The Ballad of Persephone Page 12

  “When we disembark at the Black Sea. We will journey south from there.”

  Bal looks at him cockeyed. “Destination?”

  “Our hideout in pTah. Ready the cargo. How long do you estimate before port?”

  “Without issues…six hours. Why not go directly to pTah, Captain?”

  “The moment Octavia realizes we are off course, she will blow us out of the water. We have a two-day interval before turning over the prisoners. That should be enough time to get lost in the wilderness.”

  A worried look creeps over Bal’s face. “I will alert our man to ready transports.”

  “Good.” Dardanes puts a cigar to his lips. “Insist on clean transponders. With some luck, we can reach pTah in 24 hours.”

  Chapter 10: Sacrilege and Cruelty

  Four-thousand years ago the ruling family from a House of ENki occupied a grand palace complex on the Giza plateau of pTah. It was abandoned when the monarchs returned to Hyperboria for a more luxurious lifestyle. They were purveyors of the sciences, pushing the allowed limits of innovation over established lines of heresy. If the House existed today, they would be heralded as geniuses, with humanity’s divergence from religion in favor of what can be seen and proved.

  Ironically, the real cause for the former House to abandon their region came from an edict issued by King Shuru to stop technological dabbling; the same Shuru lies on their marbled slab in a small chamber adorned with colorful depictions and blazing urns – dependent on the science contained there.

  “Hold this,” Thoth says to Osiris. He passes a golden goblet to his brother.

  “What is it?” he asks, noticing the archaic inscriptions on the cup’s body, matching the ancient language engraved in gold on the walls. Torch flames dance on the surface of familiar words. He strains to see finer details etched around symbols - marks forming vowels and guttural inferences in pronunciations long forgotten.

  “Our ancestors perfected a technique of drawing out elements from the body with sound,” Thoth says.

  “Can you do this?” Osiris asks.

  “Yes.” Thoth nods, proudly. “I can. Bring me that staff.” He applies a lubricant with a consistency of thick syrup on Shuru’s head. He grips the staff midway. The top emanates a bright blue light around its edges. As he starts his low, almost inaudible chanting, the tip explodes with a shimmer. A thick blue beam connects to Shuru’s hair, traveling around his body to form a bright cocoon.

  Osiris looks on in awe. He steps back against the wall. Curiosity mixes with a healthy dose of fear. He strains to make out what his brother is chanting – words in a low tone with lots of bass coming from his chest.

  A pattern in the rhythm becomes evident, as it synchronizes with the deepening of the blue hue around the King. Thoth waves his father in.

  Odin enters with careful steps, holding a shorter staff than Thoth, and not as thick. He looks to the Keeper to receive a nod and fights vibrations rattling his arms. A forceful thrust pushes his staff’s tip to the light encasing Shuru’s head.

  A secondary beam erupts, directing a run-off light stream from the body into the golden goblet; it appears as puss flowing out a sore, turning into liquid inside the receptacle.

  As the draw increases Shuru’s body shakes. Osiris clamps his arms around the King as he thrashes about. Brightness increases three-fold. A droning sound reverberates from the walls. The golden symbols light up in splendor.

  The ordeal lasts one minute, ending with a disorienting flash affecting both Odin and Osiris. They drop their hands just below their eyes to gaze in wonder at the Keeper.

  Thoth grips his staff, chanting in the initial inaudible tone, lowering down into a whisper. His eyes are rolled back to show the whites. With a deep breath, he returns to a healthy state. “It is done,” he says.

  Osiris notices Shuru’s complexion turning into a pale shade with a texture of oatmeal. “Is he alright? He looks dead.”

  “Not dead.” A look of relief washes over Thoth. “Sleeping. Look.”

  Odin picks up the cup. “It’s heavy, like molten lead,” he says, swirling the contents with a gentle shake.

  “My fears are realized, father,” Thoth says. “Poison derived from the Lotai; the thickness gives it away. This attack reeks of science from one of two sources.”

  “Vali or the Watchers.” Odin nods in agreement. “It can’t all be a coincidence. This, or the abduction.”

  “Father,” Osiris says. “I suggest we keep an eye on House Octavia.”

  Both Odin and Thoth drop their heads. Odin sighs. “Son, best stay clear of Octavia and her pursuits.”

  Osiris’ eye twitches. He feels an awkward burning in his gut. “You know of her villainy?” His voice rises in pitch and aggravation. “Her corruption and disgrace to our name?”

  “Osiris!” Odin shouts. He calms himself at Thoth’s disapproving gaze. “Osiris…outside of myself, Octavia is the most powerful House in all the banners of ENki. She even holds sway with the King…”

  “Yes, we all know of their past indiscretions,” says Osiris.

  “Without proof of her misdeeds, we cannot move on her,” Thoth says. “Unfortunately, she remains free of stain.”

  Odin looks on Osiris with a sad benevolence. “When you are Primary you will understand.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be Primary. The system is broken.” Osiris looks at his father’s unhappy expression. “Father, a not so wise person asked me, ‘What am I doing about it?’ Well, I am. Here.” He hands Odin his data tube with Octavia’s stamp on the bottom. “I decrypted a ledger and vague references to activities in Aryavan. Yes, two Regents of ENlil are in her circle. I couldn’t break through the rest.”

