Atlantis: Gate (25 page)

“The Oracle called this place the space-between,” Cyra was heading along the shore of the dark sea.

“Where is this?”

“I don’t know,” Cyra said. “I think we are between our world and the world of the Shadow.”

“Where are the Gates of Fire?” Leonidas asked.

“We must pass through another gate like the one we just traversed to get there,” Cyra said.

Leonidas paused as he noted a pillar of black ahead and to the left. “What is that?”

“Another kind of gate,” Cyra said.

“The one we seek?”

“No.”

Leonidas grabbed Cyra and pushed her down into the black sand. “Valkyries,” he warned, as two figures in white floated across the black sand about a quarter mile in front of them, heading for the water.

CHAPTER 17 THE SPACE BETWEEN

Dane was finding moving inside the Valkyrie suit most annoying. He moved his legs as if walking but instead of actual leg movement, the suit simply moved forward. To change direction, he had to twist at the waist, the upper body pointing in the correct direction, the lower following. It didn’t take much effort to move the suit and he realized that was necessary given the atrophied condition of the bodies they’d taken out of them. He had the Naga Staff while Earhart carried a backpack with Sin Fen’s skull tucked inside.

“This isn’t much of a plan,” Earhart’s voice was a low buzz, coming out of a speaker inside the headpiece. They’d discovered they could communicate with each other simply by talking. Dane had to assume that the transmitters and receivers were built into the skin of the suit, again indicating a high level of technical proficiency.

“It’s as much of a plan as you had before I got here,” Dane noted. He could see the inner sea now and a portal column ahead and to the right. He headed straight down to the water. He immediately saw an advantage to the suits as he floated out over the black surface. He stopped moving his legs and came to a halt, Earhart floating next to him.

Dane concentrated, mentally projecting an image of himself. He was rewarded by the sight of a gray dorsal fin cutting the smooth black surface a quarter mile ahead and racing toward them. When Rachel was close by she leaped into the air, clearing the water completely and flipping over onto her back with a tremendous splash. She then rose up out of the water about two feet, regarded the two floating white figures for several seconds, bobbed her head as if nodding and then began swimming off further into the inner sea.

“Let’s go,” Dane said as he set off after the dolphin. Just for a moment he sensed a presence nearby and paused and turned. But then a blast of urgency from Rachel overwhelmed that sense and he turned back and followed her.

***************

Cyra was watching the two Valkyries move. Leonidas raised his sword slightly as one of them paused and turned in their direction, but then the creature turned back and followed the dolphin away. In a couple of minutes the two white figures disappeared around the black column.

“That was strange,” Cyra said as she got to her feet.

“
’That
was strange’?” Leonidas was dusting black sand from his cloak and armor. “What
isn’t
strange in all of this?”

“The dolphin being with the Valkyries is strange,” Cyra clarified. “I was taught that the dolphins are our brethren in the sea. Why would they be with our enemy?”

Leonidas had no answer. “Let’s find this gate and get out of here,” he suggested.

“Come.” Cyra strode off.

***************

“Did you feel that?” Dane asked as they skirted around the black cylinder of power.

“What?” Earhart asked.

“Someone was back there. On the shore. Someone with the vision.”

“I didn’t feel anything,” Earhart said.

Dane could see a half dozen portals ahead, the black columns varying in width from a few feet to one over three quarters of a mile wide. He wondered which one was the Nazca power portal and if placing Sin Fen’s skull into it would disrupt it. Earhart was right—he didn’t have much of a plan. Despite those misgivings though, he felt as if he were on the right path.

Rachel swam between two portals with Dane and Earhart following. Dane noted that some of the portals were different—in several he could see swirls of colors, mainly red, gold and blue. These colors came and went so quickly it was hard to get a read on them.

Looking ahead, Dane saw that the inner sea stretched as far as he could see with numerous portals visible. The dolphin paused and rose half out of the water, head turning to and fro. Then she dove forward. Dane noted that her course was taking her directly toward a portal a quarter mile ahead. This portal was about a hundred meters wide. Rachel came to a halt right in front of it and once more rose out of the water. She jerked her head toward the portal a couple of times, then slid back into the water, disappearing from sight.

