by Gene Stiles
The worst part was the screams. They emanated from the rock structures constantly, whimpers, cries of pain and debasement that seared the soul and tore at the heart. Here lay the true horror of this degenerate place far from the faux normality of the city. Here was the sickening barbarity that must be brought to the council.
Oceanus placed his farseers into the pouch at his side, unable to stand the sight of Pettit any more knowing what foulness festered within the rest of the valley. He turned his tightlipped jaw and burning eyes toward Tethys, noting the streams of tears marring her sun-browned face. He lay a firm, warm hand upon her broad, slumped shoulder, saying nothing. What words could there be to cleanse such stench from her heart?
“Ra told the truth,” he whispered, his mind loath to speak the words out loud. “I dared not believe it. Even knowing the hatred Cronus has for the Izon and all the tortures they endured at his hand, this I thought to be far beyond his capacity.”
“How? Why?” Tethys pressed her head against her husband, sobbing into his massive chest. The sheer magnitude of the suffering she sensed in this hellish place assaulted her mind and soul like the most vicious of hurricanes, tearing into the deepest depths of her being.
“I do not know, my love,” Oceanus whispered. “I just do not know.”
Thorin stood rigidly on the edge of the plateau overlooking the forest and the sparkling city below, his thick, bulging arms crossed over his gargantuan chest. With every horrific sight that met his greenish-blue eyes, his heart sank and withered beneath his ribs. A turbulent storm boiled within his veins with every mile they traveled and he prayed they would run into a patrol so he could give vent to his fury. He brushed his long, strawberry-blond hair out of his eyes and over his broad shoulders, letting it fall in waves down his tan leather vest to the small of his back. He felt sickened by what he learned on this trip and almost hated his mother for sending him along.
Thorina insisted he visit Nil with Oceanus and Tethys, wanting a firsthand account from her son about the power system Ra now commanded. Hopefully, it could be adapted to Atlantean technology. That is if the ex-Captain would change his mind and share that knowledge with Atlantis. So far, he steadfastly refused and she wanted to know why. She and Ramathus were close friends once. Maybe her son could succeed where others failed. Ra still refused, but he did tell them why. That is what brought them to this wretched place to see the degradation and the true meaning of this despicable place with their own eyes.
“We need to get away from this dreadful place,” Thorin grumbled, tearing his eyes away from the horror of the valley. “I want nothing more than to rip down those wards and destroy those responsible for this prison. If we were not so vastly outnumbered, I swear to the Creator I would. Cronus be damned.”
“I could not agree more,” Oceanus replied, nodding his bald head, sparks of red filling his near-black eyes. He turned toward the clearing where their sleds were parked, holding tightly to Tethys’ hand, nearly dragging her behind him. “This must be stopped at once.”
“What in the name of the Creator have you done, Cronus?”
Oceanus burst through the chamber doors, startling the others gathered around the Table. His black eyes blazed like a seething volcano as he stomped toward his brother. His thick forearms bulged with the tightness of his whitened knuckles. His boulder-like, bald head glistened with salty beads of sweat which he did not bother to wipe from his wide brow.
“What foulness and terror have you visited upon the women of the People?” he asked, venom dripping from each word as he advanced upon Cronus. “And how could you keep this from this council?”
Cronus rose calmly to meet his brother, staring down upon the oncoming fury, his face blank. Only the flickers of icy lightning in his chipped-jade eyes betrayed his building tension. He barely noted the monstrous Iapetus slip around him to intercept Oceanus if need be.
“Whatever are you talking about, brother?” Cronus responded coolly, not glancing at the curiosity written on the rest of the council.
“You know exactly what I refer to,” Oceanus replied, the veins popping out on his forehead, his jaw twitching at the corners. He stopped just short of the Lord Father wanting nothing more than to smash the lie forming on those tan lips. “I refer to Pettit, your hidden city of breeding pens and hideous horror chambers. How could you inflict such pain and trauma upon your own kind? You are more than a monster. You are twisted beyond comprehension. This corruption must stop and stop now!”
