Nemesis (Sparta Online Book 1)

by J. F. Danskin

  She really is a witch, he thought to himself.

  “I… Well, I wanted to thank you, first of all, Harmonia. For the potions.”

  She stepped forward, and put the cold, rough palms of her hands on his cheeks, gazing directly into his eyes. Hers were purple, the irises blotchy and the pupils very widely dilated.

  “Yes – I can see, Troy. You took it. Magic is part of you now, though it is at a low ebb. Used it up, you have – but it will rebuild.”

  “It seems so, yes. I noticed that.”

  She cackled, then took a step away from him, rubbing her hands together while looking down at them and stepping across the room. “You can think of it as being a bit like blood loss, young man. You can only give out so much at one time. Don’t want to bleed a person dry, do we? No. Best to use it more gradually.”

  Troy wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant analogy. “Uh,” he said, “I don’t want to disturb you…” he began.

  “Thought you might have brought me a gift, lad,” she said, interrupting. She turned to peer at him from a few yards away.

  “A gift? Oh, wait…” He reached for his bag to pull out the three empty vials, only to remember that he had left them in the dorm. “Oh, I still have the vials,” he said. “We took good care of them. I don’t know about Ajax, but we have three to return. We talked about selling them at the market, but then I thought I’d ask if you need them. Or perhaps, if you have a healing potion or suchlike that you can spare…” He trailed off.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’d like another potion from old Harmonia. Yes. Very smart boy. I like it.”

  “Well, only if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “The thing is, Troy,” she said, beginning to walk towards him once again. “You owe me.”

  “Owe you? How do you mean?”

  “Power is not free, my boy. I expect a life in exchange – I thought I made that clear.”

  “A life?” Troy’s heart was racing now as the witchlike figure stalked towards him, her eyes narrowed like a beast looking at its prey. “You mean like a sacrifice?”

  He tried to think clearly. What was it that the old woman had said to him on their first meeting? He was sure that it had involved ‘other plans’ that differed from what the creators of Sparta Online had intended. But why? Was Harmonia also working to undermine their training?

  “Sacrifice? That’s such a crude way to put it. But blood must pay, in the end. I thought… Perhaps your dark-skinned friend with the long hair? Such a handsome boy, and so full of life.”

  “Plato? No! You can’t have him.”

  She stopped, now just inches from his face. “Well then, you will have to do. Like I say, young man, you owe me. You agreed to the deal. I don’t make the rules, I am afraid.”

  “Harmonia, if that is so then I genuinely didn’t understand what I was agreeing to. Please believe me. I need to cancel the deal. You can have the mana or powers back, or whatever it takes. I’ll work – repay you.”

  “It’s much too late for that.” She reached up to stroke his face, and as she did so, he leaned back and realized that he had backed up against the now-closed door of the villa.

  He then felt a strange constriction at his throat, even though the woman was not touching him. It felt as if a snake was coiled around his neck, and it was getting tighter and tighter. He also saw two notifications:

  Health update! You have lost 2 hit points.

  Health update! You have lost 2 hit points.

  “Wait!” he cried out, trying to think clearly. “You need one of my companions in exchange. Agreed. Glaucus is yours. You can have him, not Plato. Take him. Take his blood, if you can use it.”

  Skill boost! You have developed your quick thinking. +5XP

  She paused. Stepping back with eyes narrowed. “You will bring him to me?”

  “Sure. You have my word. He is yours – you can do whatever you want with him.”

  “Within the week, then,” she said. And at that, the door swung open behind him.

  Soon, Troy was hurrying back up the slope towards the training ground, knowing that the field of olive trees lay immediately ahead. Would the delay with Harmonia have helped matters? He tended to think not. He needed to take the outer path that circled the training ground, and from there make it to the mountains. But it was entirely possible that the route was now guarded.

  He was running out of options, but if he were to wait for nightfall, it would surely be easier to sneak past any guards without being noticed. And there was one place that he could think of where he was sure he could ask for some help with no strings attached. Somewhere he could rest and bide his time.

  There was no love lost between the Helots and the warriors of Sparta.

  Level: Hoplite (Level 4)

  XP: 1030 (unspent: 0580)

  Hit points: 22/27

  Luck points: 1

  Mana points: 0

  Equipment: belt; blanket; coin pouch; dagger; greaves; hoplon shield; iron hatchet; spears (2).

  Chapter 30: Capture

  “I really need your help,” said Troy again.

  “I’m sorry,” said Democles. “It’s not possible, my young friend. Not right now, anyway.”

  The pair had been conversing for ten minutes since Troy’s hurried arrival back at the Helot village. Now they stood just inside the exterior wall of the village, with Troy crouching down to keep out of sight. Democles was clearly nervous, wringing his hands as they spoke. Two small groups of Spartan soldiers had already passed nearby. Further on, they were able to make out a shouting and clashing of shields from the training ground. Clearly, something was going on – and Troy was certain that it linked to his disappearance, as well as that of the two exiled hoplites.

