by Gene Stiles
Oceanus, still standing, bristled, yearning to return to the fray, but the firm touch on his forearm by Tethys gave him pause. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, her dark brown eyes and ageless beauty calming the beast within him. As was always her affect upon him, the tension eased from bunched muscles and the blaze of his anger died down to burning embers. He nodded his assent and reached for her hand. With Tethys at his side, Oceanus strode from the chamber, tossing a last, icy glare over his shoulder.
Near the city-side docks, darkened by the shadows of tall warehouses that blocked the light of the Proto-Sun atop the Great Pyramid, sat a row of squat, square, colorless buildings separated by narrow alleyways. Thick furs to block the cold, wet breezes that blew in from the river Gaia covered the doors and windows cut into the rough, unfinished stone. Chimneys dotted the rooftops, white plumes of wood scented smoke filling the cool night air. Guttural laughter and happy voices, muted by the thick rock walls, mingled with the smells of roasting meats and vegetables and spilled out into the slick, lightless streets.
Hokan sat cross-legged on the fur piled floor, tearing into the blackened leg of some large bird while the rich juices ran down his mangy, black beard. A long mane of unkempt, curly black hair surrounded the round boulder he called his head, which sat on his upon his wide shoulders as if he had no neck. Beneath his thick brow ridge, his deep brown eyes twinkled in the blazing firelight. Another round of laughter filled the room and he stopped eating long enough to wipe the drippings from his beard with the back of his burly forearm. Using the bone as a stick, Hokan waved it at Shorn across the room.
“It is not true!” he grinned. “I was only testing the ropes for strength!”
“You hung upside down from the spar with one foot tangled in the riggings for half an hour,” Shorn chided good-naturedly. “It took three of us to free you! How is that ‘testing the ropes’?”
“I wanted to see if they could handle my weight in the wind. That is all.” Hokan shook his head sadly. His four friends curled over, holding their bellies to contain their chortles. “I am so hurt you would doubt my words.” No longer able to keep his face straight, he joined in their stomach hurting laughter.
The fur covering the door was ripped away, blazing the fire in the hearth, and three black clad Aam stepped into the room, ducking to clear the low entrance. The laughter died in dry throats and angry growls as the heavily armed men spread out around the room. The Izon froze, waiting to see what their guards would say, stealthily slipping their carving knives under their legs. When the Aam spoke no words, Hokan rose slowly and cautiously to his feet, his blade concealed against his muscled forearm.
“What is it you want?” he asked in the words of the People, his accent thick but understandable in the deathly silence of the room.
“Where has your Clan gone to ground?” The one in the center, tallest of the trio, stared down at Hokan as if he were a bug to be squashed beneath his black-booted foot. He took a step forward causing the Izon to crane his neck to look him in the eyes.
“We do not know,” Hokan responded defiantly meeting the Aam’s lifeless blue eyes. “We are of the docks not the compound.”
The Aam nodded and the guard near the door clubbed Hokan with the butt of his rifle, knocking the stocky Izon to the floor. Crimson blood seeped through his scalp and trickled down the side of his face. The other Clansmen started to jump to their friend’s aid, but the raising of barrels in their direction stayed their hands.
“I will ask only one more time,” the Aam leader said flatly. “Where are the Izon?”
Hokan rose on one elbow, shaking his head to clear the starlit fog from his aching head. He spit out a mouthful of blood that had leaked through his beard and through his parted lips directly on the booted feet before him. Still reeling, he rose on shaky legs to face the vicious guard. “I told you we do not know.” He spat again and met those ice-cold eyes. “And if I did, I would never tell the likes of you!”
“Then you are of no use to me,” the Aam said quietly, raising a hand toward his companions. The milky, white glare of the plasma rifles bathed the room in a brief brilliant light far brighter that the meager flames from the hearth. Terrified cries of shock, pain or anger never had time to pass twisted lips or even lodge in headless throats. In that ghastly moment the Izon men were cut into chunks of steaming flesh, the heat searing the wounds so there were not even pools of dark, red blood to mark their passing.
