Chapter 1.7

Karson

Traveling on foot was the worst. We had finished the bracers in the morning, and I’d gone ahead and made a basic healing ring for Lacedaemon while we were at it. Xene helped make three oiled-leather packs. Really, they were very basic bags with two leather straps so we could carry them on our backs. Even still, if the leather hadn’t already been worked into a usable shape by the gigantes, there was no way she could have stitched them together in just a few hours, despite her clear talent. We were able to get a few basic sundries, several loaves of the thick, heavy bread we’d been eating, a few small baskets of olives, dried figs, and a water jug for each of us.

We had prepared to leave after breakfast, and Erxandros had been both disappointed and overjoyed to see us go. On the one hand, we’d saved his village and provided them with spears and a few tips on how to protect themselves in the future. On the other hand, he was pious enough to know the fickle nature of the divine. While we were just mere mortals, he and the other villagers firmly believed we were, at the bare minimum, demigods, and had done nothing to discourage that belief. To his mind, he wanted us gone before our presence turned from good luck to bad. We wished him good fortune, and congratulating him when he told us that Polybius had agreed to marry his daughter the evening before.

We bade farewell to the various villagers we’d chatted with over the previous two days, and Lacedaemon was wished good fortune by the people he’d known his entire life. I spotted the boy I gave the copper talisman to, who waved cheerfully to me at the side of a woman in a plain chiton and an old woman. Xene came with us to the edge of the village, and Ax gave her five silver drachma for her work - artisan pay for a full day of work, rather than skilled labor pay. She was so pleased with the complement that she literally dragged him into the bushes to thank him. Lacedaemon and I sat on the grass under a tree and chatted idly while we waited for them to finish. When we finally got on the road, or the trail in this case, it was late morning.

There was no rush, and we had no deadlines. The sun was hot, but the breeze was pleasant and cool, and the air was fresh and clean smelling. The trail meandered along field after field of cultivated ground, and I marveled at how much manual labor must have gone in to working that rocky soil into good farmland, and how much work it had to have to grow a crop. We spotted villagers in the distance every now and then, doing the various tasks that were necessary.

“They are preparing for harvest,” said Lacedaemon. “Harvest should be happening in a week or two. The last trader that came through the village said that the Oracle is foretelling a cold winter. Once harvest is in, half the villagers will start adding to the village’s woodpiles.”

“You don’t work on the woodpiles all year long?” I asked.

“We always add to them,” he said. “But there is only so much time in a day. There is a small grove of trees by the village that we use for cookfires and daily needs. We take down two or three trees in it each year, and plant new trees every spring. But for winter, we go north across the creek to a larger wood, and will take down trees for building and repairing homes, and for building up the stockpile for winter.”

“Tell me,” I said, “what made you decide to throw yourself in with us?”

He gave me an odd look, perhaps because of my phrasing. Prometheus had done Ax and I a big favor by putting the Greek language into our heads rather than just using magic to change English into Greek. Many of the colloquialisms and sayings of English simply didn’t translate, so our manner of speech didn’t sound too out of place. In fact, we spoke Greek with a native accent, not as someone who learned the language as an adult. Despite all that, I had noticed sometimes that either Ax or myself would phrase something differently than the natives would expect. I think it was because we simply thought differently. We were far better educated than the average Greek, especially for this time period, and had been taught to approach the world differently than they had, as well. It was a minor culture clash, but not one that did anything other than get us strange looks.

“My mother, she never left the village. My father went with the basileus a few times to Esea, but came right back. He was never gone for more than a week. I am one of the few in my village that has actually been to a big city, and I was gone for the entire season. We trained outside Passaron, then marched to Oxynia. We were allied with them, so we all marched together to fight against Potamia. The Potamoi had two mages, but Oxynia sent a mage to help. The Oxynian mage was able to dispel most of the magic sent against us, so the battle came down to which side was stronger. In the end, we won. The Potamoi withdrew from the field. Word came down later that they negotiated a deal, so we went home. It was the end of the season, so I got paid and sent back to the village.”

