Gods and Men- The Hank Boyd Omnibus, page 18
part #1 of Gods and Men Series
That’s when I notice that I’m alone. The three priests are gone. It’s just me and a very much alive Atlantean civilization.
39
I slowly and methodically make my way down the left-hand stairs, the one leading towards the pyramid. The walk through the leafy forest takes a few minutes, but it’s all a dream anyway so I might as well take my time and enjoy it. What’s the rush?
I pass a few families picnicking and some more children playing in the trees themselves. The scene reminds me of when I used to play in the tree outside my grandparent’s house in Lake Worth.
Doing as the person did early, I reach up and pick an apple from a nearby tree, examining it carefully. The fact I can actually touch it tells me I’m in no ordinary dream again. It’s actually there, just like the pain was. It’s real, but not. Sitting in the palm of my hand is what I know to be a Granny Smith—my favorite. I hold the healthy green fruit up to my nose and sniff. It even smells like a freshly picked apple.
“Aw, what the hell,” I say, biting into its perfectly polished skin. As soon as the juice hits my tongue, I know it’s the most delicious apple I’ve ever eaten. Nothing new or different mind you, it’s just so fresh and perfectly grown, with the right blend of sweet-and-sour.
That’s when I notice my head clearing of exhaustion and my body returning to its usual strength. I flex my arms and legs, testing them. Dang, I may even be stronger than normal. I’ve never felt better, in fact. Not even when I was in peak physical condition playing ball.
I look down at the apple. The inside of the fruit has a very soft, golden color fused into its flesh, giving it a marbleized quality. Hmmm, I mumble to myself, rubbing my chin. The apples back home don’t have that. I wonder what it is. I shrug off my discovery, not knowing anything beyond what I’ve seen, and continue my stroll through the shade of the trees. As I finish, I hear birds singing in the trees, of which I haven’t been able to spot. Eating the apple down to its core, I look around and find a barrel labeled trash, tossing in my completed snack and turn, stepping away.
Wait a second! I spin back around, almost bowling over the wastebasket, kneeling in front of it, and inspect the writing. I then trace my figure over the gold-leaf print, probably looking like a lunatic to everyone else. I glance to the nearest family, but they don’t even seem to notice I’m here. Or they don’t even see me, I think, looking the other way to a second group of people, not ten feet away. Makes sense, I guess. It’s a dream after all. The label is written in a language I know I’ve never been able to read before—the same language inscribed on the statues of the Atlantean kings.
“I can read ancient Atlantean…” I say to myself, astonished at what I’ve just learned. Is this just part of the dream? Did the elders give me the ability while they’re in my head? Or was it really just the apple?
“What the hell was in that Granny?” I ask rhetorically.
I look back up and see the lustrous pyramid through the branches of an orange tree and decide to test a theory, taking off in a sprint. I run like a maniac, weaving through throngs of people, never slowing. I feel my natural lactic burn coming on, and then, it’s gone, fading away along with my muscle fatigue and labored breathing. I don’t tire, not one bit.
I smile and put on even more speed, running like an Olympic sprinter. I’ve never run at this pace for this long and decide to push myself faster and faster. Everything is fine, until I run out of real estate and skid to a halt, stopping right at the edge of the courtyard.
The patio looks the same as before, except it’s in full color and not in the various shades of dreariness like before. The grass looks just as soft, but green and the many statues gleam white in the daylight.
Daylight? I never thought to look. How is there any light in here at all without the lava flow?
Looking up towards the now visible ceiling, I notice there seems to be a massive amount of glowing crystals embedded into the stone above. They give off their own light and assist in giving life to this fantastic place. How do they glow?
Another question for later, I think and set off through the patio of…peace. Instead of running, I just take it slow and steady, enjoying whatever time I have here.
The stress of leading a team has faded too I notice. The pressure was building up so fast that it was becoming hard to handle. My emotional outbursts were getting more frequent as a result too. I’m an overly sensitive kind of person, to begin with, but not to the point that it was. A disaster was coming for sure, but this serene environment stalled it.
Thanks, guys, I think, expressing my gratitude to the priests for bringing me here. They may have just saved our lives by saving mine.
I remember when Kane named this place the ‘Patio of Pain.’ It was so fitting at the time with all the pain and suffering that was being felt here. It was sickening. Even the air around us felt corrupt. Nannot’s own hate and malice literally destroyed this place. Even the scenery changed because of his merciless revulsion for the human race.
Towards his own family too.
I remember the priests calling him brother during my various encounters with them. Why would he want to bring this place to the ground and tear down everything his people had achieved here?
I’m not sure, but I believe evil is an acquired attribute in a person. No one is born bad, they become it due to various circumstances in their lives.
What turned Nannot? How bad could it have been?
It’s then I notice the crowds thinning out. There’s barely anybody in this section of the necropolis. I wonder why?
“Because they are gone,” I hear a familiar voice say. “This is only but a memory. We show you what we remember, not what still exists.”
