by Gene Stiles
Ah, but Hestia! The beauty of her face softened the burning between his eyes. The touch of her little fist, so small it could not encircle the thickness of his thumb, pushed his suffering out of his mind so quickly it was soon only a faded memory. The upturn of her thin little lips reflected the smile on his own face. Her twinkling green eyes seemed to catch every faint ray of the sun. Such a wonder was this little maiden! Never in his life had he even imagined the joy a young life could bring. The dark, auburn curls covering her little round head seemed to move of their own accord. Her innocent beauty was so much like her mother that tears would fill his eyes. He had never felt happier! The nightmares receded to a thing of the past.
Rhea took to motherhood as if she were born for this moment. Her eyes were radiant and a glow touched every portion of her skin. She would whisper soft words while Hestia suckled at her breast, stroking with a mother’s hands down the bright pink skin of her child’s body. At times, it seemed as if all the women of the People would gather at the base of the One Tree to exchange words of wonder and love in that holiest of places.
The joy that permeated the People was not to last, though. Wonder was replaced by dread as woman after woman found she was to birth again. By the second year, another round of children was coming into the world. At least this time, the People were prepared. Each newborn was equipped with a rebreather and Polaris-Belt the moment they came into the world. The nights of screaming babies and anxious parents lasted but the briefest of times.
However, the throbbing of the temples returned to Cronus from the moment of conception of his second child. Torturous nightmares filled his mind with unseen monsters whispering promises of pain and suffering. Rhea took to sleeping in other quarters to save herself from being struck when he lashed out in fevered sleep. Many a morning, Cronus woke to find the sheets twisted around him like a wet serpent, soaked with the sweat of his fevers.
With each passing night, his monsters beat into his brain. Cronus struggled to see their faces, knowing somehow that they were familiar. All he could see was flat, blood red landscapes and gigantic apparitions with foggy, blurred faces. He fought to catch the sounds entwined in mists of words, but only felt their message of dread and promise.
When Demeter finally completed her journey into the bright, new world, Cronus was nearly too exhausted to even smile at her round, almost hairless little head. He saw in her moist, blue eyes not a promise of love and hope, but a threat of death and destruction. He held her only the briefest of moments, kissed Rhea on the forehead with a murmur of congratulations, and then left the room for the fresh air outside. A small part of him felt a sigh of relief. It was a daughter not a son.
He had slept little in nearly a year and those seemingly scant moments filled with horror. Animals chased him across plains of low, yellow grasses. Sometimes they were the grey, massive-shouldered creatures the natives called wolves. Muzzles yawned open, white razor fangs glistened in the light, dripping crimson blood from the rips they had made in his legs. Other times, yellow stripped murcats crept through dense forests, stalking him, forcing him to run until his lungs exploded with the strain. Then they would pounce, tearing flesh from bone with swipes of bloody claws. No matter what manner of beast tore his flesh, they always attacked in threes.
Always in threes.
Now, with Rhea moaning in the other room, pain laced his brow and sweat dampened his shirt. He rung his hot, sweaty hands together, whipping them on his long, black robe that swished along the smooth, rock-tiled floor of the hallway.
With a final curse of pain, the room behind him exploded with the cry of a child fresh into the world. The midwives’ relieved laughter bounced off the walls. The door opened and Cronus was hustled in with a swirling of robes and babbling voices. Rhea lay beneath the white lace canopy that topped the four, carved columns of her thick-piled bed. Her beautiful face glowed with perspiration, each bead glistening like sparkling stars. The tears in her eyes hid the pallor of her worn features and burned with love.
Yet Cronus did not see the little goddess, fresh wrapped in clean white cloth, bundled in her arms. He did not see the pink glow suffusing her thin, angular face. He saw, instead, brown eyes dark and black as the night that brought him terrors. Where Rhea saw wisps of reddish yellow hair still matted against a damp round crown, Cronus saw fire like the corona surrounding the blazing sun - fire that would one day sear his flesh to blackened ash.
He stood there quivering, wishing longingly to shake the fear that coursed through his veins. He wanted to feel the love he saw in every line of Rhea’s face.
