We sped down the wide path leading to the plains. More than halfway down was a thicket of small trees on the mountain side of the path, opposite a sheer cliff. An archer ran out and Klysestes stopped, urging us to keep going. While I moved on, I saw about twenty archers concealing themselves in the thicket, preparing their ambush.

Our contingent slowed when we all reached the grass and I fell to formation. We drank quickly from water skins. Helion and Estrianes made motions to join them further up in the line. The main army seemed only about three hundred paces away but the distance was growing. Sounds of combat filled the air. Horses galloped and arrows soared through the air. Sweat dripped down the inside of my helmet.

“Right then,” bellowed Klysestes. “Rejoin with the army! No man stops till we’re all together.” I barely had the stopper in my water skin before everyone advanced at speed. We all were breathing heavily, especially those in full bronze panoplies. I struggled to keep my sweaty grip on my spear so that it did not slide from my grasp. Memories of father entered my head, reminding me to wrap a leather cord around the middle of the shaft to make a grip for such a purpose, one of many things that would have to be experienced rather than taught, I supposed. The small things of warfare.

Shouts and battle cries echoed behind us. Looking over my shoulder, I saw enemy cavalry coming down the path, coming to launch arrows into our backs. The archers and slingers Klysestes had positioned in the thicket now made their presence known, at close range, and felled both riders and horses alike, halting their progress.

Pushing forward, I knew that small thicket was the only thing standing between the archers and the enemy riding through them. They could not hold for long, only delay the enemy until they have no missiles left and be killed. We were close to our men now.

A nagging pain entered my side while I ran. Running had never been something I valued. Simply, hoplites don’t run in battle. But here we were, running, another small thing. What distracted me was the face down bodies of a pair of slaves. Both had arrows in them. The further we jogged the more bodies we saw. Most were slaves but some were hoplites. All were pierced with arrows. Some cried out in pain as they lay in the field’s grass, but we had not the time to help, lest we share their condition.

Only twenty paces. A few horsemen engaged in a melee with some of our hoplites. They stood between us and the rest of the army. As we approached, I gathered air in my lungs for a battle cry and noticed we were not running towards the main army but that the army had split into smaller groups along the field. Klysestes shouted something and took half of the men with us and ran off to aid a group of hoplites on the verge of collapse.

We gave voice to our bloodlust with a roar as we charged. When the horsemen in front of us realized what was happening, it was too late. Encircled, they were stabbed from all sides. The rider in front of me fell from his horse. I pushed through to skewer him. Though it was embarrassing to admit at the time, I paused with brief curiosity, like seeing an exotic bird for the first time. The man was not like the others I’d seen that day. His shiny conical helmet laid on the ground next to him, exposing his black hair and the tan completion of his face. It was the first time I laid eyes on an Elahkarian noble.

His black and gold embroidered cape whirled about as he rose, slashing with a curved sword. Fierce eyes darted around defensively. A drop of blood from his nose fell from his beard down to his radiant white tunic. We hesitated because he was an impressive sight. His clothes were above any quality I had yet seen. Fingers wore rings of gold, matching the gold pendant and his sword’s pommel. The man moved with the ferocity of a cornered lion.

The noble slashed his sword at us, knocking our spears away and making us step back, shouting some words I couldn’t understand. The sounds of his men dying around him seem to only infuriate him more. “So let’s kill him already,” said Estrianes and lurched forward thrusting his spear. The Elahkarian swiftly moved to the side and cut the head off the spear.

Estrianes drew back and pulled his sword from its scabbard. “Strike as one!” yelled Kyron. Helion, Estrianes, Kyron, and I rushed in, shields held high. The Elahkarian’s curved sword deflected the two higher thrusts but mine struck home. I pinned his foot to the ground. The man howled and the other two spears struck his chest but didn’t pierce him.

The Elahkarian fell down and I freed my spear. Coming up to his knees, he regained balance and lashed out at us with his sword, clinking across our spear shafts, across and then back. I struck his chest which only made him grunt. Kyron again struck a perfect blow but no blood emerged.

“What fucking magic is this?!” cried Kyron.

I waited for his strike and when it came, I slipped it and struck a blow at his face. My spear went through his clenched teeth, breaking them and piercing his cheek. The man’s scream was horrific as he grabbed the spear shaft. It was a moment of pure suffering. My triumph soured as I realized just how painful a death would take him to the afterlife. I tried to remove my spear but the man gripped it tight with panic.

