Under a Bloodred Sky (Tag: Di and Astinos)

[Iolanthe]

Iolanthe wasn't sure what to make of Sparta. But she couldn't bear to pace around in the city, because she felt uncomfortable and out of place, and was. While she was waiting to speak with Leonidas, the anxiety was nearly overwhelming. Io needed space. She needed to think. There had to be a better way to go about this.

It was how the Persian found herself in Sparta's countryside. She'd kept close to the woods, but didn't enter them for fear of getting lost. Instead, she took to the steep, high and continuos mountains that cradled the city. Iolanthe couldn't help, in the shadow of these enormous, steel-like cliffs, but marvel at the perfection of Sparta's geography. A city wall was completely moot; when she thought of Xerxes' armies attempting to scramble over these perilous rocks, it nearly brought a smile to her lips. An elephant wouldn't have a chance.

She'd abandoned the heavy cloak at the bottom of a fairly jagged piece of rock as she'd decided - in a momentary lack of forethought - to climb. That left her with a sleeveless gauzy smock that hit right about the ankles, but she didn't think she'd be up there long. Iolanthe scrambled up the very small bit of rock, and when she'd managed to top it, straightened with a flush of pride. She dusted off her fingers, and walked the line of cliff indifferently -

When the growl tore through the otherwise peaceful Spartan air. Io turned around to see...some sort of beast blocking her only way down. And it didn't look friendly.

Io backed up with a barely muffled shriek, her shoulders hitting the cold, unyielding rock behind her - the stone sharply cut into her shoulderblades and the small of her back, but Iolanthe barely noticed the discomfort. Her eyes widened, taking in the enormous animal in front of her. She'd never seen one before!

But it was huge and black, with ragged, mud encrusted fur that shaggily coated a slender, muscled frame, bowed spine and snarling head. The muzzle extended out from the face, and with its lips pulled back, glossy with saliva, she glimpsed rows of sharp white teeth - some stained in red, from a halfeaten meal. Its eyes set in its head burned into her with a distinctly predatory gaze, and she could practically see its gears meshing.

It was probably eying her belly, and considering how tearing into intenstines would provide a good meal. Perhaps it was the time of day, or the lighting, but its eyes glowed an unnatural ruby red, its ears flattened to its enormous skull. And as Iolanthe moved against the wall, snagging her dress occasionally, the wolf followed her with its gaze, prowling closer. Iolanthe's hands moved over the cliff stones desperately, and she spared a glance at the near vertical cliff to her left. There.

Those rocks looked...well, maybe she could climb them? Right. Io felt the wave of pessimism rise up, and she swallowed the outraged cry. She was going to die here. And not even by a Spartan sword! The gods had such a sense of humor. As if in answer to that, the wolf gave a loud, guttural howl.

[Dienekes]

Dienekes moved with unnatural grace, his footsteps barely registering on the ground beneath him, astonishing, given the sheer bulk of him. He was a mile or so, at the most, from his prey. Though he couldn't hear his companion, he knew Astinos would be close behind, and would overtake him at any moment. His caution was made a mockery of when, to his shock, a shrill cry sounded in the evening air.

If there was one thing Dienekes knew, it was the meaning of haste.

He abandoned his weaponry instantly, knowing from the howls that followed, time was of the essence. He regretted having left his steed with Astinos, whom he hoped had heard the call as well. He reached the mountainside as the calls grew dimmer, thinking he was too late, when he saw his quarry. The Persian whom they have fought over days before, climbing higher and higher, trying to escape the agile wolves. Yes, wolves, there were three in total, though it made little difference.

'Perhaps the gods will it' he thought, and then he remember the way Astinos had regarded the woman. That was all he needed. He cursed himself for leaving his spatha and dirk behind, taking out a hunting knife, which was all he had left. The climb was steep and the handholds were treacherous, he wasn't sure if he could make it in time...

[Astinos]

He'd been left with the horses.

Normally he would have made protest but Astinos allowed his friend to move on up ahead in search of the elusive beast they had been tracking for nearly an hour. The tall Spartan was on foot as well giving the wide backs of the horses a moment's respite. Astinos found himself grinning as Dienekes disappeared around the bend of the cliff's rise. He had needed this. To be out here in the same wild places that had forged him in his youth was exactly what he needed to remind himself who he was. And is.

