Chapter 2: The Attack
"By open words
A scheme of villainy is soon bewrayed."
― Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus
Erastos had flown into a state of panic. He called Antigone's name, loud enough for her to hear, but not so loud that he would make it easier for her attacker to find her. He ran around like a madman, calling her name and looking in doors and corridors. When he ran into the ballroom to see if she had gone there, he was met with a tall, scary man, who was bearing a red sleeveless uniform and a long silver sword.
Erastos raised his sword. "Who are you," he asked, strongly, despite how frightened he was. "What do you want?"
"The little girl," the man replied.
He meant Antigone. Erastos knew that. Because Antigone was so much younger than all the other Barons, many of them often referred to her as "kid" or "little girl" or "child" to demean her. Not many people took her seriously until she actually showed them what she was capable of.
Clearly, this man had not been shown what she was capable of. Perhaps she would have to show him.
Not today though. Not when she was in direct danger and severely outnumbered. Erastos would not allow it.
He scoffed, "You mean the baron, right?"
The man rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said. "Bring her forward. There's no need for bloodshed."
"Whatever you wish for, I'm sure that the Baron would be happy to do business with you if you discuss it with her in a civilized manner," Erastos said, his voice chillingly calm.
The man gave a sly smirk and a jolt of fear ran up Erastos's spine.
"Really," the man asked. "She would be open to the idea of providing her head for us?"
Erastos's fear quickly turned into anger. "So, this is an assassination attempt," he said, his voice dripping with venom.
"Took you long enough to figure it out, genius," the man said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Some regent you are."
Erastos had always been good at controlling his anger. It was what made him such a good fighter and quick to catch on when he was training. He knew that to deal with the situation at hand, he needed to be calm and collected. He could not let words get to him and he could not poke the bear.
He could only hope that the other Firebirds were handling themselves well and that Antigone had escaped safely. He knew that he wasn't getting out of this one.
"I'll make you a deal, buster," the man said. "How about twenty pounds of opium for her head? Once she's gone, you'll have more than enough resources to rule alone. You're obviously a young man with a bright future ahead of you. I'm sure that you hate being under a girl's thumb anyway."
Opium.
He was a Clipper from Armadillo Territory.
Opium was the primary resource of Armadillo territory, one of the eight territories of the Badlands. Clipper territory was home to several poppy fields, which were the main ingredients of opium. Opium was a prized commodity in the Badlands and several people would kill to get it. However, Phoenix territory had no need for it right now, and it certainly was not worth Antigone's life. Nothing was.
Not to many of her people and not to her Firebirds.
Especially not to Erastos.
If it weren't for Antigone and the opportunities that she gave him, he would be nothing more than a lonely, helpless cog scrounging for scraps.
"I'm not under her thumb," he declared proudly. "I'm proud to serve her. If it weren't for her, I would have nothing. She gave me a purpose. Nothing that you can offer me is worth her life."
The man clicked his tongue, "Tsk. Then I guess I'll have to take your head first." He raised his sword.
Erastos drew his sword and raised it.
He wasted no time striking first.
That was his first instinct for everything. Hit first, think later. Although he had learned to be more calculated, his old ways often took over in life-or-death situations.
His sword clashed against that of the man, who was ready and rearing for a fight. The man was much taller, so Erastos found himself doing what felt like acrobatics rather than sword fighting. They moved at an almost an inhuman speed, their swords clashing and clanking relentlessly. They were barely out of breath. Erastos had impressive stamina and he had never met anyone who could match his skill besides Antigone.
However, this man was a close second.
The man slid forward and swung his sword as if he was going to throw it. It nearly slashed into Erastos's face before he blocked it, clashing his own sword against it. The man poked and turned and twisted his sword, and each time, Erastos spun and leapt and dodged. He did his best to block the man from escaping that area, trying to keep him away from Antigone.
Eventually, the man caught onto the reason why Erastos kept lingering around that area and tried to bypass him. The man backed up, catching Erastos off-guard, and sent the sword flying straight towards Erastos's face. Erastos ducked in the nick of time and the sword flew into the wall, sticking into the pristine marble. He shot up immediately, but the man was fast and had already made it out of sight.
For a brief moment, Erastos considered trying to pry the sword out of the wall. With two swords, he would have twice the defense. However, the thought was fleeting. Time was of the essence and every second that he spent trying to retrieve the sword would be endangering Antigone's life even more.
Immediately, he ran out of the ballroom at top speed, sliding against its shiny floors as he turned a corner out of the doorway. He was met with a bloodbath in the throne room. He watched, mortified, as the Clippers began picking off his fellow Firebirds one by one.
But the Firebirds were determined. They put up an equally strong fight.
In the blinding bloodbath, Erastos noticed the other Firebirds, the ones who were left, band together. They had sectioned off into groups and were ambushing smaller groups of Clippers or Clippers who were alone. Erastos felt a sense of pride rush through him.
In this case, it truly was quality over quantity.
Forcing himself to look away from the gruesome scene before him, Erastos turned and ran across the now blood-stained tiles of the once shining throne room floors. He tried desperately calling for Antigone again. "Antigone," he cried. "Antigone! Answer me! Tiggy!"
At this point, he did not care who heard except her. He wanted to know if she was alive or not. The fact that she had not responded and that it had been this long chilled him to his very core. As he ran, more Clippers appeared, and he was forced to fight them off every step of the way.
