by Gene Stiles
Seeing no other way to say it other than directly, Haleah opened her eyes, took a deep, trembling breath and answered.
“I am with child,” she whispered. “Our child.”
Morpheus rose with such speed and fluid grace that Haleah was startled and almost jumped to her feet. She had no time to stand though. Morpheus slid his mighty arms under hers and swung her off the ground. Laughing loudly, he spun her around in circles until she felt dizzy and begged him to stop. He held her tight to his breast and she could feel the pounding of his heart in her ears.
“Oh, Haleah, my love,” Morpheus said, caressing the top of her head over and over, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You are happy?” She looked wonderingly up into his loving face, no longer able to keep the tears from her eyes.
“Happy? Oh, my love, how could you even ask such a thing?” He kissed the moisture from her cheeks, his own face streaked with dampness. “I am far more than happy. I am ecstatic! You have given me the greatest gift I could ever receive. I love you, Haleah and have ever since we first met. You should know this by now. I will always love you and now we will have a child to love as well. What in this entire world could possibly make me happier? Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”
Morpheus lifted her into his arms like a baby, kissing her full lips, his features shinning brighter than the sun above. With exaggerated care, he lowered Haleah to the blanket and lay down beside her. He untied the laces of her tan leather dress and pulled it up and over her head, spreading her golden hair around her. His tender hands explored every inch of her flawless skin, feeling their passion arise in unison, consummating their love in the heated glow of the blushing orb above them.
Lelantos stood at the edge of the clearing about a hundred yards from a row of fifteen stick deer built from a gathering of brush bundled together with untwined rope. In the center of each was painted a large red dot surrounded by circles of yellow and blue. Off to the left, another group of brush animals, these in the shape of bear, sat back another hundred yards, again, with the concentric, colored circles. He looked at the widely scattered spears sticking out from the targets, the feathers coloring the ends like bouquets of wildflowers, and shook his head in mock despair.
“This is one of the saddest things I have ever seen.” He paced in front of his students, hands clasped behind the calf-length, dark brown robe he wore, his wavy auburn hair tied with leather strips at the nape of his neck and near his narrow waist. “We have been at this for the last two weeks and almost none of you have hit the red dots. We shall surely starve this winter.”
A ripple of chuckles came from the sixty Izon and Aam sitting cross-legged in the browning grass of fall. Each held in their laps feathered borithium spears made expressly for them. Their spears were of various lengths, tailored to each man’s individual height and strength. The Aam each had longer, thicker spears, burnished a bright gold by the smelting process, identical to the one Lelantos had. Large stacks of feather-tipped spears lay piled in front of the two groups, those for the Clan lighter than the ones made for the Aam.
“Seriously, my friends,” Lelantos said sternly, “the rifles of the Aam are all but useless now and the dying grass of the meadows make sneaking up on our prey much harder. Learning how to use these new feathered spears - my finest creation - will insure our Home has enough meat for the winter. How can I help you?”
“When we of the Clan hunt with spears, we are much closer than this to our prey.” Shuk waved his hand toward the targets as he stood. “I think all we need is to get a little nearer to the targets.”
Since he was one of the first of the Izon to communicate with the People and work with them, by unspoken consensus, the Clan now saw Shuk as their leader. His thick, black hair, pulled back from his boulder-shaped head to keep his brown/black eyes clear, hung down to the middle of his trunk-like back. It was far longer than when he was shipboard, but, except for fishing, Shuk spent little time on the water these days.
“You may be right,” Lelantos nodded, “but do you feel you can get closer without being seen?”
“Of course we can,” Shuk grinned. “We are much shorter than you. We do not stand out like giant, upright bears when we walk!”
“You are right there, little man,” Lelantos jibed in return once the laughter had died down. “So show me how close you usually get before you attack your prey and, if you would, give us all a demonstration on how you would hit the red dot with your spear.”