“Pull up the sled and load the bodies,” the Aam leader said dispassionately. A grim, predatory grin touched his thin, colorless lips as he gazed at the remains. “Drop them into the Gaia so they will never be found.” He turned tightly on his heels, ducking to clear the entrance and disappeared into the murky, moonless night.
The black, soundless sleds drew no outcry as they were loaded with their grisly cargo. The hooded Aam moved silently and efficiently, securing what was left of the Izon beneath inky tarps so as not to drop evidence of their horrific crime. In seconds, they were gone, slipping away into the murky nighttime, unnoticed by neighbors tired from the day’s labor and enjoying the evening’s respite.
Yet the foul deed did not go unwitnessed. Hidden in gloomy alley, a shadowy figure in a long ebony robe pulled tight against the misty chill near the river, watched the barbaric, gruesome events unfold. He fought back the acidic bile that filled his burning throat, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. His tall, muscular body shivered in the night, not from the coolness of the air, but from the rage and helplessness overflowing his burning soul. He knew he would have no chance against three heavily armed, well-trained Aam, but the bunched muscles in quivering legs screamed at him to act when he knew he could not.
Once the sleds were hidden by the night, the man doubled over and retched repeatedly on the damp stones, emptying the contents of his knotted stomach. It was not so easy to ease the pain of his troubled conscience. The man leaned against the cold stone wall waiting for his sickness to abate and the strength to return to his shaky legs. He wiped his spittle on the back of his long sleeves and shook his head as if to clear the hideous memory from his tortured mind. But to no avail.
“I must report to the Lady Themis,” the man whispered into the night, hurrying down the misty street. “She must know of this immediately. Immediately!”
Deep in the bowels of the Pyramid, a long, dark corridor led to thick wooden door, banded with black metal. A simple burnished ring acted as a handle to swing it open on soundless hinges. There were no locks, no guards. No one would come here that did not have business – or were forced to be here.
Haleah hung against the cold, damp rock, manacles locked around her ankles and wrists. Chains held her fast, pulling her up so high that only the balls of her feet could rest on the hard stone floor. Her long, blond hair hung in moistened clumps around her limp shoulders. Dried blood stained the thin, once-white cloth dress that barely covered her dirty body. Four sputtering torches, one in each corner, cast a dim, flickering light within the smoky confines of the small, near airless room. The only other things in the room were a small wooden table covered with a dingy rag and a three-legged stool. Spread out on the rag was a collection of blades, hammers and various unnamed instruments, their surfaces already darkly stained.
A weak, golden glow emanated from her skin, closing wounds and banishing purple bruises from Haleah’s unconscious form. For countless days she had hung thus, losing track of time with no way to tell of the suns passing. At first, there had been no torches and she had struggled against her bonds while blood streamed down her arms. She screamed out her rage until her voice was dry and raw. No one heard. No one came. Endless hours passed and she was alone in the darkness. Defiantly, she refused to cry, attempting to hold herself upright. Finally, however, fatigue overcame her and despite her best wishes, she slept fitfully. When she awoke, she was ashamed to find she had soiled herself. Still time rolled on and no one came.
She began to dream then, nightmare visions
of gigantic silver creatures chasing her through fog-filled meadows. The stiff, sharp needles of black grass slashed her bare feet and left a long, bloody trail behind her. Beasts covered with charred fur would appear out of nowhere, beckoning her with promises of safety. She would run to them, filled with hope, only to have spears of white light cut her saviors to pieces. On and on she pelted, through leafless forests of blighted trees, their limbs twisted and bent as burnt fingers lifted in agony. Voices followed her every move, gaining on her, with words undistinguishable, filled with vicious intent. Closer they would come until she could just about make out what they were saying. Then she would bolt into the fog, knowing that to hear the words would mean the end of her. Still they came on, drawn to her like some relentless predator. Her lungs screamed, her breath ragged, her legs cramping. She knew she would soon fall but still she fought on.
