Echoes of Olympus (The Atheniad Book 1)

by Darrin Drader

  “Oh?” Pelephon asked.

  “I do not know if your friend mentioned this to you, but he bears the mark of the bull. After the armies of Athens defeated my father’s when I was a child, I was taken to the polis where they ‘civilized’ me. For a decade I was educated at the Lyceum. I was introduced to art and culture, and they allowed me to roam the polis freely. On one of my excursions, I learned of a woman named Lycothena, who had supposedly been seduced by Zeus. She had a son, who was said to be intelligent and daring in his exploits with his peers.

  “I was curious whether or not the story of his divine parentage was true, so once I was nearly fully grown, I made the acquaintance of his mother, Lycothena, and we soon became lovers. I asked her if the stories I had heard about her and Zeus were true and she became enraged. At first she was angry at me for entering her life merely to sate my curiosity. She showed me the boy’s birthmark and she described the encounter in such detail that I had a difficult time doubting her sincerity. I also must admit that of all of the women I have bedded, she was one of the most voracious of lovers.

  “Sadly, I learned some time ago that she took her own life. I was not surprised when I learned that her child had defied her wishes by becoming a soldier. Heliodas was that boy, and I cannot believe that a son of Zeus came to his end in a simple battle. I have always believed that he would one day grow into a hero, and I was amazed when he turned up in my army after our treaty with Athens.”

  Pelephon was taken aback. Heliodas had told him about his connection to Demosthenes, and had mentioned that his mother was dead, but he had never spoken at any length of his heritage. “I would like to return to the battlefield to search for his body. At the very least, he deserves a proper burial.”

  Alexander sighed. “You do realize that I’m already short one of my elite guards. You would be the second. That would leave me somewhat more vulnerable than I’d like. Fortunately, I have not heard of any plots against my life recently.” The king looked at Pelephon meaningfully. “Take a horse in the morning. You have four days and then I expect you to return. Bring him back whether you find him alive… or dead.”

  Pelephon’s spirits lifted. “Thank you, my king! You are most gracious. I’ll search the battlefield again and see if I can find any sign of what became of him. If he’s there, I’ll find him. If he’s alive, I’ll bring him back.”

  Thoughts of a woman’s voice persisted in his semi-conscious state for what seemed like years. She spoke of the gods, and the new armor she had retrieved for him, and of wounds that he remembered sustaining in battle, which had long since gone numb, along with the rest of his body. The voice sounded determined at times and friendly at others, yet Heliodas could not recall the face of the woman who spoke to him. It was as though she were a goddess, keeping him company in his head while he fought to decide whether he would cling to life or drift away on the smoky eddies that seemed to dog his every move.

  Time seemed to go by in odd spurts and stops, sometimes doubling back upon itself or racing ahead at breakneck speed. Time and time again he found himself in Athens as a child, sharing a meal with his mother, or walking down the road, listening to her tell him about her ambitions for him. “One day you will be a great man, Heliodas. It does not matter what you choose to do, people will look to you for guidance and leadership. You come from a great heritage.”

  “I want to be a great hero, like Theseus or Odysseus!” Heliodas said.

  His mother smiled and patted her son on the head. “If that is what you wish, then perhaps that will be your future. Just remember to always be true to the ones you love,” she said.

  “I always will be!” he said proudly. “I learned the lessons of Jason. He was not true to Medea and the gods struck him down when his boat fell on him.”

  “The gods…” his mother sighed. “Jason was tricked by the gods into being untrue to Medea. Give them what they require, Heliodas, and nothing more.”

  Heliodas looked to his mother with a frown. There were many stories of the gods tricking mortals. Why would they do that? “Mom, don’t the gods only trick the mortals who promise them things and then do not follow through?”

  His mother smiled and patted him on the head again. “You are a smart child. That will serve you well when you are older.”

  He wanted to continue speaking with his mom, but suddenly his surroundings changed. He was older. It seemed a natural progression and he could remember all of the events of his life that fell in between, but there was no feeling of the passage of time. He stared at his mother’s freshly dug grave. He was aware that he was supposedly the son of Zeus, and he was also aware that he had always lived by his mother’s words. Give the gods what they require, and nothing more.

