The aftermath of the battle on the Mount Ida trade road lay bare under the midday sun. Dried blood stained the earth a glaring, dark brown. Wounds the land could not heal.
Shattered Amazon banners, scattered cargo, and broken weapons lay in disarray. A silent testament to yesterday's carnage.
Wind moved through torn cloth. The air smelled of old blood and dust.
A faint metallic tang lay beneath. The place felt hollow and dangerous.
Melanippe slowed at the edge. She stepped into the killing ground. Her fists clenched until knuckles whitened. Nails cut crescents into her palms.
The sting was sharp, but small. Worse was the ache inside.
The pain was nothing compared to what she felt inside. Her heart was drowning in grief and rage. Sisters… I'm back… I stand where you bled. I smell our enemies… I swear, I will grant your spirits peace!
Her bronze face was taut. Her deep brown hair stirred in the breeze. Her eyes were determined, but the pain shone through.
Ainippe stood beside her. Hummed a low, ancient Amazon lament. The tune was distant. Mournful.
She placed a hand on Melanippe's tense, trembling back. A silent offer of support.
Even Thaleia looked deeply sorrowful. She walked to a rock stained dark with blood. Knelt. Touched the crimson mark with her fingers. Whispered a prayer.
"May your courage and souls find eternal honor and peace in the Halls of the Valiant."
A few strands of hair fell across her shoulder. Her deep brown eyes swirled with guilt and anger. If… if my brother and I had been stronger sooner… maybe we could have rooted out this evil. These innocent Amazons… the other merchants… they wouldn't have had to…
Nearby, Aeneas, Achates, Nisus, and Euryalus were equally grim-faced. Suppressed fury burned in their eyes.
But they didn't wallow. They fanned out swiftly. Scanned the site with a warrior's professional eye.
Aeneas's tall, solid frame moved through the wreckage. His dark-gold curls gleamed in the sun. He knelt to examine footprints. Looked up to scan the surroundings.
Soon, Aeneas, Achates, Nisus, and Euryalus formed a tight huddle. Spoke in low, rapid tones.
Aeneas looked around. "This spot is good for an ambush. But it's the scene. They'll notice the bodies have been moved. Get spooked. It's no good for us now."
Achates pointed up the narrow mountain path. "About fifty meters further, along their usual route. A narrow gorge. High rock walls on both sides. Thick scrub. A natural channel. Blind spots. An ideal kill zone."
Nisus added, "And it's close to here. They'll let their guard down as they approach what they think is 'safe' ground."
Euryalus grinned, a hunter's sharp expression. "Right. Like deer lowering their heads to graze at the edge of familiar woods. That's the moment we wait for."
Aeneas nodded firmly. "Good. That terrain is made for burying scum! We'll send these vermin to meet Hades there!"
He then walked over to the three women, still steeped in their grief and anger.
Melanippe's chest heaved with violent emotion. Her knuckles were white. Her deep brown hair seemed to tremble in the slight breeze, as if feeling the storm inside her.
"If I find those bastards, I'll carve open their chests, one by one! Offer their hearts to my sisters!"
Her voice was a poisoned arrow. Laced with bitter hatred. Her beautiful eyes burned with vengeful fire.
Ainippe spoke softly, trying to calm her. "Princess, rage blinds the eyes..." Her pale green eyes were full of concern. It did little good.
Then, Aeneas walked to Melanippe's side. Surprisingly, his quiet voice somehow made her listen.
"I understand your hate, Melanippe. But the fallen don't need helpless tears. They need to know the scum who hurt them will never hurt anyone again."
He continued, his gaze holding her beautiful, still-burning eyes. "Let the fire of vengeance be the pure, sacred flame that honors them. Let their noble names be the reason our blades strike. This song of revenge, echoing through the valley, that is the highest rite to escort their spirits to the goddess's halls."
Melanippe stubbornly wiped the tears from her eyes. "You're right!" Her voice no longer shook. "We will repay this debt in their blood!"
Thaleia and Ainippe were also moved. They exchanged a look. Saw rekindled resolve in each other's eyes.
As the group prepared to move to the ambush site, Aeneas did something puzzling—he bent down and picked up two badly damaged, even bent, Amazon bronze shortswords from the scattered weapons.
Melanippe looked at him, confused. Couldn't help asking, "Why are you taking those broken blades? Bronze weapons like this are useless in a fight. Unreliable. Can't be fixed properly later." She frowned slightly, perplexed. Thought, This Trojan... always doing things that make no sense...
Aeneas gave her a mysterious smile. "I intend to let the spirits of the Amazon warriors... 'greet' those bandits personally."
The three women—Melanippe, Ainippe, Thaleia—looked at each other. Their faces were a picture of bewilderment. They'd all just met Aeneas. Even Thaleia, who had nearly become his woman last night, had only known him since yesterday.
