Colony- Olympian

by Gene Stiles

  Helena looked down at the corpse in disdain. She heard their laughter and their barbaric comments before her squad wiped them out and she was glad to rid the world of such vile vermin. Her warriors stripped the bodies of their weapons and silently slid back into the trees. A few more attacks and the next stage of their assault would be ready.

  Even though there were only a hundred of them, Valkyrie and her archers took out three times as many before the enemy even knew what was happening. By then, she owned every piece of high ground on the relatively flat plain. Zeus was slowly pushing the Atlanteans back toward the main veldt and into her waiting arms. Without fear of hitting her own, Valkyrie filled the skies with a deadly hail of steel, striking the unprepared rear flanks. Without the shields of the men at the fore of the battle, the Atlanteans fell like flies.

  Zeus stood solemnly on the grassy hill alongside Valkyrie and slowly swept his sad eyes over the grisly remains of the battlefield. A gusty wind blew southward and dragged the gray-white smoke of burning wood away from the men and women shambling among the bodies below. The sun had long passed its zenith and was sinking behind the long band of high, angry red clouds that drifted along the western horizon. Flocks of multi-hued birds returned to the trees once the thunder of battle finally ceased and now twittered happily among the branches as if the horrors of the last few hours had no meaning at all.

  From here, it was eerily quiet down there. There was no jubilation for their victory, no laughter nor celebrations. All Zeus could hear was the echoes of hammers driving spikes into the hard-packed, bloody ground as tents and pavilions were set up for the night. The carts and wagons heaped with the dead made no noise upon the trampled grasslands as they moved toward the burning barrier that was now a massive funeral pyre. The screams and wails of the wounded were now indistinct, low moans lost in the mournful sound of the swirling wind.

  “What is left of the Atlantean forces are now beyond the forests and are running toward the city,” Valkyrie said quietly, loath to interrupt the sanctity of the moment. “Do we pursue?”

  Her mottled green and black leathers were torn in places and stained with brownish dried blood, some her own, but most that of her enemies. Once the Olympian army reached her position, Valkyrie set her bow aside, drew her blade and joined the fray. The light, golden glow of Healing was already fading from her copperish skin as her minor injuries faded away.

  “Let them go,” Zeus replied softly. He shook his head slightly and took a deep, heavy sigh. He ignored the knots cramping his stomach at the sight of such carnage stamped across the once beautiful, flower-covered meadow. Even though it made his soul ache, Zeus knew it was necessary to end this unholy war. “They are broken. Perhaps they will now heed my ultimatum and get as far from this conflict as they can. I will not kill needlessly.”

  Zeus started down the hill, making his way toward one of the many dining tents erected across the field. Though he had little appetite, he knew he must keep up his strength. This was far from over.

  Valkyrie walked silently at his side as they wound their way through the sullen encampment. Zeus took time to speak to everyone he passed, sometimes just laying a hand on the shoulder of a weary warrior. People huddled around crackling fires, not for the heat for the night was warm, but for the solace they found in the flickering flames. She was not surprised how a simple word from Zeus seemed to lighten the burden on their souls. There was a sense of righteousness about the man that lessened the guilt they all felt for the lives they had had been forced to take.

  After visiting a few of the Healing tents, the two found a spot on the grass under the canopy of a food pavilion. The fare was simple, thick and meaty stews, cheeses, breads and ale, but the succulent aroma reminded Zeus of just how hungry he really was. They had barely begun eating when Hera and Captain Norland found them.

  “I am sorry to bother you, brother, but this cannot wait,” Hera said as she settled on the ground next to Zeus. She was dirty and blood-stained and had the same exhausted, haunted look in her emerald eyes that he had seen on the faces of so many others. Yet, there was also a grim, stubborn determination that stiffened her spine and hardened her words. They all knew this battle would be their last no matter the outcome and they intended to win.

  “What is it?” Zeus asked after washing his stew down with a swig of the dark, heady ale. He could see the urgency in her shadowed face and how Norland scowled at her side. Zeus felt a chill crawl up his spine at their demeanor and prepared himself for bad news.

