Demi-God

The first light of dawn painted the sky in soft hues of pink and orange as Lucian stirred from his restless sleep. He blinked away the grogginess, the events of the previous night rushing back to him. Drakon was already up, packing their belongings.

He sat up, running a hand through his tangled hair. "You're up early."

Drakon grunted in response, not bothering to look up from his task. "Sun's up, we're up. That's how it works out here."

Sighing, Lucian forced himself to his feet. His muscles ached from sleeping on the hard ground, and his stomach growled in protest. He glanced around the campsite, his gaze avoiding the spot where Stavros' body had hung the night before.

"Here," Drakon said, tossing a small sack in Lucian's direction. "Eat something. We've got a long day ahead."

Lucian caught the sack, peering inside to find a handful of dried figs and a chunk of hard cheese. He nibbled on a fig, the sweetness doing little to improve his mood. "Where exactly are we headed?"

Drakon paused in his packing, straightening up. "We need to find this Whisperer character and see what he knows about the Persians."

"And then what?"

"Then we figure out our next move. One step at a time, kid."

"What if this Whisperer doesn't know anything?" Lucian chewed on his cheese, mulling over their situation. "Or worse, what if he's working with the Persians?"

"Then we deal with that when it happens. Stop worrying about things that haven't happened yet."

"I can't help it. After last night..."

Drakon sighed. "Look, what's done is done. We can't change it, so there's no use dwelling on it. Focus on what's ahead."

Lucian nodded, finishing off his meager breakfast. He began helping Drakon break down the camp, working in tense silence.

As they rolled up the bedrolls and doused the remnants of their fire, Lucian couldn't shake the unease that clung to him like a second skin. He glanced at Drakon, wondering how the old warrior could seem so unfazed by it all.

"How do you do it?" Lucian asked suddenly.

Drakon looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Just... move on. Like nothing happened."

The old man was quiet for a moment, his weathered face unreadable. "You learn to compartmentalize. Put it in a box and deal with it later. Out here, you can't afford to let your emotions cloud your judgment."

"Doesn't that make you... I don't know, cold?"

Drakon shook his head. "Not cold. Focused. There's a difference."

They finished packing in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As Lucian shouldered his pack, he took one last look around the clearing. The morning sun filtered through the trees, giving the scene an almost peaceful appearance. It was hard to reconcile with the violence that had occurred here just hours ago.

"Ready?" Drakon asked, already starting down the path with his horse.

Lucian nodded, falling into step beside him. "Let’s go."

As they walked, the forest gradually thinned out, giving way to a well-worn road.

The sun climbed higher in the sky as the two continued their journey. Lucian's mind wandered, replaying the strange events that had led him to this point.

"Hey," he said, breaking the silence that had stretched between them for the past hour. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you about."

"What's on your mind, kid?"

Lucian hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject. "You remember when you found me in that bandit camp? Well, there's a reason I was there in the first place."

"I assumed you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Not exactly."

"Is that so?"

"I was actually looking for you."

This caught Drakon's attention. He slowed his pace, turning to face Lucian fully. "Looking for me? How did you even know where I was?"

"That's the thing. I didn't. But... someone told me where to find you. A guy named Linus."

"Linus?" Drakon repeated, his brow furrowing. "Who's that?"

"That's just it. I don't know. He just... appeared out of nowhere when I woke up from a nightmare. He pointed me in your direction, and that's how I ended up at the bandit camp."

"You're saying some stranger showed up and told you where to find me? And you just followed his directions?"

Lucian shrugged. "I know it sounds crazy, but yes. I was wondering if you might know him. Does the name Linus ring any bells?"

The old warrior was quiet for a moment, then he spoke up. "Can't say. I've met a lot of people in my time, but I don't recall anyone by that name. What did this Linus look like?"

"He had blond hair, fair skin. And he was wearing really expensive-looking clothes. Not the kind of guy you'd expect to see wandering around in the middle of the night."

"Sounds like he could've been some rich merchant's son or something," Drakon grunted. "Maybe he was just passing through and happened to see me."

But Lucian shook his head, unconvinced. "No, it was more than that. There was something... different about him. I can't explain it, but I got this feeling that he wasn't just some random traveler. It was like he knew things, like he was somehow connected to me."

"Connected to you? What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know," Lucian ran a hand through his hair. "It's just a feeling I have. Like there's more to this Linus guy than meets the eye. And the way he knew exactly where to find you... it's strange, don't you think?"

Drakon opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly his eyes narrowed, focusing on something in the distance. He held up a hand, signaling to stop.

"What is it?" Lucian asked, squinting to see what had caught the old warrior's attention.

"Trouble," Drakon muttered, his hand moving to rest on the hilt of his sword. "Looks like there's a wagon blocking the road up ahead."

