Daelia stretched her legs towards the fire with a groan, trying to ignore the aching blister on the inside of her right big toe. Thermadosa had set a hard pace up the Starkhorn and during the steep climb her sandal had rubbed abominably. The old warrior had insisted they walk up the long switchback to the wide saddle that was their assigned patrol area; her reasoning being that they should take care not to overtire the horses. The path was tricky and steep; a misstep could lead to disaster, so the argument had merit. 

 In any event, as far as Daelia was concerned there was no need to take unnecessary risks. No need to rush. In truth, Daelia doubted the need to patrol at all. Five years ago they would have ten warriors on this exercise, covering the entire Pontic range, but now even two seemed a waste. There hadn’t been any raiders on the northwest border for over a year now – apparently they had all joined the Greeks at the siege of Troy. She had seen them there, circling outside the great walls of the city. Hyenas yapping. Smelling blood. Waiting for the great beast to be brought down.

The memory was bitter.

She pulled off her sandal and looked at the blister sourly. Unpinning the broach that clasped her cloak, she briefly stuck the pin in the fire and carefully pricked the blister, draining it. She then took a length of gauze from her pack and wrapped it carefully. She would pad her sandal too from the inside and take the pressure off that side of her foot. It would do. She folded up the cloak and set it aside, carefully returning the clasp to the corner of the neck. It had been a gift from her mother, a horse beautifully worked in gold.

“We’ve both gotten soft,” Thermadosa said. She sat just on the other side of the fire sharpening the edges of her sagaris with a whetstone. Daelia found the soft rhythmic whsp-whsp-whsp of the stone on metal oddly soothing. 

“Sharp edge and sharper action,” Thermadosa said, smiling slightly.

Daelia shook her head and leaned back against the log she had dragged up close to the fire. She studied her companion in the light. Thermadosa had always seemed as solid and stalwart as the Starkhorn itself. But now, she showed every one of her nearly sixty winters. Her hair, which had been a rich brown just a year ago, was now shot with white and her face was beginning to look like a winter apple stored too long. Her arms, once all wiry muscle and sinew, now seemed more stringy than strong.

“No need to stare, your Royal Highness,” Thermadosa said dryly, “I am well aware of my advanced decrepitude.”

Daelia snorted and shook her head.

“Yes. Decrepit. You proved that today by running me into the ground on that abominable climb. I don’t see you nursing any blisters. And, by the way, I’m hardly a Highness anymore, so we can just dispense with the snide honorifics.”

  Thermadosa continued with her sharpening for a bit longer, then sat the sagaris aside with an audible thump. 

“Sorry, I can’t just give up 40 years of loyalty for because of politics.”

Daelia sighed and shook her head.

“I know, I know. But, it’s done now. The Council made their decision. The last thing Themiscrya needs is even more internecine strife. Goddess knows there is enough conflict to spare just in Troy alone, not to mention that Hittite mess to the south. Our nation has a new queen, it is our duty to show her our allegiance and loyalty. Anything else is treason.”

Thermadosa tapped her knee thoughtfully for a moment with a finger. The only sounds in the night were the soft noises of the horses cropping the grass, young spring frogs and an occasional scream of a vixen fox far off in the night. The clearing was dusty and dry, and smelled of new thyme and rosemary.

“Treason,” Thermadosa continued, “An interesting word. A complex word really. The Hittites say that it is only treason if you lose.”

“And look where that has gotten them,” Daelia said, “You know I never wanted the throne anyway. I could never replace Penthesilea. And I will not be any part of something that might cause civil war.”

Thermadosa grunted, shrugged and changed the subject.

“You know of course that bunch in the palace means get up to some mischief while we’re out here,” she said, “Do for us both. What other reason would they send us out here to sit on our asses on this particular spot? Too many questions would be raised if something happened to either of us back at Themiscyra. But they want us both permanently gone, right enough.”

She seemed pleased by the thought. The thought of an impending fight always put Thermadosa in a good mood.

“Perhaps not,” Daelia replied tiredly, “Patrols have been thin lately, and we haven’t done any since well before the army rode to Troy. Maybe it is just our turn. I don’t mind really. I am happy to get out of Themiscyra.”

Thermadosa took a great breath and let it out, took another and sighed heavily, shaking her head. She stood up and came to stand in front of Daelia, clearly uncomfortable. She stared down at the ground.

“I know how much you miss your mother, and I would have given anything to have stopped her from making that trip to Troy…”

Daelia looked up and smiled.

“There was no stopping her. You know her pride would not have stood for it.”

“Pride,” Thermadosa said bitterly, “Pride has been the death of too many good people.

“Ah well, at least she took some of those fucking Greeks with her in her pride.  She died as a Amazon Queen should on the field of battle, with her sword in her hand.”

