Trojan Slave (Book 1)

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Darkness had fallen. The moon was hidden behind the blackest of clouds. Stars blanketed and snuffed out. Nothing lit the way from above. They had become shadows.

Shadows moved. Darkness within darkness, creeping ever closer. They were the bringers of destruction to the unsuspecting and gullible behind their high protective walls. They were one entity. One unit. One darkness. One message. They came to bring death, and their goal was to win. There was no other outcome that was acceptable. Glory would be theirs.

Soft grains of shifting sand sent out a hushed sound of many feet. Yet that was the only sound the men made, swords and shields held steady. The sound of the crashing waves drowned the little noise they made. As if Poseidon himself was on their side this night.

Theod hoped this was a good omen; that the gods were finally choosing a side they wished to win. They were stealing closer. And closer still. His chest tight. Anticipation swept the horde amassed in the darkness. Shadows within shadows, working together as one. The mouse before the mighty cat. But this mouse was smarter. It had outwitted the cat. It had managed to get past its impenetrable walls.

All they needed now was the signal.

The wait was agonising. Men become restless, wanting – no needing this war to be over. The moon still covered their position, aiding them to hide themselves from the Trojan sentries' sight.

They did not know that the real problem came from within their own walls. The enemy was already there. They should be facing the other way and looking to their own people who could at even that precise moment be meeting their demise.

Theod sent a quick prayer to the gods. Hoping that Alexios managed to survive in enemy territory. That they both managed to come out of this alive and hale. Well, at this moment, alive was really all he wanted. For deep inside he knew however he returned to Elpis, it was returning to her that she cared for, not the condition he would be in.

He shook his head, thinking like that could get a man killed in the heat of battle. He had to think positive. He would come out of this alive and hale. Nothing would come between him and his family. All that found themselves blocking him on the road to his goal would find themselves cut down by his sword, flung aside as if their very life had meant nothing in the great existence of the world they had once inhabited.

He had to go into this battle feeling invincible. If he did not, then he would not be.

Beside him he felt Solon shift uncomfortably. He was never one to sit still and wait for something to happen. Theod knew this feeling too. They were wound up tight, just waiting for the string to be released and for them to fly forwards. A path of destruction in their wake.

He started counting his breaths, keeping them calm and measured. Around him, there where thousands of ghosts of men, their movement barely visible. Just as he must appear to them. An apparition. A bringer of death. His face unknown, unseen. He came in with a vengeance and left just as quickly.

The sea continued to crash against the shore, seeming thunderous in its loudness. It was incongruous to his senses to know that so many men stood beside him, and yet it was as if they were not there. He strangely also thought he could feel the presence of those who had given their lives to this campaign, as they had come back to witness this final scene in the play of war that had ripped them from this world and into the next.

Lit torches filled the darkness above the wall. The signal was made.

Heat beating in his ears, he felt it rush and his breathing increase. The excitement built to levels the anticipation had reached. His body barley hold on, and he tried his hardest not to vibrate with the emotion running through him.