Will More Strongly

Will More Strongly


Chapter XX


Achilles' grip on his sword faltered with the sudden agonizing pain in his left heel. His distraction lasted long enough for one of his two assailants to overpower him. He was thrust onto his back and found himself on the defensive from two fronts. Every time he attempted to move his left leg there was a painful twinge that coursed through his entire body and left him momentarily weak. He could not back down, though, because of Alexandros. His every intention was directed towards Alexandros and finding his beloved.

"Go!"

Distantly aware of the sound, Achilles only realized after the fact it was Alexandros who had given the shout. Achilles wanted to warn Alexandros away. He wanted to keep the younger man safe from harm because he knew full well that Alexandros was not a warrior. His beloved had never killed another man and Achilles wanted it to remain that way.

There was a sudden blur of motion and then the Greek soldier was no longer a pressing weight against his right side. Pushing any questions momentarily from his mind, Achilles used the advantage given to him and stabbed his sword into the gap in the armour under the man's arm. Achilles shoved the man off of him and scanned in the direction the Greek soldier had gone tumbling.

"'Xandros!" Achilles shouted when he saw his beloved battling the well-trained fighter.

Struggling to his knees, Achilles struck the tip of his sword into the earth in hopes of using it as leverage to hoist himself to his feet. Achilles crumpled as he attempted to put any weight on his left foot. Alexandros was knocked down, a spot of red appearing on his right forearm. The injury to his ankle did not prevent Achilles from shuffling towards Alexandros. He battled against the pain, reaching for an unused arrow that had fallen from the younger man's quiver. Wrenching the one from his ankle seemed disastrous in his mind, so he tightened his fingers around the fletching of the stray arrow, drawing it towards his body.

Achilles paused momentarily, gathering himself than surged forward with the arrow clutched tightly in his fist. His leg gave out beneath him almost immediately, but Achilles propelled himself the rest of the distance so that he was able to snatch at the neck of the man's breast plate. With his right hand, Achilles stabbed the arrowhead into the vulnerable spot of the base of his throat. Both he and Alexandros were shoving the dying soldier aside so Achilles collapsed against his lover's chest once that third body was no longer between them. Immediately Alexandros' arms came around him, holding him tight.

"I did not mean for it to happen," Alexandros moaned against his forehead. "I swear by all the gods that I was not aiming for you."

Initially Achilles was shocked by the information. He would not have thought that the arrow currently lodged in his left ankle had come from his beloved's bow. That it was an accident, though, he did not doubt.

~*~*~

Achilles' silence worried Alexandros. He lay trembling beneath the larger man, certain that he was experiencing his final embrace with his beloved. Alexandros savored the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Locking that memory away in his mind, Alexandros carefully wiggled his way out from under Achilles.

"We need to get you out of here," Alexandros murmured as he helped Achilles into a seated position. "There is a secret passage that only my family knows of. We can escape the city that way."

It startled Alexandros when Achilles tenderly framed his face. The blonde warrior stared at him intently, fingertips tracing over his every feature with infinite care.

"We do not have time for this, Achilles," Alexandros said as he placed his hands overtop of his lover's. "We need to flee the city now."

"I had feared you on the pyre with Hector," Achilles whispered, a broad smile creasing his features.

"I am made of stronger stuffs than you think." Alexandros' gaze then traveled down to the arrow that was protruding from Achilles' heel. "I am sorry, but I must break the shaft. There is nothing that I can do to prevent it from hurting, though."

Achilles grunted then pursed his lips. "Do it."

~*~*~

Alexandros struggled under Achilles' weight, hurrying them as fast as he could towards the passage. Achilles felt guilty for placing such a burden on his already injured love. His own injury was minor, a single arrow piercing the base of his foot. Upon any other part of his body, such an injury would have been ignored completely. Achilles would have merely wrenched the arrow from his body and continued on unhindered.

Alexandros shifted in front of him then, nearly throwing Achilles off balance. While he fought to regain his equilibrium, Alexandros notched and fired an arrow at an on-coming Greek soldier. Two more soldiers met an identical fate in rapid succession.

"We are very nearly there," Alexandros murmured as he returned to Achilles' side, dark eyes darting about in search of any further threat. "It is just in the main courtyard up ahead, disguised as a storage building."

Achilles grunted in response, trying to force as much weight on his left foot as possible. Alexandros must have caught the movement because he tightened his grip on Achilles' arm. The older man tried to fight, but Alexandros was having none of it even though Achilles could hear him groaning with the effort of supporting them both.

