Chapter 14: Dawn's Bloodred Rise
I stirred silently, breathing heavily as I shifted my position. Warm skin wrapped around mine and hands enveloped me in protection. I opened my eyes, facing a drifting Patroclus. His eyelashes were laid lightly on his face, a lock of blond hair moving with each breath of air that escaped his lips. I smiled, pulling back the hair and placing it behind his ear. My hand grazed over his cheek, lips, coming down to rest on his chest. I snuggled deeper in his arms, words forming in my head. Whispered at first and filled with a grief sense of unjust, it slowly became strong and hopeful. The words flowed breathlessly off my tongue, the language of the Ancients used so many years ago.
"Dey ly daon, swaythone layto, (Oh my love, worry not,)
Nay lay pere unfreaer. (Your time has come.)
Poll nay whean, poll nay quel, (Life your shield, life your sword,)
Byth toun fore seth deonth, (Walk into the battle high,)
Qy fore sona emere un bearqol. (As the sun begins to rise,)
Whin ill qy di goneia, (You will walk with dignity.)
Whin ill leil un caron defryum, (You will rise to power beneath,)
Seth daon layke nay fallyon. (The love inside your heart.)
Dey ly daon, e ill tianuth, (Oh my love, I will remain,)
Forsanoth wi nay bagun, (Waiting for your return,)
Fore vanson ji nay gayfon, (The blood of your enemy,)
Taintuns le layto, e lee nay coln, (Haunts me not, I see your face.)
Rufonds san hes, dion san kares, (Wounds and tears, trials and fears,)
E ill jiame fors wi whin. (I will always wait for you.)
Seth sona emere un dathe, (The sun begins to set,)
Le seth vanson yelth to seth belontha. (And the blood shows in the sky.)
Dey ly daon, swaythone layto, (Oh my love, worry not,)
Nay lay pere unfreaer. (Your time has come.)
Qy fore sona emere un bearqol, (As the sun begins to rise,)
Whin ill qy di goneia. (You will walk with dignity.)
Seth sona emere un dathe, (The sun begins to set,)
Le seth vanson yelth to seth belontha. (And the blood shows in the sky.)
Dey ly daon, e ill tianuth. (Oh my love, I will remain.)"
Patroclus fluttered his eyes, breathing with quick, nervous breaths across to me. Stroking his hair, I repeated the words, again and again to ease his worry. I carried on the role that I had once played, imploring for the fight not wanted, yet destined to arrive. It was impassable, I couldn't escape this moment and nether could Patroclus. My eyes grew heaving and I soon fell back into the peaceful sleep, my heart calling out to him and my words ringing in his dreaming mind.
I fell into bliss, a world not like my own. Troy seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see; never-ending in its great stonewalls. As I tried to chase after it, my heart grew wearier as Hector's gaze cut into mine like a thousand daggers. Agamemnon's laugh haunted me and the sky was blood red. A body, limb and withered, appeared in the sand. The laughter and dark eyes quelling me, with numb fingers I edged to the body, rolling it unto its side. His eyes were glazed, blue as sky but filled with death. His lips, cracked and bleeding were shaped in an expression of horror and agony, locked forever in the position. His face was covered in sand and his throat a clotted piece of skin and blood mixing in one searing slash across his neck. His black armor was torn and tattered, the stomach torn in two. I gasped, covering a hand on my mouth and diverting my eyes. His face terrorized me for eternity, the outcomes of warfare. Hector suddenly laughed at me, pointing a finger at me from the gates of Troy. The wall seemed to rise higher and higher, just out of my reach, the protection and guidance dryly scorning me. Agamemnon's shadow cast itself across the body, the dagger tip raised and aimed. Spinning around, I screamed as the dagger came down, breaking my flesh.
I yelled out loud, springing up from my spot on the makeshift bed. Throwing myself into the air, arms grabbed me and pulled me back down. I sobbed into his chest, the tears rolling down his flesh. He shushed me, comforting and consoling me. I was gasping in horror; my eyes wide and staring back into the glazed eyes.
