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jflashandclash · 4 years

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Tales from Mount Othrys

Say “NO” to Cruise Ships IV

Axel lunged.

As he suspected, Julian deflected Axel’s sword with ease. What Axel didn’t expect was how quickly the javelin tip redirected to his chest.

The sharpened gold jammed into Axel’s leather armor.

His little brother screamed somewhere nearby.

Axel didn’t feel pain as the muscles in Julian’s arm tensed. Axel stumbled backwards, almost slipping on the mounds of dust.

Five seconds and you were almost skewered. Exactly how I wanted this fight to start, Axel thought.

He retreated. His heartbeat thudded when he saw the javelin slide out of his armor. There was no blood on the tip. That had been too close. Reflexively, he grabbed the empty hole with his hand.

He needed to close the distance between he and the praetor. When Lapis, his little sister, had beat the snot out of Ajax in Soulcalibur, the range of a weapon mattered. Julian’s weapon was long-range. Axel needed to get close to level the playing field.

Unfortunately, every muscle in his body said to stay far away and have a nice chat from opposite sides of the cage, maybe about how he’d whip his little brother if he lived through this.

Julian warily examined the tip of his javelin. “Tyche doesn’t favor me,” he muttered. “You really aren’t a demigod.” His gaze shifted upward, flicking around the different weapons dangling above them.

Axel didn’t know why Julian seemed to think he needed a different one, but Axel took the distraction.

Ignoring his mounting panic and the way his head thundered with his pulse, Axel dashed forward. His foot dug into the wood of the stage. The screams of the crowd faded into a din. All he had to do was shove the javelin out of the way. Then he could close the distance and—

Axel positioned his sword in front of him.

The leather hilt vibrated under his grip. It should have cued him in that something was wrong, but Julian’s movement was so fast that Axel didn’t see the maneuver. One moment, he was raising his sword to close the distance. The next, Julian must have batted the tip of his sword away. It was aimed at the floor, exposing him. He could only watch as the tip of Julian’s javelin sank into his dominate forearm.

And did no damage.

Like the bullets had phased through the monsters, the golden metal went in and through Axel like a mirage.

Axel withdrew. His breath switched to pants. He clasped his sword hand with his free one, waiting for blood to gush out or a bone to ache. Had that really happened? There was no blood. No pain.

The screaming of the crowd came back into focus.

Axel felt dizzy.

“What a dodge from the newcomer!” Jack shrieked. Somewhere in Axel’s peripheral, the redhead jumped.

Julian grunted. “Damn it. You appear to have me at quite a disadvantage.” His eyes darted from weapon to weapon dangling above, before settling back on Axel. That gaze dripped of pity. “Double sorry now. I wanted to give you a quick death, but if none of my metal is going to cut you, I’m going to have to beat you to death with the butt of my pilum.”

Beat you to death.

Axel tightened his fingers around the sword hilt. His hand was fine. “None of my metal will cut you.” Focus on that part, would you?

But his brain wouldn’t. His eyes felt moist at the thought of who he’d seen beaten to death. His breath threatened to get out of control.

Axel emitted a growl. No. I’m not going to be a victim. I’m not letting anyone else in my family be a victim.

This sword strategy wasn’t working. Julian was too quick with a pilum and could predict Axel’s sword movements.

There had to be something Axel could do that Julian couldn’t predict, something that Axel was skillful enough to pull off and close the distance. He had been a performer; he could do what he, Ajax, and the Tumbling Six had perfected: tumbling.

Axel let instinct take over.

This was not a game. This was not a performance. That didn’t mean it couldn’t look good.

He sprinted forward, positioning his sword like he had for the last two swipes. As he suspected, Julian repeated his prior process. He parried Axel’s blade and repositioned his javelin so Axel would run right into it. This time, though, Julian waited an extra moment to reposition, as Axel hoped. The metal seemed to do no damage, so Julian needed him closer, to hit him with the wood, two feet further down the javelin.

When Axel felt his sword vibrate with Julian’s parry, Axel let go of the hilt. He leaned forward, dropped, and tucked into a roll past Julian’s legs.

As he also suspected, Julian slammed the wooden shaft of the pilum into Axel’s side. An audible crack shook his body as one of Axel’s ribs broke mid-roll. Calculated risk.

That was his cue that he had rolled close enough, and his cue to where Julian’s weapon was.

