The creature struck at him once more, the blow so powerful that it dented his shield and knocked it from his left hand. He jabbed with the sword once more, point hitting the open socket and the creature screeched, pulling back. The creature floated backward into the thickening mist. The Oracle was behind Leonidas’s right shoulder.
“Wait,” she whispered as the creature disappeared. “There’s something else out there.”
Leonidas checked his blade. The edge was ruined where it had caught on the creature’s armor. The shield lay five feet away and slightly behind him and he dared not turn his back on the fog to retrieve it.
“What was that?” he asked as he peered into the mist.
“A Valkyrie,” the Oracle said. “An emissary of the Shadow.” She pointed once more. “There.”
Something bounded through the fog, an animal. But like none the King had ever seen. It had the head of a serpent, body of a lion, and the tail of a scorpion. Leonidas barely had time to register that image before he was on the defensive, slashing at the darting head, and ducking to avoid the simultaneous jab by the barbed tail.
The snakehead struck again, getting past the sword and slamming into Leonidas’s chest, the strike blunted by the armor, venom spurting onto the metal. Before the head could pull back, Leonidas parted it from the body with one mighty downward stroke.
Breathing hard, he stood over the strange body, looking at the fog, waiting for the next opponent. But the mist was dissipating, pulling back, revealing the stars and quarter moon above.
“It is over,” the Oracle said.
Leonidas was aware that he was gasping and abruptly slowed his lungs to not appear tired or afraid in front of the old woman. There was a strange hissing noise and he glanced down to note that the creature’s venom was eating through the metal on his chest. Cursing, he quickly ripped off his breastplate and threw it down to the ground.
“What was this?” With the tip of his sword he prodded the body of the creature he had just killed.
“A demon creature from the other side,” the Oracle said.
“Other side of what?”
“Come into my cave and warm yourself by my fire,” the Oracle turned and disappeared into the cave, the torch reflecting off stone walls.
Leonidas checked his armor first. There was a four-inch long by half-inch wide hole in the breastplate, where the venom had eaten through. He touched the edge of the hole with the tip of his sword but nothing happened. Carefully he put the armor back on, and then he followed the woman inside. The Oracle sat in a stone throne opposite a glowing 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 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.”