by Gene Stiles
Chapter VIII
“People of Atlantis, please forgive me. I am the one responsible for the attacks on your shipping routes. I am here to tell you why and to tell you those attacks will not stop as long as Lord Cronus sits on the throne.”
Zeus stood in front of a tall, black oak podium, his ruggedly handsome face and massive chest centered in the image. His uniquely golden eyes were nearly the same color as the wide, jeweled crown that encircled his broad forehead and kept his wavy, blond-streaked, fiery red mane from his sharply-planed features. His full, tan lips were hard set within the neatly trimmed, loosely curled beard that cascaded down his strong jawline to the pit of his throat. He wore a plain toga of pearly-white linen, edged in gold lace, pinned over his right shoulder by a clasp of worked gold. It hung in loose folds across his torso, exposing the powerful muscles of his wide, bronzed chest and arms. The overall effect was somehow stunning in its simplicity.
“For those of you who do not know me,” he said, his strange eyes blazing, “I am Zeus, last born son of Cronus and the Lady Rhea and Lord of Olympus.”
He paused to let those words sink in before he continued, his deep baritone voice resonating over the airwaves. “As you all know, your Lord Father tried to imprison me at my birth as he had done my brothers and sisters. He again tried to kill us when he destroyed my home and murdered my adopted father, Morpheus. In her pain, sorrow and fury, his vile actions drove my mother from Atlantis and deprived you of her brilliant, loving light.”
Zeus shook his head sadly, a light breeze rippling his shoulder-length hair like a clear mountain stream over a pebbled bed. “Yes, I was enraged when Cronus leveled my home and I struck back by releasing the Nephilim from the despicable pens of Pettit. My purpose was to expose his moral corruption to you all and free the men, women and children from their enslavement. I left it to you to do something about it. You did nothing except hate those born there.”
“How is he doing this?” Cronus screamed at the technicians in the data center of the Great Pyramid.
His jade eyes blazed in emerald fury as Cronus stomped into the massive room. Growling like a rabid animal, he grabbed the first person he saw by the throat and crushed the poor man’s larynx before tossing him aside like a rag doll. The body thrashed on the hard granite floor, hands wrapped around his neck, an inarticulate gurgling coming from the open mouth. No one rushed to help Heal the struggling man.
“Answer me!” Cronus bellowed, his long, black and silver robe ballooning around him like a violent, churning thundercloud. He stomped into the center of the room and planted his legs like oak trees, his fists clenched at his hips.
The supervisor fell to his knees at Cronus’ black-booted feet, groveling and stammering. “I do not know, Lord Father,” the terrified man whimpered. “He has somehow tapped into the Sentinel orbiting the Earth as well as all our communication systems.” His voice cracking and stuttering, he managed to choke out, “The power required is enormous.”
Cronus kicked the supervisor in the head so hard the snapping of the spine echoed off the walls. The horrified techs sent their fingers racing over their control panels, searching for the source of the broadcast.
“Kill the feed!” the Lord Father roared like an enraged Dire Wolf as he knocked people from their chairs. “Kill it now!”
No one dared tell Cronus they could not. The alien Cydonian communications technology was far beyond their knowledge or understanding. None of them knew Zeus was using the energy from the Nillian pyramid to boost the signal worldwide. Ra had granted Zeus his one request.
“Still,” Zeus continued on the monitors as he raised his head, a deep heartache written on his face, “disappointed as I was, I sought only to live in peace far from your cities. We created a new home half a world away where all the races of humanity were welcome – the Izon, those you call Mags, the People and the Nephilim alike. A place where our diversities were seen as enhancements to our society and to our understanding of each other.”
His eyes flashing with blueish-silver sparks, Zeus stared accusingly through the monitors and holo screens picking up the broadcast. “Yet, we were hunted by the man we are ashamed to call our father. He trumped up an excuse that we attacked Atlantis which I assure you, we did not!” Zeus punctuated the statement by slamming his fist down on the podium.
