Chapter 7
She walked along the beach toward where her Myrmidons had set up their camp. Greeks on all sides were working hard but they all stopped to pay her some form of respect, be it a shout or a smile or even coming over to grip her arm and tell her what they thought of her taking the beach alone. But as she walked she heard her name called by a familiar voice and saw Ajax stride over. It seemed like everyone stopped to watch this meeting of two great warriors. She felt a ripple of shock go through her as she was caught up in a rib-crushing bear hug. This was not the reception she had expected.
"You're as fearless as a god," he exclaimed as he lowered her back to the ground. In all his years fighting he had never seen such a small group of warriors take out such a number of soldiers and do it without hesitation. Just from the orders of this one woman who seemed to them all barely more than a child.
"The gods are immortal. What do they have to fear?" she replied when she regained the use of her lungs.
Ajax laughed and let her go. "I'm honoured to go to war with you," he said reverently. He had never gone into battle with a more worthy comrade.
She nodded and smiled, gripping hold of his arm. "I don't have to worry about my back with you behind me," she replied sincerely before continuing along the beach. Not twenty feet on she saw Odysseus getting off his ship. She smiled and called out, "If you were any slower, the war would be over."
He grinned back and called out, "I don't mind missing the start of the war as long as I'm here at the end." They both laughed and carried on their ways.
Achilles was tired whether she admitted it or not and just wanted to rest a while. As she arrived at the Myrmidon's base she was greeted by the surviving men and Patroclus was stood with them, looking none the worse for wear for sitting this one out.
Eudorus approached her and said, "We have something to show you," before leading her to what was to be her tent. She looked around her and noticed the rest of the Myrmidons were grinning at her in a fashion not unlike when she returned from killing Boagrius and had gone back to the men she had still lying in her bed. But … surely not. Where would they find…?
But as she dipped her head and entered the tent she forgot all questions and honestly couldn't care less that the men were probably teasing her already. Because tied to the centre pole of the tent was the most beautiful creature she had ever set eyes on.
In the back of her mind she heard Eudorus say, "The men saw him trying to escape the temple with an acolyte on one of their Trojan horses. They shot at them but she got away on the boy's horse. They thought he'd … amuse you." There was a smile in his voice but Achilles didn't hear him.
All she knew was the man in front of her who was returning her stare with one of barely contained terror. His dark eyes were wide and his face was pale. He was bleeding from his lip and his clothes were torn. His hair fell in untidy curls around his face and neck and as she followed his arms to his bound wrists blood soaked the fraying rope that held him. Without looking at Eudorus she said, "Leave us." When he was gone she pulled a knife from her belt and walked toward the man. She heard him suck in a breath and his eyes remained fixed on the blade, clearly showing his fear of pain and death. But when she knelt beside him she realised just what Eudorus had said.
'They shot at them.'
An arrow protruded at an awkward angle from the back of the man's right shoulder. Blood glistened on his blue tunic and turned the fine fabric brown. It hadn't gone very deep, it seemed to have only gone a little way past the head, but was still oozing steadily. Achilles paused for a moment before cutting the rope and freeing his arms. He instantly pulled them round but cried out in pain as his shoulder was torn into a little bit more. He arched forward and she grabbed hold of his shoulders to stop him doing any more damage.
When he stopped moving she released him and stood. She silently moved to the tent flap and called, "Patroclus, bring me a needle, thread, cloth and some water." When she saw him get up to take care of her demand she went back to the young man. She felt like she should say something but she didn't know what. After a moment of awkward silence where they both stared at one another she asked abruptly, "What's your name?" He visibly flinched at the harshness of her voice and said nothing dropping his eyes. Even injured he was examining his surroundings, obviously looking for an escape route. She smirked and said with an ironic half-smile, "You're safer in this tent than out there, believe me!" Achilles wouldn't go into details about what would happen to him if he was caught. Actually, it wasn't even a case of 'if'. If he left the tent he wouldn't last two minutes before he was captured by a group of less … compassionate Greeks.
