Metal squealed against metal. By the time I scrambled to my feet—it couldn’t have taken more than a second—Jakatra was battling the man. The Celt’s roars continued, cries full of rage and fear. I sensed that he hadn’t seen me for a human being and that he wasn’t seeing Jakatra properly either. I had absolutely no idea what to do with that information.
With that wicked glowing blade, Jakatra lopped the long sword off above the cross-guard. The metal blade banged as it struck the stone floor, but the Celt didn’t stop his attack. He tore out a belt knife and lunged at Jakatra.
I looked at Eleriss, hoping he had some backup plan, a tranquilizer or something. His shoulders were slumped in sadness—or defeat.
Though I’d seen Jakatra’s agility against the creature, the Celt was pushing him back with his unrelenting fury and rage. That dagger came close to drawing blood. Jakatra’s face remained calm, and even though his back approached a wall, I thought he could handle himself. Indeed, he nodded as if he’d been contemplating some great decision. I didn’t guess what it might be until he parried a dagger attack and then, his body and arms moving impossibly fast, drove the curving edge of his sword into the Celt’s chest.
CHAPTER 26
I startled myself with a screech of “What?”—I didn’t usually screech, but watching a man killed in front of you tends to erode your veneer of civilization. I whirled toward Eleriss. “You stood there and told me you were so superior and evolved that you don’t kill people. What do you call this?”
“Superior?” Eleriss asked. “No, I do not believe this.”
“What about him?” I jabbed a finger toward Jakatra; he’d pulled his sword free and was cleaning off the blood as calmly as one could imagine.
Eleriss didn’t answer the question. Instead he pointed at the fallen man. “He suffered the madness. He would have kept trying to kill us all if we hadn’t stopped him. He wouldn’t have understood any of it. What he saw... only he knew, but it was more merciful to end his life than prolong it.” Eleriss met my eyes, his clear blue-green ones solemn. “Jakatra saved your life.”
Yes, and he was the last person I wanted to be beholden to. I thought about sharing the plan I’d had to tear the long sword free with my whip, but I was deluding myself if I thought I could have survived that much power and rage on my own. “Yeah, thanks,” I mumbled in Jakatra’s direction.
A hand came to rest on my shoulder. “Are you all right?” Simon whispered.
“Dandy,” I said, though at the moment, I was wishing I was back at my parents’ house, doing something vapid like playing a computer game or watching kitten videos on the Internet.
Jakatra and Eleriss had a quick conversation, each pointing several times at the Spartan. I hoped the gist was that they couldn’t kill this one.
“Is this the last chance?” Simon asked.
“Yes,” Eleriss said, “he is the last one.”
“To do what?” Temi asked from the wall near the tunnel. It was the first thing she’d said since the Celt leaped out of his cubby. I wonder if she’d been as shocked by his death as I had.
“Yeah,” I said, “what is it you hope to do down here anyway?” And why was that monster so hell-bent on stopping you? I glanced at the tunnel again, wondering if it was even now licking its wounds somewhere and preparing for another attack.
Eleriss had turned his back and was typing again, but he responded. “Find someone who is capable of wielding the sword to protect your people from what is coming.”
“What is coming?” I mouthed.
“Jakatra and I are trying to nullify this jibtab, but we expect... many more. Your people will have to deal with them.”
“Why?” I croaked, then cleared my throat, trying to kick out the frog dangling from my tonsils.
“This is not our home,” Eleriss said. “Though I am intrigued by this world, Jakatra is a reluctant traveling companion, and he will not stay indefinitely.”
“No,” I said, “I mean why are all these monsters, jibtabs, whatevers going to be showing up?”
“That is... as your people say, a long story.” Eleriss raised a hand. “Stand back.”
