The Belial Warrior (The Belial Series Book 9)

by R. D. Brady

  Achilles looked back as well and realized the prince was no longer recognizable as such.

  Priam took a breath and straightened his shoulders even as tears shone in his eyes. “I am sorry for your loss, good Achilles. I have heard tales of you and Patroclus. And I recognize that besides being a fine warrior, he was a true companion.”

  Achilles looked away from the compassion in the man’s eyes.

  “I ask—” Priam put hand to his mouth, fighting back emotion. “I humbly ask you extend some compassion to me and my wife. We have lost our son today, a most beloved son, father, and husband. He, too, was a good man—one who was loved. We would like to give him the respect of a good burial.”

  And then he waited. He did not demand Achilles return the body of his son. He did not use his status as that of a king to order Achilles. He asked Achilles man to man, heart broken father to heart broken man.

  Achilles felt shame burn deep next to his grief. Patroclus would never approve of what he had done. He did not honor Patroclus with his actions. He dishonored him.

  He saw the pure grief in the old man’s eyes. A grief he shared. With a shuddering breath, he stepped from the chariot and bowed to the king of Troy. “He is yours.”

  His Myrmidon fell into formation around him, offering him their companionship, their loyalty, even though through his actions since Patroclus's death he deserved none of it. And although he walked with his men to his tent where he was surrounded by thousands of more soldiers, he had never felt more alone in his life.

  Chapter 92

  The island of the two gods was located to the west of Greece, in the southern reaches of the Ionian Sea. The winds favored Helen and Barnabus’s voyage there, and when they did not, Helen helped them along. Even so, it took them two weeks to reach the enigmatic island.

  It looked impenetrable. Sheer cliffs towered a hundred feet above them, and waves crashed against them, sending up huge plumes of water. Jagged rocks jutted from the sea, suggesting a labyrinth of obstacles underneath the waves. It was said that no ship had ever been able to find a safe harbor, and more than one had been destroyed in an attempt to land. No man had ever set foot on the island and lived to tell the tale.

  “Achilles!” Orestes called.

  Helen turned to see the bear lumbering after the boy. The two had become inseparable. At first Orestes had been cautious around the cub, but soon he was sneaking out of his bunk at night, and in the morning she would find him curled up next to the crate, the cub pushed up against the side, as close together as they could get. The two orphans seemed to be offering each other some comfort. Finally, Helen had given up and just made up a bed for Orestes next to the crate.

  When he wasn’t playing with the cub, Orestes had proven a dedicated student. He was years behind Spartan youth of his age, but he was picking up fighting techniques quickly. It was good for him—he was gaining weight. He was also losing some of the haunted look around his eyes, though that was due more to Achilles than to training.

  Achilles. Every time Orestes called the bear by name, though, Helen thought of her Achilles. He seemed to slip into her every thought now, no matter how mundane. A boar stew reminded her of the time she and he had hunted one down. A light wind reminded her of his breath on her neck. The laugh of a sailor reminded her of the laugh he’d shown rarely with others but regularly with her. After years of banishing him from her thoughts, it was as if the floodgates had been opened, and she was drowning in memories.

  And she hoped they continued. Until she had seen Achilles again, she had not truly realized just how much of her self she had closed off. He made her feel alive by his mere presence. Even now, her skin tingled with life. How can one man have such an effect?

  Aegisthus joined her by the ship railing, facing the cliffs. “Are you sure you want to do this, my queen? This island is not a safe place.” Helen and Barnabus had decided to take the rowboat to the island, leaving the crew with the ship. The ship itself was much too large to risk an approach through the rocks—and besides, if anyone on board was not loyal to them, Helen did not want them learning anything about the island.

  “It will be all right,” Helen said. “But if we should not return, you will take Orestes and Achilles to King Proteus.”

  “Yes, my queen.” Aegisthus shot another worried glance at the cliffs.

  “Do not worry, Aegisthus. Barnabus and I have this well in hand.”

