Ch3 - Of Power and Pain

The Lord Apollo was famous, Percy knew, that was a fact. Quite what for, however, was never truly discussed among the campers, for fear of incurring the wrath of the vengeful Lord of the Sun. This rule, however, had not quite reached Nico and Bianca di Angelo.
"My Lord Apollo," Bianca said to the deity when he greeted her, curtseying as though the God in front of her were a mere mortal prince, "I have heard many stories of your life, and I would like to convey my condolences for the passing of your beloved Daphne, the stories depict her as a rare person of true moral strength, and for her loss I am truly sorry."

The God paused, expression blank. His eyes were unfocussed for a moment, and for that moment Percy was in fear.
Percy had felt fear several times. He had felt fear on his quests, when faced with Echidna, mother of monsters, when faced with the Chimaera, a monster only Bellerophon had killed in written memory, that too only with the aid of the mighty Pegasus.
He had felt fear in his own home, faced with Gabe and his belt, watching as his stepfather pulled a handgun on him in his most drunken of rages.

This fear, however, was something else entirely. It was suffocation, it was drowning in the power of the God, even as the Olympian fought to hold his own strength back. It was the desire to give in entirely, to simply kneel there and obey, to entrust his soul into the service of this God.
He couldn't control himself, and it was the most powerless he had ever scared him, for he knew that in this world there was only power - power in thought, power in strength, power in divinity. Lose one, and you are weak.
Months in the tutelage of Chiron had taught him that weakness was to be avoided at all costs.
He was mercifully dragged out of this situation by a forceful pinch of the arm, courtesy of a rather more composed Zoe, though Artemis' formidable lieutenant was ashen faced at the God's reaction.

She had been given the privilege of a long life of service to Olympus, and she had, as a consequence of this, had the honour of interacting with many of the Gods who ruled over it. Of those deities, she could rather safely say that, aside from Artemis, Apollo was the God with whom she was most familiar, the Archer God being a frequent visitor to the camp of his older sister's huntresses, and a valuable aid in battle, for even the greatest mortal archers on the planet could see that the God by far outclassed their own abilities.
Never, in her thousands of years of divinely suspended life, had she ever felt quite as in awe of Apollo's power as she did now, for she felt it in her bones, raw unadulterated grief and anger straining at his very form to break free and crush anything that it encountered.
To his credit, the God recovered admirably, smiling disarmingly and whispering some soft words in the ears of the stunned son of Poseidon. The boy brightened slightly, and even let out a slight laugh at the God's remark, though the huntress was not close enough to hear the softly spoken statement.
The God clapped Jackson on the shoulder, an act of near-familial nature for the typically reserved God. It was nice to see for Zoe, however, for it had been too long since Apollo had truly favoured a hero, and it was nearly always one that the God would end up pining over, chasing for want of a partner. The problem, however, was that the Sun God seemed to forever be cursed to be heartbroken. For that, Zoe pitied him, and for that she would always offer him her second prayer, after the one she offered to her own patron.
On the other hand, Zoe knew that if Apollo were to act more familiar than he ought to with a demigod, then he had surely seen this hero in a vision. For all that was said about her supposed hatred of males, Zoe knew that Perseus Jackson had seen more than was strictly required for a child of his age. Not even in her own childhood, all those millennia ago, were people considered adults at his tender age of fourteen, such a consideration being a year or more away for even the state of Sparta, while the Mycenaeans of whom she had heard stories from her sister Iphigenia did not dare to send children into war.
This boy, meanwhile, had shown skill far beyond his years in battling the likes of the Hydra and Polyphemus, and walking away from fights with enemies of the calibre of Echidna, the Chimaera and even the Lord Ares himself, for it was not any mere hero that could truly confront the raw power of a God, even if it all seemed to be in the script of some other, higher power.
Lady Artemis had for some time now suspected the rise of the Titan Lord Kronos, having observed suspicious developments in Alaska some sixty years prior at the height of the Second World War, and then once more shortly before the fall of the Soviet Union. These stirrings had been few and far between, but this time Artemis had been vocal in her observations of the rise of evil, for it was obvious that only a Titan or a Protogenos could wield sufficient power to possess a God to the extent that they might influence a prophesied quest in the manner that Ares had done a year and a half ago.
If Apollo was taking an interest in Perseus, then the boy had yet another quest coming his way, and this one would be yet more difficult than the last, for the winter solstice was fast approaching, and it was common knowledge among those in the divine world that this was the time of darkness. It was the time when monsters were at their strongest, when the Gates of Tartarus were thrown open for his servants to wreak havoc upon Olympus' own, when Nyx' realm was strongest and Apollo, even with the support of the likes of the resting Aether and Hemera, would struggle to hold the weight of night at bay. The day would be the shortest of the whole year, and the Gods of Olympus would gather together, each supporting their family against the darkness. The weight of the forces of Nyx and Tartarus presented themselves as too great for even the mighty and reclusive Hades, and so even he would seek refuge among his brothers atop the holy mount.
For a child to be so greatly among a quest in such a time was concerning, and Zoe could only hope that he had strong, skilled companions at his side when such a thing happened.

