Chapter 2: In which Malcolm wins and loses (Part 2/3)

Malcolm's siblings were tactful enough to allow him and Rhode two pegasi.

He opted to remain mum on the ride as Rhode conversed with Porkpie and Guido, but this wasn't productive, and it hadn't taken long before the awkwardness became more unpalatable than any potential argument with Her Annoyingness.

"So, what are you thinking?" asked Malcolm. Sneaking a glance, he saw Rhode staring into the water. Maybe she could end this all quickly. How 'bout a tsunami?

"I'm thinking it's really hot here and I'd like to lounge in the Sound," said Rhode.

Malcolm refrained from groaning aloud or rolling his eyes. "I meant ideas about our attack."

"I'm thinking: We see them, we obliterate them," she said. "Et voilà. Nous avons terminé."

"Anything more concrete?" Malcolm said, trying not to curse her brother for putting him in this situation. "How's this? You lead, I adapt," he offered. Except maybe it wasn't so much an extension of an olive branch as it was the fact that it'd be easier if he didn't have to explain anything to her. And if he wasn't expecting anything much, he wouldn't be disappointed, right?

Rhode faced him. "You'll let me lead? I didn't think you trusted me," she said.

"I trust Percy," said Malcolm. "And I've heard that if you have ten Rhodians, you have ten ships. One should more than suffice here…. Not that you are a Rhodian, because you are Rhode, obviously, but…"

As he trailed off, the princess observed him with eyes that matched her father's—with a gaze that could be as cryptic or expressive as they wanted. And right now, Malcolm had no idea what those aqua eyes were saying.

Out of thin air, Rhode conjured an off-colored dose of nectar. "Drink this," she said.

Malcolm stared at her offering. "I'm good, thanks."

"It'll make sure you stay dry and withstand floods," she said.

Malcolm chugged down the taste of pecan pie. Rhode also offered him a dozen petrified seashells to scatter around. With her flying on Porkpie, just specks in the air now, and Guido taking off to aid the other pegasi, Malcolm was finally alone. On the ground, he kept his head on a swivel, on constant lookout for the enemy. Yet his eyes still couldn't detect any threats.

"Hi. The blue team is coming out of the forest on our left," Rhode told him over comms. "Can you hear me? Is this working?"

"Yeah, yeah. How many of them are there?"

"At least five," Rhode said. "Oh. Uh oh. There's another, bigger group near them about fifty meters away. Don't ask me how much that is in feet."

Malcolm nearly stopped in his tracks at the affront. "I'm familiar with the metric system, thanks."

So Hermes had managed to stay somewhat intact. Probably acting as a guard? Maybe scouting?

"Can you draw them out to the clearing?" Rhode asked.

But—but he'd be out in the open. Against at least five of their enemies. With a whole pack to come to their aid.

Ten Rhodians, ten ships.

"Alright," Malcolm said.

Rhode and Porkpie flew presumably behind their enemies. A hammer-and-anvil-type scheme could potentially work, Malcolm reasoned. Just as he flung three seashells on the ground for Rhode to potentially use, three members of the Hermes team headed towards him. Wicked sharp swords swung in his direction.

"Where's the rest of the dork brigade?" asked Ekaterina, a daughter of Demeter.

Malcolm didn't bother to respond. He easily caught her strike and used momentum to twist her blade out of her grip, all the while watching out for the grass and whatever plants surrounded him. Her four teammates were catching up. Swords clanged and swooshed, and soon enough, vines sprouted from the ground, threatening to bind Malcolm's ankles. Malcolm sidestepped and jumped out of their reach. But a pull on his leg brought him to the ground. Cutting the vines, he rolled away and got back up to face his opponents.

"Do you really think you could take us all alone?" Trevor, a son of Tyche, said, delivering but a near miss to Malcolm's arm.

"I mean, I can try," Malcolm said. But who says I'm alone?

A daughter of Hermes narrowed her eyes. "This is obviously a trap," she said to her teammates.

In Malcolm's ear, he heard the Atlantian Princess. "Can you draw the others out?" Rhode said.

"Then too bad you don't have backup," Malcolm goaded to the opponents. He dodged their swings and retreated a bit. Rhode. "I'm obviously the bait, aren't I? Gotta give you credit, though." Another dodge. Another sidestep. "These vines are impressive."

"Hold on," Rhode told him. "I'm trying to be discrete."

"But if I could give you advice," he said, dodging another blow, "you should hurry. "

Almost instantly, saltwater flooded an eight-meter radius around him and encased them all, Malcolm included. Yet, while the water pressure knocked his opponents aside, Malcolm remained standing. The wheezing and coughing dumbfounded demigods were no match for Rhode. Malcolm quickly disarmed them and, at his request, Rhode remotely shipped them off.

"Thank you, Princess."

"You're welcome," Rhode said. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yes. The others are coming out now, I think?"

Arrows began flying and Porkpie swooped.

Yeah, I don't think so. Maybe they'd seen her power, maybe they didn't deem Rhode and him a threat.

He briefly wondered if Rhode would be alright but ultimately trusted that the daughter of Poseidon could handle herself on a pegasus. Let Hermes waste their arrows. As Rhode feigned a retreat, executing a Parthian shot with her own strikes of water, Malcolm busied himself with dropping more petrified seashells on the ground.

Now… how to draw them out from the cover of the forest? Entice them? Force them? Could Rhode make it pour over them? But how much would that do when they were already shielded by trees? They could simply retreat further, too. Whatever the means, he'd have to figure it out quickly. Arrows were bound to aim his direction any second now. And out in the open, Malcolm was a liability.

