by M. Arcturus
He didn’t recognize her while making business transactions because she was so young when he sent her away, and Resheda was very thankful for that. She would lose a lot more than business if he did. Each time they met gave him another chance to recall who she was and order her execution, but to her, the money was worth it. With the money she gained from his business, soon she would no longer have to plunder or transport cargo to live. Having financial freedom, she could then set sail on her own adventure, leaving him and the memories behind. Plus, the frail stranger on the deck below was her ticket to power.
The winds of the incoming storm had picked up now, which tossed her hair about her face. Her short red skirt blew in the wind, and her men were scurrying around to secure the ship. Tonight, Resheda and her guest—temporary business partner—would be headed to shore. Resheda hoped to return to her ship soon after disembarking, but she had informed her crew of alternatives just in case there were complications while on Atlantis. Her crew was to keep the ship just off the coast after she and her guest were on their way to the place to conclude business with Atlantis; there was no need to increase the risk of losing the meek stranger to the Atlanteans. If the Atlanteans got their hands on the stranger, they would most likely destroy it.
After tonight, Resheda would be more at ease. The sooner her business dealings with Atlantis concluded, the quicker she could be rid of her guest, the ambassador from Damascus.
At first, Resheda was skeptical of her guest using the title ambassador, but her paperwork checked out before they left port in China. To help rid Resheda of her skepticism, the ambassador paid Resheda handsomely to transport her and her shipment of supplies to Atlantis. Still, the sooner Resheda could get the ambassador off of her ship the more it would decrease the chances of the ambassador discovering the stranger. As close as she had become with her guest, Resheda still had no desire to share the power she was going to gain from the oppressed stranger hidden on the deck below.
The ambassador stepped out of the captain’s quarters, sending a cold chill filled with ancient mystery down Resheda’s back. The style of clothes the ambassador wore was unlike anything Resheda had ever seen, yet she longed for such an exquisite dress herself. The charms on the ambassador’s headdress exuded a delicate melody across the winds. Her floor-length navy-blue dress wrapped around her figure and flared out just below her waist. It was accented with an occasional dark blue sparkle on the bodice. The lace on her dress was draped with a Gothic flair along the bottom and on her three-quarter sleeves. Her webbed cloak was gray with a violet sheen. The power she emanated was only challenged by Resheda’s strength. They were a formidable pair.
The ambassador had only been on the ship for one month, but Resheda looked upon her as a sister. Her name was Campanula, and she was the first daughter of the Emperor of the Seventh Vampyric Royal Demon House. Not only did she serve on the Vampyre Council as an ambassador, but she was a very persuasive vampyre, as well as an eccentric individual. Her pale skin was every bit as white as a dove, and her eyes were as focused as a wolf’s stare. Most of the time, her dark hair was pinned up with a jeweled comb. However, when she let it down, it reached past the small of her back.
Campanula was hoping that her stay on Atlantis would be brief. As time passed, she grew more anxious about the cargo she was shipping. As the events leading up to this moment played out in her mind, it all seemed to fit too perfectly for comfort. What would be her luck that a comet would crash in the backyard of her empire—only one in a gazillion? Her horse was so uneasy when they approached the comet’s crash site. And then when a scrawny being arose from the fiery crater, she didn’t even crave his blood—that should have been a dead giveaway that something was wrong.
The being was of alien origin, and he was severely injured. All he asked Campanula to do was send a shipment of Glaecia to Atlantis. In return, he would give her the technology to eliminate her enemies. She didn’t believe him at first, but when he demonstrated the capabilities of the weapons he had brought, she convinced herself that she was getting the better end of the deal. It sounded simple enough, and the prize more than assured her that she could avenge her father’s death.
The alien inserted a chip into Campanula’s upper left arm, which enabled her to travel when and wherever she needed to accomplish the eerie task. The chip lit up her surrounding veins with a pulsating teal glow, as it dissolved under her skin. It made her feel like a pawn in a game, an animal, and a part of an extravagant experiment.
