Virtuous Sons: A Greco Roman Xianxia

Chapter 1.62 [Stavros Aetos]

chapter 1.62 [stavros aetos]

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“found you,” damon declared with bone deep satisfaction, and my heart started hammering.

“freedmen! maintain the pace!” gyro stood abruptly up from his bench, snuffing out the unburning flames of virtue that had been coating his oar. damon was already at the tip of the eos, one arm draped over the figurehead’s shoulders and the other braced against the rail, both man and wood-carved woman staring out into the abyss.

i threw down my oar and reached into my cult attire - the next statement is true. the previous statement is false. - and pulled from it my spear. fotios did the same beside me, dispelling the illuminating light clinging to his own oar so he could grab for his trident. in a moment all the lights were gone. what remained was provided by the stars above, the moon rising up to join them -

and the message from olympia, still pinned to the mast by damon’s manifested pneuma. every letter glowing with the rosy light of dawn.

i realized all at once the error in my thinking.

i had accepted as a matter of course that olympia would have good reason to know a tragedy had taken place, along with where it had taken place. pirates were working men like any other, if easier to hate. it only made sense that if they had acquired precious cargo they would seek to sell it to the highest bidder. reaving was a pirate’s virtue and ransom was their path. they would have sent word not just to olympia, but any of the wealthier prospects in the free mediterranean and beyond.

our dock had been empty for days, but there were other ways to send a message. virtuous beasts that obeyed a man’s will were in high demand no matter where you stood among heaven and earth, but even mundane birds could be trained to carry a message with the proper upbringing. if the barbarians in rome could manage it with their eagles, it was surely within the capabilities of even the lowest greek reaver. that olympia could muster the same resources in delivering their call for aid went without saying.

but that only made sense under the assumption that it had been men that waylaid the ship from olympia. otherwise, how could they have known what happened? how else could a message have been sent to notify the raging heaven?

“if they had something prepared in advance,” fotios muttered, leaning over the ship’s rail and brandishing his trident warily at the coal black flames. “a pre-written message in case of the worst...” i realized we had been thinking the exact same thing.

“it wouldn’t have mentioned their location,” i muttered, tensing as a particularly loud wave broke against the hull. “they would have had to amend it at that moment.”

“not impossible,” my twin reasoned. he didn’t sound convinced.

“not likely.” i rounded on my elder brothers, pacing up the deck while three freedmen and a slave did their best to make up for the loss in rowing hands. “i have a question.”

“i have an answer,” damon responded without looking back.

another agonized scream split the ionian in two.

“how did olympia find out about this?”

“the same way we did.”

“that being?”

“yesterday, just after dawn,” said a winded man behind me. i turned to the freedman that damon had brought. “the kyrios received a roll of papyrus from a raven made of liquid shadow.”

“just call it a raven,” i said in irritation. “not like there are any light ravens left.”

“he wasn’t being artful,” gyro said idly, rhythmically easing his sword from its sheath before dropping it back into place as he leaned against the rail. a bad habit of his. he only fiddled with his blade like that when he intended to use it.

“a bird made out of shadows?” fotios queried from across the deck. “did it talk as well?” his tone was deliberately light, an affectation to combat the tension in the air.

“yes.”

i stared down at damon’s man.

“my mentor often tells me that the tyrants across the ionian are a different breed than what we’ve come to know.” in the low light of the endless shadowed waves, the rings in damon’s eyes seemed to glow like whirling sun rays. “the kyrios of the raging heaven is another level above even that. and when a man is half a step from heaven, who’s to say he can’t reach into his shadow and pull out a bird to deliver a message for him?”

“what did it say, then?” i asked the freedman, before shaking my head and rounding on my brother. “damon, what did it say? enough games - your slave’s obviously already told you.”

“he’s not a slave anymore.”

“i am going to throw you into the sea,” i threatened him. “you’re worse than aristotle.”

damon smirked. “it’s the oldest brother’s duty to irritate his younger brothers.”

“a truth worth advancing for,” gyro chimed in.

i brandished my spear.

the young aristocrat raised his hands in surrender, mirth coloring his next words.

“i told you to call me stavros,” i said, invoking another fold in logic and pulling a fine leather pouch from my cult attire.

“but,” he hesitated, visibly thrown. the whites of his eyes stood out starkly as he took in our current situation. we were deep enough into the whirlpool now that the ionian seemed to rise up around us like the mountain ranges around the scarlet city.

“but?” i prompted him sharply, rapping my spear against the deck.

