Epirus
Frank had transitioned from a raven into a ferret. The small creature could easily slink through the dark places of the cave as he explored. The cries of pain and screams were not hard to follow. He saw four individuals tied to stakes in front of a fire. Behind them a titan was swinging a large whip.
"Throw the salt water on that one, she fainted again." A telkhine did as ordered and Gwen shrieked as the salt water flowed into the lacerations on her back. Godsdamnit, Frank thought, He's right there. I can't get them out now. Not without help.
Four miles away Jason was speaking with the tribune from Legio IX. The tall man had striking eyes and was utterly devoted to Rome. His family was not powerful yet, but Jason knew one day they would be so.
"Sextus, take the Ninth south. Raid Naupaktus, try and pull some of the Greeks away from the Hot Gates. Push as far into Boeotia as is practicable. Primus pilus Marcus Lucinius will advise you."
Tribune Sextus pounded his fist against his chest plate. "It will be done, Imperator." He left the tent and the primus pilus followed. Jason knew the key word in his order was as interpretable as it has been the day Robert E. Lee, Son of Jupiter, uttered them to Robert Ewell instead of the son of Mars, Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson. Jason knew Sextus would interpret the command as Ewell did, with caution, Marcus Lucinius would pressure him to do as Jackson would have. Seize as much territory as possible and push the enemy to their brink.
Athens
"What the fuck do you mean, you are not taking us to Thermopylae?" Clarisse la Rue's glare would have made a lesser man's knees quake. However, Percy was a son of the Earthshaker.
"I mean, you will take your soldiers north and then east to the coastal road. My scouts report a legion separated from the main army and I am led to believe they will attack along to divide our forces." Beside him Annabeth nodded, she knew the appearance that Percy had come to that decision was important. Not necessarily for Clarisse or the demigods in the chamber, but for the mortal generals and captains who gathered around the map spread over a table.
"We are your strongest." Clarisse stated bitterly. Several generals grumbled at her claim, but none opposed it.
"And I am the king, Spartans can hold that road alone until the legion is no longer a threat. Then you will join at the Roman's rear flank with our cavalry." Using an olive rod he moved the clay marker marked with an lambda and aligned it beside the four markers with horse heads upon them east of the mountain range that formed the western boundary of the Hot Gates. Markers designated with owls, Pegasus, an assortment of Greek letters, the sphinx of Thebes, the serpent of Argos were aligned east of the mountains and blocking the Hot Gates.
Clarisse gave a loud "Hmph" but Percy ignored her. "Thanks to our man in the Roman camp, we know they have chosen to attempt to force the Hot Gates." The next statement caused him pain, but he had to phrase it that way for the attending mortals. "The arrogance of their commander drives to accomplish this. The mountain passes that did in Leonidas must be held. That will be the job of our Mantineans and the Euboean allies. As a last resort the cavalry and Spartans will break off their flanking movement and reenforce the passes." Percy's eyes flicked to Annabeth and he saw the pride in her eyes at her strategy. He controlled a smile. It was a marvelous strategy. But she had swallowed hubris and allowed him to present it. He was the king after all, a warrior king at that, and the Greeks would demand he lead them to victory.
Epirus
"Hello, Frank." Frank's arm swung out and the tip of his gladius brushed the shaggy black hair on Nico's forehead. "Good thing I'm not fucking taller," the Son of Hades muttered then slapped aside the blade as if it were an annoying insect.
"You didn't think I might be a little jumpy with everything going on?" The tall Asian hissed at the slighter built demigod.
"I would be rather disappointed in my brother-in-law if you weren't," Nico responded with a smirk.
"Fuck you." Nico gave him a disappointed look.
"My sister might have issues with that." Frank's face turned an extreme shade of crimson. Nico smirked again. His face turned suddenly serious. "Do you know where they are?" Frank nodded. "I'm here them out and get you to your wife."
"I'm afraid we cannot do that. If I leave, they will change the plan. They will assume I talked."
"Frank, you can't stay here. Everyone eventually makes a slip."
"To leave would put everyone in more danger, Nico. Here at least he thinks I'm on their side." Nico studied the scar on his face.
"I wonder why."
"It was a small price to pay."
"They've had them for too long, Frank. Assume you're compromised."
"And if what I believe occurs?" Nico smiled.
"You forget mate, we have Annabeth."
They waited until it was dark. Frank met Nico in the form of raven under small cliff halfway between the camp and the cave. Together they moved silently the two miles to the cave where Atlas was "enjoying" the captured Roman officers. Neither heard any screams or cries as they closed with the mouth of the cave. The silence had been deafening for the last thirty minutes as they crept forward pausing every minute or two to listen to their surroundings and attempt to detect anything out of place.
