by Gene Stiles
Amelia was happy. The gentle wind ran through her long, wavy, glistening black hair like the welcomed fingers of a tender lover. It swirled around the long oval of her lovely face, tickling her high cheekbones and her narrow, straight nose. Her dark brown eyes gazed out at the endless meadow, glittering with the purest of joys. Amelia’s shapely body, with her wide shoulders, full chest, almost too narrow waist and long, muscled legs was draped in thin, scarlet layers of gossamer cloth, belted at her hips. The layers caught the breeze and moved around her like a living thing, shifting in shape and patterns.
She found an open area in the meadow where the tall grasses gave way to a thick layer of fragrant green moss and laid herself down on the plush ground. She breathed a sigh of contentment as she interlaced her fingers behind her head and closed her eyes. Yes, she was happy.
As long as she did not look at the sky.
The sky above curved down to the edges of the meadow as if she lived in a bubble of light. Above the empyrean vault, a malignant blackness roiled and curled, sharp, pointed fingertips searching for a way in. If she dared look, blood-red eyes would meet her gaze, the coils of voracious darkness drawing together to form a malevolent smile. It called to her with whispers of promises, asking Amelia to come into its warm embrace. The curling waves pulled at her senses, begging her to open the dome of her golden sphere so they could wrap her in their arms.
She dared not. Amelia knew that to let that evil darkness in would make her remember horrors that would rip her into bloody tatters. She trembled, her eyes tightly shut to keep the terrors away and her mouth clenched so hard, her teeth ground together. She would not open that door. She would not!
Amelia sat up, exhausted tremors shivering her body. She stood up and walked into the meadow, running her fingertips through the tall grasses. She smiled at the incredible colors and aromatic scents that washed her senses in peace and contentment.
Amelia was happy.
Chapter VIII
Ramathus stood on the foredeck near the bowsprit and watched the turquoise sea part before the sharp blade of the ship’s prow. His sparkling blue eyes, as sharp as a bird of prey, were alive and shinning. His wavy blond hair hung down to his mid-back and fanned out behind him like a golden cape caught in the winds of the open sea, held back from his high brow with a wide, tooled, tan headband. His nine-foot-four-inch height made him tower above the bulwarks, giving Ramathus a commanding view of the vast green ocean surrounding him.
He was so very proud and it showed in the wide stance of his heavily muscled legs, the way he bunched his hammer-sized fists on his narrow hips. The sleeveless, tan vest he wore stretched tightly over his barrel chest and broad, flat shoulders. The devilish smile that had won many a maiden spread across his perfectly shaped lips, one corner quirked up toward his cheek. His chiseled features were like an artist’s statue of the perfect man, yet Ramathus did not indulge in self-preening. He was kind and thoughtful of others and known well for his quick wit and humor, the way his laughter encompassed those around him and drew them to him.
He felt honored when Cronus, himself, gave him command of the ships that would travel around the monstrous continent the People named Paragon to set up mining operations on its northern tip. Ramathus was well aware of the importance of this trip. He knew the Proto-Suns were weakening and most of their weapons were useless. He must find the ore that could strengthen them and restore complete power to the People. Failure was something foreign and incomprehensible to his life and it would not touch him now. At the same time, he was grateful to be out of Atlantis and away from the horrors the Lord Father had wrought upon the Izon. Ramathus knew the Clan to be kind, intelligent, and hardworking, some of the best sailors he had ever seen. He wished he was brave enough to have been one of the Captains who stood against Cronus and saved the Izon.
The Morning Star was the largest ship Ramathus had ever been aboard. She was a hundred foot from stem to stern with a wide, thirty-six foot beam. She boasted three masts with massive white sails, miles of riggings and a powerful water-jet engine that could take her through the toughest seas. The gracefully curved prow rose high above the decks like the neck of a serpent, its curled tip painted on either side with a blazing yellow star. Three golden beams flowed from the star, down the pillar and fanned out along the hull. Her stern curved upward only half as high, but was still as tall as the aft mast. Eighty of the finest men and women he ever knew joined him on this dangerous quest and he was eternally grateful for their allegiance. Ramathus felt his chest swell with pride at the thought of them. ‘I could not dream of a better crew,’ he thought with a smile.