  “Poseidon has been stopped on the other side of the forest,” Hera said bluntly. She pointed toward the flickering reddish glow that covered the skyline to the east. “The woodland fires have spread rapidly northward, pushed by their own winds. The blaze is now well in front of him. He says the smoke is so thick they cannot see more than a few feet ahead. He has reports the flames have swept across the grasslands and have ignited the Borderland Forest. They have been cut off from Atlantis and are now moving southward. Poseidon intends to backtrack and join us on this side. He says it will take at least three days to reach us and asks we wait here until he arrives.”

  “I do not think that is a good idea,” Captain Norland said harshly. He pulled up tufts of grass and tore them apart in his thick-fingered hands. He mahogany eyes were dark pits in his long, square face and his lips were a hard, straight line beneath his long, brown beard. “It would give Cronus more time to prepare. It also means we could be trapped by fire should the winds change.”

  Zeus gazed around the huge tent as the two spoke. The men and women were clustered in small groups on the grass, their conversations muted and their eyes haunted. Not only were they exhausted, but he could feel their troubled anguish surrounding them like a cold fog. War was as hard on the victors as it was on the vanquished.

  “We lost hundreds of good warriors this day,” Zeus said finally. “Many more are grievously wounded and will take days to Heal, some even longer. Not only could we use the reinforcements, but we could use the rest.”

  “Yet,” he said, looking gravely at Norland, “you are also right, Captain. Remaining here too long could be dangerous.” Zeus sat his bowl of stew on the ground and pondered his tankard as if it contained the answers he needed. “Send word to Poseidon. We will stay here one more day then move north and set up camp at the mouth of the veldt to await him.”

  “And of Cronus?” the captain asked.

  “No matter how long it takes us to reach Atlantis,” Zeus replied, his eyes glimmering like polished gold, “rest assured the Lord Father is already planning for our arrival and it will not be pleasant. Our other forces are moving southward as we speak and the special units are in place. I want us to be at full strength when we face Cronus. This I can promise you. We will need it.”

  Chapter XXV

  Cronus sat on the hard, granite Atlantean throne, leaning on his elbow, his chin resting upon his curled knuckles. Though his tone was dispassionate, his chipped jade eyes were ablaze with crimson streaks. He stared at the trembling man kneeling at his feet as if he were a bug about to be crushed beneath his booted heel. For the last twenty minutes, the commander had been fouling the air with his piteous excuses, desperately trying to explain his massive, costly failure to Cronus and the Lord Father was tired of hearing them.

  “So you are telling me you faced one solitary man with all the might of the Atlantean army and you could not defeat him,” Cronus said frigidly.

  “I…I…I am sorry, Lord Father,” Commander Hernaculus stammered, his bulky body quivering as he spoke. He had served Cronus for decades and never had he failed in any mission given him. To do so now in such a devastating debacle shattered him far more than his lord realized. His shivering was as much shame and humiliation as it was terror. “The weapon he possesses is akin to that of Ra. The immensity of the power is beyond belief. It shields him as does Nillian armor and is nigh impregnable.”

  “Moreover,” Hernaculus said softly, shaking his head slowly as the chilling
memories flooded his mind, “it is awesomely soul-shocking. The mere sight of thunderous lightning held in the grip of Zeus and controlled by his will stuck an almost primal cord in my men. Many of the strongest among them broke and ran as if the wrath of the Creator was upon them.”

  “Even so,” Cronus said, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm, “you could not destroy the mere mortals in his army? You let them tear your legions apart and forced you to flee here with your tail between your legs.”

  “Perhaps if we had energy weapons, we could have stopped them.” The Commander was sweating profusely, desperately trying to give some justification for his loss. “As you ordered, we had none with us. We were evenly matched in cannons and Zeus destroyed half of them in his first attack. Our men fought bravely and took hundreds of enemies with them.”

  “And we lost twice as many,” Cronus said icily. “So you are saying it is my fault you were defeated because I did not let you use plasma cannons. You are saying your men and tactics were not strong enough to drive invaders from our own lands.” His eyes were slitted almost closed and his voice rumbled ominously. “Perhaps you are also saying you did not train them well enough and your leadership was insufficient to the task.”

