Galen's Quest: Prologue: 23-04-21

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Silence reigned on the mist covered bank of the Acheron. Like those around him, Galen of Gortyn studied that mist. Thick and cloying, sticking to all it touched... like a shroud... it was... almost alive... an entity in itself. He fought down a sudden attack of nerves. He was here to serve the gods, in service to Pallas Athena herself, he must attend his duty, unnatural mist that could change dew to frost in the span of a single breath, or no. A shadowy figure began to form within the veil, slowly taking on the distinct shape of a woman. Galen inhaled and waited a moment more for her to more fully reveal herself, then...

"LOOSE ARROWS!"

His barked command broke the silence and arrows from the arc of carefully placed bowmen flew towards the woman who stepped from the mist. He watched as the arrows sped towards her. His carefully planned ambush was based on the fact that she would have no time for sword or shield. Indeed, she didn’t even try to reach for either, her arms becoming a blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow, deflecting every last arrow within a few seconds. Gone was the element of surprise and -- “She still stands!” the voices around him echoed his own thoughts. Not a single shaft had found its mark, worse, not one had struck her. Anywhere. His men were awestruck, turning to him while he struggled with his own disbelief. Awe that quickly became fear as she strode towards them. It was too much coming as it did on the heels of the strange mist and they broke cover and ran.

Her silent determination filled him with dread the moment their eyes met. She wanted him. His few core retainers moved to intercept, but she simply bludgeoned them aside with well placed blows, leaving their unconscious bodies in her wake with no apparent effort. Her hand reached for her sword but, at the last, grabbed some rope at her waist instead. It snaked across the distance with ease, forming a noose around him as his men continued to run. There was white hot fury in her voice as she asked, "Who are you?"

The lasso glowed brightly as he sought to give her a false name in the brief instant before he replied, "I am Galen of Gortyn."

He was astonished, he could literally think of nothing else to say. It was as if his name had been written before him in fire. feeling almost as if it were ripped from his throat.

She smiled coldly, "Do you make a habit of murdering unwary travellers?"

He shook his head, "I was hired by a man, Erasmus, to slay the emissary of Zeus when she stepped from the mist that he assured me would appear here."

She was silent, thoughtful, before asking the next question. “Why would you risk angering Zeus by slaying his emissary?”

Again the lasso glowed, though not as brightly. “Erasmus represents one of the gods, one I was told would overthrow Zeus just as surely as he overthrew Kronos.”

He watched as she drew her sword, her implacable eyes boring into him. He blanched, this was it. His life at an end. Her next words echoed in his mind. “You should choose whom you serve more carefully.”

She raised the sword and he felt the fear wash over him as the lasso denied him the lie of bravely facing certain death. “Exercise more wisdom in your future dealings.”

The sword descended.

‘Wait, did she say fut---’ and his world went black.

* * *

Galen nursed his aching head as the memory of that moment came to an end and took another swig from his mug. She had spared his life – it had been hers to take and she had spared it. That was the first mystery. He thought back now to when he had awoken. The sheer joy of it. So certain had he been that he was to die that the air he breathed tasted sweeter than in any recent memory.

That is when he noticed he was not alone. He lunged for his bow, an arrow already in his other hand. He was knocking the arrow when the bow glowed with supernatural fire and shattered. The fire was intensely painful, dancing – burning – tearing – twisting until all that remained of his hand was a useless misshapen caricature of its former self.

“Your honour is as broken as your bow and has become as twisted as your hand.”

The voice, it had a ring to it. Of pronouncement, of finality.

“You have given to me your oath of service, have you not?”

Oath? Service? He dropped to his knees, “My lady Athena!”

He looked at his twisted, gnarled hand as the memory continued to play in his mind and took another large swig.

“Clearly I am not your lady, else you would not be attempting to slay my servant, Diana!”

He prostrated himself, “My lady, please, I did not know.”

The words had poured forth in a torrent as he told her all, how Erasmus had assured him that she would be pleased, had hinted that he acted on her behalf. She had remained silent for a long time when he was done and still he remained on his knees while awaiting her judgment.

“Diana has already spared your life and that is something I would not undo. Still, there is a consequence to your actions this day. Your hand will remain as it is, unable to draw a bow until such time as I call upon you to regain your honour and serve me again. Do what honest labour you can until that time and ponder the good fortune by which you still live.”

