The Belial Warrior (The Belial Series Book 9)

by R. D. Brady

  The siblings looked at each other, unsure where this side of their mother had come from.

  Leda gripped Helen’s hand. “I thought I had more time to prepare you. You have more strength than you know. Trust in that. Trust in yourself, in your heart. It will see you through.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Leda looked to her dark-haired friend who stood silently in the corner. “Thank you, my friend. For being by my side.”

  “It has been my greatest privilege.” Proteus stepped forward and placed a kiss on her hand.

  Leda captured his gaze. “You will make sure none of my blood, not even a drop, is left.”

  “Not even a drop,” he promised.

  “And you must help Helen.”

  Proteus frowned. “My queen?”

  “You must help her. You have a role to play. Do not follow me—not yet.”

  Proteus nodded. “As you wish.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

  Proteus stood, and Helen saw the slight tremble in his hands. “I will leave you to your children,” he said. “Until we meet again.”

  Leda’s gaze remained on Proteus until the door closed behind him. “Until we meet again,” she said softly.

  Then she turned to her children. “The world will experience a tumult like it has never before seen. You must be ready.”

  “We will be,” Castor declared.

  Leda looked at Helen. “When the world is on a cliff’s edge, look to Crete for the answers. At that time, the ring bearer, you, must find the Omni. It will be your only hope.”

  Helen frowned. “The Omni? But—”

  Leda’s eyes grew wide, and her breath struggled. “You must go to Crete. Promise me.”

  “Of course, but—”

  Leda’s mouth opened wide, and her back arched.

  Helen leaned forward, clutching her mother’s hand. “Mother?”

  But her mother was beyond responding now.

  “No.” Castor ran a hand over their mother’s cheek.

  Pollux put a hand on Castor's shoulder. “She is gone, brother.”

  Helen just stared at her mother. She had been such a force in her life. How could she be gone?

  The world will experience a tumult like never before seen. You must be ready. Despite the heat, the room felt cold. Helen wrapped her arms around herself. Ready for what?

  “When the world is on a cliff’s edge, look to Crete for the answers,” Pollux said quietly.

  “And find the Omni,” Helen added.

  “And you think she meant this moment?” Castor asked.

  “It feels like the world is on an edge, does it not? And I have no other ideas,” Helen said.

  “So you will go to Crete, and we will go get the children,” Pollux said.

  Helen shook her head, hating the words that were about to come out of her mouth. “No. I will go, but you will not. Not yet.”

  Castor's voice was incredulous. “Not yet? But the children! What are we waiting for?”

  Helen had thought long and hard on this point. “We can’t tip our hand."

  “Something is happening. Zeus has been building toward this. Clytemnestra’s ruse will keep them fooled for a while, and that will protect the children. If she is discovered, you must get her out and immediately get the children. But if she is not discovered, everything must stay as it is—until we find out what is going on. There is a reason we are all in Troy. And it has nothing to do with me.”

  Helen made sure she locked eyes with each of them. “Zeus wants the world to fight against Troy. Zeus wants the world to defeat Troy. Which means we need to make sure we lose. Or at least, we need to make sure we don’t win. You two need to stay here to make sure that happens.”

  Castor and Pollux exchanged a look. “Um, that may prove a wee bit difficult,” Castor said.

  “Why? Just send fewer men—or hold the men back a little until I return.”

  “Yeah.” Pollux drew out the word. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Achilles fights like a man possessed, and the men follow his lead. As long as he continues to fight, they will fight as well,” Pollux said.

  “So just tell him to pull back. Or better yet, get him to sit out.”

  Castor laughed. “Sit out? Of a fight? Have you met Achilles?”

  “Castor is not wrong,” Pollux said. “Achilles will not back down from a fight. Unless… someone in particular were to ask him to.”

  Both brothers turned to Helen.

  Helen stepped back, her hands up in front of her. “Oh, no. Absolutely not. No one is even supposed to know I’m out.”

  “He would never endanger Clytemnestra. He’d keep your secret,” Castor said.

  Helen crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, even as butterflies danced through her stomach at the idea of seeing him again. “No. I’m not talking to him.”

  “Helen, you said we need to stall the war. You said it’s important. Which means we need Achilles to sit out. You’re the only one who can get him to do that,” Pollux said.

  “You don’t know that.”

  Pollux pinned her with his gaze. “I do. He fights for you. It is written all over his face. He loves you, Helen. He always will.”

  Could it be? “I can’t speak with him,” she whispered.

  “There is no other way,” Pollux said.

  Helen shifted her gaze between the two of them, but her mind was hundreds of miles and years away—in a time when her every breath was for Achilles, and his for her. She had married Menelaus, and she loved Menelaus—that was true enough. But Achilles… he had been right. Theirs was a fire that would burn forever. At least for her.

  Still, she shook her head. Speaking with Achilles would open a whole other bag of troubles. She was not ready for that. “No,” she said. “You need to convince him.”

  Pollux raised an eyebrow. “And if we can’t?”

  “Then I will speak with him.” As she said the words, an image of Achilles slipped into her mind and she wasn’t sure if the leap in her pulse was because she didn’t want to see him again… or because she did.

