The second rank charged forward, right over the backs of their comrades, sandaled feet hitting the armor and then crashed into the dazed Persians. The front rank stood up, reforming. Leonidas took several deep breaths, scanning the line. They had lost a few men and squires were scurrying about the fighting in front, trying to drag away the downed Spartans even as the second rank pushed the Immortals further back, narrowing the field, leaving their enemy only about ten meters of space.
The Persians’ bodies were piling on top of each other. Wounded who were passed by the rank of Spartans were killed by Spartan squires who slit their throats, the blood adding to the gore covering the ground. Through this, Leonidas had been counting once more, the rhythm of the count beaten into him for years on the plains of Sparta. When he reached fifteen, the rank that had passed them began disengaging. Leonidas counted five more beats, then he charged forward along with the rest of his line, passing over the prone bodies of the second rank, stepping on the armor of one of his comrades and sprinting into the enemy line.
The Immortals who faced them were disoriented, not used to the maneuver. They were trapped between the charging Spartans and the thousands of Immortals crowding the pass behind them. They couldn’t retreat and they couldn’t hold their ground. The result was murder.
“Pull them back,” Xerxes ordered. “Now!”
His lead general issued the orders and flag bearers gave the appropriate signals, the order then being translated to sound as trumpets blasted the call for retreat. Slowly, much too slowly for those Immortals engaged with the Spartans, the rear of the column began backing out of the pass. The King’s face was flushed with anger as he watched his Immortals try to extract themselves.
He stood and walked to the edge of the small ledge. He crooked a finger and his senior general joined him. “Now that you know the terrain and know that what you face tomorrow will be different you must come up with a different plan.”
“Yes, King.”
Xerxes headed down the narrow track toward his imperial tent.
Leonidas halted the advance at the path, allowing the Persians to escape, despite the protests of his men. He knew they could pursue down the path, slaying many more of the enemy, but he felt it was better to regroup after this first engagement. Also, there was a good chance the Immortal commander had prepared an ambush for just this contingency.
Leonidas walked among the bodies, noting the squires pulling the few wounded and dead Spartans from the piles. His experienced eye estimated about a dozen of his men down. And about two hundred Persians. A very good kill ratio, but one he knew they wouldn’t be able to sustain for many more engagements.
“They are done for the day,” Cyra said, surprising Leonidas who had not heard her approach.
“There is still at least three hours of light,” Leonidas noted.
“Once more, they were not ready for you,” the priestess said. “Tomorrow will be different.”
Leonidas knew that. “Then tomorrow we must be different.”
“You must hold for two more days,” Cyra said.
Leonidas pulled his helmet off and wiped his sweaty forehead. “And then?”
“Then we will have the map.”
“And you will leave,” Leonidas noted.
“Would you prefer to be back at Antirhon?” Cyra asked. “The Persians would still be here.”
Leonidas began unbuckling his armor. “True. There is work to be done. It will be a long night.”
CHAPTER 21
This place was worse. That was the thought that resounded through Dane’s mind as he took in the environment around him, slowly turning the Valkyrie suit so he could survey his new surroundings. The sky overhead was covered with dark black clouds with swirls of red and yellow in them. Lightning flickered inside the clouds, producing a dull thunder as if even sound were defeated by the bleakness surrounding Dane and Earhart. The land was scorched clean, the ground blistered and buckled, yet covered with a layer of ice and blowing snow. He had no idea where they were as there was no apparent sign of civilization.
“We might be on another planet,” Dane whispered, as if by speaking in a normal voice he would be become part of the desolation.
“We can breathe,” Earhart said.
“There are filters — or some sort of rebreather — built into this suit,” Dane said. The portal was behind them and he was tempted to simply turn around and go back through it to the devastated Washington — at least that held a degree of familiarity. “Or maybe it’s a planet with an atmosphere like ours,” he added uncertainly.
“Wrong portal?” Earhart asked.
Dane controlled his desire to flee. “I don’t think so.” He could feel the cold through the suit’s armor.
“There!” Earhart was pointing with a white arm.
Dane turned in that direction and a small moving speck was visible on the screen inside the helmet. It took him a moment before he recognized what it was — another Valkyrie suit, moving toward them.
“Friend or foe inside?” Dane wondered out loud.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Earhart said as she flexed her fingers, extending the claws on both hands.
As the figure got closer Dane could see that it’s white armor was blackened and dirty. Dane focused his attention, trying to mentally probe through the suit and determine who, or what, was inside.
“Friend,” he said as he picked up an aura. It was familiar, almost as if he had met whoever was inside the suit. He could now see that the armor was damaged in a couple of places, much like theirs was.
The figure came to a halt ten feet in front of them, both hands held up, palms out, claws not extended. “Welcome to hell.”
The voice was female, one Dane knew. He felt a wave of shock pass through him as he recognized it. “Ariana? Ariana Michelet?”
“Yes. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“But—” Dane struggled to get the words out—“you’re dead.”
The voice was low and almost melancholy as she answered. “Sometimes I wish I were. And I will be soon. But first, I must accomplish what I have been tasked to do.”
“I don’t understand,” Dane said. “How can you be alive?”
“It’s like Noonan,” Earhart cut in. “I saw him die, but then he came to me.”
“Come,” Ariana gestured. “Come with me. I will show you and explain.”
Despite not being able to see her, Dane knew it was Ariana in the suit. The aura was the same as he remembered. He had not recognized her right away because he considered her dead.
“Where is here?” Dane asked.
“This is Earth. Washington DC.”
“It can’t be,” Dane said. “We just left Washington. And even that Washington wasn’t-” He tried to process all that had happened. “Is this the future?” But that didn’t make sense, he realized, because the Washington they had just left had been the past. Or his past. And Earhart’s future. He felt as if a spike was being driven through the center of his brain as he tried to assimilate the paradoxes and the situation.
“’The future’,” Ariana repeated. Dane could almost see her shaking her head inside her helmet. “Yes. In a way. We are at about the same place where you went through that—” she pointed at the gate behind them.
“Things got worse?” Dane asked.
“This isn’t the same Washington,” Ariana said. “This is a different time and place.”
“But you just said this is Washington in the future.”
“In my future — or more accurate to say my present. Not yours.”
“But—”
“Your Ariana died,” she said.