I was still “back” from before, but given the way the last man had torn out of the alcove, I supposed a few more steps wouldn’t hurt. I tried not to look at the dead Celt as the lights came on, shining on the Spartan. Jakatra waited a few paces from me, his sword out. Temi took a few steps away from the wall, her spear at the ready. I couldn’t bring myself to remove my bullwhip from my belt or draw an arrow. I couldn’t understand all of what Eleriss had said, or more precisely what he had yet to say, but if this man was some kind of last chance for us—for humanity?—I didn’t want to greet him with weapons.
In the alcove, the Spartan’s eyes opened first, just as the Celt’s had. They were a deep brown that matched his olive skin and the wavy brown hair that fell past his shoulders. There was confusion in those eyes, but they didn’t seem to hold the madness that had afflicted the other man. I crossed my fingers, hoping I was right and not letting my emotions color my rationale.
When he was released from the invisible hold and his feet dropped to the floor, he landed in a crouch. He didn’t charge out the way the first man had, but he lowered his spear and pulled his shield into a defensive position in front of him. I remembered that the Spartans had been trained to attack en masse as a phalanx. This guy was all alone, a phalanx of one.
His dark eyes scanned the chamber, lingering for a moment on Jakatra, who hadn’t bothered to put the cap back on. The Spartan didn’t seem surprised by those pointed ears, only wary. Like the Roman, he’d seen people like these before.
Eleriss stepped away from the control panel and spread empty hands. He asked a question in his language, speaking slowly and enunciating the words. I thought about taking out my phone to record him, but we already had a sample some college computer was fumbling over.
I watched the Spartan’s face, wondering if he’d understand the strange tongue. He didn’t seem surprised by it, but he didn’t respond either. He wasn’t saying a word, simply studying everything and everyone around him. When his gaze landed on Simon and me, I could only wonder what someone from more than twenty-five hundred years in the past would think of us and our crazy garb. Next I wondered if I actually believed he was from twenty-five hundred years in the past, or anything that was going on around me for that matter. Maybe I’d wake soon and find it had all been a dream.
Eleriss repeated his question, then glanced at Jakatra as if to ask, “Why isn’t this working?”
The Spartan—I wished I knew his name—rose from his crouch. He was taller than expected of someone from that time period, six feet with his bare arms full of corded muscle. I’d guess him in his late twenties if I met him on the street, but something in his eyes made him seem older, like someone who’d seen far more than typical for his years.
He pinned Eleriss with a defiant gaze and spoke a sentence or two. Eleriss looked... confused. I hadn’t understood it either, but there was a familiarity to it that the other language lacked. I wouldn’t have guessed what it was if he weren’t standing in front of me in Spartan garb, but it had to be Ancient Greek. Too bad I’d only ever seen it in writing.
Eleriss kept asking the man the same question. He truly expected the Spartan to understand his language and respond in kind. When the Spartan spoke again, it was only to repeat what he’d said in his own tongue, something neither Eleriss nor Jakatra knew. The repetition helped me, and I thought I had the gist. I knew modern Greek, after all. Granted the language had changed a lot in two and a half millennia, but I’d studied the ancient language in school and thought I could get along fabulously with this fellow if he’d write things down for me. He ought to be literate. I was positive an Athenian would be, but I thought reading and writing had been a part of the Spartan Agoge too, even if the school had focused on creating warriors.
“He refuses to talk to you in your tongue,” I told Eleriss.
“Yes, that is being made clear to me.” Eleriss tilted his head, regarding me with new eyes. “Do you understand his language?”
“Some,” I said aloud. Very little, I thought.
“Really?” Simon asked.
I gave him a quick nod but didn’t say anything else. The Spartan was looking at me now, though it didn’t last long. He went back to scanning the chamber, his gaze returning often to Jakatra. He struck me as someone looking for a way to escape.
You don’t want to go out there, I wanted to tell him. He’d find the world exceedingly weird, and it would feel similarly toward him. I imagined the soldiers or police stopping him, or worse, him being hit by a car without ever knowing what one was.
“You must speak to him then,” Eleriss told me.
“Er?” Given time, I thought I could learn to communicate with him, but now? On the spot?
