by Gene Stiles
“Then there is this monstrosity growing inside of me.” Her garbled words tumbled from her trembling pink lips, muddled by the sobs that quietly wracked her small frame. “They fear what kind of demonic deformities it may possess to mar the perfection of the People. They wonder what kind of twisted mind will be behind those bestial eyes. I know,” she wept. “I, too, am terrified of those same things.”
“They fear it could happen to them,” Hyperion huffed kindly, intending to alleviate some of her anguish.
“That,” Amelia whimpered softly, “that most of all.”
Hyperion stepped away feeling utterly helpless. His charms, his laughter, his handsomeness had no place here. He did not know how to give solace to the sweet child and he felt weak and impotent, a feeling completely foreign to him. Instead of sputtering meaningless words, he stared off into the deep woods as if surveying the land for the appropriate site for the house. He could only do what he always did for Rhea - be there to listen, to do as he was asked and, most of all, to hide his true feelings.
“There is so much more than you know.” Rhea embraced Amelia tightly to her chest, stoking the girl on the back of her hooded head. “You have my word I shall tell you all very soon. I promise you I will be here for you always. After your house is built, we shall be here every week or as often as you wish. You shall stay at my home until it is finished and are always welcome there whenever you choose. We will leave a communicator and sled and anything else you need.”
“Now exactly where do you want your house?” Hyperion queried, attempting to steer the conversation to a less emotional content.
Amelia closed her dark hazel eyes and listened to the skittering of life on the forest floor, the twittering songs of colorful birds that darted among the deep green foliage and the chittering of the small creatures that flitted from branch to branch. Her narrow nostrils flared in the lightly chill air, drinking in the myriad aromas of the vast array of wildflowers growing in abundance throughout the meadow and the rich, loamy soil squished between the toes of her shoeless feet. She could hear the soothing bubbling of water tumbling over rocks and boulders, rushing through narrows and singing of the endless forward movement of life.
‘Maybe here,’ she thought hopefully. ‘Maybe here I may find peace.’ She prayed to the Creator that it would be so. She prayed so hard, but she feared that He heard her no more.
Haleah stretched her long, weary legs out on the covered wooden porch that surrounded the beautiful stone-block home Morpheus built for her on the sandy shore of the deep blue lake. High in the turquois sky, altocumulus clouds chased each other in the playful games of the Creator. The dark waters of the lake were as still as glass, nary a ripple to mar its smooth, crystalline surface. The early afternoon sun cast a blanket of fleecy golden warmth over the high-grassed meadows surrounding Home. The vibrant kaleidoscope of wildflowers blooming across the valley floor filled the sparkling air with a sweet perfume of nature that enriched her soul with every pleasing breath.
“It is nice to see that your day is spent sitting around while your man is out working,” Morpheus quipped mischievously, stepping out of the back door of their home. His black leather pants and vest were dusty with dirt and mud covered his once-shiny, calf-high boots. He was shirtless beneath the V-cut, black leather vest he wore and his darkly tanned skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. The veins on his sinewy arms stood out like roadmaps of power and grace. His midnight-black hair flowed in sparkling waves down his broad, flat shoulders to his narrow waist, held back from his square-jawed, handsome face by a wide, plain, brown headband.
“Excuse me?” Haleah returned tiredly, giving him a withering glare. “You try keeping up with two curious, tumbling infants! Now that they have learned to walk they are getting into everything!”
“Whoa, whoa,” Morpheus laughed, raising his hand and backing up as if to fend off her attack. “I only speak in jest, my love.” His ebony eyes twinkled above his high cheekbones as he plied Haleah with the impish smile that had won her heart. “I come in peace and bring you refreshment.”
Morpheus sat a glass of chilled water filled with ripe strawberries on the small table next to Haleah and leaned down until their lips almost touched. He lifted her beautiful, oval face with the palm of his tough, yet soft, hand and kissed her as if they had been parted for weeks instead of just a few hours.
