She pulled the bottle from his lips. “Fred.”
Noonan nodded. “I was hoping to find you here.”
“I don’t understand — where did you come from? How did you survive. I saw you—“
He weakly held up a hand stopping the onslaught of questions. “I don’t have much time. I’m dying. I came unprotected through a hot portal.”
“Why did—“
He waved the hand slightly. “Listen. There is something you must do. A task.” He stopped speaking as he began a terrible, deep coughing.
Earhart glanced up at Taki, the leader of the samurai. She had been here long enough to learn enough of their language to communicate. “Where did you find him?”
Taki pointed back over his shoulder. “The shore.”
Earhart had expected that. It was where they found most of the castaways. “Any debris?” It was how they got their scant supplies and even though she knew that Taki and his men would have brought anything they found back, she found she couldn’t help asking. There might even have been something from the plane.
“Nothing. The black-” He gestured with his hands, indicating a cylinder and Earhart knew he was talking about a portal—“is still there. Close to shore. A new one that was not there last time we looked.”
Noonan stopped coughing. Earhart tenderly wiped a trickle of blood from his chin and was surprised when he smiled. “You’ve changed,” he said.
“What is this task?” Earhart was surprised by his comment.
“You must capture a Valkyrie. And remove its suit.”
“And?”
“And someone will come for it. Someone—“ Noonan began coughing, his body wracked with pain. Earhart could feel the strength of the coughs, as if he were trying to expel something from his body.
She leaned close. “Fred. Where did you come from?”
“A place like this,” he said. “The space-between. That’s what we call it. I volunteered to come. When they told me.” His eyelids slid down and he appeared to be unconscious.
Earhart shook him slightly. “Fred. Who? Who told you? What did they tell you?”
His eyes flickered open. “The Ones Before. They’re trying to save your world.” He coughed several times. “Get the suit. And wait.”
“How do we kill a Valkyrie?” Earhart asked. “We don’t have a Naga staff.”
“The eyes are weak.”
Earhart knew that. “Even disabling the eyes doesn’t stop them. They just retreat.”
“A Naga staff will come. Watch for it. Then use it.”
“How do you know this?”
Noonan’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “The Ones Before. They will try. Have tried.” His eyes closed. His lips moved and his voice was so low, Earhart had to put her ear next to his mouth to hear his next words. “They have been trying for a long, long time to save the world.”
Noonan was so still that for a moment Earhart thought him dead. But she felt a slight exhale on her cheek as she held her head close to his. She straightened and slid a blanket over Noonan’s chest.
“What now?” Taki asked. “The Valkyries are still in their lab?” Earhart asked. Taki shrugged. “The last time we looked they were.” She pointed down at her navigator. “He said we must get the armor suit from one of them.” Taki nodded as if that made perfect sense. “We can go look.”
CHAPTER 6
The Phoenician ships and barges were beached just south of the bridging point. Soldiers and slaves worked together to off-load the lengths of intricately woven plant material. The first length was tied off the near anchor point and the first ship position. A second length of flax reinforced the first. A second anchor point had been dug during the night while they waited for the barges and two large trees already put in place.
As a second boat was moved into position and planks laid from the first, Xerxes raised his hand, halting work. He signaled to his master-at-arms and the six Egyptian engineers whose bridge had been destroyed. The master-at-arms and several Immortals hustled the confused engineers onto the planks. The confusion changed to terror as each man was tied in place between the first two lengths of flax roping, one across their back, one across their chests.
Xerxes then signaled for work to continue, savoring the desperate cries of the trapped men. More ropes were tied in to the anchor point until only the Egyptians’ feet and heads were visible, the rest of their body cocooned with strands of flax extending outward from the shore pylons. As more boats were added, and additional lengths tied in to the end, the pressure increased.
The screams of the trapped men became muted as the ropes across their chests restricted their breathing to the point where they couldn’t cry out. Every man working on the bridge had to walk past the trapped engineers, which was exactly what Xerxes had in mind. It certainly gave them a focus on their tasks.
With a crackling noise clearly heard even above the chants of the slaves hauling on ropes, the first engineer’s chest gave way and blood poured out of his mouth, covering the ropes across his front. One by one, the rest died, dying the flax red and leaving their heads dangling over the top of the cable.
Boat by boat, the two bridges began extending across the strait. And on the eastern shoreline Xerxes sat on his throne and watched. And behind him, just to the right, stood Pandora.
“I do not approve,” Leonidas said.
“Of?” Cyra asked.
Dusk was falling and Leonidas was still pressing the pace, wanting to get some more miles behind them before halting for the night. He had sent Eusibius ahead as a scout. He had not seen Idas or the Persian Jamsheed since his last conversation with both. He assumed the Athenian was headed for the coast to take a ship back to his city. As far as the Persian, Leonidas figured he would be heading north to link up with his king’s army.
“Having a child without a husband.”
Cyra laughed, causing a flush of blood to the King’s face. “What is so funny?”
“That I would care about your approval.”
They rode in silence for several minutes. “I suppose things are different in Delphi,” the king finally allowed.
“Most open-minded of you, Lord.”
Leonidas gritted his teeth and they rode for another mile.
“Do you have family?” Cyra asked.
“I have a son,” Leonidas said proudly.
“His name?”
“Amphion.”
“And your wife?”
Leonidas smiled. “Thetis”
“Just one child?”
“We have a daughter also.”
“I am not surprised you only mentioned your son. Spartans do not think much of girls, do they?”
“They are necessary,” Leonidas allowed.
“Your mother was a girl once. Aren’t you fortunate she was valued?”
“Women—” Leonidas began.
“Yes?”
“They are good for some things. To keep the home. To bring forth the children. And, yes, to be priestesses and oracle, although we do not have such things in Sparta.”
“Do you think Spartan women think like that?”
“Of course.”
“You may be a very smart commander of men, my Lord,” Cyra said, “but you know nothing of a woman’s heart or mind.”
Leonidas pulled back on his reins and came to a halt. “What are you talking about?”
Cyra also stopped. She pulled a dagger out from somewhere in the folds of her robes. She held it against the wrist of the other hand. “If I am cut, do I bleed the same as you?”
Leonidas’s forehead wrinkled. “Yes.”