Killer of Men - Christian Cameron [162]
I stepped over him and a spear punched into my side. By Ares, that was pain – the scales held, but the rib broke, and I was knocked to my knees.
Never saw the blow that got me. There’s a lesson there.
Nearchos got him.
I knelt there, almost dead, unable to raise my head – Ares, the pain; I hurt even thinking about it! And Lekthes and Idomeneus stepped past me, dancing the dance, and men fell back before them. They cleared the platform and I could breathe, although it wasn’t good, and I got a leg under me and then another.
Then the rest of them dropped their weapons.
Cretans were flooding aboard from all directions. I’d taken Achilles’ heir into the heart of the chaos and his father had come with all his warriors to save him.
Nearchos was as tall as a titan in that moment.
I managed to walk forward.
Achilles glared at me but embraced his son. I passed behind him and led my men across to Archi’s trireme.
Half of Archi’s rowers were dead, and all but two of his marines. He himself was covered in blood and had an arrow right through his calf, but somehow he was still standing.
I walked up the centre plank from the bow and the spear shaft in my hand had a tendril of blood that ran all the way down from the head. The Phoenician marines tried to surrender, but there was no quarter just then, and my Cretans rolled over them like a wave rolling over a child’s castle on the beach, and they were gone, their blood flowing into the sea, and I was so close to Archi I could reach out and touch him.
‘Archi!’ I said, and pulled off my helmet.
‘Get off my ship,’ he said, and fainted.
We bandaged him. He was cut eleven times, I remember that. And the arrow through his calf. When he came to, he swore at me and demanded that I be executed. No one paid him any heed, but my dreams that our friendship would be restored when I saved him went the way of many dreams.
I had a couple of broken ribs and six bad cuts. My sword arm had taken a lot of abuse – desperate men cut at your arm instead of defending themselves, and die while doing it. Death robs them of force, but I’d always meant to buy vambraces and now I knew why.
I sat on the deck of an alien ship and let Lekthes bandage me. We’d taken four ships, or so Idomeneus told me – which was good, because our own had sunk. It sank empty, but sink it did, the bow opened like a slit belly.
Nearchos came and gave me some shade, along with Troas. ‘My father is angry,’ Nearchos said, as if it delighted him.
‘I suspect he feels that I should have protected you better,’ I said. I think I managed a smile.
‘Pick any of the ships and it is yours,’ he said. ‘We can crew it from the survivors. I’m taking this one – unless you want it.’
I raised my head. ‘Do I get Troas? What on earth am I to do with a ship? And how is Archilogos of Ephesus?’
Nearchos shook his head. ‘You’ve been out a little while, friend. We lost the battle.’
That snapped me awake, blood loss or none. ‘What?’
‘Oh, we won the sea battle,’ Nearchos said. How godlike he looked – and not a mark on him. He shrugged. ‘The Cyprians shattered like glass, and half their nobles changed sides in mid-action. Onesilus is dead. Cyprus is lost.’
‘Ares,’ I muttered.
‘Aristagoras has ordered us to stay together and run for Lesbos.’ He shrugged. ‘Pater says that we’ll crew you a ship and you’ll go for all of us. The rest of us are going home.’ He made a face.
‘Your father is a great man,’ I said. ‘Troas, you go home. May you have a hundred grandchildren.’
He laughed. ‘Never planned anything else. But I’ll choose you a good crew. If you swear me an oath that you’ll send them home.’
I got to my feet. I felt like crap, but there was something – some weight gone from my shoulder, and not just my scale shirt.
I’d kept my oath. I could feel it.
‘I have one oath already on me,’ I said. ‘I’ll do my best, but that’s all I can promise.’
17
The second day out from Cyprus, and we were in