The Lost Throne

The woman.

The thought of fighting her disgusted him. His ancestors never had to deal with women on the battlefield, since they were all forced to stay at home. In his mind, they were good for only one thing: breeding. That had always been the Spartans’ stance on women. Mothers were loved. Wives were tolerated. And girls were a wasted opportunity to have had a son.

Still, in this day and age of modern weaponry, he knew women could be dangerous. They could pull a trigger just as easily as a man. Therefore, she couldn’t be overlooked.

She would be treated like all the others.

She would have to be killed at once.

Dial was dazed from the blow to his head, but somehow his instincts took over.

As the Spartan raised his sword, Dial raised his gun and fired two quick shots, just over the top of the shield. The first bullet hit the Spartan in his collarbone, shattering it with a sickening snap. The next one struck him right in the mouth. Teeth cracked like crushed ice and embedded themselves in the lining of his throat as the bullet tore through the back of his neck.

This wasn’t the movies, so the Spartan didn’t fly ten feet backward and die quietly.

Instead, he slumped forward on top of Dial, pinning him to the ground. The whole time the Spartan was spitting and gurgling and trying to breathe, and Dial was trapped underneath.

For the next twelve seconds, he listened to the man choking on his own blood until Dial was able to squirm away. Once he did, he fired his weapon again and ended the Spartan’s life.

Allison watched in horror as Payne tumbled down the chasm. A moment earlier, he had stepped in front of her and saved her from the muscular Spartan.

Now he was gone, she was alone, and Apollo was closing in.

Things did not look promising.

The last time she had fired a gun was at a summer carnival. And it hadn’t even been a real gun. It had been an air rifle in one of those stupid games where the goal was to win a prize.

Other than that, she had no experience with weapons.

She just didn’t like them. In fact, she hated the damn things.

But in this situation, she realized her gun was her new best friend.

Grabbing it from her belt, she pointed it at Apollo, who crouched low in the darkness. He held his shield in front of him, giving her nothing to aim at. All she could see was the tip of his sword and the red plume of horsehair that stood above his helmet.

Still, she knew she shouldn’t wait for him to get any closer.

So Allison pulled the trigger.

The gun roared, and when it did, it jerked wildly in her hand. The bullet sailed high and wide, nowhere near her target-a common mistake for an amateur.

Undaunted, she squeezed the trigger a second time but with a similar result.

She wasn’t even close.

Apollo smirked at her incompetence and raised his sword behind him.

With a mighty swing, he used the broadside of his blade to knock the weapon from her hand. Metal hit metal with a loud clang, and the gun bounced harmlessly to the ground.

“Stupid whore,” he growled in Laconian.

Then he lifted his sword again.

Payne scurried up the chasm like a wild animal. Blood dripping, muscles straining, fueled by pure adrenaline. His friends were in danger, and that was unacceptable.

At the top of the ridge, he glanced to his right and realized Dial was safe.

Spinning quickly, he searched for Allison and saw Apollo primed to strike. The Spartan leader was positioned perfectly. His shield protected everything from his knees to his nose. His helmet covered his head, and his greaves guarded his shins. The only gaps in his armor were the slits for his eyes and the sandals on his feet.

For Payne, it was a simple decision. He took the easiest shot available.

Aiming low, he fired three times at Apollo’s feet. The first round missed in the darkness, but the second and third shots hit their targets. The muscular Spartan refused to scream as he fell to the ground in agony. When he did, his shield dipped ever so slightly, and Payne took full advantage.

He steadied his weapon and squeezed the trigger with one thought in mind.

This Spartan needed to die.

73

After the battle, Payne and Jones looked at the map and determined the cave was less than thirty minutes away. That is, if the map was accurate. The truth was they weren’t sure how Schliemann knew about the treasure’s location. That hadn’t been revealed during their research. Still, they knew that Richard Byrd and the person who’d had him killed believed in the treasure. Apparently so did the Spartans-although all of them had died before they could be interrogated.

The group continued on in silence, some of them nursing their wounds. Dial held a cloth against his right cheek, which had been gashed by a Spartan shield. His ribs and back throbbed as well, but he never complained. Neither did Payne, who had a wide assortment of cuts and bruises from his tumble off the ridge. But as things stood, he’d fared a lot better than the men he had defeated.

As they climbed higher, Payne noticed a distinct change in the scenery. Trees were far less frequent, and flowers were virtually nonexistent. The same with grass and weeds. In a matter of hours, they had gone from the lush surroundings of the Aegean to a stark landscape reminiscent of the moon. Everywhere he looked he saw rocks and craters and few signs of life.

No wonder the Greeks chose this spot to hide a treasure.

There was no reason to come up here, except to get away from the world.

“Jon,” Allison called from behind.

Payne stopped and turned around. She was pointing at a spot to the east.

“Is that a cave?” she asked.

Payne shined his flashlight in that direction. From where he was, he couldn’t be sure. But it certainly looked like one. “Wait here. I’ll go check.”

“Hold on,” Jones said from the rear of the group. “I’m coming with you.”

Payne smirked and waited for Jones. “How’d I know you’d want to come?”

“If you think I’m going to let you discover this alone, you’re crazy.”

“Wait,” Allison said. “I’m coming, too.”

Payne lowered his head in defeat. “Fine! Everyone can come. The more the merrier.”

Dial smiled and patted Payne on his shoulder. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I was beginning to feel left out.”

Andropoulos nodded his head. “Me too.”

Payne laughed at their enthusiasm. No one had talked in several minutes, now everyone was begging to be included. Then again, he could hardly blame them.

He was also excited about the possibilities.

“Hey, Marcus,” Payne said. “You’re Greek, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What type of animals might live up here?”

“Wolves.”

Payne nodded. “That’s what I thought. Everyone stay alert.”

The group moved in unison, each of them searching the surrounding rocks for any sign of trouble. Above them to their left, they could see the towering peaks of Mount Athos in the pale moonlight. To their right was the steep slope that they had just conquered. Payne tried to imagine a forty-foot statue being hauled up the mountainside by