* * *
“Three months have passed, Tyreneas. We need to get back to our quest,” one of the soldiers pointed out. “We are strong enough now.”
“We’ve been strong enough,” added another soldier.
“The map-maker has not finished his drawings yet. We have at least two more days before the map is complete,” Tyreneas informed his men.
“All he may need is a little incentive to finish,” said another soldier as he picked up his dagger and stabbed the air with a murderous look.
“Men coming from Troy speak of the battle, Tyreneas. It is an epic war. We are missing our opportunity for glory. Glory your father, Ares, promised. We should be bringing pride and honor to our families, not sitting by like untrained novices. Our ship is packed, we should leave,” argued another.
“No harm will come to the old man and we will wait until he is done. Am I understood?” Tyreneas glared at his men, his tone final.
The men nodded, annoyed and restless.
“How is Arelia?” a solider asked, breaking the tension among the men.
Tyreneas lowered his head and shrugged. “It’s been two weeks since our wedding. I do not understand what is happening. The oracles refuse to give us knowledge and the midwives have no answer.”
“I am fine, dear husband,” Arelia waddled through the doorway to greet the men. She smiled, holding on to her massive belly. In two weeks, she had grown to the size of an eight-month pregnant woman.
“Look at you,” Tyreneas forced a laugh to hide his fear. “You look like you swallowed a horse.”
Tyreneas helped his wife to a chair and pushed a strand of curls out of her eyes.
“Please, I beg you, do not be so frightened. The Kathirat have blessed us with a child. Do you not hear their song every night? They visit us as swallows outside our window,” said Arelia, smiling and rubbing her belly.
“Your Phoenician fertility goddesses have a twisted way of giving blessings,” said a soldier, handing Arelia a wooden cup of water.
“It is done!” an elderly man shouted as he limped over to Tyreneas and handed him a rolled up scroll.
Tyreneas unrolled it to reveal a recently finished map with the ink slightly wet. Surprised at the early delivery, he handed the mapmaker his payment. The men cheered and snickered at Tyreneas for his earlier remarks about waiting.
“All right, all right. We leave at dawn,” announced Tyreneas. His men continued to cheer and pack food for their journey to Troy.
The Phoinix: Age of Demigods Page 5