Annabeth Chase
Annabeth sighed deeply, allowing herself to relax. It was finally over.
"Are you hurt, my Lady," the other warrior, Will, addressed her. "May I touch you?"
Annabeth nodded, still trying to collect her thoughts.
"Percy, give me some space," Will ordered.
"Yes Percy, move aside," Thalia added in a mocking voice.
"There is a lot of blood,.." Will said, and gently squeezed her skull, shoulders, then torso, and legs, probably looking for broken bones.
"None of mine, I think," Annabeth assured him. "I think I cut with a few cuts and bruises."
"A little more than that, I fear," Will said, touching the side of her face and Annabeth winced. "You look like you took a hammer to the face. Also, that cut on your throat, ...but I think that one looks worse than it is."
Annabeth only nodded and looked around and the mangled bodies strewn around her and then gazed up at the knight. "Well, I think I owe you my thanks," Annabeth said finally.
"Indeed, you do," Percy replied with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and concern. "But let's get you somewhere safe and warm for now."
Will and Thalia helped Annabeth to her feet, holding her upright by her arms. "This will not do," the woman, Thalia, told the knight. "She can barely stand."
The knight sighed and whistled. A moment later the large black charger trotted over to them. The great beast looked down at her with seeming curiosity.
"I don't think I'll get onto that," Annabeth admitted. To be fair, she wasn't sure she'd be able to mount that warhorse on a good day. She had never been a particularly good equestrian, and the black warhorse was quite a bit bigger than anything she had ever ridden on in the past.
"May I?" he asked.
"That would be appreciated," Annabeth replied after a moment, half expecting that he'd boost her or something along those lines.
Instead, Perseus stepped right up into her space, his gauntleted hands grabbing her by her hips. Then, without another word of warning, he picked up and lifted her up into the saddle.
"A little warning, next time," she gasped. Normally she prided herself on being flexible, and quick thinking, but at that moment, being lifted into a saddle felt like a little more excitement that she felt she could handle.
"My apologies," the knight replied and waited for her to swing her aching leg over the saddle. It was a big animal, and her legs were shorter than the usual owners so she couldn't even reach the stirrups.
Once Thalia and Will had mounted up, the latter having retrieved his spear from where he had dropped it, probably to help her, Perseus held up his helmet to her. "Could you hold this?" he asked.
She nodded and silently accepted the piece of armor and pinned it under her elbow as she grabbed hold of the saddle's horn. Just as she started to ponder how she was supposed to actually control the powerful beast, its owner grabbed the reins and began to lead her back in the direction they had originally come from.
She was safe, she knew that. She would probably not die today. Despite that, the elation did not come. Annabeth would have thought that seeing the broken corpses of the men who had tried to defile and murder her would provide her at least some vindictive pleasure
No, nothing. She felt empty. Empty, tired, and cold despite wrapping the generously provided cloak around her. The ride back felt much longer than Annabeth remembered running, the forest seeming darker and colder. Before long, they reached the road, and a minute later, the rearmost carriage of the caravan came into view.
The heavy scent of smoke filled the air, and as they drew closer, Annabeth spotted two of her caravan members setting up a fire. Vanire, Will, and the giant warrior stood in a circle talking, with the horses tied to a nearby tree. The two other men-at-arms, sandy-haired youths—the so-called brothers, Annabeth guessed—were helping two other mercenaries and several other caravan members set up a makeshift infirmary close to the fire. Two of her wagons were slowly burning out, given up as a bad job.
Adding to the scene of disarray were two or three dozen corpses littering the snow around the caravan, with the wounded screaming in agony.
A few bandits, from the looks of it, had been taken prisoner and were being watched by grim-looking caravan members.
"Over here," Percy called out, guiding the black charger with Annabeth atop it towards the gathered group. The eyes of the caravan members turned towards them, their expressions a mix of relief and worry as they recognized Annabeth.
Once they came to a stop, one of the brothers hurried over to take the black charger's reins as Annabeth, wincing at the effort it cost her, turned around in the saddle at accepted Perseus's assistance in sliding out of the saddle and landing softly.
"Thank the gods you're safe," Michael said, stopping in front of him. Her life ward was a mess, a bloody bandage was wrapped around his head, he was covered in blood and grime. To her surprise, he stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her shoulder, and embraced her hard.
