Hellenic Immortal Read Online Free PDF

death right now.”
    “Forgive me. I had forgotten how important moderation was with this drink.”
    “I trust you will not forget again.” Karyos then fell to his knees at the edge of our camp and vomited into the brush.
    *   *   *
    Subsequent excursions into the clay jars proved to be somewhat less painful, and soon Karyos was as enthusiastic as I was about cultivating our little vineyard. He even considered taking a jug of it to the people he’d spurned so long ago, marking the first time he had mentioned them aloud in at least a decade. So I knew I’d gained a convert.
    I was off on one of my little walkabouts when things quite suddenly went horribly wrong.
    Walkabout is a word I was only just recently introduced to, by Clara. I used to take nature walks over various parts of the island, and sometimes these walks took a few days despite the fact that the island isn’t really all that big. When she asked about it, I explained that it helps me sometimes to reacquaint myself with nature whenever I’m fortunate to be near some. (Not so easy anymore.) She said, oh, like a walkabout . Which I thought was a sandwich. It turns out this is a big thing in Australia—one of the few places I’ve never been.
    Anyway, I’d left Karyos alone to tend to things and wandered off, promising to bring back meat if I found any.
    I returned to camp five days later, in the early morning. By the light of the gradually dawning sun, I noticed a few things wrong. Most apparent was the fire. We almost never kept the fire pit smoldering for the entire evening. At worst, it should have been embers, but no; it was fully aflame. Second, there were a half-dozen large animals milling around at the edge of the clearing, eating my grapes and otherwise making themselves general nuisances in the garden. Horses, I realized. Tame ones.
    We had guests.
    I stepped out of the brush and walked over to the open flame, and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw five men lying about beside the fire. They weren’t asleep and they weren’t dead, but they were also not altogether in control of themselves. I could hear groans and the occasional light coughing; they were suffering from the after-effects of our wine.
    Four of the clay jars Karyos and I had painstakingly crafted lay shattered on the ground beside the fire.
    “What goes on here?” I boomed. A couple of the men moaned, but that was all I got by way of response.
    Based on the clothing—chitons, leather belts, boots—they were members of the same tribe Karyos hailed from. Each had a crude iron sword at his side, which I seriously doubted any of them were in any condition to wield.
    “I say, what goes on here?” I repeated, louder.
    A sixth man stumbled from the hut. Standing, I could see he shared ancestral roots with my friend as well, being similarly squat and sturdy.
    “Who are you?” he growled.
    “I live here with my friend Karyos,” I replied angrily. “Who are you?”
    He spat on the ground and staggered toward the fire. I realized with growing horror that the sword in his hand was dripping with blood. “The bastard mountain man poisoned us all!” he roared. “Look at us! We are dying!”
    “What did you do to him, stranger?”  
    “I repaid him his treachery while still I had the strength,” the man snapped angrily. “And if he was friend to you, then you will share his fate.” He stumbled forward, sword raised, clearly still very drunk.
    I was quite furious. I leaned over and took the sword of the nearest prone man and met the charging warrior’s clumsy assault with an overhand parry and a swift kick in the balls.
    “Fool,” I spat as he fell to his knees. “You met an old man’s hospitality with treachery.”
    “He poisoned us!” he declared again.
    “You’d have been better by midday. Did he not drink with you?”
    He tried climbing to his feet. “He did.”  
    “Then what poison do you suppose he could have used, that would not have felled him as