The two women looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment. Thermadosa cleared her throat.

“I need to take a leak, then I’ll check those miserable nags. They still have cave lions around here. Can’t be too careful,” she said gruffly and stalked off into the night.

Daelia scrubbed at her face with the heels of her hands – they came away wet. She wondered if she was ever going to get past the grief.

Forcibly, Daelia pushed any brooding thoughts away and sighed heavily. It had been too long since she had had the chance just to sit alone with her thoughts in the darkness, with the cool spring night breeze and the crickets chirruping quietly in the grass. It was a warm April night, with the sweet scent of night blooming wildflowers wafting on the wind. Daelia could hear Thermadosa speaking quietly to the horses in a soothing voice. 

She turned her face to the sky. It was a new moon and the stars were very bright, the Bejeweled Trail stretching across the sky like a great silk web, spun and twisted by Saule herself. 

  Suddenly, Thermadosa came trotting back into the clearing. Daelia looked up at her, startled. She heard horses thundering off in the night. Daelia stood up quickly.

“We’ve got trouble,” Thermadosa said, glancing back anxiously over her shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Assassins, most likely. I caught sight of them down the slope. They’ve got both trails covered to make sure we don’t get away. They obviously know we’re here. There must be ten of them at least.”

“Slavers?” Daelia asked, stringing her bow.

“Hardly, since they’re trotting up the trail FROM Themiscyra. Clearly, they had to come through the city,” Thermadosa said shortly, “You know, they were…… odd. I didn’t get a good look of course, but they reminded me of the Myrmidons we saw at Troy.”

“Myrmidons?” Daelia said, her eyes widening in shock and fear, “Here?  But why?”

“Cybele only knows, girl,” Thermadosa snapped, “But no doubt our new Queen is at the bottom of it. I’ve been watching our back trail all the way and never saw, well……never mind” 

She glanced around the clearing. It was in a shallow hollow surrounded by boulders and low shrubs, with a steep drop off on the far side away from them. It was a standard patrol stop because it gave such a wide view both of the valley where Themiscya lay and the beachhead where pirates often landed when raiding.

“No time to run, they will be here in minutes!  Here, help me drag that log over behind the fire. On that little rise there!  See?  Quickly now, we can make a breastworks and hope that the firelight will ruin their night vision,” she said anxiously. 

Daelia complied and Thermadosa grabbed their packs and threw them behind the log.

“Who knows, we might get lucky and be able to slip away,” she said grinning slightly, “Sending the horses off might throw them, but I wish we hadn’t built this damn fire. Remember your training, let your eyes adjust to the night, don’t stare directly at the fire.”

“If I could get some elevation I might pick a couple of them off,” Daelia said speculatively, looking at a nearby tree.

“No good,” Thermadosa replied in a growling tone, “Too much brush along the trail and all those boulders. You might get one or two, but they’d bring you down in a trice.”

Daelia loosened her sagaris in its sheath and held an arrow loosely in her hand. 

“I will not be captured, Thermadosa,” she said quietly, and looked at Thermadosa steadily. The other woman grinned.

“Hah!” Thermadosa said, “I don’t think we need to worry about that. They just want us dead. I am a little flattered that Queen Antianeira sent so many. She knows that while I may have gotten long in the tooth I still have a couple of fangs left. And you’re no slouch either for a spoiled royal brat.”

Daelia couldn’t help but laugh a little. 

Long minutes passed before they saw a shadow pass between two rocks just down the trail from their vantage point. 

The outline of a man soon came into closer range; soon he became more clear in the bright starlight. He was tall, broad and clad in the peculiar, nearly insectile armor of the Myrmidons, close fitting and shining black. His helmet was crowned with a stiff crest of animal hair. It made him seem almost a giant. He stood motionless, completely silent, his head cocked if listening. Shortly his fellows trotted up beside him, all of them eerily quiet in the night. They conferred amongst themselves, their voices deep and low, but no words could be distinguished. One pointed up to the sky, and the one that had first appeared, who seemed to be the leader nodded, then gestured to the campfire. He made hand signals to the others and they fanned out to surround the clearing, stalking slowly towards the campfire, fluid as cats. They were less than 100 feet away and they studied the little breastworks impassively.

“Shit!” Thermadosa whispered, “This bunch is not stupid, too bad for us.”

“How many do you think you can take out before they get here?” Daelia asked.

Thermadosa snorted and looked at Daelia, eyes narrowed.

“I better not be the only one shooting.”

“No, of course not, but this light is just not the best. That armor of theirs can take a hard punch. We saw that in Troy.”

Daelia stared at the intruders for a moment. The were still approaching cautiously, but the also kept glancing up at the sky in an odd manner.

