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( Cheez-It )
( Xylorcia's Gift )
Short story that I had to write for my creative writing class.
It was fucking HARD to write without it turning into a damn chapter.
The muscular warrior pulled back roughly on the reins of the chestnut horse, bringing the animal and the cart he drew to a halt. The horse whinnied as he jumped down, bronze clanking against his armor as his sword dangled on his left side. He paused as the two men he commanded climbed down from the cart, following his lead. They turned to the small mud hut a few feet ahead. As he looked at the hut, he shielded his eyes from setting sun. It was near dusk. He resisted the urge to scratch an itch on his thigh. The hilt of his sword had been digging into his hip. He could hear his men talking nonsense in the background. He hated this job.
Reluctant at first, the man raised his fist to the worn door, banging roughly.
"I wish they would hurry already…"
The man glared at his warrior's complaint.
"Be quiet!" he hissed.
Spartans… always ready to go in for the kill… he mused.
Rustling came from behind the door before it opened. An old man scurried from behind, looking at the three Spartans with wide eyes.
"Where is your payment?" The man demanded of the helot.
"I have barely enough to feed my family! This season was bad, I have nothing for you!" the old man yelled, his frightened demeanor changing at the mention of "payment."
The man's fist clenched. He hated it when helots refused to pay their taxes.
"You must pay. Our Lord is kind enough to let you live here, we will not leave until we have what you owe."
The old man stiffened.
"In fact," the man started, praying this would convince the old man, "the Gods demand it. Zeus demands payment of your crops. You don't want tragedy to befall your family by disobeying them, do you?"
For a moment, the old helot seemed to consider the gravity of not simply handing the warriors his produce.
His contemplation didn't seem to last long.
The helot stood straight up, nearly matching the high ranking warrior nose to nose. The man fought the urge to vomit at the old man's rotted black teeth and balding scalp.
"No."
Spittle spewed from his mouth as he spoke.
His men immediately tried to rush forward, ready to force their way into his hut.
"Stop!" he yelled at them.
The old man whimpered. He backed up into his wooden door held by mud and cowered, fighting with the door to get away from the man and his warriors.
One of the warriors who wanted to barge into the hut snorted.
"You're soft today… must be the blood of your Athenian mother which taints your decisions."
"You know what happens when someone refuses to pay!"
Angered suddenly by his men, he turned to give them a sharp look.
They're right.
"For the last time…" he tried to reason.
"No!" more spittle flew.
The man drew his weapon.
"No!! Son—"
The warrior forced the blade across the old man's throat.
He was fascinated by the blood that poured from the wound. The man watched as it dripped from the blade once he withdrew it from the old man's flesh. Transfixed by the death, he watched as a trail of blood ran down the helot's neck and stained his clothing.
"Finally, Daemon..." one of the warriors sniped.
What the hell is wrong with me? He ignored his warrior's jibe.
The door swung opened shortly after. A younger man stood in the entrance of the hut now. His eyes darting towards the corpse on the ground, Daemon noticed that his hands started to shake.
"F-father…"
"Payment," he demanded.
"I-I-" the man sputtered, spittle flying from his mouth. Daemon stepped to the side.
Must all helots spit?
It now flew into the face of one of his men. Daemon sensed that they still wanted to barge into the hut, their appetites for violence now wetted.
"Well!?" one of them bellowed.
"Y-yes! W-we have what y-you want! Inside t-to the r-right!" He scurried back into the hut and out of sight.
Daemon and his men entered the hut, stepping over the body of the old man as they did so. He looked around, seeing that the helots had very little belongings. They all huddled in a corner across the hut. For a brief moment he looked at them, noticing that there were two other women and some children, held tightly by the young man.
Daemon felt a twinge of regret about having to do this to helots.
Stop it, he ordered himself subconsciously. This is your job.
