To 8Ball3- Trump Tower always reminds me of that joke in Shrek, when they first see Lord Farquad's castle :P And if I remember right, most of these chapters do reach over 2500 words! I could really use some Greek fire right about now... not for anything in particular, obviously. I do try to get similarities between the twins, I think that's the first one that's really been picked up on! ^_^ Does a dinky little rowboat count as a navy? O.o
Sorry for the late-in-the-day update! I was making Halloween stuff all morning and I now have Winny the Witch, stirring her potion of skulls, spiders and whatever else I threw in there... she lights up too! And then I was playing Zombies with my dad, we actually turned cheats off this time to figure out how to play the newer-ish maps properly :P
"How's the wound?" Hazel asked. Apollo knew she meant well, but he was getting very tired of that question and even more tired of the wound. He had wanted to ask Louisa to try her magic again, but she had disappeared during Frank's brief announcement. He also didn't want her to come to any harm- he had not heard her speak so levelly since his arrival. Healing him may revert her progress like it had done the first time.
He and Hazel walked side by side out of the main gates, heading for the Field of Mars. Just ahead of them, Meg cartwheeled down the road. How she did this without regurgitating her hotdogs, Apollo had no idea. He added it to his list of the mortal body being very weird.
"Oh, you know," he said in a terrible attempt to sound upbeat, "all things considered, I'm OK."
"I should have realised earlier." Hazel said. "Your death aura is getting stronger by the hour."
"Can we not talk about my death aura?"
"Sorry. It's just… I wish Nico was here. He might know how to fix you." Apollo wouldn't have minded seeing Hazel's half-brother either. He had been quite valuable in their fight against Nero at Camp Half-Blood. And of course, his boyfriend- Apollo's son, Will- was an excellent healer. Sadly, Apollo didn't see how they would be of any more use than Pranjal and Louisa had been. If the pair were here, he would only have two more people to worry about- two more loved ones watching him with concern, wondering how long before he turned into a full-on zombie.
"Hazel." He said.
"Apollo." She said.
"I wanted to ask… Louisa. Um…"
"She does that ninja disappear thing all the time, don't worry about it."
"No, I mean… would she really go out to fight Caligula's yachts on her own?" Hazel sighed, rubbing her arms.
"I don't know. I told Frank. He's going to tell Reyna. But… maybe… when I first met Lou, Nico had told me quite a bit about her. Trustworthy, loyal, tiny bit eccentric- he lied on that bit, I've never forgiven him. But she was willing to fight for her family and I saw that as soon as I boarded the Argo II. She's absolutely off her rocker, but I would never bet against her in a fight. Uh, don't gamble. Gambling is bad."
"Yes, centurion." Apollo nodded, clumsily saluting. Hazel regarded him for a moment, sighing once more before continuing.
"Under normal circumstances, I think Lou would have just gone to the yachts. But she's… she's not in her right mind."
"She seemed better though." He tried hopefully. "She didn't face-plant anything this time."
"Mm." Hazel's tone was not reassured. "I don't know. Like I said to you, I don't know everything she's done. I hardly know anything beyond what I've seen her do myself. I just know… I just know that she's angry and… and what is Lavinia doing?"
About a hundred yards away, Lavinia and Don the faun stood on a bridge across the Little Tiber- which was very much not on the way to the Field of Mars. They were having what looked like a serious argument. "Lavinia!" Hazel called. Her expression reminded Apollo of an exasperated mother with a wayward toddler trying to climb into the monkey enclosure for the dozenth time. "Lavinia!"
Lavinia looked over, patting the air as if to say give me a minute. Then she resumed arguing with Don. Hazel patted her cheeks with her fingers, sighing. "Am I too young to get ulcers?" She wondered aloud. Apollo had little occasion for humour, given everything that was going on, but that little comment brought forth a chuckle.
As they got closer to the Field of Mars, he saw legionnaires breaking into cohorts, moving to different activities spread across the wasteland. One group was digging defensive trenches. Another group sledged down a dirt hill on their shields. A third had gathered on the shore of an artificial lake that hadn't been there yesterday, waiting to board two makeshift boats that looked nothing like Caligula's yachts. He could see Louisa, standing on the figurehead of one, waving her arms and pointing at things. Yes, this is a boat, she seemed to say, ya'll stupid as fuck for not gettin' some earlier!
Hazel sighed, watching the group sledging. "That would be my group of delinquents. If you'll excuse me, I'm off to teach them how to slay ghouls." She jogged away, leaving him alone with his cartwheeling sidekick.
"So, where do we go?" Apollo asked Meg. "Frank said we had, er, special jobs?"
"Yep." Meg pointed to the far end of the field, where the Fifth Cohort was waiting at a target range. "You're teaching archery."
"I'm doing what now?"
"Frank taught the morning class, since you slept forever. Now it's your turn."
"But… but I can't teach as Lester, especially in my condition! Besides, Romans never rely on archery in combat. They think projectile weapons are beneath them."
"Gotta think in new ways if you want to beat the emperors." Meg said. "Like me. I'm weaponizing the unicorns."
