Page 119 of Eryx
“We have too few men to face the Olynthian army,” Axios said, as we moved through the foreign terrain in a seemingly endless march north.
“Worry not,” I told him. “A cavalry from Thessaly and other allies are joining us later. Unlike Teleutias, we will not be foolish and will wait for them to arrive before attacking Olynthus.”
“How do you know this?” he asked. “Have you been spying on the king?”
“Spying?” I scoffed. “I am not to blame for their inability to speak in private. I overheard them speaking of it days ago while we made camp.”
Axios smiled and clanked his spear to my shield. I was worried about him. There were moments when he smiled—like now—but he often seemed so distant. Long ago, I had told him I dreaded the day when the light in his eyes went out once he saw how dark the world could be… had he finally seen it?
“You are distant,” I said, trying to hide my concern behind a mask of indifference.
He shrugged and kept walking.
Over two fortnights had passed since we’d left home. We had said farewell to autumn and welcomed winter. Trees stood barren and the grass had lost its green hue. The smell of snow lingered in the air but none had fallen yet.
In Sparta, it very rarely snowed. However, the journey north had exposed us to the harshness of winter. The cold wind pierced my skin and turned my insides to ice.
An hour passed, maybe more, before I caught Axios staring at the slave to his right. The helot shivered and pulled an animal pelt tighter around his shoulders. What was it about him that intrigued Axios? The slave looked no older than eighteen and had pale hair that jutted out from the bottom of his leather cap.
“What are you called?” Axios asked him.
Shock flashed across the slave’s face. “P-p-pyrrhus,” he stuttered. “I am called Pyrrhus.”
The name of fire.
I noticed the hard set of the helot’s jaw. He might’ve sounded timid when he’d spoken, but his anger toward us was evident.
“That is a strong name,” Axios said, observing him closer. “Tell me… did you have a brother?”
Brother? I was as stunned as the slave by the question. However, upon further examination, I realized I recognized where I’d seen hair like his before. It was neither golden nor white, but somewhere in between. Much like the helot I had slain at the dining mess.
“Yes,” Pyrrhus responded, narrowing his blue eyes. “He was called Theros. Spartans killed him when I was only seven.”
I killed him.
And for a second, my sorrow was too great to hide. I glanced at Pyrrhus, wishing I could bring his brother back, before turning my attention forward. Nothing good came from living in regret. What’s done was done.
“Why do you ask?” Pyrrhus cocked his head at Axios. “You saiddid, as if you already knew of his fate.”
“I knew him for a short time,” Axios said. “You greatly resemble him. I am saddened by his loss. Though I did not know him well, I am certain he was a great boy and would’ve grown into an even greater man.”
There was no mistaking his sincerity. It reflected in his voice and showed in his eyes.
“You are different from the others,” Pyrrhus spoke, scrutinizing him. Curiosity had replaced his earlier resentment. “I wonder why that is.”
“Halt!” Felix ordered as the men in front of us stopped marching. “We will make camp here for the night. You,” he pointed to Pyrrhus, “Help the others unpack the provisions.”
The helot bowed his head before rushing off to do as he was ordered.
As the army dispersed into groups and helped make camp, we found little time to talk. Wood needed to be gathered for the fires and the horses needed to be fed and watered. Each man was given a small portion of dried meat and bread, enough to sustain us but not enough to satiate the hunger derived from another full day of trekking through the terrain in full armor.
It wasn’t until we’d settled down beside the fire that evening that I found a chance to speak with Axios. I lay on the grass and he curled up beside me, resting his head on my arm as the fire heated our chilled flesh.
“I worry over you,” I whispered, touching his cheek. “Your mind has been even more distant as the days have passed.”
“There is no need to worry,” Axios said, leaning into my touch. “I am here with you. Always.”
Gods, how I wanted to believe him. But the shadows in his eyes frightened me. Perhaps he kept his worries to himself because he didn’t want to burden me with them. Or perhaps he feared that speaking them aloud would cause them to come to pass.