The alien told her how to find the Kinnowwa and bribe the Emperor of China so that he wouldn’t question the contents of the cargo. The alien stranger had made it all too easy for her. She didn’t trust it, but the advanced weapons he offered would increase her chance to assassinate the one who murdered her father. There was no way that she could turn his bargain down. Not knowing what Glaecia was, she agreed to his offer.
To put her mind at ease, Campanula told herself that she wasn’t going to hand-deliver it, but in the end, she remembered that she had personal business with Juron, the backstabbing, greedy Atlantean governor. She was an ambassador for the Vampyre Council, but her bloodline was not from Damascus. She only used that title to bait Juron’s curiosity, in hopes that he would remember their past dealings, honor what he promised her, and agree to accept the shipment without telling him it was Glaecia.
It had been thousands of years since she had last seen him. She didn’t even know if Juron would remember her. In the past, she had found him to be consumed with greed and easy to manipulate. All she had to do was stroke his thick bushy beard, speak the possibility of fortune, and seduce him. Then he was hers for the taking—not that she actually wanted him, but teasing him was fun nonetheless.
Around 9573 B.C., Atlantis was stationed in the Atlantic Ocean near the Pillars of Hercules. Accustomed to relocating, the Atlanteans were not used to staying in one spot for so long. After a while, they got too comfortable sitting out in the Atlantic, causing them to forget their code of conduct with other civilizations. Their misuse of power lead to the creation of wild rumors that served as an inspiration to writers and philosophers such as Plato, immortalizing the Atlanteans’ advanced technology and romanticizing, what appeared to be, their eventual demise.
Before Atlantis’s descent into the Atlantic Ocean, Juron had heard that the Vampyre Council recently moved their headquarters from Damascus to Heliopolis. They had something he wanted, and he was hoping that they were so unorganized from their move that they would give into his request. Juron approached the Vampyre Council, offering the rarest blood to anyone who would give him the Emerald Tablets of Hermes. The deal sparked Campanula’s interest. Being a vampyre, rare blood was the only intrigue he had over her. Anything else he could have promised didn’t matter because she could have retrieved it on her own.
She knew that the council’s crazed alchemist would never hand over the tablets. It had taken decades for Lazarus to decode the tablets, and he was really close to transmuting lead into gold. So, she devised a plan promising Juron a stone rubbing of the tablets instead. While she stroked his beard and spouted whispers full of riches, he agreed to the new arrangements and assured her that the rare blood he offered was still the reward for the exchange.
In the meantime, luck was on Juron’s side. He claimed that he was the original owner of the tablets and that his brother had taken it without his knowledge, traveled to Damascus, and gave it to Lazarus. The council found him to be a joke. In their minds, there was no way that this fat, round, pathetic, short-life before them could be the brother of the majestic Lord who gave Lazarus the tablets. They were amused enough that they decided not to feed on him. After they dismissed him from their presence, Campanula snuck down to Lazarus’s chamber and quickly placed a piece of parchment on the tablet. Using the side of a small stick of lead, she created a stone rubbing of the tablet. The inscriptions carved on the tablets were transferred onto the parchment perfectly. Her pl
an turned south when Juron magically vanished along with the tablets’ rubbing.
A few months later, Juron sent a messenger to Campanula with an invitation to Atlantis along with a map to the Pillars of Hercules so she could obtain the blood she was promised. Before her boat even came close to the isle, there were several massive eruptions, and the isle sank to its watery tomb.
At the time, she didn’t know it was an illusion. The isle could move to another place on the planet. It could also move to another moment in time. Thanks to the alien stranger who had crashed in her backyard, she now knew the truth and was determined not to be fooled again. Because Juron had cheated her once before, and she didn’t know Resheda well enough to trust her, Campanula decided to visit Atlantis in person to see for herself that the blood was special and safely in her possession. She had learned from her past. Just like her actions to go in person to safeguard the rare blood, she had made sure that the alien technology was locked away in her custody before she left home. Instinctively, she reached for the key around her neck reassuring herself that it was indeed locked away safe and sound.
