Notes: This is the third story in "The Icarus Reversal" series. Please read "The Icarus Reversal" and "Testing His Wings" first or you'll be completely lost.
I'm afraid I can't give you a schedule for updates on this one; the best I can say is that they'll come when they come.
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The descending sword was blocked by another, the two crossing at the eye-level of their wielders. The younger of the two combatants wore a fierce smile as he lashed out with his right leg in a kick to his enemy's torso. The other fighter partially doubled over and the Warrior Prince immediately disentangled their blades, bringing his own down and around in a swing which knocked the opposing weapon wide before using the backstroke to slam the hilt into his foe's skull. The man dropped to the grass with a groan.
With the immediate threat thus disposed of Solan threw a quick, anxious glance behind him and was relieved to see Justin doing well against the last remaining outlaw.
Nonetheless he turned and raced across the meadow toward the battle. As anticipated his approach distracted the bandit long enough for Justin to disarm him and subdue the ruffian with a fine strike to the solar plexus.
"Are you all right?" Solan asked his friend, just to be sure.
"Fine," Justin replied. "You watch them and I'll get the rope," he said and took off in the direction of Alpha Seven.
Regarding the four sprawled forms of their victims the Warrior Prince couldn't keep from scowling in derision. The men had been largely unskilled, and worse, had acted as if the swords they held were their weapons instead of recognizing that a fighter's entire body was his weapon! How could they not realize something so clear, so obvious?!
Their ignorance had made for an easy victory, but it was hard to take any pride in crushing the likes of these. Thank the gods he had Justin to spar against, or he'd have forgotten what it was like to face a worthy opponent!
That last errant thought made Solan wince. Given his destiny he really needed to break himself of the habit of thanking the gods, and the sooner the better. Besides, the god truly responsible for Justin's being here was one he would never thank, no matter how much the evil deity had done for him.
He shouldn't even be grateful for Justin's presence in the first place, given how horrible it was for his friend . . . but that was a feeling he couldn't help.
Moving cautiously in case one of the bandits should suddenly recover enough to lunge at him the tall, tanned muscle-boy gathered up their weapons with his free hand, tossing them into a pile at the edge of the meadow. Justin returned with the coil of rope and the duo began binding their captives' wrists together. Three had already been secured when the fourth man staggered up and fled. Solan's left hand darted instinctively to his chakram, but at Justin's sharp calling of his name and warning look it fell away. Sighing and sheathing his sword in its back scabbard he sprinted after the fleeing man.
Dark-haired, bearded and of below average height, the man wasn't running with any real swiftness and it was clear he hadn't fully recovered from whatever blows Justin had used to down him. He reached the edge of the treeline and disappeared into the woods.
Solan followed without pause, passing into the woods and expecting to catch a glimpse of the fleeing fugitive up ahead. Instead the man lunged at him from behind a tree to his right, swinging a torn-off branch at his head.
Taken by surprise even his speed and reflexes did not enable him to wholly duck the blow, the piece of wood grazing the back of his head.
Jarred by the impact, rocked by the unexpected pain and abruptly in survival mode Solan broke the man's nose with a palm strike and caught the branch in his other hand. Stepping forward he kneed his foe with great force before seizing the doubled-over attacker's hair to smash his other knee up into the man's face, sending the adult sprawling onto the ground.
After kneeling down and putting a solid arm-lock on the moaning, bleeding outlaw's left arm, Solan forced his captive upright, brutally twisted the limb behind the man's back, and marched his stumbling prisoner back to Justin and the others.
Justin seemed shocked by the extent of the man's injuries as Solan let the battered bandit collapse to his knees before the Blue Turbo Ranger.
"Solan, what-"
"Put your other hand behind you or I'll rip your arm off," the Warrior Prince snarled. The man did as he was told and Solan's gaze shifted to Justin. "Tie him up," he commanded tersely.
Justin also did as he was told, leaving the angry son of Xena free to address the other bandits.
"We're taking you to justice. Try to resist or run and you'll end up worse than him!" he threatened.
All three looked in unison at their moaning friend's shattered nose, missing teeth and black beard soaked with blood. One paled, another swallowed nervously and the third quickly looked away.
Yanking the man up Solan shoved him forward.
"Move!" he ordered, pointing towards the road where Alpha Seven was waiting, and they did.
"What happened?" Justin asked urgently under his breath as they followed behind the beaten quartet.
Solan could feel his fair skin reddening and was glad their prisoners were facing away from him.
"He was waiting for me," he confessed quietly, hating every word. "He swung a branch at me and I didn't dodge in time."