"You're… wait, what?"
"Later!" Meg skipped across the field towards a large riding ring. The First Cohort and a herd of unicorns were staring suspiciously at one another. Apollo had no idea how Meg planned to weaponize the non-violent creatures, or who had given her permission to try, but he had a sudden and horrible image of Romans and unicorns assaulting one another with large cheese graters. He took that as another sign to mind his own business.
With a sigh, he turned towards the firing range and went to meet his new pupils.
The only thing scarier than being bad at archery was discovering that he was suddenly good at it again. That may not have sounded like a problem, but since becoming mortal, he had experienced a few random bursts of godly skill. Each time, his powers quickly evaporated again, leaving him more bitter and disillusioned than ever. Yes, he had fired a quiverful of amazing shots in Tarquin's tomb, but that didn't mean he could do it again. If he tried to demonstrate shooting techniques in front of an entire cohort and ended up hitting one of Meg's unicorns in the butt, he would die of embarrassment long before the zombie poison got him.
"OK, everyone." He called. "I suppose we can start."
Dakota was rummaging through his water-stained quiver, trying to find an arrow that wasn't warped. Apparently, he had thought it was a great idea to store archery supplies in the sauna. Thomas and another legionnaire (Marcus?) were sword-fighting with their bows. The legion's standard-bearer, Jacob, was drawing his bow with the butt of the arrow directly at eye level. That explained why his left eye was covered in a patch from the morning's lessons. He now seemed eager to blind himself completely. Pierre was leaning on his bow, rocking back and forth on his heels in boredom. Beside him, Leona and Morris were bickering over which end of the bow was the top, smacking each other.
"C'mon, guys!" Lavinia said. She had snuck in late without being noticed and took it upon herself to help Apollo call the troops to order. "Apollo might know stuff!" This was how he knew he had hit rock bottom- the highest praise he could receive from a mortal was that he might know stuff.
Clearing his throat, he looked around the cohort again. He had faced bigger audiences. Why was he so nervous? Oh, right. Because he was a horribly incompetent sixteen-year-old! That might be it!
"So," Apollo pushed on Jacob's hand, lowering his chances of blinding himself, "let's talk about how to aim." His voice cracked, naturally. He cleared his throat and pressed on. "Wide stance. Full draw. Then find your target with your dominant eye. Or, in Jacob's case, with your one working eye. Aim along your sight pin if you have one."
"I don't have one." Marcus said.
"It's the little circle thingy right there." Lavinia showed him.
"I have one."
"Then you let fly." Apollo said. "Like this." He shot at the nearest target. Then the next one furthest out, then at the next. He fired again and again, in some kind of trance. It was only after his twentieth shot did he realise he had hit every bullseye, two in each target, the furthest about two hundred yards away. Child's play for Apollo. For Lester, quite impossible.
The legionnaires stared at him, mouths hanging open.
"We're supposed to do that?" Dakota demanded.
"No." Leona shook her head, waving her hands in denial. "I'm not- no. That's crazy. I've only seen-" A sharp whistle of air caught her ear, quietening her. A splintering of wood and then a thunk. Apollo turned. Bristling in the middle of the furthest target, between the halves of his arrows, was a metallic dark green arrow. "Yeah." Leona said. "Lou." Apollo turned again, picking out the small figure standing on the gangplank. He saw the curve of a bow he now so desperately wanted in her hand, snapping and folding in on itself. He also saw a hand raised and, while he couldn't actually see the gesture, he knew what was being sent his way.
"Whoa." He said, measuring the distance in his head. He had been so proud of himself, twenty consecutive bullseyes. Enter one Louisa and… not so much.
"Hey, what did I tell you guys?" Lavinia grinned, refocusing her cohort. She slugged Apollo in the shoulder. "I told you he doesn't suck that much!" Apollo stared at her and then back at the metallic arrow. Lavinia patted his head. "Don't let Lou get to you. She's just trying to piss you off, it's what she does best. She either pisses people off or is pissed off with people. You did good."
"Yeah. Yeah, I did." The display of marksmanship had not drained his energy. Nor did it feel like the temporary bursts of godly powers he had previously experienced. He was tempted to ask for another quiver, to see if he could do it again, but he didn't want to push his luck. "So…" He scrambled to pull his thoughts together. "I, uh, don't expect you to be that good right away-"
"Yours or Lou's?" Jacob asked, once again trying to blind himself.
"Mine. Well, either really. But Lou's over there, so mine. I was only demonstrating what's possible with a lot of practise. Let's give it a try, shall we?" He was relieved to take the focus off himself. He organised the cohort into a firing line- adjusted Jacob's aim about four times- and made his way down the ranks, offering advice. Despite his warped arrows, Dakota was not terrible. He actually hit the target a few times. Jacob eventually figured out how not to blind himself in the other eye. Thomas and Marcus sent most of their arrows skittering across the earth, ricocheting off rocks and into the trenches, which elicited shouts of 'Hey, watch it!' from the Fourth Cohort. Leona seemed to pick it up a little quicker than the others, hitting the target more than she didn't. Pierre and Morris were having trouble. Pierre pulled too hard and lost his arrow to the skies. Morris, laughing, nearly shot Jacob in the foot. There were only two more arrows from Louisa, both hitting dead centre on their targets- one of them narrowly skimmed Apollo's head when he was clearing arrows. He tried not to dwell on it.
