Tyr watched Castor leave before he went to the fields. He took a rake and hoe with him and began to try to prepare the field for the eventual sowing of Barley that would soon come. while working in the fields Tyr’s mind once again tried to process what information he had:
The culture that Castor and his family had appeared to be akin to the Greek culture of a bygone era, yet the geography seemed wrong. For one thing, he was sure there was nowhere in all of Greece called Belleropolis, nor was Athens so massive that there were greater and lesser Athenians. Furthermore, in the old stories the Isle of Delos was the floating island where Leto gave birth to yet another of Zeus’s illegitimate children, so why were Athena and Poseidon after it? Why did the medicine need to be from an Oracle of Apollo when there was also a follower of Hecate who were also experts in similar arts? Why was the synthetic material that Tyr wore so itchy? Dang it why did Castor only have one donkey and no oxen to pull his...
It was at this point that Tyr stopped and realized that his thinking had led him to more questions: Why did he believe with such certainty that the culture was of a bygone era? Or that barley was the crop that Castor was going to grow? What was Greece, and how did he know to refer to its people as Greek? That word, synthetic, where did it come from and what did it really mean? And what was it he thought that the oxen were supposed to pull to help with the fields? Could all these strange thoughts be linked to the cave?
Tyr shook his head in frustration, then realized that he had worked the field into proper rows, and then walked back to the house.
Once he had gotten close, Tyr heard a whistle from the other side of the wall and, upon looking, saw half a loaf of bread fly over the wall. Tyr smiled and picked it up off the ground.
“My thanks friend.”
Tyr chewed on the bread some and then began to work on the tree he had cut that morning. It was midday, and he was halfway through with the tree when he stopped and turned to look at the path. Something inside Tyr told him there was danger approaching, but he did not know why he felt that way. Then coming into view the way he had walked the day before came four riders, armed with spears, swords, and helms.
“Didn’t the Greeks prefer chariots?” murmured Tyr to himself, then placed the ax in his belt and walked so that he stood between the riders and the house. The riders stopped when they saw Tyr standing there in front of them, then one threw his spear at Tyr, though the spear merely landed point down near Tyr’s feet. Tyr kept his eyes on the riders as they waited to see a reaction from him, with the one who threw the spear grinning, before he finally shouted to them.
“Good afternoon sirs. What do you want?”
The riders roared in laughter before one of them shouted back: “We demand that you give us your food, your valuables, and any women you have. We are soldiers who have returned from the front lines and wish to relax our weariness before returning to the fight.”
They are lying.
Tyr was puzzled that this thought came to his mind but pushed it aside and responded. “I have none of those in which you ask for.”
“And what is yon building then?”
“It belongs to another man whom I am working for.”
“A slave!” shouted another rider. “We waste words with a slave! Enough of this nonsense!”
The rider then charged at Tyr with his spear pointed down, as though he planned to pierce Tyr’s heart. When the rider was in close, Tyr simultaneously grabbed the spear, side-stepped, and pulled the rider off his horse. Once the rider hit the ground, Tyr tore the spear from the rider’s grasp, tossed it away, and then proceeded to grab and hurl the rider back to his colleagues.
“I would advise you all to leave. You will not find what you seek here.”
The rider who had thrown his spear laughed, while his companion’s eyes flicked from him to Tyr to the thrown rider. When he was done laughing, the rider removed his helm, revealing locks of black hair tinted in red, and dismounted from his horse, then he walked towards Tyr while also speaking to him.
“A most loyal slave to protect his master’s property.”
“I am no slave, merely a traveler earning his bread.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Then why stand against us? Surely your host would be willing to share bread with us as well as you.”
“That is for him to decide once he is here.”
“Ah, so it is only us then.”
The rider flashed a wicked grin; then, moving with a speed that startled Tyr, he closed the distance and struck Tyr in the stomach. The blow lifted Tyr off his feet and sent him flying, with Tyr landing near the wall of the house, which had been an archery range behind him before.
“Tell me, beggar giant.” the rider’s gloat reverberated through the clearing. “When have any of Gaia’s last born ever beat a child of Olympus?”
Tyr rose to a doubled over position, trying to catch his breath, when the rider closed the distance and forced to his knees. The helm the rider took off floated in the air and finally returning to his head.
“Don’t feel too bad, you did survive the blow, after all.” rider mocked, then sniffed the air. “Ah, the women have baked new bread, and one has a bit of a cough, meaning she won’t survive a divine encounter with me. A shame really; still I think the master of the house will be blessed to a few demigods to raise, don’t you agree?”
