“What difference does it make?”
Scarred or not, women would still clamor to bed him. Men would still cater to his ego.
And each would despise him as much as his sister and mother did, and their insults would ring in his ears. In all honesty, he had to give credit to his family. At least they didn’t bother to hide their true feelings. They openly insulted him every chance they got. He could almost respect them for that.
Sick and angry over his fate, he reached for the wine on his desk and carried it to his bed where he intended to get drunk enough to drive every last bit of it from his mind. “I finally understand you, Mother.”
August 16, 9534 BC
“Greetings, Uncle.” Styxx gave a formal bow to Estes as he met him on the palace steps.
Estes arched a brow at his aloof formality. “No hug for your uncle, little squirrel?” What has happened to you, boy?
Refusing to react to his uncle’s thoughts, Styxx glanced to his father before he quickly complied then stepped back out of Estes’s reach. He still didn’t like being touched by anyone.
“He’s becoming quite the dignified man, isn’t he?” his father asked, clapping Styxx on the shoulder.
It was all he could do not to cringe or grimace. Only his father would be stupid enough to mistake diffidence for dignity.
“Uncle!” Ryssa ran forward to hug and kiss him.
Grateful for her distraction, Styxx took three more steps away from them and folded his hands behind his back.
Estes glanced at him over Ryssa’s shoulder while she chattered on about nonsense. Styxx averted his gaze. It was hard to get past the fact that the last time his uncle had seen him, he’d been lying broken and naked on a table and sobbing like a woman.
An event his father never hesitated to throw in his face. I should leave my crown to Ryssa. At least when she cries, it’s understandable.
But more than that was Styxx’s anger over Estes not helping him when he’d needed him most. For all his promises, his uncle had gone home to Acheron while Styxx had spent another four months on that table being bled and tortured. He was only now getting back to his full strength and filling out again.
I wish all of you were dead.
Styxx cleared his damaged throat, which still sounded as if he had a severe cold even when he didn’t. He’d lost a full octave range courtesy of the priests. “Father? May I be excused? I’m to meet Master Galen for practice.”
Ryssa curled her lip at him. “How thoughtless are you? You’re going to practice with Uncle just arriving?”
His father held his hand up to silence her. “Your brother’s quite right with his priorities, Ryssa. And I’m glad to see him showing some ambition for once.” He inclined his head to Styxx. “You’re excused.”
Styxx gave them a curt bow before he headed down the drive, toward the gymnasium with his guards in tow. While he didn’t enjoy battle practice as a rule, he would much rather have Galen knock him around for a bit than face the shame and horror he felt whenever he remembered begging his uncle not to abandon him to his tormentors.
And then watching as the bastard left him.
Twice.
It was the same atrocious feeling he had any time he was required to attend any temple celebration.
His aversion to the gods at this point should be legendary. And he despised the fact that he had to publicly worship the same gods who’d damned him to this existence. To the nameless one who’d preyed on him.
Meanwhile everyone told him how lucky and privileged he was to be born prince.
The stupid, blind bastards could have it all.
Rage darkened his gaze as he entered the small gymnasium that had been built for the royal family’s private use. It was identical to the public gymnasium further in town except for the size. While the other nobles trained and were educated in the public gymnasium, this one was reserved for Styxx. Like everything else to do with him, he trained alone when most boys his age trained with friends.
Of course, it would help if he actually had some of those.…
Galen met him at the entrance to his dressing room. “You’re early, Highness.”
Styxx hesitated. “If you have something else to do—”
“No, it’s all good. You’re welcome here any time, you know that.”
Styxx inclined his head to him. “Am I to dress or undress?”
Most of their skill training was done in the nude, but actual battle training required him to wear his armor so that he could become accustomed to the extreme weight of it. And hopefully to build enough muscle that he could use it in battle.
“What does His Highness favor for the day?”
Blood.
“Armor.”
“Then dress, my lord, and I shall meet you on the field.”
Styxx stepped past him and went to where his armor was stored. As soon as he opened the upright chest, he paused at the sight of the cuirass he’d bought for himself a month ago to replace the one he’d outgrown to the point he could no longer lace it closed. When he’d foolishly asked his father for the money, the king had curled his lip in disdain.
The way you cower when you fight, you deserve nothing but my contempt and your old child’s armor. When you prove yourself worthy of a man’s armor, I’ll replace it. Until then, do without.
But the bastard didn’t know how he fought. He hadn’t seen him train in years. So Styxx had pulled every bit of his savings to buy it, with Galen being kind enough to offer him a loan for the matching helm and greaves.
For an old grizzly war dog, Galen could be incredibly kind. He was the closest thing to a friend and father Styxx had ever known.
Suppressing a smile at his beautiful armor, Styxx ran his hand over it. Black as his soul, the cuirass was molded into the shape of a perfect muscled adult male chest. The hinges were gold leaves and the golden head of Athena rested in the center, just below his neck. On either side of her face were dragons facing each other. Two small gold circles rested over his nipples. And five gold dragon heads were studded into each leather strap of his pteruges.
It was the only thing of beauty he owned.
Maybe one day, I’ll be worthy of it.
