by Gene Stiles
The pall that hung over the night remained as morning broke over the Aropian Veldt. The sky above was flat and gray, unmoving and gloomy, the snowy peaks of the mountain cradle behind Atlantis lost above the clouds. A thick, swirling fog lay low on the ground like a sickly-looking, milky-white blanket. The air was heavy and warm and stuck to the lungs, making each breath an effort. There were no colorful birds to sing songs of welcome to the coming of day. All was still, awaiting the coming storm.
Not to say there was no noise at all. The steady thumping of footfalls pounded the hard-packed ground like a small earthquake. Over twenty thousand Olympian troops marched across the crushed grasses and trampled flower petals beneath the haze at their feet. The fog clutched at their boots and curled around their legs as if attempting to trap them in its ghostly grip. Muttered curses and whispered prayers floated through the steadily moving ranks, though most remained silent, lost in their own tumulus thoughts. Wooden wheels creaked and moaned under the weight of their weapons and the hum of twenty warbirds came from the skies behind them.
Zeus and his siblings walked a hundred feet in front of his army. On their left, the monstrous First Children shambled like demons of some nightmarish myth. On their right, Loki, Anak and Eriktis accompanied Rhea, Oceanus, Tethys and Hyperion. The four members of the original Twelve were not there to fight. Zeus intended to make one last appeal to the Atlanteans and the Lord Father before the battle began. He still held out a faint hope that together they could end this unholy war before countless more lives were lost.
He called a halt to their advance ten miles from the outskirts of Atlantis. Zeus heard the gasps of amazement from his brothers and sisters as they laid eyes on the towering branches of the gargantuan One Tree for the very first time. The magnificent dome of its thick crown of wide, teardrop-shaped dark green leaves and gigantic mahogany-colored boughs made their eyes bulge and their mouths drop open. The two-mile-wide trunk remained hidden in the eternal mists of the bottomless chasm surrounding it, adding to its ancient mystic and sacred grandeur.
Through his farseers, Zeus saw a glittering wall of silver Atlantean shields stretching across the landscape far from the base of the tree. Gun emplacements surrounded by short stone walls were scattered before them, their deadly muzzles pointed high in the air. It was obvious by the positioning of the army and the fortifications near their outer flanks they intended to make their stand on this spot and would wait for the Olympians to come to them.
Zeus scanned the ranks searching for the commanders, but all he saw was a solid, unmoving line of shining steel. His brow furrowed and a terse frown spread across his full, tan lips. He had hoped Cronus would be leading these legions himself. How was he to make one last appeal if the Lord Father was not there to hear it? It was disconcerting at best, ominous at worst. He had to draw out whoever was in charge to at least try. Glancing at his siblings standing ready around him, Zeus came to a decision.
“Hades, bring up a flatbed transport,” he said finally. “Those are the People out there. Fathers and mothers, sons and daughters of Atlantis. Before we condemn them to the brutality of war, we must do what we came here to do.”
“Cronus might fear to face us,” Zeus said, his golden eyes burning brightly and his rumbling baritone voice going out over the open coms to the captains and commanders who broadcast it to all, “but we are not afraid. We did not come here just to defeat an enemy. We came to unify a people.”
He looked hard at his brothers and sisters, at Rhea with Hyperion standing close to her side and at Oceanus, and Tethys. “We will go forward alone under a flag of truce while our army waits here. Poseidon and I will be your shield. We will show those troops a united front of the children of Cronus and those of the Twelve who stand with us.”
“Perhaps together we can make them listen to our plea to lay down their arms,” Zeus said, his voice becoming as hard as a granite mountain. “If not, we can sleep well knowing we have done all we can to end this peacefully. Whatever happens next, the choice will be theirs.”
Hades piloted the transport sled across the intervening plain, the only wind caused by their slow and steady progress. The closer they got to the Atlanteans, the more they noticed a shimmering of steel as the soldiers shifted nervously on their feet. The sight of Poseidon holding his majestic trident with Zeus and his fabled sword standing at his side sent ripples of unrest through their spines. Many had witnessed the power of those terrifying weapons firsthand and sweat beaded their foreheads. Those who had not had heard enough of the stories to quiver in terror.
