EPISODE 2:
RISE OF THE UNSEELIE -
FALL OF ATLANTIS
4100 B.C.E.
Tse-xo-be waited patiently for Paytah’s arrival. He stood motionless in a small, rocky clearing, surveying the sea around the western shore of Talemn Álainn. He had not seen Paytah in a century—not since he and Paytah had returned from Salastrau with news that neither the Sidhe nor the Ancient Ones would aid the Ohanzee with their defense against the Seelie takeover.
The Ohanzee, powerless against the rising power of the Seelie, had remained in hiding for over a century. Ozara had claimed the Weald from the Ohanzee for the Seelie Council, her dominance sending a clear message to every clan on Terra: none could refuse the Seelie. One after another, the Seelie forced each clan into submission. In time, only a few clans remained truly independent. The practice of intentional torment and extermination of humankind had come to an end as the Seelie clan stystematically stamped out the practice throughout the remaining Fae clans.
Some of the original clans attempted to form alliances, but many millennia of distrust undermined their tenuous relationships. The distrust ran deep. It was engrained in the Fae consciousness and prevented any agreement from lasting. The Seelie would be vulnerable to a unified front if all clans banded together, but that did not happen. The twenty Fae on the Seelie Council, many of them former elders from the original clans, had plotted the Seelie rise to power in spectacular fashion. The Seelie clan continued to grow, and by 4200 BCE it openly recruited Fae from the original clans.
Tse-xo-be had long wondered about Paytah. Paytah and Ozara were both original elders of the Ohanzee, and had been close friends for thousands of centuries. They viewed humans from dramatically different perspectives, however. Paytah loathed the species as much as Ozara loved them. When she discovered the secret to Aether before Paytah, he lobbied the remaining members of the Council to destroy her, even suggesting the Ohanzee aid the Ometeo of the Yucatan. Tse-xo-be and the Council rejected the proposition. The Ohanzee were not fond of the Ometeo’s barbaric practice of forcing human sacrifice, but the Ohanzee respected their sovereignty. When Ozara severed ties with the Ohanzee, changing both her appearance and her name, Paytah was devastated and angry. None of the Ohanzee could prevent him from leaving the clan, so they simply let Paytah go.
Tse-xo-be knew Paytah had been attempting to discover the secret of Aether and harbored trepidation over their meeting. He did not know whether Paytah had been successful in creating the powerful fifth element, and he was suspicious about the reason behind Paytah’s desire to meet with him. He did not have long to think about it, however. His summoner was close.
He turned to the east when he felt Paytah take form beyond the mountain that circled the surf break. Gone was Paytah’s long black hair and brown eyes, the signatures of the Ohanzee when in human form. His skin, once a deep bronze, was fair. His hair, as silvery-white as a cloud in the morning sun, was short, spiked, and his eyes were now piercing blue and deeply set underneath a pale brow. In a silver robe, like those the Seelie wore, he nodded at Tse-xo-be, his old mentor.
“Tse-xo-be, it is good to see you,” he said.
“Likewise, Paytah—but your appearance…” Tse-xo-be paused. “You no longer use that name, do you?”
“Zarkus is the name I now use.”
Tse-xo-be smiled and turned back to the breaking surf. He studied the crash of the waves as their roiling white water and their bursts of mist so starkly contrasted with the black stone they pounded, each volley of the sea ever carving just a bit more away from the stone coast. It was symbolic, he thought, of the old clans—their power had been slowly whittled away by the endless onslaught of the new. “Zarkus it is. Why have you summoned me? I presume it is to ask that I join the clan you have been building.”
Exuding too much pride and confidence, Zarkus said, “I am here to offer you the Weald.”
Tse-xo-be shifted his brown eyes to the unfamiliar visage of his old friend. “At what price?”
“The unification of my clan and the Ohanzee will shift the balance of power. Together we can eliminate the hegemony of the Seelie and restore your rule of Talemn Alainn,” Zarkus replied.
Tse-xo-be knew from Zarkus’ words that he was not merely seeking new recruits but building alliances. It also meant he did not know the secret to Aether. Zarkus intended to achieve by force what he could not accomplish with skill.
“What is it you want in return?” Tse-xo-be asked.
“You already know what we want,” Zarkus responded in a whisper.
“Indeed. And what of the humans? Are we to help with that?”
Zarkus’ face contorted, tensing, his lips thinning into a flat line. His deep blue eyes filled with malice. “They are a pestilence, a dangerous and destructive life form. They spread and consume, damage and destroy—you are wise, Tse-xo-be. I know you must foresee the calamity they bring.”
Tse-xo-be felt the rage in Zarkus’ words, sensed the loathing in his voice. Zarkus’ essence was clouded now, filled with darkness. For a dozen millennia Zarkus had despised humans. Tse-xo-be sensed something else, however: hope—the kind of hope one has when he has calculated a solution.
“Zarkus, I do see the potential danger. I am not a fool. Extermination, however, is not required.”