Like Axel was reaching for a prop mid-tumble, he shot his hand out. He smashed his palm against the spike in Julian’s calf, imbedding it further.

Julian grunted.

Axel heard Julian thump to one knee at the same time that Axel finished his roll. Now, Axel couldn’t waste his momentum. The next two seconds were vital.

Once Axel’s feet touched the dusty stage, he sprang upward with as much power as he could put into the jump, extending his hands towards the cage’s ceiling to snatch—

Pain flared in Axel’s chest. The way he’d stretched out his torso and gasped—it felt like someone dug a spade into his rib. The world blurred.

No. Focus! He wanted to scream. Focus on the match—not the rib—not the—

His fingers wrapped around the hilt of a dangling dagger. The icy chill of the dagger’s hilt reminded him of what he had to do.

The rope holding the dagger snapped under Axel’s weight.

While coming back down, he twisted, making his side flare white-hot. Each breath felt like he was inhaling flames.

Julian will be prone. Pin him. Dagger to throat. Say you want him as a prisoner of war. You can both live. Figure out escape later.

Julian had partially recovered from the pain in his calf. He had pivoted his pilum so Axel would impale himself upon falling. Axel clasped the wood with his free hand, using the shaft to aim his fall on top of the praetor. Sword fighting? Unfamiliar territory to Axel. Doing acrobats with moving poles and ropes? Routine.

As Axel hoped, he crashed into Julian. Without having his second leg functional for balance, Julian tumbled backwards onto the ground.

Julian released the pilum and flopped onto his back. Axel landed with his knees on either side of the praetor.

Axel tried to jab the blade at Julian’s neck. Before Axel could get the dagger within six inches of Julian’s throat, the praetor grabbed Axel’s wrist. The man’s callused, scarred fingers looked large enough to crush Axel’s whole hand.[1]

Julian reached his other hand down to his leg—

Axel didn’t have time to dodge the spike. Julian withdrew the six-inch black barb from his calf and jabbed towards Axel’s chest.

Axel did all he could: he twisted.

Someone tried to shriek. Had it been him? There wasn’t enough air in his lungs to make the full sound. He couldn’t tell if it was from the burning in his broken ribs, or the new, horrific pain searing his stomach.

The blow had landed.

Whichever it was, Julian’s stab knocked Axel back, far enough that Julian could lift his functional leg and plant a solid foot on Axel’s chest. Like a cartoon, Axel felt himself lift off the ground.

Sound whirred to a hollow squeal. Sight blotched into colorful, brilliant orbs. Any sense of gravity vanished.

Awareness didn’t return until something cold collided with Axel’s back. He clutched it with his hands and slipped his feet against the curves—the bars—the bars of the cage. They must have skidded closer to the cage’s edge, where the dome was lower. Either that or Julian could kick a man ten feet into the air. What had they called him? Son of Mars?

Weakness made all Axel’s limbs tremble, threatening to shake his hold. Each breath was ragged, spiking pain in his ribs and stomach. A throbbing made his ribcage feel like it was cracking more with every movement and like a little piece of his stomach would slither out if left unattended. His head spun. Below, he could see red droplets drip down to splash Julian, who was rising to his feet.

Droplets. Axel’s blood.

The spike could hurt Axel.

Axel didn’t understand the difference between the spike and the pilum, but Julian had a weapon that could kill him.

Axel wanted to touch his stomach, to see what the wound was like, but he feared letting go of one bar would send him tumbling down, where the praetor could slit his throat.

Through a maddening din of noise, Axel could only discern one thing: Ajax, his little brother, shouted at him in a sobbed mix of Spanish, Mayan, and English. “Axel! Axel, you’re awesome! You’re the strongest! You promised you’d protect me and—and--you’re better than this! Are you going to let this coatimundi’s butt break you the way Dad wants to?! I know you’re not!”

The pain dulled alongside the other noises and smells of the stage. A sweat droplet lingered on his lip before slowly cascading down.

Last time Axel broke his ribs—when their papá broke them and Axel’s arm with a cane—Axel had gotten back up without realizing how much pain he was in.

This couldn’t be the end of someone—someone else. If I die, they’ll send Ajax in and Julian will kill him too.

Axel clenched his jaw. He thought about the days after their dad found them, the way Ajax, choking back tears, snuck into Axel’s room with handmade crafts and sketches of their old home and terribly devised jokes, anything that might make Axel smile again. Ajax promised that he’d never stop trying to make him laugh, no matter how bad it got.

