Colony- Olympian

by Gene Stiles

  Zeus ran across the blade ship, weaving through the rushing crew until he reached the aft deck. He climbed the teak ladder and planted himself at the stern rail, drawing Excalibur from its sheath. It sang like steel sliding down steel as it cleared the richly tooled, leather scabbard. The auric runes embedded in the blueish silver metal flowed like rivers of liquid fire down both sides of the magnificent blade. Sparks of electricity crackled along the razor-sharp edges and up the corded muscles of Zeus’ bulging forearms. His blond-streaked, sun-red hair surrounded his handsome, hard-planed face like a billowing corona. Every shift of color shimmering along Excalibur was reflected in his glowing, golden eyes. He held it firmly in his hammer-sized hands, feeling a warmth throbbing beneath the leather strips covering the polished mahogany hilt. It spread throughout his body like a comforting blanket readying his mind for the coming conflict. “We are one,” Excalibur seemed to murmur assuredly. “We are one.”

  Admiral Marcarilus was no fool. He saw the Olympian flagship speeding ahead of the rest of the fleet and knew it was offering itself up as a sacrificial lamb. It begged him to attack it out there alone without escort. Marcarilus had engaged Poseidon before and studied his tactics. He still felt the sting of having Captain Thalassa elude him at Lycus. These Olympians were not arrogant. They were wily. This was a ploy and the Admiral would not take the bait. Besides, he had his own trap already set and Poseidon was unknowingly ensnared in it.

  Bellowing out orders on the ship-to-ship coms, Marcarilus turned his vessel hard to starboard, splitting the fleet neatly in half. Running full out, his ships ignored the flagship and raced along the spearhead flanks of the Olympians. His steel-clad warships clashed with their enemy counterparts, guns blazing, while his main force struck the sides of the armada. Iron balls from railguns smashed into wooden hulls as explosive shells tore through the skies seeking prey. Within moments, the seas churned in a tangle of foaming wakes, burning sails and screaming men.

  The Olympians fought back viciously and the battle was by no means one-sided. Their captains were as war-hardened as his own and ripped into his forces with fanatical ferocity. The thunder of gunfire rolled across the dark cloud cover blocking out the shouted commands and the screams of the wounded. The air stank of burning powder, flaming wood and charred flesh. Pillars of angry black smoke rose above the roiling waters quickly torn asunder by the stiff winds that billowed slashed sails. Soon the fighting fleets were so entangled it was difficult to tell friend from foe in the soot-filled fog.

  The melee was so intense it took far too long for the Olympian commanders to notice the second fleet barreling down on them from the rear. The five hundred Atlantean vessels remained hidden within the archipelago of barren volcanic islands hundreds of miles to the northeast well out of normal shipping lanes. They lay quiet and invisible in the shallow bays between the uninhabited chunks of black rock until the Olympian armada was well past scanner range. Then they stalked their prey silently like a pack of hungry wolves, staying out of sight until they, at last, received Admiral Marcarilus’ call to arms.

  They hit the unsuspecting supply ships and troop transports with savage ferociousness. Claws of fire slashed into the lightly armed vessels and spilled their bloody bowels into the steaming sea. Caught unaware, the larger, slower Olympian ships still fought valiantly, their frantic crews struggling to escape from the talons of death closing around their clenched throats.

  The Sea Dragon listed slightly in the water surrounded by what was left of four enemy ships. Part of a huge oaken spear pierced her side just below the main deck. To his angry chagrin, Poseidon did not anticipate his opponent’s tactic until the behemoth vessels closed around him. They did not come at him with guns roaring – energies he could absorb and turn against them. Their Admiral may not know of the weapons they now possessed, but he feared they might have an armored Nillian like Raet on board. He ordered his ships to ram the flagship with re-enforced, steel-clad bowsprits lowered like the horns of a raging bull. If they could pin the Sea Dragon between them, his warriors could swarm her decks.