They stopped two hundred feet in front of the center of the Atlantean army, the sled humming slightly as it settled to the ground. Zeus and Poseidon stepped to the fore, keeping the rest of their party behind them. They ignored the rustling of feet, the muted murmurs and the cannon muzzles that swiveled to aim in their direction. They stood stock still for long moments waiting for a reaction to their presence. A section of steel parted in front of them and Cronus, Iapetus and Crius stepped out and walked toward them.
Cronus could feel the earth trembling beneath his booted feet. Or was it only the beating of his thumping heart? The blood pounded in his ears and coursed through his veins like molten lead. The golden crown of Atlantis felt heavy on his brow, the metal burning into his copper-hued skin. His maroon leather breeches and matching, loosely-laced vest chaffed his arid flesh as it strained to contain his rippling muscles. Even the air seemed thick, but dusty in his clenched throat.
All of his children stood before him, gathered as one in his sight for the first time. A tiny seed glowed in the deep recesses of his fearful heart. Hidden there, cocooned by blackness, was the love and pride of a father. His daughters were tough but beautiful, his sons warriors-born. Cronus saw much of himself in each of them from the waves of reddish hair of some, the green in their eyes, to the hard, driven look in their faces. A minuscule piece of him wanted so badly for them to be standing behind him instead of opposing him, though he knew that could never happen. They were born to be his bane and his enemies.
The light of that seed was suddenly extinguished by that one bitter thought. Cronus looked at the gargantuan Poseidon, amazed by his face in the reflection staring back at him. In those glittering emerald eyes, he saw the same anger that burned in his own heart. In the others, Cronus saw a deeper, darker hatred, a yearning to see him destroyed. But it was Zeus that truly terrified him. Those sun-like, auriferous orbs seared into his feverish brain setting his soul aflame. This was the man whose name meant his doom.
Cronus would never allow that to happen. Atlantis was his. The People were his. Today he would see his life-long tormenter dead at his feet. This was the day when he would take control of his own future…or when the Prophesy of his father would finally come to fruition. Either way, it was time to meet his destiny head-on.
Zeus took one long stride forward, his wavy mane of blond-streaked, fire-red hair held back from his strong, artistically rendered features by an ornately tooled band of dark blue leather. He kept his hands limp at his sides, well away from the hilt of his sword, but his stance was alert and wary. Zeus knew without glancing over his shoulder Poseidon had pressed a stud on one of the silver-trimmed, sea-blue metal bands that covered his huge forearms. Every word they now spoke would be overheard by the Atlantean soldiers.
“Cronus, Lord Father of Atlantis,” Zeus said formally, his tone firm, but calm, “we come to ask you to end this needless conflict and save the lives of your people. Step down from the throne, disband your army and surrender to the rule of law.”
“You invade our country, burn our cities, destroy our fleets and murder our people and speak to me of law?” Cronus clenched his hammer-sized fists at his side, his jade eyes glistening like faceted emeralds. His booming voice echoed over the troops and across the plains. “Whose law do you speak of? Yours? I am Atlantis! I am the law!”
Zeus chose not to debate the atrocities Cronus had committed in the name of Atlantis. Instead, h
e replied simply, “No you are not.” He waved his hand behind him and stepped to one side. “They are.”
A collective gasp rolled over the Lord Father’s troops as four of the Twelve appeared between Zeus and Poseidon. All knew the council was disbanded by Cronus years ago, but they were still highly respected. After all, they were each a captain of one of the twelve spaceships that brought the People to this world. They were revered almost as much as Cronus. Especially Rhea who many still saw as the queen of Atlantis. To see them siding with the Olympians shook them to the core.
Iapetus stood as unmoving as a pillar of stone, his black eyes flat and empty like one of the finned monsters that slid through the murky ocean depths. Beneath his impassible façade, his emotions were turbulent and troubled. Facing off against people he did not know – even if they were the children of Cronus – was one thing. To fight those he left the surface of Atlan with was a different matter altogether. These were people he considered his kin and with whom he once spent eons trapped in deep sleep inside the very ships which brought them here. Disagreeing with them was one thing. Killing them something else.
