Paradise Forgotten Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  "And if they have armed guards in case they thought we would try something like this?" Zodiac asks.

  "You said we're dead anyway, right? I'd rather go out fighting for my family than freeze here wondering if I could have made a difference."

  A thin man with a shaved head comes up to Zodiac and bows. "My name is Seraph. My owner made the maps of the galaxy for the Nymph military. I've been around this stuff all of my life."

  "Okay, then. Are we actually going to do this?" Zodiac asks.

  The muscular man in the apron shouts out to everyone in the room. "Women and children, stay here. I need all the men up front with me and Zodiac. Rip those benches off of the wall and smash them on the floor. Use the wood and metal for weapons. We're taking over this ship."

  * * *

  Orion kicks his black horse to run as fast as it can towards the village they stayed in the night before. There has to be someone there who can help him. His heart is racing along with his mind as he rides across the sand dunes and thinks about Troy. How could this have happened? All the known ancient ruins have been mapped out and put into the database. There shouldn't have been anything like that for miles in any direction. He knows he has come this way many times before and never had any issues, much less breaking through the ceiling of some long-lost ruins and falling a hundred feet. The more he thinks about it, the worse he feels.

  A beeping from the communication sensor on his forearm breaks him out of his morbid thoughts. Orion pushes the golden square and speaks into it. "This is Orion. Troy, please let it be you."

  "Nice try." The woman on the other end snaps at him. "Silver told me everything."

  "So you know. I need help, Mistress."

  "You're gonna need all the help the gods can dish out. Well, go ahead and beg. I'm listening." Mistress says.

  "Beg for what?" Orion asks as he wraps his black and white keffiyeh around his face to block out the blowing sand. "You're not going to send anyone out here?"

  "Oh, I'll be sending some people, just not the ones you want. Just answer one question and all of your problems will soon be over."

  "What is it? What do you want to know?"

  "Where is Troy?" Mistress asks.

  "Uh . . . did Silver not tell you?"

  "I want to hear you tell me yourself. Where is your slave, Orion?"

  "He's . . . I don't know." He can't say it. He can't admit to what might have happened to his friend.

  "Don't lie to me! I'll ask you one more time and I want the truth. Make no mistake. I know where he is. I want you to tell me. I need to record it for your confession."

  "Confession? Confession of what?"

  "You killed Troy." Mistress says.

  "What? No! He fell through some ruins."

  "You mean you pushed him."

  How can she even think that? "Absolutely not. I am heartbroken by this. Troy was my friend."

  "Friends usually don't pull a gun on their friend. Just last night, you called me asking for permission to terminate him. I'm not an idiot, Agent Lifestone. We have no signal from the sensor you claim to have put on Troy. He's dead. There's nowhere in the galaxy that can't receive that signal. The only explanation is that Troy's heart has stopped and the sensor shut down. I suggest you start running. My Elimination Squad will be closing in on you soon enough. I don't give a damn how many years you've served with the guild. No one slaughters slaves in cold blood. And you took it a giant step further. You killed our rightful king. That's treason. Now, you pay the price. Farewell, Orion Lifestone. Say hello to Osiris for me."

  * * *

  Splintered wood planks plummet to the floor of the empty ruins, sending a haunting echo down the far-stretching halls of the marble and smooth grey stone. Another shower of sand falls in sheets through the openings in the rotten wood rafters where the vaguest hints of sunlight filter through from the desert almost one hundred feet above.

  Coughing up blood and sand, Troy moans in pain as his consciousness and vision return to him. He tries to sit up out of the pile of sand and rubble, but his legs are too weak and a troubling realization comes to him. He can't feel his arms. What happened? His head is pounding as something drips into his eyes and slides to the sand below him. Dark red blood. He manages to roll over and push up with his elbows to rest against the wall.

