Ryker stood on the limb of a tree several hundred yards away from the borders of Camp Jupiter, his image dissolved in the gloom by the shadowy folds of his dark clothing. He made scarcely more sound than the wind itself as he looked over the camp, his face drawn and composed. His bow was held lightly in the hand that Orion had given him, his arrows on his back. He gazed over the camp, illuminated by torchlight, and watched the unknowing demigods go about their daily tasks seemingly without a care in the world. Ryker made a noise of disparagement and gave a slight shake of his head. He stepped off the branch and slipped down quietly to the forest floor. At the bottom of the tree stood Orion, his large red and black bow casually being rested on as a makeshift crutch. The Giant smiled slightly at the hunter and rolled his eyes. "Hey, don't be so angry." Orion offered good-naturedly, patting Ryker on the back and earning a fearsome scowl. "It's only death. It's not so bad, trust me."
"You resurrect in Tartarus." Ryker reminded him coldly. "If what you told me is true, this will not nearly be so easy for me."
"I don't know if anyone else has ever told you this, but nothing in this world comes easy. Especially the sort of freedom from the gods and their games that you so desire." Orion told him, mirroring Ryker's icy tone. "You've made enemies of both sides now."
"Because of your scheming." Ryker reminded him, scowling deeply. "Had you been forthright about Tartarus's plan for me in the beginning this might have gone differently."
"Maybe." Orion admitted. "But maybe not in a good way. Maybe he would have killed you outright. Or maybe the gods would have sank their claws in you again and dragged you back to answer their beck and call. It's best not to dwell on the past."
Ryker glanced up at the moon and sighed. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, opening his eyes and assuming an emotionless façade. "It's time." He told Orion, turning on his heel and striding off towards the camp. He paused right at the clearing's edge and glanced back at the Giant. "If they try to capture me you know what you have to do. And you had better be right about what's going to happen… after. Otherwise when I come back it won't be for Tartarus. It will be for you."
"How about you just focus on making it back first?" Orion suggested with a bark of laughter. "And try not to take too long."
With a sneer and another sound of disparagement Ryker slipped into the dark of the night and faded into the woods. He breezed past the sentries with barely more effort than walking a straight line. Neither of the demigods seemed even remotely aware of how close they had come to meeting with the very monster that had been terrorizing their camp. Once within the borders of the camp Ryker slowed his progress significantly. He knew his target, but he didn't know where his target was located. He had observed the camp for several days, carefully planning out this final assassination. Her schedule had been hectic at best, almost as though she purposefully did not want someone to figure out her pattern. Indeed, there had been no pattern as far as Ryker could tell. A group of demigods walked by where he stood, his dark clothing blending perfectly into the shadows at the edge of a tent. Within the medical tent he heard the familiar laugh of Will Solace as he joked with a patient. The sound made Ryker feel strangely nostalgic, but he brushed it aside. If his time alone in the forest had taught him anything it had been that everything died eventually. No hunter was strong enough to fight off the greatest hunter of all; death. Before death nothing could escape. No prey, no predator. Nonetheless, it was an odd thing for Ryker. To willingly walk to his death. All his life he had fought for survival, fought to live and now like some cruel joke he was throwing all of that away.
He crept around the tent without a sound and darted from one tent to the next, listening intently for the voice of the one he hunted. But each tent that he went to simply provided more and more disappointment. He had just reached the furthest tent from the point where he had infiltrated the camp when he heard someone clapping behind him. He whirled around and saw a woman garbed in a richly colored dress smiling pleasantly at him. "I had wondered when you would make another attempt." She informed him, slowly crossing her arms. Her smile slowly slipped from her face to be replaced by a slight glare. "Do you know how much you vexed me? I had been searching desperately to find the immortal who had been killing demigods. I had begun to worry that someone even more powerful with the earth than I had been enlisted as an ally by Orion. You can only imagine my relief and fury upon hearing from Camp Half-Blood that the killer was in fact a mortal. Therein lied my problem. I had been searching for an immortal. You are not. Although, I must give credit where it is due. You are quite skilled at hidden movement and silence. In addition, that clothing of yours is quite something. Even as I gaze upon you it distorts your image. If I didn't know you were there I might even be fooled."
The tent behind Ryker crumbled away, revealing a squadron of Romans hiding within. They were heavily armed with all of them leveling their weapons at Ryker. At their head stood Frank Zhang and Hazel Levasque, both of them glaring at Ryker with a level of hatred that only betrayal can bring about. The other tents crumbled away revealing similar squadrons of Romans and Ryker had to bite back a cold laugh. He had been caught well and truly. The very same tactic he had been planning on using against them had been twisted back upon himself. He scanned the area and his eyes lit upon his final target: Annabeth. She stood several tents down, a group of Romans at her back. Separating Ryker and her were no less than four dozen Romans. Poor odds no matter how skilled the fighter was.
"You traitor." Frank spat, disgust heavy in his voice. "And for what? To go back to your forest."
You mustn't let them know about our plan. For this to work you need to keep them convinced that you are still fighting against them. Otherwise the gods and Tartarus will grow wise to us. Orion's words rang in Ryker's ears, and he cut down the last vestiges of emotions that had threatened to form over his impending demise. "I told you, all of you, I wanted no part of your camps." Ryker told them coldly. "I had thought that you would understand me more plainly had I placed a few bodies at your feet."
