by R. D. Brady
Helen lay curled up against a rock. Her face was peaceful in sleep—all the worry and responsibility gone. He knew he should wake her. They should head inside. But instead he sat down next to her. When she stirred and shivered, a frown crossing her face, he gently pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. The frown disappeared from her face and a sigh escaped her lips.
He had kept himself from her for ten long years. It had been right. But he knew as she did, that time had done nothing to lessen the feelings between them. And for this moment, there was nothing between them. So he would let himself have this moment where he could imagine what could have been. He would let himself hold her for a little longer, let her rest for a little longer, let the world continue to turn without both of them for just a little longer.
Chapter 106
Helen awoke, feeling warm. She snuggled in deeper and felt the heartbeat underneath her. She opened her eyes to see Achilles’s face mere inches from hers.
For a moment, time stopped, and she simply stared at him. Never in her life had she seen a man more beautiful. She thought back to that horrible day when all her hopes for a future with Achilles had been crushed. His anger had destroyed so much. And her father had been unrelenting. But had she chosen correctly? Menelaus—he was a good man. He was a good father. And she did love him. But Achilles was the air she breathed. She came to life when he appeared. And now that she had seen him again, how could she go back to a life that was only half-lived?
She suspected now that Agamemnon was behind that horrible day. That man Claudius who had drugged Achilles had been in his employ. She could not prove it but in her heart she knew it. Agamemnon had destroyed her chance at a life with the man she loved, all so he could gain more power. She stared at Achilles's face and wondered what it would have been like to have awoken to this sight every morning for the last decade. Her heart ached at the thought.
She reached up and placed her hand along Achilles’s cheek, all the love she had felt for him causing her to tremble. And slowly he opened his eyes.
Helen gasped and tried to pull her hand away, but he placed his hand over hers. They stared at each other, neither one moving.
The clash of swords and the sound of yells inside the walls broke the spell.
“It’s begun,” Achilles said.
“Yes.” Helen gave herself one more moment, then pulled her hand from underneath Achilles’s and stood. What could have been is a dream. This was their reality. “We need to get to Clytemnestra.”
Achilles stood as well, opening his arms. “I am at your service, my queen.”
Helen hesitated for only a moment before stepping into them. “Then let us go.”
Chapter 107
The sounds of fighting grew closer, and Clytemnestra sprang to her feet. She grabbed the staff that Adorna had smuggled into the room and went to the maid’s cot in the corner. She shook Adorna’s shoulder. “Adorna, it’s time. Wake up.”
Groggily, Adorna opened her eyes. “Helen?”
“Close enough.” She helped Adorna up. “You need to go to the bathing chamber and wait.”
“But—”
“No buts, Adorna. Go.”
Adorna studied her for a long moment, then nodded. Clytemnestra stood facing the door, knowing the moment would come soon.
It wasn’t long before she heard running footsteps. When they stopped outside the door, Clytemnestra adjusted her grip on the staff.
The door burst open, and three Trojan guards ran in. Clytemnestra recognized them—they were members of Paris’s royal guard.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
“Prince Paris is done with you,” one of the men said with a leer, his words slurring together. “He said we could have you.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Clytemnestra replied. She kept her voice steady even though fear tore through her. They think you are Helen. So be like Helen.
The man lunged for her, and she stepped to the side, slamming the end of the staff into his face and then the back of his head, pitching him forward. He hit the ground and didn’t move. She didn’t even wait for the other two to attack. She whirled the staff back around, hitting one man hard in the stomach and the other just under the chin. Both fell to their knees, the latter grabbing for his throat.
The first man reached for her again, but a sudden gust of wind from the doorway sent him crashing into the wall.
Clytemnestra gaped as Helen and Achilles ran in. Helen grabbed her by the arms. “Clytemnestra! Are you all right?”
Clytemnestra looked between her sister and Achilles, who was now holding the guard who'd first attacked her by the throat. “How—?”
Helen kicked one of the other men in the head when he attempted to stand. “We know what’s going on. It’s been Agamemnon this whole time. He’s Zeus. He’s after a weapon hidden here in Troy.”
Clytemnestra’s jaw dropped. “But, that’s not possible. He doesn’t have powers.”
“I know, but he did once." Helen quickly explained what she had learned, and with each word Clytemnestra felt sicker. She had children with that man, had turned her back on her family for him.
Helen grabbed her arm. “Clytemnestra?”
Clytemnestra cleared her head with a shake. “It’s just—how did I not see it?”
“None of us did. Where is Adorna?”
“I’m here.” Adorna stepped out of the bathing room, and Helen hurried over and pulled her into a hug. “You’re all right?”
Adorna took Helen’s face in her hands. “Yes. And it looks as if you are as well. Hello, Achilles.”
Achilles inclined his head with a smile. “Adorna.” He tossed the man he held into the wall.
“Achilles will take you two out of here while I find the Omni,” Helen said.
Clytemnestra shook her head. “No. I’ll—”
Helen squeezed her arm. “It’s my duty. Go with Achilles. But first, have you seen this symbol?” She pointed to the two triangles on the face of her ring.