Shuk picked up a spear from where the Izon had laid them on the ground and moved toward the targets. Moving in a crouch, he slowly moved on the targets as if the twig and branch target might bolt at any moment. Within four hundred feet, he lowered his massive body into the waist high, lightly swaying grass. His tanned, fawn-colored leathers blended completely with meadow and, in moments, he simply disappeared.
Suddenly, Shuk rose from the veldt about a hundred feet from the false deer far right of where he started. His powerfully corded arm was already drawn back, the spear resting on his broad, hard-muscled shoulder. With an almost audible snap, he flung it as straight as a diving raptor, burying the four-foot shaft halfway into the dead center of the red dot. The Izon rose up and cheered, clapping their hands together. As he returned to the group, wide palms pounded his back in high praise.
“Now that is what I want to see you do from a distance!” Lelantos laughed and slapped Shuk hard on the back, forcing the Izon to stumble. “My new spears are straighter and stronger than the wooden ones you are used to and far lighter. They will wobble less and the feathers on the end cause the shaft to fly further with less drop. The metal tips are thinner and much sharper than you have used before. They will pierce flesh and sinew deeper and cut wider, making the animal bleed out faster. You should be able to hit that same spot from here and penetrate deeper. Watch me once again.”
Lelantos lifted a three-inch-thick spear to his broad, flat shoulder, gripping it dead center. He stood with his right leg slid back, foot turned to give him greater stability. He drew back his heavily muscled arm, lifting the shaft away from his flesh and threw it with all of his prodigious strength, a twist of his hips adding to the power. Sunlight glinted off the deadly four-bladed tip as it ripped through the warm air. The spear passed through the farthest target like a hot knife through jam, hitting a large sapling far behind it. The tree exploded into a million shards that tore leaves from the bushes beyond.
“Now that is what all of you should be capable of,” Lelantos grinned smugly amid the shouts and applause. “Now. Let us practice a little more.”
A mild and welcome winter descended on the vast grasslands of Home bringing with it a calm sense of peace and contentment. The gardens had produced a healthy harvest of tubers and vegetables, which were now dried, stored or sealed in crystal containers with seasonings and rich juices. Wheat from the fields were held in bins or powered into a form the People called ‘flour’ used in baking breads and cakes. Berries and nuts plucked from the trees and bushes of the forests filled cool rooms to overflowing. The woods and plains gave up a bountiful variety of game to the settlement which was either stripped and dried or frozen in the storerooms ingeniously devised by the People.
Slabs of granite from the rocky foothills of the northern mountains, cut, shaped and stacked, made up most of the family dwellings and buildings of the community. The thick stone insulated the interiors from the freezing winds that sometimes blew down from the pure white, snow-capped peaks above and, at other times, from the raging waters of the western seas. Pillars of stone, rounded and smoothed to a polished sheen, held up high, vaulted or flat roofs of granite or other native rock. Squared beams of smoothed wood of a vast variety of colors and textures lined walls or crossed overhead adding a warm, rich, natural feel to the interiors.
In each building, a hollowed round of stone, fanned out at the base, ran up at least one wall. The base was cut open in front where logs of hardwood crackled and blazed in welcomed warmth. Than
ks to a system of borithium flaps inside the rock tubes, the smoke from the fires lifted in plumes far above the rooftops instead of settling in choking fogs inside. In the center of the large, community gathering room, a hollowed pillar sat atop a massive, square base open on all four sides. Stacks of cut wood graced each corner, ready to be tossed into the blazing fireplace. Thin-cut, odd-shaped pieces of stone, separated by hardened red clay, created a colorful, whimsical mosaic of patterns around the fireplace and prevented sparks from igniting the thick carpet of furs that softened the hard, polished marble floors.
Sitting on thick cushions tossed haphazardly in front of one side of the fire, a group of Izon sat singing songs of the hunt, sipping on large cups of fermented grapes. Bouts of intoxicated, jubilant laughter broke out in backslapping hysterics as their Aam brethren attempted to join in, stumbling over the guttural language of the Clan. On another side, a group of women giggled at the antics of the men, shared secrets and mended clothing torn by the rigors of life and growing children. Scattered around the great hall, the People and the Izon met around tables and on floors as one, happy and secure. All was well in Home.