“What you may not know,” he said, a low growl emanating from his chest, “is that your Lord Father invaded the city of Olympia, murdered our citizens, burned our home to the ground and, again, hoped to kill his own children. Thousands died. We lost friends, family, loved ones and all that we had built.”
“He thought us gone,” Zeus said grimly. “We are not.”
The holo camera moved back to encompass the entire stage. To his right stood his mother, Lady Rhea, older, but still incredibly lovely. Her long, honey-blond hair, now tinged with streaks of silver, fell over her gently sloped shoulders and down to her slender waist. She wore a long, sleeveless gown of sky blue linen girdled by an ornately worked belt of large golden links that fell over her rounded hips. Though her face still held a glow of kindness, she also seemed somehow harder, her bright blue eyes glinting like polished steel.
Next to her stood Hera resplendent in a loosely draped dress of dark blue highlighted with silver lace. Her waves of reddish-gold hair fell down the front of her shapely chest and past the tooled, white leather sash that was knotted on one narrow hip. Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight like viridian jewels set in a high-cheeked, oval face. Her thin rose lips held no trace of a smile.
Hera’s sisters were next to her. Hestia stood at her younger sister’s side looking every inch a warrior woman. She wore a crimson leather vest over a billow-sleeved blouse of pure white and a thigh-length skirt of midnight blue. Around her stocky waist, she wore a black leather belt that held a scabbarded, gold-hilted sword. Her dark green eyes were as hard as chipped jade in her rounded oval face and her auburn hair shimmered like a dark fire. Demeter seemed almost subdued in a thin body-length peplos of light green folded at the waist and pinned at each shoulder. Hair the color of ripened grain was woven into a thick braid and held away from her beautiful face by a circle of forest-green leather Demeter’s blue eyes were filled with deep sorrow and her head was slightly bowed toward the hands clasped before her.
On Zeus’s left, his brothers stood tall and proud, both dressed alike in dark blue leather breeches, black vests and black-leather, calf-high boots. Neither wore shirts and it made their bronzed muscles stand out in high relief. The artistically handsome Hades, with his raven hair tied back from his long, pointed-chinned face, looked like a god of vengeance personified. His bushy ebon eyebrows were angled toward his straight, thin, wide-nostril nose like a bird of prey above his pitch-black eyes. His onyx, close-cut beard followed the sharp lines of his strongly angled jawline, coming to a point beneath his deeply cleft chin. His huge, sinew-sculpted chest seemed almost too large for his narrow waist to hold but was balanced by the size of his monstrous legs.
Those who had never seen the gargantuan Poseidon felt their body’s quake with shockwaves. Not only was he a behemoth as massive a mountain, but he was a mirror-image of the Lord Father, from the corona of wavy, fire-red hair that surrounded his lionesque features to the emerald eyes that flashed in his stunningly handsome face. The only true difference between the two other than size was that Poseidon’s hair and the beard that fell to his bulging pectorals were not as tightly curled as those of his father.
“They are all alive!” Cronus rampaged in the council chambers. Spittle dribbled from the corners of his frothing mouth, glittering wetly in his fire-red beard. “How are they alive?”
The purple veins stood out like angry vines on his muscular neck and his bronzed face was livid and black. His entire body rippled with madness as he kicked chairs, hammered his fists upon the table and threw anything loose across the room. Cronus grabbed a monitor and heaved it so hard at the thick, crystal-paned windows that a spider-web
of cracks appeared in one huge panel.
Only the mighty Iapetus dared be in the chamber with the Lord Father. The ten corpses lying on the bloody floor of the data center kept all others far away. The ebony-haired, stony pillar of a man said nothing, knowing any words would only enrage Cronus further. With his brother’s back turned to him, Iapetus chanced a glance up at the main monitor where Zeus continued his address.
“We are Olympians,” Zeus said as the image centered on him once more. “We have stood back and watched as Cronus has breed hatred among you. We saw the horror of his attempted genocide of the Izon and how he fostered hostility and malevolence toward the Children of Pettit as he did toward his own blood. We did nothing as he used his Black Guard to subjugate the People and to enforce his will upon the empire. He has taxed you, told you how to live and what to believe. Cronus has taken your own children and made them his unwilling soldiers. And, to our eternal shame, we did not protect you.”
