The Belial Warrior (The Belial Series Book 9)

by R. D. Brady

  So Helen summoned him to the palace. And after a long conversation knew she had found the right one. Now she just needed to convince him.

  “A lightning bolt? The great King Minos was killed by a storm?” Gaelous asked.

  “Apparently the gods were unhappy with his rule.” Helen paused. “A reminder to all of us that the gods watch us. We are not without accountability.”

  “Yes,” Gaelous said, casting his gaze to the heavens. “A wise reminder. And the maze? How did you escape the minotaur?”

  “He—” Helen paused, picturing the poor man’s face.

  “Helen is a warrior of no equal,” Barnabus cut in. “She has yet to meet a foe she could not vanquish.”

  “Yes.” Gaelous bowed. “We are most honored and humbled by your service to us.”

  “It is I who am humbled,” Helen said. “You will be a wise king.”

  Gaelous shook his head. “I will be the king’s consort. And I will raise my nephew to be a good king. When he is old enough, I will hand over power to him.”

  “A pity you will not agree to be the king. I think Crete would do well under you.”

  “I have no interest in ruling. But I will do what duty asks of me. I will take on the responsibility for now.”

  After Gaelous left, Helen turned to Barnabus. “What have you figured out about the parchment?” She had taken one look at the paper from the box and knew it was not a language she was familiar with. She had put Barnabus in charge of deciphering it.

  “I’ve ruled out many languages until I am left with only one—Sanskrit.”

  “I don’t suppose you can read Sanskrit?”

  He grinned. “I can only read some of it. But Reyansh from our ship is formerly from India. I sent for him, but I did not want him to read it until you were ready to hear it. I can retrieve him now—with your permission?”

  Helen nodded. “Get him.”

  Barnabus returned a few moments later with a small, thin man. Reyansh bowed deeply. “Queen Helen.”

  “Please rise, Reyansh. We are in need of your help. Can you read this?” She nodded to Barnabus, who handed him the parchment.

  Reyansh took it with shaking hands. “It has been a long time since I have seen the writing of my people. I was captured before I had reached manhood.”

  “I am sorry,” Helen said.

  Reyansh shrugged. “You and your brothers freed me and my family. I am very grateful. I will do my best to translate.”

  He sat on the ground cross-legged and studied the paper. As Helen waited, she imagined the horror of being a slave. It was a reality of their world, but it was a practice she did not believe in. All her “slaves” were paid, and anyone who mistreated a slave received the same mistreatment in return. That rule had not eliminated the abuse, but at least it had limited it. Sadly, even as a queen, there was only so much one could do.

  Reyansh looked up. “I think I understand most of it.”

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  “The great ones arrived in a hail of fire and light. The world rejoiced and was amazed by their skill and strength. A time of peace ensued. But then they wanted more than they were given. They demanded it. The world fought back and won, but only because they were able to bring the great ones to their level. Since that time, we, the brothers of Dwarka, have guarded this weapon of the people, keeping it safe, praying it would not be needed again, but preparing in case it was.”

  “Dwarka?” Helen asked. Dwarka was a legendary city of India favored by the Hindu god Krishna. It was a city of beauty and incredible magic. And one day, it sank beneath the waves. In the east, there was no doubt in people’s minds that the city had once existed—but farther west, Dwarka was viewed as just a legend.

  Helen felt a chill crawl over her. “Please continue.”

  The small man nodded. “They came again when our city was at its greatest heights. We had to destroy them and our beloved home to keep the world safe once again.” Reyansh frowned. “There’s another line, but it’s difficult to make out. The ink has faded. I think it says they moved to… yes. The island of the two gods.”

  Recognition flashed across Barnabus’s face, but Helen shook her head before he could speak. To Reyansh she said, “Thank you. You have been most helpful. Please do not speak of this to anyone.”

  “I am glad to have been of service.” Reyansh stood and bowed before leaving the room.

  “The island of the two gods,” Barnabus murmured.

  Helen nodded. The mysterious island in the southern part of the Ionian Sea. It would take weeks to get there. But the distance was the least of their problems.

  “Helen, you know the legends of this island, don’t you?”

  “That it is haunted by the ghosts of sailors who attempted to land there? And this is what accounts for the screams that come from the island?”

  Barnabus shook his head. “I was thinking more of the rumors that say no one has ever safely landed on the island.”

  Helen had heard those rumors as well. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

  Chapter 84

  Helen walked toward the docks. She had tried to see all the rescued children this morning, saying her farewells, but there was one child she had not been able to find. She searched the docks but saw nothing. She let out a sigh.

  All the children from the cave were safe and secure with their families. But the same was not true of the boys she had rescued from Minos’s room. She had been checking on them for the last two days, but despite receiving the best medical care, Orestes’s cousins had only grown weaker, and this morning they had both passed away. She had hurried through her task this morning, but she had not been there when they passed. And by the time she had arrived, Orestes had run off.

  “We’ll find him before we leave,” Barnabus said.

  “I hope so.”

