by Gene Stiles
Striding briskly up to the main deck, Thalassa was appalled at the breath of the carnage inflicted upon her beloved. Barely visible in the thick fog that enveloped the ship, spars hung limply on the port side like the broken branches of a mighty tree after a hurricane, held in place by the ropey vines of twisted rigging and sagging sails. The once pristine deck was littered with sharp splinters of shattered wood, tangled rope and dark, bloody stains. Anything that had not been tightly secured was gone, swept overboard along with the echoing screams of dying crewmen in that horrific moment when the black demon had attacked.
The Captain shuttered involuntarily, a freezing chill rippling along her spine, the cold memory of flying bodies, churning waters and those hideous, bloodcurdling voices almost overwhelming her mind. She stood stock still for a brief moment, taking long, slow breaths of damp, salty air and let the quiet sea loosen her taut muscles and whitened knuckles. She did not even realize her eyes were clenched tightly against the ghastly visions or that her ears blocked out all other sound except for those hapless shrieks. When at last she did, Thalassa heard the barking of orders and the scurrying of footsteps. She gazed around her as if waking from a nightmare, witnessing the quiet efficiency of her crew almost running to accomplish repairs.
Shuk stood at the helm like a thick mast, shimmering in glittering mist, a wavering wraith of power and strength. His deep baritone voice reverberated throughout the ship, the coms relaying his commands, providing a calm, unwavering anchor amid controlled chaos. Thalassa made her way to him, nodding grimly to those she passed, but not deterring them from their tasks. She climbed the stairs to the bridge and stood silently for a moment behind her First Mate, proudly assessing his proficiency.
“You do well, First Mate,” she said softly, noting not the slightest flinch from her officer. “Thank you, my friend.”
Shuck turned to look up at his Captain, his dark brown eyes near black beneath the shadow of his heavy brow ridge, his curt nod his only response to her compliment. “I am glad you are well, Captain.” He stepped away from the helm, wordlessly returning control of the ship to Thalassa.
Her stunning features softened for the first time since that demonic vessel had appeared behind them and she laid a wide, long-fingered hand upon Shuk’s burly shoulder. A light smile curved her ruby lips, barely visible in the damp fog.
“She is yours for a short while longer, my friend. You seem to have all well in hand.” Thalassa brushed away errant strands of honey-blond hair that clung to her moist forehead and gazed across the main deck, her sharp eyes attempting to pierce the milky veil. “If you would, please, bring me up to date on your progress.”
With her deft hands once again in command of the Midnight Star, Thalassa eased her vessel out of the channel between the islands and the coast. The bright yellow orb of the morning sun hung in a cloudless sky and burned away the last stubborn strips of mist from the sparkling azure sea. White seabirds dipped their hungry beaks into the salty brine lifting squirming tidbits of breakfast from the waters. Curling, foamy waves kissed the shoreline and sent glistening stars of spray into the air. On any other day, the sheer beauty and tranquility of nature would have filled the Captain with wondrous joy. But not this day. Not this horrible day.
Off to her port side lay the crumpled remains of the Wind Star, broken and bleeding, her carcass laying shattered against the base of high, granite cliffs. Her hull looked like the long dead body of ravaged beast, her keel exposed, ribs split, allowing her guts to spill into the sea. The waters around her were littered with freed cargo boxes, demolished masts, ripped, dirty remnants of once white sails and the bobbing bodies of lifeless crewmen. Even as she watched, the sea virtually boiled with unseen, hungry predators eager to clear the waters of such grisly contamination.
Not a single sound was uttered by anyone on the main deck of her ship, each lost in the quiet horror they witnessed. The faces of those along the bulwarks streamed with sad, angry tears and a fierce, determined desire to make someone pay and pay dearly for such atrocity.
A blood-chilling roar ripped through the quiet of the morning air, drawing Thalassa’s attention to starboard. Her body shook as if to throw off the heavy beads of moisture that clung to her black leathers. Her sky-blue eyes changed from teary to the coldness of a clear, frozen lake, sending sharp daggers of ice toward the hellish apparition appearing on the horizon. Its deadly, high-curled prow rose slowly from the turquoise sea, haloed by the rising sun, dripping greenish venom from its keel. The blackness spread out wings of promised death, claws ripping at the waters, seeking purchase against the tide.
