A hand found his arm. “Ah. My lord, does this feel familiar to you?”
Realization jolted through him like lightning. He had indeed felt this before, this sense of overwhelm. Only then, in the deepest heart of night, it had not seemed so odd.
“The dream.”
“The dream.” His uncle’s voice dripped fervency. “This is the work of Ahura Mazda.”
Yes. No. “Why would the god cover the land in darkness on the very day we set out for his war?”
“Who am I to say? We must call the magi.”
“Zethar is doing so now.” A flicker of flame appeared from around a corner, illuminating the face of another slave. “Good, light. Let us go calm the troops.”
They located most of the high command with ease—or rather, the high command found them, drawn by the light of their torch. Within minutes, other points of flame appeared on
the mountain and down into the valley.
The magi approached with heads bent together. These were the wisest men in Persia, the ones most skilled in things beyond human reckoning. They were the ones who understood
the motions of the heavens, who could interpret the manifestation of things divine. But could even they understand this?
His uncle stepped forward to greet them. “Men of wisdom, what explanation do you have for your king?”
The magi exchanged a few more whispers before the most wizened among them bowed and stepped forward. “There is no question, my lord and master—this is a portent of your
coming victory.”
Xerxes gritted his teeth. “My victory is foretold by the obliteration of all light from a morning sky?”
“Of course, my king. Is it not common knowledge that Greece is represented by the sun, and Persia the night? The fact that night has overcome day on the very morning you
begin your campaign is a sure sign that Persia shall also overcome Greece.”
Xerxes spun and strode a few steps from his companions. He knew he looked out over the valley, but its details remained shrouded. The sun should be inching its way toward
mid-morning. Instead the world was dark as the night of the new moon.
His soul wrestled with itself. How could something so fearsome be an omen of good things? Yet it resonated in that deepest cavity of his being, where memories of his
encounter with the god lived.
The magi must be right. It was the only explanation—the god had led him to this, had insisted it was the only path to greatness. Victory was guaranteed. This was simply
Ahura Mazda’s way of making it known to all the world.
He turned back around and surveyed his most trusted men. Then frowned. “Where is Pythius?”
*
Susa, Persia
Mordecai stood from his bench at the gate and searched the palace grounds nearest him. Few were out and about on this fine morning. Strange. Stranger still was the band of
tension around his torso.
When a servant hurried by, Mordecai halted him. “My friend! Where is everyone today?”
The servant bobbed his head. “Praying, on orders of the queen. The king marches to Abydus today. All have been ordered to remain in their homes and pray for him.”
When had people begun calling Amestris the queen again? Mordecai swallowed and nodded. “Thank you. I will head home, then.”
He only went a few steps before he knew home was not where he needed to be. The river. He needed to go to the river.
As he reached the banks, a flash of white light streaked before his eyes, blinding him. He fell to his knees even as vision returned. “Jehovah? Is it Kasia again?”
He heard her scream somewhere inside his mind and doubled over when his skull seemed to crack in two and his abdomen rip apart. Gasping, he sprawled onto the ground.
“Jehovah God, please—save her! Send your angels, Lord, to save your daughter.”
He squeezed his eyes shut against the scalding tears and the unnatural pain. Logically, he knew there was no wound in his head, no cramp in his stomach. That did not stop
the sensation of life collapsing.
He shut out the panic and prayed.
*
Sardis, Lydia
Pythius took another step after Zad in the darkness, sliding farther down the mountain than he had intended. His arms flailed. Certain he would fall, he tensed, ready for
the impact.
His feet caught firm ground again, and his balance equalized. “Zad?”
The dog barked from just ahead, and Pythius followed the sound. Never in his life had he felt urgency like this. Never in his life had terror seized his heart as when
darkness fell upon his city.
“Zad?”
A whoof sounded beside him, and a wet nose nudged his hand. Pythius patted the dog’s head and followed him onward. As best as he could tell, they traveled down the mountain
a bit more, then around an outcropping.
It was not so dark on this little knoll. Twilight instead of midnight. And the non-darkness seemed to circle a wide, flat rock with an odd lump on top.
Realization knocked the air from his lungs. “No. By the gods, no! Kasia!”