  A bamboo crate sat by itself on the dock. Helen frowned. “I wonder why it’s not on board yet.”

  “I’ll check.” Barnabus went over to speak to Aegisthus. Helen couldn’t hear what was said, but the captain shook his head.

  When Barnabus returned, she asked, “What happened?”

  “His men are scared. They won’t go near the crate.”

  “Did you tell them it’s safe?”

  “I did, but he does not believe me.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Helen strode over to the crate and began to unwind the rope that held it shut.

  Aegisthus ran over to her, his eyes wide. “My queen, what are you doing?”

  “Showing you there is nothing to fear.” She let the crate door drop to the ground. Aegisthus jumped back as a furry head appeared.

  Helen smiled. It’s all right. Come on out.

  The cub stepped out of the crate and went to Helen’s side, licking her hand. Helen ran a hand through his fur. Come, little one. She walked up the gangplank, and the cub trotted behind her. Behind her, she heard Barnabus order two men to carry the empty crate on board.

  As Helen stepped onto the ship, the sailors already on board stopped what they were doing, their eyes locked on the bear. Have a seat, little one. After a moment’s hesitation he sat next to her. The men didn’t look reassured. Helen considered. How about waving? She raised her hand, and the little cub imitated her. That made the sailors smile.

  “It’s all right,” she called to them. “He won’t hurt you.”

  The cub leaned into Helen, and two men set the crate down on the deck beside them. Helen knelt down to look into the cub’s eyes. You need to go back in, but just for a little while—until the men are not scared of you. Okay?

  The cub licked her cheek and walked into the crate. Helen gestured for the men to lock it up.

  “He listens to you.”

  Helen turned at the small voice. “Orestes. I’ve been looking for you.”

  The boy was too thin, too pale, and Helen could see the trails of tears through the dirt on his face. And yet all she felt at the sight of him was relief.


  He kept his gaze focused on his feet. “I—I was here. I—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Helen’s heart broke for the young boy. He was alone in the world. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  Orestes swiped at a tear that rolled down his cheek. “I don’t have anyone left.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” She patted the deck next to her. “Sit with me.”

  Orestes obeyed, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “Have you been on a ship before?” Helen asked.

  Orestes shook his head.

  “Well, this one has been to Egypt and Sparta, and now we are heading to the Ionian Sea.”

  “So far?” Orestes said. He looked on the verge of tears.

  “Yes. There are some people there I need to speak with. It is a long journey. And a ship like this always needs a few extra hands.” Helen paused. “Say, you wouldn’t like to come with us, would you?”

  Orestes’s head popped up, and Helen saw hope in his eyes. “Really?”

  “It won’t be easy. You’ll have work to do. And you are years behind in training. So you will have to train very hard with me and Barnabus for the entire journey.”

  His eyes grew even larger. “Train? You will teach me to fight?”

  “If you wish. And Barnabus has offered to take you to Egypt with him to live.”

  “Really?”

  “You don’t need to decide now. We have much time.”

  “But you want me to go with you?”

  Helen smiled. “We both do.”

  Orestes turned away, but not before Helen saw a new sheen of tears in his eyes. She pretended she didn’t. He would need to learn to hide those emotions. Best to start now.

  “There is one additional responsibility, however, that you will need to be in charge of for the journey.”

  “What?” Orestes asked.

  Helen nodded to the cub, who could be seen through the bars of the bamboo crate, contentedly chewing on a bone. “He will need to be fed and walked and played with. I would like you to do that.”

  Orestes’s eyes grew huge. “You want me to play with a bear?”

  “Yes. He has lost all those close to him as well. Will you look after him for me?”

  Helen could see the fear in the boy’s eyes, but he nodded. “Yes.”

  “Excellent.” She stood up. “Let us go make introductions.” She held out her hand to him, and he grasped it. And for a moment, it wasn’t Orestes standing next to her but one of her own children. She swallowed down the emotions that bubbled up and cleared her throat. “All right, I have not named him yet. You will have to do that as well.”

  “I can name him anything?”

  “Anything you like.”

  The boy paused, his face showing how seriously he took the task. Finally he said, “Achilles.”

  Helen nearly tripped over her own feet. “Achilles?”

  Orestes’s eyes widened. “Have you heard of him? He is the greatest warrior that has ever lived. He is the son of Zeus.”

  Zeus really seems to have gotten around. “Yes, I am familiar with Achilles.”

  Barnabus joined them. “Achilles?”

  “Yes,” Helen said dryly, “Orestes has decided to name the cub Achilles in honor of the great warrior.”

  Barnabus laughed, but he quickly turned it into a cough at Helen’s glare. “Do you know that Queen Helen and I know Achilles very well?” he asked.

  “You do?”

  Barnabus smiled. “Come. Walk with me and I will tell you stories you would not believe.”

  Helen smiled at the sight of the two of them walking off together.

  The captain approached. “We are ready to sail whenever you are, my queen.”

  “Then let’s begin. It’s time for the next leg of this adventure.”

  “As you wish.” The captain bowed and departed.

