1 433 BCE - Adunis and Karpos

  Adunis took off his helm to wipe away the sweat soaking his face. The sweat snaked down his brow and entered his eyes, stinging them. He smoothed out the horsehair crest on the bronze helm before replacing it on his head. He rubbed his forehooves together and tried to dry off the sweat upon the loincloth he wore under his cuirass. They were lost, having snuck off from camp to hunt a deer or two for supper. But now, they regretted the decision, for lost they were, with no way out in the impenetrable pitch-blackness of the forest night. Neither of them brought along a torch. But their eyes had long adjusted to the darkness, and were able to at least find their way about. Now their best bet was to wait until dawn to continue moving.

  "Adunis!" His companion, Karpos, called. He stood at a large rock, barely visible in the darkness. "Look!" Adunis looked down at the rock. A dark liquid was splattered upon the rough and uneven surface of the rock. "It's blood, but I know not whose or what it belongs to." Karpos continued.

  Adunis dipped a finger in the liquid. It was still fresh, only beginning to congeal. He brought the bloody finger up and sniffed. The coppery scent confirmed Karpos's words. Fear started to creep up into his heart.

  No, they were Spartans, the best soldiers of Greece, Spartans never got scared.

  But now Adunis, a Spartan hoplite, stood afraid. There was no one else in the vicinity except for Karpos and himself, with the bloodstained rock no more than twenty paces away from them. He looked up from the rock and gasped. A thick black fog had enveloped the forest, surrounding the two warriors in a shroud of darkness. Karpos drew his xiphos, holding the shortsword at the ready. His bronze shield up and ready to defend. Adunis followed suit and soon the men stood back to back, facing the rolling fog which drew closer to them every heartbeat.