Sunday, May 26, 2019

4.45: Everything I Do

1183 BCE - Troy's Southern Gate.

Adresteia and Athena’s battle carried them down the adjoining street, Odysseus chasing after them. Helen, wounded several times over, joined Menelaus at the gate as Agamemnon returned with dozens of men.


“Move aside brother!” Agamemnon shouted, “We must finish this, now! None of Troy’s royal blood can escape to plague us in the future!”

“Turn back brother!” Menelaus answered, “Everything you’ve done has been for the sake of the alliance hasn’t it? Without me, without us,” he nodded to his queen, “your alliance is incomplete.”

“Ugh, Sparta,” Agamemnon said, “That backwards shithole of a country has produced nothing of value. We can do just fine without you.” The men with Agamemnon were clearly divided by that statement - the Spartans looking back-and-forth to one another as if to ask, 'Can he say that?'

“Are you so sure of that?” Helen shouted, “Our spears are sharp, our shields are broad, and our cloaks are red. Everywhere we march, the fire of Sparta burns in our hearts. We dig even when the earth is hard, and there we plant our enemies - dead. We’re Spartans, Agamemnon, we sew our fields with the blood of men like you.”

Out of the assemblage of troops following Agamemnon, a throng of them left his side – their red cloaks flapping in the breeze blowing through the gate. They marched to their king and queen, formed up, turned around, and raised their weapons.

“Have you all lost your senses?” Agamemnon shouted.

“Unofficial motto of Sparta, brother,” Menelaus said, “You need us more than we need you. Now, will you keep the peace of the Grecian league, or do we start a Peloponnesian war right here?”

Agamemnon seethed, but he whirled around and led his men away. There was a city to sack, after all.

Meanwhile, the battle with Athena had made it up to the walls of Troy. Odysseus did his best to keep up, mostly distracting Athena whenever it looked like she might get the upperhand over Adresteia.

The more they fought, the more Adresteia was certain something had happened to finally unhinge Athena. The goddess had been tightly wound, and she’d lost nearly everything she’d planned for, so maybe she’d finally snapped. Adresteia started to feel sorry for her.

There was a lull in the battle as the two goddesses caught their breath. “We didn’t raise arms to kill you,” Adresteia said as Odysseus caught up to them, “Only to save the women and children in that street. They’re gone. They’ve escaped, and without your bracelet, you have no hope of catching them. Stand down. There’s no point in any of us dying.”

“Please listen to her, Athena,” Odysseus said, “Give up this battle. You’re the master strategist. You live to make plans. Throw this one away, and make a new one. Please.”

“You want me to surrender? I suppose you’d be wise to plead for your lives,” Athena dropped her spear, “Because, I still have this,” Athena pulled out Pandora’s Box, “All I need is the slightest whisper from your lips, Nemesis, and I can strip your mother’s legacy from you.” Athena set the key in the top of the box and set it to 'receive'.

“That requires getting pretty up close and personal,” Adresteia said, “What makes you think Morgania won’t end up in the box?”

“She hasn't yet, has she?”

Athena charged at Adresteia, popping the box open and swinging it at her like a weapon. Adresteia held her breath and dodged the blows directed at her abdomen. She tried to strike back, but Athena blocked every attack with her shield.

Odysseus followed them – but what else could he do? Athena had promised to look after not only him, but Penelope and his children. He had no doubt that his betrayal would be paid for not only in his blood but theirs as well – Athena wasn't vindictive per se, but it’s what she would consider ‘fair’. If he ran now, he might dodge Athena for a time, but Adresteia would likely die, and eventually the goddess of war would be at his door. That was a terrifying thought, and Odysseus – damn his mind – could see it play out so clearly. Athena would probably decide to be clever, and take his shape. Penelope would open the door, and for an instant, she would be overjoyed to see him. But then, the man she loved would run her through with the spear in his hand. Athena would pin Penelope to the wall, still alive, and then she’d dispatch the children, crush the life from them with her bare hands.

The goddesses were now on the narrow walk above the southern gate, with a sixty foot drop to the street next to them. With no room to maneuver right or left, there was no obvious way for Adresteia to get around Athena's aegis. Adresteia decided it was time to try something really risky. When Athena swung her shield at her, Adresteia dissolved her own armor and shrank suddenly down to her human size, allowing her to duck under the sharp edge of the shield. She grew back to her normal size with her back to Athena, grabbed the forearm with the aegis on it, and began smashing her elbow into Athena’s face. She didn’t do any major damage, but the last blow was enough to knock Athena’s helmet off. The sound of dozens of hissing, angry serpents came from behind her, and the semi-independent appendages on Athena's head began striking at Adresteia. Adresteia cut the straps on the shield with her talons and kicked the divine artifact down to the street. Athena let the shield fall and kicked Adresteia in the buttocks, sending her toppling head first down the  stone steps that  connected the walkway over the gate to the next length of wall. Athena snapped her fingers to summon her spear and jumped down the stairs.

Odysseus was a fit man, but he wasn't strong like a demigod or even like Ajax or Diomedes. And while he was a skilled swordsman, he couldn’t match the goddess of war’s martial skill. But Odysseus had more than a passing grasp of physics, and had thought of one way he might even the playing field. When he saw Adresteia fall, he knew it was now or never; he  ran as hard as he could at Athena. He came up on her from behind and jumped a half an instant before she did.

Odysseus intercepted the goddess midleap. He was smaller than her, lighter, but with her feet off the ground, his mass was enough to knock her off course. Instead of coming down on Adresteia spear-first, Athena sailed over the edge of the wall and plummeted to the ground. Odysseus grabbed the front of her armor with one hand as they fell, and pit the tip of his steel sword against her abdomen.

“You fool!” Athena hissed as the swarming snake heads that wreathed her face snapped at Odysseus.

“I can’t kill you,” Odysseus said, “But I’m willing to bet gra-” He missed the timing on his closing line. Athena hit the iron rich rocks so hard that her body bounced up in the air, plunging Odysseus’s sword through her. He felt her hot, final breath on his face an instant before he went tumbling away, coughing.

A long shadow fell over him. He half expected Athena to descend upon him with her spear, and kill him like a little fish in a river, but instead it was Adresteia.

“You’re not dead are you, Oddy?”

“Would everything hurt this much if I were?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Then I’m fine,” Odysseus groaned. He started to stand up, but immediately fell down. He’d hit his head against Athena’s when they impacted the ground, and the world was spinning. “Addy?”

“Yes?”

“Can you carry me?” Odysseus asked.

“Always,” Adresteia scooped him up and headed back down to the beach.



Menelaus watched Adresteia carry Odysseus away, and then turned to look at Athena’s corpse, “You know, I liked Ares better. I always thought I’d get on better with Athena, but nope. Still, we buried him with the troops. I suppose it’s only right we put her to rest next to her brother, right?"

Helen had picked up Athena’s shield from the street, and now she picked up the goddess’s spear. It was light in her hands. It felt right.

“Hel? What are you doing?” Menelaus asked.

“Being realistic,” Helen said, “I’m one of them. Immortal. I will outlive you, so I think it’s important I find a purpose for myself, so I don’t lose myself with you.”

“I understand,” Menelaus said, “But what purpose do you have in mind?”

“Well, the way I see it,” Helen said as she picked up the goddess’s helmet and looked at her reflection, “Greece still needs an Athena.”

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