Clytemnestra shook her head. “No.”
Adorna cut in. “I have. The old chapel on the third floor. It’s quiet. No one goes there. That symbol is engraved on a brick near the back wall, on the right-hand side.”
Helen’s relief was obvious. “Thank you, Adorna.” And with those words she ran out the door.
“Helen, no!” Clytemnestra moved to follow her, but Achilles stepped in the way. “I’m taking you two to safety.”
Clytemnestra pushed against his chest. “How can you let her go alone?”
“I am not letting her do anything. I promised her that I would get you out, and as soon as I have, I will come back for her.” He threw Adorna over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around Clytemnestra’s waist, lifting her. “Hold on.”
Everything blurred, so Clytemnestra squeezed her eyes shut. She could hear fighting, but she wasn’t worried about her safety. She knew Achilles would not let her or Adorna be harmed.
She just wished he would move faster so he could return to Helen. Be careful, sister.
Chapter 108
Helen hurried down the hall, clutching her sword tightly. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t run into a soul. This was the old part of the castle, where no one lived and very few of the rooms were ever used.
The sounds of the battle grew louder as she passed the main stairwell. Apparently Ulysses’s plan had worked. The Trojans would not survive for long with the Greeks inside the wall.
She found the chapel at the end of the hall. The door creaked loudly as she opened it, and she winced at the noise. She slipped inside and shut the door behind her.
Clytemnestra had said the marked brick was near the back wall along the right-hand side, but the shadows made it difficult to make out anything. She walked slowly along the wall, squinting at the bricks, looking for the mark.
Her heat was pounding and her muscles tense. Where is it?
Then she spotted it, four feet from the corner. Relief washed over her. Thank you.
She tried pulling the brick but nothing happened. But when she pushed directly on the interlocked triangles, she heard a click, and a small drawer popped open beneath the brick. Inside lay an ivory box—the same design as the one in Crete. Thank the gods.
With trembling arms she withdrew the box. She walked over to a table at the end of a pew and set it down. Taking a breath, she opened the lid.
It cannot be.
The box was empty.
Chapter 109
Helen wanted to scream. Twice—twice!—she had been deceived. Gods be damned.
A tingle rolled over her. Before she could even react, a figure dropped down from the rafters and yanked off her ring, pulling the box from her hands as well. Helen struck out with her fist, but all she hit was air.
“Tut, tut. You really should learn to be more aware.” Agamemnon smiled from the other side of the room. “Looking for something?”
Fear tried to choke Helen’s throat. “You already found it.”
Agamemnon smiled again. “Not me. Your love, Paris. So accommodating for a prince.”
“Is he dead yet?”
“Not by my hand. But it’s doubtful the man will survive the day. His fighting skills leave a little to be desired. I must say, Helen, you’ve been a little slow on the uptake. I expected more of the ring bearer.” Agamemnon unfurled his fingers, displaying the ring in the palm of his hand. “Or should I say the former ring bearer?”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing. Now that I have this," he held up the ring, "I have everything I need.”
A chill washed over Helen as Ajeet's words came back to her. The instructions for how to create more will be with it. They however only be revealed to the one who bears the ring. And now Agamemnon had it. But she shoved that fear aside, ring or no ring, she could not let him leave here. “You did all of this just to get your powers back? There wasn’t another way? A way that didn’t result in thousands of deaths?”
Agamemnon shrugged. “Perhaps. But this way I was guaranteed to find what I needed. Do you realize what power I hold now? I can make an army—an army of Fallen loyal to just me.”
“Why? You have power. You’ve beaten Troy—”
Agamemnon laughed. “Troy? Troy is nothing. I have a world to conquer. And I will.”
“You know I can stop you.”
“Not without this little ring of yours. I have to admit, when I first realized it was you, I kicked myself for not insisting your father let us marry. With you by my side, why, just think of what we could have accomplished.”
“I would never have helped you.”
“But you already have. Without you, I never would have found the Omni. In fact, you led me right to it. So thank you for your help, Helen. It is good to feel strong again.”
Helen pulled her sword from its sheath. “Let me rid you of that feeling.”
But before she could move, Agamemnon had blurred out of the room.
Helen sprinted out the door after him. “Come back, you coward!”
Then she came to a sudden stop. Agamemnon was long gone, but the hallway, which had been empty just a few moments earlier, was now filled with mercenaries.
Helen raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose you’re here to rescue me, are you?”
The mercenary closest to her grinned, showing off a half dozen brown teeth. Then he charged.
Chapter 110
His head was still fuzzy from all the ale he’d drunk, Paris hurried down the hall, constantly checking behind him, a cold sweat covering his body. The staff had long since disappeared. Most had fled. Some had fought and died. He, like everyone else, had been celebrating Troy’s victory when the first Greek soldier had crawled from the belly of the horse. Paris had seen the man himself, but he’d thought he was imagining things. Not until the first scream of death did reality come crashing down. He had stumbled away from the fighting, demanding his guards protect him as the next king of Troy.
Then he had run.