The Morning Star was not alone on her journey. Two smaller ships rode her wake, spread out in a long line behind her. The Golden Star was an eighty foot, wide-bellied cargo carrier stuffed to bursting with the wide array of equipment and supplies they would need for their operation. The Night Star was the smallest at only seventy feet with a sleek, high-prowed design that cut through the sea like a sharp knife through a thin veil of cloth. Within her hull, appointed quarters and dormitories lined with rows of bunk beds held scientists, engineers, metallurgists, miners, workmen and a contingent of Aam to populate the settlement and to pull from the earth the uridium ore they needed so desperately.
Ramathus took in a deep lungful of cool salty sea air, brushing his flaxen mane back over his shoulder and, with a heavy, wistful sigh, climbed down the steps to the main deck. Spray from the aquamarine sea seemed to polish the dark hardwood the Izon called Teak so as to bring out the many rich grains and patterns. A legion of crewmen scurried over the deck and up in the tight ropes of riggings, tying off sails and spars, stacking barrels and boxes and checking their lashing as well as the multitude of other tasks required aboard ship. So efficient was his crew that, once they received their orders, Ramathus never had to make sure their duties were preformed quickly or properly.
Ramathus took the time to praise and thank his crew as he made his way to the helm high above the aft deck. He climbed the ladder up to the bridge and stood silently behind his First Mate for a while, watching the woman make subtle shifts of the wheel and calling commands over the coms to gain the highest speeds possible from the warm southeast winds sweeping over the ship.
Raet, his First Mate, was remarkable for both her exotic beauty and her incredible skill as a sailor. She was short for an Atlantean woman, a mere six foot tall, almost too thin, curvy but not at all soft. Her body was a paradox of sensuous shape and solid, wiry muscle. Wherever she walked, whether it be on land or aboard ship, the eyes of men and many an envious woman followed her sway. Her wavy, raven-black hair hung down to the small of her back, glowing with a natural luster that made it shine and sparkle as she moved. Her baby-smooth skin glowed with a natural tan the color of the purest cinnamon and never burned in the harsh sunlight of the salty sea.
It was her eyes that set her apart though. They were almond shaped with a slight epicanthic fold of her eyelids, making them raise shapely at the outer corners, something rarely seen among the People. Those hazel orbs were so large on her perfectly oval face that they sucked you into their gaze and seemed to draw every hidden secret from the depths of your soul. Raet’s thin, straight nose slid down between her dark, arched eyebrows and stopped just short of her small, full, rose-colored lips as if to savor the sweet floral sent of them.
Her abundant charms meant nothing to Ramathus. No matter how she hypnotized when she glided through a crowd or how many a warrior became weak in the knees when she smiled his way, Ra would not have allowed her on his crew if her only use was as a lovely distraction. No, Raet had earned her place at his side. She worked harder than any two men, climbed riggings faster, raised sails better and lashed cargo tighter. She knew every square inch of the Morning Star, the cargo she held at any given moment and where it was and the name of each crewmember. She knew exactly how the ship would react in wind and sea and when to use a deft touch or powerful wrench of the wheel. No one doubted her place
at Ramathus’ side or ever questioned her orders. Ever.
“Do you wish to take the helm, Captain?” she asked over her shoulder, her voice as sweet as honeysuckle, but chipped and firm. “The sensors show land on the horizon which should be in view within the hour.”
“Once we reach the island, Raet,” Ra smiled, noting she had never turned yet still sensed his silent approach. “Until then, the Morning Star is yours to command.”
They had been skirting the massive continent to the northwest from the pointed southern tip and along the rocky coastline for days, resisting the urge to make landfall to explore the abundance of beautiful plants and strange looking animals they witnessed along the shoreline before heading out to deeper, safer waters. Paragon shifted from windy, sandy beaches to rocky shores guarded by enormous boulders, sharp and covered with dark green mosses and the white droppings of sea birds. In places, gigantic cliffs so white sunlight glaring off them nearly blinding anyone foolish enough to stare at them too long. As much as Ramathus wanted to study such beauty in detail, stepping where no man had ever laid footprint, he was bound by the importance of his mission and would not deviate from the course laid out for him.
