Through the front lines Aineíās strode, armed in gleaming bronze. As he moved, going after Peleus' son among those crowds of men, he did not go unnoticed.
Seeing Ankhísēs' son, Hḗrē gathered her companion gods and said: "Poseidón, Athênê, think about what's going on. Aineías is going to meet Akhilles at Apóllōn's urging. We should work together to turn him back or one of us should help Akhilles, giving him the strength to fight so that he won't run away. We all know that Ariadnê and her brother, the twin swords of the sea, are fond of Ankhísēs' son."
And Hektōr but he was a little busy trying to convince his parents that he was fine on the battlefield and didn't need to go back behind the walls.
"And then he'll know the gods who love him are the best of the immortals and those gods who up to now have guarded Trojans in this war's battles have only little power, as feeble as the wind."
Well, that was a lie. There may be more Olympians on the side of the Achaeans, but that didn't mean those on the Trojans' side had little power as they had Apóllōn, Aphrodítē, and Árēs on their side.
"We joined the fight so that Akhilles would not come to any harm from Trojans, at least not in the fight today. Later, he'll suffer everything which Fate spun with her thread for him that very day his mother bore him. But if Akhilles doesn't learn this from a god who speaks to him, then he may be fearful if some god appears against him in the battle. For the gods are terrifying when they reveal themselves."
Poseidón then answered her: "Hḗrē, don't let your rage defeat your common sense. There's no need. For I have no desire that gods should fight each other in this battle. We should move off to one side and sit down where we can watch, leaving this war to men. But if Phoibos Apóllōn or if Árēs begins to fight or holds Akhilles back, not allowing him to go on fighting, then we'll get in the conflict right away, join in the battle. Soon enough, I think, those two will remove themselves from warfare, returning to Olympos, to the company of other gods whom our strong hands have conquered. My children will not interfere lest they believe Akhilles has help."
With these words, the dark-haired god Poseidón led the way to the remnants of the wall of godlike Hēraklēs, the high rampart Pallas Athênê and the Trojans had built for him, so he could protect himself and escape that monster from the sea, when it forced him to move in from the shore. Poseidón sat there, beside the other gods, wrapping a concealing cloud around their shoulders. The other group of gods sat on the crest of Callicolone, around you, archer Phoibos, and Árēs, who destroys whole cities.
(Ariadnê grumbled to herself when she and Perseus had been cautioned to not rush to Aineías's side.)
So these gods sat there on either side, making plans, both groups holding back from fighting painful war. Sitting high above them, Ζεύς stayed in control.
The whole plain by now was filled with men and horses, all in gleaming bronze. The ground shook underfoot, as men charged each other. Two of the finest men then came at one another in the middle ground between the armies, both prepared for combat—Aineías, Ankhísēs' son, and godlike Akhilles.
Aineías strode out first, making threatening taunts, his heavy helmet nodding as he moved around. Holding his strong shield across his chest, he brandished his bronze spear.
The son of Peleus, from the other side, charged up against him like a murderous lion which a whole community is keen to slaughter. That's how Akhilles, driven by his furious proud heart, came on then against the brave Aineíās.
As they approached each other, coming to close quarters, swift-footed Akhilles yelled: "Aineías, why have you stepped forward, standing here so far in front of all your men? Does your heart prompt you to fight against me in the hope you'll win Priamos's royal honours among horse-taming Trojans? If you kill me, that won't make Priamos put his regal power in your hands. For he has his own sons."
(Percy patted his sister's shoulder in comfort as she growled lowly. "That bitch," she said, speaking english. "This is my kingdom and I name my own heirs! And Aineías has Dardania!")
"Besides, he's healthy, and he is no fool. Or have the Trojans given you some land better than all the rest—a fine orchard, as well as land to plough—yours to keep, if you kill me? You'll find that hard to do. My spear has sent you running once before. Don't you remember? You were alone. I chased you away from your own cattle. You scampered off, down Mount Ida's slopes, and quickly, too. That time we met, you ran and never once looked back, then hid yourself inside Lyrnessus. But I destroyed that city— I attacked it with help from Athênê, as well as Father Ζεύς, seized their women, and took away their freedom."
(Percy and Travis and Will had to hold Annabeth and Thalia and Ariadnê down even though they were just as pissed.)
"You were saved, thanks to Ζεύς and other gods. But today, I don't think he'll save you, as your heart hopes. So I'm telling you to move back now, retreat into the crowd. Don't stand against me, or you'll come up against an evil time. A man who doesn't face the facts is stupid."
("Is he calling him weak," Ariadnê snapped. "I trained him and Hektōr myself! He thinks I'm pussy?"
"Ari, please," Will begged before she settled down with an annoyed huff.)
Aineías then said in response: "Son of Peleus don't try to scare me off with words, as if I were a child. I, too, know well enough how to hand out threats and insults. We both know each other's parents and our ancestry. We've heard the famous tales of mortal men, told long ago, though your eyes have not seen my parents, nor mine yours. People say you're noble Peleus's son, your mother fair-haired Thetis, daughter of the sea. Well, I can claim I'm great Ankhísēs' son, and Aphrodítē is my mother. Today, one of them will mourn a dear dead son."
("Talk to 'em," Ariadnê cheered. Percy smirking beside her even if they both knew that this was not where either of them would die.)
"For I don't think that you and I will leave without a fight, once we've exchanged some childish conversation."
("He definitely spent a lot of time around you, Ari," Thalia pointed out with a light laugh. "That sounds like something you'd say to annoy somebody."
"I'm pretty sure she did say that once," Travis mused. "During the war to a few empousa.)
"But if you wish, then listen to me, so you'll understand my lineage well. Many people know it. First cloud-gatherer Ζεύς fathered Dardanus, who built Dardania, for sacred Ilion, city of mortal men, was not yet built here in the plain."
("So Ζεύς is the Father of both Lakedaímōn and Dardanos," Annabeth mused, still speaking in english as they were prone to do when they didn't want people to know things. "And Perseus, the first one, was Lakedaímōn's great-grandson. There's a lot more honor on their side so even outside of the prophecy, it makes sense why Troy was destined to lose."
Ariadnê hummed. "We should do a mass evac of the kingdom and get them to Castellan. There's room in Bianca Angelia that we can house them. Let them do the whole Trojan Horse thing and then we ambush them instead. Percy and I will need to make like a few hundred water clones."
"I can do like one or two lightning clones," Thalia admitted. "But it takes a lot out of me so I wouldn't be much help afterwards."
"Your effort is still appreciated," Percy told her. "We can see if we can get Nico and Katie to do some also."
"Get me some dye and threads and I can weave together a few," Annabeth mused as she tapped a finger on her arm, mind already whirling with plans. "Then we can be like puppeteers and make them move so it won't be too suspicious."
"We'd have to be careful about it," Travis told them. "Taking a few at a time, leaving all the warriors until the very last second."
"We should supply them all with a pup," Will thought. "We have twenty-one hell pups that we have bonded with and a lot more back in Castellan. Ambroise can carry up five people on her own, so we split them off into groups. If they do the Trojan Horse, the second they come out, we can meet them while the others escape."
Ariadnê smiled, clapping her hands. "I love being better than people.")
