Eddie and Polanski were immediately taken to the camp's armory following the end of dinner.

Nico di Angelo had volunteered himself to escort them, having found the pair after conversing with Hazel. He led them to the outer edge of the crowd of campers and told them that they needed to be fitted with armor and a weapon if they were to join in the war games, otherwise they would be skewered to death by their own lack of protection and intellect.

The camp's armory was located between the bathhouse and a large grange-like building that was labeled FORGE. Outside of the armory were the ghosts of three Roman soldiers, whose appearances were that of their death — an arrow through the eye, a slit throat, and a severed hand. Their wounds were bloodless but, nevertheless, still gruesome. Because she didn't know or care to learn their names, Eddie decided to nickname them based on their wounds: Bullseye, Cutthroat, and Handy.

Bullseye sat on a semi-dilapidated crate, polishing his sword, which was just as much of an apparition as he was. The other two stood by the door, conversing with each other. Cutthroat laughed at something Handy said. Bullseye grinned but didn't look up from cleaning his weapon. They spoke in a language Eddie didn't understand but heard often enough to know what it was: Latin.

When Nico went to walk past them, the three soldiers welcomed him with benign congeniality, something Eddie wasn't expecting. Polanski commented on it in French to her when they thought he wouldn't be able to hear them.

"Perhaps," Eddie replied to him in French, "death doesn't have any more secrets to reveal to us."

Polanski shrugged. "The call of the void, I guess."

"Guys," Nico called from within the armory. "Get in here. I'm not going to wait any longer."

Eddie and Polanski gave each other a look before walking in. Before stepping over the threshold, in her peripheral vision, Eddie saw Bullseye vibrate. For a second, it looked as though his entire form was quivering, like a shudder had gone through his ethereal being. When Eddie turned her head, though, it was simply the ghost of a deceased soldier. Polanski noticed her hesitation and simply gave her a small push inside.

The armory was large, but it was chock-full of bestrewn battle equipment. Metal and leather breastplates were propped on shelves that ran the entire perimeter of the room. Above them were helmets, plumed and ridged. Below the breastplates were leather and metal greaves, all with straps so they could be adjusted accordingly to the wearer's cnemis. A few racks near the back held a number of swords already in their scabbards. An entire wall was dedicated to shields, all hung up and polished, their sizes ranging from dinner platters to refrigerator doors. Four benches were lined up back-to-back in the middle of the room, with a round side table at each end for anything of miscellaneous importance.

Nico sat on one of the benches facing the door, his legs crossed and looking ultimately bored with Polanski and Eddie's gawking. A long black sword was leaned up against the bench by his leg.

He said, "Hurry it up and choose."

Eddie pointed at the sword. "Are you allowed to have that?"

He looked from her to the sword, and then back at her. "Yes," he said simply. "I made it."

"You made it?" Eddie made a flippant gesture with her hand. "Like, you actually forged that thing?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"You're, like, twelve."

"I'm, like, older than you think." Nico stood and grabbed the sword. "I'll be outside. Hurry up and get ready. The cohorts are marching to the Field of Mars and I am not missing the war games because of you guys."

He left then. Eddie could just hear him conversing with the ghosts.

Polanski shoved something heavy into Eddie's arms. She cursed at him but held onto it. It was a leather breastplate, complete with shoulder guards and padding underneath for maximum comfort and protection.

"Try it," Polanski told her. "I'll help with the straps."

"Thanks," Eddie said.

She slipped her arms through one at a time and held the chest against her as Polanski looped the straps through and tightened them. Eddie tested out the armor's durability by jumping up and down, twisting her torso, and bending over to touch her toes. When she stood up straight, Polanski had already picked out his and was already putting it on.

"You look fucking stupid," he said. He turned around and put his arms out. "Now me."

Eddie came up behind him and tried to mimic what he'd done to hers. "I hate this," she said. "I can't get the — never mind. Got it." She tightened the last of the straps and smacked the back of Polanski's shoulder. "There you go."

"Thanks," he said.

While Polanski tested out his breastplate's durability, Eddie scavenged the lower shelves for greaves. She grabbed two pairs and sat down on the bench to put on one of them. When she'd strapped them on, she kicked out her legs and looked them over.

"I just realized," Polanski said. He took a seat beside Eddie and started strapping on the other pair of greaves. "It's like we're all going on ahead to do some huge LARP thing. Like — you know?"

Eddie looked at him and said, "Don't you dare."

He grinned. "Let's role-play our way to victory."

She scrunched up her nose. "Can you not?"

Polanski laughed and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Come on," he said. "We still have to get weapons, right?"

