The Fight

“Let’s get back to the problem at hand, kid. You’re alive. I can’t have you taking that bolt to Olympus. So I’ve got to kill you. Nothing personal.”

I stepped into the surf. “Fight me yourself, Ares. If I lose, turn me into anything you want. Take the bolt. If I win, the helm and the bolt are mine and you have to go away.”

Ares sneered.

The baseball bat changed into a huge, two-handed sword. The hilt was a large silver skull with a ruby in its mouth. I thought back to what Annabeth had said at the Denver diner, so long ago: Ares has strength. That’s all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes.

He slashed again and I was forced to jump onto dry land. I tried to sidestep, to get back to the water, but Ares seemed to know what I wanted. He outmaneuvered me, pressing so hard I had to put all my concentration on not getting sliced into pieces. I kept backing away from the surf. I couldn’t find any openings to attack. His sword had a reach several feet longer than Anaklusmos.

I stepped inside with a thrust, but Ares was waiting for that. He knocked my blade out of my hands and kicked me in the chest. I went airborne—twenty, maybe thirty feet. I would’ve broken my back if I hadn’t crashed into the soft sand of a dune.

“Admit it, kid,” Ares said. “You got no hope. I’m just toying with you.”

My senses were working overtime. I now understood what Annabeth had said about ADHD keeping you alive in battle. I was wide awake, noticing every little detail.

Ares raised his sword. I released the tide and jumped, rocketing straight over Ares on a wave. A six-foot wall of water smashed him full in the face, leaving him cursing and sputtering with a mouth full of seaweed. He turned in time to raise his sword, but this time he was disoriented, he didn’t anticipate the trick. I changed direction, lunged to the side, and stabbed Riptide straight down into the water, sending the point through the god’s heel.

The expression on his face was beyond hatred. It was pain, shock, complete disbelief that he’d been wounded. He limped toward me, muttering ancient Greek curses. Ares lowered his sword. “You have made an enemy, godling,” he told me. “You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware.”

His body began to glow. “Percy!” Annabeth shouted. “Don’t watch!” I turned away as the god Ares revealed his true immortal form. The light died. I looked back. Ares was gone. The tide rolled out to reveal Hades’s bronze helm of darkness. I picked it up and walked toward my friends.