by Gene Stiles
Sirenum was a small city of about twenty thousand souls, most of which were scientists and engineers. Only roughly a third of them were troops so confident were they of their firepower and isolation. The dozen spies Zeus had within the walls told him the main weapons research facility was located near the northern gates with the storage buildings and manufacturing complexes close to the southern edge, which is why she attacked from here.
Under the cover of the pillars of smoke and fire, she walked boldly up a main boulevard, destroying everything and everyone in her path. Her mere frighteningly ferocious visage sent terrified civilians scrambling to escape her deadly wrath. The Aam converged upon Raet from all sides as she neared the northern gates, pulse rifles sending streams of blue, red and yellow fury pouring upon her armor. The onslaught was so intense, her back arched in pain as the Cydonian technology absorbed the awesome firepower.
Energy cannons rounded the corners in front and behind her, streams milky, white-hot plasma enshrouding Raet in a cocoon of eye-searing brilliance. Within the force field bubbled around her, she fell to her knees, her body feeling like she was standing in the heart of a dying sun. Every weapon within range on the walls above rained hellfire down on her, the iron balls powdered as they hit her expanding, strengthening shields.
Raet felt the armor crushing her as the backlash of its alien circuitry coursed through her body. Muscles tore and bones cracked. She held in the power, knowing she could not withstand much more. Sweat covered every square inch of her flesh and she gritted her teeth so hard she could feel them chip, filling her mouth with blood. Her almond eyes were squeezed tightly closed, tears of unimaginable anguish flowing down her ruddy cheeks. She sent a fevered prayer to the Creator that she was close enough to complete her unholy task.
Forcing herself to stand, Raet spread her metallic wings as if she were about to take flight. Her spine arched backward at an almost impossible angle, her golden beak aimed at the sky. A falcon scream of savage fury and primal rage ripped from her throat and swept over the city streets, stopping citizens and soldiers alike dead in their tracks. Her white-knuckled fists came together, the clang of her wrist guards loud in her bleeding ears. A supernova of heat and light exploded around her as the armor unleashed all the hell it had absorbed. The amplified energy leveled everything within a four block radius, turning bodies into bloody, pulverized chunks of skin and shattered bone. The release was almost erotically sexual to Raet and made her body quiver with excitement.
Two blocks away, Carius sat calmly in his office, unconcerned with the vicious battles swarming around him. The weapons master knew he was safe within his granite bunker along with his latest nuclear inventions. The tall, athletically built man almost smiled at the folly of the invaders. Sirenum was the most protected, impenetrable fortress on the planet. Nothing could touch him.
Carius did not have time to question his arrogant beliefs. He was standing forty feet away from his three most powerful missiles to date when they exploded. Not even the shadow of his demise would be found among the tiny pieces of stone left within the deep crater left behind.
Nemesis was a mile away crouched behind a huge, cracked and chipped oblong boulder when the fiery orange-red, black and purple mushroom cloud rose from the desert floor. In the tumbled outcropping at his back was a small opening more an indentation than a cave. Its mouth was roughly the same shape as the boulder, almost as if it had spit out the piece of stone at some time in the ancient past. Luckily, Nemesis was hunkered near the ground avoiding cannon fire when the tremendous blast occurred. His eyes were saved from the direct brilliant incandesce of a thousand suns, but not from the microsecond vision of several of his men bursting into squirming pillars of flame.
The concussive wave hit his boulder like the hand of the Creator, pinning him to it as it slammed into the cave mouth. Nemesis slammed into the rear wall with enough force to snap bones and drive the overheated air from his burning lungs. The ground cracked and roared in torment. A jagged chasm opened beneath him and Nemesis dropped helplessly into a seemingly bottomless pit. He curled himself into a ball and waited for death to take him.
When he hit the churning waters of the underground river, Nemesis was barely conscious. The impact took what little breath he had left, the current sucking him into its warm, swirling embrace and pulling him under. Darkness invaded his brain and closed it down as the swift-moving river swept his limp and broken body away far beneath the trembling, searing desert floor.