  Odin rolls the data tube around in his hand. “I’ll take care of that.” His hand drops on Osiris’ shoulder. Uncertain feelings turn to pride. “You’ll make a much better Primary than I, son.”

  “With your permission, father, I’d like to search for Persephone…on my own.”

  Odin nods. “You’ll have support from us, anyways we can deliver it. Be careful, and trust no one.”

  “I will.” Osiris embraces his family, then kisses his fingers and rests them on Shuru’s forehead. “Be well, my King,” he says lovingly.

  Several minutes pass after Osiris’ departure. Odin grabs the shorter of the two staffs. “Son, can I have this?”

  ~ Octavia’s Residence, Corinth ~

  “Come out Vali! I know it’s you skulking around in there,” Princess Octavia shouts to a hooded figure rummaging inside her private office. “I won’t do you the favor of coming in.”

  Wearing an innocent smile Vali appears in the main room, clutching a palm-sized box. He offers it to Octavia.

  “For me?” She blushes. Her expression returns to aggravation. “What were you doing in there?”

  “Trying to hide your gift of course. Open it.”

  Like all Princesses, the shiny necklace intrigues her. “It’s made of Lapis Lazuli.” He takes the oval pendant and dangles it from a fine gold chain. “Go on, it begs for your neckline.”

  “A bit early for gifts, wouldn’t you say?” she purrs coyly, accepting Vali’s assistance with attaching a delicate gold chain. She blushes again at the wet kiss on her neck.

  “You wouldn’t expect me to visit empty-handed?” he asks rhetorically.

  “But seriously cousin, why are you here?”

  “Oh, very well…I am thirsty. Have that lovely kitchen boy bring us wine, before I lose my mind.”

  Octavia claps to catch the servant’s attention. After the refreshment is ordered, she leads Vali into a rotunda overlooking the ocean. “Well? The truth.”

  “We are days away from phase three. I thought it prudent to review our plots before I am betrothed.” A wicked smile falls on Octavia’s stern gaze.

  She huffs. “It’s not like you’re going to enjoy the pangs of marriage. The girl is an unruly creature; I suspect she is a half-wit.”

  “Yes, she is rather pec
uliar, isn’t she? All evidence of my skillful influence on her, my dear.”

  “You’ve done such a good job filling her head with nonsense, it’s a wonder she has any sense of reality.”

  A faint sound of cups rattling on a serving platter distracts Vali. He peers down the cobblestone walkway, waiting for the kitchen-boy to appear. “That nonsense has taken on a life of its own,” he says dryly, then jumps up with glee at the sight of the approaching servant.

  The Prince gushes over the lad in skimpy clothing as the wine is poured. Octavia plucks a handful of grapes and amuses herself over Vali’s behavior. “Poor girl is going to have one cold marital bed.” She laughs as Vali finishes his patting of the boy’s arm, allowing him to leave.

  “It’s just as well,” he says, pouting. “After this affair, it may be years before I’m allowed to put a prince in her belly. Who knows what can happen to a young maiden while in the company of savages? Defilement, rape, I imagine. Why do you think it takes a full day before I retrieve my bride?”

  “You’re a cruel bastard.”

  “I know.”

  Octavia swirls her fingers on the rim of her cup. She knew of the Prince’s ambitions since they were children. Vali’s father, Seth, was passed up for rule despite being the monarch’s eldest son. Although this happened long before Vali’s birth, it remains a burning insult to his family – at least in the Prince’s soul. “Is Persephone yours?” Octavia boldly asks.

  The accusation causes Vali to spit up wine. “You have to be the most disturbing woman I know Octavia. No…she isn’t.”

  “Well, you are notoriously devious.”

  He composes himself. “I admit, the thought did cross my mind to plant my seed in Farah’s wretched belly, but that did not sit well with future plans.” He scowls at Octavia’s sarcastic expression. “No, you cheap twat, I wouldn’t marry my own daughter for the throne. Even I have boundaries.”

  “How did you do it then? I’ve always been curious. How did you fertilize our dear Farah with the King’s spawn? Shuru’s fertility rate was nil for thousands of years.”

  An uncomfortable silence overcomes the Prince. He hesitates to answer. His hand covers trembling lips as if a terrible secret is about to be divulged. Vali knows Octavia will pursue her questions to extreme ends if not satisfied. It’s easier to tell her. He looks at the Princess, sighs before revealing his secret. “You know the relics of ENlil at the Citadel I assume?”

  Octavia nods impatiently.

  “I convinced the then Keeper-of-Secrets to use the Amon-I for…a union between a sampling of ENlil’s genetic material and a fertility gene I concocted.”

  “That’s sacrilege,” Octavia snaps; her expression screams outrage for the violation of the most sacred Forefather.

  “Let me finish,” Vali says. “The DNA sequence seemed promising. Several tests on volunteers bore limited success with fusion, but the gene would not stabilize. Only after I introduced material from ENki did a path to success open. Sadly, there was only enough serum for one – Farah. For forty years, nothing happened. Then one day Persephone was born, immune to the plague – the miracle baby that cured the world. It was then I realized my hand was responsible for the miracle…not divine intervention.”