  Miko swung the ship hard over as the heavy vessels converged on the Sea Dragon. The blade ship was fast and agile, but the Atlantean captains used their larger ships like a wall to hem their quarry in between them. Miko barely managed to avoid the first monstrous pike aimed at the Dragon’s heart. The barbed tip raked down the side of the wooden hull instead of penetrating, but the maneuver tossed Poseidon, Zeus and half the crew across the sea-slickened decks. He spun the wheel to starboard, righting the ship, grateful he was strapped to the helm by his battle harness.

  The second spear stuck the port side, the force of the attack shoving the Sea Dragon sideways against the wind. She dragged the behemoth holding her in an arc with her momentum, saving her from the second shaft that would have pinioned his ship between them. They would not avoid the next one.

  Poseidon leaped to his feet, tying a length of braided rope around his waist. He threw the looped end around a capstan and dove over the bulwarks above the thorn in his beloved’s side. Already Atlantean warriors were clamoring across the huge bowsprit toward the decks of the Sea Dragon. They snarled and howled in barbaric glee as they rushed toward the Olympian ship, their eyes red with battle lust.

  Those growls turned to horrified shrieks and piteous wails as Poseidon landed on the flat-topped spike. His gargantuan form looked like an enraged demon from the darkest depths of the sea. The waves crashing between the locked hulls splashed around him as if he had emerged from their foaming maws. Clutched in his huge hands was a huge trident of gold, liquid lines of bluish-silver glowing like the hatred in his faceted emerald eyes. His full-throated roar frozen them in their tracks, the water running down their legs not of the sea.

  Poseidon raised Triton high above his head and slammed the tines down into the wood beneath his feet. The sonic blast shattered the hardened wood into a million tiny shards that sliced the falling men to pieces long before they reached the pounding waves. Poseidon lifted the haft from the remnants of the broken spike beneath him and aimed the tip toward the Atlantean ship. Triton replied with a soundless explosion that rippled completely through the enemy hull from stem to stern. The three huge masts went down like blades of grass in a wind storm. The ultrasonic vibrations cascaded through the vessel like a tidal wave, joining with the blistering fire from the port gunners and tore it apart like a gale through a thin veil of smoke. Those not tossed off the upper decks had no time to scream. The pulse from Triton jellied their insides and pulverized their hearts in a microsecond.

  The Sea Dragon rocked as she was set free, throwing Poseidon from his precarious perch. The rough rope snapped hard around his thick waist, abrading his hide even through his padded leathers. The impact with the hull whooshed the air from his lungs and ripped skin from his bare arms. Yet his hold on Triton never loosened. It was as if the weapon was an extension of his own arm, the power running through it seizing up the muscles of his hand in a death grip.

  The stiff winds at her stern billowed her sails and the Sea Dragon surged forward. Poseidon bounced along the swaying hull, smacking his head on the cracked wood until he could plant his feet under him. He used his free hand to lurch upward, shoving off with his bunched legs. His progress was impeded by the seawater that sprayed up from below slickening the hull as the Dragon gained momentum.

  The rope around him tightened. Poseidon heard shouting from above and glanced upward. Four of his crewmen hauled on the cord and yanked him over the bulwark. He rolled as he hit the tilted deck and quickly regained his footing. Poseidon had no time for thanks. He could see a second ship racing for the starboard side. Without a doubt, it would smash into them long before the Sea Dragon could get out of its way. He knelt on one knee and pointed Triton’s tip toward the giant juggernaut rushing at their side.

  Blue-white lightning crackled across the open water and bathed the enemy vessel in a halo of sparkling hellfire. The ship’s sails blazed yellow-red as the decks erupt
ed in wind-driven flames. Crackling electricity coursed along the spider web of riggings in a silver-hued glow. Anyone touching the sea-dampened rope danced in screaming agony as their skin blackened and boiled. His starboard guns roared and pounded the hapless vessel with fifty-pound iron balls the blasted massive holes in the monster’s glowing hull. Green-black water poured through the ragged gaps and sucked the ship into the hungry maw of the sea.

  The other two captains closing in on the Sea Dragon blanched a pale white at the eye-searing sight of the awesome, horrifying firepower of the Olympian vessel. Nothing in their vast experiences had prepared them to face the demonic forces wielded by their enemy. Bellowing in bowl-loosened terror, they attempted to flee the fiendish firepower, keeling their ships hard over and away from the nightmarish carnage. In their justified fear, their gunners ignored their Admiral’s orders not to use energy weapons and fired everything they had on the wrathful apparition racing toward them. Pulse cannons and plasma weapons rained down on the Sea Dragon along with the storm from the railguns and missiles as they circled away from the Olympian beast. It was the worst thing they could have done.

