Chapter 5 - Rising the Stakes

The noise stopped right next to their hiding spot. Next to him, Percy could feel Nico tensing. Thalia, who was pressed against the wall (and currently shooting murderous glares at the lot of them) followed suit. She had vaporized her bow and quiver to provide more space, and now was trapped with Pippin on top of her and Nico's hair in her face. The only ones who could move then was Percy, Frodo and the hobbit who had yet to be introduced. Somehow Percy doubted the latter two knew how to fight.

He sent a prayer up to all the gods who were listening that it was just some random guy passing by as he headed to his destination, but that was unlikely. The tight feeling in his gut helped Percy identify that this…creature…was no simple man. It was the exact feeling he had when he'd faced down Kampê, or when he fought with the Titan Atlas, when he still didn't have his invincibility. It was the instinctive but sure knowledge that he couldn't win against this thing so easily.

I could just imagine what Clarisse would say, Percy thought grumpily as his mind, like always, wandered off topic. However, that was as much as he could manage before a metal-clad hand suddenly clamped down on the tree's root, several inches from Frodo's head. The hobbit jerked back, his eyes wide in fear. The darkness within Percy rose in giant tsunamis, threatening to crash down.

With surprising self-control, he held it back. Panicking never helped anyone. Besides, he was curious as well. He might not have faced anything like this, but it was good that he had at least a general idea as to what it is.

A hooded head suddenly followed the hand. Percy's heart missed a beat as it turned right to him, looking at him. But then it turned away as though he wasn't there at all, instead sniffing the air like an animal. Then slowly, so very painstakingly slowly, it turned to look at where Frodo was. Percy followed its gaze and saw that the hobbit was white in the face, holding his shaking hands in front of him.

In one of those hands was a golden band. A ring.

The hobbit's friend's hand suddenly snaked out and grabbed his wrist. Frodo started, as though awakened from a dream. While he blinked at the nameless hobbit, Percy figured out a better idea. Right beneath him, immobile, was Pippin. And on his waist, a bag.

Percy snatched it off the hobbit's belt and tossed it the way the creature had come from. The pouch landed somewhere far in the bushes, making rustling noises and instantly drawing the thing's attention. With an inhuman shriek, the creature vanished, climbed onto its horse and shot for the place where the pouch had landed.

The moment he was gone, Nico rolled onto the ground soundlessly, motioning for them to come with him. They crawled away, keeping out of view as much as possible until they reached the relative safety of some trees. Only then did they straighten, the half-bloods exchanging meaningful glances while the hobbits brushed themselves off the second time in the last twenty minutes. Pippin turned to Percy indignantly.

"Why must you throw away the mushroom, of all things?" he demanded.

"Pippin!" Merry scolded. "It's better the mushroom than us all. Did you see that thing?"

"I need not see it," his friend retorted, his face contorting in regret. "But why the mushroom…?"

Thalia butted in. "Let's go," she said, her voice steely. It was the voice of one who was used to taking charge. "We've got to move quickly before that thing, whatever the Tartarus it was, catches up to us. Do you have any particular safe location in mind?"

Merry and Pippin looked at Frodo hesitantly, as though they didn't know if they should say anything or not. The dark-haired hobbit glanced at these new members in their group. "We are heading for the Ferry," he said, still somewhat dazed. "If you would want to come along, then perhaps you may accompany us until then."

"Sounds great," Percy agreed. "As long as it's away from that thing."

"And what is the Tartarus?" Pippin piped up.

0o0o0o0o0

So there they were, an odd company of seven walking across the forest at nearly jogging speed. The three demigods led, though it was Merry who knew the way. For the hobbits, it was the first time they've seen some of the Big Folk moving, and their pace staggered them. Thalia insisted they got away as far as they could, and none of them opposed it. However, hobbits were made for hard journeys, not a long and fast one, but they pushed through.

There was an unspoken concurrence between Percy, Thalia and Nico that they shouldn't return to Drego's house. That creature might know how to smell as well as hear if it really couldn't see a thing. It was stupid for them to run back to the old hobbit leading that thing. If it came down to fighting, Percy himself wasn't sure how to handle this new threat. Sure, he could figure that out when he was fighting, but he'd rather not.

