Fifty earthborn warriors vied
in Gaia's soily afterbirth.
Joined in battle,
they honed their arms
and shaped their spirits.
One who schemed
and whispered,
"Join your sword
to my battle plan!"
found Udaius's blade in his side.
A true Spartoi follows no master.
Cthonius encountered
two brothers on the field,
one injured,
begging for death,
one holding back
to savor his enemy's pain.
Cthonius beheaded both.
A true Spartoi shows mercy but seeks none.
One who skulked and hid
behind the rocks,
biding his time,
was cut down by Echion.
A true Spartoi runs toward death.
The dragon-hearted fifty
hacked,
slashed,
stabbed,
and rendered each other
down to
Five.
Cadmus called the survivors to a truce:
An oath to war-loving Ares,
An oath to the Cadmaian citadel,
An oath to the bearer of the rod,
binding themselves and all of their spawn.
We proud Spartoi-spawn still honor our ancestors.
Their oaths
Their truce
Their grudges
Their scars
Are ours.
It was Udaius
who clawed the scar
into Mighty Echion's cheek
I cannot offer my prayers
to the unblemished stone face of Udaius.
Not even now, to save my life.