by Gene Stiles
“I pray to the Creator we can,” Ra replied, his mood dark and gloomy. “It is our responsibility to our people. The power of Atlantis is equal to our own at this point in time. Should we meet head to head, the devastation that would overtake the world would make the tragedy of Clearwater seem as insignificant as a single grain of sand on a miles-long beach.”
“True,” Astraeus agreed, the warrior blood in his veins stirred by the horrors still scrolling across the widescreen, “but there must be something we can do to help these people.”
Ra got up from his chair and looked out of the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows at the golden capstone atop the massive Great Pyramid rising in the center of Nil. The bright autumn sunshine set it ablaze against the clear sapphire sky and he was grateful for the polarized, dusky glass. He, above all, knew of its importance to the survival of both Nillians and the People. He could not risk their monumental task for the sake of the few, no matter how his fury wanted him to. It would take at least another five years before the Message could be sent. Nothing could threaten the project.
“There is one thing we could do,” Isis interjected, walking to his side and taking his arm in hers, disrupting his train of thought.
“And what is that, my love?” Ra asked as he pulled the woman closer.
“It is true that almost anyone from the court of Zeus may be killed or detained should they enter Atlantis,” she replied, leaning her head upon Ra’s powerfully muscled chest. “Even Oceanus or Tethys, members of the Twelve, would not be safe.”
Behind them, the advisors debated and muttered, still disgusted by the images they could not turn away from. Yet, they faded into a faint, dusty background as Ra and Isis stared into each other’s eyes. He loved this incredible, amazing woman. She was warrior and wise, demure and deadly, seductive and stately. She had everything any man could desire and Ra’s love for her had grown from a passing fancy to a passion he could not do without. No matter what dire dilemma they now faced, he could not help but give her a small, lopsided smile.
“What do you have in mind?” he said as he placed a hand against her soft cheek, then cupped her chin in his palm.
“Let us offer an envoy to carry this story to the Twelve,” she said, turning to face Ra. “I think a neutral party might be believed more than a representative from Olympia. Plus, even Cronus would not harm an emissary from Nil.”
“This could be possible,” Ra replied, his fingers sliding through her glimmering hair. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“Yes,” she answered with a sly grin. “Yes, I do.”
Chapter XVII
Bella lay on the top of the green, pastel comforter spread over her thick, featherbed, staring blankly up at the oaken beams of her dimly lit quarters. She had eaten little since leaving Clearwater and was now thin and weak. Her sun=bronzed skin paled in the weeks the Sea Lion had been traveling and now had a sickly pallor. The shining blue eyes that graced her long oval face now glistened with unshed tears instead of joy. Her high, rounded cheeks were bright pink and streaked with dirty, damp furrows.
What Bella saw in that burnt out carcass of a village haunted her nights, making sleep – in those rare moments when it did come – fitful and restless. She often woke up screaming and weeping. She had never seen a dead body and to witness the horror that was heaped upon so many in the most nightmarish manner possible filled her with unfathomable revulsion and pain. Especially the children.
She felt somehow to blame. Almost half of the people of Clearwater were there because she sent them. They trusted her to get them to a place of peace and safety and she failed. Maybe it was because of the frequency of the ship runs to a single place that the location of the settlement was discovered. If Bella tried harder to establish multiple villages visited by various routes the Nephilim would never have been found.
Still, not in her wildest imagination could she have conceived of such horrendous atrocities being wreaked upon a people by another group of humanity. How could anyone live with themselves after such a vile act? What kind of monsters could wantonly kill helpless men, women and children? More importantly, why? How could such viciousness be justified? It was beyond Bella’s comprehension and it tortured her.
Bella felt the Sea Lion slow as it neared another port, but still, she did not move from her bed. Even when the sounds of the ship bumping against a dock and the noises of a busy harbor touched the edges of her consciousness, she remained lost in her insanity. She barely registered the knock on her door, steadfastly ignoring the murmured voices until they gave up and left her alone.
