Persephone and Thoth fire their pistols. Concentrated light shoots out of their weapons, crisscrossing the incoming fire from the enemy.
Three soldiers fall, but more enter like ants scrambling to attack morsels on the floor. A well-aimed shot hits Persephone in the chest. The scorched garment mixes with burnt blood, smearing her golden-eagle crest. Another shot hits her, opening the wound as much as it burns the area around it. She falls.
Thoth blasts the shooters. He slams a symbol on the floor. Without delay the blue light above shoots through the air striking the men. It grows in intensity, forming a chain of death piercing flesh as it travels through the soldiers. They all fall screaming, dying.
Blood oozes out of Persephone's wound. Thoth panics. He picks her up with one sweep. He takes her to the waiting sarcophagus, carefully placing her inside. “Easy, try not to move,” he advises.
A panel opens up on the side of the granite box. A small screen materializes. Thoth puts the gem into a slot. Worry covers his face; he gives it away with a frown.
"What, what is it?" she asks suspiciously. Thoth doesn’t answer.
Fearing that she will be dead before long, Persephone struggles to remove the key to Lumeria. Thoth quickly reaches over to move her back down. As if to reveal his intentions, he picks up her bag.
"You will need the key,” he says.
Realizing what the inevitable is, Persephone begins to sob. Her heart is breaking once more. "You're not coming, are you?"
"There's power for only one."
"Then you go. I can't do this,” Persephone demands.
"No, you must. Now, be still," Thoth orders.
He selects some symbols. Light envelops Persephone. She screams in agony, cringing in pain, trying not to move. As the light diminishes, so does her screams.
"Is it done?" she asks.
Thoth looks at the screen. Relief fills the queen as he smiles. He moves closer to Persephone, looking at her with sad eyes. "I will go to Atlantis."
She struggles to get her words out, "There's nothing there but wild tribes of man." Thoth caresses her forehead, giving her some calm.
A tear rolls down Thoth’s cheek, "It’s a perfect place to start over. When the house ENlil falls I will find you in Lumeria, I promise. But first, you must automate the complex."
"By the ancestors and the Lord of heaven, we will meet again. Thoth, I..." He cuts her off with a kiss on her forehead. She smiles, lying flat in the box.
He taps a symbol on the lid; it rumbles loudly as it slides shut. He grabs the gem from the side before the blue waters flood the island. He jumps clear, quickly running to the arch. When the sarcophagus drops below the surface, he looks on solemnly.
"Goodbye Persephone, until we meet again." A blue light flashes. He disappears.
Chapter 02: Squatters
Eons have passed since the forefathers arrived; since they brought their wonders to humanity. Oh, what a golden age it was. Full of prosperity, honor, promise; the mighty Anuk had shaped destiny for all. No longer is such the promise, the hope, the guarantee. The Great War saw to that.
It has been nearly three thousand years since the fall of Persephone, since the demise of House ENki. In one day and night the world fractured, civilizations lost, life put on the brink.
Fire rained down from the sky in Hyperboria, bringing on destruction followed by the rapid freeze. The Southern continent was frozen too, Hyperboria’s doing. Residual attacks brought devastation spreading from Illyria to Aryavan. The original civilizations were wiped away like the morning dew.
A thick band of desert formed across the planet a like a belt of destitution. From west to east scorching sands now occupy a once lush, fertile landscape. The broadest most pronounced areas are those beneath the Giza Plains, adjacent to the land mass to the east.
In this age of Virgo, humanity has re-emerged from the devastation brought on by houses ENlil and ENki. At the eastern end of the continent, the remnants of the Aryan houses consolidated their power, coming under their surviving Anuk sovereign. Stretching from the west of the continent to the eastern borders of Aryvan, powerful tribes of men grabbed large swaths of land to create their kingdoms; they called it Illyria, to honor the ancient name.
Just beyond the western edge of Illyria, five hundred miles across the ocean exists the island continent of Atlantis. Touching the northern freeze of Hyperboria, and then dropping to the southern seas, this land once had tribes of wild men roaming free, uncivilized. Three thousand years ago that all changed when the mighty Thoth arrived.
