Page 101 of Eryx

“We should get dressed,” he said, turning his head to look at me.

Dark hair fell into his eyes, and I brushed it aside before tightening my hold on his waist. “Just a while longer.”

Please.

Haden was the first to stand from his mat. He had come to the barracks just before dawn, having spent the night with his wife and son. I wondered if he had even slept at all, or if he had held Leanna in his arms just as I held Axios now. Dreading the moment when he had to let her go and leave her side.

The door burst open, bringing with it a blinding light that lit the once dark room.

“Up!” a man shouted. “Time to gather our belongings and leave, you fools.”

As the men in oursyssitionobeyed, I remained still. I held Axios closer and leaned my head against his, delaying the inevitable. But then I sighed and pulled away. There was no time to mourn the loss of him in my arms; we had to pack for war.

Each soldier carried his own provisions—food, water, weapons—and he wore his armor. Twenty days’ worth of food was packed for the campaign, with the knowledge that more would be gathered in towns along the way.

We didn’t speak as we left the barracks, had a quick meal in the dining hall, and gathered our supplies. An appropriate grimness hovered over us as we retrieved our armor and weapons. Even Theon and Quill fell short on their grins and quips. They walked side by side, silent and reserved.

I grabbed a pair of greaves and placed them on over my shins. They were made of metal and lined with a soft padding. Not too heavy. Next, we were each provided a helmet, along with our cloaks. We had practiced in full armor on several occasions, but the sensation still took time to become accustomed to.

Only a coward killed his enemy from a distance, and so we carried no bows or arrows. We fought with a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. In close-handed combat when the enemy was too close for a javelin, we pulled thexiphosfrom our hip and used the double-edged sword to take them down.

Axios stared at his shield as we left the armory. Shields were passed down from father to son. His father, from what I had heard, had been a true hero who had fallen in battle. He had faced the enemy as they charged toward him, knowing he was outnumbered and marked by the fates to fall that day. He had taken as many as he could with him.

“I am honored to carry his shield,” Axios said. “Though, I wonder if it will bring me the same fortune.”

“Better than the shield of a coward,” I spoke, glancing at mine. The round shield was made of bronze and wood, and it was heavy in my left arm. The true weight came from what it represented, however. “If you are destined to share the fate of your father, that means I am destined to share the shame of mine. And I refuse for it to be true.”

“I propose we make our own destiny,” he spoke as we reached the rest of the army.

Can a man truly make his own path in life? Or were we all destined to follow in the steps of our fathers?

I pondered this as oursyssitiontook their places in line.

Amoraconsisted of roughly six hundred men, and we had three gathered in the field. Men who were born and bred to fight for Sparta.Perikoihad been ordered to join the campaign, and they stood farther behind us. They lived as free men in Laconia and were not required to participate in theagogeas youths, yet in time of war and conflict, they formed their own units in the army, each one commanded by a Spartan officer.

Helots journeyed with eachmoraof men, helping with supplies and assisting with anything the men might need. They carried satchels of provisions, such as extra food and water. Some would even be forced to join the battle. Disposable men to add to our numbers.

Slaves were fated to be slaves just as their fathers were. They had no control of their destiny. As Spartan males, we had been predestined to strengthen our bodies and minds so that we may one day fight for our home.

I failed to see how we could make our own destiny, as Axios had proposed. Yet, I kept this to myself.

Before the army departed, King Agesipolis approached. He would not be joining us on the campaign, and for that I was grateful. My loyalty to Sparta conflicted with my hatred of him. A Spartan should respect his king, yet I only held contempt for him.

“Greetings, Spartans,” King Agesipolis said. His dark hair fell to the middle of his ears in soft waves, and he moved his gaze down the line of men. “I wish you good fortune in your endeavors. Under the command of Teleutias, I have no doubts as to the victory that awaits you.”

His tone of voice was deeper than I expected, but not too much so. The lower tenor held a rich smoothness that made me clench my teeth. This man had spoken softly to Axios in that infuriatingly pleasant tone. He had kissed him. Desired him.

My grip tightened on my spear as I fought the urge to throw it at his head.

The king continued his speech; however, all I heard was the blood rushing through my veins. Several words reached me anyway: glory, strength, and honor. Strange that he spoke of honor, yet he dared to touch what wasn’t his.

I had always prided myself on keeping my emotions at bay. But seeing the man who had known Axios’ kiss nearly shattered the barrier and released the fiery rage in my heart. The barrier shook even more after Agesipolis finished his speech and finally saw Axios in the line.

Their gazes locked as the army marched forward.

When I was a boy, I had climbed a tree behind our home. Higher and higher I went in the branches, confident I’d never lose my footing. But then I did. My foot slipped on the bark, and I fell to the earth below. The breath had been knocked from my lungs, and I’d gasped for air as I stared up at the rustling leaves and the blue sky beyond them.

As I watched Axios and the king stare at each other, I felt like I was still lying beneath that tree. Still gasping for air.