It was an effin' long trip, that was all Percy knew. As they walked, they got a few conversations going. Nico was, as always, quiet and preferred to hang back from the crowd. Thalia seemed to have enough talking to boys for that day, so it was Percy who ended up doing all the chatting. The hobbits were on a quest, Merry (Brandybuck) said. They needed to get to the Ferry, which was a ferry (and on Percy's persistent request, confirmed by Merry as a real ferry – which is the wooden platform that floats – and not something else). That was where they were all going.

The other hobbit who constantly fussed over Frodo and calling them all misters (miss, in the case of Thalia) was called Sam. He was a good deal suspicious about these demigods who practically popped out of thin air, but seemed at peace with his master's judgment – he was Frodo's gardener – and his friends'. Even so, it was impossible for Percy not to feel his stare drilling holes in him the entire way. Not that he blamed him or anything. If it was Percy, he would've probably threatened the newcomers at sword point. Just in case.

And so they kept walking. And walking. And walking. In time, Percy no longer noticed the change in the scenery. What was there to change? Where that fern went instead of there? Hardly important. He wasn't a hunter or an expert tracker – and there was something else to worry about.

Chill crept up his spine like an extra long and extra cold centipede. Percy fought the urge to shiver, but unconsciously, his hand was already halfway into his pocket, Riptide just within his grip. He knew that feeling, and that was what troubled him. They were being hunted.

Percy glanced quickly at Nico. The dark-eyed boy was working with his shoulders slightly hunched, his hands casually by his side, close to his pocket. Nico answered the son of Poseidon with a quick, almost undetectable nod. He knew that, too. Percy turned to Thalia. The Hunter's shoulders were tense.

We would never make it, he realized, dread coiling tightly in his stomach like a snake about to strike. The thing was on our trail, and it was having no trouble finding us. Not that it was a surprise, really. It was a miracle that they've gotten this far without the thing jumping down on them.

Behind him, the hobbits still chattered away lightly, although their tones were slightly strained. They've sensed it as well. Not as clearly or defined, but they should have a faint idea about the entire situation. Something bad was about to happen. Something very bad. And Percy had no choice but to face it.

To make it worse, the sun was sinking. In his experience, bad things operated in the dark. Percy was gifted with many things, but super sight was not one of them. Nico had the ability to sense things in the shadow, so he was fine. Thalia being a Hunter would probably listen to sounds and use movements as her guide. He, however, would be more or less sitting duck. Defense-wise, he was all right, but what he feared was that his sword would hit the hobbits. Celestial bronze would pass right through mortals, but technically hobbits weren't mortals…

"Is it me, or is this place getting colder?" Pippin complained from the back.

It wasn't just him. Percy's breath was a cloud of mist. Thalia picked up her dress and nearly doubled her speed, sending them all into a frenzy to keep up with her. She was almost running now, and Percy found that he very much wanted to draw his sword and keep it close. The centipede on his spine have now started to wriggle those little legs. Goosebumps rose on his arms. He'd known this feeling before. Kampê. But much, much darker. And colder.

That was it. Percy's hand reached into his pocket and gripped Riptide. He pulled it out, uncapped it and lowered it in one smooth motion. The Celestial bronze blade came into existence, casting a warm soft light in the dark.

Surprised and awed gasps erupted from behind him. "Magic," someone breathed. Pippin. He sounded fascinated. Frodo and Sam turned back, staring at the sword with goggle eyes. Obviously they didn't have magic pens that turned into swords here either, Percy thought. That was one invention copyrighted to Greek demigods.

"It's here!" Nico shouted.

No sooner did he say it than the thundering of hooves reach them. "Run!" Thalia cried helpfully. Percy doubled his speed, but kept half a mind at the hobbits behind him and Frodo and Sam in front. Nico brought up the rear. Percy could hear the boy urging the hobbits to hurry up.

After a few minutes of running (and the hooves now just yards behind them), Percy could hear running water. "River up ahead!" he yelled.