Zarkus’ mouth fell slightly agape until the muscles in his jaw tensed, grinding his teeth with enough force to be heard over the waves. “They nearly succumbed to extinction already. Extinction is the fate that awaits all physical species. Why postpone the inevitable?”
“They survived,” Tse-xo-be said in a patient, matter-of-fact tone. “As with all physical species that do so, humankind has earned a place in this world. Who are we to hasten their demise? Who are you, Zarkus, to interfere with nature, the very thing you hold most dear? Does fire not destroy forests and spawn rebirth? Do floods not wash away flora and fauna, yet leave fertile soil in their stead?”
“Those arguments have grown stale.”
“Stale, perhaps, but they are no less true,” Tse-xo-be countered, gently nodding his head.
“I came here as a courtesy, but I see I have wasted my time.”
Tse-xo-be nodded again. “Yes…yes, apparently you have.”
Zarkus’ eyes widened. His nostrils flared. “A time will come, Tse-xo-be, when the Ohanzee are forced to take a side.”
“For your sake, my impetuous underling, I hope it never comes to that.”
Zarkus growled, “The Ohanzee will learn to regret your…” but before the last syllable left his lips, Tse-xo-be pinned Zarkus to the ground with his bare hands, snapping the bones in both of Zarkus’ arms.
“You fool,” Tse-xo-be said in a whisper, “have you forgotten who I am?” Tse-xo-be folded Zarkus backwards, breaking his spine, and lifted him into the air. “Mind your place,” he said, slinging Zarkus into the ocean over his shoulder.
Tse-xo-be shifted into Naeshura, his natural pure-energy state, and moved to the east. Zarkus, gasping and humiliated, healed and transformed into Naeshura. As he crossed Talemn Álainn, his anger grew. Tse-xo-be was stronger, Zarkus admitted to himself, but the Unseelie had greater numbers. Let him deny two thousand, he thought. One day Tse-xo-be will beg for my mercy, but I will have none.
In three hours, Zarkus reached the eastern coast of Talemn Álainn somewhere near the Lalonquin Islands, what humans would later call the Bahamas, then set his course east across the vast Atlantic to find his clan. They waited for him two miles off the western coast of Atlantis, exactly where they were supposed to be. Zarkus would have been happier with the Ohanzee along. Even though Tse-xo-be and the elders were in seclusion, they remained dreadfully powerful—a force not to be underestimated.
Zarkus arrived to meet his clan, and immediately ordered the forces to split and encircle the island—the first phase of a plan the Unseelie hoped would lead to the decimation of Atlantis and a decisive victory against the Seelie. To the Unseelie, and Zarkus especially, Atlantis was an abomination—Fae living among humans, as humans. To Ozara and the Seelie, it represented a great experiment. The Atlantean Clan constructed the canals and cities, and worked to guide the human populace—some two hundred thousand—to live in harmony with nature. Zarkus reeled at the perversity of it: buildings of smooth stone crafted by Fae and human alike had no relationship to nature. Fae prancing around like humans? Revolting.
After quickly creating an Atlantean sailing vessel on the coast, the Unseelie sailed it into the port of Triaus. The glowing orange sun settled on the western horizon, just touching the southern slope of Mount Lazzio some ten miles in the distance, as they crossed the port waters toward the primary canal entrance. Following the Grande Canal, a wide, stone-lined passage to Atlantis’ interior, the Unseelie advanced. Past the first elaborate lock of massive counterweighted stones they took human form, acting as casual visitors sailing toward the capital city to avoid raising any alarm.
There was no reason for any alarm after all. The humans on Atlantis knew nothing of the Fae, though many secretly lived among them. The human populace fished the waters from vessels created by Fae and designed to take advantage of even the slightest breeze. The Atlantean Fae had paved the roads that linked each village on the thirty-two-mile long island. Fae tutors educated humans on the workings of nature and the elements. Some humans had even engaged in the most dangerous of practices: controlling the elements. It terrified the Unseelie. To them, the once beautiful island had been adulterated by roads, canals, and cultivated fields. Nature, the Unseelie believed, had been bent to the will of a mortal species unable to exist in harmony with it.
Propelled by gentle winds that continuously blew in from the sea, the Unseelie vessel neared the stone dock below the village of Caspia, a fishing village some five miles from Poseidus, the capital city. Men and women cleaned the day’s catch with Fae knives, the best in the world. Earth-aligned Fae taught humans how to process iron ore and combine it with nickel, chromium, and vanadium to produce steel more than five thousand years before other humans would learn to do so on their own.
Zarkus and five Unseelie ascended the intricately carved stairs to the village center. The stone passage transitioned smoothly from the dock through dry-stacked stone walls. Atlantean roses, similar to Bougainvillea, of white and fuchsia hung in cascading boughs and filled the path with sweet floral perfume. The stone path opened to a granite archway, and beyond it the carefully constructed stone homes and shops of Caspia surrounded a small piazza. There, a Fae named Thaddeus greeted Zarkus. Zarkus briefly marveled at Thaddeus’ fine human form with bronze skin, light brown hair coiffed short in the style of all Atlanteans, and massive gray eyes set wide in a chiseled face. A fountain burbled in an obsidian basin just feet from where Thaddeus stood.
