Spartan Heart

by Jennifer Estep

  “Oh, no! Not again! Don’t pick me up!” Babs yelled. “Don’t pick me up! Don’t pick me up—”

  Too late. Once again, I ignored her frantic cries and scooped the sword up off the floor. Then I ran forward, took hold of the stone railing, and leaped up and over the side of the balcony.

  For an instant, I had the weightless sensation of free-falling, but all too quickly, the ground rushed up to meet me. Or in this case, a library table.

  My boots slammed into the top of the table, and the jarring impact shot all the way up my legs, spread out into my hips, and wrapped around my back. I lost my balance, staggered forward, and fell off the table, landing hard on my left side on the floor. A low groan escaped my lips, but I pushed the pain away and scrambled back onto my feet, ready to stab this chimera the same way I had the one upstairs.

  But I was too late.

  Amanda lashed out with her staff, but the chimera was faster, and it avoided the blow and slammed her to the floor. The creature raised its paw, then swiped it down, raking its claws all the way across Amanda’s stomach. She screamed and beat at the creature with her staff, but the chimera grinned back at her. More of that noxious black smoke boiled out of the creature’s mouth and dripped onto the horrible wounds in her stomach, adding to her agony. The coppery stink of her blood mixed with the smoke’s sulfur fumes.

  The chimera drew its claws back for another strike.

  “Hey!” I screamed. “Pick on someone your own size!”

  It was a stupid, cliché thing to say, since the chimera was even longer than I was tall, but my shout got the creature’s attention. It hopped over Amanda and stalked toward me.

  I shook off my hard landing and subsequent fall and slowly started twirling the sword around in my hand, getting a feel for the weapon, since I hadn’t had a chance to do that earlier when I’d been battling the first chimera.

  Strong, durable, lightweight, perfectly balanced, with a razor-sharp blade. The sword truly was a beautiful weapon, and I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Well, maybe something a little more cooperative. All the while, I could feel Babs’s lips moving under my palm, and I could still hear her babbling at me.

  “Put me down! Put me down! Put me down!”

  But I didn’t have a choice, so I ignored the sword’s cries and kept twirling her around and around, until the weapon felt like an extension of my own hand rather than something separate from it. More of my Spartan instincts were kicking in and letting me use what was handy in order to do what was necessary.

  Kill the chimera before it killed me.

  The creature’s crimson eyes narrowed to slits, and it realized that I wouldn’t be as easy to take down as Amanda had been. I looked past the chimera.

  Somehow Amanda had managed to sit up against one of the tables, and she was clutching her hands to her stomach, trying to keep pressure on her grievous wounds. Despite how tightly she was clamping down, more and more blood oozed out from between her fingers.

  Amanda stared at me, tears of pain, fear, and agony welling up in her blue eyes and streaking down her pretty face. Her wounds were too deep, too severe, and we both knew that she couldn’t stop the blood loss. She opened her mouth to say something, but then she coughed, and only a thin trickle of blood came out instead.

  Rage roared through me. I didn’t know what Amanda had been doing in here, but she hadn’t deserved to be ripped to shreds. I looked back at the chimera. I needed to end this fight and help her—now.

  The chimera shifted onto its back haunches, gathering itself for one fierce, final strike. I tightened my grip on my sword, muffling Babs’s cries again, and did the same. Then, with a scream and a roar, the chimera and I charged at each other.

  The creature sprang at me, smoke flowing out of its mouth in a hot, acrid wave. Even as I whipped to the side, the smoke washed over me, and I hissed as the clouds engulfed my right hand, burning my skin and making it painful for me to hold the sword. As much as I wanted to drop the sword and cradle my injured hand up against my chest, I couldn’t do that. If I didn’t have the weapon, the chimera would quickly claw me to death.

  Even as my burns erupted into blisters, I whipped around and lashed out with my sword. The blade sliced deep into the chimera’s side, causing it to hiss with pain. The creature’s blood spattered against my face and neck, as hot as candle wax scalding my skin and adding to my misery.