  At this point the voice intruded again to say, “I have brought you a fine set of armor.” He wasn’t sure where the voice was coming from, but he was no longer on his farm looking at the grave. It was smoky here, and his desolate surroundings appeared to be a dim amber color. Strange forms swirled within the smoke. They looked like whirlwinds, but occasionally he thought he saw a trace of an angry face within the spinning smoke. He wondered briefly if he was in the underworld.

  “Do you not wish to see it?” asked the disembodied voice.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  There was no reply and he wondered once again how it was possible that this voice was intruding upon him. Was it the voice of a god? Aphrodite, perhaps? Or maybe Hera…? There was some amusement with that thought. If he was supposed to be the son of Zeus then Hera probably would not be very fond of him. He began to laugh hysterically at the thought as he lost himself in the smoky place for a time.

  “Listen to me and listen to me well,” said a deep male voice. Like the woman’s voice, he had no idea where it was coming from. He was suddenly aware of the ache in his back, as well as something else. There was a tickle in his nose. “You are not safe. You must rise!”

  He felt the tickle in his nose again. It was not so bad. This voice was lying to him. Time to drift off again….

  “No! If you do not rise, you will die. You will meet Charon the boatman and you will go to Hades. Rise! Rise now!”

  His nose tickled again. The ache in his back was sharpening and intensifying into very real pain. He sniffed and the tickling stopped for a moment. Rise, the voice had said. Tickle… tickle… tickle…

  The smoky place he was in suddenly cleared, revealing the wedge-shaped head of a snake. He could see the enormous fangs beneath the sand colored lips, and the black tongue touching his nose. He recognized this creature as a viper! Very poisonous, and very aggressive! His breath caught in his throat. He was definitely aware of the fact that his back throbbed and worse, he was beginning to feel as though he had to sneeze.

  He stared into the serpent’s eyes. He became aware that he was lying on his stomach in the shade of a large tree. He flexed his fingers and his legs, assuring himself that they still worked, and he gently pushed himself back a few inches. The snake pulled back and opened its mouth menacingly, clearly displaying its fangs. It was preparing to strike.

  Heliodas mustered every ounce of energy available to him, stood up, and staggered backwards. The snake sprang forward, attempting to bite, but fell just short of Heliodas’ leg. Droplets of poison ejected from the fangs and fell to the sand below. Heliodas saw the pile of items lying on the ground on the opposite side of the snake. The largest item was a polished bronze breastplate that appeared to be similar in size to his old leather armor. Next to it was a sword. Sadly, both were out of reach.

  Heliodas was well aware that vipers were fast creatures. Attacking it with his bare hands was an impractical idea. Running was futile, but it was preferable to standing in place and hoping not to get bit. He broke into a sprint and he saw the snake lunge at him again, this time missing by a much larger margin.

  Heliodas looked behind him to see a woman reach down and grab the snake near the end of its long undulating body. He watched in amazement as she wh
ipped the creature around and bashed its head upon the tree trunk. She swung it against the tree twice more, then let go of the creature. It began to writhe and twist on the ground, likely disoriented after the beating it had just sustained. She picked the sword up from the ground, lifted it above her head, and brought it down on the creature, severing its head. The body continued to writhe, but the head posed no further risk.

  “Snake! Viper!” he said incredulously, pointing at the headless carcass.

  “I noticed,” she said, “and I might say that it’s about time you regained consciousness.”

  The woman before him was beautiful. Clothed in a white Ionic chiton, she was slender, with skin that was a light olive color. Her face was slender, her eyes green, and both her fingers and sandaled toes were long. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “My name is Thermiandra,” she said with a slight Ionian accent.

  That voice! “The woman speaking in my dreams was you!”

  “Do you remember that?” she asked.

  Suddenly the energy seemed to drain from Heliodas and he sank to his knees. He noted that he was naked except for a crude loincloth and the bandages on his back. “What… happened? Who are you?” he asked.