Consciousness returned with a burning slap that jarred her jaw and rammed her head against the wall. Pale light invaded her eyelids, brilliant compared to the total darkness that had consumed her. She blinked away tears and licked powder-dry lips. Before her stood Cronus and one other.
“Ah, the lady awakens,” murmured the other, lifting her by the chin, forcing her jaws to separate and dribbling bitterly cold water into her parched mouth. She choked, the iciness burning down her throat like liquid fire. The pain was blissful though and her lips sucked greedily at each precious drop offered. Ever so slowly, her tiny cell came into focus.
Shadows danced around the room, dark and menacing. Cronus stared at her with eyes that gleamed red like a beast in the night, unspeaking. The other was the smallest of the People she had yet seen. He stood just a bit shorter than Haleah, having to raise himself up to force the water into her mouth. His body was very thin and wiry, but topped with a face that would have been beautiful. He had long brown hair drawn back from a high forehead and tied in a tight braid, a trace of dark eyebrows above a narrow nose and delicate, almost feminine lips. He would have been beautiful, yes, if it were not for the cruelty that twisted those lips into a parody of a smile, the glitter of evil that filled the black pits of his eyes. Haleah shuddered at the frozen touch of his fingers upon her skin. He studied her as one would a bug ripe for the crushing, turning her face this way and that until, with a satisfied nod, he stepped back into the shadows.
“You have caused us no end of trouble,” Cronus said, his voice flat, devoid of human emotion. “We brought you in, gave you a home and civilization. We accepted you as one of us and how do you repay our kindness? You side with animals and take the lives of your own people.”
Haleah straightened in her chains, staring at Cronus with pure contempt. “I could never call ones such as you ‘my people’. You know well the Izon are not animals. They are your…”
Cronus backhanded her so hard that her cheek tore on the abrasive stone. “You will never speak those words. I warned you what would happen if you did.”
Haleah spit blood from her tattered lips onto the floor at his feet. “I doubt you will do that.”
“Oh?” His eyebrow arched at her words. “And what makes you so sure of that?”
“You need them,” Haleah replied. “If not you would have killed them all instead of herding them back to the compound. If not for the Izon, who would do all your hard labor? Your People? They would never dirty their pretty little their hands.”
Cronus nodded. “We do need them that is true. And that is why you will tell me where they have gone.”
“Never!” Haleah spit dark red blood into his face.
She felt a rib crack and the air whooshed out of her lungs. She doubled over, hanging in her chains, dry heaving. Finally, she raised her face, seeing Cronus wipe away the blood with the sleeve of his shirt.
Coldly, he pushed her head up and back, grinding her skull into the rock. “Ah, but you will. My friend here will make sure of that.” He turned his back to her and strode to the door, stopping for a moment to burn his gaze into her. “There is a downside to Healing as the People do, Haleah. You shall learn of that now.” He closed the door behind him and she was left alone with the other.
He walked to the table, carefully inspecting the tools spread out before him. He picked up a large, square, flat hammer, testing its weight. Her body shivered, wet, yellow liquid dribbling down her inner thigh. “Let us start with the knees and work our way up, shall we?”
Then the screaming began.
“I must leave.” Morpheus loaded a change of warm clothing into his pack on top of the supplies of dried meat and fruit strips. The powered torch and thick, fur-lined gloves were the last of the items to go inside. He tightened the straps on the travel pack, cinching the sleeping bag firmly to the bottom. “I travel to the Izon. Maybe Cronus is correct and Haleah has been unable to get word to me.”
Anaxus scowled in reply, his hard-muscled, burly arms folded across his. “I would not put much stock in what Cronus says of late. There are rumors of many a bad thing happening around him of late. Yet, for the life of me, I see no reason. His treatment of the Izon is but one example.”
“I know, my friend,” Morpheus agreed, tying a heavy, hooded coat to the top of his pack. Keeping his pledge, he kept the truth even from his closest friends. He tied his long hair behind his neck with a small length of hide and slung the frame across his back, snugly fastening the straps to his shoulders. He looked around the small, dimly lit room to insure he had forgotten nothing. “That is why I must find her.”