"You're kidding! Where did he hit you? Are you okay?"
"In the back of the head, and I'm fine," Solan insisted, echoing Justin's earlier reassurance.
Justin dropped a few steps behind his friend and began parting the veil of Solan's well past shoulder-length blond hair to inspect his scalp for any damage. Solan hissed as Justin's probing fingers brushed the point of impact, resisting his trained and nearly instinctive urge to slam an elbow back into Justin's torso, flip the Ranger over his shoulders and stomp hard on the fourteen year-old's head.
"You're probably going to have a bump back here," Justin explained apologetically. "I can't believe he got you!"
Solan stared down at the ground he was walking on, saying nothing. He couldn't believe it either. Even Justin was only rarely able to lay so much as a hand on him! Allowing himself to be struck by a common thug left him with a sick hot feeling of furious shame.
Reappearing at his side Justin tried unsuccessfully to make eye contact. "Don't worry about it, Solan," he said comfortingly. "You beat him anyway and that's what matters."
"I never should've have let him strike me," Solan insisted, knowing it was true.
"He surprised you. You can't expect yourself to be perfect."
Solan shot the Turbo Ranger a brief, sideways look which said, "Yes, I can," as clearly as if the thought had been put into words.
"Maybe we should add surprise attacks to our sparring scenarios," he suggested. At his urging they'd expanded sparring from just facing off with swords and bare hands on equal ground to a variety of different situations, increasing the fun and value of their sessions.
"So you want me to try attacking you with no warning?" Justin asked skeptically. "Solan, you have to work to keep from smashing me when I touch you without warning!"
"I haven't lost control in a long time!" the twelve year-old protested. A few seconds passed in silence as the group of six reached Alpha Seven. The pale white horse had his head down, grazing contentedly as he waited for his young masters to return.
"You're right, though, it is too dangerous," Solan conceded. In responding to a surprise attack it would be almost impossible to keep his training from taking over, and Justin could get badly hurt. Look at what had happened to his assailant here! He wasn't about to risk doing anything like that to his friend. Not again, not ever.
Besides, his reaction time hadn't been the real problem; it was simply that he hadn't expected the bandit to wait and attack him, just as he'd never imagined Kenny could return to life after being killed. Both times he had underestimated his opponent and that was the real flaw he had to try to overcome.
How, though? How did you anticipate the unexpected?
"Head toward Piraeus," Solan commanded their prisoners, the nearby town which the bandits had been preying upon. He took the reins of Alpha Seven in one hand, gently leading the horse along with them.
They had acquired the animal in the aftermath of their final conflict with the Red Valley Gang. After returning Apollo's Urn the two of them had scoured the surrounding countryside for the group without success. A few days later they'd given up and started on the way back to Tripolis and the armory.
The ambush had been sprung about three miles from Corinth. Six bandits, half the gang, had come screaming up at them from out of roadside cover. With odds of three to one each Solan hadn't hesitated. He'd split the skull of one of Justin's attackers with his chakram, blinded one of the men charging him with a thrown handful of dirt hastily scooped up from the road, skewered a third on his sword and seriously wounded a fourth before beating up the bandit who had just regained his vision.
Feeling the warm blood flow out from where his sword impaled the body and watching the light of life flicker and fade from his victim's eyes hadn't been easy, but he'd done it. He had reminded himself over and over again afterward that he was a born killer, a destined destroyer; he had to get used to taking lives, whether he liked it or not.
Justin had managed to handle his two men without fatally injuring them and quick, threatening interrogation of the prisoners had revealed that the gang's leader, Wayon, had been determined to take revenge for the loss of Apollo's Urn. Half the gang had been here, watching the road to Athens, while the other half was camped out near the western road leading further into Greece's interior.
Justin and Solan had returned to Corinth and had even been able to secure help from some Corinthian soldiers in turning the remainder of the gang's ambush back on them. Solan had had the pleasure of taking down Wayon for the second time and he and Justin had both been hailed once more as heroes by the people of Corinth.
Thinking back on that victory helped a little to salve the wound inflicted on his pride today. Before they'd set off again he'd told Justin he thought they needed a horse. The ambush had come while they were wearing their backpacks and there simply hadn't been time to shrug the things off. Being forced to fight with a full backpack was a handicap the Warrior Prince never wished to experience again. Better to get a horse to carry their supplies, leaving them free at all times for action!