"Yeah," Eddie said, "and helmets." The two of them stood and walked over to the weapons rack at the back of the room. "I'd rather just not. I'm still sore from training with Blake."

Polanski grabbed the hilt of a gladius and took it out from its post. He fastened it around his waist, so the sword's scabbard hung on his right. "Apparently we have to. I think it's a tradition thing that newcomers do."

Eddie scanned the rack. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with." She pulled out a sword of its post, one that was even shorter than the gladius. "At least I can actually hold this one." She wrapped the belt of it around her waist and secured it tight.

Because Eddie wasn't tall enough, Polanski grabbed a helmet for the both of them. When Eddie slipped hers on over her head, the embossed eyebrow ridge sunk low over her eyes, so she had Polanski switch it out for a smaller one. Both helmets were crested with red plumes. Eddie tilted her head back and forth and heard the plume swoosh along with her movements. Polanski reached up to run his hand over the top of his helmet's plume. He grinned.

Polanski and Eddie turned to face each other. They checked and rechecked their armor and greaves. The hoodie Polanski wore bundled awkwardly underneath his breastplate, so he'd pulled the hood out and flipped it up over his head. Eddie's T-shirt bunched uncomfortably at the sleeves, riding them up. Their entire appearance was a strange combination of twenty-first-meets-gladiator apparel, but it was convenient and, more so, safe.

A minute later, Nico came in to check in on them. He gave them a quick look-over.

"Good," he said. "You guys actually did it right. You've done it before?"

Eddie said, "Buckle straps." She delivered the statement matter-of-factly, like it was the answer to life itself.

Nico gave her a questioning look. "What?"

Before Eddie could say something, Polanski interrupted, asking, "Shouldn't we be going to the — the field you mentioned? The Mars one?"

"The Field of Mars," Nico confirmed. "Yeah, okay. Come on."

Nico led Eddie and Polanski out through the Praetorian Gate, the gate that led out of the camp's military provisional encampment toward New Rome. What Nico had called the Field of Mars was a large and flat expanse of valley that was bordered out yonder by a stretch of mountain ridges. The grass was brown and a stiff flooring that, although dead, looked freshly mowed. All around, the ground was pitted with precariously scattered bowl-shaped cavities and long, strait ditches. There were huge wooden stakes that were set up without certain reason all over the field, their tips tapered to a razor-sharp point.

The Second, Fourth, and Sixth Cohorts were situated into three separate groups of rows of three. Two members from each were at the front.

At the right of the mountain ridge was what Eddie assumed to be New Rome. It wasn't that far off, and she could just make out the blurred dots of city lights. Further out, if Eddie squinted hard enough, she could nearly make out a bridge, but with what she knew of ancient Rome from her Classics Mythology class, her assumption ruled it out as an aqueduct. Built on two levels with deep and lengthy depressions along it, it extended far beyond the mountains. But in the aqueduct's line of sight was something Eddie wasn't expecting — a military fortress.

"No," she said. Polanski and Nico looked at her, but they were close enough where she'd also caught the attention of a few legionaries in the ranks of their cohorts. "Nope. Uh-uh. This?" She gestured ardently at the fortress. "This is a death wish. I'd like to keep my life. I can still opt out, right?"

Nico snorted a laugh and said, "Not in your dreams. You've made it this far. Just try not to get yourself killed."

"Your vote of confidence is really helping," she said caustically.

"Can you at least tell us what that is?" Polanski asked.

Nico pulled his bomber jacket tighter on himself. "That's your target," he told them. "You, the Sixth, Second, and Fourth Cohorts are offense in this practice siege. Get the other team's flag and you win the game."

"Like some kind of extreme Capture the Flag?" Polanski looked at Eddie. "Doesn't sound that hard."

"It's not," Nico said, "unless you get injured. Don't do that."

"What do we do?" Eddie asked.

Nico furrowed his eyebrows, obviously irritated that he'd have to repeat what he'd just said. "Like what he said, you have to get the opposing team's —"

"Not the objective. The tactics." Eddie scratched the back of her neck. "How do we do this?"

"That's up to your centurions to decide," he said. "But since the Sixth Cohort isn't really a cohort, just ask a Roman camper. I'm sure they'll help."

Polanski flicked his gaze to Nico. "Thanks," he said. "Are you joining?"

Nico shook his head. "No, I'm observing with Reyna. Look-outs for a fair game and if anyone needs medical assistance or if anyone dies. That sort of thing."

"Mon dieu," Eddie mumbled.

