Attrition of Peace
Thirty-Five: Reyna
Why I Hate Piccolo Players
Warning: Graphic depictions of violence. A horrific lack of weasels.
Author’s Note: This chapter, and the next chapter, didn’t exist in my original timeline/draft and were entirely the fault of my discovering Overwerk’s Toccoto and Canon around Halloween. Plus, one of the overtly dramatic gods demanded he get more page time, else he’d sue for misrepresentation and slander. *sigh* Gods can be such divas…
Reyna didn’t have the energy or time to deal with the arrival of the Paxmobile.
She’d calculated it in as a likely factor, but she’d been ignoring the possibility since the bouts started, and another should start soon.
When Thalia and another huntress, Christiana, ran into her tent to report the presence of a gold donkey and van along Farm Road, Reyna cursed. Reinforcements had arrived, but she didn’t know to whom they belonged or if they’d do any good if they were hers.
And they didn’t have time to find out.
Clovis would need her by the strawberry fields any minute. [1]
“Axel and Kally are their parley party, but there are others with them. They have a peace flag,” Thalia informed Reyna. “No Percy, Annabeth, or the others. No Nico or Hazel.” The last part sounded grim.
Christiana walked off with little more than a hand gesture from Thalia. Her silver jacket flickered in the moonlight as she exited to continue patrolling.
Reyna’s stomach lurched at hearing Axel’s name. She tightened her grip around her knife’s hilt. She jerked the blade out of the make-shift war table and stepped out of the tent.
No Nico or Hazel.
She thought about the way her hand had passed through Nico this past summer, like he was made of shadows, and what Calex said about the child of Hades tonight. During his rushed explanation, Calex had admitted the information he gave about Nico was vague and from a hysterical Pax—“someone dodgy at the best of times.” Maybe it was wrong.
Or maybe Nico was gone forever.
Reyna tried not to let her legs shake.
“Thalia, I need someone on standby to give me a signal the instant Clovis steps into sight,” she said.
The lieutenant of Artemis nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out for him.” Without pause, Thalia stepped back past the tent, towards the flood lights that the Romans had set up around the perimeter of Camp Half-Blood.
As Reyna walked towards the crest of the hill, Michael Kahale and Calex Rupin McKenzie came over, mid-argument.
“—here to help!” Calex snapped.
Michael held up a hand to silence the son of Eros when they intercepted Reyna.
“Reyna, the timing is tight. Do you want me to take care of this?” Michael asked, his eyes darting to follow Thalia’s departure.
She shook her head, but was happy for his presence. She was too worn down to do this on her own. If Frank, or Nico, or any of the others had come back, she would have felt better, and it wasn’t just because they could summon zombies or turn into grizzly bears.
“Is the unicorn droaght ready?” she asked.
She knew how futile the next fight would be. They’d only won a single bout this night, and Clovis was getting weaker and more despairing. But she had to try.
Michael nodded. From the way he sighed, she could tell he didn’t agree with her decision to talk to the peace party, but would never contradict a high officer.
However, Calex did not share his hesitation. He stepped alongside them.
They could see a few figures approaching from the road when Michael snapped, “Calex, you’re not supposed to be here for this.” Under normal protocol, Reyna would agree. Calex was too likely a candidate for a spy and traitor for Axel’s group.
“Likes Hades I’m leaving,” Calex hissed.
Reyna tensed. Everyone was discouraged and frustrated. She didn’t want to see a fight break out between these two. Calex looked like a Greek statue and was probably in the same weight class as one. Michael Kahale was one of the few people who could probably put Calex down, but, fortunately, he seemed to have a soft spot for his nephew on the godly side.
“You can stay, but not a word until I say so,” Reyna snapped.
Calex glanced at her with a look that said, remember, I can make you fall in love with someone stupid. Even the likes of Apollo.[2]
Michael sighed again in defeat. His shoulders sagged as they took a stand, waiting for the parley party to come to them; Reyna wanted to make sure they were within range of the huntress’ bows if the peace flag was a trick.
