Echoes of Olympus (The Atheniad Book 1)

by Darrin Drader

  “Everybody?” Heliodas asked.

  “It’s common knowledge here,” Archetus said. “I’m guessing that the invasion is underway.”

  “How well liked is Syrpax within the polis?” Heliodas asked.

  “Not well at all,” Archetus replied. “The Persians allowed him to do as he wished to the people, as long as he collected their taxes. He did not allow people to speak out against him. For years, his brutality was legendary, but eventually the criminals banded together to resist the Watch. Somebody had to offer the people here some form of protection.”

  “So people aren’t afraid to openly resist him?” Heliodas asked.

  “There presently exists a balance. The people do not revolt, and Syrpax is careful to limit the abuse he heaps on the Ephesians.”

  “This gives me an idea,” Heliodas said.

  Chapter 15

  Hunter and Captive

  Thermiandra woke to sunlight shining in through the open window and the smell of smoke. Her eyes itchy from the lingering effects of sleep, she initially assumed that the palace was on fire. She climbed to her feet, donned her peplos, and rushed to the window, where it became clear that the entire polis was far from calm.

  She could see the streets outside the palace gates filled with mobs of people who were hurling objects, some of which had been lit on fire, over the gate at the guards. The masses of chanting angry voices easily carried to her room, and she could see that they were trying to beat down the gates.

  Thermiandra found her sandals, let herself out her door, walked down the hallway, and descended the spiral staircase, taking the steps two and three at a time. When she emerged on the ground floor, she saw that the interior of the castle was in chaos. Soldiers and guards rushed through the hallways. She saw one of the men who had been guarding her door the day before lying on the floor, bleeding from a deep gash in the side of his head.

  Thermiandra hustled through several more hallways, witnessing other wounded people along the way. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to her presence. She initially wanted to stop and ask someone what was happening, but she knew that she had the greatest chance of escape if she moved around as quietly and inconspicuously as possible.

  She turned down a hallway, followed it to the end, and came to a door, which she threw open. She smiled as she realized that this was one of the doors leading out of the palace and into the courtyard. She left the dark confines of the palace and found herself in a grassy area with numerous plants that looked to have been carefully cultivated. A light breeze carried acrid smoke through the area. There was an outer wall about thirty feet away, and there were trees, and lines of perfectly square-trimmed shrubbery that stood at least ten feet tall, which formed lines through the courtyard. It was as good a place to hide as any while she evaluated her situation.

  She moved into a walkway formed by the bushes that led close to the outer wall. The sound of rioters was overpowering down here. The anger and frustration outside the gates was palpable. The mob was chanting “Death to Syrpax!” and “Long Live Alexander!” She had only heard mobs of people this angry a few brief times in her life, and she’d been frightened for her family’s safety in each instance. Every once in a while she saw a stone or brick clear the wall. She watched incredulously as she saw a wooden wheel that had been lit on fire fly over the wall as well.

  She ran through the hedges toward the wooden wheel and was pleased to see that it was still burning when she reached it. She moved it underneath the hedge directly behind her and watched with satisfaction as the flames licked up the base of the shrub, slowly catching it on fire. Thermiandra walked to the end of the hedge and spotted a standard bearing the symbol of crossed swords beneath a lion by the palace door. She ran to it, ripped the fabric from the holder, then returned to the shrub she had lit on fire. She held the fabric to the flame until it lit, and then she raced from bush to bush to tree, lighting them all as fast as she could, trying to light as many as possible before the standard’s fabric was completely engulfed in fire. In little time, she had spread the fire to most of the trees in her area.

  Thermiandra stayed just ahead of the spread of the fire, which was fanned by the light winds. Eventually she spotted the guard post a few yards away. This palace had likely been renovated during Persian occupation and was not equipped to withstand a siege of any sort. The wall posts were made of stone, but everything in between, including the hinged gates, were wrought iron. The guards were using their bodies to keep them shut while the rioters were using their own bodies to press forward. Even while they were trying to sunder the wall, they were stabbing at the guards with knives through the gaps, while others were hurling heavy objects over the top. She watched as one guard fell away from the gates, holding his gut, blood leaking from between his fingers. Seconds later, another guard failed to move out of the way as a heavy brick sailed overhead and down, impacting his head. His bronze helmet offered almost no protection against the projectile. Blood poured down the man’s face as he fell to the ground and his body began to twitch.

  It was clear that it was only a matter of time before the gate would fall and the mob would rush in. All she had to do was wait until the Ephesians cleared out of her egress point and she could take her leave of this place.

  The throng of people crushed against the gate again and again, and as she watched, three more guards were injured. “Go get reinforcements!” one of them yelled.

  One of the bleeding men lifted himself off the ground and started limping toward the palace’s entrance. “I’ll go,” he shouted back. Someone on the other side of the gate hurled a large stone, which sailed over the wall and caught the retreating guard in the head. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, and yet another guard left the group in an attempt to gather reinforcements.