“it isn’t kronia anymore!” he blurted. “i’m just a slave again!”

“i suppose that’s true,” i said, and dumped the leather purse out into his lap. golden drachma and other coins of silver and bronze, dozens of them, rained down into his hastily cupped palms until they spilled over the sides. thon stared at the riches in his hands, more wealth than he had held in the entirety of his life up until now.

“what is this?” he asked, a hitch in his voice.

“helping me find the best timber for my ship on the one day of the year you didn’t have to was a kindness,” i told him. “but it fell within the boundaries of a favor. dragging you onto this ship and telling you to match my pace was a cruelty, but one within the scope of a slave’s duties.”

damon let fly another shining arrow, lighting up the night and showing us just how far we had fallen into the tide. the island at the center of it all still seemed impossibly far away, and yet the waves around us kept growing higher. fotios hollered down approximate distances, having climbed the mast for a better viewpoint.

“if we were chasing pirates, i wouldn’t give you a single lepton for your troubles,” i told him frankly. “but it’s clear to me now that this isn’t slave work. and if that’s the case, i have no choice but to pay you for your services.”

“i... i don’t...” thon couldn’t seem to decide what was more pressing. the ravenous whirlpool, the cultivators taking up arms all across the ship as if to fight the ionian itself, or- “i don’t have a place to put all this.”

i closed my eyes and inhaled a slow breath. on the other side of the deck, gyro tried and failed to muffle a snort. it wasn’t his fault. this once, in these circumstances, i would let it go.

“that is a problem,” i agreed, opening my eyes to regard the ugly slave with the often broken nose. “why don’t i hold onto it for you? better yet, i can sell you something for it.” common sense finally overcame panicked vertigo, and his hope bloomed once again. thon cleared his throat, salvaging what pride he could.

“my freedom?”

“if you’d like. seems you have just enough to cover it.”

thon counted out every last coin while we wound a hurtling path down to the bleak rocks of the central island. once the last golden drachma dropped into my leather pouch, i tucked it back into my cult attire and took his manacles in hand. the dawn burned through them, weakened them until even a mortal man could tear them off. thon did just that.

the ugly freedman took his first unfettered breath, and gyro promptly tossed him his fourth and final spare. thon rose on steadier feet than before, his grip on the sword unfamiliar but strong.

“stavros,” he greeted me as an equal. met my eyes as a free man. i scoffed and punched his shoulder.

“thon. let’s see if you’re worth the money.”

“you know, i think you were right after all,” gyro exclaimed, smiling brightly even as the eos rolled and nearly capsized us. “this is the perfect time for a lesson.”

“let’s hear it then!” fotios hollered down from the top of the mast. “i might as well die wise!”

the rush of air that accompanied every use of the tyrant’s bow was almost a blow by itself, a swift boxing of the ears. damon watched the third arrow blaze a trail through the sky and just barely clear the lip of the whirlpool above.

“what is a hero?” he asked.

i braced myself with my spear in hand, pneuma rising. “you’re about to tell us.”

damon pulled the fourth arrow from its quiver and nocked it to our uncle’s stolen bow, leaning so far back that the arrowhead was pointed nearly straight up. at this point, it was all but impossible that it would clear the rim. we were too far down.

“a hero is a breaker of chains,” gyro said, drawing his sword fully from its sheath and planting his right foot up on the rail. “a liberator of men.”

the string of the tyrant’s bow and the arrow knocked to it ignited in scarlet flame. damon let it build, let it overflow, until it had banished every shadow on the ship. thon set his feet beside me, his shoulder pressed to mine. dymas stood beneath the sail and watched my twin, ready to catch him if he fell. our older brothers’ additions to the crew flanked them on either side.

“what else?” i asked, though i already knew. i inhaled deeply and drew my principles around me like a cloak - like armor.

“a hero,” damon said with heavy intent, “is a slayer of monsters.”

he turned abruptly, taking aim at the sea and loosing his nova arrow. the shaft of riotous light punched through the waves in an explosion of steam and boiling water, and it continued on without dying out. an unmistakable guiding light piercing down, down, into the dark-

and finding its mark.

the light slammed through flesh within the depths and went out. a woman’s shrill, agonized shriek bubbled up out of the waves.

“come, then,” the young aristocrat of the rosy dawn commanded, his pneuma blanketing the eos. his lips drew back from his teeth, his voice rising to match a sudden wild grin. “rise!” he shouted, and we, his brothers, roared along with him.

“rise and greet the dawn!”

the monster did just that, scales of shifting silver exploding up out of the sea.