  Zeus stood on the stern, his legs spread like steel stanchions, battle webbing holding him fast against the sway of the ship. The field Excalibur generated around him dried the moisture on his body and garb leaving white, salty patches behind. As ordered, he was alone on the aft deck so the power he commanded would not blow back on the crew.

  Within the impenetrable sword shield, Zeus felt Excalibur surge through him like an incredible adrenaline elixir. His hair twisted and twirled around his head like a living thing, sparks crackling on the tips. His golden eyes glittered like diamonds above the ferocious, brutal smile that spread across his darkly tanned lips. Locked in the barbaric embrace of battle, he had no idea he was howling like an enraged Dire Wolf.

  The captains of the two Atlantean attackers froze at their helms, mouths gaping, knowing in their night-black hearts they had mere moments left to live. What they witnessed was impossible. The condensed light beams from the pulse cannons bent in the dark gray, smoke-filled air, drawn toward the two glowing creatures standing on the Dragon’s decks. Even the thick milk of the plasma guns was pulled away from the hull to lick at the brilliant bubbles surrounding the fiendish furies. The metals in the missiles seemed to be drawn toward beast at the stern like iron to a magnet. Those Atlanteans that could threw themselves overboard into the shark-infested waters, preferring to take their chances there instead of what they knew was coming.

  Poseidon gritted his teeth against the power threatening to tear his quivering muscles apart. The First Children had given him Triton for a reason. Only his Nephilim-like strength could withstand the deluge of forces absorbed by the sonic trident. Still, it kept him on his knees, his head bent in agony, his jade eyes blurry and dark. He knew he could hold no more and aimed Triton’s barbed tip at retreating enemy. The two outer tines vibrated in frequencies far above his hearing, sending their incredible oscillations into the center. The voice of the Creator whispered across the seas and struck the Atlantean warcraft amidships. Shards of wood and bone were all that remained, limp sails floating in the flotsam before the ocean pulled them down below.

  Zeus felt the impact of the iron balls and explosive missiles against the force field like raindrops on a window pane. Excalibur took the kinetic energy like a lover’s kiss, flattening the metal and dropping it into the sea like grains of sand. The fiery blasts it absorbed in reddish glares that temporarily blinded the Sea Dragon’s crew glancing in his direction. The pain he felt as the power pulsed around him was more erotic than hurtful, like fingernails of passion scratching furrows in his bleeding back. Both hands wrapped around the wooden hilt, Zeus pointed Excalibur at the last of their assailants. Using only a small portion of the power, the blade sent blue molten lightning crackling across the horizon.

  A massive fireball erupted on the rolling waves, roaring into the heavens along with deafening peals of howling thunder. Even above the horrendous noise of the battle beyond, the sound and light made foe and friend alike stop suddenly and stare bewilderedly into the smoky sky. Seeing the twisting spears of lightning arise from the sea, the Olympian warbirds broke off their engagement and sped away from the Atlantean skyships as Zeus had ordered before they began.

  Cognizant of the Children’s warnings, Zeus unleashed the rest of Excalibur’s anger into the sky at the enemy squadrons. The steel of their fuselages drew the electricity like a spire raised in a thunderstorm. Twisted metal and exploding engines fell in a hailstorm of fire that lit up the clouds for miles. Not a single Atlantean aircraft survived.

  Marcarilus stood on the bridge of his flagship, his jaw dropped to his heaving chest. The ocean battlefield around him was eerily silent. Every gun on every vessel went suddenly still as the sailors stared at the crooked streaks of lightning blazing upward from the Sea Dragon. They fanned out against the flat blanket of gray clouds like the petals of a blue-silver rose. The tortured sky bellowed in anguish, crying out with thunder of its own. The clouds turned black and turbulent with a coming storm. They bit back at the assault with natural lightning which crackled and curled around that coming from Excalibur as if the two awesome forces were one intertwined web. The horrendous noise threw the pitiful little creatures below to their knees, their trembling hands cupped over their pain-filled ears. The bitter scent of burning ozone assailed their nostrils and stung their strained throats.

