The Argive Ch. 121-125

Xanthos started to rub his chin as he thought about it. For a brief moment, Praxis thought that maybe his words were too good, and that Xanthos might really let him escape. But when Xanthos opened his mouth again, he left no doubt about his course of action.

"Of course I'll let you escape, stepbrother," said Xanthos as a lecherous grin appeared on his face. "What kind of family would I be if I couldn't honor this single request from you? Especially after everything we've been through?"

Praxis put on a fake smile. "I'm so relieved to hear you say that. The last thing I wanted was to know that my army was full of dead men walking. You've shown a profound sense of justice today, Xanthos. I commend you for it."

"You ought to prepare your men for leaving then," said Xanthos, nodding his head to Praxis' men. "You also might want to get some blankets. I hear that Macedon is a very cold land."

"We will do so. I'm grateful to have seen you today, stepbrother. And like we agreed to, today is the last day you'll ever hear of the trouble-maker, Praxis of Argos."

Xanthos grinned and the two brothers separated after that, taking with them their respective sides. Praxis felt Asterion, Agemon, and Mikon fall in beside him as they walked back to the front, all of them curious about what just happened.

"Prepare the men for battle," said Praxis. "My stepbrother took the bait. The battle will start momentarily."

*****

Xanthos was almost giddy as he made his way back to his lines. His excitement was so evident that Krantor soon fell in beside him.

"What's the word?" asked the nervous tyrant. "Are we going to retreat?"

"Not a chance, butcher boy," taunted Xanthos. "We're going to attack right now. My stepbrother couldn't be weaker. He admitted as much to me just now."

Krantor's eyes went wide. "He told you he was weak?"

"A play to earn my sympathy. Like I would just let him go." Xanthos snorted. "He should know better. I've wanted him dead from the moment he entered my family. Today is the day I get to finally be rid of him. He thinks I'm going to let him escape to the north but we will do no such thing. I want you to get word to all the warriors under our command. We're going to attack that army and destroy them utterly."

Krantor might have pissed himself if it wasn't for Xanthos' newfound sense of confidence. Still, he gave the orders to his Corinthians while Xanthos did the same for the Argives under his command. With the army already formed up on the plateau, the only thing that remained to do was for them to advance.

It was an order that quickly exited Xanthos' mouth.

As the ranks of Corinthian and Argive warriors moved forward, Xanthos could only imagine the feelings of betrayal that were probably going through Praxis' mind at that point.

It was time to finish the job that was started when Xanthos killed Damian.

There was room for only one king on this battlefield.

Chapter 123: The Battle of the Brothers

"Steady, men! Keep steady!"

Praxis dug his feet into the ground as the rush of warriors under the command of his stepbrother, Xanthos, moved toward their position with breathtaking speed. His play of weakness had worked more perfectly than he could imagine, and it was scarcely more than fifteen minutes after the end of their conference that Xanthos decided to attack.

It was a confirmation of everything Praxis knew about Xanthos--that he was a man entirely lacking in anything resembling decency or strategy.

And today he would show that folly for what it was.

The collision of men was absolutely devastating. Those in the front ranks on either side were the primary victims of the massive shock wave of metal and men as they all came together at once. To Praxis' great relief, the phalanx held after the initial impact, allowing them to start doing what they did best--picking off Xanthos' men one by one.

Praxis downed his first two warriors in quick succession, but it was a strange feeling fighting fellow Argives. Several of these men might have fought in his army months ago, and it was only by a odd twist of fate that brought them to opposite sides of the battlefield.

For Praxis, there was only one man on this field that truly deserved death, and he was at most about twenty feet away, coaxing his men to move forward.

Praxis moved forward too, leaving the security of the phalanx in an effort to reach his stepbrother.

There was nothing to stop his rendezvous with fate.

*****

On the other side of the plateau, Agemon was having similar thoughts as Praxis while he mowed down his Corinthian opposition, none of whom he actually wanted to kill. Many of them were only fighting because they thought it right to fight for their city, even if that meant lining up for a man as vile as Krantor.