Axel would never stop trying to keep Ajax safe, no matter how bad it got.

Julian palmed the spike in his hand. He could barely move on his single functional leg and definitely not quickly. This was someone’s lover, someone’s proud son, an entire troop’s loved leader.

Axel let instinct take over.

There were several weapons dangling from the ropes in front of Axel.

With as much strength as he could muster, Axel lunged off the cage bars. One rope had snapped when he put all his weight on them, but three—

Held. Only one of Axel’s arms would respond. The side with the injured ribs dangled uselessly. He only needed one arm to work.

He swung behind Julian—

—dug his heels into the cage’s bars on the other side, released the ropes—

—and pounced down at Julian’s exposed back. The praetor couldn’t turn fast enough. Axel accepted that Julian would get another stab in. He would have to worry about that later. For now, he had to land on Julian’s back, hoping Julian thought Axel had no apparent weapons—

Axel’s feet smashed into the praetor’s back as his claws dug into the praetor’s shoulders.

All thoughts crashed to a halt when he used the last weapon he had: Axel sank his teeth into the back of the praetor’s neck.

Something popped under his jaw. There was an audible crunch.

Blood went everywhere: up his nose, down his throat, into his eyes. For a moment, that’s all there was. Just the reek of iron and the inability to breath.

Then, they were falling. Something massive smashed Axel into the dusty ground.

Julian wasn’t moving.

Axel choked. He reeled back, trying to disentangle himself from the limp body. Clawing his way out felt hopeless. The thing was too massive, too heavy. One of his arms wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t breathe.

Someone pulled the body back, releasing him.

Axel tried to roll away. Instead, he was on all fours, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the dusty stage. Pain clenched him with each retch of red-tinted bile. It felt like someone was kicking him in the ribs every time he breathed and upchucked. One of his arms wouldn’t move to push him further away from the vomit.

The stage lights felt hot. People were screaming. Cheering? Chanting his name?

Blearily, Axel moved to look around, but his body didn’t want to respond. All he could see was the back of Praetor Julian Kouadio’s mangled skull and brain matter. A man never to return to the arms of his lover. A son never to inspire pride in his parents again. A leader unable to protect his troops.

There was nothing left for Axel to throw up. The pain in his chest was so intense, the world felt light. Had he been stabbed again? How bad was the first wound? He had to get up, to get Ajax out of here, but, he couldn’t feel anything to make his body move, anything but the sensation of sinking his teeth—

Axel hiccupped back his emotions, spiking another wave of pain, nausea, and wooziness. Focus on Ajax. Move.

Someone had knelt down beside him. Some desperate, childish whisper in the back of his mind said, Tío Frasco?

But, Uncle Frasco was like Julian. He would never be there to support his family again.

The person’s laugh was just as infectious and jovial. A caring hand gently took Axel’s chin, raising it. He felt a cloth brush away some of the vomit and blood.

It was that lanky, maniac redhead. Jack dabbed the ends of his shirt against Axel’s face, like a father brushing away stray pudding for a child. “Kid!” he cheered, “I’m going to make you into a star!”

The redhead pulled at one of Axel’s arms. Axel choked back a cry. More pain exploded in his torso. His vision was tunneling. He felt a surge of vertigo when Jack dragged him to his feet for a victory bow. More blood dripped to clot and intermix with the dust of the stage. More screams and cheers.

Then the stage lights vanished. A curtain had dropped and the noises muffled.

When Jack gently lowered him, Axel collapsed back to his knees, then his side. The world fuzzed in and out. His breath was shallow and spittle sputtered down his cheek.

Axel could hear the snap of latex gloves as Jack slipped some on. Jack took a pair of scissor out of a kit on his belt and began to snip away the ends of Axel’s shirt. The whole time, he was still blathering, “—new home! You’re going to do so well here! I’ll make sure of it. It’s going to be so exciting. I’ll make sure you and your little—”

“Ajax,” Axel whispered.

Jack nodded.

Someone stumble-sprinted to Axel’s side. Hands grabbed his. Familiar sobs made his rasps easier. “Axel! You asshole! You weren’t supposed to get injured while being a badass!”

“… wash your mouth out with sand…” Axel said, unable to get all the words out. He tried to give Ajax a comforting smile, but could only repress a scream of pain.

Jack had jerked something from his side.