  “What if Thoth learned of this secret? He is, after all, privy to his predecessor’s knowledge.”

  “If it were so, then Thoth would have already acted upon such knowledge. No, I believe this is a secret contained only to us.”

  A sickening thought crosses Octavia’s mind. This is dangerous. She looks at her wine with suspicion brewing. It’s from your kitchen you fool she chides herself. “Vali, I now share the burden with you. Allow me to help with its load.”

  “Please, Octavia, you need not worry about an untimely death by my hand. You and I have done far worse, won’t you say?” He waits for her subtle sigh of relief. “By my calculation your confederates-”

  “Our confederates,” she cuts in with accusation in her voice.

  “Yes.” His eye twitches with annoyance. “They should be at the Black-Sea port right about now; having their victory celebrations no doubt.”

  “What of Farah?”

  The Prince swoops in elegantly next to her, sitting close as two lovers would. He caresses her new necklace down to her cleavage. “A loose-end I am sure our confederates will be more than happy to dispose of. I’ve dispatched an antidote; Shuru will make a remarkable recovery, albeit short-lived. Our dear mother-bird cannot be trusted, I’m afraid; her actions of late telling as much.” He holds the pendant close to Octavia’s lips, “Kiss it.”

  “Vali, don’t vex me with your silly quirks.”

  “Kiss it,” he says, grinding his teeth. “Like this.” He puts the back end of the pendant to his lips then offers Octavia the front. She reluctantly obliges him with a scowl and a chaste peck. “There, happy?”

  “A mere gesture of our bond, and a promise to fulfill all matters in this affair; we are a symbolic race, are we not?”

  “What happened to your volunteers after the fusion?” she asks.

  He gives her a solemn look. “Their life force accelerated to the point of burning out. Within months they were dead.” He peers out to the ocean with a look of wonder. “I had the staff killed. One technician escaped…Maya. Never heard from again.”

  ~ Port-Of-The Black-Sea~

  Dardanes’ pirate ship occupies an inconspicuous berth on the eastern end of the docks. The vessel’s cargo, including captured slaves, are moved into a port building with curved roofing tiles. Despair shows on each prisoner’s face, echoing their loss of dignity and hope.

  In droves, the people with tattered clothing are marched to a corner. They gather alongside tables set up with nourishment. They may be slaves, but they are still people. Dardanes acknowledges this with a decent spread of bread and meats. Jugs of water are scattered across the wooden table. A hungry man attempts to grab an apple. The crack of a whip across his back rings through the souls of the rest, reminding all of their desperate circumstance.

  Sandwiched between a pair of youths, Persephone struggles to stand, using the kind shoulder of the boy to her right as a post. The sedatives in her system are almost diminished, but residual effects compounded with fatigue forces a struggle to remain coherent.

  Koray puts together a small plate for her. “‘Sephie…sit.”

  Her surroundings are blurred, hearing muffled, muscles weakened. All she knows is that Koray is with her.

  “Hold her,” an older man grumbles at the boy. “Don’t let her fall or they will whip you both.” On cue, a tribesman strolls up with a grim look.

  Entering the building with Bal striding behind him, Dardanes stops in front of the prisoners and waits for a crate to be secured as a pedestal. Once on the box, he shouts, “Eat as if it is your last meal, for in two hours we leave for another location. Make any attempt to escape, and you will be shot.” Dardanes looks at Persephone, “Make any attempt to alert outsiders, and you will be shot.” He leaves for a corner.

  “Captain,” Bal says with worry in his voice. “Five shuttles came. Not enough for slaves and us.”

  “Double up passengers.”

  “The ships are old with limited fuel as it is. I am afraid we will not get very far with weight.”

  Dardanes ponders for a moment. “We will stop at Cappadocia. There is a weigh station, long abandoned on the outskirts. It’s crude but may serve as a rest-stop. I will arrange fuel to be sent.”

  “What about the ship?” Bal asks.

  “Half the crew will stay behind to give the illusion of our presence.”

  “And our guests?”

  Both men look at the gathering at the tables. The hungry people cautiously eat their meal, glancing suspiciously at the guards. “Take the girls to the room. Keep them separated.”

  “As you wish,” Bal says. He waits for Dardanes to disappear through the wide bay doors, then strides over to the table, calling on two men to join him. They stop next
to Persephone.

  The Princess struggles to eat a piece of dry bread dipped in a thick sauce. Her appearance is haggard. Her weak arm struggles to lift the food into her mouth.

  “Get up!” Bal yells.

  “I can’t,” she says.

  The tribesmen pull her off the table. Koray receives a swift hand to her face for protesting. Bal’s men drag both girls to a door at the side of the building.

  The loud ‘bang’ from the closing door sends a fit of fear through Persephone’s soul. She musters up enough strength to ask, “Where are you taking us?” No one answers. The dark passageway smells of urine and fish. A door at the far open is open; light spills out on to the walkway. Another open door next to it has a similar effect. She looks at Koray with terror in her eyes.