“Watch your tongue,” Iapetus growled darkly. “You do not tell the Lord Father what to do.”
“What is going on here?” Themis stood, her long, blond braid hanging over the shoulder of her tan, leaf-patterned robe. “What is it we do not know, dear Oceanus?”
“This despicable creature,” Oceanus said, spitting the words out as if they burned his lips and waving a hand toward Cronus, “has a hidden compound between the Northern Mountains. For over a hundred and twenty years, he has been forcing women of the People to breed with Izon males.”
A stunned silence filled the Council Chambers for long moments. Most of the faces surrounding the table shook with every conceivable emotion. Disbelief, trepidation, shock, abhorrence, agony, and more. No one could comprehend such barbarity, such fiendish atrocity heaped upon their kin. In breathless seconds the room exploded into horrified babble, laced with tears. A few said nothing, hiding their reaction beneath hanging heads.
“Enough!” Cronus bellowed, slamming his fist upon the polished wood. His ruggedly handsome face darkened like a thundercloud, his green eyes glowing with crackling sparks. “Sit down and quiet your pathetic screeching! Only then will I answer your questions.”
“Is this true?” Themis defied him, remaining standing, her body vibrating ferociously. Her large emerald eyes narrowed almost to slits upon her oval face. Tears of rage seeped from the corners, reddening her high cheeks. Themis leaned against the table, her muscles bunched as if ready to pounce.
“Yes,” Cronus snapped in reply. “And I did so at your own bidding. It is what you all wanted. You just did not have the guts to do it yourselves. I saved you from that decision. You should be thanking me!”
“What twisted, disgusting logic,” Themis countered vehemently, “could you possibly conceive to convince yourself that we would want such a repugnant, agonizing evil to be perpetrated upon hapless women?”
“It was you, Themis, who brought to me and this council your concerns over the lowering birthrate of the People,” Cronus said coldly, brushing his long locks of curly, red hair from his face. “It was you who swore something must be done quickly before our race went extinct. I did something.”
Themis felt her mouth drop open at his words. That her statements could be so defiled was beyond her understanding.
“That gave you no right to have our women raped by animals,” she sputtered, quaking at the visions burning behind her eyes. “Our Medico-Biologists have made great headway toward understanding the causes of our sterility. They will find a way to reverse it.”
“But have they yet?” Cronus sneered at her in contempt. “How many children of Atlantis have been born in the last thirty years? I can tell you. None. Not even one. I work for the good of the People.”
“This is beyond monstrous, Cronus,” Coeus interjected. “Even for you. You try to circumvent the will of the Creator and call it ‘for the good of the People’. Do you think yourself a God now?”
Coeus sat almost crumpled, his boney elbows upon the table. His sable robe hung loosely on his lanky, stoop-shouldered frame as he twisted his thin hands together before him. His wavy, unkempt cinnamon hair fanned around his narrow face as he shook his head sadly. His warm hazel eyes were damp with unshed tears and his normally smiling lips rippled with tremors. Coeus looked up at Cronus, his revulsion plain upon his face.
“To my eternal shame, I held my tongue when you abused the Izon and drove our blood kin from our land,” he continued. “I stood by, lost in my own expl
orations, while you hunted the Clan and those who aided them. I even closed my eyes to your Black Guard and their treatment of the People of Atlantis. How can I stand by and allow you to continue to abuse your power further in the name of the ‘good of the People’?”
“I do not claim to be a God,” Cronus responded, his temper flaring at the audacity of those words. “As for the will of the Creator, how do you not see that I move by His hand? Did I not defy my own father to bring the People of Atlan to this new world? Do you not remember the cost to me? Have we not prospered under my rule?”
