Page 52 of Eryx

“No.” I stopped walking and put a hand on his chest. I knew his mind just like I knew my own. He questioned everything, and so, I knew he questioned the slave’s motives. “It matters notwhythe deed was done, onlythatit was done. If every slave lashed out for each wrong done to them, we would face another helot revolt as we had in years past.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then closed it.

“Your inquisitive mind is a reason I fancy you so,” I spoke, refraining from grabbing his hand. I was too frustrated with him to touch him. “Our battles of wits and conflicting stances make for stimulating conversations, and I treasure every moment by your side. But on this, I will not stand with you, dear friend. For too long you have fought our ways. It is time you left the boy behind and embraced the man.”

Saying the words was like a slice across my heart. I didn’t want Axios to lose his beautiful curiosity, nor did I wish to see hardness replace the kindness in his eyes. I didn’t wish for him to be like me, but it was what he must become to survive.

Something flashed in his eyes then; an understanding I’d never seen him have before. He gave a curt nod before turning and advancing toward the woods.

Once shrouded in the denseness of the trees, I angled my spear forward and focused on everything around me. Axios thought hunting came natural to me—effortless—but it required a vast amount of concentration. Strength was only half of it. Having a keen sense of my surroundings was most vital.

Yells and shouts reverberated through the trees as the other Spartan youths ran through the undergrowth. Silence was necessary for a hunt, yet I knew they used the noise to intimidate the slave who was hiding and probably pissing himself.

Branches loomed above us, some long enough to touch the other trees. No sun broke through the leaves. The lack of light took our sight and gave the advantage to the helot. We progressed farther, occasionally finding breaks in the leaves where a stream of sun found us.

It was in one of the breaks when I saw a shadow move overhead.

I halted and stuck out an arm to stop Axios.

He stumbled as he stopped several paces behind me. With a worried expression, he looked at me and tilted his head, as if to ask what was wrong. He was intelligent and observant of so many things, yet he had no passion for killing. That lack of passion made him clumsy.

The slave stood right above me in the tree.

I didn’t see him, but I sensed him. I smelled a faint trace of urine in the air, and when he made even the slightest movement the branch quietly creaked. I could’ve easily knocked him out of the tree and buried my spear in his chest. It would’ve taken three seconds, perhaps four.

But I wanted to see Axios’ reaction when the slave felt like he had the upper hand. And so, I remained still. I anticipated his movement, heard the faint moaning of the wood as the slave readied himself to attack.

Snap.

I looked up right as the slave jumped from the branch. He slammed into me and even though I didn’t lose my balance, I lost the grip on my spear. He held a blade in his hand, and as he went to stab me, I darted to the side. His movements were slow and uncoordinated, easily dodged. The slave might’ve held a blade in his hand, but I’d been born with one in mine. Predicting his intention, I allowed him to dash behind me.

A cold blade pressed to my throat as the slave grabbed me from behind.

Axios stepped forward.

“One more step and I slit his throat,” the slave snarled, tightening his hold on me with one arm and angling the blade to rest on the main artery of my neck with the other. “I’ve already killed one Spartan. Killing another would be but a gift.”

I hadn’t known if he’d kill me instantly or if he’d see Axios and try to use me as bait. Perhaps the gamble was reckless on my part, but it was a thing I had to do. Either way, Axios would see the slaves for what they were—animals.

Axios stopped his approach and stared at the blade at my neck. He looked ill.

“Please release him,” Axios spoke, his voice shaking with nerves. “You can run and we will not follow. All I ask is that you lower your blade and step away from him. He’s done no wrong toward you.”

Bargaining with the slave would do no good. He’d see that soon.

“You are Spartans!” the slave exclaimed. “Your very existence offends me. The way you all prance around with your strong bodies and arrogance, believing everyone to be inferior to you. How you do what you wish to slaves with no sense of decency toward human life or mercy.”

Mercy? We believed not in such things. I almost regretted dragging the killing out this way, for I wanted nothing more than to kill the filth right where he stood.

“I have lost brothers and companions for no other reason than them being born slaves,” the helot continued, growing angrier with every word. “My sister—always such a gentle soul who kept to herself—was raped and then butchered like a beast. I found her body behind our home, her clothes ripped and soaked in her blood. Now, tell me once more how he’s done no wrong. One less Spartan filth would be a blessing.”

Rape was a thing I did not condone. It mattered not if it was a Spartan or a slave; I found the act to be repulsive. However, it was not my place to tell a Spartan what he could or couldn’t do to his slave.

The blade dug into my flesh as the helot pressed it harder against my neck. Blood trickled down and dripped on my collarbone. I kept my gaze on Axios.

His terrified expression as he looked at the blade stung my heart. It was a lesson he had to learn.

Would he still try to reason with the helot? Would he strike a killing blow?