The awesome shockwave unleashed radiated outward in all directions like an ever-expanding bubble. The plates of the earth’s crust split and shook, a spider-web of cracks ripping across the desolation from the blackened crater. The landscape heaved and twisted in nightmarish torment. Crevasses and fissures opened up like bolts of lightning laid upon the quivering ground. Ocean-like waves rolled through the desert, tossing gigantic boulders into the air as if they were mere pebbles on a sandy beach.
If anyone had been left to hear it, their eardrums would have been instantly ruptured by a horrific sound unlike anyone had ever heard. Even the noise of the nuclear blast was naught but a whisper compared to the demonic roar of the enraged earth. It quickly outraced the explosive shockwave and spread across the barren wastes for hundreds of miles like a rabid, hungry beast, destroying everything in its path.
When it reached the coastline, the ocean rose up in shared anguish. A monstrous wave tore out to sea in a mammoth crescent shape. The bed beneath the dark green waters opened in rifts so deep that molten lava spewed over some of the edges. The ocean boiled in places and superheated steam rose to join the frothing waves above.
In the midnight-black at the bottom of the scorched crater lay a giant egg with a thick shell of pure shining gold. Inside, shimmering blue liquid energy rippled like a living thing around the curled fetus at its core. To an observer, it would look like a baby bird covered with a down of maroon, black and yellow feathers. Not a single breath emanated from its tiny lungs nor did its heart pulse with a single beat. It just floated there unmoving in death-like eternal slumber.
Chapter XXII
Cronus walked along the wide boulevard that fronted the Isle of the One Tree, his escort of four bodyguards a respectful few paces behind him. The mere fact that they were there at all infuriated him beyond words. The necessity of escorts spoke not only of the turmoil swirling through the streets of his beloved city but of his loss of iron-clad control over the People and the continent of Atlantis. Three times he had actually been attacked by rebels on his own sidewalks. Though easily dispatched, the attempts prompted Iapetus to insist he go nowhere alone or unarmed.
A beautiful yellow sun beat down upon him from a clear, pale blue sky. A warm, gentle breeze ruffled his mane of curly, fire-red hair. Brilliantly colored songbirds sang among the towers, spires and rooftops. They flitted from branch to branch in the trees and parklands throughout the city. Flowers in a myriad of hues graced carefully tended window boxes and filled the air with a thousand pleasing scents. Succulent, mouth-watering aromas wafted from the open doors and patios of countless eateries and bakeries. Gaily dressed people wandered the shops and sidewalks, laughing and chattering, enjoying the company of friends and loved ones. All appeared peaceful and serene, free from the strife of war along the western seaboard.
Cronus should have been enjoying himself. He was not. The bliss and contentment surrounding him seemed false and forced. When he looked into downcast faces that quickly turned away, he saw their smiles did not reach their eyes. A pall floated over Atlantis like a thick, misty, but unseen fog. In most, Cronus saw intense pride and hope for the future. Yet in many, he saw anger, weariness and even naked hatred before their gazes were swiftly averted. He wanted to grab those discontents by the throat then and there and squeeze the life out of them. It took all of his willpower to refrain.
To make matters worse, the nightmares had returned. Once he learned he had struck Nillian cities instead of Olympian ones and his children still li
ved, they crept into his troubled sleep and ate at his feverish brain. Cronus awoke night after night bathed in sweat, his bedding soaked and salty. At first, he could not recall them, but as they intensified, each soul-searing, grizzly detail followed him into fitful wakefulness.
This was not the barren landscape of his previous dreams. Rusty dust did not seethe and swirl around the cracked dome over an ancient, lifeless city. Hellish winds did not blow the endless biting sands in storms that scraped the flesh from his bones. No crumbled pyramid called to him from the end of a pitted, alien roadway. His parents did not await his arrival with loving, open arms. This was not the ruinous remains of Atlan. This was far more hideously abominable for this was a world of his own creation.
