Lyca felt the platform moving upward through the tunnel, gradually picking up speed as it rocketed towards the arena where the half-blood competitors would make a last stand to come out alive. The tunnel was pitch black; she couldn't even see her hand in front of her face, much less the walls of the tunnel around her. She took deep breaths, trying to slow down her heart-rate so that she could focus on her plan for the arena. She knew from watching the first Games how the beginning worked; all participants would surround a pile of valuable items in the dead center of the arena. Dotting the battlefield were random items, a sack, maybe a weapon or two hidden in the grass. But the good weapons were in the pile: every person in the arena would run for the pile to get some of the best weapons and food and protection and in the end, almost a third of the competitors would be dead by the end of day one.
That's why her plan was to grab something small and easy to carry and run. It didn't make sense to stay and fight: she figured that at least some of the demigods were bigger and stronger than her. She was a camper, and she'd learned to use her speed and agility to her advantage, but that would only do so much, and with everyone in the arena potentially trying to kill her, it would just get her killed quicker. Better to hole up for a moment and wait until the stronger ones took each other out before picking her own battles.
Lyca looked up. There was a glowing spot above her that was slowly growing in size. It's almost time, she thought to herself. Her heart rate spiked as her vision increased. She could almost see how carelessly dug the tunnel had been, where clumps of dirt hung from the walls. She decided to focus on the light above her, to focus on the hell the Titans were putting her and her brethren through.
The platform had been moving faster than she'd originally thought. Almost immediately Lyca began blinking rapidly against the harshness of the sunlight. She wondered why the sun seemed so violent on this day. The heat of the sun bore down on the half-blood, warming her skin rapidly. She peeked through her eyelashes at the sun, realizing why the sun was bearing down on the participants like it was. Apollo no longer drove the sun across the sky; he was imprisoned with the rest of the Olympians. Hyperion was the Titan of light; she assumed that it was he that drove the chariot of the Sun across the sky every day. The Titan was severely harsher than Apollo, so it only made sense to her that the Sun bore a harsher light on the world when Hyperion drove it as opposed to the sun-god.
Lyca's platform immediately slowed down before hissing to a stop. The half-blood had decided to keep her eyes closed against the harsh light of the noon Titan sun. She noticed that her platform had actually stopped and felt that her eyes had adjusted to the sudden display of light. Slowly she opened her eyes, blinking softly and looking around herself. She was no longer alone, she noted. The other fighters were present: she was finally locked into the arena, very well taking the last breaths she had ever hoped to take.
The Titans had been harsh to them. For the month leading up to the Games, the half-bloods were kept separate from one another, so that they would not have any idea who they were stepping into the arena with. Lyca supposed that the Titans had a sort of expectation of the captive demigods. With each participant in the Games having an Olympian parent, it seemed to only make sense that the half-blood children would have the ability to fight in such a manner and provide a good show.
Lyca looked to her immediate left and right and sighed slightly in relief when she realized she didn't know either of them. She glanced at the boy to her right and quickly studied his features: he was handsome, to be sure, but at the same time the boy seemed harsh from the no-nonsense expression etched on his face. In spite of the less than stellar conditions the demigods had been subjected to, this boy's blond hair was neat and tamed, though a bit long for the short, military style he had apparently been going for. His shirt was white like hers and sleeveless as well. The half-blood's arms were muscular and tan, but he didn't have on gloves like she did. She wondered if he'd searched the pockets on his sweats, but forgot that when she noticed a mark on his arm. It looked like an eagle, and it looked burned into his very skin. Beneath the eagle were some letters she couldn't quite make out. Underneath was what looked like scratches on his arm.
After noticing Lyca staring so hard at him, he turned his attention to her. His look was solid and hard, as if he was ready to fight his way out of here, but not bloodthirsty like she had known people to go into this fight thinking.
Before she could speak to him, she felt a slight tug on her body, like it was being willed into the center of the ring of half-bloods.
"Fight the pull," the boy spoke suddenly, shifting his weight back from the center of the arena. Lyca looked at him strangely, wondering what he meant. "Hyperion's been ordered to kill any half-blood that moves from their platform before the fight starts." Lyca merely nodded to the boy before pulling away from the unseen force.
