Author: Sabine Hawks & Alma Aciginada
Rating: R
Characters: All of the major characters left alive at the end of the film and a few new ones
Feedback: Yes, please!
(4)
The smell of cinder was still heavy in the air. It seemed to follow the fleet of Spartan ships regardless of the distance they'd traveled thus far. Odysseus shouted orders half-heartedly to his crew. They took pity on their beloved king. He had lost the greatest friend he had ever known. Achilles death was an end to an era of conquest.
A warm wind pushed the ships farther into the Aegean, but Odysseus took no notice. He had mixed feelings about his future. He believed that he should be glad to have Ithaca returned to him, but it had been nearly five years since he had ruled his own people. He was not as confident as he once was. There was no doubt Ithacans loathed their new ruler, but would they be willing to accept the return of a king who had succumbed to Agamemnon's army so quickly.
"Athena goddess, grant me solitude," he whispered to the wind.
"We will dock at Lesvos this evening," he shouted, turning to his men.
"Prepare your things. I wish to have some rest for a few days."
His crew exchanged glances, but did not question their king. Each was eager to return home. Only Odysseus dreaded it. Penelope had ceased writing to him while he was away. The last letter he had received from his wife had been nothing more than a guilt trip. Rumors of her infidelity had spread far, making him a laughing stock; he beat his fist against a beam, and quickly disappeared into his quarters below. He was never a man for tears, but no amount of strength would hold them back now.
Eudorus noticed the flames were beginning to reach the outskirts of the kingdom. The soldiers stationed there would soon have to move on. A figure was approaching fast. Eudorus recognized Cadmus atop a Trojan horse almost immediately. The latter looked as though he had received terrible news, and Eudorus felt a shiver run up his spine.
"My lord," said Cadmus, straining through shallow breaths. "I regret being the bearer of bad tidings…" He stopped short seeing the look of horror on Eudorus' face.
"Achilles," he said, his voice cracking as he tried to hold on desperately to his dignity.
"Dead, my lord. Several arrows were shot into his body."
Eudorus felt as though he'd suddenly swallowed a boulder. His heart was heavy with turmoil. "The Lord Odysseus performed the ceremonial rights of passing five mornings ago before he took sail."
"Damnit!" he cursed, unable to control the urge to cry. "Achilles is dead and Odysseus is gone. I curse the day I set foot in this ungodly land. Who did this, Cadmus? Who is responsible for his death?"
"It is unknown. All heads of royalty have been accounted for... all but four."
Eudorus looked up with anger and hope.
"The Prince Paris, the Princess Andromache and Hector's son, along with their young priestess cousin."
"Where have they gone?" Eudorus could feel the blood in his veins beginning to boil. He was certain of the priestess' betrayal, and once he got his hands on her he would squeeze the life out of her.
"No one can say, my lord, but there is a river that lies on the boarder of Troy surrounded by a vast forest, it is near to where you spotted the figures and there is also a river-–they may attempt to escape by water."
Eudorus' eyes lit up. It had not been an illusion after all. There had been survivors, and he was willing to bet his life that amongst them were the missing figureheads. He was already imagining himself slaying them all. Having been reared so far from Troy, they had heard only snippets of the stories of Amazons. In Greece they were referred to as Aresians, giants of the hunt, but no one believed such creatures truly existed. Furthermore, it was never known where they were thought to reside.
"Round up the men," he said, his voice on the edge of breaking. "We will follow them south to this river, and if I have to burn the entirety of the forest down, I will."
Eudorus had the taste of blood in his mouth. As far as he was concerned, Troy was not defeated until every royal head had been decapitated.
