The Golden Amulet (PJO, Sequel to The Silver Ring)

Chapter 11

Captain Aurelia was the first person to recognize him. 

"He's the escaped captive," she called out to the generals in the center with a small snarl of annoyance as Levine hid behind her.

To Percy's horror, everyone started advancing. He might be dumb—but he wasn't plain stupid. He knew when his gig was up.

And he really wasn't in the mood to be taken down by a sweaty soldier.

He stabbed Riptide into the ground hilt-up and walked out of the passage with his hands up. The soldiers surrounded Percy, herding him towards the center of the cavern.

Now, the soldiers didn't realize how desperate Percy was to escape with Rosaline and his team. So when he made a mad dash towards the tunnel that presumably lead to them, the soldier facing him raised his sword, thinking he wanted to fight.

This was not the case. Percy faked a lunge, and when the soldier lifted his sword up, he somersaulted through the narrow gap the sword had left, perfectly rolled back up to his feet, and immediately started running again.

It was the kind of action that required immense dexterity, skill, and confidence in one's ability.

Percy liked to think that about himself, but he knew it was just plain luck—the Fates were so shocked at his impulsive and stupid action they had taken pity on him.

The passageway glowed tantalizingly as he drew near—but in retrospect, it probably was the torches. 

Ten feet. The soldiers were too shocked to move.

Five feet. He could hear their pounding footsteps behind him, but he knew the moment he got into the passageway he could lose them.

Three fee—

The world turned sideways, then fully upside-down as a blur of white hit him, forcing him to the ground. A hand roughly grabbed his hair making him yelp—which caused a clod of loose dirt to enter the confines of his open mouth as Aurelia pressed his head into the soil.

"I'm done with you escaping," Aurelia hissed before he heard the screech of a sword being drawn. The sharp and cold feeling of sharp metal on the back of his neck did well to halt his struggling. "This ends now."

Percy refused to go out quietly, however. He suddenly lashed out his leg, striking Captain Aurelia's solar plexus by chance, and in the same moment threw her off of him towards the wall, all before she swung her sword.

That was supposed to happen. Percy went through the movements perfectly, having used this many times in Capture the Flag at Camp Half-Blood. However, Captain Aurelia recovered from the blow a few moments earlier than expected, which gave her time to grab onto Percy's shirt as he tried to throw her off of him. 

The end result was that they had just switched places, a surprised Percy straddling an angry Captain Aurelia, who had his head in a headlock moments later.

Maybe I'll just go out quietly, Percy thought, giving up. On my own terms. And not by a sweaty soldier.

Captain Aurelia's arm tightened around Percy's neck in a vise grip like a snake choking its prey, and he began to see dark spots in his vision as he struggled to breathe. 

He began to question his life decisions when he still was alive after a minute of suffering. His lungs felt like they were on fire while his vision was fully black, like he was wearing a blindfold as he was slowly losing feeling in his body.

It was definitely one of the worst feelings he'd had in a long time—and he'd had a lot of them, which, in retrospect, was what Captain Aurelia was probably aiming for, given how much trouble he presumably caused her. She was pretty high up on the food chain of authority, given that she had been but not high up enough to the point where she would be immune from getting into trouble by making a mistake, which was evident since she had been "tasked" to interrogate him.

This was the exact fact that had saved him from yet another untimely demise. At about the time where Percy's face was definitely turning purple by the lack of oxygen, his miserable ears amidst all the ringing dimly heard the universal sound of soldiers snapping a salute as they fell into line—something that only happened when there was a figure of outstanding authority present.

He gasped for breath like a fish pulled out of water as Captain Aurelia's grip on his neck lessened just enough for him to hold on tightly to his life. His vision cleared adequately so that he could see through the parting soldiers a middle-aged man walking their way, with a strict expression on his face. Given that his face seemed to be covered with dozens of smile lines, this was probably not a common occurrence. He had golden armor on, signifying his importance, since he had only seen Void's Generals wear something so fancy.

"Aurelia." His voice was quiet, yet commanding. A gust of wind could drown his voice out, but Percy got the feeling the wind itself would pause in place for the man. "What did I tell you about strangling our guests?"

The next moment, she relinquished her grip as she stood up. "He was annoying me," Aurelia scoffed. "I wasn't going to kill him. Just make him panic a bit."

Meanwhile, Percy was coughing his lungs out. He was sprawled out on the ground, since his neck was too bruised to support the weight of his head—and there was no way he was getting up anytime soon. Still, no near-death situation would rattle him up—and he doubted death would either.

The only think shooting through his mind was: what the hell is going on?