  “They are looking for me, not for you,” said Troy. “If I can just hide here for a few hours… until it gets dark. I am not asking for any more food and supplies, I promise. Just a safe place to hunker down until I can go meet with my friends.”

  “I just can’t risk that,” said the man, gesturing back towards the eight houses of the small compound. “I would like to, but you don’t know what it’s like. We already stuck our necks out by helping you and giving out the information on the captains. One of the soldiers came asking us about it yesterday…”

  “That would have been Andros,” Troy interrupted excitedly. “He’s all right – he’s on our side.”

  Democles shrugged. “I don’t know about that. He’s a Spartan soldier, and that means he’s dangerous. Helots like us can find ourselves beaten or worse if we interfere with military business. You don’t know what it’s like. We’re not citizens; we have no rights, and they can slaughter us like animals if they choose to. I should never have told you about what we saw.”

  Troy shook his head vigorously. “No, not at all! You didn’t just help us; you helped the whole city. Some people might not realize that straight away, but they do need to know about it if there are traitors in our midst! I plan to root out the evil that is undermining the training program and causing young recruits to be killed.”

  Democles sighed, folding his bare arms. “I thought that some of the recruits got killed because the Spartans have the toughest training in the civilized world.”

  Troy shook his head, glancing away towards the olive trees and the mountain path beyond. “It’s not really all that civilized – believe me.”

  “I’m sorry, Troy. It’s not safe for my family to get involved. Another time, perhaps.”

  Troy began to step away from the man, raising the two spears again and making for the village entrance-way which led towards the grove of olive trees. “Very well, Democles. Good luck to you and your family. I won’t mention your name to them, and I hope my actions don’t lead to your being dragged into this trouble against your will.”

  Democles put one hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Where will you go, then?”

  Troy looked back at him. “To the mountains… somewhere. I don’t know exactly. We have a
greed to make our way up there – if I am not captured and taken prisoner first, that’s to say. And if I can somehow meet up with my companions.”

  “Then good luck to you as well.”

  Troy began to walk away, and as he went, noticed one of the narrow deep baskets that the Helots used when gathering the olives from the nearby trees, and which could easily be held in one hand while moving around. “Democles – can I take one of those? I will get it back to you.” He pointed.

  Skill boost! You have developed your quick thinking. +5XP

  Democles hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. “Very well. And if it proves too difficult to return it, we have more, worry not. Our villagers are good weavers. So I would not grudge it to you as a gift.”

  Troy turned the basket over in his hands as he made his way back towards the olive trees. Hiding out with the Helots had been his preferred choice of how to conceal himself for the next few hours. The next best option was to make his way towards the mountains now, and return for the others when it got dark. But first he had to get right past the training ground. He needed a cover story.

  As he re-entered the area where the olive trees grew, he paused, wrapping the black blanket around his upper body to conceal his armor. There was a difficult decision to be made, now, about the spears. On the one hand, he was loath to leave them, having just acquired not one but two of the most valuable weapons that a Spartan warrior can have.

  But carrying two long spears also made him very conspicuous. And carrying them right past the training ground in the middle of the day could make it impossible to evade detection and pursuit.

  With another sigh, he crouched down on the ground and began to dig a narrow long trench in the dirt with his dagger. When he was done, he placed the spears carefully down in the gap that he had created, and then pushed some earth and dead leaves back over the top of them. Standing, he stamped down a few times and then kicked more leaves around to try to make the area blend in as much as possible. Finally, he marked the two nearest trees with a ‘T’ using his dagger; if in future he were to draw a line in the dirt between those marks, it would precisely cross the spot where the spears were concealed.

  Then, wrapping the blanket around himself once again and draping it low over his head like a hood, he made his way to the top of the trees, where the area met the mountain path.

  * * *

  Troy looked both ways. It was quiet here, and he began to wonder if perhaps things had calmed down back at the amphitheater; if after their failed pursuit, the Spartan warriors had returned to their seats and enjoyed the rest of the contest in a spirit of calm and festivity.

  The contest. The great Trial of Hippolyta, which the girls had been anticipating for weeks. Had his actions ruined it? Would anyone even get the Axe of Menelaus now?

  If so, when he had left the arena it had looked very like Europa was in the lead by a considerable margin. If she didn’t get the winner’s prize, she was going to be pissed at him, and quite rightly.

  Well, there was nothing he could do about that now.

  Troy prepared to step out onto the path. He was in much the same place where the assassins had hidden among the trees, he realized, before their slaying of Andros. The marble steps were just to his left, a dozen yards or so further along the path, but he had no intention of going that way.

  Just then, he heard voices from the left, and looked around, crouching low and peering around one of the topmost trees on the slope. Two warriors were approaching; no – four warriors. And in between them, an unarmed hoplite. A female hoplite.

  “Clio,” muttered Troy under his breath, aghast. For his friend was clearly being held captive. Her hands were tied in front of her, and these ropes were connected to a further two, one held by each of the rear pair of warriors, no doubt to stop her attempting to run off.

