by Gene Stiles
“I do,” Hyperion said coldly as he stood up from the table. The tight curls of his blue-black hair hung over his broad, square shoulders, vibrating as if they were living things. The room went eerily quiet as the two men faced each other, their muscles rippling and hard.
“As Ra pointed out, we all know what you are capable of,” Hyperion continued, his mind boiling over with all he kept inside for so long. “We have witnessed your cruelty to others and, to our shame, we have sat back and done nothing. You kill in the name of Atlantis, but it is only for your own twisted purposes. You tried to wipe out the Izon. You had our women raped. You even had your own children imprisoned. How can we not help but think you could have done all Ra accused you of?”
No one spoke as Cronus moved to stand before Hyperion. He did not answer the questions, simply drew back a fist and smashed it into his face. The blow was so fast and powerful that Hyperion was rocked off his feet. He fell backward, cracking his legs against a low table and tumbled into a couch, knocking it over. He landed hard on the polished marble floor, the back of his head making a sickening crunching sound as it struck. Hyperion lay unconscious, a pool of blood growing around him.
“Guards!” Cronus shouted in the shocked silence. When they rushed inside, he pointed at Hyperion and said in a voice as icy as a frozen lake, “Get him out of here and send someone to clean up the floor.”
As the men hurried to comply, Cronus turned back to the table. “I see this council is too untrustworthy to be of any further use. Therefore, I am disbanding it. Return to your own tasks and never set foot in here again.”
“You cannot do that,” Themis said, her face blazing and her fingers curled like the talons of a hawk. “There are laws. We can stop you.”
“I am the law,” Cronus replied harshly, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “I control the Aam and the Black Guard. I rule Atlantis and the empire. Get in my way and I shall introduce you to the dungeons.” He turned his back on them and walked to the windows overlooking the city. “Leave. Leave now before I decide it would be wiser to lock you away.”
When all but Iapetus were gone, Cronus felt the seething in his soul slowly subsiding. He should have done this long ago. Without looking at his brother, he said calmly, “Now. What to do about Zeus and Ra?”
“I waited until all were gone to tell you this,” Iapetus said, his granite-like body standing as still as a statue. He hesitated before he spoke. As much as he worshiped his brother, Iapetus knew from personal experience that Cronus battled madness and sometimes lost. He could not fathom what his next words might do. Yet, it would be worse if the Lord Father found out on his own.
Keeping his outward expression flat, Iapetus said, “One of our warships is missing from Heliseous. It vanished just before the Golden Eagle disappeared.”
Metis sat on the grassy knoll overlooking the sparkling turquoise waters of the bay, her legs crossed beneath her. Her dark brown hair hung limp and listless over her face as she bowed her head. The sapphire sparks in her hazel eyes were dulled by a sheen of unshed tears as she stared blankly at the curled fingers resting in her lap. Her light green, linen shift covered her knees, the edges laying upon the warm, soft ground.
This was the fourth day Metis sat on this hilltop, her gaze searching the open water praying to see the Golden Eagle rounding the fingertip of land that stuck out into the glistening blue sea. The long hours left her legs cramped and sore, but she refused to leave this spot as long as the sun remained in the sky. She ate only enough to keep her body alert and functioning, taking occasional sips of sweet tea from the large canister at her side to quell her thirst.
For the first few weeks, Metis roamed the harbor asking the crews of every newly docked ship if there was news of the lost vessel. Every day her heart sank lower as the answers were always a sad, apologetic no. Each morning she would return, asking again and again with the same remorseful results. She grew haggard and unkempt, ignoring the pleas of her friends to get some rest.
Her evenings were spent badgering the council and the communication techs for information and demanding action. No matter how many times she was assured all was being done to find the Golden Eagle and her missing crew, Metis continued to hammer them for more. Her nights were restless, her dreams dark and fitful when her drained body finally succumbed to sleep.
