Author's Note: Longest, but possibly most important chapter yet. It felt like it took ages to write it, too. I am sorry about the lateness of my last two chapters, but this is dress rehearsal week and shows start in two days, and I've been working my butt off at every rehearsal. Anyhow, this chapter is pretty serious, and if I were to rewrite this as a novel, it would come much sooner than chapter 9. It's where - I'm hoping - the story gets interesting.

As for the names of seige weapons, I checked and made sure I used the right names, but I had to get slightly inventive with the plurals.


Agamemnon was in a very good mood. The Greeks had the advantage now that they had pressed the Trojans back and destroyed two of their crucial resources. Plus he enjoyed burning things.

"Ahh, and here he comes, Odysseus, a champion of Atlantis, sent to fight in my army. Join us, Arkantos – you know the famous Odysseus, surely."

"I know of him – your reputation precedes you." Arkantos bowed slightly to Odysseus.

Odysseus did likewise, replying, "As does yours. Are you ready for the siege? We could use your advice in planning our attack."

With a hint of melodrama, Agamemnon took control of the conversation. "As the commander here, I have already taken care of the plans, Odysseus. You and Arkantos will take your armies, and start the siege of the gates."

"That's a fine start," said Arkantos, not entirely sure he meant it. Hoping Agamemnon had at least a little more in mind, he also carefully suggested, "What about the other armies?"

"Ajax and I will keep our men in reserve. When you get through, Ajax will rush his men in to clear out the Trojan defenders. Then I will enter and rescue Helen." With a proud but ridiculous gesture of his hand to his chest, he stuck his nose in the air, turned on his heel, and walked away. He usually walked away in that manner, in fact.

Odysseus and Arkantos exchanged a meaningful glance. "I hope this works," said the glance.

The man from Ithaca scratched his head. "Huh. I find it interesting that Agamemnon's plan depends on the Trojans doing nothing."

Denae, who was again standing with Arkantos and Marcus for no apparent reason, was thrilled to be in the presence of her favorite hero. She read the Odyssey even more often than the Iliad, and was now almost face to face with the man she knew better than her own mother. She resisted the temptation to stare at him in awe, though the result was that she stared at him with a look of forcibly restrained curiosity. She hung on his every word.

"We can always hope," Arkantos replied.

"And pray," Odysseus added.

Marcus decided it was his turn and said, "Indeed."

"This is going to take a while, isn't it?" Denae asked uncertainly.

Odysseus scratched his beard. "Given that we will most likely be resisting Trojan attacks whilst we build siege equipment, then there's the task of actually breaking down the gate... yes. This will take a while."


Two months later, the gate was as sturdy as ever, and Denae had gone far past the point of saddle sores. Riding Pegasus for several hours every day had persuaded her leg muscles to buck up a bit and get used to it. Besides that, she'd seen far too many skirmishes, raided donkey caravans, and broken siege weapons while on her observation flights, and she was getting tired of the monotony of slow progress. Then again, what else would she expect? The Trojan War was famous for its length and pointlessness.

Denae prevented herself from mentioning any wooden horses, for fear that it would do something drastic and horrible to the story arc. It was tempting, since she wanted so badly to end the war, and there was always the possibility that it wouldn't cause anything terrible, but she didn't want to take any risks.

To top it all off, worsening the general feeling of irritation, it was hot. It was sometime in July or August in Turkey, meaning consistent temperatures above ninety degrees Fahrenheit and no rain to ease the suffering. Thankfully the coast provided a breeze, but that didn't prevent the sun from throwing down its rays like burning javelins. At first, Denae's Seattle skin tone was baked like a sun-dried tomato, but she was outside so much that when the burn peeled off, she started tanning. Indoors simply didn't exist, so something inside her flipped the switch and she started to toughen up to meet the environment's standards.

The day after an important progression toward the gate, Denae woke up to find her ears were tingling.

Despite the unusual condition, the rest of the morning was very normal. Following breakfast, the usual meeting in Arkantos' tent commenced.

Arkantos began, "Yesterday we pushed much closer to the gate, and I hope we can do as much today." Then he paused and turned to the priest with interest. "Marcus, I had an interesting dream last night in which the gods came to me."

"Go on," the old man offered.

"I was standing in front of the Great Temple in Atlantis, when Zeus came directly towards me and Poseidon approached me from behind. Suddenly, the temple disappeared and in its place was a great door leading into the earth. Poseidon told me to open it, but Zeus ordered I keep it closed. I did not do anything, for the door was shaking as something was pounding on it from the inside, making the floor tremble. Then the door began to swing open very slowly and I could see nothing but darkness on the other side. I woke up before it could emerge."