If Axel could still vomit, he would have. The six-inch spike was slathered in blood. Jack tossed it behind him carelessly.

The panic in his little brother’s hazel and brown eyes made Axel’s condition clear: Axel was dying.

His little brother’s tears felt cool against Axel’s forehead. Ajax must have pulled Axel’s head onto his lap. “You can’t—you can’t go like Uncle Frasco and Aunt Nilley. I—I won’t—I won’t let you. You’re only here because—”

“Oh, he’s not going anywhere,” Jack said. The older boy put a comforting hand on Ajax’s shoulder. Then, he reached back for Axel’s torso. “I’m adopting both of you, and I can’t very well adopt a corpse. You see, I just found out—oh, sorry Axel, this is going to hurt a lot. I need to find the tip of the spike before I heal you. It broke off. Anyway, I just found out Flynn and I can’t have children unless we adopt, and you two—”

Axel couldn’t hear the next sentence. Someone had pressed something between his teeth. He wheezed and shrieked into it as Jack must have fished his fingers inside Axel’s stomach wound, like someone was prodding him with heated coils, stretching his skin and organs. Pain made the world go white. There wasn’t enough air.

When Axel could think again, an angelic voice lifted his consciousness to drift in a gentle breeze, easing all of the searing agony. Maybe this was it. Maybe he was losing the fight. But, he couldn’t. He wasn’t going to leave Ajax. He promised to protect him.

The song cut short. Aches spread through Axel’s stomach. He inhaled, relieved at the agony it brought. Unless death left him with the same pains as life, then he was still here. Axel wasn’t ready for a trip to paradise or Xibalba.

“See! He’s doing just fine. There’s a refreshing breath, right? That should stabilize you, my boy. My boys? Can I call you my boys? Oh! I can’t wait to tell Flynn! We’ll have to get you a room adjourning ours—I’m sure we can make that work. Luke will think it’s a great idea—”

None of that made sense. Axel blinked the crusty tears from his eyes. Above him, his little brother sobbed with a smile.

“Axel, can you speak? Your stomach wounds are closed! It’s—it’s a miracle! This guy just preformed a miracle!”

“I’m whipping you when we get home,” Axel said. This time, there was no pain with the breath, just a dull ache. He flexed his fingers and toes. Everything moved, though not much. He felt like he hadn’t slept in three days.

Jack grinned broadly. “You are home!” His smile fell and he waved a bloody, latex-covered finger in Axel’s face. “But no whipping your little brother. This is a house of God, and I don’t condone that behavior.”

Axel rolled his eyes. “The nuns at our primary school would disagree,” he wheezed.

Ajax choked out a laugh, squeezing Axel’s fingers again. His little brother didn’t seem to realize that Axel definitely meant it: he was going to hurt him when Axel managed to stand again.

“Then they haven’t heard the good word of Kronos!” Jack cheered.

Of course. Not only had Ajax found them a cult. He found them a psychotic religious cult. “Why couldn’t you have just run away to the arcade? Or joined a street gang?” Axel said. He rolled his head away.

On the other side of the cage, the bear-man had lifted the praetor’s body.

Axel’s heartbeat raced. “No!” Although there wasn’t any more pain with his breathes, his voice still came out weak. “Drop him!” Axel rasped, “That’s—Julian is mine!”

That’s all he could think of. Despite that, the bear man pretended not to hear him.

“Hey!” Jack said. The redhead stood and folded his arms. “If my son wants to eat his prey, than he has every right to. You put that body down right this second, Agrius.”

The taste of vomit and blood was still too fresh in Axel’s mouth. Eat his prey. That was exactly what Axel wanted to avoid.

The bear man whirled towards Jack and snarled. He dropped Julian’s body, letting it thump disrespectfully to the ground. Watching the limbs flop without any control was terrifying.

Agrius stormed up to the lanky announcer. The beast towered over him.

Jack’s body began to tremble, but he didn’t back down.

“I just had to let the brats of Poseidon go and that runt of Athena. You’re lucky I don’t eat you!” the bear man yelled.

Jack glared. “Agrius, we talked about this. Remember? You can’t go around threatening to eat every demigod you see. Why don’t we talk about this during our night-time circle ups? We can repeat the calming mantra together. Or do we need to get Luke or Flynn involved?”

The bear man flinched at the last name. He huffed, turned, and stormed off, muttering about “wasted meat.”

Jack relaxed.