Angry shouts and cries from her crew drew her attention to the main deck. Thalassa saw the raised fists and pointed fingers at the same moment she felt the heavy hand of Shuk against her arm. She glanced down at her First Mate and saw his wide features twisted into a mask of pure hatred. She followed his pointed finger and saw the prey the demonic serpent sought to devour.
The Northern Star limped in the distance like a wounded and mutilated animal desperately seeking respite from its vicious attacker. The once mighty vessel listed hard to port in the gently rolling sea as if one of its legs had been cut off at the knee. Tall, thick masts where billowing, white sails once held dominion over even the most powerful of winds stood naked, bereft of their garb and stabbed the soft, blue sky like the shattered remains of slivered spears.
The Captain felt an acidic bile rise in her throat, making her gag on the atrociousness of the sight. The acid burned into her soul igniting a pyre of fury such as she had never known. She sat her sights on the heinous abomination racing in to inflict more barbarity upon her sister ship, knowing she had no chance of catching the beast. Thalassa set her sights, instead, on an interception course hoping to deny the monstrosity its feast. She screamed out orders with such viciousness they reverberated throughout the ship, enkindling fires in every member of her crew. She forced the Midnight Star forward with all the speed her powerful engine could muster and with the sheer might of her will.
Captain Thalassa’s wide hands gripped the wooden spokes of the wheel at the helm as it struggled to escape her grasp. Her full, sensuous lips tightened grimly, her teeth grinding together, the muscles and tendons in her usually smooth jaw-line threatening to snap with the strain showing plainly on her otherwise beautiful face. The long, twisted braid of her flowing blond hair whipped around her with the impact of the Midnight Star against the stern of gargantuan ebony ship. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled with the coldness of a mountain glacier as she stared at the dark apparition that had sought to destroy her. Even as her vessel shuttered with the violent collision, small cracks rippling the main deck, the corner of her mouth rose slightly in a satisfied smile.
Even at only half the size of dark demon she had attacked, the freighter-built, Midnight Star tore a huge chunk of hull from the stern of the behemoth, twisted bands of borithium raking a long line into the smaller vessel like the claws of a long-toothed cat. The Black Death was thrown far from its path toward the Northern Star, banking starboard much harder than Captain Thalassa had anticipated. She fought the bucking wheel, forcing her ship to starboard and away from the arc of her opponent, keeping the throttle jammed full forward. Thalassa knew she had little hope against that giant monstrosity, but if she could harry the beast for long enough, the crippled Midnight Star might yet have a chance to escape.
She had barely completed her arc, aiming her prow at her raging opponent, when the other ship did the inexplicable. It came to a sudden, silent stop, drifting forward only on its own momentum.
Iapetus pulled himself upright at the helm as the cant of the decking eased beneath his feet. He brushed away blood and slivers of wood as if they were nothing but a mere nuisance and extended his corded arm to help Cronus rise from the wet planking. He quivered deep inside at the deranged dementia flaming in those red, burning eyes boiling the disquietude and foreboding in his tormented mind. He knew in his heart of hearts he must stop his brother, but
he yearned only to pull Cronus from the diseased pit he saw there. Though Iapetus knew to the core of his being what must occur, the loathing he felt at such action caused him first to pray the Creator would touch his friend with a moment of reason. Yet, one look into the bestial, feral eyes and he knew it was not to be.
“They are getting away! We must kill them all!” Cronus howled, attempting to shove Iapetus aside to take command of the helm. It was like trying to move a granite mountain. Cronus turned his wrath on his brother, locking his hands on the other man’s biceps with a savagery that would have crushed the bones of lesser men.
“Lord Father,” Iapetus said softly, his deep baritone voice rumbling like distant thunder, “Cronus, it is time to end this conflict. Please, my brother, think of your crew. Few are left standing. Most are dead or gravely injured. They must Heal and so must this ship. Let the Izon go.”
