by Gene Stiles
“I will not,” Rhea stammered through her broken lips. “Never! You shall never touch me again,” she shouted, a glowing rod of fury strengthening her spine. “You are a despicable beast! It makes me ill to smell your scent upon me!”
“You will do as I say,” Cronus replied, staring at her with eyes as frozen as a blue-white glacier. “You will do this and you will speak to no one about anything other than your joy at being back at home with me.”
“You cannot force me to do this,” Rhea replied, black hatred searing her soul. “You will have to kill me first.”
“I will not kill you,” Cronus said bluntly. “I will kill Hyperion. But before I do, he will suffer such tortures as your feeble mind cannot even begin to comprehend. When I am finished flaying the skin from his bones, I will let him Heal and do it all over again. Anyone who hears the slightest dissent from your lips will share the same fate. You will travel nowhere without escort and my consent. Do you understand me?”
Rhea stared at this satanic thing she once loved, her body shivering and quaking with revulsion. Such atrocious horrors visited upon the flesh of sweet Hyperion cracked her mind with hellish visions of nightmarish agony and rivers of crimson blood. She saw his kind eyes plucked out and pulped beneath the boot of Cronus, his tender, sensuous lips sheared from his beautiful face. Barbarous phantasms danced around the inferno blazing in her soul, Rhea could do nothing but shut down her heart, protecting the last vestiges of her sanity from the terrible heat.
Outside the cabin, Rhea mounted the sled Cronus retrieved from the forest. She sat in mute resignation behind him, watching the flames licking hungrily at the wooden shingles on the roof. They claimed the timbers and planks of the porch, thick black smoke billowing above the tree line. A solitary cloud appeared in the nighttime sky, blotting out the stars and drenching the fire in the tears of the Creator. The remains of her home hissed and crackled, stubbornly refusing to be quenched.
Rhea stared at the smoldering flames as Cronus turned the sled toward Atlantis. Her violation was complete.
Chapter XVIII
The warm winds of summer blew through the tall stand of fragrant maple trees, rustling the wide green leaves like the wind chimes of nature. The thick canopy of foliage high above kept the bright yellow sun from penetrating to the lush grass below. The ground was warm and soft, ideal for spreading a picnic blanket and sharing a perfect day with such a beautiful woman.
Ida lay upon the brown and red striped blanket staring wistfully up at the glittering speckles of golden light filtering through the leafy branches, a blissful smile playing across her full rose lips. The chipped jade flecks in her half open, brilliant blue eyes caught the light just right and glistened like jewels laying at the bottom of a clear lake. Her hands cupped behind her head, she sighed contentedly, inhaling the rich aroma of wild flowers, grass and trees deep into her lungs.
Loki lay next to her on his side, resting his boulder-like head in his massive palm, lost in the glory of her perfection. He studied her every feature as if seeing her for the first time, awed by the fact she was here with him. Her honey-blonde hair, streaked with a light tint of red, fanned out around her oval face like a golden corona. Loki watched her stretch languidly like a contented kitty, her back arched off the ground, drawing his attention to the full rise of her chest, the muscled ripples of her flat, slender stomach and her long, shapely legs. The thin cotton turquois chiton she wore over her tan, formfitting breeches only highlight the desirous charms he hoped to one day taste fully.
“And just what are you looking at, kind sir,” Ida said playfully, a mischievous grin brightening her soft face.
“I do believe I am looking at the most wondrous creature the Creator ever designed,” Loki responded, his mahogany eyes filled with laughter. He ran a fingertip down the side of her angular face from her smooth forehead, along her high, pink cheekbones to her slightly pointed chin. “There has never been a more perfect creation in all of nature.”
Ida laughed delightedly, shoving his shoulder and rolling Loki onto his back. She leaned over and kissed him softly on his ample pink lips. Shaking her head, she ran her fingers through his wavy, ebony hair and studied his handsome, square face. His countenance was like a block of perfectly sculpted granite from his wide brow and suntanned cheeks to his sharply angled jawline. She caressed his enormous, chiseled chest, sliding her hand down to rest on his narrow, muscled-rippled stomach.