He glanced down then, his eyes finding the clear indentions made by the beast. He was about to signal Dienekes when he too heard the cry. The impressions of two other animals joined the line of footprints made by the first. He bent to touch the tracks. The earth was still soft and moist, only recently disturbed. He signaled Dienekes with a hawks cry. The same animal who adorned his shield.

He released the steeds, knowing full well they would return at his call. He would not tether them only to have them serve as a wolves' feast. He was running now, his long legs and sure footing leading his up the short foothill to find the abandoned weapons lying beneath the spot the other warrior had chosen to climb. Choosing another spot to climb so as better to take advantage over the wolves. Hand over hand, seeking tenuous toe hold after hold, Astinos took the climb easily.

He leaped to reach past a spot where rains had eaten away a chasm in the surface of the rock. He landed hard against the ragged face of rock but other than the soft sound of his escaping breath he made no sound. Whatever the trio of beast were after was somewhere in front of him just on the other side of the steeply rising ridge of granite. He was at the top now and he listened as he pulled his body up over the shelf of rock, his arms revealing the physical strain of lifting his weight even as nothing revealed itself upon his determined face.

The youth could not yet see what the wolves were after but he could hear it climbing. Climbing? He caught sight of Dienekes, half assuming that the noise he had heard had been a very sloppy Spartan. Had there been no wolves, no danger, no need for stealth he would have ribbed his friend with a comment along the lines of, 'You have aged much since your last birthday my friend,' or maybe "My little sister climbs with more skill than you do OLD friend!'

As it was the expression on his friend's face gave him pause. He nodded and removed the weapon from his belt strap and placed it one the ground where he stood. The dagger would come in handy if the fall didn't kill the wolf first. Astinos began to work his way up the sheer face of stone. His progress was slower than his first climb but only because he was conscious now of where at least one of the wolves were now. The fowl creature was on a small ledge behind him, its attentions now on his ascending back rather than whatever had previously garnered said attentions.

The wind shifted and mingled with the scent of the wolves came something he hadn't expected. His face darkened as his expression went stony. She was here, the Persian Rose. His eyes moved quickly from her visage to the growling beast.

If the Gods so will it, so be it.

[Iolanthe]

The only strategy that came to Iolanthe's mind was this : to scream mindlessly, in the hopes that the shrill sound might give the wolf pause before he tore her in half. It was not a very good plan. But Iolanthe had dancer's skills in her favor, which allowed her, after getting a decent hold on two tiny levels of stone, to climb. She had to turn her back on the wolf, much to her regret, but that only sped on her hurry. Io reached up with her left hand, and in a show of flexibility, did it in such a way that her feet took the crevices her hands had vacated - nearly knocking her knees into her chin in the process.

The only problem was her dress which, after she managed to hike up after a long, dragging haul upwards - stayed out of the way. She was only grateful for the lack of wind, and after a couple minutes cursing, scrambling crawling, in which her nose was close enough to the stone to rub it - Io realized the wolf wasn't tearing into her ankles. In fact, she couldn't hear it at all. Why? She wanted to know.

Looking over her shoulder was a mistake. While one of the wolves had been distracted by something else opposite her - she hadn't heard anything, so maybe it was just good fortune? There were others. Two...other...wolves...and, as Io gasped in horror, as well as strain - she slipped. Her tenuous grasp on a slickened, weathered stone ruined, fingertips of her right hand sliding right off the rock, instantly unbalancing her.

And Iolanthe screamed, digging the fingernails of her left hand into the rock as her body, having been pressed so close to the rock she might as well have melted onto it, now swung perilously out with the momentum of losing her grasp. It seemed to happen in tandem - first her hand, and then, as she sought to regrasp - one shoe slipped, her dress snagged - and she plummeted down a good foot -

Before sacrificing her left shoulder as a forcible brake, hitting the stone hard enough to chatter teeth. "Gods be damned!" Iolanthe yelped with an infuriated lack of grace, as a kneecap followed, slamming into a wickedly curved bit of rock, more like a hook than a stone. It was there Iolanthe froze, arms folded up against the stone, one shoulder and whitened fingers curled over bits of rock. She pressed her left cheek against the cliff, catching her hair in the process, and dangled there for an instant.