How had it gone so wrong? Zeus had promised him they would be victorious.
Or was it really Zeus? Ever since that last missive, he’d wondered. Zeus needed him to find a symbol within the walls of Troy. But shouldn’t the almighty Zeus be able to find it himself?
The doubts had begun to creep in. What if it was never Zeus?
He shoved that thought aside. All of this was Helen’s fault. All of this was because of that bitch. Thinking she was the equal of men! No, not the equal—the better. But he’d teach her, once and for all.
He climbed the stairwell to his room and threw open the door. “Agaro?”
Silence answered. Oh right, I killed him. What is the new guy’s name?
“Manservant?”
Still no answer. He growled. His new manservant was supposed to wait for him, but like everyone else, he had probably run away—or died. He had better be dead. His room hadn’t even been tidied since this morning.
He stomped over to the shelves lining the wall and pulled down a box. He set it down carefully on the table and lifted the lid. Twelve vials sat carefully in velvet—his own personal collection of poisons. Just yesterday there had been only eleven. He pulled out a vial marked with two intertwined triangles. But then I found you.
The vial had been in the ancient box, along with another. He had left one for Zeus, but he had kept this one. He knew power when he saw it.
Paris held the vial of strange blue liquid aloft. He’d heard the tales—they had been handed down from father to son for generations—of a powerful weapon hidden inside the walls of Troy. He’d given those tales no credence—until Zeus had asked him to find the symbol. But if the stories were correct, the contents of this vial would be the death of a god.
Or just the daughter of a god, he thought, picturing Helen.
He retrieved his quiver from the corner, removed an arrow, and dipped the tip into the vial. Then his gaze drifted over the other vials. It never hurts to be prepared. But which one to choose? Nothing too quick. She needed to suffer.
He reached for a dark liquid—winter rose. A pretty name for a nasty death. He’d seen someone die of it once. It caused its victims to suffocate, their throat and mouth swelling. He imagined Helen gasping for air, clawing at her throat. Perfect.
He carefully stood the vial on the table and uncorked it. He dipped another arrow, then, after a pause, dipped two more. He carefully closed the box and hesitated before tucking it under his arm. He might need more later, but he had a feeling four would be more than enough to deal with one troublesome woman.
Chapter 111
After depositing Clytemnestra and Adorna back at the camp, guarded by six men he trusted, Achilles headed back to the walls of Troy. Clytemnestra and Adorna would be safe. Now it was his job to protect Helen.
Inside the gates, which were now flung open, he paused to take stock. Greek and Trojans clashed in battle, but the Trojans were not up for the fight. The few left standing were sluggish.
When a Trojan roared and sprinted toward him, Achilles slammed his fist into the man’s face. The man flipped a complete circle in the air before landing with a thump. Achilles didn’t even glance at him. He had no time for this.
Dugal gave a yell. “Achilles!”
Ignoring the call, Achilles raced through the throngs of men. He could see that he was not needed by his men. What he needed was to get to Helen. True, she was a warrior, and a skilled one. She would fight. But he could not rest until he knew she was safe.
He was only a blur to the people he passed, but he willed himself to go even faster. He vaulted up the stairs and turned down the hall that led to the chapel.
Then his heart all but stopped. The hallway was littered with bodies.
Achilles slowed his pace, scanning the bodies as he passed. None of them were Helen. And when he reached the chapel, he saw that it was empty.
But she had been here. A tiny drawer lay open in the wall.
Fear poured through him. How did the mortals han
dle this feeling? How did Helen? Achilles had always relied on his strength, his speed, and they had been all he had needed. But for the first time in his life, he found himself praying to the gods. Please keep her safe.
He ran back out into the hall. At the far end, the doors to a balcony stood open, letting in the sounds of a fight in the courtyard. The sounds of Helen.
Achilles sprinted down the hall and threw himself off the third-floor balcony, rolling as he hit the ground two stories beneath him.
Helen was fighting with two men. One swiped at her with a blade. She circled into him as he swung, her back to his chest. Wrapping her arm around his knife hand and continuing the arc of his movement, she yanked him off his feet. As the man took flight, Helen kept hold of his arm, breaking his shoulder. The man screamed in pain.
The second man came at her with his knife high above his head, bringing it down at Helen’s heart. Helen stepped to the side easily, put her two hands over the man’s, and helped his downward swipe continue right into his own gut. She Helen yanked the knife upward several inches before pulling it out. She stepped back, and the man fell to the ground, dead.
Achilles felt the blood rush back into his body.
Helen gave him a frown. “Achilles?”
He forced himself not to snatch her into his arms. “You handled that well.”
She ran up to him. “Are you all right?”
Achilles laughed. “I rushed in here to rescue you. You seem to be really struggling without me.”
She smiled. “My hero. I would be lost without you.” Then her smile faded. “But I did lose my ring. Agamemnon surprised me.”
“We’ll get it back—” A movement in the corner of Achilles’s eye caused him to turn just in time to see the arrow fly. He pushed Helen to the ground, covering her with his body.
The arrow pierced his calf just above his ankle. Three more struck his back.