Warrior Rising (Goddess Summoning #6)(90)

“I’ll remember, but it seems what you’re saying is that Achilles has been a victim, too.”

“He isn’t Achilles anymore. You’ll soon see.”

There didn’t seem to be anything left to say, and Kat concentrated on keeping up with Odysseus as she wondered just what the hell she thought she was going to do when she finally found Achilles. In the middle of battle. Totally berserked out. She could hear Jacky’s voice calling her a damn fool.

And then she realized that it wasn’t Jacky’s voice that was crowding into her mind, but the voices of many men and horses, swords and pain. They struggled up the side of an olive-lined ridge, Odysseus taking her elbow to help her, and Kat stumbled to a shocked halt.

“Oh, holy shit!” she blurted.

The walls of Troy stretched before her, thick and tall and impossibly magnificent. They were made of butter-colored limestone, and the midday sunlight made them shine a soft, compelling yellow. She could see some of the city built up inside the walls, the center-piece of which was a graceful, pillared palace that stretched all along the inside of the city walls to the left of the huge front gates. Beautiful arched windows led to ivy-hung and flowered balconies that afforded excellent views of what should be the placid and prosperous comings and goings of merchants, farmers and the people of Troy. Now the empty balconies looked out onto chaos.

“So many men,” Kat said, staring at the melee of warriors who shouted and screamed, fought and died in front of the city walls. How will I ever find him? But before she could voice the question, a terrible roar sounded from the center of the battlefield, so powerful that it had no trouble carrying over the two armies. “Achilles,” she said softly.

“Not Achilles,” Odysseus said. “You’re not dealing with the man. You’re dealing with the monster.”

“The man is still inside the monster,” she said stubbornly.

“Perhaps, but I saw no evidence of that when he gave himself over to it.” Odysseus paused, and rested his hand gently on her shoulder. Kat looked up at him questioningly. “As the berserker was possessing him he asked me to give you a message. Achilles said that the dream was over, and that you should go home. It was his final wish, along with asking that you forgive him. Reconsider, Princess. Imagine what it would do to him if he knew that he had again destroyed the woman he loved.”

Kat’s throat burned with unshed tears. She remembered all too well the story Achilles had told her about the berserker raping and killing his young fiancée, who had also been Odysseus’s cousin.

“I know you’re making sense,” she said. “And I know it must seem to you like I’m behaving recklessly and being ridiculously stubborn, but here’s the truth, Odysseus. I’m not from your time. I’m not even from your world. I’m a different kind of woman than what you know here, and I have the power of generations of independent thinkers and educated mothers and sisters, daughters and girlfriends, all within me. I believe in myself, and what the power of one woman can bring about. That gives me a different kind of strength, a strength that Venus and Hera and Athena knew would be needed here. I can change what’s happening. All I have to do is trust myself and believe that Achilles will trust me, too.”

Odysseus had listened to her carefully, studying her intently while she spoke. “You make me hope you are right, Princess,” he finally said.

“Katrina, that’s my real name. My friends call me Kat.”

He smiled. “Well, Kat, shall I lead you into chaos?”

She bobbed a little curtsey. “There are few men I’d rather go there with, kind sir.”

The battlefield was like nothing Kat could have ever imagined. The smells alone were horrendous, the sights and sounds utterly frightening. As soon as they’d reached the outskirts of the fighting, Odysseus sent a Greek runner to gather as many of the Myrmidons as he could find. Kat waited impatiently behind the battle lines, wishing for modern communications and transportation, and all the while the roar of the berserker sounded over and over again, filling the air with a bestial violence that made the men fighting and dying mere yards from her seem tame.

The Myrmidons responded to Odysseus’s call much more quickly than Kat would have anticipated, and soon she was looking at the surprised, blood-spattered faces of familiar men who nodded to her in respectful greeting.

“We’re taking her to Achilles,” Odysseus announced.

The Myrmidons’ faces were utterly confused.

“But he is Achilles no more,” Automedon said.

As if to punctuate the warrior’s words, another roar shook the battlefield and Achilles’ own men shuddered.

“I know about the berserker, but I think I can reach Achilles,” Kat said, looking from man to man. “Patroklos is not dead. All I have to do is get to a small part of Achilles and make him understand that.”

“Patroklos lives!” Automedon said, as the men nearest them took up the cry and let it ripple through the group. Then the smiling warrior turned back to her. “Bring Patroklos to the battlefield, Princess. Even overtaken by the berserker, Achilles must recognize his cousin. When he sees that he is alive, all will be well again.”

“Yes!” said another warrior whose name Kat couldn’t remember. “We may even get to Achilles before he has killed Hector and called the prophesy to him.”