by Gene Stiles
“Jedaceius,” the Captain asked slowly, fighting to keep his seething anger hidden behind a façade of calmness, “we have been friends for decades. I believe you know more than you say. Why are you so afraid of me suddenly? Have I ever done anything to harm you or cause you grief?”
“No,” the Harbormaster responded, raising his head meekly, his cheeks reddened, his bright blue eyes filled with shame and angst.
“Then why do you treat me thus now?”
“Everyone believes you are a Nephilim,” Jedaceius almost whispered, his voice dripping with embarrassment.
“A what?” Neptune responded, his wide, sea-tanned brow furrowed, one bushy, red eyebrow raised quizzically. “I have never heard that term before.”
“A Nephilim,” the Harbormaster repeated, a heavy sigh leaving his barrel chest. He relaxed slightly, realizing this man had always treated him kindly and with respect. He felt apologetic and remorseful that he even spoke the word aloud to his friend. “Come,” he said, waving Neptune toward a long, worn leather sofa on the other side of the spacious office. “You have been at sea a long time. There is much that has transpired in your absence. Please allow me to tell you what has happened in Atlantis and why you might be mistaken for such a vile atrocity.”
When he left the Harbormaster an hour later, Neptune understood the revulsion with which he had been met in Tharsis. He heard the stories of these Nephilim attacking the People in unprovoked rage, violence simply a part of their nature. The horrors of Pettit tore at his soul and filled his heart with loathing that sickened him, his stomach filled with acidic bile at what Cronus had wrought in that city of the damned. He also knew why he might be mistaken for such an aberration and it left him wondering if it might just be true.
His origins were shrouded in mystery. All Neptune knew was that he had been adopted at birth by a sea captain and his wife well over a century ago and he did not even know that until his father lay upon his deathbed over forty years back. The confession shook him to his core and he spent decades searching for his true parents. No trace of them could be found. Finally, Neptune realized it did not matter. His life was wonderful, filled with the love and kindness of an incredible mother and father and raised on the adventures of the open sea. He could not want for anything more or better.
Yet, Neptune did stand out from the rest. He stood ten-foot-nine-inches tall and was built like an ancient oak tree. His massive body rippled with powerful, artistically carved muscles, his arms as large as most men’s thighs. His torso fanned out like wings beneath broad, slightly sloped shoulders down to a waistline almost as wide as his sinewy hips, his legs as thick and sturdy as a mainmast. Thick, wavy curls of flaming red hair, trimmed just below the nape of his neck and touched by traces of gold, surrounded a ruggedly handsome face of sharp lines and high cheekbones. His angled jawline was covered by fiery red beard as wavy as a churning ocean that hung to just between his chiseled pectorals. Eyes of sparkling jade sat on either side of a perfectly straight nose that was centered above ample, darkly tanned lips that were quick to smile and warm with rich laughter.
Could it be that he was a product of Cronus’ odious, despicably foul experiments? Could that be why he could never learn of his parentage? The mere possibility filled him with sickening self-loathing.
As he made his way back to the Sea Dragon, Neptune could not help but notice how the people of Tharsis scuttled out of his way when he passed by. He saw their wary, disgusted glances, their fear and anger. It tore at him. These were the same brethren who shared ale with him in the ocean side taverns and longhouses; the same lovely women who clamored for his attention, his stories of the sea. These were his friends who laughed with him, joked with him and teased him about his size. The dock workers who often welcomed his prodigious strength when he aided them in loading not only his ship but any other that needed it now slunk away at his approach as if he might attack them suddenly like some savage, rabid beast. In other eyes, he saw pity.
There were three things Neptune knew, no matter the circumstances of his birth. He was the same man he had always been, no different today than he was yesterday. They all knew him for who he was, for the friend he had always been and the great sea Captain he still was. It was unfair of them to treat him differently because of only a possibility of an unorthodox ancestry. Secondly, he must inform his crew. These rumors, true or not, affected their lives and livelihood. They had earned the right to the truth and the right to make their own decisions. Most importantly, Neptune knew he must find out where he came from, no matter where that path might lead. His head held high, his back straightening with each, long-legged stride, his angst was slowly replaced by cold anger and an iron-willed determination to find the truth.