Pushing that thought aside, he removed his chiton and chlamys, and replaced them with the thick black wool chiton that padded his armor.
He tied on his pteruges before he lifted the heavy cuirass. Though most soldiers had shield-bearers to assist them, Styxx had been trained to dress without one. The thought being that in war, no one could be trusted at a king’s back. It was too easy to bribe servants to sabotage equipment or to slip a knife into your ribs while he dressed you. Even bodyguards had been known to assassinate their charges. And given Styxx’s past, there was no way in Hades he would ever allow someone that close who could harm him.
Not after his own mother had attempted to end his life.
Trying not to think about it, he reached for his greaves and laced them on then his vambraces. He took a moment to savor the heavy weight of the hammered bronze that covered his body. His armor was the closest thing to a mother’s embrace he’d ever known. There was something extremely comforting about it.
A rare smile curled one corner of his lips as he remembered trying it on for the first time with Galen by his side.
“How does it feel, Highness?”
“Incredible. I feel invincible in it.”
A slow, wry grin had spread across Galen’s face. “Don’t,” he’d said with his usual curt sagacity.
If Styxx loved anyone in this world, it was Galen. While Galen was harsh at times, his trainer at least had some regard for him.
Styxx touched the stiff black and white horsehair plumage on his black helm. The same head of Athena that embellished his cuirass rested above his nose guard, and matching dragons ran down each side of the helmet.
He placed it over his head then reached for his plain sword and unpainted shield that quickly reminded him he wasn’t really a soldier or a man.
In one heartbeat, every ounce of pride he’d temporarily gathered drained out of him. Time to get my brains bashed in.
Strangely, he was looking forward to it.
I am a masochistic bastard. Sighing, he headed out to the arena, where Galen was already dressed and waiting.
Galen saluted him as soon as he entered the field. Styxx returned the gesture.
“Ready, Highness?”
“Give me your best.”
Galen laughed. “That’s the spirit, young prince. I love when I hear the fight in your voice. It warms me.” He lunged at him.
Styxx barely blocked his thrust and staggered back from the force of it. His whole arm stung and was numbed. Damn, for an old man, Galen had a surprising amount of strength.
Biting his lip, he rolled his shoulder, hoping to alleviate some of the misery.
Galen pulled up short to allow him time to recover. “Are you coming in injured, Highness?” His instructor’s euphemism for asking if he’d been beaten for something. Because they often trained in the nude, Galen alone knew how harsh the king could be with his heir whenever Styxx displeased him.
Which he did a lot. Sometimes by doing nothing more than breathing in the same room.
“Nay, sir. Just clumsy. I’m still not used to the weight of the new armor. It’s throwing off my center of balance.”
“It makes a big difference, doesn’t it?” Galen flipped his sword up, caught the blade of it then offered the hilt to Styxx.
He frowned.
“You need a man’s sword to fight with and not that unbalanced toy you hold.” Galen gently touched the pommel to Styxx’s cuirass. “Go ahead, Highness. It’s time.”
Styxx threw his iron sword aside and took Galen’s into his hand. While he tested the heft and made a few practice swings, Galen went to retrieve another one from his headquarters.
The old man was right. There was a huge difference in how this xiphos felt compared to the iron one Styxx had been using. Right down to the worn leather grip. He stared at the leaf-shaped, serrated edge blade that had probably taken dozens of lives in Galen’s masterful hand. The words To the Glory of Pallas Athena were etched into the bronze, and the circle pommel held the same emblem of the goddess’s head that Styxx’s armor had.
“Is something the matter, Highness?”
Styxx looked up from the sword to Galen as he returned with a matching one. “What is it with you and Athena?”
“Every man chooses a god to invoke in battle. Ares, Apollo, Deimos, Phobos, Zeus, Nike, Poseidon … For me, it will always be the Pallas Athena.” Galen glanced down to his own pommel where her face stared up at him. “Anyone can battle for pride, power, vanity, greed, or hate, but war should always be approached with an equal measure of wisdom and strength. It’s not just enough to know when to fight, but to know when to lay down the sword and negotiate. Not everything in the world is worth fighting for.”
Styxx considered that for a moment. “Is anything worth fighting for, Master Galen?”
“Of course.”
For his life, he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d shed his blood to protect. “What?”
“Love and family.”
Styxx bit back a snort. He knew nothing of love and what he knew of family he could do without. “Not country?”
“Countries come and they go, good prince. They’re only worth preserving when the loss of them would cause harm to the people you cherish.”
So as Styxx had said, there was nothing to fight for. But he was curious about one thing.…
“Who do you fight for, Galen?”
“At one time, I fought for my beautiful and gentle wife, who left this world at far too young an age.” He winced as if someone had struck him. “Even after all these years, I feel her absence as a physical pain, and hope that you will one day find a woman so fine and decent … One whose face fills your heart with pride and love.” He offered Styxx a gruff smile. “These days, I would fight for my daughter and grandchildren. And I will always fight for you, Highness.”
Those words warmed him. Since Galen seldom said anything tender, or even kind, Styxx knew he meant them.