"Aldreana, Aldreana…" his voice cooed and coaxed me to look up. I caught my breath, looking into Patroclus's eyes. They warmed me from the chilling nightmare. Patroclus had a look of puzzlement, at the same time contorted in a rush of troubled feelings to see me so distraught. "Shhhh… it was a dream Aldreana, it's not real." My wide eyes blinked wildly, looking around at the tent, the swords, the shields, and my discarded bag and protruding hilt of my brother's dagger. My fingers were tapping everything, to the very cheeks of his face as he wiped my eyes. "What did you see?"
I calmed down, slowing my breathing till my body relaxed, the violent shakes and tremors leaving. "Of all the things in life to live, war is not one of them. I saw Hector, ridiculing me from the walls, and a body, mangled and disoriented, his eyes piercing into my very soul. And then there was Agamemnon, his knife stabbing into my heart, killing me as Hector and him laughed with amusement." I shuddered violently, creeping into his arms. He patted my back, rubbing my cold shoulders and gently grazing over the scars.
"It's over Aldreana, you're safe."
Patroclus woke with a start, Aldreana hunched over on her side, her face a look of peace and serenity. Patroclus rubbed his aching, tired temple when a soft drumming sound came to his ears. Quickly he sat up, gathering Aldreana's limb arms and lifting them off him. Tearing off his dirty tunic, he dressed quickly in his armor, all the while staring at the bundle of blankets he had horded through last night. His eyes drifted to Aldreana and as he watched her chest move up and down in a serene sleep, his heart grew surer. Rapaciously he tore away the blankets and buckled the black armor to his chest. The helmet, the fine design of the godly appearance made Patroclus's heart swell with a mixture of jealously and an adamant desire to flash the sword and wield the blood. The passion coursed through his veins, the will to reach the outcries and slaughters of men. Patroclus looked through the metal of the helmet, one last gaze falling on Aldreana. I will return Aldreana…
The tent flap was thrown aside and with exhilaration Patroclus leaped out into the growing sun, running around his tent and meeting his army. The Myrmidons all jumped in amazement till Patroclus raised his sword. "To Troy!" he boomed in a thunderous voice, his sword flashing with wild intensity in the air. The men all gave exorbitant outcries and Patroclus heart flipped flopped as he looked to his cousin's tent. The thrashing of the drumming became louder. The Greeks made ready and ran over the scorched sand hills, flailing their weapons and rushing to bloodshed. Patroclus raised his weapon and joined after, catching Eudorus's gaze. The man showed a dubious look, but continued on at his master's wishes. They sprinted over the hills, catching the walls of Troy and beating of the hearts becoming more violent. Patroclus could hardly breath, his mind twisting with the fatal hatred towards the enemy, the leader of the Trojans. The one look shared between the two was enough to blaze fire. The fury building inside all night was enough to take even Aldreana's breath away.
The sun was raising and the glinting of armor and weapons was excessive, the only images the eye could see. The Myrmidons continued after Achilles, deep in the caverns of their minds contemplating the sudden change of heart. As the brawling began, the name rang out in all the air, exalting the mighty warrior.
"It's Achilles!" Shouting rang loudly in each of the ears, perhaps not as piercingly as in the leader of the Myrmidons himself. Odysseus stopped in his tracks, breathing a small sign of relief and when Patroclus looked behind him and gave a call of encouragement, Odysseus trampled after in the sand, his men following dutifully behind him. The banging of shields and spears became threatening, ominous and suddenly Patroclus's heart gave a whine of help. Aldreana lying in his bed and his blood smearing in the particles of glass upon the ground. Patroclus threw the thoughts away with a snarl, running faster with a brawling heart towards Hector. The Trojans were a line along the horizon, shinning in the light when the sun glorified the Greeks. Patroclus leaped over a smoking spear, the end catching his ankle but he cared not. Hector halted suddenly, watching the man come up quickly with the rest of the pitiful army after. His eyes warmed in a smile of glee and he sprinted towards the leader of the Myrmidons, the Trojans running after.