Andromache was unaware of her fatigue as they entered the Amazon city, and she was shocked to find that it was indeed a city. A lane sheltered on each side by forest met with a high wooden wall fortified at the bottom with roughly formed mud bricks. In the twilight it was difficult to make out the exact positioning of the wall and no torches could be seen. The princess Accalia rode at the head of their group and she let out a high whistle as they approached the gate-–a moment later the center of the wall creaked and shuddered before dropping away. The Amazons that had accompanied the group waited outside until the Trojans had entered the city and joined at the flank. Andromache held her son close to her chest, still suspicious of the Amazons and their customs. So far, however, she had been treated kindly by the women, who complimented her on the fine form of her baby and praised her strength for coming so far.
"Welcome to Theoris, the first city of sisters," Accalia announced with pride, dismounting her horse and handing the reigns to a young girl. She patted the girl on the back before turning to face the Trojans.
"You are in my city now and under my protection," Accalia pulled the cowl from her shoulders and loosened the bracers on her wrists, "Laksha will show you to the far end of the city where you will be fed and tomorrow you will meet with my mother."
The princess handed the rest of her things to the girl, who Andromache assumed was her page, and heard the girl murmur "the goddess be with you, princess" before Accalia had turned to go. She did not give the Trojans a second glance and Andromache watched her disappear by the light of the torches.
"This way," Laksha, who was much taller than the princess and of darker skin, led them deeper into the city, past large fires with animals roasting on spits and low huts made of mud and thatch. Andromache noticed that despite the late hour there were women everywhere–-she had expected to see them hunched over their fires, their backs to the strangers, but instead they congregated in groups of twos and threes, laughing loudly and waving to Laksha. They watched the Trojans with great interest, especially Paris, who was eyed with both hunger and suspicion. It was odd to see a place so full of laughter; Andromache had grown accustomed to funerals and half-hearted celebrations but these women danced and sang together with all of their hearts. It was odd, yes, but also refreshing. She noticed Paris, and saw the way Helen clung to him, one hand of her hands tangled nervously in her hair. Andromache started at the sound of male laughter across the broad road that led through the city, she looked to find an older but very strong-looking man sitting at a fire with several women, all were discoursing happily. Laksha saw Andromache's confusion.
"I'm sure you're disappointed to find that we are not rapists and murderers," Laksha said, smiling, "that is Talmai, he is Accalia's archery master, an Athenian that chose to stay after he had earned his freedom."
"Earned his freedom?"
"Yes, he was taken captive in a raid, he was given the opportunity to teach archery and when he had served enough time we gave him the option to return home," Laksha waved back as Talmai noticed the group and raised his hand in greeting, "But what man would forsake a leisurely life of archery during the day and sex during the night for the drudgery of home? What man would turn away from absolute freedom?"
Andromache was struck silent by the explanation and looked down at her son, who slept peacefully in her arms. Laksha stopped before a good-sized lodge and held open the cloth flap that served as a door, "You may all rest here, we will bring you food shortly."
Odysseus wondered if it were possible to drown himself inside his wine goblet. He wasn't drunk yet but he was hoping to change that and the barman, eager for stories from Troy, refilled the warrior's cup at each sighting of the bottom. Odysseus had no idea where his men were and didn't actually care, but the king inside of him nagged and nagged. He glanced around the tavern, wondering how he, the King of Ithaca, had come to be in such a wretched place. Eudorus had left messages for him at nearly every tavern in the town and each begged him to stay until he returned form an urgent errand. The humidity was making his head spin and he mumbled something to the barkeep, raising himself from the stool before stumbling out of the tavern.
He inhaled the sea air greedily. He loved the coast, it wasn't as rough as the water but had its smell and feel. The tavern might have been nice if not for the unsavory patrons, it was set at the very edge of the port where the cliffs fell away to the sea; it was a clear night and the moon lit up the city with the help of the stars. Odysseus felt himself sobering up as he navigated his way over to the edge of the cliff where he set himself down on the cool stone and thought about his home. Penelope. His beautiful wife, their darling son-–all of it was somewhere in the distance. The thought of another man touching his wife made his hands curl into fists...how could she do that to him? To them?
"A heavy heart after a great victory? I expected you to be celebrating."
Odysseus looked over his shoulder indifferently, finding a robed figure set against the milkiness of the moon. He shivered and was suddenly cold.
