by Gene Stiles
Here and there along the river, patches of flotsam gathered along the sides of the boulevard where rocks, trees, brush and debris were piled by the raging waters. Strangely, the log seemed to be steering of its own volition toward for such a mass about a mile from the Hebis outlet. It slammed headlong into the twisted mass, turned sideways against the current and stopped, bobbing in the black waves. The few ships heading out to sea paid the tree no mind at all, their crews too busy navigating the treacherous waterway.
As a star-filled blanket fell over the canyon, the top of the log split open and fell over with a loud splash. No vessels lit the rocks with their running lights at this hour, daytime travel on the Gaia being dangerous enough. Still, the black cloaked people exiting the interior of the hollowed out tree moved cautiously, glancing around to ensure they were alone. After allowing time for their legs to adjust to solid ground, they headed down the dark roadway toward the outpost.
“I never want to do that again,” Melissa said, wiping her mouth and taking a swig of fresh water to cleanse the taste of acidic bile from her throat. Her stomach churned more than the river from the battering ride and she was forced to stop again to vomit.
“I thought it was kind of fun,” Eudora said, taking an evil pleasure in her aunt’s discomfort. The darkness hid her impish smile as she said, “I think we should ride it the rest of the way.” She bit her lip as Melissa choked again.
“You shall pay for that, my niece,” Melissa promised direly.
Haleah pinched Eudora hard on the shoulder as the girl started to laugh. “Keep your voices low,” she ordered harshly, stifling the chuckle. “These canyon walls create an echo chamber. Sound travels far in the night even above the river noise.”
As Hyperion had told them, Cronus was blind with fury at Metis’ escape. He turned Atlantis and the countryside inside out searching for them. Genaireus and Tornellis, the guards who were supposed to be watching Metis, were publicly whipped every day for a week and left bleeding in chains on the sidewalk near the entrance of the Great Pyramid. Every eye of the People scoured the city for them to no avail. Fear of the Lord Father’s wrath kept everyone hunting until rumors of them in other cities began to circulate.
Even worse, Cronus blamed the attack on Zeus, turning even more of the People against his own children. He spoke of war and the bloody corpses, anger punctuating his every word. Haleah had to leave soon and warn Olympia.
Two weeks later, Cronus turned his attention to the ports and outlying cities, much to the relief of the residents of Atlantis. Haleah and her girls waited another week and made their escape in the dead of a moonless night. They had prepared ahead and the fake log was still where they left it.
They had about an hour of true night left when they reached the end of the boulevard. Across the river, the lights of Hebis created a golden bubble that blocked out the stars in the velvety night sky. The cliffs slowly crumbled as they neared the ocean and now the pathway was on level ground with the landscape.
The troupe clamored over the rocky ground, their dark clothing camouflaging them as they made their way inland. By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, they were well into the barren desert lands along the coast.
No one would look for them here. There were no trees, lakes or caves to give them sanctuary. The shoreline was three hundred feet below them down sheer granite cliffs. Smooth, sandy beaches dotted the coast but the sea was too shallow to allow a ship to get anywhere near them even if the women could somehow get down there.
It was for this exact reason that Valkyrie had landed their skimmer here. A simple dirty beige tarp hid the sleek aircraft against any casual observation in the unlikely event that a rare Atlantean drone Bird should pass overhead. It took only a few minutes for the women to free the ship, leaving the tarp to rot on the scraggly bushes surrounding it. There was plenty of room for all of them in the cool interior.
“Now let us go home,” Valkyrie said, her tone dark and serious as she fired up the engines. Tremors rolled up her spine, despite her steely exterior and a cold fist clamped down on her heart. She was proud she had kept her promise to Oceanus, but hated herself for the horrible danger she unintentionally brought to all of Olympia in the process. “Zeus must be warned.”
In moments the vessel was flying low over the calm, turquoise waters, safe beneath its invisibility cloak.