“Travellers, welcome to Caspia,” he said, waving his left arm in an open gesture, palm up, the custom of Atlantean hospitality.
Zarkus repeated the greeting. He and glanced at the setting sun, waiting patiently for it to disappear behind Mount Lazzio. Just a few minutes, he thought.
Humans gathered in the village’s gleaming red and black stone structures, enjoying meals, music, and kinship. All afforded by Fae interference, Zarkus thought. The stone masonry was far too precise to have been performed without Fae assistance. The mortals were adorned with material too fine to have been produced by human hands. Zarkus hid his anger as he scanned the village. Blown-glass lanterns lighted the piazza and the homes around it. The Atlantean Fae built kilns and trained the humans how to create glass from silica, soda, and lime. Millennia would pass before humans elsewhere would discover the technique.
The Atlantean Fae, a clan of fifty, had shown the humans of Atlantis how to cultivate the volcanic soil. Hidden among mortals, the Fae brought the rains, regulated the temperature, and invented the tools that made the island-state rich in agriculture. Each year, the mortal population grew in knowledge faster than any other civilization. The Unseelie believed the knowledge was too dangerous to pass on to the primitive Egyptians or the barbarians living elsewhere. Seeing Atlantis firsthand, Zarkus was more determined than ever. It was worse than he had thought.
The moment the last glowing piece of the sun fell out of the twilight sky, Zarkus slipped his razored claws through Thaddeus’ ribcage, and set loose an internal fire. Caught completely off-guard, Thaddeus’ mouth gaped open, his eyes watered, and then his essence collapsed into a small white light. With a flash, the first Atlantean Fae had died. There were similar flashes in each village on Atlantis.
Two humans rushed at Zarkus, wielding weapons of fine Atlantean steel. As they approached, he transformed into a panther equal in size to a large horse. The human attackers trembled at the sight of his snarling, growling transfiguration. Their hearts raced, fueled by adrenaline so powerful Zarkus could smell it. Fear produced an intoxicating smell, but the emotion itself, leaking out of their human brains like nectar, affected Zarkus like an opiate. He savored their emotional offering for a few seconds before he leapt, slashing and biting.
The first scream of the clan’s victims lasted for only an instant. The Unseelie used a powerful blast of electrical energy, a soinneán, to subdue the people of Caspia. The energy entered the humans’ nervous systems, dropping them into semi-conscious heaps of flesh.
Pity to leave them so soon, Zarkus thought, but they will be waiting when we return from the capital. More important things to do.
If the other Unseelie companies had been as successful, twenty-three Fae were now dead, leaving only twenty-seven Atlanteans in the capital. The Unseelie returned to the vessel and cruised to Poseidus. Zarkus and his company, the oldest and most powerful Fae of the Unseelie clan, had to infiltrate the city and destroy Poseidon, the ancient leader of the Atlanteans. The Unseelie drifted five miles along the canal as it wound through verdant fields of squash, grain, grapes, and groves of olives. At the third lock, the Grande Canal entered the capital’s outer ring.
Designed by Poseidon himself, Poseidus lay at the base of three rolling, wooded hills and was surrounded by channels of water—Poseidon’s element. A broad canal ringed the capital center. The center was a half-mile in diameter and contained public buildings, baths, piazzas, amphitheaters, temples, and a thriving marketplace. Constructed of white marble and several stories tall, the pillared buildings glowed under the night sky from a thousand glass lanterns. The few non-Atlantean humans who visited were always awestruck. Bridges linked the city center with the second ring of the city, where residences of black and red stone flanked cobbled paths planted with olive and lemon trees. Balconies along the paths displayed dozens of species of Atlantean Rose planted in finely crafted pots of a thousand designs. Another wider canal separated the second and third rings of the city. The outer ring, tucked inside a thick, heavily ornamented stone wall, contained the glass shops, the metal furnaces, the artisans, the fabric mills, and more residences. The Alantean military housed guards in the outer ring, where sentinels patrolled the parapet atop the wall. Atlantis had never been invaded—no human army dared.
Past the first ringed canal, the Unseelie vessel caught the perpetual current that moved the canal waters, and the vessels in them, to all parts of the city. Inside the first ring, Zarkus relaxed. No alarm had been raised. As he approached the center ring, he sensed Poseidon’s location: he waited ahead in the Senate building. A vast structure of smooth marble columns and a domed central hall, the Senate was the most advanced building in the world. Twelve Fae also waited in close proximity to Poseidon. The five council members and seven guards, Zarkus mused. No match for us.
The remaining Atlantean Fae were scattered about the city center. Getting to them all before an Atlantean changed into Naeshura and disappeared through the Seoladán would be difficult, but not impossible. The Seelie were enthralled by the experiment and frequently visited in great numbers. The Atlantean Fae had grown accustomed to visits. As long as the Unseelie maintained human form, the Atlanteans would suspect nothing until it was too late.