"His people settled there, by the slopes of Ida with its many springs. Dardanus, in turn, was father to a son, king Erichthonius, and he became the richest of all mortals, possessing three thousand horses grazing in the fens, all mares happy with their foals. Then North Wind fell in love with them as they pastured there. Taking on the form of a dark stallion, he copulated with them. They conceived, delivering twelve foals. This Erichthonius had a son Tros, who ruled the Trojans, and Tros then fathered three outstanding sons—Ilus, Assaracus, and godlike Ganymêdês, the handsomest man among all mortal men, so beautiful, gods kidnapped him and made him cup bearer to Ζεύς himself, so he'd live among immortals. Ilus had a noble son, Laomedon, who fathered Priamos and Tithonus, Clytius and warlike Hicataon. Assaracus fathered his son Capys, who had Ankhísēs. He is my father. Priamos's son is godlike Hektōr. That, then, is my ancestry, the blood I boast of. But as for courage, well, that's up to Ζεύς, who makes it less or greater as he wills, for he's the mightiest one of all. But come, let's no longer talk this way, like little boys standing in the middle of a battle."
("Talk to 'em," Ariadnê cheered.)
"Both of us have insults we could utter, lots of them, so many that a cargo ship with a hundred oars could not take on the load. Men's tongues are glib, with various languages— words can go here and there in all directions, and the sorts of words one speaks will be the sorts of words one has to listen to. But what's the point? Why should the two of us be squabbling here and fight by trading insults back and forth, like two irritated women, who, in some heart-wrenching raging spat, go in the street to scream at one another with facts and lies, each one gripped by anger. I want to fight—your words won't send me off, not before we've fought it out with bronze, man to man. So come. Let's start this now and test each other with our bronze-tipped spears." Aineías finished. Then he threw his heavy spear at Akhilles' wondrous, dreadful shield.
("That's my friend," Ariadnê stated, pointing her finger in excitement. "Less talking! More fighting! I didn't train a quitter!")
As it hit, the spear point made the shield ring out. Peleus' son held the shield away from him in his big fist, fearing the long-shadowed spear from brave Aineías would easily go through. That was a foolish thought!
("What," Percy snapped. "I thought you taught him how to add a little ocean breeze to sharpen the point."
"I did," his sister growled back. "But don't forget that while his mother may be a sea goddess... she is not a storm goddess. The attack isn't that reliable without that backing."
"She's a war goddess though," Percy mused, tapping a finger to his chin. "But most people tend to forget that. He may need to remember to invoke that specific name of his Mother.")
His heart and mind were not aware that gifts like that, splendid presents from the gods to mortal men, are not so easily defeated, nor do they fail.
So the mighty spear of warrior Aineías did not break the shield, stopped by the golden armour, a present from the god. It drove on through two layers, but there were still three more, for crippled god Hḗphaistos had hammered out five layers, two made of bronze, inner ones of tin, with a gold one in between. The gold one stopped that ash spear from Aineías.
Then Akhilles, in his turn, hurled his long-shadowed spear, hitting Aineías's round shield right on the rim, where bronze and leather backing were the thinnest. The spear of Pelian ash drove straight through the shield, which rattled from the blow. Aineías smirked, as the shield had been a gift loaned to him by Travis, hammered out by Beckendorf that flaming spirit of Castellan.
The spear flew high, above his back, then drove itself into the ground. But it ripped apart two layers on that protective shield which found itself magnetizing to the son of Ankhísēs armour adding an additional layer.
("Remind me to thank Beck," Ariadnê smirked.)
Having escaped the spear, Aineías straightened up. Drawing his sword, Akhilles launched a frenzied charge with a blood-curdling scream. Aineías picked up a rock, a heavy lift, which no two men now alive could do, although he managed it with ease all by himself.
With that rock Aineías would have struck Akhilles, as he charged at him, on his helmet or the shield which had rescued him from death, and then Akhilles in close combat with his sword would have taken Aineías's life, had not the Poseidón been paying attention. He spoke up immediately, addressing the immortal gods beside him.
"Here's trouble. I feel sorry for Aineías, who'll be going down eis Aidao quickly, slain by Peleus' son, because Apóllōn, the far shooter, talked him into it, the fool! Apóllōn won't protect him from grim death. But why should an innocent man like him suffer such misfortune, without doing wrong, just because of other people's troubles? With all his gifts, he's bringing pleasure to the gods who live in spacious heaven. So come, let's carry him away from death, in case the son of Krónos grows enraged, if he's killed by Akhilles. For Fate ordains that he'll escape, so the Dardanian race will not die out and leave no seed the son of Krónos did love Dardanus above all other children born to him from mortal women, though he's come to hate the family of Priamos. So now Trojans will be ruled by powerful Aineías, his children's children born in years to come."
Ox-eyed queen Hḗrē then said to Poseidón: "Earthshaker, in your own heart and mind you must decide whether to save Aineías, or to leave him, for all his nobleness, to be killed by Peleus' son, Akhilles. We two, Pallas Athênê and myself, have often sworn among immortals not to rescue Trojans from wretched death, not even when all Troy is being engulfed in all-consuming, blazing fire, set off by Achaea's warrior sons. You only show care for him as he is your daughter's champion."
Hearing her words, Poseidón went down into the battle, among the flying spears and came right to the place where Aineías stood with glorious Akhilles.
("Dad?" the twins exclaimed.)
At once he cast a dense mist on Akhilles' eyes, pulled the ash spear of Peleus' son out of the shield of brave Aineías and set it at Akhilles' feet.
Poseidón then raised Aineías up, swinging him far above the ground. Aineíās soared high up, above the many ranks of warriors and chariots, flying from Poseidón's hand, and then came down on the fringes of that battle, where the Caucones were arming for the fight.
Poseidón, coming up beside Aineías, spoke to him— his words had wings: "Aineíās, what god brought on such foolishness in you— fighting man to man with proud Akhilles, a stronger man and more loved by the gods? When you run into him, you must move back, or you'll end up in Háidēs' house, contravening what destiny ordains. But when Akhilles has met his fate and died, then you may fight in full confidence among those at the front, for of all Achaeans no one else will kill you."
(Stormsurge charged to life, cracking with the power of the sea as Ariadnê stood to her feet. With a quick flick of her wrist, the long battle-dress that she had been wearing fell to rags around her. She was left in a dark turquoise vest with a white long-sleeved shirt underneath, coupled with dark cream pants and brown bucket-top boots; foreign as most things from Castellan.
"What are you doing," Annabeth asked.
"Making memories," Ariadnê told her before she marched her way onto the battlefield, drawing water from the air to create armor around herself. Percy rushed to her side.
"No, let me. I've always wanted to fight against the greatest warrior of the Trojan War."
He and his sister shared looks before she waved him forward. "Leave some for me," she told him halfheartedly. Percy was after all the better sword fighter between the two.)
With these words, Poseidón left, once he had explained these matters to Aineíās. Then he took away the wondrous mist over Akhilles' eyes. The demi divine male looked out, testing his eyesight, and spoke to his great heart, passionately confused: "What's happening? My eyes are playing amazing tricks on me. I see my spear lying here on the ground, but I don't see the man I threw it at in my eagerness to kill him. Aineíās must be really dear to the immortal gods, though I thought those things he boasted of were merely idle talk. Well, let him go. He'll have no heart to try me once again. He'll be delighted to escape being killed. Come, I'll give a shout to these Danaans to fight more Trojans—put them to the test."
