004: Reaction

  The phalanxes of the labyrinth are composed of Helena’s strongest minds, bodies, and blessings. This is so not only because the labyrinth is a necessary tool for traveling, nor because it is filled with mysterious artifacts of great value, it is because of the various four-fingered species inhabit these tunnels and the minotaurs that use them in the same way as the heleny. However, deploying large squadrons would leave the cities unprotected in the midst of a war. A phalanx is designed to be as efficient as possible in combat and exploration with the smallest number of members possible. The maximum number of members that can make up a phalanx is five, and each has a different role:

  The Polemarch is the map, the brain and leader of the group.

  The Secutor is the protective shield of the phalanx.

  The Sagittarius is the arrow that supports them from afar.

  The Thracian is the dagger that scouts farther than anyone else.

  The Bestiary is the strongest sword of the group.

  Any youth who wishes to join a phalanx receives the rank of onyx and to join one it is enough for the polemarch to deem them suitable. Not many young people survive the tunnels and those who do rarely wish to return to the Labyrinth. Dozens of soldiers once dreamed of exploring the deeps only to end up dead at the hands of their inhabitants or other explorers.

  …

  Thanks to still being half-asleep, the tremendous pain he should have been feeling in his torso and head was barely a nuisance for the young explorer. He opened his eyelids revealing eyes the color of honey and slowly began to feel again each part of his body. The pain from his wounds and the frustration of failure were overshadowed by the sounds of war.

  “No…”

  The man slowly stood up and, as he turned his head, he saw two onyxes like himself taking down the cloth that made up the camp’s tents. They did not care about collapsing whatever objects were inside so he deduced it was an emergency. Behind them stood another man who looked more like a civilian than a soldier giving them instructions while scratching his beard.

  No one noticed the awakening of the only survivor of the vanguard group; he simply dragged his feet to the armory to take a sica sword and then make a sling with rope and some leather. His armor was destroyed just like his body, but his spirit still had strength left. Slowly he advanced toward the eastern gate, where he saw the toxotes firing arrow after arrow without barely taking the time to aim, on the other side only the screams of heleny and ants could be heard echoing against bronze and chitin weapons.

  “I… I can help.”

  The young man dragged his left leg while his body continued to awaken, the pain in his torso kept increasing and when he touched the origin of his suffering he found a terrible burn sealing a wound that had kept him from bleeding to death. The thick gate had several myrmeke spears that had managed to pierce through to the other side, the onyx pulled one of them out to look at the battle.

  Red ants fell from the walls every second, and some rained down from the ceiling attempting to ambush the hoplites formed in front of the gate, but the formation held even in the face of the soldiers’ exhaustion. The myrmekes on the walls fell to the toxotes who guided their arrows to the necks or heads of the ants using the wind born from their rings through the blessing of the Whistling Star. Those that fell from the ceiling were received by a forest of shields and spears on the ground, after a quick dead their bodies were just tossed the sides of the tunnel.

  At the front was the lernaean bastard Laconia, her greatsword still blessed by the First Favor of her star burned the ants even through their shields. The hoplites had not yet recovered their favors, so they were forced to fight a war of attrition. The first row used their rings, summoning projectiles of fire and lightning against the myrmekes, then rotated with their comrades in the rear who with stone blessings upon their shields held their position while allowing their companions’ rings to recover their strength. In the last row, those blessed by the Star of the Lake used the water of their blessing to heal wounds and launch pressurized water darts toward the ceiling and walls to support the archers.

  …

  “Damn it!”

  There was no fire left within Laconia body and her ring did not have time to gather enough blessing to fire more shots. Only her greatsword remained which she swung constantly from left to right, cutting, crushing and burning every myrmeke unlucky enough to receive a blow. This was the work of the Bestiary and she did not lament do it her job, the thing that she regretted was that; if she had not used her favor earlier to prevent an ant from escaping she could now clear a large part of the tunnel with it. In any case victory was already assured on paper, the myrmekes were far too uncoordinated to break the heleny formation and although the favor would have eliminated dozens, it was not necessary to win the battle.

  “FALL BACK!”

  Upon hearing the captain’s words, the first row rotated positions along with Laconia to recharge their rings, as she turned her back the Bestiary saw someone watching the battle through a small hole in the gate, their eyes met for an instant and the young man disappeared immediately.

