by Gene Stiles
When Zeus concurred with his proposal, Cronus simply nodded and arose from the table. He did not clasp hands with his son, leaving it to Iapetus to seal the deal. He left the chamber without a backward glance after ordering his companions to be ready to leave for Atlantis within two hours. That was the last Zeus saw of him. The room rested in shocked silence for long moments, every person within sharing open-mouthed, astonished stares at each other. It ended as simply as that. Even the Trinity was stunned, looking at each other with bewildered eyes. It was the abruptness of it all that gnawed at Zeus.
“I expected more of a fight or at least more specific demands.” He patted Adrastea’s hand upon his arm and gave her a worried smile. “Maybe I am just being over-concerned. Sometimes, when you are primed for battle and it does not occur, the adrenaline continues to course through your veins looking for an outlet. I am sure that is all it is.”
“We got what we wanted,” Haleah said from his other side. She fingered the hilt of the long knife strapped to her thigh, her sky-blue eyes slightly hooded. “Now if he only abides by it.”
“You think he will not?” Adrastea leaned forward so she could see her mother beyond Zeus’ bulk. “He gave his word.”
“I have known Cronus longer than either of you,” Haleah replied, her cherry-red lips pursed tightly upon her copper-skinned, oval face. “He sees things through his own eyes only. Should he decide to break his agreement, he will find a way to do so and blame us for the breach.”
“Possibly,” Zeus conceded, taking a long, cool swallow from his tankard of light ale. “For now, I believe we are safe.” He rose from his chair, reaching out his hand for his mother. “Let us enjoy the moment and share in the celebration of victory with our family and friends.”
He did not see the tiny, mechanical Watcher hovering within the leafy branches of the oak grove behind him. He did not hear the click of the shutter of its lens as it recorded its location and the people gathered on the green, well-manicured lawn. Nor was he aware when it spun and sped off into the blue afternoon sky. If he had been, Zeus would have understood the justified roots of his angst.
Metis wandered casually through the open market in Atlantis, taking a little extra time at the stalls that specialized in fine fabrics. She loved the feel of smooth, soft material beneath her fingertips, especially the exotics imported from the northern territories and from Nil. She preferred the light greens like chartreuse or verdigris but also loved various hues of blue. The greens highlighted the reddish tints in her dark brown hair, but the blues brought out the sapphire sparks in her bright, hazel eyes. They also reminded her of her father, Oceanus, and his love of the open sea.
She missed him and her mother, Tethys, so very much and sometimes wished she had gone with them when they left Atlantis. Yet, she belonged in this exciting, vibrant city. It was all she had ever known. Unlike her parents, Metis had no burning desire to explore the rest of the world. The golden city had all she ever wanted from its twisted, silver spires and gold-domed buildings to the shadowy serenity of the One Tree and the soft carpet of moss beneath it. The sidewalks were filled with happy, laughing people bustling joyously through their lives, content with the world around them.
Over the years, only one thing troubled her about her idyllic home and it had gotten worse since the revelation of Pettit. The People had little tolerance for anyone unlike themselves. She was not alive when the Izon roamed the streets, ports and back alleys, but she hated the lies taught about them in schools and the bigoted attitude she heard in the nightclubs she frequented. To hear the gossip and read the histories, they were bestial creatures prone to savageness and violence.
Her parents told a completely different story. If not for the Clan, Atlantis would not exist they said. The Izon had dedicated their lives to the Awakening that brought the People back into the world. Without them, Atlantis would have remained entombed in darkness. Instead of being rewarded for their courage, sacrifices and devotion, they were enslaved and abused simply because they looked and spoke differently. They backed it up with holos of the Izon compounds and forced labor under the watchful eyes of armed Aam.
Metis read everything she could find on Haleah and Morpheus and their love and triumphs. The way they took on Cronus and all of Atlantis to free the bloodkin no matter the personal cost inspired her in all she had done in her life.