Nico paused for a moment outside of cave. Why is it always caves? Then he pressed forward, Frank was in the form of a ferret and scouted ahead. Every fifteen meters or so Nico would pause and Frank would scurry forward and seconds later he would return, look at Nico's face, and nod. After receiving the signal to move on Nico would roll step forward slowly careful to avoid the small puddles or rubble that littered the cave's floor. They heard nothing. Soon a large opening appeared in front of them. Nico backed into the shadows while Frank reconnoitered the room. Five minutes later, the longest five minutes Nico thought he had ever endured, Frank the ferret returned and nodded his furry head.
Unlike the chamber Piper had been secured in, no cage held the prisoners here. Each had their hands held high above them and secured to wooden pillars with iron shackles. They were wearing the simplest of tunics and based off of the varying shades of mud under their feet they had been forced to remain next to their pillars no matter the situation. The cave had a smell that delivered hints of iron and sulfur. Blood and piss, Nico thought. Each of the Roman officers were a collection of bruises and blood and he was certain their rescue of Piper had been the impetus for their treatment. Beside him Frank transformed back into a human and nodded his head toward the trio. Nico began to move forward.
Frank produced a key and moved first to the far right pillar. Nico slowly circled around and looked at his face. Blood was dried along the side of his face and neck below the severed ear. Michael's face was so bruised it was nearly unrecognizable. As quietly as he could Frank unlocked the shackles. Nico had to catch Michael as he crashed to the ground. The Roman opened his mouth to yell and Nico clamped a hand over it. He winced as he felt Michael's teeth bite down on it.
"Michael, it's Frank and this is Nico. Be quiet so we can get you out of here." Michael turned his eyes to see Frank reaching for Gwen's shackles. He nodded and released the flesh of Nico's hand from his teeth. Nico moved to catch Gwen and passed her to Michael. She had not woken even with the fall. Reyna was the final pilar. The once proud and fierce woman was hidden beneath a mask of the results of her captors violence. The pride and fierceness returned when her eyes shot open as the shackles clanked. The eyes settled on Nico and she looked like she might begin to weep. Her mouth opened and Nico realized she had no tongue.
Frank looked at them all and then scooped Gwen into his large arms. "We need to move, now."
Naupaktos
The scouts had seen the legion approaching six hours earlier. The western half of the city was quickly abandoned and set alight. The eastern half was clearing more slowly. An overfilled and underfunded orphanage was particularly difficult to clear. The fires had inadvertently left a single path through their inferno from the western gate to the eastern one the people now fled through. A third of the way into the city a house with a rooftop patio only seven feet above the street stood with twelve men on the roof. Across the street another ten waited in a dark alley.
Demosthenes had asked for volunteers to buy time for the evacuation. Hundreds had volunteered, but he had resigned himself to just the twenty-two veterans who already had heirs. Brasidas' pleas to join him had been ignored. The boy needed to go back to Athens. The princess would curse his corpse if he died, even if the boy was too blind to see it. The first of the Roman soldiers was just fifty meters away and moving cautiously. Demosthenes took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I will my sons again.
The first century of Romans were beneath him when he jumped. He landed on top of one used the buttspike of his dory to crater the man's skull. The other Greeks rushed into the street and formed as solid of a line that twenty hoplites could. We do not have to win. We just have to buy time. He thrust out with the spear and felt a legionary's armor give way to the blade and heard the squelch as he removed the spear violently and the man fell to the ground.
Surprise had given them a momentary advantage and nearly thirty Roman's lay dead before the centurion began to assert control over his panicking soldiers. Beside Demosthenes a Greek hurled his dory, striking the officer in the chest, before three pila sailed from the unit behind the lead century and drove the Greek to the ground. The shattered soldiers withdrew behind their more disciplined comrades and the Greeks were forced to take cover as pila were thrown at them. Demosthenes surged forward and crashed his shield against a scuta. The force caused the Roman holding the scuta to fall back slightly and Demosthenes used the opening distance to thrust out with the dory and cut into his throat. A gladius strike severed the haft of his spear as beside him a Greek fell to his knees with a leg wound and a Roman cut his throat. Demosthenes punched the throat cutter's face with the rim of his shield and then used the halved spear and drove the buttspike through another Roman's stomach.
Around him twelve of the twenty-two Greeks were dead. He and the remaining ten began to slowly fall back. He picked up the spear of a fallen Greek. A cruel looking Roman had ridden up and dismounted in order to join the fight. Demosthenes small band had moved back to the next clear pathway, a narrow side street. The heat from the fires was becoming unbearable, but he and his ten, nine, he thought miserably as the eldest of the Greek fighters was taken down by Roman gladii, might be able to hold the side street. They continued to fall back and they continued to die.
He had just three fighters left. But they had bought at least an extra half an hour to evacuate all they could. The cruel looking Roman had slain at least three of his Greeks personally. An arrow felled another Greek even as Demosthenes blocked a sword strike with his aspis and with a vicious hack severed a man's arm from his body. He stomped on the man's throat and turned his attention to the advancing Roman's again. Two more of his men fell. Demosthenes felt his body contort as he spun from the impact of a pila against his shield. The cruel faced Roman dispatched the last Greek and stood over the old Greek warrior.