Polanski shot her a quick glance before looking at Nico. "That's fine. Where's the Sixth Cohort?"

Nico pointed at the third-most mass of orange-wearing campers, all clad in both leather and metal armor, all wearing plumed helmets. "Orange is an easy giveaway. It's the camp's color."

"You've got a point there," Polanski said.

Eddie and Polanski caught up with the rest of the Sixth Cohort. They stood in the back, but because Eddie couldn't hear anything that was being said at the front or see above anyone's head without jumping, she decided to shove her way to the front or until she either found Aria or Finn. Polanski apologized in her drive forward.

Someone caught her shoulder and Eddie's immediate reaction was to swing her elbow back. She'd nearly clocked Aria in the throat, but she'd caught Eddie's arm just before any serious damage could be done.

Aria's eyes were wide under the helmet she wore. "You made it," she said, and let go of Eddie's arm. "And you almost hit your ally. Great start."

Polanski shouldered his way past a few campers. When he came to stand by Aria's side and evaluated the situation, he said to her, "She's sorry."

"No, I'm not," Eddie said. "I'm indifferent." She pointed a finger at Aria. "I'm pinning you to this. What're we doin'?"

"Oh, right." Aria turned around and took a step forward. She paused, however, and looked over her shoulder. "Let me get Issac. He's better at explaining this stuff." She turned back around and left, slipping past bodies nearly twice her size. Eddie was glad that she wasn't the shortest among those she'd met anymore.

"She's getting who?" Polanski asked.

"Issac," Eddie said. "I just hope he's not blind."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would you think he'd be blind?"

"I dunno." She shrugged. "It's a feeling."

"Your feelings are terrible."

"Only when I'm not sober."

Aria showed up a minute later. Following right behind her was a boy almost a head taller than her. His hair was the color of dirt and in an ultimate state of bedhead. His skin was a few shades darker than tan, and while one eye was a bright amber, the other was a dull brown. Heterochromia. But they were clouded, foggy, distant.

Eddie slapped Polanski's arm. "I fucking told you!"

"Told me what?" he demanded, a little taken aback by the sudden hit.

"Ivan — no. Issac?" The boy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, yeah. You're blind, aren't you?"

Issac stared at Eddie. "No?"

Eddie sagged her shoulders, disappointed.

Aria looked between the three of them. "Well, he can explain the siege. Larry and Hank are debriefing plans. Good luck." She disappeared into the crowd of Greeks and Romans, now that all three cohorts had merged into one big mass.

Issac was shouldered aside by a passing Roman camper. He said, "Let's get to the edge. I'll explain there."

At the edge of the crowd, it was just as loud, but there was more breathing room to move and speak.

Polanski was first, saying, "Nico pretty much told us. It's like Capture the Flag, or something."

"Yeah," Issac agreed, "kind of like that. But there's something else." He held up three fingers on each hand. "We've got the enemy —" he shook his left hand "— and we've got us." He shook his right. "Before, there were five, but ever since we've buddied with the Greeks, we get the Sixth. Even.

"We pitch three against three. Tonight, we do siege. We block. They attack. No. Sorry. We attack. They block." Issac stretched at the back of his neck. "You have to get the flags first."

"Who are we?" Eddie asked.

Issac looked at her. "Two. Three. Six."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Two. Three — what?" It took a moment, but Eddie realized that he was talking about the cohorts. "I thought it was the Fourth," she said.

"Reyna changed it," he said.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. All for all."

Polanski rubbed the side of his nose. "Continue," he said.

"Right…" Issac glanced down at the ground for a minute's thought. Just over the ruckus of noise from the mass of Greek and Roman campers, Eddie could hear a few voices speaking up; something about formations and infantry tactics. Issac continued: "This time we get Hannibal. He's the elephant used during the games."

"And that's it?" Polanski asked. "Get the banner and get out?"

"Sort of. Not only are you trying to get the opposing cohort's banner, but you're doing this while going against your own allying cohorts." Issac spread his fingers and entwined them together. "It's pretty much a dog eat dog game."

"Fantastic," Eddie said with fake enthusiasm.

Issac dropped his hands to his sides and shrugged. "It shouldn't be that bad. You guys're new to it. Maybe they can put you in the back as a call-up."

Polanski cocked his head a little. "A call-up?"

"Barrier troops," he reasoned. "Triarii. They're held in the back as — what do you call it?" Issac tipped his head to the side. Eddie wondered whether or not any of this was worth her time. And then, suddenly, he said, "What's another word for think?"

Polanski said, "Um," and then looked down at Eddie. "To strategize, maybe?"

