“I do, do I?” Agesilaus rejoined, his right hand casually easing under the folds of his robe.
“Most definitely. These men would hardly have risked their lives to come here merely to indulge in petty tricks. They’re offering us a wonderful opportunity, a chance to expand our horizons, to enter into a political alliance that will reap untold benefits. Think of the possibilities!
Why, we might be able to trade for ammunition and other necessities that are currently in short supply.”
“Sparta has managed quite well for over a century without outside aid. There’s no reason to change our policy now.”
“But there is. For far too long has Sparta existed in isolation. We’ve had no contact with the world beyond our boundary for decades. We don’t know what’s out there. And we owe it to ourselves and our people to find out.”
“The Lawgivers instructed us to be extremely cautious in making contact with outside influences.”
“True, but they wrote those words a century ago when the world was in turmoil, when hordes of looters and crazies were, scouring the countryside, slaying everyone they met.” Dercyllidas paused. “Now the world is different. The presence of these three men is proof of it. We must keep our minds open to their words or we’ll run the risk of suffering another century in a self-imposed quarantine.”
Agesilaus stared at the ground. “Then I gather you’ve already decided Sparta should join the Federation?”
“Yes. But the final decision isn’t up to us. The Ecclesia must vote on such a monumental issue, and I fully expect they will agree once they hear about the benefits to be derived from such a venture.”
“The general assembly will never hear about the benefits.”
“Oh? And why not?”
“Because they’ll be too busy discussing your heinous plot to betray Sparta into the hands of her enemies,” Agesilaus declared harshly, and the next moment he whipped a dagger from under his robe and plunged the keen point into King Dercyllidas’s chest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
All hell broke loose.
King Agesilaus raised the dagger for another strike as Dercyllidas staggered backward and fell to his knees.
“No!” Captain Chilon cried, and stepped between the monarchs, giving Agesilaus a shove that propelled the thin ruler onto the ground.
The two dozen Spartan soldiers leaped forward, some surrounding King Dercyllidas, the rest encircling Agesilaus. In a flash swords appeared, and the two sides promptly clashed. Three men perished in the opening seconds of combat.
Shocked by the unexpected turn of events, Blade saw an Agesilaus partisan charge Chilon. He automatically darted to the officer’s side, drawing his Bowies as he did, and braced for the onslaught.
The soldier swung his short sword in a tremendous overhand clash, intending to cleave the giant’s skull.
Blade blocked the blow with his right Bowie, the clanging impact jarring his arm, then stabbed his left knife into the soldier’s side. The man crumpled, and Blade jerked the Bowie free and glanced at Captain Chilon.
The officer was supporting King Dercyllidas. “We’ve got to get out of here!” he told the Warrior. “There’s no time to explain.”
Blade didn’t need to be persuaded. A quick look showed him the Agesilaus partisans outnumbered the Dercyllidas defenders by two to one, and despite the brave resistance of the defenders they were about to be overrun. “Get him to the van!” he shouted to be heard above the clashing of the swords.
Captain Chilon nodded, looped both arms around the wounded king’s torso, and hastened toward the SEAL.
Three troopers moved to intercept him.
What had he gotten himself into? Blade wondered as he dashed to Chiton’s defense. Since all the Spartans were dressed alike, he had a difficult time determining which side they belonged to. The trio, however, left no doubt of their intentions. He parried the sword of the foremost soldier, then dodged when another tried to impale him in the groin.
Nearby a defender went down fighting, blood spurting from his ruptured throat.
The three Agesilaus backers converged on the giant in concert, their expressions set in grim determination.
Blade backed up, his eyes flicking from Spartan to Spartan, knowing he was at a decided disadvantage. Not only was he outnumbered, the short swords were six inches longer than his Bowies and double-edged. The swords had also been forged with heavier steel. He couldn’t expect to hold them off indefinitely.
All three lunged at the same instant, each one spearing his weapon at a different part of the giant’s anatomy.
A side step enabled Blade to avoid a thrust aimed at his legs, and his Bowies deflected the other swords. Almost immediately the trio tried again, two slashing high, one going low. Blade threw himself rearward, evading the high strikes, but an intensely painful stinging sensation in his left shin made him aware the third soldier had scored. He didn’t dare glance down to see how bad it was or the threesome would finish him off.
He blocked two swords, still backing up, and glimpsed a fourth foe racing toward him.
Damn.
Blade knew he had to put at least two of them out of action and do it swiftly or he would be overwhelmed. He dodged to the right, and when the nearest Spartan tried to slice open his abdomen he swung his left Bowie straight down, cutting into the soldier’s wrist and almost severing the man’s sword hand.
Incredibly, the soldier simply grabbed the sword with his good hand and renewed his attack.
The Warrior skipped to the left this time, just as another Spartan aimed a terrific swipe at his neck. Blade ducked under the sword and lanced his right Bowie into the man’s stomach, then wrenched the razor-sharp blade upward, ripping the Spartan from the navel to the sternum. The man doubled over and toppled forward.
There were still three adversaries remaining, counting the man whose split wrist gushed forth a crimson spray.
Blade countered a series of swings, his superior size and strength enabling him to temporarily keep them at bay. One of the soldiers came at him from the left at the same moment a second came at him from the right. He parried the latter and spun to confront the other one, but someone else beat him to the punch.
A diminutive black-clad figure seemed to streak out of nowhere and a gleaming katana arced into the Spartan’s neck. Red drops splattered in all directions. Not slowing for an instant, the martial artist swung his cherished sword in a figure-eight pattern, the blade cutting through two foes, downing both.
For a moment they were clear.
“Took you long enough,” Blade said, backing toward the transport.
“I helped Captain Chilon and the king climb in,” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi explained, his body coiled in a ready stance.
“Then let’s get out of here,” Blade proposed, and was about to turn when three more soldiers came at them.
Nearly all of the Spartans who had come to Dercyllidas’s aid were dead.
Off to one side, well out of range, stood King Agesilaus. He shrieked the same command over and over again: “Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!”
Blade braced to meet the charge of the new trio. An object suddenly flashed past his left shoulder. Three objects, actually, one right after the other, making a slight swishing noise.
All three green shafts struck home with unerring accuracy. Each hit a soldier in the eye, penetrating deep into the cranium, slaying the target in midstride.
“Kill them! Kill them!” Agesilaus raged.
Blade whirled and sprinted to the vehicle.
Standing next to the open door, another arrow already notched to the green bow, was Teucer. “I’ll cover you!” he said. “Get in.”