Justin had clearly liked the idea of not having to carry a pack anymore, but had worried about the cost and care of a horse. Solan had promised to be the one to take care of it and the city-state of Corinth had been good enough to sell them one of the horses taken from Wayon at an excellent price. Solan had insisted Justin name the animal and his friend had chosen to call it Alpha Seven, a name which had puzzled him until Justin had explained about Alpha Six, the little metal man who had kept the Power Chamber. This Alpha Six sounded similar in form to Talos, the great iron colossus which was said to protect the island of Crete, except he was apparently far smaller and his function was to serve rather than to defend.
Metal servants made in the shapes of men! Every time he thought he had finally grasped the full measure of Justin's Elysian world, the teenager would casually reveal yet another undreamt of marvel. He never tired of hearing stories of Justin's Earth; he could sit and listen for hours on end, though Justin almost never spoke at such length. The older boy seemed to need to talk of his lost home, yet at the same time was often left saddened once he had done so.
Solan had contemplated telling Justin of his resolve to return the Turbo Ranger home once he became a god, but he didn't know if such a distant promise would be enough to cheer his friend, nor was he at all sure he could successfully mask his own feelings at the prospect. So instead he usually tried to cajole Justin into an activity, like going for a swim or taking Alpha Seven for a ride. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not.
"After we turn them in we need to go back to Athens," Justin announced as they trailed their captives.
"To find where we're needed next?"
"You can do that. I have to return to the philosophers' forum at the agora."
"You're going back there? After how they treated you?" Solan demanded in genuine outrage.
"It's still the best way I can think of to share my information! I've got to keep trying, Solan! I can't just sit on what I know, not when it could help so many people!"
No, of course he couldn't, but thinking about Athens' wise men made the already agitated boy's blood burn and his fists clench. Justin had related five days ago how he had finally tried to contribute to the discussion there, only for one of the philosophers to sneeringly dismiss him as a "beardless barbarian boy" amid a wave of laughter.
The Warrior Prince had been more than half ready to teach the arrogant fools a lesson, but Justin had forbidden it. Instead the two of them had left Athens the next day and journeyed south to find and deal with this small but murderous group of outlaws. He'd thought Justin had given up on the Athenians.
"Maybe this time I should go with you," the preteen Prince of Warriors offered darkly. They wouldn't laugh then, at least not more than once . . .
"Solan, no! You can't intimidate them into listening to me! That won't work! They have to decide on their own."
Except they had already decided, and they'd decided wrongly! Justin knew more than all of them put together, and still they had rejected him! It wasn't right!
Justin's task truly was the more difficult of their two missions. Whereas he could simply find and defeat whatever threat he found out about, gaining fame and recognition for his success, the Turbo Ranger had no such swift way of proving himself. Even Justin's weeks of study hadn't been enough to make the Athenian philosophers accept him, given his obvious youth and foreignness.
Perhaps, as the weight of Solan's name grew in light of the heroic deeds he would perform, Justin too would gain in prestige as his ally, at least enough for people to listen to him? Hopefully so, but that would take time. Justin wanted to make a difference now, a desire Solan could readily empathize with.
"And if they won't?" the Greek boy asked pointedly.
Justin took a deep breath, let it out. "Then I'll just have to keep trying."
None of the criminals attempted to escape before they reached the town, which was probably fortunate for them given the mood of their child captors. Solan and Justin turned them over to the law and after receiving the authorities' thanks they decided to try to make it to Athens before night fell.
Solan couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that they weren't returning to the armory. They'd put a lot of work into getting the place fit and ready for them. Solan had taken on the job of shifting all of the crates of weapons over to one side of the building, while Justin had managed to sweep most of the thick layer of dust out the front doors. They'd cleaned out the cauldron so it could be used in preparing meals, opened the windows to let in fresh air and sunlight, and gotten rid of the many spiders and mice which had taken up residence in the abandoned structure.
The loft had been designated as their sleeping area and it was also Justin's preferred spot for studying, while Solan found the large amount of space now available on the main floor ideal for trying out some of the crated weapons, like spears, axes, and morning stars. He had no implanted skill with any of those implements of war, but with practice he was learning how to handle them and thoroughly enjoying himself in the process. He also found the open area well-suited for much of his daily exercise and training regimen.
He'd tried to do his entire routine there except for the chakram throwing (the poles outside made a good target for his circular blade), but one of the wooden pillars had creaked alarmingly when he had first used it instead of a tree for resistance. Justin had insisted he not try that again and for good measure had told him the story of Samson, with special emphasis on how the captured and blinded hero had pulled down the pillars he was chained to and collapsed the Temple of Dagon on top of himself and the Philistines.
