by Gene Stiles
“Our archers are in place at the upper floor windows along the boulevard awaiting your command,” Morella said quietly as she exited the rear door of the storefront before them. Her dark auburn hair was pulled tightly away from her slender face and braided down her back. The full, red lips that sat above her pointed chin were as terse as the look in her hazel eyes.
“Twenty guards flank the entrance on this side,” she continued, her voice as steely as her stance. “They carry shields, but half of them are laying on the lawn. They seem casual and sloppy, probably thinking they are far from the fighting and, with the commanders at the front, safe from repercussions.”
There was a brief twinkling of light from the rooftops to the north and east of the majestic pyramid. Three quick flashes Chalandra knew were answered from high above her. She raised her hand in a balled fist. “Today we teach them the price of negligence,” she said sternly.
The archers above her picked their targets carefully and fired. A deadly swarm of razor-tipped aeros was already flying when Chalandra and her warrior women burst from the doorways along the deserted city street. A hundred strong, they raced toward the pyramid, a howling war cry chilling the hearts of the surviving men before them. Most of the Atlantean Aam tumbled silently to the grass, their voices stilled by the wooden shafts piercing their hearts. Those left raised their shields and bunched themselves in front of the huge carved oak doors.
Chalandra’s fierce battle elation did not last long. The pyramid portal swung open wide belching forth a horde of black-clad soldiers. Pulse rifles lashed out with searing beams of blue and red fire. Chalandra felt her flesh sizzle from near misses and heard her Sisters scream in agony and fury. She smashed into the Black Guard, her body and sword swirling like a hurricane wind. In seconds, she was surrounded by spilled blood and the ringing of steel on steel desperately fighting just to stay alive.
Adrasteia raced quietly toward the main entrance of the pyramid with the brooding One Tree at her back. She could hear the havoc raging around the edifice and hated herself for holding her company back until the conflict was well underway. Yet, if their plan was to succeed, whatever troops Cronus left behind must be drawn away from the western side of the monolithic structure. There were no buildings between the great tree and these massive doors. Adrasteia and her forces had to come in from the edges of the city and that left them exposed for too long without the diversions. Moreover, the entire Atlantean army was encamped just beyond the Isle of the One Tree. Should they hear the combat and send re-enforcements all would be lost. Adrasteia had to move swiftly if she was to take control of the Grid in time to save her son, Zeus, and the rest of the Olympian legions.
There were no guards at the top of the granite stairway nor in front of twenty-foot-tall, ornately carved doors. They reached them without incident, surprised at the lack of security or alarm. Her warriors formed up around Adrasteia, the small, square, slightly curved shields they carried raised before them. The first row knelt upon the smooth stone, archers at the ready just behind them. Two women grabbed each of the huge handles and glanced back at Adrasteia. She nodded and they yanked hard.
The doors did not budge. For the first time in history, they were bolted closed. Without the firepower of a plasma cannon, there was no way inside.
Thea and Themis hid in Grand Library just off the gigantic main entrance hall. Three hundred ebony-clad Aam swarmed around the antechamber armed with swords to back up the last of the pulse rifles in the Atlantean armory. Cronus did not anticipate an attack on the pyramid in his absence, but he was prudent enough to plan for one. When it did come, his Black Guard commanders were well prepared. The broad corridors at the entrances were easily defended from incursion with the many side rooms and doorways providing excellent cover for battle. As large as the hallways were, they still forced any invaders to bunch together if they broke through, making them easy targets for the Atlantean soldiers.
“How are we to get to Adrasteia?” Thea whispered worriedly, glancing around the tall row of data crystal cases. The tinted interior windows of the library showed the foggy forms of armed troops rushing around the chaotic room. Even though they were dressed in Aam black like the soldiers, it was impossible for them to slip out unnoticed. “That guard said the main doors are barred on the inside. She will not be able to gain entry.”
