by Gene Stiles
However, he was far stronger this time than he had ever been in his previous visits to this long-forgotten, eerily malicious city. His steps might be slowed by a stinging blanket of sand, but he did not stumble. His vision might be hampered by the dimness of the fiery red globe, obscured by the twisted waves of wind-blown sands that crawled over the cracked and melted dome above him, but he knew these shattered streets as well as he knew his own name. The six ghastly specters that haunted him might flay his flesh with fangs and claws, but he knew their identities now and it diminished their power over him.
The crumbled stone stairs of the Pyramid materialized so suddenly, Cronus almost tripped on the first splintered step. An unseen force held the sandstorm at bay, providing him with a clear, narrow path upward to the mangled remains of the petrified oaken doors hanging askew on rusted hinges. He stepped into the ancient pillared chamber, glancing at the pitiful pieces of faded cloth that had once been rich, colorful tapestries adorning these hallowed halls. Nothing was left here now except for the broken skeletons of dust-laden tables and chairs, their cushions reduced to piles of soulless powder.
No matter the materialistic demise of this timeless building, Cronus felt the peace and serenity of this place, promised by phantoms who would never deliver it, but kept by this chamber, as it seeped into his ravaged body. He ignored the reality of the decay of countless millenniums, instead focusing on the memories of its greatness. He stood in the center of the great room, his back straight, shoulders level, his head held high and waited for them to appear.
As always, his mother approached him first, her heavenly form enshrouded in a warm, silver glow. Gaia wore a lacy gown of purest white which fell from her softly sloped shoulders, down her perfectly shaped body all the way to the cracked marble floor. A wide belt of polished gold encircled her slender waist, highlighting the comforting rise of her motherly bosom. Her smile blazed at him, bringing tears of joy to his sand-encrusted eyes. Without a word, she wrapped him in her loving embrace, healing his wounds and expelling the pain from his exhausted body and soul.
Uranus emerged from the darkness amidst a halo of yellow-gold. With each step, the chamber around him awoke and shimmered into a shade of its former majesty. Tables and chairs uprighted. Cushions fluffed, vibrant with color and texture. The marble tiles beneath his feet smoothed and polished themselves allowing artistically rendered patterns to come to life once more. By the time he stood before his son, Cronus could almost hear the faint whispers of happy, joyous conversations echoing all around him.
Uranus beamed down upon his son, running his long fingers through the dirt-matted, fiery red mane of his boy. The sweat and sand fell way leaving his hair clean and luxurious. At the touch of his father, the clothing that Cronus wore repaired itself and sheathed his massively muscled body in an elegantly tailored maroon tunic, blue-black leather pants that hugged every tendon and calf-high, thick-soled ebony boots. The golden crown of Atlantis appeared in the hands of his father, the Tree and Pyramid symbol inlaid at its peak. Uranus placed it reverently upon the forehead of his son and smiled. It was the first time Uranus had given him such a gift and Cronus wondered at its meaning.
“You have made us proud, my son,” his father said, the walls echoing with his strong, baritone voice. He placed his ancient hands upon Cronus’ shoulder and stared into his boy’s damp jade eyes. “You have recognized the demons of this city and given them their names. It lessened their power over you and made your journey here easier to endure. Now you must face them in the real world, destroy them and free yourself from their horrific grasp. Only then will you be at peace and will you become the true Lord Father of all Atlantis. Only then will you deserve this crown I place upon your head.”
Uranus stepped back, his golden aura spreading over the room and returning it to its crystal-clear, former glory. His stern, but beatific smile seeped into every fiber and nerve in Cronus’ being, infusing his muscles with a force and vigor, unlike anything he had ever known. Crackles of almost painful, lightning-like energy surrounded him, casting a blue-white glow into every shadowy corner of the room. His fists crunched so hard at his sides that his fingernails dug bloody furrows into his palms. His jaw clenched with glorious agony, his back arching with the high voltage of purpose surging through him.
Gaia glided to the fore, waiting patiently until his gasping breath returned to a normal, unlabored rhythm. The brilliance of her shimmering silver shroud bathed him in blinding white radiance and reached deep into his heart and mind, filling every twisting emotion with a cool, crystalline clarity. She cupped his sharply planed, ruggedly handsome face in her slender-fingered hands and placed a rose-petal kiss upon his broad, sun-bronzed brow. A strong sense of duty and serenity emanated through his mind at the touch of her soft, full lips upon his warm, quivering flesh. Eyes of ocean-blue met his emerald orbs, locking their gazes together. He could not turn away even though the sight made his vision blur with torrents of tears. When at last she released him from her enthrallment, Cronus felt as if all doubt and worry had been cleansed from his tortured soul.
“You will never have to come here again, dear Cronus,” his mother said to him, her gentle voice as soothing as a fragrant summer breeze, “as long as you remember what you have to do. You will never be without fear or torment until your children have been erased from the world. However, allowing yourself to be subjugated and controlled by your rage and despair will destroy you and all of Atlantis with it. You must put these emotions away so your incredible intellect can guide your path.”
