Colony- Olympian

by Gene Stiles

  His ship canted hard to starboard and his feet slipped in the sea-washed deck. Ra wrapped his arm tighter in the webbed rigging and managed to keep himself upright. Crewman scrambled over the decks, putting out small fires where burning debris from the enemy ship had landed. Cannon fire blasted from the gun ports as his vessel wove a twisting path through the Atlantean armada. Even with his help, Ra knew it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed by the vast array of ships aligned against them.

  An iron ball tore across the bow, smashing into the force field surrounding Ra. It glanced off and splashed into the sea, but the kinetic impact drove Ra to his knees. Pain wracked his bruised body beneath the armor and ate at his waning strength. From the corner of his eye, Ra saw the flash of an explosive missile racing toward him. He aimed his rune-covered staff at the incoming spear of metal. The golden sun at its tip blazed, sending an angry red beam at the threat. The missile exploded far short of his ship and rained fire into the churning, green water.

  The battle had been raging for hours now and he was both amazed and proud of his tiny fleet. Against hundreds, his forty ships were taking a terrible toll on the Atlanteans. Ra and Raet concentrated their fire on the steel-clad warships, sending many of them to the ocean floor. The rest of his captains swerved and weaved their way through the armada at full speed, wreaking havoc on the larger, slower enemy vessels. As good as they were, he had already lost at least eleven of his own. His face grim and hard beneath his hawk helmet, Ra knew, without a doubt, they would lose and soon. Twenty ships were converging upon him and he knew he did not have the energy left to take them all. Still, he pulled himself upright and clung to the foremast. His blue eyes crackled with white lightning and he threw his head back a cawed out a hawkish war cry. He would not go down easy.

  Ra stared in open-mouthed wonder as the lead ship of the squadron bearing down upon him was blasted out of the water. Its hull cracked and split as it toppled to the side, sea-filled sails dragging it beneath the frothy waves. The vessels around it broke formation and scattered, some battling flames on their decks, others turning to face a new and devastating threat.

  The Sea Dragon flashed past Ra, hundreds of Olympian ships in its wake. They smashed into the Atlantean fleet with guns roaring. Ra spun around to see a blanket of blue covering the horizon at his stern. A savage grin covered his face. Poseidon had arrived.

  “I am sorry we were not here sooner,” the gargantuan Poseidon said as he sipped from a goblet of strong, heady wine. His soggy, dark blue leathers steamed in the heat of the logs burning in the huge stone hearth of Daedalia’s Main House. “The winds were against us.”

  “No apology is needed, my friend,” Ra replied solemnly. “I am deeply in your debt. Without your timely intervention, all would have been lost.”

  Ra sagged into the thick cushions of an armchair, his long legs stretched out before him. His armor was locked away in his quarters and guarded by two of his best Nephilim warriors. The linen wrap he wore pinned at his shoulder and belted at his waist was warm and dry. The bruises covering his red-tinged flesh were nearly gone and he could feel his strength slowly returning after a hot meal of hardy, thick stew, bread and cheese.

  Raet curled up in a corner of a long, tan sofa, her legs drawn up beneath her. Her raven-black hair was freshly washed and brushed, sparkling in the light as it flowed over her gracefully sloped shoulders. Her large, slanted, almond-shaped eyes were shadowed in weariness, yet somehow she still radiated a feline sensuality that did not go unnoticed by those gathered in the chamber.

  “I am glad I had two big, strong men to save me,” she said with a tiny, lopsided grin. “What would a little girl have done without you?” Despite the sobriety of the moment, her companions could not help but smile back which is exactly what she intended.

  “You seem to have held your own quite well,” Poseidon replied, his azure eyes twinkling. He leaned back on the sofa built for two, his mammoth bulk leaving no room for another. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

  “You saved my life,” Raet responded warmly. “How could you ever do anything to negate that?”

  The ship beneath Raet’s feet had burst into a thousand pieces. She was thrown into the shark-infested waters, only the field surrounding her armor preventing her from becoming a tasty morsel to the denizens of the deep. Poseidon, himself, had plucked her from the bloody sea.

