Into Eden: Pangaea - Book 1 (45 page)

Jesse drove the chariot like a madman, swerving between the stable and the barn, headed for the kennels out back. He brought the chariot up short with a loud, “Whoa!” to the horses, and a sharp pull on the reins. He bent down and scooped the dog up, then hobbled out of the chariot toward the kennel.

“C’on, Enoch!” Jesse said. “You can do this! Stay with me!”

The dog was warm, but limp. Perez ran up ahead and opened the gate. Jesse ran in, and gingerly laid the dog in front of the cages.

“Please, Enoch,” he cried. “Say something!”

Now it was Jesse’s turn to cry. He picked the dog back up again and began to weep over its lifeless form.

“Are you going to let me out of hear, or not?” one of the dogs in the cages said to the boys.

Jesse looked up, “Enoch?”

“No! I’m Herculous the First! Who do you think?”

“That’s Enoch,” said Perez.

As Tamar stood staring across the courtyard between the stable and barn, Perez’s mother Eunice walked up beside her in her bathrobe.

“Is it them?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s them.”

Momentarily two tall boys with a big, black dog between them rounded the corner of the stable and walked into the courtyard. One of them now walked with a pronounced limp. The other, with the same swagger that all the girls in the Foothills would recognize. Tomorrow they would go to Albion to speak with the governor. Tomorrow they would tell their tale and embark on another adventure. But today they took mothers in their arms and gave them both, long, tearful hugs. They were home. And that was enough for today.

Chapter 1
The god Speaks

The Canaan Stadium in New Sodom could seat twenty-five-thousand an-nef, and tonight it was packed to over capacity. Great torches provided light for the event, and Canaan’s Own provided the security. Hundreds of these Secret Police roamed the stands in full uniform, masks covering their faces and their black, redlined capes trailing behind them as they swaggered through the crowds. Each had the white paw-print on his shoulder-pad and each wore the red and white Ram insignia on his breastplate. Canaan’s Own carried their crossbows at the ready, and they would use them with little provocation.

In the stands sat Eden’s elite—members of the Council from every flavor of an-nef, ram-heads, bull-heads, lion-heads, jackal-heads, wolf-heads and panther-heads. They arrived at the stadium early to get the best seats, only to discover that the rows directly in front of the podium had been reserved for Eden’s generals and other senior officers. Above them, in front of a huge red flag with black and white Ram logo were two levels of seats. In the lower seats sat a dozen trumpeters, awaiting their signal. Above them was an immense podium, now empty, behind which sat two empty gilded chairs. At the center of the podium sat a small statue that looked out of place to the attendees in the front rows. It was a golden snake that bent back toward the speaker, its open mouth covered with a fine wire mesh that could only be seen by those at the speaker’s level. The attendees at the stadium that night had no way of knowing that the little statue had secret powers that would both frighten and amaze them. For inside the statue small wires led from it to each of the torches that surrounded the stadium and terminated in cast ram’s heads that adorned the torches just above the red Ram banners that blew in the evening breeze.

When the last of Eden’s generals were seated the crowd began to get restless. The emperor’s speech was now overdue. One of the generals, a wolf-head, reached into a pocket in his black uniform and withdrew a small, round gold object that had been given to him by the emperor himself. It was called a “pocket watch”—an amazing device that told time better than an hour glass. He flipped the lid and examined the small arrows on its face. Half-past seven bells. The emperor was now one half hour late. But of course, he was the emperor. He could be late if he wanted to be, couldn’t he? Just the same the murmuring behind the officers began to increase. Where was Canaan? When would he show? They were important an-nef, after all, not used to being kept waiting. Then, when it seemed that the crowd’s rowdiness would spill over into riot, the trumpeters stood and blew the emperor’s processional. A hush fell over the crowd and behind the podium a red curtain parted and a large bull-head in Canaan’s Own uniform and armed with a crossbow stepped through the curtain and took his place standing to the crowd’s right. Behind him came the emperor himself and the crowd immediately rose to its feet. The emperor was follow by his “prophet,” Ramos, a lion-head dressed in black robes with a Ram pendant dangling on his chest. Ramos took the seat to the emperor’s right. He was followed by another bull-head Canaan’s Own, who now stood on the opposite side of the podium, to the crowd’s left.

With the second bull-head now standing motionless at attention on the podium, Ramos stood to address the crowd. He stepped up the three stairs to the podium, and then motioned the an-nef to be seated. Like a great rustling of leaves, the crowd shuffled and stirred, but remained silent as they took their places.

Ramos leaned forward and grasped the podium with both hands. He addressed the crowd, nearly yelling across the stadium.

“Fellow an-nef! Patriots of Eden! I welcome you here tonight on this blessed occasion to celebrate the greatness of our nation!”

The crowd, already quiet, now grew silent as many leaned forward to hear his words.

“I will not take much of your time,” Ramos went on, “for it is not mine to take. I am honored to introduce a god who needs no introduction, our own Emperor Canaan!”

With the reference to Canaan as a god the crowd shuffled nervously. The ram-head had gone too far, most in the stadium that night thought, but seeing the Secret Police walking through the crowd with crossbows they held their peace. Now was not the time or the place to protest.