The passage to camp, Thalia found, was quick enough, the God of the Sun guiding them onto his chariot, the sun itself, to her utter bewilderment, and drove them swiftly to camp. For a moment, she imagined the sheer terror of being responsible for such a vehicle, especially at a time such as this, when it was well known that it was hardest to drive the vehicle, given the overwhelming power of the night.
They arrived in a burst of heat, leaving a perfect circle of fresh blossoming grass, the trees briefly lightning up in a vivid green as though singing in the presence of the Sun God. They wilted, however, as fast as they blossomed, crying out for the Lord who would in a few long months provide them with the light that would reinvigorate them.
The God left with a smile towards Percy and Thalia, before he took Zoe off to one side. It was understandable, THalia thought, that he would want to speak to his sister's closest confidant and lieutenant. It was well known, of course, that the archer twins were extremely close, Apollo's legendary battle with the fearsome Python having been alongside his sister, and Artemis' freedom from the oppression of Orion having come with the help of Apollo's scorpion. THe constellation in the sky served as a constant reminder to each and every demigod since that time all those millennia ago not to give in to one's temptation.

The God vanished, the impact of the energy he exuded leaving a small crater in the ground where he had stood, the spot seeming to exude his power for some time before it faded, the snow slowly falling to fill the gap left in its wake. Up on top of the hill, the tree that Thalia had once occupied seemed to glow, the golden fleece atop it glowing with the aura of the Sun God, almost as though it were a sentient being, sensing the presence of a God. THalia smiled at the idea of having been in that position once, able to feel as beings of immense power entered and left the camp's vicinity, feeling nature itself sing in joy as Dionysus walked around the camp. She remembered as the tree around her seemed to groan with relief as it shed the leaves in the autumn, or as it seemed to stretch out and bask in the sunlight when summer arrived. She wondered, not for the first time, if it was like that as a huntress in Artemis's service, so in touch with nature, and yet not shackled by the wooden manacles in which she had been bound, not bound by bark, imprisoned by pine needles as she had been for those seven long years.

The evening came with much excitement, for it was an opportunity not only to learn from the experienced huntresses, but to face them in combat, simulated and friendly though it may be.
The huntresses, for their part, were hardly looking fazed by the veritable horde of armed adolescents that were lining up to face them, some plucking at their bowstrings in boredom, others watching on in amusement as campers struggled to adjust their oversized armour, a few taking pity on the children to the extent that they went over to give them some form of help, however scant.
Such kindness, however, was not to endure, as Chiron cantered their way, armoured to the extent that befitted an Immortal son of Kronos, resplendent golden breastplate with the symbol of his mentor Apollo on his chest, a mighty bow in his hand and saddle bags loaded to the brim with supplies of life-saving nectar and ambrosia, the food and drink of the Gods vital to his role as a first aider for the game of Capture the Flag that was to follow.