  Admiral Marcarilus screamed in rage, shouting orders at his terrified men. He pounded his fists on the helm, furious his well-laid trap was falling apart because of one lone vessel. His commands were lost at first in the tempest of sound, but the crews feared him more than the gale boiling above them. More than fifty of his ships rallied behind him as he tore through the waves toward the Sea Dragon. His hatred blazed on his crimson cheeks and turned his eyes into raven-black pits. He would not have his victory stolen from his grasp by a solitary ship! Never! The glory would still be his!

  The rest of his armada turned tail and shattered, their captains more petrified by the nightmare spectacle erupting above them than they were of Marcarilus or the Lord Father. They broke away as fast as they possibly could, racing from the Creator-driven maelstrom around them. None wanted any part of such unstoppable power.

  Poseidon rushed to the end of the bowsprit, aiming his prow at the center of the oncoming fleet. His body felt supercharged, his monstrous muscles bulging as if they would burst from his flesh. His emerald eyes glowed like some fury-filled feral beast, a primal force of nature wrathful and indestructible. Once his enemy was clear of the Olympian armada and within a quarter mile of the Sea Dragon, he unleashed to remaining power of Triton into the churning sea.

  The sonic blast hit the frothing water and shoved it ahead of his bow. The greenish-black ocean lifted in a mammoth wave that arced out toward the enemy fleet. Gaining incredible speed, it rose so high Poseidon lost sight of the Atlantean ships bearing down on him. He did not see the scrambling vessels attempting to turn from the torrential wall of water rushing at them. He could not hear the screams and wails of terror as sailors were flung helplessly from the decks and riggings. The ocean surged beneath their hulls and flipped them over as easily as leaves in a hurricane. In seconds, they were merely gone.

  The tidal wave continued across the sea weakening as it went. By the time it hit the Atlantean shoreline, it was little more than ripples in the water that washed chunks of wood and battered, bloated corpses upon the sandy beaches. Carrion birds and denizens of the deep feasted lavishly for weeks.

  Chapter XXIV

  There was no fanfare, no festivals, no cheering crowds when the Olympian fleet sailed into Daedalia’s harbor. Over half of the citizens still living in the city had fled from the coming invaders and the fighting that had already wreaked havoc on their lives. Those people who stayed behind were somber and quiet, drained by the carnage of war. The sailors of Poseidon’s ships were sober and grim, still
shocked at the soul-shivering display of power they had witnessed. They spent days recovering from the battle and searching for survivors - friend and foe alike - among the vast debris field strewn across the bloody ocean waves. Far too few were found. They lost over six hundred ships and crews to the onslaught, family and friends among them. Two hundred and six troop transports had gone down, each loaded with a hundred warriors and their shipmates. They even grieved for their enemy. So many lives lost on both sides cast a gloomy pallor over every surviving soul. There was nothing any of them wished to celebrate.

  Zeus sagged into the corner of a long, tan couch in the conference room of what was left of the Main House of Daedalia. The entire west wing of the huge building lay in ruins and the stink of its charred skeleton still permeated the air. In their absence, the forces of Atlantis swept through the city, attempting to retake control of the largest port on the continent. They slaughtered men, women and children indiscriminately in their hatred and battle-lust. Daedalia was seen as a den of traitors, supporters of the Olympian invaders and the assault was viciously brutal.

  “Thank you,” Zeus said wearily, accepting a steaming cup of strong green tea from his sister. His wavy, red beard rested limply on his slowly rising chest and his eyes were dark and half-hooded. He studied the swirling mist in his mug, searching for the absolution his heart refused to give.

  “It was not your fault some of our own warbirds were caught by the lightning,” Demeter said softly. She pulled a chair up next to her brother and placed a hand on the on his burly forearm. Her sky-blue eyes were misty and sad. She could feel the grief shivering Zeus’ muscles and could think of little that might console his troubled mind. “They simply did not get out of the way fast enough. You could not have known how far that power would spread.”