“We will always be at your side, my Captain,” Kiranimis, his First Mate, stated bluntly, his voice stern and strong. He reached across the corner of the scarred and weathered table in the longhouse and placed his hand on Neptune’s bare forearm. “Most of us grew up with you aboard ship. We know who you are and that is much more important than what you might - I say ‘might’ - be.”
“Aye, Captain,” Miko added, his blue eyes cold at the treatment of his lifelong friend. His curly, strawberry-blond hair was cut short around his boulder-shaped head and invisible neck. His scraggly beard clung to his sloping jawline like seaweed on a hull but did not hide his wide, full lips. “I was a cabin boy with your father the same as you. We rose together up the ranks through hard work and I am proud to be your quartermaster. You have earned our respect and friendship.”
The longhouse was empty of at this early hour except for the servants who bustled around them, bringing steaming plates of meat potatoes and breads and strong, dark tea. The few patrons that had been there left hurriedly when Neptune and fifty men from his crew stepped through the wide, double doors. The other fifty stayed aboard the Sea Dragon to prepare to leave port upon the next high tide and to provide security for the ship in the tense air that surrounded them. Even the servers who laid the food before them seemed leery and muted, though they were more than happy to take his gold.
Neptune was proud of his crew. To a man, they were horrified at the stories of Pettit but did not give a wit about whether he was Nephilim or not. No one on the high seas was judged by who they were in a past life, only on their attitudes and performance onboard. His shipmates rallied around him as if he was being assaulted by a mob. It warmed his darkening heart.
“I do not care if your mother was a well-born Lady or the biggest whore in Atlantis,” Zedoseus quipped, a mischievous smile touching his thick, dark lips, “unless, of course, it could get me a discount at a pleasure house.”
“You would think that way,” his twin brother, Helicus, said, punching his brawny shoulder. “Always with your other head.”
“A man has needs,” Zedoseus said with a sly grin and a shrug of his broad, flat shoulders. “Especially after months at sea.”
“Aye, aye,” chorused around the room amid lighthearted laughter that eased the seriousness of the situation. Even Neptune could not help but join in, feeling hid burden lessened by their companionship.
“I thank you all,” the Captain said sincerely, grateful to be in the company of incredible people. “Still, we will have a problem if all other ports feel as this one does. We have a ship to run and a crew to feed. We need cargo.”
“Maybe I can help with that,” a rich, soprano voice said from just inside the threshold of the house, turning every eye in the room toward the door.
The large woman was dressed in a loose-fitting, drab, brown dress that hid the curves of her body beneath folds of soft linen. Her features were obscured by the hood of a thin, tan travel cloak that draped her slightly sloped shoulders and by the dim lighting of the room. She walked slowly toward Neptune, her back stooped, but with a feline grace that belied her bulky, tattered appearance. She stopped just before the Captain, only her crystal-blue eyes a soft, gentle smile visible in the shadows of her cowl.
“May we speak in private?” she asked him quietly. She glanced nervously around the house, taking careful note of the servants. “I would prefer to talk business aboard your ship.”
“As you wish,” Neptune replied, his curiosity peaked by her hushed tone of voice and her wary demeanor. Joined by his First Mate, Quartermaster and Purser, he led the way to the Sea Dragon, leaving the rest of his crew behind to finish their meals.
“I am Alcmene,” the woman said once safely onboard the Sea Dragon, “and I am a Nephilim. My brothers and sisters seek your aid.”
Alcmene quickly related the story of their birth, how Zeus freed them and the treatment they received at the hands of the People. She finished by telling Neptune of how and why Anak had killed their assailants.
“Now we are hunted,” she told the Captain. “We can pay our way, but we must escape. Will you help us?”