“To that end,” Gaia said, her smile blazing with a fiery white light as she spread her arms wide like the wings of an angel, her slender hands palm up, “we give you this.”
First, the chamber in which they stood folded in on itself, taking with it every stone and pillar, every tapestry and sculpture and every elegantly curved table and chair surrounding them with it. Next, the entire structure in which they resided shimmered and shrunk, leaving Uranus, Gaia and Cronus standing on a desolate, red plain of shifting, swirling dust. The combined glow of their gold, silver and blue auras created a bubble around them kept the cyclonic winds and frigid temperatures from sucking away their life-force and scattering it among the rocks and dirt of this long-dead planet.
When at last the effulgence of her dazzling smile faded to a simple, mind-numbing glow, Cronus saw his mother standing before him, her hands outstretched. In her soft-skinned palms sat a miniaturized version of the Great Pyramid, complete in every exacting detail. He accepted her gift, staring in wide-eyed wonder at its glimmering beauty. It seemed a living thing, hot to the touch and pulsing with a splendorous golden energy. Try as he might, Cronus could not divine its purpose. Finally, he looked up at his parents standing side-by-side before him, holding each other’s hands, their pride-filled smiles enrapturing him, his unspoken question clearly written in his jade-green eyes.
“You will carry this with you from this day forward,” Uranus told him sternly. “It will always be a part of you. With its aid, you can break the curse I placed upon you so very long ago. Prove me wrong, I beseech you.”
“Inside is every fear, every terror, every moment of madness and every self-incertitude you possess,” Gaia said softly, her beautiful face radiating a mother’s dying love. “Keep them locked safely inside where they cannot influence your decisions or interfere with your judgments. Hide this from all others. Never let them see that which is contained within and they will once again rally behind you, believe in you and support you in all that you do for the People.”
“Go now, my son,” they chorused in unison as their forms and the world around him began to fade into dim shadows. “Go and restore the faith the People have always had in you. Go and unite all of Atlantis as one people under one rule – the rule of the Twelve and you, the Lord Father of the entire earthly empire. Go and be what you were born to be. We love you always.”
For the first times since his visions began, Cronus awoke totally calm comp
letely refreshed. His bed was smooth and unruffled. The sheets and blanket were not twisted and torn, soaked with the sweat of nightmarish fevers. His puffy maroon pillows cradled his square-jawed head instead of being shredded and tossed about his bedchambers as if caught in a vicious hurricane. The bright yellow sun beaming through his windows did not blind him or stab into his blackened mind bringing with it a searing headache. This time it was a welcomed as a lover’s caress, sweet and filled with the enrichment of life.
After a soul-renewing shower, Cronus dressed not in his usual black or blood-red, but in a light blue, billowy-sleeved shirt tucked into breeches of soft, dark blue linen. He slipped on a matching blue vest richly embroidered with twisting green vines with wide, teardrop-shaped leaves and his calf-high black boots as stood before his gold-gilded mirror and ran a brush through his curly waves of yellow-red hair before slipping an ornately worked band of gold around his forehead. The simple regular routine centered his mind on the complex tasks he knew he must complete to bring Atlantis together and to consolidate his reign over the empire.
The Nephilim may have left the city, but their origins still troubled the People. He must explain his reasons and prove he had only the best interests of Atlantis at heart. Most of all, he had to show them how well the experiments had worked, guaranteeing the survival of the People and bringing them back from the edge of extinction.
Cronus strode to his wall of crystal windows and gazed over his beloved city, his chest swelling with pride. The morning sun rose just above the white-capped peaks of the Eastern Mountains, bathing Atlantis in golden radiance, the graceful, sky-high spires and towers touched with dewdrops that made it sparkle like diamonds in its yellow glow. In the distance, the ancient One Tree spread its dark verdant branches like the loving hands of the Creator welcoming a new day. The sight of that millennium's old tree brought a sense of awe to all who looked upon it, the living link to Atlan, the planet of their birth. Cronus placed his hand upon the clear pane and bowed his head. If the One Tree could survive for millions of years on this alien planet, so, too, could the People.
The Lord Father turned away from the windows and seated himself behind his massive mahogany desk. He spoke into the comlink, asking that strong green tea be brought to him before turning on his computer screen to update himself on the troubles plaguing the empire. He knew he must quell the rebellions permeating the lands with a firm, but empathic hand, not crush them to dust under his boot heel like he truly wanted to. Overuse of force would only feed dissent. At the same time, the chaos infecting the empire assured him a stronger military was vital to order, peace and security.
Then there was the matter of his children, the demons that fed the vile serpents of his soul. Cronus knew his own life depended on their destruction. Of this, he was assured. Yet, knowing the anger his banishment of his progeny had caused, he would keep the hunt for them and their impending deaths secret from all others. But die they would and soon, very soon.
Themis could see the change in Cronus the moment he walked into the council chambers. It was evident not only in his unusual manner of dress and the way he glided toward his high-backed chair at the head of the table but in the quiet, overly calm affectation of his speech. The way he moved could not have more graceful, but there was an edge to it like a wild mountain cat in search of prey. His words sounded devoid of the rages of the past months that had terrified all those gathered around him and sent the bravest of Aam scurrying from the room as if hungry wolves snapped at their heels. However, they also seemed bereft of any emotion at all and that scared her even more.