I turn my eyes up to the shining statue of Thoth and see three figures hunched over, in reverence to their king. They stand as one, finishing with their worship, and turn to face me, their heads still cloaked in hoods.
“Plus,” the center one continues. “The lush landscape is what drew people here, not the memorials and reliefs. The citizens of An’tala would need to come down here a few times a year to recharge their bodies.”
“Recharge?” I ask.
“Yes, the life-giving elements of the fruit is what allowed the people here to live as long as they did.”
“Life-giving elements…the golden hue in the apple I just ate?”
They nod in unison.
So it is something they put in the food.
“Your people weren’t immortal, were they?”
They shake their heads.
“No, although their lifespans would outlast one from your time by decades without such help.”
They go to turn.
“Wait!” I yell, not meaning to. “What are your names?”
They stop and turn back toward me. The middle one steps forward and bows slightly.
“I am Rahji-itza, the First Elder.”
“I am Qaaft, the Second Elder,” says the one to my right, also bowing.
And then the one on my left. “And I am Kylak, the Third Elder.”
I step forward.
“My name is Hank Boyd, and for some reason, you all think I’m some chosen hero or something.”
They stand as still as stone for what seems like ten minutes but is probably closer to ten seconds. Then all at once, they reach up and remove their hoods, exposing themselves to me for the first time.
I stumble back and fall on my ass, shocked at what I see. None of the warrior priests are wearing their battle gear or masks. They are completely exposed, and it’s something I never would have guessed…and something I’ll never forget.
40
What the…they’re…freaks? They honestly look like they should be traveling in a circus, not defending a kingdom from a rogue enemy. Each of them still stands at eight feet tall, even without their battle armor and guises. Their bodies are still impressively built, lean yet powerful, but the faces…they’re all wrong.
Their eyes are similar and strange all at once. They have the eyes of a human and are the color of the orichalcum alloy, and they move. Not the eyes themselves though. It’s the irises, they shift and swirl, like clouds on a stormy day.
But that’s not even the strangest thing about them.
Their mouths are the biggest oddity, as in, they have none. It’s just a blank canvas of scarred flesh where the lips should be. How do they eat, or drink? I know they communicate by way of telepathy, but I didn’t expect this. I just thought it was easier to think your conversations than to say them. I figured they chose not to speak. Man, was I wrong.
“What are you?” I ask mentally, knowing there could still be a language barrier. It’s an honest question, with no malice behind it. They seem to understand the real meaning of the question, having no hurt in their expressions.
“Lord Thoth offered us a choice,” the one named Rahji-itza answers. “Live forever in his service, or die like any other mortal that has come before and after us. There were obviously some…unforeseen side effects.
No kidding?
“So the people here would eventually die, even with the additive in the food?” I ask.
“Yes,” Rahji-itza replies, “the weaker formula in the food here will extend your lifespan, but not remove death from your life.”
Then he gets back to my first question.
“Our personal elixir, the pure and undiluted one, caused our bodies to grow stronger and never wilt with time. Our minds as well, they never age or lose function as we grow older. Thoth then trained us in his ways and taught us how to use our newly developed gifts.”
“I still don’t understand, live forever, as in eternal life?”
“Yes, he trusted only us to continue on here, guarding the necropolis. But as mortals, we had our limitations. We would eventually die and cease to exist just like everyone else.”
“How did Thoth do this, how did he even know how to?” I’m perplexed that an ancient king could even conceive the idea of immortality, let alone formulate a way to make it work.
“Lord Thoth was an ordinary human early in his life. But like every culture, some are inherently different, more curious than others. One day he watched a star fall from the sky—”
“A meteorite?”
“Yes,” Rahji-itza continues. “What you would call a meteor fell from the heavens, just outside the village where he lived. He set out to explore the landing spot and found an impact crater. He climbed down to inspect his find and discovered a stone.”
“A stone? That’s it?”
“Yes, a stone, a stone that glowed of bronze and gold.”
“Orichalcum!” I say, putting a hand on my head, shocked. “He found orichalcum in the crater? Wait! He found it in the impact crater of a fallen object from space? You’re telling me that orichalcum is alien in origin! Where did it come from? Who made…” My other hand joins my first, and I almost start to hyperventilate at the revelation.
“We do not know its source, neither did our master. And yes, Lord Thoth was the first of your kind to find a relic not of this world, from an unknown Origin.”
I can see the conversation in my head and immediately notice the play on words.
“Origin?”
“Our king would come to call us Origin. He is our leader and us, his followers.”
I still can’t believe what I just learned. Everything I’ve ever read about Atlantis and its foundation—all of it is pure garbage compared to this.
I put my thoughts back together, lowering my hands. “What happened next?”
“He cut into the fallen remnant and extracted a sample. After bringing it back to his home, he conducted some crude experiments. He tried and failed many times to learn anything he could about the stone, but he learned nothing, becoming obsessed. Eventually, he decided to do something rash. He ground up a small portion of it into a fine powder and then mixed it into his drinking water—”
“He drank it? Without knowing what it was? That was absolutely insane!” I turn around and start to pace, trying to put together the pieces of this remarkable puzzle.