The rider released his grip on Tyr and began to walk towards the gate. Tyr spun on his heel and extended his arm. The blow would have been a backhanded if Tyr still had his right hand. As it was, the stumped limb hit the right in the opening of the helm and sent him flying back to his mounted companions. The other riders’ horses neighed and pawed the ground in fear.
“I had encouraged you before. Now I am telling you. Leave!”
The two riders turned their horses and fled back to the nearby trees, with the third getting back up on his horse and following suite. But the fourth rider, the one Tyr had struck, stood back up, his bronze helm now glowing as though it was molten metal.
“You...Filthy...Beggar!! You struck me! ME! Do you know who I am?! I am Ares! I am the god of war! I am the undefeated!” the rider, Ares, was spitting his words out in anger, while the molten metal from his helm oozed down his body, becoming an encrusted chest plate and round shield. Tyr watched as the spear that Ares had thrown earlier flew back to him then, Tyr calmly removed the ax from his own belt and began to walk towards Ares.
“I can find two things wrong with that statement. Shall I show you?”
With that Ares lunged at Tyr with his spear, but Tyr deflected it with the ax and then tried to swing it at Ares head, only for Ares to raise his shield a split second before the blow struck. Tyr, seeing the deflection, hurled himself upon the shield, forcing them both to go into the field. Both then began to fight more fervently than before, yet no thrust or strike from Ares’s spear could get past Tyr’s handling of the ax, nor could Tyr find an opening past Ares’ shield.
Then, Ares tried to trip Tyr by stabbing at his feet. Tyr dodged the spear, stepped on the shaft and then moved forward with the ax raised. As Ares raises his shield to block, Tyr twists his body to the side and sweeps his leg underneath Ares, knocking him to the ground. Ares loses grip on his spear and sprawls on the ground, and Tyr quickly steps on the shield to keep it away as he swings the ax down Ares exposed neck.
Yet when the ax hit Ares’ skin, it stopped as though it bit iron. Ares grinned at Tyr as he drew his sword and plunged into Tyr’s leg.
“I am a god of Olympus you vagabond. No mere mortal junk can harm me.”
Tyr cried out in pain as he withdrew from Ares, his blood running down his leg as he moved. He then lost his footing and fell to one knee.
Ares stood up, dropped his shield on the ground, swung his sword in a wide arc and howled in triumph.
“Victory is mine! You should have let me pass when you had the chance of escaping my wrath!”
As the sword came close, Tyr stopped it with the ax head and looked into Ares stupefied but still smiling face.
“I gave my word. No one enters that house without his blessing.”
Tyr then slid the ax forward, rammed the butt of the ax handle into Ares’ nose, rose to his feet and kicked Ares in one motion.
Ares gave Tyr a look of shock, then made dash past him towards the house. Tyr threw the ax horizontally at Ares legs, tripping him, giving Tyr time to catch up, grab Ares and throw him into the nearby woods. Tyr pushed off with his good leg after Ares, then Tyr kneed Ares’s face through a tree. Ares then stabs Tyr through the stomach and pushed Tyr back with his free hand. Tyr groans as from the blow and the broken branches in his back, yet gets back up to see Ares foaming at the mouth with rage.
“Who... u thin... re? Stand... ganst me?!! I! AM! ARES!!”
Ares then swings wildly at Tyr with his left fist. Tyr dodges the strike, then grabs Ares’ wrist as the blow passes, then brings right stump down with full force on Ares’ elbow, followed by a powerful kick to the kneecap below. A resounding crack followed Ares screaming tell Tyr that the blows were effective. Tyr punches Ares further away but as he approaches, he hears Ares’s crying.
“No, spare me. Please. Pleeeeaaaaassssee!”
Tyr stops in shock, where had all of Ares rage gone? No sooner had the thought finished when a javelin struck Tyr’s shoulder. As Tyr backed away from the blow, the riders who had been with Ares showed up and helped Ares back onto his horse.
“This isn’t over giant. I’ll be back!”
Tyr pulled the javelin out as he watched the group leave before turning to walk back to the house. Along the way Tyr notice the pain he felt lessen, and found his wounds were nearly healed.
” How could my wounds heal so fast? For that matter, how could I match Ares in combat? Could I possibly truly be one of them as I thought? One of...” Tyr sighed as he went to get the ax.
“All I have is questions and no answers. Still to defeat Ares… ugh, that fight we just did was too flashy, and what did he mean by ‘mere mortal junk’? This ax held up through the entire fight.”
Tyr stared down at the ax then looked at his surroundings.
“Darn it, the field got destroyed. Now I’ll have to fix it again.”