A parting gift from Arbos

Chapter 9: The Road Ahead

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Iris asked, her skeptical tone aimed at her brother.
“Of course!” Ikaro replied, his voice carrying the exaggerated offense of someone feigning a wound to their pride. “You think I’d forget something as important as this? You break my heart, sister.” He clasped his hands over his chest dramatically, earning an eye-roll from Iris.
“Yeah, yeah, just make sure you find it. Zeus knows we’ll need it,” Iris muttered, her arms crossed.
Ikaro grinned mischievously and resumed studying the trees and landmarks.
“I’m a little lost here,” I interjected, waving my arms at the forest around us. “What exactly are we looking for? Because the road to Delphi isn’t supposed to go through this wilderness.”
Ikaro laughed lightly in the background while Iris stepped in to explain. “It’s better if you let him work his magic. He wants it to be a surprise,” she said, her tone softening.
“Just promise me we’re not wandering around looking for some mythical mushrooms or something,” I said, half-joking.
Ikaro burst out laughing. “No, but you’ve given me ideas. Maybe I should pick some up for the night. What do you think, sis?” He winked at Iris, who shot him a withering glare.
“Absolutely not,” Iris said firmly. “The last thing we need is our ‘guide’ hallucinating while trying to lead us.”
“Even on mushrooms, I’d be as good as Hermes,” Ikaro quipped with a grin before stopping abruptly. He glanced at three nearby trees, his gaze darting between them. “Okay, here we go. The left tree bears the knife’s mark. The right catches the sun’s rays. And the center…” He stepped forward, crouching to reveal a symbol etched into the ground. “...leads us to the Lambda.”
I peered at the red charcoal Spartan logo beneath his feet. “A Lambda? Were Spartans here or something?”
“Yes and no,” Iris said cryptically, gesturing for Ikaro to continue.
Ikaro crouched beside the symbol and pulled at a hidden hatch, revealing a ladder descending into darkness. “Kayn, Iris, welcome to Arbos’s Vault.”
I blinked, surprised. “Your father built this?”
“Yes,” Ikaro said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “If something catastrophic ever happened, this was his backup plan—a place for us to gather supplies and regroup.”
“Think of it as Plan B,” Iris added. “Although, it’s really just a basement for Dad’s treasures and keepsakes.”
“Smart,” I remarked, impressed.
Ikaro grinned. “Shall we?” He descended the ladder first, followed by Iris and me

The vault was compact but packed with supplies: weapons, gold, maps, and relics. I whistled, impressed. “Your dad was either a genius or a hoarder.”
“Only hoarded the good stuff,” Ikaro said, already rummaging through the cache.
Looking around the cache, something caught my eye—a stack of old maps lying on top of a chest. The maps were meticulously detailed, clearly crafted by an expert cartographer. Judging by their precision, they were either commissioned by the Spartans or collected by Arbos, who must have recognized their immense value. The collection spanned regions far and wide: Greece, Egypt, Macedonia, and even distant lands like the Orient and the mysterious northern territories. The quality was undeniable—each line, mountain, and coastline drawn with a precision that hinted at both artistry and practicality.
“Good find,” Iris’s voice startled me as she appeared silently behind me. Her sudden presence always had a way of catching me off guard, though I couldn’t complain. “These will come in handy, especially for our ‘expert guide’ over there.” She pointed at Ikaro, who was fiddling with a peculiar-looking relic, completely absorbed in his discovery.
“Thought the same,” I said, carefully rolling up one of the maps to keep it safe. I turned toward Iris, genuinely curious. “What about you? Did you find anything interesting?” I couldn’t help but enjoy these small conversations with her. Despite her sharp tongue, there was an honesty in her words that I found refreshing. And her voice… it was like a melody crafted by Apollo himself, a soothing contrast to the rugged surroundings.
“Not for myself,” she admitted with a small smile. “But I already packed the gold and medicine I found. Those will definitely come in handy.”
“No weapons?” I asked, glancing at the assortment of arms scattered around the vault.
“Not really. Most of the armor here is too big for me,” she said, gesturing to a set of Spartan greaves leaning against the wall. “Maybe in Delphi or Sparta, I’ll find something more my size. Something… fitting.”
“Or,” I said with a sly grin, “I could gift the pretty girl something nice.” It was bold, but I couldn’t resist the chance to charm her.
She raised an eyebrow, her expression playful yet sharp. “Oh, really? I wouldn’t mind that… though I’ll be holding onto the gold until I’m sure you won’t waste it on whores or some other indulgence you men seem to excel at.” Her words were cutting, but the teasing glint in her eyes softened the blow. “Still,” she added with a smirk, “you’ve got a better chance than Ikaro.”
Before I could reply, she winked and turned away, her hips swaying in a way that was both confident and deliberate. It was clear she knew the effect she had and wasn’t above using it to her advantage. I watched her go, a mix of amusement and admiration bubbling in my chest. She was unlike anyone I’d met before—strong, sharp, and undeniably captivating.
After a while, I noticed Ikaro growing unusually quiet, his typically animated energy replaced with a contemplative stillness. Concerned, I approached him. “Find anything interesting?” I asked softly, trying not to startle him.
He didn’t respond at first, his eyes fixed on something resting against the wall—a Spartan shield and a spear. His fingers hovered over the intricate carvings on the shield's surface, tracing the edges as if they held some profound meaning.
“Ikaro?” I called again, this time with more concern. “Are you okay?”
“Huh? What?” He blinked, snapping out of his trance. “Oh… yeah.” He glanced at me, though his focus quickly returned to the weapons. “Well, yes. I did,” he murmured, his voice distant. Slowly, he reached out and grasped the shield and spear, lifting them with a reverence I hadn’t seen from him before.
Iris, who had been counting the gold in a corner, turned at the sound of the commotion. Her expression shifted immediately when her eyes fell on the items in her brother’s hands. “Those weapons…” Her voice wavered, a rare crack in her usual composure. “They aren’t what I think they are, are they?”
“They are,” Ikaro confirmed, his tone unusually serious.
“What are these weapons?” I asked, stepping closer to examine them. The craftsmanship was astonishing. The shield bore a smaller design than the typical Spartan hoplon, but its surface was engraved with ornate patterns that hinted at both practicality and artistry. The spear was equally remarkable—a masterwork of balance and lethality, its steel tip polished to a razor edge. Even after all these years, they radiated an aura of untarnished strength.
“These…” Ikaro paused, running a hand over the shield’s edge. “These are the weapons my father used during his time in service.”
“They’re incredible,” Iris murmured, stepping closer to inspect them. She gently touched the shield’s face, her eyes filled with a mix of admiration and nostalgia. “It’s amazing how well they’ve been preserved. It’s like they’ve been waiting for this moment.”
I watched Ikaro closely. There was something heavy in his expression, something that went beyond simple awe. “I guess they belong to you now,” I said, offering him a small smile.
Ikaro hesitated, the weight of the items seeming heavier than their physical mass. “I don’t know about that…” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “Have I… have I earned the right?”
Iris stepped forward, her usual sharpness replaced with a rare softness. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her gaze steady and reassuring. “Of course, you have,” she said gently. “You’re more than worthy.”
I nodded in agreement, hoping to bolster his confidence. “There’s no doubt about it. You’ve proven yourself, Ikaro. Last time, you fought bravely. You made him proud—I’m sure of it.” I met his eyes, letting him see the sincerity in my words. “But ultimately, it’s your choice. I just think you’d carry his legacy well.”
Ikaro stared at the weapons for a moment longer, his grip tightening on the spear. Finally, he nodded, a small but determined smile breaking through his hesitation. “I’ll use them,” he said quietly. “But I still feel like I need to earn the right to truly keep them. When we arrive in Sparta… I’ll decide then.”
Iris smiled, her expression lightening as she watched her brother. “That sounds like a good plan,” she said softly.
The three of us stood there for a moment, surrounded by the remnants of Arbos’s past. The weight of his legacy hung heavy in the air, but for the first time since his passing, it felt less like a burden and more like a guide—something to carry forward rather than to be trapped beneath.