  Troy's hands begin to tingle as the blood rushes back into them and he's finally able to wipe the sweat and sand from his face. First things first. He has to make sure nothing is broken. With trembling hands, he reaches down to his shredded cotton pants that used to be white. Now, they are streaked with rusty blood and black mud. As soon as he touches his right leg, he knows it's bad. A shooting pain radiates from below his knee. He rips open the leg of his pants to reveal a dark swollen bruise and his mangled leg that is twisted and bloody. He grits his teeth as he pushes his body up the wall and attempts to put weight on his leg. He lets out a pained scream and steadies himself on the wall. This isn't going to work. It's undoubtedly broken.

  When he doubles over in a fit of violent coughing then vomits blood into the sand, he knows something is terribly wrong internally. The world around him starts spinning. Every part of his body aches. How far did he fall? He can barely see the surface from down here. Where is Orion? Troy tries to call out for him, but he only coughs more. Resigned to being alone, he sinks back down into the pile of sand. Then he sees the broken and twisted corpse of his horse a little ways across the room. At least he fared better than that.

  Troy runs his fingers through his spiky white hair then notices the gold square stuck to his forearm. That's right. He still has Orion's communication sensor. He tries to dial a number, but there's no signal down here. Great. So now what? He could sit here and bleed to death or he could crawl down this hallway and investigate the strange blue light. Speaking of lights, there's a glow coming from under a layer of sand next to him. He picks it up and brushes away the sand. An emergency flare? There's no way this can reach the surface through all of those wooden platforms. He will hold onto this in case he can find a better place to fire it.

  Succumbing to his desperation and growing weakness, Troy crawls on his hands and one knee, dragging his broken leg behind him. Sweat rolls down his face as he struggles to breathe. His chest is extremely sore and every time he takes a breath, something cracks and pops. That's . . . that's not good. As he reaches the end of the hallway, the glow grows brighter. He makes it to a ledge and peers over the side, down to where the light is coming from. Down past the walls covered in hieroglyphics and cobwebs, is a metal-walled room filled with computers and various technology. This doesn't look ancient at all. Troy reaches to his belt and holds up the flare device he found. Pressing the activation button on the side, he fires a green flare up into the high room. Maybe someone far down in that metal computer room will see it and come up here to look for him. Overwhelmed by pain and exhaustion, Troy collapses on the ledge and loses consciousness.

  * * *

  The lights go dark and Zodiac follows the men into the hallway after they pry open the door. He slams the wood board on the door frame then throws the sharp shard into the chest of a guard in a black flight suit as the lights flicker back to life. The others surround the guard and quickly kill him with their bare hands. Three more guards storm down the hallway to the left with machine guns at the ready. Before Zodiac can surrender, the brutal beating continues. The impure Nymphs rush the guards as shots ring out, puncturing the inner walls of the space transport. Just when he becomes lost in the screaming, the gunshots, and the shower of blood, strong hands grab his shoulders and push him through an automatic door.

  The man with the apron and mustache shouts at the pilot and copilot at the controls. "Get down on the ground! Will you fly us back to Olympus?"

  The pilot hides his head in his hand as he puts up one last act of honorable defiance. "No."

  "Then you die." He unleashes a flurry of powerful blows to their heads until blood seeps out and covers the floor in a sticky mess.
"There. They're dead. Get on the controls and fly us somewhere safe, Zodiac."

  Zodiac steps over the bodies and sits in the captain's chair then flips a few of the glowing switches. "Who are you?"

  "They call me Donnie. You're Jarred's kid, right?"

  "You know my father?" Zodiac asks.

  "I knew both of your fathers." Donnie says. "You could say that I worked with them long distance."

  He looks up from the controls. "What does that mean?"

  "I gave them intelligence on their targets. Don't worry about it. Just get us turned around."

  "I don't think we should go back to Olympus." Zodiac says. "Evans will kill us."

  "Then take us to Himmel. I'll go get your navigator and take care of whatever guards are still breathing."

  * * *

  The buzzing of a machine next to his head and a man speaking wake Troy, but he can't see anything. Something has been placed over his eyes and he is held down by what feel like leather straps around his ankles and wrists. A deep throbbing pain enters his chest when he breathes. A plastic tube in his mouth prevents him from speaking, not that he could if he wanted to. Some kind of cold metal probes his stomach as beeping fills his ears. What is going on? Did Orion find him and get him out of that hellhole? He becomes aware of an unknown man's voice in the room so he listens to what he has to say to someone in what sounds to be a phone conversation over a speaker. Then he realizes they are talking about him.

