|
This article, A Serpent's Gift, was written by Nikos Liaskos. Please do not edit or 'acquire' this fiction without the writer's permission. |
A Serpent's Gift[]
He gripped the left arm of his throne tightly, his right arm tightening around the shaft of his spear. His hall was filled with the sounds of revelry, as his brothers celebrated their victory over the misguided. They toasted to their Archontas, praising his martial prowess and strategic genius. Some even claimed that if it wasn't for him, they never would have succeeded. Nevertheless, the sector was theirs; the enemy either crushed or accepting The Serpent’s truth. Ultimate power was his to wield.
‘You rule at my behest. You are not the lord here, Agamemnon. What I have given… I can easily take away and grant to another.’
The voice spoke from within Agamemnon’s mind, and he felt his grip on the spear slip, almost dropping it from his hand. His breath grew shaky, his eyes shifted to scan the room, though the movement was obscured by his helmet. He looked over each of his brothers, comprehending the power each one had, the skills they had mastered, as an air of inferiority settled over him. Agamemnon’s body began to tremble, as his god spoke to him again.
‘You were nothing without me. I granted you the power to realise your ambitions. Without me, you would have died on that ship, alongside Minoan.’
‘You… do not… control me…’ Agamemnon spoke openly.
One of the marines seated close to Agamemnon turned, thinking that his lord had spoken to him. Agamemnon waved him off, barely able to contain the shaking in his arm. A low hiss filled his thoughts, drowning out all others. He grimaced, images flashing through his mind of the actions he had done. He saw his hand gripping the blade, blood dripping from its edge, standing over the body of his brothers. Agamemnon went to rest his head on his hand, but jerked back in shock when he saw his gauntlet. It was covered in blood. His strength failed him, and the spear fell from his hand. Its clatter filled the hall, causing the clamour of the seated marines to cease, as they all turned to look at their lord.
‘I own you. I have since you slit the throats of your brothers and your Strategos.’
Agamemnon growled, reaching down to retrieve his weapon before standing and walking to the hall's exit. There was no sound but that of his boots across the floor. The hissing had subsided, and the blood on his gauntlets had vanished, but the silence was cutting into Agamemnon with a razor's edge. He exited the hall, and began to make his way to his private quarters. As he walked, he recalled the events that led to his victory. An invasion of the world he once called home, leading to the deaths of many of his brothers, both enlightened and blind. A challenge, made by one desperate to save his brothers, though ultimately made in vain. The sacrifice, as his god took his home as payment, forcing him to watch as it cracked, shattered, and disappeared into the nothingness of the void.
Agamemnon finally reached his quarters, just as a piercing pain wracked his mind. He dropped to his knees, pulling his helmet off and gripping his head. The hiss had returned, louder and sharper against the fabric of his very being. It threatened to shred him, reduce him to nothing but dust blowing in the wind. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ceased. He felt his power returning to him, the pain subsiding till it had vanished. Agamemnon slowly climbed to his feet, and gingerly walked to the window, his reflection barely visible on the clear glass pane. And there, looming over him in the glass, was The Serpent. Its red eyes gleamed, its scales shifted with purple and blue light. Its fanged mouth opened, and it spoke once more.
‘You are the lord of a new imperium Agamemnon. My imperium. You rule in my name, not your own. That is the price of your power. Your freedom and life… is mine.’
The Serpent vanished from the glass, leaving Agamemnon alone. He stood still in the silence, his hands resting on the glass pane, for what felt like an eternity. Then, he slammed his armoured fist into the window, shattering it, the shards bouncing the light of the planets star. Ultimate power, the control over countless worlds, the command of armies. All his, yet also, so far out of reach. He then spoke
‘Such is the price… of a Serpent's gift…’