"I am Marcus Lucinius, primus pilus of the Twelfth. You fight well, old man, what is your name."
"Demosthenes, servant and friend of King Perseus." A wicked smile spread across the Roman's face. "Then I delight in the pain this will cause him." Lucinius raised his gladius but before he could thrust it into the unprotected Demosthenes a bellow came from the rooftop next to them. A dory arced through the air and following it was a shield marked with a red lambda. Demosthenes watched as the spear grazed the Roman's thigh but then the full weight of Brasidas slammed into the centurion. Brasidas drove the edge of his aspis into the wound caused by his spear and the kopis in his hand flashed as he swung against the pain paralyzed man.
Marcus Lucinius stared at the stump that was once his right hand. The young Spartan had no mercy however and before he could recover Brasidas swung with the sword again and opened his throat. Demosthenes was on his feet and attacking more Roman soldiers.
"Why the Hades are you here?" he shouted as Brasidas rushed into the fray beside him. They stood shoulder to shoulder, the younger though equally tall Spartan beside the Athenian commander.
"Because I could not let the princess die." Demosthenes heard sadness in his voice.
"Fall back to the next alley. Now." The two turned and sprinted up the road. A hundred meters on the flames again diverted their path to another alley. "Tell me why you're here."
"The Pythia told my parents when I was young that I would die young or watch the one I loved die in my arms. That is the real reason they sent me from Sparta. But then I met Zoë."
"And you would rather die here than tempt fate?"
"I know she will go to battle soon." They could here Roman's approaching. Demosthenes studied the younger man. He was willing to die for a woman he loved. He reached out and gripped Brasidas' shoulder. "At least this time, I go to the boat man with my son." Brasidas gripped Demosthenes shoulder in mirror action.
"To Hades."
"To Hades." The two stood and settled into a slight crouch. The alley was too wide for just two people to hold. Each held a dory in their right hand and an aspis on their left. Kopis styled swords hung from their waists. The Romans were approaching cautiously. Now a man with a red plume on his helmet was near the front. They could tell by the quality of his armor he was a leader. That man barked an order and pila were moved into throwing position.
"Charge them," muttered Demosthenes. Brasidas flipped his dory and hurled it, it struck a Roman in the face and he crashed against his compatriots. The fleet footed Spartan was seconds behind the spear and within the Roman ranks before they could throw. Demothenes copied his action and surged forward.
Blood filled the alley as Brasidas brought the kopis down upon the crown a Roman's helmet and split it wide. He felt a flash of pain in his side but ignored it and broke a man's ribs with his shield before plunging the kopis into his heart. A few meters away Demothenes sliced open a legionary's abdomen before headbutting a second Roman even as he plunged a pugio into Demothenes' thigh. Demosthenes grunted as he pulled the blade from his leg and stabbed its owner with his own knife. His kopis was raised to dismember a Roman who appeared younger than Brasidas when he felt a sharp pain in his back. He cried out.
Brasidas turned to see the Roman officer in fancy armor plunge his gladius into Demosthenes' back. The old man was already bleeding from a dozen wounds but he fell to the blood soaked stones. Brasidas swung his shield in a wide arc. It drove away some of the Romans, but others pressed their numerical advantage. His sword bit deep into the neck of a legionary, but the man's armor jerked it from his hand. With just his shield he drove into his enemies again. The bronze edge of the shield crushed a man's throat even as Brasidas took a sword from his compatriot and killed him with it. A tingle on the back of his neck caused him to spin.
His shield bashed against the Roman officer who had killed Demosthenes. There was a flash of red as the shield's blow knocked off the man's helmet and broke his nose. Brasidas began to move toward him, ignoring his exposed back. He felt the first pila strike his lower back but kept walking even as the Roman attempted to crawl away. Brasidas stood over the commander and felt another pila strike him. This time the javelin's tip punched through his torso. He looked down at the spear point and back to the officer.
"To Hades." Brasidas fell and with his fall used his weight and gravity to drive the aspis's rim through the face of the Roman officer. His head turned and he saw the blue cloak of Demosthenes laying upon the ground.
His eyes slowly closed and then suddenly he saw the blue cloak of Demosthenes again. He stood and realized that the Athenian was standing next to a tall figure in black robes at the edge of swift moving river.
"You waited." There was sadness in Demosthenes eyes as he smiled at the young Spartan.
"Of course I waited. To Hades, I have sent three sons already, but I sent them alone. I could not do that a fourth time."
The black cloaked figure spoke. "They wait for you on the other side. They wait because they fear you hate yourself for what they did. They wait because they wish to tell to you they regret nothing. You taught them to be the men Greece needed and they only hope you are proud of them." Demosthenes did not reply. But Brasidas gripped the man's shoulder. His voice broke slightly as he spoke to the old Athenian.
"Let us cross over, father. So you can tell them you are."