Alighting onto the stone pier at the capital, Zarkus and his assassins made their way to the Senate. Joined from the west by a contingent of fifteen comrades and from the north ten more, Zarkus had the numbers. From each of the island’s canals, Unseelie Fae filtered into the capital and quickly located each enemy Atlantean Fae. Through the great hall of the Senate, a human guard wearing a bronze breastplate over a deep blue tunic with gilded stitching led the Unseelie to Poseidon’s chamber.
The broad, circular room lit by glow of numerous flames reflecting off the gleaming marble walls was beautiful, Zarkus had to admit to himself. Definitely the work of Fae—the engineering was beyond human capacity. Poseidon, cloaked in a flowing expanse of dark blue cloth, raised a watchful eye as Zarkus strolled to him. Zarkus hid his discomfort…and his fear. Poseidon was twice as old and twice as strong. Even though Zarkus knew that his mentor, Tse-xo-be, was far more powerful and had trained him well, Poseidon still posed a dangerous threat. He steeled himself for the confrontation.
“Poseidon, my old friend, I have travelled to marvel at the splendor of Atlantis.”
Poseidon extended his arm, palm up, in the traditional greeting, but he was uneasy. He scanned the visiting Fae. His uneasiness grew as he realized they came from dozens of different clans but wore the silver robes of the Seelie.
“Do not be alarmed old friend, Ozara sends good tidings.” Zarkus bowed at the waist, both arms stretched outward with palms up—the Seelie greeting. Poseidon appeared to relax. His words rang in Zarkus’ head, but no human heard them. “Paytah, you have joined the Seelie?”
“Yes, I have. Ozara is most convincing. She told me a visit to Atlantis would quell my fears…that it would demonstrate the potential for both species to work together.”
Poseidon’s cobalt blue eyes fixed on Zarkus as he considered the possibility, stroking his white beard between thick fingers. “Welcome,” he said, his bass voice echoing back from the domed ceiling. It was the signal.
Zarkus channeled Quint and forced the orange substance into Poseidon’s chest, a move he had practiced ten thousand times, before the ancient Fae could react. The Unseelie elders joined instantly and lashed out. In moments, the chamber filled with flashes of dying Fae. Two Unseelie perished: Beffin, a hulking blond warrior Zarkus had recruited from the Sidhe, and a guard. But the Unseelie had the numbers. The Atlanteans fell in quick succession. Poseidon, clutching the gaping wound in his muscular chest, countered Zarkus with a wall of Water while blocking a second assault. A young Unseelie guard advanced from the side, channeling lightning, but Poseidon blocked it. Piercing the guard’s barrier, Poseidon connected with the water in her physical body and turned it to steam. The Unseelie shrieked in agony, her skin expanding, then splitting, before she disappeared in a white flash.
Only two Atlanteans remained: Poseidon, and Clarisse, a seven-hundred-thousand-year-old Earth-aligned Fae who had crushed two Unseelie between massive slabs of marble. The ten remaining Unseelie focused their attacks on her. Lightning pierced the dome and struck her barrier, sizzling and snapping. Cassandra, a raven-haired Unseelie, crossed the space in a blur, lashing out with a burst of Air that sliced through the granite columns supporting the roof. Cassandra pierced Clarisse’s barrier, severing her legs. Crumpling to the floor, Clarisse looked up to Poseidon, tears rolling down her oval face, and focused her mind on the depths of earth below them. The ground beneath the city shook as Clarisse forced a fault to shift violently. The foundation of the Senate buckled as she flashed out of existence, and the domed room collapsed on the Fae inside. Poseidon sensed twelve hundred Fae converging on the city, but not one of them was Atlantean. Frantically, he searched with his mind, but his clan was gone save for him alone.
“I will see you destroyed for this!” his voice rumbled in a guttural scream. Poseidon, last of the Atlantean Fae, shifted into Naeshura and forced his way to the Seoladán, leaving Atlantis to the Unseelie.
Zarkus and the Unseelie escaped the Senate to find buildings collapsing all around them. Humans were scrambling for boats, but with no Fae to control the canals, the vessels bobbed helplessly, overladen with screaming cargo.
“We must act quickly,” Zarkus commanded his clan. “Poseidon escaped, he will bring reinforcements.”
Waiting offshore, forty Earth-aligned Fae settled deep below the ocean surface. The Unseelie intended to send a message—the next phase of his plan would surely do it. Working from the north end of the island, they flattened it to the sea floor.
Zarkus and the Unseelie Elders watched as the great island slowly sank beneath the waters of the Atlantic. The suffering and drowning of the human inhabitants filled Zarkus with rapturous pleasure—he tingled all over. In an hour, nothing but the peak of Mount Lazzio remained. A few minutes later, even it sank below the waves. The Unseelie permitted a few humans to survive to spread the tale, to instill fear in the rest of humanity.
Word spread among the clans of the world: a new clan, the Unseelie, had risen to challenge the Seelie. The Seelie were devastated by the news, shocked that the Unseelie had amassed such numbers. The original clans were caught between two superpowers, and feared the inevitable counterattack.
