Prologue: Water and Fire

“I’m here, cousin,” said the little boy Orion. He stood at the door. King Idomeneus was sitting on a chair in his room.

        

“I’ve been waiting,” he said from the shadowed corner. Only a dim beam of light dusted through the high window.

        

“Things don’t seem the same here,” Orion wondered. “Everyone is setting off for the Trojan War.”

        

A grim smirk crossed Idomeneus’s face. “Very true, my young boy, but who knows how many long years we’ll be gone. Plenty of time for you to age up and take my throne…”

        

Orion’s face fell in shock. “But I would never!” he protested. The king laughed.

        

“It doesn’t matter. I’m still exiling you.” With a snap of his fingers the guard outside the door snatched Orion from behind and carried him away, outside the Minoan palace and toward the dockyards. No matter how much the poor boy screamed and kicked, he wasn’t going anywhere, except across the sea to whatever horrible place he was shipped.

 

However, the little rascal didn’t give up yet. Right after he was dropped on the deck of a ship, Orion jumped overboard before the guard could stop him. The guard expected him to fall in the water, but it became solid wherever he touched it. So, Orion ran away upon the sea.

 

 

The saltwater surrounding Scyros was dominant in the evening light. There, on the secluded shore, lay Princess Deidamia in the arms of the great Myrmidon warrior, Achilles.

 

Achilles had been on the island for ten years, hiding from King Agamemnon and a party of Greek warriors. They were gathering to set sail for the Trojan War. Achilles disguised himself as a maidservant named Pyrra. Only when he was alone with the princess, could he be seen as a man.

 

In the last year, Deidamia bore him a son and Achilles named him Pyrrus, after his fake name.

 

Later that year, Achilles’s clever friend Odysseus arrived and discovered his disguise. With his silver tongue he had talked him into leaving for the war. So, this night was his last on Scyros.

        

Beautiful Deidamia sighed in the ocean breeze. She had dark crimson hair, like the sunset. “Will you take Pyrrus with you?” she asked.

        

“Yes, if that is your wish,” he promised.

 

 

Troy was falling. Smoke filled the night sky above Pyrrus. This year he was fifteen and a Myrmidon warrior, one of the soldiers commanded by his father, Achilles. Achilles’s cousin, Patroclus, had fallen in battle. Achilles had already avenged his death, by killing Prince Hector of Troy. Now, they were taking the citadel and Achilles had split up from his son.

        

Sneaking into the inner sanctum, a flash of a woman’s dress caught Pyrrus’s eye. He pursued her.

        

When he found her, she was frightened. They heard loud screams outside the palace.

        

“I can save you from them,” he told her. “Just come with me.”

        

“I will if you do something for me first.”

        

“And what’s that?” he asked, his curiosity heightened.

        

“Follow me.”

        

Seizing his hand, she led him down the hallway, until they stopped by a door. “Go inside and take what’s there.”

        

After giving her a skeptical glance, he entered the room. It was cold and musty, as if it had been encased for thousands of years. On a torch in the center, there was a flame burning a bright red. Yet, it didn’t give off heat.

        

Pyrrus stepped in front of the flame, reaching out to touch it. Suddenly, it engulfed him in fire. He screamed in pain, but it soon disappeared, leaving him unharmed.

Reviews

[Hester Vane]

This is very good. I might be slightly bias in that opinion because I love Greek mythology anyway! The story commands attention which is testament to the way you have constructed it and the language you have used. I like the change in narrative from third to first person. Its makes the story dynamic. A great start.