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Eclipse: Chapter 26

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades Ichor warning up ahead, which probably surprises no-one given the chapter title. I had a lot of fun with this chapter, which also probably surprises no-one. I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one! If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<Chapter 25

HADES XXVI Tartarus Is Unleashed

A chasm opened up beneath them, loud and furious, reminiscent of a gaping maw, and only a desperate leap had Hades finding the edge of it, clinging on and hauling himself up. He couldn’t see Apollo or Bob down below, and had to trust that they, too, had avoided falling into the no doubt bottomless pit. Shards of Tartarus gashed his hand, the first sign that they had travelled far enough up to have left the membrane behind and instead had reached the vicious and jagged surface near the uppermost reaches. Hades ignored the ichor spilling from his hand as he pulled himself to his feet, sword in hand for all that the weapon would do him no good against the ground itself.

In his periphery, a flicker of silver indicated Bob’s presence, spear whirling and thrusting at a swarm of monsters as they approached. Golden arrows streaked through the red-tinged miasma, reassuring Hades that Apollo, too, had escaped the fall, but they were all in different places.

Bob was the furthest up, silver feet stained with gold as the surface tore at his feet while monsters threw themselves upon his spear. None of them were significant, merely the lowest level of rabble that spawned in Tartarus, but the hoards were far more numerous than Hades had seen in millennia. It would not be enough to wear the titan down, but it was certainly enough to slow him down through sheer numbers.

Apollo was the deepest, a golden light the far side of the chasm, where the ground was still shard-free. He, too, was swarmed with monsters, far more than he had arrows in his quiver, and the golden light was at least in part his nephew’s essence leaking out to incinerate any monsters that got close enough to otherwise touch as he emptied his quiver and was forced to resort to materialising arrows in combat.

Hades had found himself off to one side of the fighting, and for the moment spared of monsters although there was a faction quickly approaching him, growling and roaring loudly as they brandished a variety of weapons and claws.

He fended off the first wave with his sword and the smallest leak of his presence, obliterating swathes of them at once. They were by no means difficult to defeat, but Hades was not ignorant to what was truly happening: the three of them had been separated.

The monsters were not the main issue, but they were numerous enough that navigating the chasm between them was severely hampered, especially as the ground kept shaking, kept moving in ways that didn’t seem to affect the monsters but made Hades feel as though he was on one of Poseidon’s most rickety, unreliable boats in the fiercest storm the combined powers of his brothers could conjure. Smaller gashes opened up beneath his feet, forcing him to keep moving as he blasted more and more monsters away, but the more of his essence leaked, the worse he felt.

Tartarus was invading him, heading straight for his essence and infecting it with something dark, darker even than the darkness of the Underworld, of the shadows Hades commanded. Using his essence to incinerate the monsters surrounding him quickly proved to be more detrimental than beneficial; after one particularly vicious streak of darkness tearing at him, Hades yanked in his essence and restricted himself to using only his weapons – Stygian Iron feasting on the sacrificial pawns Tartarus was throwing at him while the Helm blasted out as potent a fear as it was capable of, paralysing all but the most foolhardy of assailants.

This would not wear him down, would not wear Bob or even Apollo down – his nephew’s glow had faded, no doubt his essence equally pulled in away from Tartarus’ defilement, but Apollo could do more than fire a bow in combat and was taking as many monsters down in hand-to-hand as he was with his arrows. Flecks of golden ichor speckled the rumbling, changing surface of Tartarus, but it was insignificant, not even noticeable as ichor loss.

They needed to not be separated, Hades knew. There were far, far worse things in Tartarus than the small fry currently being thrown at them, and the only explanation was that Tartarus was delaying them, biding his time while worse things marched towards them.

There were things in Tartarus that Hades had not seen in millennia, things that could defeat gods and titans, especially if they were fighting alone. Spawn of Tartarus, of Gaia, of Ouranos – some things that had never left Tartarus, never reached the Underworld let alone the Overworld. Horrors beyond mortal comprehension, that lurked on the very edges of things even the gods could imagine.

