Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

women. The situation called for caution so as not to result in his death and the deaths of those he wanted to save— including Nikandros and Vasilios.
    As he tried to settle on his options, he watched one of the men begin to inch slowly backward. Soon the man would be upon him, and he would be drawn into the situation, whether he wanted to be or not. He could not move from his present position as that would give him away. He had effectively become trapped.
    He looked around him; a part of his brain coolly detached as he ran through his choices. To attack with his fists was not wise due to their large number. He did not have a sword with him, so he could not take his chances in that way either.
    At the thought of a sword, he stopped. His hands stretched to the sash that belted his robes. He pulled out the jeweled knife Nikandros had given him the previous year while he had laughingly told him that they needed their Theris to always stay protected.
    His memory tried to draw him in and keep him stuck with thoughts of his lovers and how he might never see them again if he did anything wrong, how he would never hear Nikandros's light laugh when something amused him, the way his lips curved just right and his eyes softened, or the way Vasilios bent his head and smiled whenever Eleftherios had his hands buried in his soft, beautiful hair.
    Eleftherios shook his head to dispel the wonderings. To allow thoughts of his lovers to invade his head during the situation he was in at the moment might be the right choice, but only if he wanted to take the easy way out. But, he had two young women to rescue. Hopefully, he would live long enough to have Athena reverse the curse or at least release Nikandros and Vasilios. He needed his full concentration, however, to do that.
    Finally, the other man had climbed high enough up the hill, and his back rested against the stone before the boulder Eleftherios had hidden behind. Eleftherios crept slowly forward, keeping an eye on the stones that littered the way and that might give him away. He leaned over the stone, placed his hand over the man's mouth and slit the throat. Still creeping forward, he laid the man down carefully so that anyone who glanced up the hill would not see him.
    With that done, Eleftherios continued his descent, steadily working his way through the men as he went. He had a bit of problem with the third man who had obviously eaten more food than his colleagues. His hands barely covered the man's mouth, and when he had to place him down, Eleftherios was certain that he almost pulled a muscle. A terrible thing when you made your living slaving away as a blacksmith.
    Soon, there was only one of the original six remaining. The last man kept glancing about him although he did not rise. Eleftherios flattened himself against the ground and slowly crawled. The stones bit into his skin, and he knew his robes were becoming even more tattered. His teeth held onto the knife, and he could feel the burn that came from the stretch of his lips trying to accommodate the blade.
    He tossed a stone down the mountain, drawing the man's attention to the sound. Immediately the man turned around. Eleftherios rose; his knife drawn. Before the Trojan could draw a breath— probably hoping to call out to his brothers— Eleftherios sunk the dagger into the man's heart. He watched dispassionately as the man's eyes dimmed. To give mercy to one who had hoped to commit a crime upon innocent women was a waste.
    He pulled out a tuft of grass and cleaned his blade. He would spend more time cleaning it properly when he had the opportunity after he returned home. There was no way he was allowing the blade to dull.
    With that done, he smiled. The maidens were still some distance away from the mountain. They would continue on their way, not knowing with what they had nearly come in contact; however, that would only happen if they didn't see the bodies of the men who would have attacked them.
    Eleftherios immediately set about dragging the men, one at a time, far away from the path. It wouldn't do for visitors to the temple to be greeted with the sight of death immediately after they reached the mountain.
    ****
    As he walked up the Propylaea, Eleftherios allowed his eyes to look at the walkway. It could easily fit two or three chariots. He held back a snort. The Propylaea at the moment was only being used by himself. It would seem like everyone was already in the temple. At that, he quickened his steps. He