"Achilles!"

    Achilles turned to face his cousin. "What is it?"

    "Agamemnon wants you to attend the final war council before we set sail for Troy." Patroclus looked at the younger man with caution.

    "Piss on Agamemnon. Attend in my stead."

    The older man hesitated. "Your anger is justified—"

    "Attend in my stead," Achilles said again evenly. "I will not face that pig of a man anymore than I have too."

    "It isn't wise to offend Agamemnon, cousin. The man has a brutal streak you would regret bringing down on the head of Phthia."

    "Only if he should return from the beaches of Troy." Achilles tightened his hands on the rope he was braiding and it snapped.

    Patroclus shook his head. "I will leave you."

    Achilles watched his cousin and second in command walk towards the center of the encampment. Feeling the need to leave behind the wretchedness of the day, Achilles dropped his broken rope and walked into the sea. He took a breath and slipped his head underwater. Achilles focused and willed his body to change. Many of his muscles stretched while others contorted, it was over quick and soon he was swimming as a dolphin under the waves.

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    "What have you done?" Patroclus was unamused as he came on deck. "Why are we not with the rest of the fleet?"

    "Traveling with the fleet is tiresome. There's a reason I ordered us to be on the side instead of in the center." Achilles stood at the helm of his lead boat. Seven other boats, the rest of his Myrimdons, followed their leader as they broke from the invasion force in the night. "We are going to hit the Trojans from the side while everyone else attempts a frontal assault."

    "That's not what was planned. When Agamemnon-"

    "How many times do I have to tell you? I don't care what Agamemnon wants or thinks. Are we not here for his brother's wife? Why should Agamemnon be in charge of us? Despite what he seems to think, this isn't his war."

    Patroclus sighed. "You've become even more stubborn as you've grown, as feat as impressive as it should be impossible."

    "And you've grown grey. When we first met your entire head was darker than the night. Now it's shot through with spider webs."

    Patroclus laughed. "Not all men are blessed with long years. I hope you are. I'm only fifteen or so years older than you. Being your guardian aged me prematurely."

    "Signal the others to make ready for landing," Achilles shouted. The sun overheard darkened as an eclipse took hold.

    "We're going to miss the first part of the battle, if not the entire fight thanks to this folly," Patroclus crossed arms. "It would be helpful if the heavens didn't announce your presence everywhere you went."

    Achilles slapped the other man on the back. "No, we won't. We will be right on time. I've asked my mother for a favor. The larger fleet will be delayed long enough for us to get in position. The darkening can't be helped, as you well know. It's a warning for the rest of you when a mortal with a dual fate gets near."

    "Thank the gods there aren't more of you," Patroclus muttered.

    "There's at least one other," Achilles looked up to see an owl circling overhead. He felt something off about the creature. It'd been circling his vessel on and off for three days. "Perhaps closer than I realize."

     Three nights later the Myrimdons were encamped on the banks of the lower Scamander river. Alarms had been raised inside Troy as the rest of fleet could be seen in the distance. They would land tomorrow and the first of many battles would begin.

    "Are you anxious?" Patroclus asked.

    "No, my destiny is on these shores." Achilles' men were sitting in small groups on the lower hill. None were allowed to have fires lest the Trojans come and investigate. In the darkness, eye shine of nearby animals were all the more clear. A half moon hung above them, giving plenty of light for their purposes yet obscuring them well from anyone atop Troy's famous wall. The majority of the eyes fixed on them were high in the trees.

    From the moment they landed they'd been besieged by owls. The birds hadn't attacked them, instead they perched on rocks, in trees, or flew overheard and circled. Having never been to this land before none of them could say if the creatures were naturally this abundant, but it was unsettling.

    "You've been obsessed with destiny ever since I've known you."

    "Come now, Patroclus. Most men are obsessed with it. I just want it more."

    "That's not true."

    "You doubt my ambition?"

    Patroclus snorted. "Never. Most men aren't like you, Achilles. They want to live quiet lives of comfort while being thought of as good by their neighbors."

    "Men who claim they don't want glory are lying to themselves whether by a lot or a little," Achilles countered. "I want to be great, but it's not possible to a great man and a good one at the same time, one must choose." Achilles took a bite of bread and offered Patroclus wine but the other man waved him off.

    "Deidamia didn't think that was true."

    Achilles grew sullen at the mention of his wife. "Deidamia is dead and our son sits at her father's knee."

