It all seemed impossible.
The hours ticked by, and Ariadne began to worry that Akenon hadn’t returned. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend the day investigating away from the compound, but she felt a strange unease, some kind of instinctive alarm that told her Akenon was in danger.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she shivered despite the oppressive heat. In the past few weeks, she had learned to put more trust in her intuition, as if the pregnancy had sharpened it. She scanned the road to Croton and the coastline. Night was falling, and it was hard to see into the distance.
Suddenly, she felt a twinge inside her. She stretched her legs and leaned back. The sensation stopped momentarily, but a minute later it returned. She bent forward and the discomfort became pain. She whimpered quietly, trying not to be heard, and closed her eyes.
A moment later she opened them in panic.
Oh, no, no! Please gods, no!
She touched between her legs with a trembling hand. The tips of her fingers were smeared with blood.
She felt herself go pale. In her mother’s parchment, she had read that during the first three months of pregnancy there was some likelihood of miscarriage. She had also read that upsets and intense worry often led to a miscarriage.
She got up, struggling to hold back her tears. The painful contractions in her abdomen barely allowed her to move. Gritting her teeth, she began walking toward her room. With every step, she felt that something was going wrong. She needed to lie down and banish from her mind the tormenting suspicion that Akenon’s life was in danger.
CHAPTER 118
July 26th, 510 B.C.
The water hit his face hard.
Akenon opened his eyes, coming to abruptly. His vision was blurred. He was sitting on a chair, his head thrown back, looking up at the ceiling. There was no natural light; it seemed he was in an underground chamber. He lifted his head and tried to get the water out of his eyes, but discovered he couldn’t move his arms. They were tied to the chair, as were his legs. He swallowed and found he couldn’t breathe through his nose. His entire face ached and he could barely open his right eye. Blinking several times, he managed to clear the sight in his good eye.
Boreas was standing a few steps in front of him, the jug from which he had thrown the water still in his hand. What had happened in the forest suddenly came back to Akenon: he had found the villa and Boreas had appeared like a creature out of hell, overpowering him as easily as if he were a little boy.
Akenon’s breath came faster and faster as his mind cleared. He was in the situation he had feared all his life. At the mercy of a demented sadist. About to be tortured.
Coupled with his terror were anger and frustration. He forced himself not to look away from Boreas, and clenched his jaw, causing a dart of burning pain in his right cheek. His eyes shut tight, and a procession of bright yellow lights danced in front of him.
When he opened his eyes again, Boreas was still standing in the same position. It seemed as if something was holding him back. Akenon looked away from the giant, to his left.
The masked man!
Against his will, his aching, swollen face reflected his feelings. It wasn’t just his fear at finding himself in front of the man who would murder him, or the hatred he felt for the most bloody, satanic enemy he had ever had. What he regretted was not being able to contain his momentary fascination. The man radiated a power far superior to what Akenon had felt when he had spoken to him with his face uncovered. Back then, he must have been containing himself so as not to reveal the extraordinary magnitude of his powers. Now, the inscrutable black mask seemed to fit that monster much better than the human face Akenon had known.
The masked man approached until he was one step away from Akenon.
“I’m pleased to see you again,” he whispered in his guttural voice.
Akenon stared with contempt at the slits in the black metal. The masked man leaned toward him, emitting a grunt that bore a vague resemblance to a laugh.
“Do you know who I am?” He stared at Akenon, who felt as if an ice-cold knife were slowly penetrating his brain. “Well, well,” the masked man continued after a few seconds, “you figured it out. How did you do that?” The feigned friendliness in his voice was spine-chilling.
Akenon looked away, but could still feel the pressure of his enemy’s mind. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. The masked man’s mind prodded his without managing to enter it. The sensation was similar to trying to keep your mouth closed while powerful hands tried to pull it open.
“Do you think you can stop me?” The masked man’s whisper, deep and hoarse, had a cheerful ring to it. He was having fun.
Akenon resisted with all his will. He was a layman in that world of esoteric forces, but he felt he could prevent the masked man from gaining access to his innermost thoughts.
That hope lasted until his enemy used the power of his voice.
During long minutes, the masked man spoke without pause. Akenon couldn’t understand what was happening, but he was aware that his willpower was dissolving. His adversary’s rhetoric contained implacable logic. He used just the right words, and every sentence was incisive, honed like a sword only much more dangerous. Little by little, he convinced Akenon to allow him access to his thoughts and memories. Akenon thought about rebelling with greater determination, but didn’t really try very hard. He was yielding. He realized what was happening and…began to want it to happen. Though the masked man’s words were tools used with mathematical precision, they alone would not have broken him. What lent them their irresistible influence was the whisper that transported them, constant, enveloping, subjugating. A grating, hypnotic murmur that eroded his resistance in the same way a rushing stream wears away a mountain.
He yielded.
The masked man’s mind burst into his own like a flood. It probed everything relating to the investigation, explored every recess of his mind like a burglar, and learned how he had discovered his identity and his whereabouts.
When the alien mind withdrew, Akenon felt as if he was awakening. Immediately he was assailed by such anger and disgust at himself, he almost vomited.