Today, sitting alone on the meadow, she simply wept herself into exhaustion. Metis was losing all hope that her friends might yet be alive. Too much time had passed without a single trace of the ship being found. Nillian and Olympian drone Birds continued to scan the oceans along any possible route the Golden Eagle may have taken. Ships from both cities combed the seas for wreckage and checked the coasts for any sign of survivors. The chances of finding anything diminished with each day. The ocean cleaned itself. Metis knew this and it tore her heart asunder.
So lost in her sorrow was she that Metis did not notice the man sitting next to her until he laid a gentle hand upon her thigh. Even then, she only turned her head in his direction, still letting her long hair obstruct her vision.
“It is time for you to come back to the city,” Zeus said softly. He draped his arm over her shoulders and drew her into his strong, warm embrace. “There is no more for you to do here.”
“I can wait,” Metis replied, her voice thick with misery. She did not resist his touch and let Zeus lay her head upon his chest. He cradled her cheek in his hand and held her close. The steady beat of his great heart sounded in her ear with a calming, gentle rhythm.
“Waiting here alone does no one good,” Zeus told her. “When we find them, you will need your strength to give them the welcome they deserve.” He lifted her chin up and brushed the hair from her eyes. The small smile peeking from beneath his curly, trimmed beard was kindly and concerned.
“It is the least I can do,” Metis said, lowering her eyes, the tears beginning to fall once more. “This is my fault. It is I who sent the Nephilim to Clearwater. It is I who should have gone to Atlantis. Not Bella. She did not want me to go because my parents were of the Twelve once and now Cronus hates me as much as he does them. I listened. Now she is lost.”
“It is no more your fault than it is mine,” Zeus responded, using his thumb to wipe the dampness from her blushed cheek. “I am the one who sent the envoys to speak with the Twelve. I actually believed Cronus had no part in such an atrocity and would find and punish those who did.”
He lifted her chin higher, locking eyes with Metis. Even though the mist blurring her vision, his hypnotic golden orbs drew her in. She could feel his concern and compassion reach out to wrap her in a soft blanket of kindness. Behind that, Metis also sensed honest, personal recrimination. He blamed himself as much as she did.
“No matter how we feel,” Zeus said to her, his tenderness balanced by strength of will, “we must continue on. We must have faith our friends are alive and, if they are not, we must persevere in their names. We have this city and many others out there who need us. How can we fail them?”
He stood up as the sun dipped behind the distant mountain peaks and reached out his hands for her. “Come, Metis,” Zeus said as she hesitantly touched his fingertips to his. “Come home with me. There is work yet to do.”
They had barely taken two steps when a hard crack rent the air. A ball of dented metal hit the ground near their feet and bounced across the meadow. Zeus automatically stepped in front of Metis, one arm stretched out to protect her. His eyes went not for the ball but for the man who stepped from behind the small stand of trees at their back.
“Forgive me,” Lelantos said, his deep voice rumbling in the dimming light of day. His face was grim as his raptor eyes searched the grasses for the object. In one hand, he held a broken limb like a club, the bark shattered where it had it something hard. He knelt on the ground and lifted the ball with his other hand. His gold-flecked, hazel eyes were grim as he handed it to Zeus.
It was an Atlantean Watcher drone. The lenses were broken and split where the
limb had struck, the dark-painted metal orb dented and dead.
“They know where we are,” Zeus said ominously, the blood curdling his veins. “Cronus has found us.”
The man sat on the dusty porch of the abandoned house overlooking the sparkling blue waters of the huge, deep lake, his hooded cloak tossed over the cracked wooden rails. The meadows were overgrown, the grasses tall and browning as the heat of a dry, late summer beat down upon them. Vast gardens, once well-tended, now grew wild and weed-filled, the surviving vegetables and fruits now food for the animals. A short distance from where they sat, nature overtook the burnt out husks of once been the peaceful city of Home.
