by Gene Stiles
As the mask was pulled from his features, Navarian felt his bowels loosen and his knees finally gave way. He had seen that face only from a distance but he recognized the man instantly. His entire body quaked and his mouth fell open in awe and despair. He had no idea, his identification was mistaken until the man spoke again.
“And I am also Poseidon, a son of Cronus,” he said, raising his voice so all could hear, “and brother to Zeus, Lord of Olympus. That is who I am.”
The battered Olympian fleet sailed northward along the Afrikanikian coastline beneath a dark sky and a steady sheet of heavy rain. Stripped of its weapons, the Forrestal was towed behind, the cowed crew locked belowdecks. What to do with them would be decided once they reached the island of Heliseous. The abandoned Atlantean harbor was rebuilt and given to Zeus by Ra as a forward base and now held nearly half of the Olympian fleet. Poseidon would repair and re-arm his ships there and then decide the fate of his prisoners.
No one noticed the high-altitude Atlantean warbird that stealthily tracked them from above the thick layer of dark, rumbling clouds.
Chapter VII
“Brother!” Isis shouted, squealing like a school girl as she ran across the trimmed grasses of the courtyard. She leaped into the outstretched arms of her laughing older sibling, nearly knocking him off his booted feet.
“I missed you, too, little sister,” Osiris said, grinning widely as she peppered his flat-planed cheeks with kisses. He hugged Isis close and spun her around, whipping her feet off the ground. “It has been far too many years since I have been home.” He set her down and rubbed his biceps, pretending he had strained them lifting his sister. “You have put on a bit of weight,” Osiris said with a mischievous smile.
“I love you but you are still a pig,” Isis replied with a playful huff, her green eyes glittering in the bright yellow afternoon sunshine. She punched him hard on his brawny shoulder, smiling as he feigned injury. “Mother and Father will be so glad to see you! Why did you not tell us you were coming?”
“And ruin the surprise?” he said, hooking her hand over his forearm. “What fun would that be? Come,” he added, turning to the entourage gathered behind him. “I have brought you presents.”
“And none for me?” came a deep voice from the shadows of an open doorway to his right. Ra strode out into the lawn, his hand raised in greeting. “I am happy to see you, my friend!”
“And I you, Lord Ra,” Osiris said, giving a low bow as the ruler of Nil approached him.
“Oh, please,” Ra replied with a wry smile as he reached out and clasped his friend by the forearm. “No one is here. Let us leave the ceremony for later. How was your journey?”
“Long, exciting, profitable and amazing,” Osiris said, letting go of his sister to return the grip. “I have so many stories to tell! The Mortuus Atritas region in the interior well fits its name. It is dark, deadly and can kill you at the slightest misstep. It is also beautiful, lush, rich and incredible with the most awesome sights ever to be seen.” Osiris let his smile drop a little and shook his head in disbelief. “It is also heavily inhabited.”
“What?” both Isis and Ra said simultaneously, eyes wide and shocked, their mouths falling open.”
“Oh, yes,” Osiris said with a nod, sweeping his hands over the crates and chests piled on the grass. His company of ten men sat their burdens down and returned to the transport sleds to get more. “These are not just ore and plant samples. They are gifts sent by the people and villages we found along the way. You will not believe the artistry!”
“There is another reason I returned at this particular time,” Osiris said, his tone changing and his face becoming somber. His emerald green eyes glinted like daggers in the golden light and his darkly tanned lips turned downward. “I fear we are in imminent danger.”
After Osiris and his men and women had a chance to bathe and rest themselves, Ra ordered a large semi-private feast to be served in their honor. Of the one-hundred and fifty explorers who had set out three decades ago to map the dark jungles of the interior, only sixty-eight had returned. Injury, vicious animals, deadly serpents, poisonous insects, mishaps and barbaric tribes had taken the others.