When she saw them come into her floodlights, she tightened her hold on her dagger. Quickly, she sheathed it, not realizing she’d kept it drawn.
Last time Reyna had seen Axel, he’d gone from nervously sliding an arm around her on the couch and naming her ninja zombie rabbits after famous fighters to setting the couch on fire and threatening to eat the hearts of her soldiers.
Now, he looked more like the monster he’d espoused.
The Nemean lion pelt swayed off his shoulders. In the dim lighting, she was disgusted to see the glint of two Roman praetor medals on the paws tied about his throat: one, she guessed, for former praetor Megara—missing in action--one for former Praetor Julian—slain on the battlefield. He wore the traditional Roman pteruges, leather skirts, overtop his pants and odd bracers—likely Mayan style.
A feline helmet was tucked under one of his arms: the Leonis Caput helm.
Reyna struggled not to signal open fire to the hiding huntresses, Lesedi and Christiana.
She felt so stupid for not seeing it before. Since the Pax brothers had escaped through the labyrinth entrance in her room, Reyna had mentally gone over each battle against the Leonis Caput during the Second Titan war. She should have recognized his fighting style, picked up on more hints, and pieced together who he was.[3]
The smaller daughter of Apollo, Kally, stepped forward with him. She held the peace flag, face drawn with more determination than Reyna had ever seen on the normally timid girl.
Neither looked armed, but Reyna knew that meant nothing with Axel. With his fangs and claws, he was always armed.
They stopped six feet away, enough distance to prevent a close range stealth attack. Axel must have had his Mist mask up; Reyna couldn’t see if his jaguar ears were tucked.
Before she or Michael could stop him, Calex broke forward. For a second, she thought he was going to attack them. Axel braced in anticipation like he expected the same.
But Calex tackled Kally into a hug and clapped his hand onto Axel’s shoulder. Kally dropped the peace flag, shattering her sturdy demeanor with a squeak. Axel relaxed.
Reyna could feel Michael Kahale roll his eyes.
“You twats,” Calex hissed, “You didn’t off anyone, did you?”
Axel’s expression was grim. Kally’s lip trembled. “We didn’t,” she said quietly.
Calex’s face fell.
Axel cleared his throat and stepped forward, away from Calex. Whatever clever shirt he had been wearing was shredded, like he’d been hit by a fire hose full blast for twenty minutes. His dark eyes met evenly with hers when he greeted, “Praetor.”
“Leonis Caput,” she returned.
She wanted him to puff up his cheeks, or frown, or show some loss of composure.
Instead, Axel gazed past her, assessing the situation: how the Romans’ barracks were outside the camp’s borders, that there were floodlights pointed inside, that the only people running around were Roman. No Greeks.
There was a pause that she didn’t have the time for.
His eyes widened. “The Mist barrier… it’s almost gone.”
Michael Kahale grunted.
Although Axel could have been faking it, Reyna was relieved by his seemingly genuine surprise. Maybe he hadn’t come because he knew the camp was weak.
Kally blinked, glancing over to Axel. “How—”
“The Athena Parthenos’ eyes are closed. And Thalia’s tree is in dormancy. Even Peleus is unconscious,” Reyna said.[4] She didn’t want to give potential enemies unnecessary information, but Calex would tell them anyway, and she needed to speed this along.
Kally and Axel shared a look of bewilderment at what could knock out a dragon, the same confusion her troops had when they first arrived.
“Dionysus—” Kally started to ask.
“Is out due to some petty spat Zeus dragged him into,” Calex answered, sounding annoyed.
“Eris,” Axel growled.
If Axel and Kally had known about any of that information, they were doing an excellent job pretending they didn’t. Reyna dug her nails into the hilt of her dagger. She needed to know their intentions now.
“I’m not going to dance around this issue,” she said. “Are you here to help us or do I need to kill you?”
“Kally, Pax, Euna, and I are here to help,” Axel said.
Reyna wasn’t sure what she would have preferred: that he be the monster he was supposed to be, or that he offer his help when she knew he couldn’t do anything. None of them could do anything.