If Tartarus was rising against them, then it was only a matter of time before those monsters reached them.

The decision of which way to press was so simple that Hades barely registered making it. The faint golden glow of his nephew acted as a beacon, even in Tartarus the sun around which everything else ought to revolve, and Hades didn’t hesitate as he began to cut a swathe through the swarm of monsters doing its best to stop him from reuniting with the younger god.

Apollo, too, appeared to have realised that fighting solo was the worst thing they could do. The distance between them shrunk far more rapidly than Hades’ progress alone should dictate as his nephew also fought to get up the slope, stumbling every so often as the primordial body beneath their feet gave a particularly sudden and sharp tremor. Occasionally, Hades spared a thought for Bob and snatched a glance up the slope, to where the silver titan was reprising the fighting style that had earned him his epithet of the Piercer. He did not appear to be struggling, so Hades felt no remorse for heading for his nephew first.

Fire roared towards him just before his swarm of monsters was absorbed into Apollo’s, preventing him from pressing the final short distance to his nephew’s side, and the first of Tartarus’ vanguard appeared with a chorus of snarls and howls.

The creature had three heads, like Hades’ faithful guard dog, but despite being Cerberus’ sibling, that was where the similarities ended. One maw, fanged and surrounded by fur caked with dried blood, gaped wildly as more fire spewed from its throat. The second, in a head which protruded from the beast’s spine at an awkward angle, brayed in fury, while the third spat venom with pinpoint accuracy at Apollo, who winced as it connected with his face and dragged a line of bubbling, dissolving flesh from just below his left eye.

Under normal circumstances, engaging the chimera in battle would not have been a concern. It was hideous, yes, and powerful the way all of Echidna’s children boasted, but it was not a match for even one god, let alone the might of two gods combined.

However, it would be foolish to even consider it anything other than simply the first member of the next wave of opponents, each of which would no doubt be more powerful than the last in what Hades suspected was designed to be a battle of attrition.

Tartarus had near-infinite monsters to throw at them. Most would do nothing but waste their time, but others would wear them down, slowly but surely weakening them until they fell.

Hades pushed past the chimera, evading both the spew of fire from its fore end and the spat venom from the rear, and finally made his way to Apollo’s side, cutting down the hellhounds that leapt at his nephew from behind as Apollo fired an indiscriminatory volley of arrows at the masses of monsters that tried to get close.

Tartarus vibrated again, a new rhythm that threw off their balance for a precious moment as the chimera darted forwards, crashing into Apollo and throwing him back with its horned goat head, towards the chasm as the snake of its tail wrapped around Hades’ neck and sank its fangs into his throat.

Hades roared as the venom sank in, searing his essence and tearing apart the flesh of his form as ichor rolled down his skin, tracing a line down to his sternum beneath his armour, where he felt the liquid begin to pool.

“Hades!” A hail of arrows shot past his vision and the snake hurriedly retreated, peppered with golden shafts. Apollo was perched on top of the chimera, oozing ichor but still intact and most importantly not falling down the chasm the monster had tried to throw him into. The tail lashed at the younger god, snake jaw opened wide, but Apollo leaned to one side, a precarious movement that needed godly defiance of gravity to succeed without toppling from the beast’s back before shooting it point blank with an arrow to the eye.

The chimera roared, thrashing violently as the serpentine third fell slack, and Apollo leapt nimbly from its back, twisting in mid-air to send another volley at the goat’s head. Pulling his hand away from the punctures on his neck, Hades darted forwards to hack at the lion’s head, the two gods working in tandem to tear the creature apart.

Behind them, something squealed like a stuck pig, and Hades spared a glance back to be sure that Bob was still behind them. He was, and with his spear was more than capable of skewering pigs – or the monstrous equivalents bred in Tartarus – but it was a reminder that all three of them needed to rendezvous as quickly as possible, before something worse appeared.