The snarling echoed through the cavern like Hades' chorus, and as Io's chest contracted with sharp, painful gasps of breath, the dread increased - and with that, the anger. If the Gods willed it...they were in for quite an elongated finale. Iolanthe was not going to be eaten alive without a fight! Some might have made their peace with death, but Io hadn't, and if Fate was in the mood to cut her thread, she was going to make it as difficult as possible. Iolanthe didn't think dying was very glorious - you were still dead, and that was the elementary point. It was also one of things that she could not fathom about the Spartans.

"Greek...madmen..." she gasped through gritted teeth, turning her eyes more directly to the rock. When she'd thought she'd gathered her strength, Iolanthe moved her trembling right arm up, reaching for a crack in the stone she'd seen -

The wolf leapt, and Io felt it - teeth, rather, grazing at her ankle, or maybe it was just her slipper - the problem was the claw. A few nails struck the skin of her calf, tearing a good few inches of meat before the beast hit the ground again. She bit her tongue, but didn't yell. It stung - and worse, it scared her. Io's concentration nearly evaporated, and she lost the crevice. Instead, she focused on drawing her feet up further, but the next time the wolf jumped, she heard the sound of claws scrabbling on stone and -

She kicked it. In the face. Her left leg, nearly pulled up to her chest, dropped with the force of her will, not an accident, momentarily discouraging the wolf. Hah! With those handful of seconds, Io turned her head up and reached again.

[Astinos]

The young Spartan pressed himself up onto his arms, lifting his large frame with practiced ease. He had been forced to do one armed push ups with another man's sandal pressing downward on his back as part of his training regimen since the age of twelve. The size of his arms was a testament to the countless number he had performed. He did not cry out now as he had then, but then he was not nearly as fatigued. No grunt of exertion escaped his lips as he gritted his teeth. The wolf anxious to tear into his back leaped for him then as he raised himself up, his arms holding his weight as his foot caught the side of the wolf.

He could do nothing yet about the wolf snapping at her heels. He missed the first attack as his left foot dug into the small toe hold to steady himself as his right foot sent the beast spiraling down to the level he had left Dienekes on. That threat now sure to be taken care of by his able friend, Astinos snarled in response to the wolves' claw marring her tender flesh. He couldn't help being impressed when she fought against the urge to scream. Her strength of will impressed him greatly and his heart unwittingly softened toward her.

There was no time to think of those things now though as the wolf recovered from her defensive moves and turned its red eyes to him. He rolled forward, pulling the sword strapped against his back free of its scabbard in the process. "Steady yourself woman..." He called out to her, lest he too end up with a foot to the face once he dealt with the wolf.

Speaking of just that...

"...and climb!" Astinos added quickly as he gained his feet smoothly. The gleaming blade of his long sword slashed the air savagely. For Astinos he would have liked for another stab at the wolf, for its life was ended far too quickly to appease him. A quick slice nearly severed the beast's head from its torso. The sound of the whimpering cry was silenced as the tip of the sword dug deep into the fallen creature's heart and found stone. Astinos grinned up at the girl, "Climb, Iolanthe, but not so quickly after all."

Blood from the animal's throat left a trail upon his chest and a spatter on his cheek. Astinos took in a well earned breath of relief as he placed his hand around the hilt of his sword. She was safe. And he had not suffered a dishonorable death between the jaws of the cunning devil. He allowed himself then to fully acknowledge her shapely legs, the small of her back as she held herself, pressed so tightly against the granite. He swallowed hard then as his eyes moved farther up to ultimately rest upon her face, "I didn't think my eyes would ever see you ag..."

But what of the third?

A growl came as swiftly as the gust of wind that whipped up the red cape upon young Astinos' back.

[Dienekes]

"COME WOLVES, AND MEET A LION!" He roared.

Dienekes' was almost crushed, when the bulk of a wolf came from above, instead he raised a pitiful dagger above him. The dagger drove into it's chest, and Dienekes', acknowledging that it was useless now, shifted his weight and tossed the carcass over the cliff.

"How polite of them, to meet me half-way" he said with a chuckle.
The shrieks from above reminded him of the current situation, imagining the scene that awaited made him hurry. The Spartan hoisted himself over another gigantic mass of stone, after a minute of desperate and hurried climbing. He quickly registered the scene before him, noting Astinos' and the Persian's positions, and the one remaining wolf.

The color of Astinos' cape.. it was deeper then it had been. He had no time to dwell on it. The beast was within inches of the Persians exposed torso, and she was unable to move any higher, nursing grievous wounds. Astinos couldn't reach them, though he tried with all his might, as they moved to greater heights.