‘I would have liked to meet them,’ Metis thought as she bartered for a bolt of turquoise gossamer cloth. After paying the agreed upon price, she headed for the food court for a noontime meal. Though they thought themselves well-hidden, she was fully aware of the two plain-clothed Aam that shadowed her every move.
She decided upon tender strips of venison simmered in a thin, spicy sauce with sautéed vegetables served over steamed brown rice and seated herself at a polished, pine table in the center of the courtyard. She enjoyed listening to the babbling conversations surrounding her and the constant flow of bodies passing by. Even though she sat by herself, it made her feel part of the crowd and somewhat less lonely.
“Creator! That smells good,” Bella said as she pulled up a chair and sat down beside Metis. The blond-haired beauty held a plate of braised, garlic sea bass, steamed broccoli and fried potatoes with onion. “Maybe I should have gotten that instead.”
“I will share if you will give me a taste of your fish,” Metis said with a warm smile. She took a long sip of her sweet, iced tea to wash the spicy sauce from her throat and pushed her plate to her friend. “How are your students doing? Still hating you for making them think?”
Metis noted the Aam causally sitting at another table a few yards away, picking at the food on their plates and doing their best to appear nonchalant. She could not hear what they were saying, but in her peripheral vision, she caught them chance clandestine glances her way.
“Of course,” Bella said with a tinkling laugh. She spooned a little venison and rice on her plate and gave Metis a portion of her fish in return. Her bronzed skin glistened with a sheen of moisture under the bright sunshine as she brushed her unruly blond curls back over her shoulder. “They hate it when I give them two sides of a story to ponder. I only want them to think for themselves and to not take things at face value.”
“What are you forcing the poor things to consider at the moment?” Metis asked. Bella taught social science at the academy and often found herself at odds with her students and peers, yet she was popular and respected for her uncanny ability to touch the hearts and emotions of her charges.
“The Nephilim.”
That one word drove the lightness out of their exchange like a solid punch to the stomach. Automatically, they lowered their voices. The topic was dangerous in today’s climate. Opinions varied widely and though most Atlanteans were open-minded and tolerant, those with more radical views were louder and prone to back up their beliefs with violence. Since the children of Pettit had entered the city and their story was told, tensions had slowly risen. After Cronus broadcasted his reasoning and the impact on Atlantean society, things had gotten much worse. Now the city was like a boiling cauldron waiting to spill steaming liquid into the streets.
“I need to make the People realize they are part of us,” Bella said, her high-cheeked, oval face taking on a more serious mien. “They are no different and carry not only our blood in their veins but the hope of the future in their hands. If we do not embrace them as our own, we risk turning them against us.”
“I totally agree,” Metis responded, pushing her meal around with her fork. “We have seen a serious rise in assaults and disorder in the last couple of years. No matter how calm and happy the People seem to be,” she added, her eyes slipping over the buoyant crowd chatting laughingly around them, “there is a strong undercurrent of anger and fear.”
Metis nodded her agreement as she chewed on a succulent piece of fish. “There is no reason for it,” she said somewhat sharply. “They are of the People. Bloodkin. Most of those I have met just want to live their lives peacefully,
raise families and share in the wealth of our society. They pose no threat.”
“Bloodkin,” Metis said sadly. “Just like the Izon. And we know what happened to them.”
The two women emptied their plates into the recycler and laid them on the conveyor that would whisk them off to be cleaned, their appetites as muted as their conversation. Done with their tasks for the day, they made their way to the bridge leading to the isle of the One Tree. Metis noticed their escorts wandering through the crowd behind them, casually examining wares as they went. She wondered if they were there for her or for Bella. Both of them seemed to be under suspicion at the moment. Bella for her views and Metis for being the daughter of traitors.
They chatted on innocuous subjects as they stopped at the stand just over the wooden arch bridge to pick up a lantern to light the way in the dimness beneath the thick foliage beneath the ancient, alien tree. They chose this location on purpose, knowing they could speak freely in the quiet, serene, holy place. Their guards had to fall back to keep from being spotted and that was the point of this little excursion. The two women had much to discuss.
