Lore

by Alexandra Bracken

  She scanned the area around them, searching for any sign of movement. The dogs fell back to line the water’s edge. They sat, obedient, waiting for their next command. Lore followed their gazes across the pond.

  “There!” Lore said, pointing. “There she is!”

  The archer was balanced on one of the smaller outcroppings between the waterfall and a weeping willow dripping with rain.

  Lore shielded her eyes against the onslaught of the storm. The goddess’s face was striped with dirt, and a crown of leaves and thorns rested on her pale hair. Her once sky-blue tunic was nearly black with blood and grime. She raised her bow, turning the nocked arrow toward Miles.

  “No!” Van leaped over the bench and ran for the pond, splashing into the dank water as Artemis let her arrow fly.

  “CAS—” LORE BEGAN, BUT the new god was already on his feet. Power blazed from his hands, incinerating the arrow and exploding jagged stones around the waterfall.

  Artemis leaped away just as Van threw himself over Miles to shield him, disappearing into the trees. Castor and Athena ran around opposite sides of the pond in pursuit of her. The dogs bounded after them, snapping and snarling.

  That’s going to get someone’s attention, Lore thought. She jumped over the park bench and splashed down into the pond. “Is he—?”

  Van held out a hand, blocking her path. His voice was low with fury. “Don’t touch him.”

  Lore froze, her stomach knotting. “We need to . . . We need to get him out of here.”

  Van’s voice was low with fury, and his whole body shook with the force of his words. “You always—you always do this. It’s always about what you want and everyone just has to— Just . . . don’t touch him.”

  She didn’t know what to do, other than hold herself back as Van dragged Miles out of the pond. He knelt, securing Miles over his shoulder, then ran back into the safety of the nearby streets.

  “Godkiller!” Artemis cried out from the darkness. “I’ve waited for this!”

  Lore shook herself. She could deal with the fallout of what had happened with Miles later—right now, he was safe with Van, and there was another, more pressing problem at hand.

  She ran up the nearest set of stairs, stopping as she reached the narrow walking path. She couldn’t see anyone else through the veil of rain and the thick brush, but she could hear bodiless voices as they echoed off the cliffs. She stopped as she reached the next level’s walking trail, scanning the trees.

  “Leave, sister!” Artemis shouted. “You know this kill is mine! If you betray me again, it will be your life I take next!”

  Betray her? Lore thought incredulously.

  “You wish to speak of betrayal?” Athena thundered back. “After leaving me to become the new god’s prey?”

  “And now you betray me with every breath my brother’s killer draws,” Artemis said. “You should have brought him to me. You promised he was mine!”

  Lore tried running toward the sound of their echoing voices, but they seemed to come from everywhere at once.

  “Listen to me,” Athena called to her. “Control your feelings before they destroy you.”

  “Listen, listen, listen!” Artemis snarled back. “I will never again listen to you. You weave lies and spin promises that you never intend to keep. You have done this to us—you! We followed you, and you led us to ruin!”

  “Yes, sister, but now we have found a possible end to the hunt,” Athena said. “New instructions. Help us find them and we will return home. The hunt will end.”

  “We will never be allowed to return home!” Artemis growled. “When will you see this? We will never bask in our father’s light again. We will never know his favor. All that is left is to kill the hunters and false gods for what they have done to us. To punish them for their lack of faith. If I must die, then so must they—beginning with him!”

  Lore raced up another long flight of stairs for a better vantage point. The cliffs there were reinforced with stone blocks, making her feel like she was scaling the walls of an ancient castle as she reached the lookout at the very top. She leaned over the cement railing, searching the park. Fear rose in her like mist.

  There, Lore thought. Athena and Castor were both in pursuit of Artemis as she led them off the lower trail. They disappeared beneath the cover of the foliage.

  Lore bolted back down the slippery steps. She was soaked through, but no longer felt the rain’s cold touch. The crash of falling tree limbs was her lodestar as she made her way to them.

