“Brethren! Cease this at once! The fair-haired one is...”
Fearing the priest would give away his identity, Delos raised the bow and sent an arrow clear through the man’s throat. His hands clutching his neck, the man fell off his horse, crimson life oozing into the earth. Creon charged at Delos, but another arrow found its mark in his chest. Delos brought the bow up to his cheek, nocked with another arrow.
“You have now twice insulted the sea god, first in his own shrine, and now by assaulting an innocent man near the sea. Unless you wish to see the Netherworld, turn and go,” Delos instructed Polos. Delos admired Ios’ courage in this.
The Galateian dropped his weapon, started to turn, but swung around. The arrow made a hollow thud as it penetrated Polos’ head, killing him instantly. A hidden dagger fell from his hand. Delos had not been on Gaea more than an hour and already he had killed three mortals. Surely, the Moirae had a sense of humor, or of the macabre.
Ios stared at his companion, finally managing to speak. “Thank you, friend. I felt sure I would see Hades this day.”
Delos lifted the cart back to its wheels and salvaged some of the undamaged burlap bags. Wolves or wild dogs would eventually consume the dead men. No doubt, Hermes had taken their souls. Gaea would claim what remained. Ios and Delos didn’t speak until they arrived at a pennant denoting the boundary of Trapæzos.
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