by Gene Stiles
“It appears the People are split into strongly divided camps,” Jaraad said as he looked up from his screen. He stood up, his nine-foot-eight height allowing him to sweep his gaze over the entire assemblage. The ex-Aam had all the qualities of a natural born leader. His wide, flat shoulders, powerful chest and burly arms created an image of strength and fortitude. His handsome, rugged features drew the attention of men and women alike, not for any sexual appeal, but because of the self-assuredness and compassion written there. Jaraad had a straight-backed stance as solid as the trunk of an old oak, but his character was fluid and adaptable, aware and mindful of the feelings of others. Even though not everyone agreed with his every decision, they knew he gave equal weight to all sides. He commanded respect and obedience from those around him and received it without question.
“There are those that believe the Nephilim are the cause of all the disruption,” he continued, his rich voice echoing off the smoothed rock walls, “yet we have not seen them resort to violence except in self-defense.”
“It was the same with the Clan,” Pok added, his tone tinged with bitterness. “Cronus portrayed us as mindless brutes prone to savagery and, as the Lord Father, he was believed. He did not realize that his definition of the Izon would spill over into his precious Nephilim because of Pettit.”
“His recent edict on their behalf is not helping their cause,” Merribeth said as she sipped from her strong, green tea. “By making any harassment or assault upon them a capital offense, he may have quelled the violence, but he separated them further from the People and drove the hatred underground. I fear it festers and is apt to explode at any time.”
“The majority of the People feel compassion for them and accept them as brethren,” Haromenis said from his high-backed, leather chair on the other end of the long, granite-slab table. “However, it is always the bad elements that seem to get the most attention. Atlantean rule is unstable at the moment, which trickles down into everyone’s daily life. They need someone to blame.”
“And, therein, is another camp,” Jaraad interjected. “We all know that Zeus and his siblings are nowhere in the empire. He is a man of his word and stays out of our affairs. The stories of his attacks on supply lines and outposts are pure, unadulterated lies, spread, no doubt, by Cronus. We know how much he fears the Prophesy and is probably using it to sour the People toward his children. He wants an excuse to break the pact, but many among the empire are not seeing that. They hear the Lord Father and they believe.”
“That belief cuts both ways,” Larimat said, flashes of gold sparkling in his emerald eyes. He took a swallow from his goblet of red wine and wiped the drips from his curly, red beard. “Hatred is building against Zeus in many cities deprived of the creature comforts of looted caravans and supply ships, but rebel factions are using the rumors as a rallying cry to draw support.”
“Like I said,” Jaraad replied sadly as he sank heavily into his plush, leather chair, “our People are deeply divided. If someone, be it Cronus, Zeus or someone else, does not get a get a handle on things and calm the masses, I fear we may be headed for all-out war.”
Chapter XIV
Zeus walked along the white, sandy beaches of Olympia at the edge of the pointed tip of the bay that that cut inland along the western side of the thumb-like Beriate peninsula. From here, he could see the ridge line of the rugged Olympus Mons mountain range that rose ten thousand feet high along the coast of the ocean leading into the protected bay. This time of year, their summits were bathed in the dense fog of warm summer storms, hiding them in continual cloud banks. It was from their snowcapped peaks that his city got its name.
He stopped for a moment to watch a group of laughing children splash and swim in the calm turquoise water of the thin inlet, their mothers spreading out picnic blankets and opening baskets of food and sweet treats. Off to one side, far from the noisy playfulness, a few men sat with their sons, teaching them the fine arts of patience and fishing. He could smell the sizzling fat of lamb and pork as it fell into the hissing flames of small fire pits built upon the sands. He smiled for the first time today as he inhaled the mouth-watering aroma, enjoying the happy serenity of the scene in front of him.
“It is about time,” Lelantos grinned, his bronzed skin glistening in the hot, noontime sunshine. His shimmering auburn hair whispered around his handsome, finely chiseled features in the light, salty breeze blowing across the low-cut grasslands behind him. “I thought you might remain horribly dour for this entire beautiful day.”
