by Taylor Kole
Josh had never imagined any shortcomings in his body, but he could see how quicksand plus a dense body was bad. However, with his speed and power, he imagined he could sink to the bottom and power squat his way out, or, like the mouse who churned milk into butter, claw out with a flurry of armstrokes.
He couldn’t hear any rain from where he stood inside the hall of the gods, but faint memories tickled his senses. Dread had been constant as he waited out the deluge within the walls of his temple during his last visit. Clearing rain water from the streets the following day had been worse. Thankfully, no spiders returned to feed.
“How long to cross Dacathius?” Josh asked.
“The pointus ascendus is at the farthest end through thick foliage. Perhaps three days travel for yourself, if conditions are optimal. Figure another day to cross Carmanthius and reach the Bristalius’ pointus ascendus.”
“JoshRidley can make the trip in mere hours,” Tiberius said. The boy had stayed quiet, yet glued to Josh’s hip. “And with me as his acolyte, we will cross without deviation.”
Josh withheld his chuckle.
Remus knelt, and, with a serious face, said, “JoshRidley would be honored to have you as an acolyte, but the heavens have already deemed you the defender of this hall. It would be an ill omen for us all if you were to depart.”
Tiberius crumpled his face in concentration. After a moment’s reflection, he peered at JoshRidley. “I am sorry JoshRidley. My first duty must be to my people.”
“They are lucky to have you. But know this, when I return, you shall instruct me in everything Dacathian.”
“I will honor that.” Tiberius extended his small hand.
Josh enveloped it and they shook
As the lights grew brighter, the smell of boiling roots, seasoned and infused with bones, scented the air.
“We have plenty of heart soup if you’d like to eat before your travels.”
Josh felt the faces watching him. He knew for these children, supping with a god might give them a lifelong treat, but lives were at stake. He glanced at the ladder of ascension, where braided roots hung in a dozen spots, allowing people to repel in or climb out.
“JoshRidley doesn’t want to eat our gross stew,” Tiberius said with disappointment. “He can kill anything that breathes and eat its warm flesh straight from the bone.”
Josh laughed. Lives were at risk, but one meal with these kids would only take twenty minutes and give much needed hope.
“Heart soup—” Josh inhaled and patted his stomach. “—is my favorite.” He flexed his biceps. “It’s how you grow these.”
A wall of boys scooted closer and awed. Josh spent the next hour laying a foundation of faith.
He heard the rain once he opened the door at the top of the ladder of ascension. A tangle of wet vegetation was before him. He couldn’t find an exit trail, but he knew people had to leave the Hall now and then for supplies. .
He found their path near the ground on the far end. He crawled out to avoid wrecking their disguised entrance.
Pulling the katanas from behind him, he shook his head. They felt like toothpicks. He walked a fair distance and chopped branches. The katanas cut good enough. He fell into a groove.
Ten minutes into a chop-chop-step, chop-chop-step routine, and he looked back. He’d cleared a path behind him and worried this trail would lead demons closer to the hall.
Seeing an opening ahead and knowing what was done was done, he shoved his way the final fifty steps and reached the edge of a forest. A veil of rainfall darkened the morning.
Trees (and flowers) soared fifty feet high. A root system etched the earth. The land here was open. This was the first time Josh felt like he was back.
Water trailed down the many plants and coated the earth. Noticing movement in the sky. Josh stepped back, but it was the ground that held his attention.
Remus had told him that the mites under the soil were edible, if he ever found himself starving. He was told he had to dig down to find them. Apparently, the rain brought them to the surface.
So many mites toiled, it made the earth looked like a blanket wrapped around a sleeping titan.
A tickle ran across his toes. Kicking a critter into the air, Josh retreated, and stepped on a another. Dwelling on the amount of abnormal life could lead to a mental break, so he pushed aside the abnormality, and ventured forward.
Four steps later, he paused again.