The power became stronger and stronger until the energy was almost visible. Lyca began to shudder from the power emanating from the center of the arena. The energy began to mold together and take form, easily melting into the appearance of a man. When the power finally collided in a small burst of energy, the figure before them was now completely visible. Aside from the crisp white toga he would have looked human. But Lyca knew he wasn't human, at least not any longer. He even looked the same as always, save for his eyes, now bright gold instead of blue like before. The scar down his face was still present, and Lyca forced herself to swallow the name that had almost slipped out of her throat.
"Welcome demigods," the Titan spoke, casting a twisted, evil grin on his captive audience. "Don't look down, my children. Be honored that you will fight here and die here and all to the glory of me and my brothers!" His voice was distorted, ringing in different pitches, leaking the voice of the Titan's poor victim-host. "NOW," the Lord of Time boomed out over the half-bloods, "LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"
Immediately Kronos disappeared, opening a rift and passing through out of the arena. An announcer's voice replaced the Lord of all Titans. "The Games will begin in 5…4…3…2…1…" Suddenly the sun unleashed a powerful surge, alerting the half-bloods to begin the Games.
For a moment, Lyca had no clue what was going on. There was chaos all around her, all plans and strategies tossed out the window as soon as Hyperion loosed his built up energy above them. At this point, only instinct was keeping Lyca alive, the ADHD that all demigods were born with causing her to duck and dodge and dive exactly when necessary. She could hear the fierce clang of metal as celestial bronze and imperial gold clashed within the arena. She dared a glance at the dwindling pile of weapons as it was sacked by the half-blood fighters surrounding her and slaughtering each other. Immediately her attention was arrested by a weapon uncovered from the midst of the others: a bow made of celestial bronze curved at the tips and coupled with a quiver of arrows also coated in celestial bronze. She managed to note that the bow was unstrung before having to duck as a spearman lunged at her in an attempt to earn a quick kill. Before he could refocus on her, the boy who had helped Lyca engaged the spearman with a stubby short sword. He jabbed at the boy with the spear, causing him to back away unsteadily and yelled at Lyca: "Run! Go for the woods!"
Lyca didn't think twice, didn't hesitate to run, even to question why that boy didn't run as well. Her legs just bounded over the dust and grass of the field as she raced for the tree line. As she ran, she spied a white bag sitting in front of her. Without a second thought she scooped up the bag and slung it over her shoulder and kept moving for the trees. The sounds of battle began to decrease, and Lyca knew that either she was getting farther away or that more half-bloods were dying.
Just at the tree line Lyca saw a glint in the grass; desperate to have something to defend herself with, the half-blood altered her run so that she would have the time to grab whatever was in the grass and still be able to continue running into the brush. As her hand grasped one end of the belt, another hand reached out as well. Out of sheer instinct, Lyca rotated swiftly, balling her reinforced hand up and smashing it into her opponent's face as she yanked hard on the belt, pulling it free from the unlucky half-blood's grasp. She chanced a look at her attacker before dashing off into the forest, and saw his blond hair ruffling as he fell to the ground, holding his face tenderly.
Lyca crashed through the foliage, desperately trying to get far enough away from the battle as possible. After listening to her panting heaves for air for ten minutes she stopped running, hoping to catch her breath before she had to be on the move again. She had run so hard that she hadn't even bothered to check her new-found bag or what was in the belt that she had fought so hard for. She sat under a wide tree in hopes that it would hide her from the remnant of fighters after the battle. She dropped the bag to the ground in front of her and fastened the belt to her sweatpants. She realized that the belt housed a pair of clip-point hunting knives and sighed in relief. Knives weren't her primary weapon, but she learned how to utilize knives first as a weapon and could make do until she got a more suitable weapon. Lyca leaned against the tree to catch her breath before opening the bag, finding a length of rope and two empty bottles. She sighed aloud. "At least I have something to hold water with," she muttered softly.
"Yeah," a voice spoke, startling Lyca. "Too bad you won't have a use for any of that stuff. See, the thing is, I'm going to kill you now. And you won't have to worry about anything ever again." The half-blood looked up into the face of a broad-shouldered, bulky boy, about seventeen, dressed similarly to her but armed with a two-handed blade. "Now," he said eerily, "You can go the easy way…or the hard way."
Lyca swallowed, knowing that now was the beginning. There was no turning back, no running away. She stood slowly, eyeing the large half-blood in front of her. "How about you go the hard way?" she retorted, drawing a knife from her belt.