    "You're jealous he doesn't favor you more?" Patroclus had noticed his friend become more and more incensed at the King of Skygos for the attention to his grandson. The king would interrupt Achilles training his son with a blade, hunting, or even the quiet moments at the home Achilles built for the two of them away from the palace, where they worked the land together and studied.

    "He never liked me yet raised no fuss when I fought his battles for him. Now he uses my son as his heir," Achilles twisted a stick until it broke. "He's trying to poison my son against me. I caught him telling Neoptolemus it was my fault his mother died."

    "You didn't have to come here, you know. You could be with Neoptolemus in Phthia."

    Achilles threw the broken stick into the river. "I'd have to fight my way off Skygos first, where the Myrimdons are no longer allowed to tread. I may be the greatest warrior who ever lived, but even I doubt my ability to fight his entire army alone and win. Skygos' king would never let me leave with his heir apparent and the gods don't look kindly on a kinslayer. The only way I could get Neoptolemus off Skygos would be if its king were dead."

    "What are gou going to do about it when we get back? I would help you get the boy off the island and then we could finally go home."

    "I don't know, Patroclus."

    By noon the next day the Greek fleet landed on the beach of Troy. They could have made landfall at dawn but the sun would rise directly behind Troy, blinding the invaders and giving advantage to the Trojans. The fleet waited in the bay before sending men to the beach. Achilles and his men watched from behind the trees of the hill as the gates of Troy opened and the first of the boats began to unload.

    Two hundred men rode forth from Troy atop speedy warhorses. "That must be Hector in the front," Patroclus commented.

    Achilles nodded in agreement. Even while seated it was clear the man leading the charge was taller than anyone else. Praim's family was so unusually tall spotting them in a crowd was easy. The plume from Hector's helmet was a deep purple while the rest of the Trojan horsemen sported yellow plumes.

     Ajax, being Praim's sister's son, shared this extraordinary height. Ajax was among the first out of the boats and easy to track given his large stature and giant war hammer. Ajax ran straight for the man they judged to be Hector.

    "But where is Paris? If what I heard is true he should be nearly as tall his brother."

    Achilles made another assessment of the charging enemy. "He is doubly without honor," Achilles said hotly. "To steal another man's wife then not defend his claim while he sends his brother to do it marks him for cowardice."

    Achilles could hear his men shuffle their feet as the two armies were seconds from clashing. Horses and men shrieked as foes began to mesh. Screams of pain, animal and human, carried on the wind.

    More boats landed on the shore and the gates of Troy opened a second time. Luckily this second wave was on foot, not horses like the first. They could be overtaken from this position.

    "Myrmidons!" That was all Achilles' men needed to hear. The black shielded warriors sprang from their forest cover in silence. It took a few moments for their Trojan foes to see them as they were so focused on the battle ahead, they didn't have attention for the men approaching silently from the flank. The Trojans didn't have time to get into formation before Achilles reached them. Achilles jumped through a row of spearmen and sliced one man open at the chest and severed the artery of another man's leg. Patroclus was right behind him, wielding a sword while Achilles used his trident.

    Achilles next faced a young Trojan with more bravery than sense, the lad dropped his spear and drew a sword instead. Achilles thrust his trident under the lad's wrist and pushed up as the weapon was thrust towards him. A look of fright entered the young man's eyes as he realized his mistake. Achilles kicked the boy in the chest and the lad crumpled with a grunt. Achilles finished him by jabbing his trident through the lad's throat and moved on to the next man foolish enough to stand in his way.

    Battles never last as long as they feel in most cases. Hundreds of men lay dead or dying by the time the Trojans sounded for retreat, yet the sun hadn't shifted even one degree to the human eye. As the Trojans made their retreat, the shout of triumph coming from the Greeks sent fear into the people behind the high wall of the city.

    Hours later Achilles' black shields anchored their ships alongside the rest of the fleet. Achilles set his encampment on the on the far side of the right flank. Agamemnon erected such a large tent in the center, the cloth palace could be seen even from the Myrimdons' camp.

    As Achilles slept he willed himself to enter the dreams of the woman he'd been visiting this way for over a year. But, as had been the case for months, his path was blocked. Silently, Achilles opened his eyes and cursed whatever god was blocking his attempts to reach his future wife. The swift footed Prince of Phthia was overtaken by a feeling of loneliness so strong, he could have wept.