* * *

And so it had been that he ended here, cleaning the stables – in Corinth of all places! He lifted his mug, then set it down as he noticed the shadows on the surface in front of him. There were at least four of them.

“Are you Galen of Gortyn?”

* * *

The griffin drawn chariot came to a stop and the winged maiden stepped out, the fierceness of her visage changing, the wings vanishing as she approached the waiting Athena.

“What brings you so far from your groves, Pallas? Don’t you have an owl that needs you, or something?”

Athena nodded, “I do, indeed have pressing matters to attend, but none more or less pressing than the words I would have with you, Rhamnousia.”

Nemesis lifted her scales that Athena might see them. “I, too, am busy.”

Athena noted their tilt, “You will never get them balanced, nor would they long remain so if you did.”

Nemesis nodded, “It is an endless task, but one that I enjoy. The Oath Taker helps me, in that regard.”

Athena nodded in turn, “Though she has unjustly taken life in her time as well. I am here, partly, to extend my gratitude for allowing me to send Aponolus Stefanos to Diana’s rescue.”

Nemesis made a throwing away gesture with her free hand, “She is still my blade. This served my ends as well as your own.”

“Still, you have my thanks. I would also talk to you about Aponolus….”

Nemesis cut her off with an angry retort, “His quest for me is so close to an end. The scales…. You cannot have him again. Already your use of him to save Diana has set him back weeks on his journey. Should I lend him you yet again it could add a year or more and many deaths to my scale. No.”

Athena shook her head, “I did not wish to borrow him. I have a servant in need of a mentor and I have chosen Aponolus as that mentor. So, I would ask that you release him to my service once his quest for the murderer is at an end.”

Nemesis remained silent for a long moment, then sighed. “Oh, very well. I could have convinced him to pursue others who had murdered innocent women, but you may have him.”

Athena smiled sadly, “There will always be too many others with the same motivation whom you may call to service.”

The two stood there in unified silence for a few minutes more before Nemesis finally nodded. “It is a sadness.”

* * *

Aponolus Stefanos stared at the bodies. They had been lying here, waiting for him when he entered the clearing. Two more. Two more women who had ended their lives like his own sister. Two more to add to the many this beastly man had abused and slaughtered. He growled in anger, crossing to them quickly, he knelt next to each in turn, gently prising their hands open and inserting a single gold coin.

“For the journey.”

He crossed to the fire. Cold. Still, no decay on the bodies and no indication of carrion yet. They would be around for their part shortly. He reached into his pack and pulled out two of the extra scarlet cloaks he had accustomed himself to carrying and wrapped the bodies for burial. Finished that task drew his xiphos and began digging out the graves. Like most Spartan graves, they would be unmarked, but even if they had been Athenian women he did not have the time or the equipment to honour any customs but his own.

Apollo’s chariot had nearly reached its zenith by the time he picked up the trail again. Days behind, no more, probably less. This time he would not escape.

* * *

Athena walked softly across the field and entered the courtyard that held her private garden. She liked it here, one of her favourite places to think, a place of tranquility. Today, however, it was anything but tranquil. The fountain still sang its quiet music, but the owl, she recognized it as the one that she had dispatched to watch Galen, was clearly agitated.

The goddess stepped up onto the dais and sat, closing her eyes. Unless both she and her owl were calm, she would not learn what it clearly wanted to share. The owl flitted to her lap and she stroked it gently. Slowly it became calm and the picture of what it had seen began to form in her mind. That of Galen in a tavern as seen by her owl hidden in the rafters. His head was still on the mend, if his movements were an accurate judge, and he was clearly alone and thoughtful. As she watched, he lifted his mug, then set it down without drinking as shadows covered his table.

* * *

“Are you Galen of Gortyn?”

He let the question hang in the air as the tavern became a place of silence and looked the room over carefully. It was crowded, too many people at the end of the day. That was bad, as it limited his maneuverability. Still, if it limited his, he might be able to use that to his advantage. He could not yet see the thugs behind him, for to turn and look would be to acknowledge their presence, but he was fair certain they were better armed than he, the makhaira at his waist being more suitable for skinning out and dressing prey than for combat.

“I asked a question. Are you Galen of Gortyn?”

He sighed, knowing where this was going to end: death. That’s where it always seemed to end.

“I am Galen.”

The thug’s tone became even more belligerent.

“Athena sent us to find Galen of Gortyn, are you he?”

