Atlantis - Return of the Nation

by Steven Cook

  ‘Only the Minoans tend to attack on sight. The others are more tolerant and only attack if hungry or if you attack them. It is odd that they attacked such a large group.’

  They started walking again. Eraz stopped talking and commenced scanning the surrounding woods. The sounds of the jungle had resumed, putting the sailors at ease. They also noticed that the warriors had relaxed their guard to a lesser degree.

  After several hours walking the trees started to thin out, until they were restricted to small copses surrounded by lush, knee high grass.

  The sailors could at last see the island beyond the beach and trees. Carrick raised himself up onto his elbows to look back over his shoulder in the direction they were travelling. In the far distance they could see mountains rising into the clouds that were slowly dissipating from the storm.

  In the near distance they could see the first signs of civilisation. Several small single storey buildings were located beside several fields. On the perimeter of the fields were channels full of water. Gates were located at strategic points to enable the farmers to irrigate the fields. Small bridges were spaced around the fields, spanning the narrow channels.

  In the fields they could see farmers tending their various crops. Some were recognisable as wheat and corn. Several waved at the passing warriors and curiously examined the sailors before returning to their tasks.

  ‘I thought corn came from America.’ said Fitz.

  ‘Arcanadia has risen several times and ships have landed. Corn was one of the cargoes found on a ship that never left.’ Eraz explained.

  Beyond the fields a wide road swept in from the east and ran north, parallel to the wide canal that the warriors were tracking.

  They quickly moved through the fields and onto the road. The sailors noticed that it was made of dressed stone fitted together almost seamlessly. The hob nails on the warriors sandals clicked on the stone. They picked up their pace on the better surface.

  Ahead of them they saw a low bridge spanning the deep canal. It was easily wide enough to accommodate the road five times over, being at least one hundred feet wide. Beyond the canal a fortified building commanded the nearby countryside.

  The small group started to cross the bridge and headed towards the fort. The seamen noticed that the bridge was constructed in a similar manner to the road. To one side of the walkway there were a series of connected chests. They passed over the bridge, their escorts nodding at the guards nominally guarding each end.

  The fort was built from the same seamless stone as the road. A single small gateway led into the darkened interior. An outwardly curving rampart edged the top of the fort, with protected platforms for archers and slingers.

  The small gate to the fort was currently open. Four guards stood at attention just outside, warily inspecting them as they approached. These guards were equipped differently to the men of the Fifth Border Phalanx. Instead of javelins they carried heavy spears, with broad blades and a stay to hold the carriers opponent off. The guard’s armour was heavier, with rings of Orichalcum beneath the usual bands. Full-face helmets with a classic Greek ‘Y’ view slit and long heavy shields with the crossed sword badge completed their kit, denoting them as heavy infantry.

  The guards saluted Saraph by clashing their spears against their shields. He returned their gesture by placing his closed right fist over the left side of his chest. They stood aside to let the party enter the fort.

  Craig and the others stopped and looked apprehensively into the darkness of the fort and the high walls reaching in to the sky.

  Eraz clapped him on the shoulder. He grinned broadly as Craig turned to look at him.

  ‘You have nothing to worry about. Although this is not our Phalanx’ fort, you will be safe. You have my word on that.’

  From his position ahead Saraph smiled at the easy-going nature of his second in command.

  ‘You have my word too.’ He strengthened the pledge.

  The other four warriors looked from Eraz to Saraph and over to the cluster of seamen. They too smiled and nodded at them to reinforce their commitment.

  Carl looked at the others holding the stretcher and Carrick lying on it.

  ‘Well I’m not running off anywhere am I?’ Carrick broke the tension.

  ‘These guys have saved us once so I say we trust them,’ said Carl.

  He got nods from the rest of them.

  ‘OK, let’s go.’ He led the way into the fort.

  The warriors at the gate exchanged glances and shrugged as the strangers disappeared into the fort.