“Well,” Haleah responded, her ocean-blue eyes shimmering with happiness, “I suppose I could forgive you if I were to have one more kiss.”
Morpheus gladly complied, caressing her tenderly on her sensuous lips and then on her rosy cheeks. He pressed his forehead to hers for a moment then sat down on the padded, wood chair next to her. He pulled his boots from his feet and placed them next to hers, letting his toes free to flex and breath in the warm air. His eagle-sharp eyes surveyed the low-cut, green grass around their home, coming to rest on a large, flower-patterned blanket spread out beneath the shade of the tall oak that was centered in the yard. Young Josephine lay next to the twins, guarding them as they took a wearied nap on the supple throw. She lay on her back, her palms cradling her head, her eyes closed as she rested alongside of them.
“They are so very beautiful, our girls,” Morpheus sighed, his voice filled with a father’s pride as he leaned back in his chair. “They look like tiny versions of their mother.”
“So they are, my love,” Haleah agreed readily, sipping on her strawberry drink. “I see their father in them as well and I thank you every day for them. We are blessed.”
“What have you been doing today?” she asked, watching the flight of a flock of birds as they skimmed the surface of the water in search of a noontime snack. “Are you still dismantling the Northern Star?”
“Much to the consternation of Captain Kaikinos, yes,” Morpheus nodded. “He follows us around, clucking and muttering like a madman and deriding the workers whenever they touch something he wants kept safe.”
“Can you blame him? We are destroying his beloved ship.” Haleah came suddenly alert as one of the girls rolled onto her tummy in her sleep. She started to rise, but Josephine reached out a gentle hand to check on the tiny babe. Haleah relaxed and sank back into her cushioned chair.
“Not at all,” Morpheus smiled, noting her slight movement, but knowing all was well. “Home is growing so fast and the ship has materials we need and such a giant vessel is no longer of use. Besides, we promised to build him a smaller, faster one.”
“Home,” Haleah whispered contentedly. “Did you ever dream we would ever see such a place? The Izon and the People working so closely together is amazing and wondrous. It is all we of the Clan ever wanted, the very purpose of our existence.”
“And we prosper for it,” Morpheus agreed, reaching out to cup her slender fingers in his hand. “We learn so much from each other. Our knowledge of metallurgy and manufacturing is useless without the Izon knowing where to find raw materials. Our farming skills would mean nothing if the Izon were not here to teach us which plants make the best food sources.”
“There is no doubt we are one Clan,” Haleah smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. “I never imagined such happiness. Thank you, my love, for all you are and all you have done for all of us, but especially for me.”
“As if I had a choice, devilish girl.” Morpheus pulled her hand to his lips and caressed her fingers. “You bewitched me from the moment we met.”
“And I would do it a thousand times again,” she grinned.
“We do have problems though.” Morpheus stared into the distance, his countenance becoming dimmer. “Our technology is failing from lack of power. My contacts in Atlantis say the same issue plagues the city. Cronus sent out ships to secure uridium from two different locations. We need to retrieve some for ourselves.”
“I did not know you were still in contact with the city,” Haleah said, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.
“I felt it prudent to keep an eye on developments in Atlantis,” Mor
pheus replied gravely. “Cronus still hates the Izon for being bloodkin and we of the People who fought alongside them. The city is growing faster than we are. The outposts he is building are multiplying rapidly. They already encircle the continent and encroach on the coasts of our island. What happens to our idyllic home if he finds where we are?”
“Do you think he still searches for us?” Haleah glanced anxiously at the blanket on which her babies slept. She trembled at the thought of Cronus or his minions stomping through the cobbled streets of their peaceful community. Her mind faded back to the horrific memories of the fight to save the Izon and all the suffering they had endured because of it. She shuddered at the vision of dead and dying bodies all around her, the loss of so many friends. It could not happen here! It simply could not!
“Fear not, my love,” Morpheus reassured her. “No, he does not search for us actively. He has far too many other things to concern him. But one of his ships was seen traversing the river earlier this week. They passed by without a second glance, but if his scouts stumble upon us, we need to be prepared. Our council is meeting this evening to prepare a plan. I think you should attend.”
