A/N: A quick update before you get into this highly anticipated, action packed chapter! I will be out of town on vacation for the next little while, which means there will be no update next Saturday (May 18th). Regular programming should return the next week, May 25. If there is any hiccup with travel or things like that, I will do my best to post an update for you all. Anyway, that's it! Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, and commenting :)
As Percy fell back to Earth from several hundred feet, he came to one important conclusion:
Kampê was one ugly bitch.
There was no one else the towering monster could have been. Aphrodite's stories about the horrid jailer, even when filtered and pitched as if they were moral experiences, had never been kind to the daughter of Gaea and Tartarus. As he sped at near terminal velocity right towards her grinning face, Percy realized that all of his love's descriptions had been doing her some favors.
Some real favors.
Calling the Drakaina (the ancient Greek term for her species) a nightmare would have been a grave understatement. Kampê was a twisted, supersized amalgamation of Medusa mixed with a who's who of the monster world - hissing snakes for hair, an up-sized human face and torso covered in reptilian scales, and one real ugly smile all perched on top of a gigantic dragon for a lower half.
The line of distinction between human and reptile was bubbly and ever changing. Gruesome protruding animal heads emerging from the skin like a shifting, monstrous belt. The distended faces were always screaming.
A pair of huge and membrane wings emerged from Kampê's sides, each knobby joint tipped with a huge claw that was still only a fraction of the size of those on her four draconic feet. The real kicker was the segmented scorpion tail that bobbed about her back end, dripping with something yellow-green and acidic. A similarly colored fog seemed to hang around her form, the Drakaina's own aura so wrong to the senses it sent goosebumps down Percy's spine.
When she saw him coming, all Kampê did was laugh. The sound was like knives stabbing at his ears.
"Come, martyr of Olympus!" The voice that boomed from Kampê's mouth was expectedly horrifying, spoken in an ancient and rumbling language that Percy's brain struggled to translate in real-time. "Come save your precious half-blood." The term purred from her scaly grin like a slur. "Come eagerly to your death."
In one hand Kampê clutched a loop of burning fire, the whip that had nearly killed Blackjack and left another pegasus in chunky, bloody pieces near the treeline. In the other, hanging dozens of feet off the ground, was the form of one Drew Tanaka. She wasn't moving.
Even while hurting through the air, Percy's eyes picked out the horrible details of the woman's form. Blood dripped from a cut across Drew's forehead, matting her normally dark and luxurious hair into sticky, tangled clumps. The liquid was stark against her worryingly pale skin - rivulets of red dripped down her face and slender neck. The rest of the half-blood's body was covered with burns and scratches and torn clothing, not all of which could be attributed by the rough crash-landing Blackjack had described.
In deathly stillness Drew hung, arms and legs limp like a puppet with the strings cut. An armored chest plate was barely clinging to her form by a couple of stubborn, untorn straps. The daughter of Aphrodite had already lost one shoe. Percy could only sense that she was breathing by the shallow air currents swirling about her bruised face, the mottled skin so swollen her cheeks nearly swallowed her eyes.
Kampê shook the unconscious girl a bit, like a kid with a particularly boring toy. The size certainly fit - the demigod's entire torso was swamped by one of Kampê's almost-human hands. Drew's armor scraped across the Drakaina's green scales, bent and distorted around Kampê's massive clawed fingers.
The great jailer's smile never wavered.
It was all Percy could do to not level the entire field with a localized tornado. The very sight caused the whispers to howl in rage, the image burned like a brand into his mind. The daughter of Gaea seemed to be able to read the sky bearer's thoughts, even as he blurred towards the earth from far above. Kampê's scaly grip on Drew's neck tightened just a hair, taunting him with the fact that the Drakaina could pop the girl like a balloon with a single squeeze.
Careful, her wicked expression seemed to be saying.
From the moment Blackjack had crested over the edge of the North Woods, Percy had known things were worse than the pegasus had been able to convey. Even Clarisse had grimaced, clinging to his back like an angry, armed koala. Campers scurried about far below them, shining with gleaming bronze and gold. Already the closest trench to the woods was swarming with demigods.
Such a force would be needed, for it wasn't just that the clearing around Zeus' fist had a few monsters. It was practically crawling with them. A dark, gaping maw had opened up right at the base of the pile of boulders, like a portal straight into the heart of Gaea herself. With every passing second more and more bodies emerged from the earth, illuminated by a shining triangular symbol carved just above the Labyrinth's newly opened portal.
Packs of pitch-colored hellhounds roamed between the trees, their burning eyes and mouths blinking in and out of view. Flocks of Stymphalian Birds, the monstrous bloodthirsty pigeons, perched on the branches and on the top of the pile of boulders. Twisted and misshapen harpies lorded over the smaller avians like deadly mothers, sharpening their talons on the stone. There were larger creatures too, like cyclops' clutching clubs and even some scattered humanoid forms that could have been any number of monsters - or even demigods.
It wasn't quite a full army, Percy didn't think, but it was at least a decent chunk of one. The fact that such a force had navigated the Labyrinth, not been split up in the process, and managed to emerge all in unison was extremely worrying. Suspicious, too, at least when the young god would find the time to think about it further. There was no way they had all wandered around and just so happened to pop out here by coincidence.
Percy's snarl only deepened at the sight. The sheer scale of Camp Half Blood's defenses was mighty, but was it mighty enough? The sky bearer hated that he had to wonder.
At the force's head stood Kampê in all her glory. Much like how the half-bloods gave Aphrodite preference, so did the creatures give the Titan. She was simply in a class all her own. The sky bearer had no doubt the Drakaina would strike down any that dared get to close, friend or foe alike.
Kampê sickly, soupy aura swamped the entire plane. It was so different to an Olympian's, less structured and far more primal. Percy likened it to staring into a moving blind spot, as if static was creeping across his perception. Unfortunately, as soon as Percy saw the unconscious woman in the Drakaina's clutches, he knew that a sneak attack or a surprise rescue was out of the question.
Kampê was looking right at him the whole time. Watching, both amused and impatient. Waiting.
The message couldn't have been clearer.
"I'm going down there." Percy had still been riding high from Aphrodite's blessing when he spoke, Riptide singing its glorious song in his hand and the air streaming through his hair. "You stay on Blackjack." Clarisse had stiffened in affront, but the sky bearer cut her off. "Hit and run, Clarisse. You're unarmored, with a blunted spear."