Issac smiled. His teeth were straight. "Strategy men!"

Eddie arched a brow. "Strategy men?"

"You know," he said. "Back-holders."

She flicked her fingers in his direction and said, "You're not making any fucking sense."

"He's making perfect sense." Polanski looked at her. "You're being a bitch."

"Sorry," Issac apologized.

Eddie wouldn't atone to the fact that she felt guilty for having him apologize for something he didn't do, so she didn't mean it when she caught the odious tone in her voice when she said to him, "Don't say that. Keep it in your fucked up head."

Issac looked hurt. Eddie felt terrible.

Polanski clasped the back of her neck and pressed his fingers hard into her skin, demanding that she apologize. Eddie bit the inside of her cheek and ducked out of Polanski's reach. She'd make it up to Issac one way or another, but one insult wasn't going to break him. As far as Eddie was concerned, she had plenty of time. She wanted to do it on her own terms when she wasn't being forced.

Almost immediately, voices were being yelled and bodies were being moved. All at once, the single mass of three cohorts began separating into their given ranks. Issac ignored Eddie and wished Polanski good luck before returning to the Third Cohort. At the front of everything, a small group of campers huddled together. Polanski maneuvered Eddie toward where the Greek campers were. For reasons beknown to either of them, they found Jav and Chris.

"Hey," Chris greeted at their arrival. "You guys look good. Nothing's crooked."

"Buckle straps," Eddie said.

Jav grinned and held up his sword. "Ready for this?"

"Oh, yeah," she deadpanned. "Ready to die, for sure."

Polanski nudged her arm. He looked at Jav. "Sort of," he said. "Issac told us that it's pretty much everyone for themselves."

"Oh, definitely." Jav held up a hand and made the universal O.K. sign. "But it's great. You'll learn a lot from it. Battle tactics. Teamwork. Strategic thinking."

"And as long as we're not in the first rank," Chris said. "That's the absolute worst position to be in. It's equivalent to a pawn in chess."

"I'm kind of jealous," Jav said. "Ever since Gaia's defeat, the Fifth's been the prized cohort to be in. I mean, they've got Hazel and Frank. A witch and a damn shifter. I'm not sure we're gonna win this one."

"Gaia," Eddie deadpanned. "Defeated."

Jav's reply was simple: "Yes."

"As in the actual earth goddess?" Polanski asked.

Chris looked at him. "You don't know much, do you?"

"Apparently not… What happened?"

"Too much to say," Jav said. "Too little time to dwell. We still have to deal with Finn's plan first. If it works out this time."

Chris pursed his lips in displeasure. "We're doomed either way."

"Whose plan was it at the gym?" Eddie asked. She was speaking to Jav, but Chris chimed in with a, "What gym?"

Jav raised an eyebrow. "Kingsmen? That was mine. We used flash bombs. Hence the temporary blindness. Sorry 'bout that."

"Flash bombs don't kill."

Jav looked at Eddie and didn't drop his gaze. When it was apparent that he was waiting for her to understand what she'd just said, Eddie flicked her attention to Polanski and then back at Jav. The ordinary assured line of her mouth was twisted into something troubled.

"Flash bombs don't kill," she said again. And then, with more malice: "You're a fucking liar."

Polanski hooked his fingers underneath the back collar of Eddie's armor and yanked her to his side. Jav sent her a smug look.

Suddenly, horns blew. Eddie used the apparent distraction to take her helmet off and chuck it at the back of Jav's head. But he, too, wore a helmet but took a heavy step forward from the force of the impact. He turned around and caught the wild look in Eddie's eye.

A sly finger plucked a taut, anxious ligament within her. When Eddie blinked, the off-image of a camper in her peripheral vision seemed wrong, almost out of place. Too narrow. Too tall. No color; only the black edges of sight and withdrawal.

Not now, Eddie thought; desperately thought.

At a second glance, a second blink, nothing was strange at all.

Finn and Aria were soon to join and interfered between the stand-off. Polanski pulled Eddie aside and whispered to her in vicious French, "What the hell was that about?"

"Nothing," she said to him in English.

"Hey," Finn said assertively. "Can we all get along? Especially now? Great. So, here's the plan!" The last part he yelled, and the Sixth Cohort gathered around him and Aria. "We're splitting the cohorts up into three separate maniples. Greeks with Romans; Romans with Greeks. The first will be Wedge. Second will be Testudo. And third will be Cannae."

"Since we're attacking in cohorts," Aria said, "Larry will lead the wedge formation. Hank and Javael will lead the testudo formation. And Finn and Chris will lead the Cannae. We've got to break through their front lines and those ballistas before we can reach the fortress. Me aftó í se aftó!"

