Sword of Ares

by Alex Morgenstern

  Alana pulled Kassius’ sleeve, and he paused as he looked at the body in the floor.

  “And what about him?” Alana asked.

  Kassius looked from side to side, confused.

  “Well, I didn’t think about that.”

  Aranus narrowed his eyes.

  Alana and Kassius looked at each other.

  “So?” Alana whispered.

  “Should we...” Kassius raised an eyebrow.

  “I think we should.” Alana looked at the body and started chewing on her nails.

  Kassius knelt beside him. He blinked and extended his hand, palm open.

  “Wait,” he said, looking at her. “If we kill him… They will surely notice something went wrong.”

  “What if we suggest he killed himself?”

  “How would we make them arrive at that conclusion?”

  “Maybe grandfather could tell them.” Kassius looked at him.

  “Me?” Aranus blinked in surprise.

  Suddenly, the body turned swiftly, and the man lifted his torso, trying hard to speak through Alana’s scarf.

  Kassius unsheathed the soldier’s own sword. The moonlight shone over its blade, and Kassius swallowed. Then, he stared at Aranus, as if begging him for an answer.

  “Kassius,” Alana broke the silence. “Do it. He’s one of them.”

  “But so is my father,” Kassius said to her.

  Kassius knelt down and removed the scarf.

  “You bastards!” As soon as the soldier got his chance, he screamed like a madman, and both Alana and Kassius rushed to hold his mouth closed.

  “Keep quiet or we slice your throat,” Kassius said, but he did not seem sure.

  “I… Alright, alright,” the soldier whispered, closing his eyes.

  Kassius pointed the dagger at his muscular neck.

  “Now… You’re going to swear,” Kassius said.

  “Kassius, what are you doing?” Alana asked.

  “Name and rank. Kassius said. And why did you attack our people?”

  “Just a lowly foot soldier. My name is Felix Germanicus. I… I don’t know, we were told we were here to suppress a rebellion. Something about a cult. The Mysteries of Ares.”

  “The what?” Kassius raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes! I was just following orders. You can kill me now. I prefer to die here than to be hung. My mother would never get the service money.”

  “We’re not going to kill you,” Kassius said.

  “Do whatever you want with me.” The soldier tilted his head back. He took a deep breath. Aranus could see tears forming in his eyes.

  “So? Kassius? Basic mathematics, if we kill our enemies we win.” Alana stared at him.

  The soldier started to cry like a child.

  “Do whatever you want. Kill me now.”

  “Why are you crying?” Kassius asked.

  “I just want it all to end. I wanted… My mother… Tell her I loved her. She is Demetra Germanica, lives in the Capital, 25th Romulus Street. And please… In my pockets, there’s a small book.”

  Aranus felt Kassius’ hand in the pocket of the soldier’s coat. Kassius removed his hand, holding a small tome.

  “It’s poetry,” Felix continued. “Give it to Domitia, my fiancée.”

  Kassius cleared his throat.

  “I am ready.” Felix shut his eyes, his face still contorted in a grimace of fear.

  Kassius held the knife close to Felix’s neck, who in turn took a deep breath, as if calming down before an imminent destiny.

  “Well,” Kassius said. “As father said. In war, it’s to kill or to be killed.”

  Silence engulfed them.

  “And...” Kassius blinked. “What if we don't kill you?”

  Felix opened his eyes in surprise and glanced at him. His face was pale, bathed in cold sweat.

  “What?”

  “Yes.” Kassius put the knife away. “What if we don't kill you?”

  “Kasha, what are you talking about?” Alana elbowed him lightly.

  “I mean, he hasn't done anything. He was just following orders.”

  “So? He'll keep on following orders. And he will be ordered to kill us sooner or later,” Alana said.

  Kassius stared at the man from above.

  “Do you swear that you will not go after us?” Kassius said.

  Felix took another deep breath.

  “I do. I... I am tired of this. It used to make sense. It doesn't anymore.”