“Were you glad to be back?” I asked.

“At first I was, yes. I had spent my pay on some nice clothes for my family, and some vegetable seeds for my mother’s garden. I brought home a new knife for my father, and a toy for my little brother. I was welcomed home, and one of the rich families in town saw my success and started to talk with my father about marriage prospects with their daughter when she comes of age. But I missed my unit. It was boring a lot of the time, but I had friends and got to go places. My family began to feel like shackles. And now they are dead. I thought myself a great warrior, but I couldn’t even protect my family against one gigante.” He gave a bitter laugh.

I said nothing, for there was no good response to that. He didn’t want or need pity or sympathy. He had felt out of place in the village before. Now the place had to be intolerable. I had read about survivor’s guilt, and suspected he was feeling it. Fortunately for me, Ax was there, blunt and crude though he was.

“Well, we’re off to hunt the Cult of Kronos, so we might as well add the gigantes to the list. Nothing the three of us can’t handle, right?”

Lacedaemon gave a laugh. “Sure, and while we’re at it, we can add a tribe of Centaurs and a few harpies for good measure, right?”

“Might as well,” I added. “They’ll add variety.”

He laughed again. “Well, anything to keep it from getting boring.”

“We’ll get showered in gold by the time we’re done,” said Ax.

“Wine, women and wealth,” I said.

“I’m not going to settle for anything less than a princess,” said Lacedaemon with a twinkle in his eye. “Maybe two.”

I laughed at that one. “Not a bad goal. Not bad at all.”

After the heavy conversation, topics turned lighter. Ax carried most of the conversation with Lacedaemon. The two seemed to get along quite well. I think Ax had more of a warrior mentality than I did, and Lacedaemon was very much a warrior, young though he was. They went on a long conversation talking about exercises and ways to increase strength and endurance. At one point, Lacedaemon actually made us stop to rearrange our packs so that he was carrying all of the leftover iron, of which there were a few pounds, and all the water jugs. He put on his new, much heavier pack, and immediately let out an “oof” from the weight.

“You don’t need to do it all at once,” laughed Ax, but Lacedaemon waved him off, and carried the bag without complaint.

As dusk began to set in, and our stomachs began to growl, we stopped at a small stream and set up a rudimentary camp. I found us some sticks and branches for a little fire, Lacedaemon used a bit of dried fig and a string to catch a fish, and Ax got the fire going and camp set up. By the time we ate and wrapped ourselves up in our traveling cloaks, it was fully dark. I drifted off to sleep wishing for a real pillow of cotton and memory foam, and maybe even a mattress. At the very least, a thick, padded mat like we’d been using at Erxandros’ house.

I jerked awake at the sounds of running in the underbrush nearby. It was the middle of the night, and the fire had burned low. I saw Lacedaemon shaking Ax awake, looking out in the direction of the noise. I pulled out my long knife and reached for the mana in my ring. A surprising amount was available for me; far more than in my own personal pool. Adrenaline coursed through me, and I saw both Ax and Lacedaemon ready their spears. I’d forgotten all about mine, it was laying on the ground next to where I slept.

Then two small figures stumbled into the camp. They were slight and leaning on each other.

“Lord Axerios? Lord Axiokarsos?” said one of them. Then it clicked.

“Xene?” said Ax before I could say anything.

“Oh, thank the gods,” she said. Lacedaemon moved to stir up the fire and throw on a few pieces of wood. Light flared in the campsite, and I could see Xene holding up Latona. Xene’s peplos was torn and bloody, leaving her exposed and indecent. Latona had fared little better, her dress disheveled and muddy. Both looked like they’d been through hell.

We immediately moved over to them, Ax wrapping Xene in his long traveling cloak, and I wrapped mine around Latona. She seemed to be in shock. I guided her gently over by the fire, and led her down to sit. She began to shake and cry. Immediately, Xene came over and wrapped her up into a hug. Latona leaned into her and began bawling. Xene was tearing up and murmuring to her mistress, rocking her back and forth.

