Page 2 of Eryx

“Father, what happened in battle?” I feared the answer but needed to know.

He was not the man he had been when he left, and his behavior that night frightened me. Shadows swam in his eyes, telling of the horrors he must have seen.

“Death,” he answered, gripping my shoulders tighter as his nails dug into my flesh. His green eyes pierced mine. “I still hear the screams of my brothers as they were slain. Still see their faces. And the blood… so much blood, Eryx. I never knew a body could hold so much of it.”

After releasing his hold on me, he stepped back and stared at his shaking hands.

“But why do you have to leave?” I asked.

I was only a boy. In a year’s time, I’d join theagoge, but how would I survive until then? My mother had died bringing me into this world, and I had no brothers or sisters. When Father had been away at war, an elderly woman who’d lived across from us had watched me, but she’d fallen ill and faded away days before.

I had no one. No one but him.

Father met my stare. He looked older in that moment, and tired. So tired. His golden hair—the same shade as mine—was a mess atop his head, and his unshaven face only added to his unkempt appearance. He did not say a word.

I caught a flash of silver as he moved his hands and draped his cloak over his shoulders, but it was there and gone in an instant.

“You remember what I taught you?” he asked, his voice deeper. “How to hunt, where to strike the beasts to bring them down with one blow. Which berries are poisonous and which ones aren’t.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered, straightening my stance and staring up at him.

“Good,” he said, more to himself than to me, nodding. Something changed in his expression as he studied me. “Never forget who you are. Remember your purpose in life. To live and die for Sparta, above all else.”

I knew not why he said those words. Chills crept up my spine as an irrepressible cold stirred in my veins.

He turned his back to me.

“Father! Please.”

He stilled but didn’t turn around. “Remember all I taught you, Eryx. Hold the values close and true. Always.”

And then he was gone.

Though the moon was high in the night sky, and I knew better than to leave the house, I did so anyway. Older men walked the lanes, and I hid as they passed by. When they were gone, I crept back out and continued the pursuit of my father.

“Damos?” someone called up ahead. My father’s name. “Oh, gods. What have you done, you coward?”

I quickened my pace. Coward? Unease stirred inside me, and I wanted to see what had happened. The voice had come from a man my father’s age, although I could not place his name, only his face.

He looked down at something on the ground, and another man walked up beside him.

“Father?” I called, a few paces from them.

The man who’d called my father a coward turned and grabbed my shoulders. “You do not want to see this, boy. Be gone with you.”

I jerked out of his hold and glared. “I shall do as I please. Step aside.”

He arched a brow and did as I’d requested. “So be it.”

Then, my gaze fell on what they stood around. A body upon the earth. I walked closer and looked down at the man. My father. His throat was slit and his eyes were open, staring right at me. The bloodied knife was still in his grasp. Blood dripping from the tip.

I dropped to my knees beside him and knocked the blade from his grip before taking his hand into my own. So many emotions went through me: shock, grief, and anger.

Mostly anger.

My vision blurred, and even though he’d told me tears were weakness, I cried for him. Cried for my loss. And once the tears had dried, I swore to never do so again. The world was merciless and cruel. Death was inevitable. Better to harden my heart against the world and everything residing within it.

I learned many lessons in the following days. Show any weakness and those around you will strike at such weakness. People spoke of my father and his cowardice. They spoke of how he ran from battle and his guilt over such a thing was what caused him to take his own life. I was made to believe I was just as repulsive for having been his son.