He raised the tribes out of darkness by teaching and building a society of tolerance. This ended when the survivors of house ENlil arrived.
Atlas was a minor house that escaped the destruction in Hyperboria; now they would claim Atlantis. They brought whatever knowledge they managed to save, managed to remember. Through this dynasty, the rebuilding began. Swiftly their influence grew, fueled by their lust for power.
From their new home, they reached out with converted armies, taking control of the land across the vast ocean, the wild Far West Continent. Closer to home, Egypt was in ashes, with only the great pyramid with the lion of Leo standing testament to the past. It was an easy conquest; the once great lands of Osiris were quickly scooped up by his enemies.
In the early days of Atlantis, the priests extended their greedy hands across all the realms. Not only were they influential within the Empire, but they also introduced their dogma to the other two civilizations. A culture of reverence to the forefathers flourished, making them gods amongst men. The new religion spread like wildfire, reaching all corners, quickly becoming popular with humanity.
One group resisted; they were called the nomads. They were born from the scattered refugees after the Great War. From Egypt, Illyria, and Aryavan, these peoples settled the wastelands. Their patriarch was that devoted servant to Persephone, who vowed to cherish the memory of his beloved queen. He is merely a myth now, only a shadow of the man who lived a long time ago.
These last years of Virgo are tumultuous times. Nomads terrorize the known civilizations; their motives remain unclear. Aryavan and the Illyrian Conglomerate of kingdoms enjoy a fragile peace. And Atlantis, oh Atlantis, it is still the mightiest amongst all; home to the only true pureblood Anuk dynasty, direct descendants of the first house of ENlil.
Two hundred years have passed since one Illyrian kingdom secured an arrangement with the Atlantean congress; protect them from the incursions of rapidly spreading nomads, in exchange for the rights to build a military outpost: sovereign Atlantean property, a garrison of might in Illyria. Once a fortress by which to launch attacks, now it functions as a training base.
Nestled in a valley, the base itself houses one hundred officers with support staff, playing parents to three-thousand recruits, all bound for the Atlantean Foreign Legion. It is a shameful sight for the facility once garrisoned ten thousand battle troops, an air-wing with one hundred assault aircraft, and a harbor at the inlet to the sea. It is an impossible task to maintain the facilities, as such, they are rapidly falling into ruin.
The locals continue to host the Atlantean soldiers, however. They welcome the money but despise the foreigners. The town itself is a pleasant one with all the conveniences of a mountain retreat, local cuisine, clean streets, and not so rowdy brothels.
Sandwiched between two small hills just off the main road, the ‘Wild Pony Canyon playhouse’ draws the military and locals alike. With red lights flashing in the black of night, it attracts the curious vehicles driving by like moths to a flame. Who could resist wanting to stop to use the bathroom facilities, have some ale, or entertain the prospect of a small-town prostitute?
~ ALEXIUS ~
At six-foot-two-inches with two-hundred-pounds of pure intoxicated indecency, Captain Alexius of house Badur enjoys the company of local prostitutes and pitchers of ale, while indulging in a lucrative card game.
His family was a prominent one, holding significant influence with th
e royal family at one point. He was brought up in a proper noble household, shielded from the vices of ordinary folk. So he was never much of a card player; cheating, now in this he excels. At age thirty-three, he has become good at it.
Alexius sits quietly with a garbage set of cards. He looks at the local sitting across from him. The scruffy man admires his hand, waiting to reveal the claim to a modest purse of money. Two other players are impatient. A chunky barmaid, Reisha, appears behind Alexius.
She makes the slightest of smirks while looking at his hand, ensuring the other players see her. She replaces an empty pitcher with a fresh one, leaning in close for her cleavage to catch lusting glances. As she picks up the empty pitcher, she sits on Alexius’ lap.
“It appears that I may have to drop my hand and attend to a more, serious game,” Alexius proclaims.
Smiling at the girl’s ample backside, he grabs it, making her swoon. While the others are distracted by Reisha’s voluptuous assets, he discreetly reaches down her undergarments to exchange his cards for a better set.
