Karl crouched in the emerald gloom, silently preparing to sprint. Twenty feet of grass and bracken separated the boy from instant death-or instant glory. He could spot the armored ridge of the dragon's backbone through a gap in the fronds of the fern trees, and he could hear the dreadful thunder of its snore. From here (if he were incredibly lucky), one perfectly placed lunge could pierce the creature's heart. But luck is scarce in Olympus.... Read on!