To 8Ball3- That means my brain isn't fully developed either then ^_^ Sweet XD But candyfloss makes it sound nicer. Cotton candy is just... meh. And I have no idea how I manage three story lines at once. Also, can I add, that I am still writing Lou's Past, and actually writing my own story (I am so happy, you have no idea) AND drafting/planning/making notes for a Royals rewrite O.O Not to mention there's a heckton of one shots in my head that need writing, mostly Rona related, Tobias's story is in the notes stage and Max's is drafted, just needs properly writing. I have been busy. LetReynaSwear2k20. AND DON'T SAY HE'S DEAD, I GOT REALLY EXCITED AND THEN SAW HE WAS ALIVE STILL D:
Hazel's plan had been to run. Lavinia was all for it and Apollo was a close second behind her. Meg had other ideas- ideas that lead her leaping over the railing, swords in hands.
"MEEEEEEEEEGAH!" Apollo shouted, half war cry, half what in the Hades are you doing?
Without any conscious decision, he was on his feet, bow in hand, arrow nocked. He fired, and then another and another. Hazel muttered a curse no proper lady of the nineteen-thirties should have known, and jumped into the fray so Meg would not have to stand alone. Lavinia rose, struggling to uncover her manubalista- the oil cloth seemed to be stuck on the crossbeam.
More undead swarmed at Meg from under the balcony. Her twin swords whirled and flashed, cutting off limbs and heads, reducing zombies to dust. Hazel decapitated Caelius, then turned to face another two eurynomoi.
The deceased former legionnaire with the burned face would have stabbed Hazel in the back. Lavinia loosed her crossbow just in time. An Imperial gold bolt hit the zombie between the shoulder blades, causing him to implode into a pile of armour and clothes.
"Sorry, Bobby!" Lavinia sobbed. Apollo made a mental note to never tell Hannibal how his former trainer met his end. He kept firing until only the Arrow of Dodona remained in the quiver. In retrospect, he had probably fired a dozen arrows in under thirty seconds, each a kill shot. His fingers were steaming. He hadn't unleashed a volley like that since he was a god.
It should have delighted him, but any feeling of satisfaction was cut short by Tarquin's laughter. As Hazel and Meg cut down the last of his minions, he rose from his sarcophagus couch and gave them a round of applause. Nothing sounded more sinister than the ironic slow-clap of two skeletal hands.
"Lovely!" He said. "Oh, that was very nice! You'll all make valuable members of my team!" Meg charged him. The king didn't touch her, but, with a flick of his hand, some invisible force sent her flying backwards into the far wall. Her swords clattered to the floor.
A guttural sound escaped Apollo's throat. He leaped over the railing, landing on one of his own spent arrow shafts. He slipped and fell hard on his hip. Not his most heroic entrance.
Hazel ran at Tarquin. She was hurled aside with another blast of unseen force.
Tarquin's hearty chuckle filled the chamber. From the corridors on either side of his sarcophagus, the sounds of shuffling feet and clanking of armour echoed, getting closer and closer. Up on the balcony, Lavinia furiously cranked her manubalista. "Well, Apollo." Tarquin said, purple coils of mist slithering from his eye sockets and into his mouth. "Neither of us have aged well, have we?" Apollo's heart pounded. He groped around for usable arrows, but found only more broken shafts. He was half-tempted to shoot the Arrow of Dodona, but he couldn't risk giving Tarquin such a prophetic weapon.
Meg struggled to her feet. She looked unhurt, but grumpy. Apollo imagined she was thinking along the same lines as him- this situation was too familiar, too much like Caligula's yacht when Meg and Jason had been imprisoned by venti. Apollo's chest tightened- he couldn't let another scenario play out like that. He did not see a Louisa miraculously turning up to save the day a second time.
Hazel was covered head to toe in zombie dust.
"Everyone," she rasped, "back up." It was the same order she had given them in the tunnels to camp, before turning the eurynomos into ceiling art.
Tarquin just laughed.
"Ah, Hazel Levesque, your clever tricks with rocks won't work here. This is my seat of power! My reinforcements will arrive any moment. It will be easier if you don't resist your deaths. I'm told it's less painful that way."
On the balcony, Lavinia continued to crank her hand-cannon. Meg picked up her swords, wincing.
"Fight or run, guys?" The way she glared at Tarquin, Apollo knew her preference.
"Oh, child." The king snickered. "You can try to run, but soon enough, you'll be fighting at my side with those wonderful blades of yours. As for Apollo, he's not going anywhere." He curled his fingers. He was nowhere close to Apollo, but his wounded gut convulsed, sending hot skewers into his ribcage and groin. He screamed, eyes welling with tears.