Speaking of such, Agemon was surprised to find Krantor on the battlefield. The one-time butcher's boy was astonishingly close to the front lines but the look on his face told Agemon that he wanted to be anywhere else but there. Such men were not made for battle let alone leadership, and as the Corinthian warriors were mowed down piecemeal by the battle-hardened phalanx, Krantor became increasingly exposed.

When he was only ten feet away, Agemon made his move. He yanked one Corinthian warrior out of the way until nothing stood between him and the new tyrant.

"You should have never left Corinth," roared Agemon as he launched an attack with his spear.

Krantor yelped as he leapt away, the spear missing by inches, but it was enough to destroy his remaining confidence. Finding himself as the target of the most deadly warrior from Corinth, Krantor turned and tried to flee.

And yet, trying to get through the masses of his own warriors slowed him down. It also destroyed any respect they had left for the tyrant, and those warriors largely moved out of Agemon's way as he tried to close the distance.

Once he was there, all it took was a quick jerk on the back of Krantor's armor to wipe him off his feet and send him to the ground. Most of the fighting at the point on the field disintegrated as they turned to watch Krantor scurry around like a trapped mouse.

"Please don't kill me," blustered Krantor, moving toward Agemon's feet. "I'll do anything you say! Anything! Just don't kill me."

With all of his might, Agemon kicked Krantor backwards, causing the man to shriek out in pain.

"You're not worthy of leading Corinth!" yelled Agemon. "You're not even worthy to sweep out the marketplace! You're a worm, Krantor! And I'm going to do to you what someone should have done a long time ago."

Krantor screamed as Agemon stepped on his chest, using his incredible weight to pin the man in his spot. As hard as he tried, Krantor couldn't hope to dislodge Agemon even as the larger man grabbed his spear and chucked it downward.

The tip penetrated the soft flesh of Krantor's neck. For a brief moment, Krantor's eyes went wide as blood erupted from the wound, and yet he made no sound or shriek of pain.

He was dead within moments.

Agemon shook his head. It shouldn't have been so easy to kill a leader of Corinth but Krantor was only an impostor. And with his death, Corinth could once again dream of adequate leadership.

Krantor's sudden death sparked a sense of defeat in the remaining Corinthians, most of whom were still watching the interaction. As a whole, they lost their nerve at seeing their leader's bulging throat and spewing blood. In small groups they fled, and then in droves, all trying to put as much space between them and the bloodthirsty Agemon.

Though Agemon had hoped he would never see retreating Corinthians again, it was still a sweet sight to watch the battle be decided in that moment.

"Spear phalanx!" he bellowed. "Move forward and crush what's left of the army!"

*****

Something was happening on the other flank.

Praxis became distinctly aware of the happening by the movement in his own lines as the men shifted forward, but he could soon see droves of Corinthians retreating from the field, signaling some kind of local victory on that side.

The Argives in front of him though were made of stronger stuff. They wouldn't break so easily, and Praxis had to continually mow them down in order to reach Xanthos.

For his part, Xanthos was putting up a brave face but the closer that Praxis got to him, the more his nerves seemed to fray.

"Come face me!" yelled Praxis once there were only a couple men between them. "Face me, you coward!"

Yet facing him seemed to be the last thing that was on Xanthos' mind. Before Praxis could reach him, he had to dispatch one more Argive warrior, using his spear to penetrate the man's shoulder before there was nothing between the two stepbrothers.

"So much for letting us slip away," yelled Praxis over the roar of battle. "How long did it take before you decided to betray me?"

Fully facing him, Xanthos growled.

"The moment you made the suggestion!" he spat. "That's all it took!"

Praxis launched an attack against him, trying to catch the point of his spear against Xanthos' shoulder but Xanthos managed to block it at the last moment.

"You should have known I'd never let you get away!" said Xanthos. "Nikandros won't rest until he's served your head on a platter!"

Xanthos made two feints of his own, going right and then left in quick succession. Praxis blocked them effortlessly but missed on his next thrust. Right next to the two of them, another Argive warrior fell as the phalanx moved forward. They were now pressing the Argive force on two sides thanks to the Corinthian rout, and it appeared the battle would soon be over.

"You fell right into my trap," said Praxis. "I knew all I would need to do is feign a little weakness and you would take the bait! You always were predictable, Xanthos!"

