Mortal(God of War)

All night, we were under fire from arrows, loosed at random intervals. Small enemy squads with torches approached from every direction, forcing us to treat every shifting shadow as a threat. More often than not, it was only a couple of men with torches but we still had to react. They clashed with us more than once. And yet not a single Spartan closed his eyes. No one sat. No one lay down. No one broke formation. We were ready to fight for our lives at any moment. Children of war. Born in it, and destined to die in it.

With the first light of dawn came the grim realization we were alone. The enemy had vanished. Their army had simply left, marching toward Sparta, leaving us behind. All night they had pretended to guard us, pretending there would be a battle at sunrise. In truth, only a fraction of their forces had remained behind.

"Form up," Lokrat said grimly, eyes locked on the horizon. "We march. Reserve forces are on the way. If we leave them on their own, they'll be slaughtered. Advance."

"Aouph!" came the battle cry rising like a roar from the depths of oblivion and we broke into a charge.

The enemy numbered at least a thousand. We were around six hundred. The night had cost us lives, and some of the wounded had already succumbed to their injuries. Others couldn't fight. It was madness to attack.

But our charge threw them into panic. They hadn't expected it not from warriors who hadn't slept a single moment. Perhaps they thought we'd be too weak to move, that we'd hold our ground at best. They scrambled to form ranks, but we were already upon them like a spear thrown with wrath, we struck.

We tore through their lines, swift and merciless. Blood and the clash of steel filled the air again. Furious and frenzied, we hacked each other down with savage fury. Our numbers dwindled as quickly as theirs.

The battle didn't last long and we won. But we had nothing left. I sank to the ground amid the bodies of my brothers and fallen foes. The mud, soaked with blood, clung to everything. My body was covered in cuts and bruises, my hands trembled, and my legs refused to lift me anymore.

Nearly the entire younger generation had perished almost to the last man. Only a few of us were left.

This is the true horror of war. In stories and songs, all you hear is how Sparta's heroes crushed the enemy and saved the homeland. But the truth is, we were no one our lives traded for soil and carrion, a feast for crows and beasts. The only joy was seeing Damipp alive. He lay not far from me. His chest rose and fell slowly he was breathing.

I crawled to him and checked his wounds. Fresh cuts covered his skin, but none were fatal. He simply stared at the sky, his eyes empty, lost. No matter how great we were as warriors, we were still men.

First came the rapid march to intercept the enemy. Then a grueling, brutal battle to hold the line. Then a sleepless night, with nerves pulled taut. And then we fought again.

"Damipp," I called. He turned his head slightly in my direction, but said nothing. Just lay there, resting. I stayed by his side and lay down nearby. I remembered the first time we found ourselves in a situation like this we were seven. That was when our friendship began. After that first battle, we lay in silence, staring at the clouds. Back then, it was just scrapes. Now, it was wounds and agony.

A Spartan approached us, carrying a satchel. Without a word, he washed the blood from my face and tended to my injuries. Then he moved to Damipp. I don't know how long we lay there. I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep. But the call came.

"Form up!" barked a harsh voice Kratos.

"Enomotarch Lokrat has fallen," he continued. "Before he died, he named me his second."

A few Spartans frowned, skeptical. Kratos was young not yet twenty and now he would command us?

"That was the order of the Enomotarch," Kratos said sharply.

There was no time to argue. All who could still stand fell into formation. Those still able to wield a weapon took the front, the wounded followed behind. Only about two hundred of us remained an eighth of the force that had first entered this field of battle.

"We're moving after the Athenian army," said Kratos. "By the time we reach them, they'll likely be laying siege to Sparta. They number at least six thousand. The reserve armies won't stop them not without leadership. They'll break and run. Our task is to find the scattered units, rally them into a single force, and strike Athens from behind."

"The Spartan army won't return in less than four days," one of the men added.

"Exactly," Kratos confirmed. "We're the only ones who can stop them now."

The situation was dire. We had managed to delay the enemy for a single day but they'd ignored us and advanced on their true goal. Time was short. If we could link up with the reserves and gather seven thousand warriors, we might repel the enemy with a strong defense. But now, with everything scattered and uncertain, the location of the reserves unknown... Perhaps Lokrat had attacked too soon. Perhaps we should have waited. But what's done is done.

The main goal of the Athenian army was not merely the destruction of Sparta, but the seizure of its treasures. We may not have seemed wealthy, but that was a deception. Over the years, Sparta had amassed great riches not the kind we valued, but the kind others covet greedily.

We moved forward, and after several hours, we came across a battlefield strewn with corpses. Torn bodies, charred remnants of armor and weapons. It became clear that most of the dead were from our reserve forces. There were few Athenian dead, meaning their victory had been effortless.

"We'll split into four groups. Our task is to find and gather anyone still alive. We'll regroup in the village of Kephalas," Kratos ordered. "Damocles, you'll lead one of the groups."

"Understood," I replied curtly.

We quickly divided and set off in different directions.

"We've allowed the enemy to trample our land," said Damipp, catching up to me.

"It's only temporary. We're not even full Spartans yet," I answered.

"But we were taught to stand until the end, to give our lives if needed. It was us who opened the way for them hoping they'd thirst more for our blood than for Sparta's riches," said Damipp.

"You're forgetting something," I said. "The greatest treasure of Sparta is her warriors. The city can withstand the siege until we return and crush the enemy. They'll need more than a day to take the walls."

"I hope we're not too late," Damipp murmured.

Our group headed east, toward the villages in this region. Most of the Perioikoi and Helots would likely return home. We gathered abandoned weapons and armor, following trails like breadcrumbs across the land.

Soon, we spotted a group bearing the Spartan flag. They saw us too but looked on cautiously. Under normal circumstances, desertion meant immediate execution. But now, no one could afford to lose soldiers.

"Did you encounter the Athenians? What happened?" I asked.

One of them stepped forward unsteadily. His face was bruised, but he was in decent condition.

"We were sent to reinforce the army that was supposedly holding back the Athenians. At first, we thought we had found them. But then we noticed foreign banners. The commander realized they were the enemy and ordered us to fight. We clashed at dawn. We did our best, but they overwhelmed us. When our leader fell, we began to retreat. We're not cowards but staying would have meant certain death."

"We're gathering everyone we can," I said. "We need to rebuild our army and strike back to lift the siege on Sparta."

"That's madness," objected one of the Perioikoi. "Their army is too strong. Ours is broken. Most of the experienced warriors are already dead."

"All is not lost," I replied. "Sparta holds the enemy at bay. We won't attack head-on. Our aim is to draw part of their forces away to lead them into a trap. We can't beat them with numbers, but we can with strategy."

"If that's the plan, we'll follow you," the spokesman finally said.

"Do you know what happened to the others?" I asked.

"We stayed here, unsure where to go next. Those with me decided to find you. The rest left they didn't want to wait. But I know where they went."

"Then lead the way," I said.

Our group grew to 150 men. Along the roads and forest trails, we gathered survivors. Each warrior we found was like a breath of air. It was a small moment of hope the army was growing again, slowly but steadily. And yet, hunger gnawed at us. There was no food. We had to reach a settlement any settlement.