“I guess this is it,” Dane said.

***************

“There,” Cyra was pointing at a black circle that hovered above the water about ten meters off shore.

“Are you sure?” Leonidas asked.

“As sure as I am about anything else we’ve done,” Cyra answered, which did little to reassure the Spartan King. Still, he led the way, wading out from shore until he was just in front of it. The water was knee deep and the portal at his waist. He sheathed his sword, then laced his fingers together, forming a step for the priestess. Without hesitation, she put one foot in it, stepped up and fell forward into the circle, disappearing.

Leonidas backed off a few feet, then ran forward and jumped, arms extended, into the portal.

***************

Dane was less than a foot from the shimmering black surface of the portal. Every so often there was a flicker of red in the black, similar to what he had seen in a few of the others on the way to this one.

“After you,” Earhart said.

Dane nodded and then realized the gesture couldn’t be seen. Without a word he moved forward into the blackness. The screen in front of his eyes blacked out for a second, then came back.

“Oh, my God,” Dane whispered as he took in the scene the screen displayed. He wasn’t even aware as Earhart materialized besides him and her own gasp of dismay echoed inside the helmet.

Dane was floating less than two feet above the Reflecting Pool on the Mall in Washington DC. Except there was no water in the pool and the concrete was blistered and blackened. But what held his attention was the view directly ahead. The Washington Monument had been sheered in two about fifty feet up, the broken stub of the base pointing into the air, the bulk of the remainder lying cracked and smashed on the ground next to it. Beyond, on a rise, the dome of the US Capitol had been blasted away, leaving only the shattered remains of the building.

“We’re too late,” Earhart whispered, her voice hoarse.

CHAPTER 18 480 BC

Polynices heard the cries of alarm and hurriedly grabbed his shield and sword. He ran to the yells and skidded to a halt, feeling no pain in his feet for the first time in days as he saw what had caused the disturbance. A black circle had appeared just in front of the wall and a half dozen Spartans were around it, weapons at the ready.

They took half a step back as a woman came flying out of it, tumbling to the ground. As she rose to her feet, dusting herself off, a second figure came through. This one did a complete tumble, then was on his feet, weapon at the ready.

“Hold!” Polynices cried out as several of the Spartans stepped forward to engage the newcomers. The man removed his helmet and all dropped to one knee as they recognized their King.

“My lord,” Polynices walked up to Leonidas and as he did so, the black circle disappeared. “I don’t understand—how?”

Leonidas shook his head, more to clear it then to let Polynices know he had no clue exactly how he made it here. He blinked and looked about, nothing but the stone wall and the men with weapons at the ready.

“I cannot explain it,” he said in a loud voice, so that all nearby could hear. “Suffice it to say I am here. How far away are the Persians?”

“Less than a day’s march,” Polynices informed him.

Leonidas glanced at Cyra. He knew she had been right—there would be no time for the rest of his army to arrive. More and more of the Spartans were circling around the King until all three hundred were within earshot. He could hear the buzz among the men about the strange mode of arrival and the woman who was with him.

Leonidas held his hand up and quiet descended in the Gates of Fire. The flickering light from the torches on the wall cast long shadows from the men facing the King and lit his scarred face intermittently.

“This—” he indicated Cyra—“is a priestess sent to us from the Oracle at Delphi. As you all have heard through the soldier’s line—” this brought a low chuckle from the men as the King referred to the rumor mill that often kept the men more informed than their commander—“I was given a prophecy by the Oracle when I traveled there. I will tell you now what she told me.”

There was absolute quiet, even the breeze had stopped.

“I was told we were to win a great victory here. But that in order for that victory to occur, I—we-- must assist her and her priestess—” he again pointed at Cyra—“in a task they have that involves the gods. We traveled here, as you saw, via a pathway of the gods through the underworld.”

Leonidas scanned the faces, but as he expected, they were inscrutable. He imagined most of the men were still mulling over the prophecy of victory, trying to believe it in face of their numbers and the reports of the scouts about the size of the Persian army that would be here the next day. The gods, well, Leonidas knew most of the men were like him. They had seen men praying as fervently as the most possessed priestess and been cut down.

