fiercest attacks. Soon the floor was covered with monster dust. The line of javelins chewed through the enemy like a set of giant teeth, felling ogres and snake women and hellhounds. Frank’s archers shot gryphons out of the air and caused chaos in the main body of the monster army across the chasm.
Frank’s forces began to take control of their side of the cavern. One of the stone bridges collapsed, but more monsters kept pouring over the other one. Frank would have to stop that.
“Jason,” he called, “can you fly a few legionnaires across the pit? The enemy’s left flank is weak—see? Take it!”
Jason smiled. “With pleasure. ”
Three dead Romans rose into the air and flew across the chasm. Then three more joined them. Finally Jason flew himself across and his squad began cutting through some very surprised-looking telkhines, spreading fear through the enemy’s ranks.
“Nico,” Frank said, “keep trying to raise the dead. We need more numbers. ”
“On it. ” Nico lifted the scepter of Diocletian, which glowed even darker purple. More ghostly Romans seeped from the walls to join the fight.
Across the chasm, empousai shouted commands in a language Frank didn’t know, but the gist was obvious. They were trying to shore up their allies and keep them charging across the bridge.