It didn’t help her insecurities that she couldn’t trust Resheda before the voyage began due to rumors detailing her knavish ways. The price Resheda requested to transport her cargo was fair, but Resheda’s reputation included a black heart and backstabbing, among other things. Her lack of honest character was just added incentive for Campanula to come along to make sure Juron’s payment to her was not tampered with, stolen, or traded for other goods.
It never crossed her mind that she would ever stand at the helm of the Kinnowwa admiring the view of her new captivating friend, Resheda. Resheda’s presence was very commanding, and the rumors appeared to be based on her crude business ethics. She was the captain of a pirate crew and Campanula figured Resheda’s demeanor was where it needed to be to maintain the crew’s respect. Campanula could tell Resheda’s only personal interest was in money and power, yet her raw, arrogant façade lured Campanula’s sensual cravings like a moth to a flame. She had never been tempted like this before by the mere presence of a woman. Campanula preferred the company of men, yet despite Resheda’s lack of honesty, she would have forsaken it all just for one night alone with Resheda. The only thing that kept her in line was her Empire back home. Yes, the dark hills of Oradea beckoned to her. She would be home soon enough.
Resheda took a brief leave of Campanula’s company and descended toward the lower deck. Down the dark passageway and into the cargo hold she crept, hoping that no one other than Campanula noticed her take leave of the bridge. She ducked under the chains hanging from an overhead metal grate, which allowed the dark gray sky to be seen. She knelt down and placed a hand on the burlap sack, which contained her life’s promise. The life force inside was weak. Resheda tried hard to keep it that way.
There was only one other member on board that knew the whereabouts of the weakened life force stashed away below the deck. That crew member was Jarrah, her right-hand man, who could be trusted to keep his mouth shut. For he knew if he said anything about her precious cargo, he would die before the first word of the subject left his lips. Resheda was generous and loyal to her crew and demanded the same in return. Death was the weakest punishment for betrayal in her books.
She wanted to make sure that her cargo was living before she returned to the upper deck. When she was satisfied with the results of feeling for a pulse, she turned to go.
“Have you come to release me?” asked a small raspy voice in the dark.
“It will be a long time before you see the light of day again,” Resheda responded. A light whimper of sorrow escaped from the burlap sack. For once, Resheda felt completely embraced by sadness as the whimper from her cargo turned into a muffled sob, followed by a light downfall of tears. She promptly left the hold before it could affect her conscious. Knowing she would have to wait until her return to undo the bonds of her precious destiny, it passed in her mind ever so slightly that there was something wrong in the treatment of her cargo. The life force was so alive when they met, but now feeling how weak and broken it had become made Resheda think twice. Resheda didn’t like to think back on her decisions very much, so she redirected her thoughts to something else.
Just as she was shutting the door, one last cry caught her attention. “I won’t run away, I promise.” the voice said. “Please let me out. I will die soon. Please. I promise.”
Resheda felt a tear run down her cheek for the first time in years. She wiped it away and left for the main deck.
Campanula was pleased to see Resheda return to the deck and announced that they were close to the shore. In response to Campanula’s announcement, Resheda ordered her crew to tend their posts in preparation for going ashore. They rushed down to the oar pit to row their final stretch into the shallow coastline.
Selené sat with Pandora in the rain behind wooden barrels near the dock, waiting for Seth’s return. It had been a long time since Seth left them to prepare the dock for Juron’s Secret Guard, and the arrival of the merchant ship. Both Selené and Pandora were getting stiff and had cricks in their necks, but it was well worth it if Seth could help them board the ship without being noticed. She looked down and saw Pandora’s dress for the first time under her hunter-green cloak. The plaid, shamrock-green dress was embellished with gold inlays, which lit her hair up as if it were actual fire.
“I’m guessing that’s the latest gift from your father. It’s so beautiful! Are you sure you don’t want to change clothes?”