As much as the campers used Capture the Flag as an opportunity for some fun, they knew that it was one of the greatest opportunities they could take for real combat experience, short of going out into the field and facing a monster horde. Even those who had seen the outside world, be it on quests like Percy and Annabeth, or having faced monsters on their way to the camp like Thalia, had not been in pitched fights of any description, and working as a team was rarer still, the maximum number of journeyers on a quest being three.
This was an opportunity, therefore, not only for the demigods to experience a fight against the best, and alongside the best.

The Immortal trainer of Heroes called forth the commanders of each side, and so up they walked. Percy and Thalia stood on one side, each in armour gifted to them by their parents and decorated with beautiful symbolism of their domains and dominions, their helmets masking their faces from view.
On the other side stood Zoe Nightshade, Artemis' most faithful servant for well over five millennia, perhaps the greatest warrior Olympus had ever seen in its service, barring only Heracles, who now stood guard over the gates to the old lands, his pillars marking the edge of the known world. The huntress was wreathed in silver, the glow emanating from her own clothing, the tiara gifted to her to mark her service projecting the power of the Goddess she served, serving as a signal not to make oneself her enemy.

All of a sudden, the two demigods, children of the most powerful Gods on Olympus, were drowned in a feeling of inferiority, not by the power of the Goddess, as weakly as it was projected from the lieutenant's person, but by the Huntress' own aura.
They knew, all of a sudden, that they were in for a fight the likes of which they would likely never see again.
"Commanders," Chiron called, drawing the duo from their reverie, "You each know the bounds of the battlefield, and you each know of the locations of your own encampment; I need only remind you of the rules of engagement and the rules of honour. Killing and maiming is intolerable, and any intended example of such warrants instant disqualification from the game. Understand?"
At the affirmation from the commanders of each side, the centaur dismissed them to their respective teams, Thalia turning to Percy as Chiron reiterated the rules of engagement to the teams at large, reiterating his requirements of his charges, and his requests of the warriors who were staying at his camp.

"We attack together?" she asked, knowing the aggressive nature of the son of Poseidon, and knowing therefore that their best chance of any result was for both the powerhouses to be together.
"Nah," Percy responded, a devilish smirk on his face, "let's play them at their own game."
"I'm curious," Thalia responded, surveying the battlefield, the forest providing ample cover for the style of warfare the huntresses were most used to, and therefore giving Percy's idea credibility.
"We have numbers on them, and our melee capability is probably slightly better, seeing as they're relying on a charge with their hunting knives; what's stopping us from wearing them down with skirmishers? We can survive two, maybe three waves of their attack, and I doubt they can mount a third attack of any note, so we counter and take their flag," he explained, punctuating the last phase of his plan with a pound of his fist.
"Alright Alexander," Thalia responded, seeing merit in the plan, "And what if it goes wrong?"
"Oh, you can count on it going wrong," Percy remarked, walking away casually, "It's the Hunters of Artemis. Just don't tell the campers that."

Over on the other side of the forest, shrouded from prying eyes were the hunters of Artemis gathered, each pair of eyes focussed on the Lieutenant of the Goddess, each pair of ears blanking out the distant sound of clanking armour and marching boots so as to hear the strategy of their commander, their sister in arms. At the end of the briefing, they slunk off in their pairs, ghosts in the dark of the evening, unseen and unheard in the forest.
There would be no attack, no defence, only victory.

The battle began with the blowing of Chiron's horn, and through the trees came the first group of campers, each bearing a bow and a full quiver of arrows, specially blunted for the purpose of the exercise, as opposed to the rather more lethal celestial bronze tips with which they might fire on a range, or in battle. They honed in on the Hunters' flag, smirking as they saw the guards stationed there.
Easy pickings.
Their infantry escorts tensed, ready to defend the skirmishers should they come under attack and wary of the unseen threat of the hunters' ingenious traps, all laid with precision along the best tracks in the forest.
The archers loosed once, twice, thrice, at least four huntresses falling to the concentrated fire before the direction of the attack was pinpointed.