Kyron ended it with a spear through the man’s eye. We pulled our spears from the dead man. The hoplites around us finished dispatching their enemies to the next life. Kyron kneeled down and pulled the neckline of the fallen Elahkarian’s tunic revealing exquisite thorax made of small golden scales. “If I only had time to take this,” he said, quickly pulling the golden rings off the man’s fingers. Estrianes grabbed the corpses other hand and with one sword strike, severed the fingers. He collected the fingers which still wore golden rings and hastily stuck them into a bag.

Small battles were raging close to us. We all started moving to aid the closest group of hoplites. It looked like most groups were keeping horsemen at bay with spears, locking shields and forming circular schiltrons which protected the slaves and skirmishers at their centers. Horse archers rode between the groups, loosing arrows at any exposed targets they could find.

This was when I realized that this was only less than half our army, at best. The closest group of hoplites banded tightly together. They stood around wounded men. Elahkarians rode close and fired arrows at them. Most bounced off or stuck in the faces of their bronze shields. Turning to fall back, the riders walked right into us. My spear dug into a rider’s arm, and he rode away as quickly as possible. Kyron’s spear collapsed a horse and Estrianes decapitated the rider with a mighty blow from his sword, turning to his next enemy. Blood from the decapitation painted his armor.

The schiltron opened and hoplites ran to encircle our enemies. Our spearmen made quick work of our mounted foes. Our group was now almost twice as large. Cheers went up as hoplites stabbed the dead Elahkarians for good measure, after stripping the corpses of easy gold. The wounded men they had been protecting had only minor wounds and seemed to move fine.

On the other side of the field, we saw Klysestes had taken his men and combined with another schiltron and were now moving on. “A few more and we’re united!” cried Kyron. Slaves helped the wounded get on their feet and also dressed any wounds they could. A few slaves saw the chaos in that moment and ran off towards some nearby woods, not looking back. One hoplite yelled at the fleeing slaves, readied to throw his spear, and then halted. He knew how useless a gesture it would be.

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Two schiltrons were ahead, one almost a hundred paces in front of us and another over double the distance to the right. In front of us, the hoplites were holding their ground. The other group seemed to have twice the enemy cavalry attacking them. It made sense to aid the men already in our path, but as we got closer to both groups, I thought I heard something familiar.

We prepared to charge. I began to feel the pain in my side again and slowed my pace. That’s when I heard the familiar voice booming. A few of us straggled behind a few paces behind, trying to catch our breath. The voice came from the other schiltron. It sounded like an orator both shouting encouragement and barking orders. I slowed my gait and strained my eyes.

We were now about eighty paces from the group to our right. Their schiltron was slowly crumbling. One shield caught my eye. My father’s white owl in a circle of black he had freshly painted on his shield the day before. I stopped completely. Enemy cavalry regrouped and charged the crumbling formation. “Father!” I yelled. “Estrianes, with me!”

I ran towards my father, ignoring the pain in my side. Looking behind, I saw another hoplite break and run after me. My smile quickly faded when I realized instead of Estrianes, Kyron now ran toward me, “Come back, coward!”

Thinking I couldn’t persuade him to help, I ran faster. Again, most of my armor was not made of bronze, which gave me an advantage in speed. It didn’t help that Kyron was a better athlete though. He pursued me at impressive speed. The question wasn’t if he could catch up but rather when.

He was shouting something at me that I chose to ignore. Fear that he would catch up and spear me, not a logical fear, drove me to near panic. When he got closer, I saw him point his spear in another direction. My eyes followed the spear, I saw a rider closing the distance to us with haste. Two more were further behind him. I was halfway to my father’s men when I stopped running and collected my breath and readied to receive their charge.

Raising my shield, I watched the rider bare down on me. I could see that the rider wore only leather armor, which would be meaningful if I had not missed my strike. When the moment came, I struck out with my spear, which the rider parried. He struck where my helmet met its horsehair crest with an ax, sending me tumbling to the ground.

I got up as quickly as I could, to see the rider already on another pass. My shield shot up and took the blow head on, with a loud cracking sound. Another hit like that might break my shield. It took a moment to realize my spear was still on the ground. Collecting it quickly, I wheeled to face my attacker. The rider had stopped and turned his horse for another pass. He laughed loudly, as one might after hearing a joke absent of humor, and shouted something at me.

The rider faced me and kicked his heels into the horse for another charge when he was struck in the back with the spear Kyron hurled. He fell from his mount with the spearhead slightly protruding from his chest. Kyron caught up to the rider, placing a foot on his back, he ripped the spear free and planted the head into the base of the man’s neck.

“Behind you!” I tried to warn him.

An arrow flew into Kyron’s hip. He roared rather than screamed as if the arrow merely angered him. Trying to stand straight, he left the spear and drew his sword. Balancing on the opposite leg, banged the flat of the sword on his shield twice. “Come on then!” he shouted to the approaching riders.