Akhilles finished. Then he leapt in among the ranks, calling each man: "Don't just stand there any more, you fine Achaeans—don't stay away from Trojans. Let each of you go up against your man in full warrior fury. It's hard for me, though I'm a powerful man, to attack so many men and battle with them all. Even deathless gods like Árēs and Athênê could not fight them in the jaws of war in such a conflict and keep on going. But what I can do with my hands and feet and my own power, I'll do. I'll not hold back, but go straight at their lines. I don't think a Trojan who gets within my spear range will have reason to feel happy."
Hektōr, calling with a shout, announced that he'd come forward to confront Akhilles. "You proud-hearted Trojans, don't be afraid of that son of Peleus. I, too, can battle anyone with words, even the immortals. But with a spear, that's more difficult—they're so much stronger. Akhilles won't accomplish everything he says he will. Some of it he'll manage, some he'll leave undone. I'll go against him, though his blazing hands are like a fire, his strength like glittering iron."
With these words he roused them into action. Trojans held their spears up high, then turned to face Achaeans. Both sides joined battle in a terrific frenzy.
(Percy snorted as he continued onwards towards Akhilles.)
Then Phoibos Apóllōn, moving close to Hektōr, spoke to him: "Hektōr, don't step out to face Akhilles openly. Wait for him in the noisy crowd of men. Don't let him hit you with his spear or slash you at close quarters with his sword."
Hektōr pulled back into the crowd of soldiers, seized with fear at hearing a god's voice talk to him. Giving a blood-curdling scream, Akhilles leapt among the Trojans, his heart wrapped in battle fury.
First he attempted to kill Iphition, Otrynteus' brave son, who commanded many men. A Naiad nymph bore him to Otrynteus, sacker of cities, in Hyde, a fertile land, below snow-covered Mount Tmolus. As he charged right at him, godlike Akhilles struck Iphition with his spear squarely in the head, splitting his skull apart. He fell with a crash.
Godlike Akhilles then cried out in triumph: "Lie there, son of Otrynteus, of all men the one we fear the most. Here you die. You were born beside the Gygaean lake, on your father's land, by the fish-filled Hyllus and the swirling Hermus rivers."
Akhilles triumphed for a mere moment before he was thrown away with a blast of water strong enough to cut through man. In his place, stood Godlike Perseus, son of Poseidón, who dropped one of those candied kisses that his kingdom was famed for in Iphition's mouth. Godlike Perseus smirked wryly, "No more families will be torn apart by the order of my lovely sister, Queen Ariadnê Eustephanos."
("That's me," said sister cheered.)
Akhilles charged back with a yell, eyes furious but curious as he took in the famed warrior. One half of the famed Twin Swords stood there calmly while Iphition was helped to his feet by Demoleon, Antenor's son, a brave defensive fighter. They charged back towards the walls, Hippodamas joining them as he jumped down out of his chariot to flee Akhilles.
Akhilles tried to throw his spear, aiming for Hippodamas' back, but Perseus waved his hand through the air and a bullet of water knocked it from the sky. With a come-hither motion, the spear flew into Perseus' hand giving noble Polydorus, son of Priamos, time to retreat.
His father would not let Polydorus fight, for of all his children he was the youngest born, the one most loved. Something that Ariadnê and Hektōr had agreed with, snorting to themselves when he snuck out anyway. He was the fastest runner, too.
Now, like a fool, he was showing off his speed, sprinting through front lines. A spear aimed at his back, but Thalia Dios thugatêr knocked it aside with a blast of wind.
When Hektōr saw his brother Polydorus there, so narrowly avoiding death, a mist flowed right across his eyes. He could no longer bear to keep his distance. He moved against Akhilles, waving his sharp spear, just like a flame.
Akhilles, when he saw him, abandoned his stare down with Perseus and roared in triumph: "He's getting closer—the very man who scarred my heart more than all other men. We won't be evading one another in the battle lanes much longer."
As he said this, Akhilles scowled at godlike Hektōr , then yelled at him: "Come closer, so you can meet your fatal doom more quickly."
("KICK HIS ASS, PERCY!" Ariadnê yelled. Travis and Will restraining as they tried to dodge the sword she waved in the air.)
Hektōr of the shining helmet, quite unafraid, then cried out to Akhilles: "Son of Peleus, don't try to frighten me with words, as if I were some child. I, too, know well enough how to shout out taunting words and insults. I know you're brave, stronger than me by far. But these things are in the lap of the gods. Though I'm the weaker man, I'll take your life, with one throw of my spear, for in the past it's proved it's sharp enough."
With these words, Hektōr raised his spear and threw it. But Athênê, with the slightest puff of breath, blew it aside, away from glorious Akhilles, turning it back to godlike Hektōr. It landed there beside his feet. Alas, with glowing eyes Ariadnê had concentrated on the pathway of the spear, a hit of a focus storm landed at Ahkilles' navel pushing him back on his feet that drew grooves in the earth. Then, with a terrifying shout, Akhilles charged, lusting to kill.
Perseus snorted, sticking his foot out and tripping the infamous soldier who fell to the ground with an oof.
But Apóllōn snatched up Hektōr, something a god can do with ease, then hid him in thick cloud.
Swift-footed, godlike Akhilles scrambled to his feet and charged that cloud three times, striking hard each time with his bronze spear.
When for the fourth time he came on like a god with a terrific shout, Akhilles cried out these winged words to Hektōr: "You dog—once more you're evading death for now. But you've narrowly escaped disaster. Phoibos Apóllōn has saved you one more time. No doubt you always pray to him as you go out into the sound of thudding spears. Next time we meet, I'll surely finish you, if some god is there to assist me, too. For now I'll fight the others, any man I chance to meet."
Akhilles finished shouting before he was knocked back once by Perseus kicking him in the chest.
"Hi," Perseus smiled. "We meet again."
And then he struck.
The two fought on even ground as soon as Ahkilles got his feet back under him. Ahkilles tried to stop Perseus with a spear thrust in his knee, but caught a long swipe of Riptide against the gold of his shield that crippled god Hḗphaistos had hammered out.
With a growl, Ahkilles managed to land one hit with his spear, but gotten a slash from the other at close quarters with his sword.
(In the background, Demouchus, Philetor's son, a big brave warrior, rushed away, managing to keep his life as he hurried back to Troy's walls. Annabeth and Will shared looks, heading inside the kingdom, and whistling for the hellpups of Castellan to commence their plan. Following them were Dardanus and Laogonus, both sons of Bias, pushing their chariot to its limits as they rushed through. )
Then Tros, Alastor's son, fell at Akhilles' knees, clutching them, begging him to spare his life, to capture him alive, instead of killing him, moved by pity for a man the same age as himself. What a fool! He did not know there was no way to change Akhilles' mind—he was not a tender man with a soft heart, but full of fighting rage. With his hands Tros tried to clutch Akhilles' knees, desperate to plead for mercy, but Akhilles' sword aimed to strike him. And at a speed that many did not know he possessed, Perseus flung himself between the two, and Akhilles' sword struck Perseus' liver, which slid out from the wound.