"Fuck off!" The woman had to yell over the rushing wind and the sound of Blackjack's mighty wingbeats. "I ain't doing that shit!"
Had she not had both hands occupied, the sky bearer thought there was a chance he might have copped a fist to the face for his suggestion. Percy didn't think that would have ended how the daughter of Ares might have expected, not with how his skin thrummed with rivers of untamed energy. Thankfully for her knuckles, though, Clarisse's fingers were white around her weapon or fisted in his shirt. The skin around her face was all pulled back from their speed, making the daughter of Ares appear even more angry than usual.
Rather than reply immediately, Percy had only turned his head around. Something about his expression had the blond pausing mid-tirade.
"I'll be fine." The sky bearer managed to shape his frown into a crooked smile. "You can be my arial support." Blackjack seemed to agree with that idea, snorting through his labored breathing. "Besides," Percy added. "Someone has to pick up Drew."
That idea seemed to do the trick. Clarisse snorted but settled begrudgingly, squinting her eyes into the wind with a scowl. Percy turned his eyes back around, his glowing eyes tinting the shiny coat on the back of Blackjack's neck.
What the son of Poseidon purposefully hadn't said was that he really wasn't giving the daughter of Ares a choice. There was no possible way Percy was letting Blackjack stray anywhere near that flaming whip again anytime soon - the fact that it kept the already injured pegasus far above most arrows' reach was yet another bonus. Despite only 'meeting' earlier that day Percy knew the winged quine would have protested, so having a second rider had actually turned into a rather convenient excuse.
It was good Clarisse had bitten on the logical argument, though. That made the next part a lot easier.
The young god had maintained a steady stream of force pushing them from behind since their takeoff - where Blackjack was fast before, the midnight horse rocketed along more like a fighter jet now. Percy still couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't going fast enough. Bringing the pegasus down for a smooth landing would either be too dangerous or waste too much time. With how high up they were, there was really only one option left.
Well, here goes nothing.
Whatever peace Clarisse was feeling in that moment was promptly shattered by Percy doing quite possibly the stupidest thing a pegasus rider in his position could have done. Without any particular fanfare the young god shifted in his seat and threw his opposite leg over the side. Logically, rotating to a side-saddle posture was markedly less stable, and Percy had to hold onto Blackjack's mane to stay in place.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The daughter of Ares, shocked, had tightened her grip on his shirt to nearly the point of tearing. Her strongest backwards pull didn't do anything but stretch the fabric. "Get back on the damn horse!"
"Listen to the girl, boss!" Blackjack managed to call, huffing through each syllable. "I can do this!" The pegasus powerful body flexed and exploded beneath their legs, a masterwork of natural machinery.
Their words went ignored. Percy only had eyes for the fearsome Drakaina far below.
Am I really doing this?
Even in his own head his voice sounded crazy. That didn't bode particularly well for the answer to that question, but it was too late to really dwell on it. Such concerns were moot anyway, because what Percy was about to do would usually be classified as criminally insane from a mortal perspective. Clarisse's wide eyed expression certainly spelled that much out.
But all it took was one look at Drew, her normally beautiful face covered in horrible purple bruises and dripping with her own blood. One glance at the daughter of his love hanging in the clutches of a monster. That memory of that look of hurt and betrayal she had shot at her own mother during the party, revealing the cracked person beneath that brash and confident mask.
Percy took a single steadying breath, before exhaling out all of his nerves and bubbling fears.
Guess I am.
"Boss?" Blackjack's whinny was nothing but strained nervousness.
His call would receive no reply. Instead, Percy shrugged off Clarisse's hand as easily as brushing off a speck of dust. Her mouth went slack.
"You crazy fuck."
There was actually a hint of respect in her eyes, for just a moment. All of the swirling memory specters froze with the force of it. Percy smiled, hoping he looked at least a little bit reassuring. Then?
He jumped.
Riding Blackjack felt like had been engaged in the world's most natural rowing competition - the push and pull, the combined movement was a natural synergy of rider and steed combining to one singular goal. Percy's body had remembered, just as the pegasus promised. Not even his divine growth spurt had affected the lay of his legs on Blackjack's flanks or the subtle balancing act of a speedy take-off. The sensation was unquestionably beautiful . . . but also restricting.
That same synergistic reliance, by definition, limited the experience in a few subtle ways. Feeling Blackjack do all the work just wasn't satisfying enough. Something deeper inside Percy, that part of him exposed by Othrys, called to him. It promised something more. Apparently 'more' happened to be free-falling several hundred feet on his way to his own possible death.
Go figure.
In that singular moment, slipping from Blackjack's back, Percy thought he would feel fear. Instead, the moment his body fell into open air he was filled with a sense of freedom and euphoria. The wind screamed in his ears, ripped at his clothes, circled him so completely and naturally. As he hastily oriented himself towards the ground far below, Percy was nothing but weightless.
Despite the screaming from the mount and rider he had just left behind, the sky bears had to actually resist the urge to laugh out loud as he spread eagle his arms and legs. As he plummeted faster and faster and faster in complete free-fall, the exhilaration only increased. Had he had the time and confidence, the young god may have actually done a fancy flip or two. Riptide parted the air in his hand, smooth like a hot knife through butter. Cloud streamed from the blade's tip like a plane's exhaust trail.
Never had the young Olympian felt more acutely connected with the Fate's promise of personification than he did in that moment. The impromptu skydive lit up the atmosphere, his own flaring light reflecting off the bottoms of the gathering clouds above. Percy wondered what he looked like to the tiny campers far below, descending from the atmosphere towards the arrayed monsters like a teal meteor of retribution. He found that he hoped they were watching.
Not since his first kiss with Aphrodite had he felt so alive.
The shard of Ouranos was roaring, baying, thrashing against the inside of his chest like a rabid beast. The fire of loyalty fueled it, and each drop of blood that fell from Drew's pale forehead demanded an exacting price. The son of Poseidon burned with power and anger and desire.
Kampê must have felt it too. The Drakaina roared in challenge far below, the sound shaking the very earth and bending the tops of the surrounding trees. The falling god pierced through the infernal jailer's bubble like a flaming bullet, the rippling borders between their auras hissing and spitting against the other. Percy could feel Kampê already clawing against the edges of his mind like a chorus of tiny pricking needles at the base of his skull. He allowed her nothing.