  The small group marched forwards along the path and then paused at the foot of the steps. One of the leaders, a very tall man with broad shoulders, looked behind him at the warriors that were restraining Clio and then pointed up the steps. “That way,” called out the man. “To the training ground. There she is to be disciplined by the captains.”

  At this point, the two leading warriors remained on the outer path near the foot of the steps, while their companions began to lead Clio up. It was an awkward process, as the steps were not really wide enough for three to walk abreast, and soon they had to lengthen the ropes and allow Clio to walk behind them. Troy heard the young hoplite cursing under her breath as she was escorted upwards, and she repeatedly stopped, sat down, or otherwise tried to obstruct the process. As such it was slow going for her captors, but ultimately there was nothing she could do to prevent them from continuing to drag her onward towards the training area.

  Troy began to move out from among the trees, his mind racing. If there was some way he could free Clio, he thought to himself, then perhaps both of them could escape for the mountains now, though it would mean leaving earlier than planned.

  How exactly would they get away? The details would have to be worked out on the fly. For now, the main thing was to rescue his friend before she was brought to the evil Captain Semele, to be subjected to whatever cruel and violent punishments that the captain would have in store.

  Skill boost! You have developed your valor. +5XP

  He stepped out onto the path, holding the basket in front of him, and began to pick a few olives from the lower branches. He glanced once and then twice towards the two soldiers who had remained on the path. Both were now gazing down towards the city, leaning on their spears, and they didn’t challenge him or even pay him much attention – it was hard to say whether they had noticed him at all.

  Thus far, all was according to plan; if he had calculated correctly, he should look much like a young Helot villager out gathering crops.

  He walked briskly towards the marble steps, but made sure to stop every so often, plucking at another branch, even if his hand came away empty or with just a few leaves. Picking olives was a lot more difficult with one eye on the pair of warriors. But accumulating food efficiently was not the objective.

  When he was just around three or four yards from the guards, one of them did turn, and looked him up and down.

  “Good day, warrior,” Troy muttered, knowing that he should keep his head down – he remembered the beating that the Myrmidon had doled out to the peasant farmers a few days before. But this warrior did not show any interest in interacting further, instead turning away towards the city again.

  Troy then cut across the earthy slope above them and made for the steps themselves, joining them a few steps up from the path. At this point, the other guard turned and lowered his spear, pointing it towards Troy’s chest. “Where are you going, youth?”

  Troy raised the basket, trying his best to keep his shield and weapons covered up with the blanket. “I have olives for the captain, sir. Special request! They like to enjoy these before their baths.”

  The man narrowed his eyes, looking Troy up and down as the other had before, his gaze lingering for a moment on Troy’s well-worn sandals.

  But then he raised his spear, and began to turn again without a word.

  I guess that means I am free to go, Troy thought to himself.

  Clio and her captors were now halfway up the marble steps, but he knew it would raise suspicion if he ran after them straight away, and nor could he jettison the olives which he was supposedly delivering. Nonetheless, Troy quickened his pace as he went, climbing the steps faster and faster. The basket was now clenched tightly in his shield hand, and with the other he drew his dagger once again, keeping it hidden in the folds of the black blanket too.

  The similarity of his current appearance to that of the assassins suddenly struck him. Here he was, approaching Spartan warriors while clad in black and with a dagger in his hand. He narrowed his eyes. It was a cruel coincidence, that was all. Unlike those traitors, all he wanted to do was free his friend from the unjust fate that awaited her.

&n
bsp; The struggling and cursing Clio had been making much slower progress than he had as she tried to resist her captors, and soon Troy was just a few steps below her. There, he broke into a run. The soldiers had not marked him until this point, but the clattering of his running sandals on the steps had finally attracted their attention, and they both turned and looked at him in surprise, as did Clio.

  “Hold out your hands!” he called to his friend, and as she raised her hands and wrists in the air, Troy slashed downwards with the dagger, cutting the first of the bonds.

  “Stop!” cried one of the soldiers above, raising his spear to his shoulder and preparing to throw. But Troy had already slashed the second rope, and Clio was free to move, albeit that her wrists were still tied. Troy raised his arm as the spear came flashing towards him, and it deflected off his shield as both Troy and Clio ducked behind it.

  As the other soldier advanced back down the steps, drawing his sword, Troy cut through the rest of the rope that bound Clio’s hands together, and soon the ruined bonds were lying at her feet. He passed her the dagger, and then pulled his hatchet.

  Together they rushed upwards, Troy fending off one man’s sword with his shield and knocking him to the side of the path, and Clio lashing out with her foot to trip the other and send him stumbling down before righting himself several steps below. Soon the fugitive pair were sprinting up the steps together to get away.

  Skill boost! You have developed your grit. +5XP

  But they hadn’t gone far when the two captains emerged at the top of the steps where they met the training ground, fury written across their faces, and Troy saw that there were more spear-wielding Spartan warriors at their shoulders.