Free Atlantis: Gate by Robert Doherty Page B

except the three words that were her mantra at every meal. Her beauty—and a weapon she was carrying-- had spared her long enough for her to show one of the captains of the Immortals a box she carried. It did not contain the evils of the world. Instead there was a map, drawn on paper the likes of which the most educated scholars of his court had never seen. Shiny, resistant to tear, and waterproof, the material was enough to amaze. But even more astonishing was the detail of the land from Persia to the west, with all of Greece drawn in exquisite detail.
    She’d also carried a spear, a most fascinating weapon. A staff with a blade on one end made of metal the likes of which had also never been seen by anyone in his court. The edge was so sharp it could slice through an armor breastplate as if it were water. The other end of the staff was also fascinating, metal carved into the shape of seven snakes’ heads. She’d called it a Naga Staff, but said little more about it.
    The map had been useful in finding the correct spot to build this bridge, and in helping his engineers in the digging of the Mount Athos canal. It was also helpful in keeping Xerxes from having the strange woman executed until she learned enough Persian to tell him why she was here—to help him defeat the Greeks and gain revenge. Her motivation for that she did not reveal, nor anything else about herself. The Naga staff he’d had taken from her and placed in the guard of his Immortals.
    “Why is time short?” Xerxes asked without turning his head, as he continued to stare at the dark waters of the Hellesponte.
    “I have shown you many true things,” Pandora said. “You must trust me on this.”
    “Trust you?”
    “I have seen the futures.”
    Xerxes was intrigued by her use of the plural. “Which futures?”
    “The future if you move quickly and the future if you do not cross the Hellesponte in the next four days.”
    “And?”
    “The first leads to victory, the latter to defeat.”
    Xerxes was a Zoroastrian, a belief begun two hundred years previously by the prophet Zoroaster. Unlike the beliefs of the Greeks and other countries, which both he and his father, Darius, had conquered, Zoroastrian was a monotheistic religion, worshipping Ahuramazda, the Lord Wisdom. The core of the faith was the battle between truth—asha—and lie. He felt that battle every time he consulted with Pandora, uncertain of her motivations, thus unclear about the veracity of what she said. It was true she had never misled him up to now, but as far as Xerxes was concerned that only meant she might be waiting for a moment when the stakes were immense. And many of those moments would be coming in the pending campaign.
    “There can only be one future,” Xerxes said.
    “Yes, my lord but your actions will determine which one it will be.”
    His magi—wise men—had consulted the heavens before he began this campaign and told him that the timing was fortuitous. The previous year, on the 10 th of April, there had been an eclipse, the sun being blocked by the moon. His magi had said the moon represented the Persians while the sun was the Greeks. Thus he would eclipse the enemy of his father and have his revenge.
    Omens. Vague words and predictions. Faulty construction. Xerxes felt the anger rise once more in his chest. He raised his voice so those surrounding him could hear.
    “Perhaps the Greek god of the water—” he turned to his adviser who quickly supplied the name—“Poseidon, has seen fit to try to stop us. I will show him what I think of him and his fellow Greek gods and how they hold no power over my kingdom and the followers of Ahuramazda.”
    Xerxes signaled to his master-at-arms. “Throw a set of shackles in the water to bind this god. Then three hundred lashes and a branding to follow to show who rules this strait and the water that flows through it!”
    There was no hesitation on the master-of-arms’ part. The shackles splashed into the water before the