About fifty feet off the ground, Percy mentally ticked through his current priorities. First: rescue Drew. Second: Keep everyone else safe. Third: Kill everything that moved. Only between the latter two objectives would Percy allow himself to feel how much he would enjoy it.
Back at the party, Percy had finally felt like he was maybe sorta becoming Percy again, at least the old Percy that everyone always talked about. Now, he wasn't sure exactly who he was. And until the demigod in Kampê's clutches was safe, that fact would have to wait. He was out of time.
The sky bearer hit the Earth feet-first.
For a moment the crushing change in G-Forces was like Percy was back under The Burden again. The instant shift in momentum had the literal forces of the universe conspiring against him, every physical law demanding that the young god's body be turned into a glowing teal and red paste across the grass. Gravity attempted to bend him, to break him, but Percy did neither. Not then, and not now.
His feet sunk into the soil calf-deep as if the top layers weren't even there. Supercharged chunks of dirt and grass exploded into the air, before being subsequently ripped into his swirling frenzy. It took little effort to pull his shoes free - Percy suspected that their origin from Aphrodite's closet was the only reason they hadn't been shredded to little bits.
As the sky bearer emerged from his newly-formed crater like a flaming teal torch, he got his first up-close look at the arrayed monster force. A more sadistic part of him took particular pleasure in the way his entrance stunned the vast majority - the sheer force of his appearance alone had tossed the smaller creatures about like puppets on strings. A few Stymphalian Birds must have flown directly under his path at the last second, for there was already a dusting of gold flecks strewn across the nearby grass. Percy hadn't even felt their little bodies break under his heels.
A few down, a lot more to go.
Kampê only laughed again, unmoved perhaps fifty yards away. The horrible sound was twice as loud and three times as grating up close. Despite the distance, the Drakaina was still tall enough that her upper half completely cast Percy into shadow - the moment her sickly aura surrounded him, that distant connection to Apollo snapped like a fragile thread. Only Aphrodite's love in the sky bearer's veins and the feel of Riptide in his hand remained.
"What a lovely surprise!" Ares' sneer had nothing on Kampê, her head both somehow too tall and too wide to be anything approaching human. "Atlas promised me the head of the twisted Olympian whore, and yet here you stand before me, boy." The dragoness flared her nose, which was little more than two oval holes bored into the center of her face. "You smell of her, and yet not. How curious."
When Kampê blinked, Percy watched in sickened fascination as her eyelids closed sideways. Those dark pupils seemed both empty and far too full as she took him in.
"I wonder . . ." The monstrous Drakania tilted her head, gaze moving to the limp demigod clutched in one hand. "The bait was not meant for you, and yet you are the one that has come. I suppose a small test is in order." Kampê tightened her grip.
Drew's bronze armor screeched as it began to buckle beneath the Drakaina's massive fingers, bronze warping and scraping uselessly against green scale. The screaming metal was so loud and pitched that the nearest monsters actually flinched away. The unconscious half-blood only groaned weekly, even as her torso was moments away from being pulverized.
"Cease."
The word whipped from Percy's mouth, a rush of wind forcibly flattening the grass in every direction. Riptide's hilt was forged from lava in his hands, cold yet burning like the depths of the pit itself. It itched to bury itself in the gruesome monster's face. When Percy took a step forward, his vision was tinted red.
"Oh? How curious." Right before Drew would have been snapped in half, Kampê paused. The half-bloods limp form slumped over her wide fingers. "Any other god would have attempted to strike me down, using this filthy thing as a distraction. And yet, you only speak one word." Her face was alight with sick, enraptured satisfaction. "Who are you to command me, Olympian?"
Surprisingly, the whole world seemed to actually pause to await his answer. None of the other creatures dared to even get close. In fact, the opposite looked to be true - a few of the humanoid figures had actually started herding the more animalistic in the direction of the camp. The ground shuddered with their disorganized march.
Slowly, the great monster force trickled into the deep shadow beneath the forest. The harpies and demonic pigeons followed after, a numerous flock taking to the sky with screeches and deep warblings chirps. The force of a thousand wing beats buffeted the top-most leaves of the trees. Percy considered striking a few down (and how easy it would be), but taking his attention off of Kampê for one second could be a death sentence for the demigod still in her grasp. The sky bearer could only hope that Clarisse and Blackjack would stay out of sight for the time being.
Pop-rocks tingled on the back of Percy's tongue.
"Speak!" Kampê thundered, face twisting in ugly impatience.
"I'm Percy Jackson." The beating heart of Aphrodite's love in his veins pushed the words from his mouth, tone cocky and confident in a way that he didn't remember being. "That's all you need to know."
Percy twirled his blade, subtly eying the space between them and weighing whether or not a throw would be accurate enough to sever Kampê's grip without spearing Drew as well. Percy wasn't sure - the Drakaina's aura poisoned the air, slowed his wind. The youngest Olympian was a bright, shining teal star in the center of a distorted puce void, the emptiness gaping and hungry.
"Fool! I care not for your name." Kampê screamed, teeth bared. The dragoness' whip unfurled to the ground, the barbed tip scorching black lines across the grass. "Let me tell you who I am, worm." Her next words boomed with ancient, unquestionable truth.
"I am Kampê, daughter of Gaea, daughter of Tartarus."
What monsters that had been brave enough to edge close were sent skittering away again by the force of the challenging declaration. Even stating the names of the primordials rippled the very atmosphere, the sound echoed by a great groaning from that empty maw at the base of Zeus' fist. The hairs on the back of Percy's neck stiffened instantly. The Drakanian continued on in her grinding, ancient tongue.
"I am Kampê, queen of the she-dragons, jailer of the Pit. I am Kampê, nightmare of gods."
With barely a flick of the wrist that winding fiery whip snapped through the air and gouged a deep line into the soil just at the edge of Percy's aura. The attack was a taunting challenge, as if the Drakaina wanted him to know she could have struck him and chose not to.
"I am Kampê, Percy Jackson."
She hissed out his name, the snakes on her head following suit. As the dragoness rose to her full height, the world around her form darkened several degrees. Those slitted, sunken eyes were glowing fire. A dozen screaming heads around her waist all roared in unison.