Galen lifted his sword. “Now, shall we get on with this lesson or continue to chat like old women?”
Styxx raised his shield. “By all means, let my ass-beating commence.”
Laughing, Galen swung at his head. Styxx jerked back and countered with a down stroke of his sword, followed by an attack with his shield. Galen blocked his attack then advanced with a barrage of blows that were hard to deflect. That was the one thing about Galen, he taught Styxx to use every part of his body as a weapon, and to hold nothing back. In war, all that mattered was surviving it … preferably with all body parts attached.
But as they fought, something inside Styxx burst. A flood of …
Strength? Power?
He wasn’t sure what it was. But an inner door opened and with it came an ability to know the exact move Galen would make right before he did it. Styxx had sometimes been able to do that in other situations, yet never in battle.
Today, that changed.
All of a sudden, Styxx could deflect or block every thrust and stroke. For the first time ever, Galen was forced to back up from his attacks and to protect himself.
Styxx’s vision turned dark until he no longer saw Galen as a man, but rather a target to be destroyed. He lost all sense of where he was or why he trained. Or even the fact that he trained at all. Instead, he rained blow after blow with both hoplon and xiphos across Galen’s shield until he broke through the thick wood lining and bent the bronze out of shape.
With no choice, panting and weakened, Galen threw the useless hoplon aside then buried the tip of his sword into the ground before kneeling in front of Styxx. “I yield, fair prince!”
Applause rang out.
Lowering his sword, Styxx frowned until he located the source of it. Estes and his father stood just off the main gate. His uncle opened it and came inside with his father trailing two steps behind him.
“Impressive, little squirrel.” Estes paused to retrieve a fresh hoplon from the wall bank of them. “But let’s see how you fare against a warrior in his prime and not an old man.”
He took the xiphos from where Galen had planted it then used it to salute Styxx.
A slow, evil smile curved his lips. “Are you sure, Uncle? I’d hate to injure you on the day of your arrival. Perhaps you should rest first?”
Estes laughed. “Arrogant … I love it. But prepare to see your ego debased.”
That would be different than normal, how?
Styxx returned his salute, and waited for his uncle to make the first move.
He did. The sound of metal clashing echoed off the stone walls surrounding them. This time, not only did Styxx see the moves before his uncle made them, he gained strength with every blow. It was like he was siphoning off Estes’s life force. As his uncle grew weaker, he became stronger. In a matter of minutes, he had his uncle disarmed and flat on his back with the tip of his xiphos pressed against Estes’s throat.
His breathing ragged, Estes held his hands up in surrender. “I yield, good Styxx.”
Styxx buried his sword into the ground and removed his helm and placed it on the hilt. He extended his arm to his uncle to help him to his feet.
Estes was incredulous. “By the gods, you’re not even breathing hard. Oh to be so young again.…” He looked over at Galen. “My highest regards to you, Master Hoplomachos. You’ve done an amazing job with my nephew’s skill. It’s been an incredibly long time since anyone disarmed me, never mind knocked me to the ground.” Then he glanced to the king. “Brother, if we’d had Styxx on our side in the war, we’d have never had to enter talks with Atlantis. We’d have buried her.”
His father finally closed his gaping jaw. “I had no idea he was so skilled. The boy has hid it well.” He turned to
look at Styxx. “No wonder you sought new armor.”
And you denied it to me with mocking disdain.…
Asshole.
But there was no trace of that now. His father actually appeared almost proud.
The king jerked his chin at Styxx’s shield. “It’s time we decorated that aspis of yours, boy, and forged you a warrior’s xiphos and kopis. You’re finally ready to defend my throne.”
Those words should make him happy. Instead, Styxx felt only emptiness. There was no pride or satisfaction inside his heart. In truth, he didn’t want his father’s praise anymore. It no longer mattered to him what the bastard thought. Not when he knew how his father really felt where he was concerned.
Unless he was perfect, he was garbage to be thrown aside and ridiculed.
Or worse, forgotten.
All the months he’d been gone for torture, his father hadn’t even missed him. For that matter, his father had barely looked at him or talked to him since his return. The only reason the king was here now was because Estes had wanted to see him train.
Why bother wasting our time…? The boy fights like a methusai. I’d rather watch the grass growing in the yard.
His father narrowed his gaze on his hoplomachos. “Galen, fetch a scribe and have him design a royal emblem for my son. Something worthy of a princely champion. An eagle or a lion, perhaps.”
Estes shook his head. “I’m thinking a pegasus or trident.”
“A phoenix,” Styxx said. There was nothing more fitting for him. Forged by the flames of Hades’s Pyriphlegethon River, he emerged. And like a phoenix, he wouldn’t really exist until his father was good and dead.
The king inclined his head to him. “You heard my son, Galen. Phoenix it is.”
“I shall see it done, Majesty, and deliver his new hoplon within a month.”
While Galen and his father walked away to discuss the matter, Estes came forward.
“Your father’s right, Styxx. You are becoming quite a fine young man.”
Styxx didn’t comment as he retrieved his helm and sword. “How does my brother in your custody, Uncle?”
Styxx (DH #33) Page 10