Cassandra and Apollo

Chapter 14

The iron is about to pierce the tanned skin between Ajax's meaty neck and shoulder. Then, something incredible happens.

Another spear materializes from the warm sea air. Its point cracks Hector's spear in half.

The washing of the waves, the shouting of gulls, even the gentle wafting of the clouds has screeched to a halt. Over one hundred thousand men, ranked and filed into neat squares, stare blankly, their eyes fixed and empty. Some of them are caught mid-cheer, their faces twisted into an obscene, soundless mime of triumph. Some are leaping into the air. As if suspended by invisible wires, they do not come down.

Hector stares dumbly at the frozen waves, clouds, and men. I am dead, he thinks. There was a blow I did not see; a spear I did not dodge.

But an oddly familiar voice jolts him into the present.

"Oh, Athena, you just couldn't help yourself, could you?" says the voice in his head, save that it is no longer in his head. The clear baritone is out in the world, behind him, actually.

Hector turns and sees a strong, beardless man, nearly his height, with sweeping blonde hair and glowing skin.

"Phoebus Apollo?" he says, mouth agape.

The god ignores him. He is speaking to someone else. Hector follows his line of sight, which ends at the spear that protected Ajax.

Holding it is the tallest woman Hector has ever seen. Her dark hair is tied sensibly at the nape of her neck, which flows gracefully into broad shoulders and thick, powerful arms. She radiates no light, but the silver of her aegis reflects so brightly it makes him squint.

Behind a silver horsehair helmet, the goddess's iron gray eyes are narrowed with rage and focused on him.

"Get up, Ajax," she says, still pinning Hector in place with her steely gaze. Her voice is the clangor of sword against shield, the roar of a company on the march.

The mountain obeys, because there is no choice but to obey her. He is bigger than the goddess, but not by much. She thumps him in the gut with her closed fist, handing him her spear.

She smirks, turning toward the golden god.

"How predictable, you helping a prince of Troy," she says.

Apollo raises a hand, brows lifting along with it. "Oh, no no. I have helped no one, yet. It is you who broke the truce."

Slate gray eyes widen just a fraction, but it is noticeable. "That is a lie. You were whispering to him, I heard you. And he was moving too fast for what he is."

Now it is Apollo's turn to smirk. "No, he was moving how he normally does," says the god. He looks over at Hector, unimpressed, and suppresses a yawn.

Hector cants his head to one side, he has just been simultaneously insulted and complimented by two of the most powerful gods on Olympus. War is very strange.

"I was whispering because I know your battle lust clouds your reason." Apollo takes a few steps forward, looks up at his half-sister with defiance. "I knew you would think I had broken father's peace."

He shrugs, "gods of war are so predictable, isn't that so, mortal?" The god turns to Hector for confirmation, but he merely stares back as if to say Are you trying to get me killed?

Ignoring Hector's distress, Apollo turns back to Athena and adds, "Will you keep interfering? Or will you let the children play?"

The gray in Athena's eyes reflects the brightness of the sun. She considers Apollo's words, his claim that bloodlust is clouding her reason.