  The chimera landed on its feet, then whipped back around to me. I waited, expecting this one to disappear in a poof! of smoke like the other one had, but apparently, I hadn’t injured it badly enough for that.

  My blistered fingers curled even tighter around my sword. A fresh wave of pain spurted through my body, but it was nothing compared with the rage burning in my heart. The chimera wasn’t dead yet, but I could fix that.

  Spartans always finished the fight.

  The creature circled around me, blood dripping from the ugly gash I’d opened up in its side. Every scarlet drop hissed against the stone floor and started smoking, just like the chimera’s paw prints did.

  The chimera snarled at me, and I growled right back at it. I should have been worried. I should have been frightened. Maybe I would have been, if I were a normal person or any other kind of warrior. But I was a Spartan, and fighting was in our blood, just as the fire was in the chimera’s blood.

  This was what I was—for better or worse.

  I was dimly aware of footsteps smacking against the floor and shouts filling the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ian, the Viking, race into the library, a large battle ax clutched in his hand. His eyes widened when he saw the chimera, and he headed in my direction. But Amanda let out another loud, bloody cough, and he stopped, obviously torn. I waved my hand, telling him to help her instead.

  I had this under control.

  The Viking jerked his head at me in what I assumed was a thank you, then went over to the other girl, still keeping an eye on me and the chimera the whole time.

  “Help!” he said in a sharp voice. “I need some help in here! Amanda’s down! Repeat, Amanda’s down!”

  I didn’t know who he was talking to, since we seemed to be the only three people in the library. It didn’t matter right now anyway, so I tuned him out and focused on the chimera.

  The chimera snarled at me again, and I twirled my sword around in my hand, thinking about the quickest and easiest way I could kill the creature. It was leaning on its right side, given the gash I had put in its left flank, and it would overcompensate for its injury. The chimera would move that way, and I could turn the other way and raise my sword at the same time. The images filled my mind, and I could see exactly how the fight would go in three, two, one…

  The chimera leaped at me exactly the way I’d thought it would. I wrapped both hands around my sword, pivoted to the side, and snapped up my weapon. This time, I drove the blade straight through its heart. The chimera screamed, then—

  Poof!

  It disappeared in a shower of smoke. I coughed, lurched away from the hot, stinging wisps, and looked over at the others.

  Ian was crouching down by Amanda’s side, his hands on her stomach, trying to use his Viking strength to stop the bleeding. But her wounds were too deep, and she had already lost too much blood. Ian wasn’t going to be able to save her. From the grim set of his lips, he knew it too, although he kept murmuring words of encouragement, telling her to hold on and that help was on the way.

  I hobbled over to them, even though every movement made more and more pain spiral out through my blistered fingers, burned skin, and bruised, battered body. Ian looked up as I staggered to a stop beside them.

  His gray eyes narrowed. “You’re bleeding.”

  I looked down. Blood had soaked into my T-shirt sleeve. I pulled the tattered fabric away from my right arm and peered at the long gashes that ran from my shoulder all the way down to my elbow. The chimera had clawed me as I’d killed it. Weird. I hadn’t even felt it strike me, and I should have, given how
much blood was pouring out of the deep, ugly wounds. Or maybe that was because the hot, throbbing, pulsing feel of the burns on my skin was so much more painful.

  But I forced the pain away, let go of my shirt sleeve, and dropped—well, more like fell—to my knees beside Amanda. “It’s nothing. Just a few scratches.”

  Ian raised his eyebrows, knowing that I was lying, but he turned back to the other girl. “The others will be here any second. Hang on, Amanda. Just hang on.”

  She looked up at him, pain and tears shimmering in her eyes. “I tried…” she rasped. “But I couldn’t find him… Whatever he took… I think he summoned…the chimeras with it…”

  She coughed, causing more blood to bubble up out of her lips and trickle down her face. She shuddered out a breath, and her head lolled to one side. Amanda stared at me for a moment, and then her eyes went dark, distant, and blank.