The Sixth Cohort erupted in an uproar of cheers and swords clashing against armor and shields. They broke into their situated ranks. Jav looked over his shoulder and gave Eddie a cheeky grin before shooting Polanski and her a two-fingered salute. He bounded off to wherever Hank was.

Eddie said, "I'm going to kill him."

"No, you're not," Polanski said. "Let's just see what we can do."

Aria and Finn were directing a few chosen Greek and Roman campers, either changing their positions from the back lines to the front or vise versa. Aria spotted them first. She told the camper she was talking to — Trevor, or something — that Finn would take care of explaining his role, and broke off to meet with Eddie and Polanski.

She said, "So, you guys know what to do?" at the same time Polanski asked, "What do we need to do?"

"Oh." Aria looked between the two of them. "Well, first off, don't go throwing your helmet like that. It's for your protection." Eddie shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "Finn and I are splitting up the Romans and Greeks into more equal groups. The Second Cohort is one of the largest, same with the Third, so we have to shake them down."

"I thought it wasn't a team sport," Polanski said. "Every cohort to itself."

Aria shrugged. "Yeah, but… it's better if we work together."

"Which is why I'm splitting the two of you up." Finn came to stand by Aria's side. He looked at neither Eddie nor Polanski when he said, "Polanski, Blake says you're decent with a sword. I'm putting you in with Chris and me. We'll be the last to advance."

Polanski looked uncertain. "That's fine," he said, "but —"

"Eddie," Aria said, "you're with me. We're going to be at the front with Larry and Issac." Eddie pursed her lips but didn't say anything. "It's our job to break through the opposing team's defense, so the rest —" she gestured between Polanski and Finn "— can pretty much overwhelm them."

Finn scratched his elbow. "Do we want to get the Mural Crown this time?"

"What's the Mural Crown?" Polanski asked.

"Some metal," he said. "You get it if you get over the fort's wall first. Kind of like a pat on the back for breaching their defenses."

"It's pretty important," Aria chimed in. "At least, for the Romans it is. We haven't been able to get it. Not yet. We're going to try tonight."

Finn arched his eyebrows and gave her a side glance. Not quite looking at her, but acknowledged what she'd said. "Tonight? Well, fine. If we can."

"You guys don't have a lot of confidence in yourselves," Eddie said. "Who're leading the front lines?"

"Larry and me," Aria said. "Were you even listening?"

Eddie tilted her head to the side as if she were pondering the thought. Eventually, she said, "No."

Aria looked ready to argue, but Finn spoke up before she had the chance to tell Eddie off. "I think it's time we got started." He placed a hand on Polanski's shoulder. "Let's go."

Eddie had never felt so overwrought than when Larry shoved a shield that was nearly half her height in her hand and told her: "Saddle up, newbie. Time to look alive." He sent her a wink and a half grin before jogging down the front line to yell out encouragements in Latin to his fellow legionaries. Aria had been unfruitful in deciding where Eddie would be held, positioning her in the last row, surrounded by a hoard of strangers who towered over her.

In her armor, Eddie felt heavy and uncomfortable. The breastplate and the greaves all seemed to add an extra ten pounds that she wasn't used to carrying. The helmet skewed the sides of her vision. The sword felt awkward in her hand — too heavy, the tip pointing downward. The shield was the heaviest; Eddie planned on ditching it as soon as they made it to the fortress. Eddie didn't look back to see if she could try and find Polanski. Instead, when the signal was given; it was a very long and high-pitched whistle that came from somewhere at the front, she squared her shoulders and marched forward with the rest of the Second Cohort.

Two thoughts became coexistent in Eddie's head. One was the real image: a hoard of maybe thirty or forty teenaged campers advancing in a triangular formation toward a heavily guarded military fortress that was fit with a lot of weapons Eddie only ever saw in movies. The other was a false image, a possibility: the Second Cohort breaking ranks and scattering due to a faulty shot of a ballista, the iron cap finding Eddie, killing her on impact.

Her throat was tight. Her chest ached.

"Hey."

A voice from someone Eddie didn't know was right beside her, the timbre of it strange and initially unrecognizable. Eddie didn't turn to look at whoever was trying to talk to her. Without her glasses, her vision was obscured, but only from afar. She saw bodies of campers moving back and forth at the base of the fortress, aligning themselves accordingly with the Second Cohort. Something creaked, far ahead. And then a high twang! And then —

"Hey!"

