The Fates (Book II)

9.7 - Aim

The old man scowled, deep furrows forming in his brow. "Competing in the games, today? For what purpose?"

"For victory," Rider responded simply, though the darkness and the distance of his gaze betrayed an ulterior aim. "What else."

And he would give no further answer. Lachesis was just as perplexed as his elderly mentor, as was the rest of Rider's band upon learning that they were set to stay here in Larissa for the day. It made no sense; the man who would not stop for anything, intent upon his mission, had all of a sudden decided to stop to indulge in a frivolous sporting event. No one in his company had any clue what it meant.

In this final hour before the games began, it turned out that discus was the only event with an opening remaining for a new contestant. As fate would have it, one of the throwers who'd been planning to compete had fallen ill this morning and withdrawn. Rider had a good arm, but he had never thrown a discus in his life — Dictys knew this, having raised him ever since he was a small child.

But inexperience did not stop Rider from enrolling. It seemed that nothing would.

"Has Rider ever competed in athletic games before?" Lachesis asked Dictys as the two of them took seats among the spectators.

He shook his grey head. "Never had an interest. Even today, I doubt he does. Haven't the slightest idea what he means to accomplish."

Lachesis smoothed the sumptuous skirts of her new purple dress. She hoped that its rich, vivid color would catch Rider's eye where she sat in the audience. "Didn't he say that he wishes to win?"

Dictys stared out into the arena, absentmindedly watching the footrace that was taking place. "Rider seeks and values victory. But not in sport, in nonsense of this sort. Only in what matters to him."

Unsure what this was supposed to mean, Lachesis dropped the line of inquiry and waited patiently, hands clasped in her lap in anticipation of the discus event. The event that she was sure would be her dear husband's moment of glory. Heart full of certainty that there was no challenge, no feat, in which Rider would not succeed.

Beside her, Dictys watched with dread as the meaningless games carried on, heart uncertain and burdened by the growing sense in his gut that something was about to go terribly, inexorably wrong.

"Do you reckon he's going to do it?" a voice from just behind them butted in.

Both Dictys and Lachesis blinked, turning to see that the boy from the marketplace had settled into a seat nearby.

Lachesis creased her brows. "Do what?"

"Fulfill the prophecy. Against Acrisius," the boy stated, pointing across the arena toward a lonely old man seated in the stands. "The idiot's sitting right where he always does."

Dictys echoed the name as if it were a curse. "Acrisius?"

The boy nodded. "Everyone knows that he tried to escape the prophecy, by fleeing Argos once he learned his grandson was alive. Hoping that if he stayed hidden, then he might survive. But the old fool should've known: fate is a force from which no man can hide."

The backstory surrounding Acrisius sounded vaguely familiar to Lachesis, yet she remained rather confused, in all of this.

"A few of us here in Larissa came to know his secret," the boy explained. "He hid his true identity well, but not well enough. I'd always found his cowardice despicable, and his attempts to outmaneuver destiny reek of hubris — thus, once the legendary Perseus stumbled upon this realm, it was my pleasure to expose Acrisius."

So this was the valuable secret that he'd shared with Rider, in the market...

"For some payment, of course — but trust me, the price was well worth it. Competing in the games was my idea, you know," the boy continued. "I told Perseus that it would be his best shot. He can kill the old fool with impunity — just pretend it was an accident. Will have to have great aim, though... javelin would've made for an easier throw..."

As the boy spoke, Dictys was trembling, head shaking. "Oh, gods — oh, no..."

The discus event was about to begin. And from where he sat in the stands — voice muted by the clamor of the audience and path obstructed by the crowd, unable to reach Rider in time even if he tried — the poor old man was powerless against whatever was set to happen.

Watching Rider set foot in the arena, the boy's face lit up in a broad, knowing grin. "I guess we shall see if the power of the prophecy directs his hand today!"

Slowly, then, realization dawned on Lachesis as she reflected on what she had heard. Acrisius — the king of Argos who had locked his daughter and her child in a box and cast them off to likely death, for fear of a prophecy that the child would someday kill him. Surely Rider resented the man greatly for his mistreatment of Danaë, and today... she understood now. Rider wanted victory, but not in the arena. This was not a game.

He stepped up to take his turn. To take his aim.

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... Any thoughts? Predictions?  o_O

Next scene, we'll check in with Prof and Charliese in modern-day Greece...

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