T

he Land of Argos is dying, and he’s supposed to be the only one who can save us, Rhea thought looking at the Son of Ares who walked before her. The desert had been cool throughout the night, but as hours had passed and the sun’s crest peeked at the horizon she could feel how her forehead became moist. For hours had they hiked the endless desert, trying to reach their destination before sunrise. Rhea had succeeded, she had found the Son of Ares, but her heart ached of what it had cost them.
Nurmitor walked beside her; despite his old age he had carried Dardanus’ body on his arms since they left the Gates of Tartaros.
Rhea sighed, her gaze trailed back to Son of Ares, who was carrying the body of Faustulus. There was a large scar running from his left shoulder to his right lower back. Seeing that scar made Rhea all the more sure that he was just a man, and not what she had expected. “How is he supposed to save us, when he’s only one man, Nurmitor?”
“You expected him to be more than a man Rhea?”
“I don’t know, I at least thought that he would have an army. The only army he had was those statues that had kept him company for all those years he spent down there,” she said trying to hide her disappointment. “I wonder what crimes one had made to receive such punishment.”
Rhea caught a solemn look on Nurmitor’s eyes. Before she could ask what was on his mind he halted. “We have arrived,” he announced.
“Arrived where?” asked the Son of Ares.
Rhea stopped, before them was a small village in the middle of the desert, populated with hundreds of tents. “Home,” she said.
As they walked through the village, an excited mass of stares trailed behind them. Some horrified by the lifeless corpses of Dardanus and Faustulus, others astounded by Son of Ares’ dark skin. Rhea heard couple of them murmur, “is that him? But he’s only a man.”
The Son of Ares didn’t mind the curiosity the people had over him, he walked behind Rhea as she lead the way to the tent of their leader.
Nurmitor handed Dardanus and Faustulus to the gravediggers and instructed them to bury Faustulus to the desert he so loved, and Dardanus to the ruins of his home, Troy.
Rhea then led them before a red tent that stood out of the others with its bright color and its majestic design. A seven feet tall giant stomped before them; it was Tatius, Amulius personal guard. “No one goes inside,” he said glowering at them under his long dark hair.
“We need to see him,” said Nurmitor. “It’s a matter of urgency.”
“Be as it may, but he has a meeting right now.”
“Tatius, this is him,” said Rhea. “This is the Son of Ares, and he has asked to see Amulius so he might help us.”
Tatius moved closer to him, revealing his dominance in height over him as he was two heads taller. “This midget you say is the so called Son of Ares?” he smiled. “What is wrong with your color dark one, been spent too much time under the sun have we?”
The Son of Ares gave him a sharp look. “Step out of my way,” he said and with one strong push, he threw Tatius off his feet sending him inside the tent, and then entering after him.
Rhea followed. Tatius clambered up to his feet and hurled one strong punch at the Son of Ares, but much to his dismay he grabbed his fist with ease.
Tatius howled as the Son of Ares squeezed his fist, making cracking sound as he broke the bones from his hand.
“What is the meaning of this!” shouted Amulius as he sprang up from his chair and pounded his fist against the table before him.
There were three men in the tent including Amulius, they all sat around round table with the map of Argos spread open. Rhea recognized them to be Claudius, Pertinax and Galba, the three chieftains who acted as advisors for Amulius.
“My lord, these three have come to seek your audience,” said Tatius grabbing his sore hand. “I told them that you where busy, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“Grandfather, I can explain,” said Rhea.
“Can you?” Amulius said narrowing his eyes. “Then explain!”
“Last night I with the company of Nurmitor, Dardanus and Faustulus went to the Black Pyramids-”
“You did what?” Amulius shouted driving his fist once again against the table. “After I specifically forbade you!”
“You don’t understand.”
“Yes I do! You endangered yourself and not to mention all of us by chasing a myth!” Amulius pointed at Nurmitor. “And you allowed her to go!”
“Aye, but only, because I know as well as you do old friend that Rhea hasn’t been wrong ever since that faithful day. Or have you forgotten that she’s the one who has gotten us this far?”
Amulius went silent; he looked at the Son of Ares. “You mean this is him? You are the Son of Ares?”
“I am,” he said. “And I’m here to help.”
“I can see that,” said Amulius lowering himself back to his chair. “And how do you suggest on doing that? Do you have an army with you?”
“No, I’m all the army you need.”
“What is this nonsense,” blurted Claudius. “Amulius we have only a week or so left before our pact with Theseus. After that our people don’t need to hide at the edges of Argos. So now of all times we have no need of a mad man dictating what we should do!”
“Claudius is right.” Amulius brushed his beard. “This is our war son, not yours.”
“That is where you are wrong. I heard a name mentioned before, Quinrinus. What do you know of him?”
“He’s a war chief up in the north,” Amulius said pointing on the map at the land that began behind the ancient ruins of Thebes and reached all the way to the northwestern part of the Boreas Mountains. “Why do you ask?”
“It is simple. I’m here to kill him,” he responded.