He looked like he was about to say something when the flap was pushed aside and Patroclus stuck his head in. Achilles got up and took from him the things she had asked for, putting herself between him and the man kneeling on the ground. She gave her cousin a sly smile and he grinned in reply. He knew her intentions and couldn't help smiling. Over the past few weeks she had gradually gotten more and more tense. She needed to relax some and this man might be the key to her … relaxation. He would never tell her but it had been his idea to give him to her as a gift. She would only tell him off him for meddling.
Achilles didn't need to say anything to tell him to, "Get the Hell out of here!" She just went back to kneeling by the boy and said to him, "It looks like you are going to be spending an awfully long time in this tent so you might as well say something. Unless you want to spend an indefinite length of time in awkward silence." When he didn't respond she urged in a patronising tone, "You can say what you wish, anything that comes into your mind." She knelt there watching him for a moment before she saw him take a breath and speak.
"You killed Apollo's priests." His voice was accusing but quivering slightly and his eyes went slightly glazed at what was probably a horrific memory. For a moment she wondered what exactly he had seen.
She replied as she took hold of the arrow, "I've killed men in five countries." She pulled it out and he grunted in pain. "But never a priest." She was slightly offended by this and this fact amused her a little.
"Then your men did." His teeth were gritted in pain but he still managed to say this with no less accusation lacing his tone, like he expected her to have controlled them completely from wherever she had been at that time. Actually, she had more than likely been skewering a Trojan soldier at the time—probably not much better—but that wasn't the issue here. Then he said to her, "The Sun God will have his vengeance." But his voice held little confidence, possibly because he was still reeling from the pain of having the arrow non too gently yanked from his flesh.
Achilles loved conversations like this. She always won them. "What's he waiting for?" she asked with much more confidence than he had used.
Although the boy seemed more than a little shocked at such a tone being used toward the gods he came back with venom, "The right time to strike." But his eyes didn't meet hers. He had been taught what to believe. He didn't find out for himself, on his own terms or through his own experiences. This boy was just repeating what had been told to him his entire life.
She smirked as she raised the wet cloth to his wounded shoulder and started cleaning it. "His priests are dead and one of his people is being held captive in the camp of the enemy." She paused and shifted to look into the man's eyes, raising an eyebrow cockily. "I think your god is afraid of me." Achilles watched for a second to see the immediate response before going back to her task.
He had given a breath of bitter laughter before saying, "Afraid? Apollo is master of the sun. He fears nothing, especially not an arrogant little girl running around Greece wearing her father's armour pretending to be a warlord."
"Then where is he?" That last comment had struck a nerve, especially the 'little girl' part. And he wasn't to know the armour actually was her fathers. So she bit back with spite. It was all she could do to keep from striking him. Instead she jerked the needle and thread she was using to stitch the hole in his back. He winced but made no move to reply. 'Yay, I win!' she thought with a mock triumphant half-smile as she finished off the stitching and sat back.
It was then she realised she was still covered in blood and sweat and was starting to smell like a corpse. Not a good fragrance for a girl. So once she had tightly bound the still slightly bloody wound she got up and went to the bowl of warm water on the table and stripped off her filthy clothes, having no shame in her nakedness, and began scrubbing the dirt from her skin, noticing how the young man had to drag his eyes from staring at her body to fix them on the ground.
Paris had been shut up. There was no other less defeated phrase for it. He had no reply to that. And the sight of her glorious body glistening with water and sweat was making concentrating difficult. So he forced himself to lower his almost captivated gaze and snap, "You're nothing but a killer. You wouldn't know anything about the gods." She looked at most the same age as him. Likelihood was she hadn't been educated very well if this was how she chose to spend her life. She probably didn't know anything about them.
