Stella Gemmell - Fall of Kings

He took her hand and kissed it. “By Zeus, goddess, it does my old heart good to see you both safe. I heard Troy was taken and overrun, but there was no word of survivors. I’ll wager you have a stirring tale to tell me!”

“Indeed we have, Odysseus, but it is a tale of sadness, too,” Helikaon replied, gazing fondly at his old friend. “What are you doing here? We thought you would be safe in the arms of Penelope by now.”

“Would that I were. I have a son I have not yet seen. But I came to rescue Kassandra. With Troy taken, Mykene scum have no reason to respect the sanctity of Thera. But the place seems abandoned.” He looked around. “We arrived at sunset last night, and we have seen no one. There is always a priestess to greet arriving ships.” He shrugged. “I was debating defying the demigod and climbing to the Great Horse myself. Then we saw the Xanthos. ”

At his words a chill passed through Andromache, and the feeling of urgency returned full force. It was as much as she could do not to go running up the steep cliff path.

To Helikaon she said swiftly, “I will go find Kassandra and bring her to the ship.”

“If she is still here,” her lover replied, gazing up and frowning at the top of the island, where the horse’s head could just be seen.

“I know she is here,” she told him, “though I do not know why she has not come to greet us.” She saw his expression and guessed what he was thinking. “You must not anger the Minotaur by climbing to the temple. I will go and find her.”

Helikaon glanced at the sky, then took her hand. “If you have not returned by noon, I will come get you, and no demigods or monsters will prevent me.”

“And I will come with him,” Odysseus added. “There’s something dangerous about this island now, and it’s not the danger of violent men.” He shivered in the sunlight and nodded toward the Burned Isle. “And tell me that island is growing, and it is not just a delusion of old age.”

Andromache replied, “They say the Burned Isle only rose from the sea a hundred years ago. And yes, you are right. It is growing very fast, and I fear it is a bad omen. I will make haste.”

With a smile for Helikaon, she turned and strode across the beach of black sand, then started up the cliff path, her old rope-soled sandals carrying her surely. Halfway up she stopped and looked down on the men and the ships below. Her gaze traveled to the Burned Isle, and she was shocked to see it was nearly as high as the cliffs of the ring island. Smoke was rising from the summit, and the air was thick with it. On her arms and shoulders was a light sprinkling of gray dust. She hurried on, dread and foreboding pushing her along with whips of fire.

As she reached the top of the cliff, she paused again, gazing up at the Great Horse. The colossal white temple seemed to sway above her, and she wondered if it was she who was swaying. Then, with a deep rumble that made her teeth ache, another earthquake rippled across the isle. Andromache threw herself down and clung to the rocky ground, fearing it would tip and throw her back down the cliffs. She heard a whoosh of wings and a raucous screeching. Looking behind her, she saw a huge flock of gulls flying past the edge of the cliffs, heading south.

“All the creatures are leaving the island,” said a voice. “Even the birds of the air and the fish of the sea.”

Andromache scrambled to her feet. Walking toward her slowly from the Great Horse temple was the First Priestess. Iphigenia saw the surprise on her face and chuckled.

“You thought me long dead, Andromache. Well, I will make old bones soon, but my time has not yet come.”

“I am glad to see it,” Andromache replied, and it was true. Iphigenia looked older than the world, but the gleam in her eye was as intelligent and calculating as ever.

Andromache gazed around. “Are the women all leaving the island, too? It seems deserted.”

Iphigenia frowned. “When the earthquakes started at the time of the Feast of Artemis, Kassandra convinced all the girls the island would be destroyed. With her dreams and her visions she can be very persuasive, your sister. One by one they left despite all my efforts to stop them. The last one, little Melissa, departed two days ago.” She gave a barking cough that Andromache recognized as a laugh. “She even took the donkeys, saying she did not want them to suffer when the end came. A ship full of donkeys.” She shook her head. “Foolish girl,” she said tenderly.

“How is Kassandra?”

Iphigenia looked at her with compassion, and Andromache wondered why she ever had thought the old woman unfeeling.

“She is dying, Andromache. Her visions… they injure her mind and give her hideous fits. Each fit takes something vital from her, and they have been getting more frequent. She is very frail, but the visions go on relentlessly.”

“Where is she? I must help her.”

“She is in the temple. Walk with me, my dear.”

Andromache’s sense of panic was almost uncontrollable now. Nevertheless, she took the old priestess’ arm and walked with her slowly into the dark building.

Kassandra was lying on a narrow bed in a corner of the high bleak chamber. It was dark and very cold. The only windows were high above, and she was staring at the dusty shafts of light they shed, her mouth moving as if in conversation.

“Kassandra,” Andromache said gently.

After a long delay her sister looked at her. Andromache was shocked to see her condition. She was dirty, and her hair was in rats’ tails. She was skeletally thin, and looking into her fevered eyes was like staring into a black furnace.

“Is it time?” she asked feebly. “Can I go now?”

There was a jug of water and a goblet beside her, so Andromache filled the goblet, then gently lifted her sister up and dribbled some water into her mouth. After a few mouthfuls Kassandra drank greedily, holding on to the goblet, water running down her filthy gown onto the floor.

“Andromache,” she said at last, clutching at her with bony fingers. “I’m so glad you’ve come. There is much to tell you and little time.”

“Listen to me, Sister,” Andromache urged her. “You must come with me. I will take you to the Xanthos. It is here, with Helikaon. We will travel together again.”

“She is too ill to be moved,” Iphigenia told her reprovingly.

“I will bring men from the Xanthos. Helikaon will come and fetch you, my love.”

“Men will not defile this temple,” the old priestess barked. “Do not be so arrogant, Andromache, as to bring down the god’s wrath on us.”

“Then I will carry her myself,” Andromache told her defiantly.

“Listen, Andromache. You never listen, ” Kassandra cried, pulling her close. “I am dying, and I have always known I would die here. You know that. I told you so many times. It is my fate, and I rejoice in it. I will see Mother again. She is waiting for me just beyond, so close that I can almost touch her. She knows I am coming. It is my fate. You must let me be.”

Andromache felt tears running down her face, and Kassandra brushed them gently away. “Tears for me, Sister? You cried for Hektor, too. I saw you.

“They never should have killed him, you see. Hektor and Achilles were the last great heroes. And after the Age of Heroes comes the Age of Darkness.” Kassandra seemed to gain strength as she spoke. “Even now they are coming down from the north, the barbarians, sweeping through the lands of the western kings. Soon they will learn the secret of the star metal; then nothing will stop them. Within a generation they will tear down the stone palaces of the mighty. In the Lion’s Hall where the heroes walked there will be only rats and beetles feeding; then green grass will cover the ruins, and sheep will graze there.”