They needed a child of the Underworld or something close.
“Is Hazel or Nico coming?” she asked.
Kally swallowed, raising her chin. “From what Pax said, the goddess Melinoe kidnapped him when he was turning into shadows. And… Hazel—”
“Should have reformed from the shadow realm by now,” someone spoke behind her.
Kally tensed. Her fingers tightened along the peace flag.
Three figures approached behind Axel and Kally. One, Reyna readily recognized as Euna Song, the girl currently under scrutiny for the massacre of several mortals. Another—Axel’s little brother, Pax—was tugging furiously at a taller one’s arm to slow him down. The taller one wore a bulletproof vest, strange pants covered in runes, and—
Upon seeing the helm in his hand and the forked staff in the other, Reyna felt her jaw drop. “The Cloven Terror?” she asked.
Michael Kahale clamped a hand over his sword.
“You brought the Cloven Terror to protect the camp? Is this a joke?” she demanded, scowling at Axel. She switched from holding her dagger to grabbing her sword hilt.
“And the Plague Bringer!” a cheerful voice came from Pax’s belt. “But I assure you, Al and I have no intention of protec—”
Pax slammed a hand down to the head dangling off his utility belt.
Reyna felt like she was going to be sick.
“Yea, it’s a gross and long story that we don’t really get either, but I’m sure Axel can tell you later to set the mood, since nothing sets the mood like severed heads and Goth boys going poof,” Pax said. He turned to Kally. “Not that I think that sets the mood. I’m a flowers and sweets kinda guy. Axel and Reyna are just—”
A flare exploded overhead.
“That’s Thalia’s signal,” Michael Kahale said. “We need to move.”
Reyna hoped she hadn’t arrived too late.
When she raced up to the edge of the strawberry fields, she couldn’t see Clovis or any monsters. Just the caution tape they’d set up along the perimeter of Camp Half-Blood’s borders.
None of this was ideal. They already couldn’t do much, and having the full Triple A Chimera here would demoralize her troops further.
They didn’t have the time to properly restrain the Cloven Terror either. If he turned on them—
Reyna skidded to a stop at the edge of the caution tape. Axel would have lunged over it had she not shoved an arm out in front of him.
He paused, glancing at her. Part of her wished she’d let him jump, but he was too useful an asset if he truly was fighting on their side.
She pointed to a body, facedown, three feet beyond the caution tape. One of her own new recruits, in full battle armor: Ellie Atmadja.
“If you cross into Camp Half-Blood’s territory, you fall asleep,” she warned. Reyna wondered how long it would take Axel to notice what else was wrong with the image, other than the trampled strawberry fields and gashes in the trees near the field.
Axel sniffed the air, his eyes narrowing to the other side of the field, closer to the Big House, almost outside of the flood light’s range. Where there was a small pile of bodies wearing a variety of Camp Half-Blood sleepwear. An area that wafted metallic in the breeze.
The ominous notes of a rapid piccolo solo came from the darkness beyond the floodlights.[5] The rhythmic rustling of footfalls followed, along with a continuous crunch that Reyna guessed was a body being dragged, like the others had been.
A pale figured lumbered towards them. Michael Kahale was the first to start up the shouts.
“Come on, Clovis!” he cheered, trying to hide his worry.
“You’re almost at the border!” Reyna recognized Thalia’s voice from somewhere further along the perimeter. All her troops that weren’t staked out to ward off approaching monsters gathered near the caution tape to shout their support.
Reyna didn’t know how to tell them, but their shouts made it so much worse for Clovis. All their encouragement made him feel like he was letting them down with each bout he lost.
He stumbled towards them. Now, Reyna could see which sleeping camper he dragged behind him: a brunette girl that Reyna was pretty sure was the counselor of the Demeter cabin.
Clovis looked exhausted. Reyna remembered Jason once describing the son of Hypnos as bovine. He had a gentle face, thick figure, and arms too small for his body, ones unused to frantically dragging campers across the whole camp.
