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!
(5)
The weary travelers were grateful to rest their sore feet by the roaring bonfire created by the Amazon women waiting on them. Laksha served them heaping plates of roasted sweet meats and honey-glazed fruits. They had even sent someone to milk one of their goats in order to feed Scamandrius and three of the other smaller children. Several of the older Trojans had been shown to comfortable cots where bath water awaited them. Andromache was sitting with a group of Amazon women who were showing her the designs on their individual shields, which they had carved themselves.
"So intricate and beautiful," she said, somewhat skeptical of their skills.
Paris had been watching Talmai with a keen eye. The Amazons' prized slave – for he could see Talmai as nothing else – had been observing every move of Helen's. Helen sat beside a drowsy Briseis, combing her blonde locks with a comb made of ivory. She seemed unaware of the stranger's attentions. He could now understand Menelaus' jealousy. Be a man blind, he would still find himself enraptured by her beauty.
"So this is the great Helen of Sparta," said a voice from behind him. He turned to see Accalia standing before him, her eyes set on his bride. Her tribe raised their cups to her, and she offered a nod in return. Paris glanced over at Aeneas. Though the young man was sitting a good distance across from him, he could see the doubtful look on his face. The Amazons had not taken the sword of Troy, nor would Paris have been willing to hand it over. Aeneas seemed comfortable with the weapon at his side. It seemed to suit him better than it had Paris.
"She is no longer of Sparta," said Paris on the defense.
"Nor is she of Troy now that there is nothing left of it."
The words stung Paris like a million wasps. "You are forgetting that I am still alive, and so long as I am alive Troy..."
"Has no chance," Accalia finally looked down at Paris with burning eyes. A faint smirk played on her lips, "Your reputation will follow you everywhere, boy king."
"What reputation is that?" At this point, the conversation had reached the ears of Briseis and Helen who sat nearby. Both listened intently without a word.
"You have given the legendary sword of Troy to a boy who in his life has held nothing more than a butter knife, but it was not this weapon that failed you when you in Troy...it was your own cowardice."
"How dare you!" Briseis snapped, rising fully alert to her feet. Paris stood up, blocking the gap between them. "You hide from all civilization under the protection of King Priam, and you dare mock his son?"
"Cousin!" Paris held his hand towards Briseis in request of her silence.
"Cousin?" Accalia cocked one eyebrow in amusement. Her smirk spread into a grin that exposed fine white teeth. She analyzed Briseis carefully, as if trying to discern whether or not the priestess could be trusted, "So you are the priestess of Apollo who killed the king of all Greece."
Silence fell over the camp. Both Trojan and Amazons alike rest their eyes on Briseis.
"With this very hand," she held up the hand that had stabbed Agamemnon. Her breathing was shallow with fury. "And I shall use it again if I must."
Accalia let out a heart laugh. "You would fit in well amongst us, Priestess."
"Briseis, please," Paris begged in a hoarse whisper. He turned to Accalia. He could smell the scent of burnt musk on the Amazon princess' skin. It was rather intoxicating, most likely an aphrodisiac used to entice men. Now that he had caught wind of it, he noticed the air was heavy with the smell as if all the Amazons had bathed in it. They had not smelled of it when he had first arrived. It made him uncomfortable and more aware of his surroundings.
"My cousin means no harm. She has seen too much death, as have we all." Briseis slowly fell in a heap at Helen's side.
"Now... that is more like what I expect of a king of Troy," said Accalia. She gave Briseis one last glance before turning to walk away. The unusual scent trailed behind her. Paris wanted nothing more than to follow its origin, but there were broken hearts to tend to, and he had to keep a clear head about him.
.
Accalia smiled to herself in the cool night; the Trojans were proving to be more than a little amusing. She lifted the flap to her house and went in, sucking in her breath as she noticed someone sitting on the floor mats.
"Why do you torture them so?"
"Talmai, I have not had the pleasure of your company for some time," Accalia was both relieved and unnerved to find the older man in her house at that time of night. Although Accalia was not ignorant of Talmai's good looks, she strived to make their relationship professional-–it would be in her best interest to keep her archery master happy and avoid the complications that came with romances.