The black, muddy rains falling from the sparkling, rumbling clouds hit his racing body like drips of sulfuric acid. Cronus screamed endlessly as the droplets burned all the way to his gray-dimpled bones. The haunted remains of burnt out buildings teetered on crushed and crumbling stone foundations, their shattered windows staring at him with accusing eyes. Ebony skeletons, twisted and broken, reached above the rubble as if trying to escape the fires of hell. Their contorted poses spoke of a demise of intense, relentless, ghastly agony. The sockets of their jellied eyes followed Cronus as he ran, their lipless mouths both begging him for mercy and cursing him for their eternal torment.
An angry red and yellow glow of cataclysmic flames backlit the melted, tangled spires of a once-beautiful city. The smooth-paved streets were rivers of brownish blood that slipped sluggishly over jagged crevasses and around sickly, gruesome piles of rotting corpses. An unimaginable stench filled the grey fog that slipped through the alleyways like a poisonous viper searching for prey.
His children chased him across this nuclear carnage, their maws filled with pointed fangs that dripped fresh blood and acidic venom. Above them flew a golden-beaked hawk, a blazing sun glowing on its metallic ebony and amber feathers. Zeus led the charge, his demonic face surrounded by a corona of living flame. His gnarled hands were tipped with razor-sharp talons that clawed the air and sliced into Cronus’ fleeing flesh. No matter how fast he ran in panic-stricken terror, each night his bestial children gained on him. He knew they would soon trample him to the ground and feast upon his quivering, screaming flesh while the vicious hawk tore out his eyes. When he awoke, Cronus panted in exhaustion and pain, his sheets gripped around his parched throat by tightly clenched, white-knuckled fists. He knew he must destroy them soon or he would never sleep again.
Cronus shook his head to clear his blurred vision, reliving these repulsive, dreadful visions with every heavy footfall. It took him a moment to feel the warm, pleasant sunshine upon his shivering skin. The gentle breeze and sweet, chirping music of the songbirds mixed with the sounds of the golden city and busy, happy streets almost caught him off guard. He looked toward the One Tree, somewhat surprised to see it still standing tall, healthy and richly verdant on its misty isle. A small family of picnickers walked across the elegantly arched bridge carrying baskets and blankets, smiling and chatting as they made their way toward the Tree’s sacred boughs. The normalcy of the scene was surreal to Cronus. It seemed to be overlaid on a shifting gray and terrifying canvas of pain and prophesy. Cronus turned to glance back over his broad, slumped shoulder at the sparkling city simply to ensure himself it still glistened upon the horizon and his blood turned to ice.
The first thing he noticed was a crackling of energy in the air. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in apprehension. Cronus cast his narrowed jade eyes around him expecting an emanate attack, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword. An eerie silence swept through the city. His guards immediately fanned out, their weapons drawn. The people on the streets stopped what they were doing and stood in bewilderment, their conversations suddenly muted. It was then Cronus realized the birds had stopped singing.
A peal of thunder rolled across the cloudless blue sky sending flocks of frenzied birds high into the air. The sound grew in intensity until it resembled the roar of a million Dire Wolves. The ground shook with such power Cronus was thrown to his knees, his hands reaching out before him. He stared up in awestruck wonder as the buildings of Atlantis swayed in some macabre, unholy dance. Glass shivered and shattered sending a rain of razor-sharp slivers down on the huddled, panicky masses. The screech of bending steel joined with the moan of shifting gigantic granite blocks. Wails of pain and terror echoed through the city vying with the howling of the earth for dominance.
Cronus lifted his head in time to see the snow-capped peaks of the Eastern Mountains rise up into the air as if lifted on the crest of a gargantuan tidal wave. When they slammed back down, the tops crumbled in an avalanche of dust and dirt. Rivers of rock and snow descended down the ravines, piling up on the foothills on the other side of the River Gaia. The harbor and ships on that side were crushed and buried beneath tons of stone and muddy soil. The boiling river swelled and spilled over into Atlantis, sweeping away people, vehicles and anything loose like sand on a polished marble floor.
