Atlantis: Gate Read Free Page B

fight the Persians,” the Oracle said. “And you will gain much honor and fame. And you will die.”
    Leonidas’s scarred and tanned face was smooth, no reaction apparent.
    “But there is something you must do before you die,” the Oracle added.
    “Besides kill Persians?”
    “There is something you must take from the Gates of Fire.”
    “Thermopylae?” Leonidas frowned.
    “Yes. It is where you will fight the Persians. You must get there first. And you must recover something and send it back to me safely.”
    “What is this thing?” Leonidas was already picturing the tight pass in his mind, realizing it was an excellent location to set up the defense against Xerxes’ overwhelming numbers. However, defending there would leave northern Greece—the city-states of Thessalia-- open to the ravages of the Persians, which had strong implications for various alliances. Still, if-
    “Listen to me,” the Oracle snapped, as if knowing his mind was already drawn to the battle and tactics. He blinked, not used to be talked to in such a brusque manner.
    “What you must save is a circle,” she made a vague gesture with her hands in front of her. “A sphere,” she amplified.
    “Of?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You’re the Oracle of Delphi. How can you not know? And if you don’t know, why should I do this?”
    “It is important. Not just Greece, but the entire world lies in the balance.”
    “What is this important sphere?”
    “It is a kind of map.”
    “Of?” he asked once more.
    “I don’t know. But someone else will.”
    “Who?”
    The Oracle’s eyes lost their focus as she looked inward. “Someone who is not yet alive, but is alive. One who is of this world, but not of this world. Another warrior, like you, but not like you.”
    “Riddles.” Leonidas pulled off his helmet, revealing chiseled features and a lined face. White hair spilled out, tied in a ponytail that touched the back of his neck.
    “No, the commands of the gods. Will you do it?”
    “You promise me glory and honor and death in battle.” He smiled, highlighting a scar on his left cheek. “What Spartan could refuse such an offer? I will do it.”
    CHAPTER 1 THE PRESENT
    A little old lady was walking across a flat stony plain in Peru, an umbrella held in one hand to protect her from the sun, the other carrying a folding canvas seat. She had a faded leather backpack looped over one shoulder. Her skin was tanned and leathery, etched with lines from many years in the harsh sun.
    Cresting a small hill in the middle of the plain, Dr. Leni Reizer opened the stool and sat down, giving a sigh of relief as she did so. She’d lived in the valley of the Nazca for over fifty years and the combination of heat, sun, dryness and age was beginning to wear on her.
    She was in the exact center of a high plain between the Inca and Nazca valleys. The plain was almost fifty miles long and several miles in width. To the east, the high peaks of the Andes were visible, white capped and wreathed with clouds. The ground was hard packed, littered with small stones.
    She had walked every foot of that plain and knew every stone, and more importantly, every line cut into the surface of the plain where there were no stones. She was seated in the midst of what some called the world’s largest work of art. For its size, covering almost five hundred square miles, it was also the least visible work of art as the complex patterns cut into the surface of the plain could only be truly appreciated with an aerial view, an enigma given that the lines had been cut well before the birth of Christ.
    Reizer knew all the designs by heart. She came to this spot, a small knoll where she had first realized the magnitude of the complex so many years earlier, for solitude. Several lines originated on the knoll, radiating outward at various lengths. Also, what she called the master line, terminated here. The master began with a huge wedge cut into the plain five miles due south of her