Of Sparta

By Victoria Escobar

She was the strongest of Gaea’s Servants. Miera had been trained from childhood to be Faithful always to the Goddess. She had been taught with Faith they would always be protected. She had never wavered from that course. She hadn’t counted on the consequences of that choice.

As Ariadne’s birthday draws closer darkness closes in on Sparta. Monsters, both Tainted and Pure alike, were vying for pieces of their island. Doubt and fear grew like pestilence. Death was unavoidable.

Sparta sat on the brink, but of what Miera wasn’t certain. There was no record, no precedence for her to consult. There were no living patrons of the Goddess to seek council from. She only had instinct and Faith. If she could not maintain the balance Sparta would fall before Gaea’s return.

How did the lost lead the people out of darkness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Escobar
• Release date: Aug 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310998225

Victoria Escobar

Born in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, but with the ability to claim eight states as home; Victoria Escobar writes fiction from her current home in New York. She writes whatever comes to mind and because of such has a variety of genres written including Young Adult, New Adult, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, and Contemporary Fiction.In spare time if not with family, and friends Victoria enjoys curling up with a book from a favorite author with music playing. If not reading or writing she spends time drawing, sketching, crocheting, or some other random art project. She enjoys staying busy, but most of all enjoys staying creative.

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Of Sparta

Victoria Escobar

Copyright © 2014 by Victoria Escobar

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by AGC Editing and Services

Cover Art by Art is Life: Cover and Art Design

All characters, events and places portrayed in this book are a work of fiction. Any relations to persons, or events living or dead, past or future are purely coincidental.

Of Gaea

Just About Healing

Peerless

Coming Soon:

Leaving Tracks

Unnatural Selection

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Epilogue

Behind The Scenes

Acknowledgements

About The Author

"You’re not needed."

The woman that had been hurrying down the marble stairs of the Guild House stopped suddenly, mid-step. The black skirts of the empire waist dress swung forward unaware she had stopped, and then swung back into place swishing momentarily before falling still. The sheer layer of the deep black sleeves swung just as violently as the skirts with the sudden stop, as if taking cue from her skirts they swished for a moment as well before falling still. She turned slowly and stared up at the man that had addressed her so callously.

She knew what he saw; a small woman in mourning black who hadn’t bother to style her toffee colored hair in weeks thus it danced freely down to the middle of her back, and pale skin with dark shadows under her steely eyes from lack of sleep due to worry. It wasn’t what he saw that was threatening; it was what he couldn’t see.

He baulked under the intensity of her stare, and he smoothed over his balding hair and straightened the already straight lines of his uniform. What I mean to convey is that an escort party has already been dispatched. The Envoy House is not needed to mobilize as the military has this under control. Please, Miera, allow us to do our jobs.

Do your jobs? Her tone was incredulous, Like you did your jobs when you covered up the deaths of nearly half the Island? Or when you allied yourself with a Tainted leader, declared martial law, and usurped the law that had been in place for millennia. Or maybe you’re referring to when a group of Envoys and Thaumaturges were supposed to be protected and instead were ripped to pieces by Tainted wolves? Thunder cracked with her rising anger. Pray tell, why should I leave the life of the Goddess in the hands of the very men who have little regard for her people?

He fidgeted uncomfortably and flinched when thunder boomed again and lighting could be seen in the cloudless sky.

Miera smiled coldly. I thought so. But to sooth your mind – I’ve already redirected Achilles to Patriarch Katsaros. She will give him something to do that he cannot screw up.

Miera, please, you’re overreacting.

Miera couldn’t prevent the lightning that struck the rod at the top of the building or the ear deafening boom that followed. I’m overreacting? she hissed. Overreacting? She took two steps towards him. When Gaea arrives you best pray she deals with you directly instead of leaving your sentencing to me. You are on a precarious precipice. Do not worsen your situation.

Miera, please, he stammered.

Do not challenge my position again, General Golias. I am still High Patriarch of Envoy House. I am the highest ranking official in Sparta as I’ve also been granted Head of State by Kleisthenes until he arrives. I am not required to answer to you, she growled. If you challenge me again, be prepared to lose everything.

Miera, a gentle soothing voice spoke and stepped up behind the General. Please, I ask politely, cool your anger. If you arrive angry at the ferry, would the Goddess not think you were angry at her?

Miera took a deep and calming breath. He was right of course which pricked at her anger instead of calming it. She had to take a second before the rage he incited in her cleared as well.

She disliked dealings with Theoris. There was something about him that was not normal. Though, to be fair, for a Spartan what was classified as normal by the rest of the world no longer applied.