Crius blazed in a fiery fury, his youthful face twisted with hate. “Traitors!” he shouted, advancing on the group before Iapetus grabbed his arm. He struggled hopelessly to break free, lost in his seething fury. “How dare you defile this ground by standing with Olympus? You are of Atlantis!”
“Yes, we are,” Rhea said coldly, her tone like a splash of icy water against his flaming rhetoric. “We stand for Atlantis, for my children, for Olympus and for all the races of humanity. We stand for peace and justice,” she said, turning her frozen blue eyes on Cronus. Her words were harsh and bitter and her shapely body was as straight and stiff as a fresh-hewn board. “Not for the tyranny of one man over all others.”
Cronus gritted his teeth and a tick formed at the corners of his squared jawline. His stomach churned with the rising of his demon serpent, jaws agape and fangs dripping poisonous venom. Rhea’s presence cut him like the barbed lashes of a whip leaving his soul bleeding and screaming in agony. The extraordinary beauty she once possessed was now all hard, sharp lines and shadows. Even her sensuously curved body seemed to be roughly carved stone. He had spent a lifetime loving her, but now all he felt was pure unadulterated hatred. Cronus reached for his sword, slipping an inch of steel free of its sheath before a deathly quiet voice said simply, “Do not.”
Zeus saw the movement and fingered the hilt of Excalibur lightly. His narrowed eyes were as burnished gold, hard and raw. From the peripheral of his vision, he saw Poseidon slip one leg back, his bear-like paw tightening around Triton, the images embedded in the shaft starting to glow dimly. Iapetus slowly widened his stance, the slight crinkling of his sun-bronzed brow the only change in his emotionless expression. Zeus could hear the shuffling feet of the nervous soldiers amid the rising tension and prepared himself for battle.
A vicious sneer spread across Cronus’ lips, half hidden by the tight curls of his fire-red beard. “You would challenge me here and now?” he asked savagely, neither drawing more steel nor easing his grip.
“To protect my mother and the Twelve, yes,” Zeus replied coolly. His words swept over the Atlantean warriors like a hot wind, blushing their cheeks and sending a warning chill up their spines. “If that is what it takes to end this here and now, yes. If that is what is required to save the lives of your troops and mine, yes. If it restores law and order to the world, yes. Though I have no desire to kill you, I will do what I must for the sake of all humanity.”
Zeus spoke with placid certainty, no trace of ego or anger in his tone. If anything, there was a somber sorrow touched with sad resignation. With each bluntly stated word, Cronus bristled more, his fist slipping more of his blade into the murky sunlight. The flames in his soul grew into a raging bonfire of fury and the scaled serpent hissed and coiled, preparing to strike. A crimson haze drifted across his darkening eyes and a low, primal growl rumbled in his massive chest. Zeus slowly and deliberately drew Excalibur from its scabbard and touched the tip to the ground.
Poseidon moved to place himself between Rhea and the others, waving them back behind him. His eyes scanned the Atlantean legions, praying they did not fire upon him. He did not know if the field generated by Triton could cover them all and the Olympian army was too far away to be of assistance.
Iapetus saw the madness clouding his brother’s green eyes and knew he must intervene no matter how dangerous it might be for him. The hairs on his forearms and neck rose as tiny flickers of electricity shimmered along the lines of Zeus’ blade. Lost in the churning maelstrom of his mind, Cronus did not seem to notice or, if he did, he did not seem to care. As masterful with a sword as the Lord Father might be, Iapetus knew he would have no chance against such awesome power.
“We will not break the flag of truce,” he said stonily, stepping between the two men. Iapetus felt a chill, remembering how Cronus had broken his spine on the deck of the Black Death for interfering once before. He could almost feel the bite of his brother’s sword in his back. Still, it was his job to save Cronus - even from himself. “Atlantis will never surrender to you. Leave this place and we will let you live.”
“Had you only done that in the past,” Zeus replied icily, “we would not be here now.” He stepped back a pace and returned Excalibur to its sheath. “We give you one hour to reconsider. After that, there will be no turning back.”
He raised his voice, the amplifiers carrying his words through the Atlantean ranks. “We come to you with honor and respect, not hatred. Stand down now. Go back to your homes safe and free.” He swept his hand over Rhea and the other council members. “Listen to the Twelve, the voice of the People, not to the ravings of a solitary madman. One hour.”