He could not. With a sharp turn of his heal, Cronus near bolted for the door, hurrying before the tiny creature could leap upon him and suck the life from his soul. Beyond the threshold, he leaned against the cold, smooth stone of the wall, seeking support for his trembling legs. His breath came quickly, in sharp, painful gasps. His heart hammered in his chest and a film seemed to cover his eyes. Voices crept into his mind. ‘Soon,’ they promised. ‘Soon’. The reprieve at yet another daughter was only a dim glimmer in his, cold, cold heart.
Oceanus lay on a bed of soft moss, his back resting against the rough bark of one of the giant trees that edged a forest so dark it blotted out all but the faintest rays of the evening sun. Absently, his wide, thick fingers dug into the rich, black soil beneath him, while a contented smile played across his thin lips. A short distance away, his lovely wife knelt in a small meadow filled with a seemingly endless variety of colorful flowers that bordered a shallow, quick-moving stream. Her long, mahogany hair hung loose in the light, sweet-scented breeze, sometimes hiding the soft contours of her lovely face. His smile widened as her pursed lips would shift from serious contemplation to child-like wonder.
“Have you ever seen such beauty?” Tethys called out, her face beaming when she caught the way Oceanus gazed upon her. She walked over to him and reached out for his hand, drawing him to his feet.
“I am looking at such beauty now,” he replied, looking down upon her and pleased at the light pink blush that colored her cheeks.
“Ever the romantic,” she murmured playfully, her dark eyes glistening in the sunshine. “Come with me to the water, my love. It is as clear as the thinnest glass and as cold as ice. You can see fishes of every size swimming within in countless numbers. It is utterly fantastic!”
“Wondrous, is it not?” Oceanus nodded, allowing Tethys to pull him through the field of flowers. He wiped away beads of sweat that trickled down the sun-bronzed skin of his hairless head despite the Enviro-Suit he wore beneath his thick, tan pants and long-sleeved, beige shirt. He followed her to the small, sandy clearing that bordered one end of the meadow where their camp was set up. Together, they kicked off their calf-high, black boots and dipped their toes into the frigid water.
They stood for some time, side by side, Tethys nestled beneath the warmth of his arm, her head resting upon his barrel chest, simply listening to the abundance of sounds that shrouded them in pure euphoria. Unseen birds sang out from the forest in the sweetest symphony of melodies. Small creatures rustled through the underbrush seeking tidbits of food for dinner and safe haven from the larger predators that roamed the woods. Running water rippled across unseen stones, creating a tinkling that filled the air like crystal chimes. The soft wind filled their senses with aromatic perfumes of pine and flowers and whispered softly over their exposed skin. ‘This,’ Oceanus thought, enraptured in the moment, ‘is the very home of the Creator.’
When the evening sun began to trek toward the high mountaintops, the couple started a small fire in the pit dug in the soft sand. They stacked small twigs in the pyramid fashion that Haleah had taught them, cheating on her methods by using a torch to ignite the wood. Carefully, they added progressively larger branches from the pile gathered earlier until the pit was bright with dancing red flames. Cocooned in peaceful serenity, Oceanus and Tethys sat together in quiet contemplation feeling happy and alone in this vast new world as if they were the firs
t children of the Creator.
When the sun had dropped from the horizon and misty twilight spread across the valley, three ghostly figures appeared on the small beach, startling in their near soundless approach. Rhea moved into the flickering light, tall and graceful as a dancer, a large verillium bag hanging heavy over her right shoulder, filled with small jars of roots and samples. Her tan pants and matching, billowy-sleeved, V-cut blouse clung to her slim, athletic body like a second skin, highlighting every curve and muscle. She waved a happy hello to her friends, her blue eyes glistening as she stepped into the firelight. Rhea dropped her bag on the ground and sunk into the warm sand as if it were the softest of beds. She let out a deep, contented sigh, her full, red lips parted in a smile of pure joy.
