Warrior Rising (Goddess Summoning #6)(100)

She smiled again, this time followed by a beautiful, joyous laugh. “I knew you would come back to me!” Kat threw herself into his arms, hugging him hard. “Achilles, Patroklos isn’t dead. I give you my word—he’s alive and well and with Jacky.”

Elated, Achilles held her fiercely. Patroklos was alive and Katrina loved him despite everything!

Then his brain processed what his eyes were seeing and he pulled gently away from her, looking disbelievingly at a world utterly changed. The Trojan gates were open wide and the city was afire. And he remembered none of it. Always before when he’d returned to himself Achilles had remembered everything the berserker had done, as if it had been a play he’d been observing. This time, there was nothing, only a charred spot burned out of his memory.

Dazed, Achilles realized he and Katrina were standing in the center of a circle of his warriors. Behind him was his chariot and tied to the rear of it was a bloody body that—

“Achilles! My friend!” Odysseus was suddenly there, grasping his forearm. “It’s true. He’s returned!” He shouted to the ring of Myrmidons, who broke ranks and approached him more hesitantly.

“What has happened?” Achilles asked.

“The princess opened the gates. Troy has fallen,” Odysseus said.

“You did this?”

“Well, I had a little help from the goddesses, but basically, yes,” Kat said. Achilles thought she looked extremely uncomfortable and wondered about the full story, hoping he would have years, decades, to ask her about it.

Then his eyes were drawn to the desecrated body. There was something about the dead warrior…

“Who is that?”

Odysseus hesitated. Kat looked obviously upset. And he knew.

“Hector. I killed him.” Achilles felt a sweep of horror. “And then I desecrated his body.”

“You didn’t,” Kat said firmly. “It wasn’t you.”

“Ah, gods! Why was I allowed to do this?” Achilles walked slowly over to Hector’s body. He bowed his head, warring with his feelings, refusing to allow the berserker another opportunity to spread more destruction. He spoke to the body. “You were a valiant warrior and honorable prince. I give you my oath that I will make this right. I will build a funeral pyre to you so great that even Mount Olympus will feel its heat.”

The stabbing, terrible pain in his leg shocked a cry from Achilles. He tried to turn around, to crouch defensively, but the spear had skewered him through the ankle, pinning him to the ground. Clutching uselessly at the deeply imbedded spear, he twisted his body and saw the young, slender man, eyes wide with hatred and madness, draw the bow and let fly a flaming arrow covered in tar.

“Die, monster!” Paris screamed.

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The arrow hit Achilles in the middle of his chest, impaling itself to the flaming quill, spilling molten tar down his body like overflowing lava. Through the agony, Achilles heard Katrina scream and saw her rushing to him as the Myrmidons converged on Paris, burying him under an avalanche of swords and blood.

The berserker, so newly banished, slammed back into his body. Achilles fought the possession, but as his body began to burn, the pain overwhelmed him. Then Katrina’s face swam before him, and through the red haze he watched her snap the golden chain from around her neck and wrench open the locket.

“Venus! Hera! Athena! I call the three of you to me to claim the boon you swore you would owe me!”

The air shimmered, like mist rising from a morning field, and the three goddesses appeared as Achilles was driven to his knees. Body and mind afire, he still struggled against being lost to the berserker.

“I fulfilled my part of the deal,” Kat said. “The boon I want is Achilles. I claim the man and ask that you save him from the monster.”

Achilles began to lose hope when the goddesses exchanged surprised looks. It was too much. Katrina had tried. He had tried. His fate was unavoidable—what had been purposed by the gods could not be changed, not even by the gods themselves. He closed his eyes, concentrating on maintaining his humanity. He wanted to die a man, not a monster.

"Please.” Kat looked pleadingly at each of the goddesses.

“Darling, if you choose this you cannot return to your old life,” Venus said.

“You will live and die in this ancient world,” Athena said.

“Be very sure this is your wish,” Hera said.

“I’ve never been surer about anything in my life,” Kat said. “Please save him.”

Venus smiled. “You have already saved him. Take his hand and call him to you.”

Venus blew a kiss at her, and Kat felt the shock of divine power fill her body. She hurried to Achilles. His body was completely engulfed in fire, but she didn’t hesitate. She reached through the flames and grasped his hand. She felt no heat, no pain, only the surety of her love for him.

“Come to me, Achilles.” Her voice reverberated across the Trojan plain, magnified by the magic of the goddesses.

Kat felt Achilles shudder. Something gave under her hand. Automatically she pulled, and from the burning, ruined body of the berserker-ravaged warrior stepped a golden man. He was smaller in stature than Achilles, and he looked years younger. His body was free of scars. His eyes were a brilliant, clear blue. Gone were the pain and despair, regret and guilt that had been his companions for more than a decade. He gazed at Kat with an expression of happiness so complete that her heart felt as if it would burst with joy. Achilles pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. Then, still holding her hand, he faced the three goddesses. Achilles dropped to one knee. The men around him followed suit. The fighting stopped and all eyes turned to the goddesses.