“I am not sure,” Themis replied as she worked her way through the cases away from the door. Garbed identically to Thea with their blond hair braided and curled in a bun, the two women were indistinguishable from one another. “We are the most famous twins in Atlantis. If we are spotted, we will be captured in a heartbeat.”
They found a quiet niche in the back of the library and huddled close together. It was doubtful they would be overheard above the noise outside, but they still kept their voices low anyway.
“That could work to our advantage,” Thea said, her jade eyes dark and cloudy. “I could make a break for the lifts. We know these passages better than most. Cronus has ordered the lights dimmed to store the energy for the Grid. There are lots of shadows. If I could get by the guards, I could go up a floor or two and backtrack to the doors.”
“And if you are seen?”
“I am quick,” Thea replied, a tiny, hard smile on her full, red lips. “I will lead them on a chase through the hallways. That will give you a chance to reach Adrasteia from here. If they see you, the conflicting reports of our whereabouts will give us an advantage. One of us might make it. We have to try.”
Though she did not like it, Themis glumly agreed. Zeus was on the move. If they could not eliminate the Grid, thousands would die.
The clamor outside rose to a fever pitch, drawing their attention. The twins hurried to the door of the chamber and listened to the growing commotion. They heard shouted commands and the cries of wounded being brought in. Soldiers rushed toward the north, south and east entrances. The Aam-Izon had begun their assault. The confusion was just what they needed.
Thea threw her cloak over her shoulders and pulled the hood low over her face. She put a firm hand on her sister’s arm and whispered, “Good luck.” With that, she slipped into the chaos.
Themis waited for long, nail-biting moments before stepping out of the library. Most of the troops were gone, the sounds of battle echoing off the stone walls of the cavernous chamber. Tables were drawn together in the center, the Black Guard commanders bellowing orders and studying the reports strewn in front of them. Off to one side, near the museum, moaning bodies attended by Lenders glimmered in the dusky gloom with the golden glow of Healing. Little attention was paid to the lone figure slipping through the shadows.
Working her way through side corridors and ducking into offices when Aam hurried down the hallways slowed Themis’ progress tremendously. It took her almost half an hour to reach the strangely quiet foyer near the main entrance, the reverberations of battle lost in the vastness of the gigantic pyramid. A small ray of hope filled her mind as she wormed her way around the massive, fluted pillars and elegantly carved statues of the anteroom.
Themis came to a sudden halt, the bright flame of hope snuffed out by the terrible sight before her tearing eyes. She balled her fists in frustration, knowing there was nothing she could do. A monstrous, solid oak beam was laid across the center of the colossal doors. Themis leaned her hands on the rough-hewn wood and tried to lift it, knowing it was impossible. It did not budge. She could never move it alone.
Her face grim and her body vibrating in bitter resentment, Themis did not know what to do next. Her only choice was to try to make it to the control room and stop the Grid on her own. She began to turn away but froze at a grumbling voice behind her.
“And just what do you think you are doing here?” The Aam lieutenant asked coldly as he stepped into the dusky light, three other guards at his back. Swords drawn, they encircled Themis. She turned, stiffened her spine and threw back her hood. Even though surprised, they did not slow their advance.
“I am of the T
welve,” Themis commanded harshly. “You will stand down.”
“I think not,” the lieutenant said bluntly. His deep brown eyes were flat and dead-looking. He knew exactly who she was and did not care in the least. He raised the tip of his blade and touched it to the pit of her exposed throat. A drop of blood formed where it nicked her flesh. “You will come with us. Now.”
Thea watched from a darkened corner, her cheeks blushed in helplessness. Her fingers gripped the hilt of her short sword, wanting so badly to rip into her sister’s captors. But though she could fight, she was no warrior. The sacrifice would be pointless. She waited until they were well past her shadowed nook and slipped silently down the passage toward the lift. Thea bit her lip, her emerald eyes flashing like faceted jewels in firelight. No matter what awaited her twin at the hand of Cronus, the Grid must be neutralized.