Pausing for a second, he looked at the produce which lay stacked in another corner near worn pots and charred wood. He walked there, opening a sack and running his hand through the wheat. Most of it was shriveled. He then lifted a basket which held grapes. It was the only one.
"Gather anything which seems eatable."
One of his men had another agenda. A younger girl who the man tried to shield from them yelped after the warrior grabbed her wrist.
"No!" she screamed.
Her yelling caused his ears to ring.
It was the same man who made the jibe at him about his mother who grabbed the helot—he supposed he wanted to torture the helots more after the death of the old man. His fist clenched as he turned around, ready to yell at his man.
Daemon could only stare.
"Let her go! We're to marry soon!"
She had deep, rich mahogany locks which ran down to her knees. Her skin was very pale. The girl froze—staring at Daemon now when she noticed that he stopped, about to yell at his man to release her.
The warrior pushed her against the wall of the hut near the corner that the other helots were still cowering.
"Let go!" she demanded of the man, trying to get away again before he pushed her harder against the wall. She cried out in pain as the man used his arms to hold her wrists, tightening his hands and twisting.
"That is enough!" Daemon's voice boomed shortly after he managed to find his voice.
Daemon put his hand on the younger warrior's shoulder, squeezing his hand in a crushing force on the side where he was using the most force on the woman.
"Argh!" he cried out in pain, and before Daemon realized what he was doing he was crushing the man's shoulder more than he originally intended. This made him drop to his knees, dropping the girl's wrists and forcing him to back up.
"You insult my mother," a harder squeeze, "nag me to kill a man because he knows after we take his food that he and his family will have nothing left," even harder, "and now you attack a helot. I am tired of you disobeying everything I tell you!"
"This is our job—"
Daemon turned to the other man who had been grating on his nerves for the past few weeks.
"I'll deal with you next!"
The man gulped, picked up a sack of half-filled wheat and basket of pathetic grapes before he silently walked outside to add the payment to the rest of their cart.
"Why did you grab her?" Daemon demanded.
"She's so beautiful, I couldn't help myself!" he squeaked out. The solider was perhaps seventeen or eighteen at the most, yet he was a brute and foul tempered.
"You know I wanted to this to be simple!"
"Well, their year was so bad I thought we could take her as payment!" the man pleaded with him.
Daemon paused.
He has a point, he thought to himself. He looked at the young girl again, seeing that she still seemed frightened. He studied her for a moment. No, she's not afraid. The girl had an amused look on her face.
She whimpered again and inched closer to the other helots once she realized he was looking at her.
His man was right. Giving her to their Lord would solve all of the problems that they were having with this group of helots. She was a beauty.
Daemon grabbed her wrist.
"No!" She tried dragging her feet as he forced her to walk with him. "Help me!"
"I won't let you take her!" the other woman yelled.
His warrior stepped in front of the other helots, forcing them back as Daemon dragged the girl.
"Let me go!" the girl shrilled.
Growling, Daemon turned around and hoisted her over his shoulders. She was light and her body felt amazing underneath his hands. He had to force himself from running one of them across her bottom. As her fists beat against his back, he was not fazed in the least.
"Would you rather we take all of your food?" he questioned the helots, yet his question was addressed towards the male.
The helot man paused. He was now the oldest male in the house. Daemon observed this when he saw a smaller boy about the age of ten look at him with large, frightful eyes. Daemon knew that it was a hard choice to consider—loose all of your hard work to taxes after a bad year or loose a woman who wasn't even your wife yet.
"Take her," his voice sounded pained. He couldn't afford to die as his father did.
"No!"
Daemon's right eye twitched. The girl beat harder on his back as he left the hut but he ignored her. He felt a pain jabbing in his head as he walked outside. If one of his men hadn't lit a torch, he would not have been able to walk without tripping since night fell. It took too long for them to finish the simple task of getting a few baskets of fruit from one household.
The girl screamed and swore at them all as he threw her onto the cart.
"You'll pay for this!"