“Without a doubt,” she nodded grimly, gazing once more at her lovely little girls. “Without a doubt.”
Quintanus slipped silently down the darkened corridor near the top of the Great Pyramid, his raven-black, hooded robe blending into the late night shadows. Four of his handpicked men trailed him, their faces hidden, like his own, behind ebony masks. At this hour, the halls were completely devoid of life and as quiet as a dusty tomb. The small squad met no resistance and did not expect to within these hallowed passages. Quintanus planned this all out very carefully. Not to do so meant instant death. He did not plan to die before enjoying his reward.
Moving like malevolent ghosts, the men made their way to the richly carved wooden doors of the private chambers and slipped inside, closing the wide doors behind them. They fanned out around the elegantly appointed living room, long, silver-bladed knives glittering in their hands. Stealth was paramount to their mission, the price of discovery far too terrible to contemplate. Using hand signals instead of speech, Quintanus sent a man to stand aside each of the five doors in the hallway. Motioning his men to hold, he slid into the first room, weapon at the ready.
The woman lay buried beneath a mound of twisted sheets and blankets on the well-upholstered bed, snoring loudly in drug-induced slumber. Quintanus spent precious seconds checking the slow, rhythmic beat of her heart. The Izon potion dripped on the food sent to these chambers was not meant to kill, but only to insure his charges would not awaken for many hours. Satisfied, he moved out and nodded to his men to retrieve the packages they came for.
With small sacks in their arms and tossed over their shoulders, the group made their way to a seldom-used, side entrance to the Pyramid. This was the most dangerous moment. Their benefactor guaranteed an easy extraction of their prizes, but could not control the streets outside without arousing suspicion. Quintanus opened the door just a crack to see if anyone was passing on the shimmering, dampened courtyard stones. No sound of wet footfalls touched his sharp ears. He stepped out into the pattering of raindrops on the polished granite walkways and walked to the freight sled parked a few yards away. Checking carefully around him, he signaled his men over, holding back the corner of dark brown leather arched over the top and waved them inside. Once they seated themselves, Quintanus moved forward to the driver’s seat, but before he could enter the vehicle, a strong voice called out behind him.
“What is happening here at such an hour?”
Quintanus slid one hand beneath his robe, touching the hilt of his blade. He turned slowly to face the black-clad Aam that casually approached him. The guard’s rifle hung loosely over his broad back far away from easy, quick reach. Stupid. Quintanus pushed his hood back exposing his bald, boulder-like head to the chill of the night rain.
“Ah, Quin,” the Aam smiled, shoving his own cowl from his face, a big, warm smile spreading across his thin, boyish lips. “How is your evening and what are you doing out in such weather?”
“Alex! So you got the crappy shift tonight,” Quintanus replied with false merriment. “What did you do wrong?”
“I got caught sleeping with the Captain’s girlfriend,” Alex grinned.
“Not a good career move,” Quin replied, edging toward the approaching guard.
“Very true, my friend. Very true.” Alex looked at him quizzically, shifting his steps to the back of the sled. “What are you loading so late? Do you need any help?”
“Just a trash squad clearing out the offices. We are finished for the night.”
“And who did you upset?” Alex laughed reaching for the edge of the leather flap.
Had he glanced back over his shoulder as he spoke, Alex would have seen the city lights reflecting off the silver blade that whipped around him in a deadly arch, slashing a thin line across his exposed throat. Instead, he was left to wonder at the sting and the wet, sticky liquid that soaked his cloak around his neck. He sank to his knees on the water-slicked stone and fell to his hands, amazed at the crimson puddle growing beneath his dimming eyes. As the last of his life fled into the dark, the young Aam thought, ‘What a pretty shade of red.’
“Toss the body into the back,” Quintanus ordered. “We cannot leave him here to be discovered. Hurry. We must be out of the city within the hour if we are to meet our contact on time.”
