Chapter 27.
Pain splintered through his entire system, it surpassed the adrenaline, leaving his body crippled. How had this happened? Another throb of agony coursed upon him as his eyes opened. He watched an enormous shade looming with haste towards his face and hesitantly dragged his shield to defend, he no longer held his sword.
Arbicos’ senses returned upon feeling the weight of his opponent press hard against the battered bronze aegis. The foot that made effort to finish him collided with the young warrior’s guard causing him to yell out, with both arms he pushed sharply at the shield trying to shift the giant’s weight and fell him. Feeling the foot slip away the Athenian rolled onto his front to avoid another crushing blow yet his opponent no longer focused upon him. The giant scrambled across the snow to pick up his enormous weapon in his one remaining hand.
His adversary rose with that great mace clasped in a mighty grip, though so too did Arbicos, with the momentum of the roll he lifted himself, loosening the leather straps that kept his shield secure, and with nothing but a gamble swung to release the bronze sheet towards his enemy.
With a low grunt the aegis became air born. His towering enemy stood tall raising his colossal hammer. The circular bronze sheet ripped through the air with an ever quickening velocity before striking true to its aim. With a ghastly crunch its blunt rim smashed into the looming invader’s larynx stunting his rise.
The enormous mallet crashed to the floor and the giant wielding it stumbled forward upon one knee gripping his throat. He choked uncontrollably, trying in vain to soothe the agony with his remaining hand. Arbicos rose quickly, instinctively, he dashed for the wounded warrior grasping at the chain around his neck. Swiftly the warlord manoeuvred behind his target and pulled back upon the feather light material with all his remaining strength.
The hugely muscle bound colossus whom he strangled swung his arms wildly, he gurgled groping helplessly at the warlord’s face and body in any effort to stop his life slipping away, yet Arbicos’ death grip was secure.
“Fight,” the young warrior huffed through heavy breaths. “Fight -” desperation clinched his voice. The male he constricted of life grasped tightly upon a golden sparkling emblem attached to the transparent chain around his neck, his forefinger pressed heavily against its midst. Looking down, Arbicos noticed his adversary’s face already appeared at peace.
His victim struggled no more as the chord took the last of his life. Breathing heavily Arbicos kneeled, his enemy’s now limp body slumped with him, the deceased giant still in his arms. Tears gushed from the young warrior’s eyes.
The chill of the Hellenic countryside immediately re-consumed him. Shivering in the morning light he cringed at the sound of a thousand bellowing horns, though these were different. Their pitch was not serrated, but their sheer numbers were overwhelming.
“Warlord!”
“Arbicos?”
In his dismay the young man paid no heed to the calls of his peers. He laid the enormous male down to rest in the snow, alongside both dead allies and enemies. The golden emblem which his enemy had held so tightly slipped away from his deceased grip. It fell to his side and lay harmlessly upon the ice. Arbicos’ eyes fell into a void, looking upon the insignia, he wondered what the object’s importance might have been to his fallen enemy. With hesitance he picked himself up. A number of Athenians appeared from the blizzard.
“They flee, my lord! Should we pursue them?” Arbicos glared dreamily across the battlefield, the snow had covered the blood, frozen the dead, hidden all that had occurred this day. “Warlord?” Without looking upon his peers, he spoke without interest.
“As far as the Pinnacle, do not approach the shore. I’ve seen what these people will do if we follow them to the ocean.” The men turned about, struggling to see their peers through the blustering white flakes.
“To the Northern Pinnacle! Rout the cowards! For the Hellenes!” Though the young warrior did not look upon what remained of his army, and could scarcely see the endless numbers of his enemy fleeing for the poor vision in the snow storm, the Athenians stood a glorious sight. Bloodied and battered, yet courageous and fearless. They cheered their kinsmen’s words and the few thousand who were still capable began to enclose their ranks in pursuit of the hastily retreating invaders.
Moments after the colossus died the ocean of opposing troops simply began funnelling away from the battlefield, it seemed their leader alone was all that upheld them. Those who had once been at the front of their ranks found themselves the last, and upon their backs fell the sharpened bronze of the sons of Hephaestus. In the ensuing chaos Arbicos watched his men charge forth to uphold everything Arbephest had so often preached were the virtues of Greece.
The young man stood by himself amidst the still raging storm. Another icy wind flooded over him, his lost eyes, bloody and grizzled from conflict with his enemy began to well with tears for a realisation of absolute loneliness engulfed him. Arbicos froze for but a moment, he wheezed heavily. In his dreary state he could see Haedra’s beautiful face before him, those deep dimples illuminating her as she smiled. In her arms his fallen son and by her side his mother whose face he could scarcely recollect. His nation was safe.
He unbuckled the heavy belt of his makers and let it crash to the ground. Swallowing once, tears began to stream down his youthful face, one that had seldom seen joy in all its time, though at this moment he smiled before his vision. Beneath the silent cycle of snow the unrivalled warrior reached down picking up his sword. He closed his eyes and splayed his neck. Raising his blade he drew it calmly across his oesophagus.
He began to sway as the lifeblood streamed from the gape in his throat. With the lightest crunch he collapsed upon his knees in the deep frost. Such a strange feeling, there was little pain, he felt cold no longer. The sensation of his conscience fleeing with each passing moment was most exhilarating. Arbicos. He flinched. Had it been his imagination? An overwhelming terror abruptly engulfed him. His greatest fear, that his father had instilled in him since birth, that he should hear Hades, calling his name, as he walked to be rejoined with his family in the fields of Elysium.