After we had gathered everything we could from the cache, the siblings headed upstairs, their voices carrying faintly as they stepped back into the sunlight. I lingered for a moment, my eyes scanning the room one last time. Something caught my attention—a chest tucked away in the corner, its lid slightly ajar. Inside lay a bow, its ornate craftsmanship immediately captivating me. The polished wood gleamed faintly in the dim light, its intricate carvings suggesting it had once belonged to a skilled archer. The string felt taut yet supple, promising precision and power.
I couldn’t help but think of Iris. Her bow had been damaged during the fight, leaving her uncharacteristically somber. This... this felt like something she would cherish.
Emerging from the cache, I found Ikaro busy preparing the horses. Iris stood nearby, stretching her arms and gazing out at the horizon, her profile framed by the golden light of the setting sun. Steeling myself, I approached her.
“Hey, Iris,” I called, catching her attention. She turned, a curious look in her eyes. “I think I found something you might like.” With that, I presented the bow, holding it out toward her.
Her eyes widened in surprise, her usual composure giving way to genuine astonishment. “Where… where did you find this?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief as she took the bow from my hands, her fingers running over its smooth surface. “Was it in the cache? How did I miss this?”
“It was hidden pretty well,” I said with a sheepish smile. “Guess I got lucky. What do you think?”
She stepped aside, testing the bow’s weight and pulling the string experimentally. The motion was fluid, her stance instinctive. The string hummed softly under her touch, and she nodded appreciatively. “The balance is perfect,” she murmured, inspecting the carvings along the bow’s limbs. “And the string… it’s strong but so light. It’s beautiful.” Turning to face me, she gave me a radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire clearing. “I love it,” she said earnestly. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“It’s nothing, really,” I replied, scratching the back of my neck, suddenly feeling awkward under her gaze.
“Not to me.” Her voice was soft but steady, her eyes locked onto mine. Before I could respond, she leaned in and kissed my cheek—a brief but warm gesture that sent a jolt through me. She pulled back with a playful grin, the bow still cradled in her hands. “I’ll go show this to Ikaro,” she said, her tone lighter now as she turned and walked toward her brother, the joy in her step unmistakable.
I stood there for a moment, completely caught off guard, my face burning as her words and actions replayed in my mind. My fingers brushed the spot where her lips had touched, the warmth lingering. I let out a nervous laugh, shaking my head at myself. “You think Athena sees and hears everything I do?” I muttered under my breath. “Might have to ask her that next time.”
With a soft chuckle, I headed toward the horses, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and contentment. As we prepared to move forward, I couldn’t help but feel lighter, like the weight of the past was finally starting to lift. Whatever lay ahead, it felt easier to face with companions like these—and moments like that.