Colony - Seeds of War (Colony - The Saga of Earth's First Civilizaton Book 4)

by Gene Stiles

  A strange silence enshrouded the two adversaries facing each other as if the world awaited their embrace. The Jackal started a bizarre dance, black booted feet swirling on the meadow, a ghostly breeze flattening the green blades of grass with its touch. The paws of the creature wove mystifying patterns in the warm air, some slow and serpentine, others so fast that only the sweeping currents marked their passing. The beast swayed its body in weaving, graceful movements that were beautiful in their deadly enchantment.

  The High Priest shivered with anticipation, an epiphany blazing in his mind. He knew in that moment who his foe really was. This is what he had trained his whole life for! It was for this his dedication to his god had prepared him! A smile spread over his square-jawed face and serenity washed away his anger and his fear.

  The Jackal had a name. This enticing, mystifying apparition was none other than Anubis, the Lord of Darkness and the eternal enemy of Sirius, the God of Light. That seductive dance was meant to enthrall the Priest, luring him to its temptations and alluring, captivating charms, dulling his senses. Seeker would not fall. He would not be draw in. He would destroy the darkness once and for all. It was why he was born colossal, given the strength of Sirius to crush his enemy. Seeker dropped his guard, his arms falling to his side, his eyes blank, lost in the Jackal’s movements.

  It was the opening Astraeus waited for. The Dance of the Aam, the weaving of martial arts patterns, dulled the monstrous Seeker just long enough for him to strike. With all of his motion, speed and prodigious strength, the Atlantean swept his right leg around in a bone-breaking arc.

  Faster than the Captain granted one of such massive bulk, Seeker raised his leg just enough so the spinning back kick meant for his kneecap stuck, instead, the behemoth’s tree-trunk calf. It spun the Priest around, dropping him to one knee, his face a mask of horrified agony, but he gritted his teeth and held silent.

  However, for Astraeus if felt as if he threw all of his power against a pillar of solid granite. A shockwave exploded upward from his fractured tibia, numbing his leg, trembling his torso and erupting molten lava behind his eyes. If not for the ebony armor, it was his bones that would have shattered. He hit the ground like a stone, his vision blurred, his muscles locked and quivering. It lasted an eternity of heartbeats and left him vulnerable, unable to move.

  Seeker spun on the knee of his damaged leg, throwing himself on top of the prone form of Anubis, his prodigious body weight pinning the demonic apparition to the earth. He gripped his two monstrous hands together and slammed them down upon the chest of the creature, gratified with the sound of cracking ribs. A whoosh of wind spewed from the enemy of Sirius, a red mist of blood mixed with its foul breath. The High Priest raised his enormous fists high above his head, his body electrified. ‘Glory be to Sirius!’ he thought with joyous pride, bringing his knuckled hands down in a killing blow.

  Outside of his cone of combat, a battle raged. The loyalist guards of the Lord God clashed with their traitorous brethren in a ringing of steel on steel. Crimson puddles stained the green grasses and made slick the rich soil beneath. Screams and wails carried on the warm autumn breeze scattered the citizens of Nil and the Izon that had crowded the streets to stare at the arrival of the creatures. Brilliant yellow lightning rent the air accompanied by the putrid, nauseating stench of burning flesh. Once free of the battle zone, they stopped, hiding behind the protection of granite buildings to peek around corners and windows, sickly enthralled by the carnage in the field.

  Isis swung her staff around her like a baton, spinning and swirling, cracking against uncovered flesh. Howls of torment followed each contact as guards fell like leaves at her feet. Her savage wildcat visage snarled in glee, her soul imbued with the primordial spirit of a feline huntress. Yet, her blows were not intent to kill or maim, but only to render her assailants unable to continue the fight. Soon she stood alone and untouched, surrounded by moans and crumpled bodies. She breathed in a deep draw of warm air, the face behind her helmet touched by a grim smile. A sound at her back spun her around to face another, more dangerous foe.

  “Demon! Fight someone worthy of your power. Fight me!”

  Seshat stood a few feet away, the still, bloody body of Wadjet curled at her feet. Her half-lidded, oval, hazel eyes blazed with flecks of jade fire, her thin pink lips tight upon her long, pointed-chin face. She glided toward Isis, viciously kicking her Sister as she stepped over her. The tips of her gold-edged, white and turquois wings were tainted in blood, her dark blue gown torn and wrinkled. Her tall, slender body moved with the same fluid, feline grace as Isis, her scowling countenance as vicious as that of a cat.