“Anytime M ’Lord,” Reisha says. “You know where to find me.” She hurries off to the bar, leaving Alexius smiling.
The impatient local drops his hand. The others do the same. “The whore brings me luck. Maybe I’ll have her,” the man declares. He reaches over for the pot. The other players frown.
Alexius drops his hand then quickly grabs the other man’s wrist. “It appears the lady brought me luck. Now, the next round of drinks is on me.”
“You’re a cheater Atlantean,” the angry local announces, “There is no way you would beat me otherwise.” Standing quickly, he reaches for a weapon. Suddenly realizing that he had none, he considers his odds in a fist fight.
Alexius stands, towering over the man. His muscles bulge through his shirt, more so when he cracks his knuckles. The smaller man resigns himself for the drink.
“Barkeep,” Alexius calls, “bring whatever my friends are drinking. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.” He scoops up the winnings then makes haste to a door behind the bar.
There are several rooms down a long hallway, private entertaining rooms. Alexius spots the one he wants. He knocks playfully then waits for an invitation. The door opens revealing Reisha.
“Now you promised you’d take me to your place.” Reisha pouts.
“I promised you half the pot. You have any idea what will happen if we’re caught?”
“I’ll throw in my sister for next time.” She watches Alexius struggle with indecision. His brain says no, but his shortcomings say yes.
“Hard to say no to that,” he concedes.
“I bet it’s hard. I’ll get my things.”
“Have to piss that overpriced ale first.” Alexius leaves her, making his way around a corner.
Before he can open the exit door, a ten-year-old boy in rags attempts to rush past him. Alexius grabs the boy. Bruises on the child’s arm catch his attention. A deep gash has dried up blood; looks like an old wound from an apparent beating.
Alexius kneels to meet the boy’s terrified gaze, giving him a stern look. “Don’t be frightened boy. You live here?”
The lad nods with a sad face. There is an air of misery about him, familiarity; not in the person, but the situation. Alexius reflects inwardly to when he was the boy’s age.
~ALEXIUS (Age 10). FAMILY ESTATE, PARTHON, ATLANTIS~
Parthon is in the lower-middle section of Atlantis, situated on the eastern side of the continent. Primarily a farming region, it produces vast amounts of food and wine for the country. A substantial section of the province is owned solely by Alexius’ family. They reside on a large estate close to the sea.
High up on a cliff, a large tree sits in solitude. Entirely out of place, it overlooks a precipice which leads to a deadly drop into the ocean. The rough waters smash onto the rock cliff, spraying mist in the air. The tree sits close to the edge far away from the tree line, almost 300 yards away.
A rope secured around the tree trunk descends over the cliff. A child’s hand grabs the line from below, pulling himself up from the treacherous drop. Panting, Alexius rolls on to the ground. He has become skilled at this feat through years of practice. He looks at the tree, his only friend in this adventure.
The relief of reaching the top, despite how many times he’s done it, never fails to overwhelm him. You see, the rope descends almost twenty feet on the rock face. It ends just at the mouth of a cave, Alexius’ secret cave. There he escapes from life, to be left in solitude. His only companions are the treasures he has hidden there over the years; he started his pirate cove at age six.
The afternoon sun shines overhead. The rays are blasting bright through his closed eyes. The bright suddenly goes dark. He quickly opens his eyes expecting the worst; his mother stands over him, seething with anger.
With as much strength as she can muster, she swings a solid metal-like object at him, striking his arm. Blood pours from a fresh wound, but this does not stop her from attacking. Again and again, she hits the child, hoping for an unforgivable end.
Suddenly, Alexius pushes her off, sending her flying in the air. He sees her land at the edge of the tree line. His blood burns with anger; the pain is non-existent, his wounds are barely bleeding. His scars are internal, however, and he is desperately trying to hide them.
~BACK TO THE BROTHEL~
Alexius’ momentary trip to the past quickly dissipates. He retrieves a small blade from his boot. The hilt is well crafted, with thin threads of gold winding across the ivory handle. He un-sheaths it; the polished metal shines in the poor lighting. The boy begins to panic, never making a sound, only struggling.