  The gods had circled back around to the waterfall, to the copse of trees at its crest, not far from one of the trail paths. The rock outcrops on either side of it seemed more like conjoined, flat-topped boulders when viewed from above. They jutted out over the pond like smaller cliffs and fed the waterfall with more rain.

  Athena was a short distance from the other gods, ripping apart the tangled net of thorns, twine, and branches her sister had woven and thrown over her.

  Castor and Artemis rounded on each other, slamming through the trees as they wrestled for control. Artemis struggled to get her carbon bow up. She reached back, only to find she was out of arrows.

  Tossing the bow aside, she pulled out a small hunting knife she had strapped to her arm. Castor was forced to weave back and forth to avoid her erratic slashing. He hissed as it sliced across his forearm, and she redoubled her effort, darting forward to drive the blade through his throat.

  “No!” Lore dove for the dory Athena had dropped, and sent it hurtling toward Artemis.

  The goddess knocked it away easily with a humorless laugh, but Lore wasn’t trying to kill her. She only needed to give Castor a second’s chance.

  He took it. When Artemis leaned back to avoid the spear, he punched her wrist, forcing her to drop the knife, and wrestled her to the ground.

  Finally free of the net, Athena lurched toward the other gods at the sound of Artemis’s ravening scream. The ferociousness of it made the nearby birds call back in a screeching cacophony. Artemis kicked Castor off her, sending him sprawling back onto the grass and mud.

  She grabbed her knife again and held it out in front of her, warding off both Castor and her sister.

  “Listen to me—” Castor said, gripping his side. “Please—we need your help—”

  Artemis moved with the grace of a stag and the uncontrolled fury of a raging boar. Where Lore could occasionally see a touch of humanity in Athena’s calculations, there was nothing but animal in Artemis. She was incomprehensible in what one of the ancient writers had described as her cruel mysteries. She was as unpredictable and merciless as nature itself.

  “Stop this, Artemis!” Athena said. “The hunt is as much our enemy as the hunters. Together, we can end it—”

  “Oh, you fool!” Artemis sneered. “You cannot even see the truth before you. The Agon cannot be won. It cannot be escaped. It is our own Tartarus.”

  “I do not believe that,” Athena said, taking another step toward her sister. She held out an arm to keep Lore from following.

  Lore bit back a sound of frustration, but understood—Artemis would only grow more agitated if she felt the situation had become three against one.

  “Calm yourself, sister,” Athena continued. “Listen to what I am saying to you now. You are lost in your fury, let me lead you out once more. I understand—”

  “You don’t!” Artemis shouted. “Or else you would have brought him to me! We were meant to kill them—all the imposters! All of them!”

  Water streamed around Lore’s ankles, flowing down to, and over, the waterfall. But as Artemis shifted, Lore noticed that some of the runoff from the rain was disappearing into a nearby patch of leaves and mud. As she watched, a layer of dirt washed away, revealing the edge of a hole and the careful layer of thin branches that had been placed over it.

  Lore gasped as a weight slammed into her from the side. A large Labrador was on her, then another—snarling and snapping at her.

  “Stop—it—” she bit out,
struggling against their frenzy. Hot spittle flew everywhere.

  One sank its teeth into her forearm, and Lore let out a pained cry, throwing the animal off her, into the other dog. More and more were gathering around them. She rolled to her feet, gripping a large branch to ward off the dogs and keep them away from the others.

  “Yes, you are right,” Athena said, keeping her eyes on her sister. She approached slowly, showing her empty hands as Artemis clutched her knife. “Sister, have you forgotten? Can you not see it, even now? The first light breaking from high above the clouds, the way it swept over the gardens and halls of our home, the purest of golds . . . the air sweet with incense and smoke . . . the hearth, ever-burning . . . the world below us, so green and vast with promise . . . our unconquerable father, the others . . .”

  Lore was shocked at the emotion underlying the words, the well of deep-seated pain they revealed.