Chapter XVI
“This,” Cronus bellowed at the mass of people gathered around the front of the Great Pyramid the day after the attack. He swept his hand over the shredded, bloody bodies of the dead Black Guard laid out on the sidewalk before the glass-strewn entrance for all to see. “This is what Zeus and his brethren have in mind for you!”
The last remnants of last night’s thunderstorm whipped across the azure sky as if running from the carnage below. Hazy beams of yellow sunlight lashed the ground below as the clouds passed overhead, the winds whistling through the broken window high above. It sounded like the ghostly wails of the dead and injured, adding to the fury rising in the people of the city.
Cronus stood like a god of vengeance on the smooth granite steps leading into the pyramid, his fiery red mane swirling around his head. The crown of Atlantis encircling his wide forehead, inlaid with the Tree and Pyramid symbol, blazed as the sunbeams reflected off its golden surface. The ebony robe he wore over his midnight-black, leather breeches and vest fanned out behind him like a cape, the chips of diamond entwined in the fabric sparkling like angry stars.
“For the second time in a few short months,” the Lord Father said, his rich, baritone voice rolling over the People like peels of thunder, “Zeus has attacked our peaceful city in an attempt on my life and innocent citizens have paid the price. For a second time, he has failed. He seeks to destroy all we have worked so hard to build simply so he can rule in my stead.”
Cronus spread out his arms to encompass the throngs gathered in the courtyard and streets below him. He lowered his voice, allowing the amplifiers to carry his words. His glittering emerald eyes swept over the crowd seeming to meet every angry face. “I know many of you doubted Zeus would do such a thing,” he said, his tone accusing, but conciliatory, “but the proof if it lies at your feet once again. Do you believe me now?”
“Yes!” the People shouted, shifting on their feet as they stared at the mutilated corpses of their brethren. “Yes!”
“Shall we allow our friends and families to be slaughtered again?” Cronus asked, his full, tan lips drawn tightly across his chiseled features.
“No!” they responded, their outrage rising like a red tide.
“Will you wait until it is your homes that are invaded,” he continued, his voice growing in strength, “and it is your bodies and those of your loved ones that are laid out in these streets?”
“No!” was the acrimonious outcry.
“Will we await another attack before we take action of our own?” he yelled.
“No!” the seething masses replied, their wrath sweeping over the airwaves as the scene was broadcast in every city of the empire.
“Shall we seek out these murderers and demand our vengeance?” Cronus bellowed, feeling the power of their frenzy energizing his words.
“Yes! Yes!” the mob roared, raising their fists high in the air and stomping their feet on the pavement.
“Then war it is!” the Lord Father shouted, his fist lifted high above his head. “Atlantis shall prevail!”
The thunderous cheering was deafening. Windows in buildings for blocks around vibrated dangerously as the maddened passion of the crowd filled every street, boulevard and alleyway in the city. Even those who were unsure were pulled into the whirlpool of emotion, their hearts hammering with the mania of the mob. Few were immune to the frenzied fervor.
Bella was one of them. As Cronus turned away, a secret, vicious smile curling his lips, she threw a pack over her shoulders. A few hours later, with the help of a friendly captain, she was smuggled aboard a ship bound for Prubrazia. She huddled with
a family of Nephilim in a hidden room within the cargo hold, not to see daylight until they were far out to sea. She hated leaving, but there was no more she could accomplish in Atlantis. Her heart pounded, not with fury, but with terror for what was to come. It was time to run.
Cronus sat in the air-cooled cab of his personal sled as it glided over the patches of sun-parched shrub that clung desperately to the hard, arid soil of the desert southeast of Atlantis. A few water-starved trees sunk their roots deep into the rocky ground, searching for a taste of life-giving liquid. They were sickly-looking, their gnarled limbs bereft of leaves until the winter rains. He traveled unescorted across the empty landscape, reveling in one of the few times he could be truly alone.