The sled vanished into the misty darkness leaving behind only a spreading pool of blood that disappeared in the cold, cold rain.
Harknus stood under the dripping branches of a giant maple tree at the southernmost border of the Aropian veldt where the Twin Rivers joined to feed the deep green waters of Lake Cassini. His grey Dire Wolf cloak was soaked through from the angry thunderstorms of early morning and though they had passed some hours ago, his massive frame still shivered from the chill they left behind. He wiped away the droplets of rain dripping from the edge of his hood out of his dead, blue eyes and pushed the useless cowl disgustedly back over his boulder-like head. Thick curls of honey-blond, shoulder-length hair clung to his round skull and bullish neck as if they comprised a helmet of pure gold. His thin lips cut a downward path across his square jawline, appearing to be a permanent feature of a sadistically cruel face.
A faint hum reverberated over the grasslands from the north. Harknus cocked his head to distinguish the number of vehicles approaching. Satisfied there was only one, he stepped away from the trees and into the faint rays of sunlight seeping through the dark, rolling clouds. The fast-moving freight sled dipped into the waist-high, wet, green grass sending a foamy spray fanning out behind it like the wake of a racing ship. Irritated birds disturbed by its intrusion exploded from the field, screaming their displeasure and diving on the invading beast that dared attack their homes. Circling high in the air until it passed, they dropped noisily back into the meadow, their chests puffed up with the resounding defeat of their adversary.
“You are late,” Harknus growled at Quintanus as he walked around to the rear of the sled. “Any problems?”
“None,” Quin lied, lifting the corner of the cover. His men nodded silently from their wooden benches, touching booted feet to the bundled bodies at their feet. “This foul weather slowed us down a bit. Our reward?”
“Ah, yes, that,” Harknus replied, giving no indication he noticed the extra wrapped body stuffed in a dark corner of the sled. He casually turned his back to the other men and strode toward the muddy shores of the blue-black lake. “Come this way, all of you,” he ordered, beckoning the group to follow with a slight wave of his hand.
“Where is she?” Quintanus snapped, his hand shielding his gaze, searching the cold waters for the white billowing sails of the merchant ship they were promised for their service. His brown eyes narrowed dangerously, his free hand reaching for the hilt of the knife buried in the tangles of his robe. He spun on practiced heels, ready to exact his payment from the bl
ood of their contact.
Quin never completed his movement. His severed torso toppled to one side, his legs kicking out a thumping dance of death in the damp sand of the shoreline. Harknus quietly and efficiently dispatched the rest of the surprised raiders before the smallest utterance of shock could pass their lips. The narrow red beam of the Proto-pistol in his hand cut them into bloodless, cauterized pieces before they could turn, run or even shout.
Harknus picked up the grisly body parts and tossed them nonchalantly into the lake, dispassionately watching until each morsel sank to the unfathomed depths to be tender snacks for the denizens of the deep. He washed his hands in the icy cold water, cleansing the stink of charred, dead flesh from his skin before turning back to the freighter. Jumping into the bed of the sled, he checked on the slow, even breathing of his cargo, satisfying himself they still slept. To insure they stayed that way, he saturated a piece of cloth with the sleeping potion he carried in a small pouch and held it over their faces for a few moments. Nodding to himself, Harknus planted his bulk in the driver’s seat. He skimmed over the turbulent waters of the western fork of the Twin Rivers, heading for the copper and iron minds of the southwestern deserts. He had four stops to make before his task was complete and he could return to his home in Atlantis.
‘Best get to it,’ he thought, shifting the sled into high. ‘My wife will wonder where I have been for three days.’ He smiled grimly to himself. ‘It is best not to be on her bad side.’
“What have you done with the children?” Rhea screamed, bursting into Cronus’ private quarters, her blue eyes flaming more brilliant than a thousand suns. Her long, blond hair flared around her, moved by the tempest boiling within her taunt muscles. The thin, azure summer robe she wore over her deep-blue leggings and white blouse swept the floor behind her as she stormed across the patterned marble floor of the sparsely furnished room.