Caught of guard by this very familiar gesture, Annabeth flinched and stepped back. Likely noticing her reaction, Michael took a step back. "I am so sorry I couldn't help you! I saw some of the bandits following you but couldn't get after you. Gods, you look horrible!"
"Infirmary is over there?" Will asked, nodding over at the fire.
"Good idea. Will, you stay with the injured, Thals, help him," the knight ordered and then walked off to join Vanier and the giant warrior. By now the latter had taken his helmet over, revealing him to be the dark-skinned manservant she had crossed paths back in Anthia.
Will and Thalia guided her over to the fireplace, where most of the injured were gathered, being tended to by other members of the caravan. She spotted Hemesh, the carpenter, kneeling in front of a motionless body covered in a canvas sheet. Tanja, Annabeth realized. And she wasn't the only body consigned to eternal sleep.
Annabeth's thoughts grew slower and lethargic as she stared deep into the crackling fire. She remembered the battle, Tanja expiring right next to her. She remembered the cold of snow against her thighs, and hungry hands holding her down. Of course, she wasn't entirely new to this. No woman was. There was the occasional drunkard during a midsummer night, trying his luck at cupping a feel from the city's maidens before the city guard reminded them of their manners via the generous employment of clubs and pillories.
She had imagined something like she had just survived happening and had sworn to herself that she would never give in. That she would fight to the last breath against her attackers. Instead? She had just given up. She had cried and begged, and then just given up. Annabeth was well aware of what would be happening to her at that moment if Perseus and his men-at-arms had not arrived. At best, Garret would have killed her or left her to succumb to the elements once was done having his way with her, at worst, they would have dragged her back to whatever passed as their camp, where she would have be forced to endure humiliation and torment until with some luck, someone paid a ransomed.
"So, you know Sir Perseus?" a voice suddenly dragged her forth her thoughts from the void.
She looked up and realized that the holy woman with the bow, Thalia, had sat down next to her.
"Pardon me?" Annabeth asked, her thoughts only catching up with the conversation very slowly.
"He said 'And so we meet again.' implying that the two of you already crossed paths," Thalia explained, grinning sheepishly.
She looked over at the knight, who had sat down with Vanire, the giant manservant, Michael, and the two men-at-arms, sitting in a circle and talking as they cleared their weapons. Normally Annabeth would not stand to be kept out of the loop, whatever they felt was worth talking about at that moment, was something she wanted to know about. However at that moment, frankly she couldn't care less.
"Well," Thalia followed up.
"Oh, ran into him in Anthia... literally in fact," she said and snorted, though it hadn't been more than a few days ago, it felt like a lifetime had passed. "...words were exchanged," she added, deciding it was best to not say more, lest she provoked a delayed retaliation.
Her words seemed to mean more to Thalia than she expected because the female archer snorted. "So you are that woman?" she mused. "It looks like you left quite the impression."
She was saved from having to explore the conversation any further by Will Solace who chose just that moment to kneel down after tending to a few other of the injured. "Now to you, my Lady."
"I am not a Lady," Annabeth corrected wearily, nearly out of habit.
Will smiled patiently and began to dab at her cuts and bruises with hot rags. Annabeth winced and made a face as her wounds were cleaned, and the worst of them, the cut on her throat, was bandaged. "Not very deep, you got very lucky Annabeth. This probably won't even leave any scaring. Thalia, get her into some clean clothes, will you? Don't look at me like that, she is drenched in blood, get her cleaned up. After you are changed, I suggest you eat something and get some rest."
"Here, let's get you cleaned up," Thalia said softly once Will had passed on, guiding her to the privacy offered by the canvas roofed backs of one of the carriages. She handed Annabeth a fresh tunic and trousers, the fabric simple but warm. After what had happened, trousers would be a welcome change from the dress.
Annabeth nodded, mutely accepting the clothes. Her hands shook as she peeled off her bloodied garments, the events of the day replaying in her mind. Thalia waited patiently outside, offering her a small basin of warm water and a cloth to clean herself as much as possible.
The winter's bite, ever-present, made sure she did not linger long. Once Annabeth had wrapped the cloak Sir Perseus had previously offered her around her shoulders, she quietly returned to the fire where she sat with the other injured in silence. Perseus, Vanire, the men-at-arms, and her remaining mercenaries had gathered around another fire and were tending to their weapons from the looks of it, chatting lightly. Thalia too was with them. As if sensing her look, Michael looked up and rose to walk over to him.