  “Fine,” Kassius said, and reached for the rope that held Felix. He untied it promptly, and Felix stretched his arms.

  “Thanks,” Felix said.

  Kassius didn't say anything but quickly removed his armour and handed it to Felix, who got dressed immediately.

  Only one thing was missing. Aranus observed their reaction.

  “Where's my sword?” Felix asked.

  “Alright...” Kassius said, looking at it. It could be a big mistake. No one in their right minds would give a sword to the enemy and remain unarmed himself.

  Alana grabbed Kassius' wrist. They locked eyes. Kassius glanced at the sheathed gladius once more.

  “I trust you, Felix Germanicus” Kassius said.

  “What?” Alana opened her eyes wide.

  “We granted you your own life. Now, if you are truly a man of honour, you will do the same.”

  Felix blinked, perplexed, and stretched his hand to grab the sword. He later tied it with the belt around his waist. Aranus took a step back as Felix fidgeted with the hilt. However, Felix just lowered his head.

  “I thank you for your mercy. I will certainly not forget it,” he said.

  Kassius smiled faintly.

  Aranus nodded. His grandson had behaved honourably, even naively, but what had just happened showed that the gods were protecting him. If he had been unlucky, they would already be dead.

  “Now, please take my grandfather to his home,” Kassius said.

  “Me? But...”

  “Please...”

  Aranus cleared his throat. That, he had not foreseen.

  “Sure,” Felix said. “I suppose we won't see each other any more. Please be safe. I'd advise you to get out of the borders as soon as possible. Next time you may not be as lucky.”

  “We understand that,” Aranus said. “Farewell, and please take care of my grandfather.”

  “I will.” He faced Aranus. “Sir, please follow me.”

  Aranus nodded and followed him up the hill. He could perceive the humility in Felix's glance, as he had been an inch away from a sure death.

  “Wait.” Aranus paused and looked behind him.

  “What is it?” Felix asked.

  “Kasha, come here,” Aranus signalled his grandson to approach him. His grandson and the girl were already walking down into the forest.

  “Grandfather!" Kassius ran up the hill to see him.

  “My son. Kasha, come closer.”

  “Tell me.” Kassius smiled. His body looked much less threatening in the linen toga. His neck was skinny and bony, his Adam's apple visible, and his arms were skinny like branches. He was still a boy, but Aranus was sure of his greatness. By his side, his now wife not only had a fragile dream-like beauty, but the strength of will that the young lady possessed was even greater than Kassius'. Not quite like Alan the Goldsmith's, but more like his late wife. There was something war-like in her, not violent, but brave like a wild lioness.

  Aranus put his hand through Kassius' short brown hair.

  "In the name of the All-father, I confer to you the power. So you may see the things of the gods, may their voices guide you.”

  “Hail,” Kassius said solemnly, closing his eyes and bowing his head. Aranus felt a surge in his bosom. And, after many long years, tears formed in his eyes.

  “Farewell, my son, and listen, there are secrets in the woods, look for the menhirs,” he said, and followed the soldier up into his destiny, l
eaving the grove and the trees behind like abandoning Paradise.

  As they approached and the sun rose in the plains beneath, Felix stopped quietly. There was something wrong. Aranus noticed a figure sitting next to the door. He stood quickly with folded arms and an ironic laugh. It was the centurion.

  Felix lowered his head, as the centurion jumped down the stairs and approached them, hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Chapter XVII - Beetroot Soup

  Irema enjoyed the few hours of solitude and prayed for them not to end. She breathed in the vapour of the boiling soup water on the side. The old long hall, with the gold covered table, now deprived of the shining metal as if stripped of its glory, leaving only solid wood, awaited its apprentices like a war widow waiting for her dead husband. The spinning wheels stood orderly over the table, in line like an army preparing for war, or rather, like statues adorning the ruins of a past age. Irema panted, holding an iron knife in hand, her other hand grasped a beet, cutting it into small squares, and then smaller, as a fluid as red as blood soaked the cutting board. The colour of pain, of death. Images rushed through her mind, and she slid her eyes upward as they pierced through her memories like a sharp blade.