  “I shall destroy you in the name of Apophus, Lord God of all the world,” she hissed, her staff held under her wings. “You shall rue the day you dared tread upon our land, vile creature.”

  “Then quit talking and get on with it,” Isis chided sarcastically. She spun her golden staff, whipping it around her with the speed of a whirlwind. She slid forward on one leg, poised and ready for combat. Her fangs bared with anticipation, she growled low in her throat and attacked.

  Silver and gold collided with each other in sparks of blue-yellow energy emanating from the carvings on the rods. The fury of a tornado enclosed the women in a bubble of spinning staffs. The sounds of a ferocious whirlwind clove the air, interrupted by the clang of metal on metal. The two feline foes seemed evenly matched, unable to land a single blow upon the other. They wove a tapestry of intricate acrimony, deadly in its dance, each testing the other for the slightest weakness.

  Seshat knew she was tiring and must finish this soon or perish. Her copper-skinned body was sheathed in sweat, her fatigued muscles stinging from the vibrations of contact upon her staff. Her demonic opponent was possessed of maniacal power and far more formidable than she anticipated. Seshat could not even bring the tip of her staff into play, unable to get a clear shot at the beast. Then the great god, Sirius, came to her aid.

  The last remaining guard, sunk to his knees in the crimson-stained grass, managed to throw his bloody blade at the back of the cat-creature before crumpling unconscious upon the ground. The sword miraculously slipped through the swirling staff and glanced off the shining white armor encasing the warrior. It did no harm to her skin, but it did distract the woman for the length of a heartbeat.

  Seshat stepped back and lowered her staff, pressing a raised glyph on its silver surface. A blaze of blue shot forth, slamming into the wildcat’s shimmering suit. It tumbled into the bent and broken grass, a shriek of horrific anguish filling the air as flames of sapphire fire engulfed her body. She rolled and twisted, howling out in high-pitched screams of torment. Seshat rushed toward the steaming apparition, intent on burning the animal to ash.

  With no desire to embroil himself in the short, but bloody battle, Apophus stood back from the conflict, his chiseled features gruesome in their malicious malevolence. From his stance in the middle of the wide, stone boulevard, the Lord God watched in pleasured cruelty while his men were slaughtered beneath the blades of their brothers. He noted with great curiosity that the beasts took care not to kill, but rather immobilize their opponents. It seemed so out of place with their vile visages, animalistic and bestial, but blessed with benevolence. Odd.

  The two lesser monsters fell beneath his High Priests and soon would be sent back to the hellish nightmare from which they came. That left only their leader, the Hawk-thing, to be vanquished. Apophus remained where he was, refusing to debase himself by advancing on the giant beast. He would wait until it came to him. He was the Lord God, the one true heir to the throne of Nil and ruler of all he surveyed. He did not wait long.

  Ra looked around him, saddened by the carnage and death spread upon the once beautiful meadow. The Atlanteans agreed amongst themselves to use non-lethal force if possible, however, once the Nillians clashed, a berserker bloodlust over took them. They never before faced an enemy nor engaged in actual warfare. It left them ill-equipped to confront the realities of ba
ttle. The adrenaline coursing through their bodies exploded along their never endings in the kill or be killed excitement, thrilled by their own survival and savagery and the coppery smell of spilled blood. However, they soon learned what any solider knew, the pain, suffering, horror and guilt that follows the flames is devastating.

  Ramathus glanced over his shoulder and saw Apophus standing in the middle of the road far from the slaughter and butchery of his People. It infuriated him to see someone in possession of such power staying aloof and away from the conflict. Ra had hoped to meet Apophus in single combat in front of all of Nil, saving the lives of these people. The coward saw to it that this was not meant to be and he would paid dearly for his inaction. He turned and coldly faced the man, peering at him with the intensity of a raptor eyeing his next meal.

