[Author's Preface] Dear readers, this story was published previously under the same name, but strangely only half of the original story came out. This is the full version.
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The Lamia
Belen pressed himself against the tree, hoping that the pale moonlight would obscure his silhouette. The cypress was icy in the cold night, its rough bark prodding into his back, making the disastrous night just that much more uncomfortable.
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his hard breathing, focusing in an attempt to deliberately slow his breathing. He did not want his cold breath to give away his position. Despite grime and sweat stinging his eyes, he forced himself not to rub them.
He gripped his kopis, blade raised against his chest. It gave him some small comfort in its presence. The bronze blade barely gave off any shine as he had taken the precaution of rubbing it with ash before they had set off.
The last few minutes were a complete blur. Running. Panicked shouts. Branches obscuring his vision. Brambles tearing at his sandaled feet. In the chaos, he saw Kyros get taken in the darkness. One moment he was crouched by the bushes, the next he cried out and was dragged into the undergrowth. A veteran of many brutal fights, he had the experience to know it was an opportunity to withdraw rather than be rooted to the spot to witness the gruesome death, like some kind of naive youngster in his first battle.
He fled down the trail as fast as he could.
Or so he thought.
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Earlier that morning, Belen, Kyros, Syna and Pedar had wandered down the road from the city of Pyga and came across a quiet village by the river.
By the river banks lined with olive trees, a man sat with his son taking shelter from the midday sun in the cool shade. They each had fishing rods in their hands and Belen could see that they had already had some success with a few fish tails sticking out of the basket beside them. But they were not done yet, and in the clear shallow waters, there were many beautiful brown trout swimming lazily about.
Kyros veered off the dirt road and approached them. "I bid you good afternoon, gentle father. Have you any fish to spare for some hungry travelers?"
The man looked Kyros over and then looked past him to Kyros' companions. "Well met, traveler. Our village, just beyond where the road crests, you will find that we have a fishmonger who sells a wide range of fish from the Pyrenean Sea.
Kyros laughed, "I'm certain what you have will be much fresher than what is in your village market."
When he saw the man's wary eyes trail down his body to his falcata sheathed in his belt, Kyros quickly held up his hands placatingly, "Plus I'm happy to pay you for your trouble! Say three drachmas for two fish?"
The fisherman's expression brightened upon hearing the price. "I can do that."
When Kyros returned to his friends, Pedar looked at him in disbelief.
"Are you insane? Three drachmas for these two fish?! We could have gotten these same fish for one drachma back in Pyga. What were you thinking?"
"Peace, Pedar. I'm a warrior, not a merchant," shrugged Kyros. "Besides, I saw how he looked at my blade. He obviously thought I looked dangerous to him. If we pay him more than a fair amount, he'll know we aren't highwaymen. Think of it as buying goodwill with the locals."
He began walking towards the inn. Pedar rolled his eyes and called out at his retreating form, "We earned that money fair and square, Kyos. We spent five days in a swamp to capture that wisp! And Belen nearly lost his arm to a crocodile!"
Syna placed her hand on Pedar's shoulder, "Well he didn't, because we were there to watch his back. That crocodile had a dozen arrows in him the moment his eyes broke the water's surface. It should've stuck to ambushing fat water voles."
"Well, it still set us back another day by causing the wisp to flee deeper into the swamp," Pedar grumbled, but his retort had grown softer, feeling more mollified.
The four of them were in the middle of haggling for a room at the village inn when a crowd of people began to form in the street outside. Turning around, they saw a body being brought in to the village elder's hut. Through the blue cloth they carried it in, a large patch of red leaked through onto the ground.
The four looked at each other and their subtle nods spoke of their unworded agreement: potential opportunity.
Entering the hut, they pushed their way through the throng of villagers. One of the men who found the body was telling everyone how he found it in the woods.
"I would never have found Deimos' body if his pendant didn't reflect the sunlight into my eyes. I have no idea how he wound up so high up in the hills."
Deimos' hair and clothes were matted with twigs and leaves, while much of the straw colored material was splattered with dirt. It was a gruesome sight, with a broken leg and a gaping hole in the side of his torso.
"This is exactly what happened to Alekos three weeks ago, and to Kostas the month before that!" wailed an elderly woman.
Chatter broke out amongst the crowd, with words like "cursed by the gods" and "monster" echoing in the conversations.
Kyros spoke up, his voice cutting through the noise, "How do you know this wasn't a simple bear mauling?"