His blond hair was streaked with blood and dirt. One of his spindly arms dangled uselessly at his side. He wore white PJs, now dirtied to a tan. Even at this distance, Reyna could hear his huffed breath that bordered on a sob.
She knew how tired he was. She’d felt his pain, his fear, his frustration, and shame. He couldn’t keep doing this much longer.
The sound of a wind instrument increased in volume. A second figure marched forward two dozen feet behind him. As though to drown out the encroaching danger and their inability to help, Reyna’s troops cheered louder.
Reyna wondered what kind of monster would come out this time. Last time was something large and terrifying that tore up the grounds.
Now, a tall, lengthy humanoid figure approached. Its head was that of a giant kiwi bird skull, like someone had fused a plague doctor mask into their face. The bone-face donned a Renaissance-style lord’s cap, and the creature wore a multicolored jester costume. It pranced forward, tooting a sinister tune on its piccolo. Along its neck, even at this distance, she could see the hideous glare of a purple and orange polka dotted bowtie.
“Holy Titans. I think I actually preferred him with his boaring pig attire,” Pax muttered over the empty cheers.
“Clovis is by himself,” Kally whispered, “Against a god? What is Phobetor doing in camp. And none of us can go in?”
“That’s why we were on about Nico or Hazel,” Calex told her, in a hushed, quick voice, “We think Lou Ellen is in there, helping Clovis when she can. Phobetor claims he’s close to locking in on her location. But—unless someone has lots of experience being close to Erebus, the dream world, or a lot of experience controlling their sleep—they can’t go inside without falling unconscious. And Phobetor will start killing campers indiscriminately if someone outside tries to fire in.”
“There’s no way to help unless we have a way in there,” Axel realized, his tone grave.
But Reyna could do something to help. Even if it was temporary.
Clovis was about half-way through the strawberry field by now. She knelt down, focusing on him as he lumbered forward with Miranda Gardner. His desperate eyes darted to hers. Now that he was closer, he could see the clean lines the tears streaked down his cheeks.
Phobetor lowered the piccolo from his mask and Clovis released a despairing sob.
Reyna’s tattoo burned along her forearm. Although she couldn’t use her powers as effectively from a distance or as effectively on a single person, she reached out, feeling the familiar hopelessness, exhaustion, and pain. All Clovis wanted to do was sleep. But, Phobetor had made it clear to him—if Clovis dared sleep, Phobetor killed campers. Since Phobetor couldn’t get to another child of Hypnos in his dreams, the god brought Clovis’ nightmare into the real world.
What Reyna wanted to know was why Phobetor wanted to kill campers and why he had chosen this method.
Reyna willed Clovis some of her determination and strength.
Clovis’ shuffling increased in speed. His eyes brightened. For a split second, she could see his gaze soften with gratitude. He was closing in on the border and bringing Miranda Gardner to safety.
Then, Phobetor spoke, his voice booming over the cheers of her troops. Despite her resolve, Reyna found herself shaking in the presence of a god. “Ah, we have more of an audience now, Clovis. Look, our little nephew has come to join us.” He tilted his hat towards Reyna and—she realized from the sound of his cheek pop—Pax. “Shall I start the timer for the next bout? Horror movies these days. Never know the proper element of timing.”
Phobetor pinched his piccolo between two abnormally long fingers so he could adjust his bowtie. He released it, and gave a quick puff on his instrument.
Behind him, someone else trudged forward.
Reyna tried not to tremble more. She didn’t need this god to have reinforcements. She hoped it was Lou Ellen, with another trick—the daughter of Hecate had managed to stay awake inside the border, and had been tripping up Phobetor and causing little stunts to buy Clovis time. But Reyna doubted they’d be that fortunate.
The person approaching was a muscular boy with Asiatic features and a deep tan. He wore a baggy Camp Half-Blood shirt, a hoplite sword, and boxers, probably PJs. With much more ease than Clovis, he carried three campers, one on each shoulder, and another along the ground. He dumped them beside Phobetor, then stood there, swaying.