Theoris was taller than average yet very slender. His frame was almost feminine in its delicacy – he didn’t bear the muscle that most Spartan men were known for. Yet, there was a power in him that could rival what Miera controlled if he had been an Envoy. His white cassock was without any sign of wear, the white stole was embroidered with silver thread and the Rod of Asclepius embroidered where a Catholic priest’s cross would be. He didn’t wear the chasuble today, though he didn’t need it to be identified for what he was; a healer – in the highest power.

Today, his blonde nearly white hair was gathered at his neck and braided down to its end. It was longer than Miera’s had ever been. His unearthly violet eyes pinned her, and though she hated to admit it, unnerved her enough to look away.

Please, he added in that same calm voice as if she hadn’t just lost a stare down, if you would like, I can accompany you. I will be more than happy to assist with any travel fatigue or healing wounds that may need attention.

No. Miera said curtly and whirled around half running down the rest of the stairs to the waiting limo below. There was no way she would spend an hour and a half drive across the breadth of Athanasios Island breathing in his stench. Some might considered the baby power and rosemary a soothing scent, but in the confines of the limo it would be overpowering.

As soon as she was settled in the waiting limo, it and the convoy of cars behind it pulled away from the Guild House. They exited the city by the north gate, there was a gate to each direction, and then continued on the long stretch of road north.

It wasn’t really a long stretch of road by conventional standards. The Island was around thirty miles at its widest point and fifty miles at its longest point. The road they traveled was forty miles long because it weaved around fields, and with an additional speed limit of thirty five, due to farm equipment and animals, it made what should have been a relatively short trip longer.

Until he moved, Miera hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone in the limo. She stiffened and straightened until he moved into the light for her to see him clearly. She relaxed the instant she recognized him.

Hektor. He was a Patriarch Scholar to one of the other High Pantheon in Sparta City. Both High Pantheons were – for this generation at least – located within the city walls. The other pantheon within the city was Androcles, Leonidas’s Pantheon or Alissandre’s now.

That was something else to worry about at a later time. Alissandre would need to be taught and he would need to be guided. During transitioning he couldn’t be challenged but afterwards… Miera would worry about that if it should occur.

Hektor leaned back when he saw she recognized him. His full mouth curved in a half amused smile. You make enemies too easily, cousin.

Cousin was an honorary term. They shared no blood between them. Instead they shared a childhood.

Much like childhood, his raven hair was mussed. He never combed it then she doubted his habit had changed any now, and his sapphire eyes were lazy with sleep. His skin was pale – if she allowed herself to she could still see him sick with disease. He hadn’t yet fully recovered and it was visible in the pallor of his skin. He was much like Alissandre in build; tall and well defined muscularly but wasn’t grotesque. His khakis were neatly pressed and the black button down was in respect to Miera’s mourning black. He wore a silver medallion around his neck engraved with a tree of life and an owl soaring through its branches. It was a symbol of his House.

Miera hadn’t worn the purple sash and gold laurels of her rank and house. She hadn’t thought of it and now that she did, it wasn’t really important. She wasn’t out to impress anyone with rank and title. She was only meeting the ferry. While her station was important, she didn’t think it would impress the Goddess or Alissandre.

Why are you here? she asked him in the same casual tone he had used.

Moral support. Hektor smiled again. Do you think I don’t know how much it means to you that she’s finally arriving? Though you could have had more tact with the General.

Miera snorted before she could contain the sound. You’ve come along to scold me you mean?

Not at all, Hektor said as he shifted and crossed the limo to sit next to her. I’m here for you, cousin. I know you haven’t really slept. I know you don’t really eat. Someone needs to be close by when you finally faint since you’ve given Eryx leave and haven’t filled his position yet. And Lineus and the others are teaching instead of protecting. You need protecting Miera.

I don’t need someone to fill his shoes. His position was only temporary, she murmured and looked out the window instead of meeting his concerned eyes. I can’t bring myself to replace Thalia. If… She sighed. I’m just not ready to let go of Thalia. Lineus and the others…they were more of a contingency force. Nothing permanent and in truth they were easily replaceable if needed. Thalia cannot be replaced so easily.

Nor should she. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently. You leave yourself open to attack without a Shield. You know that. That is all I’m saying.

Miera sighed again. No one, not even Tainted are stupid enough to attack me now.

Hektor exhaled an exasperated sound. Cousin, you frustrate me sometimes. At least with Gaea here, everything will return to normal.

Miera said nothing. Normal was only a word. And it was a word that had never in her lifetime applied to the supplicants of Gaea.

