Alexios set down his round shield and spear, lay prone among the rocks, and carefully fed a flexible plastic tube into a crevice, greedily sucking up the water pooled inside.
After just five or six mouthfuls, Alexios felt alive again. He stopped swallowing the water, instead holding it in his mouth and spitting it into the empty canteen beside him. After repeating this a dozen or so times, he finally had it nearly full.
Alexios screwed on the cap and passed it behind him. The boy keeping watch with a bow took the canteen, unscrewed the cap without the slightest concern, and gulped down the water. He stopped before drinking half and passed it to the last member of their group.
Alexios glanced up at his brothers, then went back to collecting water. They were his younger brother, Lycurgus, and his older cousin, Aurelian. The three had set out together on an "Odyssey Journey."
"Odyssey Journey" was what the locals called this great path to ascension. Boys between ten and fifteen were allowed to set out from Khalkones in groups of no more than three, traveling to the sanctuary in the middle of the sea where the Forged Steel Angels lived. They had to arrive within the allotted time.
Most of the journey took them through dangerous wilderness and treacherous mountains. The Angels had decreed that no one was allowed to help them, though there was no one along the route they could ask for help anyway. They were only allowed to carry melee weapons when they set out, and no advanced technological equipment—even a promethium lighter counted as advanced technology.
They had been traveling for six full days now, and the three boys' food supplies were nearly exhausted. Worse still, they had run out of water. Fortunately, they had discovered this water source in the rock crevice. Otherwise, they would have died of thirst in these arid mountains.
Alexios knew they had to pick up the pace. They had already spent too much time on the overland leg of their journey. They had brought a map, but distances on a map had proved very different from actually walking them. At this rate, they would never reach the Angel's Sanctuary. Even if they did, the Angels would not accept latecomers.
After replenishing their water and checking the positions of the stars, Alexios and his companions decided to camp where they were. Even if they needed to hurry, they first had to make sure their bodies were fit to travel. Besides, moving through terrain like this at night was hardly a good idea. They could refill their canteens before leaving in the morning, too.
The three divided the work without needing to discuss it, gathering firewood, lighting a campfire with flint, and arranging their watches. Alexios and his younger brother took out their sleeping bags, removed their bronze Muscle Plate, wrapped themselves tightly in their red cloaks, and went to sleep first.
In his dreams, Alexios saw his father again—the Leader of the Lasidream people, the king who had been shot dead with a Laser Gun by the other side during negotiations atop the city wall.
In Alexios's memory, his father had been strong and imposing, wise and brave. He had raised Alexios and his younger brother in the ways of the Lasidream people. He had ruled the kingdom in those same ways, working seamlessly with the other king to make Lasidream great again.
But the enemy had ambushed his father during wartime negotiations—a dishonorable surprise attack in the midst of sacred talks. His enraged uncle had then led the soldiers out of the city and defeated those shameless bastards once again. They were nothing but a pack of weaklings, utterly incapable of defeating the mighty Lasidream people.
Only when an Angel descended in person had their gates been breached. The Angel came before the second king and ordered him to surrender. The king proudly declared that before he surrendered, he would fight a duel of honor.
And so a hopelessly uneven battle began. The king hurled his spear straight into the Angel's breastplate, then drew his Lasidream Battle Knife and charged with his shield raised. With a single sweep of his hand, the Angel shattered both the king's shield and his forearm.
But the king did not care. He struck the Angel's knee hard with his blade, a blow that should have severed the tendons in his leg. Instead, it landed with nothing more than a sharp clang. The king immediately thrust upward, trying to drive his blade into the Angel's abdomen and tear his guts apart. Armor stopped him again, and the force of the king's strike was so great that his knife snapped. The Angel drew his own Combat Knife and took off the king's head in an instant.
Three strikes. The king had landed three full strikes on the Angel. It had been an honorable duel.
Thus, the blood of two kings and countless warriors had bought privileges for the city-state. They surrendered, but they were allowed to retain their worship of Ares, god of war, Zeus, King of Gods, and their other deities. They could enforce their own laws, collect their own taxes, and pay no taxes themselves. They could retain their own army, which the Planetary Governor had no authority to command. For they had surrendered and sworn allegiance to the Angels, not that pack of weaklings.
In exchange, they had to supply recruits to the Angels, both Mortal Soldiers and the Angels' Neophytes. They were the bravest, and the bravest warriors were meant to follow the strongest Leader and fight among the morning stars.