  Helen moved to the railing. The scroll had said that the island would have the weapon of the people. Helen had no idea what that referred to, but she prayed that the scroll was correct—because good men were losing their lives while she chased it down. At the same time, she couldn’t imagine what kind of weapon could possibly change the entire course of a war.

  And she prayed she wasn’t on a fool’s errand.

  Chapter 85

  Troy, Turkey

  The tent flap flew open and Patroclus stormed in. Achilles blinked, trying to bring him into focus, but after a few seconds he gave up and let his head fall back on his cot. He held up the bottle he was holding. “Patroclus. Come join me.”

  Patroclus stood with his arms crossed. “I think you’ve had enough.”

  “Nonsense. There is no such thing as too much wine—or too many women.” Achilles took a swig to accentuate the point. Truth was, he barely tasted it, he was so numb from all the alcohol he’d already drunk. For alcohol to have any effect on him, he needed to drink it continuously, and so that was exactly what he had been doing since his confrontation with Agamemnon. It was the only way he could drown out the sounds of battle—the sounds of men falling when he could have saved them.

  “How long do you plan to continue like this?” Patroclus demanded.

  Patroclus was the only one who dared to speak to Achilles that way. Everyone else worried about how the mighty Achilles would react. But Patroclus, he never worried. He never backed down. And Achilles loved him all the more for it.

  He had longed for a brother for years. When in Sparta, he had seen the closeness of Castor and Pollux—how they would die for one another without hesitation—and he had been jealous. He wanted that bond with someone. And then, as if the gods had heard his prayers, he found Patroclus. His presence had soothed the ache of leaving Sparta. And Achilles had learned from him about duty and commitment. He was as devoted to Patroclus as Patroclus was to him.

  As Helen is to Sparta. The thought appeared unbidden in his mind, but he could not deny the truth of it. Her family and duty to Sparta would always come first to her.

  Achilles shrugged. “It seems to be working so far.”

  “Men are dying! You could save them. Yet you sit here and let them die.”

  “I am not responsible for their deaths,” Achilles growled. “Agamemnon is in charge.”

  “But they look to you! They look to the great Achilles to lead them forward, to show them how to win. Agamemnon—he barely steps onto the battlefield. He sends men into battle and then hightails it back to his tent to strategize. They need you, not a fat old man playing at soldier.”

  Achilles gripped the bottle, his knuckles turning white. “Has Agamemnon released Briseis?”

  “No.”

  Achilles’s spirits dropped. He had hoped Patroclus would say yes, allowing him to join the battle, to work off some of the guilt eating at him. A day or two would not change the course of the war. Then he could find another reason to sit out. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on Patroclus’s face. “Then here I will stay.”

  “Achilles, just come to the battlefield. Your presence alone will bolster the men. They are beginning to lose heart. They are beginning to think they cannot win. Hector will be leading the Trojan forces this morning. Your men need you.”

  “They are not my men. They are Agamemnon’s. He should be the one to bolster their spirits.”

  “He cannot, and you know that. Those men will die because you would rather sit here and feed your ego than help them win.”

  “I have given Agamemnon my terms. I will not break them.”

  Patroclus shook his head. “You disappoint me, Achilles. I thought you were more than this.”

  Patroclus’s words cut through the fog of drink surrounding Achilles. Not for the first time, he wanted to tell Patroclus the true reason why he was sitting out this fight. But he had promised Helen, and he knew the stakes—Zeus needed to be stopped.

  If Helen had truly known what she was asking of me, she would not have asked.

  But she
had. And he had promised. He would abide by that promise. Even if it meant sitting here while he burned to fight. He waved at Patroclus. “Tell the men we are not fighting.”

  Patroclus opened his mouth, then shut it. “Very well.”

  Achilles closed his eyes, feeling the pull of sleep. He heard Patroclus rummaging through their tent, but he paid it no heed. When Helen returns, I will tell Patroclus all. He will understand, Achilles thought as Patroclus disappeared from the tent and Achilles drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 86

  Agamemnon paced his tent. He had left the battlefield as soon as Hector had stepped from the gates, his soldiers arranged behind him. He knew the men whispered about his absence, but he made sure they understood that only he and he alone could develop the strategies that would win them this war.

  Of course, without Achilles, those strategies were turning out to be more and more complicated.

  The tent flap opened, and Briseis walked in and set a flask of wine on the table. Agamemnon narrowed his eyes. She was the cause of all this. But he did not raise his hand to strike her. There was still a small chance of getting Achilles back in the fight, but Agamemnon knew that chance would vanish if the girl were harmed.

  Agamemnon waved toward his bed. “See to my clothes.” The girl quickly gathered his clothes from the floor and disappeared from the tent.

  A roar went up from the battlefield, and then the men started to chant. Agamemnon tilted his head, trying to make out what it was they were yelling.

  Cergen burst into the tent, gulping air. “Achilles. Sir—Achilles.” The man bent at the waist trying to catch his breath.

  “What is going on? Why are the men yelling?” Agamemnon demanded.

  “It’s Achilles—he has joined the fight with his Myrmidon.”