AN: Hey, guys! I'm back! Here's a long one. Reviews are love, people. Keep them comming, if you would like faster updates. (Hint hint) Plus, if you haven't already, check out my one-shot, Nico's Adventures in Shaving. R&R
I stared at the ground in silent rage as Reyna yelled at me. Frank stood behind her looking apologetic.
"Delgado, you know better! I cannot accept this kind of behavior from one of our eldest veterans. You could have seriously injured one of the other legionnaires with that kind of magic." Her regal face was furious as she bombarded me with lectures. "Why, Hale? Why are you suddenly so reckless?" The blood rose to my face.
"It wasn't sudden," I replied coldly, and this time I met her eyes. "You, as Praetor should have noticed two years ago that I stopped caring as much. It was then I realized there is corruption everywhere. Even in this precious little camp." My voice rose in intensity. "You aren't as observant as you would like to think, Reyna. You didn't see the fear and sadness I saw in her. Phoenyx didn't deserve this!" I pushed the Praetor backward, and she stumbled in surprise. I pointed at her angrily. "You don't deserve the title you own. I tried and tried to tell you it wasn't Phoenyx's fault! And you didn't believe me. I hold no respect for you anymore." I could feel a rush coming on. The feeling I got before I went Hercules-berserk. My fist flew foreword and connected with Reyna's temple. She fell back and tried to move away, but I advanced, after letting out a dragon-worthy bellow of battle-rage. Zhang grabbed me by the shoulder and tried to pull me away. I landed a back fist to his jaw, and an uppercut to follow. I picked up a nearby chair and smashed it into the ground next to Reyna, shattering and sending splinters flying.
"Guards!" Reyna barked, quickly getting to her feet. She drew her sword and held its point at my throat. I knocked it aside with the back of my hand, and grabbed the arrow Zhang shot at me, snapping it in half. I jumped toward him and threw my leg into his gut. Three armed legionnaires rushed in. I took two of them out with a fancy double kick off a handstand. Reyna tried to Judo flip me, but I countered with an elbow to her ribcage. A sharp, searing pain sprouted from my shoulder and arrow lodged itself in deep, buried a quarter of its length into the muscle. I gasped in pain, but grit my teeth and ignored the burning sensation in my arm and picked up a piece of wood from the broken chair, slamming it hard into Frank Zhang's head. He staggered back, and I followed through with another hit that broke the piece of chair in half. He collapsed in the grass. Reyna wrenched the arrow out of my arm. I howled in pain and dropped the board. With the butt of the sword, she hit me hard in the liver. Black spots filled my vision, and the pain was almost unbearable. Right before the Praetor could slam the pommel of her sword onto the back of my head, I leapt to the side and tackled her. Blood roared in my ears as I grabbed Reyna by the neck and started to throttle her. Suddenly, more pain sprang from my forearm. My hand went limp, and I clutched it close. Reyna shrimped out from under me. I stood up, but her knee came up and hit me hard in the groin, then the head. I doubled over and fell to the ground.
My whole body ached when I woke up. My gut was churning, and my arrow wounds throbbed like Thanatos himself. I lifted my head and saw both wounds dressed in gauze. I immediately regretted moving my head once it started pounding like a drum. Light filtered through the window curtain, making me squint. I recognized the sickbay by a few Apollo legacies wearing scrubs. One of them noticed me awake, and her eyes widened.
"Um . . . could I have some water?" I asked with a cough. She quickly rushed off out the door, whispering to some other legacies. I sighed. My memory of the fighting was foggy . . . like it all was dream, and I just woke up. Only the injuries actually happened. About half a minute later, the Apollo girl was back. I gulped when I saw who was with her, and I knew how much trouble I was in. Reyna's hard, cold glare was almost unbearable. Her face showed signs of heavy bruising and her neck had marks that looked suspiciously like fingers. My fingers. She walked up to me and smacked me hard in the face. I didn't wince, but a small moan escaped me as my ears stung.
"Hale Delgado," she said briskly, "son of Trivia, you are discharged from the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, and exiled from New Rome for three years. You have been charged and convicted with the assault of two Praetors and the attacking of multiple Legionnaires. You will be publicly flogged at noon in two days." The Praetor let this sink in, before handcuffing my good wrist to my bed. I couldn't believe it. My seven years of faithful service. Gone. Meaningless. And being banished? That was almost as bad. I wouldn't be able to see my dad anymore. He might be callous sometimes, but I still love him. He is my only real family. My eyes started to well up with tears. Where would I go? To Camp Half-Blood? Would they even allow me to stay?