I looked at Kyron and then back at my father’s men, who were doing their best to hold strong despite their dwindling number. The decision was made. I bolted towards Kyron, only to be stopped by an arrow striking my shield. The arrowhead actually pierced through my shield above my arm. I looked up and saw the rider with the golden torc riding towards Kyron, curved sword in hand.

The rider’s head bore down, showing the engraving of the screaming face on his helmet. He leaned over on the horse to get a better slash when Kyron struck. In an instant, the rider pulled himself up straight, slipping Kyron’s strike and slashed over the large bronze shield. I barely saw what happened before Kyron fell to the grass, squirming and holding his neck.

The second rider came at me ready to strike. I ducked below the swing of his curved sword and watched him gallop by. My fury was directed at Golden Torc. With a war cry, I ran towards him, my silent prayer demanding blood from the war god. Golden Torc didn’t move. He merely turned his horse to face me and watched me charge him, waiving the other rider off.

Now within striking range, I planted my feet and thrust my spear point as hard as I could. Golden Torc leaned slightly and lopped off my spearhead with ease. It took me a heartbeat or two to register what had happened. I turned my spear in my hand and thrust the butt-spike at his chest. He swatted the blow away and brought his sword into the side of my helmet, hard.

I laid on my back staring at the blue sky while the sun baked me. Ears rang and my head felt as though a bell were placed over me and rung. For a brief moment, nothing mattered. Not life, not death. I lay there unable to move. Another small thing, unable to know unless experienced. My wits returned to me as Golden Torc cast a shadow over me. His sword was ready in hand. Golden Torc only laughed and spit on me.

In that moment, it would not be long for me to meet my ancestors. Instead of striking me down, he merely he rode away. My hands were shaking and my breathing was rushed. I often wondered why he did not end my life on that field. Perhaps it was merely the fact I was on the ground, out of reach. Perhaps he figured I was not worth the time when better warriors than I still walked the field.

I dropped what remained of my spear and slid my shield off my arm. Grabbing the horsehair crest, I flung my helmet to the grass. Kyron lay near me, forever still. Helion and Estrianes were nowhere to be seen. I rubbed my face with both hands and tried to slow my breathing.

There weren’t more than thirty paces separating me from father’s schiltron. I stood and collected my shield and picked up Kyron’s spear. I turned to find father, standing amidst a pile of dying men, with an arrow in his thigh. Encircled by their enemies, those that could stand did so together with each of their shields having many arrows lodged in the designs painted on their face. Most were barely standing.

Father swung his sword with labored breath, missing a horseman. Golden Torc drew an arrow. I heard the release of the arrow as if I was next to him. The arrow flew into the muscle father’s sword arm. My heart fell with father’s sword. The other hoplites were in worse shape and slowly being finished off with well-placed arrows from a direction they could not defend.

A rider dressed in long blue Elahkarian tunic rode up to father, now struggling to keep on two legs. With a flourish, he drew a polished straight sword with a golden hilt and stabbed the blade into father’s neck, pushing it further down into his chest. I was absolutely still as he quickly withdrew the bloodstained blade and watched the body fall, not able to put belief into what I witnessed.

The Elahkarian smiled and thrust his bloody sword in the air, the other horsemen roared with victory. The hoplites around father lay in a small pile where they were had died. I rose quickly with my shield and ran toward the noble. The Elahkarian had spotted me and seemed to regard me with about as much fear as a lion gazing at a house cat.

Something struck the Elahkarian noble with a hard thump of impact. He dropped his sword and gripped his chest. There was the sound of something striking metal and another rider fell from his horse. I looked over saw about twenty hoplites and ten slingers running towards them. Golden Torc shouted and rode off leading the horsemen away. The Elahkarian swiftly rode after them, gripping his chest with one hand.

I ran over to father’s body and slumped to my knees, releasing both shield and spear. The other hoplites gathered around me, also looking at the dead. There was father, staring at the grass with half open eyes, slowly turning the green grass red.

I felt that I should cry but for some reason was unable to form tears. I pulled my sword from its scabbard on the inside of my shield and threw it away from me, picking up the Elahkarian’s beautiful straight sword. It was too long for my scabbard. I fit the bloody sword in and tied the hilt to the scabbard to make sure it didn’t fall out.

“We have to leave,” someone shouted at me. “They’ll be back presently, with more horsemen.” I took a final look at father. Beyond him, horsemen gathered in the distance. I turned and joined the hoplites as we left to rejoin the army. In my head, I vowed that with the Elahkarian’s own sword would I reap a trail of blood as an offering for the war god if he would grant me vengeance. Regardless, I would shed as much blood as I was able.