  Cronus rose from the throne slowly advanced on the prostrated, cowering commander. His hair swirled around his square-jawed face like a cloud of yellow-red fire. Every sinew of his artistically sculpted body rippled beneath his darkly bronzed skin as he stepped from the dais and stopped before the groveling man. Hernaculus kept his head bowed, not wishing to meet those blazing emerald eyes. He knew he had made a fatal mistake with his last comment and his life was over he just hoped it would be quick.

  “Look at me when I am speaking to you,” Cronus demanded, growling low in his throat.

  The Commander was just raising his head when the leather booted foot smashed into his chin shattering his jaw and the vertebrae in his neck. He was dead before his body hit the cold granite floor. Cronus did not care. He continued to stomp the lifeless form until every bone was broken and pools of blood stained the mosaic inlaid in the polished stone floor. Bathed in sweat, Cronus returned to the throne and stared at the ghastly corpse.

  “Do you feel better now?” Iapetus stepped from the shadows of the otherwise empty chamber and looked down at the grizzly mess. His face was as flat and emotionless as usual, but his mind was turbulent and sickened.

  “No,” Cronus replied bitterly, his rage only slightly blunted.

  “Still, it is better you took out your frustrations on one man instead of the whole army,” Iapetus said stiffly. He pulled up a chair and sat down casually, crossing one huge leg over his knee. “I might add if you are going to do this to every commander who has lost, we will soon be out of leaders.”

  “Are you telling me we are losing?” Cronus asked, his thick with dire warning. “Are you implying you cannot win against my own children?”

  “Not at all,” Iapetus said, unperturbed by the thinly veiled threat. He noted the use of the word ‘you’ in that sentence and knew Cronus was saying any other failures would be seen as his personal responsibility. He leaned back in his chair and glanced out the huge windows at the dark blanket of clouds that crowned the hidden mountain peaks. “The thunderstorms of the last two days have doused the fires and cleared the roadways between the forests. We constructed a mammoth stone wall between the woodlands to the south so we are relatively safe from an attack from that direction. The scouts tell us Poseidon retreated from the fires days ago and is now linking up with Zeus near the western edge of the Aropian Veldt. That means we face one army instead of two. There are few routes that will bring them to Atlantis and we have them covered. That gives us a tactical advantage.”

  “And brings them across the Grid,” Cronus said, his mood changing as Iapetus spoke. The aloof, detached manner with which his brother spoke always had a soothing effect on him. Cronus counted on it much these days.

  “Yes,” Iapetus replied, nodding his head slightly. His ebony eyes were as hard and shiny as polished onyx. Steepling his thick fingers beneath his chin, he added carefully, “But we must be cautious. If this new weapon Zeus holds truly feeds on electricity, using the Grid might prove extremely dangerous. It could be turned against us.”

  During their first attack on Olympia, Iapetus remembered how Zeus had buried a cable beneath the surface and used it to electrocute the Atlantean shield holders. Cronus took that tactic many steps forward. Five miles out from the One Tree, they laid a mile-wide grid of wire cable just two feet beneath the soil. It extended in an arc around Atlantis from the River Gaia to the western tip of the Eastern Mountains, effectively surrounding the city. It was powered by the Proto-Sun that sat atop the Central Pyramid. Anything caught it that web when it was turned on would be burned to ash.

  “Zeus might survive,” Cronus said, a cruel, brutal smile touching his lips, “or it may overload his weapon and leave him vulnerable.”

  He reached for the stein of strong ale on the small table next to him and took a long swig. His jade eyes glistened with the bitter hatred that blackened his soul. “One thing is assured. His army will not. He will be alone, commander of nothing. Then we will strike.”

  Chalandra sat on a wide, flat rock with her bare feet dangling in the cool, clear water of the high lake that fed into the River Gaia just north of Atlantis. The stone was hot beneath her and she was glad she brought a blanket to sit upon. The sun was bright and golden in the vast azure sky, barely dimmed by the thin, wispy clouds that floated across the horizon. Only small patches of wildflowers managed to eke their way up through the hard-packed ground of the barren desert, but their aroma was strong and pleasant, taking some of the sting out of the dusty air.