“I am not dour,” Zeus said to his friend, the smile spreading beneath his wavy, red beard. “I am just thinking.”
“No, you have definitely been gloomy all morning,” Stephenia quipped, holding his hand as they walked. Her honey-blond hair was braided down the back of her thin, purple shift, falling just past her slender waist. She leaned against Zeus’ brawny, sun-browned shoulder for a moment and looked up into his golden eyes. “What troubles you so?”
“These stories we are hearing from Atlantis that our people are responsible for attacks against the empire,” he said, his tone sounding more saddened than angry. “I cannot believe any of them to be true.”
“And they are not,” Lelantos said firmly. He put his corded arm around Helena, enjoying the feel of the youngest daughter of Haleah against his bare, bulky chest. He loved the heat of the sunshine upon his naked skin as they walked along the shoreline. It had been some time since they managed to get away from the city and he intended to enjoy every minute. “You and I know these rumors are being spread by Cronus to give him cause to break our pact. Ignore them.”
“It is hard to do,” Zeus replied, shaking his fiery mane as he took a deep breath of the salty air. He turned from the picnickers on the beach and returned to his walk along the shore, stopping at a small tide pool to watch the bright red crabs skittering among the wet stones. “Olympia is a happy, vibrant place. I want it to stay that way. I must think of a way to counter these stories and keep our people safe.”
“Well, think later,” Lelantos said lightly, skipping a stone across the quiet waters of the inlet. “We came out today to get away from our duties and concerns for a while. You and I are lucky men to have such beautiful women as companions on such a perfect, sun-drenched day.” He waved his hand back at the families frolicking along the beach. “Let us simply enjoy the company of good people, sweet wine, our lovely ladies and a blessed day. Ease your mind, my friend. Look to our citizens to remember why we risked so much to be here and bask in our accomplishments.”
Zeus turned back toward the gathering, knowing they would be welcomed to join in. Lelantos was right. A reminder would do him well. The breeze carried the enticing smells of cooking foods and caused his stomach to grumble loudly. “Well,” he laughed, somewhat embarrassed by the rumbling, “I guess I am a little hungry and a touch thirsty at that.”
“Lord Zeus! Lord Zeus,” the children shouted, seeing him approach. They ran to him, entangling his legs with their little arms. Several of them crawled up his sides and wrapped themselves around his powerfully muscled arms. He lifted them up laughing as another climbed up his back and straddled his wide, square shoulders. All else was forgotten as he basked in their childish attentions, struggling to walk toward their parents. Lelantos and the ladies were equally assaulted and pulled along toward the beach, besieged by giggling youngsters.
‘Yes,’ Zeus grinned to himself as the children tumbled him onto the warm, white sand. They piled upon his prone form, wrestling him playfully as they twittered incessantly, laughing as he tossed them carefully into the air. ‘Yes. This is why were are here.’
The huge outside arena near the western edge of the city was filled with gaily dressed people of all the races of man. Even the giants of the Nephilim mingled freely with the People, the Izon and Cro-Mags, sharing in the celebration of life and community. The bright, hot sun of daytime had reluctantly given way to the coming of darkness and sank wearily beneath the horizon to rest until
the morrow. Billions of stars filled the moonless sky, sparkling down on the citizens of Olympia like diamonds upon a field of black velvet. On incredible nights like this, the arena was often used for impromptu gatherings of family and friends, fire pits and bonfires blazing among the throngs. Enterprising vendors sat up booths along the edges just below the tiers of stone seats that spanned the entire length of the oval enclosure, selling everything from clothing, blankets and material to exotic foods, ripe produce, meats and freshly made baked goods. Music, dancing and the delighted babble of a joyous people filled the air and enshrouded Zeus in a blanket of happiness.