  Chapter 61

  While Castor went to find Barnabus, Pollux stole into the camp to find Achilles. He was still trying to wrap his head around Helen’s insistence that he and Pollux not go save the children. But he knew she was right. If word got back to Troy, Clytemnestra would be in danger. And if they saved Clytemnestra, the children would be in danger. Right now, difficult as it was to swallow, this was the safest course of action.

  Now he was left with the task of convincing Achilles to stay out of the fight. And then I’ll walk on water and perhaps turn all the sand on the beach to gold.

  The impossibility of the task weighed on him. Helen might think he could convince Achilles, but Pollux knew better. He had seen the fear in Achilles’s eyes—fear of something happening to Helen; fear of what would happen when he came face to face with her again. So instead he fought like the devil. And I’m supposed to convince him to stand down.

  Ahead he saw the Myrmidons. They had two dozen tents set up at the back of the camp, and few of the other soldiers traveled this way without direct invitation. The Myrmidons had a fierce reputation for being the bravest and most ruthless fighters—and not just on the battlefield.

  No one personified those traits more than their leader, Achilles. When he’d been at Sparta, Pollux had seen what Achilles was capable of. It wasn’t just his strength that made Achilles formidable; on that dimension Pollux and he were evenly matched. But Achilles had an almost supernatural ability to tell where an opponent would strike. He was tuned to battle in a way Pollux had never been. It was what drew men to him. They wanted to witness his abilities, and most hoped that perhaps some might rub off on them.

  Dugal caught sight of Pollux and stood up with a grin. “Who let the beggars in?”

  Pollux grinned in return. “Your mother, Dugal, right after I got off o
f her.”

  The men laughed, and Dugal did as well before offering his hand. “It’s good to see you, Pollux.”

  “You too, Dugal.” With all that had been going on, Pollux had not seen much of the Myrmidons or Achilles. It was almost as if Agamemnon had been intentionally trying to keep them apart.

  “A nasty business this, stealing a man’s wife. But we’ll get her back. Won’t we, men?”

  A cheer went up around the fire.

  “Sparta thanks you,” said Pollux. “And drinks are on me the next time you grace our shores.” More cheering accompanied his announcement. Pollux nodded toward the tent in the back. “Achilles here?”

  Dugal waved him toward it. “He’s speaking with Patroclus. Go on.”

  With a nod, Pollux strode to Achilles’s tent. He could hear Patroclus inside, speaking about troop movements.

  “You going to stand out there all day, Pollux?” Achilles called.

  Pollux smiled as he ducked into the tent. “Just checking to see if you still could sense when you were being snuck up on.”

  “It still works,” Achilles said.

  Pollux knew Achilles had the same abilities he did—speed, strength, healing, and the ability to sense others with abilities. And yet, strangely, Pollux had never been able to sense Achilles in that way. Barnabus, too, who could sense all the Fallen, got not even a whiff of a signal around Achilles. Which meant Achilles was something different than either Barnabus or Pollux, neither Fallen nor nephilim. He was something else, something greater.

  Patroclus gave Pollux a warm smile. “Pollux. Good to see you.”

  “You too.”

  “Sorry I missed the fight right off the ship. The invitation still stands for you and Castor to join the Myrmidons. You two would fit right in.”

  “Not sure if that’s a compliment or not. I will admit that though some days, there is nothing I would like more. But duty calls.”

  Patroclus stood. “Speaking of which, I need to get these to Agamemnon.” He grabbed the papers from the table and slipped out of the tent.

  Pollux turned to Achilles. "I need to speak with you.”

  Achilles raised an eyebrow. “You look serious.”

  “I am.” Pollux was about to say more, when he noticed a young girl in the corner. She couldn’t have been more than twelve. Her eyes were large, and she let out a small cry when Pollux looked at her. “Who’s this?” he asked.

  Achilles turned to the young girl, his voice soft. “It’s all right. Pollux is an old friend. He won’t hurt you.”

  The girl looked between the two of them, her fright obvious. Achilles stood. “Get some sleep, Briseis. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Achilles took Pollux's arm and led him from the tent. Pollux wasn’t sure what to say. Achilles had shown such compassion for the young girl. He was obviously acting as her protector. “Who is she?” he asked again.

  Achilles put his hand to his lips, leading Pollux away from the tent and toward a fire pit that was empty. “Briseis. She was taken as a spoil of war.”

  “You took a slave?”

  Achilles’s head whipped toward him, and there was a warning in his voice as he said, “Briseis is not my slave. She is under my protection. Once this is over, I will find a home for her.”

  “My apologies. I had forgotten how much you disliked slavery.” It was a strange characteristic for a warrior. Achilles loved a good fight, but he did not take from those that could not defend themselves—and he believed strongly that no one should be owned by another.

  Achilles took a seat on a log that had been pulled up to the fire. “Now, what did you need to speak about?”

  Pollux looked around to make sure no one could overhear them. “I need you to not fight for a while.”

  Achilles snorted. “You mean with that idiot from Scythia? Because I assure you, the man had it coming.”