"How further?" Thalia shouted back. Percy realized there was still nothing but a lot of trees in front of them. He could spot large bodies of water from far away. Of course.

Percy calculated as he ran. "Half a mile!" he concluded.

"Oh great!" Nico called from behind. Somehow, even in that situation, the boy's comment contained enough sarcasm to sting.

An inhuman, frustrated screeching came from behind. It sounded like a hysteric mutant crow. Percy hoped it was simply a crow. But then again, as in their world, nothing was just simply that. There just had to be deeper, freakier stories that he really didn't want to know. Often, knowing something means you're going to get into trouble for that knowledge.

Once, Merry tripped on a tree root, but Nico quickly snatched his arm and helped him straighten. There was no time for thanks, however. The thundering hooves were so very close now. None of them wanted to stop for luxuries. There was a time for formalities later. If – if – they managed to survive, that is. Percy hoped there really was a time like that without anyone dead.

They somehow made it all the way to the river without the thing actually snagging one of their shirt collars. Now they could see the river Merry was talking about in sight, and so was the ferry, tied to a pair of stakes on the dock. Percy wanted to relax, but he knew it wasn't the right time. If he so much as slowed down now, he was as good as gone. In his life, nothing was for certain until it was two or three good years behind you.

Even here, Percy could feel the presence of the river keenly. It called out to him, beckoning him to hurry into its domain, so that he could be safe. Most rivers did that. He guessed his status as a son of the Sea God applied here, nonetheless. But he wasn't allowed much time to contemplate that. The sharp shriek behind him warned of the creature on their tails.

Suddenly, there was a clash of steel. Percy stopped in his track and turned to look.

Nico was locked in a battle to the dead with the creature in the cloak. In the faint moonlight, the thing's wicked curve sword glinted. It brought the blade crashing down on Nico, but he jumped aside and swept his sword at the horse's neck. The animal neighed, automatically backpedaling to avoid the strike. And then the creature was at it again, jabbing and slicing and his horse was kicking, forcing Nico to withstand both the blows from the sword and from the hooves.

The horse was on its hind legs, bellowing. Percy automatically braced himself for the flood of thoughts that was sure to come, but there was nothing. No real thoughts behind the emotional wave that hit him. Just plain frustration and wariness. That was disturbing. No matter how frenzy, there were always thoughts behind emotions. But this…this was like the horse had no mind of its own. Just very basic emotions.

A silvery arrow sailed past his head and nailed Freaky on the shoulder. It shrieked in pain, nearly dropping the curved sword it was holding. That snapped Percy out of his momentary pause. He leaped at the cloaked figure and the horse, bringing his blade up just in time to block the curved sword from slicing Nico's head in two like a watermelon.

A horse and a monster against a demigod was an automatic win-lose. However, when there were two demigods against the horse and the monster, the table would most likely be turned. Most likely.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

The horse, in a streak of luck, clonked Percy in the face with its hoof. Pain exploded, and his eyes turned watery with tears from a broken nose. The tangy and remembered taste of copper was on his tongue. In the time that he was blinded, Freaky, using the butt of his sword, sent Nico flying into a tree. Before Percy could recover, something that felt suspiciously like a sword's pommel slammed into his chin, knocking him into the ground.

His eyes cleared momentarily, and Percy stared up at the being and the sword in its hand. Its face was hidden in its hood even when it looked down at him. And then Percy realized something: it didn't have a face. Or it was invisible.

Riptide was still in his grip. He'd managed to hang on to it. It would do him no good, however, trapped as he was between the ground and the cold blade resting right on his throat. This is it, Percy thought, although part of him still fought like a wild animal against the odds. He wasn't about to die here! He'd survived so many things. He'd bathed in the Styx, had won the war against the Titans…to die here, of all places? It wasn't even his home. What would his mother say? And he was just starting to enjoy a real family.

There was a cry of rage in the distance. Four silver arrows flew toward the monster and its beast, all hitting the target. The two backed off, howling in absolute pain. It's not invincible against Celestial steel, Percy thought with a start. And that was all he needed. He was on his feet again in seconds, back into demigod survival mode overdrive.