Sloppy, Zoe thought as she nocked an arrow to her bow, the youngest among her troops had some way to go yet.
The campers were scattered by the first responding volley of fire, a first shot in the general direction of the campers which would give the huntresses enough time to take cover before they began to press their own counterattack.
The campers however, knew that staying any longer would result in losses, Percy and Thalia having reinforced the fact several times into their heads that the Huntresses were not to be engaged in any kind of even combat. Not here, not now. They pulled back quickly, the escorts staying back to absorb the second and third volleys of fire on their shields while the skirmishers behind them fled.
Zoe smiled at Percy's use of skirmishing tactics, ordering the huntresses around her to follow without firing. All this took naught but a few hand signals, the forward chopping motion of her open hand signalling the advance.
They went on silently, sticking to the shadows and making little to no sound as they moved, spirits in the night as they closed in on the Campers' position.
What she saw impressed her, the well-formed phalanxes that lay in wait for her huntresses when they mounted their counterattack enough to make her rethink her strategy.
She ordered a retreat for the little scouting party, her original estimation of such numbers being enough to seize the enemy flag clearly requiring a rethink. The advantage was, of course, that in thousands of years of life, there wasn't much that her huntresses hadn't seen, and there wasn't much that her huntresses hadn't overcome.
They were not renowned as the greatest of Olympus' forces for no reason.

Thalia watched with growing excitement as the second and third teams of skirmishers returned, the first having made their way back with no losses; the others, having made their assaults against rather more well prepared enemy contingents, reported small numbers lost as a result of well-placed fire.
Percy's plan was working.
She sent a smile towards her co-commander, appreciating his savvy use of careful tactics over his trademark plan of aggression and overwhelming force.
What soured her mood, however, was the return of the fourth and final team of skirmishers, the archers having been devastated by a team of hunters in the trees, ambushed as they retreated from the defenders' well-prepared response. The commander of the team, a son of Apollo, had been removed from the fight, an arrow catching him in the back as he fled. Distasteful as it was to fall to an arrow to the back, it was acceptable here, for the archers were firing indiscriminately, merely laying down fire to protect their position, and not aiming for the campers' backs. It was a lesson to the campers that they would not forget in a hurry; not to turn one's back on their enemy, and certainly not to turn one's back on ranged fire. The boy would have a rather nasty bruise on his back, a painful reminder, but a reminder all the same.
Percy, however, was not displeased in the slightest.

Upon questioning as to why, the son of Poseidon smiled, responding, "That was their attack team falling back, not a planned ambush," he explained, smile growing at Thalia's understanding. "If Zoe had planned to ambush us as we retreated, we'd have lost a hell of a lot more of our skirmishers in the same way. The defenders are in medium numbers, which means that there's another team out there somewhere, and of course now Zoe knows what we plan on doing."
Thalia nodded, surveying the lines of campers once more. It wasn't mercurial numbers by any means, but it was enough to pose a threat when all of them were together.
"So what now?" she asked, mind scrambling to come up with the more aggressive stance, "We don't know where one group of hunters is, and that's probably going to be the team without Zoe. If we try and find them, even without her around, then it's a slaughter," she reasoned, understanding that the forest wasn't a safe place to move now.