Lacedaemon got the fire going strong and came over with a water jug. After a few minutes, they calmed down. He handed an extra clothing pin to Xene so she could make repin her dress, and she began to talk.

“Everything was going so well. Master Erxandros had announced Latona’s engagement, and everyone was excited because there was going to be a wedding feast after the harvest. He decided to go ahead and adopt Polybius after the wedding. Then the monsters came back, only more of them. We had all your new spears out since Master Erxandros was handing them out, so we were able to fight back. It was madness. They were everywhere, killing everyone. I saw Odius grabbed by a two-headed hound and dragged off. The ones with the spears, they killed a few gigantes, but they got cut down. I ran to find Latona after Erxandros fell. We tried to sneak away from the village, but a jackal creature grabbed me. Latona smashed it in the back of the head with a stone. We ran into the fields and hid. I… we… found the trail out of the village and we ran and ran. I can’t believe we found you. Thank the gods, we found you.”

“How many was it?” asked Ax gently.

“At least a dozen, maybe more. There were more of the jackal creatures and several hounds. I don’t know what to do. We don’t… we’ve never been out of the village before. How are we going to… oh gods, Mistress Klymene…” Xene trailed off, fresh tears pouring from her eyes.

“Lacedaemon, you’re on first watch,” said Ax. “Karsos, put out that fire. It’s a beacon telling people we’re here. We don’t want any scouts to find us. Xene, Latona, lay down and try to rest. We’ll go look for survivors in the morning.”

And just like that, Ax took command of the situation. I immediately went to the fire, and thrust my bracers toward it, cranking up the heat absorption to max. In seconds, the bracers absorbed the fire, and the mana battery in my belt pouch thrummed with a surge of mana. Lacedaemon went to stand under a tree, spear in hand. In the deep shadows, I couldn’t even make out his outline anymore. I went to the packs, and pulled out the lighter cloaks that Ax and I had been wearing in the village. They weren’t as warm against the chilly night air, but it was better than the thin chitons we were wearing. I handed one to Ax, and went to sit next to the girls. I made sure to keep my spear within easy reach, and kept a hand on my knife.

The girls laid down together, Latona wrapped up in Xene’s comforting embrace. Ax sat behind me, and we leaned against each other. I don’t think either of us wanted to get too comfortable or sleep too deeply. I dozed uneasily, fear and the muffled sobs of the women keeping sleep at bay. The dark side of this horrible time was showing itself.

Sometime before dawn, I got up and relieved Lacedaemon so that he could rest for awhile. I stared out across the empty fields, watching every rock and tree. I half expected the shadows to move, betraying someone trying to sneak up on us. But nothing moved. The cold night breeze had tapered off, and the stillness let me listen as well as watch. I had nothing to do except think.

I had lost myself in learning my new magic over the last few days, enjoying the intellectual thrill of puzzling out new things. It was the same thrill that had drawn me into college, and had kept me going for an extra year of classes before settling on teaching for a living. It stimulated me in a way that nothing else could, and the possibilities were endless. But there was a price to having this whole new world of knowledge to absorb. A war was brewing, and not the type that Lacedaemon had witnessed the previous summer. This was total war the likes not seen in the part of the world, probably ever.

If the gigantes were siding with Kronos and the Titans, then Kronos was probably targeting the followers of Zeus. I had seen many lightning bolt symbols carved in wood throughout the village, and a small altar by the creek had a crude stone symbol as well. If Zeus’ worship extended into these parts, then the gigantes were on a mission of genocide. The fact that they were targeting villages meant they had dispersed their forces into raiding parties to scour the countryside, and doing so right before harvest meant that many survivors may yet starve come winter. Worse, towns and cities that depended on these villages would suffer, too.