His visits to the weapons development facility at Sirenum, located in the middle of these barren lands, became more frequent since that traitor, Ramathus, had taken control of the Nillian lands. Cronus burned inside knowing only Ra had power enough to rival Atlantis, thanks to the technology of the Nil. He perceived the man as a threat to his rule, even though Ra remained neutral in the problems vexing the empire.
Cronus glanced out of his window, staring at the passing towers of cracked stone and arched rock formations that were the only features of this lifeless plain. Something about them stirred unpleasant memories in him of the dead and decayed surface of Atlan, the planet of his birth. They aroused thoughts of the nightmares that had plagued him for decades and the words of the father he betrayed. No matter that the wraiths of his parents counseled him now, giving him direction and purpose. He remembered the Prophesy of his father, Uranus, that his own son would be the cause of his destruction. He could never forget that, but now there was a way to defeat that dire prediction. Thanks to the recent attacks, he had the People behind him and all the excuse he needed to hunt his children down and kill them.
The huge, blocky buildings of Sirenum rose from the horizon far in the distance. A huge, circular black scar on the landscape about five miles from the small city marked the entrance to the old copper mine, now played out and shut down. Cronus took the sled off autopilot and took hold of the control yoke. He was curious as to the nature of the new weapon Carius, his chief designer, was so excited about.
The tall, athletically built old man awaited him outside of the entrance to the main industrial complex. His long, mahogany hair rustled around his wide, flat shoulders in the hot breeze as he stood fidgeting with his hands clasped behind him. Beads of sweat bathed his dark brown, suntanned skin as he raised one hand to wave at Cronus, but his smile was warm and genuine.
“Lord Father,” Carius said, his voice strangely high coming from such a barrel chest, “it is always a pleasure to have you here again. You must be thirsty after such a long journey. Please join me for some refreshment before we begin,” he said, stepping aside to welcome Cronus inside.
Though he wanted to get about his business, Cronus knew it was necessary to stroke the man’s ego and allow him to preen a bit. He knew the engineer was a proud man and responded well to praise. Should the Lord Father berate him, the work he did would suffer.
“Thank you, Carius,” Cronus said, hiding his annoyance. “A cold draft of ale would be appreciated.”
He followed the man down the air-cooled, stone corridor to a lavishly appointed office where platters of salad, cheese, bread and fruits were laid out on a long cedar table. It was far too much food for Cronus to eat, but he complimented his host on the feast as if it was the best he had ever seen. With only his staff to keep him company in this barren wasteland, Carius needed a touch of civility to remind him of the splendor of Atlantis. After taking a reasonable amount of time to let the man have his moment, Cronus commanded Carius to show him his newest work.
“I do believe you will be most pleased with these,” the engineer said proudly, lifting a large, highly-polished, silver shield from a long rack.
The shield was about five-foot tall and almost as wide, rectangular with slightly curved sides. The bottom was flat, but the rounded top bent backward just a bit. When looked at closely, the metal was coated with a substance that gave it the appearance of being covered with smooth, tiny scales. Centered on the back, a short bar was attached covered with a thick, dark material with arm loops on either end.
“What good will this do against blaster fire?” Cronus asked, desperately battling to keep his impatience and disdain from showing. He lifted the proffered shield, finding it much lighter than he would have expected.
“Much.” Carius smiled, not noticing the Lord Father’s irritation. He took the device from Cronus and walked it down a granite corridor, locking it on the arm of a man-shaped, wooden form. “Watch,” he said once he returned to Cronus.
Carius took a pulse rifle from the arms rack and fired. The hot blue beam hit the metal head on. The shield was unfazed, the light glancing off and scorching the stone walls at the end of the hall. The engineer then tried a CL rifle, the blazing red light striking the mannequin with much the same effect. The rays were deflected, cutting swaths into the rock walls, but leaving the man-thing untouched.
His face flushed with excitement and self-confident pleasure, Carius picked up a plasma rifle and hefted the heavy gun to his shoulder. His dark hazel eyes glinted happily as he pulled the trigger. The thick, ropy beam of white-hot plasma smashed into the shield like a ravenous serpent. It splashed off the curved sides and dripped onto the stone floor. Wherever it struck, the granite sizzled and liquefied, but the scaled shield held.
