Page 169 of Eryx
I nodded, my throat tight.
The passing of the years had not dulled the ache from the loss of my companions. My brothers. All of them were dead, and I carried guilt for being the only one to have survived. Guilt that threatened to consume me some days.
My family kept me grounded. Leanna and the boys were my whole life.
“Here,” she said, tearing flowers from the soil. I knew not what kind they were, but the purple petals were pleasing to the eye. She stood and approached me, placing the flowers in my hand. “Axios always loved these.”
Leanna’s beautiful face fell, and I lifted a hand to wipe the smudge of dirt from her cheek. A tear trickled from her eye as she stared up at me.
“I will tell him they’re from you,” I said, before kissing her lightly on the lips. “I will return shortly.”
With the flowers in hand, I journeyed to the woods. Finding the path through the vines, trees, and shrubs. To their special place.
As I stared down at the grave before me—one now covered in a bed of grass and decorated with flowers from my wife’s garden—I remembered the battle at Leuctra.
After Demetrius, Cassius, and I had taken the king back to camp, I had tried to run back out onto the battlefield, but they had held me back. Looking down into the plain, I’d noticed the Theban force had completely engulfed our army. Men ran into the camp, bloodied and hysterical, and some had been missing limbs, while others carried injured men with them.
The battle had been lost, and Eryx had known it before he’d sent me to safety.
Sparta had surrendered after that, and the Theban army had allowed us to retrieve our dead from the field. When my gaze had landed on my brothers, I had fallen to my knees and sobbed.
Eryx and Axios had been embracing, wrapped in each other’s arms long after they’d taken their final breaths.
Over a thousand of our men had been slain that dreadful day, and out of the seven hundred Spartan born men who had fought, four hundred had been among the dead. Fighting ended once a truce had been called, and our army had packed to return home.
We’d carried our slain brethren back to Sparta where they had been buried.
I’d buried Quill in a small meadow just outside the city’s borders. My wishes were to travel to Orchomenus to bury him with Theon, but the commanders had refused.
Even in death, I could not bear to separate Axios and Eryx, so I had placed them in the same grave. I hoped it was what they would’ve wanted, to be in death as they’d been in life: together.
A gentle breeze blew and caressed my sun-warmed skin. The nearby stream flowed—soothing—and the plants thrived with life. The newly blossomed flowers greeted the spring day and adorned the ground in blues, purples, and yellows.
It was a beautiful resting place, their favorite area hidden in the woods.
I had not wished to give them a random grave. They meant much more than that and deserved somewhere special. Remembering all the times they had slipped away from us to go to their stream, I knew they needed to be laid to rest there. It had taken me a while to finally find it, but when I had, I’d seen the perfect spot for them.
They had even carved their names into the tree.
And now they rest beneath it.
“Father?” Leonidas stepped through the wall of trees, holding Icarius’ hand. “He would not stop asking for you. I told him you were visiting our uncles, and he whined even more to come.”
I smiled. “It’s fine, son.”
Icarius was nearly seven, but he’d taken after his mother in the sense that he was of slight frame. His hair had lightened even more and was of the shade of straw instead of the lighter brown it used to be. He reminded me so much of Axios; not in appearance but in personality. His questions of the world were endless, and he often spoke against violence.
Seeing me, he released Leo’s hand and ran to my side.
Leo grinned before saying his goodbye, telling me he had to return to the field for midday training. He was eighteen and had nearly completed theagoge.He’d grown into a magnificent young man, and I knew he’d make a brilliant soldier someday.
And I’d get to see that day because of Eryx.
I ruffled Icarius’ dark-blond curls before kneeling to his eye level.
“Tell me the story again, Father,” he said as his face lit up like the sun. “The story of Uncle Axios and Eryx.”
“Ah, where to begin?” I sat on the grass and motioned for him to do the same. He plopped down beside me and waited quietly—but not patiently—for me to continue. “It is difficult to put into words the way they altered the course of my life. Eryx with his keen mind, and Axios with his kind heart. They each had what the other lacked, and together, they were whole. Their friendship made me a better man.”
My gaze dropped to their shared grave, and I placed a hand upon the earth, closing my eyes as I recalled their faces.
“Do you believe they are in the Elysian Fields?” Icarius asked.
I looked at him—observing his curious nature and remembering the words Axios had spoken, a request to allow Icarius to remain true to himself. I would not want him any other way.
“No, son,” I spoke, shaking my head and peering up at the sky. The sun shone right then, but in a matter of hours, it would sink below the horizon and breathe life into the night. “They are in the stars.”
The End
