Even though it was decidedly unprofessional, Kat ran. What in the hell had started to happen to Achilles? She’d seen men struggle with fits of rage before—she’d even seen men literally mad with out-of-control anger. None of those men had changed physically, yet she was sure Achilles’ body had become bigger, stronger, scarier and—
“Oof!” Kat ran directly into Odysseus.
“Easy, Princess, easy,” he said, grabbing her elbow to keep her from falling on her butt. Then his eyes narrowed as he took in her white face and generally disheveled appearance. “Achilles.”
“Yes,” Kat said, gasping for breath.
Odysseus moved her defensively behind him as he peered back toward the shore. “I don’t hear him coming. Was it one of Agamemnon’s men who attacked him?” He spoke while he continued to keep watch behind them.
“No.”
“The men attacked you?” He took her elbow again and began leading her to the campfire. “The Myrmidons will never stand for this. I must tell them of—”
“Odysseus, wait. No one attacked me. Ur, well, I mean no one sent by Agamemnon attacked me.”
Odysseus slowed and gave her a considering look. Then his eyes widened in understanding. “Ah, I see. The berserker took him while he was alone with you.”
“Yes.”
Odysseus looked seaward again. “It seems he has controlled it. He did not follow you.”
“I told him to get into the sea,” Kat blurted. “He did, and told me to run.”
“You ordered the great warrior Achilles to get into the sea as his rage was coming upon him!” Odysseus laughed. “I would have given much to have seen that.”
Kat frowned at him. “It’s not funny. He… he changes.”
Odysseus’s look sobered. “He does. It is the price he pays for the choice he made long ago. Or rather, one of the prices he pays.”
“I don’t understand. I thought—well, I thought when I heard the, uh, rumors about him that he just had an anger problem. But what was starting to happen to him was way more than that.”
They’d come to Achilles’ tent and Odysseus motioned for her to sit on the bench just outside it. The warriors who had been eating were gone—the fire was neatly banked. Kat could feel that the camp was still awake and watchful, but there was no one within hearing range of their conversation. She met Odysseus’s intelligent gaze.
“I’d like to ask you to explain to me what happens to Achilles.”
“Princess, I am not certain if I should—”
“Athena wants me to help him,” Kat broke into his denial. As she expected, evoking the name of the famous warrior’s patron goddess had an instant effect on him.
“What is it you wish to know?”
“I saw him start to change. Physically. What happens to him?”
“I’ve witnessed it many times, and each time it is newly terrifying and awe inspiring,” Odysseus said. “When Achilles is roused enough—whether by pain or fear or even passion—the berserker rage Zeus gifted him with comes upon him. It is as if Achilles becomes possessed by a rage-filled god.”
“Is it still him? I mean, does he know what he is doing?”
“Achilles remembers his actions when the berserker leaves him, but when it is upon him he is fully under the control of it.”
“How does it go away?”
“The rage eventually burns itself out, leaving Achilles drained, but himself once more,” Odysseus said.
“That’s why women fear him. Because it’s not really him. I mean, he literally changes.”
“And now will you fear him, too?” Odysseus asked her.
Kat met his eyes. “No. I’m not like the other women around here.”
“Like other women or not, under the possession of the berserker Achilles is dangerous. I would advise you to have care when you’re alone with him.” Odysseus seemed about to say more, but instead, jaw set and face unusually sober, he stared back in the direction of the sea.
“I’ll be careful. Plus,” she added with a grim smile, “I’m under the protection of a goddess, remember?”
His expression softened and he smiled at her. “I would not forget my goddess, Princess.” Odysseus hesitated, then added. “Yet even under Athena’s protection, you ran from him.”
Kat sighed. “Yeah, well, it seemed like the smartest thing to do. What was happening to him surprised me. I was caught off guard, which won’t happen again. So you say that strong emotions trigger the change.”
"They do.”
“Then why didn’t he change in Agamemnon’s tent? Achilles hates the king, right?”
Odysseus nodded, “Yes.”
“Hatred is a strong emotion, and I know he was mightily pissed by what happened in there.”
Odysseus gave her a puzzled look.
“Pissed equates to angry,” she explained quickly.
“Oh, yes. Agamemnon usually makes Achilles very angry.”
“Okay, again, then why didn’t he change?”
Odysseus shrugged. “Achilles was calm, his anger was controlled and—”
“Wait! Answer me this,” Kat interrupted. “Achilles has to train to maintain his fighting edge, right? So he practices with the sword, or whatever, and he probably runs or works out or both. Right?”
Odysseus’s brow furrowed. “Achilles trains often. He is also an excellent runner.”
“Does the berserker come on him when he’s training?”
“No. I have never seen the berserker claim him as he trains.”
“But he gets all hot and sweaty and worn out?” Kat asked, getting visibly excited.
“Yes, of course.”
“That’s it!” Kat said. “If he stays physically calm it doesn’t matter how mad he gets. The change doesn’t happen. And it works the other way, too. As long as he keeps his emotional response under control, it doesn’t matter how intense he works physically, he’ll stay himself. That’s why he has so many scars. I’ll bet his heart rate and his breathing have to elevate along with a major emotional spike for the change to begin. So he has to let someone beat the shit out of him to get his heart rate up, and get pissed about it.” A little thrill went through her as she realized what that meant about the kisses they’d been sharing. “I suppose that makes sense, if any of this does,” she said more to herself than to Odysseus. “The change is physiological as well as emotional, so it must take a trigger that is based on both.”
Odysseus was studying her intently. “You are a most unusual woman, Princess.”
Kat opened her mouth to make a quip about “that’s all a part of being an oracle and whatnot” when Achilles’ deep voice sounded from somewhere close behind them.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Odysseus?”
Odysseus smiled smoothly and stood, grasping Achilles’ forearm in greeting as he joined them. “Can an old friend not visit for no particular reason?”
Kat saw that Achilles’ hair and tunic were soaking wet and he was carrying his breastplate, as well as the empty goblet she didn’t remember dropping. There were dark circles under his eyes she would have sworn hadn’t been there before they’d had their interrupted make-out session, but other than that he looked perfectly normal again.
“So Agamemnon sent you,” Achilles was saying.
Odysseus’s smile widened. “Of course.”
Achilles’ lip twitched. “And you will have to report to him that I was, indeed, serious, that I will not join the battle tomorrow.”
“And your Myrmidons?”
Achilles shrugged his broad shoulders. “My men are my companions, not my slaves. They shall do as they wish.”
“Which means they stand down with you,” Odysseus said.
“Apparently.”
“I bid you good night then, and return to my tent. After reporting this sad news to our king,” Odysseus said.
“He is your king, not mine,” Achilles said.
Odysseus lifted one shoulder. “As you have said many times before. Good night, my friend.” He bowed his head to Kat. “I wish you good night, too, Princess.”
“Good night, Odysseus,” Kat said.