“What has happened to us?” Metis asked as she spread a soft, checkered blanket upon the lush, green moss. She sat the lantern in the middle, casting shadows over their faces as they spoke. “On Atlan, the People were fewer, had much less and were crowded in underground caves. Yet, they lived in peace and harmony for millions of years.”
She pulled a couple of bottles of mixed sweet teas from her knapsack and handed one to Bella. “Now they live on a vast, new world in the open sunshine. There is an incredible abundance of food, life, resources and space. We have gone from a few thousand to hundreds of thousands. Should you so desire, you could find a place where no one has gone before and live out your life without ever seeing another human being. Why does it seem anger, greed, hatred and violence have overtaken the People? I would have thought they would be happier, more serene and loving, not less.”
“Actually,” Bella said, thanking Metis for the tea, “I believe it is because of the abundance and open space. On Atlan, all were equal. Each had a part in keeping us alive. Food, clothing and shelter were free and shared among all. Without cooperation in such tight confines, we would have destroyed ourselves. Even the birth rate naturally slowed itself to match the available resources.”
“I can understand that,” Metis concurred. She noted the faint lantern light bobbing a short distance away and saw as it settled on the ground. Their Aam companions were still close by. “In all of nature I have studied here, living populations vary and change depending on local food sources and environments. If a pack gets too large, it either splits off to find new territory, fights for available space or dies off. Plant life grows only as large as a water supply can support.”
“And therein lies the problem for the People.” Bella took out a container of wrapped sweets from her sack and handed a honey-coated pastry to her friend. Her ocean-blue eyes glittered in the lamplight, the pupils wide in the dimness. “This world is so large our numbers are not restricted. More people, more diverse personalities. There has always been good and evil within us. On Atlan, our baser emotions were not abated by high morals, advanced society or lofty attitudes, but by the basic need for survival. Here in this land of plenty, we have no such hindrances. Our true natures are free to be revealed.”
“Sadly, I have to agree with you,” Metis said, wiping a drop of honey from her lips with a napkin. “I also think that greed is an inbred instinct. On Atlan, as you say, all we had was restricted and equally divided. Something in that made the People develop a need to hold tightly to their limited possessions. Now we have more than we could ever need, yet many still hoard things as if it will all be gone tomorrow. People no longer wish to share.”
“And the Izon were a threat to that,” Bella said, gathering up their things for the trip back to Atlantis. “The Nephilim even more so for most are not so easily spotted.” She slipped her pack over her shoulders and waited until Metis was ready to leave. Like her, Bella was aware of their watchers and saw the distant light lift from the ground as they headed back toward the city. They would not be traveling alone.
The two women let their conversation change to happier topics as they walked. They chatted laughingly on the attentions of men, the excitement of new discoveries and the prospect of visiting the Wind Song later in the evening. By the time they reached the arched bridge, the gloom under the One Tree and within their souls had lifted and the sunshine seemed all the brighter. So it came as a shock when they saw the bloody brawl filling the marketplace and the contingent of armed Aam rushing to the scene.
“Nephilim scum! How dare you sit here with the true People,” Jaxeum shouted at the man sharing a late lunch with his wife and two children in the food court. At his back, three of his friends from the factory stood bristling with fiery anger.
“What are you talking about, Jax?” Chadimus responded with a growl. The big, blond-haired man rose from his seat, placing himself between the group and his family. His blue eyes blazed at the insult and his corded muscle bunched beneath his tunic. “You have known me all your life. You know better. You are just mad because I was promoted over you.” He could feel the questioning glances from the people gathering around and did not like the look in their eyes. “Now go before things get out of hand and leave us in peace.”
Jaxeum raised his voice so all could hear. “Just look at you! You are bigger than we are. You think you are better than we are! And your family!” Jax looked around him, pointing at the other man. “He has children! How many of you do? He and his kind want to replace us all! I say drive them out! All of them!”
