Certainly Pendlebury's theory offered little save the detail of the fire to commend it. The invasion part, the idea that outsiders had swept down on the palace with torch and sword—that simply wasn't true.
Not unless he, Dion Burke, might be said to constitute a whole task force in himself, just because by accident he'd set the Labyrinth ablaze.
As for his hopes, his dreams, the way he felt towards Ariadne—
A wave of sheer frustration came with the thought. Savagely, Burke hammered the dirt with a clenched fist. Then, breathing hard, he scrambled to his feet.
Only in that same moment, a sound pulsed in upon him ... a high, thin, wailing sound that rose in sudden sharp crescendo.
Burke spun round.
But before he could even place the noise, the earth beneath his feet began to shake. A roar, louder and deeper than the bellow of a thousand angry bulls, thundered up to counterpoint the wail.
Simultaneously, light flared, so blinding bright Burke had to throw up his arms to shield his eyes.
The glare seemed to come from the southeast, off in the direction where Mount Lasithi's rocky pinnacles rose.
Mount Lasithi, whose towering, cliff-girt bastions shielded the sacred Cave of Zeus....