The circle, entranced by the dream, was silent.

Odysseus eventually broke the silence, saying, "That is ominous, indeed."

Marcus nodded slowly and began, "You must be of some importance to the gods, Arkantos. It seems they are fighting... over you."

"It would seem that way, but I think they are truly fighting over what happens to the thing behind the door, and that I am – or will be – an obstacle... an object." Only in front of this small, close group would Arkantos say something so diminishing.

"An object of importance," Marcus insisted, "or why else would they not simply fight each other?"

Odysseus jumped in. "He is right. Even if you are an obstacle to them, you are a powerful one that can't simply be stamped out."

"Or a powerful tool," Denae added. "Perhaps they need you."

Arkantos was thinking. Tools and objects were certainly things he didn't want to be... yet the gods needed him. For what? "How will I know what to do? I don't know what's behind the door, and I fear it, but I have prayed to Poseidon all my life and he has been my guide. I cannot think Poseidon would wish harm to me or the world... besides Zeus. Who, then, do I trust?"

"Yourself," Marcus answered.

Considering this, Arkantos asked himself what to do next, and realized he knew. "I'm going to find out what the thing is before I choose anything. Denae and Marcus, sacrifice a goat to Poseidon and to Zeus, and hopefully one of them will provide the information we need."

"We will," Denae replied and nodded.

Arkantos nodded which they both took as a dismissal, but then he gestured that only she stay. He then turned to the only Greek man in the room and said, "Odysseus, I pray you do not let my dream trouble you, for we have a task at hand."

"True enough, so I will speak of it. Much of my siege was damaged in the last fight. We don't have time to repair it if we want to continue before the Trojans reinforce their gate."

"My Helepoli are still in good condition and we haven't even begun to use the Petrobolosi. I think we have enough siege weaponry to take on two more days like yesterday, which will be enough to complete the job, surely."

"We are almost there."

"Order your men to ready a few of the Petrobolosi, then, and prepare to leave by noon."

"I will." Odysseus shook Arkantos' hand and exited the tent.

Denae began, "Did you ask—"

"I left something out," Arkantos said simultaneously.

"Pardon?"

He turned away from her, leaning on the back of a nearby chair. "I left something out of my dream when I told it in front of Marcus and Odysseus."

"What—"

"I'm going to tell you what it is," Arkantos said urgently, interrupting her again.

Denae waited. He seemed determined to tell her, but remained unsure as to how. "Yes?" she prompted.

He woke up from staring at the floor, a little startled. "Oh," he said. He stopped leaning on the chair and moved it over to the side, sitting down on the carpet where it was. He stared at a spot on the floor, and Denae supposed she should sit there. The moment she did, though, he sounded a sharp intake of breath and sprung up again. He had too much nervous energy to sit down, so he started pacing by the entrance to the tent with his arms and hands flat at his sides and his neck bowed so that his head was almost perpendicular to his shoulders. After a moment of this, he snapped out of it to stare at Denae who stood up slowly, watching his strange behavior. "You were in it," he stated blankly. He suddenly remembered something and his face went from blank to confused and anxious. "You were... I mean, when the dream started, you and I were standing alone in front of the Great Temple. First we saw Zeus and when he was close, Poseidon came from behind and put a hand on your shoulder. You turned around and faced him while I faced Zeus. That was when the temple disappeared with the door in its place. Poseidon spoke first, telling you to open it. Zeus told me to keep it closed. Poseidon pulled you away and I couldn't see you or turn, or move. I could only hear your voice, calling my name and screaming, 'I can change it! It doesn't have to happen!' Zeus said again to close the gate, and that was when I noticed that it was opening. Smoke and strange, dead light were coming through it. The thing inside roared so loud that it drowned you out, even your screaming voice, and when it stopped, everything was silent. But at the same time as the sudden silence, you appeared next to me again, kneeling on the ground, bent over, and your hand in mine. Zeus told me to close the door again, came closer and said it a fourth time, all while the gate was slowly opening. It was halfway, and then the dream ended."

Arkantos breathed slowly for a moment, then sat down on the floor, this time to stay. Once he had started telling the story, it was much easier to keep going, but it had drained him to release so many words and meanings all at once.

Denae sat down on the floor in front of him and stared at her hands in her lap. Her ears were still tingling, and now it was worse. "I screamed?"

"I can change it... it doesn't have to happen," Arkantos repeated softly.

