by Gene Stiles
“Well,” Raet exclaimed, wringing puddles of water from her long black hair, “that was fun.” Her black leather pants were spotted with sticky, white sparkles of drying sea salt and her yellow, billow-sleeved blouse stuck limply to her damp skin beneath her crimson vest. Even disheveled, the First Mate glowed with beauty from her flushed cheeks to her rose-colored, upturned lips. “Shall we do it again?”
“I think not,” Ramathus chuckled, his lips straightening at the sight of her bruised and bleeding knuckles where a wrench of the wheel must have beaten her hands with the spokes before she regained control. “You should take a moment to change and allow your hands to Heal.”
“This?” she said, off-handedly glancing at the blood dripping from her hands, brushing the suggestion aside. “It is nothing. I would, however, like to get out of these wet, cold clothes. Would you care for some tea?”
“Thank you, Raet,” he nodded. “That would be appreciated.”
Within half a day’s journey, all three vessels reached the shallower waters of the wide river delta that was their goal. The order of the ships reversed for this part of their journey and would stay that way until they made landfall. Due to the unknown depths and conditions they must now traverse, the Night Star, with its higher draft and lighter weight, would take the lead, mapping the bottom as it went. The Golden Star would follow with Captain Ramathus bringing up the rear.
Surveys from the Sentinel showed two branches of the monstrous river to the south a little over a hundred miles apart, the deepest of which was the easternmost. Between the two tributaries, the huge, stepped delta fanned out into a marshy landscape littered with seaweed, hidden rocks and the buried carcasses of ancient, twisted trees. Only through diligent attention to the glowing monitors could the Captains discern where the shallow sediments ended and the deep river channel began.
Captain Isis stood at the helm of the Night Star, her strong yet feminine hands keeping a firm, steady pressure on the spokes of the wheel. To her right, Helmsman Nephthys peered at the scanner screens, calling out minute course corrections to keep the vessel centered in the deepest part of the river. To the left of the Captain, Seshati, her First Mate, maintained the engine at a constant crawling pace upriver, keeping their speed just high enough to ensure that the trailing vessels retained quick steerage against the raging waters.
Normally her First Mate should be at the wheel, but Isis loved the feel of the currents beneath her hull, the low, rumbling vibration of the ship’s engine coursing up through her knee-high, red leather boots. Her glittering jade eyes caught the golden rays of the afternoon sun, her full, ruby-red lips curled in a lopsided grin of purest joy. The wavy mane of dark auburn hair, usually unfettered, trailed down to her slim waist in a tightly woven braid, secured at the base by a thick strand of cherry cloth. The muscles of her corded legs, hidden beneath a pair of skin-tight, crimson leather pants, flinched with the shifting pitch of the deck as it rocked in the white-water rush of the river.
“Captain,” a female voice came over the coms from the crow’s nest high at the top of the mainmast, “the river widens into the kind of lake basin you have been looking for about a mile ahead.”
“Thank you, Bethany,” Isis responded, smiling up at Seshati. “First Mate, relay the information on to the Morning Star and the Golden Star. This should be a good place to anchor for the night. Ready parties to go ashore. Leave only a skeleton crew aboard. We could all use some firm ground beneath our feet.”
“At your command, Captain,” the First Mate replied, barking out orders and relaying their plan to the other Captains.
The sun began to lower sharply toward the western horizon by the time the trio of vessels anchored in safe harbor to one side of the cobalt-blue waters of the lake, well away from the rippling, fast moving currents of the river. The scientific contingent of the ship’s crews happily spread out in ragged lines, kneeling among short, thick patches of bright green grass or chipping samples from rocks and mottled brown boulders chattering like giddy school children. Others, accompanied by a few armed Aam, left the confines of the seemingly endless beach to explore the dark, massive forests of oak, ash and pine that dotted the shoreline just a short hike up stony hillsides. Those crewmen not preforming specific tasks such as preparing an evening meal, helped set up tents and campsites and gathered dry wood for the nighttime fires. The Captains decided to spend at least a few days in this location before pushing further upriver. The sailors could use the rest and many were anxious to explore their new environs.