  Barnabus grunted as he joined them.

  Helen raised an eyebrow. “Do you disagree, Barnabus?”

  Barnabus put his hand to his chest. “Me? Disagree with the queen of Sparta about our ability to safely land on an island that no one has ever been able to land on without being killed? Of course not.”

  Helen clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

  Chapter 93

  The island of the two gods lay dark, and Helen wondered if the scroll had been mistaken. Or if whatever had been hidden there had long since disappeared. Waves broke along the island’s cliffs, tossing spray hundreds of feet into the air. Only desperation—or madness—would drive anyone to even attempt a landing.

  I hope we fall into the former category, Helen thought as she and Barnabus rowed around the rocks dotting the sea. Wind whipped, tossing water into their faces.

  “Not that I do not have complete faith in your abilities, Helen,” Barnabus said, his muscles straining as he rowed, “but are you sure you have this?”

  Helen looked at the cliffs. “Of course.” But even she heard the uncertainty in her voice.

  “Oh, good,” Barnabus murmured.

  Helen gripped the sides of the boat as it rolled down one wave and up the next. She looked behind her, but could no longer see their ship. She turned back to the cliffs. I guess now is as good a time as any.

  She focused on the sky. The wind around them went quiet and the sea silenced. In moments, the water was as flat as glass.

  Barnabus rowed faster now. As they neared the cliff face, Helen called on the wind again. Barnabus let out a yelp as a huge wave built behind them, raising them a hundred feet in the air—and carrying them right toward the cliff.

  Sweat poured down Helen’s face from the strain of controlling the elements. But still, the top of the cliff was another twenty feet above them. Focusing on the wind, she used it to push the water even higher. With a burst, they sailed over the top of the cliff and landed with a thud. As the water rushed back off the edge of the cliff, Barnabus jumped out, grabbed the side of the boat, and dug his heels in, keeping it from being pulled back to the sea below.

  Helen hunched over, exhausted. She had never called on so much power before.

  “Helen?” Barnabus asked.

  “I’m all right. That was just a bit much.”

  Barnabus grinned. “Remind me to never doubt your abilities again.” He offered her his arm as she stepped from the boat.

  Once her legs were steady, Helen looked around. The area near the edge of the cliff was barren, but a forest blocked their way just fifty feet inland. She could make out fruit trees among them.

  “Shall we?” Barnabus asked.

  Helen nodded. “I wonder how long—”

  “Helen.” Barnabus’s smile dropped, and he nudged his chin toward the trees.

  A group of men stepped out from the trees. None of the men appeared younger than four decades, and all were long tunics, threadbare but clean. And their arms… Helen squinted, thinking it was a trick of the light. But as they approached she realized it was not. Their arms were stained blue.

  Helen counted twelve men and noted the absence of any weapons.

  The man in front put up a hand, and the rest went still. Nothing about their posture suggested aggression, but Helen was still too keyed up to let down her guard. From the corner of her eye she saw Barnabus move farther to her left, giving them each more room to maneuver.

  The leader stopped ten feet in front of Helen and bowed his head. Some strands of his long gray hair had been worked in
to braids. Necklaces of different colored beads hung over his chest. His skin had been wrinkled by the sun. But it was clear to Helen that he was not an original inhabitant from the area. His skin tone was too deep. His features were too fine.

  Helen’s heart began to race. He looked like the men she had seen on a trip to India.

  All the men behind him had the same coloring—save one. And that was the one Helen sensed. He was a Fallen. Seeing Helen staring at him, he gave her a small nod, his long blond hair falling forward.

  The group’s leader smiled widely, showing off a mouth missing four teeth. “We have been expecting you, ring bearer.”

  Chapter 94

  Helen scanned the group but got no sense of a threat, even from the one Fallen. “How do you know who I am?”

