Chapter 1.3
Ax
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That bearded prick wouldn’t shut up. It was amazing that some guy that powerful would feel like monologuing like that instead of just getting on with it. You can’t put your foot in your mouth if your mouth is closed, Kabiri used to tell me. Translation for teenager ears: don’t talk trash and you won’t get in any fights. Too bad I didn’t listen much when I was a teenager. I got into a lot of fights.
I passed out after he touched my head. But then I slept. I slept deep and hard, and after all the pain and agony, it was beyond amazing. It gave my poor, tortured brain a chance to really put together what I’d experienced in that… place. Chaos, Prometheus called it.
For me it was all about pushing through the pain. Feel the burn, my gym coach used to say. Oh, I could feel it, alright. The brass knuckles on my hand were the most agonizing part for me. I could feel the metal turn red hot, burning into my skin endlessly. Then it would go the other way, getting colder and colder until my arm would go numb. Back and forth, back and forth. I would spend hours thinking about that metal, and how it worked, and why. The more I thought about it, the more I knew. It was incredible my understanding. That led me to thinking about other things like metals would work. Stone or minerals, obsidian or quartz or slate. My understanding of the earth seemed to grow and grow.
Then I realized that I didn’t really understand how the metal was getting hot, or how heat played a role. Before long, I was thinking deep and hard about fire, oxygen to fuel ratios, how flames could burn long and low, or hot and fast. I understood what made something flammable, and why the company I worked for used arc welding instead of oxyacetelyne torches. I even began to understand how the energy flowed, and how electricity and heat could be interchanged in certain conditions.
The big picture of connecting all the dots of earth, fire and energy began to form, and how I could manipulate them to accomplish things began to form. There was an underlying force that allowed these different things to be changed, and I could do it, I was confident of that.
Then I woke up, and I was falling to my knees in the dirt. I was stark naked, and my tattoos on my forearms were gone. I looked down to see my chest was perfectly sculpted muscle, my beer gut was gone. Had Prometheus just remade me completely? It was hot and sunny, and I heard gasps of surprise around me. I looked over to see Karson next to me, just as naked, and just as ripped. Karson had never been ripped like this before. He had also never gotten any ink, but that wicked scar on his back from climbing over a rusty fence when he was twelve was gone. He looked over at me and gave me a ‘what the fuck’ look.
“I don’t know man, I just got here,” I said to him.
We stood up and looked around. We were in a village of some sort. Third world type, from what it looked like. Rudimentary houses of wood and mud lined the streets. Most of the houses had flat roofs, and most had narrow staircases leading up to them, although I could see some larger homes with peaked roofs at the end of the street. Well, I guess ‘wide dirt path’ was a better description than what I thought of as a street. We were surrounded by mostly men, and a few women. None of them had much in the way of clothing. Several of the men wore only a rectangular cloth, draped over one shoulder and pinned on the other. The cloth was plain and not dyed, and was clearly the only thing they wore. It’s a chlamys, I realized, kind of like a cloak. Others wore only loincloths. These must be the poor, or slaves. How did I know this? Karson was the college boy. I worked for a living. That bearded prick must have done something to me.
Others were wearing chitons, or tunics that were pinned only on the left shoulder, and belted at the waist. In the back of the small crowd were a few women, wearing colorful peplos. The peplos were rectangles of cloth folded over then pinned on both shoulders, before being belted at the waist to make a dress. It was a simple fabric to manufacture, and artfully done to look more complex than it was. I’d seen modern dresses that looked similar.
I bet that breathes pretty well in this heat, too, I thought. Several naked toddlers took off across the street, followed by a harried old woman. The clamor of the children seemed to break the spell of the crowd.
“They fell from the sky, out of nowhere!” said one of the men in awe. They were speaking Ancient Greek. Holy shit, I understood Ancient Greek. Although, seeing as we were all alive and talking, I guess it wasn’t so ancient. Perspective and all.
