by Gene Stiles
“Your time is over, foul beast,” Seshat said, smiling with wicked satisfaction. Her over-large, almond hazel eyes shimmered hatefully in the sunshine. With intentional slowness, she pointed her sapphire-tipped staff straight at Isis’ heart. Her delicious grin widened along the planed lines of her pointed jawline. Her slender fingers teased the rune that would destroy her barbaric adversary, hesitating to savor the pleasure of this sweet moment.
Her playful hesitation cost her dearly.
Behind her, on the grand boulevard of Nil, a dome of light the color of a midday sun laced with blue lightning exploded into the afternoon air. It was followed by an ear-splitting screech, forcing the women to grit their teeth and throw a hand to their skulls. Seshat retained presence of mind to keep her staff pointed at the demon, her finger starting to press the rune.
The power of that glowing sun on the city street reached Isis, channeling through the golden disk in her crown. A shaft of blinding orange light blazed out from the disk in a wrist-wide beam as hot as the surface of a star. It struck Seshat in the middle of her chest burning through cloth, skin, sinew and bone and shining out of the back of her body. The High Priestess stared stunned at the gaping hole, her mind struggling to comprehend the cooking of her insides. Her beating heart was reduced to a black, withered thing and, finally understanding, Seshat crumpled to the ground, the golden ray ripping up through her shoulder as she fell.
Isis lay disbelieving as the beam dissipated into the cloudless blue sky and winked out as quickly as it came. Without conscious effort, her body was enshrouded in the golden glow of a Healing more powerful that she ever felt before. Her tortured mind shut down into welcome darkness, a blissful smile upon her ruby lips.
When she awoke, Astraeus knelt by her side. She raised a delicate hand toward her face, touching unblemished, fresh, warm skin. Her pain was gone, replaced by an all-encompassing feeling of wellbeing. Isis lifted herself up on her elbows and stared in awe at her smooth bronze flesh.
“I know,” Astraeus smiled, his jackal helmet sitting beside him in the blackened grass. “It is amazing, is it not? The energy absorbed by Ra’s disk,” he said, rubbing his golden wristbands, “was shared through all our ancient Nillian devices. Not only did it protect us, it aided our Healing, a side effect I did not anticipate, but truly appreciate.”
Isis stood along with her friends, removing her helmet. She could not help but notice the blacken fur and shuttered with remember agony. She stared at the charred patches of grass where she rolled in horrible pain, glad to see the small fires were put out. All along the main thoroughfare, shattered shards of glass covered the roadway, glittering in the bright sunshine like a million diamonds. At another time, it would have been beautiful. Piles of rubble now sat where shops and buildings once stood, cries of the hurt and trapped calling out from among the stones. Already Nillian and Izon, alike, combed among the wreckage searching for survivors. Isis wept at the devastation, knowing she must go and aid in any way she could.
At the edge of the boulevard, twisted and bleeding bodies, many of them now only rotting corpses, lay moaning in the crimson-stained field. Ra walked among them, still wearing the face of a hawk. From time to time, he knelt among the fallen and reached out his hand. The golden disk upon his chest glowed a little brighter and, wherever he touched, the piteous wailings stopped. Guards of both sides sat up, Healed and renewed. Far too many of them never got up at all.
That terrible truth made Isis turn and walk to where Seshat lay wreathed in blood and weeds. Teardrops fell from her jade green eyes as she placed her long, slender hand upon the woman’s brow. Those large, oval orbs stared at her in shock and wonder, more surprised than accusing. Isis used her fingertips to close them gently, ashamed for the life she took.
“Come, Isis,” Astraeus said softly, laying a tender hand upon her slumped shoulder. “We shall grieve later. Right now the People need our help.”
Isis nodded, brushing her auburn mane over her shoulders. Silently, she walked toward the carnage, praying she could pay some sort of penitence for her evil deeds by saving more lives than she took.
Ra stood in full battle gear on a dais at the base of the Central Pyramid on the exact spot where the pillars of the whipping posts once stood, his glyph-covered staff in his hand firmly planted on the brownish stone. Beneath his booted feet remained the bloodstained slabs of granite, a reminder to all of the atrocities committed here. His gold-trimmed, black armor glistened in the yellow of the morning sun, his hawk face brooding with its wicked-looking golden beak. His raptor-sharp, blue eyes scanned the faces of the citizens of Nil, both Izon and the People, amassed before him.
