Phobia ☤ Alexios

two: the flight

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THE OLD GENERAL oversees the training of soldiers in and around Ephesus. He walks among the ranks of young men, Irene as his shadow. She's an excellent observer and begins to point out when soldiers make mistakes –much to their chagrin. Nothing dampens a man's ego quite like being corrected in matters of war by a six-year-old girl.

Finally, the princess gathers enough courage to confront Hydarnes. "Can I be a warrior?" She asks –the question has been on her mind for many weeks. Most girls are taught the importance of raising strong children, but Irene has the opportunity to learn more, to be more.

Hydarnes chuckles, runs his fingers through a close-cut silver beard in contemplation. "Is that what you want to be?" He asks in return.

Irene enjoys being a girl –she likes pretty dresses, delicate flowers, and honeyed sweets. Maybe she doesn't truly want to be a warrior, but she does want to learn to fight, to defend herself and her friends should she ever need to. "I'd like to know how," the princess admits, refining her previous question.

"Very well," he comments, "you'll start training tomorrow." They begin with short spears made entirely of wood. Hydarnes first teaches her defensive stances, shows her ways to strengthen her body and balance. The same drills he goes over with boys before they become men.

"Every bruise is a lesson." She has acquired her fair share of lessons. For a time, her legs and arms are covered in splotches of black and blue. In turn, Irene becomes quicker, a harder target to hit –especially for an aging general. Once she had busted her lip, Hydarnes thwacks her on the arm for dwelling on the pain too long. "Every hurt teaches us to be better," he tells her.

Time makes her stronger, quicker, and resilient, but she still has much to learn. The old general swings the staff low, knocking the princess off her feet and into a bed of wildflowers. "And remember," he says placing the end of the training staff against her neck, "hesitation will only hasten the grave." In battle, every second counted.

Pleased with the progress Irene has made over the year, Hydarnes decides it is time for her to have more than a wooden staff to train with. He reveals the broken spear of Leonidas, holds it out for Irene to take. "Practice with this," he tells her. It is a good size for a girl of her stature, is heavier than practice staffs, but lighter than swords and full spears.

"Really?" She asks and Hydarnes nods.

The princess takes the broken spear and steps back, swinging tentatively at an invisible enemy. She grips onto the wooden shaft with both hands –and something in the spear awakens to her. Though she wants to let go, the spear will not let her. Still images flash before her eyes, like a hidden memory. "Irene?!" Hydarnes cries, but she does not hear him. The old general grips onto the splintered end and recoils instantly –his palm singed.

Lightning flashes overhead. Rain clatters against metal armor. A woman is screaming and crying –held back by two soldiers and a man holding a boy by the arm over a dark chasm. Lightning coruscates across the sky again. Thunder erupts and the man lets go. The glow of the spearhead dies down, and Irene drops the broken weapon, stumbling back. "I saw a boy," she whispers, "they threw him from a mountain."

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WORD ARRIVES THAT Artaxerxes has returned to Ephesus, and Hydarnes receives a sudden summons to the king's court. But the old general has heard rumors founded in more truth then he should like. Artaxerxes has resisted the sway of the Order for years, but now he too has fallen to their influence. "They want the child," the king announces, offering a cup of wine to the old general. He has not looked upon his sister's daughter since leaving her in Hydarnes' care seven years ago and now he will offer her to the highest bidder.

"No," Hydarnes replies, refusing the wine and his king.

"The Order demands it," Artaxerxes hisses –he must do their bidding or be disposed of as his father was before him. Hydarnes remembers when Artabanus came to his door, seeking shelter for the night with his young daughter, Neema. He fled a failed attempt at regicide. Fearful Artaxerxes would follow in his father's footsteps and become nothing more than a pawn of the Order. Artabanus' fears have come to be a reality.

Sparks of defiance flare-up in Hydarnes dark eyes. "Don't tell me you've come to care for her," the king laughs, derisive.

"Like my own flesh and blood," the general states. Take her as your daughter. "I did only as you commanded me."

"For the sake of peace, give Irene to them." One girl or an empire -it should be an easy decision to make for the old general. The Order will tear Persia apart if they do not have their way. "Your duty is to the throne, Hydarnes," the king's tone is sharp, "need I remind you what happens to people who resist the Order?"

Hydarnes bows his head. "I shall return," he utters though it pains him to say.

Artaxerxes is pleased with his compliance. It would have been a shame to lose such an esteemed general over the likes of a young girl. "See that it does not take long. The Order is not patient." Hydarnes looks over his shoulder and nods. "Bring that broken spear, too," the king adds.

Hydarnes returns to his manse in haste and wakes the princess in the night, tells her to change into something warm. Though confused and lethargic, Irene listens. She ties a wool cape around her shoulders and fastens the straps of her small boots. He leads her toward the north into the dark forest.

There are a dozen question on her tongue and Hydarnes can see most of them in her wide, started eyes. "Keep quiet, child," he whispers before she can ask anything. They must move swiftly to avoid capture, though the general knows the Order will never stop searching for her.

They come to stop at a stream, a horse and rider are waiting beneath a twisted olive tree. Zephyr. Hydarnes clasps arms with the king's ward and passes along a sealed scroll to be delivered to an Athenian statesman. Amytis' son is who alerted him to the Order's intentions and the purpose behind the king traveling to Ephesus again. "Zephyr will take you across the sea," he says, "you will be safer there."

Seeing her bottom lip tremble and tears well in her blue eyes reminds Hydarnes the princess is still a girl –still only a child. "I don't want to leave!" Irene cries.

"You must," he tells her with a sad smile. It is the only way she will be safe. "Here-" from his robes, Hydarnes reveals the broken spear of Leonidas "-keep this safe." There is something special about the spear and something special about the girl who can wield it.

Irene wraps her arms around the old general, unwilling to let go. Wolves are howling at the moon, and the wind carries the drum of horse hooves and metal. Hydarnes lifts the girl into his arms, kisses her temple. "Remember me, young one," he whispers, then places her on the saddle in front of Zephyr. He steps back then brings his hand down on the horse's rear. "Go!" He shouts. "Do not stop!"

It is a hard day's ride to the port city of Miletus and they have not stopped since beginning the journey. Exhaustion claims the horse just outside the city walls. The black mare collapses on the side of the road, unable to carry them any further.

Zephyr finds a boat with blue sails emblazoned with the seal of Athena, barters passage for himself and Irene and offers to double the amount if they leave by sundown. The captain agrees, unable to argue with drachmae and welcomes the two aboard the Paralus.

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