  The red-skinned horror stepped away from the field of bodies and slowly walked along the granite boulevard, his rune-covered staff held in his gnarled fists. His vicious golden beak, curled at the tip and hungry looking, shone brilliant in the noontime sunlight. The blue eyes beneath the furrowed brow sparkled with glacier fire, locking on Apophus like a morsel about to be devoured. The Hawk’s face and neck were blanketed in feathers of shimmering bronze surrounded by a hood of purple-stripped gold that fell down his broad, muscled back and over the front of his bulging chest. A crown of gold encircled his forehead, a swirling rounded disk of black-tinged, yellow-gold upheld by outspread horn centering his brow. The shining sun high above his head sent its smaller cousin to rest upon the black and gold armor overlaying the torso of the beast, held in fiery fury within inverted outturned horns.

  “You are given a choice,” a deep, rich baritone voice boomed from the Hawk, raspy as it passed through the throat of the bird of prey. It filled the sky with its call, echoing down the vacant streets and alleyways and bouncing off the cold granite walls. “You may gather your followers and leave this land unmolested, never to return or die here and now, your lifeblood staining the stone beneath your feet.” The Hawk cocked its head and flicked its hand contemptuously. “Your choice. I care not which.”

  The Lord God threw back his head and laughed so hard the glass-paned windows vibrated in a crackling harmony around him. Fearful eyes peered from the shadows, packs of hungry, frightened wolf-things awaiting a chance to pick from the carcasses of the dead and dying. Apophus ignored them as inconsequential and glared at the nightmarish nighthawk before him.

  “You stand here alone and outnumbered,” he chuckled, shaking his head at the emptiness of the threats. “Your companions are vanquished at the hands of the Guardians of Nil. I, Apophus, Lord God of the World, stand before you with the power of Sirius in my hands. Your words are less than meaningless. I shall take from you what you should never have been granted. Your life.”

  “Doubtful,” the arrogant raptor responded icily. “You did not do it before, though your chances were many. You should have. That pretentiousness and stupidity shall be the cause your demise.”

  “I would know if we met in the past,” Apophus scoffed leaning his head to one side, eyeing the wicked, vile bird-creature. “You are not one to be easily forgotten.”

  “I am Ra of Atlantis, reincarnated as your judge and executioner,” was his cold, cool reply.

  Apophus sputtered, shocked as the creature swept his feet from under him with a swing of his yellow-crowned staff. He hit the granite hard, rolling his body away from the deadly downward arc of the shining sun. Sparks of amber lightning cracked the pavement where he had once been, spider webbing the street with the groaning of tortured stone. He came to his feet in an instant, his black robe singed and smoking, with his back against the unyielding granite of a building. His barely had time to turn his head away from the burning beam of sunlight that melted the stone, the molten lava dripping through his robe and onto the gold-encrusted armor he wore beneath.

  The plates of his blood-red armor protected his flesh, but droplets touched his exposed skin, burning like the fires of hell. The intense heat of the blast blistered the side of his sculpted features, igniting vestiges of black hair that fell from his tilted headdress. Apophus tucked the pain away as a mere nuisance to be dealt with later and sprung from the wall in ferocious fury, smashing his body into his assailant in an avalanche of anger.

  Ra anticipated the charge, whipping away and parrying the serpent-entwined staff of the Lord God in a blur of movement. Finishing his spin, he cracked his staff into Apophus’ back as he sailed past. The Lord God stumbled but caught himself before falling. With a deafening roar he spun on Ra, swinging his staff like the branch of a tree. Ramathus countered, but the incredible brute force, backed by soul-burning fury, knocked Ra’s rod from his hands sending it spinning down the smooth paving stones.

  “Now we shall see how you scream,” Apophus bellowed, a savage sneer tilted upon the unblistered half of his face. He unleashed the full power of the pulsing blue emerald directly at the golden disk covering Ra’s heart.

  A massive explosion of brilliant blue and yellow light and ear-bleeding sound shattered glass for half a mile around the battling Gods. Solid granite walls cracked and tumbled amid the horrified wails and screams people watching the combat amid the buildings. Timbers shattered and structures collapsed all along the block, heaping chunks of stone upon the hidden occupants.

  As the cobalt fire struck the ancient Nillian disk, Ra was shoved backward along the boulevard. He managed to stay on his feet, stretching one leg behind him, turned for a brace and leaning into his other knee. The golden shield absorbed the incredible energy crashing into him, sending him skidding down the street, unable to gain purchase on the smooth surface.