"You are still injured, Alexandros, and being forced to bear my weight does not help any," Achilles insisted when he noticed Alexandros bringing a hand to his side.

"Could you stand alone I would agree with you. As you cannot, you must endure my aid," Alexandros ground out. Pain was glittering in the younger man's eyes which only increased Achilles' sense of guilt.

Hearing a noise from behind them, Achilles spun about on his right foot, wrenching himself away from Alexandros. He had twisted his body towards Alexandros so that with the motion he was able to snatch an arrow from the archer's quiver. Sighting their assailant, Achilles made a slight adjustment to his aim and flung the projectile towards the man. As the arrow embedded itself in the soldier's throat, Alexandros' arms came up to support him once again as his left leg gave out beneath him.

~*~*~

Agamemnon had sent men ahead to search for the young Trojan prince. Since almost the beginning of the war he had had spies in the city and knew the exact location of Paris' room which made the task of locating him easier.

"He is not in his rooms, my lord. Nor can he be found in any of the main chambers where others have been found," Themocles mumbled as he returned to Agamemnon's side.

Scowling, the High King of all the Greek city states stalked out of the palace and into the main courtyard. "I want Paris found. He is the cause of all this and must face the consequences."

"Yes, my lord," the man said, inclining his head to Agamemnon. "What of King Priam?"

"Kill him on sight," Agamemnon said without the slightest hesitation. The aging King of Troy was of no consequence to him, only his son. Agamemnon meant to take Paris back to Mycenae with him as a prize. The boy was a beauty above all others of either sex and was therefore an enviable trophy that Agamemnon desired to make his own.

Then, as though guided by the gods, Agamemnon's gaze was drawn to the two scurrying figures on the far side of the courtyard. Squinting as he took several steps forward, Agamemnon could not stop his grin when he recognized the young Prince Paris helping another along the wall. His smile vanished when he realized that the person at his side was Achilles. Agamemnon was not prepared to give up the beauty to the headstrong warrior and hurried to intercept them. He crossed the courtyard rapidly, shoving aside any who happened in his path.

"Give up the prince," Agamemnon growled once he reached the fleeing pair.

As had been the case that night in his tent a little over a fortnight ago, Paris' eyes were filled with a furious fire that greatly amused Agamemnon.

"I am not a prize to be won," Paris hissed, raising the tip of his sword level with Agamemnon's throat.

"You are mistaken in that case, boy," Agamemnon grinned, using his own blade to push Paris' away from his neck. "My brother may have foolishly believed that Helen was to be the trophy of this war, but any man with eyes can see that you are the ultimate prize."

Achilles made a low, inarticulate grumbling noise and maneuvered himself to stand more fully at Paris' side. "Touch him and I will kill you. I murdered the high priest of Apollo for less."

"Do you intend to threaten me with such a tale?"

Achilles' grin was maniacal as he raised his own sword alongside Paris'. "I make you a promise, Agamemnon."

So close were they to the walls of the burning city that smoldering debris toppled over their heads. Agamemnon made a furtive grab for the prince before he was forced into a retreat to avoid the flaming materials falling over their heads. In his haste he was knocked to the ground and when he looked up again all that was left of the place Paris and Achilles had stood was a large pile of flaming debris. He scanned along the wall in both directions, but there was no sign of either man and no place to where they could have escaped.

~*~*~

Her infant son clutched tightly to her chest, Andromache stared back at the inferno that had been her home. With Paris' fate momentarily uncertain, Astyanax was Troy's heir. Her son was made vulnerable by this position. Vulnerable and not yet able to defend himself. It was be many years before Astyanax would be able to claim his birthright, if such a thing would even be possible at the time of his majority.

"We must flee this place," Briseis murmured from her side. "It is not safe for any of us this close to the city."

"What of the others? Should we not wait for them?"

Hecuba, the regal Queen of Troy, took a half step towards her burning city, her body jerking as though she would take more steps but was unable to. "I will not leave without my husband and son."

"But we must go, my queen," Briseis insisted, placing a hand upon her aunt's arm.

"Your grandson must be kept safe at all costs," Andromache said, echoing Briseis' sentiment. "Should the king and Paris fall with the city, he will be the future of Troy."

With one final look at her beloved city, Hecuba turned her gaze away to the river.

In her arms, Astyanax began to fuss so Andromache held him closer still, brushing a kiss against his soft forehead. "Hush, my child, I will keep you safe...."

~*~*~

In the great throne room, King Priam lay crumpled upon the ground, his unseeing eyes staring up at the ceiling. Around his corpse were the bodies of other dead and dying men, both Trojan and Greek. Hades paid no heed to nationality, desiring only the souls of the departed to fill his underworld realm.