Rose-gold blood, pouring from the gash, filled up his lap but fate saw that it healed in the same instance.
(A loud enraged scream echoed from a distance away as Ariadnê had to be pulled away by Travis, Thalia, and Aineías who had reappeared at her side. "I'll kill him," she was screeching as they dragged her towards the gates. "I'll rip his spine out with my teeth and feast on his blood! I'll make his spine my back scratcher! His teeth will be my charm bracelet! No one stabs my brother but me!")
Perseus ignored all that, twisting in a way that his spear caught Ahkilles in the ear, bouncing off his impenetrable skin, but still catching the male by surprise. He then hit Thetis' son with his hilted sword right on his head.
(Mulius rushed away from the fighting men with Echeclus, Agenor's son, following behind him.)
Ahkilles hit Perseus in the arm where tendons meet the elbow. His arm now useless, Perseus used his feet, twisting about in the air, as he wrapped his legs around the other's neck and slammed them to the ground.
(Deucalion winced as he dodged them at an angle, rubbing his arm and neck in sympathy.)
The two rolled to their feet and Ahkilles hit him with a spear throw in the gut, fixing the bronze firmly in his belly. Perseus responded in kind, slamming his foot against his back, and sending quakes through his bones.
(The noble son of Peires, Rhigmus, who'd come from fertile Thrace, watched with wide eyes as he urged his attendant, Areithous, to wheel the horses onwards. The horses bolted.)
Just as a terrifying fire rages through deep woods on a parched mountain, burning dense stands of trees, as the driving wind blows flames to every spot, that's how Akhilles and Perseus, like gods, raged with his spear and his sword, attacking and killing each other all through the fight.
The dark earth ran with blood. But Peleus' son and Poseidón's blood pushed on to win more glory, blood spattered over their all-conquering hands.
(Ariadnê stomped back out the gates of Ilion, feet pounding against the dirt quickly, showing off a speed that imitated luck-bringing Hermês. She found herself on the backs of Xanthus, smiling amused at the sight of some Trojans that had fled there in panic. Hḗrē had sent fog in front of the group that was racing towards the city. Ariadnê could sense Thalia watching over them, waving her hand carelessly to combat the fog that her Stepmother was generating.)
Perseus put some space between him and Ahkilles, sensing his sister on the battlefield once more. He twisted, kicking Ahkilles in the stomach and having the man sail through the air. He landed in a heap not too far from Ariadnê who gazed at him with a bored eye.
Like an idiot, Ahkilles took one look at Ariadnê, a glance back at her prowling twin brother, and another glance at the Trojans crammed in along the river and charged.
Divinely born Achilles left his spear beside a tamarisk bush and jumped into the stream, like an inhuman thing, armed only with his sword, his heart intent on killing.
"Idiot," the twins muttered as he turned in all directions, striking away. The men his sword slaughtered cried out in terror. The water turned blood red. The twins sniffed, knowing that while they could overrule Xanthus and Thetis' will to kill the man in the water—-they were diplomatic enough to know that they shouldn't.
Just as other fish swim off from a huge dolphin filling safe corners of some sheltered harbour, fearful because the beast eats all it captures— that's how Trojans huddled then, under hanging banks, all along the stream edge of that murderous river. When Akhilles' arms grew weary from the killing, he plucked out of the river twelve young men alive, as blood payment for the killing of Pátroklos. He led them up onto dry land, like stupefied fawns, tied their hands behind them, using belts they wore around their woven tunics, and gave them to his men to lead back to the ships.
Then he jumped in again, eager to keep killing.
The twins shared looks before Perseus followed after him while Stormsurge flew through the air, taking the heads of the Acheans that had come to Ahkilles' aid. Ariadnê freed and waved her people on back towards the kingdom where Will was waiting to attend to their wounds.
But then Akhilles met someone fleeing the river— Lycaon whom he'd captured once before in a night attack, taking him against his will from his father's orchard. He escaped in secret and went home, back to his father's house.
Akhilles' hands were about to ship him, against Lycaon's wishes, down to dwell with Háidēs.
When swift-footed, godlike Akhilles saw Lycaon totally unarmed, without his helmet, shield, or spear, he, much surprised, spoke to his own courageous heart: "What's this? I sold him in sacred Lemnos. But come, let him taste my spear point. I'll see— and in my heart confirm—if he'll return, as he's just done, or if life-giving earth, which keeps even strong men down, will hold him."
That's what Akhilles thought, as he stood there waiting. Lycaon, dazed with fear, approached Akhilles, eager to clasp his knees in supplication, heart desperate to escape dark fate and evil death.
Godlike Akhilles raised his long spear, prepared to strike as Perseus appeared by him, standing calmly on the river.
Lycaon, stooping down, slipped underneath the spear, then clasped Akhilles' knees. Flying above his back, the spear stuck in the ground. With one hand, Lycaon grabbed Akhilles' knee. His other clutched the spear, refusing to let go.
He begged for mercy, addressing Akhilles with these winged words: "By your knees, Akhilles, I beg you to respect me as a suppliant. Have pity on me. I claim that sacred right, my lord, because it was at your table I first ate Dēmḗtēr's grain the very day you seized me in that well-built orchard. You led me far from father and my friends, then sold me off in sacred Lemnos. For me you got the value of a hundred oxen, but I was ransomed for three times that price. It's now twelve days since I reached Ilion, after my ordeal. Once more, deadly Fate has placed me in your hands. I do believe Father Ζεύς must hate me, to give me to you for a second time. My mother, Laothoë, daughter of old Altes, gave birth to me to live a shortened life. Death comes for me, as well. I don't expect to escape your hands this time, since some god has guided me right to them. But I'll say one more thing—take it to heart— don't kill me. I'm not from the same womb as Hektōr, the man who killed your comrade, that kind and powerful warrior."
So Lycaon begged for mercy from Akhilles.
But the response he got was brutal.
"You fool, don't offer me a ransom or some plea. Before Pátroklos met his deadly fate, sparing Trojans pleased my heart much more. I took many overseas and sold them. But now not one of them escapes his death, especially none of Priamos's children. So now, my friend, you too must die. Why be sad about it? Pátroklos died, a better man than you. And look at me. You see how fine I am, how tall, how handsome? My father's a fine man, the mother who gave birth to me a goddess. Yet over me, as well, hangs Fate—my death. There'll come a dawn, or noon, or evening, when some man will take my life in battle— he'll strike me with his spear or with an arrow shot from his bowstring." Akhilles finished.
Then Lycaon's knees gave way, his heart collapsed. He let go of the spear and crouched there, both his hands stretched out. Akhilles pulled out his sharp sword and Perseus struck, foot hitting Ahkilles' in the collarbone, beside his neck, throwing off the sharp sword of Peleus' son.
Ariadnê smiled to herself, holding her hand and summoning the sword to her hand.
Lycaon fell back in shock, and Ariadnê seized him by the foot, using the water of the river before throwing him back towards the kingdom.