Haleah stepped into the clearing like a smaller copy of Rhea though her leggings were darker and stuffed into the calf-high, black boots she wore. Her blouse had straight, fitted arms and was covered over by a sleeveless, black leather vest, laced at sides and front with thick strips of hide. In one hand, she held a long, curve-tipped spear and in the other, a string of large fish whose scales glittered like rainbows in the campfire.
“Dinner,” she grinned, dropping her catch on the ground. She laughed aloud at the looks of dismay rippling across the faces of her companions. “You did say you wished to taste the bounty of the land,” she smiled. “It is past time you did.”
“You wish us to eat those things?” Tethys cringed, a look of undisguised disgust written on her features.
“Not yet,” Morpheus replied, stepping out of the growing shadows like some sort of apparition. Dressed in his customary black from neck to toe, his ebony hair flowing around him like a living cloak, he moved silently into the company like a dark wraith. He settled to the ground with a fluid grace and sat cross-legged before the fire.
“First we must remove their innards before we cook them over the flames.” His dark eyes twinkled like the stars emerging above and a mischievous grin played over his thin lips. “Who will help me clean them?”
Laughing aloud at the abject horror in the eyes of their friends, Morpheus and Haleah slid into the darkness, returning shortly with the fish ready to cook. The group supped on the white flesh accompanied by the self-heating rations they had brought with them. Hesitant at first, their faces brightened at the taste of the savory fish, seasoned with crushed herbs Haleah added while cooking.
Against the cautions of Haleah, the camp was situated near the edge of the stream, the three folding huts bordering the sandy clearing with the high, arched doors facing the fire. She had warned them that creatures of the night would come to cold waters to drink and hunt, but they overruled her, assuring her that the four silver wards they had placed around the camp would deter and animals from coming anywhere near. Morpheus had explained that the devices emitted a sound too high for the human ear to register, but very painful to wildlife. Haleah did not fully understand, but her trust in Morpheus was complete. She knew deep in her heart that he would never allow harm to come to her.
While brilliant stars fought for space in the inky blackness above and a crescent moon touched the night with its sliver light, the companions shared lively conversation about the discoveries of the day in joyful comradery. Their sleds, parked just within the woods to protect them somewhat should the weather turn to rain, were packed to the brim with samples of roots and berries, soil and water and halos of the changing landscape and wildlife. The exchange was light and joyful, most of the questions directed at Haleah whose help was invaluable in identifying plants that were edible and those dangerously poisonous. When the discussion turned to the return home, the mood became heavy and somber. Morpheus was the first to see the lines forming between Rhea’s shining blue eyes, the sagging of her lips and the tension cascading down her body like a shiver of cold.
“Lady Rhea,” he asked gently, “if I may, what troubles you so?”
“I do not think I should speak of it,” she replied after taking a deep, slow breath. She lowered her head, hiding her face in the shadows. “I am sure it is nothing but the worries of a childish girl.”
“You are among friends here, Rhea,” Tethys said kindly, placing one hand over those Rhea had clenched in her lap. With the other hand, she cupped the other woman’s face, raising it up, and then brushed an errant lock of golden hair from the lady’s face. “You have our word we shall keep your concerns to ourselves. You may speak freely.”
“Free,” Rhea replied in a whisper, her brilliant eyes wet with moisture. “I do feel free here. Free and at peace. It is a sensation I have not felt in some time.”
“Do not get me wrong,” she continued, the words coming out in a rush as if some damn had broken within her. “I love my children. They light my life with such joy and happiness it is beyond my wildest dreams. I yearn for more moments in the day so I can spend each precious second with each of them. Their unconditional love and the love I feel for each of them is sometimes overwhelming. It was with great difficulty that I left them with Thea these past weeks, but I know they are safe and warm in her care.”
“Then what seems to be the problem, Rhea?” Oceanus questioned. “Is it that you have missed them while we have journeyed?”
“Missed them, to be sure,” she nodded,” but my disquiet does not concern them. It is their father that causes me distress.” Rhea hid her face from the others, rivers of tears flowing down her flushed cheeks, quiet sobs quivering her slumped shoulders.
