by Gene Stiles
“How can that be?” Cronus, reseated in his black leather chair, laughed aloud at such an outrageous statement. “They get sick. They get broken. They cannot Heal. They have the lifespan of a flea. How could you even suggest they are stronger than we are?”
“And yet they adapted to three times the gravity without technological aid,” Asclepius countered, shrugging his wide, flat shoulders. “They breathe this thick, heavy atmosphere without mechanical help. They have survived for countless eons, fighting against the elements and all the horrors of this world without our sciences to protect them. The Izon are robust as a race. The weak and sickly die out without producing progeny that carry on those traits.”
“Just like animals,” Iapetus scoffed derisively.
“Yes. Just like animals,” Asclepius agreed with a nod. “And, just like animals, only the strong survive.”
“Since the People and the Izon are of the same species,” Crius asked timidly, his long, tight black curly hair hanging loose around his head, “would it possible to interbreed, combining the best of both races?”
The collective gasp from his brothers and sisters caused his young face to burn a bright crimson. Shouts of disgust and horror echoed from the walls. Recriminations poured down upon his lowered head, pounding his slumped shoulders like torrents of painful, pelting hail. Crius shrank into his chair, attempting to hide from the vehement outcries and insults thrown in his direction.
Only Asclepius did not make comment. He stood tall and silent, his square jaw firmly set, his strong hands clasped before the long, white robe hanging open from his broad shoulders, past his narrow waist to the bottom of his muscled dancer’s legs. He waited until the commotion died down to snickering and angered murmurs then addressed the council, answering Crius calmly.
“Yes,” he said flatly, “it would be possible.” Shocked, the chamber exploded into chaos once again. Asclepius raised his hand for quiet, assisted by a shout from Cronus. “I did not say it was a good idea,” he continued. “I only said it was possible. Crius asked a valid question, however, we do not know what the result of such a union would be.”
“An abomination,” Iapetus roared, his muscles rippling beneath his ebony leathers. “An insult to the Creator!”
“I have nothing against the Izon,” Themis stated kindly. “I believe them to be intelligent, warm and wondrous people, however what Atlantean woman would ever want to mate with one of them? I am sorry, but they are ugly and bestial, misshapen by our standards. The mere thought is horrible.”
“What man or woman for that matter,” Thea added, revulsion plainly written in her jade green eyes, “would take such a chance with their children? What would they look like? Would they be a hairy, brutish Atlantean or would they be deformed, halfway between the People and the Clan? There is no way one of the People would take an Izon as a mate! Ever!”
“Calm yourselves,” Asclepius replied, raising his hand to ward off further comment. “I did not suggest such a solution. I agree there would be no way to predict the outcome and I also agree that no member of the People would be open to such an idea. I simply said it was possible. That is all.”
“You must find a different and better course of action,” Cronus thundered, rising from his chair once again. “And you must do it now!”
He turned and stomped out of the chamber leaving the rest to shout and debate. His visage was dark and troubled. They had not come so far, gone through so much only to die out here on this alien planet. There must be a way through this! His heart sickened and twisted, pain rolling through his tortured mind. He did not kill his own father for this! It could not end like this! Cronus quivered, his muscles bunching and aching. Had he doomed his People once again by bringing them here, filling them with false hope? Was this some terrifying punishment by the Creator for his many sins? What could he do to make amends? Anything. He would make any sacrifice to save the People. Even give up his own life. Could it be the Creator took the children of Atlantis as he took his children from their mother? Maybe, if he returned them to her, the Creator would be appeased! At least that was something he could rectify. He prayed it would be enough even if it meant the prophecy would then come to pass. Yes, even then.
Cronus desperately searched every corner of the Great Pyramid for Rhea. She was nowhere to be found. Her private chambers looked as if she had not been there for months. He checked her laboratories and offices. The people there informed him she quit her duties a long time ago. They had no idea where she was now. Cronus sent Aam out to every street corner, seeking information on her whereabouts.