"I'm wrong. I can't change it. And if I can... I shouldn't."

He stared at her. "Change what?"

Denae forced herself to look at him, but she only lasted a moment. She turned her head away again to look at the floor next to her. She thought she heard something banging deep within the earth, and wondered why the soft yet resounding sound was even reaching her. Taking a deep breath, she ignored it and answered Arkantos' question. "If I told you, I would be changing it. I can't change it."

"Change..."

"I can't change it."

Outside the tent a few minutes later, Denae found Odysseus just finishing his orders to his troops. They dispersed and started bustling about their jobs, eager to be nearly done with the siege.

"Odysseus!" Denae called before he could walk away.

"Yes?" he replied, following her beckoning hand toward her.

"Please tell me that the future cannot be changed."

He immediately agreed, "The future cannot be changed."

"Tell it to me like a command."

He put his hand on her shoulder and ordered sincerely, "Don't mess about with fate, Denae, or you'll receive the gods' fiery wrath." Then he took his hand off her shoulder and smiled, "Was that good enough?"

"Yes. Now make me swear that I will never, ever change the future or fate or any of those things that have to happen for the sake of the... world." She had almost said 'story,' but she remembered just in time that it was not all about plot to Odysseus as it was to her.

"Hold up your right hand, then, and recite after me." She raised her hand as she was ordered, and Odysseus continued, "I, Denae, do hereby solemnly swear..."

"I, Denae, do hereby solemnly swear..."

"—that under no circumstances will I change or attempt to change fate or the future..."

"Under no circumstances will I change or attempt to change fate or the future—"

"—or upset the worldly balance of events and their relation to time."

"Or upset the worldly balance of events and their relation to time."

"There."

"That was a very thorough vow. Very good."

"What was it for?" Odysseus asked curiously but softly, noting the very serious look on Denae's face.

She took a long, slow breath, then said, "It was to keep me from doing something extremely stupid."

"Which was?"

"Changing it. I can't change it. It has to happen. If it doesn't... it will never end. And I think a lot of people could die if I changed it. I can't change it. I can't." She started muttering similar thoughts, staring at something next to Odysseus' ear.

Concerned, he grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her toward the remains of the breakfast fire, sitting her down on a log that was used as a bench. He called a servant over for a bowl of wine, and when the servant returned Odysseus held it to her lips. She stopped muttering to take a sip of the medicinal liquid, holding the bowl with her own hands over Odysseus' so that she might steady it. After the first sip, he let her rest the bowl on her lap before taking his hands away, leaving the bowl in hers.

"Finish this," he said, patting her gently on the back, "then go help Marcus with the goats as Arkantos ordered. Don't worry too much about the future because the Fates have it under control and we have more important things to do."

Sitting next to her and continuing to massage her back with one hand, he stayed to watch her finish half of the wine, then stood up slowly. With one last pat on the shoulder, he walked away to tend to his duties.

Denae found Marcus a little while later on a bit of tent-free grass where the livestock – which was all stolen from Trojan farms outside the walls – was kept. The old man was arguing with another old man over whether or not the gods deserve a high-quality goat.

The goat-keeper insisted, "How are the gods gonna tell the difference, anyway, eh? You kill 'em and serve 'em up and burn 'em and by then you can't tell a calf from a squirrel."

"You act as though the gods do not watch the sacrifice!"

"They're so far away, how can they see us, eh? They're all high up on their mountain thing, and all they gets from us is the smoke. You think they can tell the difference?"

"Mount Olympus is always above us, and the gods can look down and see the entire world." The non-believer started to open his mouth, but Marcus stopped him by reasoning, "They're gods! They just do! That means they can see us performing a lousy sacrifice!"

Denae interrupted, "Um, yes, Marcus is right. Anyhow, we just need two goats of very similar quality, so that they don't think we've got favorites or something. Trouble with simultaneous sacrifices, that."

"Whaddya need two for?"

"We need some questions answered, and it involves both Zeus and Poseidon. You wouldn't want to get either of them angry, let along both, would you?"

"Er... no."

"Right. Two goats."

The man picked two animals out of the group – which had about fifteen total – and looped rope leashes around their necks. They were in very similar condition, indeed, though that condition was not at best. Marcus was about to argue some more, but Denae stopped him because she'd suffered too much trauma in the last ten minutes to try to end the fight all over again. The priest grumbled something to himself and grabbed the rope leashes to lead the goats to the altars near the beach.

