The Belial Warrior (The Belial Series Book 9)

by R. D. Brady

  She rolled her eyes, and for a moment he saw the girl in the queen. “Actually,” Helen said, “I’m kind of hoping you would agree to not fight.”

  He reared back. “What is with you Spartans? First Pollux and now you. Tell me, have you all become pacifists since I left?”

  Helen smiled. “Not quite. But there is much happening. I have a plan, but for it to work, I need time. And with you fighting for Greece, well… you’re simply winning too quickly.”

  Achilles grinned. “I am pretty amazing.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “I see your modesty has not increased over the years.”

  “Why on earth would I become more modest when I have only become more amazing?”

  She laughed out loud this time, her eyes shining. And Achilles would have given his life to keep that smile on her face. But too soon, she turned serious again. “Please, Achilles. I need your help.”

  Her eyes pulled him in, and he clasped his hands behind his back so as not to reach for her. “You need to give me more of a reason than that. You know if I stay out, Greeks will die. What is so important that you ask me to step aside? And if you are already out, Clytemnestra could be as well. We could end all of this.”

  Helen shook her head. “I wish that were true. This whole battle—it is not what it appears.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “As I said, he threatened my children. Months ago he put people in place inside my household. With one word from him, they will be killed.”

  Achilles sucked in a breath. “Bastard.”

  “Yes—that and more. But as reprehensible as he is, he is not the one who put all of this into motion. Someone is pulling his strings. Someone is using my ‘abduction’ as a reason to attack Troy.”

  “Do you know who?”

  “Not exactly.” She told him about Zeus attacking the Fallen over the last few years and Paris’s claim that Zeus had promised him untold riches for his support.

  Achilles scoffed. “There is no Zeus.”

  “No, not as most believe. This Zeus is not a god sitting on high. He is flesh and blood, and he’s pushing us all around like his personal chess pieces. If I leave Troy, this won’t end. He will simply approach his goal from a different angle—one we can’t see. We have a chance here to end this—if we can figure out what he’s after.”

  “That’s a pretty big if. Is Zeus really such a threat?”

  “I think so. His attacks—they’re on peaceful Fallen, Fallen who are just living quiet lives. He’s removing them from the playing field. And his men have let it slip that he’s planning something. I do not think the world will benefit from his plans. We need to find out what his end goal is and end him once and for all.”

  Achilles studied her. She was clearly convinced of the truth of what she said. And if Paris held no love for her, then this ruse of a kidnapping must have some other underlying motive. “Where will you start?”

  “Crete.”

  “Crete? Minos is not known for his hospitality.”

  “No, but it is where I need to begin.” Helen told him about her mother’s last words.

  Achilles felt a pang of grief. He had liked Leda. More than that, he had respected her. There had been something about Helen’s mother… something that hinted at a knowledge of the ages. If she was the one sending Helen, than Achilles had to believe it was not a fool’s mission.

  He nodded. “You have asked for my help, and you have it. But I do not think Agamemnon will simply believe I am not interested in fighting. We will need to give him something more believable than that.”

  “I’m sure you can come up with something. After all, you are the legendary Achilles. The tales of your deeds and your temper rival one another.”

  “My temper is much more leashed these days.”

  Helen looked into his eyes. “I have heard that as well,” she said softly.

  Achilles would have been content to spend days just standing there listening to her breathe. Seeing her, being near her, made him feel alive for the first time in a long, long time. But he knew that this small reprieve from reality had to end. “You’re right—I’m sure I can come up with something. One thing we can count on is Agamemnon being a pompous ass. I’ll just be sure to take great offense at his next act of stupidity.”

  Helen smiled. “I’m sure you won’t have to wait long.”

  He returned her smile. “Undoubtedly. But be careful, Helen. If Zeus is behind this, he will not like you snooping.”

  She shrugged. “Life is dangerous whether you go searching for that danger or not.”

  A tingle ran over him, and Achilles lunged for Helen, pulling her behind him.

  Barnabus stepped from the shadows. “It is just me, old friend.”

  “Barnabus,” Achilles said. “I thought you had headed back to Egypt.”

  “I have been called into service. Whenever you are ready, my queen.” He bowed to Helen and nodded at Achilles before stepping back into the shadows.

  Helen’s hand on Achilles’s waist burned through his tunic. He couldn’t help but note that even when Barnabus had stepped out, she had not let him go.

  Helen looked up at him and then stepped back quickly, a flush in her cheeks. “I should go,” she mumbled before following Barnabus.

  “Helen?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful.”

  “You as well.”

  He gave her a lazy grin. “I will be very careful as I sit quietly in my tent.”

  She smiled and turned to leave. His whole body wanted to run after her and keep her from leaving. But he was no longer the boy who had demanded she give up everything she was for him. So he simply watched.

  As she reached the edge of circle of light created by the fire, she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. “I have missed you too, Achilles.” Then she hurried into the night.

  Achilles strained to hear, listening to her footsteps until he could no longer sense any trace of her. His whole body slumped in response. But then he pictured her face, and her words played again through his mind. I have missed you too, Achilles.