Still, there was the factor of his mode of arrival, Leonidas knew that added an edge of the surreal to not only what he was saying, but the setting provided a backdrop that he could tell was unsettling even to the most hardened warriors. Lightning flickered, highlighting the rocky mountainside, the stone wall and the sea—and the faces of the men.

He knew what question was foremost in their mind—and it wasn’t what the gods were up to. “We defeated the Antirhonians yesterday.”

The news of the victory wasn’t what they focused on but the timing. Yesterday. Leonidas took a deep breath. They were Spartans but they were men also.

“We will face the enemy. The three hundred of us. We will hold them here. The six lochoi will be here in five days time hard marching. Any place else, you and I know it would be impossible. But—” he let the word hang in the air, then he walked to the exact middle of the pass in front of the wall.

“Shoulder to shoulder a line.” He extended his arms out from his side, indicating what he wanted. The men moved. A line formed from the mountain to the cliff. A second one behind it. And a third. And most of a fourth.

“Three deep. We fight here three deep as we fight anywhere. Spear length. The Persians can only bring the same against us.” He smiled and indicated the men in the last rank. “And we even have a reserve.”

“Yah!” Polynices slammed the pommel of his xiphos against his shield. “I have fought many places, but this, this is the best by far. This ground will run with Persian blood. We will make a wall in front of this wall—” he indicated the stone wall he had so laboriously worked on—“with their bodies. And that will be so much easier on my poor hands,” he added.

The men laughed.

Leonidas walked over to the Middle Wall. He slapped a stone. “This is good. But this—“ he held up his xiphos, the blade glinting in the torchlight—“is better. You have done well. I think sleep is more important now. The skiritai platoon will maintain security to our front.”

The men slowly broke ranks. Leonidas walked over to Cyra. “Well?”

The priestess shrugged. “Good talk.”

Leonidas laughed. “Wait until the morn. There won’t be any talking.”

***************

The Persian scout was brought before Xerxes and his general, his clothing covered in mud, his face pale and tired. It had taken him four hours to make his way up the chain of command, giving his report to each level as he progressed. Now he stood in front of the King himself, but he was so tired he felt little other than a burning desire to find his bedroll and curl up under his blanket.

“Report!” the King’s senior general ordered.

The man kept his eyes downcast from the King. He had heard stories of what happened to those whose reports displeased Xerxes. “Your majesty. I was sent forward to scout the route into and over the pass at Thermopylae. I was accompanied by an Ionian who had traveled this path in previous years on trading missions.”

Xerxes left hand gave a rolling motion, which the man barely saw, but recognized as a signal to get to the point.

“There are Greek troops in the pass, my Lord.”

The general stepped forward. “How many?”

“I could not tell. I saw the lights of torches and glimpses of troops. Not many torches, maybe twenty at most, lord.”

“Twenty?” the general laughed, considering the camp that surrounded the Imperial tent had as many fires burning as stars on a clear night sky. “Most likely a feeble attempt by some local militia.”

“We have encountered no resistance so far,” Xerxes noted. The general’s laughter was abruptly cut off. “Could this be the three hundred Spartans that Jamsheed told us about?”

“Perhaps,” the general allowed, “but even if it is, three hundred could not hold that pass for more than five minutes against an assault by the Immortals.”

“Make your plans,” Xerxes ordered. “I want these Spartans dealt with swiftly and harshly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Xerxes left the main chamber, retiring to his quarters. Behind him, his generals pored over Pandora’s map, making their plans for the next day’s action.

Most of the camp was asleep, or attempting to get to sleep. Most soldiers spent the majority of their career sitting around doing nothing. The next largest amount of time was spent training. The least amount of time was spent in actual combat. Although no official word had been passed, all in the camp already knew that they would meet Greek forces the next day. Around the fires men talked or sat in silence, whichever their angst forced them to. Veterans talked in low voices to each other in whispers, the word that the enemy were Spartans also having been passed.