  Dead—she was dead.

  “Amanda?” Ian said. “Amanda!”

  He started shaking her, but of course it was far too late for that. He knew it too, and after a few seconds, he stopped, his face pinching tight with grief. This time, Ian shuddered out a breath and ran a hand through his blond hair. Then he reached out, gently closed Amanda’s eyes, and bowed his head.

  The gentle, respectful motion of one warrior saluting a fallen comrade made my heart ache. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. At least I thought I did, but Ian’s and Amanda’s faces blurred together, and white spots winked on and off in front of my eyes. A second later, my sword slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. All the strength left my body, and I flopped down to the floor as well.

  My face was right next to Babs’s, and the sword’s features twisted into a stricken expression.

  “Don’t die!” she said. “You can’t die! Not so soon! It’s not time yet!”

  I opened my mouth to tell her that I didn’t have a choice, given how badly the chimera had clawed and burned me, but the words got stuck in my throat, and the library started spinning around and around. One very troubling, ironic thought popped into my mind.

  A talking sword and a dead girl in the library.

  This was how it had all started for Gwen.

  Chapter Five

  I lay on the floor, staring up at the library tower ceiling. All those bits of stained glass glimmered even brighter than before, and I could have sworn that an invisible breeze was gusting over the wildflowers, making their petals sway back and forth and back and forth…

  I blinked, and from one instant to the next, everything changed.

  Instead of lying on the library floor, I was now standing in the middle of an enormous open-air courtyard. Flowers, vines, and trees stretched out in all directions, each one more colorful than the last. The vibrant blues, greens, reds, whites, and purples made it seem as though I were standing on a jeweled carpet instead of in a garden, and a crisp, clean scent blanketed the air, like fragrant flowers mixed with fresh snow.

  A small stream snaked through the wildflowers, leading into a broken stone fountain before trickling out the other side. Cracked walls and crumbled heaps of stone ringed the courtyard, separating it from several nearby buildings that had collapsed in on themselves. The walls might be broken, but I could still make out the bears, rabbits, foxes, songbirds, and gryphons that had been carved into the stones.

  Wildflowers, rocky ruins, animal carvings. I knew exactly where I was: the Eir Ruins on top of Snowline Ridge Mountain. But why? And how had I gotten here from the library?

  I looked down. My clothes were still torn and bloody, but the burns and blisters on my hand had vanished, and my skin was smooth and whole again. The claw marks on my right arm were also gone. Someone had healed me. But who? Ian and his mysterious friends? Why would they help me?

  I moved my arm back and forth and flexed my fingers, but everything worked the way it was supposed to, and I didn’t feel the slightest twinge of pain. Good. That was good.

  What wasn’t so good was this weird dream that I was in—if it even was a dream.

  This reminded me of another story Gwen had told me, about how Nike, the Greek goddess of victory, always seemed to appear to her in a strange dream realm, which was like a mirror image of the real world. I frowned. But what would Nike want with me? Gwen was her Champion, not me—

  “Hello, Rory,” a soft voice called out behind me.

  I whirled around. I wasn’t quite sure who I was expecting, but Nike wasn’t here.

  Another goddess was.

  I could tell she was a goddess by the way she moved, as if she were floating along instead of actually walking on the ground like we mere mortals did. Her footsteps didn’t disturb the wildflowers, didn’t rustle so much as a single petal or snap the smallest stem. Her long white gown rippled as though it were made of sheets of snowflakes that were swirling around her body. Her hair trailed down her shoulders in thick, black waves, and her eyes were even blacker, making her skin seem as white and luminous as a pearl in comparison.

  The only things that marred her beauty were the old, faded scars that crisscrossed her hands and crept up her arms, but they somehow suited her. Despite her lovely features, she radiated sorrow, as though she had seen so many bad things that she could never, ever forget them, despite all the good things still left in the world.

  I knew exactly who she was, especially since I’d been staring at her statue in the library earlier: Sigyn, the Norse goddess of devotion.

