Narrative Drop 2: A Ruinous Raid
Artist: Jacopo Shiavo
The ringing of steel and the screams of battle echoed throughout his mind, making it impossible for him to think. It should have been simple. Secure the Ikorr onto the ships and sail home in glory. Their scouts had detected no enemy presence. They believed they were the only ones who knew the Ikorr was here. But as Stavros stood watching his men engage with an army of samurai, it was clear that they had been mistaken.
“How should we support the left flank, commander?” his second in command, Athanasios, asked again, but Stavros’ mind was empty.
For days he had prayed to Athena, asking for strategy and wisdom in the battles he knew would face him, and for days he had received nothing. None of the brilliant tactics that earned him his command would spring to mind. “They fight like demons without mercy,” was all he could murmur as he watched another of his men fall at the hands of a samurai.
Athanasios stared at Stavros, who surveyed the battlefield in silence. Athanasios shifted uneasily on his feet, desperate for an order. He could think of no recourse himself.
“We must retreat,” Stavros said at last.
“Surely we can stand and fight,” Athanasios rambled, “They do not carry shields. Perhaps our archers could be positioned to take advantage of this. We are the greatest army the world has seen—”
“—When Athena is with us, yes,” Stavros cut him off, “But she is not. Perhaps it is a sign. There was more Ikorr here than we had hoped. If we retreat now with what we have already secured and leave the rest, our mission will still have been a success.”
Athanasios looked out over the battlefield. Though their line was holding strong and fighting determinedly, little by little, they were losing ground. “I’ll give the order,” he said.
High above the two officers, a falcon circled. Its wings outstretched, it effortlessly soared through the hot summer air. Gliding amidst the sparse clouds, the cries of men below faded to near whispers, dying out before reaching to the heavens. Tilting one wing down, it turned to fly back across the battlefield.
Its shadow passed over the ranks of men fighting with all their might. Bodies littered the front lines of both sides, and still men charged over them to add to the collection, or to join it themselves. Xiphe clashed with katanas, ringing out in a symphony of battle. Spears passed arrows in the air, each hoping to find a new home in the heart of a soldier. The ground was stained red as the Ikorr with the blood of each army.
Artist: Sebastian Szmyd
Reaching the other side of the battlefield, the falcon swooped down and spread its wings to land, taking up a familiar perch on the arm of the fearless leader, Oda Nobunaga. Though his army was beginning to win the battle, he stood watching over it with a frown. Something was not right. The Greeks had begun to give ground but were sending no troops to reinforce their line. He stroked the wings of his falcon, not taking his eyes off the battle in front of him.
A tall thin man, Itakura, ran up to Oda and gave a curt bow. “Sir, our scouts have confirmed that the Greeks are retreating. Their main fighting force is only trying to hold us off long enough to load their secured Ikorr onto ships,” he said.
Oda did not take his eyes off the battle to acknowledge his subordinate. He raised his arm, and his falcon once again took to the skies. “Is this not the largest deposit of Ikorr that has been discovered?” he mused, folding his arms behind his back. “Why retreat from the largest source of the most important and powerful substance on Earth?”
“Perhaps the tales of Athena’s strategy we have heard were overexaggerated. She is no match for your brilliance, if this is the best she has to offer.”
“And yet, like a hound shackled to a short leash, an army’s brilliance extends only as far as its most foolish officer will allow. Do you really believe this mess could be orchestrated by their most brilliant strategist?”
Itakura stared at the ground, his attempts at flattery having failed miserably. “I suppose not. But if she is not here, where is she?”
A hint of a frown touched the corners of Oda’s lips, though his gaze remained steady on the battlefield. “You’re skipping the more important question. The question whose answer would answer yours.” Oda paused for a moment to give his subordinate a chance to answer, but hearing no attempt, continued. “Why isn’t Athena here? The Ikorr has spawned a frenzy. It can bend time and space to its whim. The gods demand it be gathered in their name, and yet, Athena, the greatest divine strategist the Greeks have, is content to lose out on the largest share to have ever been concentrated in one place.