Xanthos spared a look at his collapsing line and gritted his teeth. At least he wouldn't retreat like the others. He would stand and die on his feet.

"I might be predictable but I'm still the king of Argos!" roared Xanthos.

With that mighty bellow, Xanthos let loose with everything he had. Praxis was thrown on the defensive as he struggled to block every thrust that his stepbrother made. He was too slow on one particular parry, and Xanthos drew blood from Praxis' exposed arm.

"So he bleeds after all," taunted Xanthos. "The great Praxis is still human!"

Praxis grunted. "That will be the last stupid thing you ever say."

It was now Praxis' turn. He threw Xanthos back on the defensive, using his spear in the same nature as the phalanx. At one point, Xanthos tripped over the body of one of his dead warriors but he recovered before Praxis could press home the advantage.

"Is that all you got?" yelled Xanthos.

Praxis shook his head. "No. But this is."

Praxis threw out his shield as a temporary distraction, getting Xanthos to shift his body to meet the change in position. In the process, a small opening appeared on his left side, directly opposite Praxis' spear.

It was the only opening Praxis needed. Aiming for the shoulder blade, he drove his spear directly through the armor and the flesh until it pierced the bone.

Xanthos grunted at the moment of impact, dropping his sword. His eyes turned toward the wound, almost as if he was in disbelief about what he was witnessing. He started to shake his head.

"It's not o-over yet," he stuttered.

"That's where you're wrong," said Praxis as he twisted the shaft of the spear.

Xanthos stiffened as the color drained from his face. When Praxis yanked the spear from his body, his stepbrother fell to his knees.

There was one more insult to add to his injury.

"That wasn't just for me," said Praxis, lowering his spear. "That was for Astara too."

Xanthos' eyes went wide for a moment before he crumpled to the ground, never to rise again.

Praxis' stepbrother was dead.

The death of Xanthos was the crowning moment of a battle that had gone against the League forces from the very beginning. As Praxis stood over Xanthos' body, he could see the spear phalanx pushing forward, practically chasing after the Argives as they tried to melt away. The Corinthians were nowhere to be found, having already disappeared past the other side of the plateau.

Once again, the phalanx seemed to have proved its worth.

It took another twenty minutes of fighting before the last Argives were killed or disarmed. In doing so, Xanthos' entire force was utterly destroyed, removing nearly seven hundred men from the ranks of the League alliance. Praxis' own losses were quite light. Eleven men were dead on his side, mostly a result of those that were thrown off balance from the initial collision of the armies. There were a few wounded but none that were crippled.

It was a relatively light bill for the odds against them, and the force did what they'd been longing to do since the last battle.

They celebrated their victory with whooping, hollers, and good spirits.

They'd just proven that not only was the Peloponnesian League not invincible, but that they could still stand up to them and win.

It was just the morale boost they needed.

*****

"Gods above and below, those bastards are getting slaughtered!"

While the battle progressed just a short distance away, a man by the name of Akadios of Sparta watched the entire thing. He had a view of the initial parley between the two sides, when the two stepbrothers came face to face. And now he was watching the Argives and Corinthians fall apart, their contingents completely destroyed in the face of the Messenian force.

And Akadios swore with every curse he could think of.

He didn't want to be here in the first place, but King Nikandros had charged him with keeping an eye on Xanthos and the forces under his command.

It was for good reason, especially as the battle progressed below him. The Messenian force was supposed to have been wiped away for good, but now they would be made stronger by this victory.

Sooner or later, they would have to be dealt with before they became an even more deadly force, especially with this tight formation they wielded to such great effect.

King Nikandros would have to know what happened today. And his fury would be great when he learned the truth. With one more curse, Akadios turned from the battle and started in a southerly direction toward Sparta.

The Spartan king would need to fight one more battle to end this war.

Chapter 124: Window of Opportunity

"Was this the body of the tyrant, sir? He's the only one we could find with more expensive clothing than the average warrior."

The man speaking was one of the Messenians that had been assigned to the right flank, where Agemon was in command. At his feet was the body of a dead Corinthian, one who was covered in dirt and blood. Praxis strained his eyes to see the man's face but with the fading light, it was becoming increasingly hard to identify him.