As the rain trickled through, coating everything, the overhead suns shone a clear light on the world, and a rainbow spread across the vegetation.
Dazzling blues and purples reflected in the trees. When JoshRidley realized they were water droplets gathered on spiderwebs, he gripped his katanas tight.
His instincts kept warning him a trapper was rushing him from his blindside, causing him to pivot as he walked.
He soon spotted two juvenile arachnids the size of wide clumsy dogs, waddling side by side, scarfing up whatever ground mites broke the surface. With fifty yards of distance, Josh thought of stalking and chopping the pair in half. Being so small and of an unknown variety, he wasn’t sure if their venom could harm him, but he knew they would someday grow to become beasts capable of eating people.
Ten feet into his creep they paused as if aware of him, then skittered in the opposite direction, vanishing in the brush.
Before fully relaxing, he saw an adult spider almost directly above them, descend on a bead of glistening silk.
Reaching the soil, it severed its line with a flick of the back leg and raced away.
Josh wasn’t ready for this level of action.
If he survived his return to Bristalius, if he fathered a child with a portion of superior strength and agility, they’d lead a party here and whittle these numbers down. As it stood now, he didn’t see how any human life existed.
His current goal was to reach Reysona. He’d have to be cautious. Once he made it, he’d communicate with RobertJohnson, offer a truce, and be prepared to give enormous concessions to defend his woman and child. With that in mind, Josh ignored the surrounding nightmares and moved steadily north for the next six hours.
Stopping fifty feet into a large clearing, Josh made sure he had a good line of sight before sheathing his sword and squatting to drink some of his heart soup, which, was spicey and curbed his appetite.
In what Josh referred to as his old life, rain always seemed a downer, something to avoid and endure rather than experience. But standing under the bright glow of light, feeling droplets of rain on his dense body, hearing the trickle around him, he would spend many of his thirteenth days enjoying this.
In Dacathius, he discovered life flourished when man wasn’t around to dominate. For a moment, he thought about North America. In the 1800s. Sparrow flocks had numbered in the millions. A flocks passing overhead would blacken the sky for twenty, thirty, even sixty minutes, and shower the land with droppings so thick people ran for cover.
Here, in this muddy field, with tepid water soaking him and the earth alive at his feet, creatures thrived. He even came upon a trio of ladybugs sniffing at the ground, as if grazing.
The ladybugs were fascinating to watch. They were the size of Sherman tanks. They casually lumbered here and there. Soon, he noticed they were making their way toward him. Colorful and glossy, like exhibits at an art show, he found the patterns of the nearest creature mesmerizing. Its body carried the traditional orange, spotted with black—same as the others. Its face was a polished white that resembled a car buffed and waxed to a high sheen. Its six legs padded the ground as if individual feelers were sensing or calling forth mites. Josh watched it dig one up, lower its head, and munch.
Even though they were clearly carnivorous, Josh hadn’t removed his katanas. The ladybugs seemed docile—like grazing cattle. Remembering having given a similar assessment to the first ant he had encountered started his heart knocking.
These creatures ate meat. They were large, and their shells looked like futuristic armor, maki
ng him wonder if he was strong enough to penetrate it, should it come to that.
He packed the soup away and when he looked back, he found the arthropods stopped, all facing him. They stepped in place. They clicked their fangs together. By the delayed responses from each, he wondered if they were communicating.
He stayed relaxed, moving slowly, hoping they would sense he was no threat.
His first sideways step agitated them. Surprisingly quick, they shifted until they had him blocked in. With a heavy sigh, he realized the clanking of their incisors had increased in speed and force. Their feet stomped. Despite his wish to enjoy their beauty, these insects were hostile.
In near unison, they came at Josh. Not that fast, but with determination.
Pulling the swords from behind him, Josh yelled, “Get out of here. Scram!” He banged the blades together.
When going around them was no longer possible, white-face opened its fangs, and doubled its speed.
