“What about them?”
“They showed people from other times, if one is to believe those who say they saw something.”
“What happened to Project Dragon?” Ariana asked.
“As far as I know, they’re still plugging away,” Atkins said.
“Where can I get hold of Davon?” she asked.
Atkins leafed through the file folder. “Here’s the address for the Dragon organization. I imagine you’ll find him there, unless he’s out gallivanting about. I’ve heard he’s expanded his work overseas.”
Ariana took the address, then pulled a cloth bag out of the pocket of her raincoat. “The skull, please.”
Atkins reluctantly slid it into the bag. “Your father does have quite a bit of pull with the museum board of directors.”
“This is much more important than my father,” Ariana said. She paused at the door. “Do you know where there are any more skulls like this?”
“There’s a woman named Van Liten who—”
“I’ve already met her,” Ariana cut him off.
“Ah, well.” Atkins steepled his fingers, and Ariana realized he was exercising the power of knowledge over her in a subconscious way. She waited, forcing herself to be patient.
“Our field reps get approached every so often by what you might call shady characters dealing so-called antiquities or objects they think we would think would be of value. They seem to believe we have an unlimited amount of funds, which, of course, couldn’t be further from the truth, and offer us rare pieces for exorbitant amounts of money.
“About two years ago, one of our people was escorting an exhibit that we loaned to the Darwin Museum of Natural History in Moscow with whom we have a working relationship. He was approached by a fellow who claimed to have a crystal skull. Of course the price he was asking — fifty thousand in U.S. dollars — was ridiculous, so nothing came of it.”
“Did the person give any contact information?” Ariana asked.
Atkins opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. He slid it across his desk, and Ariana went forward to retrieve it. “You weren’t going to give this to me?” she asked as she took it.
“A good researcher has to ask the right questions,” Atkins said.
“This isn’t a game.” Ariana had had enough with
PhD’s and intellectuals. She snatched the piece of paper out of his hands. “The safety of our planet is at stake.”
“Well…” Atkins began, but then he stopped, at a loss for a moment. “I don’t see what crystal skulls have to do with what is happening with these gates.”
“I don’t have time to explain it to you.” Ariana left the room, the skull held in one hand, the piece of paper in the other.
A Shadow flitted past so quickly that Pytor Shashenka wasn’t sure his eyes had actually seen something or if he was in a delusional state. But then a second went past, and he was certain. Not the white creatures but something or someone else. He also heard voices, hoarse whispers. He forced his mind to come out of the shell it had retreated to and focus.
There were people in the cavern. Free people! He saw a man, dressed in a strange outfit, some kind of armor, holding a straight, thin sword in his hand. The man was in front of a board that held one of the captives. Pytor was stunned as the man drew back the sword and with one smooth stroke cut through the neck of the body, severing it. The head remained pinned to the board by the metal ring around it, but blood pumped out of the neck, flowing down over the clear coating covering the flayed body.
The man turned and approached Pytor, blood-covered sword in his hand. Pytor could see his face now: Oriental. The man said something in a language Pytor didn’t understand. He drew the sword back, and Pytor waited, eager to be done with this horror he was in.
But then the man turned as there was a noise, a clank of metal, surprised yells. Another man similarly dressed and carrying a sword came running by, yelling something in the same strange language.
The man in front ignored his partner and brought the sword up once more. As he began to swing, a slash of gold hit him. Pytor blinked as the man’s skin changed color to gray, hardening until the man was nothing more than a statue.
Then a woman, tall, with short brown hair, also dressed strangely, ran by. She seemed to be in charge, shouting commands. She held a long slightly curved sword in her hand.
She glanced at Pytor, and he saw the compassion in her eyes, but she was too far away to do anything, and the body of her comrade was between them. Another flash of gold barely missed her. She turned and ran with the others. Last, a large man dressed in leather, carrying a huge ax, brought up the rear. He paused, swinging the weapon in a mighty arc as a Valkyrie came screeching toward him. The heavy blade bounced off the white armor with a loud clang, but the creature was knocked back several feet and apparently dazed.
Two more Valkyries appeared, flanking the warrior who gave a mighty shout as he swung the ax back and forth, keeping his enemies at bay. Pytor could appreciate the bravery he was seeing, knowing this man was giving the others time to escape, but in the process, his own escape route was cut off as the three Valkyries surrounded him.
Despite his own pain, Pytor was drawn into the spectacle in front of him as the man held the creatures at bay with his ax. Sweat poured down the man’s body, staining the already dirty tunic. His dark hair flopped about as he twisted and turned. A savage scar lined the left side of his face from temple to jaw.
He was yelling at the Valkyries in a language Pytor didn’t understand, but the gist was clear: The man was taunting and cursing them. Minutes passed, and the creatures made no serious attempt to attack the man, but they kept him constantly on the defensive with quick probes. Pytor could tell the man’s strength was being sapped, the ax growing heavy in his hands.
Finally, what the Valkyries were waiting for occurred. The man slipped, slamming the head of the ax into the rock floor to keep his balance. All three leapt forward at the same time. But it was a ruse, as the man rolled on the floor and came to his feet right in front of one of the Valkyries, the ax reversed, the metal tip on the end of the handle facing forward. He jabbed, and the blow struck true, right into one of the red eyes, shattering it.
The creature let loose a wicked scream.
It was a Pyrrhic victory for the man, though, as the other two were on him, ripping the ax from his hands, pinning his arms behind his back. Pytor felt useless, worse than useless, and the pain came back into him, overwhelming his mind. The sound of the battle faded, and Pytor once more slipped into blessed unconsciousness.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As soon as she saw Thera appear on the horizon, Kaia felt a surge in her chest. The oracle had been correct; this was where her ancestors had lived for a long time. She had a vision of the island as a whole, before the destruction, of a magnificent white city with a pyramid in the center. Ships sailing from the port to all points of the Mediterranean.
“What is it?” Falco was at her side.
“Do you feel it?” Kaia asked.
“I feel power, subdued power,” Falco said. “This was a great place once.”
“It is where my people lived for a while after they came from Atlantis,” Kaia said.
“Atlantis?” General Cassius had joined them in the bow of the imperial galley. “That is a story you Greeks made up.”
“It was a real place,” Kaia said. ”The Shadow destroyed it.”
“A very powerful Shadow then.” Cassius said. “What can we do against such a force?”
“That remains to be seen,” Kaia said. She pointed toward the island where they could see the shattered cliff walls surrounding the place where the sea had intruded into the center of the island. “That was also done by the Shadow.”