Sequel: The White Doe ›
Status: 1 of 7 volumes. Complete.
A Good Run
Eleven
It is almost dawn and Thessily is searching frantically for Thoas in the near-empty streets of Athens, finding him where the men are donning their armor, preparing to march out to Marathon to meet the Persians. Phidippides has arrived only minutes after her, bearing the bad news and the decision has been made to fight despite the odds.
Thoas sees her and his eyes go wide and the lines in his face run deeper as he says her name.
Breathless, she tries to explain what she knows, but Thoas won't listen, forcing her to sit down, searching frantically for water.
"You've been poisoned!" He says.
She nods, gasping for air, taking the skin of water gratefully and pouring half its contents down her throat. "It's not important." She manages to say.
"It is--"
"It isn't." She says and grabs at his robe and pulls him in close, forcing him to listen. "I can't--my mind is, it wanders, but I know... I know why, Thoas."
He searches her face, concerned, afraid.
She can only imagine how she looks to him, dusty and sweat stained, even paler than normal. She thinks her hair must be matted with dirt and grass and mud.
"I'm not delirious." Thessily manages. "I'm not, I know. The Persians, Thoas. The galleys."
"They will attack from the water?"
"Yes, but--but--" She shakes her head, desperate. Why can't she make the words come out? Why can't she say it right? 'Please understand me.' She is thinking. "In the ships." She says, the plea in her eyes. "They must be in the ships. It's the only way they can move in the sun."
Thoas's expression smoothes and he takes her hands in his and nods, telling her to please let go, that she has forgotten how strong she is.
She forces her fingers to loosen and as she does another bout of shaking strikes her, so violently that she is left shivering, curled on her side, with Thoas trying to wrap his cloak around her.
In the streets, the Athenian men are beginning to march down the wide promenade, past the agora, to meet the Persians.
Thessily sees Phidippides, exhausted, joining the the back of the line. He is donning his armor as he goes, carrying his spear.
She forces herself to be still again. To Thoas, she says, "I'll need oil."
"How many ships?"
"Seven."
"You're certain?"
"I... I saw it in my mind."
Thoas considers this. "I will get oil. And we shall pray that you are right."
Thoas sees her and his eyes go wide and the lines in his face run deeper as he says her name.
Breathless, she tries to explain what she knows, but Thoas won't listen, forcing her to sit down, searching frantically for water.
"You've been poisoned!" He says.
She nods, gasping for air, taking the skin of water gratefully and pouring half its contents down her throat. "It's not important." She manages to say.
"It is--"
"It isn't." She says and grabs at his robe and pulls him in close, forcing him to listen. "I can't--my mind is, it wanders, but I know... I know why, Thoas."
He searches her face, concerned, afraid.
She can only imagine how she looks to him, dusty and sweat stained, even paler than normal. She thinks her hair must be matted with dirt and grass and mud.
"I'm not delirious." Thessily manages. "I'm not, I know. The Persians, Thoas. The galleys."
"They will attack from the water?"
"Yes, but--but--" She shakes her head, desperate. Why can't she make the words come out? Why can't she say it right? 'Please understand me.' She is thinking. "In the ships." She says, the plea in her eyes. "They must be in the ships. It's the only way they can move in the sun."
Thoas's expression smoothes and he takes her hands in his and nods, telling her to please let go, that she has forgotten how strong she is.
She forces her fingers to loosen and as she does another bout of shaking strikes her, so violently that she is left shivering, curled on her side, with Thoas trying to wrap his cloak around her.
In the streets, the Athenian men are beginning to march down the wide promenade, past the agora, to meet the Persians.
Thessily sees Phidippides, exhausted, joining the the back of the line. He is donning his armor as he goes, carrying his spear.
She forces herself to be still again. To Thoas, she says, "I'll need oil."
"How many ships?"
"Seven."
"You're certain?"
"I... I saw it in my mind."
Thoas considers this. "I will get oil. And we shall pray that you are right."