Thomas Harlan - The storm of Heaven

Alexandros nodded, clasping hands with the man. The Khazar's eyes were haunted, as if he had looked upon an abyss. The Macedonian looked at him for a long moment, then smiled.

"Well met, khagan Dahvos. I have heard your nation is a brave and noble one."

Dahvos did not answer, turning away, his face stiff. "I will show you the city."

Alexandros nodded, then turned Bucephalos to follow. The Goths continued to march into the city, tramping through the tunnel. Within the stone walls, there seemed to be only soldiers. A city stripped for war, then. Alexandros grinned to himself, urging the stallion ahead. There was a heady smell in the air, a tension that spoke of battle and coming glory.

He could even see the Asian shore, if he climbed the walls.

And there are Persians! he exulted. Within the reach of my lance, my eye, my spear!

The Persian Camp

Zoe yawned, waking from dreamless sleep. She felt blessedly relaxed, heavy quilts lying on top of her. She wiggled her toes, finding a cool spot under the covers. Her eyes opened, seeing the light of morning shining through the canvas of the tent above her. Distant, muted noise reached her ears, speaking of men moving about the camp. The bitter taste of burning pine and juniper logs was in the air. Satisfied that all was well, she turned over, reaching across the bed.

There was no one beside her, the space cold and empty.

"Ah, how late have I slept?" she wondered aloud, sitting up, stretching. The black mane of her hair fell in front of her eyes and she brushed it back behind her ears.

"Not too late," said a familiar voice. "There is still some breakfast left."

Zoe turned, smiling, and climbed out of bed. Her sleeping tunic was mussed, but she smoothed it down. "Auntie! I didn't know you were here."

Zenobia smiled back, her glorious blue-black hair sweeping over a pale shoulder. She was dressed as befitted a queen, in glowing white silk, with a collar of emerald and pearl around her elegant neck. The jewels nestled between the curves of her bosom, half hidden in shadow. Silver bracelets girdled her arms and there were rings of gold on her fingers.

"I'm always here for you, daughter. Where else would I be?"

Zoe laughed, perfectly happy, and reached down, taking her aunt's hand. It was warm and strong, exactly as she remembered.