There was heavy movement. Eddie heard the clang of metal bouncing off of metal, very close together. Something shoved Eddie aside. The shield was heavier than she could withstand, and so she toppled on her side. She felt it first, something move in her elbow. A tendon, maybe, hopefully. But it hurt. Stung. It rippled up her forearm to the tips of her fingers like static.

Issac stood above her, clad in armor like all the rest. He was holding up a shield above him. Two metal rods with huge arrowheads were embedded in the ground at his feet. Eddie didn't know if there were supposed to have been three altogether, but a third arrow-headed bolt had lodged itself through Issac's shield, the tip mere inches from his head.

"You're an idiot," Issac said. He turned around and offered a hand to help Eddie up. "Are you okay?"

Eddie didn't know how to describe how it felt, to inadvertently predict a death that was seconds from happening, to know that in a bat of an eye, she could have gone from "being okay" to "being dead." She looked at his outstretched hand, contemplated between apologizing or coming up with an excuse for her earlier behavior, and then swatted his hand away. Eddie discarded her shield and helped herself to stand.

"Thanks," she said, sounding forced, but she meant it.

Issac regarded her with narrowed eyes. Eddie took that as a sign that she was far from being on his good side anytime soon.

He pointed at the fortress. "We're behind. Let's get it over."

Eddie wanted to ask, Get what over? but she was more concerned with finishing the war games as soon as possible. She wasn't sure how much time had passed; it could have been a minute, five minutes, half an hour. Eddie had a sneaking suspicion that Issac wanted this done as much as she did, maybe less obvious about it, but still so.

She retrieved her sword from where she'd dropped it when falling and sheathed it in its scabbard at her side. Her arms were still sore from Blake's training, but she disregarded all protest her muscles gave in favor of picking up the shield she thought she wouldn't have needed.

Issac was in a hurry, at least that was what Eddie could tell when he grabbed her arm and pulled her with him toward the fortress with the rest of the Second Cohort. The only way Eddie could tell the difference between who was against who were the plumed and rimmed helmets the campers wore. Plumed: offense. Rimmed: defense. It couldn't have been any easier than that. At the main gates of the fortress, shields were up when the defending team shot flaming arrows from machines that looked like huge crossbows.

By the time Eddie and Issac caught up with the front line, the Third and Sixth Cohorts were already marching their way forward. The Second had engaged themselves in what looked like an all-out war with the defending line of campers. They attacked the left-most flanks, breaking through the offensive ranks and rolling up the line to work over from the rear.

Three campers with rimmed helmets sprinted past them. Eddie's mental narrative took their defensive position as being an excuse to do the following: she crouched, bringing the shield back, and used the rim as a battering ram to knock the closest camper off his feet. He fell, his sword clambering out of his hand. His helmet came off when he hit the back of his head on the ground.

Issac whistled. "Nicely done."

Eddie stood but was nearly knocked off her feet when a tremor shook the ground. A large and heavy shadow swallowed up everyone in its wake. Eddie didn't have to look behind her to know what it was, all she had to do was look up. Up, up, up. The trunk and the tusks gave it away. Issac had mentioned that the attacking cohorts would acquire Hannibal, the elephant used during the games, but seeing and hearing were two different aspects.

Hannibal the elephant wore what Eddie thought looked like a bulletproof vest, specially designed to personally fit him. His face was covered with plated armor. An allied camper rode on his neck and lifted her sword and shield above her head. When she yelled, Hannibal let out a ghastly sound, something between a trumpet and an airhorn, and charged forward. Such a charge was based on pure force; Hannibal crashed into the defending enemy line, trampling and swinging his tusks. Those who were smart enough were knocked aside or forced back. The Third Cohort advanced then, parting around Hannibal and charging to aid the Second Cohort. Eddie saw even the very disciplined of Roman campers break ranks and flee.

The entire exchange was a clash of pandemonium. Bodies moved in uncoordinated movements. Arms were swung gripping the hilts of swords. The grating clamor of metal striking metal vibrated the eardrums. The earth shook to Hannibal's continuous strives at scattering the defending lines. Eddie followed Issac through it all. Their teamwork was discreet and imperceptible, but it was enough to get them past defending campers and snared bolts.

Something exploded to the far right. Chunks of dirt and dead grass were launched precariously, causing both sides to get hit.

Issac said something, Eddie didn't know what, but it was apparent he meant the main gates. There weren't many guarding it. Maybe four, give or take a few standing at their hand. Eddie tried to remember what she'd learned from Blake's training, but the only thing she could remember from their late-morning session was sore arms and Blake making a fool out of her. If there was anything Eddie was good at, it was her insistent provocation and what Blake had called her "false bravado."