  *

  Sixth Phalanx Patrol Area Arcanadia 22nd May

  Hildar reached the tree line and let his men and their prisoners precede him. He stepped into the shadows then turned to watch Saraph deal with the other survivors.

  With narrowed eyes he drew back his lip and sneered at Saraph taking the strangers word as being honourable.

  ‘Short-sighted fool,’ he muttered to himself.

  He turned around and crashed through the undergrowth in pursuit of his men. They had withdrawn twenty yards into the forest and gathered in a small clearing.

  The Rangers and sailors were kneeling in a small group in the centre of the clearing. Their equipment was piled to one side.

  ‘Who are your leaders?’

  Lieutenant-Commander Warnett and Lieutenant Fisher raised their hands.

  ‘You command the soldiers?’ he pointed at Fisher. ‘And you the others?’

  They nodded.

  ‘Bring those two,’ he motioned to one of his warriors.

  Fisher looked at Del Foster kneeling beside him.

  ‘Look after everybody,’ he said, standing with the aid of one of the warriors.

  The two men were herded away from the group, who looked at each other in wonderment. They were surprised when the warriors produced hoods and placed them over the officer’s heads.

  Hildar indicated two of his men.

  ‘Guard them. This will not take long.’ The two warriors took station a few feet away from the captives.

  Hildar and his men left the clearing, taking Warnett and Fisher with them. They moved quickly down the path to another small clearing. They stopped at the edge.

  ‘Coran, hold them here.’ Hildar walked into the clearing and stopped. He looked around, then inverted his javelin and thrust it point down into the earth. Removing his helmet he hooked it onto the butt of the weapon. He crossed his arms and waited.

  Within a few minutes he was rewarded as the trees ahead of him parted and five Minoans stepped into the clearing. Their leader looked warily around then handed its axe to one of its companions before striding up to Hildar. It towered over him.

  ‘What have you got?’ The guttural voice was barely recognisable.

  ‘Arcanadia is back in the world as promised. Back that way in the next clearing are some outsiders. You can have them with my compliments. There are two of my men guarding them.’

  The Minoan’s nostrils flared.

  ‘Where are the outsiders from?’

  ‘The new world. They think they own the world.’

  ‘We do not care about the new world,’ the creature snorted. ‘I only want the Greeks.’

  Hildar nodded.

  ‘I am keeping two of the outsiders for questioning and we can use them later for the ceremony. I will pass everything onto you in the usual manner.’

  ‘Good. What of your men guarding the outsiders?’

  ‘They have not been included in the plan and are expendable. Let your warriors practice on them.’ Hildar smiled.

  The leader of the Minoans stood to his full height. Turning he indicated to his warriors who silently passed him. He recovered his axe.

  The Minoan slowly lowered its massive head to be level with Hildar’s. The man drew back a bit.

  ‘Do not mess
with me Hildar. I do not trust you like that pathetic Outworlder did.’ The creature’s foul breath washed over Hildar.

  Hildar almost gagged.

  ‘You know I will not do that Minotaur. Besides, you suggested we lead him on. He did what was necessary before you crushed his throat.’

  The leader of all the Minoans snorted again, spraying foam over Hildar. It stalked past him to follow the others.

  Hildar took a deep breath and turned to his men.

  ‘Let us move.’

  The warriors needed no further incentive and marched through the clearing, dragging the two Americans with them.

  *

  Chapter Six – Conflict

  West of the Canal, Arcanadia 22nd May

  The two young warriors left guarding the Rangers and Submariners looked wildly around for their companions as the five Minoans entered the clearing.

  Minotaur casually threw his axe to one of his subordinates and strode towards them.

  The warriors stood a few feet apart, their javelins extended nervously before them. The one closest to Minotaur thrust suddenly in a lightening strike.

  Minotaur reacted astonishingly fast for something of his size. He twisted aside and grabbed the shaft of the javelin in an iron grip. He pulled hard, catching the warrior by surprise.

