Chapter 60: Chapter 60: The Mighty Spear

Praxis barely had time to think before the warrior-priest closed the distance between them and thrust his sword at his midsection. With a lunge that was just in time, Praxis moved to the side and looked for any weakness on the attacker.

The priest dashed in again for another swipe but that was when Praxis smelled it.

Wine.

This priest had been drinking as well.

Using the knowledge to his advantage, Praxis moved quickly, unleashing a series of feints and jabs designed to keep his opponent off guard. He hoped that the alcohol would dull his reflexes and eventually present an opening that Praxis could exploit.

It happened sooner than he imagined. In a parry that staved off a sharp thrust to his side, the warrior-priest left his other side completely open. It only took a split second, but Praxis doubled back and drove his sword right through the fleshy midsection.

“Lord Ares, I’ve failed you,” uttered the priest before he crumpled to the floor.

There was something immensely satisfying about watching the man hit the floor, but Praxis couldn’t relish it for very long. He turned to face the last remaining priest, who was watching the entire interaction. Praxis felt an immediate discomfort, knowing the man had been familiarizing himself with Praxis’ moves, and he would now have an advantage because of it.

“Very good,” said the priest, nodding his head at Praxis. “You fight well and you move quickly. The way you took down that man right now was almost . . . beautiful in its composition. I can tell you’re a true warrior at heart. You know, Ares always has a need for good warriors, for men that are full of martial spirit. Perhaps you would consider joining our temple?”

“There’s nothing you could say to me to make me join you,” replied Praxis. “I’m disgusted by what you intended to do tonight with that woman and her children. Where is the honor in that? Do you think Ares sanctions what you were planning to do?”

The priest started to laugh. “Ares understands our needs for supple, young flesh. After all, there is nothing better to do after a battle but push into the wet hole of a waiting woman. Ares knows this and permits our discretions as long as we continue to honor him. Perhaps you would like to honor him in that way as well?”

“I have my own god,” replied Praxis. “Athena watches over me.”

The priest let out a mocking laugh. “Athena? Is that a joke? She has half the power of Ares. She won’t be able to protect you here.”

Praxis gestured to the dead man at his feet. “Just like Ares was able to protect all your other priests? If that is so, then why are they all dead?”

“Everybody dies in the end, even you,” replied the priest. “How many men truly live? These men here did. They had lives that meant something. The fact that they are dead doesn’t mean you’ve triumphed over Ares. No, these men will be replaced. I’ve served this temple my entire life. I’ve watched these priests come and go, and every open spot has been filled by someone more willing. Once you’re nothing more than a corpse like the rest of them, then I will find new recruits and my temple will continue on. But you, you’ll be nothing. Your bones will rot in the ground for all eternity.”

“I’ll take my chances,” replied Praxis, holding up his sword.

At that point, the priest surprised him by holding out a spear instead of a sword. He gripped it with his right hand, holding it upright while brandishing a shield in his left.

“I thought you might say that,” replied the priest. “Come, let’s fight for our gods!”

The priest started his attack but instead of throwing his spear, as was common practice at the time, he used it in a similar manner as a sword, thrusting forward and then withdrawing to find another weakness. It put Praxis off guard because he’d never seen a spear used in that fashion before, and it put him at a disadvantage because his sword couldn’t reach as far as the priest’s spear.

“Come on, fight me,” growled the priest, stabbing at him again.

Praxis felt the weight of the spear tip jam into his shield over and over again. He was barely able to keep his ground, as the priest kept attacking him and forcing him back. The man was incredibly agile and it was clear that the spear had been his weapon of choice for years if not decades.

Finally, the priest managed to strike home. Praxis yelled out in pain as the tip dug into the soft flesh of his stomach and then ripped outward. The feeling of pain was almost enough to drop him to his knees but thankfully it wasn’t a deep wound (nor was it on the side that had so wounded him in Damian’s betrayal).

“You disappoint me, boy,” said the priest between lunges. “Surely Athena can do better than this?”

The words incited Praxis to try harder. After all, it wasn’t for nothing that the goddess extended her blessing to him, and it wouldn’t do her any good to fall now. So he kept attacking and parrying, staying in the fight and looking for a weakness.

One thing that Praxis noticed was that the use of the spear, while giving the priest extra reach, seemed to come with a caveat. The caveat was that his shield side was less protected, especially when he lunged forward to attack with the spear. It threw the priest’s body off balance, and it was here that Praxis tried to capitalize. Every time the priest lunged with his spear, Praxis blocked it and struck at his undefended left side.

The first two times were blocked successfully but it was the third time that Praxis struck pay dirt. The tip of his sword plunged into the fleshy side of the priest, tearing a vertical line all the way to the man’s waist.

The shock of the blow caused the priest to drop his shield in surprise. His mouth opened wide at the sudden defeat, and Praxis took that moment to drive his sword straight through the man’s chest. The crunching sound of his breaking ribs couldn’t have been any more satisfying. As was the small trickle of blood that erupted from the man’s mouth.

