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Authors: Christopher David Petersen

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BOOK: Tomb of Zeus (Atlantis)
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“And what of our own
ship?”

“Zeus remains optimistic, but I have my reservations. Only time will tell if
Idaeus is successful in his repairs,” Poseidon answered.


And what if he’s not?”

“Then we’ll be here much longer than anticipated,” he re
plied in ominous tone.

 

----- ----- ----- -----

 

Zeus held the tiller in one hand and his scepter in the other. Confident and bold, he stood at the rear of the ship and kept watch over the rowing slaves. Four hours into his journey, land had drifted from sight and he now relied on the use of the sun and his magnetic compass for navigation. As the slaves powered the boat across the open sea, he monitored his position with the crude instruments, making small corrections with the tiller to stay on course.

He watched the bow of the ship as it carved its way through the water. With great frequency, he began to notice the nose of the craft veering right to
ward starboard. Slipping off course, he moved the tiller in the opposite direction to bring the ship back on track. Several more times, he noted the plaguing problem. Directing his focus to the men rowing on the right hand side of the boat, he monitored their activity with suspicion. Within seconds, he noticed the problem: several slaves rowed out of sync with the others. Upon further examination, he realized their rowing gate was slower than the rest.


Indolence,” he said to himself in frustration.

Quickly, he raised his crystal scepter, pointed it
at Bolar, a slave standing at the front of the boat and applied pressure along the hand grip. Instantly, the scepter’s internal components reacted, generating an electric charge that radiated from the tip and focused as a narrow stream of energy. As it contacted the unsuspecting slave, the charge flowed through his body, momentarily stunning him as he let out a guttural cry of pain. Zeus relaxed the pressure and the stream of energy quickly vanished. Bolar collapsed to the ground and writhed as the others looked on in horror.

“Maintain a proper cadence. Those that fall behind will suffer my wrath,” Zeus shouted loudly. He pointed his scepter across the deck of men and commanded, “Back to rowing!”

Quickly, the men grabbed their oars and began to row in synchronized rhythm. Zeus stared menacingly at the injured slave. Rage welled inside Bolar as he limped back to his station. Grabbing his oar, he turned quick and shot Zeus a hateful stare. Zeus raised his scepter once more, only to see Bolar quickly turn back to his work and join his comrades in perfect rhythm.


Hmm, insolence,” he thought to himself.

He watched him for a moment
with contempt, then turned to his navigation. At the rear of the boat, a small ledge made of wood and reeds, held maps, a sun compass, a magnetic compass and other implements for tracking his course. He turned his back to the rowing men and concentrated momentarily on a map. As he began to stow his scepter through a piece of leather attached to his waist sash, he struggled with the loop. He grew frustrated with the clumsy design and he placed the scepter up on the ledge next to the navigation tools.

Picking up the sun compass, he took a reading and marked his latitudinal position on the map. He next tossed a colored piece of cork into the water. Trailing behind the boat was a length of rope with markings on it for distance. As the cork passed the last marking on the rope, Zeus mentally counted the time. He then calculated the speed of the boat and the approximate time they’d next see land.

Behind him, at the front of the boat, thirty men strained against their oars. Sweat poured off their bodies even with the cool breeze that rushed in from the sea. Hunger and thirst grew to distraction as they toiled in their task. Fear and hatred held fresh in their minds as they thought about their comrade’s unfair treatment. Each man knew at any point in time, they too could suffer his punishment.

As the
y pulled hard on their oars, each man’s lips carried the same silent curse, “Death to Zeus.”

Bolar
, still feeling the pain of his injury, struggled to keep up with the cadence set by the other slaves. With each pull of his oar, his inflamed muscles protested the exercise. Standing across from him, Euclid noticed his struggling friend.


Bolar, you must keep up. Lord Zeus will kill you if you cannot,” he whispered cautiously.

Bolar
nodded in understanding. His face strained as he pulled even harder, trying to match the speed of the other rowers.