The Ohanzee, powerless against the rising power of the Seelie, had remained in hiding for over a century. Ozara had claimed the Weald from the Ohanzee for the Seelie Council, her dominance sending a clear message to every clan on Terra: none could refuse the Seelie. One after another, the Seelie forced each clan into submission. In time, only a few clans remained truly independent. The practice of intentional torment and extermination of humankind had come to an end as the Seelie clan stystematically stamped out the practice throughout the remaining Fae clans.
Some of the original clans attempted to form alliances, but many millennia of distrust undermined their tenuous relationships. The distrust ran deep. It was engrained in the Fae consciousness and prevented any agreement from lasting. The Seelie would be vulnerable to a unified front if all clans banded together, but that did not happen. The twenty Fae on the Seelie Council, many of them former elders from the original clans, had plotted the Seelie rise to power in spectacular fashion. The Seelie clan continued to grow, and by 4200 BCE it openly recruited Fae from the original clans.
Tse-xo-be had long wondered about Paytah. Paytah and Ozara were both original elders of the Ohanzee, and had been close friends for thousands of centuries. They viewed humans from dramatically different perspectives, however. Paytah loathed the species as much as Ozara loved them. When she discovered the secret to Aether before Paytah, he lobbied the remaining members of the Council to destroy her, even suggesting the Ohanzee aid the Ometeo of the Yucatan. Tse-xo-be and the Council rejected the proposition. The Ohanzee were not fond of the Ometeo’s barbaric practice of forcing human sacrifice, but the Ohanzee respected their sovereignty. When Ozara severed ties with the Ohanzee, changing both her appearance and her name, Paytah was devastated and angry. None of the Ohanzee could prevent him from leaving the clan, so they simply let Paytah go.
Tse-xo-be knew Paytah had been attempting to discover the secret of Aether and harbored trepidation over their meeting. He did not know whether Paytah had been successful in creating the powerful fifth element, and he was suspicious about the reason behind Paytah’s desire to meet with him. He did not have long to think about it, however. His summoner was close.
He turned to the east when he felt Paytah take form beyond the mountain that circled the surf break. Gone was Paytah’s long black hair and brown eyes, the signatures of the Ohanzee when in human form. His skin, once a deep bronze, was fair. His hair, as silvery-white as a cloud in the morning sun, was short, spiked, and his eyes were now piercing blue and deeply set underneath a pale brow. In a silver robe, like those the Seelie wore, he nodded at Tse-xo-be, his old mentor.
“Tse-xo-be, it is good to see you,” he said.
“Likewise, Paytah—but your appearance…” Tse-xo-be paused. “You no longer use that name, do you?”
“Zarkus is the name I now use.”
Tse-xo-be smiled and turned back to the breaking surf. He studied the crash of the waves as their roiling white water and their bursts of mist so starkly contrasted with the black stone they pounded, each volley of the sea ever carving just a bit more away from the stone coast. It was symbolic, he thought, of the old clans—their power had been slowly whittled away by the endless onslaught of the new. “Zarkus it is. Why have you summoned me? I presume it is to ask that I join the clan you have been building.”
Exuding too much pride and confidence, Zarkus said, “I am here to offer you the Weald.”
Tse-xo-be shifted his brown eyes to the unfamiliar visage of his old friend. “At what price?”
“The unification of my clan and the Ohanzee will shift the balance of power. Together we can eliminate the hegemony of the Seelie and restore your rule of Talemn Alainn,” Zarkus replied.
Tse-xo-be knew from Zarkus’ words that he was not merely seeking new recruits but building alliances. It also meant he did not know the secret to Aether. Zarkus intended to achieve by force what he could not accomplish with skill.
“What is it you want in return?” Tse-xo-be asked.
“You already know what we want,” Zarkus responded in a whisper.
“Indeed. And what of the humans? Are we to help with that?”
Zarkus’ face contorted, tensing, his lips thinning into a flat line. His deep blue eyes filled with malice. “They are a pestilence, a dangerous and destructive life form. They spread and consume, damage and destroy—you are wise, Tse-xo-be. I know you must foresee the calamity they bring.”
Tse-xo-be felt the rage in Zarkus’ words, sensed the loathing in his voice. Zarkus’ essence was clouded now, filled with darkness. For a dozen millennia Zarkus had despised humans. Tse-xo-be sensed something else, however: hope—the kind of hope one has when he has calculated a solution.
“Zarkus, I do see the potential danger. I am not a fool. Extermination, however, is not required.”
Zarkus’ mouth fell slightly agape until the muscles in his jaw tensed, grinding his teeth with enough force to be heard over the waves. “They nearly succumbed to extinction already. Extinction is the fate that awaits all physical species. Why postpone the inevitable?”
“They survived,” Tse-xo-be said in a patient, matter-of-fact tone. “As with all physical species that do so, humankind has earned a place in this world. Who are we to hasten their demise? Who are you, Zarkus, to interfere with nature, the very thing you hold most dear? Does fire not destroy forests and spawn rebirth? Do floods not wash away flora and fauna, yet leave fertile soil in their stead?”