“It is good to see this,” Captain Lianas smiled, waving his hand over those assembled in the Great Hall. His long tresses of tight, black hair, tied with leather at the nape of his thick neck, hung over the back of the heavy oak chair he sat in.
The other Captains and their First Mates sat at a long, dark-stained wooden table on one side of the room just far enough from the blazing fire to enjoy its warmth without being overcome with heat. Their richly furred, long cloaks, damp and steaming from their trek to their ships, hung dripping on metal spikes driven into the rock wall behind them. Large platters littered with the skeletal remains of roast deer meat and duck sat alongside bowls empty of boiled tubers and vegetables and thickened broth. Plates dirtied with the remnants of their evening meal were pushed away from the sated men and women and cluttered the table to be cleaned later. Happy contentment was written on their faces, in their muted laughter and quiet conversations.
“So different from those last years in Atlantis,” Thalassa nodded. Her azure eyes sparkled in the firelight, her full, sensuous lips quirked upward at one end. “Together, the People and the Izon have created a paradise, working side-by-side and learning from each other.”
“As it should be.” Kaikinos leaned his chair back against the wall, the wood creaking in protest with his weight. He cupped his sledgehammer hands behind his blockish head, his bright white teeth almost glowing through his bushy black beard. He took in a large whiff of air, his wide nostrils flaring as the sucked in the multitude of aromas filling the room. “Ahhhh,” he sighed, pleasantly rubbing his slightly rounded, full belly.
“On the morrow there is much to discuss on more pressing matters,” Simoeis interjected tersely.
Like Thalassa, his long, blond hair flowed down his broad back in a tightly twisted braid. He sat stiffly in his chair, his back straight, his shoulders squared and his corded arms resting on the table. His blue eyes looked as dark as a stormy sea, glittering with flashes of lightning. His well-padded, turquois shirt was laced together down the front and along his muscled forearms to the wrist. It concealed the Enviro-Suit he wore beneath, but somehow highlighted each muscle of his tall, well-shaped body.
“Power levels are running low. Our manufacturing systems are failing. We are running out of raw materials. We need to plan carefully if we are to keep Home as happy as it is now.”
“Oh, Simoeis,” Thalassa chided, slapping him playfully upon his rock-like back, “let the morrow take care of itself! Tonight enjoy all we have wrought with our hard work. Here,” she grinned, sliding a big mug of Izon brew between his hands, “Drink up and do not be so sour!”
“This should help,” she said, rising from her seat. She tipped his head back, cupped his narrow face in her long fingers and, to the shocked amazement of the entire table, planted a long, wet and warm kiss on his slightly parted lips. Once over their shock, the entire table roared at the sight of the bright red glow flushing Simoeis from collar to forehead. With a tinkling laughter, Thalassa picked up her own cup and walked away to seek out her friend, Haleah.
Haleah sat on a small, cushioned, wood-framed couch near the crackling fireplace, her shimmering blue eyes reflecting the dancing flames and glowing embers. She smiled dreamily, her head lying in the palm of her hand as she rested on her elbow. She watched Morpheus kneeling near the hearth, tossing logs into the fire, his unbridled, raven hair shining blue/black against the firelight. Her other hand absently glided over the growing bulge of her stomach, so large now it made her waddle instead of walk, as she watched him dust his hands off on the tanned leather pants he wore.
Morpheus stood up with feline grace, more like smoke rising instead of just standing. He used the back of his wide hand to wipe beads of sweat from his ruggedly handsome face, automatically allowing his ebony eyes to adjust after staring into the fireplace before turning his back on the flames. A warm smile played over his full, but narrow lips as he saw Haleah lovingly assessing his every move. He sat down beside her, pulling her into the crook of his arm and leaning his head on top of hers. His other hand buried her tiny one as he joined her in softly caressing their gently kicking child.
“She is much like her mother,” he said sweetly. “She is feisty and strong. She kicks first one side and then the other, not content to stay put and be quiet…as a woman should.”
