Zero to Hero (Percy Jackson Fanfic)

~PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT~

The sentry threw Tram to the ground. Tram felt the skin tear off his elbows as he hit the cobblestones. He let the cry of pain escape him, knowing it would make him seem weaker. The man only saw him as a small tortured boy of twelve. That was the intention.

Tram looked up at the guard with fear, checking to make sure Crad had made it over. The sentry scowled down at Tram. "I thought I told you to leave." He aimed a kick at Tram who took that as his cue to go. He scampered backwards on all fours, avoiding the man's foot, and stumbled to his feet. He bolted away, but only far enough that the guard wouldn't be able to see him in the dark. Tram paused and turned back.

The guard stared after him for a few moments, then turned and continued his patrol of the wall. Tram flashed a grin to himself in congratulation of his acting skills. Now he just had to wait for Crad to appear at the gate.

What is taking so long? Tram thought after several minutes, knowing, but not wanting to accept, that Crad had probably abandoned him out here.

Another guard appeared at the end of the wall, illuminated briefly by lantern light. It was now or never. Tram dodged back across the street, keeping out of the light, up to the gate. Crad stepped into view as soon as he reached it.

"Sorry," he whispered, blowing out his cheeks. He fit a key into the lock and pried the gate open a smidge. "The guard took a mineh teh incapacita'e." He nodded to his left as Tram slipped through.

Tram glanced over. A third guard lay slumped up against the wall, head lolling. "What did you hit him with?" Tram asked as they hurried toward the less presentable side of the manor: the kitchens.

Crad grinned sheepishly, "I didn' mean teh knock 'im ou', bu' 'e was strugglin' and I shoved 'im agains' the wall. He dropped like a sack o' pota'oes. Must've smacked 'is head."

The kitchens were empty this late at night, so no scullery maids remained when Tram picked his way through the door. The two of them entered the dark kitchen with its gleaming tiles and scrubbed counters. Crad flashed a grin at Tram, "Remember to wai' ten minehs before star'in' the fire. I'll mee' yeh back a' the roof."

"No," Tram replied before Crad could leave. He was too afraid Crad would never come back to the meeting spot. He didn't want to be left on his own again, and without the gold from the lord's safe. "I'll come find you after I'm done here. Stay out of sight."

"Wha'ever you say, Tram, wha'ever you say." Then Crad was gone.

There wasn't a clock in the kitchen, and Tram didn't know how to tell time anyway. Since he had nothing better to do while he waited, he counted the minutes passing. He sat on a stool, tapping anxious fingers on the table. Two minutes.

Tram shivered; the room was cold. He thought about starting a fire in the grate. Four minutes.

One hand in his pocket, grasping the small smooth Stone, about the size of his palm, Tram shifted in his seat. Six minutes.

He stood up, took the Stone out of his pocket and began pacing the length of the low table. Eight minutes.

Tram looked at the large kitchen hearth. He stared hard into the ashes. There was a stack of firewood by the mantle. Tram grabbed a few logs and set them up. Then he rotated his thumb on the smooth Sunset Stone in his hand. Instantly, the logs blazed to life. Light flickered across the room, and Tram stopped shivering. Ten minutes.

While he was here, he might as well save some of the food that was about to be destroyed. Tram quickly filtered through some of the cupboards, coming up with a still warm loaf of bread, some raisins, and an apple. Not wanting to be burdened with the supplies, Tram scanned his surroundings for something to carry it all with. Hanging on a nail by the door to the rest of the manor, the door Crad had left through, was a slightly battered leather satchel. Tram snatched it, and shoved his souvenirs inside.