Before he knew it, he was cornered by a very large Clipper, bearded and smirking. The tall man moved slow in an almost taunting manner, his face stained with blood. He bore two swords in each hand and raised each of them to either side of Erastos's throat, causing his breath to hitch in his throat.
"Tell me where she is and perhaps we'll be able to reach an agreement," the Clipper said.
The bloodbath continued, but the man was so frightening and his voice was so menacing that it blocked everything else out.
Still, Erastos spoke boldly, daring to look the man straight in the eye and raise his sword.
"I'll never tell you," Erastos swore. "I'll die before I give her up and so will all the other Firebirds. You'll never catch her. That's a promise."
The man narrowed his eyes darkly and Erastos prepared to stab him in the back. It seemed like the man was unaware of the other sword, but just as Erastos moved to stab him, he caught Erastos's wrist in a bruising grip and pinned him against the wall.
Erastos panicked. He had no out now.
"It's only a matter of time," the man said, smirking. "And you're just a measly little obstacle."
Erastos held his breath as the man raised his sword just enough in the right angle, quickly and carefully, so that he would be able to stab Erastos in the most lethal spot.
Erastos looked past the man's shoulder to see the bloodbath behind him. People fighting and dying. Fighting and dying. Fighting and dying. Was that all that the Badlands was? Would there ever be an end to it? Would there ever be peace?
Erastos closed his eyes, picturing his parents and Antigone's faces one last time.
He couldn't protect them. He had failed.
"Forgive me," he whispered.
Just when Erastos thought that he was going to meet his maker, a sudden zinging sound rang throughout the throne room, causing his eyes to fly open. He watched as a dagger flew straight into the back of the man's head a second later.
The man stilled, blood spurting from his mouth, while the unmistakable sharp end of a Greek Xiphos Dagger protruded from his forehead.
Erastos's spirits rose and he hoped that his rescuer was who he thought it was.
When the man dropped to his knees and his lifeless body fell to the floor, Erastos spotted Antigone several feet away, holding another Greek Xiphos Dagger in her hand.
He felt himself flood with relief. He could not remember the last time that he had been so happy to see her.
She started sprinting towards him and he met her halfway, reaching forward to clasp her hand in his.
"Are you okay," he asked, looking her over. He did not realize how breathless he was until he started speaking.
"Yeah," she breathed. "Stay right here."
She let go of his hand and whirled back around. He knew that she was going back for her other dagger. Her daggers were very important to her. They had been a gift from her father when she was a little girl, so she held onto them like her life depended on it. She crouched down beside the dead body of the man, averting her eyes away from his face, and cringed as she closed her eyes and pried the bloody dagger out of his forehead. Afterwards, she put her hand over his eyes and pulled his eyelids gently closed.
It was almost painful for Erastos to watch. Antigone hated killing people or anything living. She refused to hunt for game unless it was an absolute necessity, and during times of war, she refused to kill anyone unless her life or her people's lives were endangered. Sometimes, Erastos would kill someone to protect her and she would even make sure that their eyes were closed before she left their dead body there.
She was too pure for a place like the Badlands.
Antigone stood up and turned around, her face pale and her eyes full of tears, and tugged at Erastos's hand. "Let's go," she said, leading him out of the throne room before they could be ambushed again.
As they stumbled over dead bodies, slithering past Firebirds and Clippers, Erastos couldn't help but cry out, "Where WERE you!? I had just put you in bed!"
"I heard them coming, GENIUS," Antigone sputtered, speaking in that distinctly sarcastic tone of voice that she always used in the middle of a battle. "It's lucky that I always sleep with my daggers by my bed!"
They were in The Great Hall now and Erastos could hear more people coming. He couldn't tell if they were Firebirds or Clippers, but he did not want to find out.
"Always so resourceful," he panted as they ran across the halls. They always found time to banter even in the most dire of circumstances. "We have to get you out of here," he told her seriously.
"I'm not leaving without the others, Erastos, and you know that," she breathed.
He knew that he could not stop her, so together, they retrieved all of the Firebirds who were still alive, counting as they went. Originally, there had been over five-hundred-thousand. There had been more, but over the years, they had either died in battle or succumbed to old age or illness.
Now, after the Clipper ambush, there were under four-hundred-thousand, maybe even less. They had lost so much in such a short amount of time.
Antigone and Erastos gathered all of the living Firebirds and Antigone led them all to the emergency escape tunnel, located in a secret passage behind the bookcase in the castle library. They barely escaped in time and did so with so many casualties, but there was no time to grieve. They had to evacuate.
A chill ran up Erastos's spine when he heard a Clipper scream from afar, the one who had called Antigone a "little girl" earlier:
"LET THIS BE A MESSAGE TO YOUR BARON! HER KIND WILL BE ELIMINATED! ASHES ARE ALL THAT WILL BE LEFT OF THE PHOENIX BARON! WE SWEAR ON IT!"
Erastos felt a jolt of pure terror rush up his spine.
Antigone squeezed his hand and he took comfort in her soothing presence, swearing to protect her with his life.
It only took one look at her and he realized that she knew what she had to do. She had never resorted to the tactic before, but with this many Clippers, it was the only option.
As Antigone and her Firebirds ran further from the castle, Antigone took out a small remote with a red button on it.
He watched, with a heavy heart, as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Forgive me," she whispered.
She pressed the button.
The castle erupted into flames, leaving nothing but bits and pieces of it and the Clippers in its wake.