The Spirits of the Universe (PJO)

Chapter 33--I Beat Up a Tall Guy

First, let me say that, over my demigod career, I've had hundreds of monsters attack me. Slimy snakes, snot-nosed Minotaurs, and, of course, muscle-headed brutes like Ares built the bottom of the list. 

But no matter how many times I faced them, I was always caught off guard when a giant attempted to kill me. The barn trembled underneath Mormolyce's heavy footsteps. He had to bend his neck slightly to avoid hitting his head on the rafters, which looked really uncomfortable. I would never understand why some girls found really tall guys attractive—at a point, it only caused inconveniences. 

Aridne stepped forward, but I waved her back. "Let me deal with him," I said.

"But—" she hesitated for a second, then relented, grabbing the golden horseshoe from my outstretched hand. "Fine. Don't get hurt—we don't have the time to be lugging your body through the forest."

Oh, End said knowingly. I see what you're doing, Jackson. You can't get her to like you through normal means, so you're going to force her to carry you when you're injured. 

At times like these, I'd rather be plagued by my nightmares rather than be in the company of the immortals in my head. End was right about one thing, though; even though Aridne seemed to want me gone, I still cared about her. I knew she could handle herself, but there was something . . . different about Mormolyce. Something that made me uneasy.

Not uneasy enough to prevent me from charging at him, though. "Ready for a beating?" I taunted. 

"Die!" Mormolyce snarled. Behind him, the Taraxippi cheered him on—though they looked reluctant, as if the only reason they were supporting their boss was because of a more complicated reason than straight-up innocent faith. 

Our weapons met in a clash of sparks. The sound of metal on metal was so loud that everyone clapped their hands over their ears. Everyone except Mormolyce and I, of course.

Mormolyce looked surprised when I met his attack head-on. "Why aren't you dead?" he demanded.

"I'm pretty against the idea of becoming a ghost," I informed him. "And you'd be surprised how far desperation can carry you in life. Not like I'm struggling against you."

That only made the Titan more furious. "I'll erase you off this planet!" He lunged at me.

The problem was for him, though, I wasn't lying when I said he wasn't a challenge to fight. Sure, the strength behind his swings was at a level that even Ares would be proud of. Even a graze from his mace would shatter my skull . . . 

. . . but that meant nothing if he couldn't hit me. 

You're good at fighting, End said begrudgingly. For a mortal, that is. 

I narrowly dodged an errant swipe that sent puffs of hay into the air. One deflection later, Mormolyce's mace was buried through the floor. Liam and Aridne had to dive into cover from the wooden shrapnel, which pocked holes in the moldy walls of the barn like rocks through paper. The pieces flew past me before I could react. One whistled past my hand, tearing my sleeve straight off. A splinter screamed through the skin of my cheek, drawing a faint line of blood. That was close.

Mormolyce roared as he struggled to free his weapon from where the spikes had caught in the ground. His gown was tainted in his own blood. He was covered in injuries, but, unfortunately, they were all shallow. He was still a warrior; I'd aimed my strikes to kill him, but he'd somehow managed to mitigate my slashes to minor wounds—or dodged them outright. "You will pay for this!"

He finally managed to free his weapon, and with a roar that sounded eerily similar to the Minotaur's, he charged at me again.

I would've accepted his challenge again, but the uneasy feeling in my gut had intensified—I could no longer ignore it. Why do I feel like something really bad's going to happen?

Order seemed to follow my thoughts. Percy! Paul is . . . 

He didn't need to say anything more. My eyes traveled past the charging form of Mormolyce to focus on the Taraxippus that started it all. My eyes widened in alarm. Paul was lying face-down on the floor, out cold. His skin looked pale—well, paler than it should've been for a spirit.

I spun on Mormolyce, parrying his sneak attack easily. "What did you do to him?" I demanded. "Are you using your powers? Is he a dream—were you trying to distract me by using Paul?"

Mormolyce staggered to the side from the force of his blow. "What are you talking about? I, Mormolyce, do not need to use my powers against a mortal!"

"This mortal you're talking about is currently kicking your butt," I informed him. "I don't think this is the time for pride. But you're right. My friend needs help. You're in my way—there's no time for a drawn-out fight."

With that, Liam and Aridne popped into the fight. They'd somehow managed to sneak around Mormolyce without him noticing. Now, they flanked him from both sides, stabbing forward in a coordinated motion. There was no way to escape . . .

. . . except backward. Mormolyce quickly jammed his mace into the floor and used it as a lever to launch him towards the back end of the barn. He sailed through the air, crashing through the weakened walls of two stalls before landing painfully in a heap of wood and nails.

"For a Titan," I said as he groaned in pain, "you sure are weak."

Mormolyce groaned in pain, but before we could finish him off, he ordered the Taraxippi, "What are you doing? Attack them!"

The Spirits didn't need to hear anything else. They rushed past their boss and swung their weapons at us. 

Aridne said, "Retreat! Don't attack them! They're innocent!"

Aridne was right. They were only following orders. But trying to stay alive without counterattacking was hard. I struggled to dodge two knives thrust at my abdomen. I hollered at Mormolyce, "Don't hide behind your subordinates! Fight us like you mean it!"

Somehow, Mormolyce had managed to retrieve his mace. He now used it as a crutch to get back to his feet. "You're right, mortal. This fight has taken too long. Get rid of them!" He grinned cruelly.

I gulped. It didn't look like I could save both my life and the brownie points I'd built up with Aridne. 

Whatever path I took, I was going to die.