Ramathus sat on a large piece of an old gnarled tree far back from the hot, licking flames of the blazing bonfire burning on the miles-long stretch of warm, sandy beach. Gentle waves lapped against the shoreline kissing the lakeside with the tenderness of a lover’s first caress. A billion bright stars lit the moonless night like diamonds scattered on a spread onyx cloth. A small meteor shower burned contrails of white across the night as they plummeted through the thick atmosphere to the south as if pointing the way toward their destination. To the north, wavy, multi-colored lights shimmered in the inky sky as if the Creator stroked the heavens with the wide, thin strokes of a painter’s brush.
Captain Astraeus sat on the sand leaning his burly back against the water-polished log, his head leaning back, gazing up at the stars, one massive arm draped along the wood, the other holding a steaming cup of the dark green tea he preferred. The tight black curls carpeting his sharply defined arm was peppered with sparkling grains from running it through the fine sand of the beach. The tan leather breaches he wore barely contained the tree-trunks he called legs, the color of the leather blending almost to invisibility with the soft ground. His knee-high, black boots were cast aside so he could run the toes of feet so large it seems as if he could walk on water through the warm dirt. His dark brown vest, laced on either side with strips of black leather, lay open to his wide, tooled belt, exposing the twisting mat of curls that blanketed his well-defined, ebony torso and joined the thick, black beard that hung from his neckless head.
“No matter how many nights I have watched the sky,” Astraeus rumbled, his deep base voice tinged with a sense of awe, “I am always humbled by the sheer beauty and immensity of the Creator’s gift to us.”
“It does leave one with a feeling of smallness, does it not?” Captain Isis agreed. She curled languidly upon the soft beach like a long-toothed murcat, relaxed but alert to the tiniest of sounds. Her wavy auburn mane, held away from her cool jade eyes by a wide band of white, tooled leather, flowed over her smooth, sea-tanned shoulders, covering the rise of her ample breasts. A dark crimson shift, leather-laced up the sides and down the front to her narrow waist, hung to the middle of her shapely thighs and over her red leather, form-fitting pants. Her bright cherry boots sat next to her against the log, her feet free to feel the light breeze that flowed in from across the quiet, rippling lake.
The three captains sat silently for a few moments, listening to the laughter and bravado of the crewmembers scattered along the shoreline. Each loved the sea and the time they spent in its turbulent embrace, yet it was nice to plant feet on solid ground and take time to appreciate the innumerable wonders of this incredible world. These people were special and the captains knew just how lucky they were to share their adventures with such as them.
Every adult Atlantean had been born into a world without sunlight inside the cave of the One Tree. The only stars they had seen were frauds, only the sparkling of faceted crystals in a heaven of rough, natural rock that both protected them and entombed them. The rising and setting of the sun was just the regular brightening or dimming of the Proto-Sun atop the Central Pyramid. Water was contained and rationed. Their air was filtered and stale with a faint antiseptic odor. The plants and animals surrounding them were only those raised for food or air quality. Nothing was wild. There was no room for random. If it did not serve a purpose, it simply did not exist in their world.
This world was different and it astounded and terrified most o
f the People. Beauty seemed to exist only for the sake of beauty. Immeasurable colors in hues so vast and multitudinous that they were beyond comprehension assailed the eyes with every turn of the head. A myriad of incredible aromas assaulted the nostrils, blending into a continually changing, rich, fragrant perfume. The waters, the skies and the very earth beneath their feet abounded with creatures of every imaginable and unimaginable shape and size, existing for unfathomable purposes, some beautiful, some that struck primal fear way down deep into the pit of the soul. And the sounds! Oh, the sounds!