Chadimus did not like the tension he felt building in the courtyard. He saw the suspicious rippling through the throng and the nervous shifting of feet upon the pavement. People sitting at nearby tables moved away, some with their heads hung low and sheepish, others as if there was a vicious animal in their midst. Even though he was only a few inches taller than Jaxeum, they were looking at him as if he was a giant.
“What do you think you are doing, Jax?” a voice arose behind Chadimus. He turned to see a group of his friends slipping through the milling masses. “You know his children are those of his late brother. Take your false accusations and foul mouth out of here and scurry back to your den.”
“And where did his brother get them?” Jaxeum continued, grinning inwardly at the reaction of the crowd. He could see the doubts and fears spreading through the air and pushed harder, playing on hidden hatreds. “It runs in the family, does it not? He is one of them! So are the children! They hide among us. The ones who will kill you in the night like the beasts they are!”
Chadimus swung, his fury overwhelming his common sense. His massive knuckles smashed into Jax’s jaw and sending him crashing to the ground. “Do not speak of my children in that way!”
“See!” Jax shouted as he wiped the blood from his smiling, cracked lips. “I told you! He is one of them!”
A glass sailed through the air and struck the table where his family huddled together. Splinters of crystal sprayed outward, slashing into the little ones as they cried out. The courtyard erupted into violence divided into warring camps of those supporting the terrified family and those seeking to harm them. Even those not taking a side or unknowing of what was happening were drawn in as they were shoved and attacked in the ensuing melee. The riot quickly spread through the streets, its source forgotten. Blood and bone soaked the sidewalks and screams of pain rent the warm afternoon air.
By the time Metis and Bella returned to Atlantis, the Aam were swarming through the crowds. With fists and feet, knives and sidearms, they waded through the throng as unstoppable as a morning tide. People ran from the onslaught, slipping into alleyways, homes and shops. No one in their right mind would stand against these trained warriors and the few who did paid a deadly price. Within an hour, the city was as quiet as a tomb, but the damage had been done. Eight people were dead, many mor
e in serious need of Healing. Over a hundred were arrested to be brought before the Twelve.
Jax slithered through the shadows until he reached a small storehouse close to the Great Pyramid. His left eye was purple and swollen and a yellowing bruise was fading from his jaw. His clothes were torn and stained with blood and his knuckles were cracked and broken. A light aura of golden Healing shimmered around his body as he stepped into the gloomy darkness.
“You did well,” a disembodied voice said from the gray murkiness. A clinking of coin intruded on the quiet as a small sack landed on the wooden crate beside Jax. “Here is your promised reward.”
He picked up the purse, aware his employer was now gone. He grinned a satisfied smirk as he tucked the bag beneath his tunic. Two birds with one stone. Not only had he effectively destroyed his rival, but he was well paid for it. Not caring about the cost in lives and anguish, Jax hurried toward his home knowing he was safe from punishment and buoyant with his newfound riches. Life could get no better.
“Such actions will not be tolerated in Atlantis,” Themis said from the steps in front of the Great Pyramid.
She looked like a golden, vengeful goddess as she stood behind the podium overlooking the vast crowd gathered on the lawn. Her honey-blond hair was bound in a tight braid that fell down the back of her long, black robe, a thin gold band keeping it from her stern, softly-planed but, stunningly beautiful features. Her emerald eyes blazed like polished gems in the afternoon sunshine as she gazed down at the seventy-four people shuffling their feet at the base of the stairs surrounded by the Black Guard. Their heads were lowered and their eyes were downcast, few daring to meet her angry eyes.
Behind her, the other eight of the Twelve sat in high-backed chairs upon a raised platform, each in black robes to signify the darkness of the day. Cronus rested his gold-crowned, fiery-maned head upon his fisted hand as he leaned on his elbow planted on the arm of his carved, wooden throne in the center. All around the pyramid, comlinks and holo cameras broadcast the event all across the Atlantean empire.