“They must be sent by the gods!” cried another man. “Tell us your names, Exalted Ones.”
I exchanged a look with Karson, who shrugged. In English, he said, “When in Rome?”
I looked at the expectant crowd. I almost gave my full name of Alex Weyland. But I always went by Ax.
“I am Ax..erios.” For some reason, I knew that I couldn’t sound too exotic. I’d almost introduced myself by my nickname, but a compulsion made me spit out Axerios.
Karson looked at me in confusion, probably feeling the same compulsion. He said, “Axio..korsos. Son of Kabiri. But we are not demigods, you understand?” He smiled conspiratorially. “It wouldn’t do for any to know.”
The crowd seemed to relax at this. One of the better dressed men stepped forward. “Axerios and Axiokorsos. Are you brothers? Are both of you sons of Kabiri?”
“We are,” I said. “Please, call me Ax and him Korsos. It prevents some confusion.”
The man nodded eagerly. “Of course, my Lords. I am Erxandros, I am the master of this village. Come this way, I would be most honored to host you in my home.”
I looked at Karson, who shrugged again. “Do as the Romans” he mouthed.
We followed the man to one of the larger hovels in the village. I was being unfair. This place was already nicer than the neighborhood we’d grown up in. The air was fresh, the sky was clear and sunny, the sun high in the sky and feeling like late afternoon. The houses were well kept. I could see goats and chickens wandering around, and at the end of the road I could see cultivated fields of wheat following a narrow dirt path leading away from the village. A stone well with a wooden lid sat in the center of the village, a bucket tied to a rope next to it on the ground.
As we walked down the path between the houses, I noticed a distinct lack of transportation. There were few carts, all sized for men to push them, and no horses or donkeys. As we walked, I saw occasional faces poke out from houses. Few of the houses had actual doors, mostly lengths of thick wool fabric. The women were quick to hide away when I saw them, and the children all ran around as if this were an event. Although, in fairness, this probably was something they’d talk about for years. And despite what a lifetime of nightmares of being trapped naked in school told me, no one seemed to care that Karson and I were bare as newborns.
When we got to the large house, we were escorted through an actual wooden door, into a room with a rough stone floor and piles of mats on the floors. The building was split into two rooms and a courtyard, with a peristyle overhanging into the courtyard to provide shade. From the courtyard, a narrow staircase with no railing led up to the roof. The courtyard had some rudimentary cushioned stools, to which Erxandros directed them.
If I’m going to play along, I thought, might as well own it. I sat in the chair as if I didn’t have a care in the world. To his credit, Karson did the same. Erxandros sat down nervously.
“Your timing is auspicious, Lords. Today is the Feast of the Great Mother. Even the slaves have a day of rest to celebrate the gods. It has been a good year; my family was even able to sacrifice a goat this year. It has been roasting since the offering this morning.” He smiled proudly at his pronouncement. “It will be ready soon.”
My stomach growled in anticipation. I’d never eaten goat before, but how bad could it be? As I wondered that, a young boy carrying a large clay bowl full of fruit came into the room. It had grapes and apricots in it. He set it down on the floor before scampering away. Erxandros didn’t comment on him at all, instead waving at the fruit.
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“Please, enjoy.”
I snagged an apricot and a small bunch of grapes, happy to eat. I could see Karson burning with curiosity though. He took a few nibbles of grape, before he couldn’t contain his questions anymore.
“So, Erxandros, can you tell me about your village?”
“Oh, sure. Not much to tell, really. We grow grain and olives mostly, although the basilius who owns these lands had us start planting grape vines a few years back. You’re tasting the first of those vines, actually. There are about sixty people in the village, if you count the slaves. Only about twenty-five or thirty if you don’t. That’s about it, really.”
“Slaves?” I asked. I didn’t study much about ancient Greece, so I was a bit surprised by the casual mention of slavery. Then it clicked. He was the master of the village. It was his job to supervise the slaves. I frowned. “Why so many? Why don’t they just escape?”