“Never again! No more!” Zeus bellowed as he hammered the podium. The noonday sun blazed down upon his as the breeze stiffened, surrounding Zeus in an aura of yellow-red fire. To those watching in rapt wonder, it was as if the Creator bathed him in a cocoon of righteous wrath.
“For now Cronus attempts unprovoked attacks on the city of Nil, the Trinity and the peaceful people who live there,” Zeus intoned angrily, leaning forward on the rostrum. The tendons standing out on his bulging arms, Zeus bellowed, “We will not allow it!”
The roar of an unseen crowd surrounding him surged like a stormy sea over the broadcast. It was as deafening as cracks of lightning and the rolling thunder that follows.
“This is why we have banned your ships for our oceans,” Zeus said, his golden eyes as bright as a noontimes sun. “Despite what you have been told, we have left necessary supply ships alone so you would not go without. The convoys we have attacked carried weapons, troops and supplies headed for the shores of Afrikanikis.”
“We are not monsters like Cronus,” Zeus said, his voice softening, yet still strong and vibrant. “We did our best to disable your vessels instead of sinking them. Do not despair for your loved ones. We took the crews and set them upon uninhabited shores with supplies enough to be safe and to build settlements of their own. Someday, they may return to you.”
“Sadly,” he continued, bowing his head for a moment, “we were not always able to be so merciful. Lives have been lost on both sides. This is, after all, war and in war, people die.”
“Cronus seeks to take from the Nillian people their lands, their technology and their lives for the sole purpose of spreading his rule over the entire planet. Your Lord Father is furious that the Trinity has the power to stop him and he wants that power for his own. We of Olympus will not allow it.”
Zeus stepped around the lectern and stared into the camera. Beneath his thigh-length toga, he wore dark blue breeches and calf-high black boots that clung to his muscular form like a second skin. On his right hip was a long-barreled, onyx-handled pulse pistol. An unsheathed, blue-steel sword hung on his left, the hilt ornately carved from black oak and the blade inlaid with stylized vines and leaves. A thin cloud must have passed overhead, for Zeus now stood in a misty, yellow-gold beam of sunlight.
Those watching from afar felt their breath catch in their chests at the awe-inspiring sight. His gaze seemed to meet their eyes and stare into their very souls. Zeus touched them in a way that Cronus once had. It was as if he spoke directly to each of their hearts, asking for their understanding.
“Now it is up to you,” the stunningly handsome apparition said to them, his rich, elegant words reaching out to the Atlantean people everywhere. “You may stand aside and live your own lives without fear of reprisal from us. You may seek to remove yourselves from the coming conflict. We have already created places of safety where you can dwell in peace. Or you may rise up and join us in our stand against the tyranny of Atlantis and the Lord Father. The choice is yours. I am proud to say that many of your communities have already made their choice and joined us.”
The camera shifted back in a panorama to include Zeus and his siblings. They stood shoulder to shoulder like a wall of polished granite. Behind and around them, throngs Nephilim, Izon and the People gathered like the Creator’s own army. Some of the more evil among the people of the Atlantean empire quaked in their shoes and reevaluated the course of their lives.
“Now you must choose,” Zeus said harshly, the breeze swirling his fiery mane around his face as the image closed on him. “Choose wisely and choose soon. Make no mistake. War is coming. Which side will you be on?”
The broadcast ended as if a black curtain dropped on the monitors and holo screens. For long, tense moments, silence spread through every city, town, settlement and home in the empire.
Then the babble began.
“Find them!” Cronus bellowed in savage rage. The nest of green-eyed serpents that had laid hibernating in his soul for so long now seethed and squirmed in the pit of his stomach. Their red-tongued maws snapped at each other with acidic poison spraying from their needle-sharp fangs. The pyramid that once held his emotions in check crumbled into gritty, blood-soaked grains of sand scattered around its shattered base. “Find them now before they have a chance to strike again!”