Akhilles growled, turning angry eyes onto the queen. Ariadnê raised a brow. "Lie there, among the fish. They'll lick blood from your wound with no respect. Your mother won't set you on your funeral bed, lamenting over you. No, Scamander, the swirling river, will carry you away to the broad lap of the sea. Many fish will swim up to the darkly rippled surface to eat white fat from Ariadnê. So die, all you fleeing Trojans, until we reach that sacred city Ilion, with me there, right behind you, fighting and killing you. Your flowing river with its silver eddies won't help, for all those bulls you've sacrificed all these years, all the sure-footed horses you've thrown alive into its swirling pools. No matter—you'll suffer an evil fate, till every one of you has paid in full for Pátroklos' death, for Achaea's dead, the men you slaughtered by our swift ships, when I was not among them there."
"Brave talk from a toddler," Perseus commented, eyes a light with a wrath for someone threatening his sister—wishing death on his sister. "You're the one that through a temper tantrum."
Akhilles' words enraged the heart in river Xanthus, who wondered how he might stop godlike Akhilles from his slaughter and protect the Trojans from disaster.
Meanwhile, Peleus' son, gripping his long-shadowed spear, still eager to kill more, dodged Perseus and charged Asteropaeus, son of Pelegon, born to the broad river Axius and Acessamenus' eldest daughter, Periboea. The deep swirling river had had sex with her.
Akhilles went at Asteropaeus, who stood there, facing him, holding two spears. In his anger at the slaughter of young soldiers in the battle, whom Akhilles kept butchering along the stream, showing no pity, Xanthus then put fighting strength into Asteropaeus. But when the two men had approached each other, moving close together, godlike Akhilles was the first to speak: "Who are you that dares to come against me? Where are you from? Children who confront me leave their parents full of sorrow."
The glorious son of Pelegon then said in reply: "Great-hearted son of Peleus, why ask me my lineage? I come from Paeonia, a fertile country far from here, leading Paeonians, men carrying long spears. It's now eleven days since I came here to Ilion. I'm born from Axius, the wide-streaming river, whose waters are the loveliest which flow upon this earth. Axius fathered a famous spear man, Pelegon, whose son they say I am. But now, splendid Akhilles, let us fight."
Ariadnê strolled forward calmly, twirling Ahkilles' sword in her hand, pressing it against her bracelet so that it was hers for then on and forevermore.
In response to that speech from Asteropaeus, godlike Akhilles raised his Pelian ash spear.
But then Asteropaeus, an ambidextrous man, threw two spears at once. One hit Akhilles' shield, but did not break through. The gold, gift of a god, had checked it. The other hit Akhilles with a glancing blow on his right arm at the elbow. Dark blood flowed out.
Ariadnê and Perseus paused in place, eyes zeroing in on that slither of blood as it flowed to the ground. That shouldn't be possible. Perseus hadn't even managed to injure him. They shivered as if they could feel the Kêres drawing closer to the battle.
Ariadnê breathed deeply, licking her lips as the scent of blood—his blood— waft towards her. Perseus gave his sister a worried look, sensing the rise of her bloodlust, knowing that she was itching to fight the other and that her declaration to feast on his blood was not by any means an exaggeration.
But the spear passed over Ahkilles and struck the ground and he, in his turn, threw a straight-flying spear at Asteropaeus, hoping to kill him. But he missed the man, hitting the high river bank, driving half that ash spear deep in the ground.
Perseus summoned that one to himself. It would make a good gift for Thalia's birthday.
Drawing the sharp sword by his thigh, Peleus' son, enraged, went after Asteropaeus, but before he could get to him, Perseus punched him the gut, the force leading to the rich-haired man to bend in half where his forehead could touch his toes over Prince of the Aigaiôn's fist.
Ahkilles growled and groaned as he backed away. Spitting at Perseus and Asteropaeus' feet, the latter whom Ariadnê covered.
"It's hard to compete with children of the mighty son of Cronos, even though you are descended from some river. You claim your family stems from a broad flowing stream, but I boast a family coming from great Ζεύς. The man who is my father, Peleus, son of Aeacus, rules many Myrmidons. Aeacus came from Ζεύς himself, and Ζεύς is stronger than rivers flowing to the sea, so Ζεύς's line is stronger than all those descended from a river. Look beside you— there's a great stream there, but he can't help you. For there's no way to battle against Ζεύς, son of Krónos. Even lord Achelous cannot equal him, nor the great power of deep flowing Ôkeanos, from whom all rivers, seas, fountains, and deep wells derive their water—even Ôkeanos is afraid of lighting from great Ζεύς and his thunder when it crashes in the skies."
"You speak big, son of Peleus," Ariadnê said. "You claim lineage to Father Ζεύς, my king and my uncle for my Father is Poseidón and he too is a son of Krónos. You claim to be better than my Brother and I, we who are sea-born just as Ôkeanos who rules over the great, earth-encircling River Okeanos. And your Mother, Thetis, daughter of Nêreus Gerôn Halios. You come from the same line as us. Do not presume you are our betters as tis my brother that has kept you from making every kill that would soothe your heart. You chase after Hektōr, whom is my champion and my heir. I shall kill you where you stand at this moment, but I will see to it for it has been foretold that the war shall not end until you are brought to pylai Aidao by the hand of Troy's chosen and Troy is but rubble amongst the earth. I swore on the divinity that flows through my veins as my Father is Poseidón Aigaiôn this war shall end when Fate and Death meet and nothing will stop me until I lie your head atop of a pike amongst Troy's walls."
Saying this, she turned away, leading Asteropaeus back to the kingdom, knowing that her Brother would cover her. Percy watched his sister's back from the Acheans that tried to attack her as she left with her head high.
And behind them, Akhilles moved away, attacking the Paeonian charioteers still crouched beside the flowing river. There Akhilles killed Thersilochus, Mydon, Astypylus, Mnesus, Thrasius, Aenius, and Ophelestes.
Akhilles would have killed still more Paeonians, but the deep-flowing river, in its anger, taking on a human form, called out, speaking from a deep swirling pool: "Akhilles, you may be the most powerful of men, but you're inflicting too much damage here. Yes, the gods are always there to help you. And if Krónos' son is now enabling you to kill all Trojans, at least drive them off far from my stream. Carry out your work— this butchery—out there on the plain. Now corpses fill my channels, I can't let my waters flow through anywhere to reach the glimmering sea. I'm choking on the dead, while you keep up these harsh atrocities. Come, you leader of your people, let me be. I find your actions here astounding."
In reply, swift-footed Akhilles then addressed the river: "Divinely raised Scamander, it shall be as you request. But I'll not stop killing these proud Trojans till I have them cornered in their city and have tested Hektōr in a fight, and he kills me or I kill him."
Saying this, Akhilles fell upon the Trojans, like something superhuman. Then Scamander, the deep-flowing river, cried out to Apóllōn: "What's happening, lord of the silver bow, child of Ζεύς? You're not following Ζεύς's plans. He clearly told you to assist the Trojans, to defend them until evening comes, casting its shadows on the fertile farmland."
And like a fool, Akhilles jumped from the bank into the middle of the stream. The river attacked him with a rising flood, stirring all his waters into seething turmoil, sweeping up many corpses crowded in the shoals, men slaughtered by Akhilles.
