Alexis of Troy (Book I)

ια′ - Enteka

Eleven

I awoke in yet another new place. I found myself in a dark room with nothing but a small window that allowed a tiny trickle of sunlight. The bed I lay on was thin, hard, and smelled, and felt, like straw. Next to the bed was a washbasin and a vacant chair. There wasn't much else that I could see and, even though it took me a moment, I quickly remembered where I was and how I wound up here.

Paris' home.

The smells were the next to overwhelm me. Manure, straw, livestock. And fresh bread. The last smell was enough to coax a tentative gurgle from my stomach. Apparently, the fruit and chunk of bread I had eaten earlier wasn't enough to satisfy my greedy body.

As promised, Chiron and his daughter led us straight into the joyous arms of Paris' father, Agelaus. The centaur had made himself scarce, to avoid any unwanted questions, though I knew he was close.

A raven was perched nearby, cawing and celebrating our return.

The hill we rounded gave way to the mountain, which had been but a blue silhouette painted against the bright sky. It reminded me of the Lonely Mountain in The Hobbit. The one where Bilbo and his merry pack of dwarves travelled to defeat the dragon Smaug. It was literally a lonely mountain. Its solo peak reached as high as it could to catch the lazy clouds that wandered by.

Nestled at the base was Paris' home. An old, what I presumed to be a standard Greek farm. It was so tiny but cozy and picturesque. And, with the giant mountain propped up behind it, it felt safe. I genuinely felt like the worst was behind me. With Chiron, Melanippe and Paris by my side, it certainly seemed that way.

Now, I climbed to my feet, swaying a bit under the sudden influx in movement. The stretch of my feet then caught my attention. It was like my skin had been pulled too tight. They were freshly bandaged with what looked to be fresh bandages, none of that garbage rags I'd ripped up. They added some cushion as well, making it easier to tread across the floor.

The door to the room swung open so suddenly that I stumbled back onto the bed with a pained grunt. A flood of light followed Paris as he rushed forward, equally surprised by me standing upright. He carried a small tray with some olives, cured meat, bread and fruits. The sight sent another round of demands for my stomach. I hoped he didn't feel the heat radiating off my cheeks as he set the tray on the chair to help me.

"You're awake," he said with a sigh of relief. "I was worried that you might not wake up again."

"Oh, really?" I asked, all but snatching the plate from the chair. "How long did I crash for?"

I'd been so exhausted I must have fallen into a coma.

Oh, sweet, glorious food. Proper food, mind you. I'd never had a meal so incredibly delicious before, even if it was a simple platter. The bread had been baked to perfection, with no need for any butter to soften it. The cured meat was surprisingly flavourful and chewy, while the fruit? The fruit was beyond anything we had back home. This was a time before additives and chemicals, and GMOs. What was on my plate was straight up organic at its root.

"Crash?"

"Oh, um, I mean slept." I swallowed my mouthful of bread, tearing another chunk off.

Paris dropped into the chair and tapped the tray absently. He looked better than ever. Only a small, bruised scratch indicated that he almost bled out.

"Ah. You were asleep for about two days. Usually, when someone sleeps that long the chances are not so good, and they are ready for the trip to the Underworld."