The war room was located in the middle of the sixth floor of the pyramid, just below the Lord Father’s private quarters. The data center, communications room, a small laboratory and currently uninhabited offices surrounded it amid a labyrinth of hallways and side corridors. A small squad of Black Guard was stationed at each of the four doors that gave entry to the massive chamber.
Thea squatted just inside a tiny storeroom, the door cracked open just enough for her to peak out at the passing guards. One look at their numbers told her there was no way past them. Only if Adrasteia managed to take the lower floors would they have a chance to defeat these men. From the conversations she overheard, Thea knew the battle was not going their way.
Once the hall was clear, she made her way back to the laboratory, a glimmer of an idea forming in her mind. Thea might not be a warrior, but she knew her way around chemicals. She knew she could not get to the war room, but if the elements she needed were available, perhaps she could create an explosive strong enough to destroy the data center. If that went down, so would the Grid controls…or at least she hoped so. Careful to be as noiseless as possible, Thea went to work.
Chalandra lay in the blood-soaked grass, her dull blue eyes wide and sightless. A dozen Black Guard spilled their entrails on the lawn around her, their corpses hacked into gruesome pieces. She did not go quietly. Adrasteia knelt at her side, her vision blurred and her lips trembling. Gently, she closed her sister’s eyes and kissed her cooling forehead. As much as she wanted to mourn, now was not the time. She covered Chalandra with her cloak and rose slowly to her feet, her ebony eyes blazing with malice. Her heart vowing vengeance, Adrasteia stomped into the pyramid.
Unable to breach the main entrance, she divided her troops and reinforced the assaults on the north and south sides of the pyramid. The battle was brutal and bloody, but her warriors finally battered their way into the pyramid and had taken the first floor. Now they swarmed up the stairs and lifts, fighting for every inch of corridor. The Atlanteans might be vastly outnumbered now, but they fought fiercely and had a tactical advantage. The narrowness of the passages limited the combat to aeros and pulse rifles fired from side rooms. After that, it was sword to sword, shield to shield within tight confines.
“This is taking too long,” Adrasteia grumbled bitterly. Her raven hair was matted to her head by blood and sweat. She brushed errant strands away from the sticky cuts on her cheek, ignoring the rivulets of crimson dripping past her jawline. She wiped her slick blade on her filthy, tattered blouse and slid it back into its sheath.
She stood in the anteroom on the sixth floor just two hundred feet from the war room, but taking the chamber was hampered by the maze of hallways and the last of the Black Guard. They had blocked most of the passages with hastily stacked furniture and door panels. From behind their barricades, they effectively and viciously rebuffed every assault Adrasteia mustered against them. The granite floors were slippery with blood and littered with moaning bodies and stinking corpses. The elegant tapestries on the stone walls were splattered with dark stains creating a surrealistic scene from some demonic nightmare. She could get no further.
Refusing to give up or let her sister’s death be in vain, Adrasteia gathered the Aam-Izon around her. “We will create our own wall,” she said grimly. “Find as many shields as you can. Interlock them floor to ceiling and smash into the Atlantean barricade. We will lose no more.”
Her warriors turned to comply but froze as the floor beneath their feet vibrated and a weird hum filled the corridors. At the same time, a blast of firelight and smoke swept through the hallway, blanketing the room. The air filled with dust and heat, choking Adrasteia and her Sisters. Every light on every floor of the pyramid winked out at once, leaving the entire, massive structure in complete and utter darkness.
Shouting and confusion spread throughout the edifice, surging among the Atlanteans and Olympians alike. Even though dim, murky sunshine still seeped through the darkly tinted windows on the outer walls of the pyramid, the skirmishes between the two forces were concentrated deep in its interior where no natural light penetrated. All fighting ceased in the stunned bewilderment. The absolute blackness made it impossible to tell friend from foe or even move for fear of tripping over barricades and the bodies that littered the gory passageways. Both sides of the conflict held their positions, a nameless dread rippling up their frightened spines.