Much of the Island was open field or secret forests. They passed through the fields and though she could see people working, it wasn’t nearly the amount of people that had been working the field last year. Many had fled when it became apparent there was something wrong. Between disease and fear, what had been over a hundred thousand people was now almost half that.

You should at least take a nap, Hektor said after a few miles of silence.

Every time I close my eyes I relive what happened. I can’t get passed the feeling I didn’t do something that I could have done to avoid it all. I feel like I failed in some way.

Hektor’s arm tightened, I never want to hear that come out of your mouth again. You haven’t failed. You saved a lot of people that would be otherwise dead or deceived by now. I never want to hear you say those words again.

Thousands died Hektor, Miera protested quietly.

And over fifty thousand lived. The glass is half full not half empty, he countered then pulled her against him. Get some sleep cousin. You could use it. Gaea will be here soon and all will be well again.

Miera allowed herself to lean against him but didn’t close her eyes, I don’t want to dream.

Remember the past so we can better live our future, he murmured. Isn’t that something Zoya or Thalia would say to you? You don’t have to forget them cousin. They ask that we remember.

Reluctantly Miera closed her heavy lids, As you say. I miss them.

She felt him kiss the top of her head, As do I, Miera. Sleep now. I’ll protect your sleeping body.

Whether from his command or from the brute force of weeks of fatigue. Miera fell nearly instantly into sleep. And dreamed.

Eight Years Ago

Traditional ceremonies were almost always boring. That was part of tradition. Doubly boring for someone who wasn’t participating in it but watching it instead.

Every year Spartan children that shared Ariadne’s birthday were gathered together. They ranged from age ten to eighteen. Even though Ariadne was ten on this day, those older than her were included for tradition’s sake. They had already participated in this particular ceremony at least twice and still had not been chosen. They would more than likely not be chosen this time either but they were here just in case.

Miera turned twelve on the Spring Equinox so she would never be able to participate in the Guardian’s Choosing Ceremony. Instead she was one always forced to sit among the Guild Counsel and watch the procession of children line up like criminals while a blind, old woman stared at them with unseeing eyes.

Miera sat to Patriarch Rigas’s right. Ever since she had shown an aptitude for all the elements in equal strength she had been moved from Eliades pantheon – where she had been inducted as an Envoy at the age of five to her Mentor’s pantheon, Rigas, in Sparta.

She glanced around and caught eyes with Alissandre. He sat on the other side of the semi-circle of chairs on the dais next to Kleisthenes. He was dressed in what the mainlanders would call Sunday best. His icy blue eyes were bored and his hair was just long enough to fall into his eyes.

Miera moved her gaze to Kleisthenes. She had never seen the man that owned the Island that they lived on in person before so she studied him. Her child’s mind expected him to be bigger. He looked like one of the Spartans from old time. His suit didn’t hide the fact he was well muscularly defined. And the way he sat in the chair announced that this man was important and deserved to be respected.

He did deserve that respect of course. If it hadn’t been for the wisdom of his ancestors, Spartans would have died out long ago. Instead, his ancestors had set up the safe haven of the Island, and Sparta and her society had been moved here and where her heart has remained since the intentional defeat at Leuctra.

Miera shared an eye roll with Sasha and turned her attention to the tapping that had entered the room. She frowned and then instantly smoothed it out when her arm was pinched by her mentor. She resisted, barely, the urge to rub at the subtle rebuke.

The woman wasn’t as old as Miera had expected. She didn’t hunch but stood upright the tapping emanating from the stick in her hand. There was a toddler – perhaps four or five years old - holding onto her robes as they walked in.

The robes were clean and the color of smoke. It was more in the style of a monk’s habit but without the belt at the waist. It flowed freely around her narrow, lithe form. Her hair was whiter than snow and her eyes, when Miera could see them, were just as white. It was unsettling. Yet, her skin was without marks. She looked - other than her hair and eyes - ageless.

The toddler at her side could have been hers or could have been a foster. She did not look much like the Oracle but that could be reasoned away by the child’s youth. However, to be an Oracle one had to be tied to Gaea’s æther – Her spirit – and that trait was usually hereditary. That much Miera at least knew from her continuous lessons.

The agoge was not what it had been in times past. In recent years – probably due to the decline of Spartans – it had become increasingly lax in its traditions. Because of the lack of Spartans and the potential laziness of the record keepers what would have – in the past – been a permanent foster parent to raise a child based on their inherent skills was now more of a summer camp with the exception of the required trainings providing in their schools. And with