The man Chryseis was fighting was tiring, and it was evident that she hadn't failed to notice. Raising her crescent-shaped shield over her head so that only her mane of black hair was visible from above, she darted in low, swung her sword at his legs, and connected. He grunted; she jumped back as he started falling forward. He was courageous and determined, though, giving a final flailing swing at her as he went down. On the ground, his left leg shattered and his right severely cut and bleeding, he still waved his sword at her. He could not use his shield effectively, and he cast it aside.
She stood nearby, watching. Dressed only in a brief kilt, and sandals--as all the warriors of the Amazon were clad--she made a spectacular picture as she stood above him. "You are brave, warrior," she told him. "But this battle is done for you. Sheath your weapon and live."
He looked up into her shining dark eyes. "You would give me quarter?" he asked.
Lowering her sword, she favored him with her brilliant smile. "You need not die," she told him. "I will not attack a man whose weapons are sheathed!"
He hesitated, but then slipped his sword into its scabbard. "You are a warrior of honor," he told her. "But the others--I cannot stand--"
"None of the host of the Amazon will harm you if there is no weapon in your hand," she told him. "Not all the stories told about us are true!" She started to say something else, but, hearing a familiar voice groan with agony, she looked up.
Creusa, one of her closest friends, was going down, an Ithacan sword piercing her slim body through. As she watched, the Greek gave a shout of triumph; Creusa, her dark auburn hair flying around her head as she cut her hands trying to free herself from the impaling blade. Chryseis, her huge dark eyes becoming wet, started running across the battlefield toward them. "You have been killed, Creusa, friend of my childhood," she muttered as she ran. "In battle, as is best for all of us. But upon the one that took your life I can and I will take vengeance!"
She didn't get there, though. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow moving rapidly her way, and she instinctively threw her shield up to protect herself. Just in time; an iron sword, driven by a strong arm, clanked against it an instant later, staggering her backwards. She sprang to a defensive posture, then risked a glance at her friend. Creusa was down, and her Greek conqueror was taking the time to torment her as she died, forcing his sword down through her belly as she squirmed helplessly.
Chryseis ground her teeth; there was nothing she could do about it, not while she herself was under attack Reluctantly, she turned her attention back to the man who'd attacked her.
And discovered that she knew him; they'd met some years ago when there'd been an alliance between the Amazon and Ithaca, when they'd fought for the same cause--and when they'd been lovers for a brief time. "Pelaeus of Ithaca," she acknowledged with a smile, raising her sword. "A blow well struck, warrior!"
"A greeting to you, Chryseis, princess of the Amazon," Pelaeus responded, saluting her in turn, "I call upon you to yield yourself to me, lady!"
She laughed. "Yield?" she cried. "Yield, and become a slave-woman for the Ithacans? Never, Pelaeus!" She shook her head. "You know me better than that, warrior!"
The Greek looked doubtful, but he drew a casting-spear back, holding it at the ready. He'd seen, even before today, her skill with a sword. "My lady, we need not do battle!" He scowled darkly. "A black day it is when Ithaca and the Amazon raise their swords against each other! But if you would but yield to me--!"
She shook her head. "I will not." Letting the point of her sword rest on the ground at her feet, she held her shield by her side and gazed steadily at him. "But if you wish to withdraw from me, Pelaeus, I will not stop you. I do not believe it decreed by the goddesses and gods that the two of us should fight each other."
"I cannot, Chryseis," he said sadly. "That would be seen as cowardly, and you well know I am no coward..." Still smiling, she nodded--and, lifting her sword, she started toward him.
In spite of the danger, Pelaeus could not help letting his eyes roam up and down her almost incredibly beautiful body. Her waist, framed by the cataract of her dark hair, was amazingly tiny; the muscles in her strong legs rippled as she started toward him again, her sword in her hand. Her breasts were high but not large, her nipples upturned and erect with the excitement of battle, and the soft dark triangle between her thighs, visible whenever the tiny kilt moved, looked moist.
But she was coming toward him, her shield still by her side but her sword at the ready. "If you will not yield to me," she challenged, "then I shall yet add your head to those adorning my chariot!" She laughed again, apparently for the pure joy of the coming fight.
His expression changed; he smiled darkly. "As you wish, then, my lady," he told her, saluting her again. Then, with no further warning, one of his casting spears came sizzling through the air, headed straight for her exposed body.
It was fast, but she was faster; she flicked her sword across in front of herself, catching the flying lance in mid-air, knocking it down. Laughing musically, her eyes wide and bright, she ran toward him. "A good cast!" she cried. "But you'll have to do better than that, champion!"
"I shall, my lady!" Pelaeus shouted back. And as Chryseis ran at him, he cast another spear at her. She swiped at this one too, but this time she missed it.
And it pierced her breast, high on the right. With a gasp, she grabbed at the shaft, jerking on it violently, trying to get it out. It had slipped cleanly between her ribs and it came out fairly easily; but, as soon as it was out, foamy blood streamed down over her breast. In the few seconds it took her to get it loose, Pelaeus had closed on her. He stood right in front of her, pointing his sword at her.
She glanced down at it; its tip was almost touching her. "Yield now!" Pelaeus demanded. She merely gave him a smile and a questioning look as she drew her own sword back for a swing, forcing him to act.
And he did, plunging his sword into her unprotected belly, running it completely through her, then yanking it out again. Blood gushed out of her; she tottered, dropped her sword and shield, and crumpled to the ground. For a moment she squirmed in pain, her legs drawing up, her mouth open. Finally, resting her head on her arm, she looked up at him.
"Ah, yes!" she panted. "Well done, champion, well done!" She stretched her legs, trembled, then composed herself. "But in a way you are the loser here, Pelaeus. I would not have wanted to put you to death, this I know. And instead, you have done that for me."
Scowling, Pelaeus knelt beside her. "Matters should not have been so between us, Chryseis." He cradled her head, looked down at the beautiful face.
She reached up and touched his cheek. "We had no say in the matter, Pelaeus. It was not I who went to war with you nor you with me. A tragedy that a quarrel over a shipping route should have brought the swords of Ithacan and Amazon to bear on each other..."
He looked sour. "Shipping routes belonging to allies, at that."
"Yes." Her body spasmed; she trembled, her teeth chattered. "Pelaeus, I am dying very slowly... use your weapon, warrior, speed me onward into the darkness, to Hades' land... do this for me, Pelaeus, for the times we spent together in happiness..."
He said nothing, but he drew out his knife and, putting his arm around her shoulders, pulled her up from the ground. Resting her head against his shoulder, she looked up at his face.
And he plunged the blade into her, through her bare breast and into her chest.
She merely jerked in his arms, her expression hardly changed. Jerking the knife out, he drove it in again, and, while it was deep, worked it around inside her. A gout of blood exploded from her mouth, running down his arm. She blinked and seemed to be trying to speak.
"No," Pelaeus told her soothingly. "No, all that needs said between us has been said,
my lady. Go now to Hades; go and war no more, Amazon. Rest now, rest and remember a
lifetime of brave deeds." As he spoke he stabbed the knife into her again. She shuddered;
her arms fell limply toward the ground. Her eyes never closed, though, and they remained
open even while Pelaeus, his own eyes wet, lowered her corpse to the ground and rose to
attend the battle still raging around him.