Dienekes' reacted purely on impulse, sprinting towards Astinos and leaping into the sky. His feet touched down on each of his friend's shoulders, and utilizing his momentum, he propelled himself higher onto the cliff. His fingers, the lion's claw, grasped the wolf's haunches, and Dienekes managed to tear it from it's tenuous grip, before it could sink its canines into Persian flesh.

Even with his conditioning, every soldier grew weary..

[Iolanthe]

Steady yourself woman.

At that, Iolanthe did scream. She couldn’t have been more surprised than if the wolf itself had barked that at her. And for one maddening second, that’s what she thought was going on. She’d managed in that instant to grip the elusive crack of earth, wrapping tapered fingers around the rock. So at least she didn’t lose her balance. But Io was in a mood to whimper; the longer she stayed here, the more the pain seemed to grow. It was as if fire spread from her calf to her leg, and discomforted her entire body. She didn’t put as much pressure on the injured one, leaning heavily into her other leg. Once she had a grasp, she dared glance back in the direction of the voice.

Astinos! She glimpsed a flash of black fur, and the wink of a sword - but she couldn’t bear to watch it. Her position was precarious, to say the least. Io reached with her left hand for the next available jutted rock, which was somewhat diagonal so she had to stretch. In symmetrical tandem, next she pulled up her left leg - which proved more of a gasping workout in that it dangled down from impact with the wolf’s skull - then grasped the cliff wall with her right hand - and the injured leg came last.

"I didn't think my eyes would ever see you ag..."

She turned towards him at the words, and nearly smiled. If she wasn't so blasted sick of terror, she would have. "I thought you wouldn't have wanted to...I...I am glad to, well, particularly in these..." Wince. "...circumstances-"

The growl caught her attention, and Io, with a panicked curse, turned her gaze abruptly back to the wall. As if maybe it could swallow her up and save her. The Persian squeezed her eyes shut with the barest of shuddered gasps, and awaited the inevitable sensation of teeth and claw tearing into her back.

She could practically see it in her mind’s eye, the glistening white of a spine and falling backwards…back down to…Gods! Near death experiences did nothing for her optimism, but as Io rested her forehead very lightly on the stone - nothing happened. There was clunking sound of impact, body striking body, but nothing hit her.

For once, she didn’t waste time considering why. Iolanthe climbed, suppressing the whimpers - Gods, her leg was killing her and she was tired and her muscles ached. She just wanted to stop. Her stamina wasn’t a warrior’s, by any long shot. That’s when Io saw it, above her, an overhanging protrusion - a bit of rock that formed a tiny cliff protrusion. It was flat enough to stand on - barely, and she wouldn’t fall off, so long as she didn’t lean forward. A little less than a foot in width, and not too much longer. But that was sanctuary. But there was a problem of how to get there. She would have to stretch.

Iolanthe haphazardly clung to the rock as she balanced, reaching with one hand to the space above the leg, her foot seeking hte ledge itself. In her reaching, her sandal brushed the rock twice, and missed it both times. Sinking back on her injured foot, Io gasped a prayer and jumped, catching the stone with her foot, smashing her leg into the rock and grabbing a handful of cliff before she toppled over the tiny saving grace.

There! She was on it. Iolanthe plastered herself against the rock as if it was the last friendly embrace on earth, and after a moment of catching her breath, she carefully turned around, nearly pivoting on the shaky bit of stone.

But now she could see the cavernous cliffs from a different perspective - more importantly she could see the Greeks. Astinos, who, truth be told, had been the subject of her thoughts more than was entirely proper, appeared as he had before. She hadn’t exaggerated anything. The muscles that seemed to be carved of stone, though slick with sweat, and the hair, and the face. Gods. He looked just as he had before, with one alteration -

“Is that your blood?” Iolanthe asked, a little anxiously. He didn’t seem bothered if it was; actually, he seemed downright invigorated by the whole process, whereas she would have done anything for a bath at this very instant. One with perfume, preferably. She couldn’t help the smile, a mixture of relief at her survival and pleasure that he remembered her name.

“I think I owe you twice over for saving my life,” she admitted, tone not quite even due to the strain of the climb, but nonetheless grateful. “You and…gods, where is he? Is he okay? The other one…the one who…jumped, is he…” She tried peering over the ledge, but her eyes nearly crossed - it was kind of high, but she was trying to see where the other soldier; there’d been another…had fallen. With the wolf. But as staring down didn’t do much for her constitution, Iolanthe leaned back against the wall and exhaled slowly. If she’d been responsible for getting someone killed for saving her life, she would be horrified.

