Colony- Olympian

by Gene Stiles

  “Yes,” Poseidon said, his tone like chipped flint. His darkly tanned lips were drawn tightly beneath his long, wavy, fire-red beard. The rumble of his voice rolled from his mammoth, muscle-chiseled chest like the thunder of a coming storm. “Cronus will never leave us in peace. It is time he had none either.”

  They made their way around the Sea of Sorrows and back to the Sanctuary carved into the desolate mountain range to the east. Even though the ancient forest protected them from the prying eyes of any passing Atlantean Bird, they continually scanned the skies as they passed through open patches in the greenery, hunching their shoulders unconsciously as if expecting to be attacked from above. They remained unmolested and unnoticed throughout their journey but were still grateful and relieved when they finally reached the gigantic granite doors of the western tunnel.

  “The crews we brought with us from Aseabea Base will be able to man two of the ships,” Poseidon said, sitting at the huge dining table in Zeus’ quarters, “but we will need more men to sail the others.”

  “That will not be a problem,” Zeus told him, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “We have drawn all of our sailors and fighters from Olympus and brought them here. On top of that, thousands have joined us from other towns, cities and settlements from as far away as Prubrazia. It will be up to you to choose the best to fill the fleet.”

  “Thank you, brother,” Poseidon replied as he sipped on his strong, hot green tea. “With the addition of the support crafts pouring in, we currently have nearly two thousand ships under our command. They have been moving toward Aseabea in groups of three and four so as to go undetected and the routes they travel are well outside of the shipping lanes and varied. It has taken nearly a year, but we will be ready within another month.”

  The huge stone hearth at the far end of the spacious living room carved out of the solid rock blazed with a fire meant to do more than warm the skin. A potpourri of petals and wood chips created a pleasant, carefully chosen aroma that soothed the soul and calmed the frayed nerves of the occupants. Tapestries of forest scenes and framed paintings of waterfalls graced the smoothed limestone walls. The long couches and thickly padded lounge chairs were patterned with brightly colored flowers and green vines. A large monitor on one wall was surrounded by a wooden frame as if it were a window. Different living images of the outside world shifted across the display every hour, reminding those within what they were missing while they were nestled within the mountain Sanctuary.

  Lady Adrasteia stood in front of the screen watching a herd of white-tailed deer nibbling their way across a grass-covered meadow. A massive buck stood tall and proud upon the flat stone of a rock outcropping, his dark brown eyes alert for danger. She could almost hear the bubbling of the nearby creek as it flowed over a pebbled bed. She listened to the conversations behind her with only light attention, catching key phrases and emotions when necessary.

  She knew what was coming and she feared the consequences to her loved ones and, especially to her adoptive son. Adrasteia had raised Zeus since he was but a babe in arms. She had done her best to protect him from the evil machinations of his father Cronus and the hatred that seethed in his true mother, Rhea.

  Adrasteia sighed as she pushed the wayward strands of ebony hair behind her slightly pointed ears and back over her gently sloped shoulders. Her limpid black eyes glistened in the flickering firelight and her ruby-red lips quivered, though she was careful to keep her worry from her son. She did not wish to add to the heavy burden he carried upon his broad shoulders.

  It was not the battles that concerned her so. She was proud of the man Zeus had become and knew he was an exceptional warrior. Adrasteia knew he fought with compassion as strong as his arms. It was that very empathy and sense of justice that caused her apprehension. She knew Cronus, too, had once been such a man.

  Despite his current cruelties, there was a time when the Lord Father cared for the People more than he did for himself. He sacrificed everything for Atlan and the survival of his race. He carried his love for Rhea across the stars and throughout the millennium. It was the stuff of legend. At one time, the compassion, kindness and benevolence of Cronus ruled the world and inspired the People to create a world of beauty. Now all that was gone. Why?