"Stop it!" Lavinia screamed, dropping from the balcony. "What are you doing to him?" Meg charged the undead king again, perhaps hoping to catch him off guard. Without even looking at her, Tarquin tossed her aside with another blast of force. Hazel stood as stiff as a limestone column, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the king. Tiny cracks had begun to spiderweb across the stone.
"Why, Lavinia." The king said. "I'm calling Apollo home! Poor Lester would have been compelled to seek me out eventually, once the poison took hold of his brain. But getting him here so soon- this is a special treat!" He clenched his bony fist tighter. The pain tripled. Apollo groaned and blubbered. His vision swam in red Vaseline. How was it possible to feel so much pain and not die?
"Leave him alone!" Meg yelled. From the tunnels on either side of Tarquin's sarcophagus, more zombies began to spill into the room.
"Run." Apollo gasped. "Get out of here." He now understood the lines from the Burning Maze. He would face death in Tarquin's tomb, or a fate worse than death. But he could not let his friends perish too.
Stubbornly, annoyingly, they refused to leave.
"Apollo is my servant now, Meg McCaffrey." Tarquin said. "You really shouldn't mourn him. He's terrible to the people he loves. You can ask the Sibyl." The king regarded Apollo like an insect pinned to a corkboard. "I hope the Sibyl lasts long enough to see you humbled. That may be what finally breaks her. And when those bumbling emperors arrive, they will see the true terror of a Roman king! What was that?" Tarquin turned his head.
The left tunnel dispensing his troops was suddenly empty except for blinding, roaring green light. It began to fade, a darkened silhouette stepping from it.
Louisa staggered into view, looking a little green herself. She blinked around at them, eyes adjusting to the dimness of the tomb. She held her sword, coated with zombie dust and crackling with her energy. She looked to the girls, to Apollo and then to the king.
Tarquin stared back at her. "Ah." He said. "I've heard about you. Neptune's daughter, no?" Louisa didn't answer, rubbing at her ear with the inside of her wrist. She grimaced, gaze cutting to Apollo writhing on the floor. Tarquin raised his free hand.
Louisa saw the motion and reacted immediately, throwing her sword. The king ducked, although it soared straight over his skull and into the back wall, dead centre of Hazel's destruction. Green light snapped with a thunderous burst into the damage. Hazel howled. The back wall collapsed, bringing down half the ceiling. Tarquin and his remaining troops vanished under an avalanche of rocks the size of assault vehicles.
Instantly, Apollo's pain subsided to mere agony levels. Lavinia and Meg hauled him to his feet. Angry purple lines of infection now twisted up his arms.
Hazel hobbled over. Her corneas had turned an unhealthy shade of grey.
"We need to move." She huffed, glancing over her shoulder at Louisa. The newcomer was staring at the rubble pile as if debating how best to set it on fire. She held her hand out. A flash of gold-bronze and a stream of rubble returned her sword to her grasp.
Lavinia looked at the debris.
"Isn't he-?"
"Not dead." Hazel said with bitter disappointment. "I can feel him, squirming under there, trying to…" She shivered. "It doesn't matter. More undead will be coming. Let's go!"
Hazel took the lead again, limping along, breathing heavily as she wound them through a different set of tunnels. Meg and Lavinia held Apollo up between them. Louisa guarded their rear, although she was only marginally steadier on her feet than Apollo. She still hadn't spoken. She cut down the occasional zombie that stumbled into their path, but didn't say a word.
Apollo was only semi-conscious of their surroundings. His bow clanged against his ukulele, making a jarring open chord in perfect sync with his rattled brain. He still didn't understand what had just happened. After that beautiful moment of godlike prowess with his bow, he had suffered an ugly, perhaps terminal setback with his gut wound. He now had to admit he was not getting better. Tarquin had spoken of a poison slowly making its way to his brain. Despite the best efforts of the camp's healers, he was turning, becoming one of the king's creatures. By facing him, he had accelerated the process.
This should have terrified him. The fact that he could think about it with such detachment was in itself concerning. The medical part of his mind decided that he must be going into shock. Or possibly dying.
Hazel stopped at the intersection of two corridors.
"I… I'm not sure."
"What do you mean?" Meg asked. Hazel's corneas were still the colour of wet clay.
"I can't get a read. There should be an exit here. We're close to the surface, but… I'm sorry, guys." Meg leaned Apollo on Lavinia.
"That's OK. Keep watch."
"What are you doing?" Lavinia asked. Meg touched the nearest wall. The ceiling shifted and cracked. Apollo had a fleeting image of them getting buried like Tarquin and his troops. Instead, dozens of thickening tree roots wriggled their way through the cracks, pushing apart the stones. Even as a former god accustomed to magic, Apollo found it mesmerising. The roots spiralled and wove themselves together, shoving aside earth, letting in the dim glow of the moonlight, until they found themselves at the base of a gently sloping chute, with handholds and footholds for climbing.
Meg sniffed the air.
"Smells safe. Let's go."