He launched sideway, ignoring the pain as he snatched Nico up by the collar and helped the still-dazed teen find his footings. "Riwer," Percy said determinedly, starting to drag Nico toward the ferry.

"Right," Nico mumbled, his eyes still misty. "Riwer. Coming."

Thalia, once she'd seen Percy up on his feet again, had whipped out her hunting knife and cut the ropes holding the ferry to the dock. "Hurry up!" she screamed, already dropping her knife and notching another arrow onto her bow. However, the creature was still preoccupied by the arrows already in its bodies and paid them no heed as the two boys shuffled toward the ferry. Their process was so torturously slow that Thalia considered shooting them to get them to hurry up. That, however, probably wouldn't contribute much to their speed.

Beneath them, the Brandywine seemed to slow down, reluctant to move at its natural speed. In fact, it was Percy who'd used his gift to prevent the river from carrying on with its normal pace, so they would not be left behind. He was too late, however, and distracted by the nearly-forgotten pain, lost his concentration. The speed returned with a vengeance, sending the ferry drifting away.

Oh well, Percy thought as he stepped onto the dock. The water was mere inches away. He sent a quick prayer to his father, grabbed Nico's wrist tightly, pulling the other boy into the dark, gently-churning water.

They were under.

0o0o0o0o0

As soon as his head disappeared beneath the surface, Percy felt safer. It was his home turf – at least, sort of. It wasn't salt water or anything, but it was still water connecting to the ocean, and he knew he would be safe here.

Instead of fighting the current, Percy let himself drift along, willing the river to go a little faster behind him, propelling him and his passenger along. The wooden ferry's bottom came into sight in seconds, and Percy used a final kick to get himself closer to the craft, close enough to touch it. From there, it was a simple matter of grabbing hold of the wood and dragged himself up, then Nico along with him.

Hands grasped his arms to assist him with his climbing. "Help Nico," Percy forced out. Some of those hands disappeared while he crawled his way up to dry land, gasping from the sudden exertion. He's got to get used to it again. One year of peace have rubbed off on him. Chiron was right in forcing him through vigorous training. As always. Was that centaur ever wrong?

One hand rested on his shoulder, making Percy look up. A girl with a glowing silver aura and a tiara was staring at him, worry and relief etched simultaneously in her eyes. She looked familiar, he thought. And then, Thalia!

"I'm fine," he managed. His talking had returned to normal, and the broken nose had stopped bleeding. When he touched it gingerly, he found that it was probably mostly healed. Hurt like Zeus and probably still fragile, but not so flat. That was a good thing. And the dried blood had been washed off by the river water. Another good thing.

"You c-could've let me t-take my own chance with s-shadow traveling, you know," a voice muttered from next to the two. Percy and Thalia turned to see a sopping wet Nico shaking like a leaf, Frodo's and Merry's outer coats wrapped around his shoulders. He was giving Percy the harpy's evil eye, but Percy found his the corner of his mouths quirking. Nico was obviously alive and well. His body would be more than capable of fighting off the chill. Demigods don't usually catch colds. A bit of chill like this wouldn't kill his friend.

Thalia straightened, satisfied with what she's found. "Boys," she muttered for good measure. "Always getting into trouble."

Percy cocked an eyebrow at her. "Thalia," he said long-sufferingly, "I've just nearly been killed by a freaking Grim Reaper and that's the best you can come up with?"

The Hunter grinned at him. "Oh, don't be such a big baby. It's just a flattened nose –" she paused suddenly, and all humor drained from her face. "Percy, you've gotten a broken nose…"

Silence. In the moonlight, Percy's face looked like paper. And it wasn't just the effect of the light.

His invincibility was gone.

Before you go "Percy's invincibility can't be taken away, you OOC-making b*tch!" please allow me to explain. Or, at least, give a partial answer.

Nothing happens without a price. So, in this story, I'm speculating that the Curse of Achilles got taken away as a "safe passage" insurance. Does he get it back when he returns to New York, you ask?

That's my little secret.