"Who are you?"
"A wanderer, some would call me a seer and still others a fraud."
"Which one is it?" Odysseus had met enough prophets in his day to know that most were trouble and best left to themselves. When alone, crazies could hurt only themselves. The stranger stood beside him, looking down with a smile hidden behind her veil. Odysseus returned her gaze and found he could only distinguish two burning green eyes.
"I would have you decide that."
Her light linen robes lifted with the breeze; Odysseus ran a hand over his grizzled beard, knowing that he did not have the patience for such games. He stood, hoping to use his height to frighten her away but the stranger did not move.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to help your friend."
"My friend?"
"Yes. The warrior Eudorus, he is in great danger."
"And how do you know this?" Odysseus could not hide his mistrust.
"He left here days ago but he does not know the country he travels in, he does not know that he is riding directly into a bed of serpents."
"And what would you have me do about it?"
"Help him, if you do not, he will parish at the hands of your enemies."
"What if you are leading me into a trap, too, seer? What if your predictions are nothing more than a scheme to deliver me to my death for some grand price?" Odysseus grabbed at her throat and held her firmly. The woman did not struggle or fight him.
"I will go with you, I will be at your mercy-–I am no match for a warrior of your stature, I have only my visions," she held his gaze, gently curling her fingers around his wrist. Odysseus did nothing. "Are you really in such a rush to return home to a wife that would love another man before your very son's eyes?"
Odysseus tightened his grip, his handsome face twisting into a snarl and still the woman did not falter, "How do you know these things? Is this the product of rumor?"
"No, King, it is a truth I regret to reveal. Even now, in the bed you made of a fine tree she entertains a man that is not you, she whispers that you are dead, that she will soon have to take another husband," she felt his grip relax and he dropped her, his hands covering his face in despair.
The seer saw her chance.
"Help Eudorus, do not rush home or even greater horrors will befall you," she stepped away from him, "meet me at the entrance to the town and first light and I will take you to your destiny."
Rating: R
Characters: All of the major characters left alive at the end of the film and a few new ones
Feedback: Yes, please!
(4)
The smell of cinder was still heavy in the air. It seemed to follow the fleet of Spartan ships regardless of the distance they'd traveled thus far. Odysseus shouted orders half-heartedly to his crew. They took pity on their beloved king. He had lost the greatest friend he had ever known. Achilles death was an end to an era of conquest.
A warm wind pushed the ships farther into the Aegean, but Odysseus took no notice. He had mixed feelings about his future. He believed that he should be glad to have Ithaca returned to him, but it had been nearly five years since he had ruled his own people. He was not as confident as he once was. There was no doubt Ithacans loathed their new ruler, but would they be willing to accept the return of a king who had succumbed to Agamemnon's army so quickly.
"Athena goddess, grant me solitude," he whispered to the wind.
"We will dock at Lesvos this evening," he shouted, turning to his men.
"Prepare your things. I wish to have some rest for a few days."
His crew exchanged glances, but did not question their king. Each was eager to return home. Only Odysseus dreaded it. Penelope had ceased writing to him while he was away. The last letter he had received from his wife had been nothing more than a guilt trip. Rumors of her infidelity had spread far, making him a laughing stock; he beat his fist against a beam, and quickly disappeared into his quarters below. He was never a man for tears, but no amount of strength would hold them back now.
Eudorus noticed the flames were beginning to reach the outskirts of the kingdom. The soldiers stationed there would soon have to move on. A figure was approaching fast. Eudorus recognized Cadmus atop a Trojan horse almost immediately. The latter looked as though he had received terrible news, and Eudorus felt a shiver run up his spine.
"My lord," said Cadmus, straining through shallow breaths. "I regret being the bearer of bad tidings…" He stopped short seeing the look of horror on Eudorus' face.
"Achilles," he said, his voice cracking as he tried to hold on desperately to his dignity.
"Dead, my lord. Several arrows were shot into his body."