Hazel and Louisa stood guard. Meg and Lavinia joined forces to carry Apollo up the chute. It was all very undignified, but the thought of Lavinia's half-primed manubalista jostling around somewhere below his delicate posterior gave him an incentive to keep moving.
They emerged at the base of a redwood in the middle of the forest. The carousel was nowhere in sight. Meg gave Hazel a hand up. Louisa just jumped, landing near the top of the chute and hopping onto solid ground. Meg touched the trunk of the tree. The chute spiralled shut, submerging under the grass.
Hazel swayed on her feet, smiling weakly in gratitude when Louisa took hold of her elbow.
"Where are we?"
"This way." Lavinia announced. She shouldered Apollo's weight again, Meg taking up his other side. They staggered down a trail among the looming redwoods. Apollo couldn't see any stars or discern any landmarks. He had no idea which direction they were heading, but Lavinia seemed undeterred.
"How do you know where we are?" He slurred.
"Told you." She said. "I like to explore."
She must really like Poison Oak, he thought for the umpteenth time.
"Are any of you hurt?" He asked. "Did the ghouls scratch you?" The girls that had come with him shook their heads.
"What about you?" Meg pointed at his gut with a scowl. "I thought you were getting better."
"I guess I was too optimistic." He wanted to scold her for jumping into combat and nearly getting them all killed, but he didn't have the energy. Also, the way she was looking at him, he got the feeling that her grumpy façade might collapse into tears faster than Tarquin's ceilings crumbled.
She turned to Louisa, once again walking behind them, supporting Hazel, quelling the tremble in her lower lip.
"Can't you heal him?" Meg asked. Hazel had to nudge her cousin to get her attention, pointing at Meg when she started. "Heal him." Meg repeated. "Please. I know you healed the others. Can you heal him?" Louisa blinked at her, brow creasing as her brain started to process the request.
"Can try." She eventually mumbled. "Need water."
"Lavinia," Apollo said, "can I have some gum?"
"Seriously?"
"You're a corrupting influence." With leaden fingers, he managed to unwrap the gum and stick it in his mouth. The flavour was sickly sweet- it tasted pink, if colours could have a taste. Still, it was better than the sour ghoul poison welling up in his throat. He chewed, glad to focus on something beside the memory of Tarquin's skeletal fingers curling and sending scythes of fire through his intestines. And what he had said about the Sibyl? No. He couldn't process that right now.
"Water?" Meg repeated, looking around frantically. "Where would- Lavinia, do you know-?"
"That way." Louisa pointed. "A stream." She hesitated, stumbling over her own feet. Hazel caught her.
"Lou?"
"I'm… OK." She finished uncertainly, studying the grass. Their little group staggered on, following the direction of Louisa's point. They found a small stream, as she predicted, just over ankle deep and a few feet wide at various points. Louisa stopped, looking at the water for a moment.
"We're close to camp." Lavinia announced.
"Mm." Louisa agreed. "Not enough time. Put him in the water." She croaked. "You too, H."
"Wh-?"
"Just do it."
"There's no time." Hazel glanced back the way they had come. "I can sense maybe a dozen, closing fast."
"Yeah." Louisa nodded, scratching her chin. "But he's got no time either. Put him in the water." She repeated, pushing Hazel forward to do so as well.
"Just go." Apollo said. "You'll move faster without me."
"Not happening." Meg defied. She and Lavinia man-handled him into the stream, resting his head on the bank. The water just about covered his body.
"This is not salt-water." He remarked. Louisa stopped by his head, her foot less than six inches away. Hazel sat in the water beside him.
"Right." Lavinia armed herself. "While you're doing that, I'm going to draw them away. Just cross this stream once you're done and go up that hill. You'll see Camp Jupiter."
"That's a terrible idea." Apollo said. "You going off on your own."
"It's what I do." Lavinia shrugged. He wasn't sure if she meant drawing away the enemies, having terrible ideas or going off on her own. He didn't have the energy to question it.
"Be careful, legionnaire." Hazel said. "We'll see you at camp." Lavinia nodded and darted into the woods.
"Are you sure that's wise?" Apollo asked her.
"No." She admitted. "But whatever Lavinia does, she always seems to come back unscathed. Ready when you are, Lou."
Louisa crouched, touching Hazel's shoulder. The water took on a gentle, green glow. Louisa sighed and the glow crept up Hazel, over her lap, up her waist and then still climbing, until it covered her in an unearthly luminescent gleam. Apollo managed a weak giggle.
"You look like an alien, Hazel."
"So do you." She countered. "Now, shush."
The green light gradually faded from her within the minute. Louisa looked back, frowning at the trees. She made no comment, tilting her head as she watched the treetops flutter against the night sky. Meg had to pull on her arm.
