Trojan Slave (Book 1)

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Theod had seen too much death. Unable to watch Elpis trying so hard to save the men he knew so well, both he and Androc had taken a few of the uninjured warriors, and there were only a few of them, back to the killing field. He needed to see if there was anyone else alive. He would never forgive himself for leaving them behind. He would not want that to happen to him. Only now, now in the midst of so much death, he wondered at his sanity. Why he had wanted to come back to this pit of the Underworld? He had no idea.

The males lay haphazard around, wide eyes staring into oblivion. He moved through them, trying to see and hoping for any sign of life. The breeze lifted hair in an almost gentle caress. It was in no way a glorious way to die. He leaned down to the boy beside him; he was definitely no warrior. He would have been shocked to see such a horrific painful death occur upon such a young body, and yet he had seen worse in his time with war. He took a moment to crouch next to the boy who looked off into a distance Theod could not see. He did not know him. He may have seen him in passing, but never remembered. But this moment would be etched into his dreams from now until the day he looked off into that distant shore.

Reaching out, he closed the eyelids over blank, staring eyes that had a thin layer of grit upon them. The sand flew on the breeze. The blood soaked into the grains that layered in the intermittent blades of grass. It was surreal, the tranquillity of the land now that the fight which the men brought to it had ended. Pinching his nose between thumb and forefinger and bowing his head, he breathed through the pain in his side and tried to centre himself.

It was not as if he had not seen this bloodshed before. But now, after finding Elpis and with the feelings he had for her, for the first time in his life, he wanted more than this. He was adamant he wanted out. There was something there that he could finally reach. It was not a distant dream anymore. He needed to speak with Androc. He would work something out.

About to stand, he heard something behind him. Pausing he listened, strained. For he was sure...there it was again. The faintest whisper of a moan. Pivoting on his heal, he headed slowly in the direction he thought it had come from. He looked into wide vacant eyes along the way. Faces old and young, bearded and clean shaven. Blood that seemed to cover every surface.

There. Out of his peripheral vision. The flash of sunlight hitting a sword. But the light changed, which indicated movement. Picking up his speed, he slid to his knees before three bodies that had fallen awkwardly atop each other. He pushed the top two off, no thought for dignity towards the fallen men. His only mission was to get to the possible life beneath. His breath caught as he came across the prone, but breathing male at the bottom. Seeing him gasp for every breath he took, it was possible he had taken a blow to the chest. He was no medic though, and he could not be sure of anything but what he could see. Such as the awkward angle the man's left leg went off in. Theod knew for sure there was no way that was natural.

Frantically searching for someone close, he saw men picking their way through the fallen, much as he had been. He finally spotted Androc as he stood from a crouched position and seemed to stretch his back. "Androc!" He saw that he was still fully alert, spinning quickly in his direction. He did not even hesitate. He came to a stop with a grunt beside him. While Androc had taken a few blunt force hits, he had not had any major blood loss. Though he had complained he was extremely lucky that his ribs had not collapsed, Theod just thought he was starting the story for a heroic tale next to the fire later. His adversary will probably be triple his size by the final retelling.

They worked in tandem, neither needing to speak. They each hefted an arm of the male over their shoulders, and walking a quickly as possible, they made their way back towards camp. It was not a dignified walk, nor pain free for any of the three men. The broken leg dragged along the ground. The barely conscious man made only the smallest of sounds. They needed to be as speedy as possible. And yet he knew if they did hurry, it could possibly make the injuries worse. It was a situation he never liked to be in.