Even though the early afternoon sun burned bright high above him, a chilling sense of panic began to creep up his spine. Cronus skimmed along the smooth paved roadways, his flaming red curls whipping around his squared head like a cloak of fire. His emerald eyes watered not from the light wind blowing against his face, but from the realization he had ignored her completely for so very long. He lost himself in his work and the problems inherent in managing a globe-spanning society. He never meant to make her feel less. His love was far too great.
No. No, that was not a reason, but an excuse, he admitted to himself as he slowly cruised through the shining city, stopping to ask around the Wind Song. Truth be known, Cronus was ashamed. In the hidden corners of his mind, he knew the pain he caused her. She loved her children more than life itself and he had torn them from her grasp. He saw the agony shimmering in her beautiful blue eyes, her silent plea to him to recant, and he could not look upon her. He thought it would bring them closer, he said to himself in his guilt, freeing them to concentrate on each other without the distraction of prophesy. Cronus knew that to be a lie. It was his own fear that drove him and nothing more.
His gray travel robe, cinched tight around his narrow waist by a wide, black leather belt, highlighted his broad shoulders, the loose sleeves billowing up his thickly muscled arms in the breeze. Cronus listened to the accusations of the wind, the whispers of the hurt he caused his love. He prayed it was not too late to make amends for his horrid misdeeds. He must find her!
“Sir!” an Aam called out, waving an arm as he passed. Cronus skidded to a halt, waiting as the man rushed to his side. “The Lady Rhea has a cabin about three miles south of the city at the edge of the wood. I am told she spends most of her time there.”
“Thank you, Masdek,” Cronus smiled happily, clasping him upon the shoulder. “I thank you greatly.”
“At your service, sir,” the Aam nodded, watching as the Lord Father spun his sled around and sped out of Atlantis.
Cronus pushed the sled as fast as it would move, racing through the green, brightly flowered meadow close to the tree line. His joy blushed his cheeks as he leaned low into the warm, rushing air, lighting his spreading smile. The rich aroma of fresh, multicolored blossoms assailed his flared nostrils, perfuming the wind with their radiant glory. A short distance away, Cronus spied the small wooden cabin, a wisp of white smoke rising from the tall, stone chimney. An idea touching his ecstatic, jubilant mind, he pulled the sled into the trees, stopping to pick a large bouquet of vibrant wildflowers with which to surprise her. His soul singing with all he would say to Rhea, he turned to walk the short remaining distance through the forest.
Cronus froze stock still, crushing the petals in his hand, his elation burned away in the fires consuming his blackened heart.
“There are times I feel so desperately lonely,” Rhea said sadly, staring into her cup of hot green tea, her long, shapely legs curled beneath her on the tan leather sofa. Her honey blond hair hung in loose waves over her slumped shoulders, falling across the swell of her slowly breathing chest and piling in a tangled heap on the lap of her sleeveless, knee-length, blue cotton shift. Her sky blue eyes were cloudy with unshed tears, shimmering in the flicker of the small fire in the hearth. Her full, pink lips quivered upon her soft oval face, a touch of rose coloring her high cheekbones.
“With Loki spending most of his time at Home these days,” she whi
spered, “these walls are cold and empty. I never imagined the boy would come to mean so much to me.”
“I do understand,” Hyperion replied, tenderly brushing the hair from her smooth forehead. “He is a remarkable young man, but he must remind you of your other children. I know your heart aches for them still. I listen to every rumor passing through the Wind Song. I promise you, I have not given up hope of finding them for you.”
“I know, sweet Hyperion,” Rhea sighed, gazing into his jade green eyes. She placed her palm upon his chiseled cheek, her slender fingers running through the tight curls of his ebony hair. “I thank you for that even though I must admit there is little hope of my own left in my heart.”
“Hope is what makes us all we are.” Hyperion pulled her into his strong arms, laying her head on his shoulder as her tears fell anew. “Never lose that, my dear lady.”
