The Spirits of the Universe (PJO)

Chapter 39--Reverse Swordsmanship

I grabbed a shield from off the ground—a circular hunk of steel with leather strapping. It was surprisingly light—which worried me. It didn't look solid enough to block a dagger strike.

"You ready?" Liam asked. He and Paul had rectangular shields that covered half of their bodies.

"I don't really use shields," I said. "We're trying to protect Aridne, right?"

Liam grinned, though I could still sense a spark of worry in his tone. "You're not doing anything like that with that dinner plate. Paul and I will handle Aridne's protection. You just make sure you don't die."

I looked at him incredulously, but the sound of wheels on dirt drowned out my response. We were pulling alongside the chariot in front of us—and the Taraxippi inside of it did not look happy. Through the cloud of dirt,  I observed that the spirits had picked up shields and weapons of their own. They had no one controlling the reins, and yet, the horses continued forward without complaint.

"How come we can't do that?" Liam exclaimed. "This is so unfair!"  

"Tell me about unfair," I muttered. 

"Paul can't win against two of his brothers," Paul said, trembling. He looked like he was going to drop his shield and spear at any given moment. 

"ATTACK!" Aridne screamed.

Our horses were head to head with the others. The Taraxippi crowded the side closest to us, ready to mutilate our limbs. We moved alike, with Liam and Paul planting their shields to block the strikes toward Aridne. I was stationed further back, towards the end of the chariot. A Taraxippus engaged Paul and Liam each, while two lunged toward me.

I couldn't believe my luck—I had subpar weaponry, and I was outnumbered. Could it get any worse?

You could be unarmed, End reminded me. Now, focus before you get decapitated.

I was jumping into action before End could finish her sentence. I wasn't really confident in my shield defense, so I opted to ignore it and focus my whole attention on controlling Riptide. I slapped away my opponents' weapons, then stabbed through the shoulder of one . . .

. . . only to remember that they were immortal. It'd been something I'd worried about from the moment I boarded the chariot, but my mind was running on pure adrenaline. When you're fighting for your life, you tend to forget about critical pieces of information.

Riptide sliced through the air. Without any resistance to work with, my body stumbled forward—right into the blades of the eager Taraxippi. If I was fighting on even ground, it would've been pretty easy to drop low and dodge. But I was in a chariot—if I tried any move like that, I was afraid that I'd accidentally launch myself out of the vehicle. So I had to block. I desperately locked hilts with the one to my right—but there was still one more weapon. 

A spearhead hurtled towards my side. I twisted in place, planning to place the injury just below my stomach—it would significantly hinder my mobility, but at least I'd still be able to fight. 

But I'd forgotten that Riptide wasn't the only weapon I had in my arsenal for today. Instead of piercing through me, the spearhead ricocheted against my shield, and the Taraxippi staggered back.

I paused, looking at my shield in amazement. It was so light that I'd completely forgotten that I'd strapped it on. This just saved my life. Hey, maybe I should adopt a shield into my normal fighting style . . .

This is not the time to be daydreaming, End warned. WATCH OUT!

I yelped as I deflected a strike with Riptide. Normally, it'd be hard to get my footing back in such a dangerous fight, but my shield allowed me to completely neutralize my threats. All I had to do was watch one Taraxippi with my peripheral vision and use my instincts to block his strikes with my shield, while I focused my entire attention on the other spirit. That probably sounded impossible to do for a normal warrior, but demigods—including me—had otherworldly instincts that couldn't be compared to normal humans. 

But I still had a problem.

The dust cloud around our chariots cleared for a second, and I found us driving away from the start line, a pair of piercing eyes watching us from the sidelines. 

"Better speed it up!" Mormolyce yelled as we sped away. He was obviously happy. And no wonder.

We had just finished a lap—half of the race.

And we were fighting for dead last.

I don't think I can win in time, I said, parrying and then stabbing forward with Riptide. I'm just going to get tired after a few minutes. End, is there any way of beating these guys before they kill me?

Their weapons, End grumbled, as if she was disappointed that I hadn't figured it out already. 

Their . . . weapons?

You can't touch their bodies—but their weapons are a whole different story. If you strike hard enough . . . well, the Taraxippi still have to follow the laws of physics. 

What does that have to do with anything—

Then I understood. The Taraxippi were immortal, which, in theory, should've made winning impossible. But they had the same goal as us—and if we wanted to win, I didn't have to kill them.

I just had to make them lose. 

I stomped forward with my shield, meeting a strike directly. Sure enough, the owner of the weapon was pushed backward—all the way to the other side of the railing. The Taraxippus had to grab the railing so as not to topple over the side. These guys might have infinite stamina—but they're not built to be warriors.

Now was my chance. I focused entirely on the remaining Taraxippus, who lunged desperately at me. I shoved his blade away with my shield, overextending his shoulder. Normally, this would be a perfect time for a lethal stab. Instead, I slashed downward with Riptide—slamming my blade as hard as I could onto the hilt of his sword.

As I watched with bated breath, the force of the impact pushed the Taraxippi over the railing—right out of the chariot.

The man slammed into the dirt six feet below, barely dodging the spikes on our wheels. Within a few seconds, he'd disappeared into the dust cloud—turning this fight into a fair one.

Wow, I thought, shocked. 

What? End huffed. You didn't think I knew what I was talking about?

Not that. I had a plan—and it actually worked. The moment that sentence came out of my mouth, I knew it sounded wrong—but it was too late.

End roared with laughter. Don't I know it, Jackson. You and 'plan' don't really belong in the same sentence.

That's not what I meant. Usually, my plans don't work—because my opponents have overpowered abilities and somehow know what I'm doing at all times. But that didn't happen this time. I'm just a bit surprised, that's all. 

End didn't believe me. Sure, sure. Jackson, you're going to have to be a hell of a lot more convincing than that to sell a lie.

I wanted to snap back, but I didn't have time—I was still in the middle of a battle. I yelled, "Liam! Paul! These guys are weak. Just force them off the chariot!"

Liam glanced at me for a second, then went back to his battle. Only, this time, he turned his shield so it got stuck in the prongs of his opponent's trident. He twisted his wrist violently, throwing the spirit off the chariot—just as I managed to lift my opponent in the same manner. 

Within a minute, there was only one Taraxippi left. In theory, that should've meant our victory—at least, if it'd been either me or Liam in charge of his suppression.

But it was Paul. As weak as the Taraxippus was, Paul was weaker. 

He shrieked as the Taraxippi knocked away his shield with a savage strike. Paul tried to block with his sword, but it was too heavy. 

"Paul!" I screamed.

The Taraxippus' blade hurtled toward his chest.