  Pollux shook his head. “I’m sure he did. No—I mean, I need you to not fight Troy for a while.”

  Achilles stared at Pollux like he had lost his mind. “Why on earth would I do that?”

  “Because I asked nicely?”

  Achilles snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

  “There’s not a lot I can tell you. For now, all I can say is that there’s something going on, it involves Helen, and she wants you to stop fighting.”

  Achilles’s gaze snapped to Pollux. “You spoke with Helen? Is she free?”

  “Yes—no. It’s complicated. But I assure you, she wants you to stop fighting.”

  Achilles stood, and Pollux once again realized how large his friend had grown in the years since he’d last seen him in Sparta. “What is going on, Pollux?”

  Pollux sighed. He had known Helen would be the only one who would be able to get Achilles to listen. Achilles was just not the sort to follow a request that went against his nature. To be honest, Pollux wasn’t even sure Achilles would obey even if it was Helen who asked. But it was their only chance. “I need you to speak with someone,” he said, “and it must remain secret. You cannot even tell Patroclus.”

  “I don’t like deceptions.”

  “I know. But I assure you this one is necessary. Please. You know I would never do anything that would endanger Helen. And it’s on her behalf that I’m asking this of you.”

  As the silence grew between the two warriors, Pollux began to worry that Achilles would say no. That he would continue to fight and hasten the end of the war before Helen could uncover the reason behind it.

  Then Achilles shrugged. “All right. I’ll pay along. Who am I meeting?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Achilles raised an eyebrow.

  Pollux put up his hands. “But I assure you they mean you no harm. I can take you to them.”

  Achilles stretched. “You know if anyone does try to harm me, I will rip your head off right after I take theirs.”

  Pollux grinned. “You can try.”

  Achilles slapped him on the shoulder. “As long as we understand each other.”

  Chapter 62

  Pollux had told Helen he would either return to the prayer henge and tell her all was well, or he would send Achilles to speak with her. She was both anxious and excited as she waited, and she hated herself for hoping it was Achilles who appeared. Achilles was her past. He needed to stay there.

  But the fact that he had come to save her meant something to her. Or maybe he came to curse you, she thought.

  She had been only twelve years old when she had met Achilles, and after her abduction by Theseus, she did not trust men easily. Yet she had trusted Achilles almost immediately. And from the moment they met, they had spent every moment they could together. And I was so sure we would spend the rest of our lives together.

  The image of him walking away from her on the day of the competition would be forever burned in her brain. She had found herself wondering over the years what would have happened if she had chosen differently. What if she had said yes that day? But every time she thought that, a vision of her children would pop into her mind. No, she would trade them for nothing. Not even Achilles.

  A whistle sounded behind her, and Helen whirled around, her hand to her throat. It had been years, yet the idea of him could still make her lose her breath. She stepped closer to the fire, hoping that it would be blamed for what she was sure were her enflamed cheeks.

  The night was silent. Then the feeling rolled over her, and her knees became weak. Her gaze never left the shadows across from her, even as her heart began to hammer and her mouth went dry.

  And then Achilles stepped out of the darkness.

  Chapter 63

  Achilles stared at Helen, drinking in the sight of her. Somehow, in the last ten years she had become even more beautiful. Her figure had shifted from that of a girl to that of a woman. Her face held the strength of her burdens and the power of her throne. She stole his very breath away.

  “How are you
here?” he asked.

  “Clytemnestra. She traded places with me.”

  He nodded, although he didn’t understand. Why trade places? If she could get out, why not just end this? But he didn’t ask those questions. Instead, time stood still as he stared at her.

  He realized she was staring at him just as intently. He wondered what she saw. Did she see the man who had lost himself in battle after battle and bottle after bottle to rid himself of her, only to fail at every turn? Or did she see the warrior the rest of the world saw, unbreakable and untouchable?

  Helen spoke first. “Are you just going to stare, or are you going to say hello?”

  He grinned. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  “Hello, Achilles.”

  “Hello, Helen.”

  They fell silent again.

  “Are you all right?” Achilles asked.

  Helen nodded. “I wasn’t hurt.”

  He took a step toward her. “What happened? Why would you go with him?” He had to practically bite his lip to keep the real question he wanted to ask from escaping: How could you go with him and not with me?

  “It's not what you think. It's not what anyone thinks. I didn’t go willingly. He threatened my children. The threat still hangs above them. That is why Clytemnestra took my place.”

  Relief rushed through him. He had been right. She had not changed. Duty and love were still her two most important pillars. “I saw your sons in Athens once last spring. They will be fine warriors one day.”

  “So will Hermione.”

  Achilles smiled, picturing Helen when he’d first met her. “Her mother’s daughter—what choice has she?”

  Helen laughed. “True.”

  That laugh was like water to a dying man. It filled him up. “I have missed you, Helen.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

  She took a step back. “I—I didn’t come for that.”

  Inside he cringed at the vulnerability his words revealed. But all he gave Helen was a shrug as he slipped easily into his arrogance, a well-tested skin. “Perhaps, but it needed to be said. Now, what do you need of the great Achilles? A dragon to slay? An army to repel?”