The armies met in a state of vicious battle, blood spraying instantly into the air, slashing weapons and impassable feelings, each wishing the desire of seeing the other vanquished and obliterated. Hector saw out of the corner of his eye Achilles moving with an unbeatable grace, agility and swiftness. His heart clenched and gave way to Aldreana once more, wishing to have her back within the golden walls. He stabbed a man in the gut, yanking out his sword and coming for Achilles. The man's back was turned and as Hector raised his sword did another arrow come flying by. Achilles spun and caught the arrow against his sword, the blade ringing as the arrow ricocheted and flew in an opposite direction. Hector hid his amazement, the move mimicked when the spear was thrown at the temple that brought down his most trusted advisor. He knew who this man was, and he wanted nothing more than to see him choke his own blood so he could smile down at him.
Patroclus hotly felt his arrogance rise as he shifted his arms in his sword, his wrists aching from the power plucked arrow that he deflected. Hector stopped for a second, then advanced on Patroclus. The Greeks behind him gathered in a circle likewise did the Trojans behind their leader. Patroclus wanted so much to declare Aldreana his, to watch the face of Hector fall into denial and shambled glory. But he kept his mouth shut as Hector swung at him. Patroclus met the sword, watching Eudorus and Odysseus push through the crowd. He smiled beneath the blood-dripping helmet, already imaging the moment when the helmet was torn away, the wind catching his hair and exposing him to the armies. He'd be the most remembered man of the war, even above Achilles himself. He threw his weight on the man and Hector was thrown back, Patroclus bending his knees and his sword low and ready for the kill. Hector came for him again and Patroclus swung with agility, ducking down beneath the weapon and spinning back up to catch Hector's back. Managing to break skin, he watched Hector wince as his arm bled furiously. But the prince fought back, defending his honor and throwing Achilles back into the Greeks. As Achilles stepped back out with an infuriated glare, Hector caught a glimpse of his face.
He blinked in surprise, was the man not Achilles? But the soldier took the confusion as a distraction and thrust his sword out. Hector took a huff of air; not believing his own caught attention. Angry with himself, he began hacking at the air, swinging his brad blade at Achilles. It was almost as if the man laughed at him from beneath the helmet, aggravating Hector more. The cheers were for the other man, the Trojans watching with a dubious smirk as their prince met up with the legend-holding hero of the age. As Patroclus spun around again, his heart and giving way lungs flung out for Aldreana once more. He imagined her horrified face, her tears. His heart clung to her as he spun around, catching Hector's blade and as he turned again he imagined her scream, ringing in his ears, followed quickly by the soothing song from his dreams, her lullaby.
Hector's blade flashed blood. The other man became immobilized for a single second, enough time for Hector to watch his blade slide out from the throat. A hushed silence fell in the air as Achilles was bent back and slowly did he fall to the ground, his dirty hands and blood soaked body becoming limb. The sword dangled from his hands for a few seconds and then fell. Hector's chest heaved up and down as he tore of his helmet and looked down upon the defeated hero. He gave a small smile as he bent down. The Greeks all shook heads in incredibility, Odysseus giving a weak choke and the bright-eyed blue man shaking in violent tremors, his eyes bulging from inside his head. Hector gave a smug drop of his sword, throwing it carelessly with his helmet to the ground, the items sinking into the sand. He dropped to his knees with the ringing of his men echoing in his ears, buffing out his heart in pride. He grabbed hold of the cold helmet and lifted it.
A gasp was sent through the air at the choking, moaning man. His piercing blue eyes were filled with disbelief and horror as he choked on his own blood that came spilling out of his mouth. He looked up at Hector with distain and repulsion. Hector's mouth was left agape as he gazed down at the boy. His mind flashed to the night before as he met the eyes of the young man who held Aldreana's hands, protecting her with all his heart. Achilles' helmet suddenly became scorching hot in Hector's hands and he threw it aside, rubbing his fingers on his blood drenched armor. His chest still heaving for air, the groans and gurgles of the slowing dying boy were sweeping and haunting his mind. He bowed his head in remorse, his heart breaking in two, and a sorrow that would stay the rest of his life. The man tried to swallow, unable to do so wincing in pain, as he died a slow and painful death. The older man with equally blue eyes was crying slightly, whereas Odysseus had his head bowed as he knuckled his eyes. Hector looked up to the sky. Not this! His mind yelled in torment. Why this, so young a life!
