Page 26 of Heroines of Olympus

15

ICARUS

Icarus, and her definitely broken nose, stand in a tunnel beneath the seats of the arena once more. This time, she is on the opposite side. Only the two sets of tunnels closest to the podium are being used for these rounds. Five waves of two. Just Icarus, an opponent, and whatever illusions and traps the gods throw at them. Lysander also made it to this stage, and she is hopeful he did well, and that it will not be him she faces in the arena.

When she is up next, Icarus tries to make out the layout of the arena through the bars of the gate. Anything to give her an edge when she is standing on that disc and has to formulate a plan.

Dust falls from the ceiling as it shakes from the crowd jumping above, celebrating the latest carnage.

The horn sounds, the gate slides up, and it is showtime again.

She has gotten a little more used to the roar of the crowd, so she plays it up. No matter the outcome, she has made it into the Heroes. She lifts both of her arms, palms up, encouraging the crowd to get even louder. Taking off her helmet and tucking it under her left arm, Icarus waves to the people of the Olympic Isles.

“Ready!”

The cool metal slides over her hair as Icarus puts her helmet back in place, and she faces her opponent on the other side of the arena. Not Lysander. Her shoulders sag with relief before she tenses them again to ready herself.

The horn blows, and she heads directly for her opponent. No easing around the edges, taking her time.

He must have had the same thoughts because he comes straight for her.

Let’s go.

As they get closer together, she dodges her head to the right as a knife comes whizzing straight for her.

They face each other, circling for a moment, waiting to see who will strike first.

A sound to her right pulls their attention, as two large metal gates like the ones on the sides open.

For a moment, there is nothing. Icarus and her opponent glance at each other, unsure whether to resume the attack or wait for whatever is surely about to come out of these tunnels.

Their uncertainty is short-lived as a pack of wolves comes running out. Not just any wolves, massive ones.

The crowd cheers for the beasts louder than they cheered for her. They want to see blood, they care little about from whom it spills.

The familiar weight of her sword is steadying as Icarus pulls it from her scabbard, cutting down a wolf as it lunges for her. She climbs up onto the slats covering a nearby stone alleyway, hoisting herself until she is standing on them and has her balance just right.

Her opponent pulls his sword out of a wolf. Two more lying dead on the arena floor around him. That is all the wolves, then.

He walks through the corridor that Icarus is standing over, oblivious to her presence above him. He continues stalking around the corner of the stone walls that make up the structures she is standing on. Her pulse is thundering in her ears as she silently drops into the sand behind him and tiptoes, making the crowd laugh.

She whistles, and he jerks around to face her.

They parry their weapons but her element of surprise gives her the upper hand and, in moments, she has him on his back with her sword to his throat. He yields, and she steps back, offering him a hand up. He swats it away.

“Suit yourself.”

She turns to walk toward the podium. Where is the horn to indicate her round is over?

A large black bull comes barreling through the arena, trampling anything it can. It eyes her, seeing her red cloak - the same one all participants have to wear, a Heracles Legion cloak.

The bull huffs and steam comes out of his nostrils as he stomps his front hoof into the ground. Icarus takes off, running to the back of the arena, hopeful that the spike traps are still there. The bull gives chase, hot on her heels and thoroughly incensed.

Rounding a corner, Icarus almost falls into the traps she was looking for. She sees the ones on the other side and races in that direction, hoping the bull will still follow her. How far across is that pit? Five feet? Maybe? She can jump that. Right? Time to find out.

Closing her eyes, Icarus says a quick prayer to the Fates before sprinting to the edge and soaring across it easily. The bull is not as fortunate.

The horn sounds, and the crowd erupts.

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