Pandora scowled at Selené and mumbled an agitated response. “If I’m going to kick ass, I at least want to be in style. After the most recent event, I’m not sure if I care about preserving the dress.”
“Okay, and what if the length of the dress gets in the way? Chances are we’re going to be drenched either by the ocean or by the rain. It will cause the dress to sag. Plus, if this keeps up, the water is going to add a lot of weight to the dress, and it will most likely stick to your body like glue.”
Pandora glared at her, then whipped out a dirk, and started to cut the long skirt of the dress. “There, how’s that?” she asked bitterly.
Pandora had ripped off the fluffy slip and had completely butchered the skirt. Making sure no one else was looking, she stuffed the torn pieces of the dress down into the closest barrel. Looking at the tattered dress, Selené was shocked! She was surprised that Pandora would do such a thing, but then her shock turned into amusement. It became very hard not to laugh, with Pandora’s dress all tattered and torn. Being in style while kicking ass was no longer possible.
“You seem a little on edge.” Selené tried to sound serious, but the dress looked so ridiculous that it took everything she had not to crack a smile. “I can tell something is bothering you. Is it your father?” Selené made sure her sympathy could be heard when turning to the touchy subject.
“After what happened, I’m not too sure that there’s a problem anymore, mostly due to Seth’s actions. Even though I feel that we should have waited to talk to Seth about your concerns with the Ackrids, he should have never pulled his knife on you.”
“Yeah, I should have waited, and then I completely overstepped my bounds,” Selené said. “But if I’m right, things will mend slowly.” She looked down at the ground trying to think of a way to keep Pandora from ruminating over the recent event with Seth. “Come on, Pandora, what happened with your father?”
Pandora messed with the chain around her waist. She looked at each link one at a time, trying not to make too much noise because the Secret Guard had started to approach the dock. “I accepted my duties without flinching. When I received the burden of the world’s fears, I figured it was for the best.” She reached for the leather pouch attached to the belt of her dress. “When I took upon the fate of the world’s fears, I didn’t realize it would dominate who I could be with and who I should marry.”
Shock and understanding reached Selen
é’s heart simultaneously. “You can’t be with Seth.”
Tears started to roll down Pandora’s cheeks. “I’m not sure. After the brief conversation we had this morning over the com-link, I believe my father has already chosen someone. I have no doubt in my mind that my father’s pushing pretty hard to receive an answer from Shadow as to when the next Council meeting is to take place. If he does have someone in mind, he will arrive with my father to the next gathering. I believe he gave me this dress so that I could wear it when meeting this chosen suitor. It’s beautiful, but it’s still a cage.” Silence played its interlude between them. “And now after what just happened with Seth, I don’t even know if I want to be with him anymore. I’m just so hurt and confused.” Once again, tears started to fall from her unearthly green eyes.
“Sounds like you have a lot to think about,” Selené said as she put a comforting arm around her friend. She did not envy her friend, or the moment Pandora would have to face her father about this potential suitor and show him the ruined dress. “I think you need to let things run their course. Give Seth some time. I know he can have a real hot temper. He seems to push that deep down inside of him an awful lot. But I see it in his eyes—he really loves you. Only time will tell.”
“I’m not going to be with someone that I’m afraid of. What happens if we get into an argument? Will he agree to talk things out before or after he kills me?”
Selené knew Pandora was serious, but the playful satiric tone in her voice made Selené crack a smile. “Well, I vaguely remember what the priestesses from Tyre once told me. They told me that we all have many soul’s mates, not to be confused with soul mates,” she said. “Seth might be one of your soul’s mates. He’s not perfect; no one is. Just keep an eye on him for a bit to find out who he is and why he is the way he is. It sounds like he needs someone to have faith in him.” Selené let the silence allow Pandora to digest the words. She continued, “You’ll know soon enough if Seth could ever hurt you just by trying to figure him out. Then again, this man your father wants you to be with might be one of your soul’s mates too.”