She buried her head against his smooth, muscled chest, nestled in the warmth of his embrace, feeling his slow and steady heartbeat in her ears. For oh, so long, he had been her companion, her rock and her safe haven against the storms of her life. Hyperion was there whenever she needed him as strong and solid as the ground beneath her feet, never asking for anything in return. His gentle guidance led her when she required it. When she did not, he only listened, instinctively knowing which she needed the most. What could she ever give such a man, such a soulmate?
Rhea gazed up at his sculpted features, the kindness and caring in his soulful eyes and placed her hand around the nape of his neck. She lifted her face to his, her full lips seeking the pleasure of his. Her kiss heated the passion flaming inside of her, setting her body on fire. A small moan escaped from her slightly open mouth as she sought him out, pulling her body tightly against his.
Hyperion gripped her delicate shoulders in his large hands and eased her away from his wanting lips, taking a deep, steadying breath. A small wan smile played across his features filled with the softest of sorrows Rhea had ever seen. His black eyes glistened with a depth of pain she never witnessed in her happy, carefree, playful friend before this day. She did not understand the distance he put between them or the melancholy heartache written on his face. He lowered his great head as if to hide from her gaze, a sigh whispering from his lips.
“I cannot, dear Rhea,” he said quietly, not meeting her questioning blue eyes. “I am truly sorry.”
“Why not, Hyperion? Do you not find me desirous? Am I that abhorrent to you?” The misery in her weeping voice cut him like the sharpest of blades, down to the very marrow of his bones.
“Oh, lovely woman,” he replied, taking her hands in his, “your radiance outshines the sun above and all the stars in the heavens. No man could ever turn his head from your grace and your charms.”
“And yet you do,” Rhea muttered, her words filled with anguish, staring at his big hands surrounding hers.
“I must,” was all he said.
“Why, Hyperion? I am so lonely,” she implored. “I have not been touched since Poseidon was born so many years ago. I crave to be wanted, to be needed, to be desired. You are my best friend. The only one I would trust. I hunger for your naked body next to mine. Is that so wrong?”
“No, sweet Rhea, and I know I am a fool for turning you down,” he answered told her, “but you are a married woman, the wife of my own brother.”
“Oh, Hyperion,” she laughed lightly, “you have been with countless married women. It never mattered to you before.” Her voice fell again to quiet dismay. “As for Cronus, you know he has no more need of me. His love for me disappeared many years ago as my love for him vanished with my children. You have always been here for me. Please be here for me once again.”
“I cannot,” he said mournfully, rising from the couch and making his way toward the door. “I must go.”
“Why not?” she begged, stepping in front of him to block his path. “What makes me so different a plaything?”
“Because you could never be my plaything.” Hyperion reached over her slumped shoulders and lifted his long cloak from the peg by the door. “I love you, Rhea. I have always loved you and I will always love you. I have never been anything more than your friend and a flirty distraction. I am all right with that, I swear, but I could never have just casual sex with you without having all of you.”
“No matter what you feel at the moment,” he said, his heart bleeding on the floor, “you could never give me the love I truly desire. I am and will always be your friend.”
Stunned by his admission, Rhea stepped aside silently, following him out onto the porch, then to his waiting sled. He wrapped his dark cloak over his tall, graceful frame and turned to her once more, drawing her into his arms. He lifted her chin and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
“I will always be here for you, my sweet lady. Please do not ask me for more, I beg of you. I do not think I would have the strength to tell you no once again.” Hyperion threw a long leg over his ride and turned toward Atlantis without a backward glance, leaving Rhea weeping in the sunshine.
Maybe if he had looked back, he would have seen Cronus stomping through the woods, his face black and murderous. His red curls caught the beams of sunlight filtering through the thick, green foliage of the trees, igniting them in flames of fury. The breeze twisted his hair around him like the nest of venomous serpents never far from the pit of tortured soul. His jade eyes sparked and crackled with the green lightning of jealousy, setting fire to his withering heart.