“Escape, my Lord? Why would they want to do that? They get well fed, they have homes that don’t leak when it rains, and I don’t beat them unless they are lazing about. What more could they ask for?”
Karson laid a hand on my arm and stepped in. “Those are fair points, Erxandros. The gods only know how hard it is to earn money in these times. Freedom doesn’t fill the belly.”
Erxandros nodded firmly, and Karson caught my eye and gave a subtle shake of his head. I settled back and let the subject drop. I was going to have a talk with him about it later, though. Conversation grew more relaxed as Erxandros found Karson to be a rapt audience. They discussed crop yields, weather and births, all major subjects in a small village such as this.
Finally, food began to arrive. The young boy was back, carrying a small table. Behind him was a young woman and a teenage girl, carrying a large platter with what looked to be most of a roasted goat on it. The young woman couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, considerably younger than Erxandros. She was attractive enough, clean and wearing a colorful linen peplos. But my eyes were caught on the beautiful girl. She was so pretty that she seemed completely out of place in this small village. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, and she was a knockout. Erxandros would have his hands full keeping the boys away.
“Lords, this is my wife, Klymene, and my daughter, Latona. Klymene is my head wife, after my first head wife passed on two years back. We haven’t yet managed a child together, but I have hopes of another some day. Latona has become quite fond of her.” Erxandros waved the two women away.
As they left, Klymene began coughing. It was a deep, wet, nasty cough that had her nearly bent double. Erxandros seemed mildly embarrass.
“Apologies, my Lords. Klymene came down with the lung illness this past winter. I also think she may be infertile. Despite all that, I’ve grown quite attached. If I truly want another child, I will probably take another wife. Even still, Klymene has been good to me, so I won’t divorce her even if she can’t bear a child.”
“That is very kind of you,” said Karson diplomatically.
Our host pulled a dull-looking bronze knife from the platter, and began to saw at the meat. I could sense immediately that the knife had many issues. It itched at me, the wrongness of the blade. Erxandros, for his part, didn’t seem to notice how long it was taking to cut through perfectly tender meat. Finally, I could take it no more.
“Erxandros, if you don’t mind?” I held out my hand for the blade. He looked confused, but handed the knife to me. The blade was a solid six inches long, double-edged and tapered in a triangle from the hilt to the tip. I ran my fingers down the tang of the blade.
“The alloy is unbalanced. There is too much tin, and too many impurities,” I said. I could feel power bubbling to the surface inside me. I let it go, and cupped my hand as if to pull the impurities out. Amazingly, a ball of tin and various trace metals began to pull off the blade. The blade shrank slightly, losing perhaps a quarter-inch of length, but was now slightly misshapen. I dropped the tin to the ground, and used my magic, for that’s what it clearly was, to reform the blade to its original shape. As a finishing touch, I ran my fingers down each edge to hone it to a razor edge. I held the knife back out to Erxandros.
Our host’s jaw was dropped, and I could see that Karson was equally astonished - he just hid it better. He took the knife, and marveled at how easily it sliced through the goat meat. He served us each a plate of roasted meat and a generous helping of large, black olives. A few minutes later, the young boy was back, this time with a clay wine jar and several simple cups.
“Will your family be joining us for dinner?” I asked.
“That would hardly be proper. They will eat in the women’s room, with the boy to attend them,” Erxandros said. Then he looked up with a sly look on his face. “Perhaps you are looking for a wife? I can pay a handsome dowry.”
“No, no,” I backtracked immediately. “I was merely curious. We have our own tasks ahead of us.”
With any luck, the vague answer would come across as mysterious. Considering the primitive village we were in, and that we were hailed as gods, that could work.
“I understand,” he said with a nod. “It is probably for the best. She has had her eye on the slave boy, Polybius. He’s a reliable sort, and he’ll be able to buy his freedom with the dowry, and provide well for her. I may even adopt him, if I have no sons of my own.”
“We wouldn’t want to interfere with any such planning,” said Karson diplomatically.