"Look upon me, and despair."
It was like Percy had been thrown right back to that fateful meeting on Olympus. The titles oozed with that same obvious importance, parted the space between them like the words were made of more than just vowels and consonants. Taking in the Drakaina's flared stance, the sky bearer was strangely reminded of how a peacock would flare its feathers.
He hated to admit that it was actually a bit effective.
Normally, Percy probably wouldn't have bothered to respond. Every fiber of his being was screaming to save the banter until after Drew was safe, but Kampê's hand had never relaxed around her torso. In this case, he might not have a choice. Every moment he kept her talking, kept the gruesome dragoness distracted, was valuable. The longer she went without attacking the better the chance of an unexpected opening.
Even through Kampê's smothering filter, the sky bearer could feel Clarisse and Blackjack circling above, itching for an opportunity. No matter how warped and muted, the sounds of Camp Half Blood readying for battle were never far from his ears. Despite the horrible tan-yellow-green mist that tried to clog his eyes, Percy caught just a single glimpse of a flashing silver form deep in the woods to one side.
So, if Percy wanted Kampê to keep talking, what was the best thing to do? Well, no good conversation was one sided.
With a preparatory inhale, the young god decided to do his best Morai impression. To that end, the young god pulled on that bonfire of teal in his chest and met the Drakania's declaration with his own.
"I am Percy Jackson."
Unlike the first time, the sky bearer poured every ounce of energy he could into the words, formed it and shaped it until it roared from his chest through his throat and out his mouth.
"Son of Sally Jackson, son of Poseidon."
Percy took a step forward. Riptide's blade vibrated a haunting, deadly harmony to his melody. The young god couldn't help but match Kampê's unhinged smile, the loving memory of his mother hanging around his neck like a comforting shawl.
"I am Percy Jackson, personification of the winds and clouds and the fifteenth Olympian."
The ground shook and wind howled, dark cumulus overhead blocking out Apollo's sun. The entire plain was swathed in their shade, the atmosphere heavy with the scent of coming rain. The soil beneath Percy's feet cracked and spun into endless spirals as he took another step.
"I am Percy Jackson, bastion of demigods and god of this place."
The North Woods itself seemed to cry in affirmation of the title, boughs shaking and underbrush all bending towards his body. There were voices in the trees, eyes in the shadows of the grass. The static tingling on his palette was sharp and insistent.
"I am Percy Jackson, Bearer of the sky and heir to the last fragment of Ouranos!"
The name thundered through his veins, repeating over and over like a war chant. Every slow, methodical step found parting through the Drakania's fog easier. Kampê only watched his approach, the end of her whip restless like a fiery cat's tail. Percy raised Riptide, pointing it right at her chest.
"I am Percy Jackson, betrothed of Aphrodite. Don't wear it out." He tilted his head to one side, just a single degree. The tip of his sword shifted, landing on the hand holding the daughter of the goddess he was set to marry. "And I'm the guy who is going to kill you."
"I welcome you to try, Olympian." Kampê's face was tense, now. The muscles in her massive scaly lower-half bulged and warped, tight as tensing steel cables. "Your mortal name means nothing to me, but your titles?" The Drakaina licked her knife-blade teeth with a flat, gray tongue. "I know who you are, boy. Atlas will pay me handsomely for your head."
Kampe snapped her whip again, slamming her front claws into the soil. The land beneath the North Woods buckled and shifted with the force, as Percy and the infernal jailer's wills fought tooth and nail. The young god's teal bubble was buffeted by smog on all sides, a vice trying and failing to crush his skull. His engagement ring burned against Percy's skin.
"First, I will end this disgusting mongrel. Then, I will kill you." Kampê declared, as sure of her words as a mountain's foundation. "While my army slaughters every bastard child in this valley, I will bear your head on a pike. When the Olympian whore falls, hers shall join it." The scaled Drakaina's smile dropped for the first time. "My father will ensure your souls never escape his plane, worm. He shall torture you for all eternity."
"Good luck with that." Percy's rage had crystallized from a raging out of control flame into clear, single-minded focus. Time itself crawled across his perception, the whispers in his ears chanting. Wait, please. "You won't even get past the first step." Riptide was ready, so ready, in his hand. Just one more second. The voice sounded like Thalia's.
"Oh?" Kampê tilted her head. Wait, Percy. "Are you quick enough, little godling?" Her easy smile returned, slimy and confident. "Go ahead." The Drakaina thrust Drew's limp body forward, hiding her own heart behind the unconscious woman. "If you think you can make the shot." Wait for me. Her taunt was accentuated by another eager snap of her whip, this time the tip crashing only a few feet from Percy's left ear.
"Oh, I know I can't." The sky bearer couldn't keep the unhinged smile off his face. Almost there. "But I don't have to."
Kampê's face stiffened, surprised. "What?"
Percy only shrugged in response. "Because you've already lost."
With a lunging forward step, the young god put every ounce of energy into his planted front foot. Teal exploded from beneath his shoe, wind roaring across the plain. There wouldn't have been a single eye watching that didn't know he was about to rush in head-on. Fortunately, that was the idea. Right as Kampê's eyes flicked down and her whip came around, Percy knew his distraction had been successful.
Go.
"Now, Thalia!"
Like a ghost from beneath the trees, a single figure materialized at the side of the clearing. With floating black hair and a mud streaked-face, the daughter of Zues and accomplished huntress had never looked more arresting. Nocked in her bow, a beautiful silvery thing made of ancient carved wood, was a single glowing arrow.
"Take this, fucker!" Thalia whooped.
With a feral smile, the projectile was cutting through the air. To Percy the arrow might as well have been moving in slow motion, the path straight and true. Electricity trailed in the fletching's wake, the lightning's arcs imprinted on the back of the sky bearer's eyelids with his next blink. As if the arrow was blessed by both of the Olympic twins themselves, Percy watched mid-motion as it cleaved effortlessly through Kampê's aura and then right into her diamond-hard scales.
With a sickening thunk, the divinely-sharpened head buried itself in the thin and vulnerable skin between the Drakaina's first and second knuckle. It was the only possible target, smaller than the width of Percy's hand and wrapped around Drew's upper chest. Of course, Thalia nailed it dead center. A perfect shot.
