A/N (I recommend reading this): I'm going to MAKE THIS CLEAR. Just like I mention on my bio page about every other fanfiction I done: I DON'T OWN THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIAN SERIES or AND THE KANE CHRONICLES OR IT'S CHARACTERS as the rights goes to Rick Riordan. Also I suggest you guys start paying attention to the Author notes and my warnings that I left on EVERY chapter of EVERY story.

Sorry if this chapter is too much like the book.

This is a The Tales of version of the Percy Jackson and Kane Chronicles crossover and takes place after 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus part of the series. So if you haven't read them yet read before reading this story as stuff that happened in them will be mentioned:

The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Early Adventures
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Lightning Thief
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Sea of Monsters
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Titan's Curse
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Magical Labyrinth
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Stolen Chariot
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Sword of Hades
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Bronze Dragon
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Last Olympian
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Staff of Hermes
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Lost Hero
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Quest for Buford
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Mark of Athena
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The House of Hades
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Blood of Olympus
The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Son of Sobek
The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Staff of Serapis
The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Crown of Ptolemy

Also if you haven't got the chance feel free to read:

The Tales of Classical Mythology

A crossover with The Tales of series with my dictionary on Greek/Roman Mythology where The Tales of Percy Jackson tells his version of stories behind famous names in Greek and Roman Mythology.

And if you are a fan of Stephen King:

The Tales of the Heroes of the Stand

Which is basically a crossover of The Tales of series with one of Stephen King's best novels The Stand.

Lastly, any one who wants to do a Demigods and Olympian reads story using 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon' is allowed as long as you inform me about it.

Thank You Queen Myrmekes-Mom for Flying Us into Battle

Austin and Alabaster had freed the other prisoners.

They looked like they had been dipped in a vat of glue and cotton swabs, but otherwise they seemed remarkably undamaged. Ellis Wakefield staggered around with his fists clenched, looking for something to punch. Cecil Markowitz, son of Hermes, sat on the ground trying to clean his sneakers with a deer's thighbone. Austin was helping Kayla were going over the Germani's bodies for anything they can use. Miranda Gardiner, the head counselor of Demeter, was looking at the grove in amazement. Alabaster standing aside as he was waiting for me.

"Did you find her?" Alabaster asked.

I did not get the chance to answer as Paulie the palikos floated toward me. Like his partner, Pete, his lower half was all steam. From the waist up he looked like a slimmer, more abused version of his geyser friend. His mud skin was cracked like a parched riverbed. His face was withered, as if every bit of moisture had been squeezed out of him. Looking at the damage Nero had done to him, I added a few more items to a mental list I was preparing: Ways to Torture an Emperor in the Fields of Punishment.

"You saved me," Paulie said with amazement. "Bring it in!"

He threw his arms around me. His power was so diminished that his body heat did not kill me, but it did open my sinuses quite well.

"You should get home," I said. "Pete is worried, and you need to regain your strength."

"Ah, man…" Paulie wiped steaming tear from his face. "Yeah, I'm gone. But anything you ever need—a free steam cleaning, some PR work, a mud scrub, you name it."

As he dissolved into mist, I called him. "And Paulie? I give the Woods at Camp Half-Blood a ten for customer satisfaction."

Paulie beamed with gratitude. He tried to hug me again, but he was already ninety percent steam. All I got was a humid waft of mud scented air. Then he was gone.

The six demigods gathered around me.

Miranda looked past me at the grove of Dodona. She had beautiful irises the color of new foliage. "So, the voices I heard from that grove… It is really an oracle? Those trees can give us prophecies?"

I shivered, thinking of the oak trees' limerick. "Perhaps."

"Can I see—?"

"No," I said. "Not until we understand the place better."

I had already lost one daughter of Demeter today. I did not intend to lose another.

"I don't get it," Ellis grumbled. "You're Apollo? Like, the Apollo."

"I'm afraid so. It's a long story."

"Oh, gods…" Kayla scanned the clearing. "I thought I heard Meg's voice earlier. Did I dream that? Was she with you? Is she okay?"