If only he could offer them something they wanted. But there were no flags he could flaunt. And assuming he could draw the group out, the odds would only stack against Hermes if Malcolm could fight them little by little.

Ah! Aha!

"Rhode, can you fling a couple of them out here?" Malcolm said.

One after the other, two young demigods, chained in ropes of hardened water, were hurled out from the forest into the clearing.

"Happy birthday," said Rhode, gifting him the three-in-one package of honey, shield, and victim.

"Perfect."

Malcolm held off on ending their swordfight until their teammates came out. Apollo's kids aimed more arrows up at Rhode, but that was nothing a trusty grappling hook couldn't fix. The demigods fell in Malcolm's lasso.

"Are you familiar with Gaugamela?" Rhode asked.

"Yeah."

But what of it?

Malcolm surveyed the scene.

The rivers? No, at this point, they'd be at the plains by the Tigris, not the Euphrates. She did say Gaugamela. And, presumably, they'd follow in the Macedonians' footsteps, seeing as they'd won the battle? So, was it gaining the hill that the Macedonians won from Mazaeus? Well, Rhode and Porkpie already had the high ground. Were they to wait to attack as the Macedonians had? The Hermes team was better prepared, after all, and it wouldn't bode well to storm the rich.

But why make Hermes think they were the Persians? Aside from the plentiful soldiers, Hermes's side didn't resemble the Persians'; unlike Darius's troops, Hermes was still organized and well-trained. Unless Hermes were to think they themselves were in the Macedonians' position? Why would Rhode then have chosen Gaugamela?

Malcolm realized it then. It didn't matter to Rhode who was who. She gave herself and Malcolm every advantage both the Persians and Macedonians had enjoyed. Indian-trained war elephants? Strength in numbers? Her midair flood would surely do. And the two cavalry units now she controlled on either of Malcolm's sides, as coordinated as the Macedonians' and still stronger than Parmenion's wing, could stretch further than Hermes's forces.

As soldiers approached, Malcolm's heart pounded, and he forced himself to breathe and slow down his heartbeat. Rhode was on his side. They could do this.

Malcolm envisioned the play: Left and right, the water would envelop their enemies, who'd fail to break Rhode's encirclement. That would leave him to hold the center unit in place until Rhode could drive a wedge of water into the weakened enemy infantry—the infantry led by a son of Mercury, Bae Hyeong-min.

Of course it was Bae. Excellent choice.

As Rhode's wall of water stretched in both directions, Hermes mirrored Rhode's set-up simultaneously. The blue infantry plowed headlong at Malcolm. Malcolm fought one, two, three attackers. And another and another and yet another. He struck and retreated, charged and feinted, and— And, oh, whom was Malcolm kidding? What the hell was a one-man infantry? Surely he was the one tweaking.

Gaugamela had worked because Darius had fled in terror. But Bae wasn't going to run like Darius. He had the skill and confidence. He would recognize all their tactics. Perhaps he had the brains to have outsmarted the greatest of the Argead kings. He'd anticipate their moves and figure out a way to—

It took all of Malcolm to stop catastrophizing. But as another Roman soldier joined the two currently occupying Malcolm, panic began to settle in. Someone from behind struck with a blow. Pain seared on his left side. Two others approached. His grappling hook was gone. Bae was closing in. And Malcolm managed a plea for help.

In a matter of seconds, a force of water created a barrier between him and the soldiers, throwing back his attackers.

"Thanks," he wheezed as he collected himself. "Bae. Dude in charge. Roman. He needs to go."

"Who?" he heard in his left ear.

Malcolm swore in his head. Did it even matter who? Surely, Rhode could attack them all?

"The guy on—"

"Throw a shell at him," Rhode said.

Fishing for one of the remaining shells at his disposal, Malcolm pitched a shot at Bae's chest as Rhode summoned the sea, shooting gallons of water in the son of Mercury's direction. Dragged off his horse and made to trip over aqua ropes that encircled him, bye bye went Bae. Malcolm even took the time to watch and chuckle.

So… Darius didn't flee, but the Achaemenid Empire would still fall.

Sorry, man.

With increasingly weary swings, Malcolm fought off the remaining soldiers who broke through Rhode's cavalry, eventually resorting to use his grappling hook like a lasso to trip and tackle the enemy. One by one, Rhode kept them down and rounded them up before hauling them out of the game.

Malcolm inhaled into his searing lungs. He'd need at least a minute to recover. Porkpie's hooves thudded on the grass beside him, and the pegasus kneeled to help Rhode off before galloping into the air.

"Porkpie left to help Percy," she said, gesturing her head towards Long Island Sound, where, above the ship, the pegasi fought the drones that attempted to snatch the flags from the air. Nothing to worry about. If Percy could obliterate the Williamsburg, he could totally deal with this. "So it looks like I'll be on the ground now," Rhode said.

Malcolm heaved and puffed again until he could manage proper breathing. "Just don't ruin your dress, Princess," he muttered.

"Okay, what now?" she said.

"Now we pick more fights."


PART 3 OF CHAPTER 2 WILL COME.

The rest of Chapter 2 (another 4.8k words) will be heading your way this month. Yes, in April. I PROMISE. I'm so sorry that this update was extremely delayed. Aside from super amazing and super sucky things that have consumed my time, it's been extremely difficult for me to write capture the flag the way I wanted to. So, dammit, I hope someone enjoys reading this, lol.