Whispering aside to Denae when Marcus was a little farther off, the goat-herder said, "Do you really believe in all that... you know, gods and things?"

She sighed. "No, because I don't need to. Trust me, seeing isn't believing. Once you just know, all the faith gets taken out of it. You're just left with a twinge of fear and the wish to avoid them if at all possible. People who get mixed up with gods in those stories end up badly for a reason."

"So, they are there?"

"Yes, but it's probably best if you just ignore them."

"Right. Well, those goats were gonna be slaughtered, anyway. They haven't eaten since yesterday, you know. That's what you have to do before you kills 'em. Didn't want to give you goats that weren't ready, or else you'd get some really stinkin' meat, eh?"

"Of course. Um, thank you."

Denae nodded and hurried after Marcus, eager to get the job done and over with.

Making animal sacrifices was always a little unnerving. Things burned up far faster than normal, and a much smaller amount of ashes remained than there should have been. Then there was the matter of their terrible voices actually speaking to her. The sound always came from somewhere right behind her right ear; it was soft, but it echoed through all the tubes and chambers in her ear, sending all kinds of mixed signals to her brain so that she heard lots of other, strange things besides the voice itself.

It took well over thirty minutes to walk to the altars that had been built near the Atlanteans' previous campsite. There was a small drop where the grass stopped and the sand began, and on the grassy side of this was a half-ring of altars and a few sparse trees. Each was dedicated to a different god whose name was carved into the rough-hewn wood. There were at least twelve of these blood-stained tables, and they formed a semi-circle which opened toward the water. Sitting in the middle, a ring of stones and a charred patch of dirt suggested many past campfires.

"So, who's doing who?" Denae asked, pulling her stubborn goat forward the last few feet. Her face was sprinkled with droplets of sweat from the effort of dragging that creature for two miles.

Marcus panted and sat down on the altar of Hermes. He had the much more willing animal, but he was also old as dirt. He contemplated a bit, then answered, "I doubt Poseidon will answer to me, seeing as he's been ignoring me for longer than I care to admit. You pray to him, and I to Zeus."

"Alright, sounds reasonable." With a forceful tug on the rope, at the end of which the goat was still being mulish, she added, "If only this goat would budge! Three more feet! A couple of steps you stupid beast, move!"

The old man watched her frustration and laughed at her, but not in a mocking way. Unable to help but smile, she relaxed her pull for a bit to wipe some of the sweat off her neck. As soon as it had some slack from the leash, the goat walked casually into the half ring and bit into a chunk of juicy-looking grass next to Poseidon's altar. Whether it was just chance or not, Denae laughed out loud with Marcus in spite of herself.

After catching their breath and cooling off a little, they prepared themselves for the next step, which was to prepare the sacrifices. It was not at all the most pleasant thing to do, but it was better than what was to follow. It took a few hours to complete the process, and the sun was leaning to the west when the meat was finally skinned and carved. After that, it was another hour or so to cut out most of the fat and bones to offer to the gods. Being much leaner than sheep or cattle, goats as sacrifices were not considered as generous, but it did the job for the simple task at hand. A small offering, they hoped, would be sufficient to make the gods listen a little better, and with better favor.

There was still a meager stockpile of firewood nearby with which Denae built a small fire. They burnt the offal and set the offerings on the altars before burning those as well. When the altar fires were lit, Denae and Marcus exchanged a glance so that they could kneel and bow their heads simultaneously. Then the gods came.

Denae immediately heard the water rushing in her ears and the dampened sound of waves crashing distantly on the surface, mixed with the clatter of hooves on rock. Every noise was deeper as the water slowed and distorted the sound. She had to close her eyes to keep from getting dizzy with the feeling of being underwater when she really wasn't.

After a long moment of disorientation, the soft but resounding roar gained some clarity, and it suddenly had always been a voice saying, "Hello."

The little spiral of vibrating hairs behind her eardrum whimpered.

"Poseidon?" she asked, hopelessly forgetting anything she thought she would say. Her own voice sounded pathetically close and flat in comparison to that echoing sonorousness.

"Duh."

She shuddered. "I, um, just want to ask about that dream. That Arkantos had. That dream. You know. About you. Zeus. Me. Kronos."

"I still don't see why Zeus brought you into this. He wants you to let Arkantos die, anyway, so what's the point?"

"I have to let him die, don't I? Otherwise it all goes wrong."

"What goes wrong?"