  "He's a pure Nymph with a Forgotten spider brand on his forehead, lead and onyx studs in his ears, a classic Nymph tattoo of a golden apple with a spider on his lower back, and a golden septum ring in his nose. It's engraved with the name Orion Lifestone. He also has purple eyes. Any ideas?"

  Another man's voice comes over the speaker nearby. "Interesting."

  "Well? Is his name Orion?"

  "No. That's a slave ring." The second voice says. "Whoever the poor soul is, he belongs to Orion Lifestone."

  "So he's a slave?"

  "Yes. You know how those outcast nomadic impure Nymphs are. They enslave anyone who breathes and who they can trick or overpower. Speaking of breathing, how is the slave doing?"

  The man sighs and types on what sounds like a keyboard. "He's stable. It's amazing how far he fell and he's still alive. He has a shattered tibia in his right leg, four broken ribs, a punctured lung, a good deal of internal bleeding, and an assortment of bruises and gashes. I have him hooked up to my medical system. The surgeries have gone well and I expect him to be up and moving in a few days."

  "So soon?"

  "Yes. My nanobots have a talent for repairing injuries."

  "I thought you said he has lead studs in his ears." The second man says. "Wouldn't those shut down nanobots?"

  The man laughs. "Not my nanobots. These are purely medical and aren't powered by radiation. Before you ask, no. They won't interfere with the ones already in his body. Mine are perfectly safe because I programmed them myself. They can't be hacked or controlled by the hive mind of the others."

  "All right. You give me another call when our little pure slave wakes up and you get a name. Until then, I'll be with Atlas and Uriel. It's not like I can just walk away or anything. Goodbye, Daedalus."

  "Oh, one more thing. Don't forget to run a full diagnostic scan and remove that virus from your corrupted files."

  "Of course. I will remind Uriel to restart me as well."

  "Where is your administrator?" Daedalus asks.

  "He was arrested by Evans's men. He doesn't even know I'm here. Uriel has taken over that job."

  "I see. Well, I will send that extra motherboard your direction in a few days. So long, Isidore."

  2

  The foggy white clouds of vapors rise from the pools of glittering dark blue water around the frozen stone altar. A sudden shock of icy water dripping on her skin wakes Nova out of her sleep. She sits up and attempts to cover her nakedness with her hands as the one hundred oracle guards kneel down around her and begin chanting in Latin. The hoods of their white robes hide their eyes from her and their breath fogs in the cold air. Nova instinctively reaches to her chest to ensure that her most prized possession is still there. A never-dying pink lotus that her father gave her on that night he left her and Zodiac at Apollo's house and never returned. As long as it still lives, she can have hope that Jarred is out there and that he still loves her.

  One of the mysterious oracle guards reaches his pale hand out from under the sleeve of his robe and touches her leg. "The holy oracle lives! Brothers, allow me to get her dressed and warmed up." He takes Nova in his large arms as he stands. "Do not scare us like that again, Nova. We thought you had died."

  She is barely able to comprehend all that he's saying to her. Instead of trying to offer what could possibly be a completely incoherent response, Nova rests her face against the man's strange yet warm chest. She is shivering as she clings to him, seeking any form of comfort or respite from this hard and frigid room around her. They push past the sheer white curtains that hang from the tall cavernous ceiling. An icy wind whips into the entryway as the oracle guard carries her across the slick black marble floors that glisten from the sunlight cascading in from the open archways overlooking the Nymph capital city of Athens hundreds of feet below the snow-covered mountain peaks. Large edifices of intricately-carved silver filigree line these passages, depicting the ancient Greek gods that so many here still pray to.

  The oracle guard, followed at a distance by the mass of others, pushes open a wooden door with his foot. He moves across the burgundy carpet and lays Nova on the plush bed. He digs in the oak dresser until he pulls out a thin white silk chemise which he slips over her head.