“The Izon!” Cronus spat into the rising morning breeze, releasing his grip on Iapetus and taking a step backward. His long, curly, auburn hair blazed around his head like the corona of the sun, picked up by the light wind and sent swirling around his strong features. The muscles and tendons at the corners of his square jawline twitched with every beat of his racing heart. Eyes of chipped jade flamed with crackles of green and red lightning on either side of his hawk-like, straight nose sending jagged bolts of fury into the trunk-like chest of Iapetus.
“The Izon must be wiped from the face of the planet! They are a curse on the lives of the People,” Cronus bellowed, his body vibrating with such intensity that Iapetus could feel it through the soles of his booted feet. “Their destruction is worth the lives of the crew! Now step aside,” he commanded.
“No,” Iapetus intoned, reaching behind him with one hand to pull the silver leavers into their Stop position. His ebony eyes seemed flat and lifeless, masking the turmoil that knotted his guts like a mound of braided rope. “The Izon are no more than barbaric animals. I do not understand your hatred of them. They are not worth the lives of so many.”
“No. You do not understand,” Cronus seethed, white-knuckled fists balling at his sides. “They are more than mere beasts…and far less. They must be torn from this land as one would rip a stubborn weed from a perfect garden. They are a threat to all of the People and must be eradicated from memory! If you knew the burden I bare, you would truly understand. Now obey your commander and step aside!”
“Then make me understand, Lord Father,” Iapetus near pleaded, rooted to the spot like the trunk of the One Tree, “so I can stand firmly at your side as I always have.”
“When we annihilate those vessels,” Cronus replied in a quiet voice that sounded far more ominous than his shouted words. “You have my word. Now move away from the helm.”
“I cannot, my brother,” Iapetus responded with a sad shake of his mammoth head, intense disquietude curdling in his tortured mind at his disobedience. “Not this time. You are not yourself. You are blinded by your malice. You must think of the crew. Please.”
Iapetus easily saw the bunching of muscles, the coiling of tendons and prepared himself for the coming onslaught. The crimson flush on the normally handsome face of Cronus told him his words had fallen on deaf ears and that there would only be one way this moment could end. In calmer times, Cronus would never signal his intentions so clearly. Gone was the feline grace for which his brother was so well known. Instead, a malevolent serpent sprung high into the air, wings fanned out, and ending in extended, talon-like claws. Iapetus slipped under and away from the snapped out leg, smashing into the thigh with his rock-hard, right forearm, forcing Cronus to turn slightly mid-flight. Iapetus struck the exposed back with the hammer-like heel of his left hand at the sweet spot near the base of the spine, sending Cronus in a spin along the wet planking.
Cronus recovered in time to propel himself from the low wall below the guardrail with his massive leg muscles. He rocketed toward Iapetus like some enraged monstrosity devoid of reason or control, howling in an inarticulate, incomprehensible voice. Iapetus lowered his massive frame and leapt high and to the side of the charge, twisting his massive torso as he arose. Iapetus bladed his granite hand for a blow that would snap the neck of Cronus as would a dry twig break beneath a booted foot…a near-lethal strike that would render his friend unconscious and incapable of movement. He could hear the ghastly sound of crunching vertebrae and breaking bone and it made him sick to the point of wretchedness. He landed with an impact that sent a ripple along the weakened deck of the bridge and watched with unabashed agony as Cronus skidded on his face along the wood. He came to a still and silent rest against the portside guardrail and lay as limp as a leaf in a waterfall.
Iapetus sank to his knees next to his brother, laid a wide, sun-darkened hand on his back and wept in utter dismay. He brushed his long, straight, black hair back over his shoulders with fingers that shook with consternation. After uncounted moments, Iapetus picked up his Lord Father with the gentleness of a young mother holding her first infant. Cradling him in his gigantic arms, he walked Cronus down to the wreckage of the Captain’s quarters and laid him upon his bed, carefully arranging overstuffed pillows around him. Moist tears still shimmering in his dark eyes, Iapetus pushed aside the unruly red curls that covered the sweaty, peaceful face of Cronus. He arose with one last look at his brother and murmured, “Forgive me, Lord Father. Forgive me.”