Neptune saw the fear in the young woman’s eyes and, given how he and his crew were being treated, he could not help but empathize. “Of course, but how will we get you on board? Considering the hatred in this port, things could turn into a battle if you come to the docks.”
“You are right there,” Alcmene said, a grateful sigh slipping past her lips. “We do not wish to cause you harm, only to live in peace. I will send word to my people to meet us well away from here at a place of your choosing.” She gripped Neptune’s hand in hers and smiled. “We cannot thank you enough.”
Oceanus rarely visited the port of Tharsis as it was far from Atlantis and one of the smaller harbors on the continent. Yet, it was for that very reason he and Tethys were here now. They were well aware that their duty was to the citizens of Atlantis or, at least, that it once had been, but they were beyond weary these days. They were blessed with a fount of daughters who had grown wise, kind and caring. The girls were the motive behind why they had put this day off so long, but they were adults now and could fend for themselves. Now it was time to go.
“I shall miss our daughters greatly,” Tethys said with a deep sigh as she strolled through the rough-hewn streets of Tharsis. Even though she had long passed her three hundredth year, her stocky, shapely body still moved with a Lady’s grace and confidence. Her long, luminescent, cinnamon hair flowed over her gently sloped shoulders like a river over a waterfall, glimmering and always in motion.
“I know, my love,” Oceanus agreed, holding her hand as they walked between the stone walls of the buildings lining the roadway, the paint on their facades cracked and peeling from the harsh, high desert climate and salty sea air. He wiped away the beads of perspiration forming on his round, bald palate with his other hand, squeezed her fingers slightly and smiled broadly down upon her. “I promise we will let them know where we are when we find a place to settle. We have given all to the People. Now it is our time. Besides,” he added with a light caress upon her forehead, “you have your holo comlink. You can ‘see’ them whenever you wish.”
“You are right, of course, my husband,” she said, her mahogany eyes still a little sad. Tethys brightened slightly as she leaned into his barrel chest. “I shall force you to build me a house large enough to hold them all and their children as well. I want it near a lake fed by a cold, babbling brook and soil so rich our garden will grow itself.”
“You have this all planned out, I see,” Oceanus said, laughing out loud. “There are so many of them. The house will have to be gigantic! I have my work is cut out for me, I see. I will need a lot of help.”
“Well, maybe you can find some on the docks,” she replied, grinning at his wide, night-black eyes. “We are almost there,” she said, her face lifting to the sea breeze blowing through the bustling streets.
The deep water harbor had only four, boulevard-wide wharfs extending into the sea and all but one of them seethed with workers loading crates and cargos into the bellies of the high-masted ships berthed against them. The noise was deafening, filled with the sounds of creaking cranes, the banging of boxes, shouted orders and bellowed curses.
Oceanus loved it. He was humbled that the unimaginable water lands of this world had been dubbed ‘oceans’ in his honor. All he had really done was to be the first Atlantean to step foot into the sea’s rolling waves. If he were to be completely honest, as much as he enjoyed his time aboard ships and the power and majesty of the ocean currents, he still preferred the feel and taste of fresh water and the peaceful serenity of a clear mountain spring.
Just before the pair entered the Harbormaster’s office, Oceanus noted the magnificent, four-masted behemoth sitting alone and unattended on an empty wharf. It was far larger than any of the other vessels yet no cargo awaited loading or unloading. No dock men hustled around her blue-painted hull or her barren decks. Oceanus cocked his head to one side and drew Tethys’ attention to the ship, intrigued by the quiet that surrounded the ship.
“Greetings, citizens. How may I assist you?” The Harbormaster beamed brightly as they approached the counter. He noted their plain deer-hide breeches, mid-thigh-length, collarless, sleeveless linen tunics and calf-high, brown-leather boots and pegged them as simple travelers searching for adventure. With the unrest sweeping the empire these days, he saw many such people wishing to escape the turmoil of city life for a while.
“We would like to book passage to the east coast of Prubrazia,” Oceanus replied, smiling as he gripped the Harbormaster’s forearm.