“I tire of this abuse. We are not dogs, yet he treats up like animals,”
Bolar responded acidly.

“Nonetheless, if he sees you slowing ag
ain, that’ll be the end of you,” Euclid shot back.

“He’s a coward… nothing without that scepter.
Give me one chance with his back turned and I’ll show him the meaning of insolence,” he spat.


Bolar, I too have thought the same, but we are no match for his kind. It would take more than just you to win your freedom,” Euclid whispered.


We’ve talked about this. We’ve all talked about attacking him as one. His back is turned. Join me. We can have our freedom,” Bolar encouraged.

“Are you mad? He’d strike us down in a blink of an eye with his scepter. We’d have no chance,”
he responded.

“Not if we beat him to his weapon.”

“How do you propose to do that? He keeps it at his side at all times,” Euclid asked, now curious.

Bolar
motioned to Euclid to look behind them. He pointed to the missing scepter normally hung from Zeus’ side.


Zeus has erred. He is not attached to his weapon,” Bolar said, boldly.

“True, but his weapon is still within reach.”

“Not if we knock him away from it. Once he is separated from his scepter, he’ll be defenseless,” he explained.


Bolar, it’s too risky. We could easily be killed,” Euclid shot back, unconvinced.

“We live a life worse than the dead already. Each of us will be worked to the point of death, then murdered just after. We have no future, other than torment and pain. If we capture that scepter, we could live as Gods, the same as Zeus and his
brother. We could strike down whole armies and conquer whole nations. We could rule the world.”

Bolar
’s words were not new to his ears. The men had discussed their freedom before. But unlike before, Zeus was alone. There were no men to come to his rescue. His back was now turned and access to his weapon was now in question. Euclid turned back toward Zeus. Other’s noted Bolar’s rearward stare and turned their sights rearward too. Within seconds, every man’s thoughts were the same and as they looked around at their comrades, their eyes registered one only action: attack.

Instantly,
Bolar sprang to his feet. Euclid stood and rushed in just behind him as they both moved toward the rear of the boat. With determination on their faces, others joined the effort. Almost to the end of the rowers, Rendin stood and opened his tunic. Tucked inside a crude seam, he pulled a shortened bronze dagger from its hidden pocket. Holding it out, he nodded approvingly. Bolar smiled in gratitude and accepted the weapon. Ten feet from Zeus’ back, his target was all but assured.

Zeus stared at the map and considered his journey. Suddenly, a strange sensation came over him. He began to feel the boat beginning to slow. Gone was the rhythmic surge he felt from the oars as they th
rust the large craft forward. Missing from his hearing was the sound of the oars lapping at the seas. In the split second it took to register in his mind, he felt the sharp jarring pain of the dagger as it plunged into his back.

As Zeus fell forward, he let out a guttural cry in agony.
Bolar pulled the knife and plunged it into his back once more. Regaining his senses, Zeus focused his mind and reached for his scepter. Two hands gripped the weapon. Only one was his.

Suddenly he felt a crushing blow to the back of his head as two men thrust their open palms into the back of his skull. Two fists slammed into his back and
an arm wrapped around his neck. More men flung themselves onto him and he collapsed forward, his weight and that of the slave, now being supported by the boats rear ledge. Instinct burst inside him and he flexed his muscular legs and stood. Feeling the choking grip of the man behind him, he reached over his head and grabbed the slave’s hair. He pulled hard and hauled him up and over the top of him, flinging the man over the boats ledge and into the water. He heard a yelp and felt a peculiar matter in his hands. Looking down, he noticed a clump of hair and a small section of scalp still attached.

Again, he felt the dagger stab his back. With his hand still clutching his scepter, he spun
it around, using his mighty forearm to knock several slaves away from him and onto the ground.