Her threats fell on deaf ears. Daemon's men grabbed her arms and held her back. Once her screams became muffled, he turned for a brief moment after grabbing the reins of the horse to see what they had done to her.
A cloth gag, torn from her clothing.
He suppressed a smirk.
"Make sure that they get some of their food back," he ordered before he sat down.
It was now in the middle of the night. Daemon couldn't sleep even though his men were passed out, sleeping like two logs. Their snores echoed.
He couldn't stop thinking about why he was so reluctant to kill the helot today. Usually this would be no problem for Daemon. This had been his job for years. Even though he hated it, there was no way he would ever escape. He hesitated today. That was dangerous.
I want more than this life, he thought. I want to stop gathering helot's taxes.
He looked up into the dark sky, the cool breeze of the night passing his cheeks. The stars were bright that night, easy to see.
I was meant to do more than this.
"You were."
At the sound of the voice, Daemon jumped to his feet quickly. His hand found the hilt of his sword.
It was the helot girl.
Daemon blinked, unable to resist rubbing his eyes to make sure that it was her. The fire which his men built a few hours ago was starting to fade out. He blinked his eyes several more times, trying to be sure that it was the girl.
The woman who stood in front of him didn't look like a girl any longer.
Daemon studied her features closely. Her hair was still mahogany. It was the color of her hair which made him realize that this was still the same person. His breath seized in his throat when he saw that her cheeks seemed more defined. She seemed taller. Through the dim light of the fire he could see that her eyes were a smoky grey color. They were nearly black. Somehow she managed to escape her restraints. She wore the same rags yet her curves were defined.
"Oh, Daemon…" she started. Her voice sounded husky, more feminine than the girlish squeals of protest which still left his ears ringing. "You were meant for so much more."
Daemon somehow managed to trap the gasp in his throat, stunned.
Her hips swayed as she walked towards him. A hand was propped on her left hip. Her hair flowed behind her.
The woman was beyond normal beauty.
She is a goddess, Daemon thought to himself.
She grinned at him. It was a toothy, wicked grin. For a second Daemon thought that he saw an elongated fang before he decided that was foolish.
"That's because I am, Daemon."
Utterly spellbound, he only stared at her as she spoke.
"I have been watching you for the past few days…" she walked closer still.
Somehow, he managed to swallow the huge lump which was quickly forming in his throat.
"Goddess?" he questioned dumbly. "How?"
One of those perfect, thick eyebrows just above the woman's eye rose. Despite himself, Daemon was taken even further by the woman who claimed to be one of the gods.
"Oh, I am sure that you know how." Her tongue flicked out from her mouth as she wet her lower lip. "Though… I must admit I'm not the most popular."
Her wicked grin grew larger. Something about her upset Daemon's stomach.
"Why is that?" he asked her.
Her eyes narrowed.
"My husband, Hades," she spat out the name as if it were venom, "disallows interaction with humans."
Daemon's stomach churned again at the mention of the god of the Underworld.
He always feared death. If he died too soon, he would not be able to accomplish all the things he wished to do in life. Being a warrior under the command of the ruler of Sparta would never allow him to be much of anything, so he always forced back his ambitions to be something more.
I've never done something worthy of one of the Gods. Why is she coming to me?
"Oh…" started one of the Goddesses of the Underworld. "That is not the reason I'm here," she was now standing so close to him that their noses nearly touched.
"What is your purpose and name than, goddess?"
"I am Xylorcia," she said proudly. "I have come to strike a deal with you," she answered simply, as if it were a business transaction.
His interest peaked, Daemon raised an eyebrow. "A deal, eh?" he questioned. "What kind of deal?"
She kissed him. She forced him back, away from the fire and next to the cart. Intoxicated, Daemon returned the kiss.
"You have wants… desires. I sense your craving to rule."
He forced her back.
"What are you talking about?"
Don't deny it.
His thoughts were treacherous.
"I knew it from the moment I saw you…"
"I've never met you before in my life," he barked.