"You look better," he committed and knelt down next to her.
Despite herself, Annabeth snorted. "If you put the bar that low,..."
"Cheer up," Michael offered helpfully. "You are alive, so it can only get better from here."
"So," Annabeth began, and squared her shoulders. She needed to get a grip, nothing really had happened. "Looks like I am no longer in charge."
Michael cocked his head. "I would have thought you would prefer a few moments hours of quiet. But by all means, join us. We were catching up anyway."
"You know him?" Annabeth asked, looking up.
"Know him, not really," he admitted. "We were both at the siege and sacking of Qualaria before I returned to Anthia. Was hard to miss him, the man got honored and knighted by King Zeus in front of half the damn army. Apparently, he took and then raised the royal banner of the gatehouse."
Annabeth sighed, realizing she had a bloody holy warrior and his band of raving fanatics on her hands rather than some local knight. He hardly didn't exactly look local, so her assumption he would be made little sense. Then, the raving fan
"Do you figure out why he is here, Atlantis is far away," she asked quietly.
"Didn't ask, and he didn't say," Michael replied, his voice still light and surprisingly cheerful considering everything that had happened. She accepted the mercenaries outstretched hand.
Annabeth walked slowly over to the fire where Perseus, Vanire, and the others were gathered. As she approached, the conversation quieted, and all eyes turned towards her.
"Lady Annabeth," Perseus greeted her politely, standing up to offer her his seat. "Please, join us."
Annabeth hesitated for a moment before accepting the offer, and sitting down with the group. "You look better."
Annabeth smiled and looked over and Vanire and his remaining men. "I am sorry for leaving,..."
"Michael told us he ordered you to run, no worries," Vanire replied. "I am just happy nothing worse happened to you."
Annabeth wrung her hands nervously before looking up. "So, what is the plan? We can hardly stay here forever.
Vanire looked over at Sir Perseus who only shrugged. "We are in no rush. If you wish we can stay with you until you are safe, though I doubt you will run into any more trouble any time soon."
"That is good to hear, I hope neither you nor any of your men came to harm in your efforts to aid us?" Annabeth asked.
"Might have broken a fingernail back there," the giant of a man grunted, inspecting his bare hand pointedly.
"Mr Beckendorf," Percy interjected with a smile, "is always keen on dramatizing the slightest of scratches. But no, Lady Annabeth, we are unharmed."
"I might have a bruise," one of the introduced men offered.
"Continue complaining and I will give you another bruise where the sun doesn't shine," Thalia warned, though didn't look overly concerned.
Annabeth let a small smile tug at her lips, feeling a rare moment of levity amid the day's chaos. "I am truly grateful for your assistance. Without your timely intervention, I fear we would have suffered far greater losses."
"Think nothing of it," Percy replied, his green eyes holding a sincere warmth. "It was nothing but a pleasure to aid you. And now, it seems we are to share your journey, at least for a while."
The mention of their journey brought Annabeth's thoughts back to their mission. She looked at Vanire, her expression growing serious once more. "We need to assess the damage and determine what supplies we still have. With the wagons lost and our numbers diminished,..."
Before she could continue Michael sharply raised a hand, cutting her off. "Do you guys hear that?" he asked, his voice sharp.
The men exchanged a single look and rose to their feet.
"Men, take up arms," Perseus ordered. He and his men-at-arms donned their arming caps and helmets, then bounded up onto the backs of their mounts with insulting ease.
"Sir knight," Michael called up to him. "Here, catch!" he said and tossed a spear to the warrior.
"You have my thanks," Perseus replied.
"What by the damned gods is going on?" Annabeth demanded, but then she heard it—the distant thunder of approaching hooves.
"Get back to the others," Michael ordered, stringing his bow. The rest of the caravan, at least those who could, also rose in alarm, realizing that something was amiss.
Perseus pulled a war horn from his bag and blew it, his men-at-arms gathering in a line abreast around them. One of them, Travis, even drew his sword, while the mercenaries gathered on either side of the mounted warriors.
"Annabeth, get back to the others!" Michael snarled just as the first riders came around the bend in the road ahead. More and more followed—dozens of men-at-arms by the looks of it.
The caravan members who could fight quickly took up defensive positions, pure terror on their faces. Annabeth, torn between wanting to help and knowing she would only be a hindrance in the fray, reluctantly obeyed and hurried back to where the non-combatants were gathered.
