Chapter Five

Asia Minor, circa 470 B.C.E.:

Upon leaving Niebos, I fell into despair… still not knowing exactly what I was… and why the gods had gifted me with this ability to return from death. By then I'd noted that my cuts and wounds from battles swiftly healed, and I surmised it was the same with death. Whereas before I thought that I had somehow escaped death, I had come to realize that while my body died… it healed in death and that my soul was chained to it. I recalled that Danaë had asked me to be her champion… and decided I was meant to be one of the undying warriors who served the gods. It was then that I met… or rather was found by Nestor.

As I have mentioned, men challenged me in battle… men whose very presence made me feel the fire of the gods in my veins. I beat them… I killed them… and still they came these men from many lands. I had just finished with one… plunging my blade deep into his chest and feeling the life leave him… when another who assaulted my senses approached in a chariot. His charioteer drew the reins as they approached and he leaned over the side, evidently amused by the dead man at my feet.

"Well…" he said in greeting. "Aren't you going to finish him off?"

"He is dead great lord," I said with a bow, assuming that the head of a city or great household had deigned to stop. I was beholden to none at that time and thought perhaps, despite the fact that I felt ill in this man's presence as I had with others… I might be of service to him.

"He was a mighty warrior… one of my best. If you have bested him, then you must be gifted with the blade."

"He attacked me for no reason, Great Lord," I said falling to my knees. I feared that I had angered him and wished to show that I did not hold him as an enemy.

He threw back his head in laughter. "Can it be that you do not know what you are?"

His laughter angered me… I wanted him to know that I was no youth to be trifled with and grabbed for my short sword. I challenged him. Stepping down from the chariot, he appeared thoughtful. "Has no one told you? Are you one who has not learned the great truth… that there are those of us so favored by the gods that we neither age nor easily die as other men?"

I was intrigued. He seemed to have the very answers for which I had long sought. He regarded me curiously and while he did not draw his own sword… I had no doubt that he could defend himself if the need arose. The man at our feet grunted and gasped for air. I stepped back from him aghast as he rolled over and cursed the gods. Feeling us… he flailed for his weapon only to find Nestor's foot upon it.

"I do not brook failure," he said darkly.

"Forgive me Nestor. I found this one alone and thought him an easy target to feed my power. I did not think him worthy. He is one who has not tasted the fire from heaven."

Nestor grinned with amusement. "No? Perhaps he should." He beckoned me forward.

I was still confused and frightened by what was happening. Never had I seen a dead man return to life… my own experience notwithstanding.

"You defeated him. But he will come for you again and again until you take his head," Nestor said. "Take it!" His voice sounded like thunder. For a moment it was as if Danaë herself spoke to me… for I had heard the thunder in her words as oracle often enough.

I positioned my blade in both hands and held it above me. I met Nestor's gaze and when he nodded… I dropped the blade with a hefty stroke across my opponent's neck. For a moment all seemed normal. The head fell away… the body slumped to one side. Then a blue-white mist, crackling with power eased from his open throat and rose in a whirlwind. As it reached its pinnacle, it dove into my chest and pierced me to my soul. It was as if for a moment I was borne aloft by the will of the gods. Again and again I was tossed like a child's cloth doll to and from in the grip of this strange power. Within me I felt the fire from heaven flow through me until it seemed I shone with the power and that all who would see me would know that I was blessed.

After the power eased, I found myself on my knees… leaning on my hands. Nestor stepped forward and lay his blade beneath my chin.

"I could take you now while you are weak. Instead I give you back your life. Serve me faithfully as Orachon did. Take his place at my side."

Desirous of life… and the need to know more about what had just happened, I agreed. In the back of my mind, I wondered if when I had served my purpose I would be a sacrifice as this Orachon had been. However, I did not let it bother me too much. Nestor had the answers and I would serve him, follow him, and do his bidding for those answers.

He was still beautiful to behold then. Golden hair, golden beard, cut then in the Persian style… Nestor was as he had been in legend… the Greek general and wise counselor who had advised Agamemnon before the gates of Troy. I came to learn that he had been most recently with Xerxes of Persia and had trained the phalanx of warriors called "the immortals" whom the Spartans had held briefly at Thermopylae. I should have been wary of him. How could he have turned against Greece? But his words were like honey in my ears and there was much about him that reminded me of Danaë.

"We are not Greek. We are not Persian. We are immortal young one. Within us is the gift of the gods to rise above men and nations. We are destined to rule the world."

He seemed to have all the answers I would ever want. He took me under his wing and his protection… seeing my skill with the blade… and bade me train mortals as I had once done. He wished us to ride at the head of our own army and conquer the world. It seemed reasonable. In those days, all that Nestor said seemed reasonable. I do not think the darkness had quite consumed him then… I think that perhaps something of the Greek general, who was both wise and honored in history, still remained.

At any rate… I gave him my sword and my hand and he agreed to teach me what we were… and what our destiny was.

"And your man?" I dared to ask of him when he bid me join him in his chariot for the journey to the East.

He clapped me on the shoulder as if to reassure me. "That one was sent to obtain information. He stepped aside from his task and lost his head. I wish only the best about me. If you… a newborn immortal had bested him… then he was no longer my concern. Rest easy young one… you shall serve me well."

It seemed I had found a mentor. If I'd only listened then to the warning in my veins that said spoke of a cold darkness and treachery. He felt different, you see. At the time, I thought it because he was old and wise. The Nestor of history whose legend had come down to us from Troy was a hero. He was said to have been the oldest and wisest of all those who counseled Agamemnon during the ten years of that strife. He may well have been immortal before that conflict. He never told me. Of that you Watchers may know more than I. At any rate… by the end of the siege, he had become a pillager of the citadel, a raper of women, and a murderer of innocents. It is my belief that the dark quickening may well have taken him sometime during the war… if not before.

History is written by those who win battles; so his name in legend remained unstained. But there were even in my time, whispers that Nestor's wisdom came not from his great age… but from a deal with demons to the east… or from some contract with the gods. His great age and skill in battle likewise was a thing of dark magic. Some said he had sailed with Jason and had lain with Medea… learning the dark magics from her. But those were whispers only. I know not the truth of them.

At the time that I met him, he was not yet lost to the darkness, although it had a hold on him. There were moments when it shown through like a dark aura about him. I'd had a glimpse of it when he stood on Orachon's sword and condemned him to final death at my hands. But I was young then… and did not know into what horrors he would lead me.

I climbed aboard his chariot and laughed to feel the wind in my hair as his driver headed to the east and the rising of the sun. Greece was in the west… and the world lay before me. I reveled in the strength I felt from that first quickening, finally seeing the world about me with new eyes. If immortality were my gift, then I would use it well. I would learn from this man and serve him. In my youth and naïveté I thought myself blessed to have found him and garnered his attention. Oh that I could return to that long ago day… and make a different choice. Alas… that is not a gift we immortals have. And those of us with long memories see all the crossroads of our lives and the implications of our choices. We remember those days and feel the regret of the centuries hang about us like a plague of locusts.

I traveled a dark road with Nestor as my guide for many years.