Eudorus felt as though he'd suddenly swallowed a boulder. His heart was heavy with turmoil. "The Lord Odysseus performed the ceremonial rights of passing five mornings ago before he took sail."
"Damnit!" he cursed, unable to control the urge to cry. "Achilles is dead and Odysseus is gone. I curse the day I set foot in this ungodly land. Who did this, Cadmus? Who is responsible for his death?"
"It is unknown. All heads of royalty have been accounted for... all but four."
Eudorus looked up with anger and hope.
"The Prince Paris, the Princess Andromache and Hector's son, along with their young priestess cousin."
"Where have they gone?" Eudorus could feel the blood in his veins beginning to boil. He was certain of the priestess' betrayal, and once he got his hands on her he would squeeze the life out of her.
"No one can say, my lord, but there is a river that lies on the boarder of Troy surrounded by a vast forest, it is near to where you spotted the figures and there is also a river-–they may attempt to escape by water."
Eudorus' eyes lit up. It had not been an illusion after all. There had been survivors, and he was willing to bet his life that amongst them were the missing figureheads. He was already imagining himself slaying them all. Having been reared so far from Troy, they had heard only snippets of the stories of Amazons. In Greece they were referred to as Aresians, giants of the hunt, but no one believed such creatures truly existed. Furthermore, it was never known where they were thought to reside.
"Round up the men," he said, his voice on the edge of breaking. "We will follow them south to this river, and if I have to burn the entirety of the forest down, I will."
Eudorus had the taste of blood in his mouth. As far as he was concerned, Troy was not defeated until every royal head had been decapitated.
Andromache was unaware of her fatigue as they entered the Amazon city, and she was shocked to find that it was indeed a city. A lane sheltered on each side by forest met with a high wooden wall fortified at the bottom with roughly formed mud bricks. In the twilight it was difficult to make out the exact positioning of the wall and no torches could be seen. The princess Accalia rode at the head of their group and she let out a high whistle as they approached the gate-–a moment later the center of the wall creaked and shuddered before dropping away. The Amazons that had accompanied the group waited outside until the Trojans had entered the city and joined at the flank. Andromache held her son close to her chest, still suspicious of the Amazons and their customs. So far, however, she had been treated kindly by the women, who complimented her on the fine form of her baby and praised her strength for coming so far.
"Welcome to Theoris, the first city of sisters," Accalia announced with pride, dismounting her horse and handing the reigns to a young girl. She patted the girl on the back before turning to face the Trojans.
"You are in my city now and under my protection," Accalia pulled the cowl from her shoulders and loosened the bracers on her wrists, "Laksha will show you to the far end of the city where you will be fed and tomorrow you will meet with my mother."
The princess handed the rest of her things to the girl, who Andromache assumed was her page, and heard the girl murmur "the goddess be with you, princess" before Accalia had turned to go. She did not give the Trojans a second glance and Andromache watched her disappear by the light of the torches.
"This way," Laksha, who was much taller than the princess and of darker skin, led them deeper into the city, past large fires with animals roasting on spits and low huts made of mud and thatch. Andromache noticed that despite the late hour there were women everywhere–-she had expected to see them hunched over their fires, their backs to the strangers, but instead they congregated in groups of twos and threes, laughing loudly and waving to Laksha. They watched the Trojans with great interest, especially Paris, who was eyed with both hunger and suspicion. It was odd to see a place so full of laughter; Andromache had grown accustomed to funerals and half-hearted celebrations but these women danced and sang together with all of their hearts. It was odd, yes, but also refreshing. She noticed Paris, and saw the way Helen clung to him, one hand of her hands tangled nervously in her hair. Andromache started at the sound of male laughter across the broad road that led through the city, she looked to find an older but very strong-looking man sitting at a fire with several women, all were discoursing happily. Laksha saw Andromache's confusion.
"I'm sure you're disappointed to find that we are not rapists and murderers," Laksha said, smiling, "that is Talmai, he is Accalia's archery master, an Athenian that chose to stay after he had earned his freedom."
