Warrior Rising (Goddess Summoning #6)(97)

“Of course, Princess. You’re tired and overwrought, and you’ve simply gotten yourself turned around. You’ll see—the gate room isn’t far from here. You were almost there.”

Keeping up a steady stream of soothing chatter, the servant led Kat around a turn in the hall, down a fork to the right and then stopped before a narrow archway. A door was open to a stone catwalk on which was built the wooden platform and the niche carved into the Trojan wall. Just as she had seen from her balcony, one warrior was positioned on guard on the platform, and another stood between the chain and the levers.

Kat sniffled and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Shall I wait for you, my lady, and be certain you find your way back to your chamber?”

“No. Thank you, but no. You were right. I’d just gotten confused and upset. I know where I am now.”

“Very good, my lady.” The woman curtseyed, gave her one more worried look, and then retraced the path they had just taken, disappearing around the bend in the hallway.

Kat wiped her eyes with her sleeve, put on her best damsel-in-distress face, and went out onto the catwalk.

Both warriors snapped to attention. Neither of them spoke. Kat cleared her throat, pitching her voice to sound as young as possible.

“Hello. I came to thank the two of you.”

She saw twin flickers of confusion in the men’s eyes.

“For saving me from—” She broke off and began to sob.

The men’s confusion turned to panic.

“Princess Polyxena, there is no need. We did not—”

“Oh, but you did! You saved me! I could still be there, with the Greeks, in that horrible camp where they…” Kat dissolved into unintelligible blubbering.

Both men looked helpless and rather pale.

“Princess,” said the warrior who had been standing in the niche, but who had now joined the other warrior on the platform. “You are safe now. Our sacred walls will always protect you from the Greeks—you have our oaths on that.”

Feeling like the biggest ass in the known universe, Kat smiled innocent adoration at them through her tears. “Thank you, darlings,” she said, sounding weirdly like Venus. Then, for the coup de grace, she finished with, “I brought you wine from my own chamber.” Kat handed them each a goblet and quickly poured a generous splash of wine for both. “To Trojan warriors!” She shouted tearfully, raising her fist in the air.

The men glanced at each other. Kat could almost see their emotional shrugs. Then they repeated, “To Trojan warriors!” and upended the goblets.

“I feel so much better now,” Kat babbled. “Here, have some more.” She’d just begun to lift the jug to the first man’s goblet when a look of shock widened his eyes. Kat glanced at the other man. His brow was furrowed, as if he had a question he’d like to ask, but had forgotten what it was. Then both men swayed, and with surprisingly little sound, fell backward as if a giant hand had smacked them. Kat bent over them only long enough to see that they were snoring peacefully, then she retrieved one of their swords from where it had clattered on the platform between them. As she gripped the hilt Kat was surprised at how heavy it was, and was glad of the weight in her hand. Maybe it would help keep her trembling under control. She approached the levers and peered out of the long, narrow window onto the battlefield.

The night had gone from coal to slate, and with the gloaming had come Thetis’s fog. It drifted across the battlefield like waves of mist, lapping against the olive grove, then, unhindered, poured out into the blood-crusted emptiness that surrounded the walls of Troy. It was dreamlike in its otherworldly beauty, but for whom the dream would morph into a nightmare was yet to be seen.

Kat saw shapes moving within the fog, darkness against darkness—spectral forms that could be mist, men or madness, and before it all was the creature who had been Achilles, and was now the ultimate expression of nightmare.

He hadn’t left the battlefield. He’d driven the horses all night, around and around the walls of Troy dragging the prince’s body, halting only when they fell to their knees and could go on no longer. Then he’d demanded a new team. Automedon had brought fresh horses, and he’d continued his grisly, monotonous journey. Kat knew, because she’d watched from her window all night. She’d felt like she had to. Someone who cared about Achilles, someone who believed in him, needed to keep watch over him.

Kat put her hands on the levers, closed her eyes and pulled them down.

The sound of the massive chains coming alive was jarringly loud in the guilty silence. She kept her eyes trained on the ghostly shapes she’d glimpsed within the mist and soon she was sure she could make out the distinctive figure of Odysseus leading them closer and closer to the slowly opening walls. Even hidden by the magical fog, he had a light that seemed to surround him that had to be evidence of Athena’s favor. Kat whispered a prayer to the goddess while she stared out at Odysseus. He’s a good man, and he loves you very much. Try to keep him safe, Athena.

And then there was a shout below Kat. At the street level of the gate a man noticed the massive walls opening, even though there was no sight of the Trojan army mounted and ready to take to the field.

Kat hastily ran back to the door that opened to the catwalk and closed it, dropping a bar into place to secure it. Then she pulled the sleeping warriors inside the niche and pressed herself against the inner wall, trying to be inconspicuous, but the shouting got louder and louder as the gates, Sisyphus-like, pushed themselves relentlessly outward. Kat could see that already three men abreast could enter through the gates.