“Prubrazia?” The man was confounded by the request. “But there is nothing there except for a few small outposts. Would you not prefer a voyage along the coastal cities or to Atlantis, itself?”
“No thank you, sir,” the woman responded sweetly, her dark eyes twinkling with a strange, hidden merriment as if she found his words somehow humorous. “We would like to do some solitary exploring. What better place than somewhere uninhabited for the most part?”
“How many in your party?” he asked, looking at his ship’s logs, searching for a vessel headed in that direction. His eyes slid over the routes and manifests listed in his book, his lips pursed as he stared at his data screen.
“Just the two of us,” Oceanus told him. “Though we may wish to hire a few men and women to accompany us.”
“As you should,” the Harbormaster said, simply nodding his head. Such a strange request was unusual, but not unheard of. “The wild lands are dangerous, filled with all manner of terrifying animals. To go alone would be suicidal. I might suggest checking at the longhouse. There are usually sailors, farmers and even a few Aam looking for work if you can afford them.”
“Thank you for your suggestion,” Tethys said, noting his concertation.
“I am sorry,” the man said, raising his gaze from the screen. “None of the three ships currently in port are heading that way. I do see that the Ramiacin will be docking here in a week. She is luxurious, has berthing space available and will be going that way. I’m sure you could find fitting accommodations aboard her.”
“We would like to leave sooner than that,” Oceanus replied, anxious to be gone now that they had made their decision. “What about that ship that sets apart? She does not appear to be full.”
“I would advise against that,” the Harbormaster answered curtly. His demeanor changed sharply, no longer jovial, but hard and angry. His eyes narrowed into mere slits as he lowered his head. His once smiling lips now stretched tersely across he jawline and Oceanus could see the muscles in his burly arms tense and flex.
Over by the empty stone hearth across the room, a group of five men and women sat on a long sofa and in a couple of plushy padded chairs sipping on tankards of dark ale. Their conversations had been loud and boisterous, punctuated with guffaws and laughter. At the mention of the lone ship, their words went silent and they turned to eye the visitors with leery suspicion.
“And why is that?” Oceanus asked quietly, his senses alert to the sudden shift in the mood of the room. Unconsciously, his hand touched the sidearm tucked away out of sight beneath his tunic.
“Because the captain is a Nep
hilim,” one of the men on the couch responded coldly. “He could turn upon you in a heartbeat and slit your throats for your purse. Those things are little better than savages!”
“I see.” Oceanus carefully gauged his words to keep his contempt for these bigots from slipping into his voice. Tethys remained still and calm at his side, holding her fury and repugnance at bay with great difficulty. “And how do you know this?”
“He is a giant, too big to be anything else,” one woman told him, her voice dripping with acidic hatred. “You would be well not to trust his kind.”
“Besides,” the Harbormaster added, “there is neither a man nor woman who would step foot upon that cursed vessel. You would be alone among monsters. You would not be safe.”
“I thank you for your cautions,” Oceanus replied, tossing a gold coin upon the counter. “We shall give your advice the respect it deserves.” He held Tethys’ hand firmly as they headed for the door. “Good day to you.”
“Swine, all of them,” Tethys muttered fiercely once they were on the street.
“I agree, my love. They have no understanding nor compassion for what the children of Pettit have had to endure before or after the city fell.” Oceanus directed them away from the docks and back toward their quarters in town. “I would worry more about people with such horrid attitudes than I would about the Nephilim. We will await the night and return. I would meet this Captain.”
“By the Creator’s grace!” Tethys exclaimed as Captain Neptune stepped from belowdecks, her eyes wide, her jaw dropped toward the damp planks of the glistening teak deck.
“No, no, no,” Oceanus interjected, seeing those jade eyes flare at the perceived insult. He raised a hand to stave off the angry retort he saw brewing within his pursed tan lips. He saw the muscles beneath the sleeveless black vest rippling with rage and the sinews bunch in those mammoth arms as the Captain curled his fists upon his hips. “You do not understand.”