How long she lay there lost in her petrifying, hellishly traumatic memories, she did not know. She scarcely moved when another soft knock intruded upon her turbulent mind. Bella did not look toward the threshold when the door opened slowly and a tall, handsome man stepped inside and pulled a chair up next to her bed.
Not saying a word, he poured water into a bowl on the nightstand next to the four-poster bed and dipped a cloth into it. He rung it out, folded it and placed the damp cloth upon her fevered brow. Silently, he took another rag, wetted it and wiped the dust and tears from her cheeks. The tenderness of his touch awoke something in Bella. Her sight slowly focused and she turned her head to see who was disturbing her terrors.
Bella saw a man dressed in a white, sleeveless tunic leaning over her. His shoulders were broad and powerful, his sinewy arms bare except for bands of black-edged gold that encircled his forearms and biceps. A wavy mane of blond-streaked, sun-red hair flowed down his back and a neatly trimmed beard graced his strong, artistically rendered face. A tiny cautious and sad smile played upon his tan lips as he gazed down at her.
It was his eyes that drew Bella back into the world of the living. Never had she seen their like. They were of golden hue, filled with the compassion and kindness that radiated around him like a bright, warm aura. They pulled her in, embracing her like the arms of a loving mother and enfolding her in a soft blanket of safety and forgiveness.
“Hello, Bella,” he said at last, his baritone voice rich and luxurious. “Welcome to Olympia. I am Zeus.”
“This barbaric act cannot go unpunished!” Loki stood at the conference table, his massive fists pressing hard against the polished wood. The ten-foot-four giant looked like rage incarnate. His mountainous body quivered, his carved muscles bulging beneath his low-cut, V-necked, tan linen tunic. His mahogany eyes blazed like a bonfire as he dared anyone to disagree with him.
“And it shall not,” Zeus assured him from his place at the head of the table. “But before we can mete out justice, we must first find out who is responsible.”
“It was Atlantis,” Loki shouted, not caring who he was talking to. His ebony hair swirled around his block-like head like a thundercloud. “They hate the Nephilim and have attacked them throughout the empire. Now, not only do they drive them from the cities, they hunt them down to destroy them!”
“It is like the Clan all over again,” Morak of the Izon said, his fury evident in the deep growl of his voice. “Cronus chased us all over the world and still does. He is doing the same with our Nephilim brothers.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Eriktis said as he stood up next to Loki, surprising everyone that one of the giants would stand up for the Lord Father.
He was the only one in the room that towered a good two feet over Loki and his presence was commanding to say the least. He wore black leather breeches that molded against his gargantuan legs like as second skin. His dark blue vest stretched tightly over his prodigious chest, the laces loose and dangling. His wavy, gold-steaked, blond hair cascaded down his back, held away from his azure eyes by a wide, tooled leather headband.
“Cronus bred the Nephilim to save the People from extinction,” he continued as the chamber fell into low murmurs. “As much as we hate his methods, he would not jeopardize that simply because many people fear us. He has proven that by enacting laws to protect us and severely punishing those who break them. There is something else a
t play here and we must find out what it is and who is behind it.”
“There is also this,” Tethys said, glancing around the table. “Such an act shall surely make the Nephilim rise up against him once it becomes known. He is already dealing with a divided council, a near civil war and his campaign against Olympia. Why would he want more enemies than he already has?”
“My wife is right,” Oceanus said, absently wiping his bald head with one thick-fingered hand. “The reports have told us he attempts to unite the empire against us. Attacking the Nephilim will only further divide the People as most support them. With a war looming, he would not wish to have to fight on multiple fronts at once. Even for him, it makes no sense.”
“And that is another issue we must deal with,” Zeus interjected. “And soon. But we are here now to decide how to take this barbaric atrocity to the Twelve. If my father is not involved, he will take action against those who are.”
“If he is,” Lelantos said, adding a logical, military perspective to the heated emotions fogging the group gathered here, “this savagery will further enrage the Twelve and the People. It will weaken his control and maybe deter his plans for an Atlantis consolidated against us.”
“So the question is,” Haleah said, waving at Loki and Eriktis to be reseated, “who to send. Regardless of whether he ordered this attack or not, Cronus will not want this to get out. As Lelantos stated, this could be turned against him.”