“Can you see?” she asked of Astinos. “Is he alright?”

[Astinos]

"COME WOLVES, AND MEET A LION!"

Astinos grinned as he glanced down to watch Dienekes deal swiftly with the wolf he had fed him so generously. There was no time to ponder such amusements however as he soon found himself dealing with another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I thought you wouldn't have wanted to...I...I am glad to, well, particularly in these..." Wince. "...circumstances-"

The softness his eyes had taken on as he looked at her disappeared when the wolf growled. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as the bottom of his sandal pressed against the rib cage of the dead wolf. He heard Dienekes join them with a quip before he saw the older Spartan. His friend was fond of showing off, but with his abilities to leap to and fro Astinos couldn't really blame him. He ignored the small tinge of jealousy in favor of pride in his friend's accomplishment as his friend's toes pressed against his shoulders.

The Lion's claws dug into the flesh of the of the beast's hind quarters as Dienekes ripped it from its precarious perch. Astinos soon found himself with an uneasy choice as both the Spartan and the Wolf came tumbling down upon him. Unfortunately there was not the time or the energy to make the choice himself as first the wolf and then the man landed against his chest. He was thrown backward his back impacting against the ledge of stone underneath them all.

Dienekes and the wolf were tossed over his head in the process. It took all the speed and strength he could muster but somehow Astinos managed to take hold of either his friend's wrists or ankles. Which he couldn't tell. Lying prone on his back, his arms bent backward over his shoulders, the boy's face began to redden to nearly match the spots of blood at rest there.

“Is that your blood?” Iolanthe asked, a little anxiously.

He shook his head slightly, he found himself in a precarious place, literally between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

“Can you see?” she asked of Astinos. “Is he alright?”

Grunting against the considerable strain, the youth finally spoke, "See him? No."

His eyes betrayed his sense of humor even as a grunt of agony forced itself past his lips, "If you had need a hand down, I wish you had asked, my....friend." He gritted out the words between clenched teeth, every muscle in his body on fire as he dug his feet into whatever he could find to keep him from sliding off the narrow ridge of rock. His arms began to shake with tremors now, the fall backward had taken the air from his lungs and sapped his reserves of strength.

He cried out in a mixture of distress and physical pain as his body slid a few more inches, the rock ledge now a few inches beyond the top of his shoulders. The added strain was nearly too much, even for a Spartan!

"My...brother...," Astinos spat out as he tried in vain to pull his friend up over his head. The frustration he felt was clear both in his expression and his tone. He just didn't have the strength. His body slid another inch off the ledge of granite. This accompanied by another angry grunt.

[Dienekes]

"I've never been beaten, Astinos, think you gravity will defeat me?"

Despite his confident front, the jagged stone below was.. rather 'unsettling'. Directly below, down the twenty-foot plummet, was the remains of their quarry, smote against the granite. "I suppose we won't be feasting tonight after all" he chuckled. Humor was Deinekes' blessing, giving him the ability to shrug off any fear, and positively affect those around him.

Above him, Astinos was trying to pull him over the ledge, a futile attempt, and that was an understatement. His time was short, although he wasn't convinced he would die, it was a possibility. "Astinos, you mustn't tell them we saved a Persian, for that would bring both dishonor, and suspicion. Fabricate stories and separate before reaching the gates." He explained rather calmly, given the current predicament.

"We are a couple of miles from the gate, and our 'captive'will need an able escort, lest she should be killed" he told him, knowing it would be effective. "And for those reasons, it would be better if you released me" he said, "Let me go, friend.."

[Iolanthe]

(Ugh. Sorry this is obscenely long, guys )

It all seemed to happen much too fast. Down tumbled the wolf and Dienekes, and Astinos was too close to get away - by the time Iolanthe cried out a warning, it was too late. The two dangled there on the cliffside, and, without thinking, Iolanthe followed. It was somewhat depressing - her having done so much to make it to the cliff, and now having to climb down.

Io crouched down on all fours, wrapped her fingers around her current rocky pedestal, and slid off of it, hands holding her dangling. The Persian moved along the jutted rock until her palm brushed the cliff wall again - in which case she could climb once more. Grasping her footing after two failures, Iolanthe kept peering over her shoulder to see where they were. Not too far, as Dienekes had leapt for her, but still down lower. She climbed as quickly as possible - and slipped a multitude of times. While she was focused on that, she heard the rumble of conversation - ragged, difficult conversation. But both voices. They were both still alive.