“You say that to all of the hordes of women who adore you, silly man,” Ida chuckled softly. “Do you really think I will fall all over you at such blatant flattery?”
“Well you do seem to be all over me at the moment,” he stated, his dark eyes shining with mirth.
“That is only because you are comfortable to lay on and not because of your words,” she replied coyly. “Although you are a little hard. You could use a bit more padding.”
“You would make me fat?”
“Not fat, just cushy,” Ida giggled, sitting up and reaching for the sweet red strawberry wine they brought with them. She poured them each a glass and offered Loki one. “Do you really have to go so soon? It is not yet harvest time. I will miss you with all of my heart.”
“I will not be gone long, just a few weeks,” he assured her, his tone becoming harder with worry. “I am just concerned about the Lady Rhea. She usually speaks to me at least once a week, but I have not heard from her in over a month. I fear something is terribly wrong. I must seek her out and make sure she is all right.”
“I do truly understand,” Ida nodded. “I will miss you greatly though.”
“Then come with me,” Loki suggested suddenly, his face lighting up.
“Come with you?”
“Yes! You have never been to Atlantis,” he replied. “I think you would love it. We could have fun while we are there. I would enjoy showing you off.”
“Oh, so I am just a jewel for your crown of women,” Ida responded with a smile. “What am I? A prized horse or your pet?”
“You try to make my life difficult on purpose,” Loki muttered with a sigh, shaking his head. “But, seriously, I would like you to come with me.”
“I am sure that can be arranged if you would truly like me to join you,” Ida agreed. “Thank you for wanting me at your side.”
“Always,” he said softly. “Always.”
After receiving permission and a detailed cover story from Morpheus and Haleah, they took a long route, slow but necessary to keep the location of Home a vital secret. Ida and Loki travelled by sled east along the meadows lining the Planum River to the Phoebian Delta. There they took the small sail boat hidden for them by Captain Thalassa and her crew and headed out to sea.
The waters of the Tethys Sea were awe inspiring in their crystal clarity. Neither Ida nor Loki had ever seen anything like it. The shimmering verdigris ocean stretched endless across the horizon, meeting the azure sky in a nearly undiscernible line. Fluffy clouds drifted lazily overhead in a wind just strong enough to push their little craft along the flat top of the tranquil sea. Low, gentle waves kissed the shoreline of the Hecatus Islands, green with foliage so lush no sandy beaches were visible beneath it. The calls of a million sea birds greeted their passing in cries of warning and curiosity. Huge flocks of wide-winged, white gulls exploded from the tree tops and rounded rock outcroppings, snowcapped by ages of droppings, which stood like silent monoliths above the beautiful ocean. Loki and Ida said little, silenced by the pure, magnificent majesty in which the Creator cradled them.
They stopped as close as they dared to the port city of Lycus at the eastern delta of the River Gaia. A small stream just deep enough to accommodate their boat flowed from the Northern Mountains into a tiny cove about thirty miles north of the city. Loki piloted them a short distance inland, finding a finger of beach to land upon. A forest of giant redwood trees lay before them along the coastline. The two made camp at the tip of the tree line, pulling their lightweight craft beneath them. The night was warm but humid from
the dripping trees and thick coastal fog so they were glad Haleah insisted they bring a collapsible dome tent. Loki and Ida spent the night cuddled together in their blankets listening to the sounds of small animals skittering among the undergrowth, the croaking of colorful tree frogs and the musical songs of night birds high in the dark green canopy above them. Even with the anxious urgency of their mission, they could not help but smile at the wonders around them. They fell into exhausted sleep in each other’s arms, peaceful and content.
In the morning they filled packs with the supplies they brought with them, covered their sailboat with fronds and branches and made their way through wide paths open among the ferns and flowers. Within four hours they were strolling among the busy cobbled streets of Lycus, blending into the bustling crowds. They found passage on a cruise ship returning to Atlantis with a group of vacationers and fishermen and settled into seats lining the main deck bulwarks.