"Stay low and keep quiet," she urged them, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides.
The approaching riders drew nearer, their numbers becoming more apparent with each passing second. There were dozens if them, and the ground trembled under the weight of their mounts, and the air was filled with the jingle of harnesses and the clatter of weapons.
Perseus and his men held their ground, their poise straight and proud, their expressions unreadable under their helmets. Michael and the others stood beside them, bowstring taut, eyes sharp and focused. The mercenaries flanked the mounted warriors, probably to cover their flanks.
As the approaching riders closed the distance, the tension in the air grew palpable. Annabeth's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Company halt!" the lead rider, a man in fine mail and a red and brown sugarcoat, yelled as his gaze swept the caravan and the aftermath of the ambush, and the warriors awaiting him. A ploom of white horse hair stuck out of the top of his pointed helmet, though unlike many of his men, you could see his face, despite a nose-guard. In the winter's white and gray shades, the man's beard was bright red.
A banner-man rode up next to the lead rider. "You disturb the king's piece on the lands of Lord Helton of Archeberry. State your name!"
Perseus exchanged a few quiet words with Beckendorf and then both he and the man servant rode forward a few steps.
"That would be me, Sir Perseus of Atlantis. We are scions of the Holy Order of Olympian Reavers. We came upon this caravan as it was attacked by roadside bandits, forgive us for presuming to intervene."
"It is true, my Lord!" Annabeth called out, realizing that this needed to be de-escalated fast. "If not for them, we would have surely perished."
The red-bearded man pulled off his pointed helmet and pushed back his chain-mail hood. After handing off his helmet he descended from his horse and after handing off his own helmet and spear, Perseus did the same.
The two men met in the middle and grasped each other's forearms and conversed on voices to low for Annabeth to hear. Then Perseus turned around and made a sweeping gesture, taking in the caravan, and the surrounding area filled with mangled bodies.
Lord Helton nodded and turned back to his men. "Boys, stand down. Sir Asmodai, take your men and sweep the surrounding area. Take the hounds with you, a few stragglers are still about. Everyone else dismount! Render aid where you can."
Perseus too waved back at his own men to dismount which they did as a dozen or so of Lord Helton's men and presumably Sir Asmodai continued past the caravan in a trott with large hounds bounding through the snow on either side of them. Many of Lord Helton's men also dismounted and began to hurry towards the caravan.
With the threat passed Annabeth two dismounted and hurried over to where Knight and Lord were talking just as Beckendorf and a few of the Lord's men joined. Lord Helton looked up as she approached.
"Fair Lady, how may I serve you?" he asked, taking in her appearance.
"Forgive me, my Lord. I am not a Lady," Annabeth corrected. "My name is Annabeth Chase, daughter of Frederick Chase. We are merchants from Anthia, heading north."
She bowed, quite a bit deeper than she usually would, while painfully aware that between these men, clad in armory, she looked like a doll.
"I know of your father, we do business," Lord Helton said and inclined his head in return. "You may rise. While you may not be of nobility, I am, and so owe you an apology for the behavior of my kin. Sir Perseus told me of how my cousin, Garret, accosted you. An unworthy display, his deeds shame our bloodline."
"If not for Sir Perseus's timely intervention, I fear he would have done far worse," Annabeth said. "Though I do not believe you are to blame for the deeds of another, my Lord."
Lord Helton cracked a dry smile. "Well Sir Perseus, looks like you honoured your Order greatly today. I will be sure to send word of your deeds back to both our High King and your order. Garret and his lackeys have been terrorizing the villages for nearly a month. We've been trying to track him down for the better part of two weeks. His death is well overdue."
The nobleman looked around the caravan and sighed. "Your folks look in rough shape. I would invite you to retire to Archeberry Castle. You aswell, Perseus. You have done me a service. At the very least allow me to host and dine you and your men."
Despite her hesitation to put herself in the Lord's Keep, where the questionable nature of her coins could be discovered, turning down the offer would raise more questions than she was comfortable with, aside from the fact that her little expedition needed to recover, even at the risk of losing a day or two.
"I would be honored, my Lord," Annabeth replied.
"Do not worry, we will get you going soon. And any repairs you must make can be made at my keep. Your dead need to be buried too, I will ensure our priest will give them their last rights. Now, I was told that prisoners were taken?"