The massive quake lasted for only a few minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. When it stopped, Cronus was amazed to see the city remained largely intact. The mountains acted as a buttress against the elemental forces and the white-water current of the Gaia sucked debris and bodies back into its arms, sending it all racing toward the vast oceans beyond. The unharmed or merely wounded rushed into the still trembling streets to help the injured and search for survivors. For long hours, fearful, but determined chaos ruled the city.
“What, in the Creator’s name, was that?” Cronus muttered as his stunned guards helped him to his feet and formed a protective circle around him.
With the exception of cracked crystal window panes and tossed furniture and equipment, the Central Pyramid was largely undamaged. Cronus looked out over the scrambling city and stared at the ancient One Tree. The chasm surrounding it was a little thicker with steaming mist and the mossy ground beneath it was littered with fallen leaves for the first time in recorded memory. Other than that, it remained as it always had, strong and proud. It brought a sense of serenity, permanence and hope the people of Atlantis truly needed at the moment.
It was not what Cronus needed. He craved revenge. When the quake first hit, he thought his nightmare visions were coming to pass and he was ashamed to admit he soiled himself. His escorts, if they had noticed at all, were smart enough to keep the observation to themselves. The humiliation was quickly superseded by a black, burning rage greater than a thousand hurricanes.
“We only lost a handful of citizens,” Iapetus said calmly, as unflappable as always. He stood near the huge, crowded table, his arms crossed over his burly chest, his stance as rigid as a pillar of stone. “Those most injured have been Healed and are assisting in the cleanup. The majority of the damage was restricted to the mountain side of the river. The port and facilities over there are a total loss. Luckily, most of the ships’ crewmen were on leave in the city when the quake occurred.”
“This was no natural event,” Cronus said, his tone brooking no argument as he turned his attention back to those gathered in the council chambers. The diamond flecks weaved into his ebony robe glittered in the brilliant lights of the packed room as he walked and seemed to be reflected in the hard set of his chipped emerald eyes. “As far as I know, there has not been an earthquake in Atlantis since the time of Iasion.” Cronus slammed his fist down on the thick, oak table with such force, the corner snapped with a loud crack. “This was Ra!”
“There is no weapon I have ever heard of that has the power to lift mountains,” Coeus replied with a shake of his weary head. “Not even the entire Trinity combined could shake a continent.”
The oldest of the Twelve appeared more haggard and disheveled than usual. His scraggly cinnamon hair looked as if it had not been touched by a brush in months and dark shadows encircled his dull hazel eyes. His clothing was rumpled and unkempt and his shoulders slouched more than usual. Coeus had not slept
in three days, each aftershock snapping him awake the instant his tired eyes closed.
“Communications have been disrupted,” Crius said, his voice brittle and sharply edged. His lips were tight and downturned, his dark brown eyes narrowed as he spoke. “We know there was an attack on Hebis and Sirenum just before the quake, but we have heard nothing from either city since. I would bet my right arm you are right, Lord Father. Ra and Zeus had something to do with this.”
“Only a coincidence, little brother,” Iapetus said with a small huff. “Both places are impregnable and our reports at the time said the assaults were nothing more than minor skirmishes soon to be easily defeated.” Still, Iapetus found the lack of communications troubling, though he was careful not to show it.
“I warned you of this,” Coeus said, his tone grim and accusing. He ran his long, slender fingers through his hair, snagging them on the tangled knots. “I told you the planet was wobbling far more than normal. That is why the seasons have been so long. Volcanic eruptions have been on the rise for decades. Tectonic activity has been growing around the world for years. What if your nuclear weapons and experiments are exacerbating the problem? If you continue with their barbaric use, you could knock the world off its axis.”
“Do you have proof of this or are you just spouting moralistic rhetoric?” Cronus countered gruffly, his jade eyes blazing. “You have been opposed to them from the beginning. I told you then as I tell you now, they are necessary to stand against the might of Nil. Remember, it is Ra and Zeus who have invaded our lands. They must be stopped!”
“I have no proof and I do not forget,” Coeus replied, biting out his words. His bent spine seemed to straighten slightly as he glared at Cronus and pointed a bony finger. “However, I also remember it was you began all this with your ceaseless and needless attacks on your own children.”