This was unlike their previous meetings near the harbor of Atlantis, for this would be their last. The two men drank tankards of ale from the keg they brought here with them and dinned on fresh rabbit they hunted earlier in the day. They even found a few potatoes left in the old gardens to complete their meal. The wooden chairs left on the dilapidated old porch of this mainly untouched house were still solid and intact, though the cushions were long gone. If a passerby existed in the ghost town, the men would have seemed like old friends enjoying an evening. They were not.
“This place is truly beautiful,” the man said as a cool, offshore breeze ruffled his long, blond hair. “I am surprised this town was never rebuilt.”
“It has no strategic value,” the red-haired giant responded, picking a piece of meat from his perfect teeth with a small shard of bone. “There are many places like this on the planet. You are welcome to stay if you wish.”
“I think not,” was his stern and simple reply.
“Taking out the Sea Eagle was your last job and you did exceeding well. I assume the warship and its crew will never be found?” his employer asked.
“The crew poisoned and the ship scuttled at sea as ordered,” the man assured him. He pondered his drink for a moment and said, “A shame really. Atlantis has less than ten of them. She would have been worth a fortune on the black market.”
“But not worth having been found,” the red-haired man replied. He looked over at the smaller man and said, “You should consider staying. Things are about to erupt. There is much work for a man like you amid conflict. Someone not burdened with morals or emotion. You would be rich beyond belief.”
“Not on your life,” the man said, barking harshly. “Thanks to you, I have more than enough to live in comfort for the rest of my life.” He watched the fireflies rising from the ground as twilight touched the landscape, and, for the first time felt a tinge of guilt for his actions. “This world is about to become a land of war. I have no wish to be near any city.”
He turned to stare at the muscled behemoth next to him, his blue eyes cold, but questioning. “Now that our relationship is at the end,” he said, one eyebrow arched on his cruel face, “I must ask, why would you want such pain, chaos and war to occur? Why would you want the People turned against the Nephilim? You are one, yourself.”
“Since we shall never see each other again and you have done your tasks well, I shall tell you,” the giant said.
He stood and leaned against one of the cracked, wooden pillars holding up the porch roof and stared out over the water. His turquoise eyes burned with a seething hatred, but there was a touch of wistfulness in his deep voice.
“When I first came to Atlantis as a child of Pettit, I was in awe of its beauty and majesty,” he said. “I thought it would be the Promised Land and I would be revered for my size, strength and as a savior of the People since the Lord Father created us for that purpose. Instead, we were met with fear and pity.”
“I could have handled that,” he continued, taking a sip of his ale. “I came with friends and we clung to each other like family. In truth, many Atlanteans were kind to us and it seemed life would improve and be as great as we were taught it would be.”
“Then we began to we outgrow the others around us,” he said, his eyes darkening. “The fear mounted and turned into loathing and hatred. You know this. Attacks on my kind became so common that Cronus had to announce edicts to protect us. But they did not stop the whispers nor the contempt with which we were treated. Attacks still happened, but they were fewer, mainly in back alleys and never spoken of afterward.”
“I was barred from the only place in Atlantis I felt accepted, the Aam,” he said bitterly. “They said I was too big and strong, making me dangerous in training or even as a city guard. No one dared fight me. They thought I would lose control and harm them. I was expelled. I begged my fellow Nephilim band together and stand up for their rights, but they would not, preferring to keep a low profile.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “As if that were possible.”
He quieted for a moment, then left the porch for the shore of the lake. The blond man followed and helped gather wood. They pulled a couple of small large logs into a clearing on the sandy beach of the lake and started a small campfire. Once the mundane tasked were finished, they sat and listened to the fish leaping in the calm waters.
“Why did you not simply leave?” the smaller man asked eventually.
“I had thought to,” the gargantuan said, snapping branches in his monstrous hands. “I still had my family from Pettit and they were leaving to find a new home. In fact, I helped many of them escape after my best friend, Anak, was accused of killing three unarmed men. If you remember,” he said, the memory burned into his brain, “the city turned on us that night.”
“I was not in Atlantis at the time,” the man said, shaking his head.