  She wished, for a second, that the beet juice was actually blood. Not hers, but someone in particular, someone who came home at sunset every evening.

  Through the window, the sun was setting beyond the dark trees, casting red and violet light on the clouds. She grasped the knife tightly again. The time was close, like inescapable fate.

  She let out a cry, she tensed her fist and waved the knife at the air, stabbing an imaginary foe. She had a picture in her mind. That man, that monster who had forced his way into her life, the man the world called her husband, his comrades called Helius, and she called hell on earth. Many other women had yielded, many, perhaps as a defensive instinct, had accepted their fate.

  But not her. Her love for Karus still burnt like a raging sun within her heart. His dark eyes still sparkled in her dreams, his soft skin and caring hands. But his life had been taken and his blood spilled on the walls of the citadel, and Irema’s heart and body had been offered by force to someone else.

  She lowered her head, hands still on the handle, and she wept.

  The sky grew ever darker, and hell was soon to come. He would push her around like a mule, he would get angry like a raging bull, he would yell and grab her by the hair and hurt her, and use her, and break her dreams. The only thing that kept her from bursting out and lashing out was her mother. Zita was wise, she had gone through a lot, she had fought and killed in her day, and had told her it was not worth it. Wasn’t it? Was living through hell acceptable?

  The soup water boiled, the steam escaped from above. She grabbed the beet cubes and threw them inside. She wished she had other ingredients, she thought of a peculiar red mushroom that could give visions to the pure, but to the evil, it could give a slow and painful death. But no, she was trapped, like a beast inside a cage.

  She looked at the tall mirror behind her with its silver frame with stylized silver swans on each side, and she examined her own reflection, the bruises that crossed through her forehead, the dry blood on her lips, the blood on her hands.

  And the banging at the door started.

  She rolled her eyes, looked back at the bedroom, the bunk beds she used to share with her friends, now empty, and she thought of pretending she was asleep. No, she knew what he would say, and worst of all, what he would do.

  “Open, woman!” Helius yelled from behind the blue door. “Don’t make me wait in my own home!”

  “I’m coming,” she said, cursing in her mind. Hell was about to break lose again.

  She opened the door, and Helius violently pushed it completely open. Irema instinctively stepped back.

  Helius stepped in without looking at her. He had learned to avoid the small door frame, and now ducked before stepping in. He hung his galea and coat on the side and yawned. He smelled of alcohol and urine, as always.

  Irema turned her head away and walked back to the flames and the bronze cauldron where the soup awaited. She stirred it with a spoon of bronze.

  “Aren’t you gonna ask how my day was?” Helius’ rough voice broke the stillness. Soon, Irema felt his hands running through her unruly hair. She felt his odour close in. He wrapped her hair around his fist, pulled lightly, and smelled it like a desert flower.

  Irema kept her lips pressed.

  “What is this?” he spewed, tossing her long hair back to her shoulders. He looked inside the cauldron then lifted his head, almost pushing her to the side with his shoulders.

  “I had a long day and food is not ready, again!” His screams echoed in the room. He turned and dropped down on the couch, scratching his inner thigh.

  Irema lowered her head and looked away.

  “Sir, I am sorry,” she muttered. “But you came earlier than usual, I just...”

  “What?” Helius jumped to his feet and strode toward her again. He stood next to her ear and yelled. “You bitch, when will you learn? Why did I have to get such a stupid woman?”

  Irema took a deep breath. The knife was still in her left hand. She envisioned it. It would be easy, wouldn’t it? Drive it through his neck.

  “And I have to send your disgusting mother away every day, so she doesn’t spoil the mood. You are sweet and tight, but by Jupiter, you’re dumb.”

  Irema kept breathing deeply.

  “Are you gonna say something, or are you mute as well?” Helius went on, his spit sprinkling over Irema’s face.

  “I am sorry,” she muttered, emotionless.

