Read Troy 02 - Shield of Thunder for Free Online Page A

round-shouldered and thin, shrugged but did not reply. His hand was on his sword hilt. Piria saw that the others were watching him, waiting for an order to attack. Then Kalliades spoke to him again, his voice harsh and challenging. “Then go and find him, goat face. Tell him Kalliades has issued the challenge and will await him here.” The power and the contempt in his tone stunned them.
    “He’ll slice you into pieces,” said the thin man, more wary now.
    Kalliades ignored him. “I thought you were going to find bread,” he said to Banokles.
    “Bread? What about these sheep shaggers?” Banokles gestured toward the waiting pirates.
    “Let them find their own bread. Oh, and on your way, kill that goat-faced whoreson I told to fetch Arelos.”
    Banokles grinned and drew his sword.
    “Wait! Wait!” the pirate cried, stepping back several paces. “I am on my way.”
    “Be quick,” Kalliades ordered. “I am tired, I’m hungry, and I’m irritable.”
    The man sped away, heading back down toward the beach. Banokles pushed his way through the other pirates and walked off in search of the bakery.
    Piria stood very quietly, trying not to look at the remaining five men. But she could not avoid it and saw they were staring at her.
    “You cut her hair off?” one of the men asked Kalliades. He was short, with a round face and a flattened nose. “By the gods, she was plain as a rock before. Now she’s just plain ugly.”
    “I think she has great beauty,” Kalliades responded. “And a man with a face like a pig’s arse should think twice before talking of ugliness.” Several of the pirates chuckled. Even the insulted man grinned.
    “Well, ugly or not, I missed out on her yesterday,” he said. “You won’t object if we have a little fun before Arelos gets here?”
    “Oh, I object,” Kalliades said.
    “Why? She’s not yours.”
    Kalliades smiled. “We are walking the same road, she and I. You understand the Law of the Road?” The man shook his head. “It is a Mykene custom. Travelers in a hostile land agree to become brothers in arms for the duration of the journey. So an attack on her becomes an attack on me. Are you as skillful as Baros?”
    “No.”
    “Are any of you?”
    “Baros was a great fighter.”
    Kalliades shook his head. “No, he wasn’t. Not even average.”
    “Well, Arelos
is
a great swordsman,” the man said. “You’ll find that out soon enough.”
    “You think you can beat him?” another man asked. He was older than the others, and his thick arms showed the scars of many fights.
    “When I do, I might make you captain, Horakos,” Kalliades told him.
    Horakos laughed. “Not me. I don’t like giving orders. You might ask Sekundos. He’s a good man, knows the sea. You realize Arelos might not accept the challenge? He might just tell us to cut you down.”
    Kalliades said nothing. Banokles appeared, his arms laden with loaves. “Brought some extras, lads,” he said, passing out the food. The pirates sat down on the ground, Banokles among them. “Will you want my cuirass, Kalliades?”
    “No.”
    “Arelos will probably wear armor.”
    “No, he won’t,” Kalliades said, pointing back down toward the beach. Some thirty men were marching up the dusty road. At the center strode the powerful figure of Arelos.
    Piria watched them come and lifted her dagger. Arelos was almost as large as Banokles, his arms heavily muscled. He had a broad, flat face, flame-red hair, and deep-set green eyes that just now were blazing with anger. He wore no armor, but a sword belt was strapped to his waist.
    He halted a little way from Kalliades, who stood and spoke. “I challenge you, Arelos, for the right to lead the crew. As custom dictates, you may fight or you may accept my leadership.”
    “Kill him!” Arelos said, drawing his sword.
    Kalliades’ laughter rang out, the sound rich and merry and so inappropriate to the moment that it stopped them in their tracks. Then he spoke. “Your men