"The way I see it, Zoe needs to counter now, otherwise they're going to lose," Malcolm chimed in, the boy filling in for Annabeth as the commander of the Athena cabin, eliciting a nod of approval from Clarisse la Rue. "I say we stick to the plan, wait for the charge and beat them when they charge; our phalanxes are strong, and they're not all that heavily armoured either."
This got him many nods from his fellow cabin commanders, though Katie Gardner had a pensive look on her face. "Suppose we asked the nymphs for help?" she asked, expression nervous but eyebrows furrowed in thought. "At the very least they could let us know when they see the Hunters coming our way?"
"And at the most they'd literally shake them out of the trees…" Clarisse finished off for her, fixing Percy and Thalia at the head of the table with a look of affirmation.
Percy nodded, suggesting that Katie and her fellow children of Demeter, aided by the children of Dionysus, each of whom were acting as runners and reserves. It would remove a few of the camp's best sword fighters from the front, Percy knew, but such a skill wouldn't do much good in a battle like this, where being out in the open as swordsmen so often were, was an assured instant death, or at least elimination in the case of the game.
Katie returned a few minutes later, Castor and Pollux in tow with confirmation of the nature spirits' help in warning the campers of the Hunters' arrival, and they rejoined the ranks where they could, some staying as runners and medics as they had been previously.

Zoe moved swiftly through the trees, a grim smile on her face as she advanced, the full force of the hunt behind her and the smallest of guards left on her flag should Percy and Thalia think to pull off something unthinkable in the absence of a significant defensive presence. The young leaders of the camp's cabins were good, she acknowledged, but not even the mightiest of the titans would stand up to the full might of the Hunters of Artemis in full flow, and as good as their leaders were, the children making up the ranks of the campers' phalanx would prove to be no match for the full weight of such a fighting force bearing down upon them.
She could have taken small teams in to test them, yes, and she could very well have given them a fair fight, charging from the treeline and allowing their heavy infantry some action in formation. This, however, would be a crushing advance, one which would teach them a lesson. After all, what more was the purpose of a mentor, other than to teach their students how to do better?
A close defeat would mean that the Demigods in Chiron's camp would think of themselves as better than they were, and hence they would develop a mentality of overconfidence, thinking that they had truly gone toe to toe with the finest that Olympus had to offer. No, that would not do. They needed to know that even their best were not infallible, and that they themselves were not invincible.

Harsh, she knew, but a lesson that needed teaching.

She felt a rustle in the trees ahead of her, and smiled, for the campers had come up with yet another piece of strategy that had caught her by surprise. The nature spirits were often a valuable ally to the hunters while on missions, and so it was amusing to see them being used as an early warning system against her sisters in arms. One or two huntresses were even thrown from their trees, swearing violently as they fell, and yet catching themselves acrobatically on the lower limbs of the trees from which they had been ousted, their forward momentum allowing some to swing up into the canopy once more, and others to fall to the ground upright and moving with purpose. The advance did not slow, though the desire to win was only increased.

The campers in the front lines of the phalanx were in a good mood, not having needed to be involved in much of the fighting, and having seen and heard from their comrades of their successes in the initial exchanges. Percy and Thalia had taken up position in the rear, ready to spring to action as they had so often seen. They understood that their position was a good one, though they had been told so many times that their opponents were the best, and the only reason by which they found themselves in a decent position of any description was effectively by running away.
The centre of the line was the strongest, children of Ares and Athena ready to absorb the first blow dealt to them, and the children of Hermes further back in the formation ready to take up their positions should anyone go out of the game.

A gasp and exclamation of shock drew their attention, as a nature spirit appeared from the nearest oak tree, shouting about the hunters being on their way, and the order was issued by Clarisse to make ready, her electric spear crackling to life.
Campers looked to the treeline, knowing that the assault would emerge from there, and from there it came,

They saw the trails first, beautiful glittering streams of silver stretching out behind the huntresses as they moved, all well above their eyeline and at the tops of the tallest trees of the forest. These streams of silver moved rapidly, almost melding into one, and from somewhere behind them they heard someone, perhaps Percy, perhaps Thalia, swear under their breath in ancient Greek, though it wasn't an expression of anger, rather an expression of awe.
Down the line, Malcolm and Clarisse each called for the lines to hold firm, and for shields to be brought up. Four ranks of campers obeyed, each covering themself and the person in front of them, while the front rank locked shields.
As though it had been choreographed, a hail of arrows slammed into their shields, a few campers crying out in shock and pain as stray arrows flew through gaps in the shield wall, more still dropping their arms, not having expected the sheer force of the volley. A second wave of arrows dealt with these, and those remaining scrambled to take up position and restore the formation.