Adrenaline was both superficial and atrocious all in the same. Eddie had the urge to go, go, go. Her peripheral vision skewered with the intent of one objective: taking out those guarding the main gate. While Eddie worked face-to-face with one guard, Issac managed with another.

Eddie ducked beneath a swiped blade. She breathed out, pivoted on the balls of her feet, and punched the kid clean across the face. His head snapped to the side, staggering in that direction. Another kid guarding, maybe a friend of his, stopped himself from charging Eddie and physically flinched when knuckles met jaw. He looked at her and held up his hands.

"Fine," he said. "Fine, fine. Let me just — gods. Let me just help him." He settled his weapon and shield on the ground by his feet. He came up to the kid, checked his pulse, and when he was sure he was still alive, hooked an arm around his middle and hoisted him to his feet.

"Brutal."

Eddie jerked at Issac's sudden acknowledgment of himself. She looked at him, a crease between her brows.

"Don't do that," she said, and then looked ahead. "I really should have listened to Blake. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"You're honest, at least."

In front of the both of them, the fortress's west wall loomed. The fortification was constructed in a way that impeded escalation. Those who were smart brought ladders, but it seemed as though the defenders above were even smarter.

There were two-floor openings between the supporting corbels of each battlement. Each was manned by at least one to two defenders. If anyone from the opposing cohorts came forth, they would drop anything down upon them: ice-cold water, heavy rocks, and even maple syrup.

"Oh!" one camper exclaimed. She'd gotten herself into a very sticky situation, having been doused with syrup from head to toe. "Gross! This is going to take days to get out!"

"Sorry!" hollered down a defender, who then proceeded to pour another barrel of syrup over the edge. This time the girl dodged out of the way. Not that she needed to, though.

Issac looked up, up, up the western wall, narrowing his mismatched eyes. Eddie followed his gaze and, just past the farthest edge of the fortification, was Aria. She was on the ground, with two to three other allying campers surrounding her, fending off attacks from any of the defending Romans. In her hand was a long, thick rope that coiled into a small pile at her feet. She held the rope about a foot from the grappling hook that was attached to the end of it and swung it in a large circle around her body.

After a few good swings, Aria released the hook at an appropriate angle, in which it made a designated arch towards the very top of the fortress. It must have stuck because Aria gave the rope a good couple tugs and it didn't give.

One part of Eddie saw Aria climbing up the knotted rope, one foot-hold at a time, and making it over the battlement without any complications.

The second part of Eddie saw Aria halfway up the knotted rope, one foot poised on a haphazardly lopsided foot-hold, one vigorous-gripped hand clasped with pressed-white knuckles, with an arrow aimed at her heart and a staggering landing to the ground below her.

The third part of Eddie saw an opposing Roman camper with a gladius as they braced their blade beneath the rope, cutting it until the fibers tore apart and allowed Aria to fall the rest of the way down.

The fourth part of Eddie realized these second-thought visions was her mind overthinking the grand possibilities. She turned to Issac, telling herself that she needed a distraction. Issac was no longer at her side, but rather inching his way towards the unguarded gates of the fortress. Eddie followed after him.

"Okay," she said as she caught up with him. "What now?"

Issac side-stepped a pair of campers who were caught in a coupled battle of the fittest. He crouched low and reached out to grab a shield. He'd lost his, apparently. Eddie hadn't been paying much attention. Issac hauled it up.

"We brace ourselves," he said and then covered himself with the shield.

At first Eddie didn't understand, but it didn't take her long to figure it out. One minute there was just the cacophony of metallic clamber, and the next: a large, aching split of something very hard barreling into something very much made out of wood.

Eddie raised her shield, straining her arm against its weight. Wooden shrapnel was blown outward and to the sides. Although their faces and upper bodies were unharmed, Eddie could feel the sharp pieces graze her thighs.

I'm going to regret this, she told herself. I should have stayed in bed today.

"Hold!"

Issac started to lower his shield, so Eddie did the same.

"Ready!"

Aria was just beginning to climb up the eastern corner of the fortress. The green-haired boy from earlier made an attempt on attacking her as she was busy fastening a foot to a foot-hold, but he didn't even get within ten feet of her before Finn appeared before him and swatted his sword out of his grip and swept him to off of his feet in one fluid motion.

"Aim!"

Eddie spotted Polanski in the mottled sea of plumed and rimmed helmets. He was a ways off, huddled between a three-way quarrel of him defending himself against two rimmed-hamlet Romans and trying not to get himself squashed by Hannibal.

"Fire!"