Josh’s fight or flight instincts kicked in. He leapt at the insect, intending to swing down with his right sword and use the left to defend a coordinated strike from either of the flanking bugs.
His blade tip met mandible as he stabbed. The force of his leap pushed the blade deep. White Face screamed in a surprisingly human way.
Josh turned to either side, looking for the incoming assault, but the other two bugs had stopped. He saw one stomp in place. The other stomped as if in reply. In unison, they opened their armored wings and took flight in opposite directions, away from Josh.
The new buzzing sound of their wings brought back the spellbound feeling this alien place presented. He pushed his weight into the katana and ended the bugs struggle.
Josh remained fixated on the colorful creatures flying up through a downpour. Seeing them go, he felt the greatest sense of peace.
XXIX
Gatacon stood on the balcony of the Hall of Distress overlooking the vast city.
Unlike the peons beneath Atlantis, the top level welcomed the thirteenth day of rain without any fear. The only demons here were those captured for use in the arena. The roadways were designed by RobertJohnson. Water drained almost as fast as it fell.
He knew his father’s past life on Earth involved road construction and city planning, and taking in Atlantis from this elevation, he always appreciated those talents.
Perea stepped onto the balcony with his brother. “Have you spoken with Father?”
“I will seek an audience tonight. If he’s not available, we will wait for the rain to dry and venture out. I know how father will want to handle the pregnant woman.”
RobertJohnson always wanted an example. Gatacon would leave parts of her body at differing villages in Bristalius. The flaying and screams prior to Junea’s death would be for his own gratification.
After a deep breath, Perea said, “Did you enjoy my match?”
Gatacon examined his younger brother. The boy was too soft, but he longed for Gatacon’s favor, making him a fun toy. Before answering, his gaze lingered on the sutured slash across the young half-god’s bicep.
“Your close call made the crowd tremble and myself stand in surprise, so, yes, I pronounce it a grand showing.”
“I was never in any real danger. Though I ought to kill the jailer who allowed them to choose spears and nets. Even with their trickery, it was a match soundly won.”
“You still breathe, that much is true.” The wind rustled Gatacon’s curtain of gray and white hair and cooled his bald scalp. “Was it the woman’s man who stabbed your belly?”
“No, but he led them.” Perea glanced at his arm. “He swiped me here.” He pointed to his side. “The man was determined, no doubt. The fools actually believed they could win their freedom.”
“Yes. He was a fine warrior. It seems our little sprite had a head on her shoulders. Is it still attached?”
“For now. I sent servants to her minutes ago to trim her hair, bathe her, and grant her final wish.”
“Ha!” Gatacon controlled a rumble of laughter. “Be careful what you wish for, young Perea.”
“One of Father’s many nuggets of wisdom.”
“And perhaps the truest example of such. Come, walk with me to the training pits, we will discuss killing this pregnant harlot.”
As they meandered through the cavernous hall, Gatacon thought again about the spry young woman who had given them this gift. She was pretty. Too bad she didn’t have a twin brother. He could use more fodder for his own harem.
XXX
Bellora had waited so long that when the guards arrived, she had to suppress an urge to yell at them for them to hurry. The pair of female attendants behind the armored men lifted her mood. She had always wanted her own servant.
They took her to a tiled bathing room in the coliseum. Bellora embraced the experience of being bathed. It was much better than being the bather.
The only downside was the somber woman attender her wouldn’t talk. They stayed silent as they dried, combed the tangles from, and then braided her hair. They scented her body with clove root and oleander. They outfitted her in a white dress made of thin fabric. It clasped at the shoulder with an intricate brooch.
The dress hung too low for her liking, but she imagined RobertJohnson’s lips pressed against hers and smiled. Soon, she would style her clothing according to his wishes.