So tight was the window that the daughter of Zeus missed Drew's neck by only a single inch.
"AAARGH!"
Kampê's scream blew the leaves off of the trees for hundreds of yards, casting Thalia back into the shadow underbrush mid-leap with a pained yelp. The massive jailer's body spasmed as lightning crawled across her scales, flexing all of the muscles inside her arm and shoulder. The dragoness threw her hand out involuntarily, as if to instinctually cast aside the hanging demigod and move away from the source of the pain.
"I'll flay you alive, spawn of Zeus!"
Most critically, however, the motion only jerked the limp daughter of Aphrodite further away from Kampê's center. Equally as important, the seizure of the dragoness' form kept Drew in her grip rather than thrown in a deadly arc over the entirety of the valley. The only danger, then, was from the woman being crushed to paste by the Drakaina's seizing digits.
"Clarisse!" Percy's next echoing call solved that problem in a most spectacular fashion. "Blackjack!"
"Don't tell me what to do, prissy!"
Like a goddess of death on her winged steed, the daughter of Ares cut through the air at the exact moment of need. How Clarisse had figured out the plan, Percy would never know. And he would never ask either, not when her blunted spear exploded from the demigod's hand and shot forward directly into Kampê's massive wrist. The apparently blunted tip sank all the way to the wood.
"CURSE YOU!"
With another eardrum shattering cry, the scaly green hand around Drew's waist finally let go.
"I got her, boss!"
Somehow, with Clarisse still hanging to his neck by one hand, Blackjack managed to be the most beautiful flying creature Percy had ever seen. Not since his re-awakening had the sky bearer witnessed movement so fluid from any mortal creature. Before his very eyes the winged pegasus proceeded to pull a completely ridiculous Aileron roll right under Kampê's flailing arm, all without missing a single wing-beat. The mind-boggling stunt placed him right the dragoness' outstretched hand just as her grip released.
Clarisse's arms weren't empty for more than a single second - with a clatter of bronze and unconscious demigod, Drew was scooped up mid-flight. With a whoop and another borderline-impossible flip, the pegasus dodged right out of range of the Kampê's jabbing stinger and was screaming over the tops of the trees back to camp. Safely on his midnight back, the daughter of Ares and her precious cargo were soon little more than a dark blip over the town.
"Give her hell!"
Those were the pegasus' parting words, tossed over Blackjack's shoulder as he ferried his most precious cargo to safety.
And oh, the son of Poseidon planned to.
While the half-bloods were doing all of the most important work, Percy was otherwise occupied by saving his own life. It turns out that purposefully goading Kampê into targeting him resulted in, well, him being targeted. The ruse had required the young god to convincingly fake as if he was going to charge, and no half-assed motion would have fooled the jailer of Tartarus. Canceling that momentum took every ounce of force that divine muscles could produce.
At the very last moment Percy threw himself to the side instead of forward, assisted by his strongest shove of wind. The unexpected change in direction had Kampê's barbed flame whistling just over top of his ashy curls instead of cleaving through the space his neck would have otherwise occupied. Such a devastating blow might have been fatal even to an immortal - as it was, Percy's face was still singed from the heat of the near-miss alone.
The son of Poseidon managed to pull off a fluid roll to spring back to his feet, blade singing in his hand and veins pounding with energy. Kampê was reeling, her whip on the back-swing and arcing far across the clearing. The Drakaina was clutching her injured arm close to her chest, the beasts on her waist howling in rage. Whatever thick, bubbling substance fell from the wounds in the dragoness' hand wasn't blood, at least not the normal kind. It smelled foul, and hissed when it hit the grass.
"Not so tough without your hostage, huh?"
Percy knew the quip wasn't particularly well-timed, but he just couldn't help himself. Especially not when he stomped his foot forward, for real this time, and chucked Riptide right at Kampê's ugly, scaly chest like the world's strongest divine fastball.
It was a credit to the jailer's skill and experience that, even wounded as she was, the Drakaina still partially deflected the blow. Percy's blade crossed the distance faster than a mortal could blink, but somehow Kampê managed to bring the great handle of her whip around to just offset the xiphos' shining tip. Instead of puncturing through the left side of her ribcage, Riptide's razor-sharp edge instead cleaved a sharp line across her collarbone before screaming out the other side. A gush of brackish fluid erupted from the wound what felt like ages later, but was probably only a split-second.
By the time Kampê regained her bearings, Percy was already on the move, leaping towards her form with a wind-powered jump that had him nearly at eye-level in a single bound. He was nearly on her in an instant, green trailing in his wake and leaking out his pores and tinting the entire world. He met her shocked eyes and burned with the rush. He was sure he was grinning like an absolute maniac.
It was, on paper, a stupid move, especially without his sword. But that's why Percy had done it. Kampê's whip gave her extra range, but her size made her a huge, relatively slow target. The young god wasn't so egotistical that he thought he could wing it.
If this was a boxing match, the son of Poseidon was the faster lightweight. Getting in close would be his best bet. How did he know? Percy wasn't sure. It just seemed like the right thing to do.
"Oh, did that hurt?"
Plus, it was more enjoyable that way. The teal flame in Percy's chest seized on the sight of first blood like a ravenous bloodhound. His echoing voice was something just barely even human.
"Good."
The Drakaina reacted to the young god's charge with an ear-splitting screech. Not since Kronos had Percy heard such a sound of rage, one so potent that the very world rippled around her. The wounded dragoness reared up, the end of her flaming weapon finally completing its original strike and snapping back around towards the young god with a CRACK like a sonic boom.
Percy avoided the strike due to that same gut instinct, a sudden and screaming sensation of danger that came and went like a flash of Thalia's lightning. Just in time the son of Poseidon gave himself a mid-air boost, jumping off a platform of wind mid-stride that had the fiery thing swiping just beneath the soles of his sneakers. Now he was actually higher than Kampê's head, so far up that he would have cleared even the Big House's roof.
Right as her second attack missed, a flash of bronze streaked through the air before cutting another dark line across Kampê's other side. Thick green scales blunted the blow, though the unexpected strike from behind had the jailer flaring her wings and swiping with her injured claw. Still mid-air, and a bit higher than he would have liked, Percy thrust out his hand.
