Prisoner of War

Chapter 5

Percy POV

After another night of fitful sleep, I woke to the beautiful cool air of pre-dawn blowing softly across my hot brow. I almost wish I had a fever, and possibly an infection from my back, in spite of the nurses ministrations. If I die from that, at least I won’t be in the degrading life of a slave, I thought.

Looking up at the still dark sky, I figured I had about an hour and a half until the sun rose. I had always loved looking at the night sky with my old tutor Chiron. He had taught me the movements of the stars, what the constellations were, and what the stories behind them were. Looking up now, I saw Ursa Major-the bear, I saw Leo-the lion, I saw Orion-the jerk, and my favorite of all, the Hunter. When Chiron had told the story of her bravery and sacrifice, he had so much raw emotion in his voice that sometimes I thought he had known the young lady personally. One day I had asked him about it and his ancient eyes crinkled in a sad little smile. Running his hand thru his beard, a bad habit he said, he had sighed and told me that while he had not known the young lady immortalized in the stars, he had once taught a girl with a similar ending to her life. I never questioned him about it again, I didn’t want to see the man I saw as a second father with that much sadness in his kind old eyes again.

Chiron had been teaching me for more years then I can remember. When I first met him, he had just been in an accident and was confined to a wheelchair. We had focused more on my academic studies that year, but after he recuperated he started teaching me weaponry with a vengeance. I think he was trying to make up for the year that I had missed, so he pushed me harder than anyone else. Fortunately and unfortunately, even when that year was over, he never stopped pushing me that hard. So by the time I was twelve I had mastered almost any weapon, except archery. Sometimes I think that whatever god up there was in charge of archery cursed me just so he could have something to laugh at.

When I was twelve, my father had had a special sword made just for me. It was the perfect balance and fit in my hand like it was made for me, which it was. He had prepared one of the most lavish ceremonies I had ever been to. Every time a boy is presented with his first sword, it is a big deal in his life, but for the prince, well people tend to roll out the red carpet. I was horribly uncomfortable for the entire night, I’m not big on attention, but I smiled and talked to my subjects who came to congratulate me. The only good part about that night, besides getting Riptide, was after the party my family pulled me aside and told me how proud they were. Tyson had jumped right into my arms and almost knocked me over.

Thinking about those happy times brought a small smile to my face, but I immediately winced because moving my beaten face caused pain. And the pain reminded me where I was and what had happened to my beautiful, happy family.

Sighing, I looked back up at the sky and whispered into the night, my voice cracking,

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to win. Please know that from now on I am going to be strong. No matter what they do to me, I won’t give up! I promise! I love you all and I’ll see you soon.” Silent tears were falling down my face by the time I finished saying my vow to the lonesome stars. I knew that my family was gone and couldn’t hear me, but I felt better afterward.

I spent the next hour watching the night sky slowly lighten into day. Looking at the beauty of a new day coming into being, I wondered how such a beautiful world could hold so much evil and suffering. I wondered how humans could treat their fellow man, their brothers, with so much hatred and indifference. I wondered how someone could look at the awe striking beauty and ferocity of a woman and think of her as anything less than someone to be loved, cherished and respected. I wondered how people could see a child hurt and suffering, and not lift a finger to help. If that was what was what the world was, than what was the point of fighting for good? Is there really any good left?