“GOLDEN” An Inktober Short Story

Written and Illustrated by Luis Roding
Reading Time: 4 minutes

As a kid, I only heard stories about this place; now, I am here. I have left my hometown, crossed the sea, and came to the land I’d dreamt to see, but to do something terrible, not only to these people but to myself.

We managed to unlock the temple doors without trouble, which was very unexpected given the resistance we had faced until then. I was in the front group, so as the tall doors opened, I was among the first to look inside.

Don’t know what my brothers-in-arms felt and will never do. As for myself, I had my soul cut in half. One was the soldier in me, who instinctively scanned the immediate surroundings in case warriors were expecting us. The other half, the one I’ve had since I can remember, fell into amazement by the look of it, not only by the size but by the shape and sight of the mightiest of gods.

Zeus, dressed in solid gold, was sitting there at the end of the hall, staring at us. It did not matter how much I tried to tell myself it was just marble and precious metal shaped by artisans. He looked at us, and I couldn’t perceive any joy in his gaze.

We walked at a slow pace, on our guard, but only praying elders and women knelt around us, all facing the end of the hall. Our group did not engage in any slaying. Still, our leader commanded that soldiers held a position on our rear as we moved forward.

When we reached the golden giant, a single priestess lay before him, her face almost touching the floor. Our footsteps and her sobs became the only significant sound in the temple. The noises of the distant battle were swallowed by the hissing of the wind.

Her praying and sobbing stopped and turned at us; her face was stained with blood and mud, and tears ran all the way through her cheeks. She was beautiful despite the grief and bitterness she displayed. Our commander spoke.

“Where is the high priest?”

She showed us her hands, covered in blood, and started to cry. We looked at each other, we assumed he was dead, though it had not been our lochoi who killed him (* lochoi, a word used for a small group of Greek soldiers, similar to a modern platoon).

“Are there any guards in this temple?”

She shook her head, but then I noticed something strange, something not right. Her skin started to look like the surface of seashells, gleaming with white and other colors. She closed the palms of her hands and her eyes, too.

“We did not want any of this, but it’s too late,” she said, still sobbing.

I wanted to step forward, but our commander did it first, keeping us behind with his shield and sword; a true leader, but a hero? He had all the looks of one, his height, strength, red cloak, shiny armor, and even the kingly helmet, but the story of our invasion would not breed any hero, not on our side. He pointed at her with the tip of his sword and spoke again.

“The gods have abandoned you and your people!”

She did not move.

“From this day on, this sanctuary will hear the praying of the real and faithful servants of Zeus!”

The woman opened her eyes, but they were white.

“All this could have been avoided,” she said. Her voice echoed through the hall. She looked fragile; a single swing of our arms would have struck her down, but somehow, I felt the giant and she were the same.

“The faithful servants will pray here tomorrow, but before, Zeus has a message for all of us,” as she said, we heard a cracking sound. She separated her hands, and tiny flashes of lightning started to flow between them. Her eyes shined like the full moon, and in a blink, it happened.

The first bolt fell on our commander. The ones behind him and me were thrown back as if Zeus himself blew his breath on us.

I tried to stand still in pain, holding my shield, but my sword was lost. I looked for it on the floor and found my commander’s hand still gripping his. I looked in front of me; only the eyes of the priestess glowed while lightning bolts rained over the rest of my lochoi. Rocks and metal jumped out of a dense cloud.

I managed to grab my commander’s sword, but as I did, I knew it was my turn. Holding my weapons, I faced the god’s will in the shape of lightning. I protected myself with the bronze shield, but it was useless. The noise left me deaf, and my feet no longer felt the floor beneath me; I was flying, trying to swim in smoke and marble dust. Time stopped for me. I knew my life would end once I hit something solid, but this did not happen.

I always told myself I was only doing my duty that day. All this did not matter because Zeus’ golden rage was only the beginning of my journey.