  “My pleasure, Lady,” Poseidon said with a small nod. “Though I do not think the sharks would have found you palatable.”

  “Oh? Are you saying I do not look good enough to eat?” she smiled, brushing her hand slowly down the long, white satin gown that hugged her slender, well-proportions form.

  “You are digging yourself into a hole, my friend,” Ra said once the laughter died down. “It is best if you say nothing more.”

  “On this, we agree,” Poseidon replied, his cheeks blushed a bright red. The lightness dropped from his artistically sculpted face quickly though and he took on a much graver demeanor. “The Atlantean fleet is broken. Those who survived fled northward. We have won this battle. However, I have learned Captain Thalassa was routed from Lycus. Lelantos and our troops are fighting their way out of the city and losing ground. Worst of all, reports are that Zeus has been captured.”

  “We cannot leave my brother in the hands of Cronus!” Poseidon slammed his fist into his open palm, his brows knitted together. “He will be publicly executed in the most horrible of ways. What shall we do?”

  “I do not know,” Ra replied grimly. He turned his head to stare into the brightly glowing embers in the fireplace. “The western coast of Atlantis is ours. Most of the larger cities are near ore pits. Two of them suffered greatly when Cronus destroyed their mines. Between Hades, the miners and the rebel units, many joined us without a fight. Battles still rage, however, in many other places. We must consolidate our positions before we can move forward. We do not have the manpower or armament to take Cronus on directly at this moment.”

  “I told Zeus he should not lead an attack so close to Atlantis,” Poseidon said bitterly. He gripped his wavy, fire-red beard as if he would tear it from his taut jaw. “He is the Lord of Olympus. It should have left to others.”

  “Your brother is not someone who leaves a dangerous task to others,” Raet said softly. She walked over and sat on the arm of the sofa next to Poseidon. “That is what makes him who he is,” she said, putting a warm hand on the giant’s broad, burly shoulder. “Fear not. We will find a way to free him.”

  “But can we do it in time?” Poseidon replied glumly, his jade eyes glittering in the flickering firelight. “That is the real question.”

  Lelantos ducked down behind a thick patch of thorny briars waiting for the Atlantean squad to pass. Moving quietly, the soldiers walked in a staggered line down the trail in a serpentine fashion. They had learned from past experience. At first, they traveled in a straight line along the narrow paths. It made them easy targets for Lelantos’ golden bow and the deadly shafts of the Nephilim archers. A single shot from those incredibly powerful weapons could pierce half a dozen men at one time. Nearly a hundred men fell before the Atlanteans started staggering their patterns.

  His forest-green leathers blended perfectly with the dense foliage of the wild woodlands north of Lycus, making Lelantos nearly invisible in the deep shadows of late afternoon. Once their weaving bodies disappeared in the distance, Lelantos raised his fisted hand and whispered, “Time to move.”

  The dense Jazairamine Forest covered thousands of acres between Lycus and the twin spines of the Northern Mountains. It ran for hundreds of miles along the ridgeline above the straits separating the main Atlantean continent from the Delecrete sub-continent all the way to the desolate escarpment that bordered the western end of the Valley Diefilli where the Pettit military complex lay. Countless paths and game trails cut through the woods and numerous creeks and rivers flowed either to the sea or south into the River Gaia. Lelantos and his legions were forc
ed to scatter into these ancient trees as Cronus’ army pushed them out of Lycus.

  Carefully slipping through the growing darkness, Lelantos and his warriors made their way down a barely visible deer trail to the lightless camp hidden in a small meadow. Needle-sharp brambles ripped at their clothing and bit into their flesh leaving tiny rivulets of blood in their wake. Glumly, the silent scouts entered the field knowing each step was watched by archers in the treetops.

  “Most of the Lord Father’s troops are staying on the eastern edge of the forest,” Lelantos said softly as he settled cross-legged on the mossy ground. “However, he has a roughly five-hundred man contingent bivouacked in the veldt in the center of the woods. We have to stay well to the west to avoid them. Yes, I know that means fighting our way through dense underbrush, but we do not have the manpower to take them before reinforcements arrived.”