He needed it tonight. It eased the tension in the discussions he and his advisors were having. That is why he chose to have the meeting here instead of within the confines of the council chambers. As Lelantos pointed out earlier, seeing and hearing what their society was all about reminded them all what they were fighting for.
“I know we were supposed to remove our spies from the empire,” Haleah was saying as Zeus returned his attention to the conversations, “but my girls blend in with Atlantean society and are well-trained in the art of concealment. No one ever notices another lovely girl in a city of beautiful women and men.”
“Not to mention no one would suspect such an elegant girl would be a highly trained, deadly warrior,” Rhea said, sipping on a goblet of red wine. “I pity the person who discovers their true purpose. The intelligence they gather is vital to the security of Olympia.”
“I know this,” Zeus said a little testily. He watched the froth bubbling on top of his tankard of ale, his ire not lessened by tangy brew. “Still, I do not like the fact that my orders were ignored in this matter. I gave my word.”
“And your word is intact,” Oceanus replied. “Like all of us, the children of Morpheus are free to make their own decisions and go where they will. They are not there on your command.” He absently ran his thick-fingered hand over his dark brown, bald palate as he spoke. “What information they send to us comes through their mother which she graciously extends to the rest of us.”
“My people keep me informed of conditions in and around the mines out of their sense of loyalty to me,” Hades said, grateful for the blackness of night surrounding him. The open world might be beautiful, but he grew up in the darkness and he preferred it to the brightness of day. He spent most of his time inside, his drapes thick to keep out the light. “They report to me and not you.”
“As do our girls,” Hera added, her reddish locks reflecting the light of the fires even at this distance. “Much can be learned from the loose lips of sated men,” she said, a mischievous smile playing across her thin, pink lips.
“Ho, ho!” Lelantos grinned in return, his gold-flecked, hazel eyes sparkling as he spoke. “I will have you know my attentions are only on my lover in such circumstances and definitely not affairs of state.”
“Still,” Zeus said, returning the conversation to the topic at hand, “though I may not like it, I do agree we need to keep apprised of what is happening in the outside world.” He looked out over the people enjoying the summer night below and felt an old, familiar dread seep into his heart. “Our city grows, our population swelling with the influx of Nephilim, families and friends passed through the Ra conduit. I am grateful for that, but the larger we become, the more of a threat Cronus might deem us.”
“True,” Tethys said, pushing errant strands of brown, wavy hair from her kindly oval face. She sat close to her husband on one of the higher, empty tiers of the stadium, far from the people below. Her mahogany eyes were half-hooded as she contemplated the dangers facing them. “Someone is using the Nephilim issue to divide the People into suspicious, warring factions. Cronus is trying to turn that focus of hatred upon us. Should he succeed, we could be under imminent threat of attack.”
“It is our isolation that is keeping us safe at the moment,” Hestia said softly. Her chipped-jade eyes were downcast as she spoke as if trying to conceal the scars and suffering of life that were burned into her soul. Even though her beauty was enough to draw much attention, she kept a solid wall between her and any man who sought her out. She continued to develop her already incredibly deadly fighting skills by working with the Aam of Olympia every day. She would never again allow a man to touch her in any way. “That will not hold. Soon we will have to decide whether to simply protect our own or to join in the outside fight if only to ensure our own security.”
“I would put that off as long as possible,” Zeus said firmly, his golden eyes filled with dread. “We all know the consequences of war. I would not subject our people to those horrors if I can prevent it.”
“That decision may not be yours for long,” Poseidon said, resting upon his elbows on the tier above him. He stretched his gigantic body across three steps, his long, muscled legs reaching the stone benches below him. He leaned his lionesque head back and gazed up at the starry heavens, catching the streak of a meteor blazing through the inky blackness. “We all know how Cronus fears us. What will we do if he decides to wipe his children from the map? It truly seems as if he is heading that way.”
