Chapter Two

Chapter 2

It had been a week since the Bluinthians had liberated Zafer when the messenger returned, baring an urgent message from General Argos.
“Captain!” a voice urged, barging into Solon’s temporary office within the town hall.
Solon started and looked up to see who had caused the disturbance; it was one of the townspeople. “Yes?”
“I was told to inform you that the messenger has returned! He says he has an urgent message!”
“Well, where is he?” Solon demanded, standing from his seat before a desk, eager to go.
“He’s being given a drink in the main hall; it was all we could do to stop him from barging in here unawares.”
“Thank you.” Solon pushed passed the man and hurried down the hallway and into the main room before two large oak doors that hung open. Outside some people had gathered to see what was going on.
Solon made his way to Milus who was standing before a man hardly recognizable under the dust and grim of the trail, but Solon still knew him. “Gordo, what urgent news do you bare?”
Gordo gulped down a few more mouthfuls of water before he replied in labored speech, “Wendulions… are coming… right here.” He swallowed hard. “They are… coming to… to take Zafer.” Gordo thrust a sheet of rolled up paper to Solon for him to take.
Solon accepted it and unrolled it as Gordo resumed taking long draughts of water from a water skin.
Solon frowned as he read the words in hurried script upon the parchment. It was written in a code. Code was standard procedure, should the message fall into the hands of the enemy they didn’t want them to discover their plans.
“Milus come with me. Gordo, you are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” They both responded. Gordo was ushered off to the sleeping quartered and Solon turned on his heels and headed back towards his room. Milus fell into step behind him.
“What does it say?” Milus asked, curiosity making his voice at a slightly higher pitch than normal.
Solon said nothing for a while. They entered his office and solon returned to his desk. He spread the parchment upon the desk with his hands to hold it down. Solon’s frown deepened as he studied it.
“Well?” Milus asked once more.
Solon looked up into the man’s dark grey eyes with his own.
“They spied out a mass of Wendulian troops heading in our direction about a week and a half ago. Which means they are basically camped right outside out front door without us noticing them.”
“How many?”
Solon pursed his lips. “Too many.”
Milus narrowed his eyes. “And we have?”
“Thirty-eight after we buried four of our brethren after the battle with Ganthrow. There are Forty of the town’s slingers that are battle ready. The rest returned to their normal lives”
Milus nodded as if confirming something then looked back to Solon.
“They… have an entire company of troops.”
“Two hundred?”
Solon nodded. “Two hundred.”
“What else does the note say?”
“We are to defend Zafer and its resources at all costs. We have to hold out until the general arrives.”
“Do you think we’ll make it?”
Solon shook his head solemnly. “The general won’t be here for another two or three days. And if what the report says is true, the enemy could attack at any time.”
“So in other words?”
“We’ll most likely be dead before he gets here.”
Milus sighed and let his soldiers droop.
“All we can do is pray the gods protect us, and that the General will get here in all haste.”
Milus nodded. “May the gods be on our side.”
“You are dismissed.” Solon gripped the desk by the edges and leaned over the desk as he looked at the orders.
“Yes, sir.” Milus responded, but he didn’t move from his spot. Solon looked up at him with a questioning look in his eyes.
“Is there something you would like to say?”
Milus shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he seemed to debate something within his mind before coming to a conclusion. “No, never mind. Should I inform the men?”
Solon nodded “Tell them to prepare for battle and fortify the walls, I want the slingers up top with swordsmen to guard them and I want the hoplites ready to meet the enemy should they make it through the gates.”
“Yes, Captain.” Milus turned and departed the room.
Solon picked up his breastplate and stared at it, looking at his reflection on the scarred metal. He prayed to Apollo for protection, to protect him in battle and if he should die, to protect Caitlin and their unborn child. He also prayed to the goddess Athena for wisdom in the coming battle as he donned the breastplate over his tunic. He strapped his sword to his waist and then slung his shield over his shoulder and picked up his helmet. Solon ran his fingers through the blue horsehair tresses hanging from a single slot of the brass helmet. He replaced the helmet to his desk and then strapped the greaves to his shins and the vambraces to his forearms. It wasn’t until them did his grab his helmet once more and then departed from the town hall.
The captain hadn’t stepped more than a few paces from the town hall before he saw a citizen running down the main street yelling something. It took a few moments for him to decipher what he was hearing.
“Run!” the man was shouting. From what?
“The Wendulions are attacking!”The man continued. Solon recognized him, it was Ianos. He was one of the hoplites. Solon’s eyes found the wound in the man’s shoulder. The broken shaft of a spear protruding from his shoulder. The blood staining the man’s tunic. Ianos wasn’t lying.
Solon almost dropped his helmet then. He couldn’t believe it. They were already attacking. Solon shook his head as if to shake away his disbelief and then pulled on his helm and ran for the wall. Ianos collapsed to the ground, dead where he lay as Solon ran by.
When he arrived he took the steps two at a time until his reached the top of the large wooden structure and he stopped himself on the ledge with his hands and looked down. Sure enough, a mass of soldiers with red plumes falling from their helmets stood outside their gates with a ram and two ladders to climb up the wall. Solon stepped back once in surprise and then turned to look, the Bluinthian troops were just streaming out of the barracks and running for the wall. He urged them with his mind. He urged them to move faster. He pulled out his sword and then suddenly the ground seemed to shake beneath him as the ram hit the wall for the first time. It caught him off guard and he staggered back against the low railing on top of the wall. The next pound sent the captain over the edge and plummeting to the ground ten feet below.
Solon’s instincts kicked in and he twisted himself around so that his feet would hit the ground first and he relaxed his muscles. He hit the soft ground outside the wall on the balls of his feet and then bent his knees, diving forward into a roll, with his arms protecting his head in the same motion, to absorb the power of the impact.
At the completion of his fall he was laying on the ground, staring up at the sky. His feet and legs were sore and his shoulder throbbed, but he was intact and had no broken limbs. For that he was grateful. He looked around and then remembered where he was and his eyes widened. He saw his sword off to his right and he quickly rolled onto his stomach and scrambled for the blade, his helm falling off of his head in the process.
Before he had moved more than a few feet the Wendulions were on him. He reached for the hilt of his sword only to be kicked in the gut and knocked over onto his side. The soldiers saw the pin on his armor that marked him a captain and one of them shouted. “We have him!” before suddenly everything went dark, with only the faint echo of vibrating metal echoing through his skull and he fell into unconsciousness.