I won't be held responsible for the death of my rescuers.

Iolanthe reached the ledge some two or so feet above Astinos and Dienekes after careful manuevering and accidental tumbling. She felt queasy looking down, but nonetheless released. And landed on her butt, legs splayed, very ungracious. In a heap, more like. Which thrust painful aches into her knees and calves and shoulders. Her elbows kept her head from cracking like an egg on the rock. When Io's senses caught up to her, the Persian rolled wearily onto all fours and struggled to her feet.

It was all very heroic of her to think she could help, but upon landing on the precarious ledge Astinos had stood on - what could she do? She saw Astinos, on his back, slowly dragged over the edge - his arms invisible to her, but holding onto the other Spartan below, the one who dangled. Did she really think she could pull up this soldier, if a trained Spartan couldn't stand the weight?

But Astinos' strain and Dienekes' cool acceptance were two things she couldn't ignore. Iolanthe was not a noble person, by nature. She viewed self preservation as the primary goal in life. But she was not coldblooded enough to stand there and watch a man fall to his death. A man who didn't even like her, let alone know her, and saved her life anyway. She didn't have friends brave enough to do such a feat.

The wolf! Iolanthe's gaze flickered over the corpse of the animal; that was the only thing she could see on the ledge.

"Don't go anywhere!" the Persian said suddenly. Before realizing, well, where exactly were they going to go? Up? But Astinos' sword was still caught in the wolf's belly; when Dienekes had fallen, the other Spartan hadn't pulled it out! There. A weapon! Iolanthe moved as deftly as possible to the dead wolf, and her vision momentarily swam at the sight and smell of the carnage. It smelled like shit and raw meat...the smell of new death. Something her perfume-accustomed senses had difficulty choking down.

Iolanthe swallowed - with difficulty. But, holding her breath, she grabbed the unfamiliar hilt of the blade and heaved - to no avail. Pulled, twisted, jerked the sword - but it was dug deep into the wolf, and the stone. And all she could think of was, she didn't have time for this, didn't have time, and this wolf must have been two hundred pounds. Definitely not something she could turn over.

But it was two hundred pounds. Which added to her one hundred something...

The idea flashed through her mind instantly. Iolanthe stared down at the wolf and, seeing as she couldn't pull the sword out of rib cage, Io settled for the next best thing. She balled up her fists and pounded them into the end of the sword, driving it even deeper into the wolf. So hard that her palms ached - and she knew it'd bruise up from the effort. Next Iolanthe yanked off her dress. Well, alright, in all truth, the Persian peeled off the smock sleeves and shoved the dress down to her hips, where the thick latticework embroidery held it tightly.

She had been wearing underclothes, mind you, so it wasn't obscene - but now the skirt trailed a good six or so inches from her feet. Iolanthe sat on the ground and, using the tears already forced into the fabric by her cliff extravaganza, Io pulled the dress apart, tearing it into thick, shredded ribbons. Which she, one after another, tied around the sword hilt. She couldn't very well tie it around the blade itself. Knotting as quickly as she could, one after another, until it was tight enough that she didn't think it'd rip soon.

To test it, Iolanthe scooted backwards, tugging at the knots. The sword didn't even bend towards her. Satisfied, ising the wolf's corpse as a weight to give her leverage, Iolanthe twisted around until she was on her knees, and before her the Spartans - crawling forward as much as the knot of fabric would allow...Gods, please don't let it rip...she leaned and stretched and wrapped her fingers around Astinos' ankles. Part of his cape was trapped under his body, and she tried to grasp a portion of that crimson fabric as well, twisting it around her fingers.

Iolanthe took a very deep breath and she yanked, in an attempt to drag Astinos backwards, arching her shoulders back and using her knees, pushed together in a V-like manner, to keep her from slipping.

"Pull!" she cried out in frustration. Rock dug into skin. She may not have been able to pull them up, but Iolanthe hoped that, with the dead wolf, she could manage to keep Astinos from slipping. Maybe...maybe the other one could climb over him? "Or if you can't...let him climb! You're Spartan!" Weren't they supposed to be pillars of inhuman strength?

You'd think the gossip would be more accurate.