  “Our seer told us of your arrival. And we watched you arrive. No one else could breach these cliffs in such a way. We have been waiting a long time. My name is Ajeet. I am the leader of our group, such as it is.”

  The man continued to smile. He seemed content to wait for her to speak.

  “And your group,” Helen said. “Do you have a name?”

  “We are the priests of Dwarka and the guardians of the ancient wisdom. But I believe you know that already.”

  Helen gaped. The priests of Dwarka? But that means…

  “We are the last descendants of the priests who escaped the destruction. We have spent our lives guarding Dwarka’s most sacred weapon—and waiting for you.”

  Helen took in the dozen men in front of her.

  Ajeet nodded. “We have lost many from our numbers. When Dwarka was destroyed, we numbered in the thousands. Now the twelve you see before you, and the few left back at our camp, are all that are left. Had you taken much longer, I’m not sure we would have still been here.” He nodded toward Barnabus. “I know you both have many questions. But it is our custom to share a meal to show our goodwill toward one another and forge the beginnings of trust. We invite you to dine with us.”

  Helen glanced at Barnabus, who shrugged. “I could eat,” he said.

  Helen nodded. “All right, let’s eat.”

  Helen and Barnabus followed Ajeet and his men back to their home—although “home” seemed too formal a word. They lived in a destroyed temple that overlooked the Ionian Sea. Simple huts, more tents than actual houses, had been constructed outside the temple, with a fire pit in the center.

  A few men around the fire stood when Helen and Barnabus appeared. Helen wondered where the women were. How were they going to continue on without any children?

  Ajeet walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. “The city of Dwarka dwells beneath the water now. Thousands of years ago, when we escaped, some of our brothers and sisters arrived here and set up this temple to honor our loved ones.”

  Helen looked at what was left of the temple. Half the roof was gone, and only two and a half walls still stood. Columns had toppled over, and trees had grown through some spots in the floor. “What a horrible twist of fate,” she said. “Mother Nature can be cruel.”

  Ajeet’s head snapped up. “It was not Mother Nature who caused the destruction. I would have thought your mother would have told you the tale.”

  “My mother? You knew her?”

  “Of course. We have known of the Great Mother since the beginning of our order. How is she?”

  Helen’s mouth fell open. She didn’t know what to say. Ajeet knew of her mother? “She—she died. She told me there was much she still needed to tell me, but there was no time.”

  “For her, there is always time.”

  Helen frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The Great Mother—she always exists. Always lives. Her location changes, but she is the great constant.” Ajeet smiled. “Now, let us eat.”

  She always lives? Was it possible? Did her mother live again? Helen and her mother had discussed how people returned, but she had never suggested that she would return. Helen wanted to press Ajeet for more information, but she feared that if she started asking questions it would distract her from the mission she was on. She needed to stay the path.

  The meal was simple but fulfilling. As they ate, Helen explained how she and Barnabus had come to the island. When all were finished eating, Helen thanked Ajeet for the food.

  “You are most welcome, ring bearer. And you have been most patient. Now come, both of you.” Ajeet stood with the fluid movement of a much younger man.

  He led Helen and Barnabus into the ruins of the temple. Half the circular roof had collapsed, but the other half showed the remnants of a mosaic. A few statues of intricate beauty remained intact beneath what was left of the roof. One depicted the god Krishna in his four-armed Vishnu form, and Helen stopped at its base. Towering above her, Krishna carried his four weapons: the conch, disc, club, and lotus. But despite his weapons, on his face was peace. Who were you? Helen wondered.

  “Helen, you should see this,” Barnabus said. He stood in front of another statue, its back to Helen. All she could tell from her vantage point was that it was a female.

  Helen rounded the statue to stand next to him. “Who is—”

  Her words cut off as she got a look at the statue’s face. Her hand rose to her mouth. “Mother.” The statue was so lifelike, Helen expected her mother to smile down at her, her violet eyes shining.

  Ajeet came to stand next to her. “The Great Mother. We are honored to have her likeness here.”