As Praxis pulled his blade free, the man sank to his knees.

“Ares . . . Ares will not be pleased,” he stuttered while touching his wounds. “Athena has . . . triumphed.”

The priest said nothing further before he toppled over for good, his body completely lifeless.

With the threat neutralized, Praxis took a moment to sit on one of the ledges on the side of the temple. His side pulsed with pain when he did, and he took a moment to examine the wound.

“Lysandra isn’t going to be happy about this one,” he muttered under his breath.

It took him a minute to recover but then he finally remembered his true purpose for being there. Pushing up again, Praxis entered the far room, which happened to be situated in the center of the temple. The room was adorned with all kinds of weapons of war—swords, shields, and even slings. By the looks of it, they’d all been confiscated by their dead owners and dedicated to Ares. In the center of the room was the statue he was looking for.

Covered in gold, the small statue of Ares was no more than a foot high but it was certainly the centerpiece of the entire temple. It was heavy to pick up, although Praxis doubted that it was made of solid gold because it was lighter than he thought it would be. Finding a sack to put it in, Praxis slung it over his shoulder and made his way outside the temple.

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By this point in the evening, the sun had gone down completely. Praxis looked around to find familiar silhouettes of Lysandra and the others, not seeing them until he retraced his steps to the crater.

“Praxis! Over here!”

He found them huddled low near the rocky surface. Lysandra ran out to embrace him but in the process, her arm knocked into the statue.

“Is that it?” she asked, gesturing to the sack. “Is that the statue of Ares?”

“That it would be,” replied Praxis, grinning. “We’ve completed our first trial.”

The sheer joy that she displayed at those five words was infectious. They embraced each other like they’d just done the impossible, because in a way, they had.

“They’re all dead?” asked the young mother, who was seated nearby while attending to her tired children. “Are we safe?”

“You’re safe with us,” promised Praxis. “And you can have your freedom.”

The woman pushed to her feet and ran to embrace him as well, weeping great tears of happiness at escaping the terrible fate that was in store for her.

That evening, Praxis moved the group closer to the mountain, wanting to put some distance between themselves and the dead at the temple. They found shelter in a small cave that was thankfully free of other creatures, and the mother and her young children promptly fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, but not before agreeing to come with them to the village for safety.

Lysandra wasn’t far behind either. She snuggled against Praxis’ chest as they listened to the bugs of the night.

“You did wonderful tonight,” she whispered to him. “I was so afraid of what might happen once you were in real combat again, but you proved me wrong. You were just as amazing as you always were.”

“I had a lot of help tonight,” replied Praxis, pulling her close. “You have a fighter’s heart and you kept your head in the middle of the battle. I couldn’t be more proud of you right now.”

Lysandra smiled at him. “I want to keep training if that’s all right? I want you to show me how far I can go. I want you to mold me into a fighter just like you.”

“You have my promise,” replied Praxis. “I think I’d be lucky to have you fight by my side.”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that?” she joked.

“Not tonight,” he whispered. “Tonight, you earned every bit of praise.”

Those were just the words she needed to hear. “I love you, Praxis.

“I love you too.”

*****

The next morning, the small group was moving before dawn to close the remaining distance to the village on the other side of the mountain. All of them moved quickly, as there was still a desire to get as far away from the temple as humanly possible. With their quick pace, Praxis spotted the village just about the same time as the elders showed up the day before.

The elders were waiting for them at the house of Demetrios. Demetrios grinned and waved when he saw Praxis, and he even let up a cheer when Praxis raised the golden statue of Ares high above his head for all of them to see.

Even with the statue, it wasn’t the most exciting moment of the day. No, that came when one of the elders recognized the young mother.

“Dirce? Dirce, is that you?”

The young mother started running toward him. “Father!”

There was much chatter at that point at the revelation of the family relationship. Praxis later learned that the young mother, known as Dirce, had grown up in the village before she was married about ten years prior, going to live on a remote farm with her husband while leaving her father behind. Dirce wasted no time in telling the tale of what happened to her husband as well as going on about her version of the events of last night.

“This man is a hero,” she said, pointing to Praxis. “He saved me and my children! Who knows what would have happened to us without him.”

“Truly, he is a hero,” said her father, moving forward to shake Praxis’ hand. “I thank you, noble Argive, for saving my daughter.”

“This has been quite the day already,” said Demetrios as he looked at Medios. “Perhaps we can call the trials off now? After what Praxis has done for our friend Lasos here, do we really need to continue with the trials?”

Medios wasn’t so easily swayed. He shook his head firmly. “No, all three trials must be completed. No matter what might have been done, he agreed to all three.”

Praxis let out a deep sigh. “Very well, what is the next trial? You told me you’d tell us once we completed the first one.”

Medios scoffed. “This next one won’t be so easy. You’ve easily triumphed over man, Argive. Your next trial will put your skills to the test against a savage beast.”

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