Cronus lunged, roaring like a rabid Dire Wolf. Iapetus was ready and spun, catching his brother midair and locking his monstrous hands on the Lord Father’s wrists. The impact almost tumbled them to the ground, but Iapetus held firm, planting his legs like the roots of a giant oak tree.
Crius did see the silver-blue sparks shimmering along the blade of Zeus. His self-righteous anger turned to pure terror as he saw his beloved brother burned to a crisp by that hellfire blade. Without thought of consequences, Crius wrapped his arms around Cronus’ torso and held on, joining Iapetus in his struggle to restrain the maddened man. It was like trying to hold an enraged mother Murcat protecting its young, but for the sake of Atlantis, he persisted.
Without turning his back on the struggle, Zeus waved his party to the transport. He walked backward behind them as the sled lifted and slowly headed toward his army. Once he was assured they were far enough from Cronus, Zeus mounted the rear of the flatbed and watched grimly as the Lord Father fumed and fought. He knew in his heart he could not reach Cronus, but it still saddened him greatly. He only hoped he managed to get through to the rest of the Atlanteans. If not, this day would not end well for anyone.
Corithius stood behind the shield wall, staring open-mouthed at the melodrama playing out before him. He had been a battalion commander for decades and an Aam for even longer. His dedication to Atlantis was without question, but as he watched Iapetus and Crius struggle against the Lord Father, his mind was deeply troubled. From the whispered mumbles among his troops, he knew he was not alone.
Bone-weary from ten years of fighting, Corithius listened to the words of Zeus and they touched a chord inside him and made him wonder. Which Atlantis was he fighting for now? The one ruled by the Twelve for the benefit of all peoples or the one under the iron thumb of one man - even be that man the savior of humanity? He had never believed the rumors he heard of atrocities committed by Cronus but seeing the Queen Mother, Oceanus, Tethys and Hyperion standing against them shook him to his foundations. Why would they do this if there was not some truth to the stories?
To make matters worse, this war had already cost him dearly. So many friends and comrades had died over the years, Corithius feared to get close to anyone anymore l
est they be gone tomorrow. His heart was harder, colder and it cut a deep rift between him and his beloved wife. Three of his own sons stood on this battlefield behind him. His eyes darkened. Two others walked behind Zeus. Would they find themselves sword to sword with their own kin? Would any of them live to see another day?
Corithius fought the Olympians when they crossed the veldt. He witnessed the nightmarish power Zeus held in his hands with his own eyes. It was horrifying and unstoppable. How could they stand against such might? Yet, here Zeus came to give them a chance to walk away free and unharmed. Seeing the Lord Father frothing at the mouth like a crazed beast and struggling with his own brothers caused Corithius to seriously reconsider his options.
All throughout the Atlantean legions, the same quandary simmered in the minds of the warriors. Several brawls broke out among those who spoke their opinions out loud. They were quickly quelled, but cracks were forming throughout the ranks. Had their orders been to advance instead of holding their position, it was unknown how many would have complied.
Chalandra peeked her head around the corner of the stone building, checking to see if their actions had gone unnoticed. The street remained empty and quiet. No alarm was raised. She ducked back into the alleyway, kneeling next to the dead Aam to wipe her bloody blade on his breeches before putting it back in the sheath. The rest of her Sisters had already hidden the corpses of the Atlantean squad among the boxes and crates stacked along the dirty rock walls. This was the fourth patrol they had dispatched in the last hour. If the other units had fared as well, they should be in position on all four sides of the Central Pyramid by now. They had to be. They were out of time.
“Our scouts tell us Zeus has made his plea and is now advancing upon the Atlantean army,” Doreena whispered quietly, standing near the wall with the other twenty-three women gathered behind her. “We need to get to the control room quickly.”
Chalandra only nodded in reply as she arose. She glanced up at the dark pits of the shuttered windows overlooking the alley, searching for any glimmer of lights or prying eyes. Only one row of buildings separated them from the manicured parks around the Central Pyramid. Cronus left more troops in the city than they expected so she had no idea what they would be facing inside the massive structure. Her blue eyes were as cold as ice. She did not like surprises.