"Earned his freedom?"
"Yes, he was taken captive in a raid, he was given the opportunity to teach archery and when he had served enough time we gave him the option to return home," Laksha waved back as Talmai noticed the group and raised his hand in greeting, "But what man would forsake a leisurely life of archery during the day and sex during the night for the drudgery of home? What man would turn away from absolute freedom?"
Andromache was struck silent by the explanation and looked down at her son, who slept peacefully in her arms. Laksha stopped before a good-sized lodge and held open the cloth flap that served as a door, "You may all rest here, we will bring you food shortly."
Odysseus wondered if it were possible to drown himself inside his wine goblet. He wasn't drunk yet but he was hoping to change that and the barman, eager for stories from Troy, refilled the warrior's cup at each sighting of the bottom. Odysseus had no idea where his men were and didn't actually care, but the king inside of him nagged and nagged. He glanced around the tavern, wondering how he, the King of Ithaca, had come to be in such a wretched place. Eudorus had left messages for him at nearly every tavern in the town and each begged him to stay until he returned form an urgent errand. The humidity was making his head spin and he mumbled something to the barkeep, raising himself from the stool before stumbling out of the tavern.
He inhaled the sea air greedily. He loved the coast, it wasn't as rough as the water but had its smell and feel. The tavern might have been nice if not for the unsavory patrons, it was set at the very edge of the port where the cliffs fell away to the sea; it was a clear night and the moon lit up the city with the help of the stars. Odysseus felt himself sobering up as he navigated his way over to the edge of the cliff where he set himself down on the cool stone and thought about his home. Penelope. His beautiful wife, their darling son-–all of it was somewhere in the distance. The thought of another man touching his wife made his hands curl into fists...how could she do that to him? To them?
"A heavy heart after a great victory? I expected you to be celebrating."
Odysseus looked over his shoulder indifferently, finding a robed figure set against the milkiness of the moon. He shivered and was suddenly cold.
"Who are you?"
"A wanderer, some would call me a seer and still others a fraud."
"Which one is it?" Odysseus had met enough prophets in his day to know that most were trouble and best left to themselves. When alone, crazies could hurt only themselves. The stranger stood beside him, looking down with a smile hidden behind her veil. Odysseus returned her gaze and found he could only distinguish two burning green eyes.
"I would have you decide that."
Her light linen robes lifted with the breeze; Odysseus ran a hand over his grizzled beard, knowing that he did not have the patience for such games. He stood, hoping to use his height to frighten her away but the stranger did not move.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to help your friend."
"My friend?"
"Yes. The warrior Eudorus, he is in great danger."
"And how do you know this?" Odysseus could not hide his mistrust.
"He left here days ago but he does not know the country he travels in, he does not know that he is riding directly into a bed of serpents."
"And what would you have me do about it?"
"Help him, if you do not, he will parish at the hands of your enemies."
"What if you are leading me into a trap, too, seer? What if your predictions are nothing more than a scheme to deliver me to my death for some grand price?" Odysseus grabbed at her throat and held her firmly. The woman did not struggle or fight him.
"I will go with you, I will be at your mercy-–I am no match for a warrior of your stature, I have only my visions," she held his gaze, gently curling her fingers around his wrist. Odysseus did nothing. "Are you really in such a rush to return home to a wife that would love another man before your very son's eyes?"
Odysseus tightened his grip, his handsome face twisting into a snarl and still the woman did not falter, "How do you know these things? Is this the product of rumor?"
"No, King, it is a truth I regret to reveal. Even now, in the bed you made of a fine tree she entertains a man that is not you, she whispers that you are dead, that she will soon have to take another husband," she felt his grip relax and he dropped her, his hands covering his face in despair.
The seer saw her chance.
"Help Eudorus, do not rush home or even greater horrors will befall you," she stepped away from him, "meet me at the entrance to the town and first light and I will take you to your destiny."