Galen smiled for the first time, then slowly turned. There were six of them, all armored and well armed. Two xiphos, one kopis, and two makhaira, all combat weight and length. Lovely.

“I doubt that very much. The goddess herself stripped me of that title at the very same time she did this … “

He held up his twisted hand.

“ … so that I would have a constant reminder as to why she did it, until she were to call on me. Now it might be that she sent you.... but you do not speak as one who knows the goddess – or her wisdom.”

Galen stood quickly, his chair moving even as he was rising. The head thug didn’t even see it coming until it was too late. The flying chair crashed into him with its full mass accelerated by an arm that could draw back the strongest bow. He tumbled to the ground, out of the fight. Temporarily, at least.

Throwing himself backwards even as the chair was mid-flight, Galen rolled backwards over the table, his withered bow arm tucked against his chest. Landing lightly on his feet, he shoved the table at the remaining five.

While this was going on, the proprietor slipped out into the street in search of the guard and wishing that Aponolus, a just Lokhagos and known for looking out for small vendors such as himself, was not away.

The table staggered the five men, but it didn’t take them long to get sorted. Drawing their weapons, they spread out, trying to encircle him as best they could in the confines of the tavern.

Galen may not have been a great fighter and he may not have been well armed. What he was? A great tactician and, formerly, at least, a master archer. A cup flew with speed and accuracy hitting the far left one squarely on the bridge of the nose, blinding him with tears. Survival trumping honour, the former archer took two steps forward and followed up with a knee to the groin, relieving him of his xiphos as he doubled over. A twisted hand grabbed the thug’s hair as Galen straightened his foe, placing the xiphos at his throat, offering them a choice.

“Why not simply call this a mistake and leave?”

The head thug, having regained his feet looked him square in the eye.

“Erasmus will have us killed if we let you live.”

He charged, his men followed, and Galen, having no other choice, slit the throat of the man he was holding, pushing the body at the onrushing men with his sword arm. Some checked their run, some collided with their dead comrade. One made it through unimpeded and got his hamstring sliced open by the captured xiphos. The thug dropped to the floor screaming even as Galen riposted another blade, cutting open his second throat of the day.

“I’ve already reduced the odds by half, sure you want to keep this up?”

Secretly, he hoped they would run, luck, he knew, would only take him so far. Apparently, the lead thug had the same thought as their blades locked.

“All I have to do is keep you too busy to fend off any other attacks.”

Instead of trying to match strength for strength, Galen spun in a clockwise motion, giving the lead thug a kick in the buttocks and sending him into the others who were supposed to take him from behind.

The three of them were just getting untangled when the proprietor returned with the guard.

“Lower your weapons and step back, now, or die!”

Faced with overwhelming odds, both Galen and the thugs complied. The head guard nodded.

“That’s better. Now. Who started this?”

Galen was about to answer when the head thug beat him to the punch.

“That one!”

He pointed at Galen, “That one done it!”

The head guard turned to the proprietor, who nodded as he spoke,

“I think he started the fight, but I … “

The guard’s mind made up, he was cut off.

“You are under arrest for murder.”

Galen was about to protest his innocence when the guard did something Aponolus would never have tolerated, he belted his prisoner across the mouth.

“Speak when you are told or I’ll spit you on the spot!”

* * *

Athena’s garments gleamed with fire, sparks flying as she paced, whirled, and paced again. She was angry as she had not been in a long time. More than angry, though, she was perplexed. Who was this Erasmus that kept taunting her and why did he want her servant, Galen, dead? Moreover, how was she to save him without directly intervening. Aponolus was not yet through with his hunt, else she could use him. In any event, she was not quite certain that Nemesis would release him as she had to save Diana. This time the delay in catching the man who had raped and murdered his sister would be nearly a year instead of a few days. Even more, if the trail were again lost. No, she must conceive of something else. She sat, becoming motionless and seeking her inner calmness, bending her thought to one of her servant owls and dispatching him to …

* * *

Akakios noted the owl’s presence yet again and wondered, again, why it seemed to be following him. Owls were said to be common in Athens, but here, in Corinth, they were seldom seen and he could not help but wonder at its significance. As Lochias, he was responsible for some twenty men of the Corinthian Guard. He began this day like the rest, getting the report from the night watch, then reading the arrest reports for the day before, and finally, all the ones that had yet to be judged. Like each of the last several days, the owl watched him closely as he read the reports, then departed the moment he was through. This made him thoughtful. What in these reports could be of interest to an owl unless – what if the owl reported to Athena herself? The reports were little more than names and charges, no other details being required until they were adjudicated. That’s what witnesses were for. He read the list of prisoners yet again, as he did so the owl returned and perched nearby. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps a particular arrest had caused Athena to dispatch the owl. It had showed up three days ago, so… It would be a long job, but there was only one thing to do.

