Chapter Eight

Eryx lived in a rather nice hut, all things considered. It also seemed like he had a wife, and small children running around. Or rather, small compared to him. They were about the size of a normal Trencher, but the chieftain had told him that they would grow still. Eryx told him about the town he was in, which had been under the control of his clan for thousands of years. He was the thirty-first chieftain since Pontus forced them into the Trenches.

"So, what do you call yourselves?" Percy asked in the old tongue, which was coming back to him the more he used it. "We know you as the Trenchers, but I assume you have a name for your people?"

"Not really," Eryx shrugged, "my people are not united, not like the overworld. Most factions are known by the name of the clan who rules them. For instance, I belong to Clan Laphanes, so my people are known as Laphanians. There are the Delopendans, Telysians, Biasans, and hundreds of other clans."

"Which ones are attacking us?"

"The exiles," Eryx said, causing Percy to arch an eyebrow, "there is enough conflict to keep us down here forever. In fact, many of us are content to do so, but there are some, who you would call radicals, who believe we need to reclaim the world for ourselves. Some of the clans agree, and that is when you have the larger assaults. I believe that we have been down here for so long that it is our new home. We have no need to return to the surface. We are not suited for it anymore."

"Why were you driven down here anyways? Proteleus didn't know and he's been fighting your kind since the Protogenoi drove you down here." Percy stated with a frown.

"My kind were… brutal, in the past, let us say. I only know what the shamans have told us, which is in turn what they have been told over the generations," Eryx said carefully, "I believe that we tried to usurp the old gods, who you call the Protogenoi. It was a brutal war. Once, my people could be found on all corners of the earth, and we numbered in the trillions. Now, we are but a few billion."

Percy wanted to laugh, or maybe cry. For anyone else, having a population of a few billion would be considered normal, but the genocide required to bring trillions of beings down to a few billion? It was a horrifying thought. He had known the Protogenoi were brutal, but this? This was a crime, a stain on the history of immortals. No wonder none knew of it.

"I'm sorry," Percy stated, "for what it's worth, I fought two wars against the children of the Protogenoi. Killed my fair share of them."

Eryx shrugged again.

"It was many years ago. Even the grandfather of my grandfather had never seen the surface world. Nor had his grandfather," Eryx replied, "this is the only life my family has known, and it will be the only life we continue to know. I have no desire for a war."

"Yet you have soldiers," Percy pointed out, "the men who captured me were better trained than any other Trencher I've ever fought. Organised, too."

"Oh, all the ones you fight are organised," Eryx laughed, before tapping his forehead, "we have an instinctive ability to fight together, even when we fight alone. Sometimes, we need not even communicate to work together. Do you not have the same skill?"

"In some, it can be trained, after many years working together," Percy answered, "some are without hope."

"Hmm, your kind has certainly changed from the tales." Eryx mused, "I never expected gods to be able to break bones."

"Oh, I'm not a god," Percy replied, and Eryx recoiled in surprise, "I'm the son of one, and I can't die, but in all other respects, I am mortal."

"That is—how is that possible?" Eryx asked, leaning forward.

"Truthfully, I have no idea," Percy admitted. "I just kind of… came into existence, I suppose. Many have tried to kill me. Some should have succeeded. None have so far."

"That is amazing!" Eryx stated, before his eyes dulled, almost as if he was squinting. "But surely it is a curse as well? I cannot imagine outliving all my friends, my family. Sometimes, it must haunt you, no?"

"Sometimes it does," Percy affirmed, "but I move on, and value my friends while I have them."

"Sounds positively miserable."

"Oh, it most certainly is, but what other choice do I have? Wallow in my misery? All that leads to is sadness."

Eryx nodded at him, as if Percy had said the wisest thing in the world.

"I will help you find your way back to your family, but I have a favour to ask, first." Eryx stated nervously.

"Well, you haven't tried to kill me yet, and you've been remarkably polite, so I'm willing to listen." Percy replied.

"I told you that I have no wish for war, and that is true," The Trencher leader said, blinking as he spoke, "but my people have been attacked several times by the other clans, and despite training my guards and soldiers well, we are by far one of the smaller clans. If my people keep getting attacked, I'll lose their trust, and they will flee to the others, the ones who would assault the surface world. I wish to prevent that."

"And how do I fit in, exactly?" Percy asked, "not that I'm not willing to help, but I'll need a bit more than just 'I need a favour.'"

"My scouts can pass where you cannot, find the correct routes to take to the surface, but I cannot risk sending them while my home is besieged by the other clans." Eryx told him. "I need help to protect my home and get rid of the other clans. Fighting is the only way I know how, and while my men are fighters, they aren't killers. Forgive me if this offends you, but you are quite clearly a killer and a fighter. I need both."

"An interesting proposal," Percy said, not betraying his feeling on the subject matter. "Let's discuss it further, no?"

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In the end, Percy agreed to help Eryx's tribe, for a few reasons. Chief among them was that the Trencher clearly didn't want war with Percy's family, which was always a good sign. The second was that he hadn't tried to kill Percy yet, and as far as civility went, that was also a good sign. Third, he had been rather polite with him, and Percy didn't think he had lied at any point. It also helped that his requests weren't unreasonable.

