The sun was slowly descending toward the horizon when the first peaks appeared on the hilltop. The army was advancing. They were clearly in a hurry to strike before nightfall. They needed to break our line now. Once darkness falls, all is swallowed by shadow and with it, their advantage.
"Spartans!" came Locrates' voice, his cry echoing off the rocks. "Our home stands behind us! We hold the line here to the end! And the enemy shall fall here too, bathed in our blood and our glory!"
"Aouh!" thundered back through the ranks.
"Aouh!" we echoed, louder this time, as if with one breath.
As the less seasoned fighters, we stood behind our elder brothers. Two, maybe three rows deep, we stretched across the entire defensive line a living wall against the tide of war.
The Athenians bore arms and armor much like ours, but with key differences. Their cuirasses gleamed in the sunlight, crafted not of solid bronze like ours, but from overlapping plates flexible, composite. Their helmets bore a different shape. Their shields bore the mark of the owl symbol of Athens.
I scanned our line and found Kratos. He stood like a statue hewn from stone. A faint smirk played on his lips, and in his eyes pure hunger for battle.
Watch me. See what I'm worth.
"Shields!" came the first command.
"Shields!" Kratos repeated, his voice echoing through the ranks.
And then, in an instant, the sky darkened. A storm of arrows rained down with a shrieking sound, as if night itself had fallen. We couldn't respond in kind. Spartans had no archers only the helot and perioikoi auxiliaries, barely trained bowmen at best.
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The first row knelt, shields forward. The second row raised theirs above. We became one the phalanx, a single living beast. Arrows slammed into bronze with heavy thuds, sending tremors through our bodies. I felt each impact like a punch to the chest.
I looked back. The ground behind us was thick with arrows dense as grass in spring. You couldn't walk or fall without being pierced.
"Spears!" came the next order.
"Spears!" Kratos roared, his voice like a hammer blow.
Our spears surged forward as one, a single jagged point. Our formation arced backward in a shallow crescent, ready to encircle and devour the enemy's charge. The Athenians advanced swiftly, confidently but we did not flinch. Our shields met the first clash, and our spears, bloodthirsty, found flesh.
I saw their faces through the narrow gaps rage, hatred… then pain. Then emptiness. One by one, their bodies collapsed at our feet.
I executed the Furious Storm three quick, lethal thrusts in succession. The spear pierced three men, one after another, almost in the same breath. The battle devolved into a slaughter. Screams, the clash of steel, blood, mud.
"Rotate!" Kratos bellowed.
The first line, bloodied and battered, fell back. We stepped forward in unison, like a rising wave. Shields locked again. New faces now before me blurred, wild. The enemy. All sound melded into one metal, gasps, cries, the thud of blows.
The spear was too long space too tight. I hurled it into the chest of the nearest soldier and drew my sword. Short strikes. Brutal ones. Each blow was rage. Each swing, merciless. Moments passed in blood-drenched madness, until the mind numbed. The body moved on its own memory, reflex, endless drills etched into muscle.
"Rotate!" Kratos shouted again over the din of metal and screams.
I barely heard it, but my body reacted before thought could. I stepped back, behind my brothers' shields. My heart pounded in my temples, breath ragged but I could breathe, if only for a moment.
A fresh wave hit us. These men were different not green recruits. Veterans. Hardened. They struck with precision, moved with discipline, pushing harder with every breath. We were losing ground. I saw more Spartans fall cut down, unmoving.
"Spartans! No retreat!" Kratos growled.
I saw one of ours break formation. I thought him mad. But then I saw it was Kratos. He surged forward, crashing into the enemy like a storm. The spear in his hand was lightning. He carved a path through their ranks, like a beast searching for prey.
And then I saw him.
In the midst of the Athenians stood a man in ornate armor, helm crowned with gold. Their commander. Kratos charged straight at him without pause, without fear. And we followed. Our line broke, but we carved a corridor through blood and flesh.