  You are mine and I am yours, he pledged silently before heading back to the camp.

  Chapter 64

  Helen hurried down the path, her mind filled with the man she was all but running from. Achilles had grown into a man in the years since she had seen him last, only making him more handsome. His shoulders seemed broader, the angles in his face more severe. He was a god brought to life, just as the songs said. She picked up her pace, knowing she needed to put distance between herself and Achilles lest she be tempted to run back to him. Even now she could feel the heat of his body on her hand.

  How could she still feel this way after so many years? She had banished him from her thoughts. But every now and then someone would mention one of his deeds, and it was as if the years in between them meant nothing.

  I am yours and you are mine. The words floated through her mind. She pressed her eyes shut as if that would somehow make the words or the feelings behind them go away. Tremors ran through her body, and she ached for him in a way she had never ached for Menelaus.

  And yet again she felt guilty at that betrayal. But she couldn’t be blamed for that, could she? Her body, her mind, they were betraying her. She had done everything in her power to keep Achilles from her heart. But nothing had worked.

  He would forever own part of her. He had been her world well before she had married Menelaus, and there was nothing she could do about that. And if she was being honest with herself, she could admit she wasn’t sure she wanted to do anything about that. Her life was duty and responsibility—and she embraced that. She did not begrudge her role in this world. But Achilles… he was hers. He made her feel alive in a way nothing else did. He had loved her not because she was a queen, but in spite of it. He was the secret she took out sometimes to remind herself that she was more than just a queen, more than just a duty. He was the secret in her heart that reminded her she was a
woman first.

  And she loved him even more for that.

  A tingle ran over her skin, and Barnabus appeared at her side. “Is everything all right, Your Highness?”

  She gave him a side glance. “‘Your Highness’? What happened to ‘Helen’?”

  Barnabus’s white teeth shone in the moonlight. “We are not kids any longer.”

  She stopped and looked into his eyes. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  Barnabus looked back toward the prayer henge. “All of us have duties that keep us from what we really want and deserve.”

  “Yes. All of us do,” she said quietly.

  “The ship should be ready. I could run you there.”

  Helen shook her head. “No. I think I’d like the walk. Would you like to join me?”

  “I would be honored, old friend.” He extended his arm.

  Helen smiled as she took his arm. “Old friend—I like that much better.”

  Chapter 65

  Achilles felt no rush, no urgency, as he walked back to the camp. Helen was safe. Safe, and on her way to save the world. Always putting others first—she hadn’t changed.

  For the entire walk, he tortured himself with memories of her. They had been children, but there had been nothing childish about how they loved each other. His world had revolved around her, and when he left Sparta it was as if he had been thrown into a world of darkness. Only Patroclus’s appearance had kept him from forever wallowing in despair.

  And now he had been given a second chance—a chance to give Helen what she needed. To be there for her in a way that he hadn’t been able to all these years.

  He would not let her down.

  Most of the camp was still asleep when he returned. Patroclus stepped from their tent almost as soon as Achilles spied it. He looked around, and his shoulders slumped in relief when he saw Achilles. He jogged over. “I was worried when I didn’t see you.”

  “I just felt the need to stretch my legs.”

  Patroclus was quiet for a moment. “We’ll get her back.”

  Achilles glanced over at him in surprise. He had not met Patroclus until after he had left Sparta—left Helen. He had never mentioned how much they had meant to one another. As far as he knew, he had never mentioned her at all.

  “Of course we will. That’s why we’re here,” he said lightly as he entered the tent—but then he cursed his words as he remembered what he had told Helen. He needed to act as if he did not want to fight. How was he supposed to do that?

  He looked around and frowned. “Where is Briseis?”

  “Agamemnon took her.”

  Achilles whipped around, his eyes narrowing. “What? When?”

  “A short while ago. That’s why I was up. I was looking for you.”

  “Why did Agamemnon take her?”

  “Because Chryseis was returned to her father.” Chryseis and Briseis had both been taken from the same village in a raid as spoils of war. Achilles had protected Briseis, but Agamemnon had claimed Chryseis as his own.

  Achilles felt anger burn low in his gut. “And I’m sure it was done out of the goodness of his heart.”

  “He said the gods demanded her return in exchange for ending the sickness that has plagued some of the men.”

  Achilles shook his head. The men who had gotten sick had eaten spoiled meat. He’d seen it himself and had warned them to stay away from it. But they’d been too drunk and too stupid to listen. Which meant that money had somehow changed hands. Agamemnon would never willingly give up anything. He had no doubt benefited in some way from returning the girl.

  Achilles turned and stormed from the tent, picturing Briseis’s small face.

  Patroclus hustled after him. “Achilles, be smart.”

  “Oh, I’ll be smart.”

  “I mean, maybe attacking Agamemnon is not the smartest move.”

  Achilles growled. “To the contrary. I think it’s very smart.”