Scorching fire blistered against his form as he hacked the lion head of the chimera away from its body, gritting his teeth against the feeling of being burnt as the ichor of the monster seeped into the ground. Beside him, Apollo wrenched the goat head away from the body with nothing but brute strength, before they leapt back in tandem as the monster disintegrated into dust.

There was no moment for a respite, no moment to even try and heal their wounds. Chimera venom churned through Hades’ essence, uncomfortable in the extreme, but he could do nothing but force it from his mind as he and Apollo stuck to each other like glue and forced a path through the monsters to where Bob was fending away a winged sow.

The titan was holding his own reasonably well. Unlike Hades and Apollo, however, he had not attempted to move closer, leaving a yawning chasm directly between them, and an entire host of monsters blocking their way around the ever-increasing edge. Large chunks broke away and fell in, widening the maw, whose edges were sharp and jagged, not too dissimilar to Charybdis in the sea of monsters.

It was not a favourable comparison.

Hades and Apollo managed to almost battle their way through the myriad of hellhounds, empousai, and other insignificant creatures to Bob’s side – the titan noticing their approach and attempting to herd the pig back in their direction – but Tartarus was far from done with them.

With a roar that would have been earth trembling if Tartarus was not already completely unstable beneath their feet, a gigantic lion with sharp teeth, sharper claws, and a coat that gleamed golden barrelled into them from the side, almost immediately followed by a seven-headed hydra which went straight for Apollo, hissing fiercely as each of its heads struck in rapid succession but no predictable pattern. Hades couldn’t spare the time to see how well his nephew evaded the multiple heads as the Nemean Lion turned on him, bodily trying to force him back into the makeshift jaws of Tartarus while its own jaw did its best to tear him to shreds.

The coat, famed for its impenetrability, held up even against Stygian Iron, leaving Hades in a battle of pure strength as the Lion snarled and tore at him with teeth and claws alike, scoring armour and tearing through souls to leave deep gashes that leaked ichor steadily. Nothing Hades could do seemed to affect it, an insult given that he knew Herakles had defeated the creature with his bare hands. Its mouth seemed to be an obvious weakness, but the beast was canny enough to never open it except at the last possible moment before it tore out a chunk of either Hades’ armour or Hades himself.

A silver spear thrust past his cheek as the lion lunged for another bite, and with a roar that turned into a yelp, the beast impaled itself on Bob’s weapon as the titan finally reunited with them.

“This is bad,” Bob observed unnecessarily as Hades jammed his sword between the spear and the inside of the lion’s mouth, before he and the titan pulled their weapons in different directions, tearing the beast apart from the inside out. It burst into dust, without even having the courtesy to leave its spoil of war behind; an impenetrable cloak would have been incredibly useful.

Apollo stumbled into Hades’ back, swearing at the hydra in a variety of Ancient Greek dialects as it pursued him. It did not appear to have gained any extra heads, but neither did the array of arrows in each head appear to have killed any of them. Instead, they all seemed angrier than ever.

Bob batted them away with his spear.

“We need to get out now,” the titan said, and neither Hades nor Apollo had any argument against that fact, for all that it was far easier said than done.

All three of them were injured, although none so much that it affected their ability to move or fight. Tartarus, however, refused to let them stand on stable ground, rearranging beneath their feet constantly with no pattern Hades could predict. It was still a long way until they reached a viable exit, with at least two more river crossings to navigate, and it was undoubtable that Tartarus would not stop hounding them until they escaped – or were defeated.

Still, they ran, mowing down all the smaller monsters that sprung up in their path with a combination of sword, spear and arrows. Most fell easily, with other monsters closer to the calibre of that of the chimera or the hydra still pursuing them taking more effort and costing them more ichor in return. The hydra continued to be a nuisance, its heads refusing to die of arrow wounds while Hades and Bob were unable to cause much damage without risking more heads springing up in its place. It was also fast, snapping at their heels no matter how quickly they could run.

Then their dubious luck ran out.