Refusing to let go,
Rendin clung to Zeus’ forearm and scepter, his own flailing body knocking several others away in the act. Two slaves rushed in and thrust their fists into Zeus’ face. Bolar stabbed Zeus in the chest, piercing his lung. Zeus’ internal energy now rushed through his body. He threw his large fist into the faces of two slaves standing in front of him, the massive blows instantly shattering their jaws and cheekbones. As they fell to the ground, more rushed in to take their place.

Two more lunged for the scepter. Zeu
s changed his grip slightly, causing the internal mechanisms to engage. Suddenly a burst of energy flowed from the tip and cut across the chests of those standing in front of him. Bolar ducked the path of death as several more men fell to the ground.

Zeus felt the desperate struggle at the handgrip to his scepter. Looking over, he stared into the frightened eyes of
Rendin. With a quick swing of his great fist, he slammed it into Rendin’s face, instantly knocking him to the ground. He aimed his scepter at the horrified slave and squeezed the grip. In a blink of an eye, a beam of energy cut through Rendin’s stomach, emptying his internal organs onto the deck. He let out an agonizing cry, as he instinctively clutched his savage wound.

Seeing his friend
’s gory death, rage filled Bolar’s body. He leapt high and thrust the dagger at Zeus’ face. Zeus stumbled backward and shouted out a cry of pain as the tip of the blade sliced through his check and pierced his eye. Bolar continued to plunge his knife.

Zeus’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Two slaves jump
ed onto him and began to punch him wildly as two others wrestled for the scepter. Zeus cried out in pain as a slave bit into his fingers, trying to release his grip. He felt more stabs as Bolar continued to plunge his dagger into Zeus’ stomach.

Rage flared inside Zeus. He flexe
d his grip on the scepter and a burst of energy rushed from the tip, cutting into the wooden decking, then across the legs of two slaves, instantly severing their limbs below their knees. As they dropped to the ground, they both fell onto the scepter, the beam cutting through their bodies.

Seeing the death of their comrades, the two slaves on top of Zeus began to fear for their lives. They watch in horror as Zeus began to rotate the energized scepter in their direction. They reached for his forearm, but only too late. The beam of energy contact
ed one man’s back and another man’s skull. Both cried out in pain and fell away. Bolar rolled away, the scepter just missing his head.

Zeus struggled to his feet. Ignoring his own safety,
Euclid rushed forward and flung himself into the air. As he contacted Zeus’ body, he wrapped his arms around Zeus’ neck and began to choke him. Zeus gasped for air, but there was none to be had. Blinded now in one eye and bleeding profusely from stab wounds about his body, he began to feel weakened from loss of blood and oxygen. For the first time since he could remember, he began to feel fear.

Panic quickly ensued. Like a caged animal, he roiled up and tore
Euclid from his body. He flung the slave to the ground knocking Bolar down with him. As more slaves rushed in, he kicked the lead man into the others charging behind him. For a moment, he could breathe and he could think. He eyed the other slaves still standing and pointed the energized scepter. Before anyone could protest, the beam of energy sliced through their bodies, cutting them in half. Screams sounded as the dying men waited for death to end their agony.

Zeus looked down at the two remaining slaves:
Bolar and Euclid. He relaxed his grip on the scepter, decreasing the intensity of the beam. He ran it over the two as they lay on the ground. Both shrieked in pain as the energy electrified their bodies. Just short of their death, Zeus released his grip once more and shut off the beam. The two men writhed in pain and crawled away from their foe in search of safety.

Zeus stood for a moment to catch his breath. He looked around his boat and saw only carnage. He looked down at his wounds in horror. Covered in his own blood, there were too many wounds to count. He suddenly began to feel the effect
s of his injuries. He felt weak and unsteady. He stumbled over to a bench at the side for the boat and sat. Breathing heavy, the vision in his remaining eye became blurred.

“Oh no,” he said to himself in frightened tone. “I’m dying.”

BOOK: Tomb of Zeus (Atlantis)
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