  “I am Thermiandra. You were almost fatally wounded in a battle.”

  He was suddenly reminded of the pain pulsing in his back. The battle seemed a distant memory now, but he clearly recalled the pain of the swords that had been thrust into his back. He had fallen to the ground and watched in shock as the battle kept moving away from him. He remembered trying to crawl back toward the river banks, but finding it impossible to move. He’d managed to remove his armor, which made it easier to pull himself along. There were several minutes of crawling in the sand, during which he might have made it twenty feet. Then weariness had taken its toll and he remembered nothing more other than dreams.

  “You found me?” he asked incredulously. “I was but one fallen soldier. Why would you help me?”

  Thermiandra looked to the bull-shaped mark on his shoulder and she touched it gently. “I knew the gods would not let you die.”

  “How long?” he asked.

  “Nearly a week,” she replied.

  “And the army?”

  “Your side defeated the Persians. Shortly afterward, your army gathered up all of the injured that they thought would survive and they marched to the east,” she explained. “They left you for dead.”

  “Rightfully so, from the sounds of it,” Heliodas said. He sat on the sand at the base of the tree. “Are you from nearby?”

  “I travel alone,” Thermiandra replied. “I am the favored daughter of Cyme. My adopted father was chosen by Persians to lead the polis, though he never had a great deal of love for them. He collected their taxes and he allowed their soldiers to train within the polis. When he learned that Ionia was being invaded by mainland Greece, he sent me to go to Athens and pledge support to the Delian League.”

  “Why did he send you and not a messenger?” Heliodas inquired. “It seems unlikely to me that he would risk his daughter on such a dangerous mission.”

  “Many within the polis are loyal to Emperor Artaxerxes. He knew that he could trust me, and he knew that I could travel quickly, so I begged him to send me. He agreed.”

  “Have you spoken with Alexander of Macedonia? Why did you stop to nurse me back to health?”

  “I did not speak to Alexander. In the wake of the victory, the army was loud with revelry and I was afraid that it would not be a safe place for me. Instead, I felt compelled to help you recover from your wounds in hopes that you would protect me on my way to Athens.”

  Heliodas scowled. Something about Thermiandra’s story was bothering him, but his mind was not yet clear. “You wanted protection with the army?” he asked.

  “No. When the Persians learned that I was missing, they must have realized that I was planning to make contact with the Delian League. The regional administrator took an interest in me and has been pursuing me ever since. Please, do not allow them to find me.”

  “Where and when did you last see them?”

  “A few days ago. They came through here while I hid in the river. I listened to them talk and they decided that I must have fled to the battlefield in hopes of hiding my tracks. They went to the east.”

  Heliodas was silent for a long moment. The fact that he was still alive meant that he was still enlisted in Alexander’s army and would be expected to return. Granted, the king would not know that he survived, but it would be far preferable to rejoin their ranks than be spotted later and be charged with desertion. “If what you say is true, then I owe you my life. Unfortunately, my life is already pledged to Alexander. I can protect you while we try to catch up to the army, but I cannot take you to Athens after that.”

  “Unless Alexander allows you to leave,” Thermiandra said.

  “Yes, he would have to release me from the army,” Heliodas agreed. “If he does that, then I would be willing to see you wherever you need to go.”

  “How are your wounds?”

  Heliodas smiled wryly. “They hurt. A lot.”

  “Do you think you can travel?” Thermiandra asked.

  “I suspect that it will take days to reach the army from here, and I know that the wounds I have sustained will slow me down. Nevertheless, I believe I can make it.”

  “Can you fight?”

  Heliodas looked to the armor on the ground and to the leaf-shaped spatha Thermiandra had found for him. “I believe so. It is you that concerns me, though. Can you fight?”

  “I have no training with any weapon,” Thermiandra replied.

  “Then we must change that. Have you ever shot a bow?”

  “No,” she said.