“Those arguments have grown stale.”
“Stale, perhaps, but they are no less true,” Tse-xo-be countered, gently nodding his head.
“I came here as a courtesy, but I see I have wasted my time.”
Tse-xo-be nodded again. “Yes…yes, apparently you have.”
Zarkus’ eyes widened. His nostrils flared. “A time will come, Tse-xo-be, when the Ohanzee are forced to take a side.”
“For your sake, my impetuous underling, I hope it never comes to that.”
Zarkus growled, “The Ohanzee will learn to regret your…” but before the last syllable left his lips, Tse-xo-be pinned Zarkus to the ground with his bare hands, snapping the bones in both of Zarkus’ arms.
“You fool,” Tse-xo-be said in a whisper, “have you forgotten who I am?” Tse-xo-be folded Zarkus backwards, breaking his spine, and lifted him into the air. “Mind your place,” he said, slinging Zarkus into the ocean over his shoulder.
Tse-xo-be shifted into Naeshura, his natural pure-energy state, and moved to the east. Zarkus, gasping and humiliated, healed and transformed into Naeshura. As he crossed Talemn Álainn, his anger grew. Tse-xo-be was stronger, Zarkus admitted to himself, but the Unseelie had greater numbers. Let him deny two thousand, he thought. One day Tse-xo-be will beg for my mercy, but I will have none.
In three hours, Zarkus reached the eastern coast of Talemn Álainn somewhere near the Lalonquin Islands, what humans would later call the Bahamas, then set his course east across the vast Atlantic to find his clan. They waited for him two miles off the western coast of Atlantis, exactly where they were supposed to be. Zarkus would have been happier with the Ohanzee along. Even though Tse-xo-be and the elders were in seclusion, they remained dreadfully powerful—a force not to be underestimated.
Zarkus arrived to meet his clan, and immediately ordered the forces to split and encircle the island—the first phase of a plan the Unseelie hoped would lead to the decimation of Atlantis and a decisive victory against the Seelie. To the Unseelie, and Zarkus especially, Atlantis was an abomination—Fae living among humans, as humans. To Ozara and the Seelie, it represented a great experiment. The Atlantean Clan constructed the canals and cities, and worked to guide the human populace—some two hundred thousand—to live in harmony with nature. Zarkus reeled at the perversity of it: buildings of smooth stone crafted by Fae and human alike had no relationship to nature. Fae prancing around like humans? Revolting.
After quickly creating an Atlantean sailing vessel on the coast, the Unseelie sailed it into the port of Triaus. The glowing orange sun settled on the western horizon, just touching the southern slope of Mount Lazzio some ten miles in the distance, as they crossed the port waters toward the primary canal entrance. Following the Grande Canal, a wide, stone-lined passage to Atlantis’ interior, the Unseelie advanced. Past the first elaborate lock of massive counterweighted stones they took human form, acting as casual visitors sailing toward the capital city to avoid raising any alarm.
There was no reason for any alarm after all. The humans on Atlantis knew nothing of the Fae, though many secretly lived among them. The human populace fished the waters from vessels created by Fae and designed to take advantage of even the slightest breeze. The Atlantean Fae had paved the roads that linked each village on the thirty-two-mile long island. Fae tutors educated humans on the workings of nature and the elements. Some humans had even engaged in the most dangerous of practices: controlling the elements. It terrified the Unseelie. To them, the once beautiful island had been adulterated by roads, canals, and cultivated fields. Nature, the Unseelie believed, had been bent to the will of a mortal species unable to exist in harmony with it.
Propelled by gentle winds that continuously blew in from the sea, the Unseelie vessel neared the stone dock below the village of Caspia, a fishing village some five miles from Poseidus, the capital city. Men and women cleaned the day’s catch with Fae knives, the best in the world. Earth-aligned Fae taught humans how to process iron ore and combine it with nickel, chromium, and vanadium to produce steel more than five thousand years before other humans would learn to do so on their own.
Zarkus and five Unseelie ascended the intricately carved stairs to the village center. The stone passage transitioned smoothly from the dock through dry-stacked stone walls. Atlantean roses, similar to Bougainvillea, of white and fuchsia hung in cascading boughs and filled the path with sweet floral perfume. The stone path opened to a granite archway, and beyond it the carefully constructed stone homes and shops of Caspia surrounded a small piazza. There, a Fae named Thaddeus greeted Zarkus. Zarkus briefly marveled at Thaddeus’ fine human form with bronze skin, light brown hair coiffed short in the style of all Atlanteans, and massive gray eyes set wide in a chiseled face. A fountain burbled in an obsidian basin just feet from where Thaddeus stood.
“Travellers, welcome to Caspia,” he said, waving his left arm in an open gesture, palm up, the custom of Atlantean hospitality.
Zarkus repeated the greeting. He and glanced at the setting sun, waiting patiently for it to disappear behind Mount Lazzio. Just a few minutes, he thought.