Ida stared at the glistening golden spires rising in the clear blue skyline, her mouth gaping open in wide-eyed wonderment. The crystal cathedrals of towering buildings, silver-edged domes and colorful storefronts were far more incredible than she had ever dreamed. Loki held tight to her hand and pulled her through the streets, his mahogany eyes twinkling in amusement at her child-like awe. She hammered him with a barrage of questions, her face alight with excitement. He laughed at her, calling her ‘country girl’ in whispered jest.
Ida was incredibly beautiful even dressed in simple tan breeches and matching vest laced up the sides with strips of black leather. Waves of honey-blond hair cascaded over her bare, smooth shoulders, down past her slender waist to the back of her knees. Her shapely body drew more than one sideways glance of appreciation. Staring at the incredible array of clothing and style, she never noticed the fleeting glimpses. But she was not the main object of the gawking looks the People of Atlantis showered them with.
Loki went through a growth spurt between his sixteenth birthday and his eighteenth that earned him the nickname Goliath among the residents of Home. He looked like a moving mountain, standing ten-foot-four-inches tall. His enormous chest radiated raw animalist power, shirtless beneath the black leather, deep V vest struggling to contain it. Loki’s copper tanned arms were as thick as the waist of most men, bulging with massive muscles. The tooled leather band that encompassed his biceps could fit around the mast of a small ship. Matching wristbands, inlaid with a vicious hawk, wings outspread, mouth open in the scream of a hunter, wrapped his lower arms up to the swell of his sinewy forearms. Loki wore breeches of thick cotton dyed black that hugged muscular legs that were as thick as the trunk of a young oak tree and black, calf-high boots. His long hair hung down his gargantuan back like an onyx cape, held from his cinnamon eyes by a tan, tooled headband. The chiseled features blessing his square, sharply-cut face caused many of the women passing by him to flash flirtatious, lusty glances in his direction. He appeared to the People of Atlantis almost godly, sculpted by the hands of the Creator as a personification of perfection.
Loki kept them to the edge of the city, ignoring the tugging of Ida’s hand in his and her constant pleas to explore, but promising they would return after they completed the purpose behind their journey. He took them to the Aropian Veldt at the southern end of Atlantis, a favorite spot for picnickers, carrying a lunch as if they were out for a day in the meadows. Once well away from prying eyes, he turned south along the tree line toward Rhea’s cabin, reaching it as the sun kissed the western horizon.
“Oh, Creator!” Loki cried out at the first sight of the blackened skeleton of the home he loved. He dropped Ida’s hand and rushed to the sight, falling on his knees with a thud. He hung his head, his fingers grasping a handful of ash and cold embers, crushing the dead charcoal in his hands. “Oh, please, no,” he wept. “Not again. Not again.”
Ida rushed to his side, squatting next to him, her arms wrapped around his neck. She leaned her head his quivering shoulder, cooing softly. She spoke no words, just murmured little nothings, sounds meant to comfort and console, holding him until the sobbing slowed to silent tears.
She understood his horror and his terror. Loki told her of the day his mother immolated herself in the bonfire of their home. He knew he hated her, but she was his mother and he suffered with the burden of her death, blaming his own actions that day for her suicide. Nothing anyone said could change his mind or ease his guilt and it gnawed at him daily. Now this. How could she possible help him if Rhea was gone? The mere thought of it filled her mind with a deep, dark dread.
“We must find Hyperion,” she whispered into his ear. “He will assure us Rhea is safe. I am sure of it.”
Loki looked at her as if he did not understand, his tear-sodden face questioning and drawn. His dark brown eyes were swollen and red, his vision blurry and dazed.
“We must find Hyperion,” she said again more firmly this time, touching his tortured face and caressing his furrowed forehead. “Let us find Hyperion.”
“Yes,” he muttered finally, raising to his feet as if defeated and broken. “Yes. We must do that.” But he did not turn toward Atlantis. He wandered through the crumbled remains, staring at the fire-cracked wood and the soot-covered stones of the hearth as if fearfully searching for a twisted, charred body.
“Come, Loki,” she urged him, reaching out her hand, using his Atlantean name as he wished, but tasting the repugnance of the word upon her lips. He was not ‘the hated one’. He was loved by many. Especially her. “Let us leave this place.”
After a time, he heard her and took her hand. Walking through the dimming twilight descending upon them, Loki and Ida headed for the city lights glowing in the distance, keeping their fears and nightmares to themselves.