“Which means,” Oda said, finally turning to face his subordinate, his direct gaze causing Itakura to flinch under its intensity, “That there is something out there far more important than the Ikorr. These gems are just a piece in the puzzle. Where we find Athena, we find the true secret to power. So, I am relieving myself of this command to hunt down Athena myself. Mount the calvary and send them after the Greeks to hasten their retreat. Give up only 80% of the Ikorr we secure to the gods and hide the rest.”
“You cannot be serious! You ask me to commit blasphemy—” Itakura’s protest did not continue, as Oda quickly drew his katana, slashing it across his subordinate’s chest as he unsheathed the blade. His former underling crumpled to the floor, his hands feebly clutching the gash on his chest.
“Niwa,” Oda barked, catching the attention of another officer. “Please inform our armies that I will be taking a leave of absence. Mount our cavalry and have them hasten the Greeks’ retreat. Continue to hunt the Ikorr as the gods demand, but do not give it all up. Understood?”
Niwa stared at the body between him and Oda, who was now casually cleaning his blade. Realizing he had not given an answer yet, he snapped back to attention. “Yes, commander! It will be done!”
Oda gave a quick nod, sheathed his katana, then turned on his heel. He would need a small force of men to accompany him and a stash of Ikorr. As he walked, he mulled over possible locations to find more information on Athena. No matter how long it took, he would find the goddess. Whatever she discovered could be the key to controlling this new, strange world.
As he reached the Japanese backlines, the cavalry he ordered galloped past him. Samurai mounted on horseback nocked arrows to their bows. As their horses galloped, they stood up in their saddles, knees bent to move with the up and down motion of their horses’ stride. As they got into range, they drew back their bows and let the arrows fly. They found their mark with deadly precision, as the archers were all well-practiced in Yabusame. One of these arrows slammed into the mast of one of the Greek ships, just inches from Stavros’ head.
Artist: Tony Foti
Athanasios scrambled over to him with a shield over his head. “Commander, you need to stay down! Their archers are targeting officers!” he yelled. His warning was underscored by another arrow bouncing off his raised shield.
“Are we ready to set sail?” Stavros asked.
“The last of the men are coming aboard now!”
Stavros looked out to sea. Two of their ships were already on their way. His ship was the last to leave. Turning his gaze back toward land, he saw the last of his men stagger aboard. They collapsed on the deck, most clutching at injuries. Even the strongest of his men wailed, an arrow embedded in his shoulder. Stavros glanced to the Ikorr they had stored. Though they had managed to secure a healthy amount of the red gemstones, it had come at a hefty price.
He let out a sigh as the wind inflated their sails and the oarsman brought their paddles against the water, propelling them out to sea. Hippocampi breached the water, joyfully jumping up and surfing on their wake, either oblivious or uncaring of the loss he and his men had just suffered. A victorious cry erupted from the Japanese army, now free to secure all the Ikorr that remained on the battlefield. For the first time in his career, Stavros had been defeated.
There was no time to mope. His men’s morale was already low. Seeing their leader brood would only hurt it more. Stavros put on a brave face and walked over to the injured men. “You fought well today,” he said. “Thanks to you, we have secured more Ikorr than we ever have. You’ll receive care from the finest healers and be awarded great honor when we return home. The gods will be pleased.”
“Even Athena?” one of the soldiers asked. “Will this be enough for her to break her silence?”
“I hope so,” Stavros said, giving a half-hearted smile. As he turned to leave, he caught Athanasios’ attention and waved him over.
“Commander,” Athanasios greeted, joining him in stride.
“We need to find out what happened to Athena and fast. Without her help, we cannot compete against armies blessed by other deities.”
“Sir, we’ve had scouts looking for weeks now. Not one man has even an inkling of where she may have went or what happened to her. You don’t think she may have been…”
“No, no of course not. I refuse to believe that. If that were true, there’s no chance it could have been kept a secret for this long. She must be somewhere. We just need to—”
“—Starboard, ho!”