  “I think we’ll be able to find one in good condition back at the battlefield, and I have no doubt that we’ll be able to find some salvageable arrows, whether they’re stuck in the ground, or in the bodies of the corpses. Luckily, it doesn’t require a great deal of practice to learn how to hit a target. I can teach you.” Heliodas looked to the beauty before him and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but are you wed?”

  Thermiandra smiled. “No. My father tried to marry me off to a wealthy land owner of Cyme, but I would have nothing of it.”

  Heliodas grinned, “I have to admit that I would have been greatly disappointed if you were.”

  “I’m afraid that I must disappoint you, nonetheless,” Thermiandra said. “I am no more available to you than that man in Cyme. Mine is destined to be a solitary path.”

  “I don’t understand,” Heliodas said.

  “A promise,” she replied, “that I made to the gods.”

  Chapter 8

  The Butcher of Thebes

  Archipatra continued entertaining guests following their exit from the forum. They had been there for an hour, speaking jovially on the benches in her courtyard. It was a seasonably warm evening, and there were no clouds in the sky blocking the view of the stars above. Her four guests were the strongest alliance of orators to guide Athens since Pericles.

  The leader of the group was the hawk-nosed Demosthenes, who spoke often and passionately of the polis’ affairs. Beside him was Leotas, a man in his mid- thirties, who was physically powerful, but also known as Demosthenes’ closest friend and political ally. His short-cut brown hair was curly, and his beard was well trimmed. Also present were Demopiades, who was at least ten years Demosthenes’ senior, with silver hair and beard, and milky-white left eye. Rounding out the group was Zenorous, who was taller and lankier than the others, with straight black hair and a bushy beard that fell to his stomach.

  Archipatra was nearly forty, with long strawberry-blond hair, and a curvy body that she never covered to the degree that many women considered tasteful. Her late husband, Hypermenes, had once called these men friends and colleagues. That had been before he had fallen over the side of his fishing boat one evening after consuming an excess of wine. There were rumors that he had learned of her and L
eotas, and had chosen death rather than facing the reality that his beloved wife was in love with one of his good friends. Following that incident, Leotas had gone to greater lengths to keep his affair a secret from his wife, though a fair number of forum members knew their secret.

  “Gentlemen, how was the meeting of the forum this evening?” Archipatra asked as she took a sip of wine.

  Demosthenes grinned boyishly as he looked to his friends. “The opposition to our policies grows louder, and yet they have a difficult time finding support among the others.”

  “Does Diophrastus continue his assault on your decision to ally with Macedonia?” Archipatra asked. She had heard much of the trouble he had caused within the forum recently.

  “Diophrastus and a couple others; men who normally remain silent in such discussions,” Leotas remarked.

  “This evening they brought up the alliance once again, hinted that it could leave the polis vulnerable to Persian attack should the Macedonian army fail, and they assured us all that those responsible for making the decision to align ourselves with Alexander will not be the only ones to pay,” Demosthenes explained. “As usual, when I suggested that they were again bringing up old business, they were ruled out of order and told not to broach the subject again unless there was something new about it worth discussing.”

  “They do have a point, don’t they?” Archipatra asked. “If Persia wins the war, how hard would it be for them to discover that Athens supported them with troops.”

  “Not difficult at all,” Demopiades replied in his rough voice. “However, Persia hasn’t seemed especially interested in a full-scale invasion of mainland Greece for over a hundred years, and that’s what would be required to repay us for our alliance. It would really make very little sense for them to do it when we aren’t the chief instigators of the war.”

  Archipatra grinned mischievously. “You seem very confident of this.”

  “I am!” Demopiades said flatly. “For centuries Persia has looked to Greece, longing to possess our people and our poleis. They’ve invaded the Greek mainland several times, and each time we’ve beaten them back, or at least weathered their assaults, and we became stronger when we rebuilt. I do not think that Emperor Artaxerxes has the will to try to take Greece now. I also think that Alexander’s army is going to severely weaken them, even if they do not defeat them. Unless Alexander fails spectacularly, Persia will be in no position to start a new war with us.”