The beefy half-blood choked out a laugh. "You threaten me with such a small, puny blade? I will smash you to pieces before you can touch me," he exclaimed as he drew his dreaded blade of celestial bronze. Lyca looked into his eyes briefly to see his eyes were red, blood-red as the field where everything started was.
"You've given into the bloodlust haven't you?" Lyca asked him, circling around him, putting him between her and the tree.
He pounded his chest proudly. "I am Maximos, son of Ares, the God of War! I gladly welcome this gift from my father. I will use it to gain glory by defeating the best of the armies that fought in the war! You cannot defeat me!"
Lyca's face fell into a scowl. "You wanna bet?" she snarled at him, drawing the other blade in an icepick grip. "Ladies first," she taunted him.
With a large war cry, Maximos charged at Lyca, blade slashing the air brutally. Silently, Lyca counted off his steps in her head before rolling under his blade and springing up behind him. "Hey, Max." With a grunt, he turned around to face his adversary. "You're dumber than the Minotaur." With a loud cry, he rushed Lyca again, the bloodlust dulling his senses and causing him to swing wildly at her. Lyca braced herself before springing towards him, slipping under his blade and deflecting the attack with her hunting knife, rotating under him and slashing at him. With another quick step away from him, Lyca stood, waiting for the son of Ares to get back on his feet.
Maximos spun quickly to face Lyca before wincing: a cut ran up his arm, drawing blood and stinging the wound with his sweat. "What was that you said? That you would 'smash me to pieces' before I even got close to you?" Lyca spoke calmly. Maximos snapped; he let his rage and the bloodlust mix and form a formidable weapon in himself. With a growl more animal than anything, the son of Ares charged again.
Lyca grasped one of her knives by the blade between two fingers, knowing that this knife wasn't made to throw and sent it flying, intending to nail the half-blood between the eyes and give him a painless death. Instead, the blade buried itself in Maximos' arm. Lyca swore under her breath; she knew she would've had to have been lucky to hit him where she wanted to with a knife not made for throwing, but she had been hoping that her dad would give her a little help here. But the blade was jammed in his shoulder; it would do enough to slow him down enough for Lyca to finish the job.
Maximos got close, swinging his blade wildly, as if he'd had no actual training whatsoever in using the weapon. Lyca stepped within his guard, silently daring him to strike her. Swing after swing, Lyca ducked and dodged and slid around Maximos' large, clumsy form trading each missed blow for a slash with her hunting knife.
After ducking a fatal blow from the son of Ares, Lyca slashed behind her, cutting deep into Maximos. She turned to look at him, skin flecked with his own blood, gashes in his beefy torso and legs, and her other knife plunged deep within the shoulder of the half-blood. Maximos sank to his knees, raggedly breathing shallow breaths. Lyca searched his eyes, no longer filled with rage or bloodlust, but with something else entirely. Acceptance. Lyca sighed slowly. She knew why Maximos had chosen her. He didn't want to die at the hands of someone sated with the same bloodlust that had taken him. He wanted an honorable death from a worthy opponent. Lyca gripped the knife still encased in the barely living shell of the son of Ares and pulled it out, laying it in the grass next to her. She placed a hand on his shoulder, before placing the hunting knife against his heart. Maximos struggled to nod his head as if to say, "Go on. Finish this. Don't let me die like that. Don't let me die like an animal."
Lyca whispered two words she had never felt more truly about before: "I'm sorry." She squeezed the handle and pushed it, plunging the blade into Maximos' heart. And as his eyes rolled back into his head, acceptance made way for another emotion…peace. She laid the fallen half-blood against the tree she first encountered him at, closing his eyes slowly. "Find the light and peace you could not find here Max. Rest."
I hope you all enjoyed the lastest installment of "Playing the Games." I want to try to update this (and all my stories) more often, but college is a real pain. But I promise to update when I can.
So, have you guessed who her Olympian parent is yet? A couple more hints in this chapter, but not as much as the first...if you know what to look for. Btw: next chapter has some Percy and Annabeth in it, maybe even some other familiar half-bloods.
Before I go...can you guess what's strange about Kronos? And do you all know who was next to Lyca in the tournament? Or who she knocked out (not killed) in the tournament to get the hunting knives? I wanted to stay as true to Rick Riordan when I wrote those descriptions so I studied the characters meticulously to portray them correctly.
All in all, Happy reading and Reviews are appreciated.