Long banquet tables lined the tapestry-covered stone walls of the Great Hall and warm, hidden lighting was supplemented by blazing torches set atop slender stone pillars. The air was fragrant with scented oils and the rich aroma of dark stews, braised meats and steamed, seasoned fishes. Fresh, hard-crusted breads still warm from the ovens were served with thick butter and sweet honey. Casks of dark ale, red and white wines and a variety of hot teas kept goblets and tankards overflowing, bellies full and spirits high.
The weary explorers were joined by their families, friends and most of Ra’s top advisors. For hours, they ate, laughed and shared incredible stories of high adventure and narrow escapes. It had been many years since they had seen a city and true civilization and they basked in Nil’s radiance and the attentions of their many friends. It was nice to be home.
At the far end of the huge chamber on either side of the elegantly carved, darkly stained, black oak doors sat tables piled with solid gold statues of fantastic animals, strange shapes and stylized men and women in ornate outfits or naked with only strips of garb over their lower regions. Similar things were rendered in polished crystal and stunning gems of every color. Small trunks held piles of jewelry made of gold, silver, platinum and stained wood. The pieces ranged from tiny, thin rings to embossed, jewel-encrusted necklaces. Large crates of artifacts sat beneath the tables filled with chunks of unpolished ores, crystals and flattened precious metals stamped with strange symbols.
Ra leaned back in his plushly cushioned chair at the table at the other end of the hall and patted the slightly rounded bump of his stomach. He sighed heavily and belched loudly. “Forgive me,” he said with a contented smile. “I believe I have eaten overmuch.”
“Soon you will be as fat as my little sister,” Osiris quipped, getting a hard slap to his broad, muscled chest for his observation.
“One more comment about my weight,” Isis said in mock anger as she twirled a thin, sharp blade with her fingertips, “and I am going to carve a few of the extra pounds off you, my big brother.”
“Please do not,” Osiris responded in dismay, throwing his hands up in the air. “I am all skin and bones from my time in the jungles as it is!”
“I can see that,” Astraeus said with a deep, rumbling guffaw. His ebony skin glowed in the flickering firelight and his dark eyes sparkled with humor. He leaned forward and looked Osiris over appraisingly, running his bulky fingers through his thick, curly, black beard. He noted the wide, flat shoulders, the sculpted muscles of the broad chest and sinewy arms and the V of the torso that fell to his thick waist. “You look as if you have not eaten well in years. A stiff wind might blow you off your feet. You should have another helping. We would not wish you to waste away to nothingness.”
“You are very astute,” Osiris replied solemnly. “If I did not fill my pockets with rocks, I could fly.”
“And the sun could rise in the west,” Isis said, pinioning her brother with a steely gaze. She stuck her knife pointedly in a piece of venison on the plate in front of him and lifted it before his eyes. “Looks more fat than meat to me.”
“Now children,” Ra said, raising his hands, palms down, in front of him. “Do I have to send you to your rooms? And you are not helping.” He looked at Astraeus with an arched eyebrow and a twitch at the corner of his lips.
“What?” Astraeus asked, his eyes wide and his boulder head cocked innocently. “I do not understand.”
After the scrumptious meal had time to settle and the hall cleared of people and plates, Ra, Isis and Astraeus sat alone with Osiris before the blazing hearth sipping on green tea and nibbling sweetbreads to offset the large quantities of wine they had consumed. The large, oak logs were laced with cherry chips which gave off a pleasant, sweet, calming aroma. For a time, the friends sat in silence, simply enjoyin
g the scents and warmth of fire and friendship.
“So tell us what you have found,” Ra said at last, hating to intrude on the quiet. He insisted his guests celebrate their safe return home and leave all concerns behind for a while, yet he had not forgotten Osiris’ warning. Now that pleasantries were over, he could see his friend was deeply troubled. “What is the danger of which you speak?”
Osiris ran a hand through the wavy, auburn hair so much like his sister’s which framed his handsome, sharply cut features. The flames picked up the golden highlights and sparkled in the firelight. Unlike the long tresses that cascaded down to the waist of Isis, Osiris kept his hair trimmed and only long enough to fall just past the base of his neck. His jade eyes flickered in the light as he pondered how best to comply.
