by David Robbins



Into the midst of this conflict stormed Blade and the Warriors, only to be struck down by a fighting force more fierce than any they had ever encountered. But Blade and his men had no choice--they had to end Sparta's war. For if they failed, it might spark another world war that would leave no survivors.


"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."

A half-dozen soldiers were racing to stop the them from escaping.

There was no time to lose. Blade vaulted up into the van, then slid over the console to the driver's seat. Both Chilon and Dercyllidas were in the wide seat behind them, the king unconscious. Blade beckoned urgently at his companions and shouted. "Let's go!"

"Just getting some air, " Teucer quipped, and let fly, his right hand a blur as he fired one, two, three arrows in rapid succession. The shafts sped true, and the Spartans in the act of employing their guns toppled . Teucer rotated and quickly clambered into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut just as a soldier ran from the east and swung a sword, the steel edge glancing off the virtually indestructible plastic.

"The natives are a bit restless. I suggest we haul butt."