On our path, we came across another village. The same fate befell it as the last: we peacefully convinced the inhabitants to surrender and took it under our control. As we advanced further, we spotted a detachment of the enemy's army. By their gait and the way they held their weapons, it was immediately clear they were no true warriors. It was obvious they were unfamiliar with the feel of shield and blade. The group numbered no more than twenty.
"Forward," Kratos commanded curtly. Without waiting for a reply, he stormed ahead like a hurricane.
I hadn't even opened my mouth when he crashed into the enemy ranks. The first soldier didn't even raise his shield before Kratos struck him down. His spear pierced the man's chest with ease. Tearing it free, he dodged the next attack and thrust the tip beneath a raised arm straight into the heart.
They fell one after another, unable to withstand his fury. We arrived in time to prevent them from regrouping. The skirmish was brief. Seeing death reap its harvest, the remaining soldiers faltered, dropped their weapons, and raised their hands.
"Tie them up," Kratos ordered calmly.
I stepped closer, studying the faces of the defeated.
"Speak. Where did you come from? Where is your army gathering?"
"Stay silent…" one of the messengers whispered to the others, his eyes wide with fear.
"You'd best talk willingly," I said coldly. "Otherwise, it will be worse for you."
"We'll tell you nothing," one of the prisoners growled. The two Spartans beside him didn't need words. They forced him to the ground, and steel found his throat without mercy. War demands sacrifice.
"We… we're gathering to the north, at the Ithama mountain range," another messenger said with a trembling voice.
"How many of you?" I asked.
"Five thousand," he muttered, lowering his eyes.
"That's madness," Kratos growled. "The Messenian forces barely number five thousand at their peak. Most of your army's already been crushed. Where are these new troops coming from?"
"Reinforcements from other regions," the man replied.
"Impossible," Kratos scowled. "It takes weeks to raise an army of that size. And days to move them to the border. How have they arrived so quickly?"
He grabbed the prisoner by the tunic and lifted him off the ground.
"Let him go," I interrupted. In that moment, the pieces fell into place. The Kraken's attack. The meddling of the gods. This was beyond mortal design. If it was true, and Sparta pressed forward, we were about to face five thousand strong and perhaps even more.
"What did you realize?" Kratos asked.
"We must scout the area ourselves," I said firmly. "We'll cross through the Ithama mountains. There shouldn't be many enemy scouts there. We'll see it with our own eyes, gather accurate information. We must warn the others."
"Very well. I'll take a dozen men with me," Kratos nodded.
"That'll be enough. I'm going with you," I added.
We sent the prisoners back to camp with an escort and headed southward, toward the mountain range.
Why hadn't they directed all their forces to the shore and ambushed us there? Did they have something more devious in mind?
Perhaps they had been warned, but failed to react in time to Sparta's swift advance. Or perhaps it was human error if a warning came, it may have been dismissed until our forces stood at their very gates. It's hard to know the truth now. And it no longer matters.
With a small detachment, we began our ascent into the mountains. The path was harsh: steep slopes covered in jagged stones, no roads, no trails.
Any other route would've been even riskier. If we'd already run into one of their patrols, the worst was surely yet to come. Yes, we were skilled in moving through forests, in staying hidden we might even have passed unseen. But the risk was too great. Messenian trackers were famous for their craft. I wasn't sure we could deceive them. Besides, the higher ground offered a far better vantage point. We'd see everything.
"When were you promoted, Kratos?" I asked, breaking the long silence.
"At twenty," he replied curtly. A fine warrior but no conversationalist.
He turned to me, his gaze more focused now.
"You killed Skalias?"
"Yes. Barely survived," I nodded. "You haven't seen his body in Sparta yet, have you?"
"I will when I return in triumph," Kratos said. Then, after a pause: "You're a brave warrior."
It caught me off guard, hearing praise from him.
The conversation faded again. But that was fine. We had more important matters at hand, ones that demanded our full attention.
The terrain grew more hostile with every step. To move more easily, we strapped our shields and spears to our backs. I had never climbed so high before. The landscape was breathtaking so much so that I forgot, for a moment, where I was. From the summit, I could see where the land ended and the sea began. The clouds drifted so close, it felt like I could reach out and touch them. But it was only an illusion. The distance between us and the heavens was still vast.
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From here, everything looked so small and insignificant. Perhaps this is how the gods on Olympus see us from the highest peak in Greece, watching from their grand halls as they observe mankind below.
"Keep moving. Enough staring," Kratos muttered grimly.
Now that we had reached the very edge of the ridge, the path became slightly easier. The terrain here was less rocky, though still far from smooth. The trees around us were low, no more than three or four meters tall, with sparse foliage. The ground was dry moisture didn't linger at this altitude.
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"We need to be more careful," I warned. "Harpies may dwell in these mountains."
"Understood," Kratos replied shortly, without breaking his stride.
"If they attack, we must kill them all no matter what. If even one survives, it'll alert the others. Then we'll never get through."
Not long after, we stumbled upon several animal carcasses. The bones were picked clean, twisted and splintered, as if torn by claws and beaks. No predator but harpies could've done this here.
And soon, we saw them.
Two perched on a tree nearby. Their bodies were twisted, their faces eerily human-like long crooked noses, malicious eyes. They screeched with sharp, birdlike cries and beat their wings. Harpies had feathers covering most of their forms, taloned feet, and broad wings in place of arms.
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"Take them out quietly," I whispered.
Creeping closer, Kratos and I paused in the shadows of the trees. In a heartbeat, he hurled his spear and I followed. Both weapons struck true. The harpies shrieked in pain and fell from their perch, crashing to the ground.
We rushed forward, dragged their bodies into the underbrush, and hid them from view.
"They'll catch the scent… but they won't know who killed them," I said, yanking my blood-soaked spear free.
"Move out," Kratos ordered.
Throughout our path, we kept encountering more harpies. Some we slipped past unnoticed. The rest we killed, hiding their corpses as best we could. There were disturbingly many in these mountains.
Then we faced a true obstacle.
A large group blocked our way. Some harpies gathered on the ground, others perched in the trees. Several animal carcasses lay torn open below them. The area was too exposed passing unnoticed was impossible.
Kratos raised his hand a signal: flank them from both sides.
I nodded and, with five Spartans, veered right, sticking close to the sparse vegetation. We prepared to throw our spears. I gestured, assigning targets to each man.
Whistle.
The signal for attack. Almost simultaneously, we launched our spears. Eight harpies dropped to the earth, skewered and lifeless. But one evaded the strike and shot upward, shrieking in alarm.
I stretched out my hand my spear returned to my grasp. I aimed and threw it with all my might. The blade drove into her chest, and with a final, piercing cry, she plummeted to the ground.