Ramathus stepped down to the aft deck, walked to the end of the pointed stern and held on to the curled pillar rising from the deck. His face alight with unimaginable joy, he leaned far over the stern rail watching the murky eddies and split, chartreuse waves churning in their wake. He loved the melody of the living sea as it tumbled around his ship, dancing and sparkling in the daytime sun. It sang to him of salt and spray and the movement of monstrous demons far below in its cold, hidden depths. In rich harmonies, the sea whispered that it could be gentle and loving or she could rage and explode into stormy violence on the slightest of whims.
Ramathus never felt more alive than when he was at sea. He grew up on a world where water was rare and oceans were things of myth and fantasy. On this incredible world rain, lakes and rivers were so commonplace that they were tame and taken for granted. The turquoise waters of the seas, however, seemed endless and wild, untamed, sometimes so black you could not pierce the surface while at other times so crystal clear you could see the sandy bottom hundreds of feet below. On sunny days when gentle winds billowed the sails and the sea was calm, vast herds of playful fishes leaped from the waves, dancing around his ship, laughing and chattering to each other. They broke into toothy smiles, racing the fast moving ships and crisscrossing beneath the hull as if to say they were far faster than any lumbering wooden boat.
Mammoth leviathans cruised these waters. Ramathus saw dark shapes half the size of his vessel swimming beneath the rippling waves. Sometimes they paced the Morning Star, the only part of them visible a grey, triangle-shaped fin as thick at the base as the Captain was tall. It felt as if they were deciding if getting through a tough wooden hull to feast on tiny tidbits of tasty flesh was worth the effort.
Those creatures did not worry Ramathus as much as when moving mountains broke the surrounding surface, blowing tall geysers of saltwater high into the air above the highest of his masts. The gigantic behemoths traveled in great herds that swam around the Morning Star so huge they made the Captain feel as if he were standing of a single floating plank. If just one of them rose beneath the hull, his ship would be ripped into a thousand pieces of splintered wood. The thought sent shivering chills through Ramathus whenever these beasts were around, yet the gentle-seeming creatures never as much as accidently brushed against his vessel. The worst they did was bathe his crew in massive sheets of salty water when their colossal tails smashed into the hard, blue ocean.
Traveling just beyond the far edges of his wake, Ramathus watched the Golden Star tack slightly to port, the midday sun catching the two intertwining, wavy strips of burnished borithium, infused with sparkles of purest gold from which the vessel derived its name. Her three masts rippled with white billowing sails that caught the strong, but gentle winds and drove her steadily through the rolling green waves.
Slipping to starboard, the Night Star pulled up to run a ship’s length parallel to its sister, her ebony hull almost dull against the dark water. The curl of her forward pillar, high above the main mast, was painted on either side with a white, shining star. A single long, bright tail radiated down the pillar following the curve of the keel until it disappeared beneath the waves amidships.
‘We must be nearing land,’ Ramathus thought idly. As if to confirm his observation, a midshipman spoke over his shoulder.
“Sir,” he spoke crisply with a click of his black-booted heels, “the island is visible. The First Mate requests your presence at the helm.”
“Thank you, Julius,” the Captain nodded. “I am on my way.”
Once supplies were dropped at the outpost and fresh meats and vegetables loaded aboard, the crews took a mere two days to rest ashore and explore a new landscape before resuming their long, arduous journey.
Ramathus stood at the helm of the Morning Star carefully watching his bank of monitors and the pure white cliffs that arose on either side of them as they entered the narrows at the tip of the gigantic continent they skirted. Only the main sail was raised in the strong, gusty winds of mid-morning. Even though it was only a quarter of the way above the eastern horizon, the brilliant yellow sun baked the cloudless blue sky around him. Smoky steam curled like a ship-born mist from the darkly wet planks of the main deck as seawater evaporated in the moisture-less air. The crew shimmered like ghostly wraiths among the heat waves rising all around them as they went about their assigned duties with speed and precision.