  Only five men remained in place, trying to counter the weight of the crushing mob and force the gate to stay in, and it was clear to her that their efforts were failing. She could hear the screech of metal as it bent inward, stressing the hinges. One of the guards retreated from his position, grabbed a spear, and started jabbing it through the gaps in the wrought iron, impaling a few of the rioters on the other side. While some of the people fell away, they were quickly replaced by others behind them. This mob was beyond intimidation and fear. They were prepared to lay down their lives to unseat their king.

  Finally the gate crashed down and the mob quickly descended upon the remaining guards, pummeling them with stones, their bare hands, and any other objects they happened to possess. Thermiandra moved just out of sight of the gate, but far enough away from the shrub fire to keep from being burned. As the mob pressed into the courtyard, she waited for them to pass through so she could make her escape. A minute passed, but the area cleared out. She was about to make her move when she suddenly felt a blade against her throat and an arm reach around her shoulders from behind.

  “Going somewhere, First Daughter of Cyme?”

  Heliodas, Pelephon, and Archetus stood near the front of the crowd that was gathered at the palace’s pillared portico, which was completely encircled by rioters. “This was a good idea,” Pelephon said.

  “Who knew that telling the people that the Persians have been defeated was all it would take to get them to riot?” Heliodas asked.

  “It’s our good fortune that Syrpax is such a supporter of Persia,” the blond Macedonian said with a smirk. He turned to Archetus. “Can’t you just cast a spell or something to get us inside?”

  “Yes,” the Egyptian replied.

  “So why don’t you?”

  “Because we can do this without magic. If you steal too much of the Titans’ magic, you risk drawing their attention,” Archetus explained.

  “You said they were sleeping!” Heliodas said.

  “They are. Nevertheless, they possess enough consciousness in their slumber to reach out through the void and devour those who attract their attention.”

  “And you think that it’s a safe idea to use Titan magic?” P
elephon asked.

  “Yes,” Archetus said simply.

  Heliodas watched as the mob broke through the line of guards and, in moments, managed to smash through the wooden palace door. Heliodas saw the robust Acus pulled out of the palace while another rioter reached up with a knife and carved a red line across his neck. The portly administrator clutched his neck and fell forward into the crowd as his life’s blood spilled onto the ground.

  Heliodas pushed forward and rushed into the palace with the crowd. In little time, he was in the room he’d entered on his previous visit, but the scene was a chaotic fray. A group of four guards, blades drawn, were beating back the wave of rioters.

  Heliodas and Pelephon charged the first two they could reach. The rioters parted to allow them through and Heliodas lashed out at the first guard he encountered with his spatha. His first thrust was batted aside and followed up by a counter-strike, which Heliodas dodged by throwing himself backward, just enough to avoid the blade. Immediately, he reversed his momentum and pressed in, swinging his spatha. The guard adjusted to a defensive tack, but Heliodas could tell that these were not well-trained soldiers. Their moves were predictable and clumsy, lacking speed and precision. He suspected that they might have even been surprised that they were fighting someone with advanced training in the blade at all. The guards had likely been taught the basics of holding their own in a fight, but any trained soldier with battlefield experience would have little trouble with them.

  Heliodas pressed the attack, found an opening in his opponent’s defense, and thrust his blade into the man’s chest. He stepped in and twisted, then pulled his blade out as the guard stumbled, clutching the wound. Next to him, Pelephon used sheer size and power to overcome his opponent’s defense, clipping the side of the man’s neck with the tip of his blade as he went, opening up an artery. As the blood flowed, Heliodas looked to see that the other pair of guards were fighting their way through the crowd toward them. He gave the first to near him a fierce look. “Do you really wish to die like these two?” he shouted.

  The guard paused, then shook his head. “No, I have a family.”

  Heliodas took a step back and held his blade in a defensive posture. “Then run from this place. It is lost.”

  “And don’t return!” Pelephon shouted.

  The guard sheathed his weapon and started running toward the door. The one just behind him followed.

  Heliodas and Pelephon ran past the previously guarded doors and into the palace hallways, with Archetus following just behind. “Syrpax sent Thermiandra to the west tower. How do we get there?” Heliodas asked.

  “My guess is no better than yours,” the muscular Macedonian said.

  “Then let’s go for the throne room!” Heliodas shouted.

  “There will be a lot of guards there,” Pelephon objected.

  “Look behind you,” Heliodas said.

  The mob had lined up behind them, obviously ready to help them storm the palace. He smiled, raised his blade, and with a battle cry, charged down the hallway.

  Thermiandra stood motionless as King Syrpax held the blade to her throat. “What do you want with me?” she asked.

  “Nothing has changed, my dear,” Syrpax said.

  “Your palace has been breached. If you don’t flee now, they’re going to kill you.”

  “It may not be as desperate as that,” Syrpax said. “I can come back later and reclaim the palace.”

  “I don’t think you have the soldiers to retake the palace anymore,” said Thermiandra. “I’ve seen at least ten injured beyond the point of fighting just here. I can only imagine what they’ve done to the ones patrolling outside the palace. The mob within is dealing with whichever ones haven’t fled. Why don’t you just slip out the back gate while the way is open? You could still escape with your life.”

  “I intend to do just that,” Syrpax replied. “But you’re accompanying me.”

  “Why? What can I possibly do for you now?”

