Chapter 4
Perseus tightened the straps of his boots. He wiggled his toes, thanked the tavern keeper, and made his way into the homely town of Little Apollos. Children pranced in the streets, not much younger than Phoebe.
Of course, she caught his eye. Annabeth. He remembered her name. Blonde hair, gray eyes, and wait, was she smiling? She stood tall, almost as tall as him. Ah. She was playing with the kids, several of them. She was with two others too: an older tall, sandy-haired man with a sharp nose and a crooked eye and a girl of sorts with untamed black hair and electric blue eyes. They were all armed.
Perseus watched for a bit longer than he intended. They didn't notice him though. In time, Perseus moved on and left for the forest and Athens.
After a few hours or so, he paused. The Demititan knelt to refill his canteen.
He recentered himself, first with his breath, and eventually, when he was ready, he expanded his senses. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his fingers. Next, he opened his nose, welcoming the scent of pine, moss, and rain to come. Lastly, he opened his ears. The wind whistled, and the forest breathed, but otherwise, he was alone.
"Who are you?"
Perseus raised his head. He saw a predator, feral and focused. She narrowed her eyes, and Perseus saw silver, not unlike his own eyes. Auburn hair fell down to her shoulders, and Perseus saw a refined, far more dangerous, reflection of himself.
"I am Perseus," he answered softly, "of Athens."
She cocked her head, and silver flashed on her back. She bore a quiver but held no bow. "Answer me true. Who are you, really? I trust you know what I mean."
The forest held its breath, and so did Perseus. Had the sun begun its decline already? He let his head fall, but he caught her smile, the hint of grace, and Perseus saw her vitality and beauty.
"Keep your secret then. You are a hunter, are you not?"
Perseus nodded.
"Stay on guard. These forests are not without danger." With that, she turned, her silver tunic flowing behind her.
"Wait! Please, tell me. Who are you?"
She paused, and the forest glowed. Light—moonlight—filtered through the treeline, seeping through sap and the little crooks of pine and the green of leaves. It was her, Perseus realized, trembling. Of course it was.
"Don't you already know?" She judged.
"You are Lady Artemis." Perseus bowed, but of course, she was gone, and the forest exhaled.
Perseus knelt on that ground for some time. Instinct urged him to chase her, hunt her down, and kill her. Well, he supposed he should retrieve her bow while he was at it, but really, Perseus couldn't care less.
He stood, stretching. The hunt was far more satisfying than any reward. And to hunt her? He breathed shakily. Nothing would be more fulfilling. She was a Goddess too, and as Demititan, they were enemies.
Who am I to hunt the Goddess of the Hunt? He had asked his grandfather this only a few days ago. Perseus let his head fall back and laughed. He would hunt her or die trying.
He looked for a sign of her passage, but she left no trace of her presence. Perseus couldn't help but smile. She came and left with the moon. Now, the red of sunlight streaked across the forest, offering an amber glow to the fleeting moments of the day. It was a short day.
Perseus continued. Before he would hunt Artemis down—and he would hunt her down—he needed to eat. For once, Perseus spared no time with the deed. He began his search for a sign of prey.
The question remained, however. Why hadn't he simply chased after the Goddess when he had the power to do so? A question for another time.
Hunger gnawed at him, and his feet were tired, but there was something more. Perseus waited and listened. Nothing, he heard nothing.
He shifted his weight between his weight, unsure. The forest was silent once more, but she wasn't here. He knew her scent now, cinnamon and a crumble of moon flower. Perseus supposed she would mask her scent. He knelt and edged towards cover, slowly at first, then faster, and faster still, running from something he neither saw nor heard.
Unsettled, Perseus pushed through the brush, and then, he was climbing, higher and higher. He scaled the nearest mountainside faster than one could fall off of it. The son of Lelantos laughed again, and his silver eyes shone. This was his blood and wisdom too. He was being hunted, yes, his senses were aflame.
At a summit, Perseus caught his breath. His spine shivered, a strange, but familiar sensation. He almost died the last time he felt like this …
There would be no surprises at the summit. Whatever was hunting him would have to reveal itself, so Perseus waited. He drew his bow, notched an arrow, and breathed. Perseus almost missed it, the blur of blue and white on the edge of his vision. It cut across his vision, shifting closer, far too close.
Perseus let go. His aim was true, and he pinned the creature down to the ground. It writhed in its own black blood, a horned demon, in the shape of a human. Perseus dared to inch towards it. His life was a life of stories. Now, he was as curious as he was afraid.
Heat. It washed over him like a thief on the night of the new moon. The demon was burning, Perseus realized. He cocked his head and watched it twitch and jink, this way and that. The arrow pierced its heart or where he imagined its heart would be, but it was alive for now.
It was dumb, Perseus guessed, but it glared at him with white eyes filled with hate. In time, its blue-white skin faded to black and dust. The demon had a mouth of sorts too, and even as it crumbled to ash, it tried to scream. Tried and failed. Only its horn was left, now a pale shell of what had been. Even the horn disintegrated, slipping into the wind.
Perseus retrieved his arrow gingerly. Each one was precious, and he knew he would need it soon. The son of Lelantos raised his eyes along the river to the east and the path he had taken. Then, he understood. Is fire blue?