The goddess cackled.
"I've been watching you. You know you want what I have to offer."
"You still haven't told me what that is."
"I'm offering you an escape from death."
Daemon laughed at her incredulously. "Escape from death? I've never heard something so crazy," he turned to try to get away from her. He tried to escape the magic she was forcing upon him.
Xylorcia grabbed his arm and pushed him back, kissing him again.
"Perhaps you should listen to me before you deny my gift so quickly."
Somehow, Daemon wasn't sure what she was offering was a gift. He stared at her, quickly transfixed again by those dark eyes.
"What is it?"
"I will give you power. I will give you the ability to be faster than any other mortal; the capability to escape death. You'll never have to fear being killed again in battle because you will be invincible. I promise you this."
What she offered was tempting. Daemon felt himself sway at the thought of never dying.
Can she really do this?
"Of course I can," she scoffed.
Daemon considered the weight of her offer. He could escape the life as a warrior. No more killing helots. Perhaps he would never have to kill anyone again.
"Ah, I wondered if you would think that…" she taunted. "If you wish, you'll never have to slay a man again. I'm simply offering you immortality."
Daemon hesitated before Xylorcia let part of her dress slip from her shoulders. He stopped himself from letting his mouth drop open at the sight of her pale, creamy skin which glowed in the moonlight. Suddenly, he found himself transfixed again. She walked towards him silently, swaying again as she moved. His breath caught in his throat when she reached up with a slender arm, one of her small hands reaching up to press against his armor.
What am I thinking? Do I really want to live so long?
"Oh, I think that you do," she whispered.
Suddenly, Daemon shook his head and pushed her hand away from his chest. He tried to walk away from her but she stopped him, grabbing his wrist and running in front of him.
My life is hard but I have accepted it.
"I've been watching you, Daemon. You didn't want to kill that old man, you hate your life. What I'm offering you is an escape from everything that you hate so that you can make a new life for yourself."
Everyone eventually dies. Is it so horrible to accept that fate and pass on to the Underworld?
Daemon tried to walk away from her again. This time she did not only stop him, but she turned him around. It was almost as if they were dancing as she turned him around, grabbing his wrists tightly with her small hands. She looked up at him, her head turned to the side as her mahogany bangs fell, framing her face.
"It really does not have to be like that. You were meant for more in life than the way you are living now."
"I—I don't think that I want what you have to offer," he managed to find his voice, telling her what he thought.
The goddess looked at him as if she were insulted before she scowled. She crossed her arms, part of her clothing slipping from her shoulders once again. Her pale skin revealed more of itself. The clothing fell just enough so that Daemon saw part of her cleavage.
"Fine… you may deny my gift… the ability to achieve your dreams, to live your own life…" she approached him once more so that she could whisper in his ear. She turned, her clothing falling further down her back. "The chance to become immortal…" she whispered, "like the gods."
Daemon paused again as she started to walk away.
"N-No!" he called out as he reached to grab her arm. His black bangs fell into his face as he went after her.
She turned towards him again, her grin wider than before. She let him take her into his arms, her hand once again finding its place on his chest. The scent of pomegranates and rotted earth surrounded his senses.
"Oh? You changed your mind?"
He opened his mouth to answer her, yet her hand worked its way up into the hair which fell from behind his ears. Her fingers entangled in his hair. He stilled when she did this, yet reacted when she reached up again to kiss him.
He was still intoxicated with her scent. "Y-yes."
Her grin morphed into a smirk as she stepped away from him. Her clothing fell from her body. He could only stare at her naked form, mesmerized, as she reached her hands up high towards the sky and stretched. His eyes looked up and down her body as she stood on her toes before she stepped out of the rest of the rags.
She stepped towards him, one of her hands again snaking its way into his hair and around his neck. Her nails scraped against his skin.
"Don't ever pass on my gift."
She opened her mouth wide as her fangs glistened in the moonlight.
