The Argive -- Chapters 096-100
*****
Chapter 96: Conjuring a Storm
Agemon had only entered Arcadia a day prior but he was already tired of this part of the country.
For one, the terrain was mountainous and hard to travel through. That went for most of Greece but doubly so in the rugged Arcadian countryside, where every time they summited one mountain, they found the next one on the horizon waiting for them.
The other part he hated was that it was too damn dusty. Agemon was constantly hacking up his lungs from the remains of other travelers on this road, always leaving a thick, yellowish cloud that he couldn't escape from. At least it didn't seem to bother Cora as much. She didn't cough as much as he did, and she climbed the mountains without so much as a complaint.
"Come on now," she urged him, pulling his hand forward. "Just a little bit further and we'll be out of this dust cloud."
"Horn of Hades, we'll never be out of this damned cloud," scoffed Agemon. "I swear the gods themselves put it in our path just to make us turn around."
Cora started to laugh. "You think the gods want to prevent us from getting to Messenia?"
"Maybe. Perhaps it's their way of telling us we're wasting our time?"
"You don't really believe that, do you, Agemon?"
Agemon didn't know what to believe anymore. He also didn't know what was going to be waiting for them when they arrived in Messene. Would Praxis even be there? Was he even still alive? What if the city had already surrendered to the Spartans?
Agemon shook those thoughts from his head. If the city had already surrendered, one of the many caravans heading east would have surely given them the news. He did know that the Spartan king was paying a call on Messenia, but not the outcome.
As far as he knew, there was still a tentative peace on the Peloponnese.
There was also finally some peace for his lungs. Cora was right about them emerging out of the latest dust cloud, which just so happened to coincide with them summiting another small mountain pass. This particular pass afforded them a view of a good portion of western Arcadia, and Agemon groaned when he saw just how much more territory they still had yet to cross.
It was in moments like this one that he was most thankful for Cora. Because yet again, she caught what his eyes missed.
"Something is coming this way," she said, using her finger to point at a fast-moving cloud of dust at the lower end of the next valley. "That is no trade caravan."
Agemon squinted his eyes to get a better look but it was still hard to see what it was. There were no armies of any size in Arcadia, being a mostly rustic and primitive land without a king of its own.
Then why did this fast-moving cloud give him the sudden impression of an army.
"Let's get off the road," said Agemon as he gestured to several wild bushes that lined the northern side of the path. "I don't like the looks of this."
That was all he was willing to say at that moment because he didn't want to frighten Cora. The truth was the closer this group got, the more it looked like some kind of army. And there was only one army that was allowed to operate in Arcadia with impunity.
The Spartan army.
Agemon dashed behind one of the thicker bushes, kneeling in the grass and finding the one spot where he could peer through to watch the road. Cora moved right beside him but she stayed lower to the ground out of fear. Perhaps she could already sense that he knew more than what he'd said aloud.
"Who are they, Agemon?" she whispered as they got closer. "Are we in danger?"
"We need to be quiet," he replied. "They can't know we're here. Especially if they are who I think they are."
He was still looking for that telltale sign of the Spartan warrior--the red cloak that blew off their backs. He was still too far to see it (and there was still too much dust) but he could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up.
Who else could it be?
Sure enough, Agemon's worst fears were confirmed when he saw not one but several scarlet cloaks flapping behind the warriors, all of them running at a quick pace. There were no more than twenty of them, and those small numbers meant they could cover ground quickly. Wherever they were going, speed was of the essence.
"They're Spartans," he whispered to Cora. "Keep your head down."
She didn't need to be told twice. Her eyes went wide with fear, and she hugged the ground like a beetle who'd been crushed under a foot.
At first, Agemon thought they might be a simple military detachment but it became obvious that someone in the middle of the column was being protected. Someone with a much higher status than the others. Agemon studied that man in the middle, with his long, dark beard--sweat visible on his brow from all the running.
That was when he realized that he'd seen him before. Across the battlefield outside of Corinth.
"It's the Spartan king," he whispered to Cora.
