The walk was silently tense after we left the battlefield. We moved with purpose, our heads constantly turning to check for any hint of pursuers. The main road was not hard to miss. It was trampled by more than a thousand men. Their tracks would escape no one’s eye. Men around me finally began to talk and complain.

My head jumped from memory to memory, from father to Kyron to the Elahkarian I speared in the mouth. Occasionally someone tried to talk to me, but I remained confined to my own thoughts. The longer we walked, the more I thought, trying to wrap my head around everything that had happened. My first battle was over and now came feelings of exhaustion, hunger, and other small things that have to be experienced, not taught. My stomach ached, my arms trembled, and I felt clumsy in a way that I might trip over my own feet or walk into someone without realizing.

I broke the arrow shafts off my shield and slung it over my back. Drinking greedily from my waterskin, I found it was almost empty. I replaced its stopper and looked over my shoulder for enemy cavalry, my nerves on a knife’s edge. My stomach growled for food. Reaching for my bag, I noticed it was lighter than it had been that morning. Pulling it around, I saw a large slit had cut into it and that everything had fallen out at some point during the battle.

That was the first word I had spoken since we left the field, “Fuck.” I took the bag off and threw it to the ground with anger. I saw fellow hoplites stare at me. My stomach begged me to ask for food but pride demanded I suffer.

“There!” someone shouted at the front. Standing on my toes, I looked over shoulders of those ahead of me and saw another group of about twenty hoplites standing next to a patch of trees and waving spears in salutation. We moved in haste to join them.

“Estrios?!” my head stuck up. I searched the crowd to find who had called my name. Estriadites pushed his way past the men, “Brother! Good to lay eyes on you.” For the first time in a long time, my older brother genuinely seemed happy with my presence. “When the rearguard pulled back, I noticed father were not among them.” It was not lost on me that he searched only for father.

The words stuck in my dry mouth. “I…father fell.”

“You’re mistaken.” It would seem it is always the eldest brother’s right to tell the younger what they do or do not know.

“I was there. He,” I let out a breath, “has been put to grass.”

Estriadites’ face sobered, and he cleared his throat. His face bore a determined look, “News made worse by uninvited guests.” I looked behind me. Down the road were two horsemen slowing to a stop before turning back and galloping back the way they came.

“They know our position now. Everyone, with me!” ordered Estriadites. Our band of forty hoplites and ten slingers moved at a quick pace, unsure of how long we had until the enemy cavalry bore down us in strength. “There is a path off the main road up ahead we can take.”

****

After moving at speed for longer than I was used to, the path was on our right. The grass was tall now and the path was noted only by the fact the tall grass was parted and trampled down by infrequent use. Moving single file, we got off the dirt road. I did my best to follow the man in front of me, Estriadites leading our line. The grass became smaller as we moved on and the path clearer to the eye. It took us through a small patch of woods, wound up and over a short but rocky ridge and led us up a slightly wooded hill.

At the hill’s crest, we stopped to catch our breath and take a moment’s rest. Some of the hoplites with us had minor wounds they tended and the rest of us took time to eat or drink. I could feel all the dust caked on my legs from the road. The view from where I stood was beautiful, but my stomach quickly reminded me of its need.

I sought distraction and walked over to where Estriadites sat on a patch of moss beneath a tree. “How is it that the enemy fell upon us in the mountains, brother? I’ve never seen trails wide enough for horses.”

Estriadites looked up and laughed without humor. “Yes. We ran down some Kalocean guides when the fighting broke out on the plain. Those godless cock eaters threw in their lot with the Elahkarians.”

My mind barely comprehend what I had heard, “To what end?”

“To see Demepolis and Lektrios removed from the fucking map.” Estriadites spit on the ground in anger. “There are so many paths through the mountains, it should surprise no one.”

We both looked down the path we had marched up. “How do we find the army?”

“When the enemy attacked us on the plains, the line broke into groups. Ankarithesos led most down the road but a couple hundred stayed as rearguard so most of our men could continue.” He closed his eyes as a nice cool breeze came by. “Father said the army would stop at the Eurabates shrine. We can regroup with them there.”

“And you are sure they will be there?”

Estriadites arched an eyebrow, “There is only one spring that I know of on the way to Lektrios, little brother. Can you guess where it is?”