"Um, Apollo still needs your help." She reminded her. Apollo had been studying Hazel. Her eyes had regained their usual colouring, she seemed more alert, refreshed, brighter. She climbed from the water, Louisa touching her arm and drying her, and stood guard, spatha in hand.
"Your healing abilities…" Apollo rasped, chewing his gum some more. "Incredible. How did you learn them?"
"Water's in everythin'." Louisa replied in a deadpan, staring down at him. She tapped a finger on his forehead, muttering to herself. He could see her calculating something, hesitant. "This is gonna hurt." She warned.
"Just do it." Meg pleaded.
"Hold his legs." Louisa advised, rummaging in her pockets. She drew out a pocket-sized notebook. "Here, bite this." She said. "Don't spit on it though." Apollo obeyed. He was beginning to find this all rather amusing and light-hearted, even when Meg moved into the water to hold his legs still, swords lying at her side.
Louisa tapped him on the forehead again, concentration creasing the corners of her eyes. Apollo stared up at her patiently, contentedly. His brain was foggy, he wasn't sure what was going on or why they looked so tense and worried. He didn't dwell on it too much, distracted by the colouration of Louisa's eyes, an interesting blend of oceanic hues. In the moonlight, silvery and purple streaks danced in her hair with each of her movements, a gentle breeze lifting the waves cascading from her high ponytail, stray curls falling on her shoulder. He smiled at her around the notebook as she stretched her hands out, holding them out above his stomach.
She stared down at him. The sensible part of his brain tried screaming, she said this was going to hurt, she said this was going to hurt! The not-so-sensible, woozy side of his brain was entranced, particularly when he noticed her shoulders and strong arms. An archer's build, he recognised, approving, a bit jealous. He used to be like that too.
Her lips moved and he realised she was speaking to him. "This will hurt." She said, shifting to hold his shoulders down with her knees, one final warning. Told you! His brain screeched. He ignored it, nodding, fully trusting her despite the mental warnings pinwheeling through his skull.
Her fingers curled slightly. His good mood vanished instantly, torn away as everything in his body seemed to shrink and stretch beyond all measure at the once. He bit down on the notebook until he thought his jaw was going to break, bucking against their hold, as he screamed from deep within his throat, the noise muffled by the sheets of paper. His heart pounded in his ears, he could feel his impending demise crawling through his veins. The wound in his gut streamed with molten lava. Louisa moved her hands away, as if pulling a knot tight, and the agony increased tenfold. Water sloshed over his body as he tried to thrash, to fight them off, to fight off the enemy inside.
"Hazel, grab his arms!" Meg called. Hazel scrambled back in beside them, catching hold of his wrists and pinning his hands to his chest. Apollo screamed again, head lolling back. Louisa moved her hands again, cupping something in one above his face and pulling at something with the other, as if removing a sheet from over him. Her nose was bleeding, her fingers shook.
"Lou, be careful." Hazel pleaded. She made to say more, distracted by Apollo's arms. The purple lines of infection were fading, shrinking. She pushed his sleeve up, seeing the lines disappear up to his shoulder. She timed their retreat, imagined the lines travelling in reverse across his chest.
"It's working." Meg said, amazed. Louisa choked.
"Lou?" Hazel asked. She let go of Apollo with one hand, reaching for her cousin. Louisa shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. The blood from her nose spilled over her lips, staining her chin and dripping onto her shirt. "Lou, what is it?" Hazel persisted.
"Tarquin… wants… ta keep him…"
"Do what you can."
"Please don't let him die!" Meg sobbed.
Louisa choked again, blood tumbling over her lower lip. She leaned to her left and spat on the ground, only to vomit yet more blood a second later. "What's happening to her?" Meg demanded. Louisa fell back to sit on the ground, heaving. Apollo's screaming stopped, whittling into ragged, deep breaths. Meg took the notebook from his mouth. "Is that better, did it work?" He stared at her, mind still swimming with pain. He took too long to answer- she raised his T-shirt and removed his bandages.
The wound was still there, as ugly and as furious as before and then some. Tarquin's interference had worsened it, tripling its horror. Vines of infection wiggled out in multiple directions, but the longest was the size of her little finger.
"She didn't heal it." Hazel summarised. "She pushed it back." Louisa chucked up more blood, covering her ears and swaying. Hazel moved towards her, startling when she flinched violently. Hazel made to speak, to reassure her, to tell her they were going back to camp. Then she realised what was happening. Louisa pressed her hands more firmly over her ears, whimpering, shaking her head, eyes just as tightly closed.
"No no no no." She slurred, part coughing blood, part sobbing. Meg hastily pulled Apollo from the water as it began to bubble and writhe ferociously. "No no no no…" Hazel took a step forward, reaching for her again. Louisa screamed.
She screamed as though she could feel Apollo's pain. She screamed as though she would die if she didn't. She screamed and, from somewhere in the forest, something, some things, screamed back.