Page 15 of Axios
“Strike that one again,” Gaius commanded with an amused tone to his gruff voice. “Strike him until he cries out no more.”
The boy hit Quill two more times before moving on to the next. In the corner of my eye, I saw Quill staring at the altar with a dazed look in his eyes. Tears wet his cheeks, but he made no sound. His small frame trembled.
Theon was then hit. He gritted his teeth as the flog tore into his back, and aside from a slight jerk at the contact, he made no indication of discomfort.
Goddess, let me be brave, I said a silent prayer as I awaited my lashing.
Three more boys were whipped before they got to Eryx. He exhaled and lifted his gaze to the statue before us, straightening his stance.
My insides screamed for me to do something, to stop him from being struck, but I was aware my actions would only make matters worse.
As the whip cracked against his back, his blood splattered on my arm, and my stomach turned. However, he didn’t even flinch. His green eyes flickered to mine afterward and he narrowed his brow. He didn’t have to say a word for me to understand the look.
Stay strong.
It was my turn. I’d been whipped in the past, and scars had formed on my skin and helped toughen it, but it still stung each time. Like a blade re-opening an old wound. My knees wobbled a little as I anticipated it, and I feared I would stumble for all to see.
The waiting was almost worse than the actual lashing.
As the leather tore into my flesh, I shut my eyes, but fortunately refrained from crying out. Wet trickled down my spine, and my skin pricked where it’d been scourged. I hadn’t made a coward of myself, and it was over. For now.
When I looked at Eryx, he gave a swift nod of his head. His eyes appeared pained, though, as if seeing me hurt had the same impact on him as it did with me upon seeing him.
The second lashing took me off guard, and I released an involuntary gasp as the whip dug into my side before being yanked away. I was the last in line, so that should’ve been the end of the preliminary blood offering and start of the actual game.
I pivoted to see Pericles holding the flog.
“The goddess demanded more blood,” he said, smirking.
As he reared his arm back to swing again, I rolled to the side. The air in front of my nose whistled as the leather barely missed me and hit the dirt. I lay on my side and stared up at the clear, blue sky, somewhat disoriented. Whether from the sun’s blinding rays or the ache in my back, I did not know.
Eryx grabbed my arm and heaved me up and to my feet as Pericles tried once more. A streak of crimson stained the dirt from where I’d been.
I leaned against my friend, trying to snap out of my haze. Two lashes shouldn’t have affected me that badly. Perhaps it was my sleepless night, empty stomach, and blood loss all combined.
Stop being weak.I demanded of myself.
The others in our group had already fled back toward the temple and waited several feet away, out of reach from the whips. We joined them before turning and staring back at the center. Blood decorated the stone altar, the splashes of red standing out amongst the white.
The older youths moved side to side and loosely swung their weapons, like predators taunting their prey.
“Axios,” Eryx said, turning to face me. “Block out the pain. You must.”
I nodded and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the air they sought.
“Pericles hit him harder than the rest of us,” Theon spoke. “Look at the torn flesh of his back and side.”
“It matters not,” I said through clenched teeth, meeting each of their stares. My blood had trickled down my spine and now dripped down my legs. “Let us continue.”
I wanted this day over. The game didn’t end until all the cheese was stolen and enough blood had been given to the goddess. Sometimes, it did not end until all participants but one was unconscious or dead. There were four whip bearers and seven of us. Sacrifices would have to be made. It was all part of the festival, which was in a way honoring the Battle of Plataea that was fought in years past.
The infamous battle had taken place in a city near Plataea during the Persian invasion of Greece. It was where the invaders had finally been defeated. The Greeks had retreated mid-battle and the Persians had believed they’d won. When they continued their advance, they’d been crushed by Spartan forces.
Thediamastigosiswas a blood offering ritual for Artemis Orthia, an endurance test and initiation for the youths, and also an honor of Spartan victory. That we could not be crushed.
I should have been proud to participate, but all I felt was exhaustion.
Haden, one of the bigger boys in our group, scoffed and looked toward the altar. “Spartans do not fear pain. I will prove I am the strongest of us.”