Roaring like a bull, the river hurled these bodies up onto the shore, preserving in its lovely stream those still alive by hiding them in deep wide pools.
Around Akhilles, huge waves towered threateningly, beating down his shield. The breaking waters pushed him backwards.
Akhilles lost his footing. His hand reached out to grab a large elm tree, but the tree came loose, roots and all, tearing the whole river bank away. As it fell in the river, its thick branches blocked that lovely stream, damming its flow.
In terror, Akhilles scrambled up out of the raging waters, trying on his swift feet to run out to the plain.
But the great god wasn't done. With a dark wave, he went after godlike Akhilles, to prevent the killing and to rescue Trojans from destruction.
Peleus' son ran off. The bronze armour on his chest was clanging fearfully as he swerved out from underneath the flooding river, desperate to escape. But with a tremendous roar, Scamander's flood rushed on in pursuit behind him.
Every time swift-footed, godlike Akhilles tried stopping to fight back, to see if all the gods who live in spacious heaven were forcing him to flee, a tremendous wave from that heaven-fed river would crash down around his shoulders.
He'd jump clear, heart panicking, but the river kept tugging at his legs with a strong undertow, washing out the ground beneath his feet. Then gazing up into the wide sky the son of Peleus cried out: "Father Ζεύς, why is no god standing by me here, in this pitiful state, rescuing me from this river? After this, I can endure everything. I don't blame any Olympian as much as I blame my own dear mother, who led me astray with lies, telling me I'd die from the swift arrows of Apóllōn, under Trojan walls and fully armed. Now I wish that I'd been killed by Hektōr, the best man of those native to this region. Then a fine man would have done the killing, another fine man would have been destroyed. But now it's been ordained that I'm to suffer an ignoble death, caught by this great river, like some child in care of pigs, swept away while trying to cross a torrent in a rain storm."
Akhilles spoke. Then Poseidón and Pallas Athênê, coming up quickly, stood in human form beside him. They joined their hands with his, and with their words they pledged their help. Poseidón spoke out first: "Son of Peleus, don't be so afraid. You need have no fear. We two come from the gods, here to help you— me and Pallas Athênê, and Ζεύς approves. It's not ordained that you're to die here, killed by some river, which will soon recede, as you will see. We have advice for you, if you'll listen. Don't hold back your hands in murderous warfare till you've cornered inside the famous walls of Troy those men now in retreat before you. Once you've taken Hektōr's life, return back to the ships. We are giving you a chance for glory."
With these words, the two gods went away. Akhilles, running across the plain, he raised his legs high, striving against the current. The broad flowing river could not slow him down, once Athênê had put great power in Akhilles.
But Scamander did not hold his fury back, growing even more enraged at Peleus's son. He raised himself up in a high-crested wave and called out with a shout to Simoeis:
"Dear brother, let's both together counter this man's power since he'll soon demolish Ariadnê's city. Trojans will not stand up to him and fight. Come quickly. Help me. Fill your streams with water from your springs. Whip up your torrents. Then stand in a huge wave, raising a din with rocks and tree trunks, so we can stop this violent man, now in a conquering rage, like some god. I'll cover him in sand, with a massive layer of silt on top, beyond all measurement. I'll hide him there with so much mud, Achaeans will not know how to collect his bones. There where he'll lie, I'll make him a tomb—he won't need a mound when Achaeans organize his funeral."
(Ariadnê scowled. The only thing that would be getting demolished is Ahkilles when Percy stops playing with his food or when he face her in battle.)
Saying this, Scamander crested high against Akhilles, then charged, seething with foam and blood and corpses. The dark wave of the heaven-fed river rose, towering above Akhilles, about to overwhelm him.
But Hḗrē, afraid for Akhilles, cried out, fearing the great, deep, swirling river would sweep him off. She called out to Hḗphaistos, her dear son: "Rouse yourself, my crippled child. We think that you're a match for swirling Xanthus in a fight. Come quickly. Help Akhilles with a giant outburst of your flames. I'll stir up some winds— West Wind's harsh sea blasts and white South Wind— to whip on your destructive fires, so they may burn dead Trojans and their weapons. You must go along the river banks, burning trees, attacking river Xanthus with your flames. Don't let him slow you down in any way, not with gentle words or making threats. Don't check your fury till I tell you to. I'll give you a shout. Then you can pull back your inexhaustible fire."
Hḗphaistos then prepared a prodigious blaze. First it burned up all the plain, incinerating corpses, the many bodies of men slaughtered by Akhilles scattered everywhere. The entire plain dried up. The shimmering river waters were held back.
Just as at harvest time North Wind quickly dries well-watered orchards, to the farmer's great delight, that's how the whole plain then grew dry, as Hḗphaistos burned up the dead. Then he turned his blazing flames against the river, burning elms, willows, tamarisks, clover, rushes, sedge, all growing in abundance along that lovely stream. In the river pools, eels and fish were much distressed—they jumped everywhere in that fine river, suffering the fiery blasts prepared by that resourceful god Hêphaistos.
(Ariadnê and Percy growled as they were tugged and dragged to the ground, responding to the cries of the eels and fish.)
The river, too, was burned. So Xanthus cried out, calling to the god: "No god, Hḗphaistos, can stand against you. I cannot fight you when you burn with flames like this. So stop. End this strife. Godlike Akhilles can continue. Let him drive the Trojans from their city. What do I care about assisting in this war?"
(Ariadnê turned her blazing eyes onto Apóllōn. The normal blue hue had turned into a pretty mixture of gold and blue like someone tried to mix two different paints and aesthetics together. Stormsurge morphed into her very own bow and arrow as she gazed at her once-lover. "I will kill him. I will fell him myself. With your swift arrows, I'll make him obsolete.")
Then the river, with a strong appeal to Hêrê, spoke these winged words: "Hḗrē, why is your son burning up my stream, doing it more injury than any other? I'm not as much to blame as all the rest, the ones who help the Trojans. If you say so, I'll stop, if Hḗphaistos stops as well. And I'll swear this oath—never again will I protect a Trojan from his evil death, not even when all Troy itself is burning, ablaze with all-consuming fire, started by Achaea's warlike sons."
(Annabeth snorted where she was sending the people off to Castellan. Will was back in their kingdom getting them situated in the underground city, making way to light the underground caverns and reassuring those from the outer city-states of the kingdom that had fled there when Athens began their attacks.)
Hḗrē , as soon as she'd heard this, spoke to Hḗphaistos, her dear son: "Hold off, Hḗphaistos, splendid child. It's not right to hurt a deathless god like this, just for the sake of mortal men."
Hḗphaistos extinguished his stupendous fire at once. The river's stream flowed once more in its channel. When the fighting spirit in Xanthus had been broken, the two gods fought no longer.
Hḗrē had stopped them, though she was still enraged. But now the other gods began a heavy conflict and a cruel fight among themselves. The spirits in their hearts pushed them in various directions. As they clashed, with a tremendous din, the wide earth cried out, and mighty heaven pealed, just like a trumpet.
Sitting on Olympus, Ζεύς heard the sound—his heart laughed with delight to see these gods go at it in mutual conflict. They no longer stood aloof.
