The Belial Warrior (The Belial Series Book 9)

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The Belial Warrior (The Belial Series Book 9) Page 13

by R. D. Brady


  And right now, his Helen needed him.

  He turned his face toward the sun. This time he would not let her down.

  Chapter 45

  Sparta, Greece

  The arrow let loose from the bow and hit the center of the target, but Pollux felt no sense of satisfaction. All he felt was more rage. None of the ships they had sent after Paris had caught sight of him, and none of the ports from Sparta to Troy had reported seeing the ship. The slippery bastard had disappeared.

  Menelaus had sent people to Troy, but that was only a week ago, not time enough for anyone to make it there and back in time. Menelaus himself had left with the first of the troops to join up with Agamemnon on the coast before heading to Troy. Castor and Pollux were staying behind with hopes that some word of Helen reached them, but would follow with the rest of the Spartan troops in a few days. Castor could think of no reason why Helen would willingly go with Paris, save that she was averting a greater harm. But by the gods, he still had no idea what that could be.

  Beside him, Castor let loose three arrows in a row. Each hit the center of the target.

  “Nice job,” Pollux said.

  Castor just shrugged.

  An electric tingle rolled over Pollux, and he immediately went on alert. “We have company.”

  Castor nocked another arrow. “Where?”

  Pollux nodded toward the hilltop.

  A man blurred down the hill and then slowed and came into focus. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

  Pollux lowered his bow. “Barnabus?”

  Barnabus chuckled and jogged over to them. Pollux extended his hand, and Barnabus shook it, wrapping his other arm around Pollux’s shoulder.

  “It is good to see you, brother,” said Pollux.

  “You as well,” Barnabus said before embracing Castor. “Both of you.”

  “What brings you to Sparta?” Castor asked.

  “I bring news from Helen.”

  The name shot fear, happiness, and surprise through Pollux. “Helen? Have you seen her?”

  “Is she all right?” Castor asked at the same time.

  “She is not harmed, but I would not say she is all right.” He recounted Paris and Helen’s arrival at Pharos, and Proteus’s response.

  “He let her go? How could he do that?” Pollux demanded.

  “Helen asked him to.”

  “And she said she loved Paris?” Castor asked.

  Barnabus’s brow furrowed. “She said it with her words, but in every other way she indicated she did not. There is something wrong there.”

  “She did not confide in you?”

  “No. But I believe she confided in my father. He trusts her course of action, although I'm not sure he agrees with it. He just asked me to trust him and asked that I get this to you two.” Barnabus withdrew a small satchel and emptied Helen’s ring, the source of her power, into his hand.

  With a shaky hand, Pollux took it. “She sent this? Was there any message?”

  Barnabus shook his head. “No. She simply said she loved you all and that I should bring this to you two and no one else, not even Menelaus.”

  Castor looked at Pollux. “Why would she send this? What does it mean?”

  Pollux didn’t know. Did it mean she was giving up the fight? No, that couldn’t be it. Helen understood duty more than any of them. And she embraced her role. She reveled in it. “No. She must have sent it to us for safekeeping. She does not trust Paris.”

  “She doesn’t trust us either,” Castor grumbled.

  “No,” Pollux said. “She is protecting us, or someone else, by her silence.”

  “That is my thought as well,” said Barnabus. “I have also brought Menelaus’s treasure, by the way.” He nodded toward the ring. “Does he not know she is the ring bearer?”

  “No,” replied Pollux. “She has wanted to tell him, but she worries about Agamemnon and what would happen should he find out.” And Pollux agreed with that concern. Menelaus was a good man, but his brother… that was a different story altogether.

  “Not an unfounded worry,” Barnabus muttered.

  “No. But Menelaus is a good man. His blind spot is his brother. He does not see the extent of his cruelty,” Pollux said.

  “How is he handling Helen’s absence?” Barnabus asked.