  Finally, his back foot caught a raised crack between the paving stones and he stopped, his teeth gritted and his jaws locked. He held his ground against the tremendous, monumental onslaught, his fists knuckle-white as he fought with all his incredible strength to withstand the power thrust against him. Through squinted blue eyes, Ra saw the glyphs on his wrist guards blazing bright orange. The golden disk on his crown glowed a bright yellow, watering his eyes. The circle around his head tried to crush his skull, spears of intense pain stabbing deep into his brain. He battled the blackness creeping upon his consciousness, fighting with bunched muscles to keep awake.

  A ball of orange lightning erupted around him, searing the sky with the scent of burning ozone. The golden disk upon his chest blasted all of its absorbed energy back along the path of blazing blue aimed at its core, shattering the staff of Apophus into a million sharpened shards. The smaller yellow disk within his crown shot forth a beam of fiery orange that sliced across the Lord God’s torso to the smell of burning flesh.

  “No!” Ra shouted, turning his head before the golden fire could cut Apophus in half. The crown responded to his command, ceasing its deathly light. His wristbands glowed a dim yellow along the edges of the runes embedding on their surfaces. His chest plate pulsed and churned, but withheld the seething power it screamed to release.

  Ramathus stood panting, his head lowered, his reddish skin bathed in a sheen of sweat. The expelled energy loosened the grip of the crown around his skull, but the remnants of pain still sparked through his brain. His massive chest felt as if a herd of woolies had trampled him, making it difficult to breathe in much needed air. His body shook and quivered, his muscles cramped and hardened.

  After regaining a measure of control, Ra raised his head, his blurred vision clearing and sharpening. His hawk-like, crystal blue eyes centered on the fallen man lying in a curled, bleeding heap at the other end of the block. The battle was over.

  Astraeus saw the death-dealing blow aimed at his cracked ribcage but refused to accept defeat. In what he knew to be a last act of defiance, he raised his monstrous, fisted arms up to deflect some of the enormous impact.

  In the last second, Seeker released his hands and grabbed the golden bracelets encompassing the bulging forearms of Anubis, using his prodigious weight to crush his fearsome enemy beneath him. A sne
er of contempt crept across his face, suddenly replaced with stunned surprise and horrifying agony.

  The golden sheaths pulsed, a dark, indomitable force expanding outward from the glowing glyphs. Seeker felt a soul-searing energy course through his every nerve, alighting every muscle with black lightning laced with twisted lines of red-hot fury. His hands locked upon the flesh-burning wristbands, unable to tear them away. His body arched backward, his teeth cracking within his hideously clenched jaws. The horrendous electrical blaze erupted in the bones of his skeleton, fracturing them in a hundred places. Seeker never imagined such intense, soul-crushing anguish was even possible. He felt it now and prayed to the God, Sirius, to kill him and end this flesh-consuming fire. Anubis, Lord of Darkness had won.

  His prayer went unanswered. Instead, a final burst of raw, onyx energy blew him high into the air and tossed him over the sickly battlefield where he landed in a boneless, unconscious heap, broken but alive.

  Astraeus struggled to his feet, his cracked ribs stabbing into his lungs. His thighs shivered with the agony and he fought to draw the Healing energy from his core. His wrist guards glowed and sent a coursing of dark power throughout his body, Lending its support to the golden aura cocooning him in its blessing. He felt ribs reform, his broken leg mending and an enormous strength charging his muscles. His eyes popped open wide and his jaw dropped to his chest. At his peak, he never felt so awesomely alive. He stared at the sheaths upon his arms in disbelieving amazement, watching as their glow dimming as his body renewed until, finally, they fell silent and gold once again.

  Invigorated and whole, Astraeus stood straight and tall, his arms outstretched in the blazing yellow sunlight and howled long and loud into the clear blue sky.

  Isis rolled through the tall grass, setting fires wherever she went. The silver gown she wore was more than mere linen and saved her life. Tiny scales of ancient Nillian armor they found in the ship covered her in dress-shaped safety. However, her exposed flesh bubbled with the scathing blue blaze from the staff of the High Priestess. The pain was like nothing she had ever known. Her copper skin blackened. Her nerve endings finally, thankfully, seared and deadening, the silver and black fur of her helmet singed and smoking. Isis could not help the pitiful wailing seeping through her blistered lips beneath the snarling, fanged hellcat. She saw Seshat stalking toward her, but her agonized body refused to do anything but curl in on itself in the burning grass.