[Astinos]

"I've never been beaten, Astinos, think you gravity will defeat me?"

"Not today...if I can help...it," Astinos gritted out. As if the fates felt it necessary to test him, the sweat rolled off his arms and downward across his palms. He felt Dienekes begin to slip. Still, he would not give up, he tightened his grip.

"I suppose we won't be feasting tonight after all" he chuckled.

Damn it. The man actually was attempting to joke. Astinos knew his friend was merely doing what they had all been trained to do. Any Spartan worth his salt could look death proudly in the face and sneer. Or in his friend's case tell jokes. Jokes that threatened to be his undoing, "Don't. I'll drop you."

He could hear Iolanthe moving, but he couldn't shift his focus. It was taking all of his concentration to maintain his grip on his friend. Losing that focus could mean death for them both. A dishonorable death at that. No stones would mark their passing in this case. They would be forgotten like grains od sand blown on the wind.

"Astinos, you mustn't tell them we saved a Persian, for that would bring both dishonor, and suspicion. Fabricate stories and separate before reaching the gates."

"Must you be so calm in the face of dishonor!" Astinos cried out as he sucked in a ragged breath. He didn't want to listen to such things. He did not want his friend, a great warrior, to die like this. Or worse fall and be crippled and lose the chance to ever seek victory. Once again the Gods toyed with them, Astinos sliding along the fabric of his cape. Each inch taking them both to hell and damnation.


"We are a couple of miles from the gate, and our 'captive'will need an able escort, lest she should be killed" he told him, knowing it would be effective. "And for those reasons, it would be better if you released me" he said, "Let me go, friend.."

"Never!" Something stirred within Astinos then. And inner rage. Defiance. He would defy death. If only there was a way.

"Pull!" she cried out then, adding forcefully, "Or if you can't...let him climb! You're Spartan!"

The Gods would not claim them this day.

With the woman's hands on his shin guards, Astinos began to take in the largest gulps of air he could manage. His arms burnt with a tingling pain, the muscles in his torso tense against the futile fight. And yet both he and Dienekes still drew breath. He could only hope that his friend was not injured. His plan would require the three of them to work together. And to do so quickly. He couldn't straighten his arms without chancing to break bone and so he bent and lifted what he could.

"Do not fail me," his eyes met hers and he took in one last breath to fortify and prepare himself for what was to come. Bending at the waist, a low gutteral cry of determination passed his gritted teeth as he fought against the pain wracking his body. The tight muscles of his lower back and abdomen bunched and tightened as he began to raise his shoulders off the ground. His legs lifted off of stone but the added weight held them enough to keep him steady enough to continue his fight.

"Climb Spartan! This is NOT a good day to die!" He cried out in an attempt to rally Dienekes, in the hope that he find whatever strength remained within him as well. Astinos continued to curl upward, by the time his body gave out he was nearly sitting upright. Only then did he release his friend and roll over onto his side.

[Dienekes]

Dienekes began to plummet.. and at that moment, the chapters of his life passed before his eyes.

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"Father, will I ever see you again?" Ursus asked him, eyes streaming with tears he fought back violently. "Of course you will, son" Dieneke's replied, his voice equally somber. "Why, I'll be waiting for you, and you mustn't be late lad, hear me?" Dienekes said, regaining a small measure of stability. Ursus nodded solemnly, before embracing his father for the last time.

The soldiers outside took each of the boy's arms, dragging him behind them. It took every ounce of his resolve to stay his sword arm, his left arm, from tearing them to shreds. He had made a promise, one that he intended to keep.

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Dieneke's caught a jutting stone in a tenuous grip as fell from the sky, and it took everything in him to hold on. The muscles on his left arm trembled, and his right hung limply by his side. The seconds passed, seeming more like hours to Dieneke's eyes, and his eyelids began to droop...

[Iolanthe]

Iolanthe stumbled backwards, then, and with the momentum lost her balance and would've smacked her head on the stone - if it wasn’t for the wolf. She hit the ground, but shoulders and head hit the rugged pelt of the dead monster. Dazed for a moment, Iolanthe blinked - then pushed her hands against the ground, to try to struggle to her feet. One hand hit the ground, the other something much softer. And wet. Io flinched, looked to her left, and found her fingers drenched in cooling wolf blood. With a dismayed cry, Io shot into a stand, shoving aside exhaustion - only to hear the resounding tear of cloth.

