Chapter 6: Heracles

The traitor was slain, his lifeless body lie sprawled on the ground. Mikel and General Kratos were riding back towards the Spartan encampment to annouce the good news.

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Meanwhile in Laccnia....

Raphael was sitting on the ground, resting his back against the well, his sword by his side. The night sky was lit by millions of stars and the mystique-filled moon, Artemis' pride. As Raphael admired the brilliant artistry, he couldn't help but recall a vague memory from his childhood, a strange one as well.

It was the day he was born. His father, or who Raphael THOUGHT was his father was staring down at him with shocked eyes, as though Raphael's birth was not possible. The strange thing was, he could not hear his mother's voice, no cry which comes with the pain of manual labour. His father spoke in a hushed tone, a language he did not comprehend. He was born on a hill,the sky was exactly as it was tonight.His father bent forward and carried him. Raphael did not know how his father REALLY looked like, he could only imagine. The man took off with baby Raphael clutched near his chest,He mounted a horse and rode off.

A dozen swords fell to the ground. The sound of clinging metal jerked Raphael back to full alert. Drawing his sword, he stood up.It was Tristan who knocked over the swords as he limped pass the armoury.

"BLAST this leg!"

Tristan struggled towards Raphael.

"What are you doing, Tristan, you should be resting."

"No my friend, I cannot rest while you and Mikel go through so much danger. Where is Mikel, anyway?"

"He's gone with General Kratos in an attempt to kill the traitor."

"Did they succeed?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter, Tristan, you shouldn't be here."

"It is my will, Raphael, do not stop me."

"Hush, friend. You will go back to rest at once. I am in charge for now."

"And what will you do if I disobey you, COMMANDER?"

The way Tristan said the word "commander" brought a smile to Raphael's face. He remembered the good old times when they used to tease each other, those days seemed like aeons ago even though they departed for Laccnia merely two weeks ago.

Something was wrong. A Spartan watchmen fell from his tower, an arrow sticking out his back. A distant horn broke the silence of the night.

"Tristan, go back to the medical wing now."

"No, I can still use my bow."

"I won't allow it, go back to the medical wing and alert General Axel, do it now! If not as a soldier to a commander's orders, then as a friend's request."

Tristan stared long into his friends eyes and at last nodded. As Tristan limped back towards the medical wing, Raphael rushed up the walls of the fortress. The sight which greeted him when he reached the top of the walls could cause countless nightmares. Every Spartan on the walls froze as they looked upon the seemingly endless wave of barbarians standing a mere 30 yards away. Judging by the axes illuminated by the moonlight,there must have been hundreds, no, thousands of them, all waiting for the command to attack.

A dark figure came out of the horde and walked towards the main gate.

"Should I shoot him, commander?" A nearby archer asked.

"No, open the gates. I will meet him. You, get the soldiers ready for battle."

Raphael went down the steps of the fortress walls towards the armoury.He grabbed a shield and went out to meet the enemy commander.

The barbarian leader was just as tall as the all the other barbarians, perhaps he was slightly shorted than Zroma, but he still towered over Raphael. He had long, unkept black hair and black eyes. He had a wild, tangly beard and a sharp face. He wore a cloak made of bear skin with half the head of the animal welded into his helmet. He too, wore loincloth that was made of fur, but his seemed different. It was decorated with a belt encrusted with jewelry. He wielded a sword that was twice the size and length of Raphael.

"I am Heracles, son of Beowoulf. Surrender or I will kill you all and decorate my home with your skulls!"

Raphael's heart skipped several beats. Of all the people who would attack Laccnia with Axel and Kratos both unavailable to defend, it had to the barbarian king's son. Raphael's fist tightened on the hilt of his sword.He stepped forward, uttering so softly that it was barely audible.

"Over my dead body."

Heracles roared with sinister laughter.

"Such courage from such a tiny little Spartan. You are not worthy of my sword. Fight my guards instead!"

Two barbarians stepped forward. For once, here were two barbarians who wore armour. They dual-wielded long daggers. One of them licked his lips in anticipation. Raphael drew his sword. Let the games begin.