Cronus scanned the sunlit room, his gaze touching the face of every person. He saw the disdain written in their eyes and it cut him deeper than he would admit to himself. His long, ebony robe swished upon the polished granite floor as he walked to the crystal-paned windows that overlooked the city. The diamonds embedded in the material glistened like a million stars in the afternoon light sending a heavenly pattern across the room. His powerfully muscled body, stunningly handsome features and the crown of jewel-inlaid gold that encircled his reddish curls were caught in the sun’s glow, surrounding Cronus with a shimmering aura. In that moment, as he turned to face his accusers, he looked every bit the God many thought him to be.
“I serve the Creator and the People of Atlantis,” he said firmly, his rich baritone voice reverberating off the stone wall of the room. “Whether you agree with me or not, I am the Lord Father and I will always do what I think is right. Pettit is for the good of the People…and it works!”
“How?” Tethys demanded, her dark hazel eyes flaring as she spoke. She brushed her long, wavy, dark brown hair from her rounded oval face, her pink lips pinched tightly. “How could you even think such an atrocious travesty works for the benefit of the People?”
“I shall tell you how if you would all quit mewing like a pack of tiny cubs,” Cronus responded coldly. He turned from the window, advancing toward the table as if ready to do battle with them all. He shoved his chair back and stood at the head of the table, glaring back at the eyes that seared him with their disdain. Cronus waited impatiently until the babble of murmurs abated, he hands gripping the thick wood of the table as if to powder it beneath his fingers.
“We stopped having children, but the Izon still breed like rabbits. As you are all so fond of reminding me,” Cronus spit with vehemence, “they are blood kin so the question is why. Even the Nil have offspring, though not as often as the Clan. So what do they have in common that we do not share?”
The Twelve stared at each other for long moments, searching their minds for the answer. The puzzled looks on their dour faces told Cronus they missed the obvious explanation. He was about to tell them when Mnemosyne’s eyes widened.
“They have been here longer!” she near shouted.
“Not true,” Coeus retorted. “We were here long before either group.”
“But not awake,” Phoebe replied, a quizzical look upon her porcelain features. “We were in status, contained within the environment of our ships. The Izon have lived in the world far longer.”
“Exactly,” Cronus sneered with satisfaction. “Your Medico-Biology,” he continued with a glance at Themis, “tells us there are things in the air we cannot see. Somehow they are affecting we Atlanteans, but the Clan has adapted over eons. We have not as yet. By mixing our blood, we gain their strength and immunity while retaining our own.”
“But the offspring,” Coeus asked, more curious now than angry. “How did you know they would not be monsters?”
“Simple,” Cronus responded, a small, terse smile upon his thin, tan lips. “Amelia had a son.”
No one had to be reminded of how Amelia was raped by a roving gang of Izon. How could they forget? Cronus expected the looks of consternation and shock on his brethren. He counted on it. But something else stirred beneath those lowered heads, something that disquieted him and gnawed at his mind like a buzzing of dangerous hornets. His sharp eyes noted, however, the few people in the room had no reaction at all and tucked away the information for later investigation.
“This is one of the reasons she left Atlantis. That and to hide her shame,” Cronus continued, his Aam senses tinkling with danger. “After she died, he disappeared. By the accounts I received, he could pass for Atlantean, taking no resemblance from his bestial fathers. That is why I could not find him. He is of the People and blends in perfectly. That is where I got the idea. If there was one child, there could be more.”
“That gave you no right to subject women to such abuse,” Phoebe spit back at him, the venom in her voice searing him like acid. Her fingernails curled into claws, biting into the hard wood of the table. “After the horror and trauma inflicted upon Amelia, how could you think such a thing would be acceptable to this council or the People no matter what the reason?”
Long platinum hair swirling around her as if whipped by a thunderstorm, Phoebe quaked where she stood. Her sparkling silver gossamer gown shimmered as she fought to contain herself. Pale blue eyes blazed with bolts of lightning. She stood like a warbird about to rend her prey to bloody pieces. Only the restraining hand of Coeus on her rippling forearm kept her from ripping the twisted smile from the face of Cronus.