Unfortunately, every set of eyes in the room turned toward me, including the Spartan’s. I said the only Ancient Greek words that came to mind. “Ō ksein’, angellein Lakedaimoniois hoti tēide keimetha, tois keinōn rhēmasi peithomenoi.”
The man stared at me, making me doubt my pronunciation. Though it was probably more the randomness of the quotation.
“What’d you say?” Simon whispered.
“The epithet carved in the stone at Thermopylae,” I whispered back.
“What? Why?”
“It’s the only thing from that time period I have memorized, all right?” Of course, I had no idea if this fellow was from that time period. I wasn’t such an expert on the clothing and weapons that I could do more than pin him to about a four-hundred-year range.
“What’s it mean?” Simon asked.
“Go tell the Spartans, stranger passing by, that here obedient to their laws we lie.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure he’ll find that comforting.”
“Sh, it’s a beautiful example of an elegiac couplet from Ancient Greece.” Beautiful example or not, Simon was right. My statement had been out of context and would mean nothing to the Spartan. “I can do better with pen and paper,” I told Eleriss. “It’s like Latin—nobody has spoken it for a long time.”
Simon shrugged off his backpack and unzipped it.
“You have pen and paper?” I asked. He was the last person I expected to have something so archaic.
“Better.” He smiled and held up his tablet, then pulled up the notes app.
I pointed at the digital keyboard. “The English alphabet isn’t going to be a big help here.”
“Oh, right.” He switched to a drawing app. “How’s this?”
While I was fussing with the program, wondering how someone who had yet to leave something legible on an electronic signature pad was going to draw Ancient Greek letters with her finger, Jakatra said something that sounded derogatory and strode toward the hoplite with his sword. The Spartan dropped back into his fighting crouch and angled the spear toward Jakatra’s chest. Jakatra stopped and spewed out a line of indecipherable words. The Spartan’s face never changed expression.
“Let us wait to approach him until we are certain he understands,” Eleriss said.
“He understands,” Jakatra said. “He must. He is only pretending otherwise.”
“We cannot be certain.”
Jakatra pointed at the control panel. “What does his record say? How long was he with our people?”
Eleriss tapped a few spots on the wall. “Four years. That is long enough that one would expect him to have grasped the language. But we do not know how he was used. Perhaps a deliberate choice was made not to educate him.”
While they were talking, I was writing, but I was listening too. “Why was he taken?” I asked, still trying to figure out what all these people were doing down here.
Without answering, Jakatra walked over and stared down at the tablet. “Tell him we need him to hold this sword to see if it responds to him.”
“I thought I’d start with his name,” I said.
“Woman, the jibtab hunts us. There is no time for pleasantries.”
If Jakatra wasn’t going to answer my questions, I saw no reason to chat with him. Tablet in hand, I headed for the Spartan.
“Careful, Del,” Simon said, trailing at my heels. “Don’t get too close.”
I waved him back. “He won’t see a woman as a threat.”
Of course, if he was truly a criminal, he might not care whether I was a threat or not. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest as I approached. The Spartan noticed me, but his attention remained on Jakatra. I waved him back too. He didn’t move until Eleriss said a word. Jakatra stalked back to the tunnel entrance. It’d been a while since we’d seen the creature; I hoped it had been significantly injured in the battle and had fled back to wherever it had come from. Somehow I doubted we’d be that lucky.
Finally, with Jakatra across the chamber and Eleriss without a visible weapon, the Spartan lowered his spear and faced me. He kept the shield up.
I stopped a couple of paces away and held up the tablet. I read the words aloud, though I was hoping he could read, because I was more certain of my writing than my pronunciation. “My name is Delia. My grandmother was born in Athens. We are thousands of miles from there. I do not know how you came to be here; these people will explain nothing to me. They want something from you. Do you understand? What is your name?”
He listened to my full speech and followed along on the tablet—I had to turn to a new “page” three times—though I couldn’t tell what he understood, if anything. Finally he responded.