“Kill Quinrinus? Is that how you will help us?” blurted Rhea. “He’s just one of the many war chiefs who are tearing this land apart, how is killing him going to matter?”
“Believe me when I say it matters. Quinrinus isn’t just anyone, he’s a man guided by destiny. Soon he will conquer his enemies one by one, and the rest will join him in fear. Unless stopped Quinrinus will be the king of all Argos, for he is the Light Bringer.”
“How can you possibly know all of this?”
“As the Argonauts say everything in the realm of our existence has a pair, a counter you might say. As fire is to water, and earth is to sky.”
“I understand, but what has this have to do with you knowing all of this?” Claudius pressed on frustrated.
“Everything, for I am his opposite,” he said, glaring at Claudius from the shadows of his helmet.
“But if he’s the light then that makes you…,” Pertinax said, grabbing the handle of his chair.
The Son of Ares glanced at him and said, “aye.”
After that the meeting was over, Amulius sent the Son of Ares off saying that he will consider his offer, and that in the mean time he was welcome to stay with them. To give him the privacy he had requested he was provided with a tent which stood on a small hill, separated from the rest of tents that were clustered together down the hill.
Nurmitor was asked to stay behind to recount their journey to Amulius and the chieftains.
Much to Rhea’s surprise Amulius allowed her to go, instead of giving her a long lecture of how she had endangered all of them. She had kept herself strong ever since they left the Black Pyramids, but now as she saw children playing with each other, she was overcome by sadness. She collapsed against a stone pillar that protruded out of the sand, and wept there as she realized she was never going to see Dardanus again. She cursed in her mind the force that had bestowed this mission on her, and made her closest friend sacrifice himself.
Time had passed and the sky darkened, yet there was no cease to the flow of her tears.
Then a shadow descended upon her, she raised her head which was buried between her knees. Before her stood a skinny little boy with shoulder length dark brown hair and dark blue eyes like hers.
“Julian,” she smiled.
The boy smiled back, and rushed to her. She stood up and embraced him warmly. “I told you I would return little brother.”
Julian grinned.
She looked at him for a moment as she brushed his soft hair, the boy was twelve summers old, but ever since the faithful day when everything had changed he was not the same. He never spoke to anyone not even to her; all he did all day long was sculpting little figures off the spare wood he could find.
“What do you have there?” she asked looking at his left hand, which hid behind his back.
He extended it to her, and she gently took it. She gasped. It was a remarkable rendition of a beast with strong pose and long elegant mane. But it wasn’t just any beast, but one Rhea was quite familiar with. It was the Nemean Lion.
Rhea knew that everything Julian sculpted was what he had seen, this made her somewhat nervous. “Julian where did you see this creature?”
He looked blankly at her.
“Think carefully Julian where did you see it?”
He raised his finger, and pointed at her.
Rhea was speechless; she looked at the growling lion, her hands shaking as though it was the same that had torn Faustulus apart.
She shuddered as a hand descended on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” said Marcus. He was one of the few soldiers under Amulius’ command. “The Son of Ares wants to see you.”
Rhea understood. She gave the figure back to Julian, “Julian go play with the other children, I’ll come join you soon enough.”
She headed for the small hill where the Son of Ares resided. When she entered his tent it was already empty, she looked outside. The sky was darkening, nighttime was closing in.
“He went there, past that hill before you,” said a little boy who sat before the tent.
Rhea looked at him; she had never seen the boy before. He wore an old dark garment as a protective hood from the sun. She couldn’t see his face as his head was bent down, but she thought she saw a glimpse of his hand, which was as dark as the Son of Ares’, hiding under his long sleeves.
“Why are you sitting here alone?”
“I’m waiting,” he said.
“Waiting?” Rhea looked around; there was nothing but endless sands around them, and their camp which was further away. “What are you waiting for?”
The boy said nothing he kept his stare low and hummed a tone that was faintly familiar to her.
Rhea arched an eyebrow, she turned and went on the direction the boy had instructed her.
The Son of Ares stood on top of a sand hill holding his round golden shield on one hand and on the other his spear, while his sword hang from the rope bound around his waist. He watched the navy sky where already the earliest stars shimmered. The red painted horse hair coming from the crest of his golden helmet was the only thing distinguishing him from a statue as it wavered by the whispering of the dry wind.
Even though she had journeyed with him for a little over a day, Rhea always found it odd that the only thing keeping him from being naked was the short white tunic he wore to cover his intimate parts. Beside him were Nurmitor and two other men.
“Who are these two?” asked Rhea.
The shorter one who by the looks couldn’t have been older than her, smiled. He like the other one had brow length black curly hair and green eyes.
“My name is Phineas,” he said, bowing to her respectfully.
Rhea caught the sword strapped to his back.
“And he is my brother,” he gestured at the other one who was taller than him, and had in addition to a sword a bow and a quiver lashed on his back. “Bellerophon.”
“He asked me to gather as many warriors I could,” said Nurmitor. “They were the only ones I could find on such short notice.”
“You could find only two warriors?” asked Rhea.
“They will do fine,” the Son of Ares gestured at the hill next to theirs. Five men came from the direction of the village, each of them carrying a sword and a shield.
“As many warriors as he could find?” Rhea felt a sudden dread crawling up her back. “Why do you need warriors? Where are we going?”
“To the ancient forest of Altis,” he said. “There’s a person there who holds a key to the survival of your people.”

Story continues in chapter three

Imprint

Publication Date: 08-13-2009

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Dedication:
The kind of events that once took place will by reason of human nature take places again. --Thucydides