Finally, the endless meal came to an end. The women came back out once again, this time to clear away the food. This time, however, it was Karson who interrupted.
“If I may, Erxandros? I believe I may be of some assistance to Klymene’s malady.”
“Oh, could you, Lord? That would be a blessing,” said the woman.
Erxandros motioned for her to come forward, and Karson took her hand. After a few long minutes, she sighed in relief. “Thank you, I am already feeling so much better. May the gods bless you!”
Our host leaned over to his wife and whispered in her ear. She disappeared, and returned a moment later bearing two folded articles of clothing, and two leather belts.
“I couldn’t bear to return your generosity with such meager hospitality,” said Erxandros. “Please, take these. They are fine linen, and were to be part of Latona’s dowry, but I can order more after the harvest.”
We thanked him, and dressed ourselves in the chitons. I watched Karson as he dressed, and followed his lead. He looked as though he’d done this a thousand times, swiftly pinning each shoulder so that the fabric covered his entire chest, before taking a belt around the waist. He pulled the fabric up over the belt slightly so that the tunic billowed slightly. I did the same, managing to not stab myself in the fingers with the pins or make it look like I’d never worn such garments. The outfit wound up falling to mid thigh, like an overly long t-shirt that was belted at the waist. It was comfortable, but considering there was little enough fabric there, it didn’t suit my modern sense of modesty.
“Thank you for these fine gifts,” said Karson. “If you don’t mind, after such a generous meal, my brother and I would like to stroll around your village to settle our meal. It looks as though it will be dark soon. We’ll be back then, if that’s alright?”
If anything, our host seemed somewhat relieved to have a respite before settling us to sleep that night. We walked out of the house, to find most of the village was settling down for the evening. Few people were out, and many of the rooftops were occupied now that the sun had stopped baking everything. We wandered towards the path out of the village and the large fields of grain. Once I was certain we were out of earshot, I turned to Karson.
“Slaves?! Really?” I spoke in English.
“Yes, really,” said Karson. “And this is an idea you might want to get used to. We’re stuck in what appears to be the ancient Greek era. Slavery will persist in this region of the world for at least another few thousand years. But we have bigger problems than that.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” I said. “Like why the hell are we here, and how do we get home?”
“No,” corrected Karson. “We still need to find Asphalion.”
“Oh, shit. Yeah, that asshole has got to die. But do we have a way home? I don’t really fancy the idea of shitting in a ditch the rest of my life.”
Karson sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face, before turning to me. “Ax, you might want to start thinking about what we should do if we can’t get back. I don’t think there is one. We are here by a fluke.”
He was right. I hadn’t really considered it, but Prometheus found us by accident. We should have died in Chaos. In fact, if I really thought about it, we had no idea how long we were in that mess. We were probably already listed as missing and presumed dead back in Detroit.
“So this is going to be like our plan to move to Wyoming, right?”
Karson laughed. “Well, that was our plan, once upon a time. But Wyoming is nothing like this.”
“I just mean the whole ‘start over and leave the past behind’ thing.”
“Well, I didn’t have anyone waiting for me since I broke it off with Allison,” he pointed out. “And I know you haven’t dated in awhile.”
“I had a girl I was going to ask out, but I guess that’s not happening now. So, a fresh start.”
“A fresh start, with magic,” he amended.
I reached down and picked up a fist-sized rock. With only a little effort, I shaped it into a stone version of the knife I’d repaired. It was heavier, but perfectly usable. The edge would hold well enough, although nowhere near as long as a metal blade.
“Here, take this,” I said, offering the blade to Karson. “You need something to fight with, and I can do more than heal people.”
“Oh, I can do a lot more than that,” he said darkly.
In the dimming light, we heard low growling in the field ahead of us. A massive shape rose from the wheat. It was a two-headed hound, standing chest high to me. Each head was that of a wolf, but larger than my own head.
I didn’t even have time to warn Karson before it charged.