“The jungles of the Mortuus Atritas area in the heart of Afrikanikis are so dense that most of it is completely impenetrable and cut off from the outside world,” Osiris began solemnly. “Majestic mountain ranges so high and steep they are only accessible by air mark the eastern border. The coastline to the west has few points of egress as the meadows quickly slam against ancient forests so thick they create a solid wall few can pass.”
He took a sip of his tea and stared into the glowing embers as if lost in memory. No one rushed him as they saw the wonder and haunted look darkening his features.
“We sat up a few supply bases along the northern border before attempting to find a way in,” Osiris continued, still gazing into the hearth. “There are no words to explain most of the astounding natural beauty and the incredible variety of wildlife we found as we hacked our way inside. I will leave you to study the images we brought back and let you see for yourself.”
“As awesome as they are,” he said reverently, “the sights did not prepare us for our first encounter with people.” His face became even blacker as Osiris thought of that fateful day. “We were six months in when they struck from the trees with a ferocity that caught us unaware. A rain of spears cut down a dozen men before we even knew we were under attack. Even then, we could not see our enemy hidden among mammoth branches and within the dark canopy of leaves above us.”
Osiris shuttered as if shaking off an icy rain. “We lost another dozen before we lit the trees with energy weapons. Luckily, the heavy foliage was wet from an early morning storm or we would have set the forest on fire. Charred bodies fell like hail around us and the screams of the injured echoed for an hour.”
The people gathered around him listened in rapt attention as Osiris spoke, his words painting a picture that caused each of them to lean in to hear everything he was saying. They could almost feel the fear and smell the stench of burning flesh and it sickened them.
“As quickly as it began,” Osiris said after a deep sigh, “the battle was over. The wails faded into the jungle and all that was left were the cries of our own wounded. We found our four lead scouts cut to pieces a few hundred yards ahead of us.”
“What stunned us the most,” Osiris said, looking up at his companions, “was not just the brutality of the attack, but the look of the bodies we found. Most were so burned as to make them unidentifiable, but a few died from falls from the trees or from pulse rifle fire.” His full lips turned down sharply. “They were Izon…but not at the same time.”
“What do you mean?” Ra asked, his hands clasped between his knees. “Either they were of the Clan or they were not.”
“They were something else,” Osiris said bluntly. “Something in between. Their night-black facial features looked more Izon than Atlantean with thick, protruding brow ridges and deep-set eyes, but they were much thinner and not nearly as bulky as our Izon friends. They were dressed in strips of animal hide bound around their waists and nothing else. Sharpened shards of bone pierced their earlobes and noses and beaded necklaces of polished stone hung around their elongated necks.”
“It was my friend Nook who told us these people could be one of the many lost tribes of Izon who left them during their travels to Atlantis.” Osiris saw the nods of the others around him. They all knew the stories of groups that separated from the Clan on their eons-long trek to fulfill the Need and awaken the Ancestors. “As it turns out, he was right.”
“What made things worse,” Osiris said, his tone sad and remorseful, “was that we found out less than a week later that we, ourselves, were the cause of the attack upon us and, in some ways, it was justified.”
“How could it be justified?” Isis said with a harsh huff. “You were only exploring the jungle. You did nothing to provoke these people.”
“Actually, we did,” her brother replied softly. He stood to stretch his legs and laid his darkly tanned arm on the oak mantle of the hearth. “We did not know it until we found the village a few days later.” Osiris shook his head, still feeling the guilt of his intentioned actions. “Now that was truly shocking.”
“We found a well-worn trail cut among the trees and followed it into a huge meadow,” he said, turning to gaze at his friends. “The trampled grasslands were dotted with rounded, hide-covered huts encircling an ancient, gigantic tree that stood over three hundred feet tall. At first glance, it reminded me of the One Tree, though it was not Atlantean wood.”
“As astounding as that sight was,” he continued, “it was the people amassed in front of the village that stunned us. The moment they saw us emerge from the jungle, rifles at the ready, they fell to their knees and laid their heads on the ground, arms stretched out before them.”
