Sons of Troy

Chapter Two

Kyros dreamed.

He saw the dead man, Paeon, who was a shade now; the blushing skin of his mortal body was transformed into a thing of quiet starlight. They were standing on a grassy meadow, consumed in the half-light between sunset and nightfall.

"We are dead." Kyros said, not in sorrow but with dutiful resignation.

Paeon chuckled. "I am dead, young nymph, but you are only a visitor here."

"This is the underworld?" Kyros asked. He felt sure that it was, he saw the mighty river Styx, slowly plowing through the countryside. There was a windless stillness to the air, and the now-set sun cast a light but without warmth. This was only the memory of life.

Paeon nodded and they sat together in silence. "I cannot cross until the pyre burns, until my body is turned to ash." He said at last.

The words washed over Kyros and he soaked in the heaviness of their finality. He did not pretend to love Paeon, or even to know him well. But the man had been a regular part of Kyros' life and his absence would be deeply felt.

"I am sorry." He said. "I am sorry that you are dead; I did not mean for it to happen."

"I am not." Came Paeon's quick reply. "Many of my crew are young and I acted rashly in their defense."

"What did you do?" Kyros asked. "On the ship, when you cut your hand; what were you saying?"

Paeon told him that it was a prayer, to the old gods. That his grandmother had taught it to him when he was a boy. He recited it again to Kyros, but the words would not stick. Kyros heard them, he felt their heft and their taste of salt and brass, but then they were gone; strangers to his memory.

"I did not think that it would work, that it really meant anything." Paeon confessed, looking down at his hands carefully folded in his lap.

Before he could respond, Paeon stood and walked towards the river. A boat with a low, rounded hull ambled across, completely unbothered by the current.

"My time is nearly up." Paeon said. "The Prince prepares a pyre for me. He's placed a coin on my body's tongue to pay the ferryman."

"Can you feel that" Kyros asked, "so far away from life?"

"Yes and no." was all that he said.

The boat came closer and they saw that it was empty. Charon was not there. Kyros knew that he wouldn't be, that all the gods were gone, but it made him sad to know that even in death they had not escaped their fate.

"And yet the order of things is maintained." Paeon said, as if reading Kyros' thoughts.

"I will leave you soon, young nymph, but heed my words. Beware the blood of Troy. This prince that waits for you is honorable. He would not have seen to my funeral rites otherwise, but the brooding pack of jackals of House Priam are dangerous. Tread lightly in their company and guard yourself."

He said nothing else, but climbed aboard the boat when it pushed itself into the soft sand along the riverbank. Paeon flipped a gleaming golden coin into the Styx and was carried off beyond Kyros' sight.

Kyros woke up.

And found himself on the deck of the Trojan ship.

His sailors were all about him. Some had been restrained, their hands were tied behind their backs. The signs of their struggle were the darkening streaks of black and blue spreading around their eyes. They all seemed scuffed up, a bloodied lip or nose, but everyone was alive.

Almost everyone.

The thought twisted in Kyros' stomach and caught in his throat. He rolled and sat up - surprised to find that he was unbound and unharmed.