The groans and gurgles were eating away Hector's heart as he grabbed his sword with numb fingers. The blade shook violently in his hands as he lifted the blade in the air, the blood staining forever his heart. He brought the blade down on the boy's stomach, giving a distressed cry of pain. The boy took a startled breath and then instantly died, his eyes lifting to heavens. They seemed suddenly at peace. Sheathing his blade, he stumbled with a weary mind to Odysseus.
"Enough for one day," Hector declared in desolation. Odysseus numbly nodded, his eyes not taken away from the dead young man lying in the sand. Hector looked to his men, who shared nothing close to the feelings wringing away at his heart, twisting it in agony. "To Troy!" He bellowed. Odysseus suddenly caught his arm, the king's eyes not looking up to Hector's.
"That was his cousin," he said grimly, the denunciation in his voice sealing Hector's fate. Hector looked to the young man and bit hard on his tongue. He bowed his head to Odysseus and walked away with his men, trotting alone in a sea of torment and much needed retribution laid upon him, poking at his back and mocking him with offensive ridicule. Eudorus kneeled down in the wet sand next to Patroclus, closing the boy's eyes. With a look of hatred never seen of felt before, Eudorus glared at Hector, though his face was twisted in blame.
"We were going to sail home today." His words not to be repeated nor explained, Odysseus knew that had that been true, Aldreana would be half way to Greece by now. He nodded grimly, his eyes unable to move from the boy.
"I don't think anyone's going home now," he retorted. Eudorus took a deep sigh, stroking Patroclus's head affectingly, caringly. He bit hard on his lip as he couldn't even began to think of the words to say to Aldreana when she stepped out of that tent, much less Achilles. Odysseus left the man where he was and Myrmidons too, calling to his own men and the rest of the Greeks. "Back to the ships!" he hollered. The men obeyed unquestioningly, all taking one thankful look at Patroclus, giving merit that it wasn't them choking helplessly. Odysseus looked once more at Eudorus, but the broken man could not be consoled. His heart gnawed within him as he walked away, shaking his head dourly and looking to the sky. Will this war never end?
I heard the approaching footsteps in the sand, the diminished ringing of battle finally fading from my ears. The trudge of the men was heavy. I felt a sense of agony flowing through the hearts. In midst them all I felt Eudorus, eaten away by a throbbing, excruciating impairment. I sat up lightly in the bed, my once aching body now refreshed, stepped quietly out of the bed, then sitting back down with impatience and waiting for Patroclus to enter. But the men were gathered around the tent opposite of the young man's, all heads held high but with not pride. I remained where I was, the blowing of tent flap behind me not coming yet to my senses.
"My lord… Achilles!" Eudorus's shout was meek, filled with a ceaseless distraught. The swish of the tent flap admitted Achilles to my mind. Stricken suddenly, I rushed out of the tent. Achilles looked up at me as he scratched his head and then back down, not meeting Eudorus. I watched Eudorus's back straighten. Stiffen as if he himself felt my presence. Achilles was still dressed in his dark blue robes, barely dressed and suitable for my eyes, but I cared not. I quickly scanned the men for Patroclus, but their haunted eyes made me look back to Achilles.
"You defied my orders and led the men into battle," Achilles said loftily. Eudorus bowed his head, stifling almost a sob before looking back up. My heart warped in ambiguous feelings.
"No my lord, we thought you did," Eudorus answered in a misery filled whisper. I gave a gasp and spun round to look for him. His dead blue eyes penetrated through closed eyelids and the men that tried to hide him desperately and pierced into my heart.