Cronus stood, his mouth gaped open, waiting for his teared-up eyes to adjust to the relative gloom after Carius quit firing. At the end of the corridor, the glow covering the amazing shield slowly faded.
“That was incredible!” he said, his amazement genuine as he looked at his engineer. “I did not think anything could stand against a plasma beam.”
“In truth,” Carius replied, his chest swelled with pride, “the coating I put on the metal will only hold for upward of five minutes against such an onslaught, but that should be enough to give our soldiers time to eliminate the threat.” His smile was bright as he turned to the Lord Father. “Are you pleased? Was it worth your trip here?”
“By the Creator, yes,” Cronus said, clasping a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You have outdone yourself. Thank you.” He walked down the hallway to inspect the fantastic shield, an idea blossoming in his mind. He touched the still hot metal cautiously. “Could you adapt this material to create a suit of armor?”
“Of course,” Carius answered, surprised he had not thought of it himself.
“Do so,” Cronus commanded. “You shall be richly rewarded for your service,” he promised. “With these shields and such armor, our Aam will be unstoppable. Return to Atlantis for a few days and dwell in private suites within the Great Pyramid. Revel in your accomplishments. The city is yours. You have earned the respite. The empire is grateful to you.”
Cronus left the compound leaving behind him a flabbergasted and immensely joyous man. His mind roiled with the possibilities. Skyships and attack vehicles protected, his men invulnerable, he may, at last, have what he needed to not only defeat Zeus but also destroy Ra and the power of Nil. It was time to begin the war in earnest. His emerald eyes glittered with malice and a cruel, savage smile spread across his full, tan lips. He and his beloved Atlantis would rule the entire world once and for all.
In the darkest hours of a moonless night, the hooded man once again slipped through the backstreets and alleyways of the silently sleeping city. He moved as quietly as a feline hunting an unwary meal, his sharp eyes searching for the slightest movement that might betray an unintentional watcher. More than once, even at this late hour, the man had to disappear into the shadows to escape the detection of the Aam that patrolled the areas near the harbor.
Since the second attack on Atlantis, those patrols had increased. Armed Aam guarded the ports, restricting access to the docks to only those who had verifiable business there. Small squads of Black Guard were stationed at
all government buildings and constantly roamed the boulevards surrounding the Great Pyramid. Security was tight.
Not tight enough to slow the movements of the hooded man. He slid through the inky darkness like a ghost, a shifting shadow more mist than man. No one knew the hidden passages of Atlantis better than he did. Thus, reaching the abandoned buildings on the edge of the city unnoticed was no problem at all of this kind of man.
“You have done well,” the shrouded form of the giant, red-haired man said as he stepped from the dust-moted gloom.
The hooded man said nothing, not interested in praise. He knew his worth and his abilities. He had no need of having his ego stroked.
“Now it is time for the next phase,” his employer continued, tossing a heavy sack of gold onto the floor at his feet. “The Nephilim who escaped Atlantis have established a settlement on the southeastern shores of Prubrazia. You will find a map of the location with your payment. I want you to arrange for them to be destroyed.”
“You want them all dead?” the hooded man asked, his voice empty and flat. His dead blue eyes held no emotion at all. His questions were only for clarification to ensure his job was done satisfactorily.
“No,” the red-haired man said after a moment of thought. “Leave a few survivors to tell the tale.”
“As you wish,” was the reply. He looked up at his benefactor, one blond eyebrow raised on his bull-like head. “Why would you, of all people, want the Nephilim dead? I ask not out of concern, but so I can guarantee the type of outcome you desire.”
“This is not your concern,” the other man said, a menacing growl in his voice. The hooded man ignored the tone, knowing there was no threat. “One last thing,” his employer added before turning away into the night. “I want it known Atlantis is responsible.”