  Adrasteia blamed the change in Cronus on one crucial, horrific decision. To save the People, he was forced to kill his own father. The guilt ate at his soul and eventually turned it evil as he feared the same fate for himself. That one terrible choice twisted all of the beliefs he had into things of darkness. His love of Rhea became a thing of obsession. His joy at his children became a terror that they would destroy him. His compulsion to see the People survived led him to despicable acts and the creation of the Nephilim. All that Cronus once was, all the goodness that made him great, was corrupted by the death of his father by his own hand.

  That is what terrified Adrasteia. She turned to gaze upon her golden-eyed child as he spoke with his siblings. She studied every inch of his extraordinarily handsome face and his incredibly muscled body. The warm, happy smiles that once graced his full lips now seemed forced when they did appear. The humor that colored Zeus’ comments from time to time seemed to be fake and tinged with darkness. What would happen to him if he, too, was compelled to kill his father? Adrasteia would rather they lost this war than to see her son follow that same nightmarish path. She would do all she could to see that never happened even if it meant she had to kill Cronus herself.

  Chapter XII

  Clearwater Fortress was the largest Atlantean base on the southeastern Prubrazian coast and the most important to Zeus and Olympus in the current situation. Built on the foundations of the destroyed Nephilim settlement, its harbor was second in size only to what Azmerizan had been before its destruction. Unlike its sister city, Clearwater did not maintain massive shipyards or weapons complexes. The port facilities here were centered on sea trade and the safety of inland supply routes.

  Vast meadows, immense forests and rich farmlands spread for thousands of miles to the north and south behind the western borders of the fortress. The farms produced most of the food for the long line of cities that dotted the coastline and once sent packed cargo vessels as far away as Atlantis.

  Now Clearwater kept to itself, attempting to stay neutral in the turmoil that was overtaking the empire. The one thing it had over the other cities scattered throughout Prubrazia was the largest standing army on the continent. The battles that now flared constantly along the coast and on the open seas sent thousands of refugees into the city and brought an armada of ships into her harbors. Despite the Lord Father’s edict, all races of humanity were welcomed, be they of the People, the Nephilim, the Izon or the Cro-Mags. In exchange for their sanctuary, every able-bodied man and woman was required to spend two years in the military. Those unable or unwilling either moved to the farmlands or were supplied and sent on their way. No one was given a free ride.

  It was for this reason Zeus sailed alone into the port aboard the Sea Dragon II without his fleet at his back. The tolerance of all humankind in Clearwater was more in line with Olympian beliefs than those of Atlantis. Zeus felt a kinship with the city and its people and knew he was safe here though he was not at all surprised when he was met on the docks by the governor and a large squad of heavily armed Aam.

  “Welcome, Lord Zeus,” Governor Oramond said courteously, extending his hand in greeting. The two men clasped forearms as they appraised each other carefully.

  The tall, wiry-muscled Governor was not dressed in the pompous, flowery, rich-looking garb some leaders chose. His breeches were dark, forest green, neatly tucked into cuffed, brown boots. He wore a thigh-length, tawny-colored, short-sleeved tunic belted at his thick waist by a simple verdant sash knotted at his hip. A tooled band of mahogany leather encircled his rectangular head that kept his wheat-blond hair from his high cheeks. The only two items that set him apart from his fellows was a long, black open robe that was draped over his wide, flat shoulders and a silver amulet
shaped like a tree that hung on a silver, linked chain around his neck.

  Oramond was impressed by the Olympian leader. Like himself, Zeus did not go for embroidered finery. His dark blue leather pants were tucked into calf-high, black leather boots that matched the midnight shade of the laced vest that strained against a massively muscled chest. Zeus wore no shirt beneath it so every corded sinew of his huge arms stood out on his sun-bronzed skin. The corona of wavy, yellow-red hair that framed his square-jawed, strongly-planed face rippled unrestrained in the light ocean breeze. As with everyone Zeus met, it was his oddly golden eyes that drew most of Oramond’s attention.

  Both men could see the warrior and natural-born leader in the other man’s stance and movements. It was apparent in their long-legged strides, the easy balance when they stood still and the measuring gazes they used to assess each other and everything around them. They both gave a small smile, knowing they would get along well together.