“It took hours before any of them would even look up at us,” Osiris told them as he returned to his chair and sunk heavily into the cushions, “and almost a week before we could communicate with them. The spoke a dialect of Izon that even the Clan members with us had a difficult time understanding. During that time, we were showered with gifts of food, jewels and beautiful carvings. We were even offered us women and men to do with as we wished. They would not speak to us and kept their eyes downcast. We tried to say no, but those we sent back were killed as if deemed unworthy, so we just used them as servants and helpers. Large huts were constructed for us that were more accommodating for our size near the edge of the clearing.”
“Keeping a very long and difficult story short,” Osiris said as they listened in rapt wonder, “we finally learned why we were attacked. Two days prior to the conflict, we stopped to set up camp in a strangely circular clearing we found. There were oddly shaped, grass-covered mounds all over it which we thought were just natural formations. They were not. We had stumbled upon a sacred grave site. We were trampling on their dead and, to these people, disturbing the spirits. They thought the campfires we lit were to torture sleeping souls. It infuriated them. That is why they tried to kill us. To appease their ancestors.”
Osiris took a long swallow of his cooling tea and started to rise to refill the cup. “Let me get that for you,” Isis said before he could get up. She brought it back to him quickly as she was deeply intrigued by his narration. Handing him the steaming tea, she said softly, “Please continue.”
After thanking his sister, Osiris said, “When we fired our weapons everything changed. They thought us the gods from their lost past. They believed we were there to judge the dead, our fires meant to torment the wicked. The tribal chief begged us not to destroy them for their insolence, saying he was the heart of the Maobi people and implored us to take his life as reparation. It took us another month before we could assure them they would not be wiped from the earth.”
“We learned valuable lessons from the Maobi,” Osiris told them all. “We learned there were many other tribes in the jungle, some barbaric, some kindly and peaceful. They taught us respect for their traditions and heritage. Most importantly, we learned how our presence appeared god-like to them.”
“We are as much giants to them as some of the Nephilim are to us,” he said with a tight smile. “None of the people we met are much over five foot tall, though we heard of a tribe called the Swan Hill that are said to be over six foot. They are reclusive
and said to be vicious fighters. We are light-skinned, and powerfully muscled. Some of us are blond haired, a sight that draws immense attention. Our technology and weapons are like to magic.”
“In the course of our explorations,” Osiris concluded, “we found hundreds of settlements. Some treated us with reverence. Some with fear and suspicion. Luckily, the servants we were gifted refused to leave us. They acted as translators and proved invaluable to our understanding of those we met.”
“That is all well and good,” Ra broke in a bit abruptly. As fascinated as he was by the stories, he was incredibly tired and the dire warning Osiris had made was yet to be addressed. “These tribes seem to pose no threat to us so why are you so worried?”
“Forgive me, Ra,” Osiris replied, slightly abashed as he set his drink on the arm of his chair. “I get lost in my musings. There are so many amazing things we have discovered over these past two decades. I shall get to the point.”
“We were showered with tribute wherever we went,” he said, waving his hand toward the heavily laden tables by the doors. “We could not turn it down for fear of insult and repercussions. We sent it back to our bases and just left it there to bring back home.”
Osiris went to the tables, picked up an ornately bejeweled chest and brought back to the group. He sat it on the table between them and popped open the pitted iron latches the held it closed. “The majority of the gifts are much the same – jewelry, statues, crafts, etc. – however, these started showing up over the last year. I was told they have been seen in the skies above every village in the western jungles. These are what is causing me so much alarm.”
He flipped back the lid and laid out a row of similar artifacts rendered in gold, wood, crystal and stone. Though of various styles and artistry, there was no mistaking the shapes. They were skyships.
“We sent Ravens to scour the skies over the jungles to the west,” Captain Alihandro said as he swept his hand over the large map in the war room. “For the last month, their scanners have looked for any sign of intruders. They have detected none. Maybe these statues were created from stories spread from the east. We do occasionally fly along the coast.”
