David White
Stories
4
Chapters
1,771
Words
1.0 K
Comments
0
Reading
5 m
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What distinguished a hero from a man? Back then, he’d been certain that he knew. Every time they took up oars, each of those among his crew, and heaved against the fickle waves. The tang of the air and the rolling of the ocean, randy sea shanties and laughter filling the sails. On days like those, he could have sworn that his epic was just over the horizon. But all he’d found on the other side was black sails and howling whirlpools. Whatever had washed up to shore afterwards was no hero. It was…-
92 •
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Jason fell to one knee, staring down at the mess I’d made of Selene’s floor. For her part, the Scarlet Oracle only slapped me lightly on the shoulder for the damage I’d done and rolled her eyes when I mouthed an apology. “Solus,” Jason said hoarsely. “I’m sorry, I - there’s no excuse for my cowardice. Nothing I can say-” “What cowardice?” I asked him. He looked up at me, his eyes still wide. The ocean-blue flames behind them were almost fully eclipsed by his pupils.…
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92 •
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The ideal of the institutions that we called the greater mystery cults was camaraderie in pursuit of greater understanding. These were learning places, yes, as well as fonts of overwhelming strength in times of strife. But their central purpose was not to uplift, nor to make war. The mystery cults were a timeless reminder that every man was equally worthless under the sun. “You’re certain that you can’t tell me anything about it, senior brother?” “I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” my…
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92 •
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“Ninety-three?” Selene asked, disappointed. She was perched on her scarlet tripod, legs kicking beneath her while she kept count of my repetitions. “I was sure you’d break a hundred today.” One hundred repetitions of any given exercise was the mark Socrates had set for me and my physical training. Once I could do a hundred I increased the weight of “The spirit is willing, but the body is weak,” I lied, standing tall and stretching. When I winced it was only partly an act. I could have…
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92 •
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“The old man you’re here to punch,” whispered the little king, Leo, “it’s the Gadfly, isn’t it?” “It is.” “We’ll help you,” the little king decided. “Won’t we, Pyr?” His loyal sentinel nodded. “I don’t recall asking for your help.” The boys shared a look behind my back, still clinging to me like monkeys as I ascended through the various estates of the Raging Heaven Cult. “Where we’re from,” Pyr, the little sentinel, said, “a student has to prove himself…
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92 •
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“You were right to seek out Aristotle first.” I watched death lance towards my heart, a spear with a dull wooden tip that was better suited for a stage play than combat. And yet the rules of nature clung to its tip, and I perceived its simple truth through the lense of my Sophic sense. I knew, like I knew that the skies above were blue on a cloudless day, that his spear of dull oak would skewer me as sure as any bronze or iron. That it would kill me where Gaius’ campaigns and howling wolves had…
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92 •
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“Lio! Teach-” I slapped the little king upside his head. He yelped. “When did I say you could call me that?” “Griffon,” he amended, rubbing at the spot where I’d struck him. “Teach us.” “I refuse.” “What- You can’t refuse!” “And why not?” “Because he’s the king,” his older brother said, doing his best to impart authority through a ten year old’s voice. “When the king makes a demand, it comes from two mouths. The mouth of the man and the mouth of the…
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92 •
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When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city of Rome to see a marching band. “There are as many approaches to cultivation as there are stars in the sky,” Socrates spoke, his voice a distant thing. It was my first clear memory of the great city. I had grown up sheltered even by the standards of a young patrician. My mother rarely let me out of her sight, such was her anxiety, and so I languished in my early years with only the members of our estate and a few family friends as company. For…
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92 •
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“Observe,” I whispered, as I hunted the Huntsman, ”the coward in his natural state.” Lefteris’ nameless boys crept after me, bolts of forest green cloth wrapped around their heads to hide their distinctive red hair. There was no hiding their eyes, though, wide and intense as they tracked the Heroic Huntsman himself. Their focus was commendable, though their tracking skills left much to be desired. I smiled as I saw a muscle in the massive hunter’s neck twitch. “The coward is aware that his…
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92 •
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As a young patrician of Rome, and later an attendant to Gaius, I had grown used to being in the presence of powerful people. Those with physical power, those with political power, up and down the spectrum of influence within the Republic. “Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine,” Selene counted off dutifully while I pressed against the gold and ivory mosaic floors of the late kyrios’ courtyard. ”Forty!” I let go of Gravitas and collapsed, forehead pressed against the cool stone as I panted…
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