Page 146 of Eryx

“You lie!” Quill rushed forward and slammed the palms of his hands against my chest. Then he did it again, but harder.

I let him hit me, and when he emitted an agonized howl and slumped to the grass, I pulled him close and held him as tight as I could. I rarely embraced anyone other than Axios, but he needed the comfort. He punched my stomach, a quick jab followed by another, before burying his face against my shoulder and crying.

Haden exited the tent, his arms wrapped from his various injuries. He dropped to his knees beside us and placed a hand on Quill’s back. The three of us didn’t speak as we mourned the loss of our brother.

“We’re returning to gather the fallen,” one of the officers said.

I would never forget the sight of Tegyra after the battle. A graveyard for all the fallen warriors.

The Theban army had erected a victory trophy in the center of the field, composed of Spartan swords, shields, and helmets. I tasted blood as I grinded my teeth. They had stripped many of our men of their cloaks and tossed some of their bodies into piles.

Quill lost his footing when he found Theon, and his legs gave out. He sunk to the dirt and pulled Theon into his arms. Theon’s eyes were open, and Quill lightly traced the shape of his face. He whispered to him, too low for me to hear. But I could imagine what was said… all of the things he wished he could’ve told him one last time.

“Let me carry him,” Haden said, squatting down.

“No,” Quill said, more tears streaming down his dirt-stained cheeks as he held Theon closer. “You’re wounded. I’ll carry him.”

Many of the men were buried on the battlefield, as there were too many to transport to the city. The commanders, Gorgoleon and Theopompus, would be taken back to Sparta, but the rest would remain in Orchomenus.

When Quill asked the new commander to transport Theon’s body back to Sparta too, his request was denied. So, Theon was carried back to Orchomenus and we buried him in a field beside the lake.

Emotionally drained, I returned to the physician’s tent. A man tended to Axios, placing a wet cloth over his head. Was he fevered? I neared the mat where he lay and grabbed his hand. My heart shattered a little more at the dead weight of his arm. How he didn’t respond to my touch.

“Will he live?” I asked.

The physician looked at me. “It is much too early to be certain. I stopped the bleeding and did all I could. He’s in the hands of the gods now.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Two days later, Axios had still not woken. Not coherently, anyway. There’d been moments when he’d tossed in his sleep and whimpered as sweat beaded on his brow. Only once had he opened his eyes, and I hadn’t seen him at all in the beautiful depths. Only emptiness. And then he had closed them again.

“Can I move him into the sun?” I asked the physician, holding Axios’ hand as he lay unmoving on the mat.

“Only for a short while.”

After moving Axios outside, I brushed the hair from his face. The day was warm but had a cool breeze, and I hoped he’d find comfort in it. Somehow.

Even after the devastating defeat at Tegyra, life went on. The men in our camp performed their daily duties of gathering wood for the fire and others practiced drills in the field to the left of the camp. Meat was slow cooked over the fire as the battle was discussed.

“Perhaps the godsareangry with us,” one man said, using his blade to sharpen a stick. “For Spartans to be defeated at the hands of an army half our size… what will all of Greece have to say?”

When I turned back to Axios, his eyes were open.

“Ax?” I moved closer, feeling my heart soar. “Thank the gods. You’re awake.”

I smoothed my hand along his forehead as he glanced around in confusion. A dark bruise lay beneath his eye from where the enemy had bashed a shield against his face. His helmet had blocked the brunt of the hit; otherwise it probably would’ve killed him.

As if suddenly remembering, his eyes went wide and he tried to sit up.

“Stop,” I said, touching his chest to push him back down. “You need to—”

“Theon! He—”

“He is dead,” I responded, swallowing my own grief so I could be there for him in his. “He and many others fell in battle. And I feared you’d be amongst them. The physician cleaned and spread healing herbs upon your wound and gave you grains of the poppy plant and fennel to keep you resting. I have not seen your eyes staring back at me for days, and I feared I never would again.”

They had been the hardest days of my life, waiting for him to wake. Praying he would.

“How is Quill?” Axios asked.