He needed to protect his town, and to do that, he needed defences. There weren't any trees this far under the earth, but there were large creatures that had bones and shells that could be fashioned into makeshift barricades. Eryx had hunters to do that, but he needed to ensure that they wouldn't be assaulted by rival tribes, so Percy was sent to deal with them, which naturally meant lots of killing. It was like he said to his father, he didn't like doing it, but he was very good at it.

There was an outpost in a tunnel that led to another cavern system, preventing the Laphanes hunters from reaching their prey. It had caused a bit of a food shortage as well, so Percy was willing to help.

As he crawled to the perimeter of the camp, he couldn't help but muse about how ironic it was that he was helping a race he had previously considered one of his more hated foes. Only he would end up in this situation. He loved that about himself. He slowly climbed up the sides of the tunnels, reaching a little nook in the side of the walls that let him observe the Trenchers that occupied the fort he had been sent to take.

Well, fort was a misnomer. It was a small wall stretching from one side of the tunnel to the other, with a gate in the centre that was flanked by a small tower on each side. Trenchers with short bows made of Chitin and bone scanned the pathway leading to the gate, but they didn't bother glancing above them on the walls of the tunnels. That would be their mistake. Percy knew he could just create a concentrated earthquake, bring the walls tumbling down and storm in, killing the survivors, but he wanted to minimise the damage as much as possible. This outpost could come in handy to the Laphanes later. Instead, Percy slowly inched his way across a tiny outcrop on the tunnel walls, before silently dropping down into the camp.

The first guard he encountered wasn't expecting him, and Percy made quick work of him, snapping its neck, before dragging it behind a pile of shells. Three more guards fell in a similar manner before Percy pounced, making his presence known by cutting down another six Trenchers in rapid succession. The guards on the towers turned to face him, but both received a bullet-like spear thrown at them, the first one being caught in the chest, while the second one had the spear go right through his throat, getting stuck on the roof of the tunnel.

Percy kicked a Trencher right in the jaw, his armoured boot shattering it and snapping its neck backwards in one motion, his sword arcing out to his left, decapitating another of the creatures. Some of the Trenchers dropped their weapons and ran, and he let them. Others tried to fight back. They didn't succeed. Finally, the camp was clear, and Percy's senses flooded back, the bloodlust he had felt fading. That was when he smelt the smoke.

Percy frowned, looking around. There was nothing on fire that warranted a scent that strong. The only place large enough to produce that amount of smoke was—

He pivoted on his feet and clambered up one of the towers. Large amounts of smoke were drifting towards him from the route he had taken, the route that led straight back to the Laphanes camp. Percy swore before taking off in a sprint, running almost six miles at full blast, praying to every deity he could think of that he wouldn't arrive too late.

None of those deities were with him today. He slid to a halt as he exited the tunnel, the horror inside him growing. The tent-city of the Laphanes was on fire, and he could hear screams and cries. His mind automatically connected the scene before him with Troy, and a dozen other cities he had seen fall. He hesitated for a moment before leaping into action. He didn't owe the Laphanes tribe anything, truth be told, but he couldn't sit back and watch this. Not again.

He wasn't sure who was friend or foe in the smoke filled cavern, so he just defended himself whenever attacked, killing whoever dared to try and harm him. More than once he found himself simply disarming and knocking away some foes, for reasons he didn't fully understand himself. Was he recognising them subconsciously? It didn't matter, he was cutting his way to the centre of the camp, where Eryx's yurt had been. His eyes widened in horror when he arrived. There was a circle of corpses around the hut, guards who had tried to protect their chieftain, to no avail. That wasn't the worst of it, however. Impaled upon spikes where Eryx's children, each giving a silent scream to the world. The large Trencher himself had been crucified, and flayed, exposing red muscles for all to see. But he was still alive, there was a slight heaving of his chest, and his eyes blinked several times as he saw Percy.

Eryx's mouth opened and closed several times, no words coming out, and Percy moved to his side quickly, gently removing him from the cross. It still caused him pain, and he hissed several times before sucking in a deep breath.

"The—the horde did this," he rasped out, "trying to find you. I told them you had escaped me. They didn't believe."

"I'm sorry, Eryx," Percy said, "I didn't mean for this to happen to you."

"It is… no matter," Eryx replied, "what is done…. Is…. Done. But… promise me, Perseus Apollyon… kill…them…all."

"I will," he assured the leader, "every last one. I swear it. Now go to afterlife in peace, and see your family once more."

Eryx let out a shuddered breath, and then stilled. Percy laid him down on the floor gently, before rising to his feet. He looked around at the burning town, and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know what was different about this one. Was it that they had helped him? Did he see another Troy, another city that didn't deserve its fate? Percy opened his eyes. Trenchers were circling him, looking weary, and for the first time, he realised he was covered in blood and soot. It must have made an intimidating sight, even for the Trenchers.

He took in a deep breath, before observing the Trenchers around him. They were enemies, and he would kill them all.

MMXVIII

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