"Why you…." Percy's face was white with rage and his grip on Riptide was so tight that the sword shook slightly.
Ryker finished the thought. "I suppose I just got a bit too carried away." He laughed, a long twisted laugh. "But what can I say? Easy prey is so fun."
That did it. The Romans attacked as one the instant that Frank gave the order. Thankfully Ceres deigned not to join the fray, merely assist. Ryker was instantly on the defensive, dodging spears and swords with all the skill that he possessed. He lashed out even as he dipped and dived, but his blows were useless. Plants sprang from the earth and intercepted his blows before they could land. The Romans seemed cheered by this as the first of them avoided certain death at Ryker's hands and renewed their attack. Had they been rational they would have formed a line in front of Ryker and taken calm shots at the hunter as he tried to close on them. But they weren't rational. Ryker had killed many of their number, and he had never been a popular figure at camp at any rate. Every Roman wanted their shot at the hated demigod, and Ryker had no choice but to oblige them. Within minutes he was sporting more than a dozen cuts and two particularly nasty stab wounds, one in his back and on in his side. His breath came in ragged bursts as he fended off yet another attack. He couldn't even muster the will to let out his reckless laugh. This fight was not one he wanted. Perhaps this is how the others feel when they fight. Ryker thought in a rare moment of empathy. The momentary distraction cost him yet another stab wound, in the abdominals this time. The owner of the spear in question was sent flying less than half a second later, but she left her spear in Ryker's midsection. He dragged the spearhead from his flesh, groaning and tossing it at another Roman as he was approached. Eager to press the advantage, another gutsy Roman darted forward and stabbed at Ryker's back. He twisted away but the sword still split the flesh between two of his ribs. Ryker grabbed the wrist of the offending swordsman and flipped him into a gaggle of his compatriots, the effort leaving him breathless and exhausted. He could feel the animalistic fighting instincts raging beneath the surface of his skin and the temptation to fall into them was heavy, but he knew that he couldn't. Losing control and dying without accomplishing his task would have been less than useless. He had been working through the Roman ranks, deeper and deeper in them. To an outside eye it would seem as though Ryker was simply trying his best to escape and had simply lost his bearings. But to Orion, who watched from the trees several hundred yards away, he had to give the demigod credit. Ryker was dancing through the ranks in a straight beeline for Annabeth.
Ryker was certain that he was nearing his physical limit when he finally laid eyes upon Chase. She had a sword ready in hand and a fierce expression on her face as she beheld Ryker. The sight of his target gave Ryker a momentary surge of energy and he exploded into motion. Two Romans attempted to stab him from either side, but they simply staggered past him as Ryker grabbed their arms and yanked them off balance. That left Ryker with a momentary clear line of sight at Annabeth. "You." He hissed, his claws flashing murderously in the fire's light. "You are coming with me."
"Come try it then!" Annabeth challenged, planting her feet firmly and glaring at him.
Ryker already heard Percy rushing through the Romans to assist Annabeth and he knew that he was running low on time. This opportunity was a fleeting one at best. He covered the ten feet between them in a single bound and his claws sparked off of Annabeth's sword as they clashed. You have to be certain she is dead. Orion had told him. Before you die you have to ensure that she dies. A mortal wound isn't a guarantee, particularly with gods and goddesses around.
Annabeth was a seasoned fighter. Her skill with a blade nearly matched her keen intelligence and propensity for foolproof strategies. Fighting her while also avoiding the blades of other Romans and ensuring that he wasn't swept away from her in the heat of battle was nearly impossible. But Annabeth's skill in a fight was what finally brought her down. Ryker purposefully left his side exposed, though the ruse was invisible. Annabeth took the opportunity and Ryker bit down a scream as her blade entered his left side and exited his right. The battle paused in shock, including Annabeth, as the Romans assumed that Ryker had finally been brought down. "Call in the medical team." Ceres called as Annabeth began to withdraw her blade from within Ryker's abdomen. "I think that he could provide us with much information about our adver-."
"Sorry." Ryker said again, a line of blood beginning to trickle from the corner of his mouth. He grabbed Annabeth by wrist, causing her sword to cut across the flesh of his stomach. "But this is over."
Plants immediately sprouted from the earth and wrapped around Ryker's wrist, tightening until his grip on a struggling Annabeth became almost nonexistent. She had nearly wrested herself away from him when a silver glow illuminated his hand. Annabeth howled in pain as a large silver bow shot from Ryker's hand. The plants crumbled away and for just a moment Ryker was free. He stepped back and drew the bow back. At point blank range Artemis's arrow left a smoking hole in Annabeth's chest, effectively obliterating her heart. The daughter of Athena fell lifeless to the ground and the Roman camp was silent, save for Percy. The son of Poseidon gave a blood curling scream and water was ripped from the ground around Ryker's feet. What might have happened next was anyone's guess, but it was abruptly cut off by three large black and red shafted arrows that flew through the night. Two struck Ryker in the chest, both of them piercing his heart while the third rocked his head back as it impaled his skull. The son of Cybele dropped to the ground as lifeless as Annabeth and the Roman camp was silent once more, no one quite sure what had just happened.
It's baaaack. Hello my readers, how have you been? Perhaps I should have left a note informing all of you that I was going on a bit of a vacation. But worry not, Forgotten Prophecy will be getting back to it's regularly scheduled updates. Glad to be back.
Cheers, Hallowed