“I wish to interview each of the prisoners, starting with those that came in four days ago.”

* * *

Nemesis bared her teeth in a feral smile as Aponolus made the first cut on his prey’s thigh. Unseen, but close at hand, she witnessed the culmination of his vow of vengeance.

“You will run from me no longer, merciless dog!”

Aponolus' sword skirted his prey’s defences, leaving a second cut on the shield arm. He spoke no words as he continued to press the attack, dealing out small, seemingly insignificant cuts. Yet each caused loss of blood. The loss of blood eventually led to weakness as the seemingly possessed Aponolus struck again and again without mercy or letup.

“Do you feel it, filth? The fear and helplessness she felt as you forced yourself upon her?”

The man was weeping, begging for his life, knowing of a certainty that he was outmatched.

For the first time, Aponolus paused.

“You ask for mercy, tell me, did she beg for mercy?”

A mighty blow knocked the shield aside, snapping the man’s arm in the process. In nearly the same movement Aponolus disarmed him completely. The man dropped to his knees.

“Though I was raised Spartan, I have learned mercy in my years abroad and spared many a life.”

Relief flooded the man’s face.

“I have also trailed you by the bodies you have left behind. Mothers, sisters, and daughters all. You have no honour and no mercy, thus you shall be granted none.”

The sword plunged into the man’s gut disembowelling him, thus ensuring a slow painful, but inevitable death. Aponolus saw the moment of realization in the man’s eyes as he knew he was dead already.

“Die as you slew others, alone and in pain.”

The man spat in defiance, then screamed in pain as his very act of defiance convulsed his mutilated intestines. Aponolus turned and walked away, leaving the man to die.

Nemesis felt the rush of power as his vow to her was completed in a just and worthy fashion.

“Not vengeance only, but justice also!”

* * *

It had been a lengthy ordeal, each interview had taken quite a bit of time. So far he had found two women that had been unjustly imprisoned and one man. All had the same soldier listed on the arrest report. He should have known, this one was a bully who liked to throw his little bit of authority around. The trouble was that his brother was a wealthy merchant. He frowned, by all reports the brother was a good and honest merchant. Still, this was Corinth and one must gather evidence carefully before accusing even the brother of someone as wealthy as Hermagoras.

He looked the list over for the next prisoner brought in by Thrasydolos.

“Bring in the one called Galen, I would question him next.”

* * *

Nearly a week had passed since his release. During that time, Galen had continued his habit of going to the establishment of Ponteus and drinking a single mug of ale alone at the end of each day. Today, however, a large man strode into the tavern, crossed to his table, the only one occupied, and sat.

“I prefer to be alone.”

The big man shrugged.

“And I prefer the company of Galen.”

He looked at the proprietor, holding up two fingers and received a nod and a beaming smile. Turning to Galen, he spoke briefly.

“I am Aponolus.”

The way he said it was as if he should be known.

Galen knew him not, so he studied the man seated across from him. Not only tall, but broad in the shoulders and packing more muscle than any two men had the right to carry. He seemed relaxed, almost jovial, though being as he was silent it was hard to tell. Usually a battle of this nature was lost by the first to speak, but that didn’t stop Aponolus from talking when the ale was set before them.

“Ponteus here tells me that you had a slight disagreement with some ruffians here in his establishment while I was away. This ale is, in part, to apologize for how poorly the matter was handled.”

He took a sip, then looked at Galen with eyes that seemed to strip away the layers and see the hidden man within.

“I would here your story, how is it that you came to be here with a useless bow arm.”

Galen opened his mouth to tell Aponolus off, then sighed and took a sip of ale.

“Might as well tell someone, I suppose. It began when this fellow Erasmus… “

* * *

Athena looked down on the scene in her watching pool.

“Very good, Galen. Humility and trust.”

A head came to rest on her shoulder, looking down into the pool.

“He isn’t much to look at. I wonder what Diana sees in him?”

“It is called mercy, sister.”

She pushed Artemis head off her shoulder.