  “He is confused,” Pollux said. “He is letting Agamemnon run the war. We set sail in a few days for Troy. Menelaus has already gone ahead.”

  “So it has come to that,” Barnabus said quietly.

  Castor nodded. “All of Helen’s suitors have been pressed into service, along with all their armies.”

  Barnabus’s eyes went wide. “That is all the armies of Greece.”

  “And a few from Africa, and even across the Aegean Sea,” Castor said.

  Barnabus shook his head. “Why would Paris do this? There is no way Troy can survive against that force.”

  “We have no idea,” Pollux said.

  “What about you?” Castor asked. “Do you have to leave right away?”

  Barnabus smiled. “My father said I may stay as long as you need me. And it sounds as if you will.”

  “It will be good to have you here,” Castor said.

  “It will good to be here,” Barnabus said. “And I look forward to finding whoever is behind this—and destroying them.”

  Pollux smiled—his first real smile since this all began. “As do we all.”

  Chapter 46

  Pelion, Greece

  Clytemnestra held her cloak tightly around her. She was cold even though not a single wind stirred. It’s a sign. This whole undertaking is folly.

  She had accompanied Agamemnon to the coastal city of Pelion at his insistence. The rest of the Greek forces would join them within the next few days. Clytemnestra hated every moment of their time here. She had felt cold ever since she had received word of Helen’s abduction and the breezes from the Aegean Sea made it even worse. Of course, the people who had told her about Helen's plight had not used that particular word. In their gleeful eyes and with their salacious words, she had known they were looking for her reaction. So she had coolly stared them down and said nothing.

  Since Helen’s wedding, she and her daughter, Iphigenia, had spent as much time in Sparta as possible. In fact, Iphigenia had been born there. But Clytemnestra still had to return to Mycenae from time to time to attend her duties, and each time she felt like she was being cast out of heaven and into hell.

  Now as she stood on the edge of the dock, she looked over the forces her husband had marshaled in Helen’s name. It looked as if all of Greece were here. As far as she could see in all directions stood the armies of Mycenae’s neighboring kingdoms—thousands of men. She shivered at thoughts of the battle to come.

  She had heard the men joking about Helen’s fickle ways. But Clytemnestra knew Helen—and she knew her sister had not gone with Paris willingly, no matter how many people tried to convince her otherwise. Oh, it was true that Helen had always been headstrong, adventurous, and willful. But beyond all that, she was loyal. She would never abandon Menelaus. She would never willingly walk away from her children. And she would never walk away from Sparta. Sparta wasn’t just her home, it was her blood—her life. She would no more walk away from it willingly than she would cut off her own arm on a whim.

  “There you are. I have been looking for you.” Agamemnon stopped next to her, a frown on his face.

  Clytemnestra cringed, telling herself not to step away from him. He didn’t like when she showed her fear of him—at least not in public. “I’m sorry, my lord. I did not know you were looking for me.”

  “You should have stayed where you were put.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Agamemnon looked around. A group of six men stood farther down the dock, but none were within earshot. “I hear you are telling people you do not believe Helen ran away. That you believe she was forced against her will.”

  Clytemnestra looked up into her husband’s face and won
dered how she had ever seen kindness in it. When she was a young girl, looking into those eyes, she had been so sure that it was love shining back at her. She hadn’t seen the cruelty. She hadn’t seen the calculation.

  Helen had. Helen had warned her. She had begged her not to marry him. But Clytemnestra had thought she’d known better. She hadn’t trusted Helen’s reasons for speaking the way she had, believing Agamemnon’s false words over her sister’s words spoken in love.

  But she was no longer a young foolish girl. Now she heard the dishonesty in Agamemnon’s proclamations of love. She saw the calculation in his eyes as he spoke of people and considered what they could do for him. Clytemnestra had spent years cowing to this man. But no more. She would not betray Helen.

  “She would not run from Sparta,” she said. “It is not possible.”