“Eurabates,” I said dryly.

“That’s where they’ll be,” he said with a wink.

I looked around at our surroundings. The grass was very green that day and the sun bright. In the distance, I could faintly make out some glints on the ridge behind us. Straining my eyes, I watched them move. A cluster of horsemen gathered on the ridge, sunlight glinting off their bronze helmets. “There,” I said.

Estriadites turned and his eyes followed my extended finger. “Move with purpose!” he commanded. “We have a ways yet to go.”

We were off as quickly as our feet would carry us, down the other side of the hill. The summer heat beat down on us as we moved on. My throat was as dry as the dust caked on my legs. I had not wanted to ask anyone for water, but now I was unsure how much farther I could go before succumbing to thirst.

Before long the path wound around a field of barley, and we were suddenly upon a burnt out village of thirty ruined houses. The men stopped at the outskirt of the village. There was no movement from within. No smoke rose to the heavens. No noise at all. My dry throat and grumbling stomach kept me from thinking of much else. We carefully walked into the village and noticed there weren’t any bodies. Patches of ground looked as though they were stained with blood, but the bodies were nowhere to be found.

While everyone made their way directly through the village to the stone well at its center, I ducked into one of the wrecked houses. The roof had collapsed and I saw charred limbs sticking out under blackened rubble. An amphora of water sat next to the wall.

Part of it looked scorched but the amphora itself was a welcome sight. I praised the gods. My spear and shield fell from my hands and grabbed the amphora by both ceramic handles. Raising it up to my mouth, one of the handles broke off and the weight of the water within caused me to lose my grip. The amphora fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

I stood there silently, with the handle of the clay pot in one hand, watching the water disappear into the dirt. “Fuck. Fuuuuuuck!” I threw the broken handle into a pile of debris, grabbed my spear and beat the broken pieces with the shaft. Walking outside, the rest of the men were already cursing loudly. “What happened?”

“Elahkarians chopped off some poor fuck’s head and dropped it down the well. Now the water’s tainted,” replied a hoplite. The times when you want to curse the gods most are the times when relief seems within grasp but is just beyond your reach.

“Whoever has water or food, share it with those who are without,” ordered Estriadites. “We won’t reach shrine if half of us collapse of hunger or thirst.” My brother walked over to me, “I haven’t seen you eat all morning, here.” He handed me some stale bread, which I begrudgingly took. Some ran around to the burnt out houses looking for any amphorae of water, but none were found.

Looking behind us when we left the ruined village, I could faintly see the cavalry moving down from the top of the hill. It would not be long before they were on our heels. If we were to fight, it would have to be on the ground of our choosing. My legs began to feel tight and the nagging pain returned to my side. I kept looking over my shoulder as we ran. The problem was that if we left the path, we would likely be lost. It was difficult to guess how well my brother knew the area and it was a chance I would rather not take, being lost, only to be found by the enemy.

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We ran past the decaying bodies of villagers as we cut through a wheat field. It looked as though they had lain in the sun for days. Shouts from behind us drew our attention. Twenty riders slowed to a trot and watched us. We readied for a fight but it never came. They only watched us.

“Back to the road!” shouted Estriadites. We all followed at speed. I pulled my helmet down firmly and prepared to cast my spear at a moment’s notice. A short distance had been traveled before I realized no arrows were falling near us.

“They’re not attacking!” I shouted. Our group slowed to a walk and looked back. The horsemen were slowly following us, careful to stay out of distance from our archers. Most of us were panting. “We… don’t need…to run.”

“When…their friends come…we’ll have to,” panted Estriadites. “All the better…to move now.”

“I’ll not run any farther,” stated the short hoplite. He looked around, “Why should we not find water then seek cover, to return home in the cover of darkness?”

“What more can thirty men add?” asked another. “The army is already gone. Why should we not return home?”

“You have us hide like scared children?” Estriadites turns to the rest of the men. “Let’s hold it to a vote. Who here votes to abandon our polis? Who among you would shame their ancestors and family in favor of living another day?”

Many looked down at what I believed was embarrassment or shame. None held their hands up. “Right then,” continued Estriadites, “Let’s be on our way.”

We continued down the road with the riders following, crossing a field of wheat and passed a few burned out houses. The riders moved up and rode parallel to us, still out of range. For a time, they acted like our escort, making sure we got to our destination safely.