Although Agrius was gone, Axel couldn’t get his heart rate to slow.

Axel tried to get up or, at least, to drag himself towards the crumpled heap of Julian’s body. All he accomplished was a grunt of exertion. “Ajax,” Axel said, “Bring me one of Julian’s medals.”

Ajax didn’t ask questions. He nodded his head, brushed some tears and snot off his face, and scurried across the stage.

This wasn’t something Axel wanted his little brother to do—to loot around a corpse. But, Axel could feel a sense of panic mounting in his chest. He didn’t want to kill people the way their father did, like lives meant nothing, like he’d forget about them as soon as the dead person became a name checked off a list.

He wanted some part of the person that Axel could cling to as a memorial; a physical piece that Axel could look at every night and remember Praetor Julian Kouadio of New Rome had a lover named Ari, a mother that had high expectations for him, and a Cohort that Julian cared about. That was all Axel knew about this man and all he could cling to until he delivered the message to the Third Cohort.

Axel swallowed, thinking about what he’d taken from all of those people.

Within a few seconds, Ajax scurried back over, offering Axel a leather crisscross of straps that dangled with at least nine medals.

“Oh! A trophy,” Jack said, kneeling down beside Axel. “I took a trophy from my first kill too.”

The redhead shook his wrist out to show off an intricately braided and knotted metal wire around his wrist.

Axel shook his head. “It’s not a trophy!” he snapped, horrified at the thought. He took the medals from his teary-eyed little brother. The gold felt icy; the leather, rough.

Jack held up his hands. “It’s okay, kid!”

But, what he said wasn’t. Axel’s fingers trembled. One hand clutched the bottom half of the medals to his chest. The other held the top medals up for examination. There was a repoussed bull running on the largest circlet of metal. Julian’s blood speckled the design.

What have I done? Axel thought, trembling.

“I want to remember those that die in order for me to survive,” Axel whispered, his voice threatening to crack.

A sense of instability made Axel dizzy. He and Ajax really weren’t going back to their father’s. He had no idea why there were bear men or snake women here. Some random kid, only a few years Axel’s senior, wanted to “adopt” them and keep them on this cruise ship going God knows where, inhabited by some crazy Kronos cult members that pinned demigods against each other as an initiation ceremony. Their real home wasn’t much better. If anything it was worse, and—if Axel did drag Ajax back—they’d both be whipped and beaten for weeks for running away.

But, Axel couldn’t leave Lapis, Kouta, and Hiro there by themselves.

Tears threatened to choke Axel when he thought about saving all his siblings, dragging them back to their real home with Chiich, their grandmother, and her boyfriend. If they went there, their father would find them and drag them all back to California.

Don’t, Axel scolded himself, You don’t deserve to cry. You couldn’t help when papá took us the first time. You don’t get to cry until you’re strong enough to make sure it never happens again. And you need to take care of Ajax.

Axel clenched his jaw. Right now, he couldn’t do anything to take care of Ajax. All he could do was try to make idle threats to assure Ajax’s safety before he drifted off to sleep. He tried to look fierce as he glared at Jack. “What are you going to do with us?”

Jack grinned. “I’m going to make sure you get cleaned up, rested a little, then the two of you are going to meet your wonderful, new mother, and we’re all going for celebratory donuts!”

A nervous smile crept on Ajax’s face, one that made Axel groan. His little brother was too easily won over with the promise of sweets. Axel, meanwhile, realized something about their presumed new caretaker: this guy was off his rocker.

At the time, there was nothing Axel could do about any of it. Not knowing if they would be safe or bear-man-food when he woke up, Axel drifted out of consciousness.

*******

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! (I’m sorry I’m running so far behind this week T.T It’s been murder—er—but not the Jack or Axel kind—eh whatever. Take it as you will). Stay tuned next week for Flynn’s short: Surprised Parenthood.

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footnote:

[1] Mel betanote, “He’s like a kitten fighting a bear.” Jack, “Axel would be SO indignant at this. And then I’d have to pet his ears and coo, ‘it’s okay. One day, you’ll grow up to be a fierce jaguar!’ And then he’d bite me.”

#Tales from Mount Othrys #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #fanfiction #PJO #HOO #TFMO #Axel #Julian #Ajax #Jack #Jack dropping inappropriate surprises on his girlfriend #As you'll see later-she doesn't understand why he couldn't have just suggested a dog #for real bro-baby steps

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