As if was tethered by wreathing chains of air the glowing projectile dipped impossibly to dodge her bleeding, grasping fingers. Riptide flew back into the young god's hand instead. The leather grip hit Percy's palm with a satisfying smack.
For a moment, plummeting right towards Kampê's face with his blade back in hand, Percy was allowed to hope that the fight would end quickly.
The Drakaina was unbalanced - her four massive dragon limbs were neutered against an attack from above, as were the mutated heads around her middle. Kampê's horrible whip was in that same half-second of uselessness, the barbed tip having just struck but now forced away by its same deadly momentum. Her unoccupied humanoid arm was more liability than asset. The dragoness had nothing to hide behind, and not even the crushing force of her presence could stop Percy's strike.
It was unfortunate, then, that he had forgotten about the scorpion tail.
The thing was barely more than a black blur in Percy's aura's perception, the poison dripping from the stinger like hot coals against his skin. One moment it was far away, and the next it was there. Right in his face. Even the pointed tip was thicker around than Percy's fist, whistling straight towards him with obvious lethal intent.
Now it was the sky bearer's turn to hastily block. The flat of Riptide's blade came around just in time.
Percy's whole arm rattled as the force of a semi-truck impacted the glowing bronze, but the stinger was successfully deflected past the side of his head. The strike promptly reversed any ounce of forward momentum he contained, throwing the sky bearer back the way he came in a less-than-graceful tumble that had his world spinning momentarily.
Percy managed to save himself from a harsh reunion with the ground with a few buffers of wind, shoes skidding across the flattened grass. It felt way cooler to pull off than his ungainly flailing probably looked, though at least he managed to hang on to his sword. Poetically, the sky bearer ended up almost right where he had first landed - Zeus' Fist looked veritably tiny next to the massive daughter of Gaea standing opposite. The door at the base had closed, vanished without a trace.
There was a shift of shadow on the far side of the clearing. Percy was only able to catch a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, barely catching his unconscious head turn. Careful. The whispers cautioned. He decided to listen.
At first it was no more than a blob of raven hair, but eventually the image resolved itself. The hair belonged to Thalia, emerging from where she had ended up in a heap at the base of the treeline. Scrapes and angry scratches covered her face. There were even a few sticks tangled near her right cheek, which she angrily brushed away. Her electric eyes were a little dazed, if typically fierce, but when the daughter of Zues lifted that masterwork bow the wooden back came up in two pieces rather than one.
Thalia's gaze snapped to Percy's, a dawning expression of horror flickering across her sharp features. He saw her reaching for her knives, gauging his reaction. The sky bearer only risked a miniscule shake of his head. The huntress seemed to war with herself visibly, before slinking back and disappearing into the forest.
And then there were two.
"I was going to make the girl's death quick, boy." The short, unspoken argument had allowed Kampê to find her footing. That monstrous belt was braying for blood and she wore a livid snarl on her inhuman face. "I would never look to sully my hands with filthy halfing blood. Not enough to truly . . . prolong suffering." The dragoness fanned out her wings, her massive form blotting out a huge swath of the clouds as she loomed over the young god. "But for her, for you, I shall make an exception."
Percy felt a bit of sweat on the back of his neck as Kampê flexed her injured hand. Putrid smog warped and twisted around her weeping injuries, the brackish blood writhing against her scales. With a sound like tearing play-do, the sky bearer could only watch as Clarisse's blunted spear slid right back out of its entry point. The haft snapped in two as it clattered forlornly to the earth. Thalia's arrow followed suit, and when the dragoness' thick energy dissipated Kampê's wrist and hand were covered in shiny, unblemished scale.
Percy was glad Thalia had decided to listen, for her own sake at least. She would give him hell about it later, he was sure. Now, though, it was his own sake that the sky bearer would have to worry about.
"You're not the only one with tricks, Olympian." The jailer smiled, the fire of Taratrus himself burning in her throat and out from her eyes sockets. "Let's see how you fare on more . . . even ground."
Kampê reached down, shoving her fist into the open maw of a horribly disfigured grizzly bear near her hip. With a grotesque ripping of flesh, her hand came free clutched around the hilt of a brand new weapon. It was a curved, wicked-looking blade nearly tall as Percy was. The dragoness' energy hung around the sharp edge like a sinister shroud, the greenish aura dripping with something acidic and hot and poisonous.
"That's so gross." Percy whispered to himself. Riptide seemed to hum uneasily in agreement.
"It's been eons since I've had a proper toy." Kampê's scorpion tail came back around, lifted high and primed to strike. The burning whip in her other hand coiled through the air once again. "Try not to die too quickly."
"I don't plan on it." Percy called back, summoning up a bit of that earlier bravado to give his best sneer in response. Kampê's eyes flashed.
"Good." She mocked.
And with that, the battle began in earnest.
Later, after the ordeal had long concluded, Percy would struggle to recount the next few minutes. The clashing of a god and a Drakaina was the stuff of old legend, the kind of story that Homer would write whole epics about. Indeed, it was every bit mental as it was physical. Each clash of their blades, each crack of Kampê's whip was echoed in the battering of smothering puce on flaming teal and the crashing of will against iron will.
At some point, the lines between mind and matter blurred to near meaninglessness. Riptide was more than a sword - the blade flew around the clearing untethered by gravity or proximity, an arcing beam of green capable of striking from any and every direction. The entire clearing was ripped to veritable shreds, boulders toppled and the nearest trees torn from their roots and fed into the whirlwind. Many become projectiles, thrown by draconic hand or the air itself. The beams of clashing light might have blinded anyone foolish or unlucky enough to watch straight on.
The last being to truly defeat the jailer of Tartarus was Zeus, who used his master bolt to strike her down at the very beginning of the First Titanomachy. The son of Kronos, to unfortunately give the proper credit, had ambushed Kampê for a good reason. Zeus had pulled off what Percy failed to do - end the fight before it could even truly begin. When facing such a fearsome opponent, often a preemptive strike is the only way to assure victory. The sky god had always been particularly good at those.
Unfortunately, Percy had missed such a chance.
Even in memory the sky bearer knew it was pitched, knew it was desperate. He would recall the burning in his veins, the blazing star of pink love in his chest, the howling whispers that told him to duck, to dash, to strike. The battle would eventually distill down to little more than single consecutive images. Still frames of a blazing whip or a striking stinger or of Riptide's shining blade. Kampê's sneer, his own glowing skin, the roiling clouds overhead that descended like a tornado onto the plain. He would remember the way he missed Aphrodite and Thalia and Blackjack and maybe even Clarisse a little bit. Why?