“You’ve been careless,” the masked man whispered with satisfaction. “No one knows you’ve come here, and you haven’t even told anyone who I am. The only thing that sets you slightly apart from a total idiot is the cleverness you’ve shown in finding me.”
He raised his hands behind his head.
“There’s no point in wearing the mask in here, and it’s too hot anyway.”
He untied it, carefully pulling it away from his face.
Even though Akenon knew who he would see, he was surprised when he laid eyes on that sweaty face.
His enemy turned the mask and ran a finger over its outer surface. When he spoke again, the friendliness had disappeared from that hoarse whisper.
“You’ve caused me nothing but trouble since you arrived, Akenon. You forced me to change my original plans, and you know how problematic that turned out to be. Then, you continued being a nuisance, especially when you caught Crisipo.” He brought his face close to Akenon’s without altering his cold expression. “I’ve wanted to get rid of you for a long time. Clearly, I’ve been busy with more important matters, because otherwise you would have been dead long ago. In fact, you should be. Through Cylon, I had your exile decreed, and the hoplites who were guarding you were going to kill you on board the ship, but that imbecile Milo interfered with my designs.” He smiled, twisting his mouth unpleasantly. “Do you think anyone will save you this time?”
Akenon’s gaze shifted between the man holding the mask and Boreas. The giant’s attention was fully focused on him, like a dog who can scarcely restrain itself while it awaits the order to attack. He’s going to tear me to pieces as soon as his master allows him to. What bothered him was not even being able to raise his arms to protect his face.
“Did you honestly ever think it would be the other way around?” his enem
y continued. “Me tied to a chair and you interrogating me?” He shook his head slowly. “Such arrogance is pathetic.”
A long silence ensued. The man holding the mask simply watched Akenon, who understood he was waiting for him to beg. He was terrified, but wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction.
After a while, his enemy continued. Akenon felt the hoarse, cruel whisper slowly piercing his ears.
“I’m sure you understand, my dear Akenon, that I can’t allow you to live knowing who I am.”
Those words released the invisible leash that had been holding Boreas back. The giant took two steps forward, stretched out an arm, and wrapped his enormous hand around Akenon’s neck.
Then he pulled upward.
Akenon tensed his muscles in desperation. He felt his feet rising off the ground. Boreas was lifting him slowly, taking care not to break his neck, so he could prolong his agony. After a few seconds, Akenon dangled from the giant’s arm, six feet up in the air. The weight of his body and of the chair to which he was still tied threatened to dislocate his head from the rest of his body at any moment. He tried to breathe, but his crushed neck impeded the flow of air. All he managed was a suffocated gasping that came out as hoarse grunts.
Boreas was enjoying every minute of it. He bent his arm to bring Akenon’s purple face closer. His eyes bulged from their sockets. The Egyptian’s face had lost all its arrogance and reflected the same thing seen on the face of every victim of Boreas’ savagery: terror caused by physical suffering and the proximity of death.
Boreas’ master spoke again, as if he wanted to entertain his victim in his dying moments.
“Would you like to know what my next steps will be?” he asked rhetorically. “Through Cylon, I control the Council of Croton. I’ll use that political power against Pythagoras.” He emphasized the philosopher’s name with contempt. “I’ll also take special care of your friend, Ariadne. I’ll give her your regards before killing her.”
Akenon closed his eyes. His mind was a frenzied whirlwind filled with chaos, where his unbearable suffering was intertwined with the threat to Pythagoras, the murderer’s surprising identity, Ariadne in danger, Ariadne in his arms…
His neck gave a sickening crack.
His eyes snapped open. Boreas was baring his teeth in a smile. Behind him, his master observed them with pleasure. The image went black, and he lost feeling in his body.
A much denser darkness enveloped his soul.
Akenon’s consciousness dissolved into infinity.
CHAPTER 119
July 27th, 510 B.C.
The next day, Boreas was walking alone through the forest, leading his horse and his master’s by the reins, taking them to a brook to drink. As usual, he was barefoot. The skin all over his body was thick and hard, but the soles of his feet were as tough as leather.
That morning, they had traveled to the second hideout because his master wanted to retrieve some parchments.
“Go out and inspect the surroundings,” the masked man had said, turning his back on him. “I’ll be busy all morning.”
Boreas was happy to receive that order. He enjoyed being in the wilderness. Cold or intense heat—such as they were experiencing those days—affected him little.
I could live in the woods.
Suddenly he stopped. He could hear the distant babble of running water, but he thought he had heard a different sound. A few seconds later he was sure. Not far from him, someone was moving, following a trajectory perpendicular to his own.
As silently as he could, Boreas tied the reins to the branch of an oak tree and advanced as stealthily as a wolf. Soon he glimpsed two riders. They were mounted on a donkey and a mare. One of them…
Ariadne!
Boreas’ heart leapt. He couldn’t believe his luck. Yesterday Akenon and today Ariadne. The gods had decided to deliver to him the two people he most wanted at his mercy. Akenon had been a gift, but finding Ariadne unprotected in the middle of the forest was a dream.