Rhea walked dejectedly and torn back into the cabin, closing the door behind her. So wrapped up in her own heartache and desires, her schemes and her anger was she that she had failed to think of what Hyperion might be experiencing. It shamed her to her core. He was so confident and charming, so alive and buoyant, so flirtatious and amorous to all the women of Atlantis, surrounded always by beautiful, adoring ladies she never gave thought to the possibility that he loved one above all others let alone that it would be her. Now what was she to do? Had her advances destroyed the deep, abiding friendship they shared? She prayed to the Creator they had not. What would she do without him?
Rhea heard the crunching of stones upon the walkway and the squeak of loose boards on the porch. She rushed to the door, happy he had returned to her, her smile exploding like star shine.
“Hyperion,” she cried out, “I am so sorry. I…”
The doorway erupted inward in a shower of sharp-edged splinters. Rhea instinctively threw her arm across her moisture-laden eyes, saving them from the needles of oak that pelted her exposed skin with the sting of a thousand hornets. She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the end of the couch. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, her blue eyes wide and terrified at the demonic apparition that occluded her threshold. For a moment, the brilliant sunlight streaming inside blotted out the monster, blanketing it in utter darkness. And then she saw.
“Cronus! What…” The words turned to frozen ice, the shards cutting deep into her throat. Her neck muscles constricted, nearly cutting off the breath from her lungs.
Cronus took three quick steps and was on her, his hammer-sized hand slapping her so hard Rhea rocketed over the sofa, landing in a crumpled heap on the throw rug in front of the hearth. The impact shuddered the floorboards, red hot sparks erupting from the fire and raising welts on her tender flesh. Stunned and foggy, she could do nothing as he lifted her from the ground by the front of her shift, his knuckles hard and white beneath her chin. Rhea hung limp and helpless in his deadly grip, her feet held aloft by his bulging arm, one sandal dangling from her foot by a single string.
“So this is why you no longer stay within the city!” Cronus roared, shaking her so violently Rhea almost lost consciousness. His features, once so handsome and kind, twisted into a malignant mask diabolical, fiendish madness. “This is why you refuse to share my bed! You live here with your lover, Hyperion! My wife and my own brother!”
“Cronus, no,” she managed to gasp, her hands wrapping around his sinewy wrist. “You are wrong. We ne
ver…”
“No! I will hear none of your lies!” He balled up his other fist, drawing back to crush the deceitful words before they could leave her bleeding lips. “I may not have caught you in the act, but I saw the look of desire in your eyes. I know it for what it is!”
She knew the blow would kill her, shattering her skull in a million fragments, piercing her brain into oblivion. There was nothing she could do about it. She could not deny her wanting for Hyperion. It was true. Maybe this is what she deserved for her carnal thoughts without caring how it would hurt him or her husband, but she would face it as her just punishment. She stared at Cronus, resigned to her fate and waiting for her pain to end at last.
But the release did not come. She saw his arm quake, the tendons and muscles rippling up and across his shivering shoulder.
“No. You will not escape so easily,” Cronus hissed, dropping his knuckles and throwing her to the floor. He grabbed her by her long blond hair and dragged her struggling form into the bedroom. He picked her up and tossed her on the mattress, a snarling growl low in his throat.
“Is this where he fouled you? Is this where you sweated and panted together like animals?” Cronus tore his belt from its loops and dropped his breeches to the floor. Rhea tried to run, but he was on her before she could move. “You will give me what you gave him! You will give your husband what you have withheld for so long!”
Her terror-filled screams went unheard by the night. Her pain and agony went ignored by the wind. Her suffering and cries for help went unheard by the Creator. When the frenzied gruntings and maniacal heavings were finally over, Rhea lay in a crumpled ball on the disgustingly soiled sheets, her dress in tatters above her bruised hips. Cronus turned his back to her mewling tears, spend and redressing himself.
“You will leave this place and return to Atlantis with me at once,” he ordered, his voice flat and cold. “You will take up residence in your quarters and be there whenever I call on you. You will never speak to my brother again. Do I make myself clear?”