"That was Meg," Alabaster said. "But—" He turned to me, expecting for explanation.

The others looked at me for an explanation too. Except for Alabaster, their expression was so fragile and tentative, I decided I could not break down in front of them.

"She's… alive," I managed. "She had to leave."

"What?" Kayla asked. "Why?"

"Nero," I said. "She…she went after Nero."

"Hold up." Austin raised his fingers like goalposts. "When you say Nero…"

I did my best to explain how the mad emperor had captured them. They deserved to know. As I recounted the story, Nero's words kept replaying in my mind: My wrecking crew will be here any minute. Once Camp Half-Blood is destroyed, I will make it my new front lawn!

I wanted to think this was just bluster. Nero had always loved threats and grandiose statements. Unlike me, he was a terrible poet. He used flowery language like… well, like every sentence was a pungent bouquet of metaphors.

Oh, that is another good one. Jotting that down.

Why had he kept checking his watch? And what wrecking crew could he have been talking about? I had a flashback to my dream of the sun bus careening toward a giant bronze face.

I felt like I was free-falling again. Nero's plan became horribly clear. After dividing the few demigods defending the camp, he had meant to burn this grove. But that was only part of his attack…

"Oh, gods," I said. "The Colossus."

Alabaster's eyes widened as if he realized what I mean. The other five demigods shifted uneasily.

"What Colossus?" Kayla asked. "You mean the Colossus of Rhodes?"

"No," Alabaster said. "He's talking about the Colossus Neronis."

Cecil scratched his head. "The Colossus Neurotic?"

Ellis Wakefield snorted. "You're a Colossus Neurotic, Markowitz. They're talking about the big replica of Nero that stood outside the amphitheater in Rome, right?"

"I'm afraid so," I said. "While we are standing here, Nero is going to try to destroy Camp Half-Blood. And the Colossus will be his wrecking crew."

Miranda flinched. "You mean a giant statue is about to stomp on camp? I thought the Colossus was destroyed centuries ago."

Ellis frowned. "Supposedly, so was the Athena Parthenos. Now it's sitting on top of Half-Blood Hill."

The other expressions turned grim. When a child of Ares makes a valid point, you know the situation is serious.

"Speaking of Athena…" Austin picked some incendiary fluff off his shoulder. "Won't the statue protect us? I mean, that's what she's there for, right?"

"She will try," I guessed. "But you must understand, the Athena Parthenos draws her power from her followers. The more demigods under her care, the more formidable her magic. And right now—"

"The camp is practically empty," Miranda finished.

"Not only that," Alabaster said, "But Nero's Colossus was thought to be eighty feet tall. That's twice the size of Athena's Parthenos."

Ellis grunted. "So, they're not in the same weight class. It's an uneven match."

Cecil Markowitz stood a little straighter. "Guys… did you feel that?"

I thought he might be playing one of his Hermes pranks. Then the ground shook again, ever so slightly. From somewhere in the distance came a rumbling sound like a battleship scraping over a sandbar.

"Please tell me that was thunder," Kayla said.

Ellis cocked his head, listening. "It's a war machine. A big automaton wading ashore about half a klick from here. We need to get to camp right now."

No one argued with Ellis's assessment. I supposed he could distinguish between the sounds of war machines the same way I could pick out an off-tune violin in a Rachmaninoff symphony.

To their credit, the demigods rose to the challenge. Despite the fact most of them had been recently bound, doused in flammable substances, and staked like human tiki torches, they closed ranks and faced me with determination in their eyes.

"How do we get out of here?" Austin asked.

"The myrmekes lair," Alabaster said. "We have full access through it now."

He was right. We do have full access. But I had no desire to plunge back into the ants' nest. Even if we made it through alive, it would take much too long. Then we would have to run half the length of the forest. Our best solution was to fly. Even then we would have to do that at the other exit/entrance of the myrmekes nest.

"I don't suppose any of you can fly?" I asked.

They shook their heads.

"I can cook," Cecil offered.