The struggle to remain strong on the outside grew harder as was fed a small ration of food. I was basically doomed. How was I supposed to live on my own, out in the world with no protection? I was sure monsters would kill me before my three years of exile were over. I stood little chance of survival against the hordes of creatures just drooling to taste demigod flesh. I was proficient in my weapons, and my spells would protect me some, but being alone, exposed, with no place to put my head at night was almost a sure sentence. A death sentence.
Reyna gave me one last deadly glare and stormed out of the infirmary, her purple cape flourishing behind her. A tear trickled down my face. Now I knew how Phoenyx felt. Rejected, alone, misunderstood. Sure I screwed up badly. Very badly. But so had Phoenyx. I knew I needed to find her, even if I died trying. I needed the comfort of unconditional love. Unlike my father's.
His bulky figure entered the room, his greenish-blue eyes were hard with anger, and his massive muscles flexed. Disappointment was evident in his disgusted expression.
"Why, Hale?" he said quietly, but no less intensely than if he'd held a knife to my throat. "Why'd you suddenly decide you hate the two people who can determine your fate with the snap of a finger? Was taking your anger out on them losing your membership in the Legion? Worth being exiled for?" I held back my sobs.
"Dad, it wasn't like that," I said desperately, hoping to find pity in his stony face.
"Do you know the implications this puts on me? Huh?" he yelled. "On my legacy? On my family? You know what shame to people who bear the name Delgado will feel? You have stained my legacy, boy. A godly legacy like none other, in any other millennia." I was speechless. My father's hard eyes were wet. "I expected to see you as Praetor. You have let me down beyond comprehension, Hale."
"Dad–"
"I'm not your father. I have no son. You are dead to me."
Sleep evaded me that night. My father's words echoed in my head like a broken record reminding me of the shame I brought upon him, and myself. You are dead to me. I turned onto my uninjured arm and stared into the inky blackness of night. The Nectar/Unicorn draught IV trickled into my arm slowly. I was tempted to pull it out, put my other hand was out of commission for at least a month. I watched the shadows of the trees dance on the window curtain. The day after tomorrow, I would be humiliated in front of my comrades, my former comrades rather, like a criminal. Beaten. Cast out. I held up my bandaged arm and lifted the gauze slightly. A lump formed in my throat as I looked where the wound was on my forearm. The arrow had penetrated right through the center of the symbol of my legacy: the key of my mother Trivia, and a club for my grandfather Hercules. I screwed my eyes shut, and tried to wake up from the nightmare. But it was really happening. I squeezed my eyes close tighter.
The dream didn't fade.
But a different one did come.
I had no body, just a sense of presence. A girl in black Spartan battle armor shrouded with a veil of shadows. She had her arms around another figure in black. This one, a boy, in a royal chiton made of black material, that at a closer look, had ghostly souls woven into it, was cradling her head to his chest. Off to the side was another black clad figure, a tall man, I guessed, who wore a black chiton as well, but this one was covered with jewels and pieces of bones. His image shimmered slightly, as if he were only an apparition. Dust swirled at his feet restlessly. His intense brown eyes met mine, and I would have shuddered, if I had a body. He gave me a creepy, yet playful grin and winked at me before dissolving into a dust cloud. My attention turned back to the other two. The boy took the girl's helmet off and kissed her forehead gently. His raven black hair contrasted to his pale, almost luminescent skin like black ink on a pure white sheet of paper.
"I'm not leaving you," he said quietly.
"This is my battle," replied the Spartan girl. She shook her braided hair and closed her eyes.
"Two countries, ours our, one in all but name. My land is your land, sister. Your people die, my people die as brothers with yours. Perhaps the cure to this disease will be found." He looked her in the eyes. "There is yet hope."
"You will die for sure by aiding me. I am not asking you to stay away. Please, brother," she said harshly, turning away from him. His eyes grew sad.
"I've lost so much already. I can't lose another sister."
"And I can't lose another brother," she argued, her voice rising. "After what happened to the Land of Knights. I wouldn't have you waste your life on a lost cause."
"But my people would perish too! This disease will spread like wildfire if we don't together find its cure. Then our sister country would be left alone. The Land of Gems is strong, but not strong enough on her own." A mental struggle seemed to be going on inside the girl's head, but she relented to her brother.
"I suppose there is no other way. I thank you for helping me, Nico." The boy's figure started to change, till he was a teenager in black jeans and an aviator jacket. Nico di Angelo. He smiled sadly.
"I love you, Phoenyx." She also morphed, into a girl about fifteen, wearing grey running shorts and a black windbreaker with a knife and sword belt at her waist. It was Phoenyx. My Phoenyx. So she had gotten to Camp Half-Blood. Now I just needed to get there . . .