Humans gathered in the village’s gleaming red and black stone structures, enjoying meals, music, and kinship. All afforded by Fae interference, Zarkus thought. The stone masonry was far too precise to have been performed without Fae assistance. The mortals were adorned with material too fine to have been produced by human hands. Zarkus hid his anger as he scanned the village. Blown-glass lanterns lighted the piazza and the homes around it. The Atlantean Fae built kilns and trained the humans how to create glass from silica, soda, and lime. Millennia would pass before humans elsewhere would discover the technique.
The Atlantean Fae, a clan of fifty, had shown the humans of Atlantis how to cultivate the volcanic soil. Hidden among mortals, the Fae brought the rains, regulated the temperature, and invented the tools that made the island-state rich in agriculture. Each year, the mortal population grew in knowledge faster than any other civilization. The Unseelie believed the knowledge was too dangerous to pass on to the primitive Egyptians or the barbarians living elsewhere. Seeing Atlantis firsthand, Zarkus was more determined than ever. It was worse than he had thought.
The moment the last glowing piece of the sun fell out of the twilight sky, Zarkus slipped his razored claws through Thaddeus’ ribcage, and set loose an internal fire. Caught completely off-guard, Thaddeus’ mouth gaped open, his eyes watered, and then his essence collapsed into a small white light. With a flash, the first Atlantean Fae had died. There were similar flashes in each village on Atlantis.
Two humans rushed at Zarkus, wielding weapons of fine Atlantean steel. As they approached, he transformed into a panther equal in size to a large horse. The human attackers trembled at the sight of his snarling, growling transfiguration. Their hearts raced, fueled by adrenaline so powerful Zarkus could smell it. Fear produced an intoxicating smell, but the emotion itself, leaking out of their human brains like nectar, affected Zarkus like an opiate. He savored their emotional offering for a few seconds before he leapt, slashing and biting.
The first scream of the clan’s victims lasted for only an instant. The Unseelie used a powerful blast of electrical energy, a soinneán, to subdue the people of Caspia. The energy entered the humans’ nervous systems, dropping them into semi-conscious heaps of flesh.
Pity to leave them so soon, Zarkus thought, but they will be waiting when we return from the capital. More important things to do.
If the other Unseelie companies had been as successful, twenty-three Fae were now dead, leaving only twenty-seven Atlanteans in the capital. The Unseelie returned to the vessel and cruised to Poseidus. Zarkus and his company, the oldest and most powerful Fae of the Unseelie clan, had to infiltrate the city and destroy Poseidon, the ancient leader of the Atlanteans. The Unseelie drifted five miles along the canal as it wound through verdant fields of squash, grain, grapes, and groves of olives. At the third lock, the Grande Canal entered the capital’s outer ring.
Designed by Poseidon himself, Poseidus lay at the base of three rolling, wooded hills and was surrounded by channels of water—Poseidon’s element. A broad canal ringed the capital center. The center was a half-mile in diameter and contained public buildings, baths, piazzas, amphitheaters, temples, and a thriving marketplace. Constructed of white marble and several stories tall, the pillared buildings glowed under the night sky from a thousand glass lanterns. The few non-Atlantean humans who visited were always awestruck. Bridges linked the city center with the second ring of the city, where residences of black and red stone flanked cobbled paths planted with olive and lemon trees. Balconies along the paths displayed dozens of species of Atlantean Rose planted in finely crafted pots of a thousand designs. Another wider canal separated the second and third rings of the city. The outer ring, tucked inside a thick, heavily ornamented stone wall, contained the glass shops, the metal furnaces, the artisans, the fabric mills, and more residences. The Alantean military housed guards in the outer ring, where sentinels patrolled the parapet atop the wall. Atlantis had never been invaded—no human army dared.
Past the first ringed canal, the Unseelie vessel caught the perpetual current that moved the canal waters, and the vessels in them, to all parts of the city. Inside the first ring, Zarkus relaxed. No alarm had been raised. As he approached the center ring, he sensed Poseidon’s location: he waited ahead in the Senate building. A vast structure of smooth marble columns and a domed central hall, the Senate was the most advanced building in the world. Twelve Fae also waited in close proximity to Poseidon. The five council members and seven guards, Zarkus mused. No match for us.
The remaining Atlantean Fae were scattered about the city center. Getting to them all before an Atlantean changed into Naeshura and disappeared through the Seoladán would be difficult, but not impossible. The Seelie were enthralled by the experiment and frequently visited in great numbers. The Atlantean Fae had grown accustomed to visits. As long as the Unseelie maintained human form, the Atlanteans would suspect nothing until it was too late.
Alighting onto the stone pier at the capital, Zarkus and his assassins made their way to the Senate. Joined from the west by a contingent of fifteen comrades and from the north ten more, Zarkus had the numbers. From each of the island’s canals, Unseelie Fae filtered into the capital and quickly located each enemy Atlantean Fae. Through the great hall of the Senate, a human guard wearing a bronze breastplate over a deep blue tunic with gilded stitching led the Unseelie to Poseidon’s chamber.