It took a rare breed of men and women to take to the sea. They were fearless, relishing in the enormity of the sky instead of being intimidated by it. Unlike most of their brethren, they saw all this world had to offer, were astounded by it and craved to know more of it. They scorned the use of their technology to force this land to be hospitable to them, instead choosing to adapt themselves to the rigors of life here. This meant casting aside the rebreathers that thinned the air, but left it with a mechanical tang. Disengaging their Polaris-Belts, they endured incredible pain as multiple Lendings helped their bones, muscles and sinews thicken and strengthen to acclimate to three times the gravity of Atlan. Sailors-to-be suffered through it all just for the mere chance to ride the rocky seas, meet unknown dangers, and explore new lands to see wonders that boggled the mind.
This is why the three Captains gazed beyond the blaze of their campfire, smiles upon their lips, their chest filled with warm bubbles of pride as they watched their crews cavorting in the sun-heated sand. Sharing their adventures with such men and women, experiencing the comradery, knowing they could all depend on each other in times of trial created a bond of deep and powerful mutual respect that never existed within the confines of a city.
“You are in command as long as we travel the river, Isis.” Ramathus spoke in low, hushed tones not to conceal his words from anyone, but because he felt reluctant to invade upon serenity of the night. “I would like to suggest, though, that we spend no more than three days here. We still have a five day journey upriver before we reach the savanna we seek.”
“Do not be so impatient, Ra,” the beautiful redhead purred with a tilted smile. “Can you not, just for this night, forget our duties and simply breathe in this perfumed air?” She leaned over to lay her tussled mane against his brawny chest and ran her feline fingers down the deep, open V of his shirtless vest. She moved a shapely leg up his thigh, caressing the fine blond hair of his shins below the hem of the black leather, knee-patch breeches he wore with the tips of her toes.
“Careful, Isis,” Astraeus chortled. “Should a certain First Mate witness such behavior, there could be a tussle.”
“Now such a sight might be worth the watch,” Ramathus grinned, his laughter rolling out into the night, “but probably not worth the consequence to me.”
“Men!” Isis rose, playfully kicking sand at the two. “Such foul creatures! Then again,” she winked over her shoulder at Ramathus as she walked away, “I assure you that you would most definitely enjoy the consequences.”
“Ah,” Astraeus sighed, his black eyes twinkling with mischief, his guffaw rumbling like thunder, “now what shall you do with the both of them, my friend?” In the dim light of the dying embers, his midnight skin blended into the darkness, making the ebony gargantuan appear to fade into invisibility.
“Die a happy man,” Ramathus laughed loudly. “Die a happy man.”
Three days upriver, the trio of ships found a spot wide enough to lay anchor and go ashore. Even though the ships were equipped for night travel, the white-water currents, narrow passages and floating debris made for sometimes-treacherous navigation even in broad daylight. The further their peregrination took them inland, the more diverse the landscape became. In places, the river widened into vast floodplains, thick stands of willow surrounding huge, weeping trees with giant roots exposed above the waterline. In others, they trekked through straits of marbled granite so constricted that the hull of the Morning Star scraped against the polished stone, screeching with such a high pitch that teeth clenched and vibrated with the noise. Pebbled shorelines led up to sweeping vistas of man-height, yellow grasses, enormous yellow flowers and stands of viridian trees, spear-shaped leaves, limbs drooping with succulent fruits.
The spot they chose for their campsite was near a gentle embankment covered with orchards of the sweet fruit the Izon had named apples. The deep green trees were bejeweled with chartreuse, red and bright yellow colors, each a different, delicious tang to the taste buds. Small herds of white-tailed deer fed on piles of fallen apples, making them a source of much needed fresh meat for the crews. Only a few of the largest, wide-antlered animals were taken, their majesty filling the eyes of the hunters with salty tears.
Night fell on the weary, well-fed travelers with the suddenness of a thick blanket tossed over a light crystal. A bright full moon lit the landscape, filling it with grey shadows that flickered in the light mist that rose from the warm, moist ground. Conversation was muted and light, even the marvelous wonders surrounding the men and women lost in the tiredness that sapped their strength. Bonfires quickly died, exhaustion forcing the crews into an early slumber.