“Still and quiet?” Haleah laughed, punching him in his strong chest. “You would want me to sit home, clean your clothes and tend to dinners?”
“Do not forget breakfast,” Morpheus grinned mischievously. “A man needs his morning meal if he is to take care of his woman.”
“Oh?” Haleah looked up into his face with feigned irritation. “And since when have I needed a man to take care of me?”
“Well, since you met me, of course,” Morpheus laughed gaily. “Besides, you are with child now so you need a protector!”
“I suppose a man needs some kind of purpose,” Thalassa threw in. “Even if it is a made up one.”
“Thank you for your aid,” Haleah nodded. “Men can be such brutes and think far too much of themselves. Please, pull up a chair and save me from my abuse at the hands of Morpheus.”
“Oh, good,” Morpheus smiled, a twinkle in his eye, “two women for me. This could be the beginning of an exciting night!”
“These two women,” Thalassa chortled, pulling up a chair cushioned by floral patterned pillows, “would break you in half, old man.”
“Old man!” Morpheus gasped. “I am but a few years older than you, my lady!”
“True,” she said with a snicker, “but men age so much faster than women. Now shut up and let the womenfolk talk.”
Morpheus snapped his jaw shut with exaggerated emphasis, smiling broadly at the two women, pulling Haleah a little closer as he did.
“How are you feeling, Haleah?” Thalassa queried, leaning forward in her chair to take her friend’s hand in hers.
“Besides happy, I’m not sure how I should be feeling,” Haleah said blissfully. “In these last six months, I have bloated like a ball and cannot get comfortable. Other than that, I am strong and healthy. Still, I have never been happier.”
“This is good,” Thalassa nodded, her long, braided hair hanging over her shoulder and down into the deep valley between her ample breasts.
Not even Haleah was immune to her extraordinary beauty, the gentle yet tough curve of her soft face, the high, slightly pink cheeks, her crystal-blue eyes and her lush, full lips. The voluptuous body of the Captain, from her wide shoulders and narrow waist to her long, well-muscled legs, turned the head of every man and woman of the People as she passed.
“And does the baby move?” Thalassa asked, motherly concern sharpening her features.
“More than I would think,” Haleah smiled, rubbing her swollen belly. “Of course, I have never had a child before,” she laughed. “I h
ave aided many women of the Clan, though, so I do know what to expect. Yet, it is much different to actually experience child bearing first hand.”
“Very true, I am sure,” the captain replied warmly, squeezing Haleah’s small hand between hers. “I do hope you know I am always here for you.”
Haleah nodded, returned the grasp with one of her own and continued their small talk, pleased beyond measure to have so many caring friends. Never in her long, often lonely life had she dreamed of such joy and peace. In Atlantis she was a curiosity, a half-breed mix of the People and filthy animals to many. She was taught and tolerated only because of her looks, much closer to a ‘true human’ than to her ‘bestial’ side. Even within the Izon, she was seen as an exotic and separate from the Clan. She was the Keeper, too different from them to be seen as lovely. Attempting to breed with her was only for status and for the continuance of the line of the Keepers.
Here in Home, everything was so much different. Morpheus reveled in her uniqueness. He studied her not as a pet, but only to learn from her. He loved her for all that she was, not just one side of her. Haleah had many friends of both the Izon and the People. They worked with her, celebrated with her, respected her and, most important of all, they truly cared about her.
Home, itself, was a place of happiness, kinship and growth. Izon and People, alike, built toward a common vision of the future. The very air was thick with hope, shared dreams and mutual understanding. The People found the Izon had much to teach and they were anxious to learn from them. The Aam taught fighting skills and stealth. The Clan taught how do disappear in the woods. The People taught farming and baking. The Izon taught hunting, which wild plants were edible and which would kill. None saw themselves as better or above the other.
A more perfect place there could never be. Still, Haleah kept the secret of the Book between her and Morpheus. She did so not out of fear of Cronus, but for fear of what that revelation might do to the bonds of the community. She would do nothing to endanger her Home.