Thaleia asked quietly, curious. "Young master, another novel idea?" Her deep brown eyes blinked. Her smile was puzzled.
A gleam of anticipation crossed Aeneas's face, but he didn't answer. He was busy calculating internally. Finally a chance to try those throwing knife tricks I saw on TV! Hah! With this body's reflexes and talent, it'll be easy! I am Aeneas, the 'legendary founder of Rome', after all!
In stark contrast to the women's confusion, Achates, Nisus, and Euryalus struggled to hide their smirks. Nisus nudged Euryalus. Whispered, "See that look? He's about to show off another 'divinely inspired' trick."
Euryalus chuckled low. His tone was expectant. "He always gets that smile right before someone has a very bad day. I bet two Obols the bandits' faces will be priceless."
Aeneas casually tucked the two broken swords into his belt at the small of his back.
After the group reached the narrow gorge ambush point, Nisus and Euryalus melted away like ghosts to scout the reverse route.
Their forms moved fluidly between the rock walls. Their dark leather armor blended perfectly with the environment. As if born to this rugged terrain.
A moment later, the two scouts returned. Nisus reported in a low voice, his deep green, gold-flecked eyes gleaming with a hunter's sharp focus. "Twelve men. No wounded. Morale is low. Discipline is slack."
Euryalus added the details, his usual mocking smile playing on his lips. "Leader's wearing a solid-looking bronze cuirass. The rest are equipped as Trojan light infantry. Two archers. No shields. Three of them are carrying long spears."
Nisus supplied the crucial piece. "They look reluctant. Their leader's been muttering complaints non-stop. Cursing like a sailor."
Aeneas processed this instantly. "A demoralized unit. Not elites. More like men being punished or stuck with a foul chore. Their guard will be down. Perfect for an ambush."
He quickly designated archer positions. Nisus and Euryalus took the high ground on the left rock wall, watching over the gorge entrance.
Melanippe, Ainippe, and Thaleia melted into the underbrush and stone shadows on the right, their angles forming a lethal arc.
The three women warriors nodded in grim unison. Melanippe's fingers brushed her bowstring, her eyes burning with vengeful fire.
He stressed his orders, his tone deadly serious.
"First volley! Priority targets are their two archers and the three spearmen! The archers are the biggest threat. Take them out, and we control the range! Spears are deadly in close quarters like this. We break them before they can form up!"
Achates moved silently to cut off their retreat route, back the way the bandits had come. Aeneas positioned himself toward the battlefield site, ready to block them head-on.
Aeneas met Achates's eyes. "Remember. Not a single one gets away."
Achates gave a firm nod and vanished behind the rocks.
Everyone moved into place. The gorge fell silent again, save for the wind wailing through the crevices. The air grew thick with unseen menace.
Soon, the sound of shuffling feet and grumbling voices drifted closer.
The bandit leader, Soren, a gaunt man with a vicious look in his eyes, led eleven listless bandits into the gorge.
It turned out that during yesterday's ambush on the Amazon convoy, Soren had hung back—cowardice that drew the ire of the true leader, Miltiades.
As punishment, Miltiades barred him from taking part in the violation of the Amazon warriors—a vile 'reward' among these bandits. And had instead assigned him the unpleasant task of scavenging the battlefield today.
Soren was fuming. He grumbled incessantly to his two sycophantic lackeys. "Damn that Miltiades! He keeps all the good plunder for himself and dumps this filthy, thankless job on us!"
His voice rose with his anger. "Were those women easy to handle last night? Didn't Miltiades himself take an arrow? Now he blames us for not getting wounded? We have to be full of holes like him to have 'done our part'?"
Mention of the women made him even angrier. The foul words spilled out. "Bloody hell! Wouldn't even let us have a feel! They kept those two all to themselves!"
Cursing and swearing, he led his two lackeys toward the battlefield wreckage, hoping to find any valuables left behind. He was completely oblivious to the danger hidden in the shadows.
The other bandits trailed lazily behind. One of them yawned. None had any idea death was upon them.
Just as Soren's cursing reached a peak, a movement caught the corner of his eye. A figure now stood on the path ahead.
It was a handsome young man in fine Trojan bronze armor. His black and gold curls shone in the sun. He wore a friendly smile that sent a chill down their spines.
Aeneas faced the stunned Soren. His tone was light, almost cheerful.
"Hi! Surprise!"
The words barely left his lips. His arms shot forward like lightning. Two flashes of bronze cut through the air!
Thud! Gak!
The two sounds were almost one.
Soren's two lackeys, who were just opening their mouths to join the cursing, suddenly stiffened. Jutting from the space between their collarbones and throats were two broken Amazon bronze short swords.
The blades quivered, emitting a faint, menacing hum—the vengeful fangs of the Amazons' spirits!