Ramos turned from the podium and turned to the an-nef of the hour, Emperor Canaan. Canaan rose from his seat as Ramos took his, and the crowd rose with him, offering an unenthusiastic round of applause. Canaan noticed that some of the jackal-heads, his perennial opponents in the Council, refused to applaud. He would deal with them later. A weak chant of “Canaan” rippled across the crowd, but quickly died. No, having Ramos introduce him as a god had not been well received. Well, he would shortly fix that.

Canaan stepped up to the podium and waved the crowd to their seats. The applause stopped immediately and all resumed their places. Canaan stood before the podium for a long time, saying nothing. A nervousness fell over the crowd. When would the emperor speak? Had he forgotten his speech? The crowd was now deathly quiet. Like Ramos before him, Canaan now grasp the podium with both hands. But unlike Ramos, Canaan first reached under the lip of the podium and flipped a small, unseen switch. He leaned close to the snake statue, his mouth almost touching its head, and spoke quietly.

“Fellow an-nef,” he began, but when he spoke his voice boomed from above the crowd, seemingly from nowhere. “I come to you on this momentous occasion...”

Suddenly the crowd began to whisper among themselves. The enhanced audio was having its effect.

“...to announce that our beloved Eden will soon make Pangaea tremble with its super-weapons and all Pangaea will fear the wrath of the an-nef!”

Now the murmuring was growing louder, and the chant of “Canaan!” was again moving through the crowd, but this time with more enthusiasm. Soon the entire crowd was on its feet, yelling, “Canaan! Canaan! Canaan!”

The emperor paused in his speech to take in the adulation.

Now Ramos was on his feet as well, he approached the podium, pointed to Canaan, and leaned toward the snake and yelled, “Here Eden is your god and messiah! Bow down!”

The prophet’s booming voice reverberated through the stadium. Immediately the an-nef dropped to their knees and bowed down before their new god, still crying out, “Canaan! Canaan! Canaan!”

Some of the officers in the front rows, hesitated, but just briefly. The general with the pocket-watch looked around at the groveling throng and then joined them on his knees, shouting louder than the rest, “Canaan! Canaan! Canaan!” The other officers immediately followed suit, each trying to outdo the other with the fervency of their worship. Now Ramos was on his knees as well, facing the emperor with downcast eyes, and chiming in with the throng, “Canaan! Canaan! Canaan!”

Emperor Canaan looked around at the worshippers and smiled. Even the jackal-heads were on their knees chanting his name. Perhaps he would show them mercy this one time. No need to wreck a perfectly good evening. Superb evening, in fact. After a few minutes of listening to the sweet sound of his name repeated over and over again, he leaned back into the snake and spoke once more, “Thank you, dear citizens. Please rise. I have much to say to you. Much that you must hear.”

The crowd returned to their seats, and the chanting ceased. They were now singularly focused on the emperor’s words. He continued, in his deep, sonorous voice, “Too long have we an-nef been in subjection to the human warmongers! Too long have we been treated as Pangaea’s second-rate citizens!”

Somewhere in the crowd someone yelled out, “Yes! Yes!”

Canaan smiled, and went on, “And why do they treat us like that? Because they are racist!”

More cheers from the crowd.

“Five hundred years ago the human barbarian hordes invaded our land!” Every an-nef in the stadium knew that wasn’t true. But why let a little lie spoil a good speech?

“They destroyed our capital, slaughtered our young, and raped our women!” Every an-nef knew that humans had no more interest in an-nef women than an-nef had in human women, but hey, the emperor was on a roll, why be troubled with more facts?

A roar went up from the crowd, “Atlantis must fall! Atlantis must fall!”

“Yes, my dear children,” Canaan continued, “Atlantis must fall. And so it will!”

Now cheers of “Canaan!” were intermixed with chants of “Atlantis must fall!” In the end, “Atlantis must fall!” won out, and the emperor allowed the crowd to continue the chant for several more minutes before again quieting the stadium.

“And now, dear children, understand this: I am a peaceful an-nef. I do not want war. If I could avoid the bloodshed of an-nef on human slaughter—even to offering myself on the altar in Atlantis (there was no such altar) I would. But even now our enemies lay plans for war. Even now our agents tell us that the human emperor Herculous II raises a great army to invade our homeland and lay waste to it...”

Across the stadium could be heard calls of, “No! No!” and, “We must stop them!”

“But we will NEVER, NEVER, allow that to happen again!”

A cry of “Canaan! Canaan!” went up from the crowd again.

“No, my children, we must never let this happen again!”

The emperor made a dramatic gesture with his fist, and brought it down hard on the podium, grazing the snake microphone as he did. The result was a thunderous “boom” that echoed throughout the great structure.

“We will strike the enemy at its heart! The thunder of an-nef boots will soon be heard on the streets of Atlantis! Eden will once again be proud! Eden will reign supreme!”

Again the crowd jumped to their feet and erupted with chants of, “Canaan! Canaan!”

The emperor basked in the cheers for a couple of minutes more and then turned and walked back behind the curtain, followed by his Canaan’s Own guards and his prophet. He had more that he intended to say. But like any good entertainer he knew the value of leaving them on their feet. As he departed the trumpeters stood and trumpeted the recessional. The Second An-nef War had begun.