“Not one of us gathered here would be safe traveling to Atlantis,” she continued, standing to address the chamber. A light, ocean-blue dress draped her shapely form, pinned at her left shoulder with a plain, silver brooch. Despite her long and harsh life, her beauty still drew many an eye and she used it to ensure she was heeded.
“Oceanus and Tethys have been branded traitors,” she said, sweeping the table with her slender hand. “Zeus and his siblings are hunted by Cronus. Loki, Eriktis or any other Nephilim would be unsafe. No Izon would be welcomed in Atlantis and, of course, I would be imprisoned on sight. Who among us can ensure we are heard by the Twelve at all?”
“Maybe I can help,” said a singsong, female voice as the oaken doors of the chamber opened wide. The Aam at the doors stepped aside and ushered her in.
Her exotic beauty was so stunning that the room fell immediately silent. She was short for an Atlantean, barely reaching six foot. Her leather-clad body was an elegant mixture of sensuous curves and hardened muscle. Around her slender waist, she wore a wide, black belt slung sideways with a leather scabbard from which the ornately carved bone hilt of a long knife could be seen. Long, straight raven-black hair fell over her gently sloped shoulders, held away from her sharply planed, narrow face by a thin band of worked silver. Her hair glowed and shimmered with a natural luster as she moved beneath the bright lights. Her eyes were over large and almond-shaped, arching sharply upward from her narrow, straight nose and over her high, lightly blushed cheeks.
“I am Captain Raet of Nil,” she smiled as neared the table, knowing how her looks at first entranced others. She used them disarmingly, but beauty was not all she was. Beneath the veneer of her pixy smile, abundant charms and copperish skin, she was tough, strong and intelligent. She had to be to command her own ship and the respect of her crew.
“I was sent here by Ra to act as your envoy and escort to Atlantis.”
“Are you insane?” Cronus bellowed, standing before his chair in the council chambers, his face flushed a dark burgundy. His fiery red hair blazed in the bright sunshine pouring through the windows and a dangerous glint sparked in his emerald eyes. “How dare you come here and accuse me of such foulness!”
“We did not come here to accuse you, Lord of Atlantis,” Raet said disarmingly, her hands out before her, palms down. She kept her tone calm and respectful as she spoke. “We came here to inform you. We thought you would like to know that such a horror happened in your realm so you could deal with it swiftly and appropriately.”
The other eight members of the Twelve looked as if they would vomit as the data crystal displayed the carnage of Clearwater on the large monitor mounted on the wall. Even the imperturbable, implacable Iapetus looked ashen, his mountainous, muscled body taut, his chipped obsidian eyes glimmering as he stared at the images. Thea wept openly, resting her head on her twin sister’s shoulder. Handsome Hyperion, the flamboyant playboy, hung his head to hide the foggy dampness filling his bright green eyes, his hands clenched before him. Old Coeus, eldest of the Twelve, could not control the quivers that shook his stooped shoulders even in the tight embrace of his platinum-haired wife, Phoebe.
Of the Twelve, only Mnemosyne and Themis, sister of Thea, seemed as outraged as Cronus, however for different reasons. The two women caught each other’s eyes, their features hard and suspicious. Mnemosyne might be a staunch supporter of the Lord Father, but she knew better than most about his battles with inner demons and the many times Cronus slipped into madness in the privacy of his bedchamber. She could not immediately discount the possibility he might order such a barbaric attack if he thought it would aid him in some way. He had done it before with the Izon.
“Lies!” Cronus bellowed, leaning against the polished table. “This would never happen under my rule! I gave specific orders the Nephilim were not to be touched. No one in the empire would dare disobey my commands!” He stared straight at Bella as he growled low in his throat. “How do I know these images are not pure fakes? How do I know this is not just some despicably written play designed acted out by the command of Zeus to discredit me and the rule of Atlantis?”
“I assure you it is true,” Bella answered, her body rigid, her small, pink lips quivering and her sky-blue eyes damp. “I was there and saw it with my own eyes.” Her voice cracked as her mind filled with the charred bodies and the smell of burning flesh. “Children,” she near whispered. “Children were burned alive, locked inside a hellish firestorm. I will never forget.”