  “Hold the formation and watch the ceiling!”

  While the captain gave his orders, the ants’ corpses began piling up along the edges and the front of the tunnel, creating a barrier that was beginning to trap the hoplites and would sooner or later leave them with no space to fight.

  Laconia analyzed the situation. If the battle continued like this, they would be forced to retreat to the camp where the archers would not be able to support them from above. Moreover the hoplites had already spent all their favors, only she still had one card left to play but she did not want to make the same mistake as before by using it too soon.

  “What would Asterion do?” said the bastard lerna to herself before setting out once more to the front.

  …

  “I am so stupid.”

  Asterion stood deep in thought, searching for some way to halt the assault that would soon descend from the west. Regret gnawed at him, he should never have told Laconia to not hold back. Because of his words she spent her second favor.

  “How many more do you need?” asked one of the onyxes youths as he carried the cloth from the camp, dropping them just beyond the doorway.

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  “All of them.”

  The polemarch clenched his jaw until it ached while his mind raced for a way to stop the myrmekes. He had ordered the boys to fetch the cloth of the tents so they could prepare the first trap.

  After several minutes, the two onyxes had stripped the whole camp.

  “Good. Now tell me which star blesses you and how many favors you carry,” said Asterion.

  “The Star of the Lake. First favor.”

  “The Burned Star. First favor.”

  Asterion had suspected as much. Even youths of fifteen were already sent ahead in scouting parties or made them shoot arrows and stones alongside the toxotes. These boys were little more than children with no experience upon a battlefield.

  “Good. I have a plan. But you must trust me completely and ask no questions. You’ll ruin the surprise.”

  The two young men stared at each other, wide-eyed, unable to comprehend the words coming from the polemarch’s mouth. Asterion drew out a fresh sheet and began sketching the tunnel.

  “Spread the cloth across the entire floor of the tunnel as far as it will reach. Luckily the camp was large so we should have enough to cover everything. Move.”

  The polemarch seized several lengths of cloth and ran into the passage, unrolling them across the stone floor. The two Onyx hesitated for a moment, startled by the suddenness of it all but having no better idea they simply followed the plan. As the three of them spread the cloth along the ground, the wounded scout appeared in the doorway. He watched in bewilderment as they laid the fabric across the labyrinth floor as though weaving some ragged carpet through its winding halls. His limp vanished and much of the pain had finally faded. Once every scrap of cloth from the camp was laid down, Asterion gathered his temporary companions.

  “Good. Now, when the myrmekes arrive—”

  “What are you doing here?”

  The voice came from the wounded scout, who approached the group slowly.

  “You’re awake,” Asterion said. “You must be the young onyx the Archon of Light recommended.”

  “No. My lord said he would send me with an experienced phalanx. You’re the Starless.”

  For a moment, it seemed the labyrinth itself fell silent.

  “Yes. Now come with us so I can explain the plan. Myrmekes are coming from the west.”

  The young man immediately took a step back.

  “What? That can’t be. We need to get out of here and warn the warriors. You’re useless.”

  “If we force them to split, they’ll likely lose to the ants. We’ll handle this.”

  “You cannot be serious. You’re not even a citizen, you false heleny. How do you expect to defend us? Come on.”

  Though the two onyxes shared the same rank as the scout they were far younger and had not yet earned their second favor. Both began walking toward him, ready to run for the far door until a dreadful sound filled the tunnel. Like a hundred footsteps striking the stone at once. Asterion hold the shoulders of the two kids.

  “There’s no time. They’ll be here in seconds, and they’ll simply climb over the door. There are fewer than on the other side. We can stop them.”

  Not a trace of fear lingered in the polemarch’s eyes. His gaze remained steady as the three youths looked at him. The footsteps took form at last and the few torches lining the walls revealed them: at least fifty myrmekes racing toward the door.

  “Use your favors at the same time on the cloth,” said the polemarch, still staring ahead while the others watched the ants.

  “Fire and water will cancel each other out, you idiot,” the scout snapped.

  Asterion forced the hands of both youths down against the cloth they had spread across the floor, while the scout drew his sword.

  “I beg you,” Asterion said. “In Helena’s name, help me.”

  The myrmekes were already halfway down the tunnel. Nearly the entire swarm had reached the stretch of cloth, only a few clinging to the walls. Most of them ran straight across the fabric laid upon the floor. The two kids looked at one another one last time.

