The Tale of Demosthenes of Cythera (updated)
DEMOSTHENES
The rising sun glinted off of steel and bronze. Anticipation was
thick in the air. The worlds breathe was held for this one moment.
Demosthenes of Cythera. He stood ready. He hated waiting, but he was
trained by Spartans, maybe not as brutally as they train their own
peoples, but trained by them all the same. He would hold his ground.
He would not speak. He would show no mercy. His commander, on his
white stallion, rode in front of the ranks of Greek soldiers ready for
battle, tensing for the order that would start the blood bath.
The Seleucid army had come from the north, burning as they had come.
The city states of Greece had bonded together, their armies coming
together to defend their collective home land. Thousands of men
occupied each side of the field, all at attention waiting for the
pivotal moment.
It came.
The Seleucid’s armies general gave his signal, and with a great cry,
the armies’ entirety charged forth. At the same point, the Greek
general gave a cry and spurred on his forces. They covered the ground
between them with the speed of the cheetah.
The clash of weapons, bodies upon armor was like thunder upon a
mountain. The cries of men went out unto Zeus, but they remained
unanswered, this was war. Demosthenes unit met the Seleucids head on,
and penetrated their lines as water through the fingers. They broke
running back.
Just as the unit was to run forward to deliver the death blows to the
fleeing enemy, the ground started shaking ominously…
The enemy ran through the ranks of a Unit of Battle Elephants.
Demosthenes unit stopped, in awe at the goliaths that thundered
towards them. The tusks had all manner or sharpened sticks attached,
each strike with one of the tusks would mean certain death. But these
men, in this unit, they were Spartans, no mortal enemy can strike fear
in their souls.
They lowered their dory’s, entrenching the iron butts into the
ground, bracing for the blow that would surely send some of their
fellows to Elysium to dine with Hades tonight.
The blow came, and with it Spartans were sent flying. Demosthenes
looked up to see a mighty beast raise his tusks and swing…
The previous night…
“Spartan, where do you hail from?” the call had come from above.
“Who asks me this?” Demosthenes looked up from the rocky path to see
an Athenian hailing him.
“It is I, Appolon. My brethren and I had heard that, though you fight
with them, you are no true Spartan. Is this true?” Appolon looked
curious. Demosthenes decided to have a little fun with the situation.
He drew the short sword he had slung on his back and in less than a
second, had the sword at the throat of Appolon. His face was full of
shock, and his fellow men jumped up in outrage.
“What is the meaning of this?!?” Appolon half whimpered, half roared.
“Be at ease my fellow from Athens,” Demosthenes replied, sheathing his
sword, “The look on your face was priceless. My name is Demosthenes of
Cythera. When I was a young man, my family was well off enough to send
me to Sparta to receive formal training in the art of war. In
addition, Polyneices of Athens, your homeland tutored me in Oration.
My father was a dye merchant and wanted the best for me. But I am sure
of my skill as any other true Spartan is, as I have shown you. If it
puts you at ease, the lamb you have in Athens is much better than the
mutton served in Sparta.”
“Well, wet met, Demosthenes of Cythera, that you prize our lamb above
all others has calmed my heart. “
“Stay sharp, Appolon.”
Demosthenes went back to his tent and oiled his armor, for tomorrow
would be battle…
Chapter 3
The great beast let out a mighty roar as the tusks swung.
Demosthenes coiled his finely tuned muscles and, with everything he
had, he leaped straight into the air. It wasn’t enough. The tusks
raked his legs and sent Demosthenes sprawling into the air. His shield
flew away, his eyes couldn’t keep track of the maddening rush of
colors before his eyes. All he could hear was the rush of the winds on
his ears and beyond that, the sounds of his brethren being trampled to
death beneath the feet of the leviathans.
Just when he thought he was about to hurl and crash into the stony
ground, Demosthenes felt something that didn’t feel right, a soft
impact.
“Whoa, Demo, who do you think you are, a prissy little elf or
something?” a voice yelled into his ear above the din of battle. Still
shaken, Demosthenes looked up into the eyes of Appolon. The Athenians
had come behind the Spartans to shore up the flanks. Appolon and five
others had caught Demosthenes from mid-air.
“Appolon, I can’t thank you enough, you stayed sharp after all.”
Demosthenes replied, shaking off the nausea.
“Enough Chit chat Spartan,” replied Appolon. “Let’s go kill some
beasts!” He handed Demosthenes a spear and his group formed a half
moon formation with Demosthenes at the center.
“Alright men, we’re gonna have to strike hard and fast. The order of
the day if we’re gonna take these tanks of nature out are deep fast,
penetrating shots to the bellies. They don’t have armor under there,
and with enough concentrated blows, they should bleed out very fast,”
barked Demosthenes. “You two men on the outside, keep your shields
handy for enemy bolts and let us know of any incoming blows… Are we
ready to send them straight to Hades?”
“AH-OO!” the men replied.
“Then, we make for the break in the beast’s line… now!”
The Greeks charged forward, through the lines. All around them, a
kaliedascope of colors, grey, bronze, flesh and red rushed around. But
the hastily formed unit had total focus on the objective. One by one,
the unit focused their spear points deep into the beast’s bellies,
dodging the dying flails of the prodigious monsters, and then forming
up once more to slay another. Over and over they fought, beast by
beast till well over a score lay dead or dying upon the field behind
them.
By this point, the battle raged on elsewhere, with the Greeks holding
the lines, but barely. The Spartan force had taken a terrible blow;
well over 80% of the troops were either injured or mortally wounded.
Demosthenes turned and sat down, there were very few elephants left at
all after the charge into the Spartans, and they had run amok.
Physically, he and the Athenians were exhausted, but he turned to his
rear and looked to gather up what of his fellows he could and rejoin
the fight.
They went to help up the nearest Spartans who were still battle
worthy, when a whistling sound filled the air… and a shadow fell over
the entirety of the battlefield around Demosthenes…
Chapter 4
Arrows rained from the sky like lightning bolts from Zeus. Where they
struck unarmored flesh, they cleaved the muscle and buried themselves
deep. Demosthenes unit had enough warning though, and had raised their
shields skywards. The bronze gonging of the arrows impacts filled the
air and forced its way into the men, making their very bones shiver.
From the west, a legion of the Romans marched forth. Their order and
precision godlike, their archers were already readying a second salvo
to fly forth.
“Men, fly! Fly while we have the time, to the hill!”
The squad ran, and when Demosthenes judged that they had just seconds
until another impact, he called again and again for the shields to be
raised. With adrenaline pumping, they made it to the relative safety
of the rocky hills. They turned to survey the field. The Seleucids
were being slaughtered left and right. The main force of the Greek’s
was driven back and made ready to repel the attack. Demosthenes squad
was in no position to rejoin the army so they scouted their position.
What they found surprised them.
A woman stood in amongst the hills, beckoning them forth.
She stood tall like the men of westernese. Her helm was lofty, her
skin shone like the first snow of winter. On her breastplate there
were pictures of the gods and events that had not yet happened.
“Surely,” the men thought “this must be a goddess!”
“You men, bravely you have fought on this day. You fight for your
city with your allies, My city! I cannot say who will win this day,
whether the Italians shall overcome you or whether you will prevail,
but I will lend you my aid to return to your brethren.” She waived her
hand in the air and where before was naught, now hence a river flowed,
and upon it a mighty ship.
“Go now Athenians and fight for glory! But now I seek the one who was
born in Cythera, for his fate is not as yours…”