  Agamemnon took her arm and squeezed it tight. “I say she has. And you will agree with me. Do you understand?” His words were harsh, but to anyone looking his face showed only concern.

  Clytemnestra swallowed. “No. I will not say that. I know it is not true.”

  “You know nothing! You are nothing. You live, you breathe, only by my mercy. Your sister is a harlot. And you will declare her as such.”

  Agamemnon’s words shot a bolt of terror through Clytemnestra, but she shook it off. He could do what he wanted to her. He had already done so for years. But he could not make her do this. She would never publicly speak against her sister. “No.”

  Agamemnon pulled his hand back as if to strike, but then apparently remembered they were in public. He brought his hand down and caressed her cheek, a smile across his lips. “You are no longer scared of me. Or is that you just don’t care what happens to you anymore?”

  She looked at him but said nothing.

  “The latter, I think. But there are some things you still care about, aren’t there?” he murmured. “You will regret this little rebellion.” He leaned in close and kissed her cheek before walking off.

  As Clytemnestra watched him go, horror grew inside of her. What had he meant by that? What was he going to do?

  What have I done?

  Chapter 47

  Troy, Turkey

  Paris closed the door to his bedroom and stepped into the long hallway. He and Helen had arrived just a short while ago. Helen had played her part on arrival, and he’d had her taken to her room. His family hadn’t been there to greet them, for which Paris was grateful; he wasn’t sure how they were going to take the news of Helen. But more importantly, he hoped they did not hear of his treatment in Pharos. He was a prince of Troy, and Proteus had treated him like a beggar.

  But by the time Paris had returned to his rooms, taken a long bath, and changed his clothes, the focus of his anger had shifted from Proteus to Helen. That bitch. Helen had played her part, true, but each time she looked at him he could feel her contempt, her derision. No doubt Proteus had merely been responding to it.

  But Paris had faith in Zeus. Zeus had assured him that Helen would fall in line. The god was all-powerful, and he had chosen Paris to be his agent on earth. He had promised him wealth, influence, and even the kingdom of Sparta, which he would crush under his boot. Three times now Zeus had contacted Paris through his great falcon, assuring him of his plans. He even told Paris when Menelaus would be gone from Sparta. But in each missive he made it very clear Helen that needed to be brought to Troy. Only through that act would Paris receive his grand reward. And Paris knew that of all the men on the Earth, no one deserved riches as much as he did. After scraping by for most of his life, he was back in his rightful place, as a prince of Troy.

  Still, Helen was testing his resolve. Gods, the men of Sparta were insane to give their women so much freedom! They were the equals to men, speaking their mind on all sorts of topics. Even their royal lineage went through the women rather than the sons. Men were focused on fighting while women ran the kingdom. Paris shook his head. Blasphemy. It was against the natural order, and the result was a woman like Helen, who thought she could do whatever a man could.

  But I showed her, he thought with a satisfied grin. Threaten her children and she turns back into a mewling cow—like all women.

  “Paris!”

  Paris cringed at the sound of his brother’s yell. He had not been looking forward to this confrontation. But he turned, pasted a smile on his face, and opened his arms. “Hector. It is good to see you.”

  Hector wrapped Paris in a hug. Paris seethed as his face was pushed into Hector’s muscular chest. His shorter stature was another slight against him. But as he pulled back, he smiled up at his brother, the heir to Troy.

  Worry lined Hector’s face. “Paris, what have you done?”

  With a sigh, Paris stepped back. “You mean Helen?”

  “‘Helen’? She’s not just Helen. She is the queen of Sparta. You have declared war on all of Greece by taking her.”

  “I did not take her. She came on her own. Spartan women can choose their mates, and she has chosen me.”

  “She is married to Menelaus. She is not free to choose.”

  “We are in love, brother.”

  Hector sighed. “When she was married, all the kingdoms swore an oath that they would not interfere in her marriage with Menelaus. If anyone did, the rest would be honor-bound to retrieve her. It is not just Sparta we go up against, brother, it is all the kingdoms. Do you realize the troubles you have brought to our shores?”