Haleah squatted opposite of Tethys and the two women held the lady in silence until Rhea could regain her composure. Morpheus and Oceanus remained still, not knowing how they could comfort the woman and at a loss for words. It seemed like an hour passed with the only sounds that of insects chirping and the hooting of some large night bird intruding on the soft weeping. Occasionally, Oceanus would add a stick of wood to the glowing embers of the fire, but otherwise camp was completely hushed. Morpheus did his best to project a sense of tranquil placidity, calm serenity and peace. It rose around them and cloaked them all in its warmth. Eventually, the voiceless tears subsided and Rhea raised her head and sat up proudly, her back straight and her hands resting on the knees of her crossed legs.
“Forgive me,” she said humbly. “I am thoroughly embarrassed by my outburst.”
“Do not be,” Morpheus responded soothingly. “We all have moments like this. It is far better to release your pain than it is to hold it inside. Now, please, lady. Tell us why Cronus causes you such anxiety. Maybe we can help.”
“I am not sure how to explain it for I know not what it is.” Rhea leaning forward and staring into the flickering tendrils of flame as if answers were lying in the glowing embers. “For the most part, when we are alone together, – a rare thing these days – my husband is the same kind, loving man I have always known him to be, but it almost seems like it is a mask he wears. There is a dark undercurrent hiding just below the surface. It feels as if he is hiding something from me; something that is causing a burning anger inside him. It seems to grow with each passing day. I feel it in the roughness of his love play and in the abruptness with which he ends it.”
“Forgive me for sharing such a personal detail,” Rhea said contritely as if the confession had slipped unconsciously from between her lips.
“There is no need for forgiveness,” Tethys replied, rubbing her hand down Rhea’s back in a gentle massage. “We are here to listen. Please continue.”
The group huddled closer around the blazing campfire, not for the heat for the night was warm and the breeze had stilled to a whisper. Rather to better hear the muted tones in which Rhea spoke.
“Maybe I am imagining it,” Rhea sighed softly. “Maybe his love for me has just diminished over the years.”
“The love Cronus has for you is without question,” Oceanus said firmly, “and you are not imagining his tension. We have noticed it in council.” Tethys nodded her agreement. “His words are terse and more like commands than decisions. We are all equal among the Ca
ptains, yet he is acting as if he is above us and I know not why.”
“I cannot help you with that,” Rhea said, wringing her hands upon her lap. “I do not understand and he will not speak of it. It is as if he carries a terrible secret inside that he will not share and it scares him.”
Unseen, Haleah glanced furtively up at Morpheus and clenched his hand tightly. He was the only one she had told of the Book and of what it meant and he had grasped the implications immediately. He was almost invisible in the deepness of night, his raven hair and ebon garb blending into darkness. His black eyes were like pits beneath his crinkled brow, but they glittered in the dancing flames as he looked down at Haleah, returning her grip upon her hand. Morpheus shook his head almost imperceptibly and remained silent.
“Then there is the children.” Fresh tears rolled down Rhea’s cheeks, shimmering like rivers of crystal in the firelight. “He will have nothing to do with our beautiful girls. His brow darkens whenever he sees them and he avoids them as often as he can.”
To the shock of everyone around her, Rhea added as choking sobs began to rack her shoulders, “It is as if he hates them.”
Cronus lay beneath white sheets soaked in the sweat that had bathed his body as he slept. Now, in the cool early morning hours, a soft breeze drifting through an open window, the moisture chilling his skin, raising bumps on his cold flesh. Still, he did not awaken. His tongue flicked snake-like across desert-dry lips, but his eyes did not open. His hands clenched the soft blanket and pulled it up around his throat.
He walked alone through the streets of a deserted city. Buildings of milky white glass and red-tinged crystal towered silently above him. A light, hot breeze twisted through the shadow-filled alleys, rustling dead, brown, withered leaves along the ground. The sky above floated along a high, curved dome that twisted and moved like a living thing. A sickly red sun splattered drops of bloody light on the pebble-paved ground beneath his feet. Bright, burning eyes clung to the dark spots around him, never moving, quiet. Salty droplets ran down his face, pooling just under his nose where he licked the moisture to wet his blistered lips.