Árēs started it, attacking Athênê first with his bronze spear and taunting her: "You dog fly, why is it you're once again inciting gods to fight each other, heart prompted by your own foolhardiness? Don't you recall the moment you provoked Diomēdēs, Tydeus' son, to wound me? We all saw it—you grabbed his spear yourself and drove it at me, scratching my fair skin. Well, now I think you'll pay for all you've done."
Árēs struck Athênê's tasselled aegis. Drawing back, Athênê picked up in her strong hand a large, black, jagged rock, lying there on the plain. In earlier ages men had set it there to indicate the boundary of a field.
With this rock Athênê struck raging Árēs in the neck. His legs collapsed.
Árēs fell. Stretched out he covered seven hundred feet. His hair was dirtied with the dust. His armour rang.
Pallas Athênê laughed, then cried in boastful triumph: "You fool, still so ignorant of how much stronger I can claim to be than you, when you seek to match my power. This is the way you'll answer now in full your mother's vengeful rage. She's angry, planning nasty things for you, since you left Achaeans to support the arrogant Trojans."
Ζεύς's daughter Aphrodítē then took Arês and led him off by hand, as he kept groaning— he found it difficult to get his spirit back.
(Ariadnê took a deep breath, summoning her sword once more to her hands. She placed her gaze over it. Stormsurge had been with her through a lot even more than her trident, Tidalwave. There was a good chance that she might lose it, but her people needed her. She tuned, sprinting past Percy as he helped the last of the people to the gates.)
When Hḗrē saw Athênê, she spoke, addressing her with these winged words: "Look there, child of aegis-bearing Ζεύς, you tireless one, that dog fly once again is leading man-killing Árēs through the crowd, away from battle. Go after her."
Once Hḗrē spoke, Athênê dashed off in pursuit, delighted in her heart. Charging Aphrodítē, she move to strike her in the chest with her powerful fist. She found herself missing her target—she Pallas Athênê! When the dust cleared, Ariadnê had collapsed to the ground, the titan-sized water clone of herself fell down around her.
The demi-divine child of inevitability groaned, eyes still swirling that mix of blue and gold as she slowly climbed to her feet. "Όχι," she groaned as she stood on shaky feet. "All those who assist the trojans will not end up like this in warfare Achaeans, with all the fortitude and boldness I showed in helping my Lady and Lord, standing up against your fighting power. You will not destroy well-peopled Illion. Not the home of Pallas Tritônis." She shook her head, clearly it from stuffiness. "Face me, Pallas Athênê, pride of both our Fathers. I do not deny you are greater than I, being an Olympioi of divine birth, but—" Her gaze, which had fluttered to the ground, suddenly met the goddess, blue faded from her eyes, and blazing gold as bright as the sun, a power she had not felt since she had been thrown back through the strands of time. "If you make a god bleed, people will stop believing in them. We'll then soon end these hostile fights."
The mighty Earthshaker spoke to Apóllōn: "Phoibos, why do we two stand aloof? That's not right, now that others have begun. It would be shameful if we both went back to Olympos, to Ζεύς's bronze-floored home, without a fight. Since you're the younger one, you must begin. It's not fair play if I do, since I'm your elder and thus I know more. How foolish you are with your thoughtless heart! Don't you recall the trouble we two had around Troy, just the pair of us alone, with no other gods, that time when Ζεύς made us come here to work for a whole year at a fixed wage for proud king Laomedon? He was our master and told us what to do. I built the Trojans a wide and splendid wall around their city, to make it impregnable. You, Phoibos, worked with his cattle herds, taking his shambling bent-horned livestock through Ida's wooded spurs and valleys. When the joyful seasons stopped our working there, that despicable Laomedon robbed us. He kept our wages and sent us off with threats. He promised he'd tie up your hands and feet, then in some distant island sell you as a slave. He said he'd slice off both our ears with bronze. We came back really angry in our hearts, enraged about those promised wages he'd withheld. That's the man whose people you're now keen to favour. He who lineage carried away my daughter from her family and friends. You don't join us, so we destroy these arrogant Trojans once and for all, along with all their children and their honourable wives as well."
Lord Apóllōn, who shoots from far, answered Poseidón: "Earthshaker, you'd never call me prudent, if I fought with you over human beings— those pitiful creatures are like the leaves, now full of blazing life, eating nourishment the earth provides, then fading into death. No, let's quickly end our quarrel, leaving these mortal men to fight amongst themselves."
Saying this, he turned away, thinking it shameful to fight in battle against his father's brother.
But his sister, forest goddess Artemis, queen of all wild beasts, was furious with him. She spoke to him with scorn: "So, far worker, you're running off, ceding total victory to Poseidón, giving him an easy glory. You fool! Why do you carry such a bow, as useless as the wind? From now on, I never want to hear you boasting, the way you used to among deathless gods, how you could fight Poseidón face to face."
Artemis spoke. Far-shooting Apóllōn did not answer.
But Hḗrē, Ζεύς' honoured wife, was angry. She went at the archer goddess, insulting her: "You shameless bitch, you dare stand against me? You'll find it hard to match my power, even if you have your bow and Ζεύς made you a lion among women, allowing you to kill whichever one of them you please. I say it's better to be slaughtering wild beasts, deer in the mountains, than to fight all out with those more powerful. Still, if you're keen to learn about this war, to understand how much more powerful I am, let's fight, since you are challenging my strength."
With these words, Hḗrē caught both arms of Artemis in her left hand. With her right she grabbed the bow, snatching it and its quiver off her shoulders. Then she slapped her with those weapons. As she did so, Hḗrē smiled to see Artemis twist away and squirm. The swift arrows tumbled out. Artemis ran off, crying like a pigeon speeding from a hawk, flying to some hollow cleft among the rocks, for she's not fated to be caught—that's how Artemis escaped, in tears, leaving her bow lying there.
Then Hermês, the guide, killer of Argus, spoke out, addressing Lētṓ: "I'll not fight you, Lētṓ. It's dangerous to come to blows with those married to cloud-gatherer Ζεύς. So you can tell immortal gods your great strength conquered me— and you can even boast about it."
Lētṓ then collected the curved bow and arrows, which had fallen here and there down in the swirling dust. Then she left, taking her daughter's weapons with her.
(Ariadnê steeled her heart against the sight of Aegis. Medousa got beat by twelve year olds and satyr. She wasn't that scary. And Ariadnê grew up with Gammy Gabe... not even Medousa was uglier than that ass. She had trained against Thalia for years, forcing herself to face down her copy of Aegis. So, yeah, Ariadnê hardened her heat and ducked under Athênê's strike, kicking out at her spear arm.)
Artemis returned then to Olympus, to Ζεύς's home, with its bronze floor. The girl sat on her father's lap, her immortal garments shaking as she wept. Her father, Krónos' son, holding her to him, asked her with a gentle laugh: "My dear child, which of the heavenly gods has treated you so nastily, as if you were committing some evil act in public?"
Then Artemis, with her beautiful headband, answered Ζεύς: "It was your wife who hit me, father, white-armed Hḗrē. Now, thanks to her, immortal gods engage in fights and quarrels."
As these two talked together in this fashion, Phoibos Apóllōn went to sacred Ilion.
He was concerned about that well-built city wall, afraid Danaans might breach it that very day, contravening what Fate ordained.