  Paris waved away Hector’s concerns. “No one has ever breached Troy’s walls, and no one will.”

  Hector sighed again; the sound grated on Paris’s nerves. “Paris, you do not understand the rigors of battle. If they have to, they will surround us and keep us locked inside until they starve us out. And if we wait to fight until then, we will be weakened from hunger. Which means we will need to end this before that point. People will die, Paris. Good men will lose their lives because of this choice of yours.”

  “And what of me? I should have been Helen’s rightful husband. The gods are on my side.”

  “You? We had not even found you then. And besides, you were too young. You were not ready for—” Hector went quiet.

  “For a woman like Helen?” Paris asked quietly. “You have never respected me as a man. And that is what I am.”

  “Then act like it! Return Helen and stop this madness before it goes any farther.”

  Paris narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you the great military commander? Can you not defeat our enemies? Can you not protect a kingdom that has never been breached, with the world’s greatest army at your command?”

  Hector’s shoulders slumped. “Any good commander worth his salt knows battle is unpredictable. Avoiding it is always best. Menelaus will bring his heroes with him. He will bring Achilles and the Myrmidons.”

  A chill ran through Paris. “Achilles? Why would he bother himself with this? He was not part of the games. He is not loyal to Sparta.”

  “Achilles was trained in Sparta, alongside Castor, Pollux, and even Helen. There were even rumors that Achilles fell in love with her when he stayed there—and that he now fights with such ferocity because he is trying to forget her. He will come. And he will bring his men with him.”

  For the first time, Paris felt a lick of fear. The rumors of Achilles’s fierce strength had traveled far and wide. He was said to be stronger than any man alive, able to fight in two places at once, and invulnerable to any weapon created by man. “They say he is the son of a god. That he cannot be harmed.”

  “No. Achilles is human enough. He bleeds like any man. But he is someone you want standing next to you in battle—not across from you.”

  Paris straightened, puffing out his chest. “If he is human, then he can be killed. I see no reason to fear him more than any other man.”

  “And that is why I fear you doom us,” Hector said quietly. “You do not see what the rest of us see.” He turned and walked down the hall, leaving Paris staring after him.

  As his brother turned the corner,
Paris seethed. How dare Hector lecture him on the merits of war? Paris had been in enough battles to know what was at stake. Why, in the last battle, he had even drawn his sword and defended himself. He knew what it meant to go to war.

  He turned and strode in the opposite direction, no longer wanting to go and greet his father. He did not want to hear another lecture. Instead, he headed for the courtyard. He needed some air.

  When he pushed through the door, a bright sun in a blue sky smiled down upon him. This weather was surely a sign that the gods were indeed on his side. His brother was worried over nothing. They would defeat whoever came to their shores, including the legendary Achilles. Because Hector was right: Achilles was just a man.

  And he would die like any other man.

  Chapter 48

  Pelion, Greece

  Clytemnestra finished re-packing her things. She was on her ship and waiting along with everyone else for wind to allow them to set sail. She needed something to do to keep her from going insane. As soon as Iphigenia arrived from Mycenae, the two of them would go to Sparta to stay with Helen’s children while Agamemnon and Menelaus sailed to Troy. She glanced out at the water, which was as still as glass. If we ever manage to get there.

  Agamemnon’s threat had stayed in the back of her mind and haunted her dreams for this last week. It had her on edge and jumping at shadows. But she was beginning to think he had forgotten about it. He did sometimes; his threats were so common. Now she just needed to get on her ship and set sail for Sparta. But the wind had died down days ago and had refused to blow since. It felt like the calm before the storm.

  The door to her cabin flew open. Clytemnestra whirled around her, her hand to her chest.

  “Madam, you must come immediately.” Her attendant, Morcant, rushed in. Her dark eyes were wild, and her hair, usually neatly pulled back, lay in a mess upon her head.

 

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