  Sigyn stopped in front of me. “Hello, Rory.”

  I bowed my head, wondering if I should curtsy and if I could do that without tripping and doing a face-plant into the flowers. Did you curtsy to a goddess? Gwen had never really explained that part of things to me.

  “Um, hi.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

  Sigyn nodded at my hoarse greeting. Then she gestured at the garden around us. “Will you walk with me?”

  “Um, sure.”

  I didn’t really think I had a choice, but I wanted to walk with her. I wanted to know what was going on and why I was here…wherever here really was.

  So I stepped up beside the goddess, and the two of us slowly meandered around the courtyard. Maybe I should have curtsied after all, because it seemed like every single one of the wildflowers bowed its brightly colored head to Sigyn as she passed them. I bit my lip, wondering if it was too late to curtsy. Probably. Besides, if the goddess knew anything about me, then she knew I definitely wasn’t the prim, proper, curtsying type.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re here, in Eir’s courtyard,” Sigyn finally said.

  “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  Sigyn looked at me out of the corner of her eye, and I winced.

  “Sorry. Was that too snarky?”

  She let out a small, pleased laugh. “On the contrary. I enjoy your honesty. It’s refreshing after so many lies from so many people over the years.”

  A shadow passed over her face, dimming her beauty, and another wave of sorrow radiated off her, as cold as a cloud of snow kissing my cheeks. Somehow I knew that she was talking about Loki and how he had betrayed her. My heart ached for her—and for myself too. My parents had lied to me my entire life, and I didn’t know how to let go of my anger at them.

  “Well, I hate liars too,” I said. “Just as much as you do.”

  The goddess nodded, and we walked on. It took me a minute to work up the courage to ask her the question that was burning in my mind.

  “So…why am I here?”

  Sigyn eyed me again. “Gwendolyn Frost didn’t tell you?”

  I shrugged. “Not exactly. Gwen has told me lots of stories about her meetings with Nike…and you. How she finally realized that you were masquerading as that old woman, Raven, all this time. Gwen said that you had…plans for me. Or something like that.”

  I had been more than a little skeptical when Gwen had told me that Sigyn seemed interested in me. But here I was, face to face with the goddess and talking with Sigyn the same way Gwen ta
lked to Nike. So why was I here? As far as I knew, Sigyn took care of her own problems by wandering around the academies in her Raven disguise. Besides, she was a freaking goddess. What did she need me for? Unless…

  My breath caught in my throat. Sigyn didn’t…she couldn’t…she wasn’t going to ask me to be her Champion, was she?

  No—no way.

  As soon as the thought occurred to me, I realized how ridiculous it was. For one thing, I had never even heard of Sigyn having a Champion. Sure, the goddess had brought me here to this weird dreamscape and was talking to me, but there could be any number of reasons for that. Maybe she had been wandering around the library as Raven and had seen the chimera claw me. Maybe she had brought me here to help me. Maybe she had healed me so she could ask me to do something for her in return. Or maybe she just felt sorry for me. But she wouldn’t ask me to be her Champion.

  Not me, Rory Forseti, the daughter of notorious Reaper assassins. I wasn’t worthy to be anyone’s Champion, especially not hers, given how horribly Loki had betrayed her. Even if Sigyn suddenly decided that she did want a Champion, I was probably the very last person she would ask.

  The goddess must have seen the questions and confusion on my face, because she spoke again. “I had hoped that I was wrong and that things wouldn’t turn out the way they have. That it wouldn’t come to this. But unfortunately, evil never quite dies, no matter how hard you try to kill it.”

  “What do you mean?” A terrible thought occurred to me. “Loki…he’s not free, is he? He hasn’t found some way to escape that prison Gwen put him in?”

  Sigyn shook her head. “No, no, nothing like that. Loki is still trapped in the realm of the gods, where he will remain for all time.” She paused. “But a new danger threatens not only mythological warriors but the entire mortal world if it is left unchecked.”