Stavros was interrupted by the cry of one of his sailors. Stavros whipped his head around to see a massive column of water erupting from the ocean’s surface. As the water fell back to sea, it revealed a towering monster. The giant figure of a lady with red eyes let out a hideous shriek. As she rose out of the water more, she revealed that her torso was a horrid amalgamation of creatures. The heads of dogs lining her waist snarled, spittle flying everywhere and dripping from their sharp teeth. The heads of serpents writhed about, hissing and snapping in all directions. The nightmare began moving to the ship closest to her.
Artist: David Roterberg
“Scylla!” Athanasios exclaimed. “That’s impossible! What is she doing here?”
“Port! Hard port! Get as much wind into the sails as you can!” Stavros ordered.
One of the other ships in front of them followed suit, its wake arcing towards the left, but for the other, it was too late. Scylla was upon them. The serpents darted out and plucked men off the deck in their fangs, shaking them about as their limbs flailed wildly before swallowing them whole. The dog heads howled with delight, biting into the hull of the ship and tearing it apart. A swing from the rusted blade Scylla held in her hand took down the mast, timbers creaking and splintering, and the whole ship rocked wildly from the impact.
“What do we do?” asked a panicked Athanasios.
“There’s nothing we can do to help them. The only thing we can do is escape along with the other ship and tell stories of their bravery,” Stavros said solemnly.
But as he looked out to the other ship, he noticed it was turning further to the left than it should. It was moving nearly diagonally, almost like it was being dragged. He looked at the ocean currents and saw that they were beginning to churn violently. The water moved
Artist: David Roterberg
more rapidly now, swirling about in a great circle. The ship caught in the current was listing sharply, nearly capsizing as it helplessly spun around with the whirlpool.
“No, no, no,” Stavros muttered in disbelief.
“Charybdis, port!” screamed one of his sailors.
The ship had been dragged to the center of the whirlpool now, and it spun wildly before rows of sharp teeth emerged from the water, biting the ship in half. Sailors aboard futilely jumped overboard in an effort to avoid being swallowed whole.
“Turn back starboard! Turn back starboard!” Stavros screamed, the horrible sight of his other ship sinking snapping him out of his daze.
Stavros looked over the port side of his ship and watched as the last part of the other boat sank below the surface. Having finished off the vessel, Charybdis now started moving towards Stavros’ ship. Stavros ran to the starboard side and saw that Scylla had finished tearing apart the first ship and was also moving in on him. His ship wasn’t fast enough to escape before she cut them off. Stavros and his men were trapped.
“We’re going to die!” Athanasios wailed. “What do we do?”
Stavros looked back and forth between the two monsters encroaching on either side of them. His eyes lingered on one of the hounds adorning Scylla’s waist which had Ikorr in its maw. He looked closer and noticed that Scylla was clutching one of the larger shards herself.
Stavros ran to where the Ikorr was stored on deck and began tossing it overboard. “They want the Ikorr! Help me toss it!” he yelled at his men.
“Are you crazy?” Athanasios yelled. “If we lose the Ikorr, then all our men died for nothing! This mission will have been a complete failure!”
“This mission was a complete failure. The Ikorr is no use to us dead! Now help me throw it over, all of you!”
Athanasios and the warriors still healthy enough to help rushed to the precious gems and began throwing them overboard.
“Throw them far and scattered so they have to chase after them!” Stavros ordered.
Sure enough, Scylla and Charybdis abandoned following the ship to collect the Ikorr as it sank to the bottom of the sea. Stavros and his men breathed a collective sigh of relief as they threw the last of the Ikorr overboard, the monsters no longer tailing them. There was silence for a long time as the men watched the two monsters grow smaller in their wake. Finally, Stavros broke the silence.
“We cannot return to Greece. We will be disgraced,” he said looking at Athanasios.
“But where will we go? We have no god to follow,” Athanasios replied.
“I have heard whispers of a god recruiting an army from around the world. He cares not about loyalty or creed. We must join him. It is the only way we stand a chance at surviving this war.”
Athanasios was quiet for a moment. He then produced a gem of Ikorr from his satchel. “At least we will have some small offering to appear before them with. What’s their name?” he asked.
“Seth.”
Artist: David Roterberg
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