"Answer my question, Accalia," Talmai rose, his head nearly touching the low ceiling. He was one of the few people and the only man in the city that could get away with calling her by her first name. Accalia poured herself a cup of wine and turned to face her teacher.
"My behavior toward the Trojans is my own business, and I fail to see how such things require your attention," she sipped slowly, her eyes still focused on the man, "Although I did not fail to see you watching that Spartan whore like a hawk. Does she interest you, Talmai? Would you bed every woman of this city and its guests?"
"Watch your tongue, Accalia, others may tolerate your attitude but I will not."
"It's just as well, she's obsessed with that prince."
Talmai grinned, reading his student well, "Really? Well, I think that prince interests you, princess. Dagali tells me that he has the finest body she has ever seen on a man. Deny it, Accalia, deny that you find him handsome."
"And what does attraction mean? Nothing. You of all people should know the superficiality of lust. Why do you waste my time with this talk, Talmai? I think you mean to embarrass me, but there is a kind of mischief in your look that concerns me."
"Only that you clearly have interest in the prince and I in his bride, we could stand to benefit from an alliance of sorts," Talmai took the cup from her and dipped his finger into its contents, smiling wickedly as he licked the wine from his skin.
"You would have me steal him away from his wife?"
"Not exactly–-I just need time, Accalia, time enough to make my impression."
"I will pretend that was metaphorical," Accalia rolled her eyes, snatching the cup from him, "You are a shrewd and dangerous man, Talmai, and I hope never to be your enemy nor the target of your affections."
"Then you will help me?" Talmai grinned, watching his student prepare herself for sleep.
"Only because I do not like that woman Helen, not at all. She would love that prince only to fill some romantic ideal, to bring attention to herself and convince him that the loss of his city and of his brother was worth her love. Sadly, I do not think you will have trouble wooing her from Paris, and though it will break his heart he must learn that his beauty is his greatest curse."
.
It was not yet dawn when Accalia was roused by three frantic women from the watch. She stumbled to her door, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and pulling on a robe. Dagali and two other trusted soldiers waited for her, fully armed.
"Princess," Dagali bowed her head respectfully, "forgive our intrusion but there is a party of men approaching, they are armed and on foot. They left their horses tethered at the river--we think they mean to attack."
"Wake my mother, secure the Trojans and have that boy Paris brought to the gates. I will take to the forest and return with orders for you," Accalia did not wait for their salute but rather shut the flap to her house and reached for the armor that was always waiting faithfully by the door. She slipped on the leather chest plate over her coarse top and tied her skirts on with sloppy knots. After splashing her face with water from a basin, she tied a patterned piece of fabric over her hair. Her bow, quiver, hunting knife, bracers and archery glove came next but she paused before leaving, kneeling at the small alter in her house she said a prayer; dipping her damp fingers into the bowl of crushed red powder she dragged her hand across her face.
Her page waited outside with her horse and Accalia mounted quickly, securing her quiver even as she kicked the steed forward. The town was in a fury, the households had been woken up and women were running here and there, arming themselves or scurrying toward the temple that had been built at the rear of the city. Accalia thundered down the main road, keeping her eyes open for Paris or any of the other Trojans. The Greeks. It was certainly the Greeks that approached the city now and meant to attack. Accalia did not want to fear but she had heard stories of their bravery and the Trojans the Amazons now protected left no room for negotiations.
When the princess reached the gates she dismounted, running into the thick forest that met with the walls. The pounding in her chest was deafening; she entered the waking woods, creeping close to the floor and keeping to the makeshift paths she knew wound behind the thickest trees. It was nearly half a mile before she caught sight of the Greeks–-they were dressed for battle and there were at least a dozen of them if not more. To Accalia it was clear that they were not amateurs, the liquid way they moved was indicative of their skill. She sprinted back to the gates.
Paris was waiting for her in his magnificent armor, his bow at the ready. Accalia's stern impression told him all that he needed to know. He said nothing and watched as the princess strode to a group of women that stood waiting for orders. Accalia separated from them and one fled into the forest while the others dispersed into the camp.