His mouth filled with saliva. Pythagoras’ daughter looked even more alluring than he remembered. Desire assaulted him violently, giving him an intense erection. He hadn’t felt so much excitement since he had tortured and raped Yaco, Glaucus’ adolescent lover.
He crept behind them keeping a distance of twenty paces. The ground crunched softly under his feet. If Ariadne detected his presence, she’d spur the mare to a gallop and escape. He couldn’t let that happen.
Memories of when he first saw her as he hid in a room in Glaucus’ palace came back to him. He had felt the same desire he did now.
But now I’ll be able to satisfy it, he thought, baring his teeth.
He moved a little closer, careful to remain directly behind the riders so he wouldn’t be discovered. He loved the thrill of the chase. Ariadne turned to say something to her companion. Boreas tensed, but Ariadne didn’t see him.
She was so close to him he started to pant.
Ariadne was beginning to despair. She had been searching for Akenon since dawn, and had found no clue to his whereabouts. Some days before, they had discussed the fact that the masked man had to have a hiding place close to Croton. Ariadne thought maybe Akenon had gone out in search of their enemy’s lair. That was why she was scouring the forest, even though she knew that searching at random was tantamount to achieving the impossible.
She was tired and her lower back ached. The previous night, on reaching her room, she saw that the bleeding had stopped. It had just been a few drops, but she knew it meant her pregnancy was at risk. She had gone to bed and managed to doze on and off until just before daybreak. At that point, her worry over Akenon had become unbearable, so she had decided to go out and look for him. As she crossed the community in the grey-blue haze of dawn, she had met Telephontes. He was one of the disciples who had accompanied her to Sybaris when they met Akenon for the first time. Back then, Telephontes had been an apprentice disciple and wasn’t allowed to speak, but now he could, having risen to the level of mathematical disciple. He had insisted on going with her, and Ariadne didn’t have the energy to contradict him. Besides, four eyes would see better than two.
The forest had thinned out in the area they were passing through, and the midday sun was beating down on them.
She turned to Telephontes.
“Let’s go over to the brook. I need to cool down.”
Telephontes nodded, concerned that Ariadne looked so tired. The young woman was breathing heavily through her partially open mouth, and was very pale.
As Ariadne spurred her mare, she heard a sharp noise behind her, as if a large animal had broken into a run. She turned her head as the horse began to gain momentum.
What she saw stopped her breath.
A monstrous creature was hurtling toward them. It looked like a man, but its size and proportions were larger than any human being. Almost naked and completely bald, the monster’s reddish skin shone with sweat and his voluminous muscles bulged as if he were an oversized statue. In an instant, he covered the distance separating him from Telephontes, and hit him with all his strength. A frightful crunch was heard, and Telephontes flew through the air, landing twenty paces from his donkey.
Ariadne was paralyzed. The giant pushed Telephontes’ donkey aside with one hand, and leapt toward her. She dug her heels into the mare, turning it onto a small trail to her right. The animal galloped forward and began to gain speed.
Ariadne looked back.
There was no one in sight.
When she looked ahead again, something made her turn her head to the right. The monster was cutting diagonally through the trees. With a desperate cry, Ariadne dug her heels into the horse’s side and snapped the reins.
The giant charged between two trees and attacked with the strength of a bull. His shoulder hit the mare’s rump and the rear half of the animal flew into the air, hitting the trunk of an oak. Horrified, Ariadne could feel herself being flung off. She crashed into the ground and rolled over, afraid of breaking her back against
a tree.
Her body stopped moving, leaving her bruised and disoriented. I have to get out of here fast, she thought, trying to haul herself up.
Beside her appeared a pair of colossal feet.
CHAPTER 120
July 27th, 510 B.C.
The masked man was seated in front of the parchments, mentally traveling the mathematical universe they had opened up for him. He had quickly covered familiar ground and was now floating in the infinity of irrational numbers. He suspected there was a logic to that apparently unfathomable abyss as well.
I’ll need time to unravel its mysteries, but I don’t have that time right now.
He would have to wait a few weeks, until he had definitively finished Pythagoras off and governed Croton.
He heard a noise behind him and turned, surprised that Boreas would interrupt him. The door opened and the giant entered with a woman slung over his shoulder.
He recognized her the minute he saw her face.
“Tie her up,” he told Boreas in a dry whisper. He was concerned. How had Ariadne discovered the location of his second hideout?
He watched in silence as his slave tied her to a chair. She didn’t struggle, but it didn’t look like she had surrendered either. In fact, her behavior displayed intelligence: she was conserving her energy and staying alert.
A daughter worthy of Pythagoras, thought the masked man disdainfully.
Ariadne watched her captors in silence, trying not to show her fear. It was obvious that the giant was Boreas. She had never seen him prior to that day, but Akenon had described him to her. She also knew that Boreas belonged to the masked man—Glaucus had given him the giant a month ago—which was why she wasn’t surprised he had taken her to him.
But I still don’t know who’s hiding behind that mask.
The masked man intuited from Ariadne’s look that she was unaware of his identity.
Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) Page 52
