Sunlight | Luke Castellan

XVIII. questions of fate

   WORD HAD SPREAD during breakfast about our mixed combat training, and by the time I reached the hill, ten campers were already sitting in a large semi-circle. I knew that Luke and I had never been hidden while practicing, but my nerves spiked at having a visible audience. Many of the faces were familiar, the official group now double. Cassie, Clarisse, and about half of the Ares cabin sat fifteen feet to my left. Annabeth was positioned closer to Luke's belongings, her hands toying with the hilt of a bronze knife.

"You're going down, Castellan," Lee taunted as Luke stepped away to drink from his water bottle, and he earned a few hollers from his siblings. The other camper gave a cocky shake of his head, giving a toothy grin in his direction. Both boys' faces glistened with sweat. Their exposed skin glistened under the strong sun, and their shirts were soaked through. We had only met twenty minutes prior, but the summer humidity was beginning to settle at a high intensity. The fight pairings had been decided after a quick stretch to see who would be solo: Luke, and if energy later allowed, myself, and then Lee.

Silena had braided my hair again after breakfast to prevent it from falling all over my face, but the heat overpowered her talents. I felt frizz brush the back of my hand as I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead. The scar on my right arm gave a phantom twinge of soreness. I kept myself from reaching toward it and wiped my sweaty palms against my jean shorts.

The son of Apollo practiced a few swings with the steel blade Beckendorf had lended, feeling his way around the weight difference to his normal weapon. The light had returned to his face since Annabeth and Grover returned from the quest, relief in the fact he could return to normal camp activities. The boy had a bounce in his step as he moved to stand by my side.

"How are you feeling about this?" the blond inquired quietly, keeping his head facing forward to make the conversation less obvious to our audience. I rolled my shoulders back and took a calming breath, narrowing my focus on the camper across from us. Our eyes locked, and Luke gave a lopsided smirk.

"Let's take him down a peg." Lee grinned excitedly, and he raised his sword into a defensive position. I shifted my sneaker against the grass, taking note of the small pebbles hidden in the dirt. Luke lifted his weapon, and a cheer rose from the gathered Cabin Eleven campers. My fingers tightened around my blade's hilt.

"Get him, Jackson!" Clarisse roared, and the girl threw a fist in the air. Luke's jaw clenched. The boy charged toward Lee, and as the other camper prepared to block, he dodged and swung in my direction. I sidestepped, my body twisting, and I parried. Lee advanced. His sword sliced diagonally through the air before proceeding with a lunge.

Luke guided the blade away with ease, and the other boy stumbled. I raced to cover Lee as Luke lifted his blade into the sky, staying low and springing myself to better hide in his peripheral vision. Our swords clanged against each other a few inches away from making contact with his body. We fought in quick beats. I retreated backward. Luke persisted. The familiar dance of the duel had begun.

"Duck!" Lee shouted from behind. I dropped seconds before his steel blade swung in a circular motion, the weapon whistling through the air. Luke backtracked with quick steps as the son of Apollo advanced. He bent backward with a tilt, his shoulder lowering by half a foot and causing Lee's attacks to not make contact.

The differences between Luke and Lee's combat styles were night and day. The Apollo camper made large, powerful, but calculated movements. He flinched at even the slightest of twitches, noticing small movements the normal eye did not. While the wider swings could have been considered amateurish, Lee didn't let his weapon pull his body. He had an insane amount of control.