“Alektryon.”
I grinned at this communication, however basic. For all I knew, he’d only understood the last question, but I wouldn’t bet on it. The word laconic came from the old word for Sparta—Lacedaemon.
He—Alektryon—asked something then. I only caught a word of it. “Time.”
I wrote on the pad again, then held it up and asked, “Can you write your words? My Greek is much different from yours. Many generations have passed.” I hoped he didn’t ask about the stasis chambers, as Simon had called them, because I had no idea how they worked.
Alektryon had watched my finger make the words, but he didn’t reach for the tablet. I didn’t know if it was because he was stunned by the technology or if he didn’t want to release his weapons. Some of both, perhaps.
He uttered a short phrase that I got the gist of: “How long?”
I almost asked him what year it’d been the last time he’d checked, but it’d been a long time since I looked at an Ancient Greek calendar. “What was happening in Sparta when you were... there last? Significant events,” I added, afraid he’d tell me about a friend’s victory at the Olympics or some skirmish with the helots.
His lips flattened. “Thermopylae.”
“Oh.” My random choice hadn’t been so pointless after all. “About twenty-six hundred years then.”
He blinked slowly, looking me up and down. I supposed jeans and a T-shirt didn’t look all that futuristic—I’d certainly expect something more interesting if I were zapped forward a couple thousand years in time. His gaze lingered on the tablet. Yeah, a computer might make the story more believable. Overall, he was surprisingly calm about the revelation. I wondered what he’d seen in that four years he’d been with Eleriss’s people—and what they’d done to him. I supposed it was early to make judgments, but he didn’t strike me as some criminal. Murder, Eleriss had said. But in what context? As a soldier, he would have been expected to fight to the death to defend his homeland.
Alektryon said something else that I struggled with, and I smiled and held up the tablet hopefully.
He shook his head once and said a single word. “Enemies.” He looked at Jakatra and Eleriss, then back to me, a question on his face, one that seemed to ask, “Why are you with them?”
Before I could scribble out an answer, a deep groan sounded in the distance. I remembered the creature pushing over stone columns to destroy the stasis chambers. What might it be up t
o now?
“The jibtab,” Eleriss said.
“We’re out of time.” Jakatra stepped forward again. “Tell him to try the sword. If it doesn’t respond to him, this has all been a waste of time. I’ll have to kill the jibtab.”
The Spartan’s spear came up again.
“He’s not going to let you near him without a fight,” I said. “Here, why don’t you hand me the sword, and I’ll hand it to him?”
Jakatra glowered thoughtfully at me—what, did he think I intended to steal it? Well, I had been enthused by his gold coins. In the end, he flipped it and approached, the hilt extended toward me.
I wrapped my hand around it, surprised by the cool satiny texture of the overwrap. It sure wasn’t leather. At the same time, it managed to have a porous quality, and I imagined it absorbed sweat efficiently. Before I could further examine the weapon, the glow faded and went out completely.
“Thus an unspoken question is answered,” Eleriss said.
“There is nothing about her to suggest shared blood,” Jakatra said.
“There were far fewer humans on Earth in those days. Some have suggested that all modern people here may share blood.”
“An unappealing thought. Regardless, their generations pass quickly. By this time, it would be too diluted to matter.”
“Uhm,” Simon said, “what are we talking about?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not sure whether it’s better when they’re talking in their language or not,” I said. My curiosity wanted to hear anything they would share, but I couldn’t let go of my earlier thought that if they were letting us hear all this, maybe they didn’t intend for us to leave this cavern.
“Give him the sword,” Jakatra ordered.
I turned it as he’d done, careful not to touch the edge—I didn’t have to peer close to see how sharp it was—, and extended the hilt toward Alektryon. He leaned the spear against the wall—he still hadn’t left his alcove—and grasped it. For a few seconds, nothing happened, then the blade started to glow. It was a faint glow compared to the luminous emission the sword had given off in Jakatra’s hand, but it was more than I’d gotten.