The Veiled Legacy | PJO - Book Two

sixteen

THEY MADE IT BACK

Getting killed by Tartarus didn't seem like much of an honour.

As Ariana stared up at his dark whirlpool face, she decided she'd rather die in some less memorable way - maybe falling down the stairs, or going peacefully in her sleep at age eighty.

Yes, that sounded good.

It wasn't the first time Ariana had faced an enemy she couldn't defeat by force.

She was dimly aware of the army of monsters swirling around her, but after their initial roar of triumph the horde had fallen silent.

Ariana, Annabeth and Percy should have been ripped to pieces by now. Instead, the monsters kept their distance, waiting for Tartarus to act.

The god of the pit flexed his fingers, examining his own polished black talons. He had no expression, but he straightened his shoulders as if he were pleased.

It is good to have form, he intoned. With these hands, I can eviscerate you.

His voice sounded like a backwards recording - as if the words were being sucked into the vortex of his face rather than projected.

In fact, everything seemed to be drawn towards the face of this god - the dim light, the poisonous clouds, the essence of the monsters, even
Ariana's fragile life force.

She looked around and realized that every object on this vast plain had grown a vaporous comet's tail - all pointing towards Tartarus.

Ariana knew she should say something, but her instincts told her to hide, to avoid doing anything that would draw the god's attention.

Besides, what could she say? You won't get away with this!

That wasn't true. She, Annabeth and Percy had only survived this long because Tartarus was savouring his new form.

He wanted the pleasure of physically ripping them to pieces. If Tartarus wished, Ariana had no doubt he could devour her existence with a single thought, as easily as he'd vaporized Hyperion and Krios.

Would there be any rebirth from that?

Ariana didn't want to find out.

Next to her, Percy did something she'd never seen him do. He dropped his sword. It just fell out of his hand and hit the ground with a thud.

Death Mist no longer shrouded his face, but he still had the complexion of a corpse. Tartarus hissed again - possibly laughing.

Your fear smells wonderful, said the god. I see the appeal of having a physical body with so many senses. Perhaps my beloved Gaia is right, wishing to wake from her slumber.

He stretched out his massive purple hand and might have plucked up Percy like a weed, but Bob interrupted.

"Begone!" The Titan levelled his spear at the god. "You have no right to meddle!"

Meddle? Tartarus turned. I am the lord of all creatures of the darkness, puny Iapetus. I can do as I please.

His black cyclone face spun faster. The howling sound was so horrible that Annabeth fell to her knees and clutched her ears.

Bob stumbled, the wispy comet tail of his life force growing longer as it was sucked towards the face of the god.

Bob roared in defiance. He charged and thrust his spear at Tartarus's chest. Before it could connect, Tartarus swatted Bob aside like he was a pesky insect. The Titan went sprawling.