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"Momentous? For who?"
Athena wagged a finger at him. "You know that I'm not allowed to divulge that information. It goes against our rules. All I can say is that you must be ready for anything, Praxis."
Praxis' heart sank. "Anything? Like the possibility of defeat?"
Athena didn't say a word. She only nodded instead.
"So it could really happen then," said Praxis. "We could lose this fight."
"Do not let it disturb your feelings, my hero. Whether you win or lose shouldn't be the question on your lips."
Praxis looked confused. "Then what should be?"
Without words, Athena grabbed the straps of her dress and lowered them one at a time. Within a matter of moments, the dress fell down her body, leaving her completely nude before him.
There were no words to adequately describe the body of a goddess. As perfect as his women were, Athena was better. Her skin was perfectly bronzed, casting an alluring pallor that drew him closer. Her curves were magnificent, showcasing an impeccable womanly figure that flared from her hips before constricting for her tiny stomach. Her breasts were the kind that most women would die for--large, pendulous orbs that were capped with erect and succulent nipples.
Praxis didn't know whether to stare or look away. He was mesmerized by the beauty in front of him. Before he knew it, he was sitting down, but how he got there, he had no idea.
Praxis watched silently as Athena moved forward, strutting one long, shimmering leg in front of the other until she straddled him, placing her arms on his shoulders.
It was like being in a dream he never wanted to end.
Athena smiled at him, the warrior-goddess looking completely entranced with his presence. Finally, Praxis remembered the question he'd asked.
"What is my question?" he mumbled.
Athena kissed him longingly, slipping her tongue into his mouth to meet with his. When she pulled away, she locked eyes with him.
"The question is whether or not you're worthy of being my disciple?" she said in a breathy tone.
As if by magic, Praxis felt his rapidly-hardening erection angle itself upward, ready to meet Athena's dripping sex. The goddess was content to watch him as his manhood penetrated her, not stopping until their pubic bones met.
"How will I know if I'm worthy?" whispered Praxis, still completely taken with the feeling of her heavenly body against his.
Athena moaned as her pussy started to massage his cock. "Satisfy me now and prove yourself worthy. If you do that, I will stand by you in your time of need."
That seemed to be simple enough, not like Praxis had a choice in the matter. Even if Athena told him that coupling with her would mean his death, he didn't know if he had the strength of character necessary to remove himself from her body.
The goddess was perfection embodied, and there was nothing that he wanted more than to satisfy her.
Praxis grabbed her hips to give him more support for thrusting. Once secured, he began to hammer upward into her body, making Athena start to moan right from the beginning. She rocked her hips down to meet his, maintaining a steady rhythm that was both deeply satisfying and pleasurable.
"My hero," chanted Athena as she rode him. "Prove yourself to me!"
With the mind-blowing rhythm of Athena's hips slamming into his and the mesmerizing view of her tits bouncing with her thrust, it wasn't long until Praxis reached release. Athena smothered his mouth with her own as he started firing into her body, taking him to a height that he'd never reached before.
He never saw the aftermath of the orgasm as he blacked out at exactly that moment.
Chapter 138: The Final Battle
The next morning, Praxis awoke with a start. The last thing he remembered was being with Athena in her temple, and what a memory that was. The goddess had certainly found a way to shower him with attention, and he had the time of his life with her.
Speaking of time, just how long had he been with her? He remembered it being after dark the night before but had he really spent the entire night with her, especially when the encounter seemingly only lasted about twenty minutes?
And just how did he get inside his tent with the other women?
With many questions but zero answers, Praxis pulled himself away from the girls and stepped outside into the early morning air. The army was just starting to stir but so far he was relatively alone as he sat down by the remnants of last night's fire and splashed some water on his face.
What had Athena been trying to tell him last night?
He knew it wasn't just about the erotic encounter. Athena was deeper than that, and his mind turned back to her question about whether he was worthy or not.
But did that mean worthy of a victory today? Athena wouldn't tell him the outcome of the battle.
Did he need to prove his worthiness by sleeping with her? If that was the case, he wasn't confident he did only because he blacked out during orgasm.
