Salvation's Begining

• Reagan O'Brien, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2016

The sound of twenty five thousand Persians, marching unto the shores of Greece, and their rallying cries, resonated within the bay of Marathon. This was the sound of an invasion fleet readying to unleash hell on the Greeks. The brave warriors of Athens assembled themselves for one sole purpose, to defend the greatest empire to grace the world as we know it, Ancient Greece.
The men were eager, ready to slay row upon row of Persian legions that made up the bulk of the Persian invasion fleet. As the Persians set up camp along the shores of Marathon, weary from weeks of sailing across the unforgiving depths of the Mediterranean and Aegean, the hoplites struck, swiftly and decisively. The battle had begun, a clash to become legendary upon the sands of time. As the battle raged, a storm brewed and engulfed the bay in darkness, rain and lightning. The warriors assumed phalanx formations along the mountain line, countering any efforts of escape for the Persians. The great warriors of Greece charged down the mountainside trampling and slaughtering all Persians in their wake. The Greeks were seldom contested, as the Persians were exhausted from their expedition to Greece. But the Persian’s numbers was their only ally and turned the tides as the battle raged on and both armies became fatigued and over worked. The firm ground had now turned to mud, and puddles of crimson blood yet to clot, pooled in the footsteps of the fallen. Men, with faces revealing fear and surprise before they were impaled with a spear or, disembowelled with a xiphos, littered the battlefield. But this nay interrupted his focus, his one quest.
His breathe sharp. His eyes sure. His muscles attuned to that of warfare and combat. His armour of celestial bronze, a mere extension of his power. His intentions bold and his willpower, that of a god. His bow is drawn, and staring down Datis, Median Admiral of King Darius’ invasion fleet of Greece. Themistocles, the great Athenian General, intent on slaying the head of the beast that was the Persian Army, let his arrow fly. With accuracy rivalling that of the radiant god Apollo, a virtue to his demigod like powers. His arrow soared through the rain, thunderbolts arced through the skies creating glistening webs of electricity, as if Zeus himself was making a final effort to repel the Persian invasion from Greece. The arrow found its target, piercing the very heart of Datis ending the first Peloponnesian war, but fuelling a further hate for the Greeks among the Persian Empire.
The battle was now won. Songs of victory were to be sung. But more bloodshed was yet to come...