Captain Thalassa stood on the bridge of the Midnight Star, her long, braided, blond hair hanging over her shapely shoulder, mouth open in unmitigated disbelief. Shuk stood steadfastly at her side, mirroring his Captain’s incredulity. There was absolutely no way in the eyes of the Creator that the minor damage they had inflicted upon that black behemoth in their hopeless gambit could account for such an impossible reaction. The gargantuan vessel was underway once again, its demolished prow aimed not at them, but toward the breakwaters of the river Gaia. It took only long moments for its stern to disappear completely from their line of sight. Cheers erupted from the main deck, cresting throughout the ship like waves against the shoreline.
“What just happened, my Captain?” Shuk asked, looking first up at her then again into the distance, his chestnut eyes searching the rolling seas for the slightest hint that the beast was returning. His black leather and fur-clad body stood like a stanchion by the guardrail of the aft deck, wild, brown hair twirling around his square head in the cool, damp wind. His callused hands gripped the stern rail as if he were afraid of falling still not understanding the killer’s retreat and fearful that the battle was not truly over.
“I do not know, Shuk,” Thalassa responded, standing tall and straight next to him, her wide, long-fingered hands resting near his. “I just do not know. We should be fish bait by now.”
The Captain scanned the horizon with crystal-blue eyes as sharp and focused as a predatory bird searching the ground far below for a morning meal. Through the lacings of her red leather, fur-padded, long-sleeved shirt and the black leather pants that clung to her long, shapely legs like a second skin, the sparkling silver of her Enviro-Suit glittered like gemstones in the rising sun. She removed her richly tooled, ruby-red headband and brushed errant strands of sun-bleached, blond hair from her moist forehead. She tossed her braid back over her wide shoulder before replacing the band, allowing her hair to flow down her muscled back and past her thin waistline. She did these things not out of any sense of vanity, but as a way to clear her brilliantly astute mind of the hundreds of questions ricocheting around inside of her.
Where had that dark monstrosity come from? Why had it attacked with such barbaric viciousness? Why was its Captain so reckless and inexperienced? And, most importantly of all, why had he suddenly ceased his ferocious assault just when the complete annihilation of his foe was at hand?
Thalassa shook her head slightly and let a deep sigh escape from her pouted lips, immensely grateful for whatever reason the Creator had used for sparing their lives. She swept her eyes over the softly rolling, blue-green seas once more before return
ing to the helm, Shuk ever at her side. She gazed down upon her friend and First Mate, managing a wan and weary smile before reaching for the com unit.
“The battle appears over,” she announced ship wide. Waiting for the renewed cheering to abate, the Captain continued, “Let us prepare to take on survivors and salvage what we can.” A saddened silence touched the crew at her grim words, the sudden realization of the fates of their less fortunate brothers and sisters shivering their souls.
“First Mate, set course for the Wind Star.”
“At your command, Captain,” Shuk responded quietly with a nod of his head, gripping the wheel with both of his wide, powerful hands, bringing the prow of the Midnight Star around slowly and aiming her at the broken husk of their sister ship.
“Let us pray to see our brethren again,” Captain Thalassa whispered more to herself than to him. “Let us pray.
Epilog
Captain Kaikinos stood tall at the helm of the Northern Star, his eight foot-two height giving him a wide range of vision on either side of his ship. His dark hazel eyes, flecked with sparkles of gold, carefully watched the narrowing shoreline of the mighty, blue river he traversed. At his stern, the Midnight Star kept a careful watch on the river for any signs of pursuit, which, thankfully, seemed non-existent. Up ahead, the Ocean Star, with its precious cargo of Izon, plied the river deep into the interior of the northwestern island/continent of Atlantis searching for an inlet large enough to berth the three vessels. One such had already been found, but the sizable lake at the other end was shallow, not nearly deep enough for a ship the size of the Northern Star.