Ahead of them, furious and stinger lashing, Kampê materialised. She still looked battered from their encounter, no doubt transported ahead of them by Tartarus himself, but whatever plague Apollo had inflicted upon her appeared to have passed.

“There is no escape!” she hissed. Both hands held a scimitar, while her grotesque midsection contained a third clawed hand which held her fiery whip. “You-”

Her voice gargled, suddenly cut off by a large arrow that had passed directly through her throat. It was not one of Apollo’s – Hades was highly attuned to his nephew’s weaponry and style of arrows after seeing so many of them fly, and beyond the basic shape, it had nothing in common.

The shaft was ice-white where Apollo’s were a mild gold. Fletching a colour closer to ice blue than Apollo’s bright gold surrounded the bulkier butt of the arrow, while the tip glinted with the tell-tale purple-black of Stygian Iron. It was more reminiscent of the arrows Hades had witnessed Orion using, but surely even with Tartarus actively interfering, the giant could not have regenerated so quickly.

That said, even if Orion was back, Hades could see no reason for him to fire upon Kampê. The giant would go for Apollo first.

“A useful tool,” a voice commented, carrying well despite not being unduly loud. “I can see why you created this, grandson.” More arrows flew, whispering past Hades and thudding into Kampê’s chest, but Hades’ attention was taken by the owner of the voice – a familiar voice, for all that he hadn’t heard it in millennia – and realised that they had a whole new problem.

Ice blue, the colour of glaciers that hadn’t melted in at least as long and had no intention of doing so any time soon, appeared in his periphery and despite his better judgement, Hades turned to face it directly. By his side, Apollo appeared to be struck numb, gripping his bow as though he feared it was about to be taken away from him.

Bob, on the other hand, had no such qualms. “Brother!” he greeted as he once again bashed back persistent hydra heads.

“Iapetus,” Koios – another titan, the titan of the north and not one that had ever had his memories wiped and personality reset by demigods, luck and the Lethe – greeted near cheerfully. At his waist sat the almost too-large sword Hades remembered from millennia ago, but in his hand was a massive longbow, taller than the titan himself, and the colour of Stygian Ice. It could not actually be made of the material, otherwise it would have shattered after one use, but to see a titan with a weapon that had not existed the first time he had walked the Overworld was deeply concerning. “You weren’t planning on leaving me behind, now, were you?”

“It’s Bob, now,” the other titan corrected. Koios snorted.

“Why you helped the demigods that did that to you I have no idea,” he said, “but very well, brother, if you wish to use their pet name for you instead.”

Next to Hades, Apollo twitched, a fraction of a pause between arrows before he sent more into Kampê’s still advancing body. The golden shafts were smaller than Koios’ icy imitations but no less dangerous as they hailed down on the monster. Hades didn’t trust Koios and his new, ranged weapon not to stab him if the back if he went to engage her directly, so with a pointed look at his nephew so that Apollo realised he wasn’t joining that fight, he instead joined Bob in beating back the hydra, careful not to behead it and increase their problems.

His nephew’s reaction to Koios’ words stuck with him, however, and Hades didn’t disagree with it. Unlike Bob, who had a record of helping demigods and even after regaining his memories still showed care for Nico and the other Tartarus explorers, Koios had never demonstrated any love for demigods at all.

Hades also could not see any reason why Koios would not attempt to continue his brother’s work in opposing Olympus, which meant that if he came out with them, they would be facing an unwelcome additional problem – and any goodwill they might have been able to eke out of Zeus, as laughable as that idea already was, would be completely overridden and obliterated by the fact that they were responsible for yet another threat to Olympus rising.

“Why did you take so long to join us, Koios?” Bob asked, leaping up as a hydra head lashed out at his feet. “You have been following us since the Lethe, at least, have you not?” Hades ducked down as another two heads struck at his neck, which still burned from the chimera’s poison, and pushed away three more with the flat of his blade when they went for his midsection. The silver tip of a spear slammed into one above, and finally managed what Apollo’s arrows hadn’t as the head fell limp.

