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Wrath

Achilles! It's Achilles! I can hear the Trojans shout in fear, while the Greeks shout with excitement in response. The enemies flee for my appearance, they flee for the fighter they think I am. I am almost disappointed; that first kill felt good, and I want to see how many more I can kill before they see through my disguise. I do not have his godly gifts, his speed or strength or accuracy, so I can only miss so many times before they must realise I am not him, but I do not care. He is not here to stop me.

He said not to dishonour him. Well, what could bring more honour than killing Trojans?

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The midday heat is beating down on us, making the smell of blood and dead bodies worse, almost unbearable. I will not let it stop me.

My arms are covered in slick blood – someone else's – making it hard to hold a spear without it slipping out of my hand. I drag my hands across the coarse sands of Troy and get ready to fight again. I have lost count of how many men I have killed today, but it feels like more than I have ever killed in the last nine years of war. They stay away from me now, afraid of the great Achilles. I want them to come closer, so I can look them in the eyes as my blade stops their heartbeat. I have lost count of how many men I have killed, but I want more.

We managed to drive the Trojans out of the Greek camp, back to their city with its great walls. Most of them are in there now, hiding like cowards. I want scale those walls and kill them off one by one. One life for every man they took from us and then the rest of them too, as interest.

I have gotten separated from Automedon a while ago and I can not see him anywhere on the battlefield anymore. It does not matter anyway. I can walk to Troy by myself, I do not need his godly horses to carry me. This way, I can kill any Trojan that dares to cross my path.

The rest of the Greek army is still behind me, but they do not follow me to Troy. They start to retreat to camp, to tend their wounds and rebuild their tents. They must be cowards, like the Trojans. Hiding when the city is ours for taking. I continue to walk towards the great walls, ready to take this city on my own.

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The walls are higher than I thought from far away and I have never been good at climbing. Now that I have not met a Trojan I could kill in a while, the arrogance that came with being a cold-blooded war machine – that came with being Achilles­ – slowly drains from my body, leaving room for me to think. I can not take these walls on my own. There are still other Greeks with me on the battlefield, engaging in combat with the last few stubborn Trojans, but they are tired. And so am I.

I start to retreat. I will not run, because then they will know I am not swift-footed Achilles, but I walk, slowly, with purpose, still ready to fight. I will join my fellow Greeks who are still battling for their lives, join them so it will not look like I am running away from battle. Achilles would kill me if I made the Trojan think he had ran. Then, when all the leftover Trojans are dead, we can retreat together. We will take Troy another day. It can not stand for much longer.

"Achilles!" A loud voice calls out across the plane, accompanied by the grinding of wheels on the sand. I look up, trying to find the source of the voice. I only realise when I see the chariot coming right at me that he was calling to me.

"Do you really think you can run from me?" Hektor yells, stopping his horses only a short distance away from me. He leaps from the chariot, sword and shield in hand. "Today you will pay for all the lives you have taken!" He still shouts, even though he is close enough for me to hear. He looks up at the walls of Troy and when I follow his gaze, I see the people of Troy standing there, waiting to see their best fighter kill the one who has brought them so much pain.