  The warrior was unable to release the javelin in time, and was dragged within range of Minotaur’s hands. A quick slap of his hand ripped the helmet from the warrior’s head and knocked him to the floor stunned.

  The second warrior staggered back uncertainly, away from the Minoan into the packed Rangers. The remaining Minoans had spread out slowly along the perimeter of the clearing, surrounding the huddled group.

  The warrior stopped abruptly as a broad hand was shoved into his back. He looked over his shoulder in shock to see Sergeant Del Foster standing there, looking past at the Minoans.

  Foster reached up and drew the warrior’s sword. Removing his hand from the warriors back he reached to his belt and also took his knife. This he tossed hilt first to Infantryman Anthony Martin.

  ‘Keep it steady son,’ Del comforted the young warrior.

  Del quickly scanned around the clearing. He immediately noticed the pile of cast off equipment. On top was the Rangers body armour. He could see the lumpy egg shape of a grenade in one of the pouches.

  ‘Dingo,’ he called to the Ranger with the knife.

  ‘Sarge?’ replied the Australian infantryman.

  ‘We need some weapons. Start moving to the kit. I reckon we can have one grenade then it’s down to knives.’

  Slowly the rangers started to drift towards the pile of discarded equipment and the possibility of defending themselves.

  Minotaur looked at them edging away. Unconcerned he bent down and grabbed the stunned warrior by the front of his armour one handed. With a heave he straightened up and threw him straight up into the air above his head.

  With his legs braced for the impact Minotaur caught the unfortunate Warrior on his wide spread horns.

  The warrior screamed briefly as the razor sharp tips of the horns ripped into his internal organs. Mercifully he crashed into unconsciousness. Reaching up Minotaur grasped one leg and the neck of the warrior.

  With a massive wrench, and a shake of his heavy head Minotaur tore the man apart. Blood and gore rained down over his head and torso. He dropped the remains and continued to shake his head, spraying gobbets of flesh and organs around himself.

  Minotaur threw back his head and roared in pure joy.

  Del and the others continued to edge towards the equipment. One of the submariners vomited at what he had just witnessed, but continued, helped by a colleague.

  Two of the Minoans finally realised what the unarmed men were attempting. They moved quickly to block them.

  ‘Get ready to rush them,’ Del paused.

  ‘Go,’ he roared.

  As one the Rangers launched themselves at the Minoans. The creatures stepped back in surprise as the unarmed men charged at them.

  The surprise only lasted a second, but it was enough time for the Rangers to dash the few feet between them. As one of the Minoans drew back its axe to swing Dingo leapt and crashed onto its chest. He swept the knife across its throat, the keen blade easily slicing through the thick fur into the heavy muscle.

  The Orichalcum blade cut through the arteries and the trachea like a hot knife through warm butter. The Minoan fell back in a crash, catapulting the Ranger into the bushes behind it. It twitched a few times, with hot blood pulsing rhythmically into the air.

  Dingo crashed through the bushes and connected with a tree trunk. He collapsed unconscious, the bloody knife rolled out of his senseless grip.

  The other Minoan managed one sweep of its axe. One soldier collapsed under the blow but the others reached it and the creature fell beneath an avalanche of green and brown clad soldiers.

  ‘Kill them all,’ roared Minotaur.

  The remaining two Minoans charged towards the submariners, axes drawn back.

  Del Foster pulled the remaining warrior to the side and stood in front of him, brandishing the short-sword.

  ‘Come on then. See if you can beat the descendant of Theseus,’ he shouted.

  The Minoans stopped their rush and looked at Minotaur. The massive leader snapped his head around and glared at Foster.

  ‘You lie.’ Its low voice was full of menace.

  ‘Theseus entered the Labyrinth as one of the chosen seven and killed the first Minotaur, who was also known as Asterius.’ Del kept his eyes on the creature, ignoring the sounds behind him as his colleagues rummaged through the discarded equipment.

  ‘That may be true, but you are no hero. You have been captured and lost your honour,’ Minotaur sneered.