“It appears the canyon has stopped attempting to crush us,” Raet smiled up at the Captain. Her deceptively delicate-looking hands eased their death grip on the teardrop-shaped spokes of the wheel. “I can finally see the open ocean on the other side.”
Ramathus relaxed his vigilance, his forward scanners confirming her observation. He returned her smile with a devilish grin, placing a hammer-sized hand on her slender shoulder.
“Do not become complacent,” he laughed lightly. “We have been surprised more than once since we left the island base.”
“Never, my Captain,” she chided, playfully punching him in his rock-hard abdomen. “I am insulted that you even think I would!”
“You should have more respect for your Captain,” Ra grinned down at her, his blue eyes glittering in the sunlight like crystal gems against his suntanned face.
“I would,” Raet chastened him, “if he did not rely so heavily on his good looks alone to get his way.”
“I am crushed, evil vixen,” the Captain replied, shaking his head sadly. “I do not know why I even put up with you. I should send you to the kitchens as a pot washer.”
“You put up with me,” she said, her tinkling laughter rolling over him like a wave, “because I am the best sailor and the finest woman you have ever seen.”
“Now who is relying on looks alone?” His loud baritone laughter reverberated over the ship, causing more than one head to turn in their direction.
“You should turn off your coms when you are berating each other,” a boyish voice came over the air. “It is harmful to the morale of the crew when they hear such drivel.”
“The Quartermaster should stay belowdecks and stay quiet,” Raet admonished the disembodied voice, her radiant smile glowing through the optical fibers of the coms.
“I am just trying to be helpful,” Sethenus responded lightly from the cargo hold. “You two seem to need it.”
“We thank you, wise one,” Ramathus laughed. “Now get back to work. We near our destination and you will finally be of use!”
“Yes, Sir!” Sethenus replied with mock severity. “At your command, Captain!”
“I need to work on this crew,” Ramathus sighed heavily. “There seems to be a great lack of respect for the chain of command around here.”
“I am sure you will persevere, Captain,” Raet smiled, her hands once more gripping the wheel firmly, nodding toward the bow. “We ha
ve reached the sea.”
A wall of howling wind slammed into the prow nearly stopping all forward movement. Now all business, Ramathus brought the Proto-Sun engines to life, shoving the silver levers forward and gave orders to bank hard to starboard. The mainsail snapped with an ear-splitting crack as it adjusted to the changing winds and tacked to the west. The coastline was a jumble of giant boulders, rounded by the rolling ocean currents, topped with the snow-white droppings of sea birds, small, rugged islands and miles-long beaches of beige sand that spiraled up in small dust clouds with the strong, shifting winds. Blankets of thick, green seaweed bobbed along the shores and around the rocks, twisting in strong eddies and crashing waves.
Once beyond the confines of the canyon where the hot winds of the south collided with the colder waters of the north, the sea’s personality suddenly changed from the soft, loving caress of a young maiden into a vicious, clawing demon. A squall of powerful, cold, northern winds peaked tempestuous waves in frothy, white foam, slamming them against the hull of the ship. Riptides sunk their teeth into the keel and jerked it toward the ragged seashore. The rising sun fought valiantly but vainly against the frigid currents and icy sea spray that toppled over the deck, raising bumps on the exposed flesh of the crewmen. Riggers fought to hoist the main sail up to half-mast to keep it from ripping in the fury of the tempest.
Almost as quickly as it had begun, the waters calmed and the winds fled to harass the two smaller vessels still caught in the ocean’s anger. Once he was able to breathe, Ramathus sent his soaked and frozen crew belowdecks to warm themselves with hot tea and a good meal. Replacements rushed to relieve them and to clear the bulbous globes of ropey seaweed strewn all over the soaked planking. The Captain slowed the mighty water-jet engine, relying on the strong and steady north wind to guide his ship.