“It took us a while,” the giant continued, tossing logs into the fire, “but many of us managed to leave the city. Anak, Alcmene and the rest headed for an outlying port to find a ship to take them to Nil. I hear they found one.”
“But you stayed behind,” his companion said.
“Yes. I could not go with them as much as I yearned to.” He stirred the fire with a stick as thick and the blond man’s bulky arm and stared into the flames. “There was a beautiful, kind and loving woman in Atlantis I would never leave. She loved me to be sure, but she refused to leave the city, believing we could change hearts and minds if we persisted.”
“Ah, a woman,” the smaller man said. “The downfall of many a man.” The deadly, malignant flickers in the mammoth man’s eyes made him touch the butt of his sidearm cautiously in the dark. “I mean no offense. Please continue. You say ‘was’. What happened to her?”
“She was not at home when I returned,” the monster said after taking a calming breath. “I found her the next day in an alley blocks from her apartment. She was dead. A mob searching for Anak beat her to death. No one seemed to know who they were.”
“I went to my former Aam commanders and demanded they be found,” he said, crushing a chunk of wood in his hands before throwing the splinters into the fire. The other man thought how easily that could have been his skull. “They assured me they would, but nothing ever happened. I even went before the Twelve and Cronus. No one was punished. I doubt they tried much. It was their brothers Anak was accused of killing.”
“So why pay me to turn more of the People against the Nephilim?”
“Because my brethren need to be awakened,” he said fiercely. “None of them would help me seek vengeance. They said we stood no chance against armed Black Guard. Instead, they choose to run from Atlantis like cowards,” he said, spitting into the fire. “Now, thanks to you, they are hunted and branded as animals. Still, they attempt to hide in their own settlements rather than fight back. I cannot allow this.”
“So that is why you wanted me to torch Clearwater and lay the blame on Atlantis,” the man said, nodding his understanding. “You wanted them to know they are safe nowhere. Believing Cronus and the Twelve are behind it gives them an enemy to rise against and a reason to fight.”
“Yes,” the monstrous man replied. His copperish skin almost glowed in the flickering flames. “As sorry as I am for the loss of life,” he said, his eyes not displaying any such concern, “some must be sacrific
ed for the benefit of all.”
“I want Atlantis to fall,” he said. “To be as badly beaten and destroyed as was my love.” With a predatory grin, he added, “Cronus played right into my hands by staging the attack on the People at the festival. I could not have planned it better myself.”
“And now?” the man asked as he stood to stretch his legs.
“Cronus must be weakened, “the giant answered. “Atlantis must be broken from within first. Now we have we have turned brother against brother. Many people are horrified at the attack on the Nephilim. Cities oppose the rule of the Lord Father. We have shattered the council. Deep divisions crack the empire. All is going as planned.”
“My kin were correct when they said they could not stand against the People alone,” the huge red-haired man said as he stared at the glowing embers in the campfire. “By sinking the Nillian ship, we turned Ra and Zeus both against Cronus. The Children of Pettit among them scream for justice and now the rest of my kin will join them. With Nil, Nephilim and Olympia joined together, Cronus will be crushed. I shall have my revenge on them all.”
The blond-haired man retrieved his cloak from the porch rail and picked up the sack he left there. As he strapped it over his broad, bulky shoulders, he felt a shiver course through his already icy veins. Now he saw the complete picture he helped to paint. Even his dead and empty soul shuttered as he saw a canvas covered with rotting corpses, red with rivers of blood and burning beneath dancing, demonic flames. Something unimaginable and never felt crept into a corner of his mind, tearing at the darkest edges. Fear.
The hooded man returned to the fire and stood at the edges of darkness surrounding it. “Before I go,” he said calmly, though his body wanted nothing more than to run from this haunted city, “I would like to know who I have helped. Would you tell me your name?”
“Collosto,” the mammoth man said as he looked up. His blue-green eyes blazed with hatred, fury and more than a touch of insanity. As the hooded man disappeared into the blackness of night, he heard the words echo over his shoulder. “My name is Collosto.”