Because Percy was losing.
The distinctive swoosh-CRACK of Kampê's barbed whip prompted the son of Poseidon to dodge to the side. The earth beneath his shoes moved with him, a barrier of stone pulled from the ground itself to intercept the lightning-fast attack. A splash of metallic shine from his side interrupted the motion, Percy's aura flaring. Suddenly Riptide was there, parrying the swing of the jailer's massive sword. Percy shoved himself back to the earth with a gust of solid air, Kampê's stinger flickering into existence right where his face had been only a moment before.
The xiphos flashed away again, cutting a quick line across the Drakaina's massive flank. The wound healed as quick as it came, and Percy growled to himself. Teal poured from his eyes sockets, cloud from his fingertips. The sky bearer wasn't sure where he could have possibly learned to do a handspring into a backflip, but that's exactly the move his body performed next to just escape the back-swing of that damned whip.
The jump gave him only a few yards of distance. In one great bound Kampê's draconic bulk crossed the space and the dance began again.
Percy could pinpoint exactly when his strategy of 'getting close' had fallen apart. After Kampê had pulled out her shorter blade, the Drakiana had almost every angle of attack covered. Her massive taloned claws crushed stone with every step, the belt of animal heads snapping at him if he got too close underfoot. Somehow he knew their teeth would find more purchase than Reyna's hounds would have.
The scorpion stinger protected the dragoness from rear and flanking attacks, which meant that Percy was struggling to truly utilize his superior speed and smaller form. The thing was deadly accurate. Even approaching from above was mostly out of the question - Kampê used her whip to create a practical ceiling of fire and pain, forcing the sky bearer back to the ground whenever he tried to jump off his platforms of wind. Once he was forced to earth, her off-hand would swing round with that curved scimitar.
The real kicker, though, was Kampê's experience. She wielded both weapons simultaneously and in perfect unison. Much as Percy's body had been shaped by Othrys, so had the Drakaina by a millennia of war.
The young god had pulled out every trick in his newly expanded bag - interrupting her movements with walls of invisible wind, upsetting the ground beneath her feet to throw her off balance, pulling Riptide around to attack from unpredictable angles. Percy had tried freezing the air in her lungs and blinding her with grenades of fog. Nothing seemed to work.
Kampê's near perfect defense turned each of Riptide's potentially deadly blows into a glancing one. No matter the dozens of slashes and stabs, her stamina never seemed to decrease. It felt like fighting a tank. With wings.
"Get back here!" The dragoness' roar vibrated the air, her expression wide and filled with sadistic glee. Kampê's next strike was a sweeping chop with her scimitar, the tree-trunk sized edge embedding into the ground just as Percy jumped away. "I'm not done with you yet, Olympian!" When she pulled the blade away it left a gash about as deep as the camp's trenches.
"Getting tired?" Percy managed to call, his skin buzzing. Riptide swooped in, cutting at her wrist before darting away again. Percy could hear it biting into flesh through the roaring heartbeat in his ears. "You haven't even hit me once yet!" Kampê only grinned through the attack, grip on her scimitar unmoved even as the sinews of her forearm molded back together.
"And you've hit me many times, boy, but do you truly think you are winning?" The daughter of Gaea didn't rise to the taunt, her whip snapping back around in a strike that nearly took Percy's leg off. "At least Zeus' attacks actually hurt! What chance do you stand?" At the last moment a thick tree branch flew in to block the blow, exploding into flaming cinders that washed across the sky bearer's chest.
Percy rushed through the lingering smoke, rolling beneath an soil-shattering downward stomp of Kampê's front legs. Riptide was somehow there in his hand again when he wished for it, but the multiple heads he lopped off of her waist only bubbled and regrew with explosions of brackish, tar-like blood. A few well-placed platforms of wind let him escape the dragoness' stinger, even as he shoved his hand forward again and sent Riptide back into the air.
"I could do this all day!" Percy called as Kampê spun around. He met her maniacal smile with one of his own. The young god could only hope she couldn't see through it. Kampê only laughed, flaring her wings and exploding back in his direction.
Things continued that way, for a time. Two minutes and thirty-six seconds, to be exact. Percy couldn't help but count the seconds as they crawled slowly by.
The dragoness' straightforward bullrushes performed near-flawlessly. Percy found himself constantly off balance and on the defensive. Kampê was a pressure fighter, he quickly realized, forcing her opponent to be reactive instead of proactive by throwing punch after punch after punch. It was a completely frustrating strategy precisely because it worked so well.
Unlike a normal fistfight, Percy didn't exactly have the luxury to take one or two across the chin or chest to give himself time to think. Kampê was clearly confident that she could heal whatever damage the sky bearer inflicted. Percy couldn't say the same - repairing a little bit of skin around his finger was completely different to reattaching a limb or regrowing a ribcage. This wasn't exactly the time to go testing his divine limits, either, not with so much on the line.
The longer Kampê kept him here, the more time the demigods were left on their own against her monster army. For Kampê, casualties were more than inevitable. They were completely acceptable. Percy felt the opposite, and they both knew it. The battle's current status quo couldn't continue forever. Eventually something would have to give.
Nearly exactly six minutes after his first impact into the clearing, Percy's right foot disappeared into the ground.
The sudden absence of soil came completely out of nowhere. The sky bearer had just landed from another risky mid-air dodge, weaving just beneath Kampê's scimitar while peppering her face with the largest rocks he managed to unearth. Each fist-sized chunk would have blown open a concrete bunker, but the dragoness barely even flinched. The moment his weight planted for another leap, the soil simply . . . dropped away.
With a surprised yelp, Percy tumbled the grass. He barely got a glimpse of what had happened during his fall - what he had thought to be normal earth had instead been a thin layer of fabric covered in an even thinner blanket of topsoil and grass. A dark cylindrical hole opened up beneath. The tarp had been held in place by tiny plastic hooks, purpose built to tear away under any significant weight. Something sharp and metal and dangerous gleamed at the bottom of the pit. Spikes.