Smoke tainted the sky with its talons, except it was white, finer than the gold of Athens. Fire, blue fire mind you, rose silently from the valley, a spirit rising from the dead. Nine. Light refracted, and Perseus saw it. In the smoke and in the fire, a dragon, clad in shifting white and blue scales, a monolithic horn, and wings that spread to become the sky itself. Nine.
Little Apollos stood in that valley. Annabeth was there.
Nine.
The dragon soared with an elegance that demanded fear. Even from a distance, Perseus saw its eyes, white and hollow and cunning. It was Athens all over again, but this time, Perseus was racing towards the fire.
He only had nine arrows, but what was he to do?
Perseus slid down the mountainside. He took a cut or two. Grimacing, he weaved through the terrain. All the while, he eyed the snow-white sky. The horned dragon basked in its glory, cutting through the sky.
Panting, Perseus notched an arrow. He steeled himself. Nine opportunities. Nine chances for survival. With every step, his heart grew colder even as the blue flame rose higher, forever still and unwavering. It didn't burn as much destroy. Trees or grass or stone. The blue flame ebbed and broke all of it into chaff.
The dragon spread its wings, and the fire rose higher still. It twisted and turned, a spiral of heat, blue and then white, an inferno, or perhaps a womb. See, from the fire rose demons, tens and thousands, and then, tens of thousands, each identical to the hate filled demon he had caught earlier.
In perfect silence, they became a tide of flame, a wall surrounding him. There, ahead, for a moment, he saw what stood of Little Apollo. Perseus managed a soft smile. They still fought. Nine or ten of them. Even now, Annabeth's blonde hair was unmistakable.
Eight. Seven. Six. Perseus fired three arrows in succession. He paved an opening, and ran for Little Apollos.
Five.
Four. A lucky shot.
Three.
Two. Far too close.
Perseus exhaled. He was gliding now, unstoppable, careening between life and death in perfect clarity. But of course, he only had one more arrow.
Silence mocked him, and Annabeth saved his life. She cut behind him without hesitation, tossing him a dagger and a glare. Perseus accepted both readily.
"Are you stupid?" Breathless, she lunged forward, slicing a demon and then another. Even now, she was calculating. Storm grey eyes thundered, promising a challenge. Otherworldly.
Perseus felt his breath hitch. They fought back to back. There was nothing more natural. The others, her two companions from earlier and some citizens of Little Apollos fought further uphill.
The demons were fast, but predictable. Perseus dropped his bow, relying on a strange bronze dagger and instinct. Annabeth had reach with her sword, and she used it efficiently.
The less experienced or the old died first, tumbling into silent nothingness. Perseus caught the death of the scruffy-bearded guard from the gate earlier. Perseus didn't know his name. He stopped smiling.
Annabeth's two companions carried the burden. The two fought by themselves, the man with a sword and the woman with a spear and a monstrous shield. Was that lightning?
The man fought like it was a brawl in the bar, drunk and all, except he was winning. He lurched left and right, here and there, guiding his sword as if he had a fifth limb, an obvious veteran. He seemed almost reckless, but the opposite was true. Unpredictable and careful. Deadly. He fought in front of the children and other less-able men and women. Perseus was thankful.
The woman bore a shield, but Perseus couldn't get a good look at it. It was something magical, to be sure. The demons hesitated at its face. Here, hesitation meant death. Her spear was undeniably magical. Lightning danced across the spear. She fought entire waves of the demons by herself, almost flying across the hill.
Blinking, Perseus turned back to his fight. What else could he do? The blue fire spread higher and further, and the demons continued their march.
Annabeth stumbled, and maybe it was over.
Wait.
The dragon was gone.
It was falling on them already, horn and all, white and blue and far too close. Perseus threw his weight to the right, reached for his bow and fired his last arrow. The beast snapped through the trees, crushing them like dust, opening its jaws for a soundless scream.
The arrow slashed the gum of its teeth, drawing ichor, not blood. The behemoth lurched into the trees, and another arrow missed its eye by a mere breath.
The demons were in a frenzy, but suddenly, the nearest ones faded. Silver arrows bound their fate. Artemis. She was here, somewhere. Perseus looked for her wildly. She was waiting for the dragon to fall on them, he realized angrily.
Annabeth said something. Maybe the others said something too. Perseus watched the dragon, surrounded by haunting silence. It was beautiful, more now than earlier.
The dragon hissed and growled, spitting ichor and bones among other things. Its horn flashed, and Perseus met its eyes.
Perseus ran and it followed, judging him as one does. He only made it a few steps, but maybe, it would be enough. It spread its wings, and the sky was falling on him. There was no hate, no fear in those eyes. It unhinged its jaws, revealing massive rows of teeth and blue flame, looking to meet him.
Everything happened so fast, but now, time slowed down. Wasn't he hungry a little while ago? And what of the Hesperides, his father, and Phoebe? Oh, Phoebe.
He closed his eyes. He was falling, further and further. He closed his eyes, fighting and fighting some more.
Let go, Perseus.
Perseus listened.
He wasn't falling. He was flying. Two white-feathered wings stretched from his back, and Perseus soared.
Blue flame incinerated the forest for a league or so, but the others were alive. The horned dragon stared at him. It knew, Perseus later realized. It knew what was to come.
Perseus knew too. Artemis wouldn't miss twice.
She didn't. Perseus saw the arrow. The others didn't. It caught the dragon in its right eye and drove through the back of its head.
It cried silently, and Perseus prayed to his father.