The Shadow Archer Twins

Of course, the Romans, being camped on the high ground on the other side of the turnpike, facing Half-Blood Hill, had noticed the manticore fighting my Mom before we had. Octavian, stupid boy, was at the front, trying to help cover her with a better sized Roman shield. It took him about 30 seconds, but finally, he and another officer reached my Mom, and with their big square shields, they protected her, grabbing her arms and dragging her to safety. That’s when I took the time to notice the manticore.

The monster was at least eight feet tall now, ditching his human disguise and appearing in his true form. His trench coat was scattered in pieces that clung to his sweaty body, which was made up of the body of a lion, and a scorpion tail, shooting spikes from it’s stinger. Its face, human, was not something to behold. One eye red, one green, (there’s a Christmas joke in there somewhere) with flabby skin like he was a senior citizen. But he sure didn’t move like one, because he shot as fast as thought. But, I realized, Tox was faster.

Moving behind a third officer’s big rectangular shield, Tox drew and released four arrows in the space of a second, puncturing the hide of the manticore in both shoulders, his chest, and knee. The monster’s armor deflected the hits to his shoulders and chest, but the shot to the knee went straight through, lodging itself halfway through the monster’s front kneecap. The manticore howled in pain as he shot back a volley of spikes at Tox. I thought my brother was going to become the next demigod piñata when he ducked behind the third Roman’s shield. He dodged four of the five manticore spikes, but the last one caught him in his unprotected shoulder. The spike flew over Tox’s collarbone, slicing through the tendon that connected his shoulder to his neck. He roared in pain and anger and actually said,

“All right, that’s enough! You are done!”

That would have made me laugh in any other circumstance, but not this one. Tox drew one last arrow, and before the manticore could send another volley or verbally respond, he let it fly. The arrow flew high, and straight into the monsters human face. The manticore was even stupid enough to open his mouth in horror as the arrow punched through the back of his throat, instantly turning him into a pile of golden flour-dust with a soft puff!

“That’s what you get!” Tox screamed, victoriously, and with a dangerous edge of adrenaline and anger, “For messing with my family!”

I was about to run over to congratulate Tox on his flawless archery, when I found myself looking for my mother. And then I saw her, and all of the blood rushed out of my face. She was being held in a headlock, with a burly Roman officer holding a short, golden dagger to her throat. She was in an execution position.

“What are you doing?” I screamed at the officer, “Release her!”

The Roman just grinned evily. Even though it was three on three, he had a hostage in between, so he liked his chances. And Octavian was just watching, with a maniacal grin on his face. Back to old habits, I guess. My heart rate skyrocketed as the roman adjusted his grip on the knife, making it easier for him to bring it across my Mom’s neck. I thought about my knowledge of the human anatomy, and how it would only take her about 90 seconds to bleed out. I thought about how to put pressure on an open wound, and how it needs to be done exactly right in order to avoid other injury. I thought about how think the skin is around the neck, and how the jugular vein is so exposed. And then I looked at the sight before me, and I started to cry. My Mom was as good as dead.

And then, the strangest thing happened. I started to get angry. From somewhere deep inside me, I recalled the primitive Greek that my Mom had taught me as a little girl, and that had been reinforced at Camp. And so I said, looking into the Roman’s eyes.

“Toxótis, o stóchos gia ta gónata. Malcolm, piáse ti mi téra mou. Boró na cheiristó ton Oktavianó. Tox, aim for the knees. Malcolm, grab my mother. I can handle Octavian.”

They understood what I had asked perfectly, and it was as if it happened in slow-motion. Tox aimed for the Roman officer’s knees as I leaped at Octavian. The arrow flew straight between my mother’s legs and punctured the armor of the Roman. He squealed in pain and passed out, dropping the knife and releasing my mother. Tox ran over and kicked the third officer in the groin by the time that I had tackled Octavian. The third officer fell hard, groaning in pain as Tox drew another arrow and let it fly, hitting the Roman officer in the shoulder part of his tunic. Tox didn’t actually hit him, but pinned his shirt to the ground like he was pinning down a tent. All I had to do was knock Octavian out. But he was stronger than he looked.'

I had originally grabbed his knees and sent us both sprawling, but he was quicker than I. In an instant he had a dagger drawn and had gotten me into the same headlock that his friend had had my mother in. He laughed, crazily, saying,

“Well this is déjà vu, now isn’t it. Nice try, Greeks, but I’m not that stupid. Back off!”

He shouted the last one at Tox, who had another arrow aimed and ready. Malcolm had knocked the third out with a punch, while the kid was still pinned to the ground, and was facing Octavian and I now.

Knowing the weight of the circumstance, I tried to keep my voice level and calm as I said,

“It’s okay, Octavian. Everything is going to be all right. Just release me, and I can heal your friend with the shattered kneecap. This doesn’t have to become even more messy than it already is.”
“Oh, but I want it to,” Octavian said scarily, “I so want it to.”

Still keeping my voice level, I said, “Octavian, take a second and look at whose neck you’d be slicing.”

His breathing changed. He inhaled sharply, and realized he was holding the girl he had kissed. It was two against one, but the one had a hostage. And the one liked the hostage. I liked my odds.

“That’s right,” I said, calmly, sleepily, “Deep breaths. You don’t want to kill me, Octavian, I know you don’t. Just back off, and we’ll leave. We just want my mother. We promise not to hurt you.”

Trying to not let anyone hear his words or see them spoken, he leaned in and whispered,

“Fortunatus es quod similis tui, Graeca. You’re lucky that I like you, Greek.”

I’ll never forget those words.

He released me and I went to work on the Roman’s leg. It was relatively healed in five minutes, just enough time for Malcolm and Tox to convince Chiron that this was an emergency and that my Mom would have to stay at Camp for a little while. I remember looking up at Octavian, watching me work, and I remember feeling that there was no love lost. It was this feeling tha told me to say,

“Octavian, it is obvious that our camps need to meet again,” After a pause, I added, “Formally. The day after tomorrow?”

“I will arrange my officers for the meeting.”

He didn’t say anything else. A ‘goodbye’ or ‘see ya later’ would have been too casual, and after showing weakness in front of two (incapacitated) Roman officers by letting me go, he needed to show the strictness of his Roman demeanor. But I knew he wanted things to be less awkward, for us to have an actual relationship. And secretly, after the kiss we had shared, I did to.

Only afterwards did I realize what I had called my brother, in the heat of the moment. In Greek, I had called him ‘Toxótis’ which means ‘archer’. Only then did I realize that in English, the word ‘toxótis’ is a combination of ‘Tox’ and ‘Otis’. That can’t be a coincidence.

Notes

Here's another chapter because I didn't post on Sunday. Next chapter by midnight on Tuesday (4/22/14).