Strolling through the streets as a clean goddess, she felt a pang of anxiety as they continued by RobertJohnson’s Hall of Distress. She had plans of sitting beside him at court. A moment later, flashes of the servant girl’s near beheading and human arms dangling as if windchimes entered her mind. She forced a smile. Let the men have their hall.
The lone guard escorting her didn’t trail her like she needed watching. He paced beside her like a protector. With her chin held high, she searched the faces of passing citizens, to assess if any of them were important enough for her to remember.
Twenty minutes of walking only invigorated Bellora. When you had visions or thought you would influence the world, you had to question your sanity. Unless of course, you were insane. Being here now, strolling toward a blessed future, dressed in the finest linens, she felt properly valued and wondered how she would influence the world.
Every young woman fantasized about laying with a god, of being the treasure of his affection. Bellora was about to achieve that.
They reached a neighborhood. Soft moss covered the grounds of mostly fenced in homes. She almost gave her first command by telling the guard to move faster, but figured, as her life continued, she would appreciate having savored the progress.
They reached the largest home set behind a steel gate. The guard used a key to unlock the massive chain.
Bellora almost laughed at the idea of RobertJohnson thinking someone would harass one of his women. The guard opened the gate.
The fresh smell of green ushered her along the walkway. Two other officers waited at the front door. She saw bowmen in corner towers.
The officers opened the door and the escorting guard waved for Bellora to enter.
Discovering RobertJohnson had a jealous streak so grand he didn’t allow his most loyal servants in the house excited Bellora.
“Thank you,” she said to the guard who had escorted her. She smiled at the pair of stone-faced officers, and entered.
The foyer opened with stairs leading to a second level and halls to her right, left, and front. Yet plain timber constructed the home. No paintings, vases, or plants decorated the entrance. Dust covered the railings. A stale odor wrinkled her nose. Sprucing up this entry would be her first point of order. She wanted her man to know he stepped inside a woman’s home upon his arrival. Behind these doors, he could forget the world of brutes.
The door shut and locked behind her. She frowned at how the heavy curtains were closed, blocking out the sunlight.
She listened for her sister wives. She imagined them hiding so they could jump out and surprise her with a welcome party.
She soon heard
them speaking in hushed tones in an adjacent room. By the coarseness and quick shushess, Bellora imagined they were handmaidens, perhaps house servants, nervous as to the temperament of the new lady.
She took one step toward the voices and stopped.
A thump-scrape sound impacted the wooden floor in the opposite room. Again, and closer. Something moved in her direction. She backed up until she met the wall. There was the loud sound of heavy wood impacting the wooden floor, she flinched. Each time wood impacted wood, she flinched. Each time the scraping sound followed, she ground her teeth.
Gathering her courage, she stepped away from the wall. When the thud scraped sound was one movement away from her, she almost ran.
The woman appeared in the entray was the over six foot, broad of shoulder, and with a wooden leg. The woman appeared about to speak but then seemed confused by Bellora. She frowned heavier as she inspected Bellora.
The woman’s shock paled compared to Bellora’s. This woman looked like a demonic conjuration gone awry. She was three heads taller than Bellora, more than double her width, and triple her weight. The woman’s hair—what remained of it—was snarled webs of brown knots. Patches of scalp showed through, as if chunks of hair had fallen, or been yanked out. With her mouth agape, Bellora noticed all of the teeth on the upper and lower jaws were either missing or broken and jagged.
Bellora’s new first duty would be to terminate this woman, who looked a lot like the young half-god Perea. She couldn’t share a house with a creature this ugly.
First, make good with RobertJohnson. Second, have this woman slain, for her own good.
Growing irritated at the fear coursing in her and the monster’s expression of shock, she said, “What is it you’re gawking at, woman? I am RobertJohnson’s latest queen, and you will do good to treat me with respect.”
The burly woman adjusted her posture with a tiny thump-swish. She cleared her throat enough times to make a bullfrog hoarse, but held her stare, so Bellora stormed past her, intent on finding women of her own breeding.