The tons of granite surrounding them began to quiver and moan like a living thing. The walls throbbed and shivered, an unholy rumbling reverberating through the floors and corridors. Lights flickered and came back on, but grew in luminescence until they blazed like the surface of the sun before exploding in a deadly shower of crystal slivers. Ebony night descended upon them once again, this time accompanied by a howl of tortured stonework. Cracks spread through the granite blocks and the marble flooring as the pyramid seemed to lift, arching its back in agony before slamming back to the ground. The horrendous impact tossed people around like rags in a gale wind.
“What in the name of the Creator was that?” she whispered, coughing as she struggled to her feet. Another huge tremor swelled beneath her feet and she reached for the wall to steady herself.
“Truce!” Adrasteia bellowed over the terrified turmoil. “Truce! Truce!”
Her words were shouted back by the Atlantean soldiers, more petrified of being buried alive than they were of her. “Get out! Get everyone out!” she shouted. “Evacuate this place before we are all entombed forever!”
She ripped a sleeve off her blouse, wound it around a broken table leg and lit it on fire. Seeing her torch, others did the same. Soon there was enough light to grab the injured and work their way to the stairways. Animosities were forgotten as they struggled to save as many people as possible before the pyramid crumbled down on them.
A warrior slung over her shoulder, Adrasteia fell to the ground outside. She stared up at the gargantuan monolith, the massive crystal windows shattered and broken and the granite blocks spider-webbed with ugly, jagged cracks. She lifted herself up, dusted off and grimly trudged back inside. There were still more to save.
“What force on earth could do this?” she asked herself, unnerved by the pure power it would take to cause such damage. She would worry about that later, she thought, diving into the darkness. Now was not the time.
Thea was asking herself the same thing on the other side of the war room. She lay on the cold granite floor of the lab, pinned by a huge oak table that tumbled over on her. Her head throbbed and her legs felt broken. Her eyelids fluttered and she felt consciousness slip away from her. Stunned, her last thought was, ‘The explosives were not that powerful. What on earth did I do?’
Chapter XXVII
Cronus watched the slow, steady advance of the Olympian army across the Aropian Veldt licking his lips in cruel anticipation. His narrowed, jade eyes flashed with streaks of black and ice-blue, but his stance was firm and controlled. The demon viper of his soul slithered in a tight coil within its ebony pit and hissed vehemently at the restraints Cronus was putting upon it. He could not allow it to escape again and fill his own men with doubt and dread. The diss
ent in his ranks was quickly quelled, but misgivings and incertitude still lingered within their sullen faces. He could not let another lapse of sanity shatter his forces at the very moment of his greatest triumph.
Though it was only early afternoon, the sky above was already darkening, angered by the foreign invasion. The flat, pallid, gray clouds were beginning to churn and twist, a faint rumble building within them like the low menacing growl of a cornered beast. There was not even the slightest of breezes to cool the humid, sticky air that clung to the inside of the lungs like a heavy stone and made breathing difficult.
The soldiers sweltered in their black leathers even though hot, bright sunshine did not beat down upon them. The sweat that trickled down their backs and into their eyes was not just caused by the thick humidity, but by the fear and fury that permeated their minds. They could not understand why the Lord Father ordered them to hold their positions with the Olympian legions bearing down upon them. Why they were commanded not to fire their larger cannons now that the enemy was within range seemed ludicrous and irrational. It seemed as if Cronus was intentionally allowing their adversaries to get close enough to use their own smaller guns before he fired upon them. After seeing him slobber and rage, it terrified them he might have slipped into a madness that could cost them all their lives. The only reason many of them did not bolt and run was the grim Black Guard units walking among them.
“Brother,” Iapetus said, his voice low enough that only Cronus could hear him, “the pyramid is under siege. Olympian forces have attacked just as you predicted. Our men are slightly outnumbered, but are easily holding their own.”