Ramathus stretched out naked and contentedly sated beneath his warm, plush blankets, his head pillowed upon his rolled leathers. Raet felt tiny and soft curled against him, her head nestled in the crook of his arm, purring gently in her slumber. He tenderly ran his massive fingers through her long, flowing midnight hair, blissfully languorous in the aftermath of their amorous lovemaking. She snuggled tighter with his touch, never opening her almond eyes, a sweet smile playing across her full, rose-colored lips. Ra felt his shinning, blue eyes dim, the Creator drawing him into His loving embrace. Happily, he let his mind slip away into the dreamless night.
“Captain,” came a sharp, tense voice outside his quarters. “Come quickly.”
Ramathus snapped awake, alert and moving at the terseness of the words. Throwing a long, thickly furred robe over his nudity, he nearly bolted from the tent, leaving Raet to dress behind him.
“What seems to be the problem?” he questioned the plasma-rifled, black-leathered Aam standing just outside. Ra noted peripherally the camp was coming alive, the other Captains rushing to join him, followed by squads of armed Aam.
“To the south, just above the ridgeline,” the Aam pointed, “Look.”
Isis and Astraeus now stood on either side of Ramathus, staring in the direction of the Aam’s upraised arm. Raet joined them, unconsciously slipping under the protection of his arm between the Captain and Isis. In the stretched out moments, the group stood stunned and silent, a squad of ten Aam protectively surrounded them. A swell of excited murmurs undulated over the entire encampment as the People drew together in tight pockets of men and women.
Ra stood speechless, staring open-mouthed at the top of the tree-lined hilltop. This was something that eclipsed all they had seen. What it could mean for their mission they had no clue. This was simply, absolutely impossible.
The brilliant full moon was gone beneath the western horizon, its daylight glow giving way to true darkness so there was no denying what they saw. Above the silhouetted forest, a luminous glow of flickering, yellow-white light blazed the stars into non-existence. It formed an unmistakable bubble of scintillating incandescent against the ebony skyline. It was a city.
They were not alone.
Chapter IX
Amelia sat unmoving and unaware in the new quarters where she had been moved, slender hands folded across the lap of her radiant, yellow sleeping gown. Florid pinks patterned with green leafs and brilliant yellow and red flowers covered the thick, puffy comforter spread out upon the large, comfortably cushy bed. A dozen square, plush pillows in a variety of vivid hues were stacked against the light oak headboard. A canopy of thin, lacy material covered the top of the four-poster bed, decorated with light green vines intertwined with orange blossoms and dark green squash. The walls of the room were made of polishe
d pine panels, lacquered with a clear coating that allowed the twisting grains of the wood to stand out. The small table next to the spacious bed, the five-drawered dresser, desk and the elegant mirrored vanity were all made of light pine making the room bright and cheerful. One wall consisted of a bank of windows that looked down on the sparkly city below, glistening with the leftover droplets of a misty overnight rain in the golden morning sunlight. All things designed to make the young girl feel safe in a warm and welcoming environment.
Rhea stood behind the low-backed, tan, leather rocking chair, talking softly about yesterday’s events in a soothing, rhythmic voice as she slowly ran a brush through Amelia’s long, ebony hair. It was something she had done daily for the last three months. She had the hapless girl moved into a large room in her own chambers, just down the hall from where the children slept, once Rhea learned of the upcoming child. She dismissed all the other attendants telling them nothing other than their services were no longer required. The longer she could keep the secret of Amelia’s child, the better it would be for Amelia, the child and for all the People. The ramifications of such a birth, should it be carried to term, were immense and would affect the core beliefs of all Atlanteans.
Everyone in the city was aware of the horrific attack upon the poor girl…to a point. The People were cognizant of the fact that Amelia was beaten, gruesomely tortured and staked out like some type of animal. What they did not know was that the bestial Izon had also sexually violated her so horrendously. No one other than Hyperion - not the other Council members nor, especially, Cronus - knew of the pregnancy. Rhea feared deeply what would happen to the girl and her child should such knowledge come to light.