  Artemis moaned, clawing at her face as she shook her head. The severity of her expression was shattering. Athena had pierced her armor.

  But all at once, Artemis straightened, her eyes narrowing in pure hatred as she took in the sight of her sister.

  “You,” she said. “You stole that from me.”

  Artemis had momentarily turned her back on Castor, allowing him to approach from behind her. She spun, but he was faster, locking his arms around hers and pinning her.

  One of the dogs tried to break free to attack Castor, but Lore pushed it back with the branch and craned her head, just for a moment, to see what was going on.

  “No—no!” Artemis’s body twisted, and there was a sickening, wet pop as she dislocated her shoulder to free herself. Her mind was somewhere the pain couldn’t reach. Using her other hand, she plunged her knife into Castor’s upper thigh.

  He fell back with a shout, grimacing as he removed it.

  “I feel my brother’s power, but it is far-reaching, it is so far,” Artemis snarled, her eyes wide. Her heel had dropped at the edge of the trap as she’d backed toward the waterfall, and she narrowly regained her balance. “You feel different than the others—what are you?”

  Lore looked back at the goddess’s question. What?

  Castor came toward her slowly. Artemis was shaking her head, unable to tear her gaze away from him as she retreated toward the edge of the nearest outcrop over the pond. The waterfall rushed down beside her, drowning out some of her words.

  “Did you see how he died?” Castor asked desperately. “Were you there? Do you know what happened?”

  Thunder boomed over them. Artemis launched another barrage of attacks, slamming her fist into his stomach, his kidneys, wherever she could reach. Blood gushed from his leg, mixing with the rainwater.

  Artemis shoved him back with a single kick. He used one arm to block her and the other to stab her own blade through her shoulder.

  She shrieked in pain, clawing at Castor’s face. Artemis ripped the blade out of her shoulder and tackled him again. Castor knocked it out of her hand, sending the knife spinning through the air and into the pool below.

  The ledge of the outcrop was at a slight angle and slanted down toward the pond. Artemis had gained the high ground, leaving Castor to fight for his footing as the wind and running water conspired to drag him over its edge.

  “Don’t move,” Castor warned. “Please—he wouldn’t want you to—”

  “If you speak his name I will tear the tongue from your head!” Artemis raged. She stalked toward him.

  “Don’t come any closer!” Castor warned her.

  “Stop!” Lore called. “Please!”

  “Stay back, Lore!” he shouted over the rain. “The current is too strong—”

  Artemis’s body heaved with breath after labored breath, her dislocated arm hanging useless at her side.

  “It does not matter what you are,” Artemis told him. “It does not matter who you were, or what you might have been. For now, you are dead.”

  “Artemis!” Athena called. “Do not destroy yourself over this mortal!”

  Lore knew the look on the huntress’s face, the burning resolve behind it. Artemis had always been a creature of solitude, even as she had run with a small coterie of favored hunters and nymphs through the wilds of the world. Lore felt the ache of it then, and it echoed through her. The goddess was singular in her nature, shrouded in shadows and silence, but without her twin, she was truly alone. There was nothing left for her to lose now.

  “There’s a monster in the river.” Her voice frayed as it built into a frenzy. “A killer of gods and mortals. It’ll devour all—even you, sister.”

  “A monster?” Athena began. “Tell me—”

  “Your death is fated, imposter,” Artemis told Castor. “My path is righteous.”

  Castor threw another bright burst of power at her, then another, trying to move her toward the trail and away from the outcropping. Wind whipped at them from all sides, forcing Castor to kneel and use a hand to brace himself to keep from going over the edge.

  Artemis kicked her bow up off the ground, holding it out in front of her like she would a club, then made her way back toward him. Castor threw one last blast, and, without thinking, Artemis stepped left to avoid it.

  “Stop!” Lore shouted.

  Artemis’s foot caught the edge of the trap she’d set. It collapsed, falling in on itself to the jagged wood points arrayed below. Athena reached for her, but Artemis spun away from both her sister and the trap.