  “I still await the return of your friends with the Pearls. Once I have them in hand, I can retake the palace and take my revenge on as much of the city as I wish. In the meantime, you might make an amusing distraction,” said the king, his hand moving down Thermiandra’s back to rest on the curve of her hip.

  The suggestion was anything but subtle, and the thought of being taken against her will by Syrpax almost brought bile to her throat. She was certain that the encounter would not end well for him, but the thought of being taken against her will upset her. Panicked, she knew she could fight back, but the knife was perfectly placed to take her life. She could acquiesce and leave the palace with her life intact, but the thought of what would follow sickened her. Neither option seemed appealing. The only remaining option was to stall and hope that the rioters saw what was happening, but she could see no way of doing that.

  “Alright,” she said. “I’ll go with you. Lead the way.”

  Syrpax started moving toward the open gate, the blade still to Thermiandra’s throat when another wave of rioters charged through the open gate. Syrpax pulled back, this time dragging her between the hedges. The fire she had started was growing larger, but it was some distance from their location.

  Heliodas, Pelephon, and Archetus climbed the stairs of the west tower. They had found the throne room deserted, and a short time later, they’d met up with rioters who had stormed the back gate. Nobody they questioned had seen any sign of Syrpax or Thermiandra on the way in. Heliodas hoped Syrpax had forgotten about his prisoner and deserted her in the tower.

  When they came to the door at the top of the stairs, Heliodas threw it open, only to find a deserted room. He saw the bed, which had obviously been slept in. He then looked to the bath and saw the dirty peplos Thermiandra had been wearing. “She’s been here,” Heliodas said.

  “Yes, but where is she now?” Pelephon asked.

  “The guards are defeated; the gates have been breached. Syrpax is going to slip out, probably with the girl,” Archetus said.

  “Did your magic tell you that?” Heliodas asked.

  “No. Common sense!” said the Egyptian.

  “Then we need to get back down there,” Heliodas said.

  “The rioters are still following you up the stairs,” Pelephon commented.

  Heliodas ran to the doorway and looked to the throng of people pressing up the stairs. “Go back down!” he shouted. The mass of people stopped their upward momentum and slowly reversed direction. “We don’t have time for this,” he muttered.

  “There is another way,” Archetus said.

  “Oh?”

  “Out the window! I can slow our fall and we’ll land in the courtyard,” said Archetus.

  “I thought you said that you don’t want to draw the attention of the Titans,” Heliodas said.

  “Don’t argue, just jump!” Archetus shouted.

  Heliodas walked to the open window and looked at ground at least forty feet below. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s…”

  “I’ll meet you down there,” said Pelephon.

  “What?” Heliodas asked. “Just jump with us.”

  “I can’t jump. It’s too high,” Pelephon said. “I fear heights.”

  “The mighty Pelephon! You’ll stare down any foe on the battlefield but you can’t bring yourself to jump out a window, even when you know you won’t get hurt?”

  “I can’t do it,” Pelephon insisted.

  “Then stay,” said Archetus. “We must go, to save your friend.” He jumped up on the window sill, put an arm around Heliodas, and used his momentum to carry the pair through the window and into the open air.

  Heliodas’ stomach reeled, but he noticed about halfway down that their fall was greatly slowed. “Does this work every time you need it?” Heliodas asked as they drifted downward.

  “Usually,” Archetus replied.

  A few seconds later they landed amidst the hedges. Heliodas looked to Pelephon in the window above and waved. Pelephon waved back, and disappeared from view.


  “Thermiandra!” Heliodas called.

  The last of the rioters passed through the gate, and Syrpax began moving toward it once again. Thermiandra knew that if he was able to get to the other side of the wall, it would be a simple matter for Syrpax to disappear into the polis and slip away.

  She saw some movement in the tower above, and without moving her neck or anything other than her eyes, she looked up to see Heliodas and another man she’d never met floating slowly down from the window of the room where she’d spent the previous three nights. A moment later, she heard his voice call her name.

  “Do not call out to him,” Syrpax commanded.

  Thermiandra made some quick calculations. Heliodas was near. This was good. Now she just needed to find a way to alert him that she was close-by. Perhaps if she could get Syrpax to go to him…

  “I just saw them float down from the window,” Thermiandra said. “I’d be willing to bet that this Archetus person is the other guy. The Pearls of Atlantis might still be within your grasp.”

  Syrpax said nothing, but continued leading her in the direction of the gate.

  Heliodas was uncertain where to go next. Thermiandra and Syrpax could have left the palace grounds already, or they could be hiding in the hedges. For all he knew, they could have gone out the front. With all the people tearing the place apart, how hard could it be to don commoner’s clothing and slip out? Short of being in all places at once, he knew that the next best thing would be to pick a spot and keep watch. “Come on, to the gate,” he said to Archetus.

  The hedges through here were a massive conflagration, and the smoke was thick, but he was pretty sure he could guess the way. They passed between a couple of fiery rows, and Heliodas could feel the heat on his face through his armor. When they came to the end of the hedge, he saw two people moving toward the gate. He recognized the Ephesian king and Thermiandra immediately. He motioned for Archetus to stop, and then he moved quietly behind them.