Thankfully, Agemon didn't have the same problem.

"That's him, all right. That's Krantor. The butcher's boy turned tyrant. What happened to his head though?"

That was a great question. The Messenian who brought him over grabbed the dead tyrant by the shoulders, which helped to showcase the problem. His head was hanging on by only a few sinews of flesh. Someone had already tried to remove his head from his body.

"We found him like that, sir. My guess is that someone decided to take out their frustrations on him while they had the chance."

Agemon grunted. "Well, it makes things easier for us, I suppose."

With those words, Agemon pulled out his sword and cleaved the head from what remained of the body. He grabbed a spear and poked it through the bloody stump where it once connected to his torso.

"That looks quite formidable," noted Praxis once the deed was done.

"Any idea what you're going to do with that?" asked Asterion. "Because it's going to start to smell in a few hours. By this time tomorrow, it will reek."

"I was thinking I might take it home with me," explained Agemon. "Or maybe I might take it to Cypselus. He might be happy to see it."

It was at that moment that an idea struck Praxis. It occurred right as he was looking into the glassy, dead eyes of Krantor.

"You ought to take it to Corinth," said Praxis. "And have Cypselus meet you there."

"Why is that, Praxis?"

"Think about it. We just killed the only ruler that Corinth has right now, the man that was loyal to Sparta. Their true king is Cypselus, in exile in Athens. Once they hear about this battle, the Corinthians are going to be mutinous, thinking they picked the wrong side. They will be ready to desert the Spartans. And if their rightful king shows up at that moment, we can yank Corinth from the grasp of Nikandros. We'll gain a base of operations to continue this war."

"That's a pretty good idea, my king," said Asterion. "It would be a blow that Nikandros wouldn't expect, nor soon recover from."

"What about Argos though?" asked Mikon. "Isn't Argos in the same position?"

Praxis could barely contain his grin. "It is. The fact of the matter is we have two dead leaders here at our feet. It gives us a window of opportunity that we wouldn't have otherwise. If we strike quickly, we could remove both Corinth and Argos from the enemy's camp. We could take over that leadership."

"If I know Cypselus, he will jump at the opportunity to retake Corinth," said Agemon. "But fighting a war is another issue. I don't know that he will be eager to relive the past, especially if the Spartans send another army north."

"No, not reliving the past," said Praxis. "But reinventing it."

"What do you mean by that, Praxis?" asked Asterion.

"When we fought Nikandros before, in both Argos and Corinth, we fought in the traditional way. And numbers carried the day. Nikandros has the largest army so of course he was the one to win. But now, we have a new factor on our side. We have the spear phalanx. And we've just shown that we can stand up to forces much greater than our own number. Not once but twice."

"But Xanthos isn't Nikandros though, Praxis," said Agemon. "We goaded Xanthos into attacking us when any competent general might have waited until the odds were in his favor. Xanthos' own folly is the reason why he's dead."

"Then maybe the phalanx will have to learn to fight offensively then," said Praxis.

"Not to be naysayer but we still only have a little more than three hundred men under our command," said Asterion. "If Nikandros comes north, he'll have ten times that amount. I have no doubt we could stand up to another force twice our size but ten times our size? That stretches the limits of believability."

"Which is why we need Argos and Corinth," said Praxis. "We use both cities as a base of operations with which to rebuild our armies. If we can train a thousand men each in both cities, we'll have a force that can stand up to Nikandros. Trained in the ways of the spear phalanx."

"That's a big ask though, my king," said Asterion. "It took us many weeks to train the men back in Messene. Once Nikandros hears about this loss, I have no doubt he'll move north quickly. We won't have much time."

"The training time was greater because it was still new and untested," said Praxis. "But now we have three hundred veterans who've had a direct role in its success. We can break out the men who embody the tactics the best and use them to train smaller groups. We might not need that much time to get them proficient in the tactics."

There was a moment of silence after that as all the men contemplated the option in front of them. Praxis looked at each of their faces in turn, wondering what they were thinking or whether they saw a chance of success, as he did. Finally, it came to Agemon to be the first to speak up.

"I'll send a runner to find Cypselus," said the large warrior. "If we only have a limited amount of time to work with, we best get started."