  It's just long enough to provide the tiniest bit of decency, but Nova is grateful for any clothes at this point. What are these people going to do with her now? Her mind begins to turn back to normal as the fogginess leaves. She nestles under the thick wool blankets and watches the oracle guard shoo away the others at the door.

  The oracle guard shuts the door and comes to her side where he smoothes her curly black bangs out of her face. "My name is Dionysus, but you are to call me Dion, if you please. I am the leader of these guards. I am your personal servant, guardian, and attendant. In exchange for my services and undying loyalty, we are to be married."

  Married? Do they truly expect her to marry this man she just met? She doesn't even know what he looks like.

  Almost as if he read her thoughts, Dion pulls back his hood and smiles. His youthful face is outshined by a messy short bright blue mohawk on his head. "Ah. I see your confusion, Nova. I am a pure Nymph, but I don't like having that usual white hair so I dye it fun colors. You know, not to be boring. I'm just like that. But yes, I am a pure Nymph all the same. Only pure Nymphs can be oracle guards. We are not bound by the laws of Athens or other cities on Olympus. I can be with an impure Nymph like you. Actually, I can be with the oracle, no matter what race she is. It's my turn."

  "Aren't you a little young to be the head oracle guard?"

  "Nah." He runs his fingers through his blue hair. "I'm twenty-seven. My father was the last head oracle guard so it's natural for me to be in charge now."

  "Does that make you the son of the previous oracle?"

  "Yep. So now it's my turn to mate with the oracle." Dion touches his fingertip to Nova's nose. "That's you, sweetness."

  Nova stares into his glossy black eyes that seem endless. So this stranger is to be her husband? What kind of pure Nymph dyes their hair to hide the white trademark of their genetic purity? This Dion guy is a bit less muscular and a lot more pudgy than she's usually attracted to, but something in his bright friendly smile and dimpled cheeks draws her to him. However, the longer she observes him, the more she is reminded of the one pure Nymph who holds her heart. Troy.

  "Nova?" Dion asks. "Don't think about Troy so much. He's gone. He's not coming back. Even if he did somehow miraculously return, you could never be with him. Take this offer that I am giving you. I will
ensure that you have a wonderful life as my bride. I'm the only man you need. This is your one and only home now, Nova. You can never leave us. We are your family, your friends, and the only people who truly care for you. Your purpose in life is to be the intermediary between morals and the gods. Nymphs and humans alike look to you for guidance and truth. The gods have chosen you as their messenger, their vessel to hold all of their knowledge for us mortals. The outside world is full of hindrances to your capacity for understanding and innocence. You've already been a victim of the lustful abomination some call love. Normally, the oracles are virgins, but the gods insisted on you anyway. Do not be afraid of us, dearest Oracle. If you are indeed pregnant with that pure Nymph's child, then the baby will be protected. No one will harm that holy child. It will grow up within these sacred walls then be taken to Barren Void to live among the nomadic Nymph tribes."

  "When will we know if I am with child?"

  "We should be able to run a scan in a few days. Then we will know. I am not too optimistic that you are. That near death experience may have done too much harm to the fetus, if there was one. Only the scan will be able to tell us."

  "Will I get to raise it myself?" Nova asks, feeling almost hopeful.

  "Absolutely not. You will be far too preoccupied with other duties. I, for one, hope you are not pregnant so I can start your true physical initiation."

  "And that is?"

  Dion's soft hand moves up her leg, underneath her thin white gown. "I think you have some ideas. We oracle guards are lonely men whose souls need to be reawakened by your beauty. You surely won't deny me this traditional privilege. It's not like you have a say in the matter anyway."

  * * *

  Atlas Adonis finishes reading the report he received from the hospital and takes his thin glasses off to wipe away the tears in his eyes. How could this have happened? Just last week, his family was whole and alive and happy. Now, he doesn't know how he can ever recover from something like this. The overwhelming truth of it all hasn't fully registered to him. It seems like every day, he loses someone else close to him. Well, sitting here in his room in Uriel's science laboratory isn't going to help anyone so he slides his silver-rimmed glasses back on and pushes his newly cut wispy hair back off his forehead. Time to get to work.