Strategos: Island in the Storm by Gordon Doherty Page A

another drink. ‘Ha! The Tyrant of Trebizond , an apt-’ his words caught in his throat as a scuffling sounded from the darkness nearby.
    Apion’s hand swept round for his swordbelt and scimitar, but halted when he saw the yellow eyes of a desert fox flash and then disappear again into the darkness. ‘At ease,’ he said. ‘Now we should try to get some sleep – we need to be sharp for tomorrow.’
    Kaspax let out a tense sigh, then rose and drew two woollen blankets from the packs by their tethered mounts. ‘How do you do it, sir?’ he asked, throwing one blanket to Apion. ‘How do you rid yourself of fear?’
    Apion frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘I long to be a fine and brave rider like my father, yet I tremble at the thought of battle. At the Cilician Gates, I thought I would vomit before we even sighted the Seljuk horde. And here, I almost soiled my tunic at the approach of a fox . . . a damned fox! But you have lived at the edge of death on the battlefield for years. You do not pale or flinch in the face of an enemy. Fear must be a distant memory for you. It would be a fine thing if it could be for me also.’
    Apion shook his head with a mirthless laugh. ‘Fear has never left me.’
    Kaspax frowned, sitting again and throwing his blanket around his shoulders. He hung on Apion’s words.
    ‘It rides with me, watches me when I sleep, counts my every breath, waiting for the opportunity to harness me with its talons. If anything it has grown throughout the years.’
    Kaspax cocked his head to one side. ‘How do you live with such a monster perched on your shoulder?’
    Apion prodded the fire with a twig. ‘I accept its presence. I accept that fear alone cannot hurt me. I understand that my choices must be truly mine and not guided by fear. And sometimes, just sometimes, fear can be of use – it can hone your senses like a whetstone.’
    Kaspax nodded, throwing his blanket around his shoulders and rubbing his hands together for warmth. ‘My father used to say that he had never tasted fear. He said that I would be the same when I became a man.’
    Apion winced at the lad’s words. ‘Atticus was a good man and a lion in my ranks . . . but he didn’t half talk horseshit at times.’
    Kaspax laughed, taken aback yet trying to mask a spike of grief at the memory of his father at the same time.
    ‘I miss the mottled whoreson too,’ Apion assured him. ‘But like me, he felt fear. I know. I stood with him on the battlefield many times. I felt the tremor of his spear arm, pressed against my shoulder as we awaited the enemy charge. Perhaps he thought he could set you a fine example with his words. It seems he might instead have left you an unattainable ideal.’
    Kaspax still seemed unsure.
    ‘There is always someone who seems braver and stands taller than you. Always,’ Apion said. ‘You remember old Cydones, don’t you?’
    Kaspax nodded, a fond smile touching his lips. ‘It is hard to believe that frail old goat was once the Strategos of Chaldia before you . . . a warrior!’
    ‘Oh, but damn, he was. Never a bolder fellow have I met. I swear his balls were made of iron,’ Apion smiled. ‘Yet even he used to yak on for hours about the heroics of men who had gone before him. The great John Tzimices was his favourite; warrior, battlefield leader then emperor. Could leap over four horses, apparently. Could shoot an arrow through a thumb ring. Could make a ball leap from a vase with a swipe of his spatha – the vase remaining unbroken, of course,’ Apion snorted. ‘I’m surprised he couldn’t shoot Greek fire from his cock!’
    Kaspax roared with laughter, rocking where he sat.
    ‘But you see my point?’ Apion said. ‘Cydones was a hero. He inspired men. He didn’t realise how many hearts he touched. He didn’t appreciate all that he was, instead he spent his days obsessing over the few things that he was not. Don’t waste your life comparing yourself with others. Be all you can be and be