She twisted towards the sword, where the knots had held. Iolanthe reached for the hilt and, digging her fingers up under the fabric, yanked it off the top of sword. Blood slicked the route for her, and Io used the side of the blade to cut the strip of knots off her dress. She mindlessly rubbed the wolf's blood on the tattered remains of her clothes, and turned around. Astinos. There was Astinos! But...the other Spartan? Was nowhere to be found. Gods. He'd not been able to hold on.

"Oh no." Iolanthe half stumbled, half ran, over to the edge, and, sinking down to her knees, gripping the edge with her fingers, she peered over - expecting to see the worst. A Spartan's body crumpled atop the wolf remains. Nothing! What?! Had he just...just disappeared?! How was this...there! No, the Spartan was still hanging on, one handedly, but his eyes weren't even open.

"You! Don't you dare let go! Just-just stay there!" Iolanthe shouted at him, and, turning around desperatedly, she stepped around bits of gravel before nearing the only thing she had that could help.

"Astinos? Astinos, are you well?" Io hesitantly touched his shoulder with one hand, pushing herself to her knees to lean over him. Her other hand reached for his face, the side closest to the rock - and she tried to get a look at him, to see if he was conscious. Iolanthe glanced over her shoulder and silently cursed - the other Spartan hadn't climbed. He'd fallen. But he wasn't dead yet.

"You have to get up," Iolanthe insisted, and tried to keep her tone gentle because Gods knew he was exhausted. Io indulged herself in combing loose strands of his sweat drenched hair out of his face. "Astinos, he's still alive, but I don't know how long he can hold on. I don't know what to do."

[Astinos]

"Oh no."

He wanted to turn to the sound of her voice. But he did not.

His eyes closed for a second.

He felt the hair being pulled out of his eyes and the dark eyed Spartan struggled to regain consciousness. Her voice was soothing to his ears. He was able to move his left hand to rest against the small of her back as a smile formed upon his mouth. But only for a moment as her expression caused him to question her with his eyes.

"You have to get up," Iolanthe insisted, "Astinos, he's still alive, but I don't know how long he can hold on. I don't know what to do."

"...Not here?" He swallowed hard as he tore his eyes away from hers. He glanced around the small ledge and blinked. Dienekes should be here! His eyes found hers quickly as he sprang into action, somehow finding the strength to move. He rolled over onto his belly and then his hands and knees. Calling forth the help of the Gods, Astinos moved to the ledge and looked over it.

"Dienekes!" he waited for a moment before calling down to his friend once again, this time allowing his arms to stretch over the edge. He stretched downward unsure of whether or not he could close the gap between them, "Dienekes!" It was no use. He could not reach...but maybe there was another way.

He reached up and unclasped the medallion that held the red fabric over his shoulders. He gripped the end of the fabric and twisted it around hit forearm. He dropped the remainder down to his comrade. It was close enough to reach him, if he would only take it. Astinos tucked his toes into the rock at his feet and bent one knee, pressing it into another rock to give himself more support. His arms were much stronger in this position. The edge of the red fabric reached lower still as Astinos dipped his broad shoulders down over the edge. He was now using the environment to his advantage, something they had all been taught. Ready now, the young Spartan called down, "Take it! Take hold Dienekes! Think of your son. Die now and he will be lost to you."

"We are warriors...we cannot die here. Fall to your death and you doom us both. This fabric is not my shield but it is all that we need here," Astinos pleaded silently now. It was up to the other man to take what was offered and climb. The scars on his back shone in the fading light, the largest of them formed a wide X, a badge of honor he had earned after surviving flogging.

Take it, my friend.

[Dienekes]

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Dieneke's was only vaguely aware of their voices. Eyes opened slowly, mouth formed in a groan, and muscles became taut in moments. Dieneke's came out of his stupor and assessed the cliff side, it's various snags and jutting edge, the fabric and it's size.

"How in Hades?!?" He shouted to his company, completely bewildered. They'd been following a trio of wolves, he and Astinos.. and then what? They'd been nowhere near the mountain then, and more then a mile behind their quarry..

Glancing downwards, the questions were forgotten. His shifted his left hand from the rockface onto the fabric, almost too slowly, and thought about how he could pull himself up. The old soldier brought his feet above him, gripping the cloak between either boot, and slowly began to climb. Dieneke's used the functioning arm to push the rest of his weight across the makeshift rope, and his feet to hold on. It was taking its toll..