The other gods, who live forever, such Aphrodítē and Árēs went back to Olympos, some incensed and others relishing their triumph. They sat down by Ζεύς, lord of the dark cloud.
Ariadnê conjured a shield of water to stop the sharp swing of Pallas Athênê. The goddess found her heart filled with as she had not found a partner that could meet her in strength as the rich-haired daughter of Poseidón quickly proved.
Their weapons met in a loud clang that could shake the mountains of many-folded peak of Olympus like the Kroniôn king, descending from above, magnanimous, commanding, sceptred Ζεύς; all-parent, principle and end of all, whose power almighty shakes this earthly ball; even nature trembles at thy mighty nod, loud-sounding, armed with lightning, thundering god.
And despite themselves, Athênê and Ariadnê found smiles adorning their faces as they sprung at each other once more.
Meanwhile, Akhilles still kept on killing Trojans, both soldiers and their sure-footed horses, too.
Just as smoke rises up, reaching spacious heaven, when a city burns from fires set by wrathful gods— that's how Akhilles brought Trojans death and danger.
Then old Priamos stood on that wall built by gods, observing huge Akhilles as he drove the Trojans ahead of him in total panic, their spirit breaking.
With a groan, he left the wall, came down to the ground, and summoned the well-known sentries at the gates. Percy and Thalia raised a brow as the overthrown king gave his orders.
"Hold the doors wide open with your hands, until the fleeing troops come to the city. For Akhilles is coming closer, driving them in panic. I think disaster looms. When the men have gathered here inside the wall, able to get relief, then close the gates, these tight-fitting doors, once more. I'm afraid this murderer may jump inside our walls."
Then the men pushed back the bars, opening the gates, and gave a saving light for those men on the run.
Then Apóllōn charged out to meet Akhilles, seeking to protect the Trojans from destruction, as they ran back with their Queen so distracted as her family led their citizens away to a foreign land, straight for the high-walled city, suffering from thirst and dust from the plain.
Still in a rage, Akhilles chased them with his spear, his heart filled with strong and unremitting fury, still eager to win glory. At that moment, Achaea's sons would have captured Troy's high gates, if Phoibos Apóllōn had not intervened, by stirring up noble, godlike Agenor, Antenor's son, a powerful warrior.
In his heart Apóllōn instilled courage and then stood by him, leaning against the oak tree, covered in thick mist, so he might ward off the heavy hand of Death.
When Agenor saw Akhilles, sacker of cities, he made a stand, his heart pondering many things, as he stood there. In his agitation, he spoke out, addressing his proud heart: "Here's trouble! If I rush away before Akhilles where other men are running in their panic, he'll catch me, then kill me as a coward. But if I let him push them forward and run off to hide, I could just come back to Ilion... why am I even wondering about this? He might see me either way. He could catch me before I could really hide. The man is really strong, much more powerful than other men except Lord Perseús, brother of the Queen. What if I go out to stand against him before the city? He's got one life, no more. And men say that he's a mortal, although Krónos, Krónos' son, gives him glory."
Saying this, Agenor stood up straight and waited, the heart within him prepared for war and keen to fight.
Ariadnê felt like a baseline human facing against the Hulk as she fought against Athênê. She didn't let that stop her. She had after all faced off against her Aunt Dēmḗtēr as Grainzilla. She stood tall against the Gigantes. She wasn't going to let nothing intimidate her.
Even if she did wish that it was Percy facing her since he was a better sword fighter. Though she could admit to herself that the goddess may actually kill her brother if she was facing him. Ariadnê let herself dissolve into mist, a small mist conjured behind Athênê to imitate her solidifying and as the goddess turned, Ariadnê appeared back in her previous spot, thrusting her kerykeion ironically in the goddess' achilles' heel.
A trick worthy of the one married to clear-sighted Hermês.
The goddess roared in anger turned to bat the demi divine away who had thrown up a hasty giant clone of the goddess of herself as she dodge out the way.
Ariadnê was under no illusion that she could actually beat the goddess, but she could buy some time.
So while Athênê continued to battle her water-clone, Ariadnê took the moment to eat some Nectar-kisses, feeding some energy into the clone to hold while she sprint away from the battle back to the walls of Troy. As she drew close, she took note of Ahkilles chasing someone near them while others rushed around to enter the doors.
Ariadnê stumbled on her feet, feeling the brutal attacks the clone was facing, but she had to preserve the last of her energy.
Agenor, noble Antenor's son, refused to run before fighting Akhilles. Holding his round shield in front of him, he aimed his spear directly at Akhilles, then shouted out: "Glorious Akhilles, I'm sure you've set your heart on destroying the city which proud Trojans hold this very day. What foolishness! Much pain must still be suffered in that enterprise. We who live in Troy are men with courage, and there are lots of us. We'll guard Ilion, in front of our dear parents, wives, and sons. Here you'll meet your doom, though as a fighter, you are so formidable and brave."
Then he threw his sharp spear from his massive hand. He hit Akhilles on the shin, below the knee. The spear did not miss its man. The armour on his leg, newly hammered tin, gave out a fearful clang.
But the spear just struck the metal and bounced off, without going through. The god's gift had protected him.
Then Peleus' son, in turn, went for godlike Agenor.
But Apóllōn did not let him win the glory there. He snatched Agenor up, hid him in dense mist, then sent him quietly away from battle.
After that, he led the son of Peleus astray, far from Trojan soldiers. The far shooter tricked him, by standing right before Akhilles' feet, looking exactly like Agenor. Akhilles charged off in pursuit, chasing Apóllōn out across the plain, past wheat fields, turning him towards the river, the deep, swirling Scamander. Apóllōn raced on, only a little bit ahead, using his cunning to trick Akhilles with his pace, so he'd think he could catch up.
Meanwhile, the other Trojans fleeing in confusion, came crowding in the city, throngs of them, cramming the gates, happy to be there. They did not dare to wait outside the wall, to check who made it back and who had perished in the fight. They streamed into the city in an eager rush, all whose legs and knees had brought them safely in.
Ariadnê slowed at the gates, letting the clone disperse right as the spear of Athênê cleaved it in half. The Queen turned back towards the soldiers that stood outside the walls of Ilion.
She raised her hands to the heavens, gathering strength and power that she stole away from the Nephelê. Gathering all the power that she could, a ball of water all too similar to a spirit bomb from Dragon Ball appeared above her head, casting long shadows underneath it and without a second thought, she threw it at the opposition.
And with a smile, Apóllōn disappeared from the sight of Ahkilles and closed the gates behind the Queen as she fell into the waiting embrace of her brother.
WORD COUNT: 11,458
WORDS TO KNOW:
Nêreus Gerôn Halios - Nêreus, the Old Man of the Sea
pylai Aidao - Gates of Háidēs
Poseidón Aigaiôn - Poseidón Of the Aegean Sea
Ariadnê Eustephanos - Honored Ariadnê
Thalia Dios thugatêr - Thalia, daughter of Ζεύς
Comments from the Author:
Athênê's boast is so funny to me because she overpowered Árēs by striking him with a boulder. They were evenly matched before then. I can't remember where, but I do remember that in one battle, Árēs beat Athênê once.