Tartarus Champion

Servant of Shadows

Chapter 12: Servant of Shadows

Kronos (POV)

I was beginning to miss Percy. Not that I didn't miss him before, but now his absence was REALLY beginning to take effect. I was used to Percy's sarcastic, mischievous smirk that he gave me every time he finished his training and was planning a prank on me. Having him around was fun, and never boring-my grandson just had that thing about him that made me smile.

Hmm...grandson....boy, did that feel foreign to say, even after all these years. But it wasn't a bad feeling, it, for some reason, made me want to puff out my chest a little farther. I had a grandson! One that didn't want to destroy, and man didn't that feel great! But that grandson was gone, on a mission in Camp Half-Blood, and wouldn't be back for a while.

Shifting the time and space around monsters until they combusted into dust was even beginning to lose its fun. I always could go train; ever since some of my spies in the mortal world found my scythe (and fixed it up a bit) and threw it down here, I had the biggest urge to just slice and dice any monster that came into view. It could be fun, but Tartarus always let the monsters have a fast, and painless regeneration, and that kind of ruined the fun of it. But, oh well-suppose he had to reward the monsters 'some way' for being our practice dummies.

I sighed, and got up from the table I was sitting at. One didn't usually need to eat when down in this pit of fire and brimstone, but it never hurt to have fried harpies, with a cup of spicy Plegethon-better than roasted telkines and some Lithe water anyway. I roamed through the obsidian palace, easily finding my way to the throne rooms where Tartarus was brooding - er, 'thinking strategically' I mean. He looked up once he noticed me.

Tartarus's physical form was huge, and looming. His power was concentrated and could be felt all over his domain, but whenever me or Percy were near, he tended to down-play it drastically. If Tartarus had actually let his power affect us fully, it'd be too intense – even for me (though I could definitely handle better than Percy, but Percy could handle it better than the average demigods...or god for that matter.) "Kronos, is something the matter?" Tartarus asks me.

I shake my head, "No, I was just wondering, have you heard anything about how Percy's mission is going?" I stand in front of Tartarus, respectively keeping my distance; this is HIS domain after all. The primordial sits straighter in his chair, eyes piercing and calculating.

"He's having a bit more trouble than I anticipated," Tartarus admits. "Especially with that Athena-girl, my spies tell me she has a plan to try and 'reform him'."

I scoff internally at that, "Percy is well-trained, and one of the best I've seen. He won't be fooled so easily." I assure Tartarus, Percy is one of the most determined, loyal, and dangerous demigod that I have ever encountered-and that was saying a lot. I had faith in him.

Tartarus nodded slowly, "But, just to be sure, I'm considering sending in a spy, to keep a close watch." He says. I fidgeted, a little uncomfortable.

"I'm guessing Percy won't know about that." I ask carefully. Tartarus rumbled in agreement, clasped a giant hand over his stomach and leans leisurely in his throne. "Of course," the Domain Master says. "If he knew about it, then it might tamper with his performance. No, this will remain secret." It makes sense, but I've never been someone to go behind Percy's back. But...as much as I didn't like it at first, Tartarus IS in charge of this operation.

I sigh, but nod. "Very well." Tartarus shifts in his throne, and waves his hand in front of him. The atmosphere in the room darkened – which was impressive. Tartarus willed pieces of shadows from all corners of the room, they pooled in front of him, swirling together like black, inky swirls of smoke. The shadowy smoke gathered together in a lumpy mess, before it grew slowly and took shape. A head sprouted from the mess of tendrils, then arms, and legs. The figure stood up, it had no distinguishable features, it was nothing but black smoke that was constantly shifting and morphing, taking the shape of a teenage girl made of darkness.

"Σκιάυπηρέτης," (Pronounced: Skiafpiretis, Ski-aft-pie-rat-tis) Tartarus rumbles, addressing his shadow servant. The inky figure didn't say anything; it knelt before Tartarus and bowed its head, before standing back up waiting for orders. "I have an important task for you," Tartarus begins. "I need you to journey into the mortal-world, and go forth into Camp Half-Blood, check on Perseus Jackson, my champion. Do you understand?"

Σκιάυπηρέτης nodded in understanding, it lifted a smoky fist and pounded it once on her chest. Then, without a sound, it erupted into a misty cloud of black and shot toward the shadows; disappearing from the room. I watched the disappearance, slight confusion etching into my face. I've never seen anything like that. I turn to Tartarus, "What was that?" I ask.

Tartarus relaxes into his chair, sparing me a small glance. "That is Σκιάυπηρέτης, a personal servant of mine. Don't worry, it can handle its mission."

"Okay, but..." I trail off uncertainly. "I've just never seen something like that before." It was true, there were a lot of monsters and creature in Greek history, but I was sure I'd never seen anything quite like that.

Tartarus gave a sinister smile, "Σκιάυπηρέτης deals with dilemmas for me, it works in secret and shadows. Not even the old myths mention it, which is our advantage."

I dully noted how Tartarus referred to Σκιάυπηρέτης as 'It', meaning it was a specified thing-not really a 'she', though its chest gave that away easily. Tartarus gestured for me to go, in any other case I would have been offended as such abrupt behavior, but this is Tartarus in his domain; my say in things were limited now. I nodded and left the room silently. I made it toward my room, feeling suddenly exhausted.

As I passed Percy's room, I heard a small clutter of sound and stopped abruptly, peering at the door curiously. Percy's room was off-limits to everyone (but me and Tartarus of course), so no one should be in there. A sudden snap of anger burst inside me at the thought of someone rummaging through my Grandson's things. I burst inside the room, grabbing the scythe that had been hanging from its scabbard on my hip, and raising it threateningly, "What are you-" I started, but stopped mid-sentence.

Standing in the middle of Percy's room was Σκιάυπηρέτης. The shadowy figure was staring at me, like it was expecting me to appear when I did. It had one of Percy's shirts in its hand, its fists clenched angrily around the drakon scaled fabric. I was too startled to say anything, and my scythe dipped a little in my hand. Σκιάυπηρέτης glared at me, its Lethe-white eyes narrowing dangerously, threatening me to say something.

I noticed that, without the shdows clouding its face, the servant was actually quite pretty (for a shadow, that is). Her face was smooth as silk, giving off an expression of calm except for the rigidness of her cheekbones, which were a very defiant feature in its face. The way it held itself, its posture matched that of a relaxed soldier, it reminded me of that line where alert and at-ease met. This shadow was basically that line in a female, teenage body.

Focus. I hissed at myself. I hefted up my weapon once more, pointing the blade at Σκιάυπηρέτης's chest. If it looked intimidated, it had an excellent way of hiding it. It hissed at me, low and throaty like a beast, her inky claws shredded the shirt in her hands, letting the tattered remains fall unceremoniously to the floor. With another hiss, this one a bit more airy and light (like it was mocking me), Σκιάυπηρέτης dispersed into a thousand tendrils of smoke, and disappeared once more.

I stood in Percy's room, left feeling a sudden, small stream of dread pool in my stomach. This is not going to be a very fun wait-for-Percy-to-get-back-from-his-mission kind of day...