“We have a dark sense of foreboding about this venture.” Navis looked grim, his brother mirroring his concern. “We should go with you.” Nuvan added, “You do know they will attempt to follow you.”
“I am sure they will and I do appreciate the thought,” Morpheus smiled wanly, patting Navis on the shoulder. “Remember our plan though. When I leave, you three head out in different directions. Lay tracks as far as you can then head back to the city. I am counting on you to distract my pursuers. I also need you to find out all you can as to Haleah’s whereabouts if she is still within the city.”
Anaxus gripped his friend in a bear hug, resting his chin on the head of Morpheus, and stepped back. “We know our part and will play it well. Keep in mind that you do not know how much Haleah told the Izon about you. They may see you as an enemy. Take care when you find them. Also, you do understand that once you are gone, coming back may be difficult.”
“I do,” Morpheus acknowledged. “Still, I love that woman. Very, very much.”
His three friends laughed at him as if he were insane. “Now there is a surprise,” they all quipped.
“Ah, I guess I am very transparent,” Morpheus laughed.
With little left to discuss, the other three men slipped similar, but empty packs on their backs. All four donned dark cloaks, pulling the hoods over their heads, obscuring their features from any who may be watching outside. They were counting on the shadows of night to disguise the height differences among them. Nuvan was the first to step out into the warm night air. He cut through the darkened city streets taking a twisting route to the south. Fifteen minutes later, Navis took his turn, circulating to the north.
Morpheus waited until he was sure his friends were well on their way. “It is time, Anaxus. I thank you all for your aid, my friend.” Deep lines creased his forehead, his black eyes losing their normal sparkle. “Keep your ears and eyes open…please. Take care.”
Anaxus looked as if he had been insulted. “There is no need for thanks. We are brothers in arms.” He placed his thick paws on his friend’s wide shoulders. “Besides, we all love that puny woman in our own way. If she is in the city, we will find her. Go now. I shall follow shortly.”
With a nod, Morpheus slipped quietly out the door. The midnight hour descended upon the city with a clouded, moonless night. The stone-paved streets were devoid of life in this section, the few nightspots open located near the Great Pyramid. Morpheus moved like a silent shadow, taking advantage of every pool of blackness to check behind him. He
twisted through alleys and back roads, ever changing his easterly route. He was the best tracker in the Aam, thus he knew well how to leave no trace of his passing. Nevertheless, he occasionally heard whispered voices and quiet footfalls at his back. Within an hour, he left even those far behind him.
Taking more time than he would have liked, Morpheus at last found himself out of the buildings and among the piles of boulders that marked the un-cleared southern boundary of the city. Here he must take greater care not to stumble upon the stones or kick loose rock that might give away his position. He would not use his light caster until he absolutely had to so he stepped cautiously, planting each foot firmly before the other.
He was anxious, seeing the first hint of dawn upon the horizon by the time he reached his destination. It was a small clearing near the edge of the chasm that separated Atlantis from the isle of the One Tree. Hidden behind a large boulder was a Polaris sled. Since the escape of the Izon, Cronus had placed guards on the bridge and had removed the sleds from the other side. Crossing anywhere near the city would have been impossible without notice. While planning this trek, Morpheus and the others had hidden sleds at various locations. These would be their only way across the isle. He laid himself flat upon the sled. He had not sensed a presence behind him for hours, but still he felt it better not to leave a large silhouette. Once on the sled, he knew his passage would be untraceable.
True dawn painted the high thin clouds with streaks of red and yellow by the time he passed over the island. An hour more and he was well into the thick forest that ran from the southern edge of the valley to the western mountains. Morpheus found a thicket of underbrush near a huge, distinctly gnarled tree and buried the sled deep within. He marked the tree near the base with a small, nearly invisible crescent cut. Only then did he bring out his far-eyes to scan the grassy valley behind him. Satisfied that no one had trailed him, he took a few bites of food then spread out his bedding. Within moments, he was fast asleep.