  Helius growled like a cat, then turned and slapped her. Irema’s head turned, her neck pained, and she faced back.

  “How long till the soup is done?” he asked.

  “It’s just not done, I just put the beets and turnips in a few minutes ago. It will take some time. I understand you are hungry, but please, I am trying to make good, nice, tasty food for you.”

  “What the hell, you don’t even know how to cook, and you make me wait like this?”

  Helius stared at the soup then looked back at her. “But you know what? Maybe if it will take a few minutes we can make better use of the time.”

  Helius run his hard fingers through her hair, then grasped her head tightly.

  “Come on, you know you like this, woman.” One of his hands went straight to her thigh. He grabbed it, and she twitched.

  Irema blinked, her face was motionless, expressionless.

  It would have to be quick and easy. Irema looked straight at him, and her mind escaped her body once again.

  Once again, she would let her instincts run through.

  And they did.

  She held the knife tightly, waited a second, and thrust it toward his neck.

  She shut her eyes, but she did not hear his moans of pain, nor did she feel the tearing of his flesh. Her hand had stopped through its trajectory, stopped by someone else’s. When she opened her eyes, she realized she had lost that game. Helius held her pale hand tightly, too strongly she clenched her teeth in pain as her fingers were crushed against the wooden handle.

  “What do you think you’re doing, you snake?” Real anger flashed in Helius’ eyes. He twisted her wrist. She let go of the knife and it bounced and clanked on the rocky tiles.

  Helius grabbed her head with both hands, holding complete control of her movement. Irema clenched her teeth and instinctively reached for his hairy arms.

  “What did you think, you nasty little fly?” Helius growled. “Did you think you could kill me? You deserve worse, you deserve to really be taught a lesson, you disobedient animal.”

  Helius let go of her head and pulled her hair again, drawing her toward the boiling soup.

  “So, take a look at your soup, little one,” he made her bend, and she tried to pull back. She could see the boiling water, the potatoes, the carrots, and beets that floated in the bursting bubbl
es of heat, and she felt the hot steam on her face. “What if we drop another nice ingredient in there. This pretty face, all you have left.”

  Irema could not speak, only close her eyes.

  “Come on, let’s slow cook this little onion,” Helius said, and laughed as he slowly pushed her head.

  “No, please!” Irema said, as the vapour was becoming unbearable and sweat drifted from her every pore. Tears were about to break through, and the fear overwhelmed her. Her instincts were all flared up, and agony was soon to take over. She pleaded and she begged for mercy, but silently, another instinct pushed through.

  She waved her hands about. She felt heat close to them, and with the back of her palm, she felt the logs underneath the cauldron. One of them was good enough, not too hot, and long enough. With eyes shut tightly, she grasped the cold end with her left hand and, with her eyes closed, she turned it and pushed the hot end back toward Helius.

  It made contact with his flesh. Helius let go abruptly and screamed like a witch. Irema turned. Helius jumped over, looking at his toga. Smoke was coming from it.

  “You dirty bitch!” He yelled so loud his voice transformed into an acute shriek.

  He turned toward her with his hands outstretched and a grimace of hate. Irema could see it in his eyes, he was ready to kill.

  Irema turned, and quickly she grasped the hot rims of the cauldron and twisted her body around, throwing the hot boiling soup at his face. For an instant, she was sad for those fat turnips she had found and that had taken so long to peel and slice. Besides, it had been hard to come across good ones.

  Screaming unfolded before her, but instead of pain, it was like music to her ears. A smile formed on her lips. That was justice, she thought.

  But it would not be over.

  Helius reached for her wrists and pulled her back. He pushed her to the wall, his face angrier than ever. She twisted like a fish, kicking him in his now scalded and sensitive legs. He pushed her to the bunk, to the bed below, and she fell through the padded sheets.

  Helius jumped over her, his hands stretched forward, ready to grab her neck and choke her to death. Irema lifted her torso and grabbed his arms, sheet in hand, clasping her limbs around him like a coiled serpent, closing the distance so he would have a hard time using his hands.