“That is exactly why you were not informed,” the Lord Father snarled in return, his fiery mane of curls surrounding his squared face like a whirlwind. “It is up to me to choose what is right for the People. I knew you sniveling, pathetic cowards would not have the strength to do what was needed.”
Rhea had said almost nothing in council sessions for many years. Cronus demanded her attendance but not her voice. Her brothers and sisters noticed how the strength slipped away from her stance over time. Her glowing spirit, once such a bright light that filled the room was dimmed, shattered like dropped glass. The waves of her honey-blond hair hung limply over her slumped shoulders, the shimmering luster faded and dull. With the loss of her children, the spark that lit the fires of her smile was as dead as a cold, ash-filled hearth. They felt pity for her and did their best to re-ignite the flames to no avail. Or so they thought. They were about to learn differently.
“You believe having our women raped and abused is in the best interest of Atlantis,” she said in a voice so soft and quiet that those around her strained to hear her words. She lowered her head and buried her face in her long, delicate fingers. They thought she wept and remained silent. When, at last Rhea raised her head, they were almost shocked at the pure burning hatred radiating from her icy blue eyes.
Rhea rose from the table like an enraged feline, her amber robe swirling around her as she stepped away from the thing that was once her husband. The muscles beneath her tight-fitting, blue gown stood out in high relief, quivering with pent-up emotion. Her words slashed the air like frozen mist, stunning the group with the sound of their quiet, frigid bitterness. Even Cronus remained mute beneath their gentle furiousness.
“You believe the People follow you no matter what atrocities you commit,” she continued. “That this council will support you in all things. That they are cowards to bend to your every whim out of fear of your power as I have done these past years.”
“You are wrong.” Her eyes locked with his, blocking out the presence of everyone else. “No more. I swear by the Creator, no more.”
“You have held me captive in this vile place far too long,” Rhea broke her gaze from him and turned on those gathered around her. “It is time they knew the whole truth about their ‘savior’.”
“This creature,” she said, her finger pointing straight at Cronus, “tore my sweet children from my breast because he feared the Prophesy made by his father. That one day, his own son would kill him in return. He killed them all only to save himself. Because he is the coward that lives in fear. Not you.”
“Shut up, Rhea,” Cronus growled dangerously.
“No,” she replied without a glance in his direction. “He has kept me under constant guard and restricted to the city for decades because of my friendship with Hyperion. He swor
e to torture his own brother in the most hideous of ways if I ever spoke to him again. Not because of any real infidelity, but only because he feared there might be. Who is the coward?”
Cronus reared up, slamming his whitened knuckles upon the mahogany table. “I said shut up!” he roared.
“No,” she returned softly, ignoring his fury. “This beast that once was a man has raped me repeatedly, forcing me into his bed against my will with brutal force. I complied to keep my best friend and your brother from grievous harm. But that was my choice. And now he tells you it is right to have any woman raped by animals at his command for his own purposes without their consent or yours. What he means is he feared you would not agree. Who is the coward?”
“Enough!” Cronus shoved his high-backed, leather chair away with such anger it smashed into the granite wall behind him and cracked with the impact, tumbling to the ground. His gigantic form spun around the table, stomping toward Rhea, cold-blooded death in his chipped-jade eyes.
“No,” she whispered defiantly, standing her ground.
With a speed that surprised her, the council their feet, planting themselves between the rampaging juggernaut and his intended target. Oceanus, Hyperion, Coeus and even the youthful Crius met the Lord Father like a wall of flesh, their eyes flashing, refusing to allow him to reach his quarry. Monstrous Iapetus, his muscles bulging and ready, moved to stand by Cronus, daring anyone to release the vehemence in their eyes. The silence was deafening, the air thick and threatening. It was Themis who broke the menacing impasse, her voice steeped in hot, burning anger.
“Sit down, Cronus,” Themis seethed, her tightly wound, blond braid hanging over her dark blue gown and down the front of her tense, shapely body. “We will hear all the Lady Rhea has to say,” she snapped at him, using the formal title as respect for her sister. “We have laws. Even you are not above them.”