  “Phlegethon.”

  “Aquarii.”

  The names of their stars were invoked over the cloth. Fire and water surged across the scattered remains of the camp. Asterion grabbed the boys and shoved them back against the scout, pushing them away from the spreading favor. For a single second the blessing flowed in uneasy harmony. Portions of the cloth burned with flame, while others ran slick with water. But when the powers finally reached the far end of the tunnel, the two elements touched and the trap of Asterion was unleashed.

  “Steam,” Asterion said with a smile, “is the name of my star today.”

  A vast cloud of steam surged before them, rising until it touched the ceiling of the tunnel. The shrill screams of ants being cooked alive echoed through every corner of the labyrinth.

  “How, how did you make the favors reach so far?” the scout asked while helping the others shut the door, sealing it tight so the boiling vapor would not burn them as well.

  “The thinner the object, the farther the first favor spreads,” Asterion replied. “I suppose it’s easy to forget, since everyone always uses their first favor through their tools. The cloth carried their blessings quite well. I couldn’t rely on fire alone either, they would have simply climbed the walls. Still, I didn’t expect it to react so quickly.”

  The cloud spread rapidly, yet the screams of the ants only grew louder.

  “What do we do now?” asked the two onyxes youths.

  “The steam will take care of the weak ones. We’ll wait until they’re close and the vapor cools a little. Then you’ll use your ring to cover us in water, and we’ll kill the stragglers inside the cloud, our second trap.”

  The boys trembled, gripping their weapons with both hands. Never before had they fought a myrmeke face to face. Even with the steam concealing them, a single mistake could mean death.

  “I’ll do it,” said the older scout that defied the polemarch before.

  Asterion turned to him at once. The young man’s face still held a trace of resentment at having to cooperate with someone as infamous as the Starless. Yet some spark of heroism compelled him to stand with them for the sake of his comrades.

  “What is your name, onyx?”

  “Nikomedes of Helena.”

  The polemarch gestured for the others to drench him and prepare him for the assault.

  “Nikomedes, survive this, and I will name you a Thracian of the Starless Phalanx.”

  As the ants continued screaming within the steam, the young man lowered his head and smirked mockingly.

  “I can hardly imagine a worse honor.”

  He bumped his fist against the polemarch’s, and after being thoroughly soaked, he slipped through the slightly opened door and ran straight into the cloud. The heat within was immense, sweat poured from him almost at once, only guided by the sounds he covered his eyes with a strip of cloth and opened them just enough to see. His sword severed the legs and neck of the first ant, then another and another. He ran through the vapor, striking wherever the shrieks guided him. Within only a few minutes the steam began to fade, the fifty ants fell, slain by the hands of three young onyxes and a heleny with no blessing. When Nikomedes returned, he found only Asterion waiting.

  “What happened to the other two?”

  “They went to warn the soldiers. It seems their battle is already nearing its end.”

  The young man looked back toward the tunnel and the massacre behind him, he only slain perhaps five ants with his blade, the rest had died burned by the blast of steam or suffocated in the searing heat.

  “You said you didn’t expect it to react so quickly. Have you never done this before?”

  “Well… I’ve used my companion’s fire on water before to make screens of steam,” Asterion said. “But never with a favor. The goal was only to delay them. I suppose we were lucky it worked so well and that you were here to finish the rest.”

  Nikomedes extended his arm and offered his fist in celebration.

  “Just this once.”

  Asterion struck his fist against the scout’s.

  “Welcome to my phalanx, young Thracian.”

  The Thracian released a long sigh.

  “Of all the phalanxes in Helena…”

  Together they walked toward the eastern gate. The sounds of battle there had not yet faded, but it seemed only a matter of time before the forces of Helena overwhelmed the myrmekes, or at least that was what they thought. Once more, the sound of dozens of legs echoed behind them.

  “Well then, captain,” said the newly made Thracian to his polemarch, “another master plan?”

  “I think this time we go with yours.”

  They slammed the door shut and immediately ran to rejoin the army. Nikomedes could not help but grin when he saw that the stoic polemarch, who had calmly devised a plan to annihilate fifty ants in mere minutes was now sprinting with a face full of fear.

  “Bastard. And here I was starting to trust you,” said Nikomedes between quiet bursts of laughter.