  “We could surround them and cut their numbers in half before they knew what hit them,” Celanarius said, his voice as sharp as the thorns he plucked from his arm.

  “Perhaps,” Lelantos replied, understanding how the man felt. Everyone in the group lost friends to the Atlanteans and craved vengeance. Celanarius watched his own brother bleed out in the grass. “But they hold the rocky outcroppings on either end of the clearing and they still have energy weapons. There are only two hundred and thirty of us with many injured and unable to fight. The odds are against us.”

  “Thank you,” Lelantos said to the warrior who handed him dried venison and a skin of water. There would be no hot food this night. Returning his attention to his men, he said, “It is best if we avoid conflicts where we can and continue with the plan. If we can reach the high desert, I can call for transports. The more we can save, the more can regroup for the next assault.”

  “Do you honestly think you can fly us all the way across the continent to Daedalia before Cronus blows us from the air?” Nekos said bitterly. “He still rules the skies above Atlantis.”

  “I have no intention of taking us to Daedalia,” Lelantos replied, his voice hardening. “Zeus is in the hands of Cronus. I will not abandon him to that monster. We will stay close until we can free him.”

  “Then where will we go?” Nekos asked bluntly. “The desert might be vast, but it is too barren to provide cover and there are no caves. With all the Atlantean Birds in the air, we would be discovered and destroyed in a heartbeat.”

  “We will go somewhere nearby where Cronus will never find us. I promise you,” Lelantos said cryptically. “Trust me.”

  After his men spread blankets beneath the cover of darkness, Lelantos sat looking sullenly up at the carpet of shimmering stars that filled the velvet sky. He absently re-tied the wide, brown leather band that kept his long, auburn hair from his gold-flecked hazel eyes and took a sip of water more to cool the fire blazing in his heart than to quench his thirst.

  Lelantos hated himself at this moment. He bit into his venison as if attacking an enemy and chewed until his jaw hurt. He had let Zeus be captured. It was his responsibility to guard him and he failed. A deep growl rumbled in this massively muscled chest. Lelantos could only imagine what Cronus would do to his son and the images flooding his tortured mind were horrific. He ground his teeth together, his fists white-knuckled in his lap.

  “This is my fault,” Lelantos whispered bitterly to the breeze, his face as hard as sculpted granite. “I will get you out. This I vow on my own life.”

  Of the eight thousand men and women who invaded Lycus, only roughly three thousand made it to the escarpment. Bedraggled, exhausted and angry they stayed in the woodlands until Lelantos returned from the high desert. Carrying the gravely wounded that had yet to Heal, the dispirited band made their way up the craggy cliffs and set camp among the boulders and dry, scraggly shrubs. Even after finding many overhangs to hide beneath, most of the troops were left exposed to the blazing sun that baked the hard soil beneath them and sent heatwaves shimmering into the air. Their eyes constantly scanned the cloudless azure sky in search of buzzing Birds, but, luckily, this area must have been deemed too desolate to be worthy of attention. Still, they frightfully scanned the empty landscape around them, fully expecting to be wiped from this steaming, uncaring ground.

  When true night finally fell, gigantic patches of blackness descended upon the huddled, terrified fighters. They clutched their weapons close, determined to make their deaths costly to their assailants. What they saw stunned them for a moment, but then relaxed the painful grips they had on the hilts of their swords. A rectangular hole opened in the back of one of the ebony monstrosities and a dim shaft of reddish light seeped into the night. Lelantos walked calmly toward four female forms silhouetted by the illumination, his hands outspread in welcome. Before the sun topped the horizon, not a single soldier remained on the callous, indifferent desert.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” Lelantos said to Adrasteia as he stared into his swirling cup of hot, green tea. He hung his head, still unwilling to meet her steady gaze. “I am so sorry I failed you.”

  “This is not your fault,” she replied softly, her voice terse, but not accusing. “My son is bullheaded and refused to listen to his advisors. Self-recriminations are pointless. I have no doubt you did the best you could.”

  They sat in a large private suite of chambers buried deep within the Merilic Mountains of Delecrete. Even after centuries, the Retreat remained undiscovered by Cronus. Those who had chosen to stay after Home was destroyed and Zeus moved the people to Olympia maintained the underground city and provided a base of operations to the network of spies within Atlantis. Only a few outside of these warrens knew this place actually still existed.

