"Don't worry little sis. I got your back. Say hullo to Perseus for me!" And without deny, he too disappeared into the ether. Artemis immediately scowled because of his last remark, but her attention was again pulled away from the thoughts of what had just occurred on her little hill.
...
What she had feared with the Macedonian center had now come to fruition. The first Phalanx units, led by Kleitos, was under immediate pressure from Greek mercenaries, whom had charged forwards before the Macedonian phalanx had gotten any proper footings on the riverbank. The resulting melee was a bloodbath for both sides, as savage close quarters combat ensued. In some parts of the riverbank, the Macedonians had leveled their sarissas, which impeded the Greek mercenaries from getting up close, but other units had slipped through falling ranks from Persian arrows to strike the lightly armored Macedonian soldiers. Some had even abandoned their spears and were fighting with their short swords. Artemis even saw the Pellian skirmishers, whom she had carefully trained, joining the fray, attempting to shore up any holes in the Macedonian lines.
While the situation was desperate, the plan was working. An increasing number of Macedonian units in the center had crossed the river, and had buried themselves onto the riverbank, refusing to give ground. The whole of the Persian center descended on them, determined to dislodge the elite Macedonians, creating a thronging, savage fight. Looking over the rear center, Artemis saw Darius waving a red scrap of silk frantically, and the Persian ranks responded in kind, streaming forwards to join the battle.
It was up to Parmenion and Kleitos to hold as the anvil of the blacksmith. Alexander and Perseus would be the hammer that flattened the Persian blade between the solid iron of the Macedonian war machine. Alexander and Perseus hadn't gained a tremendous amount of ground, but the infantry they faced was buckling, and the Macedonian companions seemed to sense victory. Artemis spotted Perseus, driving forwards on his horse, ahead of his companions, shattering a hastily formed Persian shield wall. But then, a spear thrust caught Perseus from the side, biting into his breastplate, Perseus tumbled off the saddle into the dusty ground.
Artemis froze, and she found her vision blackening except for the trained spot in her eyes where Perseus had fallen. A rush of emotions threw themselves at her chest: Fear, Sadness, Anger. But one feeling struck true into her heart, one of anxiety, which was the most confusing of all.
"Get up Perseus." Artemis commanded, pacing the outcrop. But the breach Perseus had created caused a storm of dust and equestrians to stream forwards, and any chance of sighting Perseus was instantly gone. Even his monstrous steed was lost in the confusion.
"I swear If you have died Perseus," Artemis muttered to herself, "I'll go and kill you myself in the underworld." Her grip on her bow tightened, as the dragging seconds ticked by. The situation only grew more chaotic, as the screaming men and horses launched themselves forward against the collapsing Persian position. A sudden fleeting thought struck her: Why should she be worrying? Why was she anxious?
Perseus was an asset, yes, but Alexander had already guaranteed her safety on the expedition. Sure, Perseus had assisted her greatly, but he had also clashed with her on many occasions. What was the real tragedy of Perseus's death? She'd get to keep his tent.
But those reasoned arguments in her mind crumbled, as a foreign guilt pooled within her core. The persistent tug of… interest -in Perseus- kept checking her practiced venomous coloring of him. She couldn't stop thinking about him, which hadn't ever occupied her mind since the giant Orion had struck her as a remarkable sight. While Perseus could have had similar faults as Orion, Artemis slowly dashed the prospect from mind; Perseus wasn't a lewd observer. He was a faithful husband.
With that thought, Artemis nodded, and silently wished for Perseus to be well, for his wife's sake. But she had finally sighted what she was looking for.
A seed of suspicion had germinated in her mind when Anahita left so willingly. Apollo's departure and Perseus taking a fall distracted her thoughts, but now she centered her attention on the higher elevations of the river that wound through hills and rocks. It was there, she finally found out Anahita's plan.
The Winged-Dogs had come down from the mountains. They appeared far in the distance, much too far to distinguish their exact form, but Artemis had no doubt that these beasts were sent to attack the Macedonians, and that Anahita had unleashed them.
With no time to waste, Artemis took a couple of steps back, narrowing her eyes as she judged the high rock ledge in front of her. Her legs were strong, and her body vibrated with nervous energy, and before any other thoughts on the matter came to be, Artemis dashed forwards, flinging herself off the Rock outcrop into the air, sailing downwards. She hit the grassy ground, and rolled with the impact, sending a rush of still fresh disorienting signals to her brain, but she came out of her roll ready to run; She had to get to the river.
Her bow as tightly bound to her back, arrows gleaming in the sun, and the Macedonian made hunting knives were secure in their sheaths. Immediately, Artemis began pumping her legs, instantly coming to a full sprint, as she tore off towards the Macedonian center. The distance was not far, but as she ran, Artemis could see the ever increasingly larger forms of the Dog-Birds flying low, almost touching the sleek surface of the river. Their target was clear. Many Macedonian phalangites still foundered in the waist high river crossings: easy pickings.
Artemis found herself shouldering through various rear line men, who were tending to the wounded and hauling off bodies: first casualties of war. It was there that she finally came to the rearguard units of the Macedonian center, whom were beginning to march throw themselves across the near riverbank into the river itself. Around them, were the longer ranged skirmishers- Pellians among them- who were dueling scattered Persian expert shooters. The scene up close was a horrifyingly slaughter. Just a bowshot in front of her were the ear rending sounds and sinful sights of the Macedonian center stubbornly holding its ground on the hard earned far bank. Continuous Persian missiles arced down on the formations, and answering Greek peltasts returned them in kind, some men standing in the river to do so. Thousands of bodies lay sprawled on the riverbank, and some floated down the stream, spilling blood that darkened the river into a maroon miasma of death.
Some of the men on the near side bank recognized her.
"Cleoxene! We can't hold this for much longer! We are running low on ammunition!" A young man cried out, gesturing over to a double line of archers, who fired a high arcing volley towards the pressing Persian ranks. Artemis didn't remember his name, but she did recall seeing his skill with a bow and had made him one of the skirmishing captains.
"Enough of that Captain, get those men and follow me! We have bigger things to worry about!" Artemis snapped, quickly pulling her bow of her back. She glanced up the stream, but at this elevation, a rock wall blocked her view of the river, as it twisted behind a sheer granite cliff face. The flying monsters were out of sight. They had to hurry.
Artemis ran forwards, skidding down rock-sand slopes onto the riverbed, as the young captain called from behind her:
"What bigger things?!"
That's when Artemis got her first clear sight of them; They had the bodies of a large short furred dog breed, but, if standing, would have been larger than any wolf or deer. On their backs, were enormous golden-brown wings that matched the coat of the body. The legs boasted large claw like talons, but most disturbing of all was the mouth of the beasts: Sharp angular ears, and birdlike eyes framed its snouted face, but instead of a gaping, slavering mouth full of gleaming teeth, there was a large sharp beak.
There were at least thirty of the monsters, making a beeline for the foundering Macedonian ranks in the river. An uproar of noise from both sides echoed in her ears, as the Macedonians caught sight of the beasts, and the Persian ranks cheered in their tongues of prayer.
Artemis ignored this clamor, and nocked an arrow, sighting the lead beast.
Larger than the rest, it was leading the pack, dragging its talons low over the water. It seemed eager, as it drew trails in the water with its talons, focusing its red eyes on its nearest prey. Artemis drew back her shalt and tracked the dog hybrid. She made quick adjustment for its speed. 'To the Huntress: the spoils, Anahita.' Artemis grimly thought, before loosing her bowstring.
...
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