My conclusions brought me nothing for comfort, however. We could only do what we could do. All we could do was try to grow stronger. But it was more than just getting a bunch of warriors together to fight Kronos’ Cult. We would have to have a safe place to call home, a place where our warrior’s families could stay safe, and a place where we could stockpile food and weapons. We had deeper needs than simple vengeance. If we wanted to survive, we needed to build.

Dawn broke to a camp where no one was sleeping. The girls washed up as best they could in the stream, and prepared breakfast. Ax and Lacedaemon began doing the spear drills that Lacedaemon had been taught by the militia he’d been conscripted into. For the first time, I joined them, and resolved to join them every morning. I couldn’t rely solely on magic for defense, and my street fighting style with a knife had no place in combat. I’d just as likely get myself killed, especially against an armored opponent.

What became very obvious was that fighting with a spear also meant you should have a shield. Spears were entirely offensive, with no good way of using it to block or deflect blows. I’d seen some Chinese martial arts movies and competitions where spears were used in some amazing ways, but I didn’t have the years upon years it would take to use a spear in that manner, nor did I have any idea if that method was even practical for real combat.

Finally, we finished the drills, everyone ate, and we got back on the trail. This time, we marched at a rapid pace, the packs equally weighted again so that we could make the best time possible. Xene and Latona had no trouble keeping up, evidence yet again that we were in a different time. There are no couch potatoes in ancient times. If it had been back on Earth, my sorry rear would have been dragging in no time, seeing as I rarely saw the inside of a gym.

Around late morning, we saw smoke in the distance. It was our warning, a precursor to let us know of the carnage that awaited us. It did nothing to prepare me. Most of the homes were on fire, although most had finished burning out. Bodies lay everywhere, torn and broken. Men, women and children lay scattered around where they’d been caught. It had been a slaughter. The stench was unbelievable. I heard Ax throw up noisily behind me, and Lacedaemon looked a little green. Xene and Latona stumbled along in shock, no doubt reliving every terror-filled minute of the night before.

In front of Erxandros’ home was a knot of defenders and a few gigantes bodies. There we found the body of Erxandros, a broken spear shaft still clutched in his hands. My outrage continued to grow each passing minute. He had been a good sort; he looked out for his family, he tried to do right by his villagers. Latona sank to her knees next to his body, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Oh, father,” was all she said. She gently closed his eyes and straightened his limbs, carefully arranging his hands on his chest around the spear shaft. She then moved over to another body. Polybius, her fiance. She straightened him as well.

“Perhaps in the next life, husband,” she whispered. Xene went and stood next to her.

“Come, Latona, let’s find your mother. We’ll wash them properly and send them off to Erebus properly.”

Latona nodded, and rose to her feet. We followed behind as they approached Erxandros’ home, the only home Latona had ever known. It was still on fire, but the building had been built mostly of stone, so there was little to burn. We walked in to find what little furniture that had been there was smashed. Jars that had been neatly arrayed on shelves were thrown to the ground and broken. We walked through into the courtyard, and spotted the young slave boy’s body under the peristyle, his head twisted unnaturally. Xene and Latona rushed over to him, straightening his body much as they had done for Erxandros. At last we went into the women’s quarters. Torn fabric lay strewn around from where it had been torn from the walls, and on the low pallets in the back was Klymene. She had a massive gash across her chest, cutting through her dress and laying bare her ribcage. Xene rushed to cover the gruesome sight, but Latona merely sank next to her and began the task of straightening her limbs.

A noise from outside drew our attention, so Ax and I went out to see a few villagers walking into the village. It was the young boy and his mother, his grandmother missing. They looked dirty and disheveled, but uninjured. Another woman walked into the village behind them, nursing an arm and limping. I went over to her and offered to heal her injuries. She nodded, but said nothing. I touched her arm, gently straightening the limb so that the magic could heal the broken bone. Then the magic coursed to her leg, healing a vicious scratch and sprained ankle.

“Thank you,” she said, before wandering off to stare at one of the burned out homes.

“So this is our start,” I said to myself in English. “A handful of refugees from a burned out hamlet in the middle of nowhere.”