So what exactly did it all mean?
He was still questioning it when Lysandra woke up and came outside the tent. She gave him a small grin and sat next to him on the log, looking very much like she was in on some kind of private joke.
"What was that all about last night?" she asked, leaning against his shoulder.
"What was what?" asked Praxis, now extremely curious about what she was talking about.
Lysandra gave him a coy grin. "The sex last night! You woke me up in the middle of the night and just put it in me. I was still half asleep but not for long with how hard you were pounding me. Not that I cared, it was incredible but you seemed to be half asleep too."
Praxis' mouth fell open. "We had sex last night?"
"Don't tell me you don't remember!"
Praxis was speechless. So if he actually had sex with Lysandra, did that mean whatever happened with Athena was just a dream? Or was it part of what happened?
He couldn't have been more confused, especially as Lysandra started to giggle next to him.
"You need to do that more often," she said. "It was like you were possessed last night. You made me orgasm four times before you came. I can't tell you how lovely it was, and I'm especially happy that you changed your mind after all."
At a loss for words, Praxis just said the first thing that came to mind. "Well, that's just what you do to me."
"Was it just pre-battle jitters or something?" she asked. "What caused it?"
Praxis thought about telling her the truth but stopped before the words came out. None of the women knew about his special relationship with Athena, and at this point, he wasn't sure he could explain it without sounding like a total headcase.
So he didn't.
"Yeah, I suppose," answered Praxis finally. "Just pre-battle jitters."
Lysandra smiled and kissed him. "Well, I loved it. Let's do that more often."
"As long as we get through today, you have yourself a deal," promised Praxis.
That was good enough for Lysandra and they were joined a short while later by the other two women, neither of whom suspected anything was different. By this time, the army was starting to take their positions on the field, guided by Asterion, Agemon, Cypselus, and Mikon, who would serve as leaders of different sections of the phalanx.
Praxis would take the right wing, as was traditional for the leader of the army. Before he could take his post, he had to do two things before it was too late.
The first was putting on the ring that his father had given him, the one that had once belonged to his mother. By now, it became a custom before battle to keep them with him, and Praxis really believed that the ring was the best way to keep his parents close to his heart. The ring glimmered in the early morning sunshine, making Praxis feel much better about the trials to come.
The second thing to do was to see off his women. Praxis hesitated to call it a goodbye, not wanting to betray a lack of confidence in what was about to transpire, but in a way, that's kind of what it was.
If the worst happened today, he wanted to know that he shared his final words with all three of his women as well as Phaedra.
As soon as he put on his armor, they were there to see him off too. Zenais was also armored up, and it wouldn't be much of a goodbye because she was coming with him. She gave him a nervous smile that morning as they faced the other three.
"Come back soon," urged Astara as she hugged him. "And finish this thing today, okay?"
"I'll do my best," he promised.
Lysandra leapt into his arms and kissed him soundly. "I know you can crush them, Praxis. This is what you were born for. I just know it. I love you so much."
"I love you too," he replied.
Finally, all that was left was young Phaedra. His sister embraced him warmly as she tried to keep the tears at bay.
"Will you avenge our father today, Praxis?" she whispered. "Will you make Nikandros pay?"
Praxis pulled back to look into her eyes. "You have my word. If it's the last thing I do, I will make the Spartan king suffer."
Phaedra smiled. "Just make sure you come back alive. I'm not sure what I would do without you."
"Count on it," he promised.
When Phaedra pulled away, there was nothing left to do. Zenais said her goodbyes as well, and then the pair made their way to their respective spots on the line. Praxis had arranged for Zenais to be close to his position, just like she was during the Battle of Messene, in case she found herself in a troubling position.
"I'll be fine, Praxis."
Praxis snapped back to the present to find that Zenais was looking back at him.
"You're worrying about me again," she teased. "Stop worrying so much. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can. I just don't want anything to happen to someone I love."
Zenais smiled. "Don't worry. If you get in trouble, I'll just have to come rescue you."
"That's not exactly what I meant."