The tale had especially enthralled the twelve year-old, not the least because he found the main character so easy to identify with. Like Samson he too had been touched by the hand of a god, transformed in body to be a legendary warrior. He, too, knew what it was like to be betrayed by a woman he had cared about, and he could understand bringing an entire temple down upon your own head when it was the only way to slay your enemies. He even had long hair like Samson, although it wasn't his hair which was the source of his power.
Justin had mentioned previously that the Power Rangers' old base had been known as the Power Chamber. To Solan that had seemed a fit title for their dwelling too and he'd suggested it once they had finished the first day of cleaning.
"'The Power Chamber?'" Justin had laughed. "Solan, we don't have an extradimensional tube, we don't have teleporters, we don't even have any electricity! Why would we ever call this place the Power Chamber?"
"Because it has us!" Solan had argued. "Together, you and I, we're the power!"
Didn't Justin have the knowledge of thousands of years into the future? And wasn't he a warrior fated to destroy the gods themselves? If the two of them weren't powerful then Solan didn't know the meaning of the word!
Justin had been a little taken aback by his assertion, blinking once and remarking, "Well, I don't know about you, but I don't feel very powerful."
"You are! What you know will change everything!" Solan had declared, and Justin had for some reason looked touched by this simple statement of fact.
The morning they'd left Athens, though, his friend had looked crushed. It had been awful seeing him like that again, chillingly reminiscent of how Justin had been after first arriving in this world. Happily the challenge of trying to locate and apprehend the outlaws had given him something else to focus on and had helped to lift his spirits somewhat.
It was Justin who came up with the idea of watching the local agora and seeing if one of the bandits might be buying food for the gang there. He had called this a "stake-out", a confusing term even with Solan's magical understanding of Justin's language. Yes, they had indeed been outdoors, but there had been no stakes involved anywhere!
He'd decided not to ask. Justin never hesitated to explain and never deliberately tried to make him feel stupid. Sometimes on things like this, though, he did laugh, and the laughter stung.
The scruffy-looking man they'd identified as a possible bandit and followed had led them to the criminals' camp and the completion of their mission. Now, as the two trudged along northward on this fair, windy day after their success, the brown-haired boy appeared grimly determined, but no longer seemed to be openly despairing.
"You're sure you don't want me to come with you to the forum tomorrow?" Solan asked again.
"I'm sure," Justin replied firmly. "You concentrate on finding out where the next trouble spot is and we'll meet for dinner."
"And do sparring afterwards, like last time?"
"Yes, Solan," the older boy answered, a sliver of a smile on his face. "I don't want to miss out on my daily dose of butt-kicking."
"You really are getting better, Justin," Solan assured him encouragingly. "It's gotten to the point where it's almost a challenge to defeat you sometimes!"
"Gee, thanks," the former Ranger said wryly. "From you I'll take that as a compliment."
"How else could you take it?" Solan questioned in honest curiosity.
Apollo's chariot descended swiftly toward the Earth, but with Alpha Seven carrying all of their gear they were moving fast enough that they'd probably make the city shortly after nightfall.
" . . . . Once we were all in the cockpit of the Megazord Tommy asked me if I wanted to take this one and when I said yes he gave me the controls! So I told her, "You'll pay for ruining my birthday, Burpa!" and then-"
Justin broke off abruptly as a man appeared on the road up ahead, at the crest of the hill they were approaching. Solan frowned, disappointed and irritated by this interruption to Justin's tale, right when it was reaching its climax! What his friend had told him weeks ago about the effect he had on civilians had been painfully burned into his brain, though, and so he made an extra effort to school his features into an expression of welcome.
"Hail, traveler!" he called out. "Who are you, where do you come from, and where are you bound?"
"I am Marius from Athens, and I am bound to Salamis" he answered, his own expression wary.
It was a dismayingly familiar reaction and Solan again had to work to keep his annoyance from surfacing. By his side Justin remained silent, letting him carry on the conversation. His odd accent marked him as a foreigner and he often let Solan do the talking when they were speaking with others.
"We have just come from Piraeus. The city is well and prosperous, especially with the bandit group preying on the area having been brought to justice."
"Glad tidings!" the man beamed. "Would that I could bring you equally good word from Athens!"
"Why? What is happening there?" Solan asked as they drew level with Marius, his pulse quickening with the possibilities which immediately sprang to his mind. Had a bandit group started stirring up trouble? Had a monster like the chimera attacked the city? Was the Persian army landing on Greek shores in another attempt to conquer and sack the polis?
The man, bearded, mustached and overweight, shook his head in sorrow. "Hercules, son of Zeus, is standing trial for half a dozen crimes under Athenian law."
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