“We need to make some changes,” Cronus said coolly after his brothers, sisters and advisors seated themselves around the table. His chipped-jade eyes swept over their faces as he spoke. He could see a myriad of emotions written in the set of their bodies, the way they either leaned upon the polished wood with their hands folded before them or back in their chairs with their legs crossed. In some of their eyes, he saw a bubbling passion waiting to erupt at the slightest provocation. In others, the tenseness of jawlines displayed a touch of fear. Only a few of them looked at him with complete confidence in his judgments.
“I shall go on the comnet and explain the reasons and results of the Pettit experiments to the entire empire later today.” Cronus took a quiet pleasure in the confusion written in their eyes. The council was expecting a battle today but would not receive one. “I believe it will temper the anxiety over my methods and ease the pressure it has put on the Nephilim. We need them and we must make the People understand why.”
“We will lower the tariffs and quotas set upon the cities by fifteen percent, ease direct trade restrictions with Nil and other cities and establish small city councils led by the current governors I personally appointed. Their allegiance to Atlantis is without question.”
“You would do this?” Thea felt a ripple of concern shiver up her spine as she tossed her honey-blond back over her shoulders. Her brilliant viridian eyes narrowed slightly as she raised one golden eyebrow. She pursed her lips and leaned into her palm, one finger laying against her high, naturally blushed cheek. There was a strange vicissitude in Cronus’ composure that was both welcomed and disturbing at the same time. For the Lord Father to make concessions without duress was unheard of.
“Yes,” Cronus replied flatly. He met her gaze with a placid, unwavering stare that tickled a sense of warning in her heart. Reaching for the cup of steaming tea in front of him, he took a moment to sip at the dark brew so his words could seep into everyone around him.
“If we are to stifle the unrest infecting us,” he continued smoothly, shifting his attention to encompass the rest of the council, “we must remove the nutrients feeding the roots.”
“And what of the rebel factions that continue to oppose us?” Crius snapped back, his words clipped, his brow furrowed and his chestnut eyes blazing. He did not care if his oldest brother exploded at him.
Crius had lost many friends to the uprising and he would not stand for any of those responsible to escape unscathed, especially that bastard, Ronin, who stole his beloved Thorina from him. It was bad enough that the rogue Captain swept her away with his charm, stories of the sea and handsome visage, but to have sired a son with her when he could not, ate at the fabric of his manhood. To be forced to see that boy, Thorin, as an Aam in the personal guard of Oceanus filled him with an unfathomed rage. At least with Oceanus and Tethys gone, their scion no longer awaited them outside the council chambers.
“Do you plan on granting them amnesty if they lay down their arms?”
“No,” Cronus replied, unruffled by Crius’ outburst. “Most of the cities respect the rule of the Twelve and the letter of the law. Those that do not shall feel the full force of Atlantis come down upon them.”
“So you still plan on instituting conscriptions,” Mnemosyne interjected, nodding her head in agreement, her shining auburn hair glowing in the sunlight beaming through the windows. She glanced up at Cronus, wondering at her unease at his stormless, mild mannerism. Something seemed very wrong here, but, listening to his logical, calculated speech, she could not lay a finger upon it.
“Yes,” he responded, his tone bereft of emotion. “This is the price to be paid for our concessions. We need a stronger military to safeguard our society. This petty rebellion proves that.”
“The breeding pens of Pettit shall be demolished and replaced with barracks,” Cronus said, rising from his high-backed, black leather chair. He rested his brawny arms on the table before him, his voice firm as if brooking no argument, yet still as hyclonian as a still mountain lake. “The valley will be turned into an Aam training camp under the command of Iapetus and his lieutenants. We will build the largest, most feared army in the world and, if necessary, crush any resistance that dares oppose us. The empire shall not be allowed to fall into this barbarous chaos ever again.”
By the time the chamber emptied out a few hours later, Cronus felt completely satisfied with himself. A terse s
mile played across his full, tan lips as he stretched his long, powerful, dancer’s legs out on the plush, cushioned leather hassock. He took a deep swallow of frothy dark ale from his silver-latticed, crystal tankard and leaned back into the corner of his maroon leather sofa. The sunlight blazed so brightly through the bank of crystal windows that he had to dim them to a dusky hue.
‘My parents were right,’ he mused silently. ‘I turned many of my detractors today by keeping those troublesome emotions locked away. My mind is clearer and sharper than it has been for some time.’
He took another sip, enjoying the bitter tang of the brew upon his tongue. He could still feel the serpents squirming inside of him screaming out their rage at their confinement, but the walls of that pyramid kept them safely contained. It forbid them from striking out at those petty, despicable people he wanted so badly to crush, but he knew he would need them if his plans were to succeed.
“Does this mean you want me to end the search for your children?” Iapetus asked from his straight-backed chair across from Cronus. The blackness of his leather garb and his ebony hair blended with the shadowy light making his bull-like features indistinct and hard to read.