Zenais let out a rich laugh. "I don't care."
They continued their private laugh until Zenais split off to get to her position. She did so with one last kiss and then she was gone.
At least Praxis had the confidence that the terrain would work in their favor of keeping the army safe. As he neared his position, he could see the entire line spread out on the top of the hill, just on the edge where it sloped down to meet the Spartans, who were lining up opposite of them, just in front of the treeline.
The Spartans had a good amount of open ground to cross before they would ascend the hill, and it was Mikon who promised that the former members of the King's Band would harass them along the way with their slings.
The only thing that troubled Praxis was the length of the Spartan line. From his position on the right wing, he could see that the Spartans opposite of him extended a short distance to his right. When the two armies met, he would find himself fighting on two sides, which wasn't an envious position to be in.
While not ideal, it was at least manageable as long as the Spartans didn't extend their line. They could certainly afford to, as even from this distance Praxis could see that they were stacked deep with warriors.
Alas, it didn't take long for his worst fear to materialize. As Mikon's men went forward to harass the Spartans to start the battle, Praxis watched in horror as the rear ranks of Spartan warriors started to extend toward the right, greatly lengthening their line of battle.
Instead of just sticking out a little bit from Praxis' flank, it was now like Praxis' position was near the center of the entire battlefield.
Almost at once, panic set in on their side at the enormous number of Spartans. Asterion came running over first, followed by Cypselus and Agemon a short while later.
"My king, their line is too long now!" said Asterion. "They will wrap around our side and be able to attack us from behind if we don't extend our lines now!"
"We anticipated that this could happen, remember?" replied Praxis. "We have to thin out our own lines to match. The rear ranks of the phalanx will have to move out and form a new line starting here on my position and going to the right to match theirs."
"But what about the total depth of our ranks?" asked Asterion. "If the Spartans keep too many men on one portion of the line, they'll be able to break our thinner ranks."
"It's just a risk we have to take," said Praxis, shaking his head. "We have to respond to this or we might as we not even fight this battle. This is the weapon that Nikandros was talking about. Extend the lines."
That seemed to be the end of the discussion, and the other men ran back to their sections to deliver the news. Thankfully, the majority of the men were well-drilled and prepared to execute the movement, sliding into the space to the right of Praxis and extending their line by following the hill as it wrapped back around to the north.
However, seeing the new line in position exposed how dangerously thin it was. It also made Praxis' current position the most dangerous on the battlefield, as he was the point where the line hinged, and thus, if the Spartans could pierce the line at his spot, it would destroy their entire army.
"Bring in another line of men right behind me," Praxis ordered Agemon. "The fate of the entire battle is going to happen right here. We're going to need as many men as we can get!"
"Do you want me to thin out any other positions?" asked Agemon. "And put them here?"
"Not yet," replied Praxis. "Let's see what the Spartans do first."
Agemon nodded to the south. "We're not going to have to wait that long, Praxis."
Praxis turned to look in that direction. The Spartans were already moving forward at a fast trot. Mikon's men were doing what they could, but there were too few of them and too many Spartans to make a difference. They fell back toward Praxis' line just as the Spartans appeared to close the gap.
With a deafening collision of shields and men, the two armies came together.
The final battle had begun.
Chapter 139: Praxis vs. Nikandros
Right from the beginning, the fighting was fierce.
Praxis had just begun to recover his bearings from the charge when the first Spartan warrior tried to drive their sword through his skull. A quick yank of Praxis' shield ended that hope but before he had time to strike, yet another Spartan tried to do something similar.
It was clear that this was the cream of the crop--these were the warriors that had conquered the entire Peloponnese, and if this line didn't stand up to their charge, there would be no one else to stop them.
Praxis was able to draw first blood with the second Spartan almost as soon as he withdrew his arm. Using his spear, he performed a downward thrust that the enemy warrior wasn't able to block. It clipped the upper edge of his shield and entered the Spartan's chest, and he crumbled to the ground once Praxis yanked it back.
