Page 118 of Axios

He had a way of brightening even the darkest of days, finding humor where there was none to have, and making those near him feel the warmth he carried in himself, as if Apollo had blessed him with the heat of the sun to warm cold hearts and illuminate the shadows.

And now that he was gone it was as if everything had turned cold.

“A Spartan fleet was defeated at Alyzeia,” one of the officers said to men standing beside me. “Damned Athenians. Our course through the Gulf is blocked, and none of our men can get into Boeotia unless we travel the land route.”

I stood and walked in the other direction, not in the mood to hear more of war. More of Spartan defeats. I’d had enough of it to last a lifetime. While I felt it was still necessary to fight, I did not wish to hear of it.

It felt nice to walk. Eryx had kept me bedridden for too long and only allowed me to walk for a short time each day.

Almost two fortnights had passed since I’d been wounded. I could move without much struggle, although it still caused me discomfort when I was too active.

Eryx had been given a new position since the battle. Word had spread of how he’d taken control of the lines once the commanders had fallen, and he’d been acknowledged for his leadership and made anenomotarch—a first rank officer who was in charge of a unit of about thirty soldiers. He was proud, and I was proudofhim.

I had always known he’d become a leader.

He was preoccupied that evening dealing with matters concerning the status of the war; therefore, I was able to have a moment to myself without his constant, watchful eye.

Solace was found in the night—the dusting of stars in the sky and the way the water in the lake calmly moved, not disturbed by the everyday flurry of activity. I sat on the bank, on a rock that jutted from the land, and looked out over the dark water.

“May I join you?”

Glancing in the direction of the voice, I saw Quill.

“Of course,” I responded, motioning to the spot beside me.

Quill sat and rested his arms on his legs, staring ahead. He was a broken shell of the man he used to be. As the weeks had passed, he had begun speaking again, but only barely.

“How do you feel?” he asked with little inflection in his tone.

“Better.”

He nodded and shifted his weight a bit to put his arms around his knees. Frogs croaked from the lake, and a ripple appeared in the water, probably from a fish or an eel.

“Haden told me that you…” he spoke, but then hesitated. “That you were with him when he… when he…”

He did not need to elaborate for me to understand. I had told Haden about being with Theon when he died. Keeping it from Quill had been my attempt to spare him from more pain, but he needed the closure. We all did.

“Yes, I was,” I said so he would not have to say the words he fought to say.

It was then Quill finally looked at me. Tears glistened on his cheeks and his mouth quivered. So many questions were in his eyes. Questions I knew he wished to ask, but ones he feared the answers to.

“Was it quick?” he whispered.

Knowing Theon suffered before death would only worsen the heartache. He had stayed alive for only a few short moments, but in those moments, I had seen his fear and panic. Those were details Quill did not need to know. The knowledge of them would not make anything easier.

“Yes,” I answered, sparing him from the full extent of the truth.

Quill nodded and sharply exhaled, wiping at his eyes. There was no guilt for me having been somewhat dishonest because his relief was palpable.

“This is the first time I have talked about him,” he confessed in a shaking voice. “It hurts, Axios. I feel as if a part of me died with him on that field.” His body shook and more tears streamed down his face, but instead of wiping them away, he let them fall. “He used to make horribly irritating noises as he slept. Like a hog. Heavy, throaty sounds. I would kick him to shut him up, but he was always such a heavy sleeper and never even stirred.” A sob left him and he tried to stifle it with the back of his hand. “And now I cannot sleep because I miss it. I cannot eat, and most days, I wish for death just to escape the misery of not having him by my side. Of not ever seeing his smile or hearing his laugh again.”

I remained silent as I listened, allowing him to talk—to finally release the grief he’d kept locked away for so long.

“For years, I was too blind to see him. To realize how much I really cared for him, as more than a friend. Years wasted where I could have been making him happy instead of breaking his heart,” Quill said in a bitter tone, picking up a rock and hurling it into the lake. Then, he hung his head and closed his eyes, speaking much softer, “We never built our home together, Ax. Theon wanted a house overlooking the meadow and he never got it.”

“You can still build it for him,” I spoke, wanting to help alleviate his sorrow. “When we go home, you can build it in his memory. And I know he will see it.”

Quill looked even smaller as he turned his body in and wrapped his arms around himself.