“Up ahead is the Hard Lands,” said Estriadites, “Leaving the road, we can make our way to the shrine through the forest, and the horsemen won’t be able to follow.”

“What if they follow us into the Hard Lands?”

“If they’re that foolish and we’re that lucky, we’ll kill them,” he said with a wink, which was punctuated by a pained scream. Everyone turned to see one of our slingers fall with an arrow in him. More arrows fell between our feet and killed an archer standing at my side.

The slingers loosed their missiles and drove the riders back. “To the Hard Lands!” ordered Estriadites. The Hard Lands are just that, rocky patches of land that lead up to a cluster of hills. They are not ideal for horses, but men can traverse them easy enough. It just takes time. The road pierces these lands where the rocky terrain it’s at its narrowest and continues on the other side where the terrain levels out into grassy terrain.

We ran. The Hard Lands was just ahead. I sprinted to catch up with Estriadites when I felt the wind of an arrow on my neck when it struck him in the back plate of his bronze thorax. The arrow made a loud clang and bounced away leaving a noticeable dent in the armor. Estriadites toppled over and used his spear to regain footing.

“Are you hurt?!”

“No,” he replied. The grey boulders of the Hard Lands were only fifty paces further. “All for themselves! Regroup in the forest!” he shouted to everyone.

The hoplites ran off in small groups, with what was left of our slingers and archers. Large boulders were scattered over the ground with smaller rocks protruded from the grass between them. Estriadites, two other hoplites, and I ran up and over a boulder. When I landed on the ground behind it, I felt a chord in my sandal break. The more I ran, the looser its grip became on my foot.

It took every effort within me not to curse the gods and lose their protection. My loose sandal caused me to trip, the butt spike of my spear planted in the ground, catching my fall. “Brother, wait!” The three hoplites stopped and looked back.

I was trying to fix my sandal when he circled around me. “They can’t see us, nor I them,” said one.

“Abantes, climb that boulder and give warning if enemies approach,” ordered my brother. He then bent down and took out a dagger and cut a length from his cloak. “Give me your foot.” I held my leg out. He tied the fabric around my foot tightly so that the sandal was held in place. “That will work for now.”

Abantes climbed back down. “Three horsemen approach. They’re trying to guide their horses through the boulders, easy targets.”

Estriadites smiled, “Shall we?”

****

The three horsemen were carefully riding their horses between boulders, their heads like squirrels, darting around to look for danger on their approach, bows ready and arrows nocked. I held my breath and lay as flat as I could on top of a boulder, only a bit taller than a man seated on horseback. I looked at Estriadites, also laid flat on top of a nearby boulder. He looked at me and shook his head.

The clopping of horseshoes was next to us, though they were hidden from sight. We knew they wouldn’t see us until they reached higher ground, so long as we remained flat. The horses snorted and clopped along between the boulders my brother and I lay on.

Abantes emerged further up the hill, shouted at them and raised his shield and spear high in the air. “Hey!” he shouted, “Fuck you!” or something equally compelling. Bowstrings groaned and we heard the release of three arrows. Abantes caught all three in the face of his shield.

Estriadites nodded and we both stood tall and cast our spears down, perfect throws. My brother’s spear landed in one rider’s neck and mine lodged between where the neck meets the shoulder. Both riders fell from their mounts. The final rider turned, startled, and our fourth hoplite speared him through the stomach and pushed him off the horse onto the ground, where he died after more holes were added to his chest.

Abantes pulled one shaft from his shield face and broke the other two off. We all grinned like children after our first hunt. We ran down to claim anything of value on the corpses. Quickly searching the bodies, no gold was found. More horse nomads. More of Golden Torc’s men with the same shaped eyes.

We were careful not to spend much time lingering over the bodies. Ahead, we saw some scattered hoplites making their way into the woods. No riders were in pursuit. We ran up and regrouped amongst the trees with almost all that we set out with. Only two were unaccounted for.

The forest began near the Hard Lands and spread for a large distance. Hills rolled into it the further you traveled. Estriadites and I walked at the head of the group. I wanted to say something about father but my thirst robbed me of words. I tried not to trip over my feet while we walked.

“Did you see father fall?” asked my brother.

I cleared my throat, “I did.”

Estriadites grunted. “Did he…die well?”

