Page 30 of Axios
I no longer allowed others to beat me without putting up a fight of my own.
The act of not fighting did nothing but allowed other men to triumph. My death would serve no purpose other than to have them mock my cowardice and then throw my body to the hounds to feast upon. So, I’d learned to let go of the morals that had once held me back and embraced my birthright as a Spartan male.
Kill or be killed. It had only taken sixteen years for me to understand that notion.
War with the Corinthians was still in effect, and it was only a matter of time before I went into battle. Unless, of course, peace was agreed upon before I came of age, but all such negotiations thus far had failed.
“What are you thinking?” Eryx asked as we lay by our stream.
The last signs of winter had melted and life flourished once more. Flowers bloomed, their opened petals reaching upward, and the once yellowed grass found its green shade once again. Animals had come out of hiding, waking from their long slumber. Birds spread their wings and took to the skies.
A minor chill remained in the air during the early hours of the morning, but the sun warmed the earth by midday.
“Axios,” he said, pulling me out of my thoughts for the second time. “Your mind in the clouds again?”
I flipped to my side and faced him, noticing he was on his side as well. Our legs were close but not touching, so I pushed my foot between his and had him hold it between his calves. The position was familiar, as I had done it many times over the years, not sure why I enjoyed it as much as I did. It felt safe.
“Perhaps soaring with the birds,” I answered, resting my head on my arm and staring into his grass-green eyes.
Eryx caressed my cheek. “I know a story about birds. Well, ravens.”
I smiled. Of course he did.
“Tell me.”
He rose up before slipping his arm under me and pulling me against his chest. “Ravens had feathers white as snow once upon a time,” he said, moving his fingers in circles on my shoulder. “Apollo entrusted his messenger—a white raven—to guard a beautiful princess called Coronis. He’d fallen in love with her, you see, and his child grew in her womb. But, the princess did not return his affections and soon found a new lover, Prince Ischys.”
I would never tire of hearing his voice. As we’d grown from boys to almost men, it had slightly deepened in pitch but still held a soft, melodic tone.
“I suppose the god Apollo was not pleased of this deception,” I said, nestling into the crease of his neck.
“You are correct,” he responded before pressing his lips to my forehead. The action was one of innocence, and yet, it did things to my heart I couldn’t describe. He continued, “The white raven learned of the infidelity and sent word to Apollo. The god became infuriated that the messenger had not killed the prince upon learning of the betrayal. ‘You come tell me the news instead of pecking out his eyes?’ the god had screamed at the bird. So he cursed the raven in a fit of pure rage. The bird’s once white feathers were scorched black as punishment.”
“What became of Coronis and the prince?” I asked.
He laid his head back and stared up at the cloudless sky. “We should return home. It will be dusk soon.”
I slapped his chest and chuckled. “You cannot stop there, Ery. I must know what happens.”
Gods were known for their wrathful ways. It was why we feared them. Offerings were sent to appease any wrongdoings and to keep them pleased. With that knowledge, I knew that any betrayal toward one of them would not go unpunished. If the poor raven had been cursed for just bearing bad news, I could only imagine what price the princess paid for her offense.
Closing his eyes, he smiled, drawing out my anticipation on purpose. After I shoved him, he laughed.
“Okay, I shall tell you. Apollo sent his sister, Artemis, to kill Coronis, while he killed Prince Ischys. The princess was slain with deadly arrows and then thrown upon a pyre to be burnt. But as the flames began consuming her flesh, Apollo removed his son that was growing in her womb. That son was called Asclepius, who became the god of healing.”
“With death comes life,” I said, remembering words Leanna had told me as the time to leave for theagogehad approached.
A boy of six, I had been afraid and unable to sleep as images of blood and torture plagued me. When Ihadslept, I’d woken in the night screaming. Mother had called me cowardly, but Leanna had sympathized with my worries. She’d meant to reassure me by saying when we died, we entered a new life and left the old one behind, like the Elysian Fields.
I wasn’t certain I believed it, but I wanted to.
Eryx tilted his head to gaze upon me, grabbing my hand and interlacing our fingers. “Not even death could keep me from you. My soul will forever find yours. In this life and the next.”
Our lips touched then. Gentle and unrushed.
We’d shared countless kisses, but had never done more, even when they grew heavy and desperate. In the barracks, when the other boys slept, we’d explored each other’s warmth; however, when our breathing had sharpened and our bodies began to ache, Eryx had pulled away.
I wasn’t sure what going further even completely entailed.