I was among them. We tore through the enemy's ranks. Many of my brothers fell giving their lives for this wild, desperate push. But that is the spirit of Sparta to follow your commander, no matter the cost.
Kratos's spear slammed into the enemy officer's chest, and he crumpled to the ground.
Kratos roared his fury tearing across the battlefield:
"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
He was close to frenzy, to the edge of madness. I grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. The enemy, though shaken, still held their formation. Still fought.
We had broken through with blood and fury but we left behind the fallen who'd made it possible. I turned, breath catching in my throat until I saw Damiippus alive. He had always been at my side. I feared this would be the battle where I lost him.
Then, the sound of a war horn pierced the air.
The enemy warriors began to retreat.
Only now did I notice how few of them remained. Apparently, this was a strike force the ones meant to break through our lines before the main army arrived. Now they were regrouping, preparing to crush us completely.
I looked across the battlefield. It was littered with bodies ours and theirs. Blood everywhere, tattered banners, trampled shields. The air was thick with the taste of metal and the stench of death.
"Regroup!" Lokrat shouted.
Everyone who had survived began gathering around him. Our army, exhausted but still alive, reformed not into a stretched-out line, but into a tight, solid rectangle. We retreated to the foot of the mountain, leaving the enemy a choice: push forward and leave us at their back, or stay and finish us off.
The sun disappeared behind the mountain range. Darkness swallowed everything.
I wondered do the gods watch us now? Perhaps only Hades and Ares found joy in this sight one adding to his realm, the other reveling in endless slaughter.
Our short reprieve was ending. We had to reorganize and reinforce the defense. Our numbers had halved. Most of the fallen hadn't been true Spartans. Many were only boys sixteen, seventeen years old.
I counted only four of us left from our agela those I had entered the battle with: Damippus, myself, Androcles, and Galix. No matter how I tried to stay detached, they had become like brothers to me. Men I had shared every step of the path with. They were my family.
Silently, I wished the fallen a swift journey to the realm of Hades, where, they say, fallen warriors are granted eternal glory and a great feast. I hoped that was true and not just a beautiful lie told to give us courage.
In the distance, the full enemy army finally appeared. We watched as it began advancing toward our position. Torches flared in the darkness, casting eerie reflections on the ground and on the faces of the approaching warriors.
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"I haven't felt this hungry in a long time," muttered Damipp beside me.
One of the blows had left a deep wound on his arm. A flimsy bandage barely clung to it, soaked through with blood.
"Maybe we'll eat our fill soon," I replied with a wry smile more weariness than humor.
Though likely, it would be in the afterlife.
We hadn't brought food for the march it would've only slowed us down. We carried only weapons. There wasn't much hope. The best we could aim for was to delay the enemy forces as long as possible.
But Sparta would not fall so easily. Even if almost nothing remained of the army. The women would fight. Just as there were camps for boys, there were camps for girls. The conditions were different, less brutal but still harsh.
"This was our first battle... Did we fight well?" Damipp asked, breathing heavily, barely able to stand.
"With honor," answered Kratos, appearing suddenly. His voice was firm like stone.
"We took thousands of lives for the price of hundreds of our own."
"Kratos," I greeted.
"Damocles," he nodded.
There had always been a rivalry between us. He kept pulling ahead, and I kept pushing myself to catch up. Strangely, there wasn't a single wound on him. The blood on his armor clearly belonged to the enemy. And that was no small feat he had cut his way through enemy lines to kill their commander personally.
"At dawn, they'll attack. Tonight only small skirmishes. They'll try to lull us into complacency.
When we're tired... that's when they'll strike." Kratos said this and disappeared into the darkness, not waiting for a response.
We didn't rest long. Sometime in the middle of the night, an arrow hissed into the ground right at our feet. Another followed, cutting through the air.
"Shields!" someone yelled.
But the barrage ended almost as soon as it began. They didn't want to kill us. They wanted to keep us awake. It was going to be a long night.
Author's note:
A small map is coming. Later, I plan to animate the battle in Blender. Still not sure how it will turn out.
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