But he was wrong. She knew. She had seen things that no god could possibly allow. If they did then they certainly didn't deserve her respect. So she said calmly, "You have seen nothing but peaceful times and beautiful cities and you think you know my heart? I know more about the gods than your priests. I've seen them." When he looked back up at her she briefly let him see the torment she kept well hidden. She didn't know why but she wanted this innocent boy to understand something of the world he had been born into but never allowed to truly see for what it was. But as she met his eyes she saw something deep inside them that drew her. There was something within him she had never seen in a man before; and because of this she didn't know how to name it. But she saw it and … she liked it.
Then something else painfully obvious jumped out at her and she jerked back from the disarming thought she had been sucked into. "You're royalty, aren't you?" she asked suddenly, grabbing a replacement leather skirt and shirt and slinging them on casually. When he said nothing and just broke her stare she smiled. "I can tell you've spent years talking down to people, you must be royalty. What's your name?" Again he said nothing. "Even the lowliest of peasants are given names and you are not one of those I am sure."
He sighed. "Paris." If she knew anything at all she would know him from this. He wondered what reaction he would receive.
Her brows shot up and her mouth fell open before she snorted in laughter. "Good god, my men know how to pick them. Here I thought I would be playing hostess to a commoner or maybe young priest and I find myself in the company of Price Paris of Troy, no less! Well, your highness," she gave a mocking bow, "you certainly are one for causing trouble. I wonder what your brother will say when I tell him the company you've been keeping." He shot her a look that spoke volumes of his fear for his brother. "Relax." She tried not to laugh at his expression. "I spoke to him this morning and sent him on his way like a whipped dog. The only wounds he will be nursing tonight are those I gave his pride when I refused to fight him."
Paris felt himself sigh in relief but not quite knowing why he was trusting her word. For all he knew his father was burning Hector on a pyre as they spoke. And it would be all his fault. But he was pulled from his thoughts by the woman asking him a question.
"So, Prince Paris, are you afraid of me?"
Her eyes were wide and honest, the blue of the crystal orbs both warm and icy at once and he found himself fighting the shiver down his back. He shouldn't be reacting to her with anything but disgust. Why the attraction? 'The danger,' the voice in his head whispered seductively to him. 'You're loving the thrill of knowing this woman has killed countless men and you want to know the feeling of being so close to death.' But in a moment the ease of her presence was gone and replaced by reality. There was no room for attraction here. Here it was all about survival and getting back to his home. He was overtaken by fear that he might very well be killed before he ever got to see the gates of Troy again. "Should I be?" he asked, his voice betraying his fear of death once again.
Before Achilles could say another word she heard Eudorus calling from outside the tent. When she replied he stuck his head round the tent flap. "My lady, King Agamemnon requests your presence."
Frustrated at being disturbed when she had only wanted to eat and rest before tomorrow she asked pointedly, "Why would I want to look at that ugly son of a whore when I could look at him?" She gestured to Pairs who was sitting in uncomfortable silence staring at the sandy ground.
The captain said by way of an explanation, "All the kings are there, celebrating the victory." He knew this wouldn't put her in the best of moods and for a moment pitied the young man that may well bare the brunt of her frustration and anger when she returned.
She looked over her shoulder and him and said, "Give us a moment." When he retreated Achilles stood and stared long and hard at Paris. Then she draped her cloak round her shoulders and headed for the entrance. "You don't need to fear me, boy." Her voice took on a dangerous tone when she continued, "You're the only Trojan who can say that."
Well, I'm back again. I hope you guys like this chapter because it's kind of key, the first meeting between the two and all. Let me know if you think there are certain details I can improve on and I'll do my best to go over it. But if your just going to say, "it sucks. change everything!" then don't bother. To be honest, I can't be bothered to rewrite the whole things yet so it's have to wait until I've finished the whole story.
Thanks to all you who reviewed. There is no better updating incentive!
Anyway, enough of my yammering. I'll let you lovely people get back to whatever it is you do with your free time :)
Have a good one!