At that moment, she closed her eyes, no doubt wishing the moment would pass by all the more quickly. Agemon was tempted to join her. He slumped down as they finally passed their position, thankful that they were moving so quickly that they didn't study their surroundings with much intensity. In a matter of moments they'd passed by, leaving only another thick, yellow cloud as evidence of their passing.
Agemon and Cora remained hidden under they summited the same mountain they did and then disappeared on the other side.
"This isn't good," said Agemon, raising his head to make sure they were really gone. "Why is the Spartan king rushing through Arcadia?"
"Maybe he's going home?" suggested Cora. "Maybe he's in a rush to get back to his city?"
"Then he's on the wrong road. Sparta is far to the south of here, and this road goes east to west. He's heading in the direction of Argos," said Agemon. "But why?"
All the explanations that Agemon could think of were not good. Most of them pertained to war in some fashion. If the king was moving this quickly through Arcadia after his journey to Messene, something had to be developing.
And Agemon suspected he was going to rally his allies.
"We have to get to Messenia quickly," said Agemon. "And let them know what we witnessed. I'm not positive but I think the next time Nikandros comes this way, he's going to have many more warriors at his disposal. We need to warn them."
*****
"Hold your damn shield up! You look like a bunch of lumps, I'm telling you! My grandmother can hold a shield up for longer than you bastards!"
Praxis' voice was hoarse at this point in the training but he still managed enough volume to get the men in front of them to snap their shields upward. Though they'd been training for most of the morning, they couldn't afford to start slacking now.
"Some of these battles can go on for hours!" bellowed Praxis. "Don't be the man who gets killed at the end just because his arm got tired!"
"Praxis, take it easy on them," said Nicomedes, who was just behind him. "We've been out here all day and it's extraordinarily hot. The men are exhausted."
"Their exhaustion will be what kills them on the battlefield," warned Praxis. "Nikandros isn't going to stop his attack just because they're hot."
"Point taken but they need some water," said the Messenian king. He then gestured to the officer in charge of this section. "Take a break for a little. Get the men water and some food."
As the warriors broke in all directions to take their rest, Praxis and Nicomedes continued onward, moving to another group.
"You have to be easier on them, Praxis," urged the king. "They're men, not goats. If driven too hard, we will not get the best out of them."
"I'm just hoping we can get mediocre out of them," grumbled Praxis. "Their training is coming along quickly but they still won't be able to stand in the field against Spartan warriors. We need to keep pushing them."
"We can't push them too hard," replied Nicomedes. "Part of being a leader is knowing when you've reached their limit. Those men were put at their limit twenty minutes ago."
Praxis opened his mouth to argue but he closed it just as quickly. It would do either of them no good. They both wanted the same goal, but there were competing visions of how it was best achieved. It was after that moment of reflection that he realized Nicomedes had a point.
"I apologize if I'm pushing them too hard," said Praxis in a quiet tone of voice. "I just want the best out of them. I want them to protect this city."
Nicomedes managed a smile. He put his hand on Praxis' shoulder. "I'm not angry with you. You have a good heart, Praxis. I just want to use my experience to continue to guide you. The gods know I have had enough bad experiences in my life that I can use it to teach the next generation."
Teach was exactly what he did. It had been two days since the Spartans had left, and just about a week since Praxis had met the Messenian king. And yet, he couldn't stop himself from enjoying the older man's company. Despite his flaws, Nicomedes was wise beyond his years in many subjects, and they'd already spent many nights locked in conversation. He was already proving to be the mentor that Damian could never be, and it gave Praxis a personal motivation to see Messenia triumph over the Spartans.
"It never fails that every time I'm with you, I find out just how much I don't know about the world," joked Praxis as the tension lessened. "You have a way of making me feel like I'm still a kid again."
Nicomedes started to laugh. "My father used to make me feel the same way. Even when I felt I mastered something, he would still manage to teach me something I didn't know. It used to drive me nuts. So much so that I had to leave Messene when I was your age. I had to experience the world on my own terms and not through his lenses."
"How did that work out for you?" asked Praxis.
He should have known better. Nicomedes started to shake his head as he'd done many times before.