One head down, eight to go, with Kampê behind them and Koios’ intentions unclear, to say nothing of whatever else Tartarus had headed their way, because Hades was not naïve enough to think that a half-dead jailer was the climax.

No, Tartarus had far worse things to offer than that. They needed to get out before the full strength of hell was unleashed.

Somehow.

“Before then,” Koios corrected. “The godlings caught my attention when my grandson went supernova where the rivers meet. I simply wanted to be sure that they were truly trying to rescue you, and not just providing lip service to appease the prophecy.” Ice-blue flitted past Hades’ periphery, and Kampê let out an outranged shriek as metal clashed with metal.

“I know better than that!” Apollo protested, but the titan snorted.

“You already interfered by taking your son’s place,” Koios dismissed. “Phoebe did not gift you Delphi so you could pick and choose who her prophecies regarded, grandson.”

Hades ducked back from the hydra, spinning on the spot so that the latest attack went past him and impaling one of the heads as they did so. Two heads down. His change of position gave him a glimpse of Koios, whose massive sword had just cut straight through Kampê’s midsection.

The monster gave one last outraged screech before exploding into dust.

It took Apollo and Koios barely a moment to turn their attention to the hydra, the titan once again resorting to his bow – when had he learned to shoot one of those so accurately – as a hail of golden and icy arrows descended upon the multi-headed beast. With two gods and two titans on the offense, the hydra was quickly outmatched and lost function in each head, one by one, until there were no living heads left.

“Lead the way,” Koios said immediately, shouldering his bow. Unlike Apollo, he had no quiver of arrows, clearly relying on materialising them as needed. “You have an exit plan, do you not?”

Hades bristled. “Why do you think we’ll let you come?” he demanded. “Bob is one thing, but you-”

“You will,” Koios said, a cocky grin on his face that screamed a surety that Hades wanted to eliminate. “I will see the skies again, with my brother, my grandchildren, and you.” Derision dripped from the last word; clearly Koios was not impressed with his presence in whatever future vision the titan of knowledge and heavenly prophecy had seen.

“The future is not set in stone,” Apollo said quietly, his voice taking on the same tone Hades had heard so many times before, whenever anyone tried to interpret prophecies before it was time.

“Some things are,” the titan corrected. “You are still young, grandson, and have much to learn about the vastness of prophecy.” He put a hand on the hilt of his sword, straightening his stance so that they could see his entirely uninjured form. “Besides, I do not think you are in any position to decline an offer of help.”

Hades scowled, irritated that the titan wasn’t wrong, but it was Apollo who caved. Of course it was, after Styx’s words. William’s fate rested on Apollo getting back out of Tartarus, else the Styx would have him.

There was no way on Olympus that Apollo would let that happen, even if it meant making a tentative alliance with a titan with unknown motives.

“Fine,” his nephew snapped, clearly unhappy. “We’re wasting time discussing this.” He stalked forwards, drawing Hades’ attention to the fact that Tartarus had stopped assaulting them, almost as though the primordial had been waiting for their decision.

It was a reprieve that wouldn’t last long, but they would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

“I look forwards to working with you, grandson,” Koios grinned, following on his heels. Unhappy but aware that there had been no other sensible choice – Koios might still turn on them, but refusing his help would have guaranteed it – Hades strode to catch up, Bob at his side. He couldn’t read Bob’s thoughts on his brother joining them – the titan seemed to have no quarrel with Koios, but they clearly disagreed on the fundamental matter of how they viewed demigods.

Bob would protect Nico, and likely Perseus and Athena’s daughter besides. William would almost certainly be included in his protection once the nature of his relationship with Nico was revealed.

Koios clearly had no love for demigods, and Hades suspected he could go as far as being actively hostile towards them, much like Kronos had been, if it suited him.

“My name is Apollo,” the younger god corrected sharply.

“Are you that eager to deny our relation?” Koios returned. “I’d ask how your mother is, but I believe you haven’t seen her in a long time.” The accusation was pointed, and Apollo’s posture was stiff. “I’m looking forwards to seeing her again, under the sunlight. It’s been a long time.”