  “He’s mine!” Artemis snarled. “His life is mine! His life is mine!”

  That small movement brought her foot into the heavy stream of running rainwater that fed into the waterfall. Howls filled the air once more. Artemis bared her teeth in defiance as she righted herself and tried to jump the open air between the head of the waterfall and where Castor knelt at the edge of the outcrop.

  A flowering bush hid the true edge of the cliff. Every muscle in Lore’s body clenched as Artemis’s foot hit it and slid out from under her. Castor reached out, trying to catch her before she plunged down into the pond, but Artemis pulled back, repulsed.

  And fell.

  UNTIL THE DAY HER life left her and she woke in the dark world below, Lore would remember the crack of bone and the strangled cry suddenly silenced.

  Castor dropped down onto his knees, gripping his hair and releasing a ragged cry of frustration.

  Lore fought her way forward, bracing her hands on the trees and rocks, crawling until she reached the edge of the waterfall.

  The strap of Artemis’s quiver had caught on a long branch hanging over the waterfall, and it had turned into a noose, breaking her neck in an instant.

  And the goddess’s face . . .

  The shocked scream was still lodged in Lore’s throat, trying to claw its way out. She thought she might choke on it if she tried to breathe.

  Athena came to stand beside her, staring down at Artemis’s crown of leaves and thorns. The only sign of emotion on her face was the tightening of her jaw. It was a warrior’s countenance, too hardened by centuries of death to be at the mercy of grief.

  “I’m . . .” Lore began, uncertain of what to say. She wasn’t sorry. But . . . “What do we do? Do you want me to cut her down so you can . . . so you can bury her until the Agon ends?”

  “How do you bury a god?” Athena said. “She was power, not flesh. This was little more than a crude vessel. Now she is . . . free.”

  And, Lore realized, Athena was the last of the original nine.

  The dogs on the trails began to whine and howl in mourning. In the face of everything that had happened this week, Lore hadn’t felt nearly as close to blowing apart as she did in that moment, hearing them drown out the creak of the quiver as Artemis’s body turned and turned and turned like the endless wheel of life and death and rebirth.

  Lore moved toward the small sloped cliff beside the waterfall, toward Castor. He had remained in place to heal his leg. He still looked agonized as he rose, though it clearly had nothing to do with the pain.
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  “You all right?” She held out a hand to help guide him over the last few perilous steps of the outcrop.

  “Been better,” he admitted as he reached out toward her.

  Suddenly, Lore heard a whirring. At first, she thought it was the wind picking up again, rasping through the branches and stones. Then came the searing pain in her left shoulder.

  Lore looked down in disbelief at the new split in her shirt, at the blood welling at her shoulder. Behind her, an arrow shivered where it had struck the trunk of a tree.

  “Lore—”

  Castor’s expression was pained and frightened. She watched, her hand still outstretched, as blood blossomed on his drenched shirt, pouring from a single gaping wound on the left side of his chest. Through his heart.

  Lore screamed, surging forward to catch his arm, but she was too slow. His lips formed a last, silent word.

  Lore.

  The life left his eyes, extinguishing the sparks of power. Castor slid back over the edge of the outcrop, into the water below.

  LORE HAD SPARRED WITH Castor enough to know when something was wrong.

  The others were distracted with excitement over the start of the Agon in two days’ time, electrified by the preparations being made as the rest of the Achillides gathered in the city. Lore was distracted by something else: the countdown that Aristos Kadmou had initiated two days before, when she and her father had gone to see him.

  Send me your answer by the end of the Agon.

  That was nine days from now. Her father had told her not to worry, that he would never say yes. But Lore couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  Castor wasn’t preoccupied like she and the others were. His movements seemed to drag through the air, as if his body had become too heavy for him. They had always been perfectly matched in speed—or, at least, he kept up with her, the way she tried to match his strength.

  His face worried her, too. She had seen a shadow drift over it, the way a cloud passed over the sun and dimmed the world below.