After an hour of frustration with a regular bow, Lavinia tossed it to one side and drew her manubalista. Her first bolt knocked down the fifty-yard target. Apollo sighed. "Why do you insist on using that slow-loading monstrosity?"
"It makes a statement." She stuck her tongue out. "Speaking of," she leaned towards him, expression turning serious, "I need to talk to you."
"That doesn't sound good."
"It's not. I-"
In the distance, a horn blew.
"OK, guys!" Dakota called. "Time to rotate activities! Good team effort!" Lavinia punched Apollo in the arm again, bringing back her smile.
"Later, Lester." And then the Fifth Cohort scarpered, leaving him to retrieve their arrows like cretins.
The rest of the afternoon, he stayed at the firing range, working with each cohort in turn. He stayed clear of the targets as much as he could, but that didn't stop Louisa shooting at him when she had the need. She seemed to be doing quite well on the artificial lake, swirling the water and raising waves, bringing a storm over her training and raising the stakes. Screaming from her students told him she was enjoying this and they most certainly were not. He looked over every so often- she manoeuvred about the ships like Spider-Man. Her pupils were not so lucky- more than once he saw someone tumble overboard, blown by gales or knocked by swinging ropes or toppled by ravaging waves. Apollo hoped she kept the rest of her abilities over there- the arrows alone were enough to give him a heart attack.
As the hours wore on, both the shooting and teaching became less intimidating. By the time he was wrapping up work with the First Cohort, his last group, he was convinced his archery skills were here to stay. He didn't know why. He couldn't shoot at his old godly level, but he was definitely better than the average demigod archer (Louisa did not count, she was not average, she was mean) or Olympic gold medalist. He had started to 'jive'. He was tempted to pull out the Arrow of Dodona and brag a little, but he didn't want to jinx himself. Besides, knowing that zombie poison was still slowly killing him took the wind out of his sails a little.
The Romans were duly impressed. Some of them even learned a little, such as firing an arrow without blinding themselves or killing the person next to them. Still, Apollo could tell they were more excited about the other activities completed. He overhead a lot of whispering about unicorns and Hazel's super-secret ghoul-fighting techniques, heard many complaints about head-dives from the ships or bruises from falling on deck or slamming face-first into the mast. Only one seemed to appreciate Louisa's work- Larry from the Third Cohort had enjoyed boarding ships so much, even with her meddling, that he wanted to be a pirate when he grew up. Apollo suspected most of the legionnaires had enjoyed ditch-digging more than his class.
It was late in the evening when the final horn blew and the cohorts tromped back to camp. He was hungry and exhausted- was this how mortal teachers felt after a full day of classes? If so, how was that possible? He hoped they were richly compensated with gold, diamonds and rare spices.
At least the cohorts seemed to be in an upbeat mood. If the praetors' goal had been to take the troops' mind off their fears and raise morale on the eve of the battle, then their afternoon had been a success. If the goal had been to train the legion to successfully repel their enemies… then he was less than hopeful. Also, all day long, everyone had carefully avoided addressing the worst thing about tomorrow's attack- facing their fallen comrades, returned as zombies under Tarquin's control. Apollo had seen Lavinia's distress at shooting Bobby with her crossbow. He wondered how the legion's morale would hold up once they faced the same ethical dilemma fifty or sixty times.
He was turning onto the Via Principalis, on his way to the mess hall, when a voice said 'Psst!'
His first thought was that it was Louisa, showing a little decorum before she actually shot him in the head. Then he saw who it was.
Lurking in the alley between Bombilo's café and the chariot repair shop were Lavinia and Don. The faun was actually wearing a trench coat over his tie-dyed T-shirt, as if that had ever been effective. Lavinia wore a black cap over her pink hair. She gestured to Apollo. "C'mere!" She hissed.
"But dinner-"
"We need you."
"Is this a mugging?" Lavinia rolled her eyes. She marched over, grabbed his arm and yanked him into the shadows.
"Don't worry, dude." Don assured. "It's not a mugging. But, like, if you do have any spare change-"
"Not now, Don." Lavinia said.
"I'll be quiet." He agreed.
"Lester, you need to come with us."
"Lavinia, I'm tired. I'm hungry. And I have no spare change. Can't it please wait-?"
"No. Because tomorrow we might all die and this is important. We're sneaking out."
"Sneaking out?"
"Yeah." Don nodded. "it's when you're sneaking. And you go out."
"Why?"
"You'll see." Lavinia's tone was ominous, as if she couldn't explain what his coffin looked like.
"What if we get caught?"
"Oh!" Don perked up. "I know this one! For a first offence, it's latrine duty for a month. But, see, if we all die tomorrow, it won't matter!" With that happy news, Lavinia and Don grabbed his hands and dragged him further into the darkness.