Isis stood on his right, dressed in her gown of silver armor, a sash of beaded gold and silver, edged in white, wrapped tightly around her narrow waist, the ends falling almost to her sandaled feet. Around her neck she wore a wide necklace of the same material which fell over the rise of her ample breasts. Her golden crown with its disk of a yellow sun set upon the gold-striped white hood that framed her wildcat visage. Bands of white-edged gold, worked in strange symbols, adorned her biceps and matched the sheaths that encircled her slender forearms. In her right hand she held her rune-covered staff, the caged disk bright even in the sunlight.
Astraeus stood on his left, his onyx skin and ebony Jackal helmet making him the personification of Anubis, Lord of Darkness. The small, beady, red eyes seemed to flicker and burn anyone courageous enough to look upon them. His powerfully muscled body, only partially covered by his night-black armor and knee-length, midnight skirt, seemed like something out of the darkest nightmare. His rune-covered, gold wrist guards and that horrible ebony staff only added to his deadly countenance.
Ramathus held his hand up and the mumbling masses fell instantly silent. He lowered his steely gaze to the two men chained at his feet. Neither appeared humbled by their plight, but stood tall and defiant before the nervous gathered crowd at their backs. Both were stripped of their former glory, dressed in plain white linen skirts, knee-high black boots and rough tan tunics. Unadorned, brown headdresses covered their domed skulls, not the bejeweled ones they wore only a few days ago. Each had a rumpled travel cloak and backpack at their feet along with a sheathed sword.
“You are guilty of high treason against the People of Nil and barbarity against the Izon,” Ra intoned, his deep baritone voice raspy through the amplified circuits of his helmet. “Your vicious cruelty toward all of the citizens under your care should result in your death by the same methods you used in your savagery. But to do so would only make us as brutal and evil as you. Instead, you are to be driven from the lands of the Nil, banished to the naked realities of a harsh and unforgiving world, never to return under punishment of the most horrid of deaths. What say you before you leave?”
“This will never be over,” Apophus said viciously, spitting a dark green blob of sputum upon Ra’s boot. “I will hunt you until the ends of time. You will never be rid of me. The blackness of my rage will follow you all of your days and into your nights. This I swear by Sirius on my very life.”
“Your life will be short and painful if you attempt to return,” Ra responded coldly, burning him with icy eyes. “On that you can also count.”
The gargantuan, copper-skinned Seeker said nothing, his black, melanoid eyes searing into the trio arrayed before him. His titanic fists strained against his bonds, his wrists bleeding from the monumental pressure, but his square-jawed face betrayed nothing but a promise of death.
“Put them in the cage.” Ra motioned for a freight sled to be brought forward. On its flatbed stood an iron-barred cage toward which the men were led.
With the glowing staffs of Ra, Isis and Astraeus pointed at their backs, Apophus and Seeker were loaded aboard. Astraeus joined the guard inside the cab and drove slowly through the streets of Nil, giving the sullen, angry citizens a last look at their Lord God and the Guardian of Sirius before the sled disappeared over the horizon.
“A new day is grante
d Nil,” Isis spoke loudly. “A day when Nillian and Izon stand together as equals. A day where fear and hatred have no place. A day of plenty for all. A day under the guardianship of a new and just Trinity. Make good use of this day for no one knows how long a day may last. Welcome your new leader, Ra of Nil!”
Prolog
A child was born in Atlantis this night. The first living birth in the city in over five years. A big, beautiful boy child with a cherub body and a head full of dark, reddish pin curls. His puffy pink hand clenched tightly around her giant thumb and it shattered her already broken heart. Strangely, he did not cry when he was thrust painfully into a frightening world of light and sound nor had he cried even once since. Other than that, he was absolutely perfect.
And his mother wept in abject terror.
Rhea ran her trembling fingertips over the soft newborn skin of his tiny, rosy cheeks, brushing away the dampen hair from his broad, crinkled forehead and kissed him tenderly with quivering lips. The joy she should have felt for the miracle of his birth was negated by the quaking fear within her tortured mind and the horror filling her agonized soul at what she must now do.