The Wind Song was bathed in magnificent color, the hollows and chimes in its towers singing to the night. Throngs of people filled the smooth, seamless sidewalks, dressed in a kaleidoscope of chromaticity and style, waiting for their chance to get inside. Across the street, the colossal Central Pyramid rose high in the inky black, star-lit sky, lighted by huge spotlights at each corner. The crystal widows, smooth, silver sides and the top of gold was awe inspiring in its majesty. Ida did not know which of the incredible wonders astounded her more. She had never imagined such beauty.
She stood in the line by the entrance to the Wind Song, dressed in the short, sparkling, light-blue, low-cut dress, belted at the waist by a sash of gold edged in red and calf-high, dark blue boots that Loki bought for her when they entered the city. Around her neck hung a thin chain of gold with a teardrop-shaped ruby pendant that rested comfortably within the V of her ample cleavage. A wide crimson band bound her long, wavy, golden-blond hair, tinted with streaks of red, at the nape of her neck by a, held back from her forehead by a tooled, midnight blue headband. Add to that her sensuous rose lips and jade-flecked blue eyes and she was stunning.
As earlier, it was the gargantuan Loki, holding her copper-skinned arm, who drew the most attention dressed in his black leathers and boots. A large swath of silver in the shape of a T, slightly dipped in center, crossed over his mammoth chest and broad back, highlighting his huge muscles. He wore a white, billow-sleeved shirt beneath his vest, attached at the wrist by bands of silver and a flat-linked chain of silver loose around his neck. His shining, wavy ebony hair hung loose and unrestrained around his startlingly handsome face, receiving enticing glances from the women passing by. He noticed not, his mind centered on getting inside as quickly as possible.
The attendant at the door looked up at Loki, his face wearing a funny mask of stupefied marvel that brought a smile to Ida as they passed though the threshold of the club. She held tight to her companion not only to keep from being separated in the swirling mass of people filling the Wind Song, but also to sternly inform the ladies staring in undisguised, naked desire that Loki was hers and only hers.
The wondrous noise assaulted Ida’s ears, filled with laughter and yelled conversations. Music filled every corner of the club, piped through hidd
en speakers embedded in the walls. Inside gigantic crystal walls, a thick fluid of some kind swam in rainbow of hues in time with the melodic, pounding rhythm of the band playing on the stage. The People packed every table and every inch of floor space making movement difficult for most. However, they parted like water before a sharp prow as the two made their way toward the immense U-shaped bar at the far side of the room. Everyone stopped silent, stepping aside for the behemoth rising above them, their conversations becoming even more excited in their wake.
Before they even traveled halfway, a familiar rich baritone voice called out, “Welcome!” They turned to see Hyperion striding toward them, a gorgeous woman dripping from each arm. The look on his face was a strange mixture of surprise, joy and feigned gaiety. A light pink blouse accented his shiny, crimson-leather vest and breeches and the black, calf-high boots he wore. A thin, white gossamer, sleeveless, robe, open on the sides and front, covered his gaudy ensemble, belted around his narrow waist by a buckled band of gold.
“Welcome to the Wind Song. My,” he chuckled, patting Loki on the shoulders, “you are a big one! What brings two new strangers to our fair city?” he asked with a laugh, though his eyes plainly knew the reason. In those jade orbs and forced smile, Loki recognized the secret warning and went along. Hyperion disentangled himself from the giggling girls on his arms, introduced himself then hustled Ida and Loki into a quiet corner upstairs.
“It is better that no one knows we are acquainted for now,” Hyperion said in a low voice, leaning forward to be heard across the table in the booth where they sat. He kept a smile upon his face and laughter in his voice that did not match the words he spoke. “This is not a good place and time to speak. Go to the back alley behind the club in one hour. There is a door there. I will slip you inside and up to my private office. Until then, act as if you are here to have fun.”
Hyperion stood up with a loud, boisterous laugh and called over a lovely serving girl. “All your drinks are on the house tonight! Enjoy your first visit to the Wind Song,” he shouted, instructing the maiden to take good care of his guests before returning to the crowd below.
