Atlantis: Gate Read Free Page A

blue stone set in the floor. Leonidas frowned, and as he watched, the glow disappeared. Another strange thing in an evening of the bizarre, he thought.
    The Oracle thrust the torch into a pile of kindling and started a small fire. “Sit,” she instructed, pointing to a flat black stone opposite her.
    Leonidas hesitated, not wanting to be lower than her. Reluctantly he settled down on the rock. “You sent for me,” he said.
    “You are a King.” The old woman’s voice held an edge that Leonidas didn’t like.
    “I am,” he replied. He was uncomfortable sitting stiffly in front of the old woman. The journey to Delphi had been hard, not because of physical difficulties, but because of the constant reports brought to him by scouts about the invading Persian forces.
    King Xerxes of Persia was leading his massive army forward out of Asia. He was near the Hellesponte—the waterway dividing Asia and Europe-- and would be on Greek soil soon. The fools in Athens were too concerned with the Carneia , an annual festival and the preparations for the Olympic games, which were to be held soon. Or so they claimed, Leonidas thought. Cowardice took on many faces and many excuses. Athens and Sparta had been at each other’s throats for generations and he knew there was much debate among the leaders of Athens about which posed the greater threat: the Persians invading or allying with Sparta. It was one of the many failings he saw with democracy; the inability to take decisive action when time was short.
    “You are a Spartan.”
    Leonidas knew that the rest of Greece viewed his home city as something of an enigma. The difference came not because Sparta still had a king, but because of the focus in Spartan society on the military. In essence, the entire city-state was designed to support its army. Because of that, Sparta was the most powerful city-state in Pelonnese, the southwestern part of Greece, connected to the rest of Greece by only a narrow isthmus. The city was located on the northern end of the central Laconian Plain on the Eurotas River and commanded the only land routes in Laconia.
    Even the Spartan heritage was somewhat different than the rest of Greece. They were descended from the Dorians who had invaded that locale around 1,000 BC. That was the reality; the legend the Spartans preferred was that their city was founded by Lacedaemon, a son of Zeus.
    The society had three classes—the Spartiates, who were the only ones allowed to vote; the Perioikoi, or free men, who did not have the vote but were graciously allowed to fight and die for the state; and then the helots, who while technically not slaves, were only slightly better off than if they had been.
    The old woman continued. “You are a warrior. There are times when warriors are needed and this is one of them.”
    “You summoned me, old woman.”
    “You had a vision,” she corrected.
    “You summoned me,” he repeated, unwilling to discuss the vivid dream he’d had a week ago, directing him to Delphi and to travel alone. Even though he was not a strong believer in dreams and visions, the dream had been so strong, he’d known he had to follow the path it indicated. He had never been here before, but he had seen the woman before him in the dream so he knew now it was a true vision. Of course, he had not seen the Valkyrie or strange creature in the dream, which might have been helpful. Such was the ways of the gods—to show one hand, while keeping the other hidden.
    The Delphic Oracle sighed. “Who are you loyal to?”
    There was no hesitation in the answer. “Sparta.”
    “And Greece?”
    Leonidas shrugged. “If the threat to Greece is a threat to Sparta, yes.”
    “You have called up your troops in response to the Persian threat,” the Oracle noted. “Yet Athens hasn’t and they would fall to King Xerxes’ forces before Sparta.”
    “Why am I here?” Leonidas pressed.
    “I too have seen a vision I could not ignore.”
    The Spartan waited.
    “You will