The broad, circular room lit by glow of numerous flames reflecting off the gleaming marble walls was beautiful, Zarkus had to admit to himself. Definitely the work of Fae—the engineering was beyond human capacity. Poseidon, cloaked in a flowing expanse of dark blue cloth, raised a watchful eye as Zarkus strolled to him. Zarkus hid his discomfort…and his fear. Poseidon was twice as old and twice as strong. Even though Zarkus knew that his mentor, Tse-xo-be, was far more powerful and had trained him well, Poseidon still posed a dangerous threat. He steeled himself for the confrontation.
“Poseidon, my old friend, I have travelled to marvel at the splendor of Atlantis.”
Poseidon extended his arm, palm up, in the traditional greeting, but he was uneasy. He scanned the visiting Fae. His uneasiness grew as he realized they came from dozens of different clans but wore the silver robes of the Seelie.
“Do not be alarmed old friend, Ozara sends good tidings.” Zarkus bowed at the waist, both arms stretched outward with palms up—the Seelie greeting. Poseidon appeared to relax. His words rang in Zarkus’ head, but no human heard them. “Paytah, you have joined the Seelie?”
“Yes, I have. Ozara is most convincing. She told me a visit to Atlantis would quell my fears…that it would demonstrate the potential for both species to work together.”
Poseidon’s cobalt blue eyes fixed on Zarkus as he considered the possibility, stroking his white beard between thick fingers. “Welcome,” he said, his bass voice echoing back from the domed ceiling. It was the signal.
Zarkus channeled Quint and forced the orange substance into Poseidon’s chest, a move he had practiced ten thousand times, before the ancient Fae could react. The Unseelie elders joined instantly and lashed out. In moments, the chamber filled with flashes of dying Fae. Two Unseelie perished: Beffin, a hulking blond warrior Zarkus had recruited from the Sidhe, and a guard. But the Unseelie had the numbers. The Atlanteans fell in quick succession. Poseidon, clutching the gaping wound in his muscular chest, countered Zarkus with a wall of Water while blocking a second assault. A young Unseelie guard advanced from the side, channeling lightning, but Poseidon blocked it. Piercing the guard’s barrier, Poseidon connected with the water in her physical body and turned it to steam. The Unseelie shrieked in agony, her skin expanding, then splitting, before she disappeared in a white flash.
Only two Atlanteans remained: Poseidon, and Clarisse, a seven-hundred-thousand-year-old Earth-aligned Fae who had crushed two Unseelie between massive slabs of marble. The ten remaining Unseelie focused their attacks on her. Lightning pierced the dome and struck her barrier, sizzling and snapping. Cassandra, a raven-haired Unseelie, crossed the space in a blur, lashing out with a burst of Air that sliced through the granite columns supporting the roof. Cassandra pierced Clarisse’s barrier, severing her legs. Crumpling to the floor, Clarisse looked up to Poseidon, tears rolling down her oval face, and focused her mind on the depths of earth below them. The ground beneath the city shook as Clarisse forced a fault to shift violently. The foundation of the Senate buckled as she flashed out of existence, and the domed room collapsed on the Fae inside. Poseidon sensed twelve hundred Fae converging on the city, but not one of them was Atlantean. Frantically, he searched with his mind, but his clan was gone save for him alone.
“I will see you destroyed for this!” his voice rumbled in a guttural scream. Poseidon, last of the Atlantean Fae, shifted into Naeshura and forced his way to the Seoladán, leaving Atlantis to the Unseelie.
Zarkus and the Unseelie escaped the Senate to find buildings collapsing all around them. Humans were scrambling for boats, but with no Fae to control the canals, the vessels bobbed helplessly, overladen with screaming cargo.
“We must act quickly,” Zarkus commanded his clan. “Poseidon escaped, he will bring reinforcements.”
Waiting offshore, forty Earth-aligned Fae settled deep below the ocean surface. The Unseelie intended to send a message—the next phase of his plan would surely do it. Working from the north end of the island, they flattened it to the sea floor.
Zarkus and the Unseelie Elders watched as the great island slowly sank beneath the waters of the Atlantic. The suffering and drowning of the human inhabitants filled Zarkus with rapturous pleasure—he tingled all over. In an hour, nothing but the peak of Mount Lazzio remained. A few minutes later, even it sank below the waves. The Unseelie permitted a few humans to survive to spread the tale, to instill fear in the rest of humanity.
Word spread among the clans of the world: a new clan, the Unseelie, had risen to challenge the Seelie. The Seelie were devastated by the news, shocked that the Unseelie had amassed such numbers. The original clans were caught between two superpowers, and feared the inevitable counterattack.
* * * * *
Read:
EPISODE 3: THE FIRST MAEBOWN
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Copyright © 2014 Christopher Shields.
All Rights Reserved
Read:
EPISODE 3: THE FIRST MAEBOWN
Episode Home
* * * * *
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Shields.
All Rights Reserved