I wasn’t sure if that was something I could have judged at the time, but I knew what he wanted to hear. “He died with honor. It was quick,” even as I spoke the words, it felt like I was carrying a weight in my chest. I now realize it was the feeling that something significant had happened, and I was uncertain about how it made me feel, like receiving bad news but leaving halfway through the explanation. That memory rattled around in my head, only to revisit later.

“You should have seen him fight,” stated Estriadites. “We were…he fought like a lion amongst sheep.” I remembered father fighting off attackers while the rest of his men were dying. He moved with precision and measured ferocity.

“He stood his ground like a man should.” My brother smiled. I knew he imagined father in a heroic last stand, striking down barbarian after barbarian until his final breath. Some could call it that, but I saw him fall. It was the futile struggle of a tired, wounded man. We walked a while longer in silence.

“Remember when father became drunk at the harvest festival and gave the silver cup he inherited from grandfather to a stranger? It was the one with satyrs engraved on it?” he laughed. “He lost track of the man during the festivities and never saw him again.”

He noted my blank stare. “It may have been when you were still an infant,” he continued to laugh. “That cup might have been worth…half a silver talent?”

I remembered father being far stricter, a man I could never imagine allowing himself to have an excess of wine. “That hardly sounds like the man I knew.”

“Well, there are a lot of things you might not know about father,” he said solemnly. “It was just after grandfather had died and before father lost our fortune.”

I’m not sure if he expected me to laugh or ask questions, but I had nothing to offer. The truth is that I never really knew what to say in the moment. Whenever my father was the subject, words left me. As someone who I was never wholly familiar with, I would just fall silent.

****

Estriadites halted our group and looked around. “What is it?” I asked.

He pointed uphill. “This way,” Estriadites called to the men as he led the way.

“I thought the shrine would straight ahead,” I stated.

“It is but the stream that waters the shrine comes from uphill. If we head uphill, we should find the stream and follow it. I would sooner quench my thirst rather than wait.”

It made sense to me and after a short hike, we began to hear it. The sound of running water created a mad dash which culminated with some men tripping over eager feet. Cupping our hands, we drank just short of vomiting. After drinking our fill, all of us filled whatever we had to carry water and sat under the shade of the trees for a brief moment, listening to the water.

A slight breeze came through and I closed my eyes, pretending I was somewhere else. My eyes opened. I remembered the sword. Drawing my Elahkarian straight sword, I looked at the dried blood on the blade, father’s blood. Moving over to the stream, I dipped the edge of my cloak in the water and scrubbed the sword clean. Inspecting my work, I caught my reflection. My throat tightened, and I dropped the weapon.

Suddenly I felt overheated and short of breath. A hand touched my back. I looked over to see my brother standing over me. He knelt down next to me, “Just breathe.” My eyes closed and I took deep, slow breaths.

****

We followed the stream downhill. Soon we heard voices echoing in the forest. A few hoplites found us by accident and gave us a warm welcome. I assumed they were sentries, but rather they wandered from camp to shit in the woods. One ran back to announce more survivors.

After a short hike, we arrived at the back of the sacred grounds. The shrine itself was not elaborate. It consisted of a small temple that would struggle to fit thirty men inside it. Though not an abundance of trade came through this way, as it once had, it had long been an important waypoint between our city and Lektrios because of the water.

Travelers and merchants come and sacrifice or pay the priests to sacrifice for them to appease the hero for which the temple was dedicated. What I knew about the hero at the time, whose name I struggle to recall, is that he fought and won great honor in an ancient war. If you appease him with offerings of blood, his spirit will protect you on your journey. Some of the less pious have suggested that they merely paying the priests for water.

We barely stumbled out of the woods before seeing a multitude of hoplites covering an entire field. Those near us greeted us with smiles and welcoming words. Behind the shrine were the bodies of those who died from their wounds on the way, about fifty men. The priests were stripping the men of their armor and washing their bodies before preparing a large pyre.

I strained my eyes at the last row of bodies. The face at the end was known to me. I walked closer to be sure. Helion lay on his back, eyes closed. I dropped my shield and spear and ran over. A sob lurched from my throat as I touched his forehead, the body twitched. One eye opened and Helion laughed hard and pointed up at me, “Happy to see-” was all he could say before my fist collided with his cheek.