“Calm yourself boy, I will not harm you,” Alexius says. “You see this?” The child’s fear turns to curiosity. “The next time someone tries to hurt you, wave this around, then run.”
He leaves the blade with the child. As he stands, he dips into a coin purse. He offers the child three gold pieces. Gratefully, the boy takes it then runs off. Alexius makes haste out the door.
-ATLANTEAN BASE IN THE VALLEY, THE NEXT MORNING-
The sun has barely risen. It is too early for anyone to be awake except for the furry woodland creatures, and soldiers. Along the perimeter of the base, a dirt road winds along a tree line. Behind the trees, a tall fence stands to keep the wilderness out. There is a booming sound of cadence in the area, matching the thunder of running boots.
Fifty soldiers jog while they sing a tribute to the Foreign Legion; something about being gallant, fearless, able to destroy enemies. The lead voice goes up in pitch, and then the group booms repetition. On they go with their early morning jog.
Two runners at the tail end suddenly dart away, heading inside the tree line. No one notices the medium height, skinny cadet Bain, duck through the bushes then scramble for cover. His companion, a round heavy-set boy, affectionately known as Fat-boy, clumsily follows. He is out of breath, ready to die.
“You alright?” Bain inquires while he opens up his canteen, gulping away at the refreshing water.
Fat-boy looks at him, cringing from abdominal pain, his clothes soaked in sweat. “Do I fucking look alright?”
Bain produces a thickly rolled joint, “This will cheer you up.”
Fat-boy responds by reaching down his pants. Instantly, he pulls out a small bag with white powder. “Be careful with this. It’s from the Archon’s stash. He gets it from the Far West Continent.”
Bain grabs the bag. He sprinkles the powder on the joint. “Of course he gets it from FaW-C. That’s where white powder comes from, idiot.” Realization fills Fat-boy’s face. Bain lights the joint.
The boys smoke to their heart's content. It doesn’t take long for intoxication to overcome them. Their enjoyment of the contraband is so much that they are oblivious to the rustling in the bushes. The intruder carefully closes in. The figure stands behind them remaining silent.
Bain gets a chill. He quickly looks around only to be filled with hor
ror. “Captain Alexius, Sir,” Bain stutters, “we were just…” Fat-boy tries to hold the smoke in, turning blue in the process.
Alexius tries to stifle his amusement, appearing stern as his station demands, “Oh this will be good.”
Fat-boy begins to explain, “You see, we were exhausted, so we stopped for a while…”
“Get your asses back to formation!” Alexius screams. “Give me that!”
The boys scramble to their feet, more annoyed at losing the contraband than being caught. The fleeing delinquents disappear down the road.
Free from observation, Alexius draws hard on the joint. He chokes while coughing up smoke. A sound in the bushes alerts him. “Hey, um…Reisha, you can come out now,” he calls out.
The barmaid appears. She smiles lustfully, “So this is what soldiers do in the morning. Shall we go again M ‘Lord?” She exposes her breasts.
“Sorry Luv, I’m out of coin. I’ll see you later, promise. You have to go now. Are you sure your sister is out there?”
The barmaid nods then grab Alexius’ privates. She lets go then runs off through the bushes. With another satisfying night of debauchery concluded, it is time to pretend the morning routine is underway. He runs to the dirt road, heading to the main fields.
-TRAINING FIELDS-
One mile from the running tracks, a large training field spreads out in the open. Well cared for lawn grass blankets the area, with small dirt tracks interwoven from the perimeter. They lead to various points at a sectioned off area, able to host squads of twenty. This morning Captain Deidra with her small squad is formed up after their exercises.
Deidra is a thirty-two-year-old battle-worn soldier. Nearly six feet standing, she is a specimen of lean muscle, olive kissed skin, and raven hair. On her arms is a display of old scars serving as a mark of experience. She is a proud warrior devoted to the Foreign Legion of Atlantis. She stands on a raised platform in front of her squad.
Rise of Prophecy Page 2