Oblivion interrupted my thoughts until morning. That day, I was pumped full of Unicorn draught, with godly food in moderation. Apparently, they wanted me healthy for my flogging. Ironic. I spent half of the day asleep, and the other half restlessly thinking about my doom, and my dream the night before. I figured out that 'the Land of Gems' was Hazel Levesque. I could only guess the figure that winked at me was Nykolas. I decided to travel across the country by subway, and train. Maybe hitchhiking on trains, if I couldn't afford a ticket. The rest of the day passed slowly. I praised the gods once night came, anxious to be over with my punishment.
The morning of my sentence came, and by the time I was done with breakfast, I felt okay-ish. I was given a sling for my arm. The whole in my shoulder was still painful enough for me to try my hardest not to move it, but my forearm was worse. Some of the tendons in my arm had broken and still mending. I was told not to use it for a minimum of a month and a half. If I lived that long. How was I going to survive with one arm out of commission? With an injury like this one, and monsters around every corner, how could I fight? I had my magic, but I was restricted from bringing any enchanted items beside my staff, an Imperial Gold machete, and my best protection amulet. The other things that were packed for me were clothes, my guitar, a meager twelve-day supply of food, water, Unicorn draught, Nectar and Ambrosia, my tablet (which contained all the scrolls I needed), A winter jacket, fifteen denarii, plus fifty mortal dollars. After my supplies ran out, I would have to find some way to eat and drink. Not to mention a place to sleep.
At eleven forty-five, my escorts came to fetch me to the Coliseum. I was told to take off my shirt and sling, forcing me to hold my arm close to my body with my other hand. My bandages also had been taken off for the flogging. What made it hard to hold my arm in the right place was the fact that my hands were tied in front of me. The guard on my left didn't seem to care that was the injured arm, and brutalized it thoroughly. Normally, I would have shrugged his arm off, and it would have been easy if I weren't injured, because I was obviously so much stronger. My gut churned as I walked down the stairs to the center of the Coliseum, and I felt hundreds of eyes on me. At least half of the two, three hundred people there were citizens of New Rome, and the other half Legionnaires. I noticed Frank was now with Reyna, though he looked dazed and disoriented. Reyna shot me another look that I was getting used to from her. I glanced anxiously at the whipping block next to me. Reyna raised her voice, and it filled the stadium easily.
"People of New Rome, Legionnaires, you have come to witness the punishment of Hale Delgado, son of Trivia, legacy of Hercules, Venus, Apollo, Bacchus and Neptune. He has been convicted of assaulting both Roman Praetors, direct disobedience of orders over many instances, the attacking of three Legionnaires, and helping in the attempted escape of a prisoner." She paused. "His punishment: dispatch from the Legion, exile from New Rome for three years, and twenty-four lashes with the Cat of Nine Tails. One lash per year of age, and one per year of broken service." I saw the accusing looks of the members of the Legion, the pitying, yet disgusted reactions of my former cohort members. My tattoo stung like poison. You betrayed them, a voice whispered in my mind. I hung my head in shame. "Tie him to the block," ordered Reyna. I was ordered to kneel, and my hands were tied above my head. My wounds seared in protest, but I stayed silent. A magic blocking amulet was hung on my neck, and I was offered a sip of water and a mouth guard. I accepted both, and braced my back for the pain.
SNAP! I felt the sharp ends of the whip cut into my flesh, tearing away with the rest of it.
"One!" yelled Mike Kahale, who was my punisher. I clamped my jaw down on my mouth guard and tried not to make a noise.
"Two!" SNAP!
"Three!" SNAP!
I managed not to cry out until I hit ten.
"Eleven!" SNAP! A grunt escaped me as the Cat of Nine Tails sunk deep into the skin and muscle of my back, burying themselves deep, and then ripping out.
"Twelve!" SNAP! I gasped at the pain. Every time Kahale's arm came down, my pain was tenfold worse than before. Blood dripped down my back onto my legs, and staining the ground crimson. Being flogged feels like the skin on your back is being torn from the muscle, and being shredded by a thousand razorblades. It was by far, by impossibly far, the most pain I'd ever had.
I reached fifteen without actually screaming, but seventeen broke my will.
"Eighteen!" SNAP! followed by my screams of pain.
"Nineteen!" SNAP!
"Twenty!" SNAP!
I'd lost all air to breath. I felt like I would explode into flames of pain if I tried to move. I succumbed to the whip and relaxed my body as best I could, even though I knew it would tear deeper. I tried to let oblivion overtake my thoughts. I had no more fight left. I remember nothing after hearing the twenty-third terrible snap that would haunt my dreams for years.