Tomb of Atlantis Read Free Page A

leaking oil instantly burst into flames. Quickly, the fire streamed to its source: the contents inside the barrel. Instantly, the barrel exploded , sending volumes of burning oil up and over the top of Lempithius’ ship, coming to rest on the crew. Screams of agony could be heard as the searing oil stripped flesh from the crew’s body.
    Like a repeat of the first, two more barrels floating close by exploded into balls of fiery liquid, spraying the sides and decking of Lempithius’ ship. With the third volley of arrows came more explosions. Lempithius’ ship was now fully engulfed in flames and Sophocles watched as its errant leader stood at the bow of his boat, on fire, as he leapt to his death.
    A loud cheer roared from the crew of Sophocles’ ship. For the moment, they had beaten their foe and were free to escape. With great pride and gratitude, the crew let out a loud salute to their leader.
    “ Viva Sophocles!”
     
    SIX WEEKS LATER:
    Sophocles stood in a weakened state, leaning against his tiller for support. Weeks had passed since they had narrowly escaped the battle with Lempithius. Except for a few fish they had been lucky enough to catch and some rain water they had managed to collect during an occasional storm, Sophocles and his crew had almost nothing to eat or drink in weeks. Some had died ; others were dying. The oarsman could no longer row and the remaining crew could no longer maintain the ship. Most found a spot, lay down, and waited to die.
    Sailing across the Atlantic, Sophocles had called upon every bit of knowledge he had learned since he began sailing more than forty years before. He was in uncharted waters. No man had ever sailed this deep into the Atlantic and survived. Navigating by stars, wind and waves, he had kept a westerly course and was certain at some point, they would find land. But day after day, the endless seascape stretched out before them, unrelenting and featureless.
    Sophocles closed his eyes involuntarily. His mind ceased to function long before his eyes shut. Propped up against the tiller, his body swayed with the rocking of the boat. As time passed, the soft gentle breezes that had lulled him to sleep, picked up in intensity, causing the waves to build.
    Suddenly, a large wave rocked the boat and Sophocles tumbled across the deck, waking up several feet away. He rolled onto his knees, grasped the side of the boat, and pulled himself to a standing position.
    Working his way back to the tiller, Sophocles scanned the horizon behind his ship. At first, his mind refused to register the event, but instinct and self-preservation worked its way into his conscious thinking. Another storm was developing, this one ever more ominous and menacing than anything he had witnessed before.
    Sophocles’ tongue had swollen from dehydration, making speech a laborious and painful task, but he overcame his condition and called to his first officer.
    “Zotikos… Zotikos, wake up. We’re in trouble,” he called to his first officer several feet away.
    He waited momentarily, took a deep breath and called out in a louder tone.
    “Zotikos… you must wake up. We’re in great danger.”
    Barely conscious, Zotikos sat up and tried to steady himself with his hands on the deck.
    “Yes, sir,” Zotikos answered, his voice barely audible.
    “Zotikos my friend, look behind us. We are in great danger,” Sophocles replied.
    Zotikos’ eyes snapped open. In all his years sailing under Sophocles, he had never referred to Zotikos as his friend. The simple statement brought a sense of warmth and contentment at a time he felt the most despair. Zotikos smiled at his captain and slowly stood.
    Pointing out behind the ship, Sophocles gestured to the advancing storm.
    “Zotikos, I fear this will be the end,” Sophocles began.
    Zotikos scanned the horizon. His body was swept with dread at the sight of the approaching storm.
    “Zotikos, I’m not afraid to die… you know that,” Sophocles began. “But, I am