Lucian peered into the distance, and sure enough, he could make out the silhouette of a large cart stretched across the path, barring their way forward. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a sense of unease washed over him.

"What do we do?" he whispered, glancing at Drakon.

The old Spartan’s face was grim as he assessed the situation. "We approach carefully. Could be nothing, could be an ambush. Either way, we need to be ready for anything."

As they drew closer, the full scale of the obstruction became clear. Two large wooden carts, each easily twice the height of a man, were positioned diagonally across the road. Their wheels were wedged firmly into the soft earth at the roadside, creating an effective barrier that stretched from one side of the path to the other. The carts' contents were hidden beneath heavy canvas covers, adding to their bulk.

Drakon surveyed the scene with a critical eye, pulling gently on the reins of his horse to slow their approach. "This is no accident," he muttered. "These were placed here deliberately."

Lucian nodded, his own mount shifting restlessly beneath him. "Do you think it's a trap?"

"Could be," Drakon replied, dismounting. "But if it is, where are the trappers?"

They approached, leading their horses, hands hovering near their weapons. As they neared the carts, Drakon's frown deepened.

"This gets stranger by the minute. Alright, let's clear this mess. Lucian, tie our horses to that tree over there. We'll need to move these carts if we want to pass."

Lucian nodded, leading both horses to a nearby tree and securing them. He patted their necks before rejoining Drakon.

"Ready?" the old warrior asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

They positioned themselves at the rear of the first cart. Drakon counted down, "On three. One... two... three!"

Both men threw their weight against the cart. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a groan of protest from the wooden wheels, the cart began to move. Inch by inch, they pushed it to the side of the road.

Sweat poured down Lucian's face as he strained against the heavy load. "Gods," he grunted. "What do they have in here? Dead bodies?"

Drakon didn't respond, concentrating as they continued to push. Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, they managed to clear enough space for travelers to pass.

They repeated the process with the second cart, their muscles burning with the effort. When they finally finished, both men stood panting, surveying their work.

"Well," Lucian said between breaths, "that's one way to get some exercise."

"This doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. These carts were clearly placed here as a roadblock. But where are the people who put them here? Why hasn't anyone come to check on them?"

"Maybe... maybe they were killed? Could be another group of bandits took them out."

"Possible, but unlikely. There's no sign of a struggle, no blood, no bodies. No, something else is going on here."

They began walking down the cleared road, both lost in thought. Lucian couldn't shake the feeling that something strange is going on too.

As they put distance between themselves and the carts, Drakon's unease seemed to grow. "I don't like this," he said. "It's too quiet, too easy. Keep your eyes open, kid. I've got a feeling our troubles are just beginning."

"Good idea."

As they continued down the road, the abandoned carts faded into the distance behind them, leaving only questions in their wake.

As they rounded a bend in the road, Lucian and Drakon were met with an all-too-familiar sight. Another large cart stood blocking their path, its wooden frame stretching across the width of the road.

Drakon pulled his horse to a stop, a string of colorful curses escaping his lips. "This is getting fucking ridiculous," he shouted, dismounting with a scowl. "Who the hell keeps putting these carts here, and why?"

"I don't know," Lucian slid off his own horse. "But it can't be a coincidence, right? Three carts in one day?"

"No shit," Drakon muttered, pacing in front of the obstruction. "Something's going on here, and I don't like it one bit."

"So... do we need to move this one too?"

Drakon sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "Don't see that we have much choice, kid. Unless you've got some magic trick to make us fly over it, we need to get through."

They tied their horses to a nearby tree and approached the cart. As they positioned themselves to push, Lucian's brow furrowed in thought.

"Hey," he said as they braced against the wood. "What if... what if these carts are here to stop the Persians? You know, slow down their advance or something?"

"Not likely, kid. Armies rely on roads to move their men and supplies. If anything, they'd be clearing obstacles like this, not putting them up."

With a grunt, they began to push. The cart creaked and groaned as it slowly inched to the side of the road.

"Then what?" Lucian panted, straining against the weight. "Why go through all this trouble?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

It took several minutes of hard pushing, but they finally managed to clear enough space to pass. Both men stood back, catching their breath and wiping sweat from their brows.

"Well," Lucian said, "at least we're getting a good workout."

Drakon didn't respond, his eyes scanning the surrounding area. "Let's get back to the horses. The sooner we're out of here, the better."

They turned to head back to their mounts, but before they could take more than a few steps, a sharp whistle cut through the air. With a solid thunk, an arrow embedded itself in the ground mere inches from Lucian's foot.

"Woah!"

The old warrior's sword was already in his hand, his eyes darting around for the source of the attack. "Move!" he barked. "Get to cover, now!"

As they dove for the shelter of the cart they'd just moved, Lucian couldn't help but think that their troubles were only just beginning.