Although Reyna couldn’t be sure, she thought that one of the dropped campers was a Stoll brother. The other was a stocky blond haired boy.
“Matthias,” Pax muttered.
The last one was a mumbling Lou Ellen. The head of Hecate had a hand to her head, and Reyna could tell she must have been walloped.
“It appears that Sherman Yang, a young sprite of Ares, has a sleep walking problem.” Phobetor gestured to the camper standing beside him, using his piccolo like a ringleader would a crop. “He is having a very confusing nightmare right now. One about his girlfriend, Miranda, being kidnapped. It’s a pity you can’t sleep Clovis. You’d normally be able to make him your puppet in his current condition, but now—”
Reyna wondered why Phobetor had let Clovis come so far before attacking. Now she knew: dramatic effect.
Sherman Yang ran towards him.
As much as she could, Reyna extended an adrenaline burst to the son of Hypnos. Clovis tried to drag Miranda to the line.
But the athletic son of Ares cut him off with two yards to go. His bulky form partially obscured the plumper boy. Sherman unsheathed his sword. “Drop her, you monster!” he snarled. Reyna wondered what nightmare Phobetor was feeding him. She also wondered how often Sherman woke up his siblings with surprise sleepfights.
Clovis dug his heels into the ground, stumbling. “Sherman—it’s—it’s me. C-C-Clovis—” Reyna could feel the sob swelling inside Clovis. She willed him to keep it together. But he was exhausted, unarmed, and had a broken arm from when Phobetor tore through the field as a giant boar. Despite all the effort with her powers, she could feel his hopelessness creeping in.
“Ah, little Clovis, are you ready for me to start the timer?” Phobetor flicked the piccolo to the side. It morphed into a hatchet.
All the cheering went silent. Her troops knew what was about to happen.
She felt someone flinch against her back. With her focus on Clovis, she hadn’t realized someone had knelt by her, propping her up with their own body and warmth. She hadn’t realized how worn down she was until she tried to pull from them. A combination of rage, resentment, and reassurance washed through her when she caught Axel’s spicy scent. Some extra fury to support Clovis.
Clovis glanced over his shoulder, away from her and Sherman, at Phobetor. “You—you only ever have one hostage that you use as a timer,” he tried to reason, like he had all night.
“Bigger audience. Closer to the climax,” Phobetor gestured towards the sky with his hatchet, where the Eastern darkness should soon have a hint of pink. “Bigger stakes. If you win this bout, little brother, you win it all!” Phobetor gave a bellied laugh. “I’ll even let you take a nap.”
Sherman Yang shifted stances to prepare a lung.
Phobetor raised his hatchet over Connor’s hand.
Reyna could sense some of her soldiers avert their gaze. Others shouted in anger. Michael Kahale threw one of the legion’s spears to land beside Clovis, so he was at least armed.
“I’m going to cut off Matthias’ leg and Connor’s hand,” Phobetor explained like he had with the others. “I’m going to chop off Lou Ellen’s head, for being such a nuisance. If you can defeat Sherman before my little timers bleed to death, you can take all four campers—Miranda, Connor, Matthias, and Sherman—to safety.”
“Oh gods…” Kally whispered.
“No--!” Pax shouted.
“Timer on.”
Phobetor brought down the hatchet.
Footnotes:
[1] For any of you that know the song, I kept getting “strawberry fields forever” stuck in my head while writing this scene… it made capturing the tone REALLY difficult.
[2] Don’t you do it, Riordan.
[3] Mel wanted me to note through her betacomments: it’s okay Reyna. Axel’s sexiness and awkwardness would be too distracting for anyone.
[4] In my defense: if a demigod can charmspeak an inanimate metal sculpture into a sentient dragon, a god can definitely put a statue to sleep.
[5] Queue Overwerk’s Canon on the soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edOrKeBS-s8. I’m pretty sure the song’s opening starts with a flute solo, but I wanted Phobetor to have a piccolo… because piccolos.