Those towards the front could see the trails of silver continue to advance, the forms of light seeming to solidify into the corporeal forms of human beings, each streak of silver a huntress running at full pelt, firing and reloading as they went.
With a mighty war cry, they emerged from the forest into the clearing which the campers had called their own, some thirty hunters bearing down upon them, bows banished and knives drawn ready to do battle.
The centre of the line felt a sudden weight move down, and nobody knew quite what was afoot, until they heard the twin war cries, cries that called upon the most powerful of Olympus' council, cries that united the brothers, so often depicted as being at odds.

Not many people had seen Percy and Thalia fight side by side, but it was well known that when they did they were rumoured to be a sight to behold, and so they were, leaping over the shields of the phalanx and meeting the Hunters' charge head on. Percy engaged the lieutenant Zoe, and Thalia moved to confront the daughter of Ares, Phoebe.
The advance slowed as the spearhead was stopped by a brick wall, and yet the rest moulded around the battle, understanding that this was a fight between leaders, and so, by the old ways, it was to play out uninterrupted. Just as when Achilles fought Hektor, or when Odysseus and Diomedes duelled Rhesus, none were to interfere.

The rest of the battle moved quickly, the huntresses falling upon the phalanx with the force of a train, breaking the tight-knit lines with ease and laying waste to the exposed rear ranks of the formation.
The stronger soldiers of the front ranks banded together, united under the banners of their cabins and led by their commanders, but such pockets of resistance crumbled quickly, campers surrendering to the huntresses en masse.

Within long, all that was left was the pair of duels, panning out in earnest in the centre of the clearing. Thunder and lightning coalesced in the sky above the clearing, a storm swirling above their heads as the demigods clashed against Artemis' finest.
One blow landed, at long last, Thalia being flung across the clearing and hitting the floor some ten metres away, skidding to a halt.
Percy seemed to notice this, and with a great shout of anger, he let go.
The sea roared in approval and defiance a few hundred metres to one side as its son wielded its terrifying power. Swirling sea green eyes seemed to glow, and for a moment the huntresses paused, watching as something wondrous unfolded before their eyes.
The pair of immortal maidens backed off as rain began to pour in earnest now, heavy droplets falling in sheets as thunder and lightning rumbled overhead. On it went, uninterrupted, as beings of all levels of power watched on, both on the divine plane and the mortal, as the Son of the Sea God let his rage be known.

Then, it escalated.

Triton, Herald of the Sea, emerged from his father's throne room onto the mortal plane, aura glowing with power and forcing all those watching to their knees in fear, row upon row of onlookers submitting to the God's greater power, and row upon row watching on in awe as Perseus Jackson didn't.
There he stood, eyes glowing with the same intensity and fury as they had when his comrade hit the ground, and with the same power as when he had been duelling Zoe Nightshade.
Off to one side, there was a scuffle of movement.
Electric blue eyes met sea green.
As one demigod awakened, another hit the ground, exhausted and finally able to let go of his rage.
The Herald of the Sea God stooped down, picking up his younger brother and vanishing in a cloud of sea spray.

In all the noise and lightning, nobody spotted the first shot of light from atop Half Blood Hill.

A/N
A longer chapter than normal, but hey, who's complaining?
An insight into combat, tactics and more about the Gods. I've also shown you now how Chiron behaves regarding honour; it's paramount to the demigods' training, as it should be. Late on at the end of the chapter you also get a glimpse into my ideas of fatal flaws, and that'll get more attention as we go.
The next chapter of Darkest of Times is going well too, those of you awaiting that, sorry, I made a rather dramatic U-turn on how Vienna would go, so I had to delete a fully written out chapter, purely to accomodate this change. Hopefully it's worth the wait...
Still don't own PJO, it'd be strange if I did.
Until next time,
Sol