“In the neck I think is a weakness – small but it’s there. You can see it when they look up. What ARE they looking at anyway?” Thermadosa said wonderingly.

“I have no idea, but we need to do something!  They’ll be on us in any minute!” 

Thermadosa looked at her and held out her hand. Daelia clasped it.

 “An honor,” she said, grinning like a wolf , “Take out as many as you can from here, then we go at them fast and hard.”

With a cry Thermadosa and Daelia raised up from behind their protection and fired off two round of arrows in quick succession. All four arrows found marks, but only one of the Myrmidons went down with an arrow in his neck. The others came forward at a run; Daelia and Thermadosa fired again, then leapt out to meet them, their sagaris’ flashing in the dwindling firelight.

Even though the two women were smaller, they had the agility and speed of many long hours spent in the practice yards, and Thermadosa was cunning and wily from years of battle. She took off at a hard run and literally slid under a wide stroke of the nearest Myrmidon, and with a quick backstroke took him in the back of the knee, he went down with an angry shout and his sword hit the ground, striking sparks on the stones.

Daelia had her more than her hands full dealing with the one Myrmidon on the edge of the clearing. The man was huge, and when she blocked his sword with her sagaris she thought her arm would break. He almost managed to entangle her ax with the haft of his sword but she sidestepped quickly out of his reach and with a quick flick of her wrist, freed it.

On the other side of the clearing she could see that Thermadosa was struggling with another of the men, who must have outweighed her by five stone at least. She had taken a cut on her shoulder, the blood glistened in the firelight. Two other men moved towards the struggling pair, flanking her.

She wouldn’t have a chance against three of these warriors, but there was nothing Daelia could do. She had her hands full with the monster in front of her.

The Myrmidon that Daelia was facing lunged at her again and she danced aside. She hopped back, crouching, looking for an opportunity to sink her sagaris in an exposed spot. The man was expressionless as he approached her, no emotion showing on his dark face.

Suddenly the little clearing was lit with a flash like lightning, then a howling noise, like the worst storm at sea, but she thought it was just her fear hammering in her ears. The face of the warrior in front of her stood out in harsh shadows as he looked up in shock.

Suddenly the sky lit up, white and glaring and Daelia was instantly blinded. The howling stopped abruptly with an concussion that knocked them off their feet. They all lay on the ground for a moment, too stunned to move. Slowly, they all began to get to their feet and instinctively turned to see what had happened.

In the center of the clearing, a pulsing white orb nearly the height of a man sat in a crackling nimbus of static. Daelia could see that it was fractured and it suddenly burst apart with an explosive force

“It’s him!” the chief Myrmidon shouted, gesturing with his sword, “Gods take it, you damn fools - quit playing around with these two and get over there while he is still waking up!”

The Myrmidon Daelia was facing rushed towards her with his sword raised for a killing stroke, and then suddenly he went down when someone, no SOMETHING, caught him in a flying tackle.

Daelia watched open mouthed and panting, as a man, or something very much like it wrestled with the Myrmidon on the ground, fighting him for his sword. The creature was man shaped, but hairless, white as a grub and covered with what seemed to be a pale, thick slime. The Myrmidon was having a hard time getting a grip on him in any event. The creature grabbed the sword arm of the Myrmidon and slammed the forearm against a rock, the arm snapped and the Myrmidon cried out.

The creature grabbed the sword and rammed it into the Myrmidon’s chest, then it turned to Daelia. He grinned quickly, revealing very sharp looking teeth. He blinked his eyes, and Daelia noticed they were golden and slit pupiled. Now that he was closer she could see that his skin was starting to gleam in the firelight, a reddish bronze. He was quite naked and quite manlike.

“Daelia!  Ware!  Ware!” Thermadosa cried.

The chief Myrmidon came running across the clearing, holding his spear aloft. The white creature turned to meet him, sword raised, but the Myrmidon had the advantage of speed and momentum and with a skilled thrust, he drove the spear into the creature’s shoulder.

The Myrmidon’s weight carried them both forward and the pair stumbled backwards right on top of Daelia. The combined force of the falling man rammed the spear completely through the creature’s shoulder all the way to the haft.

Daelia felt the air go out of her lungs in a whoosh, and there was an incredibly sharp pain in her chest. The creature was pinned on top of her, and she felt absurdly irritated because he just felt so SLIMEY. In the distance she heard Thermadosa, shouting, and then she thought there were other voices, strange voices. She looked up, and thought she saw, birds?  Great, colorful birds, falling on the Myrmidons, calling out in angry, raucous voices.

  She puzzled over the sight for a moment. The birds were so beautiful. Like flying jewels.

So this is what dying is like, she thought, it’s not so bad.

Then, blackness.