Two arrows were launched from either side of Hannibal, both directly aimed towards the fortress, right above the battlements.

All at once, Eddie noticed multiple things:

How dark it had gotten since the start of the war games.

How the arrowheads weren't regular metal but rather rocket-nose-shaped and bulbous.

How her breathing was drowned out by the clashing of metal against metal in the field.

How hot and how uncomfortable it was to wear a sweater while running around.

How incredibly attractive some of the campers were.

The bulbous rocket-nose-shaped arrowheads cracked, flashing superficial light from within them. There was a distinct, echo-like popping sound that followed. And then the entirety of the sky was flooded with such a bright, blinding light that nearly everyone close enough had to shield their eyes, even those far off in the rear quarters of the formations.

Eddie ducked beneath their shield. Tendrils of light veered past the shield itself. The entire thing was tremendous.

There was the sound of movement, of feet scrapping against rutted, dead grass, and Eddie followed.

Tried to follow, at least.

The battle had gone to hand-to-hand and had settled closer to the base of the fortress than was comfortably necessary for the defending cohorts. Distinguishing sides via helmet type didn't seem like a good idea after most campers had lost theirs the further they fought. Eddie thought hers was a pain in the ass anyway, but that didn't stop someone from the offshoots of the fight to try and plunge their sword at her.

Eddie still had her shield up, because the light was still blinding up above, and with a simple pivot to try and see where Issac had gone off to, something heavy hit and she was forced to the side from the impact.

"Hey!" she yelped and then unsheathed her own sword in an attempt to ward them away.

The thing about being new and on the opposing team was that it seemed as though you were always the target, even though Eddie had no idea what she was doing. She just kept going, following where Issac had gone, hoping people would leave her alone long enough to not get killed this time around.

This lasted a whole minute before Eddie caught up to Issac.

Shields were up and hooked together like a walled screen on either side of this wooden structure that Eddie thought was a battering ram. It was this immense beam, like the kind from a ship's mast, with the end facing the gates covered with a huge slab of iron that was in the shape of a ram's head. The entire thing was suspended from another beam like a balance arm by cables around its middle, which was then supported at both ends by posts fixed in the ground.

It took nearly ten campers to draw the ram back, who then all pushed it forward in unison with as much strength that they could give while simultaneously worrying about any defending campers attacking them.

The ram's head struck the closed gates.

There was a rumbling noise within the fortress.

The ram's head struck the closed gates a second time.

There was a low, trumpet-like noise from within the fortress.

Someone yelled, at the top of their lungs, "Again!" and, at the same time the ram's iron head struck the main gate, the heavy wooden doors splintered and Hannibal came barging out.

No. Hannibal was situated at the rear of the battering ram. This was just another elephant. How it had managed to stay inside the fortress was beyond Eddie. It was much too big for it to fit inside of it, anyway.

Campers scattered. The battering ram was crushed into a shredded mess of fractured wood. Nothing was worth any use. This new elephant mirrored Hannibal, albeit the armor. It charged forward and head-butted right into Hannibal. Trunks were swung. Tusks were thrust.

"Oh, what —"

The blinding light still resided like the sunniest evening there was. It had dulled down enough where one didn't need to cover their eyes. And it was an enough distraction, along with the sudden arrival of the second elephant, that Eddie took the opportunity to head straight for the gate's busted opening.

Getting inside the fortress was a trap.

Everything seemed like a trap nowadays.

The First and Fourth Cohort standard-bearers sat around a table playing some card game. There was the girl who wore the lion's pelt, which was currently draped over the back of the chair she sat in. The pole with the golden eagle she'd held before was leaned up against the wall behind her. There was also the boy who wore the wolf's pelt, who still wore it as a headdress with the wolf's mouth engulfing his head. The LEGXX pole he'd held earlier was perched beside's the girl's pole.

But it wasn't them Eddie was worried about.

Blake was among them, along with Jav. For some reason, it had never occurred to her that they'd be guarding the banners, which were lined up precariously against the back wall with the other two standards.

Issac came up beside Eddie and narrowed his eyes, blinking, probably due to the sudden change of brightness.

"Oh," he said, then looked at Eddie. "We're done for."

Author's Note:

So, I've said this before, but I apologize for not updating in such a long time. Stuff's been happening, but at this point, it doesn't really matter, since the chapter's up now.

A couple characters were either cut due to either time and/or plot-line.

Apparently these chapter take me longer to write, especially between work and school, but I'll try not to leave it on such a long hiatus.

This chapter was more of a War Games: Part 1, so you can expect the next chapter to be a Part 2.