  “This is my brother, Poseidon,” Zeus said, sweeping a hand toward the gargantuan standing slightly behind him to his right. “Captain of the Sea Dragon and Admiral of the Olympian fleet.”

  The governor looked up at the nearly eleven-foot-tall, fiery-haired giant and gave him a quirky grin. “No introduction is necessary,” Oramond said, extending his arm. “You, your ship and your battles are legendary, Captain. I am pleased to finally meet you in person.”

  Behind his mask of congeniality, Oramond was startled at the resemblance to Cronus. When they locked forearms, the governor’s over-large hand could not even half-circle the monster’s bulging muscle. Even though he was used to the Nephilim that lived in Clearwater Fortress, Poseidon’s stature as the son of the Lord Father and as Lord of the Seas made him appear even bigger than the tales told about him.

  “Thank you for having us, Governor Oramond,” Poseidon replied, the voice coming from his pillar-like chest rumbling like soft thunder over the dock. Even though he and Zeus carried no weapons, Poseidon could sense the uneasiness of the Aam around him and saw many lay hands on the butts of their sidearms. “We come in peace,” he said not only to reassure the governor but to relax the guards, “and are grateful you have received us in kind.”

  “We have many questions to ask of you,” Zeus said, his tone warm but stern. “Thank you for taking the time to listen.”

  “Listen, I will,” Oramond replied firmly, turning to lead his guests toward the wheeled carriage that awaited them. The Aam guards split to allow the men to pass between them. “Yet, I make no promises that you will be happy with our answers. Clearwater Fortress is open to all and does not want to be drawn into your war with Atlantis. Keep that in mind as we talk.”

  After a small but delicious banquet held in their honor, the three men sat together at a long table at one end of the huge conference hall. Eight other tables were arrayed in rows before them, filled with merchants, commanders and advisors. Oramond did not believe in closed-doors meetings and preferred to have the many voices of Clearwater heard in every decision, especially one that could have such a long-lasting, possibly devastating impact on the city.

  Governor Oramond raised his hand to still the angry babble of voices filling the hall and when that had no effect, he stood up and pounded his empty metal ale tankard on the table until the noise abated. Until this moment, he did not realize how deeply divided his own people were and it troubled him greatly.

  “While it is true the war between Atlantis and the Olympians have benefited Clearwater,” he said, his frustration sharpening his tone, “taking one side or another could destroy all we have built. The battles throughout the empire have caused the Lord Father to ignore us and given us have more autonomy in our self-rule. With the influx of immigrants from other cities, his demand for soldiers has had less of an impact on our own ranks. He wants only pure Atlanteans so the other races of mankind are left in peace.”

  “But how long before Cronus decides that we Nephilim that live here are a threat again?” Norillian asked, his fury fueled by memories of family lost when this city was just a peaceful settlement. “How long before he decides Clearwater is contaminated by the Izon or the Cro-Mags? We stand on soil that is stained by the blood of those he deemed unworthy. How long before he chooses to cleanse it again? Will you cast us out then to save your precious neutrality?”

  “It is these Olympians who are to blame,” Bezzius snapped back, his brown eyes dark seething, sweeping his hand toward Poseidon and Zeus. “My ships used to travel all along our coast without hindrance. Now my convoys are often stopped and boarded by Poseidon’s fleet to ensure we are not carrying weapons. It disrupts my schedules and costs me time and money.”

  “To make matters worse,” Bezzius shouted above the rumbles of agreement, his face red with anger, “Atlantis has upped its own food production making my prices fall. It is no longer worth sending our ships that far. We lost a major trade partner. This Olympian war has severely harmed our economy! Why should we join them or help them in any way?”

  “It was you who attacked Prubrazia first!” Sarimeena said accusingly as she stood up and pointed at Zeus. Her tight curls of short, blond hair coiled around her hard, oval face like a nest of vipers. “You are responsible for bringing war to our shores. You caused the destruction of Azmerizan and the deaths of hundreds of our people. That city produced most of the weapons we own. You damaged our ability to defend ourselves. Now you come here and ask us to defend you? How dare you?”

