Child of the Moon

We Head Straight To Our Death

Ahead of us stood a frozen Roman camp, like a giant sized ghostly replica of Camp Jupiter.  The trenches bristled with ice spikes.  The icy ramparts glared blinding white.  Hanging from the guard towers, banners of frozen blue cloth shimmered in the arctic sun.  There was no sign of life.  The gates stood wide open.  No sentries walked the walls.  Still, I had an uneasy feeling in my gut.  Arion trotted skittishly and Luna growled.

Percy: Frank, Zoe, how about we go on foot from here?

Frank sighed with relief.

Frank: Thought you'd never ask.

They dismounted and took some tentative steps.  The ice seemed stable, covered with a fine carpet of snow so that it wasn't too slippery.  Hazel urged Arion forward.  Annabeth, Zoe, Percy, Frank, and I walked beside her, our weapons ready.  We approached the gates without being challenged.  There were no enemies or traps, just the tall icy gates and the frozen banners crackling in the wind.  I could see straight down the Via Praetoria.  At the crossroads, in front of the snow brick principia, a tall, robed figure stood, bound in icy chains.

YN: There.

Hazel looked nervous, and Zoe stopped walking.

Frank: We've got you.

YN: Nobody's taking either of you away.

Hazel gripped Frank's hand, but she didn't look convinced.  I put my hand on Zoe's shoulder.  She looked at me for a few seconds, before nodding.

Zoe: Very well.

Hazel: I'm all right.

Annabeth: No defenders?  No giant?  This has to be a trap.

Frank: Obviously.  But I don't think we have a choice.

YN: Well, as long as we know it's a trap, it's not a trap anymore.  It's a face off.

Percy smirked and we proceeded through the gates.  The layout was so familiar.  Cohort barracks, baths, armory.  It was an exact replica of Camp Jupiter, except three times as big.  It felt like we were moving through a model city constructed by the gods.  We stopped ten feet from the robed figure.

YN: Lord Thanatos?

The hooded figure raised his head. His eyes fell on us, and instantly the whole camp stirred to life.  Figures in Roman armor emerged from the barracks, the principia, the armory, and the canteen, but they weren't human.  They were shades.  Ghosts from the Fields of Asphodel.  Their bodies weren't much more than wisps of black vapor, but they managed to hold together sets of scale armor, greaves, and helmets.  Frost covered swords were strapped to their waists.  Pila and dented shields floated in their smoky hands.  The plumes on the centurions' helmets were frozen and ragged.  Most of the shades were on foot, but two soldiers burst out of the stables in a golden chariot pulled by ghostly black steeds.  When Arion saw the horses, he stamped the ground in outrage.  Frank gripped his bow, and Zoe and Annabeth each pulled out their daggers.  I pulled Αγριος from my wrist.

Frank: Yep, here's the trap.

The ghosts formed ranks and encircled the crossroads.  There were about a hundred in all.  Not an entire legion, but more than a cohort.  Some carried the tattered lightning bolt banners of the Twelfth Legion, Fifth Cohort.  This was Michael Varus's doomed expedition from the 1980s.  Others carried standards and insignia I didn't recognize, as if they'd died at different times, on different quests.  Maybe not even from Camp Jupiter.  Most were armed with Imperial gold weapons, more Imperial gold than the entire Twelfth Legion possessed.

Hazel: Lord Thanatos, we're here to rescue you.  Tell the shades-

Her voice faltered.  Death's hood fell away and his robes dropped off as he spread his wings, leaving him in only a sleeveless black tunic belted at the waist.  The god's wrists were shackled in icy manacles, with chains that ran straight into the glacier floor.  His feet were bare, shackled around the ankles and also chained.