Around the bodies, a fire continued to burn, engulfing the palace.

~*~*~

Coughing repeatedly, Alexandros shoved the beam and other crumbled building materials off his body. He could feel a movement to his right and then a groan that he recognized as Achilles. Alexandros grunted as he shifted onto his side and bit back a cry as something sharp dug into his side. He shifted backwards, away from the pain of it, but was unable to move back very far.

"'Xandros..." Achilles moaned, slowly blinking his eyes open.

Alexandros reached forward immediately, cupping his fingers around his beloved's cheek. "Right here. And thankfully Agamemnon is not."

Swiveling his head around, Alexandros scanned the interior of the room and was greatly relieved to see that it was the exact one that he had been in search of. Climbing sluggishly to his feet, Alexandros stumbled towards the far wall and a jumbled pile of crates. Beyond the crates was a door that was already partially open.

Lying on the ground just outside the door was a small blanket that Alexandros knew belonged to the infant Astyanax.

"They are safe," Alexandros whispered to himself as he crouched down in order to pick up the blanket.

"'Xandros...?" Achilles called to him, his voice ending in a rough cough.

Clutching the bit of fabric in his fist, Alexandros hurried out to where his beloved was struggling into a seated position. Alexandros was greatly worried by Achilles' continued weakness. He knew that Achilles' heel was the weakest point on his body, Achilles had told him so himself, but he had not expected that an injury to it would cause such a problem. When Achilles had mentioned it several years before, Alexandros had merely thought that the warrior was trying to placate him after his hysterical reaction to a deep, still healing gash on Achilles’ left shoulder. It was only now that he could see the truth of the statement.

"I am right here, beloved," Alexandros murmured as he knelt down next to Achilles. "I was merely ensuring our escape. A route my brother's wife and son appear to have already taken."

Achilles' eyes immediately flew to Alexandros'. "I never intended to harm Hector. I meant to keep my promise to you, 'Xandros, I swear it."

Alexandros pressed his thumb over Achilles' lips, silencing him. "I have never doubted that. Hector had hurt me so you struck without thought," Alexandros murmured sadly. It pained him greatly to know that Hector had died so needlessly, but the string of his life had been at an end and there was no changing the minds of the gods. "Now come. Please. We must hurry before the building burns down around us."

It was far more difficult to get Achilles to his feet the second time. He stumbled, unable to bear any weight on his left leg whatsoever and Alexandros was not faring much better himself. His torso had been extremely battered in his fight with the Greek soldier and the wound he had received to his side from Hector's blade ached terribly. The two men therefore held each other up and Alexandros felt a huge sense of relief as he beheld the rough hewn staircase that led below the city to the river that ran alongside it.

Despite his relief, it was a struggle for them to descend the long staircase. It was narrow, making it difficult to walk two abreast which meant that they had to go very slowly to ensure that Achilles did not lose his footing. Beads of sweat broke out on the older man's brow and he was panting heavily, but Achilles did not slow. Instead he forced Alexandros on when the brunette would have paused for rest.

"If we stop, I cannot promise that I will be able to continue on again," Achilles grunted, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked in deep breaths through his nose. "We will stop once we can be certain of our safety."

~*~*~

The dawn found Odysseus standing upon a balcony that he was told belonged to Prince Paris. The city was badly damaged by fire, but before it was irreversible Agamemnon had ordered their men to put out the flames. Much of the other fires throughout the city itself had been quenched as well by both Greek soldiers and the frantic inhabitants of Troy.

With the rising sun, Odysseus could clearly see the carnage that had resulted from the sacking of Troy. King Priam was dead. Queen Hecuba, her daughter-in-law and grandson had fled to an unknown location, undoubtedly taking the same route Helen had used to flee the city in the first place. The fate of Paris, the prince who had begun the war in order to protect the man he loved, was not known. According to Agamemnon, both Paris and Achilles had perished when a heavy awning had collapsed on top of them.

For his part, Odysseus did not believe his friend dead.

There was a rustling noise behind him and the King of Ithaca spun about in time to see Diomedes emerge onto the balcony, a tray of fruits in one hand and a golden goblet in the other. The other man offered up a smile when Odysseus met his gaze. "You should break your fast before you collapse from exhaustion."

"I fear that I do not have the stomach for such things," Odysseus sighed, turning back to the ruined city.

"He is out there," Diomedes assured him, as though reading his mind.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Odysseus' mouth. "And when the mood strikes him he will make himself known again.... Though I fear that day will never come."