  “Your people are wandering around like children seeing their first snowfall,” Ida said with a tiny smile quirking her rose-petal lips. She fought to keep the mist in her jade-tinted blue eyes from showing. Lelantos slumped in his chair, haunted by his concern for Zeus and she wanted desperately to find a way to lighten his burden. “You would think their lives in the Sanctuary would make the Retreat seem like a poor cousin.”

  “It is not the size of the complex that amazes them,” Lelantos said, lifting his troubled eyes to meet hers. “It is the fact that this place has been kept secret for so long at Cronus’ back door. The Retreat slipped into legend after the people fled. Morpheus and Haleah walked these corridors.”

  “My father would be proud of you and all you have done for Zeus,” Adrasteia said, returning the conversation to the topic at hand. Her lustrous raven hair was bound in a long braid that fell over her left shoulder and down the tawny leathers she wore. Her eyes glittered like chipped onyx that matched the hardness of her oval face. “Again, you hold no blame for the capture of our son, but now we must find a way to free him. Several of our daughters have infiltrated the city and what they hear is not good. Zeus is held in the dungeons and is being interrogated.” She bit her full lips brutally until they bled. “We all know what that means. That is why we are here. Zeus cannot suffer the atrocities that demon put our mother, Haleah, through.”

  “Our allies promise to do all they can,” Ida said, her stomach lurching at the mere thought of what was happening to Zeus, “but he is heavily guarded. It is near impossible to even get to him at the present. We can do nothing until an opening presents itself.”

  “I am so sorry,” Lelantos whispered, dropping his head again. They could not see his face as his mane of auburn hair enshrouded his head, but the tremor in his muscled shoulders told them he silently wept.

  “Do not be sorry,” Adrasteia said stiffly. “Just be ready.”

  “I demand to see the prisoner!” Themis shouted, her fists planted firmly on her wide hips. She was the embodiment of wrath as she stood before the table. Her large, ocean-green eyes crackled with blue-white sparks and her shapely body quivered with the fury cascading through her veins.

  “You demand nothing of me,” Cronus said with a dangerous growl. He leaned against the polished wood, his huge arms rippling. His emerald ey
es were narrowed to mere slits beneath his red, bushy brows. The floor-length, diamond-chipped, ebony robe he wore swirled around him like an angry thundercloud. “Zeus is being questioned.”

  “Questioned?” Themis snarled in return. “You mean tortured do you not? We are not barbarians! He is the ruler of Olympus and deserves treatment as such. There is such a thing as justice.”

  “You speak to me of justice while our cities burn and our citizens lay bleeding in the streets?” Cronus bellowed, his flaming red curls fanning around his hard-planed face. “Ruler of Olympus, the enemies that invade our home, yes! The treatment he deserves, yes! I promise you he will receive that and the justice he deserves!”

  Cronus stared at Themis, Thea, and the other four gathered behind her, his furious gaze burrowing into each one of them. “He will be brought before the People so all can witness his justice,” he said harshly. “But only after I learn what I need from him. Then and only then will you be allowed to speak with Zeus, if at all.”

  Turning his back on the twins and their companions, Cronus waved at his guards and said in a glacier-cold voice. “Atlantis is under martial law and is mine to command. You have no place here and no authority to demand anything of me. I will decide what punishment fits the crimes of Zeus. Now get out and do not come back or you will find yourselves cellmates. Get out!”

  “I ask you again,” Cronus said icily, holding Zeus’ chin in his hand. “What is the exact location of Olympus?”

  Zeus defiantly met the gaze of his father with the one golden eye not swelled shut. He hung heavily from the iron manacles hammered into the unfinished rock wall, his knees sagging where they were broken. Dark purple bruises covered his naked, sweat-covered body alongside the sickly yellow ones slowly fading away. Wavy, red hair was plastered against his skull and his beard was matted with dried blood from his cracked lips. He remained as silent as he had for the last six days, only grunting and moaning as he was repeatedly battered by the Lord Father and his soldiers.