“I am not stupid,” Zeus replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Our factories are busy producing weapons of war. Lelantos trains all of the Aam in the use of his bows. Under his guidance, our science teams continually create new devices of death. Our shipyards are full as are our harbors. All of our citizens are required to train with the Aam for at least six months. I will not leave them helpless should we be invaded. I believe in hoping for the best and planning for the worst. But, I do not have to rush toward destruction.”
He rose from his hard, stone seat, coming to at least one decision tonight. He bade his friends to join him as he headed down to the festivities below. “Until we are forced to do otherwise, let us enjoy the life that we have.”
Zeus lay upon his plush feather bed looking up at the star-filled sky through the clear, crystal skylight above him, seeking the wisdom of the Creator. His head felt heavy upon his upraised arm, filled to overflowing with worry for his people and decisions that must be made. No matter how much his mother wanted revenge upon her hated husband, he wanted only peace and prosperity for all of Olympia and its people. He listened to the horror stories of his brothers and sisters and the life they were forced into by Cronus and they cut him like a razor-edged knife. Many times, he wept openly at their heart-wrenching experiences and he totally understood the rage that burned inside of them toward their father. He felt it, too, whenever he thought of Home and the death of his true father, Morpheus at the hands of the Lord Father. Yet, he desperately tried to put aside his personal animosity for the sake of the thousands of families and children under his ward.
Stephenia purred softly as she lay sleeping in the crook of his other arm, her breath warm upon the reddish fur of his muscled chest. Her slender arm stretched across his body and her long, athletic leg curled over his thighs, moving slightly with the sweet dreams that swirled within her mind. Only a light, thin sheet lay tangled over their naked bodies, nothing more needed in the gentle, cooling breeze that blew in through the open windows.
Zeus could not help but smile as he held her beautiful, sensuous form against him. Stephenia was an incredible woman, kind and caring, highly intelligent and strongly opinionated. He thoroughly enjoyed her always-uplifting companionship and her wise, just counsel. She could see both sides of complicated issues and often played foil against his notions, taking an opposing view whether she actually shared it or not. He did not love her in the classic sense and she knew this, but they were both happy with what they had and the respect and friendship they shared.
Tonight, she had used her abundant charms to ease the torment she knew resided in his heart and it had helped for a time. Now that she had fallen into a deep, satisfied sleep, his mind returned to the terrible speculations that had plagued him for weeks. From all the reports pouring in from around the world, he knew it was only a matter of time before all of Olympia would be dragged into
a war he did not want. How long depended squarely on Cronus and the actions of others he had no control over.
At this point, all he could do was wait, make plans and build up arms and he hated it. Ra made it profusely clear he would not interfere nor would he supply offensive weaponry. That left it to Zeus and his people to develop means and tactics to defend themselves. There was no way that Olympia could defeat Atlantis in a head to head confrontation. He would have to come up with other ways to fight if need be and, as a warrior, he despised the ideas of stealth and subversion propounded by his advisors. At least, if it came to that, Cronus was unintentionally building a network they could use all on his own. As troubled sleep finally overcame him, Zeus sent a silent prayer to the Creator that such methods could be avoided and His peace could be granted to all.
“What, in the name of the Creator, am I doing wrong?” Cronus stomped across the hard, marble floors of his office, his fiery mane fanning out around his head like an angry, red cloud. The golden crown bearing the Tree-before-the-Pyramid symbol of Atlantis felt heavy upon his broad, furrowed forehead as he stared out over the sparkling city below. Gone was the fast-moving thunderstorm that swept across the early morning sky, the only remnants damp streets, a diamond-like blanket on the buildings and the reflection of flashing lightning filling his jade-green eyes.
“It seems no matter what I do,” he said, his hands clasped tightly behind his flowing, shimmering green robe, “I am fought by some group somewhere! I create the Nephilim to ensure the survival of the People and they turn against them. I implore them to see the necessity and they attack my methods. I stop the harassment of the Children of Pettit and end the unrest plaguing the city and the People complain I use too much force. Can they no longer see that all I do is for the benefit of the People?”