"I take it you know how to use that thing," Accalia nodded toward the bow that Paris clutched. Paris grinned, "This was the bow that slay Achilles, the Greek that most said was invincible. The warrior that killed my brother. When I shoot, I do not miss."
"Good, there are Greeks out there right now but there won't be much aiming involved. Still, we need every archer available," Accalia glanced past him, watching as the Amazon women lined up, each holding a finely crafted bow. Paris was fascinated by their discipline, the city had already been evacuated to its rear temple that was very defendable–-Aeneas waited there with the sword of Troy. Accalia stepped forward, raising her hand for silence.
"Archers at the ready, aim over the walls, about fifty yards out. We will give these Greeks a volley of night arrows. They sneak toward us in the night like cowardly cats–-if they will give us no warning than we shall return the favor. There are men approaching, at least a dozen but they will not reach the city, they will not even get a good look at the mighty walls of Theoris," Accalia then turned away from them, waiting for the signal. Paris turned to look at the archer beside him, a young woman of no more than fifteen.
"Does she lead you?" Paris whispered.
"She is our princess, the Night Arrow, she will always lead us," the girl replied serenely, a brilliant blue hand-print shining on her cheek in the half-light.
Despite his growing anxiety, Paris felt comforted by the young woman who stood fearlessly waiting for Accalia's orders. It was then that Accalia's hand raised again and the women nocked their arrows, taking aim high and far. Paris did the same. A tense moment past as they waited for the signal and then the softest of birds could be heard in the distance–-a sound that Paris barely heard but that sent Accalia's arm down sharply. They loosed their arrows.
The Amazons and Paris waited, their arrows singing through the darkness, rising high before falling with deadly accuracy. It was silent as they traveled over the walls but seconds later they heard the soft pattering as at least thirty arrows peppered the ground–-and humans. The screams were loud, surprised, and soon a clear voice emerged giving commands but Paris could not focus on it, Accalia had raised her arm again.
"Quickly, another!" her arm fell and the arrows sprang over the walls again. Accalia ran to the gates, grabbing the reigns of her horse before returning, she looked to Paris, "Lead them, prince, give two more volleys and when you hear my voice over those walls you stop."
Paris had little time to process the weighty honor the princess had just given him–-he instead stepped forward to command the Amazon archers while Accalia disappeared into the forest on her horse. The princess had navigated these trees hundreds of times, she knew their every branch and leaf; the cries of agony were growing louder. Soon she was upon Dagali, who sat crouched in the forest watching the carnage. The Greeks, or what was left of them, had fanned out to maximize their chances of avoiding the arrows. The archers had taken out most of the soldiers and only five remained on the field. Apparently their leader was bold enough to continue pressing toward the Amazon gates; Accalia admired his bravery only briefly. She steadied her mount, drawing an arrow back before releasing it into the chest of one of the nearby Greeks. He collapsed, an arrow stuck in his throat. The leader of the Greeks noticed and paused but he had no chance to assess the situation as another wave of arrows flew over the gates towards them. Paris must have compensated for the enemy's progress, for the arrows were dropping down closer to the city's walls. Accalia smiled, watching as the arrows annihilated all but two of the Greeks. She nudged her horse forward out of the forest and gave a wild cry that filled the night, overpowering the painful groans of the wounded warriors. The leader of the Greeks turned to see her, his blue eyes visible even in the thick darkness.
Accalia rode towards him, Amazons emerging from the opposite side of the field before the gates, their bows drawn. The other Greek looked around in confusion, deciding whether or not to raise his hands in surrender. The leader, however, had made his decision and hurled a javelin at Accalia–-she cried out as the javelin impaled her mount through the chest. As her horse's cry erupted, she jumped with feline grace from the horse and landed with a roll on the ground. The leader was still running toward her and picking up speed. Accalia steadied her thundering heart, pulling the bow from her back she aimed over his shoulder and the Greek stopped as his last soldier was hit and fell to the ground.