“If true,” Crius said, his voice harsh accusive, “I would not be surprised to find that Zeus orchestrated the whole thing in another attack on the Lord Father. Another attempt to divide Atlantis so he can take over.”
“Outrageous!” Anak said, his eleven-foot-four body bristling as he stepped forward. His burnished bronze skin shimmered in the glow of the sunlight. Sparks of electricity crackled in his half-hooded, amber eyes. “Zeus has never assaulted Atlantis! It is you who lie! I stood at his side in Olympia, thousands of miles away, on the very day you claim he fired upon your festival!” He stared directly at Cronus, his fists doubled at his side. “You,” he yelled, pointing a finger at the Lord Father, “had your own people killed to turn your vile empire against your children! Why would you not burn the Nephilim if it so suited your purpose? You are the monster here!”
The room erupted into chaos. Allegations and insults blasted the walls. Imputations exploded around the table as emotion and fury overcame reason. Recriminations and suspicions flew from shouted voices and the Twelve splintered as a dry sapling struck by lightning.
Raet could do nothing. Her calming words were tossed like a feather in a hurricane. The warrior in her crouched within her stomach, sensing the furor building toward an inevitable conclusion. Her fingers touched the hilt of her ceremonial sword and her eyes flashed around, taking in escape routes and defensive positions. She knew it was pointless. There would be no breaking out of here. Yet, she knew she would not go down without a fight.
There was enough sanity left in Cronus’ enraged mind to know if an envoy of Nil was killed or captured in Atlantis, Ra would side with Olympia and their combined forces would destroy the empire. The Prophesy would come true.
The Black Guard burst through the door, weapons drawn as they encircled the three emissaries. Anak slid into a fighting stance, sure he could take the six men before they could touch him. Raet slid her blade halfway from its sheath, keeping Bella between her and the gargantuan.
“Hold!” Cronus yelled, stepping between his men and their prisoners. He choked
down the primal fury tearing at his guts, feeling the serpent coiling, fangs dripping with venom. ‘Not here,’ he whispered to it. ‘Soon, but not here.’
Raet turned to face him, one eye on the Aam surrounding her. She kept her hand on the hilt of her sword but slid it back into its scabbard. She could feel the vehement, animalistic wrath radiating from those flashing jade eyes and wondered if she could kill him before he crushed her.
“You will not dishonor me further,” Cronus said, his muscles rippling with the intensity of his rage. “I will not tolerate your insults and accusations. You will leave Atlantis at once, never to return.” He stared at Bella, who had gone pale, and Anak, the gigantic Nephilim who just might be able to smash him like a bug, and said to Raet, “And take your lying dogs with you. Guards, escort them to their ship. If any harm comes to them, you will all die badly.”
Stomping through the open doors, Cronus left the council chambers in turbulent emotional shambles. His long, black robe swept the marble floors beneath his feet as he almost stumbled his way down to the dungeons. By the time he found an occupied cell, the pyramid in his soul cracked open. Pity the prisoner he used to excise his demons.
“That could have gone better,” Raet said, standing on the foredeck of the Golden Eagle. She had exchanged her formal dress for more practical, dark red, leather attire once she boarded her vessel, but it still hugged her every curve. She cut a stunning figure standing with one hand on the railing above the bow, her glistening, onyx hair flowing down her back in a tightly woven braid, the aquamarine ocean spread out before her.
“Do you think Cronus or the Twelve heard us at all?” Bella asked, her blue eyes filled with sorrow. “Will they believe us and find those responsible?”
“No telling,” Raet told her honestly. “We did not make our case well enough, I fear. Most of what we had to say was lost in the uproar.”
“That was my fault,” Anak said glumly, standing with his hands on the bulwarks. The behemoth warily eyed the forestaysail boom as the wind shifted slightly and it swung in his direction. More than once he had his forehead cracked by a swinging boom and it was not a pleasant experience. This time, it stopped far short of him so he was safe. “I am sorry I lost my temper.”