While Alexios was lost in his dreams, a shout of "Something's out there!" jolted him awake. It was his cousin Aurelian's voice. He instinctively sprang up and grabbed the spear beside him. His younger brother, Lycurgus, was already on his feet with his bow in hand.
"What is it?"
As he questioned his cousin, who had been keeping watch, Alexios tightened the straps and secured his shield to his arm.
His cousin kept scanning their surroundings warily and said:
"I caught a glimpse of figures. They seem to be somewhere nearby."
Alexios did not stop what he was doing. He knew why those people had come. They were other boys undertaking the "Odyssey Journey," and they had come to rob them of their supplies. After all, his own group's supplies were almost gone. The others could hardly be any better off.
Alexios knew there was no time to put on his armor. He kicked sand into the campfire to extinguish it. It made them far too obvious a target.
Then came darkness. Long, drawn-out darkness. Under its cover, the three shouldered their packs and fell back to the rock crevice. Alexios guarded the left with his round shield and spear, while his cousin held the right with his round shield and Lasidream Battle Knife. Lycurgus stood between them, ready to shoot.
They could hear footsteps and the scrape of armor in the distant darkness, but they had no idea which direction the enemy was approaching from. How many were there? What weapons did they carry? What condition were they in? All they could do was keep waiting—not because they wanted to hold the water source, but because retreating would leave them even more exposed.
Suddenly, something whistled through the air. Alexios quickly raised his shield. With a thud, a short javelin lodged in his iron-bound round shield. Lycurgus reacted instantly, loosing three arrows in rapid succession blindly toward the direction it had come from.
A scream rang out. A moment later, three figures charged at them—three boys about their own age, one with an arrow in his shoulder. Armed with a short sword, a spear, and javelins, they meant to kill all three brothers.
Their sudden charge left no room to use a bow. Lycurgus dropped his and drew his short sword to fight. The six boys bore no grudges against one another. They were killing each other solely for the chance to become Angels.
Alexios braced his shield and thrust his spear at an opponent wielding his own spear in both hands. The other boy flicked his spearhead upward, knocking the thrust aside. He tried to bring his spear down on Alexios's head, but the shield stopped it. Alexios followed with a sweeping blow, smashing his spear shaft into the boy's head and leaving him reeling.
Alexios always remembered what his father had told him:
"Wearing a helmet is always a good idea."
While his opponent was still dazed, Alexios drove his spear straight into the boy's chest.
His fight over, he looked toward his younger brother, who had already slit his opponent's throat. His cousin had hacked his own opponent to death as well.
They seemed to have won. Yet when his cousin turned around, Alexios saw a short javelin buried deep in Aurelian's abdomen.
Both brothers froze in shock, until Lycurgus said:
"I'll get the medicine. And the liquor."
But none of it helped. At first, adrenaline kept their cousin moving. Soon, he could no longer stand. He began vomiting great mouthfuls of blood. From what he had learned from the people who had landed here, Alexios knew this was very likely a sign of a ruptured liver.
Unless one of those things in the sky called aircraft could come immediately and carry Aurelian away, or there happened to be a hospital established by the Angels' servants right here, their cousin was going to die.
Obviously, neither was going to happen. They had volunteered for the "Odyssey Journey," and they had to be prepared to die along the way. The brothers could only stay at their cousin's side and keep him company.
Aurelian's breathing grew weaker and weaker. He looked at his brothers and said:
"Alexios, I feel so cold."
The two brothers took off their cloaks and wrapped them around him.
"Alexios, I'm starting to regret this. Maybe I don't need to become an Angel. Maybe being one of those mortal auxiliaries wouldn't be so bad."
The brothers only held their cousin's hands tightly.
"Lycurgus, I'm sorry. I was the one who stole that bowl of black broth. I didn't think you were worthy of it."
The two kept holding his hands.
"Alexios, I can't see. Everything's gone black. I regret it. I don't want to be an Angel anymore. I just want to go home."
At last, Alexios made up his mind. He stood, picked up his spear, and drove it hard into his cousin's temple.
The two collected the supplies scattered around the scene and prepared to continue their journey. Neither spoke as they worked. The cousin they had grown up playing with was dead. Though he had beaten them more than once, he had also stood up for them whenever they were bullied.
Once they had finished packing, Lycurgus finally could not keep himself from asking:
"Brother, aren't we going to bury our cousin?"
Alexios answered with feigned indifference:
"We don't have time."
He raised a hand and pointed at the sky.
"The Scavengers of Ares—those vultures up there will take him away."