Praxis spared a glance down the line to see that they were holding firm, and the spears of his men were doing an excellent job of keeping the Spartans at bay. That wasn't to say there weren't casualties though, as Praxis couldn't help but notice a few of his own men already on the ground, unmoving. That forced the man behind him to step forward to take his place, entering the fray with a roar and a thrust of his spear.
It was testament to their training that they were able to keep gaps from forming in the line but Praxis worried most about how thin the line was. This portion of the line was eight ranks deep, and it was one of the thicker parts because of it being his center. If the Spartans forced more casualties than they had replacements to cover, it could quickly spell their doom.
Praxis was pulled from his mind as he took another sword thrust against his shield. He pushed the man off with his weight, and that was when he saw another man just a short distance away.
King Nikandros.
The Spartan king was directly opposite of Praxis, urging his men forward in the center of his line. No doubt he'd placed himself there on purpose, and there were a couple times when Praxis noticed the king's deadly glare on him, no doubt willing the battle to bring them closer to settle their feud once and for all.
That would be the biggest challenge yet, especially when Praxis took in the king's fighting prowess. Nikandros was ripping holes into the spear phalanx faster than they could replace the men. It was almost like it was an advantage for Nikandros to only have his sword and shield, completely disregarding the longer reach of the spears. He dipped and ducked under hundreds of life-ending blows only to reemerge in order to strike a killing blow.
In short, he scoured the line like the deadly wraith that he was.
Once again, Praxis' attention was forced away from Nikandros as yet another sword thrust came hurtling toward his body. He managed to lean away from it, but he still felt the blade's presence against his unprotected side before he could push it out of the way with his shield. The Spartan in front of him was uncommonly large and definitely angry, judging by the fierce expression on his face.
And the only thing on his mind was ending Praxis' life.
Forced away from the rest of his line by the Spartan's last move, Praxis found himself fighting almost alone in the next moment, and he struggled to not only stay on his feet but to keep the Spartan at bay. The large warrior used his superior strength to constantly batter at Praxis' shield, so much so that Praxis' arm began to ache from blocking his mighty blows.
Finally, the worst possible thing happened to Praxis. He stumbled on the last blow, tripping over the feet of a dead Argive that had fallen earlier in the battle. In his stumble, Praxis failed to catch himself and ended up on his ass.
As he looked up, he saw the deadly Spartan move ever closer, prepared to dispatch the killing blow that Praxis wouldn't be able to stop.
"You're mine now, little man!" roared the Spartan as he yanked his sword back.
Praxis raised his shield to meet the blow but the force of the man's strength against his arm nearly shattered it. Strength left his shield arm at that moment, and he was unable to pull it up again.
He was a sitting duck now, and it was only a matter of time before the Spartan finished the job.
Praxis prepared to be skewered by the warrior as he yanked his sword back one more time but the blow never came.
Praxis was shocked when the Spartan was shoved out of the way haphazardly, finding the face of the Spartan king in front of him.
"This one's mine!" yelled Nikandros at the discarded Spartan warrior. "I will kill him!"
The rest of the Spartans around them wouldn't dare challenge their king, and they stepped back to make room for the inevitable fight that was to come.
And yet, Praxis couldn't help but think that it wouldn't be the epic fight that they expected. With his arm still numb from blocking so many blows, he didn't think he would stand a chance against Nikandros.
He didn't even know if he could get back on his feet.
"Let's go, you coward," taunted Nikandros. "Not so strong now, are you?"
Praxis gritted his teeth at the insult, and somehow found the strength in his body to push up on his knees. He tried to use his shield to balance the weight but he misjudged its presence and ended up falling forward, forcing Nikandros and the Spartans around him to laugh.
"Look how weak you've become," said Nikandros. "Fighting like a coward has done this to you. You've forgotten the ways of fighting like a man, and now you will die like the rat you are."
"I'm not finished yet," warned Praxis.
He let out a small yelp as he used what remained of his strength to push to his feet. Once he was standing, Praxis winced as he raised his shield, feeling the pain shoot up his arm. He positioned his spear overhead and then glared at the Spartan king.