"Wise-girl already had the place trapped up to the Styx and back just to be safe." Blackjack's voice was the only thing in Percy's brain as his hands broke his momentum. His right leg was still dangling over the open trap. Useless.
The single moment of surprise was all Kampê needed.
"Got you!"
Percy couldn't be sure that anybody other than Hermes could have avoided the crooning dragoness' whip in that moment. Not even an Olympian could have flashed away fast enough. With a snap of her wrist, the barbed snake crackled into being. On the other hand, above her outstretched arm, the Drakaina's face read of nothing but assured victory.
The sky bearer had expected pain. He and pain were old friends, after all. In that shocked instant, half-swallowed by the ground, Percy braced every muscle in his body and hoped that Othrys had prepared him properly. Kampê's smile seemed to promise at least that much.
What neither of them envisioned, though, was what actually happened.
With a sound like shattering glass, the flaming tip of the Drakiana's weapon was turned aside a millimeter before sinking true into Olympian flesh. So close was the margin that a great swath of Percy's shirt didn't survive. An explosion of pink fragments erupted from the near-impact, twirling through the whirlwind before vanishing into sparkling dust.
Kampê actually reared back, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected flash of light and sound. Percy was in a similar position, gaping and stunned and still stupidly on his hands and left knee. Foiled, the arcing weapon flew back away.
Get up!
The pitched voice sliced through the sky bearer's brain fog. Almost on autopilot, Percy ripped his leg free and shoved himself as strong as he could directly backwards, away from Kampê and the lingering shards of energy. As he landed the last of the glowing fragments winked out of existence, smothered under the blanket of the jailer's oppressive aura. Riptide's appeared clutched in his hand once more, summoned by nothing more than unconscious muscle memory.
"More trickery!" Kampê hissed, the heads growing from her scaled flesh roaring in unison. The dragoness' eyes were wide, unhinged and enraged. "That whore will not save you!" The snakes around her massive, misshapen head were wreathing, hissing and spitting and wholly disgusting.
Percy couldn't respond. His eyes couldn't help but linger on where the last of the ethereal pink glass had been. It was as if all his bravado had been sucked straight from his soul. A pit opened up in his stomach, cold and dark.
For the first time since Percy had escaped Othrys itself, the son of Poseidon found himself well and truly alone.
Whatever blessing Aphrodite had bestowed before his flight on Blackjack was gone. No longer did her warmth, her strength, hum atop his skin and rush through his veins. He couldn't even feel the love deity anymore, his goddess' presence just as missing as when Apollo's thread had snapped under the weight of Kampê's horrible aura.
The absent compass of their vows felt as if a piece of Percy's heart had been ripped straight out of his chest. Breathing was suddenly difficult, the edges of his vision darkening. When his gaze turned back to the towering daughter of Gaea, he could feel his fingers shaking around Riptide's warm leather grip.
Kampê's circular nostrils flared, her motions pausing mid-tirade. After a few cursory inhales, a sound like two boulders grating together emerged from her chest. Only a few seconds later did Percy realize she was chuckling.
"Her smell has left you, worm." The massive Drakaina leisurely recalled her whip, letting the burning thing twitch restlessly against the grass near one thick leg. "Without her interference, why-" Her next smile was sickly sweet, wider than a car. "You're nothing more than a babe."
Against the dark, swirling backdrop of rain-laden clouds, Percy was beginning to realize how completely intimidating the Jailer of Tartarus really looked. He swallowed thickly, forcing his feet to stay stationary rather than taking a step back. The teal flame in his chest was diminishing by the second.
Kampê seemed to notice. She eyed him with obvious disdain. "Are you truly the one that Atlas fears? The one that killed Kronos?" The Drakaina laughed then. It was a fully-body, throaty sound. "Perhaps in a thousand years you could pose a threat, little god. Unfortunately for you, you won't live past today." Kampê rose to her full height once again. "And neither will any of your precious halflings." Her scimitar waved side to side in a calm, confident temp
"Come on, then." She sneered. "Come to your death, and theirs."
The entire world was silent, for a moment.
"Kronos said the same thing, you know."
Kampê paused.
"Well, basically. He told me it was useless." Percy's voice started off small. "He told me to give up." When Percy lifted his head, ashy curls whipped around his glowing eye-sockets. When Riptide was raised once more his grip was sure, knuckles white with the pressure. "He said I was already dead."
Slowly the green pouring from his skin pushed back the putrid smog. Like a train picking up steam, the force of his words rose and rose. Soon they were pouring from his mouth - the sound not just that of Percy Jackson, but wreathed in whispers and promise and wind and fire. In no time at all he was a bright star in the center of a glowing teal ball.
"He was wrong."
Despite having to crane his head upwards, Percy felt like he was standing eye-to-eye with the daughter of Gaea. Sparks flew from the intersection of their gazes, but his smirk only sharpened. Kampê snarled, her own hands tightening around her weapons.
Percy broke the staring content to shoot a quick glance at the pit that had nearly cost him everything. In a single instant his mind cataloged the entire scene - the way the airflow around the pit was different than the rest, how the color of the grass was just a bit too yellow nearby, the way the smell of upturned soil clung just over where the tarp had lain in wait.
The pattern was easily applied to the rest of the field, and it wasn't just a single ping Percy's brain received in response. No, basically the entire stretch of ground lit up like a mental christmas tree. So many opportunities just barely missed. They must have dodged them the same way they navigated the Labyrinth. So many traps were bypassed by Atlas' army, only to now come to his aid.
Poetic.
There was a tugging, pulling, insistent feeling in Percy's gut. It led across the clearing and through the trees and down towards the beach. When Percy called he felt the rushing, clear waters of Zephyros Creek answer as if they had been waiting the entire time. The clouds overhead rumbled. The sky was completely darkened, now.
Kampê snarled. Percy smiled.
"You got in a good shot." The sky bearer admitted, twirling his blade and stepping forward. The Drakaina stiffened, looking a bit more unsure than she had only a second before.
The fragment of Ouranos had more than recovered inside Percy's core - it burned almost brighter than before. It was like the hands that built these traps, and the woman who had planned them, were standing right behind him. Their voices were cheering, pleading, praying, hoping.
Percy wasn't about to let them down. He wasn't about to let Aphy down, either. The sky bearers' eyes flared.
"You won't get a second."