“To war.”
She looked so incredulous that he laughed. “I say the truth, Atlana. We are to war.”
“To war!”
Her face had blanched, yet she could not believe.
“Yea, Atlana, to war. A new power showeth itself to the north of Khemi. It aimeth to hold the Middle Sea. We go to crush it!”
She grew faint at his relentless tone. However, she managed to plead:
“It cannot harm us. Spare it.”
“Spare it! Much would it spare us should it grow stronger. Even now is it mighty enough to thrust us to one side. Do us harm! That is my fear.”
“Atlano, I beseech that thou wilt seek no quarrel with this people.”
“There is no need to seek. I will make one. I will show them that Atlantis still hath being—that she is not dead of her power, her wealth, her spoils, her glory. Spoils! Here will be another—a grand one! Here will another land mourn its being—those marvels of vessels sink beneath the waters, or, better, swell the numbers of our own. Here will Atlantis show another line to that dreaming Khemi that doth not rouse even when the smallest haven goeth beyond her in treading the sea. What are her piles of stone to one strong, free breath of the sea? And what a glory to hold every breath as we have until now! Base Khemi—to be thus given over to her sands, her works of stone!”