  The Minoans snorted in laughter. Holding out his hand Minotaur caught his axe as it was tossed towards him.

  ‘But you are outnumbered.’ Del smiled back as the Rangers arranged themselves behind him. Each was now brandishing a weapon. Two of the Rangers even attempted to lift the deceased Minoan’s axes.

  ‘Really?’ Minotaur looked at the array of weapons in amusement.

  Del noticed that one of the Rangers had retrieved a grenade and had withdrawn the pin, ready to throw it.

  ‘Sixteen to three. Fair odds.’ With a bellow Minotaur launched himself towards Del.

  The other Minoans were a fraction of a second behind their leader, and this time they had the surprise.

  Minotaur leapt towards Del, landed lightly on his right foot and hopped to one side. In a single smooth movement he beheaded the Ranger beside Del with the wide blade of his axe, and following through, crashed the butt of the axe into the Arcanadian Warriors face, tearing his jaw away.

  Del slashed at Minotaur as he swept past but missed. He turned and looked down at the beheaded Ranger to see the grenade roll out of his hand.

  ‘Grenade!’ he turned and threw himself flat.

  Seaman Darren Mizzen looked numbly as the grenade rolled towards him. He looked around for guidance as it rocked backwards and forwards in front of him.

  The grenade exploded. Mizzen was killed instantly, catching the main blast. Shrapnel ripped into the massed seamen, knocking them down.

  The Rangers had fared slightly better. Instinct had caused them to dive for safety. They slowly rolled to their feet to assess the situation.

  The Minoans had survived almost unscathed. They continued their attack. Several of the Rangers rose to their feet only to be thrown back down by the axes of the enraged creatures. In a one on one fight the reach of the axes and the phenomenal strength of the bull headed combatants gave the Rangers no chance.

  In turn each was struck down. Minotaur slowly walked to where Del Foster lay on his stomach winded. He struggled to stand, but was kicked over onto his back.

  Minotaur placed his left foot across Del’s right wris
t, pinning his arm and the sword to the ground. Del could hear wet thuds as the Minoans completed their grisly task. He looked up and saw Minotaur looking down at him.

  Foam and bloody gore dripped down onto Del.

  ‘Do you still think you are a Hero?’ The words seemed strange coming from the bull’s mouth.

  Del stared up in defiance. Reaching across with his left arm he was about to attempt in vain to remove the massive foot pinning his arm when he saw a slight movement.

  The warrior Del believed to have been killed was slowly levering himself to his feet. Blood dripped steadily from his ruined jaw. The determination and pain showed in his eyes as he used the javelin as a prop.

  Finally the warrior stood upright. He swayed slowly; his eyes slipped in and out of focus as the blood continued to trickle from what remained of his mouth.

  With a moan he hefted the javelin. Minotaur heard the moan and looked around as the warrior released it. Instinct kicked in and he jumped back, releasing Del’s wrist.

  Del rolled quickly to his feet in time to see Minotaur bury his axe in the unfortunate warrior’s chest. The grim smile on the warrior’s face surprised Minotaur, who turned in time to see Del swiping backhanded at him with the Orichalcum blade.

  Minotaur flinched back, but the razor sharp tip of the blade sliced across his face, catching him across his ear and continuing across his eye before ripping through his flared nostril in a flash of blood.

  Minotaur caught the returning forehand stroke on the blade of his axe, numbing Del’s arm. He jabbed the butt of the axe into Del’s stomach, winding him and causing him to double over. With barely a pause the huge axe was swept around, behind Minotaur and up into the air in a massive arc that ended with the blade burying itself in the Ranger’s back.

  The blow crushed Del to the ground. His body quivered for a few seconds before relaxing into death.

  Minotaur finally gave into the agony of the injury. He raised his head and roared in pain. The two remaining Minoans took a step away from him in fear.

  He looked around through his one good eye, checking that the humans were all dead. Satisfied he summoned the Minoans and they turned and disappeared into the jungle.