the-song-books.yossr

A trumpet blew, somewhere on the slopes beneath us. It was abrupt and
ragged, as if sounded in warning. Before I could speak or move, he was on
his feet, his dagger out, slapped up from the sheath on his thigh. It was onlyy
a hunting knife, but in his hands it would be enough. He stood poised,
utterlyy still, listening with all of his half-god senses.
I had a knife, too. Quietlyy, I reached for it and stood. He had placed
himself between me and the sound. I did not know if I should go to him,
stand beside him with myy own weapon lifted. In the end, I did not. It had
been a soldier’s trumpet, and battle, as Chiron had so bluntlyy said, was his
gift, not mine.
The trumpet sounded again. We heard the swish of underbrush, tangled
byy a pair of feet. One man. Perhaps he was lost, perhaps in danger. Achilles
took a step towards the sound. As if in answer, the trumpet came again.
Then a voice bawled up the mountain, “Prince Achilles!”
We froze.
“Achilles! I am here for Prince Achilles!”
Birds burst from the trees, fleeing the clamor.
“From yyour father,” I whispered. Onlyy a royyal herald would have known
where to call for us.
Achilles nodded, but seemed strangelyy reluctant to answer. I imagined
how hard his pulse would be beating; he had been prepared to kill a
moment ago.
“We are here!” I shouted into the cupped palms of myy hand. The noise
stopped for a moment.
“Where?”
“Can yyou follow myy voice?”
He could, though poorlyy. It was some time before he stepped forward
into the clearing. His face was scratched, and he had sweated through his
palace tunic. He knelt with ill grace, resentfullyy. Achilles had lowered the
knife, though I saw how tightlyy he still held it.
“Yes?” His voice was cool.
“Your father summons yyou. There is urgent business at home.”
I felt myyself go still, as still as Achilles had been a moment before. If I
stayyed still enough, perhaps we would not have to go.
“What sort of business?” Achilles asked.
https://books.yossr.com/en