  With her Sisters basking along the water’s edge, it should have been an idyllic scene of serenity, but Chalandra was not feeling very peaceful at all. It was four days since Adrasteia and her unit had left for Atlantis and they were due back yesterday. It left a dark pit of uneasiness in Chalandra’s stomach which only added to the frustration she was already feeling. Waiting was not her strong suit and they had been sitting here for three weeks already.

  “You look like you just ate a blood worm,” Celessa said, joining her twin sister on the blanket. Her small attempt at humor failed miserably, not eliciting even the tiniest of smiles from the grim Chalandra. She opened the small basket she brought with her and handed her sister a chunk of bread and a wedge of yellow cheese. “Eat something. Maybe it will get the taste out of your mouth.”

  “Thank you,” Chalandra said stiffly, accepting the food and a cup of cold water fresh from the lake. A light, hot breeze ruffled her long, blond hair flowing free from her usual tight braid and brought beads of perspiration to her copper-toned skin and the cool water felt good on her parched throat. “Is there any word from the scouts?”

  “Yes,” Celessa replied, curling her slender, well-muscled legs beneath her. “You will be happy to know Adrasteia is only half an hour away. Even with a powered skiff, getting back up the river is difficult. You need not have worried.”

  Chalandra sighed heavily, relieved but not appeased. “Atlantis is on edge and on high alert. Getting in and out is extremely dangerous right now. Even from here we saw the massive plumes of smoke and the redness in the sky at night. Of course, I am going to worry.”

  “That is not the only thing bothering you, is it?” Celessa asked, already knowing the answer. All of the women were feeling the same thing.

  “No,” her sister said, kicking at the water beneath her feet. Her blue eyes were like chipped sapphires in her stern, oval face. “The battle is well underway and we sit here doing nothing. That is not what we traveled all this way for. We should be down there not basking in the sunshine like proper ladies.”

  “I agree,” Celessa said, sharing her sister’s annoyance. “I, too, am anxious to join this fight. We all are. We are warriors, after all. However, we have our part to play. Once Zeus attacks the city, we will slip int
o Atlantis from the rear. Our mission is to take the pyramid. It will cripple communications and give us control over all the power systems in the city. There are only five hundred of us. We cannot succeed if we attack too soon and Cronus turns his army against us. We must be patient.”

  “Not one of my greatest virtues,” Chalandra said with a scowl.

  “I know,” Celessa said with a wry smile as she put a hand on her sister’s tense shoulder. “Believe me, I know.”

  Loki lay on his stomach overlooking the turbulent current of the Gaia. So far, no ships raced toward Atlantis from Lycus. With Captain Thalassa and the Olympian fleet attacking the city from the sea and Lelantos and the legions from the Retreat hammering the port from the north, the beleaguered harbor had all it could do just to defend itself. He did not think they would be sending any ships to Atlantis any time soon. He was here to ensure they never would.

  “All the six railguns are in place,” Anak said, lying down beside him. A wide, plain leather band kept his long, sorrel hair out of his amber eyes as he scanned the rapidly rolling river. “Should Atlantis or Lycus attempt to send vessels to the other, we will sink them before they can pass. If any do escape, Captain Imperion has our warships anchored in the shallows of the two branches of the Claudius behind us. We have effectively isolated the cities.”

  Loki sat up and brushed the blades of grass out of his wavy, ebony hair with his fingertips. “Zeus is halfway to Atlantis,” he said, wishing he were with the army instead of being here out of the fray. “We should be at his back.”

  “We will soon,” Anak assured him. The monstrous Nephilim dusted himself off and sat cross-legged next to his friend. “Zeus promised we can join him once the river is secured and before he attacks the city proper. We are almost finished here. We will leave enough of our brethren here to man the railguns and the rest will go to Atlantis with us. We have much to make Cronus atone for,” he added harshly.