Ellis smacked him on the shoulder.

I looked back at the myrmekes' tunnel. The solution came to me like a voice whispering in my ear: You know someone who can fly, stupid.

It was a risky idea. Then again, rushing off to fight a giant automaton was also not the safest plan of action.

"I think there's a way," I said. "But I'll need your help."

Austin balled his fist. "Anything you need. We're ready to fight."

"Actually… I do not need you to fight. I need you to lay down a beat."

Alabaster groaned, realizing what I was talking about. "Not again."

…

My next important discovery: Children of Hermes cannot rap. At all.

Bless his conniving heart, Cecil Markowitz tried his best, but he kept throwing off my rhythm section with his spastic clapping and terrible air mic noises After a few trial runs, I demoted him to dancer. His job would be so shimmy back and forth and wave his hands, which he did with enthusiasm of a tent-revival preacher.

The others managed to keep up. Again, except for Alabaster, they still looked like half-plucked highly combustible chickens, but they bopped with the proper amount of soul.

I launched into "Mama," my throat reinforced with water and cough drops from Kayla's belt pack. (Ingenious girl! Who brings cough drops on a three-legged death race?)

I sang directly into the mouth of the myrmekes tunnel, trusting the acoustics to carry my message. We did not have to wait long. The earth began to rumble beneath our feet. I kept singing. I had warned my comrades not to stop laying down the righteous beat until the song was over.

Still, I almost lost it when the ground exploded. I have been watching the tunnel, but Mama did not use tunnels. She exited wherever she wanted—in this case, straight out of the earth twenty yards away, spraying dirt, grass, and small boulders in all directions. She scuttled forward, mandibles clacking, wings buzzing, dark Teflon eyes focus on me. Her abdomen was no longer swollen, so I assumed she had finished depositing her most recent batch of killer ant larvae. I hope this meant she would be in a good mood, not a hungry mood.

Behind her, three winged soldiers clambered out of the earth. I had not been expecting bonus ants. (Really, bonus ants are not a term most people would like to hear.) They flanked the queen, their antennae quivering.

I finished my ode, the dropped to one knee, spreading my arms as I had before.

"Mama," I said, "we need a ride."

My logic was this: Mothers were used to giving rides. With thousands upon thousands of offspring, I assume the queen ant would be the ultimate soccer mom. And indeed, Mama grabbed me with her mandibles and tossed me over her head.

Despite what the demigods may tell you, I did not flail, scream, or land in a way that damaged my sensitive parts. I landed heroically, straddling the queen's neck, which was no larger than the back of an average warhorse. I shouted to my comrades, "Join me! It's perfectly safe!"

For some reason, they hesitated. The ants did not. One ant tossed Kayla and Austin, another got Alabaster and Cecil, and the last one got Ellis and Miranda. I then noticed each ant that came with Mama had a set of wings for flight. I am guessing the wings are meant for special breed of Myrmekes that most demigods do not get to see and live to tell, and we are riding on them.

"Hey guys, you should feel great honor!" I shouted. "You are the first six demigods to see and ride winged myrmekes and live to tell. That's something even the great seven demigods don't have an honor of saying."

"Is this really safe?" Kayla yelled from hers and Austin's ant.

"Perfectly!" I hope I was right. "Perhaps even safer than the sun chariot!"

"Didn't the sun chariot almost destroy the world once?"

"Well, twice," I said. "Three times, if you count the day, I let Thalia Grace drive, but—"

"Forget I asked!"

I thought Mama was going to run through the tunnels to the other exit before setting off to fly, but instead she launched herself into the sky. The canopy of twisted branches blocked our path, but Mama did not pay any more attention to them than she had to the ton of solid earth she had plowed through.

I yelled, "Duck!"

We flattened ourselves against our armored ant's head as she smashed through the trees leaving a thousand wooden splinters embedded in my back. If felt so good to fly again, I did not care. We soared above the woods and banked to east.

For two or three seconds, I was exhilarated.

Then I heard the screaming from Camp Half-Blood.