“And how many more times must I ask you not to sneak up and peer over my shoulder like that?”

Artemis giggled, “Many, many, more.”

She ran a teasing hand down her sister’s shoulder as she spoke, then turned to look at her.

“Besides, I meant the big one.”

“Aponolus?”

“Is that what his name is?”

Athena shook her head.

“Your behaviour suggests that you might be – jealous? But how could that be? Aren’t you the virgin goddess?”

Artemis face clouded over.

“They took Orion from me, tricked me into shooting him. You know there has been no one since.”

Athena hugged her sister.

“I know you have wanted for companionship, even now you feel his loss.”

Athena held Artemis, comforting her for some time.

* * *

Having heard the tale and asked his questions, Aponolus stood to leave Galen at the table.

“I now understand the unusual presence of the owl here.”

He pointed to the rafters where the bird was perched.

“Athena is not finished with you, or I am very much mistook.”

He turned and left leaving a thoughtful Galen behind.

***

Athena stood outside the cavernous home of the Oneiroi. Speaking softly, for not even the gods entered the cavern unbidden, she spoke the name of their leader. “Morpheus. I would speak to you.”

It was neither request nor command, simply statement. Morpheus appeared in the doorway of the cavern. “Athena.” His smile was that of one amused with their own choice of words, “What wisdom brings you to my home?”

She smiled, “I have need of one of your Oneroi.”

Morpheus smiled in turn. “You wish Icelus to appear as an owl in someone’s dreams?”

She nods. “I have a quest for him to deliver. Images filled with challenges to be faced and overcome. The ending of the quest uncertain. The whole dream filled with images dark and foreboding should appeal to him. More, I shall provide the basic information through the gate of horn. He can choose the dream to deliver it. I have only two other qualifications.”

The god of dreams smiled more broadly, “The appearance of the owl throughout and a purposeful vagueness. Do I guess correctly?”

Athena nods, “You do indeed. I shall leave the outline of the dream in the Gate of Horn?”

Morpheus nodded, “And the Oneroi shall weave a tapestry of images throughout a troubling night’s sleep. There will be more?”

She nodded again and the leader of the Oneroi became what, for him, was positively jovial. “You grant us the opportunity to be creative. To encase your message in imagery. I live for moments like this. Icelus Phobetor will make the dreams most disturbing. Are you certain you wish him to carry your dream and not I?”

Athena smiled, “Each time you ask and each time my response is the same. Have you yet mastered the form of the owl?”

Morpheus should his head sadly, “A great pity that I have not, for you give us the most interesting dreams to deliver, granting us the most creativity.” He sighed, “Icelus it shall be.”

Athena gave an inclination to her head in respectful gratitude. “I only place this one limit. Dread and foreboding may be used in the dream, but beyond that, Icelus Phobetor must restrain himself. I will not tolerate him terrorizing this one. He is special. Teachable as not many are. The bargain is struck?”

Morpheus nods, “Aye. The bargain is struck.”

***

Days later, Aponolus entered the stable to find Galen. The man he sought was busy tending the stock and he had to wait some short time.

“Which steed is yours, lord?”

Aponolus laughed.

“They trained you well, I see. But come, the ship we have been waiting for has arrived this morning.”

Galen looked puzzled.

“Ship? What ship?”

Aponolus looked at the veteran archer.

“Did you think the Lady Athena was through with you? Now that you have begun on the path to wisdom, she has a journey for you to take.”

His slap of camaraderie on Galen’s back rattled the man’s bones.

“Come, I said. We quest, you and I. For the Lady Athena!”

* * *

Athena smiled, Aponolus could be counted to handle, with Sappho’s help, the first part of the journey. She would give specifics through Icelus to Galen at the right moment. Humility he had learned, wisdom he was learning. Now he must learn obedience and trust. Disturbing the water, she turned her gaze to Diana and how she was faring once more.

* * *

Aponolus pointed to the pier.

“There it is, Galen, the Salides. A well found vessel by all reports, though why they should choose to name it after the coward of Dorlia remains a mystery. That is not all that is odd about this vessel. It is owned by a female merchant, Sappho, whose skill with money, harp, and voice are said to be unsurpassed. Were it not for Athena’s insistence that we use this vessel and her crew, I would not go near it.”

The big man shrugged, then smiled his easy smile and stepped briskly towards the vessel, leaving Galen no option but to follow.

Chapter One