Tartarus heaved.

Beneath them, chasms gaped, spewing sulphur and lava out of nothing. Hades darted to one side, vaguely aware of the other three similarly dodging the suddenly ever-changing scenery as their reprieve came to a sudden and violent end. They didn’t get a chance to regain their balance before something clawed its way out of the largest lava pit, completely unaffected by the lava, sulphur, and shaking ground.

Hades had seen it before, but he had never fought it, and had never intended to.

“Run!” he snapped, pushing himself across several erupting fissures at once, feeling it tear at his form but bearing it no heed as he reached Apollo. His nephew needed no prompting, having actually once fought the monster and clearly not eager for a rematch. Hades didn’t know what the titans were doing and didn’t particularly care, either, as a blast of fire caught the two gods from behind, charring their armour and blistering their skin.

It hurt, but worse was the icy grip of fear that settled in the centre of his essence, reminiscent of millennia ago. Hades hated it; how a single foe could reduce him down to sheer blind terror as he ran, one hand gripping Apollo’s arm – or perhaps it was his nephew grabbing his arm as they ran.

Behind them, Typhon roared, the sound reverberating through his innumerable heads.

Ahead of them, a woman cackled.

“Poor, pathetic godlings.”

Hades and Apollo almost ran straight into her serpentine coils. Echidna grinned down at them, her fangs sharp and glistening with venom. “There’s no escape for you, or your titan friends,” she told them, and Hades barely got his sword up before her tail lashed out, throwing him backwards, towards the advancing form of Typhon.

“Hades!” Apollo yelled, his voice shrill with a terror he’d never heard his nephew emit before, but Hades couldn’t respond as the too-many fingers of one of Typhon’s numerous hands grasped him and crushed.

A streak of gold hurtled past him, bright in a way that could only be one being, and Hades drove his sword into the fingers holding him, flaring his entire essence, Tartarus’ toxicity be damned. If he held back even a fraction, he would be destroyed.

Typhon had once taken Zeus down, the only being to ever manage it. Hades was no weaker than his younger brother, but he was still outmatched, even without Echidna’s presence.

He burst into pure essence, losing his form entirely to slip out of Typhon’s grip and hurriedly reforming something to land on his feet. It wasn’t his usual form, was barely a form at all, but it had feet to stand on, a hand to hold his sword, and a head to bear his Helm, and that was the bare minimum Hades needed.

Fighting was foolish. Even working together, the four of them would never defeat the mother and father of monsters in their already weakened state, disadvantaged by the terrain itself working against them consciously and maliciously. Escape was the only option.

Escape was as impossible as winning.

Somehow, Hades found Apollo again, his nephew’s golden glow partially from his essence and partly from the ichor liberally coating what was left of his form. His bow was broken.

“Both at once?” It was resignation more than a complaint.

“Overkill, I know,” Echidna’s voice floated from above them before a bullet of silver crashed into the ground beside them, narrowly missing an opened vent of lava. “But it’s been so long since my husband and I had some fun together. This is our first date in several millennia, you know!”

There was no way Tartarus had mistimed the vent beneath Bob. They were being toyed with, and Hades did not appreciate that in the slightest.

A moment later, Koios joined Bob in a crumpled heap, the titan hauling himself back to his feet shakily. His ice-blue visage was coated with golden ichor. “Isn’t this a bit much?” he grumbled. His bow, like Apollo’s, was broken, but he hefted his sword, arms shaking but still determined. Beside him, Bob wielded what was left of his spear, jagged where it had been broken mid-shaft.

The fact that they’d all been herded together spoke to how outclassed they were; there were very few things that could stand up to the combined might of two gods and two titans, but already Apollo could barely stand, Hades’ form was half-formed at best, and the titan brothers were staggering despite their best efforts. Echidna and Typhon had no fear of them at all.

“Well, my dear?” Echidna wondered, slithering closer and looming over them all. “Which one do you want to tear apart first?”

Chapter 27>>

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