"The story! Maybe it won't end and I'll be stuck in it, or maybe all the Atlanteans will die, or—"

"Right. And the Fates themselves will turn to dust or something, is that it? Look, the Fates don't work with threads, they work with tangled nets that change a little every time someone makes a decision. Threads don't just go one direction, and there's so much room for possibilities you could fit Mount Olympus itself in there. Then mortals go around thinking everything's decided for them, so they let themselves get killed. It's stupid."

A distant crash of splintering wood on rock mingled with the sound of his voice.

"Why don't you want Arkantos to die? You're the one helping Gargarensis."

"I do want Arkantos to die. I'm just telling you the truth."

"Which is?"

"You have the power, not Fate."

There was a moment of silence, except the unpleasant ocean ambience, then Poseidon took a bite out of something, presumably the sacrifice. The juicy fat dripped so he smacked his lips and licked his fingers, destroying part of the impact of his words.

"Despite popular belief," he said casually, "I'm very partial to goat fat. Has a different flavor to it somehow, and I quite like it. It also feels more like a treat, like dessert, unlike the pressure of one hundred cattle on your plate. That's like being in a one-man eating contest, and I always feel sick afterward."

"I didn't know gods could feel sick," Denae muttered.

"Perhaps it's a state of mind. Anyhow, I think our little discussion is over. You don't have any more questions, do you?"

"Why would you want to let Kronos out?"

"Bye, now!"

She surfaced and the tickling feeling of water dripping out her ears came with the un-distorted sounds of a gentle breeze and a crackling fire. Surprised by the sudden disappearance of aquatic surroundings, she opened her eyes and gasped for air, despite the fact that she had been breathing the whole time. The disorientation after speaking to minor gods was never this great, and none of them had ever been underwater. Sometimes the really unimportant ones came in person; in those circumstances their voices sounded normal, but her eyes hurt afterward. Poseidon was completely different.

Wondering if Zeus or Hades had any similar effects, she looked over at Marcus. He was lying down on his back and staring at the sky as though the world was a spinning top, and he had just been dropped inside it.

"Grthnhhhr," he said.

"Ndmmurrb," she replied.

He sat up and blinked while Denae went into a cross-legged sitting position instead of kneeling, while checking her ears for any more water. She was completely dry, and any drop of water that tried to reach her would have evaporated in the heat.

The old man shook his head and tried to regain balance, then spoke hoarsely, "I used to be accustomed to Poseidon's kingdom, but Zeus had nothing like it."

"What happened?"

"You'd think he'd be on top of a mountain, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he wasn't. He was on a throne flying through space, or maybe it was falling, I'm not sure. I sure felt like I was falling. And I didn't see anything, but there was no background noise, only his voice, and the awful feeling that I was flying, or falling, or floating."

"What did Zeus say?"

Marcus looked sharply at Denae and answered, "Poseidon is helping his son free Kronos, and you already knew that."

She met his gaze and held it, questioning, "What else did he tell you?"

"He brought you here from... something else, I couldn't understand it. Said he had something in mind for you, but couldn't tell me what. Sounded like he wanted you to save us all from Kronos."

"Save you? But Arkantos is your real leader! He's the hero of the story, the savior of Atlantis' people! There's no room in the plot for me to do anything! Even Poseidon said he couldn't see why Zeus brought me here, so I certainly don't see the point!"

"I don't understand. You always talk about stories and plots as though everything is written down!"

"Well, isn't it?"

"I hope not! I like to think that my decisions have some effect on my life, don't you?"

She paused, but only momentarily. "I don't know," she breathed angrily. "What else did Zeus have to say?"

"That you would know how to win the Trojan War."

"What, he expects me to—no. Odysseus does that! It's supposed to be the way I read it, but Zeus is making it all wrong! I didn't want this!" She stood up and kicked one of the stones that lay around the fire. It rolled partway over for a second, then plopped back into place. "I mean," she added half-heartedly, staring at the rock, "I probably wondered at some point... what it would be like to be in Ancient Greece. But that wasn't a wish, and I never envisioned... this. This wearying action. And I can't say I'm not homesick, either."

"I'm homesick, too. So why haven't you ended the war yet?"

"I was waiting for Odysseus to do something."

He heaved himself off the ground and stood next to Denae. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I thought I knew how things were supposed to be. But they're not anymore."

Marcus nodded solemnly and began to clean up. Packing his bag with the still-fresh goat meat, he shuffled about while Denae stared at the crumbling oak branches in the fire. He even packed her bag for her and handed it to her; she accepted it subconsciously when he put it in her hand.

Ready to start walking back, he turned toward her again and pleaded quietly, "Please... just do something."