  Helen was content to just stand and stare at her mother. “What do you know about her?” she asked.

  “She is the world’s moral center. She shows us the path.”

  Helen felt tears spring to the back of her eyes. She missed her mother so much. Her guidance, her wisdom—she would know what to do about Zeus. “I wish she was here,” Helen said softly.

  Ajeet shook his head. “This is your path. She has given you the tools. Now it is up to you to walk it.”

  She recalled her concerns about Zeus’s foray into far-off lands. She knew in her soul that there was so much more going on than she knew. “What if I’m not up to the task?”

  “You are. You just have more to learn. Let me help you with that.” Ajeet gestured for them to follow him. He stopped at one of the still-standing walls of the temple, although only half of the wall remained. Copper scrolls adorned it, each one carefully engraved with images.

  Barnabus ran his fingers lightly over the engravings. “Whoever did this was very skilled.”

  Helen walked along the panels, stopping at one that depicted a giant wave about to crash down on Dwarka. A shudder ran through her as she realized how terrified its inhabitants must have been. She imagined a giant wall of water rushing toward her and breaking over all the people she loved. But she shoved the image away. It was too painful to dwell on.

  “Your people had no warning?” Barnabus asked.

  “Some of us were able to escape, but no, it happened quickly. We needed to destroy Dwarka.”

  “You needed to destroy it?” Helen asked.

  Ajeet’s voice was filled with sadness as he reached up a hand and touched the image of people running from the wave. “We called it to us. There was no other way.”

  “How is that possible?” Helen asked.

  “Dwarka was a city well ahead of its time. Even today, it is beyond our imagining. We have lost much to time.”

  Helen recalled her mother saying almost the exact same words.

  “Dwarka was a place of learning, a sacred place.”

  Barnabus studied the panel showing the destruction of Dwarka. “But why destroy it? And how? Everyone knows Dwarka was destroyed when the sea rose up and reclaimed it. Did your brothers have power over the sea?”

  Ajeet shook his head slowly. “The weapons and machines we have now are nothing compared to what our ancient brothers and sisters had. One of those was a stone of immense power and energy. It was used to light homes, to let craft fly through the air, to communicate over long distances.”

  “These t
hings are not possible,” Barnabus said.

  Ajeet shrugged. “Today, yes, it sounds like magic. But I assure you, it was very real.”

  Helen said nothing. Her mother had told her about the incredible civilizations in the past, about technology that she could barely imagine. But Leda had spoken with such conviction and detail, Helen knew it was true. Her mother had had a knowledge of the world that rivaled any scribe’s. So Helen knew that what Ajeet said was not only possible, but likely.

  She also knew how the city had been destroyed.

  “The Belial Stone,” Helen said softly. “It was turned against the city.”

  Ajeet nodded. “We called it the tuari stone. Its power can lift up humanity or drag it into its depths. On that day, they unleashed its destructive power. The earth itself was torn apart, and Dwarka was swallowed by the sea.”

  “But why?” Barnabus asked, incredulous.

  “To protect Dwarka’s greatest discovery. Our greatest weapon.” He paused. “And to prepare for this moment. The world has reached a dangerous point, ring bearer. When our ancestors knew the time of Dwarka was coming to an end, they sent three groups out into the world.”

  Three. Helen ran her thumb over the face of her ring, tracing one of the triangles.

  Ajeet noticed the movement. “Yes, three’s a critical number. Three groups were sent to different parts of the world. Each of those groups split again and then once more. One would test the ring bearer should she find them. The second would provide the history of the weapon and the directions to its final resting places. And the third would hide the weapon itself.”

  “That's nine separate groups. Why make it so complicated? Why not just one group?” Barnabus asked.

  “No one could know where the ring bearer will be called, and the Great Mother knew it could be thousands of years before the weapon was needed. The world can change a great deal in that time. With three groups, there was a greater chance for the ring bearer to find one of them.”