“Come,” Cyra was on her feet. She reached out and Leonidas noted a set of notches in the side of the ship. Cyra put her hand in one, foot in another and then quickly climbed on board. He reluctantly followed.
Climbing over the edge he paused, looking into the ship. The first thing he noted were the twelve oarsmen. They were large, well-muscled men with black skin. Leonidas had heard tales of such dark-skinned men living to the south on the other side of the Mediterranean, but he had never seen one. They wore the skins of animals, but such creatures the King had also never seen — yellowish hide with black spots.
“Come.” Cyra was waiting.
Leonidas followed her gaze to the rear of the boat where long reeds had been woven into a semi-circular shape, the interior of which was lit by a dull blue light. It reminded him of the Corycian cave, as if the best attempt to transport such a place onto a boat had been made. The blue glow came from a stone similar to what he had seen at Delphi. A figure was seated on the other side, a long hood covering the face.
Leonidas followed Cyra along the center plank. The oarsmen ignored them, sitting as still as statues. Leonidas noted their weapons — long, curved swords that looked very heavy. The metal gleamed and he could tell the weapons were well maintained.
Cyra entered the reed cave and bowed her head. Leonidas stood next to her and chose not to bow.
“King and priestess.” The voice was low and sensual, as if from a girl in her prime. But when the figure pulled back the hood, a lined, old woman’s face was revealed.
“Oracle,” Cyra acknowledged.
“You called me here,” the Theran Oracle said.
Leonidas glanced at Cyra. How could she have summoned the Oracle?
“We were both called here,” Cyra said. “I fear we will not be able to make it to the Gates of Fire in time.”
The Oracle looked at Leonidas. “Because he is true to his laws, he does not follow your advice.” She held up a hand, forestalling Cyra. “It is as it must be, for his laws are what makes him what he is. And what he is, is what is needed.”
“But if he is not at the Gates in time—” Cyra began, but was cut off.
“Why do you think I came? I will show you a way. It is a perilous journey, but I will give you a weapon that will help.”
At the word weapon, Leonidas’s interest perked up, only to have his interest dashed with the Oracle’s next words.
“I will also tell you what I know that you need to know. There is a woman that is with Xerxes. Her name is Pandora.”
Cyra nodded. “I know.”
“Do you know what she is?”
“An adviser to the Persian King,” Cyra said.
“She is a Sybyl,” the Oracle said.
“A Sybyl?”
“A priestess who has been suborned by the Shadow. She advises the Persian King. Fortunately, he follows her advice about as well as our King here.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Leonidas said, stung by the conversation bypassing him.
The Theran Oracle continued to ignore him. “What do you know of Ahuramazda?” she asked Cyra.
“That is the name of the god that Xerxes — and the rest of the Persians — worship,” Cyra replied.
“What else?”
Cyra shrugged. “No more.”
“Too bad,” the Oracle said. “You must remember that there is some degrees of truth in all things, even lies.”
Leonidas shifted his feet. The mist was getting thicker. He wished the old lady would give them the weapon and tell them the way and be done with it.
“Those who worship Ahuramazda believe he created the world.”
“All beliefs say their god created the world,” Leonidas interjected, trying to hurry her to the point.
“Ah, but the priests — called Magi — of Ahuramazda say he created seven worlds, all branching from him. The oldest of these worlds is called Asha, or the Fire World. Fire is worshipped by the followers of Ahuramazda as the sacred channel to eternal light. To get to the eternal light one must pass through the Infinite Darkness.”
Leonidas had no clue what she was speaking about, but he remained quiet, realizing nothing he could say or do could hurry the old woman along. He noted that the ship was moving very slightly, as if riding on a low swell now.
“And the end of the world,” the Theran Oracle continued. “Do you know how those of Ahuramazda say it will end?”
Cyra remained silent, indicating she didn’t.
“Purification by fire.” The old woman reached inside her cloak and pulled out a roll of parchment. She un-scrolled it slightly and read. “‘And a great river of blazing fire will flow across the land and will consume everything, land and ocean, man and creature, even unto heaven and hell. The entire world will be scorched and the human race annihilated except for the
chosen ones, the angels of white, also known as the light travelers.’”
Leonidas thought of the Valkyrie — easily an angel of white to the unknowing eye.
The Theran Oracle opened up the scroll a little further, then looked up. “What is interesting, as near as I can make out from this translation, is that the followers of Ahuramazda believe the world goes through a cycle of destruction and re-birth. Thus the world has been destroyed many times.”
As with the rest of it, that made little sense to Leonidas. He noticed that the forward most two rowers had stood up, swords in hand and were peering over the bulwark. The Oracle spotted him noticing. “Yes. They come.”
“Valkyries?” Leonidas drew his sword.
“Yes.” She pointed to her right. “Take that.”
Leonidas noted what appeared to be a pole in the shadows. When he stepped forward to grab it, he paused. It was a weapon, one end of which was a wide spear blade, the other, like the prow of the ship, a seven-headed snake.
“You may use that against the Valkyries. It will cut their skin easily. But I must have it back—”she looked at Cyra. “After you have the golden sphere, you must bring the Naga Staff back to me. It will be needed later.”
Leonidas hefted the spear. It was surprisingly light. He held the blade close to his eyes and was amazed at the workmanship. It was beyond any edge he had ever seen and the metal was something no blacksmith he knew had ever worked with.
“Tell me,” the Oracle said to Cyra, “have you been properly taught the four stages of awareness?”
“Awareness of self. Awareness of others. Awareness of the world. Awareness beyond the world.”
“Very good. Because you will soon face the fourth stage.”
One of the oarsmen at the front of the boat called out in a strange tongue, but there was no mistaking his intent — alarm. Leonidas strode forward. Behind him, Cyra leaned close to the Theran Oracle who handed her a piece of parchment.
Leonidas came up between the two oarsmen. They glanced at him, noted the staff in his hand and then turned their attention back to the fog. Leonidas felt cold, a strange sensation considering it had been warm just moments earlier. He glanced over his shoulder and noted that the other oarsmen had all given up wood for steel. A half dozen were arrayed in front of the Oracle and Cyra. The rest were facing the sides of the ship.
The man to Leonidas’s left hissed something. The king turned in that direction and saw two white figures float out of the fog toward the ship. They paused about twenty feet away, suspended about ten feet above the water, just barely visible.
A scream from behind caused Leonidas to spin about. One of the oarsmen was being held in the air, run through by a tentacle with teeth on the end that had gone in his back and punched out his chest. More of the arms appeared, blindly grasping for targets. The men hacked at them with their swords.
Leonidas turned back toward the Valkyries. The two hadn’t moved. He ignored the sounds of mortal battle behind him and remained focused on the two white creatures, the Naga Staff at the ready. For the first time he noted that they were holding something between them, a black cylinder about five feet long that tapered to a point — which was pointed directly at the boat. Leonidas frowned as the cylinder began to transform at the rear, the black becoming gold, moving slowly forward.