“Lady Rhea,” Ida whispered as gently as she could, “we have little time. Cronus will be arriving soon. Please, Lady.”
Rhea knew Ida was correct, yet she was loath to let go of her little boy-god not knowing when or if she would ever see him again. Her crystal blue eyes were swollen and red, torrents of tears rolling unabated down her pale cheekbones. Her long, honey-blond hair encircled her head in a perspiration-matted halo as she lay back in exhausted weakness against the pile of plush pillows of her bed. She drew the quiet, tiny infant closer to her chest, leaning her cheek against his warm, softly-breathing body, cooing sweet words of love, praying he would remember them someday.
“Lady, please,” Ida said urgently.
Rhea lifted her weeping eyes and stared blankly at the other two women standing respectfully silent a few feet behind Ida. Her most trusted midwife, Alara, held in her arms the swaddled abomination Rhea would be forced to cradle in her arms until she presented it to her hated husband. The thought of holding that lifeless thing in the same hands that now held her living, breathing baby sent a sickening shudder down her spine.
Next to Alara stood the black-cloaked woman she barely knew, Ida’s twin sister, Adrasteia. Curly locks of blue-black hair spilled around her raised hood, framing a face, beautiful, sharply planed and tense. She said nothing, feeling a bit out of place, but knowing she had a vital role to play in this deadly drama. She knew time was of the essence, but she refused to rush the Lady, only imagining how it must feel to give up so precious a gift.
Outside the door, Loki stood guard with his mentor, Keramec. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow, thankful his wide headband prevented them from falling down his face. He could give neither Cronus nor Iapetus any reason to suspect him or his co-conspirators. If found out, their treasonous acts would surely end in the most horrid of ways…and a child would die.
Loki could hear muted footsteps far down the granite hallways of the Great Pyramid and knew he could wait no longer. He reached for the chamber door just as it opened from the inside. Adrasteia slipped from the room with a black-clothed bundle in her arms. She nodded briefly and hurried down the darkened corridor, disappearing into the gloom seconds before Cronus and his guards rounded a corner at the opposite end of the hallway.
The Lord Father said nothing, his mane-framed face grim, his jade eyes blazing with emerald fire as Loki opened the massive doors of the bedchamber and stepped aside. After the group entered, closing the doors behind them, Keramec chanced a worried look at his friend. The next few minutes would tell them if they lived or died.
Ida and Alara retreated into a shadowed corner of the room, staring down at their folded hands, managing furtive glances at Rhea as Cronus closed in on her. They knew the Lady did not have to fake the heart-wrenching sobs wracking her body. She presented the still-born child they had kept in secret stasis all these many months to the Lord Father.
“I am so sorry,” Rhea wept uncontrollably as she handed him the dead thing. “I am so sorry.”
Cronus remained silent, checking the babe before handing it to one of his guards. He spun sharply on his heel, a look of immense relief upon his evil face and swept out of the chamber. Once he was gone, the women rushed to Rhea’s side, holding her sobbing body until, at last, she fell into a restless, tormented slumber.
Every bit the Aam warrior woman, Adrasteia easily evaded prying eyes of Aam and citizen alike as she made her way through the near empty streets of Atlantis. The starless night still enshrouded the city in an embrace of silence and she was grateful the strange, voiceless child remained quiet. Once past the outskirts, she made her way to the covered sled hidden in the southern forest, loosing herself and her charge in the blackness. Adrasteia made quick time along the edge of the meadow, reaching the place where the blackened carcass of Rhea’s cabin still stood long before the first rays of light topped the eastern mountains. Her companion awaited her, appearing like a wraith among the shadows of the trees.
“You are unharmed,” Tomilic smiled tersely, his eerie golden eyes almost glowing in the dim light. “I am glad. We must be on our way to Home before first light. How is the child?”
“Healthy and beautiful,” Adrasteia smiled in return, sliding over so he could take the driver’s seat, glad she had the handsome man with her this night. She settled next to him, gently cradling the sleeping child to her breast.
“And the child has a name,” she added as they sped over the meadow. “Rhea gave it to him before I left.”
“His name is Zeus.”
The End