  Chapter 66

  Agamemnon’s tent stood out among the others. While some of the stronger fighters, like Achilles, had larger tents, they tended to share them with their men. Agamemnon did not. He had the largest tent, and yet he shared it with no one. Carpets were laid inside, purple cloth was draped everywhere, and Agamemnon slept in a full bed complete with a wooden frame. It was his own personal palace. He didn’t even eat with his men; water and food were brought to him by his servants.

  Speaking of which, Achilles spied a familiar form shuffling toward Agamemnon’s tent with chains around her ankles, making the walk difficult.

  Achilles let out a roar of rage. “Agamemnon!”

  Briseis whirled around, nearly tripping over the chains. Her eyes went wide and she started to tremble.

  Her reaction only increased Achilles’s fury. He had finally gotten her to trust him. He had finally gotten her to not be scared of her own shadow—and in one fell swoop Agamemnon had destroyed all of that.

  Achilles reached Briseis’s side. “Are you all right?”

  She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

  He leaned down and, not caring who was looking, snapped the chains at her feet. “You do not deserve these,” he growled.

  “How dare you,” Agamemnon bellowed from behind him.

  Achilles whirled around. Agamemnon stood defiantly, his men surrounding him. “I dare because she belongs to me,” Achilles growled.

  Agamemnon strode closer, but Achilles noticed he kept out of striking distance. Or at least a normal man’s striking distance. “And I dare because as leader of the Achaean army the spoils of war first go to me.”

  “You returned your ‘spoil,’” Achilles sneered. “This one is mine.”

  “The gods demanded the return of mine—which means you forfeit yours.”

  Achilles stepped forward. He did not miss the widening in Agamemnon’s eyes nor the slight tremor in his chin. “I do not accept that.”

  “If you accept my rule, then you accept your role.” Agamemnon gestured to one of his men. “Re-chain her.”

  “Touch her, and it will be the last thing you do,” Achilles warned.

  The man looked between Achilles and Agamemnon, swallowing visibly.

  Patroclus laid a hand on Achilles’s shoulder and spoke so only Achilles could hear. “Be careful, Achilles. You are stronger, but Agamemnon is sneaky. He will punch back at you in a way you do not see coming.”

  Achilles then saw that they had been surrounded by yet more of Agamemnon’s men. A few were archers, and they were not looking only at Achilles. Their focus shifted between Briseis and Patroclus—waiting for Agamemnon’s signal.

  Achilles rolled his fingers into a tight fist. Bastard.

  He glared at Agamemnon. “She is not to be chained. Do you understand?”

  Agamemnon opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it and nodded briefly.

  Achilles gently took Briseis’s arm and addressed the gathered men. “If anyone harms this girl, anyone at all, they will answer to me. Is that understood?”

  The men looked around uncomfortably.

  “Is that understood?” Achilles bellowed.

  “Yes, Achilles,” the men responded.

  He bent down to whisper in Briseis’s ear. “I will see you free. You can count on that.” Then he once again faced Agamemnon. “I have decided I do not feel like fighting today. And I do not think I will feel like fighting tomorrow either.”

  Agamemnon narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, that is so. You are such an incredible leader—as you have told us time and time again. You lead the men.” He turned on his heel and strode back toward his tent.

  But he had to force himself to not look back at Briseis. She did not deserve to be caught in the middle of this. She was an innocent.

  Patroclus ran to catch up with him. “You’re not going to fight?”

  “No.”

  “But Helen—we traveled all this way to free her.”

  Achilles pictured Helen’s face in the
firelight, and his stomach tightened. He did not like the idea of Clytemnestra being locked inside Troy with Paris, but he preferred it to Helen. And he had promised. “I will not fight until Briseis is returned. Some things are more important.”

  He walked into his tent, leaving a stupefied Patroclus staring after him.

  Chapter 67

  Agamemnon was looking at the plans for the attack, but he wasn’t really seeing them. All he saw was Achilles’s arrogant face. The challenge in Achilles’s eyes, in his whole body… power was stamped all over the man’s frame. How dare Achilles challenge him? And in front of his own men?

  But even Agamemnon was not powerful enough to go against Achilles. No man would survive a one-on-one fight with that… thing. Not for the first time, Agamemnon wondered exactly Achilles was. He was certainly more than a man. And something far more powerful than me. Agamemnon slammed his fists into the table, making everything on it jump. For I am merely a man.

  “King Agamemnon?” a voice called quietly.

  Agamemnon turned. Claudius, one of his spies, was standing by the door, shifting from one foot to the other. He was a slip of a man; he looked like a strong wind could blow him over. Although he had reached his thirtieth year, he looked as if he was barely into manhood. But his slight frame and young appearance belied a devious mind. Claudius had slipped in and out of camps and cities, gathering knowledge without drawing the slightest notice from those who he watched. He was one of Agamemnon’s favorite spies and one of his most trusted. At least, as far as Agamemnon trusted. His only concern about Claudius was his greed. So Agamemnon simply paid him enough such that greed was never an issue.

  “What is it, Claudius?”

  “Begging your pardon, my lord, but I have some news that might be of interest.”

  “What is it?”

  “A ship, sir. It’s moored in a cove north of Smyrna.”

  Agamemnon frowned. “Is it one of ours?”