“Perhaps,” Rahji-itza says, nodding in agreement. “But, like I said before, Thoth was an ordinary person of the times. He was, how do you say, reckless.”
I stop and look back up to the elders. Reckless? That’s what everyone thought of me growing up and what my dad still thinks of me now.
I shake off the unnerving comparison and continue, “So why was the necropolis built to honor your past leaders if you’re immortal?”
“We are immortal. They,” he says, pointing towards one of the memorials, “were not. We were the only ones our master gave this too. The people buried here were statesmen of sorts. Regional leaders that reported back to Thoth. He chose us because he foresaw the end of his empire. We were his last pupils. He instilled in us everything he knew and gave us the abilities to protect this land and eventually restrain him.”
“Restrain—restrain who, Thoth?” I ask not understanding.
He shakes his head.
“Isn’t it obvious? We were charged to be our fallen brother’s keepers—his wardens. We are still here to make sure he doesn’t escape.”
My face goes white, and my stomach drops.
“The fire frozen in time… It’s Nannot’s earthly prison cell?”
They nod again together, but no one looks back up to me. They just stare at the floor with a look of sorrow on their faces.
“Who is he, Nannot? Is he really your brother?”
They just nod again, looking even more down in the dumps.
This time the one named Qaaft looks up to me. He speaks for the first time, though his voice sounds exactly like Rahji-itza’s.
“Nannot never took to our master, Thoth. He claimed favoritism between him and the rest of us. Once infused with our abilities, Nannot became irrational and selfish, wanting only to use his gifts for his own gain. We steadfastly believed in what our king charged us with and naturally became his foe.”
He glances back down to the floor, and Kylak continues in his place.
“Once Nannot defied Lord Thoth he was defeated, but not executed, per the custom. Lord Thoth used his own skills to capture Nannot’s very essence—his soul. He was locked away in his fiery tomb forever, until…”
“Until what?”
“One thing our king did not anticipate was that Nannot developed the ability to feed off the hate and anger of the world. It must have been a self-learned technique because even Thoth himself wasn’t sure how he did it. As time went on and the population of the world multiplied…”
“So did the world’s hatred and bloodlust,” I continue, “giving Nannot more fuel for his fire.”
“Once he was captured, we began to see our people acting irrationally—like they were being controlled from within. Only did we later learn that it was Nannot who reached out to those too weak to fight back. He was trying to finish what he started from beyond his own body.”
“Like create a bunch of monsters?” I ask the hair on my neck standing on end.
“Unfortunately, Lord Thoth taught us everything he knew. Some of those teachings included how to enter a living being’s body and alter their code.”
I react with a look of shock and disgust. “He taught you how to play God?”
“Yes,” Rahji-itza says, “but we were forbidden to use such disregard. We were only permitted if there was an illness that was untreatable. We could effectively cure the person’s disease in seconds if they allowed us access. Our brother had a different take on things. He believed it was his right to tinker with the human existence, forcing his way in.”
I think back to Rhonar, the Rhino-man. The pure agony that resonated through his body when trying to fight off Nannot’s mental incursion sends chills up my spine. I close my eyes and blink back tears. Nothing, man or beast, should have to go through something like that.
It’s obvious that their brother didn’t have a moral compass. It’s also pretty damn obvious that he’s abused it more than once by the number of courtyard’s empty pedestals back in the real world.
I look around and only see statues of giants. They’re men, but huge and imposing. No mutations to speak of.
“He began to forget that he was once human just like us, just an unwanted child.”
“Unwanted?” The stories of people abandoning their children have always struck me as one of the most heartbreaking things imaginable.
“We were an unusual birth in our time. We were four children born at the same time by the same mother.”
“Quadruplets,” I say. “It’s actually not all that uncommon anymore. It’s actually looked at in wonderment and not loathing.”
“Good,” Rahji-itza says, nodding his head, “I would hate for the children of your time to be treated as outcasts like we were. Only Lord Thoth saw us as something good, something worth saving. Our mother did not survive the birthing, so he is all we had. She adored him and steadfastly supported him as king. It’s why he took it upon himself to raise us as his own.”
“So he became your surrogate father. That’s why you were so loyal to him from day one, and that’s why you still are to this day.”
I’m starting to get the emotional connection they have to their king. I’m also seeing how hard it must have been for them all. On one side you have an emperor who needs to do what’s best for his people, in this case, it’s to evacuate. And on the other side, he asked his sons to stay behind to keep watch on their traitor of a sibling.
Man, it must have been one Hallmark Channel-level goodbye, I think to myself.
Then something they said finally hits me. They said that they’re still keeping their brother at bay. Does that mean they’re still alive?
They nod as one, reading my thoughts.
“Yes, Hank Boyd, we are still here,” Rahji-itza then stares into my very soul, piercing the deepest parts of my being, “…and so is he.”