The commanders and captains in the war room scattered like feathers in a whirlwind. They raced to their ships and headquarters as if hordes of flesh-eating demons nipped at their heels, yet grateful to be as far away from their crazed Lord Father as possible. Few had seen Cronus like this and they were beyond frightened. Those who had were absolutely terrified.
Mnemosyne barred the doors of the data center from the inside. She did this not for fear of attack by Zeus, but to save her people from the wrath of Cronus. Even though the bodies were removed and the puddles of blood mopped from the granite floors, dark crimson stains marred the high-polished surface. Her technicians trembled at their stations, occasionally glancing at the grim reminders of failure. It dulled their focus and divided their attention making their duties even more difficult. By locking the doors, Mnemosyne hoped to ally their fears. It was not working well.
“Lady,” Spearanis called out, raising a shaky hand from his communications screens. His short-cropped, blond curls were matted to his narrow forehead by the sheen of sweat on his brow. His brother was one of those bodies taken away. “Here, please.”
“What is it?” The lengths of Mnemosyne’s luxurious auburn hair was bound in a tight braid away from her long, oval face and green-tinted, hazel eyes. Her voice was calm and serene as she spoke, hoping her tone would be soothing to her frightened staff. “What have you found?”
“The signal is gone,” the young man replied, his voice as shaky as the tremors in his hands. Would this be seen as a personal failing by the Lord Father? Would he be punished as severely as the others? “There is not even the slightest trace of it left in our systems. We cannot find its source.”
Spearanis lowered his head in shame, unable to stem the tears that trickled down his brightly blushed cheeks. Beneath his desk, his legs trembled and he feared he would lose control of his bowels.
“This is not your fault,” Mnemosyne said softly. She placed a gentle hand on his slumped shoulder and reassured him. “Even I have never seen such a wave-length or pattern as this. Nor do I know how it was able to override the Sentinel’s protocols.”
Straightening her back and raising her voice so all could hear, Mnemosyne addressed the forty-plus people in the room. “This is not the fault of any of you. I will take this to the Lord Father personally and I will take full responsibility. I will not allow further repercussions to any of you.”
Heads turned to look first at her then to one another. Mnemosyne could see the grateful faces, wide eyes and the flushed cheeks. A silent, emotional sigh swept over the techs and she could feel the electrical charge in the air fade with a slight uneasy sense of relief.
“All I ask of you now,” she said, her face kind and warm though her ro
se lips were stern and tight, “is to continue to do your jobs. Monitor all communication channels. Watch for surges in chatter and, if you find them, pinpoint where they are coming from. Do that and I promise you all, you will be safe and secure in your jobs and your lives. No one could ask for more.”
After leaving the center, Mnemosyne first went to her private quarters before making a report to Cronus. She was well aware of her brother’s mercurial temper, but she was one of the very few left of the Twelve he actually listened to. She did not fear his fury. What she did fear was the glowing, feral madness she saw in his eyes. She had seen it before.
Mnemosyne had remained steadfast at his side from the red, barren surface of Atlan, through the eons of sleep within the cold, borithium ships to the beauty and growth of Atlantis. Many times, she asked herself why, but she knew the answer. Cronus was a good man at the core of his soul. She prayed to the Creator every night that he could overcome the demons that plagued him. Mnemosyne would stand with him as a voice of reason and remembrance in the hope that she could help Cronus do what he had always done…his best for Atlantis and the People.
Blessed and cursed with a memory unparalleled among the People, Mnemosyne recalled those days, long centuries ago in her personal lifespan, when she would sit with her brother beneath the One Tree in the caverns of Atlan and talk of life. His handsome face radiated kindness and compassion. Laughter fell from his lips as easily as the rains of this world fell from a cloudy sky. His great heart bulged with a love of life and his beautiful Rhea.
A large part of that turned into despair when Atlan died and he was forced to kill the father he loved so very much to save the People from extinction. Time and again, Cronus put the welfare of Atlantis above his own, but his self-loathing only grew in hidden darkness with each terrible decision he had to make. Mnemosyne knew the horrible truth of the Izon tore him apart inside. If only he had shared it with the Twelve, she believed his burden would have been lightened and his choices made better.