  Orville rose from his seat near the back of the room and walked quietly to the front. The tall, burly, ebony-skinned man ignored the hubbub around him and stopped before the main table, nodding at the governor and his guests. Like Poseidon, he was of pure Atlantean blood, though his nine-foot-two, powerfully muscled body made many wonder if he had Nephilim blood. He turned his night-black eyes on the gathering, saying nothing until they quieted.

  “Most of you know me,” he said, his deep voice rolling over the throng like a soothing wave. Those in the rear strained to hear his soft-spoken words. “For those of you who do not, I was a manager of one of the arms facilities in Azmerizan. I was there when the city fell. I know truths you do not.”

  That got their attention. Orville was well-known for his skills as an Aam Commander, but also for his kindness and compassion. He spoke little, but when he did, his words were respected and heeded.

  “You have all seen the images the Lord Father broadcast of the battle and the stories he told of the city,” he said, a slight edge to his tone. “I am here to tell you most of it was lies.”

  Orville saw the stunned expressions around him and continued. “Most of the weapons we developed and produced were not for the defense of Prubrazia or Atlantis. They were created for the sole purpose of invading Nillian lands.”

  He waited until the shocked murmurs died down, seeing the disbelief on many faces. “I know this to be true for I personally visited one of the Lord Father’s hidden forts on Afrikanikis – Atlantica. If Olympus had not interceded, we would be fighting the power of Ra. You all know even Cronus fears the strength of Nil. You have heard the stories. War was coming, no matter who the enemy. The fault lies with the Twelve, not Olympus.”

  “As for the lives lost in Azmerizan,” Orville said, sweeping his hand back toward the front table “if not for these men, many more would have perished, I among them. It was Cronus who leveled the city. Lord Zeus had the forethought to evacuate the majority of our citizens before Atlantis struck.”

  “What about the holos of Olympian forces killing innocents?” someone shouted. “We saw that for ourselves!”

  Orville dropped his head, his full, dark lips clenched together. When he raised his onyx eyes tears glittered on their surface. “It was not the forces of Olympus who did that,” he almost whispered. “It was our own Aam. They killed everyone in their path…man, woman, child...no matter what side they were on. It was like they had become nothing more than berserk, rabid animals. It was horrifying.”

  “Why have you not
spoken of this before?” Governor Oramond asked from behind the big man.

  “I am ashamed,” Orville replied with a glance back. His voice was quivering as he spoke. The thick ropes of his midnight-black hair fell over his wide, slumped shoulders as if they, too, sagged in remorse. “To think our own soldiers were capable of such atrocities tears at my soul. Those of Azmerizan who came here with me tried to tell you at first. We were met with derision, disbelief and even hatred when we spoke of it so we kept the incidents to ourselves. Especially after the broadcast.”

  “That is why I became an Aam Commander,” Orville said to the suddenly silent room. “To see such things would never happen again. I vowed to keep you all safe and to protect you against such barbarity and I shall do so.”

  “These men,” he said, straightening his spine, “may not remember me among so many they saved, but I remember them. They treated everyone with compassion, fairness and justice – even the Aam prisoners who led those brutal attacks. I trust them. You should too.”

  “We are not asking you to leave your city defenseless,” Zeus said, stepping around the table after Orville returned to his seat. “In fact, we promise to supply you with updated arms no matter which choice you make.”

  “Soon Atlantis will fall,” he said bluntly, his golden eyes blazing like an afternoon sun. “We promise there will be no reprisals should you choose to remain neutral. You will be left to rule yourselves as you see fit. We have no desire to become another empire. We only wish to be free from being hunted by the Lord Father and to live in peace. He has not allowed that so we are forced to take Atlantis away from him. It will happen. You can rest assured.”

  “What we ask is safe harbor for our fleet,” Zeus said as Poseidon came up beside him. “Give us that and my brother will blockade any Atlantean armada headed your way. If you decide to put your army under our command, we vow to use only those divisions who volunteer to join us of their own free will. No man or woman will be forced to fight. If you take the side of Olympus, we will protect you as we would our own.”